The Crab Chronicles

8th Grade

Michael is in school the rest of this week and then next week, and he's done on May 25th. We have a serious case of school-itis around here. He wants to get OUT.Can't say I blame him.

I remember being in 8th grade and feeling so restless and just over the whole middle school experience. I had a good year in 8th grade, except for an uncaring math teacher. I got along well with the other girls in my class. (Our main activity was reading Seventeen magazine and having slumber parties at each others' houses.) But I was ready for high school, and middle school was just tedious that last year.

I well recall the crazy teaching I had to endure. Michael is lucky. Most of his teachers are decent, and he has learned a lot.

My math teacher in 8th grade had won all kinds of awards and was very highly regarded. She taught me NOTHING. She would give out the assignments and you just sat and did the work. She rarely explained anything, and then didn't answer questions if you were confused. The gym teacher was constantly coming into our room and she and the math teacher would sit and chat the whole time. If a child approached with a question she glared at them and was curt and dismissive.

Our school had a crazy grading system. Instead of A,B,C,D or F, you were graded simply on how hard you tried, not whether or not you learned anything. I tried hard in math. I got "AP" grades [average progress]. I started high school lacking all the math skills and nearly flunked freshman algebra.

My social studies teacher in 8th grade was a tall redneck man, Mr. Simpson, who constantly belittled all the girls in the class. He would say flatly, "Boys are smarter." Every test was a contest. He'd average the boys' scores and the girls scores and put the scores on the board. The ones who got the higher score got extra recess times, or some such. We had some smart girls, but there was one girl who was just not too bright and she brought down the average every time. I was tutoring the other girls, trying to get everyone's score up, since social studies was my highest grade and was easy for me.

I'll never forget Mr. Simpson telling one of the girls, who was a little bit chubby, "You know how you can lose 8 lbs. of ugly fat? Cut off your head." What a jerk.

I'll never forget winning an award at the end of 8th grade, and wanting to throw it at my Language Arts teacher's head. I got "Most Improved" in Language Arts. I had gotten a poem published in a national magazine. I was writing short stories for publication and competing in speech contests and winning. I made all "SP" [A+] grades in Language Arts. And then I got "most improved"?!

The guy who won the award for Best Language Arts student? He went on to become an Elvis impersonator. I notice he's not on Facebook, unlike a lot of my 8th grade classmates.

The Language Arts teacher, Miss Gettys, is still teaching at the school, except now she teaches social studies. I sent her a postcard telling her I got my first book published. She was actually a very good teacher.

Well thank you very much...

Me in 8th grade, with the family, at a wedding...

Confessions of a Former TV Junkie

Well, yesterday turned out nothing like what I had envisioned. The school meeting got postponed until Monday, was the big thing.However, I wasn't informed of that until after 10, so it was almost 11 before I got to work.

I ended up working until 5, and what with running errands after I got off work, and it was after 6 before I got home. Friday nights at my house are "sandwich nights." I don't cook.

I decided a few days ago to show Michael the series Moonlighting. He had never seen Bruce Willis with hair.I remember watching the show during it's run [1985-89] and never missing an episode. The writing was sharp, and I was seriously enamored of David Addison, the character Bruce Willis played.

Yeah, I was a serious TV junkie there for a while. OK, I was a TV junkie for about 20 years. I never missed an episode of Murphy Brown, St. Elsewhere, Hill Street Blues, Chicago Hope. To name just a few. I had a VCR and I taped things and watched them later.

My last series addiciton was Ally McBeal. It was completely unrealistic [get the case one day, do depositions the next day, trial the day after - AS IF! LOL]

What changed? I adopted my daughter. Suddenly, evenings were about homework, dinner, and movies to help her acclimate to American culture.

When I was childless, dinner often consisted of peanut butter crackers and a Diet Coke. Evenings were spent watching TV, or reading.

So I missed most everything on TV from 2005-2012. I still watch very little TV. Michael and I do like to watch Ghost Adventures on Friday and Saturday nights. Yeah, I believe in ghosts. What about it?! I'm gonna write a whole blog sometimes about all my REAL ghost encounters.

I also like Diners Drive Ins and Dives. Guy Fieri is a hoot. I watch his cooking show sometimes, too. I do not know how Guy cooks with all the jewelry he wears. Yikes.

Most of the reality shows on TV now are just crap, IMHO. Avoid TV and do something more constructive - read a book! Cook a good meal! [not in the microwave]

Anniversary Day

Wow, I'm getting tired of all the drama in my life. I majored in Drama in college [no kidding] but enough is enough already.

I have a meeting at school this morning, I think. Can't blog about that.

Mother's computer is screwed up. We need to get it fixed. My computer guru thinks she likely has a virus. Whatever she has, it's very upsetting to her when her computer is messed up.

My mother reminded me that yesterday was a terrible anniversary. On May 3, 2005 she fell and broke both of her shoulders, and had to be hospitalized. It was a horrible ordeal for her, and very upsetting for the whole family. I'll never forget my daughter's scream when we got home from school and found Mother lying in a pool of blood on the laundry room floor.

Mother now has a metal plate and screws in her left shoulder, and has never fully regained use of that hand. However, she is still with us, and for that I am grateful.

Yesterday was also my grandfather's birthday. Bob Hasty was born in 1896, in Canton Georgia. Remember I blogged about the banquet for him a short while back? [Also, here is the news story about it.] Well, we got in the mail a video my cousin made that night. I was able to watch myself give a speech and not cringe in horror.

My boss teases me about sounding very southern, and I like to deny that, but he's right. My accent is a mixture of Georgia and Tennessee [I grew up in Augusta and Knoxville] and I'm OK with that. The boss is from New York but he has almost no accent. Somebody in our office has to represent... LOL

and speaking of baseball...

Over at Pioneer Woman's website there's a terrific list of baseball movies and I was delighted to read that, but disappointed that they left out one of my personal favorite movies, Angels in the Outfield. Boy that one makes me cry every time. Awesome movie.

I am SO glad it's Friday..

Neat Freak Stories

My horoscope says I need to do some serious spring cleaning and it will lighten my mood. I hate horoscopes that try to boss me around. I don't need that. I get bossed around enough already.

The irony? I've been thinking how much I need to do some Spring Cleaning. It probably won't happen, but it's something to think about.

The irony is that I used to be a neat freak. That was when I lived alone. Easy to be that way alone.

I was thinking recently that I've known a lot of Neat Freaks [note the capital letters] in my time. Some I liked, some I despised. Some I dated. One I worked for.

Yep, you read that right. I had a pretty serious boyfriend once who was a Neat Freak. He showered at least twice a day. He wouldn't let anyone put dishes in his dishwasher because they wouldn't be perfect. Brushing his teeth took ten minutes. The inside of his shower was like a girls - five different kinds of shampoo, different soaps for every mood, etc. One night I was at his house and I woke up hearing a strange noise. I couldn't find boyfriend so I went downstairs. He was on his hands and knees scrubbing the kitchen floor, in the middle of the night.

Needless to say, that didn't last.

I had another friend who was a neat freak [not a boyfriend, just a friend] and he wouldn't hug me once because I told him that earlier in the day I had cleaned a bathroom. It kind of hurt my feelings, then I remembered he was a neat freak.

There was a lady in my neighborhood when I lived in Knoxville that I just adored, Sandy. She was always doing things like getting all the kids in our part of the subdivision to go Christmas caroling. One time she organized a hayride. She organized a little parade one 4th of July. She had a warm personality and boundless energy. However, the wasn't just a neat freak, she was a NEAT FREAK.

I'll never forget being at her house once [just on a regular day, there was no crowd of kids there] and seeing her wash dishes with scalding hot water [the steam was billowing off the sink] and then putting them in the dishwasher to be washed again. The furniture in her living room was covered in plastic. Vast portions of her floor were covered in heavy plastic. I wondered what company would be important enough for her to remove the plastic.

Her house was so clean it sparkled. Wow, I thought. I had to admire that.

One day it all stopped. No more caroling, no more having kids over. No more anything. I didn't know what had happened. My mother told me years later that Sandy's husband had run away with his secretary. Yikes.

I have an aunt whose home is always neat as a pin. I have to admire that. I told her that once and she laughed. "Don't run your finger over the furniture." Of course, the minute she was out of the room I did that, and she was right, her tabletop was dusty.

That's still semi-clean, IMHO. So she's like me, a minor league neat freak, I remember thinking. It endeared her to me.

See, I have varying degrees of clean. There's clean as in "the room has no visible clutter but don't run your finger over the tabletop." Then there's messy - lots of clutter, but not really dirty. Then there's just plain old dirty. Then there's OMG, get a Hazmat team in here NOW.

I went to visit my brother once and his house was messy, dirty, and covered in dog hair. I was astonished because my brother was working long hours but my sister in law was at home all day. She knew I was coming to stay for the weekend, too. I very nearly turned around and left, the house was so disgusting.

My sensibilities as a neat freak were just overwhelmed.

I didn't leave, though. I just grabbed the vacuum cleaner and a dustrag and started cleaning. By the time my brother got home from work, that place was clean. My sister in law didn't even help me. I'll never forget the look on his face when he walked in and saw the place was clean.

Of course, a few years later they were divorced. That had more to do with my sister in law being flat out CRAZY than her being messy.

I guess if you're overly messy or overly clean, that indicates there's some serious crazy going on there.

I just wish I could invite over a Neat Freak and horrify them to such an extent that they would feel compelled to clean my house. Maybe my sister in law was crazy like a fox. Hmmm....

My Favorite Recipes [volume 1, appetizers]

We had a pretty routine day yesterday, and the details would bore you [and me] to tears, so I thought I'd post a few recipes. [Those of you who don't cook, sorry...] Two of these came from the Henderson Family Cookbook that I compiled some years ago. (My paternal grandmother was a Henderson.)

Cheese Gobble

This is a great favorite of all the Thompson clan.  My cousin Frann named this “Cheese Gobble” because it gets eaten up so fast!

16 oz. Sharp cheddar cheese, grated                     1 tsp. Garlic salt

1 large onion, chopped                                             1/4 tsp. Tabasco sauce

1 large jar pimentos                                                   ½ cup mayonnaise

            Place all ingredients in food processor or blender and mix until smooth. May need to add more mayonnaise to make it more spreadable. Season to your taste. May use more Tabasco or fresh garlic. Pack in small containers and allow to ripen overnight in the refrigerator.

            To serve, bring back to room temperature. Good with crackers, sliced apples (dipped in lemon juice), or Fritos. Microwaves nicely, too.

Hot Crab Dip

I don’t think we ever had a big dinner party that Mom didn’t make this and put it in the chafing dish to keep warm. After everyone left, if there was any left over – there was never much left – I would stand there and eat it up with a spoon.

2 cans (6 ½ oz) crab meat               4 eggs, boiled & chopped

3 cups soft bread crumbs                  3 T. chopped parsley

2 T. chopped green peppers           3 T. chopped green onions

3 T. lemon juice                                 Salt & pepper, garlic powder

Parmesan cheese                              Onion powder (to taste)

1 can mushroom soup                        2 cups half & half

2 t. prepared mustard                       1 cup mayonnaise

             Mix all ingredients, except only use half the bread crumbs and omit Parmesan. Pour into a 2 ½ qt. casserole dish. Top with bread crumbs and Parmesan. (Can make it the day before and refrigerate)

             Bake uncovered at 400 degrees for 15-20 minutes. Keep warm (can use chafing dish). Serve with toast points.

Apple Dip

 I’ve never served this at a party that it didn’t get gobbled up entirely, and I always get asked for the recipe. It is heavenly, even if you don’t much like apples. Green apples work best, the tart offsetting the sweet dip.

 8 oz. Cream cheese

¾ cup light brown sugar

pineapple juice

½ tsp. vanilla

½ pkg. Bits o’brickle toffee pieces

3-4 Granny Smith apples

 Take out the cream cheese to soften. Wash and slice apples. Set slices in pineapple juice [dip each piece in juice and set it aside, so the apples won’t darken] and refrigerate. Mix together all other ingredients and put in a bowl. Just before the party, arrange the slices around the bowl of dip. The dip will be thick at first, so it’s important to set it out and give it time to soften up.

My grandmother Cordelia and my cousin Frann, around 1955.

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Sometimes when I was a kid, Mother would make several appetizers and we'd have them for dinner, just the four of us, or the three of us when Dad was out of town. I loved those dinners. Dad liked a traditional dinner of meat, vegetables, and two pieces of plan white bread. He always wanted his bread.

When I was in college I started having Academy Award viewing parties, and Mother would want me to serve elaborate hors d'ouvres and I'd want to go simple. I usually ended up putting bowls of M&Ms around, and maybe buying some blocks of cheese and Ritz crackers. Another good trick is to make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and cut them into fourths and put them on a plate. Kids especially like that. If you want something to place around in little bowls, mix up some peanuts, M&Ms, raisins, and pretzel sticks. Always a winner.

Bus Rides and Fat Worms

It's o-dark-thirty in the morning [I love that expression] and I have already taken my son to school. Why? He is taking the bus to Alabama on an all-day field trip to the US Space and Rocket Center. I know he will have fun. The teacher had the good sense to rent Greyhound buses and not make them ride on school buses.

When I was a freshman in high school, in Knxoville, the entire newspaper staff went to Memphis for a convention, and we were on school buses there and back, for 8 hours. The air conditioner on the bus barely worked, and although it was spring, it was hot. I spent most of the trip trying to get comfortable and snooze, and failing.

[Above, me in high school on the newspaper staff, when I was a sophomore or junior]

I asked Mike if he didn't want to take a book to read on the bus and he looked at me like "are you nuts?" and said patiently, as though talking to an idiot, "Mom, I'm taking my iPod."

The funniest thing was seeing him pack snacks. He crammed a lot of pretzels [his latest obsession] into a plastic container, then grabbed several Little Debbie Boston Creme rolls in for later. Thank goodness they let him carry snacks and water on the bus.

He gets very cranky when he's hungry.

I had kind of a long, weird day yesterday. Had a weird text conversation with my daughter, then I had to do some running around in the car, for work, which is unusual. Traffic downtown was awful. I came home feeling restless, so I grabbed some dirt, some plants I bought the other day, and started gardening. It was soothing to my soul.

Mike had an after school activity, then he came and found out in the back yard and we chatted a bit. I was planting my first tomato plant and as I spaded into the soil, I turned up two fat, wriggling worms. "Yay! Looka there boy! Worms!" I chortled. Delighted. Michael looked at me like I was nuts. "Oh-kay, Mom...." he said. "The worms mean the soil is rich. It means composting WORKS!" I explained. "We've talked about this before."

I remember being 15 and thinking my parents were nuts to spend so much time in the yard. I didn't understand it at all. I hope one day that Michael will find gardening soothing, and he will want his yard to look nice. I hope he will want to grow at least some of his own food. I don't have the talent or the acreage to grow as much as my friend Cindy, nor do I like weeding, but gardening is a way of connecting to life that I think is essential to mental health.

It's also about letting go of control. You can control what you stick in your yard, sure, but ultimately weather, care, and God all determine what really happens with plant life. There's a lot of God in the garden. I don't know how an atheist could garden successfully.

*******************

I know you're thinking, what has Dee been cooking lately?!

I made fried chicken last night, which I don't do often, but it was tasty. I dip chicken pieces in ranch dressing, then roll them in panko bread crumbs and fry in olive oil. It's not traditional, but so be it. I also made rice.

Michael made homemade guacamole, with all the precision of a persnickety chef in an upscale restaurant. I chopped onions and tomatoes for him. "The onions are too large," he frowned, after taking his first bite.

"Next time, chop them yourself," I said sweetly.

I used the leftover rice this morning and made Michael's favorite breakfast, fried rice with an egg. I wanted him to have a good breakfast before getting on that bus. If you have a picky breakfast eater, I highly recommend fried rice in the morning.

********************

Every once in a while I see something on Facebook that is really interesting, and my friend Laura posted this:

"Someone who hates you normally hates you for one of three reasons. They either see you as a threat, they hate themselves, or they want to be you."

Discuss amongst yourselves..

Anniversary Day

All day yesterday I was thinking about the fact that it was an important milestone. Five years ago, on March 13, 2007, I met my son for the first time in a Kazakh orphanage. I had been looking at photos of him for a long time, courtesy of the Antares Foundation, but to finally see him in person was such a thrill.You can read more about that meeting here.

I was immediately struck by how tiny he was, but so sweet. His sweetness and intelligence just shone through in that first meeting.

This was made moments after our first hug. I had to try really hard not to cry. See how tiny he is?!

The beautiful thing is that he was loved in his orphanage. The caretakers had basically gone to bat for him, to get him adopted. They knew he didn't stand a chance in Kazakhstan, with a limb difference. He would've had a very bleak future.

Here, he has a real chance at a bright future. He makes good grades in school and is a terrific tennis player. What an amazing journey it's been.

Below, Mike around Christmastime, 2006, with some of his buddies, including his friend Angela, who now lives in a loving family in Colorado.

It's hard for me to look back at the orphanage photos and not want to help all the children get adopted. It's just not possible for many of them, especially the ones with siblings in the same orphanage, who must be adopted together.

That's why I am trying so hard to help my friend Debi adopt little Maxim, from Russia. Please chip in for Max.

Mike and Colton new Year's Eve, 2011.

Ruminating

Being in Athens the other day felt like so surreal, I actually sat for a long time at one of the outdoor cafe tables and just looked around. There was music coming from an outdoor speaker [old pop hits like Bennie and the Jets], and there were students and non-students sitting and drinking coffee, and truly just "hanging out."

When I was a UGA student the downtown area was not nearly as nice, but I still loved walking around downtown and looking in little shops. I remember going in and out of places and thinking, someday, when I have money, I'm going to come back and buy things, cool things I see now and I can't afford.

The irony is that now I can afford some things but I have realized in the past couple of years that there are very few material things I want. The most fashionable clothes hold no interest for me. Gadgets hold no interest for me.I have a decent car. I have a decent house.

Books are valuable, but only while I read them, and I refuse to pay full retail. I find them at GOodwill, or the library, or I ask for them for Christmas or birthdays. I borrow them. I order them from Paperback Swap. I rarely buy them any more. 

Anyway, as I sat at the table in Athens I kept thinking, if I close my eyes I can go back, and see myself at 19 or 20, wandering around downtown, my backpack on my back, Walkman tape player in my pocket.

How did I get to be 49 all of a sudden? In Athens I don't feel my age, and yet I do. I reflected on the fact that now I am one of those dumpy folks with gray hair and sensible shoes, wandering around campus and downtown looking sort of spacy. I used to see those folks when I was a student and think eeeuw, get a life you old farts! Move out of the way. I need to get to class. [Maturity was a ways off obviously.]

I looked at some of the students and thought, y'all look just as goofy as we did nearly 30 years ago, with your silly haircuts and clothes that don't quite fit, plus now tattoos and piercings. And what's up with all the smokers?! Don't you realize those things kill you?!? Not cool.

I also thought about the sad things I have endured since 1984, and I thought, I'm glad I didn't see my future, then. It would've been depressing. Watching my dad's decline and eventual death from cancer has been the worst thing, obviously. A series of failed romantic relationships has also been stressful. My precarious employment situation for the past 3 years has been yucko. My daughter's departure from my life has been by far the most painful. There are still times when I just start crying, wishing I could go back in time and make different choices.

Then there is this guy, the light of my life.

As long as I can hug my boy every day, and see him smile, I can keep going.

I am writing up his fifth post-placement report, to send to Kazakhstan this week. After 4 social-worker prepared reports, the parents can do them themselves, for Kazakhstan. I started working on it this afternoon and I thought, thank you God. I don't understand so many things that have happened to me, and I have a lot of regrets, but I here's one awesome guy in my life.

I also still have hope my daughter will turn things around for herself one of these days.

Below is a picture of my desk at work. Notice the photo of Alesia and Michael? They make all the crap I've been through worth it, just to arrive at this moment.

"The soul is healed by being with children." [English Proverb]

Dance of the Undead

I know it was a national holiday today because the traffic going in this morning was nonexistent. And there was no mail. Big hint there.

Michael has to go back to school tomorrow. He is NOT a happy camper.

I made the best pork tenderloin for dinner tonight. I put Hog Waller dry rub, a little salt and pepper, and stuck it in a pan with some water, in a 250 degree oven for 3 hours, and voila, fork tender pork. That plus BBQ sauce is very tasty. Prep time? 5 minutes.

I also made Elva's Fabulous Salad and re-heated some rice from last night.

Michael had eaten dinner at Colton's house about 6:30. I picked him up a few minutes later.

About 8, he had a big plate of salad and a little bit of pork. Two dinners sound weird to you? When my brother was in high school, for almost an entire year he would go to his friend Steve's house after school every afternoon. They ate dinner at 5:30. At my house, we ate between 7:30 and 8, or thereabouts. Steve came over and ate with us every night. One day my mother saw Steve's mother at the grocery store. [Knoxville wasn't a big place then.] Mother said "We surely do enjoy having Steve over for dinner every night." Steve's Mom said "Well, we enjoy seeing Bruce EVERY NIGHT." Then they both realized what had been going on and started laughing.

Speaking of high school, you remember those cameras where they shot the photo out immediately and you watched it develop? Mother had one of those when I was in high school and college. The problem was, those photos got murky after a while. I unearthed a couple of photos of me, though, from 1980-82, which were years I was so self-conscious there are very few photos of me in existence. I thought I looked hideous. However, I scanned in the two photos I found of myself and they are both sort of cute [from my advanced age of 49].

Me in about January 1983, with Molly Mac, our bassett hound. She was such a cute puppy. We hardly ever put her down. I was 20 and looked about 13?!

This one was made my senior year in high school when I was in the Westside Dinner Theater production of Hello Dolly for 6 weeks. I worked 6 nights a week, and went to school about 3 hours a day, which was all I needed to graduate. I didn't sleep much. They let me bring my costume home once or twice. Dad liked to dance around in his pajamas.

In looking at those two photos it just occurred to me, I am way too white. I should've gotten out in the sun more. I look like the undead. We lived on the lake. I was always too busy...

 

Co-Sleeping

 

 

I meant to post this ages ago. I think it's hysterical. I slept with my parents every night until I was about 8 - and I snuck in, every night. My parents' bed was a king but there were two twin mattresses on top of the box springs, and I'd wriggle into the "crack" between the two mattresses. I sometimes joke about being a "crack baby" - and Mom cringes....

One night when I was about 5, my friend Joanne came over to spend the night. The next day her mom asked her, "Where did you sleep last night?"

Joanne thought for a minute, and said "I slept with the entire family. First, I was sleeping with Dee. Then she wet the bed and I got up and went and slept with Tony and Elva. Then Tony got up and went somewhere else. Then Bruce came and got into bed with me and Elva. Then Dee came and got into bed with us."

Her mother thought it was hysterical. My mother still tells the story.