In Memory of Rose

March 31. Today is the 2 year anniversary of my mother-in-law Rose's death. It kind of snuck up on me this year. The first year after her death, I spent 6 months putting together and publishing a sort of memoir dedicated to her. I guess it was part of my grieving process because I was absolutely consumed with getting it done. By the time a year had passed, I had completed the book and felt some closure.

This year feels different. Rose was in my life for a short span of 12 years, but she probably had one of the greatest impacts on my life of anyone. I've also lost my mom and dad over the last few years, and their loss was absolutely heart-wrenching. But with Rose, I also lost a good friend.

I wrote in one of my recent blogs about the characteristics I look for in my friends. Humor, kindness and passion. Rose exemplified all of these qualities. We laughed together constantly. She had a quick wit and a sharp tongue, and that made for a lot of fun. She never met a person she couldn't or wouldn't help. She was a great teacher in this area. Even in the last few years of her life when she was battling (in every sense of the word) cancer, she was always more concerned about others and their problems. She rarely let the conversation focus on her situation, and when she did, it was in a dismissive "Don't worry about me" way. She lived passionately. She loved her children, grandchildren, travel and beauty.

She was a true Italian matriarch in the family. She taught me many lessons in life, including the following:
1) Don't be a cry-baby.
2)Stand up for yourself.
3)Appreciate the little things like a good cup of coffee or a sunset.
4) Always have PLENTY of food ready when you have guests.
5) Always have plenty of good food available...period.
6) Don't focus on the negative...remember all of your blessings.

The list goes on and on and on. The thing is, I still think about her everyday. Whether I am drinking out of a coffee mug she gave me or wearing a great pair of earrings she gave me. Whether I am cooking a recipe she sent me or staring at a picture she took for me. She is still so intertwined in my life. I miss her friendship more than anything. I miss the fact that she adored me. I miss the fact that she always took my side in an argument with Tony. I miss the way we could shop for hours and she would always encourage me to buy what I wanted...regardless of the price. I miss her reaction when I would come out in an outfit she loved. I miss, I miss, I miss...

And so today, I honor and think about Rose. As I go through my day, I will consciously say a prayer of thanks that I got to know her and have her in my life. And more than that, I will laugh and cry and remember to try and appreciate those that are still here, because life is precious and fragile.

So until tomorrow, April 1, when I will be watching my back, but looking forward to spring...

Saturday Night at the Movies

We had some friends over Saturday night for dinner and a movie. The kids were with us, which always makes for tricky movie choices. The tendency is to want to pick movies that we adults want to watch, and cross our fingers that they are appropriate for the kids. We did that a few months ago during the holidays. We decided to go see "Four Christmases" with Vince Vaughn and Reese Witherspoon. I think because I had just seen Vaughn in "Fred Claus", I figured it would be fine. I was wrong. The very first scene had enough sexual innuendo that my 11 year son old was embarrassed. Later in the movie, they actually allude to the fact that there is no Santa Claus. My 9 year old daughter looked at me with questioning eyes. Now I knew this would probably be her last year of "Santa Belief", but I wasn't ready to give it up in the middle of the holidays. I took her out at that point, but it was really too late, and I was angry with myself for not checking it out beforehand.



Anyway, the guys made the gracious decision Saturday night to take the kids to see "Monsters and Aliens" and let us ladies go see "Duplicity" with Julia Roberts and Clive Owens. The kids thoroughly enjoyed the movie, especially Gabrielle, who gave it a 10 out of 10. (Even Matt liked it, and he wasn't thrilled about going. He was hoping he was going to talk the guys into a pg13 flick.) The guys were not as thrilled. I was hoping it would be something like Shrek or Monsters, Inc. Those were kid's movies that Tony really liked too. But unfortunately, this one did not fall into that category. They called it things like "painful" and "never-ending". Oh well.



"Duplicity" was pretty good. It wasn't the best movie I've ever seen, but it was definitely entertaining. If you are expecting a normal Julia Robert's romantic comedy, you will be disappointed. It is more of a quirky, intrigue movie with a slight romance thrown in. Clive Owens is really good. He plays the leading man role with a sweet vulnerability. It isn't what I expected. Julia Roberts still has her trademark smile and laugh, but she doesn't over use it as she sometimes can, and her character is interesting. Her wardrobe is lovely, which can always be a huge winning point for me. I also like the fact that she is aging gracefully. What I mean by this is that she is absolutely beautiful, but not trying to be the girl we saw in "Pretty Woman". There are some wrinkles (thankfully not botoxed away), and it is obvious that she has had 3 children, but it doesn't at all take away from her beauty.



We ladies obviously got the better of the two movies, a fact that we will pay for over the next few months. Every time we go to a movie, the men will insist that it is their turn to pick because of their generosity this time. It almost makes it not worth it, because we will have to sit through something like "Van Diesel Lives Again" or "Animal House 7", but hey, it was nice of them to let us have our pick this time.



The next movie I am looking forward to is "The Proposal" with Sandra Bullock and Ryan Reynolds. I loved him in "Definitely, Maybe", and I've been waiting for her to do something funny like "Two Weeks" that she did with Hugh Grant a few years ago. This one looks like it might be really good.



Tomorrow, I need to talk about "Celebrity Apprentice." Sadly, I am addicted to this show. I like anything where there is a competition that pretty much just requires hard work. That and a bunch of B list celebrities thrown in...



So until tomorrow, when the discussion will be about how Joan Rivers, Dennis Rodman and Clint Black all have something in common...

I'd Rather Be in Paris...

It's a rainy Friday morning here. It is the kind of morning where extreme discipline must be practiced if you work at home. After the 2 hour process of getting the kids, husband and pets off to school, work and...sleep(pets), it would be easy on a morning like this to simply give in to the urge go back to bed. This is made even more tempting by the fact that I completed an article yesterday that I have been working on for many weeks, so instead of starting on another one, a case could be made for taking the morning off. But I did do that last Friday, so today, I quickly made my bed so that the temptation would be erased. Psychologically, the made-up bed prevents any napping. I could make a case for cleaning, but I won't.

The husband returned last night from a 72 hour whirlwind tour of Europe. I received e-mails from Nova Scotia, Scotland and England. (Well, actually his friends received some of those...always nice to hear that the friends heard from him before I did) It was a business trip, but as in so many of his business trips, I find it difficult to sympathize when he is travelling by private jet, staying at luxury hotels and eating at 4-star restaurants. This time he was even kind enough to e-mail me a picture of his cool hotel in Scotland and tell me how much I would like it. As I ate my grilled cheese sandwich and pleaded with the kids to finish their homework, I enjoyed viewing the luxury suite where he was staying. Years ago, before the kids started school, I use to go with him on many of his trips. These days, with school and sports and all, that is no longer an option. Fortunately, he did do the one thing that makes it all ok. He brought back gifts for me. Not that I ask or expect it, but when he pulled out the Calvin Klein Secret Obsession and the La Prairie eye cream, my heart leaped. In the years when he travelled 250 days a year, he always came back with the best stuff from duty free or the airport gift shops. I have Fendi watches, French perfume, Italian purses, Australian lingerie (that would be Elle MacPherson bras from a New Zealand airport gift shop). But this time, I really didn't expect it, so it was even that much more exciting. The perfume smells so good that I keep forgetting that it is me and wonder what smells so good. The eye cream is my favorite, but the price of it is usually the same as a first class plane ticket, unless you get it in duty free...and even then you have to take a deep breath before you buy it. Anyway, it was good to have him home, safe and sound...and bearing gifts.

My friend is headed to Paris for spring break. Her husband is there on business and she is leaving the kids with family and joining him for the week. I am so jealous that I can hardly stand it. If I didn't like her so much, it would be too hard to listen to her plans, but fortunately, she allows me to advise her and live vicariously through her, which makes it easier. Paris is my favorite place in the whole world. In my fantasy life, I would own a home there in the St. Germaine district. It would be a small apartment above my shop where I would sell a small line of dresses and accessories that were beautifully crafted, yet reasonably priced. I would pick up my morning espresso and croissant every morning from the cafe next door, and I would go to Musee Dorsee every Thursday on my lunch break to stare at the Impressionist paintings. (I have a very rich and rewarding fantasy life). Anyway, back to my friend. She keeps saying that she wishes I would come with her, and if she says it one more time, I am showing up on her doorstep with my bags packed. I figure I can be her interpreter and translator. I wish her a safe and relaxing trip, and I know that every morning when she wakes up and looks outside her hotel window, she will be awestruck by the beauty of a city that truly looks like something out of a storybook.

So on with the day. I will start a new article, be thankful the hubby is home, wish my friend Bon Voyage.

Until next week...when April is here along with my favorite season of the year...

This and That

Late start this morning. My son had an orthodontist appointment at 8:00. They promised me that if I took the early time, they would have him out in 15 minutes. At 8:45, I knew this might not be the case. What is amazing is how many times they look you in the eye and promise it will only be 5 more minutes. This always happens at the gynecologist too, but it is even more frustrating because you are lying naked and freezing on that horrible table. At least at the gynecologist, my doctor makes a nonchalant apology about making me wait an hour. The orthodontist always has that air of "we are doing such important work that you don't get to question the fact that we over-schedule in order to make a boat-load of money." ...Anyway, Matt was glad that he missed Spanish class, so I suppose I need to chill out.

Gabrielle had softball practice last night. We had assumed it would be cancelled due to the rain, but we were wrong. For an hour and a half, she stood out in the freezing cold rain and listened to the coach explain the infield fly rule. Due to my passive/aggressive personality, I didn't confront the coach and suggest he end practice. Instead I paced up and down like an idiot thinking this would somehow suggest to him that he needed to cut it short. The only thing that got me was cold and frustrated. Gabrielle said "Mom, you might just want to sit in the car next time." Yes. I think I'll do that.

American Idol was entertaining last night. I love those old Motown songs anyway, and I thought there were some really good performances. Unfortunately, Gabrielle's favorite girl, the lovely Megan, did not do well. I made the mistake of pointing this out, and Gab pouted the rest of the show. Matt's pick Chris did very well, which I also mistakenly pointed out, so he gloated the rest of the show. This did not make for pleasant viewing...However, we all agreed that strange Adam was really good. I never liked that song "Tracks of My Tears" when Smokey Robinson sang it, but I would probably buy Adam's slowed-down, mellow version. And I was glad that he left off the black nail polish. I like the blind guy, Scott, a lot, but he gets worse and worse every week. I hate when Simon is so harsh, but I thought he was right about Scott. The 16 year old Allison is terrific. Her version of "Papa was a Rolling Stone" was really soulful. She has a great voice. I think the final 5 will be: Adam, Chris, Matt, Allison....and the final spot will be between Danny, Lil' Rounds and Anoop. Of course if these are anything like my final four picks...

I saw on the news this morning where a number of women are taking up stripping as a profession due to the tough economic times. Here is what I would like to know: If these are such tough economic times, why are strip clubs still doing well? I'm not sure what my reaction would be if that was an expense that we had to work into our budget...

An article in the Economist says that the White House team is demeaning Michelle Obama by pushing her into this "mommy/fashionista" role. I totally disagree. First of all, does anybody believe that Michelle gets forced into anything? Secondly, the fact is, she is a 45 year old woman who left her powerful high-paying job because she decided that her husband and kids needed to come first. I happen to admire her for this. I think that there are many of us who look at her and know that her decision was very unselfish and modern. Instead of trying to hold on to her former self, she is daring to create a new life for herself by taking on new behind-the-scene projects. Recently, she started an organic garden on the White House grounds to teach her girls about healthy eating, while at the same time, giving left over goods to the shelters in the area. As far as this "fashionista" attack, look, if I had hundreds of photographers taking my picture at every juncture of my day, I'd be doing my best to look good too. (And by the way, if I had arms like hers, I'd never wear sleeves again! Is there really a "drama" about this?) I may not be a big Obama fan, but I really think Michelle is doing ok so far...

That is it for today. It's that perfect mixture of rain and cold that makes me want to cozy up and write the rest of the morning...I better take advantage of it...

So until tomorrow...is it Friday already?....

"Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another: "What! You too? Thought I was the only one." C.S. Lewis

A very good friend e-mailed me the other day and said she that even though we haven't seen each other in awhile, she was keeping up with me through my blog. I smiled to myself when I read that, because every few days, she sends me a two sentence response to what I have written. It either makes me laugh or nod in agreement. I met her several years ago at our children's preschool. I had just moved to a small town from Atlanta. She had just moved there from L.A. We had both been working full time and were now staying home with our kids. The first time I met her, I knew that I had made a friend for life, and that is very unusual for me.



I have a tendency to be a little closed off and private. At the end of my first year of college, my room mate said "I can't believe how little I know you after spending the year with you." I, on the other hand, knew everything there was to know about her. The first day I met her, she walked into the dorm room, laid down on the floor and began to roll back and forth on her back. I didn't know how to react, so I just continued to tack my posters up on the wall. Finally she said, " I've had a gas problem all day. Need some relief." (I apologize for the crude reference, but it really says it all, right?) And thus began our relationship, which to me is one of the great lessons learned in college dorms. You learn to get along with all sorts of people. I was 16 at the time, having graduated from high school early. As one might imagine, coming from the most over-protective parents in the world and starting college a couple of years early, my freshman year was a true eye opener. I grew up very quickly. But the most important lesson was that my way was not the only way or necessarily the right way. My room mate and I were different as night and day, but she was vivacious and fun, and watching her do her thing day after day helped me to loosen up a bit. I don't know if she learned anything from me, but we developed an easygoing and comfortable relationship.



The next main friendship I made was years later after my 2 older girls were born. I was living in an apartment and I had walked up to get the mail. I saw a girl with two small boys playing outside. I knew immediately that she was french. (She and the boys were dressed very European). Having majored in french in college, I was intrigued, and I very uncharacteristically approached her. She spoke very little english at the time, so we spoke mainly "franglais". Over the course of the next few years, we became the very best of friends. She was extremely smart and athletic. She challenged me to be a better person in almost every area. We played raquetball every week, and she always beat me. She cooked very french gourmet meals on a budget, while my cooking skills were basic to say the least. She started a french literature book club (you can imagine what that group was like) and picked very obscure, esoteric novels to read that were way over my head. When I hinted that the group might be "above my head", she said "work harder, you need to develop your mind." She never made or listened to any excuses. Our friendship had a very interesting dynamic to it. She was definitely the "leader". Years later, after she had moved back to Paris, her life took some difficult turns. I visited her there while I was working one year, and I thought maybe things would be a little different. But the first thing she said when she saw me was "I thought you would have cut your hair by now." I laughed and knew that all was well. She was still the same person.



Looking back, I find it interesting the things that define our friendships. When we are young, they are mostly defined by our environment. Someone who lives near us in our neighborhood. Someone who is in the same class at school or on the same team. As we get older, they may be people we work with or parents of our children. But however our environment pushes us together, the qualities that we aspire to in ourselves are usually the ones that our friends possess. I admire kindness, humor and passion. If I can have a good laugh with someone, I am immediately drawn to them. When I see kindness, I want to be around it. And when I see someone passionate about life, I want to be part of it.



My friend who e-mailed me about the blog that I first spoke of has all of those qualities. She always has a kind word and an open ear. She is always searching for new passions in life. And best of all, she makes me laugh whenever I am with her.



In the end, it is these friendships that make life easier and brighter.



So until tomorrow, when I will be thinking of my friends near and far...

"I'm Not Home, But My Shoes Are. Leave Them a Message."

Totally a girl thing today. I took the morning off last Friday to go shoe shopping. This requires planning because the nearest mall with my beloved Nordstrom's shoe department is an hour away. There is a mall nearby, but it's the kind of place you only go when you are desperate, and you always come away depressed with your purchase.

If I drop the kids off at school and leave immediately, I can be at Nordstroms by the time they open. This is actually my favorite time to shop because nobody is there. The sales people are busy setting up for the day, so they are available, but they don't bug you. I went with a certain pair of shoes in mind. I tore the picture out of Vogue about a month ago. They were lovely high-heeled sandals. Cole Haan. Grey patent with leather ankle straps. Way too high for me with about a 3 1/2 inch heel, which puts me at about 6'2'', but just absolutely to die for.



As I sailed into Nordstrom's, I paused briefly at the children's department so I could feel like a good mom. I also glanced into the men's department so I could feel like a good wife. But the shoe department was beckoning from the other side of the store, so I quickly made my way over there. There they were...my fantasy shoes. You know the feeling you get when you see a pair that you just have to have? You imagine yourself wearing them and looking sexy and terrific. I picked up the display shoe, turned it over to see the price...and my heart sank. $295?? When did this happen? When did the price of shoes move comfortably past the $200 mark? My psychological guilt point is $120. Anything under this point I can manage to justify. Anything over this point moves into the price per wear category. 2 years ago I bought a pair of boots from my "go to for almost everything" store, J.Crew. (I was there long before Michelle Obama made it cool). The boots are brown leather with flat soles and zippers on the sides. I knew I had to have them the minute I saw them. I also knew that I would wear them out, so the $280 price tag didn't faze me. 2 years later, the price per wear is probably down to about 30 cents. And not only do I wear them with everything, I get complimented on them almost every time I wear them (which everyone knows is majorly important). Even at the ballgame last weekend, a guy said to me, "I love those boots." Nothing puts a smile on your face quicker than a compliment on your shoes.



But I had to say "no" to the lovely Cole Haans. I mean, in my previous life as a Retail Director/buyer, I might have been able to talk myself into them. Those were the good old days when I was traveling to New York and Paris. Those shoes would have fit into my life perfectly. But at this point in my life, as a mommy/ would-be-writer, those are not the kind of shoes that get worn a lot. I mean, maybe to church...but no, probably too sexy. Ok, maybe out to dinner with the husband...on a birthday or anniversary. So twice a year...which means $150 per wear...so sadly....no.



When I was in college, I worked at the local shoe department. The reason was suppose to be to help pay for school, but the real reason was to support my shoe habit. My boss would let me put any shoes I liked on hold until they reached the clearance price. When I think about the number of shoes I bought for $5.oo, it brings a tear to my eye.



The shopping day was not a complete bust. My daughter Rachel met me, and we had a great lunch at one of those frou-frou cafes where I rarely go anymore. She also talked me into the cutest Longchamps purse...lime green...and a pink wallet. I used my Nordstrom coupons on them, so the price was so low the lady actually grimaced. I also got to peruse the cosmetic counter, specifically Chanel, where I plan to concentrate on my next trip to the mall. Thank goodness, the price per wear on cosmetics is much easier to justify...



So until tomorrow, when I will be carrying my cute lime green purse...

Monday Morning After the Game

Monday morning came too early today. We spent the weekend at Matt's baseball tournament. 5 games in 2 days, and they won every single game. Matt hit a home run, which was really exciting. But the best part about it was just the sheer fun of being at a little league park on a beautiful day. I remember as a little girl loving the days that my brothers had baseball games. My dad coached and my mom packed sandwiches. After the age of 10, I kept the score book. It was a real family affair.
There are so many lessons to be learned on and off the field in Little League. It is so interesting to see this group of 11 and 12 year old boys bond as only 11 and 12 year old boys can. Of course there is a lot of goofing around, razzing each other and doing appallingly gross miscellaneous stuff, which I won't go into. But when the games starts and they go out on the field, they turn into a group of little men who not only play hard, but support each other. When someone makes a great play or gets a good hit, they cheer him on and celebrate. When Matt hit his home run, he was greeted at home plate with 12 chest bumps and a lot of back-patting. But when someone makes an error, they also rally. Their coaches are trying to teach them at this age that you make one play at a time, and if you make an error, forget it and move on. After struggling a little with his pitching in one inning, Matt was sitting on the bench kind of quiet (which is unusual for him). One of his teammates came over and sat by him and said "You doing fine. Don't worry about it. Let's play ball." It was nothing profound or deep, but the change in Matt's demeanor was obvious. It's a great life lesson, and as I see the boys learn to do this little by little, I am reminded of how instructive, win or lose, these games can be.
The lessons my daughter learns on theses days are very different ones. She learns that if you eat 3 hot dogs, french fries, 2 slushies and a candy bar, and then you go and play for 2 hours on the playground, you don't feel so good. She also learns that in the middle of an exciting inning, dad will give you money for anything (Maybe I need to pay more attention to that).

Monday morning after the big tournament is tough. In our house, there is not much that pancakes and sausage for breakfast can't cure. But after getting in bed 2 hours later than usual, my daughter had a hard time even pretending to be in a good mood. My son was quiet and absorbed in ESPN update as usual, but I feel happy for him this morning. I don't know what the equivalent of "show and tell" is in 6th grade, but whatever it is, he will enjoy it today. I would love to be a fly on the wall when someone asks how his weekend was. I hope they ask it in front of the little girl he "admires" so he can gracefully brag on himself.

So back to work at the beginning of a beautiful week. And until tomorrow, when I need to discuss how expensive a fabulous pair of shoes has become....

On ne Voit Bien Qu'avec le Coeur. L'Essential est Invisible Pour les Yeux

All of us get those e-mail forwards from our friends...the cute pictures or the sentimental prose or even the funny messages. We either glance at it or delete it if we are too busy. Yesterday a friend sent me an e-mail with a website highlighted. He told me to read and watch it when I had a chance. Being ever respectful of people's time, he even told me that it lasted about 12 minutes, but he said it was well worth watching. Now he rarely sends me anything like this, so I saved it until I had a chance to watch it last night. I'll set it up, but as he pointed out, it is kind of beyond words.

The subject is a man named D.J. Gregory. He was born with cerebral palsy and his parent were told he would never walk. Fast-forward to 2008, and this site highlights how D.J. attended 44 events over 45 weeks on the PGA tour. This was his life long dream, and as he travelled, he wrote about his experiences each week on the Tour. The most poignant scene is when this amazing man watches himself on tape. Although he has achieved his dream, he is embarrassed by what he looks like on tv. The juxtaposition of his pride and emotions are beyond touching. His story is beyond inspiring. If you have a chance, take 12 minutes and go to www.pgatour.com/2008/r/dj.blog/index.html. I promise it will change your attitude for the rest of the day. It reminded me once again of my favorite line from The Little Prince . "One sees clearly only with the heart. Anything essential is invisible to the eye." (Today's title)

Reactions to yesterday's political diatribe were mixed to say the least. (Please notice the use of the word "diatribe". This is the "word of the day" on my blog site. Everyday a new word appears and I try to incorporate it into my writing. The last few days the words have been about 22 letters long and I couldn't pronounce them. Therefore, I'm feeling pretty excited and super-intelligent that I used today's) More people read that blog than almost any I have written, but I also got a lot of negative responses. One lady said, "Too heavy, go back to the girl stuff." Another said, "If I want politics, I'll read Newsweek." And my favorite was "Go back to the beach. Stop trying to sound smart." That was just rude on so many levels because there is always that small chance that I am smart...

As previously stated, this is a blog about my everyday life. Some days I think about fishermen and bikinis, and some days I think about politics. I don't really plan in advance what I'm going to write about. Occasionally something will happen during the day and I'll think "maybe I'll write about that." But usually by the next morning, I change my mind and discuss something else. When I started this, it was meant to be a writing exercise. It seemed a good discipline to HAVE to write something every morning for 32 minutes. After I'm finished, I'm kind of in writing mode and it is easy to pull out an article or a novel and keep writing. But after doing it for several weeks, it has become semi-addictive. And I say this with a little shame because I find myself being sucked in by the site hits and the responses. On the days that I get a lot of hits, I'm a little too self-congratulatory. If I get a lot of responses, I feel kind of famous. However I am quickly brought back to earth by my daughter and husband who say "someone must have randomly typed it "bore me " today, and it brought them to your blog." And just like that I am whisked back to reality.

On to another subject. Why was our President on Jay Leno last night? I know we live in a People Magazine culture, but this just seems kind of demeaning and inelegant. It was one thing during the campaign, but during these tough times, shouldn't we hope that he has better things to do than joke around with Jay? Aside from the crassness of it, he made a very distasteful joke about the Special Olympics. I think at heart he is a kind man, and I have no doubt he will apologize for the remark, but that is the chance you take when you are trying to be funny. I wish he would stop trying to be"everyman", stop trying to charm us, and just focus on leading the country....Ok, enough lectures.

Very tragic about Natasha Richardson. Yet another reminder that life is fragile and each day needs to be celebrated. She was a lovely woman on the outside, but from all reports, she was even more beautiful on the inside. I guess we think we are in control of our lives, but when things like this happen, we remember that "control" is just a fallacy. No matter how much you outsmart or over-protect, life (and death) happens.

I'm taking the morning off and going shoe shopping. I need a 2 hour reminder that I am, at heart, just a girl who loves a pretty pair of shoes. 2 hours where nobody needs a meal or clean clothes or spelling words or an ironed shirt. Then I will return, hopefully in a new pair of fabulous shoes, with a renewed spirit, ready for a weekend of baseball games and play dates.

So until next week...

"Politics is the Art of Looking for Trouble, Finding it Everywhere, Diagnosing it Incorrectly, and Applying the Wrong Remedies"

I watched with interest yesterday's congressional grilling of AIG Chairman Edward Liddy by Congress. He had been called in so that our congressmen could show their mock outrage at the fact that AIG had gone ahead and paid out retention bonuses to AIG employees despite the fact that it had received billions of dollars in bailout money.

I hesitated to watch, sensing in advance the huge cringe factor that would be involved in seeing all of these congressmen with their prepared statements of outrage, step up to the microphone for their 5 minutes of tv time. But I had read about Liddy, the 63 year old retired businessman, former President and CEO of Allstate, who was called out of retirement last September to step in and "fix" the mess which is AIG. With 38 years of business experience (and a salary of $1) I was interested to see how he would respond to what would inevitably be a barrage of insults and intellectually flimsy allegations by the congressmen. Let me preface by saying that I have no doubt that there were reasonable and substantial questions that could have been asked of Mr. Liddy. Unfortunately, this didn't happen, with a few minor exceptions.

Liddy began with a statement that basically explained that the bonuses that were paid out were all retention bonuses (as opposed to performance bonuses) and that AIG was contractually bound under law to go ahead and pay these. He added that had he been running the company during the time the bonus program was structured, he would not have approved this, but since it was formerly established, the decision had been made that "not paying them would create too much risk" of the company imploding, thus causing more pain to the American tax payer. He added that all decisions had been agreed upon by the Federal Reserve, and that he had been assured that the Treasury (including Geithner) had also been kept in the loop.

As he finished his brief statement, one could see the congressmen, eyes glazed by a lack of understanding, scribbling furiously to amend their notes. One by one, they either asked inept questions of Liddy or made trite proclamations. Rep. Hodes of N.H. said "AIG stood for arrogance, incompetence and greed." I had to turn my head at this point. How long had he worked on that nonsensical tidbit? What good did that do anyone? In front of him stood an intelligent, articulate man who had courageously stepped up to the plate in order to "serve his country" by stepping back in to a cesspool of a company. It was obvious that he was doing his best to make very complicated decisions that were not popular or politically-driven, but long-range efforts to clean up a mess. The one intelligent question that was asked (and I wish I could remember who asked it because he was a lone ranger) was why AIG couldn't decide to break the contracts, not pay the bonuses and dare the recipients to sue. I'm not an attorney, so I don't know the answer to that one. Mr. Liddy's stock response was that there was too much risk involved. He didn't specify if the risk was in losing the employees or being subject to legal ramifications.

In my very lay-person understanding of all of this, it seems that were are in very real danger of developing long-term policies to fit short-term political objectives. We now have a team of congressmen suggesting that "Wall Street pay be tied to long-term performance of firms." I think the better idea is one that was put forward in the Wall Street Journal. Let's tie the pay of the congressmen and legislators to their approval ratings...A 50% approval rating would mean 100% salary, 40% would bring 80% salary, and ....well, you get the picture.

Machiavelli's The Prince (2 references to this in 2 weeks...how surreal?) said that "Lofty ideas lead to bad government." Ayn Rand predicted (in Fountainhead and Atlas Shrugged) that we were headed towards inevitable economic disaster if we continued on a path towards socialism and a welfare state. Mr. Obama and team might be wise to study the past in order to save the future.

I've been trying to refrain the last few weeks from making any overtly political statements. I naively hope that despite my deep-seated fears, the Obama team will rally and produce results. I am not going to be like Rush Limbaugh and root for defeat, but it is also getting harder and harder to stand by quietly and cross my fingers...

So until tomorrow...when the weekend is in view, and I am not as serious....

This and That

It's a busy morning here today. There are articles to be finished and novels to be written, so I will set my timer for only 17 minutes today. We'll call this a mini-blog. Since time is of the essence, I will use the mini-blog to clear up some random issues and respond to some comments on previous blogs. My apologies to those who haven't read any blogs the past few weeks. You'll be lost in some of the references, but bear with me.


1) As discussed last week, Matt had to pull of an A or B on his science test in order to watch "24" on Monday night. I knew before he even got in the car after school that this had not been accomplished. As he climbed into the car, he told me about 4 other grades that he had gotten back that day...all A's. But no mention of the science test. So I asked. He mumbled that he had missed the B by 3 points. I felt so bad for him, but I kept up a tough front. He asked if we could negotiate another consequence, but I told him I would lose my credibility if I did that. By 8:30 that evening we were both miserable. I began to think I had punished myself as much as him. At 8:45, I asked Tony if 3 nights of earlier bedtime and no weekly allowance would be a fair trade. He said "Do what you gotta do." So I caved and made the deal. Matt got to watch his beloved "24" and I got to enjoy it with him. I'm proud to say that I followed through on the earlier bedtime last night even though he had to turn off the Hawks game with 5 minutes to go...

2) Tony is miffed at me for taking what he called "too much artistic license" with the beach blog about our "house guests" , so let me clear things up. I will own up to changing the facts a little bit. "Peers" was not actually a small Mexican man, but rather a small Romanian man. He did not actually murmur " Buenos Dias" to me in the kitchen, but rather something in his own language (what does one speak in Romania?) which I did not understand. I assumed he was saying "Good Morning" due to the time and circumstances. I could have been wrong. He might have been saying "You must really be surprised to see a small Romanian man in your kitchen this time of day." We'll never know, will we?

Tony also feels that I "fudged" on the true distance that Camden was standing from us as I was being told about his overnight accommodations. He claims he was at least 12 feet away. I still feel my original guess of 4 ft. is correct, but let's meet in the middle and say 8. Again, I am not sure how this changes the true thread of meaning behind the story, but if it makes Tony feel better...then there you go.

3) NCAA final 4 picks...these are totally personal: North Carolina, Clemson, Tennessee and West Virginia...I haven't decided on a winner yet.

4) American Idol. I think that guy Chris is amazing. I loved the Garth Brooks song he did last night. It was "Just to Feel my Love". I remember it from that movie "Hope Floats." He is my "closet pick" because Gabrielle likes Megan and Matt likes Chris, so I would be seen as taking sides if I voiced my support for Chris. My "cover" pick is Matt, who looks so much like Justin Timberlake.

I hated Adam's version of the Johnny Cash song. Really creepy. (Sorry Rachel) I'm sure that is some sort of cool gene I am missing.

5) Gabrielle had softball practice last night. The following were the best lines overheard during practice:

Coach: Lindy, you're throwing like a girl!
Lindy: I am a girl.


Coach: Jessie, what the heck are you doing? (Jessie is standing with 2 feet on second base)
Jessie" You told me to "cover the bag."


Coach: Annie, what do you do if the ball is hit towards you?
Annie: Try to get out of the way.

The names have been changed to protect the truly innocent. I admired the coach's patience. I could tell he wanted to throw his cap on the ground in frustration, but he kept his composure. I had to cover my face because I was laughing so hard.

6) On a final note, and at the risk of sounding like a gossip column, I hated hearing about the skiing accident that Natasha Richardson had yesterday. I'm hoping that the reports of her being close to death are exaggerated. She feels like a member of the family because we watch "Parent Trap" about 3 times a month in our house. Gabrielle always tells me I look like her. I'm saying my prayers that she will be ok.

That's it for today. Short and not very meaningful. So until tomorrow, when 32 minutes will allow me time to be more interesting....

Even Our Misfortunes are part of Our Belongings

It hasn't been a great morning. I do everything I can to avoid saying that "s" word, because I think it is overused these days, but today there is just no way around it. (Just as a side note, Matt would assume I was going to say "shut up" and Tony would assume I was going to say "shit") "Stressful" is the only way to describe it.

My daughter Gabrielle wears hearing aids, and this morning the left one doesn't work. If you don't know her well, you would probably not notice. She goes to great lengths to hide them with her hair, and even greater lengths to hide them from me in the mornings in the hopes I will forget about them and she won't have to wear them. The first thing I do every morning after making my coffee is to test those hearing aids. Then I lay them out by my keys so that I don't forget to help her put them in. Some mornings she fools me and hides them behind my coffee maker. I'll find them there about mid-way through the morning and then have to head to the school to put them in.

Gabrielle has moderate hearing loss in her left ear and mild-to-moderate in her right. It is sensorineural loss, which means it is irreversible. It can not get better, but it might get worse.
She was not properly diagnosed until she was almost 4 years old, so the repercussions have made her life very difficult in some ways. When she was born in 1999, there was no mandatory hearing test for newborns. Ironically, 6 months later a law was passed requiring this test. If Gabrielle had been tested at birth, her short life thus far would have been made so much easier. But because hearing loss (not deafness) is difficult to diagnose, she has been though an inordinate amount of testing and false diagnosis. The result of all of this is that she has a limited vocabulary and a sometimes limited knowledge of things you would assume a 9 year old would know. A good example would be Christmas songs. If you ask her to sing "Jingle Bells", the chances are the lyrics would be all wrong. She sings it the way she heard it before she got her hearing aids. With her hearing aids, she hears much better, but not perfectly. She still misses sounds and word endings. The first time her audiologist played me a recording of how she actually heard sounds, I cried. Until you can actually hear what she hears in her "world", it is hard to understand how it affects her on a day-today basis.

Most people in their life have a few "Aha" moments, as Oprah would put it, that include memories that are forever etched in their mind. Those would usually include happy moments like a marriage or graduation, or some sort of achievement. My "Aha" moment was the minute Gabrielle's hearing specialist doctor came in after surgery to tell me that it was not the fluid in her ears that was causing the loss. We had both crossed our fingers hoping that the fluid was the issue. I can clearly remember him sitting down and saying "I'm sorry. This is not what I wanted to tell you." I can remember everything about that moment because I knew that her life was going to involve a struggle that I had no control over.

The hearing aids are now a daily part of her life and she has does a terrific job of coping with all that comes with it. She pulls out the aids the minute school is over because they magnify every sound, and it literally exhausts her. Because she doesn't wear them 24/7, she still gets names and words wrong, but she has a good sense of humor about it. Yesterday in my blog, I said that she called a guy name Camden, "Camel". When Matt pointed this out to her, they both had a good laugh. Every week when we watch American Idol, she sits by me and says after every song: "Well it sounded good to me, but how was it really?" As a mother, my heart breaks a little bit every time this happens. But I am also proud that she has learned to deal with it in such a light-hearted way.

So after attempting some "surgery" of my own on the hearing aid, and failing, I am off on a journey to get them fixed. Who knows what Gabrielle will miss today? At least I know she is happy just having to wear one. I'll bet she even throws her hair in a side ponytail during P.E.
class...

Until tomorrow, when hopefully everyone will be hearing things a little more clearly....

Expect the Best, Prepare for the Worst, and Learn to be Surprised

So we're back from the beach. Back to work, back to school, back to the beloved routine. But there is a little unfinished beach business which has to be discussed...

While at the beach, we were staying at what we consider to be our "family" condo. This is where we go to get away. We have several other units that we rent, but this one is for family or friend rental only. A few days before we left, Tony began to drop some hints that one of the nearby units needed some new floors and he was thinking of bringing down one of his workers to start on it. I didn't give it much thought, but I told him it sounded like a good plan to me. On our way in the car last Saturday, he mentioned that Camden (his worker) would be coming on Monday. I asked where he would stay, and he mumbled something about "no big deal, figure something out". Again, I didn't give it any thought.

Monday rolls around and Camden arrives. I've never met him before, but we all go to lunch together and have a nice time. The kids love him, Matt treats him like a big brother, and Gabrielle calls him "Camel" (which is the subject for a different blog). After lunch, Tony pulls me aside and asks me what I think of him. "Very nice." I replied. "So you're comfortable with him?" "Sure" I said, not sensing where the conversation was going. "Good, because I think it makes sense for him to stay with us. I mean, he's going to be working the whole time anyway." Oh, ok. Now look, this is how Tony always works me. He phrases things so that if I disagree with him, I sound like a mean person. And he knows that I do not like to be mean. Camden is standing literally 4 feet away, so not only can I not have a true reaction, but I can't even ask any questions...just how Tony likes it.

So Camden "moves in" for the week. No big deal. There are 4 bedrooms, Matt and Gabrielle sleep together most of the time anyway, so it's not like we are on top of each other. The next morning, I hear the front door open and close, so I get up and tip toe out of my room. I peek out the window and see that Camden has left to go to work, so I relax. No need to change my nightgown or brush my hair. I go over and start to make a cup of coffee, when suddenly I am startled by a door opening. I look up so see a small Mexican man coming out of the room across from Camden's room. He smiles at me, murmurs "Buenos dias" and walks across the room and out the door. Once again, there are many reactions I could have had. I could have screamed, because it would probably scare most people to have a small Mexican man appear in their house. But if I screamed, I would wake up the kids, and that would be tragic to give up an hour of free time on vacation. I could have asked who he was and why he was there, but it seemed rude at the time. (In addition to the fact that he obviously did not speak English.) I could have gone in and asked Tony, but I had a feeling this would not surprise him, and we might have to have a "discussion". So I just decided to let it ride. Workers, small Mexican men...what might be behind door number 3?

Let me clarify something here. I am generally very shy and reserved, and Tony is usually semi-respectful of this. In the past when he has invited work-related people to stay with us, he has always given me the "right of refusal" first. In other words, he asks if I am comfortable enough with someone to have them stay. What has to be taken into consideration with Tony is that he will probably be on his own agenda and feel no responsibility to be "host" to whomever is there. This task usually falls on me, so I take that "right of refusal" very seriously. Now I'm not saying I would have exercised the "right" this time, but the difference was all to do with timing, being put on the spot, and of course, not speaking Spanish.

As it turned out, I met "Peers" later in the day. He was a very sweet man and he was helping Camden do some very difficult work. I only saw him a couple of times the rest of the trip since he was there to work. In the end, I tried to explain to Tony that it is always better to get a heads up on this sort of thing. I mean, I can always make adjustments, but if I'd known that we were having "company" I might have made some different wardrobe choices. You know, left the little nightie at home, or at least thrown in a robe.

Now that I am home, I am able to laugh at this. Our vacations have always been filled with excitement, adventure and turmoil. But that is a subject for another day and another blog.

So until tomorrow...because tomorrow is always my busiest day of the week...

It's All about Lessons Learned

Vacation is winding down. It's been a lovely week. The weather could not have been better. I am in grateful mode today. I said to Tony this morning, with a sigh, "Back to the routine." And he smiled and said, "Yes, but that is good, because you love your routine." And he is right. I create a routine where ever I go. My days are structured and planned, and this is how I like it. But I will miss the slower pace of the days and the ease of expectations. Coffee on the balcony, no book bags to pack, no homework to do...well, you get the picture. But there have been lessons learned this week...

A miracle has happened at the beach this morning. The fishermen are there, but I notice that things are different. NFL 1 is alone. He is wearing shorts and a t-shirt. He is NOT sitting on his cooler. He is chatting with the beach strollers. And I cannot be sure, but I think he caught a fish. Down the beach, the swimsuit boys have shirts on. One of them is sitting today. They are still working hard, but when their bucket was full, they sat down and rested. What to make of all of this? I guess we all have lessons to learn. Maybe NFL 1 decided to work a little harder. Maybe swimsuit boy decided to relax and take it all in. Remember when Forrest Gump said "Jenny taught me to read and I taught her to dangle." We all have something to teach and we all have something to learn.

Next door in the adjoining building, there is a beautiful older lady whom I have seen all week. She must be in her 70's, but she is active and engaged in her life. I see her at the pool, in the workout room and on the beach. She is absolutely stunning, but you can tell that she has lived in Florida for awhile. Her skin has aged faster than she has, a testament to the strong sun. When I was a little girl, my mom covered me in zinc oxide every summer morning before I left for the pool. This was during the time when all of the other girls my age were covering themselves in baby oil so that they could get the best tan possible. I remember my mom said "You will thank me when you are 40". Unfortunately she is not here, but I am thanking her anyway. The first few days I was here, I really wanted a tan, but my lovely neighbor reminded me that the only tan I really want is the one that is only visible when I take my suit off at night. Remember the conversation between Miranda and Carrie in "Sex and the City" when Miranda says "What happened to aging gracefully?" and Carrie replied "It got old". I guess it's all a matter of balance.

Speaking of balance, a friend of mine sent me an e-mail yesterday pointing out the fact that my blogs this week reflect my personality. One day I write about competition, and the next I write about enjoying the moment. She is absolutely correct. These are the opposing sides of ME. I am goal driven. I make lists and cross them off. I am very disciplined. But I am a Libra, so I require balance. I quell my competitive spirit by telling myself that it is the process and not the end that really matters. One of my favorite poems is called Ithaca. It is about a journey to a place called Ithaca, but it reminds you to take your time on the journey, because it is the long trip and all that happens on it that will bring you happiness.

I'm not sure what lessons the kids learned this week. I guess Matt learned that if he pushes Gabrielle in the pool, she will kick him in the shin. I suppose this is the lesson of cause and effect.

So back to reality next week. It has been so much easier to write at the beach. No pressure or self-imposed deadlines. Mark Twain said "Work and play are words used to describe the same thing under differing conditions." Maybe a picture of the beach above my desk at home will help...

So until next week...back to reality...where there are more lessons to be learned...

You Win Some, You Lose Some

Gabrielle and I have were playing in the pool last night. After almost 72 games of Marco Polo, she wanted to have a race. She's been swimming weekly in a class and she was anxious to show off her skill. I was a little tired, but I agreed to a quick race. When I was her age, I competed on the swim team. In fact, I was the fastest swimmer in Atlanta in backstroke and freestyle. (Tony is now rolling his eyes, but where else do I get to brag about that little tidbit of trivia) Anyway, ready, set, go...I sashay down and back, and when I turn around to see how far she has to go, she touches the wall. When did that happen? I mean, she isn't more than 3 seconds behind me. You should have seen the look on her face. You'd have thought she won the Olympics. But it got me to thinking...

Last winter during basketball season, Matt would drag me outside around 9:00 every night to play a game of basketball. We would play to 20, and I would usually beat him by about 5 points. This year, the first game we played, he beat me by 3. I chalked it up to luck, but I congratulated him on his win. The next night, we played again, and he beat me by 3. For the next 4 nights, he beat me every game. On night 7th night, I finally won, but only by 2 points. And over the course of the season, he consistently won. I was really proud of his improvement, but I was privately bummed that I could no longer win. I looked forward to baseball season where I knew that it was just a matter of throwing grounders and not competing, but it was not to be. One evening after baseball practices had begun, he asked me to come out and catch him while he practiced his pitching. I grabbed the catcher's mit and knelt into position. On the first pitch, he threw it so hard that I missed it and it hit my foot. It hurt so much I actually cried... in the middle of the neighborhood. Matt was so upset and sorry, not realising that his strength had surpassed my ability. My husband, having witnessed the entire event, burst into laughter, and then quickly tried to recover by suggesting that I go inside and get some ice. (This reaction is the subject for a different blog entitled "Times When You Should Not Laugh At Your Wife").

As I sat inside, it occurred to me that my days of practicing any kind of sports with my son were coming to an end. I guess it won't be long until he will agree to play me in a kind of patronizing "oh sure mom, I'll spot you 20 points" tone.

When Tony and I were on our honeymoon in Jamaica, there were ping pong tables out on the beach and we decided to play. Having only known each other for about 9 months, we had never actually played ping pong before. Now I grew up a tomboy with 3 brothers in an extremely sports-minded family, and we had a ping pong table. My dad taught me to play at 4 years old. So needless to say, I whipped Tony's butt. He challenged me again and again, but I beat him every game. Later in the day, we took up paper football, and he regained the winner's crown. He beat me every single game. To this day, I still think he might have cheated (I know Tony, how do you cheat at paper football?) , but I have no proof of this. Thankfully, 3 days later, I turned back into a girl, got my hair braided like Bo Derrick in "10", and we returned to honeymooning.

It's hard to be a competitive person and lose to your children. A good mother applauds the fact that her children are developing skills and becoming better athletes....but you know, there is that nagging voice inside that says "I'll practice and get you next year.."

As for Tony, I'm dragging him over to the pool in the morning. And if I don't win that race, we're going to find a ping pong table...

So until tomorrow...when I'll hopefully find something I can win at...

The Fisherman and the Buddhist

It's another beautiful day at the beach. I was up early with the fishermen. They fool me every morning. When I see them down at the water's edge, they are bundled up in sweat pants and heavy jackets. I assume this means it is too cold to sit out in my bathing suit, so I pull on my sweats and jacket and bring out my coffee. But it's 75 degrees . I happily peel down to my suit and assume that they have been out there for a few hours.

I wanted to write early today, but I left my computer charging in my son's room. This means I will either have to wait until after 10:00am to write, or wake him up and try to write once he is up. I choose the former. Last night he borrowed my computer to update his website. He started this site about 6 months ago and he has updated it about 4 times. The problem with this is that it is a sports news site, full of scores and comments on the previous night of sports. When he asks me why he doesn't have many visitors to his site, I try and explain that people who follow sports probably want their update on a daily basis, not every 4 months. After reading a few paragraphs of my blog yesterday, he kindly questioned why anyone would choose to read "that stuff" over his "stuff". The competitor in me couldn't resist comparing the number of hits on each site. He mumbled something about a "show-off" and I was ashamed of myself.

Back to the fishermen. Every morning we are here, the same 2 guys are out there on the beach. From my 4th floor balcony, they look like 2 NFL players. One brings his fishing pole and nothing else. He stands the entire time he is there and never moves. The other guy brings 2 poles and a big blue cooler. He has a pretty elaborate routine. First he sticks both poles in the ground. Then he folds back the top on the enormous cooler and proceeds to pull out drawers and various items. I can't quite make out what he is doing, but he finishes up with a big mug of something, closes the top, grabs a pole and sits down. He never moves for the rest of the time he is there. The curious thing is that in the 2 years I have been watching them, they have never caught one fish. Never. And my feeling is that they don't expect to, because they don't bring a bucket or anything to put a fish in. (I suppose the guy with the cooler could use the cooler, but I don't think he would dare).

Half an hour later, 2 more guys show up. They wave at the "originals" and begin to set up about 50 yards further down the beach. These guys cannot be more than 18, and they wear their swim suits and nothing else. They each have 2 poles which they quickly stick in the ground. They also have a huge white bucket. They get to work immediately, and in the next 15 minutes, they have at least 15 fish. They chat amiably with anyone who walks by, but they mean business. When their bucket is full, they pack up, wave to the other 2 guys and leave.

Meanwhile, NFL 1 and 2 are winding down. The mug goes in the cooler, the poles come out of the ground, and they slowly amble away. And I am left to ponder what it all means. There is an old Buddhist principle that says you should always act as if the future of the universe depends on what you do, while laughing at yourself for thinking that whatever you do makes any difference. (of course, sometimes I think that the Buddhists copied all of the best lessons from the Bible , then sat down, had a glass of wine, and decided it was a good plan but a little too "uptight")
I am thinking that these guys have the right idea. There are lessons to be learned here. They are disciplined and meticulous, but their hard work does not depend on the outcome. It is the effort and not the result. This is something I can admire.

I write every morning. Some days the results are ok, and some days, as my son so kindly puts it, "Why would anyone want to read that stuff?" But it doesn't matter. It's all in the effort.
And that is today's lesson form the beach.

Until tomorrow....that is if I remember to keep the computer out of Matt's room...

The Swimsuit Issue

It's a beautiful day at the beach. The sun was coming through the window at 6:30. I was tempted to get up and write, but obviously not that tempted, because it is now 9:00am. It is still quiet though. I can sit on the balcony and stare at the ocean, drink my coffee, chat with my daughter and write...and congratulate myself for being such a multi-tasker. Life is good.

I have recovered from my somber mood yesterday, not so much because of anything I did, but because my kids refuse to let me be depressed for long. There is something about activity that pushes one from "feeling sorry for myself " mode to "snap out of it" mode. So today, back to life and all it's mysteries.

Do you ever wonder why no matter how well you thought you packed for a trip, you always forget something? Over the course of the last 10 years, my life has included a lot of travel. Whether it has involved work or pleasure, there has generally been an open suit case in my closet for the better part of a decade. Though I have become fairly efficient at packing for my family, I am always looking for better ways to do it. A couple of years ago, I read an interesting article about packing for vacation by some famous fashion editor. She suggested only packing 5 items in black and white. I tried that on the next vacation. It didn't work for me. Now, my husband only allows one carry on bag on any given trip, so I am all about minimalism. But this was too much even for me. After 1 day, I had worn everything twice. After 3 days, Tony asked, "Are you going to wear the same thing everyday?" I tore up that article as soon as I got home.

I made 2 major packing errors on this trip. No shirts for my son and no underwear for Tony. For Matthew, this is no problem. He would wear the same thing every day for a year as long as it is comfortable. To Tony's credit, he didn't even mention this for 24 hours. And even then, he diplomatically asked if I had "put it in a special place." Fortunately, Target is only minutes away, and the whole problem was solved for under $15.

The bigger question is why I forgot their underwear and shirts, but I some how got to the beach with 15 bathing suits. The embarrassing answer is that I love bathing suits. It's very strange, because I am one of those people who have a very stream-lined closet. I discard everything that hasn't been worn for a year and limit trendy purchases, and all of that "Tim Gunn" advice stuff. But when it comes to bathing suits, it is another story all together. I have whole drawers dedicated to swimsuits. I save them for years. If we want to look at it psychologically, perhaps it is because my choices were so limited during my early life (see earlier blogs). However, if we want to be honest, I just like them. Mine fall into several categories:

1) The old standby bikini. This is an old bikini I bought from Target about 5 years ago. (Giving Target a lot of press today). It is brown with turquoise and orange dots on it. It doesn't look remarkable in the drawer, but it is the suit that I can put on with no tan, no make up, work outs skipped for weeks...and still look in the mirror and say "ok". When I put this suit on, my daughter says "cute suit." My son says, "Yo, sexy mama, swimsuit model mama". My husband murmurs a few lines that don't belong in a blog. And I feel good.

2) The one piece swim team suit. This is required for all moms. This is suit that you race your kids with in the pool. This is the suit you build sand castles in. This is the suit you play frisbee in.
Enough said.

3) The "I'm only laying out" suit. This is the suit that gives good tan line. Not much to it, but it's ok, cause you're just lying there.

4) The "new suit in the catalogue that you just have to have" suit. This is the suit you see every year in a catalogue that you cannot get out of your mind. You see it in, like, February in a catalogue. You keep the catalogue on your nightstand and stare at the suit every few days. You try and talk yourself out of it. But a month before spring break, you order it. For me, this year it was the white strapless suit in the Boston Proper catalogue that looked just like the suit that Charlotte wore in the "Sex and the City" movie. Of course, the one in the movie was La Perla and it it cost $550. I will shamefully admit that I considered it for 17 seconds before the reality of life and conscience kicked back in. I ordered the copy, but to my great disappointment, it is on back-order. (Is there a worse word in the English language than "back-ordered"?)

5) That brings us to the final category. These are the suits that you thought looked cute on the rack, but you didn't try them on and now you are stuck with them because there are no refunds on swimsuits. Oops.

So today I am going with old standby. I have already gotten the "cute suit" comment from Gabrielle. Now I am waiting for the "Yo sexy mama" from Matt. It's going to be a good day at the beach.

Until tomorrow, when talk turns to what we bring to read at the beach...

Occasionally It Has To Be Sad...(But Tomorrow is Another day)

It's a very melancholy day here at the beach. Usually when I sit on the balcony, I can see for miles over the ocean. But today, I can't even see the sand. Funny how it suits my state of mind. My mom died 4 months ago today. 7 months ago, she was here at the beach with me. Though she was fighting many different health issues, including a little dementia, I did not see it coming. We had a lovely time, and I will always be thankful that I had that last little bit of fun with her before the downhill spiral started.

When I logged onto my computer this morning, mom's name lit up in my address book. Just for old time's sake, I sent her an e-mail. Now that account has long since been cancelled, so I fully expect to get one of those "mailer-damon" messages later on in the day, but a little bit of suspended belief never hurts on a day like today. In fact, it seems to be kind of the norm.

A friend of mine e-mailed me telling me that as he drove into work this morning, a particular song he liked came on the radio. At the same moment, the title appeared on the radio screen and on his blackberry too. For privacy's sake, I won't mention the title, but suffice it so say that it was full of implied meaning. My friend wondered if it was "coincidence or message from above?" I told him which ever he prefers.

Another friend lost her mother last week. She said she felt like an "orphan." I had to go write this down because I could relate to it so much. It is a very odd feeling being without parents in the world. It feels as though something is always missing. I use to talk with my mom at least 4 or 5 days a week. Even near the end, when she often would not remember the conversation, it was still a comfort to me. Just the sound of her voice allowed me to keep my sense of the world in tact. My belief system allows me to think that I will see her again one day, but there are days when that just doesn't fill the void.

As I kind of bask in today's sense of quiet sadness, I am reminded of another friend who is dealing with the anniversary of the death of her son. The perspective this brings to my situation immediately re-focuses my grief and reminds me that at least mine falls within the circle of life. Death is suppose to follow some kind of order or sequence. This is how we can make sense of it. When the sequence isn't followed, it defies any explanation or justification. So I send her my love and my thoughts and my prayers. And the hope that none of us are dealt with more than we can handle. I'm not sure that "if it doesn't kill you, it makes you stronger." But I am sure that if it doesn't kill you, you at least get another day to live and love.

When I was a little girl, my mom would cook me oatmeal in the morning, tuck me in at night, and even check on me periodically during the night. During our last trip here together at the beach, the roles were reversed. It was as if we had come full circle. I would fix her oatmeal, make sure she was comfortable and happy, and peek in during the night to make sure she was sleeping well.
I guess what goes around truly does come around.

So tomorrow is another lovely day at the beach. The fog is already burning off, and I hope that my melancholy mood burns off too. Besides my family and friends, it is my sense of humor that seems to push me through the pitfalls of life. I will be searching for it as the day goes on.

Lately, every time I turn on the tv, the movie Forrest Gump is on. I like the movie, but it has never been a favorite. However, every time it comes on, I find myself watching for a few minutes and hearing something truly prophetic. Today, the line that comes to mind is at the end, after Jenny dies. Forrest is at her grave speaking to her and he says "If you need me, I'm never far away." So today, the same goes for you mom. If you need me, I'm never far away...

Until tomorrow, with the promise of happier tone...

"Here a question arises-whether it is better to be loved than feared, or the reverse."

Among the responses to yesterday's blog were two in particular that I wanted address before moving on with today's subject. To the person who felt like the conversation this week had "definitely sunk to a low level" , just a reminder that this is a daily blog of my life, not the thesis for my doctorate or my submission for the Nobel Peace prize in literature. Every morning, after I take the kids to school, I give myself 32 minutes to complete the blog before I start on an article or pretend to work on my novel. The subject matter generally follows what is happening in my life. For better or worse, my life is probably more Disney Channel than PBS, more ESPN than CNN, so please judge accordingly.

As for the person who said "I enjoy your sarcasm with my morning coffee", it is hardly ever my intention to be sarcastic. I do try to strike an ironic tone, because my life teeters on the edge of chaos and dysfunction (like most people?) So I appreciate what I think was meant as a compliment, but just wanted to tweak the premise......Now on with today's subject.....

I was meant to be packing for the beach last night, but was met at every turn with distractions. My 6th grade son has a major science test today, and for the first time this year, I kind of left it up to him to prepare for it. Over the last few years, due to the difficulty of his school and his questionable study habits, I have interjected myself pretty deeply into his nightly routine.We normally start reviewing about a week prior to any science test. Let me re-phrase that. I start reviewing and he makes a grand show of turning down the sound on ESPN to listen to me. Last month the chapter was on reproduction. If you remember 6th grade science, this is "the big one." You know, when they separate the boys and the girls and give you the real "facts of life" whether you want to know them or not. Prior to this chapter, my husband had supposedly given Matt "the talk", so I figured the reproductive chapter would be a breeze. I was sadly mistaken. During our review (which he rebelled against because "this is so gross to talk about with your mom"), it became clear that dad's talk had been more about slang words and male bonding than any sort of factual information. He ended up with a B on the test, and I still worry about his lack of understanding on the subject.
This month's chapter is on the elements and I am essentially clueless on the subject. I begged and pleaded with him all week long to study, only to be met with sighs and grimaces. Finally, I threatened to take away his beloved "24" program if he makes below a B. Therein lies the problem.

Do you remember reading Machaivelli's "The Prince" in college? Remember the treatise where he discusses whether one should prefer to be feared or loved? Isn't that the grand question in daily discipline with kids? Do I want to be loved or feared? In a work environment, it's a whole different dynamic. In my previous life, when I managed people and not children, I generally chose fear, because love didn't get any work done. But with your kids, it is so hard to feel disliked, even if it for the "greater cause." When Matt is mad at me because I make him study, I go to bed sad, but a deeper voice tells me it is for his own good. If I let him off the hook, he goes to bed telling me how great I am, but I go to bed guilty, knowing deep down that I have taken the easy road, and somehow let him down.

I guess there are no easy answers when you are raising your kids. Some days I discipline with love, and some days I do it with fear. Either way, there is also a lot of praying and crossing of fingers that goes on too. I'm hoping Matt winds up with at least a B on his science test, mainly because I want him to do well. But also because I look forward to watching "24" with him every Monday night. I'll let you know how it turns out...

As I mentioned earlier, next week I'll be blogging from the beach. For those of you who tell me that you like to read it with your morning coffee, you might have to push it back to your mid-day diet coke or your evening glass of wine, because I'll hopefully be writing later in the day...

And for those wondering about the subject matter next week, I'm thinking "Bikinis vs One Pieces...the real story"............until next week

My Apologies to the Man in the Next Chair

It was brought to my attention that I need to either finish my "adventures from the hair salon" story. or stop with the teasers. So let me wrap up the story so we can leave the salon...

As I said yesterday, after all talk of the Bachelor had subsided (including a sad follow-up conversation on Joe the Millionaire and some other show called My Big Fat Fiance), I now turned to eaves-dropping on the conversation the adjoining stylist was having with her customer. He was an older gentleman, probably pushing 70, maybe even 75. She was desperately trying to explain to him how she wanted to cut his hair, but her references were going over his head. Finally, she looked around and said, "Does anyone remember the name of that old country singer fellow whose last name was Wagoner?" Well listen, I am from Tennessee, and this is the only reason I can think of that I knew. I don't love country music, although I can listen to Vince or Willie or Carrie with no problem. But out of my mouth popped "Porter Wagoner." Well, the stylist jumped for joy. This was the name she was searching for. I felt like killing myself because I would now forever be known as "the lady who knew who Porter Wagoner is"...and THAT IS NOT WHO I AM!" Once again, I have to refer back to a slightly traumatic childhood memory. I cringe as I say this...but the only possible way I could have known that little tidbit of information is because my dad used to watch HeeHaw. In fact, he heehawed at Heehaw. This show was pretty much a variety show version of Dukes of Hazzard.

Let me stress that I could not have been more than 5 or 6 when this show was on, but even at that tender age, I realized that there was something inherently wrong with that humor, and I could never understand my intelligent, sweet, articulate father practically guffawing at this show. ANYWAY, Porter Wagoner often performed on that show, and that painful memory was brought to the forefront...
On with the story...as soon as I say it, the little old man literally glares at me. And then it dawns on me...he KNEW who she was referring to, but he was pretending not to!!! He was hoping I was going to say "Robert Wagoner" or even "Jack Wagoner"...but instead, I backed up her assertion that he would look like Porter. Remember on "Sex and the City" when Charlotte says "In some cultures, heavy women with mustaches are considered beautiful?" and Samantha answers "And you're looking at me while you're saying that?."....same thing. Needless to say, we sat in uncomfortable silence the rest of the time.

One more question to throw out into the universe about the hair salon. Do you ever notice when the young girl (who sweeps up hair) comes around to take the lunch order of the stylists, the price level of the takeout orders are astounding? I mean, nobody is ordering the value meal from McDonald's. They are all getting 3 course meals from the gourmet restaurant next door (where I have only eaten on my anniversary...I'm just saying) I'm sitting there wondering if I'll have enough money left over after the tip to get a coke out of the machine, and they are debating between steak and shrimp.

Of course, as I pay my bill, it all becomes clear. The tip alone is enough to make someone's car payment. And you know what? Good for them. Just the ability to sit there all day and placate all of their customers is a real skill. More power to them. (And maybe I should open a restaurant near by)

So we now exit the hair salon. I'm going to the beach next week, so tomorrow let's talk about bathing suits and packing...and possibly why men are impossible...

Just Shoot Me Now, 'Cause I Watched the After Show, After Show

All day yesterday I tried to rid myself of all memories of the previous night's viewing of The Bachelor. I worked on a very serious article on hearing loss, studied the elements with my with my son for a science test, and helped my little girl complete her state project on North Dakota. The problem is, I was overwhelmed (and this time I mean it) with responses to yesterday's blog on the show. These responses ranged from criticism of the subject matter (have you really sunk to discussing this?) to strong opinion (how could he dump Melissa?) to funny (it's no different than the World Wrestling..all staged).

So last night, I am watching American Idol with Gabrielle, and feeling quite guilt-free, because obviously as a mother, I have to do this. We have our routine. We sit on the brown couch together and she writes down all of the people that she likes so that I can call in after the show. Unfortunately, every single week she mistakenly writes down the text numbers instead of the phone numbers, and as anyone following this blog knows....that makes it impossible for me to vote.

Everything was going well until halfway through Idol, I get an e-mail from an un-named source telling me that there is an "After the Show, After Show" of the Bachelor coming on at 10:00. This throws me a bit, but I quickly pull out my serious reading in order to put it out of my mind. At 10:00, the kids are in bed and Tony is once again pretending to work on his computer, and as I go to put on the Discovery Channel, I casually check ABC and see our good-natured host Chris Harrison describing the "amazing" show coming up where we get to see how Jason and Molly are doing 6 weeks later...and also get to hear who the new Bachelorette will be. I glance at Tony to get his reaction...and he is actually riveted by Chris's remarks, so I lay down the remote and pretend that we will just have it on in the background.

So what we learn is that Jason and Molly are very happy together, though tormented by America's opinions about the way Jason handled the whole thing. Melissa has turned down a chance to once again humiliate herself by coming on to discuss it. Tony is once again strangely obsessed by the black leather dress that Melissa wore in the final show, somehow finding that reason enough for Jason to go with Molly. I myself am secretly thinking that Jason seems like a pretty decent guy and he and Molly seem genuinely happy and I hope they make it. STOP!... This is how they suck you in!... It is a reality show! I need to get out while I still can....however, I do wait until I hear who the next Bachelorette is. Tony thinks it will be the recently-dumped Melissa, but alas no, it is Jillian, an evidently popular yet eliminated lady whom Jason dumped early on. Now Jillian is lovely and articulate and totally willing to own that this is a "strange way to find love". She also vows that there will be no hot tub scenes, thus earning my immediate respect, but also guaranteeing lower male viewership.

Tony is meanwhile making the vulgar gesture he makes when he finds someone to be a little insincere. He asks "You are going to watch the Bachelorette, aren't you?" Well, I don't know yet. I have a couple of months to make up my mind. If I do, I might not admit to it. But in the words of Forrest Gump, "That's all I have to say about that."

Tomorrow I promise to return to tales of the Hair Salon. I have a very disturbing story to tell . The adjoining stylist was cutting the hair of a very sweet older gentleman (pushing 70) and she was trying to explain to him how she was going to cut his hair. She told him he looked like some country dude named Wagoner. She turned to me and asked if I knew who she was talking about. Being from Tennessee, I unfortunately knew...and the little old man obviously did too. What I did not pick up on was the steely glare he was giving me in hopes I would not say it out loud...

But that is a story for another day. so until tomorrow...

A Dissertation on the Bachelor (or in the words of Forrest Gump..."I'm not a smart man, but I know what love is".)

Another snow day, no school. I didn't expect this. I even got up and packed book bags and fixed breakfast. Ok, so here we go. I have maybe an hour of good writing time...

I am going to interweave Part 2 from the hair salon with today's subject which has a huge cringe factor. Let me explain. When I sat down in the chair last week, my hair dresser and I (not mentioning her name is out of respect and not fear this time...see previous blog) exchanged hellos and the basic blah, blahs. How are you? What's new? What do you want done? And then we do what we always do...we eavesdrop on the conversations going on around us and discuss whatever sounds interesting. On this particular day, the subject of choice was this year's season of the Bachelor. Now, my hair dresser and I...ok, let's call her Cassidy...we kind of acted above the whole conversation, like, "oh my goodness, You all watch that?" And then as soon as everyone else left our area, we dove in. I admitted that I might have watched the first season, and you know, I think I might have seen the Bachelorette. Cassidy said yeah, she saw those too, and she also might have seen the one with the comedian guy and the football player. Oh yeah, I replied, I might have caught a few episodes of that one, too. Well, 10 minutes later, I think between the two of us, we had covered every season, to our great shame.

After totally dissecting the show and the psychological reason that anyone would voluntarily go on there, we moved to this season. Now, I TRULY have not watched one episode this year, but I kept up with the happenings of bachelor Jason by listening to morning radio on my school drive every Tuesday morning. Jason was the previous bachelor on "The Bachelorette" (the plot thickens) and he was dissed on the finale. The lovely but slightly psycho Deanna, who had been on the PREVIOUS Bachelor, only to be eliminated during the finale, chose some other guy, leaving Jason, who also happens to be a single father, heartbroken and alone.

So this season, Jason, who they claim is "a good guy", romanced and hot-tubbed his way through the season, and it came down to M&M (Molly and Melissa). Now, in the end, he picked Melissa, asked her to marry him, and sent Molly home in tears....Fast-forward to last night, which was 6 weeks later...as Chris, the nice-guy show host said "a truly historical Bachelor"...Jason changed his mind. After spending 6 weeks with the afore-mentioned Melissa, he decided that she was not for him after all, and he was truly in love with Molly. So he brought out Melissa, broke up with her on nationwide television, and then tried to get Molly to take him back.

Now last night, after Jack Bauer had once again saved the world in an hour, I casually flipped over to "The Bachelor...After the Rose" just to see what had happened. I waited for Tony to scream in protest, which he didn't (which meant that he was playing Risk on his computer instead of working, which he often does.) Tony's usual reaction to the Bachelor is "who cares?" or "what a slut". But last night, we both watched in shame while Jason humiliated poor Melissa. Now Tony claims the whole thing was staged, and I have to admit, I'm leaning in that direction too. But nobody on the morning message boards agrees. Everyone seems to think that Jason is now the lowest of low. How dare he admit that he made a mistake? How dare he admit that after only knowing a girl for a few months, most of that time spent on luxury dates and in a hot tub, he just didn't gel with her in real life?

Listen, I don't know Jason, and I agree that it is pretty scummy to play this all out on national television. But don't the girls know it going in? Doesn't it make sense that he falls in love/lust after only a few months, but once they are in the real world with his son, they have to see if it works? I think that was the big elephant in the room last night. He kept saying that "the chemistry changed", but I have a feeling that once the lust had subsided, the dynamic with his son just wasn't right. So now Molly gets her shot. And I have to say from the quick clip they showed of them together with the little boy, she seemed to have more of a "motherly" side. Of course this is a totally unfair assessment based on a two minute clip, so my apologies to Melissa.

Tony's take on all of this? "This guy is such a loser. Cheeseball...What's up with her dress?" I could just tape his comments and replay them every time. I don't think I've ever heard him say "Wow, there's a stand-up guy, and what a lovely girl he's chosen." But that is a subject for another blog...

Ok, kids are up. I still did not finish the hair salon discussion, so tomorrow's installation will be Part 3. And as far as the Bachelor goes, I absolutely promise to NOT watch it next season...

Random Musings on the Weekend

This morning I was meant to be discussing the deep and significant discussions that took place in the hair salon last week. This will have to wait until tomorrow (sorry, I can just hear the sighs of disappointment) because we had 6 inches of snow yesterday and the kids and hubby are home this morning making it nearly impossible to focus.

We were forecasted to have a little snow yesterday, but in Georgia, one doesn't really take this seriously. Of course the really funny thing is here that as soon as the weather man even mentions the word "snow", the grocery stores are bombarded with hoards of people stocking up on bread and milk. Since I spent many of my early years in Indiana, this whole "stock up" theory strikes me as really funny. Now I understand that they are not equipped here to deal with snow, and so even an inch or two creates a bit of danger and throws a wrench in all facets of daily life, but I've always wondered...why milk and bread". Is there some meal I don't know of that consists of just milk and bread? Or do people just have toast and milk? I could understand hot chocolate or snack stuff, but no, I guarantee you if I go to the store right now, there will be no milk or bread to be found. Very strange.

The snow is very pretty, but I have to admit that I don't get the warm, fuzzy feeling that most people here (especially my kids) get from seeing snow. As you may have noticed, many things that happen to me bring up vaguely traumatic (that may be too strong of a word) memories from my childhood. Snow is no different. When I lived in Indianapolis, snow was a common occurence. Nothing changed or was cancelled when it snowed, otherwise you'd just sit out winter all together. We lived at the bottom of a very steep hill, so when it snowed, I would literally have to throw my books (and these were the pre-book bag days) across a driveway, then crawl across the ice, pick up all of the books, and trudge to the next driveway. Just the trip up the hill took about 20 minutes, and you can imagine the shape I was in when I actually reached the bus stop. When I tell this story to my kids, they miss the whole point and go off on a tangent of "exactly why didn't you have a book bag?" My husband, being from New Jersey, murmurs words like "lightweight" and "wimp", giving no credence at all to my traumatic story.

The kids had a blast in the snow, but again, the problem here is that since it is a rare occurence, we don't have proper snow attire. In Indiana, you put on your waterproof gear and play out all day. Here, you wear your jeans and tennis shoes until they are soaked (about 30 minutes) and then you go inside and change again. My laundry room is full of sopping wet clothes this morning, which I will dry and re-dry over the course of the day.

On top of that, our power was out for several hours last night, forcing us all to sit around the fireplace and be cozy, singing Cum-bah-yah. Ok, maybe not. Maybe the kids whined about the tv not working and ran around screaming and playing tag until Tony had to yell at them to go to their room. When the power came back on for 2 minutes, I decided to run on the treadmill, not thinking through the fact that it might cut off again, thus throwing me several yards off of the machine. This only exacerbated my earlier sledding injury that I received when Tony assured me that a hill was not too steep and then proceeded to push me down. Not only was the hill too steep, but the asphalt at the bottom was very hard.

But despite these little mishaps, it was still a fun day. The "guilty mother voice", (you know that annoying voice that tells you to let the kids have fun and don't worry about the mound of laundry and wet floors, etc) kicked in early in the day, so I was able to relax and watch the kids have fun.

Just as a side note, early in the day, before the roads were too bad, Tony ran out and brought back burgers and fries. He also slipped me an apple pie, which I love. However, at 12:20 last night, I realized that I had given up sweets for Lent and had broken my vow after only 3 days. When I shared this with Tony, he said "yes, and I now have something to hold over you". I'm not at all sure that this is keeping with the spirit of Lent. And besides that, I refused to be blackmailed, so I am owning up to my minor "slip" right now, so that he cannot "out" me later on it...

Back to the salon tomorrow...