Livin' Free in America

So far within the past week we really feel like we have been living free in America. We’ve gotten free food twice at chick-fil-a with coupons that came in the mail, been to the free movies and we just got a bunch of stuff for free at the new CVS pharmacy on Congress and Northlake today. Casey and I went and browsed the aisles with our hot little hands clutching our free coupons like treasure. I considered it a double whammy because it was like going on a free outing for the afternoon too. Casey was looking for something to do that didn’t involve one of her summer book reports that I keep making her work on, or anything involving cleaning supplies or garbage or recycling chores... or yard work (kid’s these days, go figure), and I wanted her to give the TV a break. So she received the coupon for one free candy item up to $1.00. (Yeah, we know how to live!). I had given Cally the free $5.00 worth of make-up coupon which we took with us on her behalf and got the revolutionary new eye shadow she’s been talking about for over a week. I had given Cael the coupon for a CVS brand item up to $3.00 for free so he could get something he needs for his new apartment. Since he hadn’t used it yet, I took it along with us and got him some laundry detergent. We also had a free greeting card up to $2.00. It was like we were poor people from a third world country walking into a brightly lit store with all it’s glitter and glam, seeing something like that for the first time, seeing all the goodies displayed in their opulence, and us with our free coupons in our hands had our heads in the clouds. It was a regular shopping spree. The free coupons just seem to keep coming in the mailbox...and I’m using ‘em. So we got $11 worth of stuff. It was fun. Yes, free is fun. Now, I’m not saying everything we’ve done lately was free. Oh no. Yesterday, I took Cael to Bed Bath and Beyond to continue our college apartment purchases. Little by little, I’m knocking things off the list to trick myself into not really grasping the enormity of the associated costs, although, like all my lists, this college purchase list is rather long. But, I can say we used either a $5.00 off or a 20% off coupon on each and every item we bought. It was quite a joy. We saved enough to feel good about it despite the fact that we still spent plenty. We’re buying the generic things at Target and such but certain things that we liked at Bed Bath and Beyond were still good deals and then the coupon helped too. You know, if I went through all the neighbors’ recycle boxes, I could probably find a ton of those free CVS coupons and have free summer fun all over again. I guess there are times when being gutless is a good thing. Otherwise there might be a scene.

Of rats and termites

I’m trying to refocus. OK, “focus” would be a better word. I probably shouldn’t get ahead of myself and think I am farther along than I am. One must first focus before they attempt to refocus shouldn’t they? I am at the business of ticking things of my always daunting list, but I have hopes and dreams brewing in the background. Does anyone else find it hard to hope and dream with a list always nagging at them. Usually I feel the need to finish everything chore-like before I get my heart set on something dreamy. But I have decided to take a stab at allowing dreams to simmer while going about the mundane, yet necessary, business of getting life done. It’s a new approach. Now, if dreams simmering are anything like foods simmering while I go off and do other things at dinner time, I may be in trouble. I am not known for an ability to keep things cooking in the background while distracted with chores. But I will take a stab at it.

That’s all, I thought I would be surprisingly brief just so that I am up-to-date with my blog. Nothing worse than a stale blog site when one comes to read hoping for info or entertainment or correspondence or just for something to occupy the moment. I have failed miserably at keeping up, I know. But there are others too (whom I won’t mention by name) who are not all that on top of their own blogs lately either. So off I go to pursue dreams in my mind as I work on the lawn, go to the store, finish the Peru album, make dinner, and on goes the list... the stupid, ever-present list.

Oh and for the record, the number of severed termite wings and bodies that have been present in my kitchen each morning for the past few months seems to be dwindling. I'm thinking that either this means they are dying out (I like to think things like this will just go away if I ignore them) or they have quit coming out because they are too busy feasting on the parts of my house they’ve found to consume. These termites are one of the curses of the ages that I have grown quite tired of. I have dealt with the problem so many times, I really have lost my edge about it. Probably because there are other situations to confront. Like yesterday I noticed a large population of slow moving flies on the screens of my front windows. A perilous sight, since the last time this happened many years ago, it meant dead rats in the attic. Now that I think about it, I did hear some scurrying sounds above me and out my window the other night as I was trying to fall asleep. It was an odd sound I couldn't place, but yup, rat scurrying is just what it sounded like. Anyway, I have as of yet not smelled dead rat in the house (a profoundly distinct smell), although outside the windows where the flies were swarming, there was an icky dead animal smell that was only noticeable when I was in a certain place and tried real hard to find it... and I didn’t want to find it if you know what I mean. But I did look around somewhat hoping something might be laying in the yard nearby that might account for the smell. But no. If it’s anywhere, it’s in the attic. I guess time will tell. I am just not sure how to handle this episode. Dead animals in the yard are almost too much to take, but I have dealt with them so many times I have some sort of experience and ability there (sure chalk that up on my list of talents), but dead things in the attic, forget it. I will, no doubt, pay someone to remedy this evil if a brave masked man in a cape doesn't just happen to show up at my door to rescue me from this grievous peril. Since we know how like that is, I guess I’d best be off to check my bank balance.
So much for my short blog entry.

Learning Something New Everyday, X 2

Yesterday’s chick-fil-a cup, now filled with ice water, is still attached to my hand. It has been there for about an hour now. I had just filled it with ice and water and set it inside by the front door because I was mowing the lawn and knew I would be getting hot and thirsty. But the rain seemed to be getting harder so I decided to pack it in and rake up all the grass laying in thick lengths over the two strips of yard I had finished mowing (it’s been raining every day for almost two weeks and the grass is growing like weeds). I wanted to get the mower into the garage out of the rain, but the only space to fit it in requires that it go in backwards. I was in a hurry as my hair was turning to something sadly pining of hurricane hair and the rain was gaining strength. The mower wheel always catches on the ladder propped up next to where I store it when I try to get it in, and it is expected that I will have to work it around to get it back far enough to close the garage door. Usually I climb over and pull the mower to jostle it in place, but this time I was in a rush so I leaned over and I pushed instead. I wasn’t getting good leverage pushing from on top, so I reached under the motor housing a bit and grabbed good and solid and gave it a sound push when, “aghhhhhh!” I screamed a fantastic scream and quickly separated my forefinger from the fiery metal part of the mower that the directions warn you in large red letters never to touch or you will surely face severe injury or death. Well NOW I was reminded of those directions and without any conscious thought, I shot off running to the front door and submerged my hand in my icy chick fil a cup where my hand has remained ever since, even while i raked up the rest of the grass (yes, I am talented, thank you for noticing). I even managed to keep my hand in the cup during almost my entire shower. I was particularly impressed by this myself. Typing is tricky with only a left hand to hunt and peck with, but I’m a trooper, even while having flashbacks of that day 11 years ago on fourth of july when I learned another lesson about hands and heat and things you should never do. I panicked a bit for a second when I took off running for the ice water, thinking back and hoping I wasn’t gonna relive that part of my life back when I learned my lesson in sparkler physics. Once was enough. But I decided this was a much smaller burn area, so I was gonna treat myself this time no matter how charred my skin. Good to know I am still learning new things every day. In fact I am such an astute student of life that I learned two things today, the other being this morning when I learned that if after flushing the toilet very early in the morning, you go back in later and find the water in the toilet is very low, so low that a sense of foreboding falls upon you like a thick dark cloud, don’t flush it again. Just don’t. No matter how tempting, because even though you may be certain that any clog would surely have dissolved by now, don’t fall for that. Don’t tempt toilet fate. Go for the plunger. Just go. I don’t care if it is all the way at the other end of the house and you don’t think you feel like walking that far and you think you can take your chances rather than make an extra trip for nothing. Plunge first. Flush later. You will be glad you did. Because you probably don’t feel like cleaning the bathroom floor that early in the morning. I can almost guarantee it.

Did I? What? Did I plunge first? Well, no, or what would I have learned. I would have learned nothing. I would have been just another regular unenlightened bozo. I chose instead the path of wisdom, the path of practical knowledge, the path of pee water all over the floor and being late to work, and enjoying the early morning smell of Dow Scrubbing Bubbles and all the exercise I got when after flushing and standing there with my mouth hanging open as the water rose, I suddenly decided to run like a madwoman screaming, “Crap!” “Crap!” “Crap!” hoping to somehow make it all the way around 6 corners at top speed to get the plunger before the water flow spilled like a graceful fountain highlighted by streamers of disintegrating toilet paper, ebbing like a bubbling brook throughout the bathroom. I learned, baby. And I am richer for it. And not only am I a notch smarter now, my bathroom floor is clean too, and so is the toilet. Because you can’t leave pee residue laying around all day. As it was I spent most of the morning after my lesson in learning washing my hands compulsively. Hey, when I learn, I like to make the most of it. How else does anyone ever get these chores done anyway if not for such life lessons. It is beyond me.

So now I find myself flashing back to my time in the emergency room all those years ago, the feeling of the freezing solution they had my hand in as I lay there with a blanket of fear over my heart, imagining the pain I would be going through in the days and weeks to come. I had watched enough TV, and I had read the “It could happen to you” stories in the magazines. I knew the horrors burn victims go through. I also remember the lady in the emergency room on the other side of the curtain with a bug in her ear, shrieking relentlessly for over a half an hour at the top of her lungs and hardly pausing for breath, pleading with them, in a demanding manical way, to get the bug out of her ear now! An unnerving experience in and of itself, even if you aren’t laying there with the fear of imminent torturous pain clawing at your mind. Then all those weeks of holding my hand up to avoid the throbbing, as friends and family mimicked me and my adopted hand posture in jest. Today when I took my hand out of the cup in the shower for a few minutes, there I was, hand up, palm turned inward. It all came back to me, just like riding a bike. I think this time I will just walk around with the cup on my hand for a while instead and try something new. People enjoy having a wide variety of things to make fun of. I think they get bored if you can’t give them something new to work with. Our culture sort of frowns on those who exhibit behavior like walking around with a chick fil a cup attached to their hand, but I don’t know, I don’t have any of that silvadine cream (or whatever it was) or those plastic gloves they had me wear last time for stupid effect. It really hurts like heck still if I take my hand out of the water and now it’s been two hours since my fateful choice to push the burning mower from underneath. So my styrofoam chick fil a cup has become my security cup. It’s gonna be hard to sleep with it full of ice water, but I’ll manage it somehow. When I glom onto a solution, I gotta go with it. It’s like my many rigging scenarios. I make it work, no matter how impractical or how seemingly odd.

So there you have it. I learned two new things today and I didn’t even have to spend a dime at the emergency room. I’m feeling pretty proud. And now I have another story that will go with my other often-told, story-laden warnings to my children. They just “love” it when I tell stories of my mishaps in life every time I warn them about safety of some kind. Oh yeah, they just love it. The well of life lessons is just getting fuller and richer. My wisdom never ceases to amaze them... Well, Cally said she’s surprised I didn’t stick my hand all the way under the mower while it was running and chop my arm off. I suppose one’s life lesson could be construed as another’s stupidity. To each his own. I see only the wisdom grasshopper. I feel the pain of stupidity, yes, but I see the wisdom. (wimper, wimper)

Shrinking Vistas

They have finished, finally! The anxiety of the past few months during which our main sewer line was being repaired is at the place where it is supposed to be a memory. In many ways it is... the roaring backhoe, the workers leaving their trash and destroying my yard and the constant fear over what will be torn up next are in the past and happily so. I had only so many “anxiety years” worth of leeway there. I think I used them all up.

I came home last Friday and happened a glance out the kitchen window on my way by as has become my habit and did a double take. The fence was back and seemed imposingly out of place after months of open devastation and that orange see-through barrier. All the sudden I felt claustrophobic, like my world had shrunk. I didn't remember the fence ever seeming so imposing, so on top of us before but we'd had time to adjust to a fence-free back yard more or less during the course of the work. As we stopped to look we began to get the feeling the fence was indeed closer than it had been. It looked as if one were to take a swing on the ever popular tree swing, they might now hit the fence. Something was not right. Upon further inspection it was confirmed; the fence was replaced about 2 and half feet further into our yard than it had been before. In one day I lost valuable real estate and what feels like an acre of green. It's all the usual blessings and curses of my life. The sewer runs clean and the fence is far superior to the chain link all the neighbors down the line had put back up. It's a wood fence exactly like its predecessor, rustic and pleasing to look at, however, being that it is wood and creates a barrier, now that the barrier is creeping so much closer to the house, the feeling of open green vistas has diminished. The surveyors came and decided where to put the fence all the way down the line in the middle of the easement. My neighbor hadn't wanted the fence so far into the easement originally but said they never asked before replacing it last week. So he has now gained some valuable real-estate and an even more open feeling and unfortunately I feel like the world is closing in. I'll get used to it I'm sure, and we don't actually hit the fence while swinging, but all during the torturous process of the work I calmed myself with the thought that all would be back to normal when they were through. It would all be over one day. It's over all right, and while the sewer runs free, my backyard view will never feel the same.

Ok, time to get over that, I have a video to keep after. I did actually quit going through old tapes and have begun editing. Despite the fact that I haven't got all the music I need, I am working with what I have for now in hopes that I will find a way to get it soon. I did a chunk of editing last night, but a chunk really is a spit in the bucket with all there is to work with. I have over 1200 items of video and photos to work with on this project. Most of the time if I remember a clip to use in a spot it is almost impossible to remember what I named it and find it in the overstocked bin. Luckily I love this stuff and when it comes together I am completely satisfied.

I also have a new photo album job - a trip to Peru. I just want to work on my video though, and yet the checkbook is starving for deposits. I must get to work. Lifelong personal projects feed the soul but drain the wallet. If only it were the other way around.

God is bigger than that

Me and my grad

As Tommy said this morning in his message, "God is bigger than that!" At the beginning of this school year we faced a "mission impossible" in many ways.
After a lot of work and the kind of prayer than only comes from heartache and during tough times, we are able to celebrate a graduation and a whole school year full of incredible things I could have only dreamed of and prayed for at the start. So congratulations Cael and thanks to everyone who encouraged him and prayed for us along the way!

Home in his own bed

They're safely back and exhausted, and only the stories remain to be told. We heard some on the way home, but I had way too many questions, and Cael was so tired and says he never wants to ride in a car or bus again for a long time after all the long bus rides they took in their travels. They had a turbulent flight on the way home and from Cael's telling, everyone screamed when the plane dropped 1000 feet. He didn't journal (he forgot he says), he took only two rolls of film (says he didn't realize he had four disposable cameras) but he says they saw the most beautiful sights (he loved Italy), he spent some time on an incredible mountaintop past the clouds, in the snow (and apparently it began snowing really hard while up they were up there) with very impractical clothing and we got to hear stories of some of the guys late night pranks and how the money situtation went. So if I can catch him for long enough to hear the stories before he forgets amid all that is going on today through graduation and the parties of the weekend, I will pass on all that I am permitted to along with some photos. The guys all grew little scraggly chin beards like shaggy but they will have to shave this morning for their awards ceremony and for graduation. Ah, what an experience.

And They're Off

The adventure begins at Palm Beach International Airport this morning at 10:00.

It looks like Cael is about to board a Spirit plane. Ha! They really flew delta, but upon our arrival and seeing the names of all the airlines on the signs in the drive up to the terminal, Cael remarked something to the effect of how glad he was that he didn't have fly on an airline with a name like Spirit. Funny that he appears here to be doing just that.


Cael gets ticketed and through the line early.






It was a hub of activity at the terminal this morning. Almost 90 students packed and ready for the time of their life in Europe for 10 days.



Lots of friends and fun.

The plane should have taken off by now. The kids are on their way to their first European stop in Germany via New York. Quite a layover there in New York and then a very long flight again after that until they reach Frankfurt. All the hard work of prepping for the journey is over. I can't believe they are finally on their way. What an adenture lies ahead. Makes me want to get on a plane and go somewhere.

Ladies and Gentlemen...

The Junior/Senior Banquet has come and gone. Here is a little recap of our photo shoot beforehand. There's much more, but we'll keep it to this for now.


I wanted more moment shots like this, but it didn't happen. I was really lucky to get this one.


The work of the one, the only, the talented...Elyse. You have no idea what a hit this hair was!


Don't see this everyday!


The ladies of the group.


The gentlemen.

And that's all I have time for at the moment, as now that the banquet is over with, we have moved on to getting Cael ready for the trip to Europe. There's always something to occupy our time. And one of these days I will get started on those graduation videos. Really.

Time to change the logo

Here’s a tip: If you wash the grungy film of dirt and build up off of your windows, the whole world becomes bright and green surprisingly, even on a late, gray, rainy afternoon like today. The grass outside has that electric look that comes in the evening. (I love my grass.) With the blinds open and pulled up, and with the windows wiped to perfection, I can see all the wonders of the great outdoors incredibly clearly, but unfortunately the extra light shines a spotlight on the dust collecting like a light snow build up on my furniture. And the spots on the carpet, why they seem more numerous than ever. Hmmm... maybe clean windows have something to teach me.

The window repair man just left a bit ago. Otherwise, why would I be cleaning my windows, right? Once I was able to close the window, I was thrilled to be able to wipe the thick grime off and see again. Oh and I just wanted to let you all know I have decided to take up a new vocation... I am going to repair window cranks on old Florida windows for a living from this day forth. That’s right, I just decided. Can you picture me with my drill in hand, my can of alumi-whateveritwas and maybe a tool belt for effect, oh and maybe some work boots just in case. Now remember when I repaired my own windows before, how it was with much struggle and short-lived results, well, come to find out from my repair guy, the people at the hardware store had supplied me with the wrong crank. No wonder the windows wouldn’t close and the job was nearly impossible! Well, now that I know I was wonder woman and the job could have been a piece of cake with my skills and the right parts, I’m gonna be rich.

So the repair man removed the old (wrong crank) and replaced it with a correct new one. I watched the process, taking sharp mental notes so I could make sure my technique is on target for the other one that has the wrong crank and can’t be opened without breaking. His visit lasted a mere half an hour and I am now $99.82 lighter in the checkbook. I don’t intend to pay another $99.82 for the other window. I will do it myself now that I know the name of the correct part: It’s the Miami somethingorother. Ok, I don’t exactly remember the name of the part because mental notes, even sharp ones, aren’t written in indelible ink. But I remember that it was two words and the first was Miami. It’ll come to me. I am sure of it. The part, which he told me I could purchase for about $12, cost me $28 today, and his time cost me something like $71. Add tax, and waalaaa, a huge bill for a little work, which is exactly why I had cellophane covering my windows for about 5 months. Yes, it was five months, OK?! (At least five months.) Well, now that I know that I was doing everything right but with the wrong part, I too can begin raking in $140 an hour instead of the pittance I bring in right now slaving over videos for hours on end, stressing and obsessing for little cash. Forget that, from this day on I present myself, Liz, window repair chick. Let some sucker pay me $99.82 for a half an hour. Ah, but, only call with broken window cranks exactly like mine. Otherwise, we might have a little problem and projected profit margins may decrease slightly. But if all goes well, I may need to change my logo from my imageremix flower to something new to reflect my new calling. Perhaps something reminiscent of a female Barney Fife with a tool belt instead of a holster.

Now if I could just figure out the physics of washing machine drainage. See, what good is a new washer if the drain tube overflows at the beginning of every rinse cycle. I never had that problem before. It only happens at the beginning of the first spin and is the very worst at the beginning of the second spin. The water can’t drain fast enough to avoid running over and under the washer and across the floor til I stop and start the washer a zillion times till the force recedes. Someone with physics sense please respond and give me a clue. I have tried holding the hose higher, crimping it, pushing it in farther, all to no avail. Is there any hope? I can’t stand at the washer forever waiting for two rinse cycles per load. I was up until 12:15 doing that the other night. Heaven knows I want to be rid of my rig queen title and have things that just work for a change. Somebody? Anybody? Is there hope, can you help?

As my world turns

You’ve been sensing the sewer work drama, eh? Well, here’s an update if you’re one to follow the soaps. After I freaked about the yard the other day when the sewer workers had driven the bobcat way into my yard back and forth and after watching them place all their stuff and huge pipes as far into my yard as the orange tree, I couldn’t take it for one more second. I had to go out and ask them not to do it anymore or I was going to combust. I approached the guy with the shovel and asked if he spoke English. He shook his head and pointed me to the “English speaker”, who after I voiced my grass concerns to him in a very kind but lengthy speech, looked at me with a blank stare and said, “I speak little english only.” Agh! I asked if there might possibly be an english speaking worker out there somewhere and he told me the guy was coming, that he was down the block a ways. I waited and waited and he finally came after stopping to talk to the guys and talk on his phone, and wash his shoes off. I told the guy about how the junk was creeping further and further into my yard and that they were driving the bobcat around my yard and I told him about the special palmetto sod I had just recently had laid, and he assured me they would replace my yard with whatever kind of sod I wanted. I explained to him that I didn’t want to replace my sod because of the difficulty starting new sod, all the water and time required. So he yelled over to the spanish speaking bob cat driver nicely asking him to stay off the grass. Since then, they trashed my phone line and I was without phone for about a day and a half. I have removed their belongings and pipes from my grass three times now after they’ve left. Right now a guy is out there raking up the grass all the way up to the grapefruit tree that they trashed. They seem to be onto the smoothing-out-dirt-process right now. I don’t look forward to reliving the new sod experience. I just did that. I was so hoping to be done with such effort for a while. This experience has taken a toll on me.

Judy, feel my pain. Here is a before picture...


And here is some of what has been going on during this “ode to hypertension.” These were taken from video I shot this morning, so the quality isn’t too great. I had removed all the junk from across the yard the night before so that isn’t available for view. But right now I can see by looking out the kitchen window, I have two more 15 foot pipes to roll into the dirt again tonight after they leave.



These roots are from the back side of my tree. I have a feeling it won't last very much longer without all those. It's leaning heavily already. And it's suddenly dropping leaves like mad.

Serenity now!

Mayday!

I know this is my second post in one day but... Mayday! Mayday! Loud cracking sound as back hoe flings its arm around to dump the dirt out next to my avocado tree. Limb down! I repeat, limb down! My swing branch is in jeopardy. I’m not sure which is worse, watching the men sit and talk in the trench for an hour at a time every half hour, or the panic I feel when I see the heavy equipment operator get up and make motions to head back to the back hoe. I can’t take much more. I’m in a sweat and there’s so much dirt out there piled so close to the house I can’t open the windows or it’ll all blow in. Their pipes and equipment are scattered further and further up into my back yard, the dirt piles are about 10 feet into my grass and if you don’t hear from me for a while, have someone check to make sure I’m not laying in heap by the kitchen window collapsed from the stress and bearing screen marks on my cheeks from trying to get a good look at the turmoil. Can’t take much more. And who the heck do these guys think they are swinging their big butts on my sweet little swing. They better not make me come out there! That thing can barely hold a kid’s weight without the rope part pulling through the holes in the wood and these guys are swinging with glee like kids on a swingset seeing who can get the highest, and having a hey ole time at it. And I can’t get over the fact that they are ruining all my grass in the shade. The grass I have is a special kind of St. Augustine intended for the shade and when they replace it I can guarantee they will put regular sod there and I will begin my fight to keep the grass alive all over again. Gotta run, I hear them taking another short break from their swing and tea time to do some more destruction of my yard and my soul. (never mind, they are still sitting in the shade relaxing, must be union rules or something). Gotta keep my eyes out so if need be I can call Seacoast and vent to someone who understands English. Very frustrating this whole process. Yes, I love having a sewage system that runs freely, but I value my sanity and the regular and steady beat of my heart as well. I say it’s time to get this job done and put me out of my misery. I’m begging, here.

Sunday Afternoon Vacation

There are a few things in life I find myself amazed by time and again through the years and yet somehow I don’t learn the lesson of that amazement in a “for keeps” kind of way. One such amazement would be the beauty that is the beach and why I don’t go more often. Once in a while when I finally find myself there, I swear it will be my new hangout. Then about a year later I find myself saying the same thing once again when I happen there out of some oddity again. What is that?

Today I stumbled upon another such place.

After church and lunch at the new church property, Lynette and Lynn and I went to the convention center in West Palm for a “women’s something or other.” It had a title but I can’t remember for the life of me what it was called. Cally met us there and we wandered the booths and watched a fashion show and sampled a few things. Cally got asked if she was interested in being a model (she wasn’t).We kept leaving Lynette behind because she shopped the jewelry and purse counters for way too long at a time; we were really just there for the free stuff. It wasn’t all we’d hoped it would be, (we’d hoped for free facials, pedicures, manicures, etc) but we got our tickets for nothing so who’s complaining. However, we were ready to leave within about an hour of wandering and signing up to win things. Upon our departure we saw some interesting looking homes rising above a wall that stood as a barrier between the Convention Center parking lot and the neighborhood to the south. It was obvious they were renovated homes as that neighborhood used to be pretty slummy. The neighborhood had the somewhat upscale look of old homes transformed. We decided to drive around and see how cute and charming they were and all the cool details you only find on the older homes in south Florida. We started seeing “For Sale” signs here and there and wondered what the asking prices were getting to be in this area. We rounded a corner and came upon an open house in progress. Lynette said we had to go in. So we did deeming her our official spokesperson. On the outside, the house was maintained although not at all that charming or attractive in color or style. The house we had seen a few blocks over oozed charm and this one looked ordinary. But upon entering it, we were amazed at the decorating and all they had done to transform it. It was really interesting inside. It was only a 2/1, somewhere around 1150 sq. ft. and they were asking $449,000. I couldn’t believe it. It was a corner lot and the only yard it had was in the front, and a huge park was situated across the street to the side of it. But it wasn’t a particularly pretty park. There were about 30 guys playing soccer when we were there. Not exactly private feeling as a fairly good sized window looked out on it. $449,000! I couldn’t believe it. Judy, it had nothing on your house except some lavish decorating. There was plenty of not-so-nice ambiance nearby and yet somehow they are commanding (or at least trying to command) those prices in that area.

Geez, my neighborhood is way more private and has huge yards, why can’t Lake Park get on the updo track and become a Flamingo Park or a whatever the other names of those areas were? It has so much more potential for revitalization. I would seriously like to revitalize my house. I have so many good ideas. My neighbor in the big house across the street and over is planning to refab his house. Maybe we could get the trend going here. One day this area will be like an Old Northwood or Flamingo Park, you wait and see, and then the prices will really hike. I couldn’t believe how those homes in West Palm had no land and I was just amazed at prices that reflect what you would pay in PGA National with a pool and all the land and upscale style. Really wierd how this market goes.

Anyway, from there we took Cally to her car and decided to get out at City Place, walk around and get a drink and then sit and enjoy the day. And it was such a day! The sky was Santa Fe blue like you wouldn’t have believed and made an intense backdrop for the palm trees when I looked up. The air was low 70’s, felt like high 60’s because yesterday it was as hot as summer here rendering anything under 85 as quite cool. The breeze was blowing, the fountains were splashing and they did that thing every half an hour where the fountains shoot up in time with the music. It was a gorgeous Florida Sunday and City Place is really beautiful with all the steps and the old Harriet Himmel building and the stones and the fountains and the colors and the people everywhere to watch. I don’t know why I don’t go more often and buy a coke, sit at a wrought iron table and enjoy the view. It was really like an afternoon vacation with the mood music playing at Bellagios. Didn’t cost me a thing because Lynn bought the coke since I drove. Wasn’t that nice? Lynette bought Cally a cd she had been talking about all afternoon before she left. Lynette went in Starbucks for iced coffee and there was the CD for sale, so she got it for Cally. What a nice surprise that will be. It was like a rich day in paradise and it was free. That’s beauty in and of itself. Maybe next week I’ll land myself on the sand at the beach and take another Sunday afternoon vacation. Life is short and who knows how long before someone starts charging for a day at the beach. I’m not taking any chances ever since I heard they plan to start making you pay to park at City Place. As of today, though, I happily report that parking is still free. Free, I love that word.

Bragging Rights

7:20 and the engine revs. The heavy clunking resumes. The lavender leviathan is inching it’s way to my corner of the world and I will be in a panic for most of the day, of that I am sure. I’m not sure, however, when I will have a steady, even heartbeat again. Probably not until they are well past my tree. They seem determined to get on with the process now, finally. They are so close I can feel the reverb from the backhoe clawing the earth. My nerves are shot. I have to go and purchase a washer today too, and the responsibility for making a good choice is almost too much for me. Decisions aren’t my strong suit. But I must get that done, and while I am out, I’m pretty sure the excavation crew will cross the border into my yard. I hope I make it back in time to keep an eye on my tree. I honestly don’t know how they will be able to do all they’ve been doing in the other yards without ramming that huge backhoe into my tree a few times.

My accomplishments are many recently. Let me brag. I am making progress on Cael’s graduation announcements. We took a photo the other day and I got them back yesterday. Those I wasn’t impressed with. I spent a lot of time turning them into black and white and adjusting the contrast and cropping them smaller, and altering Cael’s complexion a bit, however, now I just want a redo. Cael needed a haircut and so we should do that and then just take a new photo. The Einstein look is just not cutting it. It wasn’t his best hair day anyway, and after all I’ve put into these cards, I think good hair is important. Plus he needed to shave and we were in a hurry to get the shots before sundown, so he ran out into the back yard with his long wet hair, unshaven and with a wrinkled shirt. But who knows when a retake might command a place in our schedules. My only other option would be to muster enough skill to alter his hair in photoshop, but that would be beyond time and sanity’s budgetary propriety. Oh if only I could be freewheeling and uninspired so I didn’t feel the need to create and tweak. Life would be simpler. So either I send the card I have or I call for a do over. A decision will be made later today.

I have to give you a heads up on the cellophane situation too. I got through to the window fix-it people. They didn’t really care that my window was banging and clanking with the heavy winds we’ve been having. They won’t come until May 4th. I was concerned that I would be adding window replacement to crank replacement if the wind continued to smack my windows around like that. I called almost a week ago now. That’s a long wait. I guess emergencies don’t matter. The girl on the phone was unmoved by the tremble in my voice, I guess. Oh well. It took most of the week, but the winds have died down significantly. My awnings out back were rattling like crazy and it was a little freaky knowing I depend on those shutters for hurricane protection. But that’s another worry for later in the year when “The Season” begins.

You won’t believe this, but I am off to sign the papers for health insurance. Health insurance, I said! I know. Miracle upon miracle. Now you know I have bragging rights. You’d think, what else could possibly remain on my ever present to do list with so many accomplishments under my belt. Well, you’d be surprised. The never ending repair, replace, and purchase list is as strong and healthy as ever. It is perhaps growing too quickly. Can I just state for the record that having a senior in high school in the house is not for those with weak cash flow. Because high school seniors create weak cash flow, and if it is faltering to begin with, a mother would be positively destitute by graduation day. Add to that health insurance, washer, lawn mower, etc., etc. etc.

So I take a deep breath and put one foot in front of the other and if need be, I crawl one hand and knee at a time to the next thing. But for now I’ll be off to stop at Home Depot and fork over some cash for the washer and get on the delivery waiting list. Timeliness would have helped as one always has to get in line for delivery. Delivery? You ask. Yes, delivery is included! That was the clincher. Clinchers are good for mamby pamby decision makers like me.

Off to deplete my income tax refund stash. It was nice while it graced the pages of my check register. Maybe I should take a picture of those numbers just to remember that for a fleeting moment, they decorated my account with richness. Simple pleasures, like extra digits on the total line. Gotta love that.

Post Script: Returned from my errands almost one thousand dollars poorer, but I got a $25 gift card from Home Depot for my purchase. Woo hoo! The day is mostly wasted and by the time I fill out my two rebate thingies, and make copies of my receipts, I'll have to go pick up Casey. So much for accomplishments. Spending that cash takes no time at all and yet my day is gone in a heartbeat along with my money. Ah well, nice that it was there in my time of need, right? And I think I'm gonna pass on the lawn mower purchase and keep borrowing my neighbor's for a while. But that decision is still up in the air.

My Own Heroics

Who’s the hero of the day? Me, me, me! And I think I need a vacation for my endeavor.

I finally did it? What, you say?

Did I de-cellophane the window and fix the cranks? No. Did I get the washer out to the road last night? Not exactly, but I did try. (Unfortunately the neighbors dolly didn’t have it’s tires pumped up enough and it couldn’t handle the weight.) Did I finish fertilizing the yard, did I use the weedeater on the walkways, did I wash or vacuum my filthy car? Of course not. Did I begin Cael and Bethany’s videos? Unh, uh. Did I make Cael’s graduation announcements? Hah!

What could I have done that was worthy of accolades? It was this: I went to the kitchen, opened the drawer, pulled out a screwdriver and I opened the bathtub drain and I finally degunked. I degunked! I degunked some more, and more and more, and I thought the hairy blob of scum and ick had snaked its way to China via my bathtub drain, and I nearly gagged. It was beyond description what came out of there. I wished I could have taken a photo of it just so you could feel my disgust, but the censors would have been all over that. They don’t allow images like that to be displayed over public networks. It was so gross, I don’t believe any surgeon has ever witnessed anything that rivaled what I pulled out of that drain. I shudder to think of it again. I am now going to drop it from my consciousness lest I have a new recurring bad dream like the witch who used to pop out of my dresser when I was little, or the tidal wave dreams. Those wouldn’t compare to the nightmare that would be the degunking dream.

But it is finished. For today anyway. With three girls and one guy who’s hair is almost the length of ours using that shower, there is enough long blond and brown hair to keep the drain clogged on into eternity. For now I rest on the hardy work of my hands and the stamina of my eyes and stomach this afternoon and my fortitude to carry it through despite the slimy disgusting wretch of whatever all that was that I just pulled out using a screwdriver. I didn’t know what else to use. I think I should throw it away now. It seems entirely contaminated. Casey finished off the job by plunging, just for an added sense of security; that little extra oomph to make the drain run clean. We believe in the finishing touches, you know. Next up, Casey gets to clean the tub. I bet she’s all a-flutter inside waiting to get to it. Hmmm, I wonder why she hasn’t started yet.

Well, that’s about the only thing I have to say right now. So, enjoy that which I have offered and have a day as carefree as a swiftly flowing bathtub drain. Ahh, what a feeling. If only the rest of you could but try to follow in my exemplary footsteps... [teeny-tiny snicker] If you have done anything even remotely so heroic yourself today, please, feel free to share. The hotline is open.

Neglected, Not Abandoned

This is not an abandoned blog, I repeat, not an abandoned blog... a little neglected, like so many aspects of my life are found to be from time to time, but not forgotten.

Spent my day as per my usual Sunday, going to church and then to the mall for lunch. I had intended to go and hear Tommy speak at a church in Jupiter but my air wouldn’t work in the car on the way and I was wearing long sleeves and pants and I just didn’t have it in me to get all in a sweat, so I stopped at the halfway point at my own church before I was completely drenched. How's that for devotion? Chris was speaking, and he’s second to Tommy in my book, so it wasn’t a total loss.

After a rushed lunch at the mall, there was a meeting for the Senior’s trip to Europe over at school. Is Cael ever gonna have a blast! And remember that whole scene with me laying in a heap on the bottom of the stairway to nowhere back a month or so ago (figuratively of course)? Well, come to find out today that in the end, the person I was trying to help was granted grace (and the cash needed) by his own parents and is going on the Europe trip after all. I was so excited!

I’ve also been to the grocery store and watched one home remodeling show. I have worked for one hour on the Jupiter Christian video; yesterday I worked on it for 10 hours. I have only to finish the open and close but this is always quite a challenge for me. Maybe I could finish tonight.

Oh and it was so hot at 5:30 when I came home from the grocery store that I immediately turned on the air. I wonder if the Santa Fe cold front could push its way over here for a little stint. A nice blanket of snow would do me good... for a day anyway.

Well, I have images to remix, so off I go.

Funny Girl Memories

After Friday's show.




This was the night I thought Cael's hair looked the best. He told me tonight that Snyder had done his hair that night. Not a bad stylist. I also accidentally took this photo with flash and was really embarrassed that it had gone off. After that everyone started snapping flash photos throughout the rest of the show. I felt responsible. No one had been doing it before in any of the shows. I should be ashamed. Wait, I am ashamed.

From Fallout to Celebration

All my best thoughts are laying by the wayside. I haven’t had time to write, what with going to the show every night and working all day, and stopping for something to eat and a change of clothes along the way. So my thoughts about how we are all “less” since Mary and Judy left us sister-less, mother-less, aunt-less, etc.; those thoughts have been cast aside while I do what is mine to do at the moment.

I had two brilliant thoughts the other day, one right after the other, but I don’t even have the faintest idea as to what they were. You can bet they were show stoppers. Lately I’ve had a number of those ideas, the kind that I mean to write down so that one day I can submit them somewhere, the kind that would make really good commercials. But I haven’t come to the place of pushing past the fatigue in the darkness to pry my eyes open, find a pen and write things down. So we may never know what brilliance lies dormant, lost to the darkness. I will have to be prepared for the day when I accidentally bump into those thoughts again on the street or in my sleep and get them down on paper quickly. I know I‘ll never be able to call the same stuff up on demand; it has to happen on it’s own. So I wait, and in the meantime, ta da.... you are left with word-less, brilliant-thought-less me.

I managed to get to the show for the fourth time last night. On Thursday, Catherine asked if I’d like to come Friday night, as she had an extra ticket. I jumped excitedly at the opportunity. I have enjoyed the show more each night and they adjusted the volume to compliment rather than distress the sound of the performer’s voices. Cael has adjusted his hair style each night, hitting a puffy plateau Thursday night (great for describing to people how to pick him out of the crowd) and then surprising us with a sleek and fashionable, practically wet look, last night. “Dashing” sums it up. I was able to get a photo of he and three of his best friends after the show. That made me happy. I would be happier with more photos, and Cally is hopefully going to take the camera tonight to get some more of the guys together in their beloved costumes with hats. We’ll see how that goes. I had to force the photo last night because they didn’t feel "ready." Two of the guys had on the “wrong” thing and wanted to wait until tonight. True performers. I didn’t have a ticket for tonight, so it was my only chance right then. I took charge and ordered their placement on the steps and they managed to live through it and smile too. They actually wanted the photo because they love their costumes and have enjoyed the show so much. (Jacquie, the dance instructor/director says they have a hard time getting Cael to change out of his costume, he wants to wear it all the time. This is how bonded he is with the look.) I took some video stealthily during the show on Thursday night and so I am satisfied that the grand experience hasn’t been lost forever. I want to be able to clutch it close and relive it from time to time, as my memory tends to fog the details into hazy generalities. That won’t do. I love the details in their crisp clarity. I have so much fog in my life that I enjoy something clear and concise now and then, esp. when it’s a view of my son imbued with participation and responsibility and shining on stage doing something he has discovered he loves. My dream.

Cael was saying last night that he feels like once he graduates his life is going to be over. He is having such a great time right now. I’m so glad he did the show, sticking with the rehearsals and all the hard parts. Plus there is so much yet to come for the seniors to pack into the next two months, what with two more shows today, the trip to Europe, Prom, Graduation, and some of them are going on a missions trip to Costa Rica. And then there’s a trip on somebody’s yacht in a couple of weeks and the girlfriends and all that bliss, plus the end of year stuff the seniors do. I am so glad Cael decided to embrace his senior year after the directional misguidance and emotional overhaul it began with. He chose well and is reaping the joy of good choices. And so of course, I am too. I think it’s only fair that if I have to live with the fallout during the harrowing times I should be allowed to celebrate his joy when it comes, and photograph and videotape it and stare in awe at it. But it’s also the kind of bliss, for Cael, with an expiration date attached. It will culminate in a sad parting, where all that’s bonded like super glue over the years gets ripped apart with the tossing of graduation caps. Ah, the sweet sorrow of life. Endings and beginnings, like Judy and Mary leaving. Our loss and their gain.

And so we will all learn lessons from our travels whether experiencing the other-world of high school or a seemingly alternate world on the road out West. For Judy and Mary and the seniors, it will be a “hands on” lesson. For us, what we learn from their road trips will be a virtual tour, that is, if the internet stays accessible and global and keeps us connected. So, yippee! There is something ahead and the mystery of it will entertain us if not rip us into tiny razor sharp shards of anxiety. So the seniors with their bittersweet endings and the uncertainties to follow, and us here, fumbling along while Mary and Judy teach us about long distance relationships, there is a world of fullness at our feet and in our hands and grabbing us by the heart. Best that we smile and cry while we can and enjoy the experience with our laughter and tears while we have them at our disposal, because the days do go by.

An Alternative to Combat

Screaming into a pillow, while it doesn’t top the charts as the hottest alternative to combat, does have merit. I’m past the urge to lash out at the moment, so I feel like I can rate this coping mechanism with some objectivity. I’m giving it an 8 or 9. It cuts through fury in a tidier way than either verbal or physical assault. I wouldn't condone either.

Nasty, Bratty & Undeserving

I had absolutely nothing to say only moments ago, but with three ring-a-ling-lings of the phone, all my senses are in an uproar and ready to spit wisdom and venom and various bits of my innermost being out all in one sitting.

But that would just be messy, bursting at the seams like that. Fools fall headlong into that trap and find themselves wishing later they could re-dam the river that ends up careening across small towns and washing away their future because they suddenly cut loose at the urge to say something they “felt strongly about.” No, I’ll hold back the caustic breath that would encompass my fiercely chosen words and walk on and whistle a tune to calm myself. I find it helps to reroute the churning emotion and allow it to become a turbine of productivity. Mostly, I just know that something in the no-good category will happen if I move my finger from in front of my lips where I’ve carefully placed it to shush myself.

What I should have done was cut loose on the one who made the phone ring in the first place rather than upon those who wander innocently by after. I wouldn’t really have cared so much if the verbal dam burst and flooded the caller’s little village. I might perhaps, have even smiled a creepy, one sided smile and walked away whistling a tune and meant it. Okay, that’s just mean. Strike that. I’m feeling a little bratty. No, my heart can just race and my temper can boil a few minutes until it settles, and then I’ll do what I can to make something of it all.

Like be off to church for the Good Friday service. Sounds positively hypocritical doesn’t it? Remember though that one's need for the cross is most glaring at ugly moments such as these. That’s what the cross is all about, God bartering for my life, puny and hypocritical and angry and ugly, yet redeemable, forgivable, lovable, changeable. I like that He knew who He was getting in the bargain, after all He made me, and yet He traded his life for mine anyway. Makes me feel like a favored child, sometimes nasty and bratty and undeserving, and yet the apple of His eye.

So that’s where I’ll be, in my dam-busting state, taking an hour to get myself and my mouth under control, because the words form first somewhere deep in the heart, a heart that He wants to stroke with the love that He gave His life to prove. That changes everything.

Reading Between The Scans

It was sometime after noon, but I didn’t pay much attention. The weather was playing games with the sun so that there was no guessing the actual hour by the intensity of the light. The lamp was on of necessity, the necessity of comfort or vision, I’m not sure which, maybe both, and it felt brighter inside than out so it could have easily been dusk outside, except for the fact that I knew better.

I was alone for the day, unbound by my usual drop off/pick up routine as it’s spring break and everyone was gone for the day. I was working, yet it was the mindless and repetitious sort that causes no stress, but which has been known to numb the senses. The work, the dark cozy weather and my situation transported me to an “otherworld” where the usual obligations that delineate space and time didn’t seem to apply. The occasional pattering of raindrops on rooftops added to the unconventional air the day had taken upon itself.

The new office chair’s excellent twirling capabilities helped pass the time while I waited for my work to process, over and again, but after an hour or more with hours yet to go, I got the hint that if this pattern was to be repeated nearly a hundred times, that would mean a very long day of endless twirling and/or trips to the kitchen. Never enough time to do anything more than grab some chips, and just enough to watch dust collect and find my mind dazed by the consistent sameness of my surroundings, same thoughts, eyes affixed to common objects hour after twirly hour, the hypnotizing hum of the scanner lulling me into something just outside of slumber.

The chair stopped spinning for a moment, and my eyes rolled around and landed like a roulette ball on the stack of books nearby. My eye caught “Stephen King on Writing”. The cover had always drawn me since the first time I picked it up and found it full of sweet & sour, colorful words inside. Even the spine of it, the little bit that was showing, was like spying a candy wrapper of the sort I fall victim to. It drew me in. I was reminded that there was something inside I hadn’t yet consumed, like the little lilt in my heart when I discover there is half a bag of sour skittles left that I’ve forgotten. It’s a book that sidles up and whispers of myself in some ways when I read it. I find that to my liking.

The scanning process was taking about 3 to 4 minutes each time, an abnormally long time to stare and wait usually. But that was of no consequence now; something was being poured out in snatches a page or two at a time, lighting up my thoughts and putting an end to my numbed consciousness. The longer the scan, I was finding, the more I could read.

So for the next 5 hours, I kicked my feet up and read between scans, twirling effortlessly back and forth to push buttons and change settings as needed and then twirling myself back to my reading glasses and my book full of “candy”, a sip of Coke now and then to accent the pleasure. Later I could be found leaning forward reading with face in hands, like a kid in a fort, living a make believe adventure while on holiday from life, as the rest of the world was off doing their chores. I had discovered how to do both at once and I liked the combination. I think it was as work should be. I didn’t begrudge myself the snatches of reading. It seemed prudent to fill the emptiness with something productive, and I felt rich with life at the same time. So I finally got the chance to do what I never seem to be able to find time for after my work is through.

This day would have been a keeper, except that you can’t keep a day. Too bad. I favor holding the good stuff close. But I can reuse my newfound time passage tool and pick up where I’ve left off. It’s like having a whole new world at my fingertips. All those books I’ve enjoyed but which I’ve never actually finished will be soon be consumed a page at a time. Soon they will be tucked neatly into the corners of my mind, decorating my thoughts and my outlook. How exciting. I so hope scans galore await my future.