The Crab Chronicles

Soggy Saturday

The kids are downstairs watching Inspector Gadget, but I cannot join them. I loathe Inspector Gadget. Love Matthew Broderick as Ferris, hate him as Gadget.

We have had a very soggy day, and I am just thankful there was no lake in the back yard. The rain was incessant. It rained steadily from very early this morning until around 2. Things are drying out. Today we had 100% chance of rain. Tomorrow, a mere 70% or something like that.

I picked up Michael from a sleepover this morning and he looked like death on a cracker. He explained he had been awake all night long playing games on the computer. He couldn't find anywhere comfortable to sleep - that was his excuse anyway. After initially fussing, he finally went to sleep in his bed and got about 4 hours.

Jim, the man who fixed my computer brought it back today, and I am thrilled to be able to access the internet again.  He was able to save all my data, which was wonderful. I am finally going to put internet access on the kids' computer downstairs, but with a parental control of some sort. I told Jim to just pick out a good one and load it on there for us. He said he would research it. Most of his clients are small businesses, I think.

We have done very little today except watch the rain, nap, and nosh. I picked up Greek food for lunch, and we woke Michael up to eat, around 3. He has stayed up since, which is good, because I want him to sleep tonight.

I have been doing a lot more reading lately, since I've been without the computer to entertain me. I love Greg Iles' books, and the newest one, The Devil's Punchbowl, is excellent. Like all his books, it's hard to put down. If you hit a rainy day and need a good book, get it.

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A congratulatory shout out goes to the University of Georgia men's golf team. My cousin's youngest child plays on there, Rob Bennett, a gentleman and a scholar as well as an athlete. I remember him as an energetic little guy running around my parents' pool in Augusta. Now he's a junior in college. Lord, I feel old! The Golf Dawgs are playing in the Illini Invitational this weekend. Go Dawgs!

Say It Ain't So, Harrison

Yesterday was one of those days when there were simply not enough hours in the day. At 11:30 last night I was fighting to stay awake and I remembered I had told Mother I'd help her get her post done for her blog - and it's one of her best, so be sure and check it out. I thought I had heard all her stories about going to Italy with Dad, but I was wrong.

The first time my parents went to Europe, I picked them up at the airport, and asked Dad what all they had seen. Dad said in Paris they had seen the Louvre, the Eiffel Tower, the Seine, etc. Mother didn't say a word, I noticed. I asked what it was like to go up in the Eiffel Tower. "We didn't go inside," was Mother's dry comment. Dad's idea was to "see" things, you drive by. They "saw" the Louvre in about 30 seconds!

Dad, on castles in Germany: "You've seen one, you've seen them all!"

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I am reading a lovely book, by Deb Amend, called A Dress for Anna. I met Deb because we both belong to a Yahoo group for adoptive parents of children with limb differences. Deb adopted her daughter Anna from Ukraine in 2002. Anna has limb differences of her legs and one arm, but she's an amazing, feisty little girl. Deb writes beautifully. Anna is a champion swimmer now, and doesn't let her limb differences slow her down. She reminds me of Michael.

RANTING

I was horrified to hear that Harrison Ford is considering yet another Indiana Jones movie. I remember seeing him in Star Wars in 1977, when I was in high school, and thinking, I want to marry that man! What a hunk. In the last Indiana Jones movie, though, he was looking his age and the movie stank. I love the first 3 movies, but I hated the last one. So here are my reasons for not wanting to see Harrison make an even bigger fool of himself with another movie. I should send these to David Letterman. I love writing Top 10 Lists.

Top 10 Reasons I Don’t Want to See Another Indiana Jones Movie:

10. Does the Spielberg movie franchise need a new injection of money?! Just write a script for the Wiggles and you’re back in black. Don’t trot out old men to swing on vines.

9. Arthritis will interfere with his use of the whip.

8. So will bellbottoms.

7. Sean Connery now looks like Harrison’s brother.

6. Shia Laboeuf, although great in Transformers, lacks the charisma to replace Harrison in Indy’s adventures. [Who do you think sounds more macho, “Shia” or “Harrison?!” See?]

5. I don’t want to see Indy wearing his pants low, under a pot belly.

4. The next step is Indy as grandpa, and a poopy diaper might be his worst foe yet..

3. Each of the prior movies took place in the 1930’s, 1940’s, and 1950’s. What evil folks could Indy do battle with in the 1960’s, the Manson family?! The Viet Cong?! Angry feminists?!

2. There were so many CGI effects in the last movie, it looked like it was filmed with pantyhose over the camera lens. What’s next, a tee shirt over the lens?!

And the number 1 reason I don’t want another Indiana Jones movie:

#1 Nobody wants to see Indy break a hip.

   

Deja Vu Day

What a bizarre, elongated time this has been, the last 24 hours. It’s like I have traveled back in time, to the me that existed before I was a mother, when I lived alone for more than 20 years.

 

I stayed up late last night watching the movie The Soloist, about a newspaper reporter who befriends a homeless man who is a talented musician. I cried at the end. It was disturbing, but powerful. It should've gotten better reviews. Robert Downey Jr. was superb, and Jamie Foxx deserves an oscar for his performance.

 

The story is so realistic. As much as the reporter tries to help the homeless man, he can’t. He wanted the man to take medication, to live in a decent place, get on with a “normal” life. What was ironic, of course, was how clear it was that the reporter was the real person living a solo life, a disconnected life. The homeless man was surrounded by people, and loved playing music. He had a sense of peace and purpose the reporter could not fathom.

My father's uncle, Jake, was a binge drinker. Many times when I was small and we lived in Augusta, Dad would go get Jake from a police station or bar, and he would dry out at our house. Mother's rule was he was never allowed around me and Bruce while drunk. Dad tried to help him, but Jake always took off, not to be heard from for months, then he would turn up after a week-long bender and have to sober up. The homeless man in the movie reminded me of Jake, although I don't think Jake was mentally ill. when he was sober he was delightful. I loved him. He was sort of a substitute grandfather to me. He died when I was 8.

Once when my parents had invited Dad's boss for dinner, Jake came out of the back of the house wearing nothing but a pair of dad's boxer shorts, and introduced himself to everyone at the table, then sat down at Mother's place and ate her steak. He was quite charming. My dad laughed about that for years.

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Today, I have done almost nothing constructive. I washed a load of towels. I loaded and ran the dishwasher. That was it. I met my friend Maria for lunch and ate spanakopita, a rare treat. I love Greek food.

 

I spent most of the afternoon reading the newest book by Wally Lamb called The Hour I First Believed. It’s not his best book. It needed to be cut drastically, as he tends to write 10,000 words when 100 would do. To be fair, however, Lamb’s books are always like diving into little worlds, places where fascinating things happen. It has set me to thinking.

 

I am pondering whether to try and keep writing, or not. I don't really have time. My kids need me. My mother needs me. I have to juggle so many balls in the air. Can I find time to write anything decent? Adopting Alesia would be a much better book if I could take six months and smooth out the rough places, make it really quality prose. It’s too flawed, I feel strongly. Well-intentioned stories are not snatched up by publishers. Something has to be very well-written and unique to be really marketable to a wide audience, these days. That’s what one potential agent told me in response to an inquiry.

 

In re-reading my manuscript about Michael’s adoption, I realized I spend a lot of time talking about details like what I had for breakfast, and the snow, and the other Americans I met. The real story, the essence of my quest to get my son, is probably about 30 pages, not even book length. It’s just the tip of the iceberg, hardly indicative of the relationship I have with Michael now.

 

Lamb’s book causes me to dwell on my defects as a writer. I do not labor over words, and sculpt them beautifully and masterfully, like a real writer does. I simply tell a story in the vernacular. I cannot spin out lovely prose. I cannot write about fascinating twists and turns that pique the reader’s interest.

 

I have one other manuscript that I could revise and put out there, but it’s about my career as a paralegal. It’s a humorous memoir. I’ve let a couple of close friends read it and they thought it was funny. Who else would want to read it, though? It’s like the book my father used to try and write about his banking career. What could be more boring than reading about banking or the legal professional? Accounting?

 

I feel like my life is stalled. I am standing on a corner, looking both ways down the street, and I can’t make my feet move. I am rooted to the spot. I do not know how to push my life in another direction. I only know how to hold on and survive. I do not want to be some wacky woman in her 50’s still chasing an impossible dream of being a writer.

 

When I spend too much time alone my inner monologue gets pretty wacky. If you’ve read this far, don’t worry, I’m not depressed or anything. I just have a lot of time to think at the moment, which is a rare gift. The kids return tomorrow night and then I can stay busy again, and not think so much about the what ifs.

 

Decatur Book Festival News

I was too exhausted to write last night. It was a really interesting day, however.

 

Lesleigh came over about 9:15 and we headed off to downtown Decatur. It’s a little town about 20-30 minutes east of Atlanta. In recent years, the crumbling downtown area has been revitalized with little boutiques, restaurants and bars, and pricey condos. I’ve gone there to the courthouse many times.

 

The old courthouse is right in front of the new courthouse, and it’s a small but park-like setting. The book festival meant there were streets blocked off and booths set up everywhere. There were also many places around there to hear speakers.

 

Les and I dropped off my books to be sold at the Emerging Authors pavilion, and headed off to a nearby church, to hear Mary Kay Andrews and Haywood Smith. The church was packed, mostly with folks middle aged and older, and there were few men. Both ladies just talked informally and took questions. They were hilariously funny. I had never even heard of Haywood Smith, but I am going to get one of her books.

 

After that, we headed over to Starbucks for some coffee and a nosh, and chatted. I hadn’t had a chance to visit with Les in a while, and she is a dear friend, and my third cousin on Daddy’s side.

 

We left Starbucks and wandered around, looking at displays, then headed back to the church to hear Diana Gabaldon, one of my favorite authors. Well, when we got across the street from the church, there was a huge line of people, stretching down the block. Now way would we have been able to see her – the church only holds maybe 300 people.

 

We decided instead to go to the only place nearby that had what sounded like an interesting speaker, and went to the Decatur library to hear a college professor talk about two books she wrote about Eudora Welty. It was not nearly as interesting or funny, but it was informative. It got us out of the rain. It was sprinkling, off and on.

 

We headed next for Twain’s Billiards and Tap, where I was to speak at the Local Prose stage. Twains is a huge, funky place, and we had a good lunch. I had eggs and toast and Les had country fried steak. We split a basket of French fries, which had been tossed in garlic and parsley and were delicious.

 

My speaking experience at Twains was rather disappointing. I did fine, but there were less than a dozen people listening to me. There was a tiny stage in the corner of the restaurant and I had to compete with the clatter of food being served, two different televised football games, and the noise form the billiards area. Most of the people listening were just other authors waiting to speak. Les said I did well and wasn’t boring, and frankly a lot of the authors were boring – they read in a monotone, or couldn’t be heard. The guy right before me was a Methodist minister and he was good. The lady who read before him was beautiful, but spoke in a monotone and read too much, and one point pinching off her nose to read in what she thought sounded like a child’s voice. That was weird.

 

We left there and headed back to the Emerging Authors area, and I just took my books and left. Didn’t sell any. No big surprise. There were many authors’ books on the tables, and folks had to go in there were the speakers were speaking, to get to the books. They took breaks for folks to browse, but it was still off the beaten path for most folks. It would’ve been better to set up the book sales area outside the speaking area, I think.

 

When we got home I was utterly exhausted. Michael was off roller skating with friends. Alesia had been housebound all day, and had cleaned up and helped me get dinner started, and really been a sweetie, so I went out with her to drive. She had been lamenting her lack of practice driving. I always feel like saying “My nerves can’t take much of it!” which is a southern way of saying “Man, that stresses me out!” but I have refrained, and simply cited time constraints, which are many. She did fine, except for missing one turn, and nearly running into a back of a car because of fiddling with the sun visor. We’ve completed about 5 hours of the 40 required before she can get her regular license. Let’s hope my nerves can take some more practice..

 

Bruce came in about 6:30, and we had a barbeque dinner, with also some fresh sliced veggies and cantaloupe. He eats a lot, but he eats pretty healthy stuff. He has lost some weight. He has been back from Iraq since about March. He is getting his house in Columbia ready to rent, so he can take some sort of Federal job somewhere – we don’t hear much about the job, but we get short reports on the house. Unlike me, he is a very private person.

 

We ended the evening watching the movie Red Dawn, which was fun to watch with Bruce because he sat there and pointed out the inaccuracies of the military stuff onscreen.

 

Today, more book festival. I am hoping it doesn’t rain…

Crowded Days

Even though I am only working part-time, the days have suddenly become very crowded. Don't get me wrong - I like the new job a lot. I just have to become more time-efficient, is all.

As soon as I picked up Michael from school, the marathon started. I had to do the following between then and now:

- Help mother with a computer issue, which I ultimately couldn't resolve;

- Put away my clean clothes - sitting in the basket for 2 days.

- Pick tomatoes - we are overrun with them.

- Help Michael with his homework - more than 2 hours of it! Yikes. I now know more than I ever wanted to know about Saturn.

- Finish dinner and clean up - Alesia started it by baking the main dish, chicken and rice, but I fixed big salads and leftover eggplant for me and Mother;

- Help Mom with a piece she's written for Goodreads;

- Watch the first half of the movie 1776, and discuss it with Alesia, who is studying American history.

Maybe it doesn't sound like a lot to you, but it's a lot. There are still things I haven't gotten around to doing, like balancing my checkbook and paying some bills. That's why God invented lunch hours, I suppose. Plus tomorrow I need to pick up my new glasses.

I am appearing this weekend at the Decatur Book Festival. I am trying to figure out how to put together a book display. There are lots of big name authors, like Lee Child, Diana Gabaldon, Mary Kay Andrews and Edward Hirsch. There's also Kathryn Stockett, whose first novel The Help was just amazingly good. Mother and I both read it and couldn't put it down.

I hope if you're in the Atlanta area you will come on over to the book festival. You can take MARTA if you don't want the hassle of parking. 

Party Aftermath and More

The party for Mike's tennis team went exceedingly well. I felt very gratified. I forgot to make pictures, alas.

Not all the families were able to come, but there were enough people to make me feel it was a success, and there weren't so many that it was a madhouse.

We had, I think I counted, 5 little boys. They seemed like a thundering herd. They spent a lot of time outside in the back yard. That's why we bought an old house with a back yard.

The food turned out well, except my chicken was a bit tough. We had barbequed chicken, pork, green bean salad, mac & cheese brought by my buddy Carrie, potato salad, fresh fruit and dip, deviled eggs, a veggie tray with hummus and pita bread brought by Melanie, croissants, and Klondike bars for dessert.

We almost didn't have deviled eggs. Mike was in a foul humor because before the party I kept asking him to help me with cleaning floors and straightening up, and he acted like I was terribly mean to ask him to Windex the glass-topped tables. So I asked him to try a deviled egg. He said "These aren't any good. I'll just take them up to my room!"

Next thing I knew he had eaten 4!

I never even got a taste of one of the eggs. Everyone who got one was complimentary, though. Here's the trick. I don't put anything weird in them. I hate biting into a deviled egg and thinking "What the hell is IN this thing?! Eeeuw..." So I put simply egg yolks, Duke's mayonnaise, garlic salt, salt and pepper, a little powdered mustard, and some melted butter. The butter helps the flavor a lot. It was my Mamaw's trick.

I think I shocked all the grownups by suggesting we fix our plates and sit down, and THEN call in the kids to eat. I knew the kids would tear through the food. So I sat and ate in the dining room and the kids got what they wanted to eat. They sat in the family room and ate. I confess I DID go in there and pass out coasters, because I hate moisture rings on my furniture. Otherwise, though, they didn't bother me. Michael told me later all he ate was mac & cheese & green bean salad.

I had such a nice time talking to the other ladies. The men stayed in the kitchen and talked sports. After dark, I realized the kids were outside and had a moment of panic, because we have a lot of snakes around here. I let them stay out there, though. All the outside lights were on and they mostly just sat on the trampoline talking.

When everyone cleared out, I was exhausted. I put up the food and went to bed. I couldn't sleep. Finally dropped off about 3. I had to take extra Melatonin and some Motrin for my aching feet.

At breakfast, I told the kids to just eat fallout from last night. Michael had green bean salad and potato salad. Alesia had the same, plus cold chicken. Hey, I was fine with it.


Today has been interesting. I went to a meeting of the Atlanta Writer's Club and heard a speech by a local author, Marc Fitten. He talked about traveling around to 100 indie bookstores, to find out how they operated and promote his book. He started a blog about it. I bought a copy of his book, Valeria's Last Stand, and look forward to reading it. It's about a woman in Hungary just after the fall of communism. There is a bit of romance in there, too, involving middle-aged folks, so that sold me on it. Well, that and the fact Marc actually lived in Hungary during that era and knew his subject.

Years ago, I worked at a bookstore, Davis Kidd in Knoxville, just over Christmas. Snobby people would whisk in, hand me a barely legible list of 20 different books, and say "I'll be back in a half hour to get these books." I still have nightmares about it.   

I had worked at a very different kind of store just out of college, for about 6 months. It was a tiny store, and more fun by far. I just couldn't make enough money to move out of my parents' house. Someday I'll write a short story about my bookstore experiences, or maybe I'll just share anecdotes here sometimes. Stay tuned.


LAGNIAPPE

My aunt sent me this email and I thought you'd like to see my answers - because hey, you don't know enough already, huh?! If you're so inclined, leave a comment and tell me YOUR answers! Inquiring minds want to know!

 

A) Four places that I go to over and over

Kroger, the post office, CVS, Regal 24 movie theater
 
B) Four people who will e-mail me art, pictures, goofy e-mails, fun stuff: 

Mother & Frank daily, sometimes Carol & Lauren

C) Four of my favorite places to eat: 
Bambinelli's, Firehouse Subs, any Thai restaurant, Blue Ribbon Grill

D )  Four places I would like to be right now:
on the beach alone with my children; taking a nap with Coco the maniac barking dog far far away; in the movie theatre watching the new movie about Julia Child; sitting in front of a hot fudge pecan sundae from Sheridan's Frozen Custard

E.) Four people I'm almost sure will respond:  I am clueless!
Here's an alternate question I prefer - Four people, living or dead, I'd like to eat dinner with: Jesus, Julia Child, Robin Williams, Jon Stewart

 F) Four TV Shows I like:  

Antiques Roadshow, If These Walls Could Talk [on HGTV], Today Show, Whose Line Is It Anyway?

Horrible Day in Hot-Lanta

We’ve had a pretty decent day but I’ve been in a foul mood all day. I cannot explain why. Some of it is just plain old stress. Also, it has a lot to do with menopause and retaining water and surfing the dadgum Hormone Highway from Hell.

 

We went to church and went out to lunch. That was fine. As the day wore on I just got progressively more irritated. At one point Alesia asked me if I was upset because I had had to throw out some bad meat from the fridge. I burst out laughing.

I finally just told the kids, look, I hate that you have a Menopausal Mama but there’s not much I can do. The maca root is great but it doesn’t solve everything. Some days I will be singing, some days crying.

 

I also woke up with a sore ankle from water retention, so I have been hitting the water all day and even took a mild diuretic. It’s summer. It’s 88 degrees. I’m hot. I’m fat. Aaaaargh….

 

I am pondering what to do about my weight. Obviously it needs to go. Diets don’t work. I am looking into a program of meditation and visualization, called The Gabriel Method. That’s all I have to say about it, at this time.

 

I never have time to do those Facebook thingys where you name your favorite drinks or take quizzes or list your favorite books or whatever. If you send me something on Facebook and get no response, please don’t be offended. I can barely navigate the thing.

 

Here’s a list of my All Time Favorite Books – the ones I would take if I had to go live out my life on a desert island.

 

The bible

The complete works of Shakespeare

Gone With the Wind

The Journeyer, by Gary Jennings [huge book about Marco Polo]

The Prince of Tides, by Pat Conroy

Outlander by Diana Gabaldon

All the other books by Diana Gabaldon

All of Greg Iles’ books

Swiss Family Robinson [great book, plus tips for desert island living, eh?]

Queens of England, by Nora Lofts

Adopting Alesia: My Crusade for My Russian Daughter

Jack’s New Family [yes, so I’m biased!]

The poetry of William Butler Yeats

The DaVinci Code, plus the new one coming out soon by Dan Brown

What I Love About Being a Baby Mama

My friend Suzanne Kamata, who edited the excellent new book Call Me Okaasan [read it now!] tagged me to say 5 Things I Love About Being a Mom. You can see her responses  here. I heartily agree with all her responses.

1.      My Kids make me laugh. We have so many funny moments each day, I never have time to write them all day. One day I asked Alesia if she was hungry and said no – she almost always says yes. Michael immediately piped up and said “Wait 15 minutes!”

2.      My kids learn so rapidly, and I love to teach them, particularly about things like history, and literature and art. I love to watch movies with them and talk to them about what we can learn from each film.

3.      My kids help me to keep my perspective on life. I used to obsess over stupid stuff like wearing perfectly coordinated outfits, and fashionable shoes. I actually wrote down every outfit I wore, every day, so I didn’t repeat it too soon. Now I am happy to wear just black pants and not worry about the color of my shirt, or if my shoes coordinate.

4.      My kids amaze me by how well they have adapted to America, and our family. They already know American songs, slang words, fashion, etc. We were watching a movie the other night about people landing on an island and having to adapt to life there, and Alesia said “That was what it was like for me. If I can do it, they can do it.”

5.      I love seeing my children grow and be healthy, mentally as well as physically. When Michael first came home he was afraid of everything. He wouldn’t get in the pool unless I got in with him, and was always in reach. Now he swims like a fish and rides his bike and walks all over the neighborhood. At first, I had to stay with him until he fell asleep at night, with the overhead light on. Now he sleeps in the dark, and we say prayers, I kiss him goodnight, and he’s fine.

I filled out and mailed in the application for Michael to go to the Adventure Amputee Camp again this year. He had such a wonderful time last year. It really did amazing things for his self-confidence, to be able to be around a group of kids who all had limb differences, so for once he didn’t feel odd or embarrassed. If you click here you will see some scenes of camp life. [The group photo of folks in yellow has Mike in it, but he’s hard to spot – bottom row, kind of middle.] Mike got to go white water rafting, horseback riding, do a ropes course, and play tennis, all for the first time. He won the camp tennis tournament and came home bubbling over with excitement about the sport, and within a short time I was able to get him a coach and a place on the neighborhood tennis team. Now tennis is a passion of his. Most of the time, in his tennis matches, his missing hand is hardly noticeable. He can serve with his special prosthetic and his serve is better than some kids who have two hands. So many blessings flowed from that camp experience. I hope and pray he can go again this year, although space is very limited.

PRODUCT RANT

I am seriously debating about getting a new refrigerator. The old one is falling apart. It’s over 15 years old. We like to keep appliances until they are antiques, but it’s in really sad shape. The bottom shelf is broken and you have to be sporting huge rippling muscles to get the vegetable drawer open. The icemaker requires a pickaxe if you want ice, half the time. The last time I contemplated cleaning it out I had to stifle the urge to get a chainsaw and just put it out of our misery. It’s only good at holding up photos, right now.

If you are in the Atlanta area or have an opinion about where to obtain new appliances at a discount, please drop me a comment. If you just have an opinion as to what brand of fridge is the best, let me know that, too.

BABY MAMA

Last night we wanted a movie called Baby Mama, which stars Amy Poehler and Tina Fey. I haven’t watched Saturday Night Live in years, so I have never seen Poehler and Fey. I thought Poehler was much better, much more funny than Fey. It was a cute movie with some funny lines. The basic plot is that a yuppie career woman can’t have a baby and decides to pay a surrogate to have a baby for her. Poehler plays the trashy surrogate. One thing that really bothered me was that when Fey’s character found out she couldn’t get pregnant, she dismissed the idea of adoption saying “That can take up to 5 years!” Uh, hello?! I don’t know where that came from. It was never explained. Realistically, adoption usually takes a year or two, whether you go foreign or domestic, but 5 years is just inaccurate. If you’re willing to take a child of any race, you can sometimes do a domestic adoption in 6 months. I just hate to see adoption treated so negatively. Then again, I know it’s a comedy and not supposed to be realistic…

One of the main characters was played by an actor named Dax Shepard. I had never heard of the guy. However, my cousin Michael and his wife just had a baby and named him Dax. (Baby Dax is sooooo cute! We had such fun looking at photos of him and buying him cute outfits last weekend.)  Michael's Mom is my first cousin. It blows my mind that I have first cousins becoming grandparents!

Steve Martin plays Fey’s new age crazy boss, with a long grey ponytail and a “Whole Foods is nirvana” attitude.  He stole all his scenes. He’s always been one of my favorite actors. [He also looks strangely like George Washington in some scenes...]

 

Winning and Learning

WE HAVE A WINNER!! YAY!!! It's my buddy Fran! Send me an email with your address and I will send you Call Me Okaasan! Thanks to everyone who played!!

Here's Mike drawing the winner, the old-fashioned way - the names are in a hat! I don't like anything too high tech. I don't know why he didn't want to show his face.

NOTE
I will be ordering some more copies of the book, also, and I will give everyone a chance to order them directly from me at a discount, in the near future.

EASTER
I didn't get any really nice photos of the kids at Easter, but here's the best I could do:

ONE THING I'VE LEARNED

Every once in a while I am known to laugh out loud at someone else’s blog, but it’s a rare occasion. Andrea over at the creative junkie made me laugh out loud this morning, and for that I am grateful. It’s been a rough day. She is 42 and made a list of things it has taken her a long time to learn. You can read it here. I could make a similar list but it would be much shorter.

One thing I am gradually, and slowly, having to acknowledge, is jealousy. Alesia was telling me about a girl in school who has made a couple of ugly remarks to her, but fortunately Alesia reacted well to them. After listening to the story I just said “Honey, that girl is flat out jealous of you. What she says about you, about having a flat butt and frIzzy hair – those are her issues, right?” She agreed with me, the unfortunate girl has both problems.

Years ago I worked for an attorney very closely and she was a demon workaholic, but I would’ve bet money she was faithful to her husband. One day, he called me 5 times in one hour, ranting and raving because his wife had been out of town and he’d not been able to reach her in her hotel room. I said there was no way she was cheating on him, thinking quietly, what a bizarre conversation to have. Turned out, he had been awake all night. Much later I learned he was accusing her of infidelity because, in fact, he was cheating on her. In the south we say That’s the pot calling the kettle black!

I have had several instances recently of people saying or doing mean things to me. I have spent a good bit of time stewing over these things. What a waste of energy. Why dwell on hurtful actions, or in some cases inactions? (I won’t name names. The individuals don’t read my blog, but name dropping would serve no purpose.) Anyway, what I now understand about human nature is this:

When someone is purposely mean to you it’s usually because you have something they want.

I told Alesia there will always be some girl who is mean to her simply because she’s jealous. You can’t really see it in photos but Alesia is a beautiful girl. She is not egotistical, nor is she falsely modest. She is really lovely, though, inside and out. This is going to always be a blessing and a curse, I told her.

She said the other day in school when the lights were out some boy told her he’d give her a free condom if she’d go in the back of the room and have sex with him. I wanted so badly to scream out WHAT??!! When she told me that but I didn’t. I maintained calm. I asked her about her reaction. She just told him no way, and gave him a horrified, grossed-out look. She showed me the look. I told her to whip out that look whenever appropriate. I had to fight the urge to go find the boy and kick him in the fruit basket really hard…

Back to the original thesis: Mean People Are [Often] Jealous

I think there are folks who are jealous of me because I have a decent job, fairly decent house, and two nice kids. Mentally trying to guess why the mean people are jealous is a good mental exercise. It also helps me to forgive them.

Part of maturing as a parent and as a person has been learning to distance myself from emotionally-charged situations and judge them for what they are. Being a parent almost forces you to do that, if you’re conscientious.

Here’s what I now know about being mean:

A child who has gone too many hours without eating will often act mean.

A child who is uncertain if he/she is being treated fairly will sometimes be mean.

Sometimes people are mean simply because they are very afraid. Fear makes folks mean.

Sometimes people are mean because they are expressing anger, and they don’t know a healthy way to do that.

Sometimes you can love the mean out of folks, and sometimes not.

MOST IMPORTANTLY: If you don't forgive the folks for being mean, YOU are the one who will suffer...

Bunny Day

We’ve had a very relaxed, pleasant day.

 We didn’t try to go to church because I didn’t want to fight the crowds. We did discuss with the kids why Easter is an important holiday to Christians.

 Alesia said she remembers being baptized in the orthodox faith, but she has never said that before, and they baptize babies, like we do, so I sort of wonder about that. I told her it’s OK, though, to be baptized more than once. We want to get Mike baptized, too, and I need to arrange that. With both my kids, whether they were baptized Russian orthodox or not, there’s no way to know for sure, so I think it’s fine to have it done again. Michael will need to take confirmation classes, and I think he has to be baptized first.

 We had an early lunch at Pappadeaux  which is one of our favorite places. Michael ate just an appetizer – the portions are huge – and he had fried alligator. It is rather bland. I had lobster bisque and garlic mashed potatoes and spaghetti squash, very yummy. I shared with Mike. Mother had friend scallops. Alesia had catfish. The service wasn’t great, but it was Easter. I was glad we got there early.

 The weather today was absolutely beautiful. It was sunny and in the 70’s. I spent most of the afternoon outside, putting flowers in pots. Michael helped me plant some geraniums around the mailbox. I think they will be pale pink when they bloom – we shall see. The clerk who helped us yesterday was so busy ogling Alesia I don’t think he knew what plant I was holding up, asking him about. He mumbled something about looking on the label. He wouldn’t go away, either, just stood there. Alesia, annoyed, finally said “THANK YOU” – rather pointedly. Good girl.

 While Mother napped, the kids and I went to see a really weird movie called Knowing. It stars Nicholas Cage, about a page of predictions buried in a time capsule in 1959. It was entertaining, but the plot was too loose and full of holes, and I really didn’t like the end. The kids said they enjoyed it. It was a suspenseful thriller, and a lot of “creepy” scenes, which is as close as they get to seeing a horror movie, with me at least.

I ate my chocolate bunny during the movie, so it wasn't too bad...

RANT

I have been a fan of writer Lisa Scottoline for months now. She writes smart thrillers with strong female characters. Mother and I have read several of her books, and she writes a very funny column for the Philadelphia Enquirer. So I was dismayed when I got a note in Facebook saying she has a new book out that deals with an adoptive mom as a main character, but in a very insensitive way. You can read more about it here http://scottoline.com/Site/Books/

The line that just shook me was this one: “…if Will [her son] rightfully belongs to someone else, should she keep him or give him up?” While I certainly don’t condone unlawful adoptions or baby trafficking, that line made my blood run cold. It exploits the worst fear of every adoptive parent, the fear that somehow the adoption will be nullified and your child taken away.

If a child has been with a good mother or good parents for three years, no way should that child be raised by anyone else, even a biological parent. I think there’s a huge risk it will mess up the child emotionally forever. A child needs one set of parents, or one single mom or dad growing up, if at all possible. I am not too keen on “open” adoption for just that reason. It’s too emotionally confusing for the child, unless it’s handled very carefully. I think most “open” adoptions are a bad idea. OTOH, I believe every child has a right to know their biological parents and have complete information.

Anyway, I sent Lisa a Facebook message telling her how dismayed I was to see the premise of her new book, and letting her know I will not be buying it. Of course, I am sure she paid no attention to it – she has like 3,000 “friends” – but still, I said what I wanted to say. If she were an adoptive parent I wouldn’t be so angry, but then again I don’t think an adoptive parent would write such a book.