The Crab Chronicles

Taming the Dragon

Challenge is a dragon with a gift in its mouth…Tame the dragon and the gift is yours.
— Noela Evans

I saw that quote this morning and I really liked it. I don't know who Noela Evans is, but she's made a great analogy. I tell my kids all the time that things that are difficult to get are the things most worth having.

I almost lost my temper this morning, but I was able to maintain it long enough to get to work. Michael didn't want to wear his new blue jeans, even though it was cold and rainy. He wanted to wear the old jeans which are too tight in the waist. After I put the new jeans on his bed and went off for a minute, I came back and he had on old jeans, with his little belly hanging over the waistband like an old man. Then I had to threaten a 45 minute time out to get him to wear the new jeans. He said he didn't like to wear things that are wrinkled. I pointed out that they were only slightly wrinkled and this is America and kids don't pay any attention to that stuff. He wasn't mollified. I never did really figure out why he didn't want to wear the jeans.

Alesia asked me for lunch money just as she needed to get out the door and catch the bus. I had to scribble out a check and throw it at her, hollering at her ["Sweetie, you need to GO! Love you! Have a good day!"], while Mike sulked, and Coco barked furiously. It was chaos. Mike was so mad at me he refused to wear his prosthetic. I just shrugged. Some battles aren't worth fighting.

It's a control thing, I know. Mike is still, after almost a year, adjusting to the idea that he is not in control. This is common with older adopted kids. We were in the car the other day and drove past a hair salon. He asked me how much a haircut cost. I told him not to worry about it, since cousin Tim always cuts his hair. He said he wanted to go to someone who would cut his hair the way HE wanted it! I chuckled.

"Michael, you need to understand that you are a little boy. You do NOT have the right to get weird haircuts. You WILL have appropriate looking hair as long as you live with me."

He pouted. He said he wanted spiky hair. I said NO.

I think when he was with his birthmom, and probably to some extent in the orphanage, he was able to get his own way about a lot of things. When I adopted him he had a weird hairstyle - a buzz cut, but long bangs.

Here you can see his haircut - this was made in Kzaakhstan, just after the adoption hearing. He had just finished playing soccer in the hotel gym, and he was eating ice cream, so he was a happy camper.

IN OTHER NEWS

I reviewed the film American Gangster on my film blog. Check it out.

We had a nice day yesterday, although I didn't get everything done that I wanted to do. The kids and I went to Kroger, then came back and unloaded and we went out to lunch at Papadeaux. I like their food, which is a lot of cajun inspired dishes. I ordered an appetizer of nuggets of fried alligator, and Mike and I polished it off. It was yummy. Alesia tasted it ans said "It does NOT taste like chicken! It tastes ilke shrimp!" Mike also ate catfish, which is so delicious, and raspberry lemonade. He ate a good lunch.

Later, while Mother napped, I had to let Alesia work on a school project on the computer, and while she did that, I read a book called Deep Dish, by Mary Kay Andrews. I don't know if you'd call it a romance book or just a novel, but it's wonderful, as you can see here. I kind of dread reading a book that's really entertaining, because then I don't want to put it down, to do silly things like sleeping. I have 2 other books going, and a stack I need to read.

EVEN later - I was sitting at the kitchen table, and Alesia, standing next to me, thought it would be funny to make comments about my hair. "Why is your hair so curly, Mom?" she asked. I was tired. "God made it curly, kiddo," was my answer. When we met, my hair was very long and heavy, and the curl was dragged out. Then I got it cut so short that it was oddly straight, for many months. Now it's growing out a bit and curly again.

Alesia called Mike over to point out a snow white curl at the crown of my head, and giggle. Mike pretended to be a gorilla and dig lice out of my head and nibble them, giggling a lot. I put up with this for a minute so I could look at my mail. When I finally got up and went in the bathroom, my hair looked like it had been attacked by bees. Good thing I am not vain about that sort of thing.

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

My brother e-mailed yesterday and said he was sleeping better since the rockets and bombs weren't dropping all night. That tells us he had a hard time sleeping last week. When he doesn't sleep he gets REAL cranky - glad I wasn't there in Baghdad with him. Of course, if I were in a place where bombs were dropping - even if they were a couple of miles away - I would have to wear some big ol' Depends. Yep, it would be stinky to be around me.

Musings About Life Choices and Manure

Well, my carefully planned weekend is just not happening. Nope, the thunderstorms yesterday just decimated my plans.

Now, Mother doesn't want to go anywhere because it's still cold and rainy. Alesia is finishing her Biology homework - my lecture the other day about spending her life cleaning toilets WORKED! Yay! [I should tape it and put it on YouTube. Of course, it has added power because I make her clean her own bathroom, which most parents don't do.] I still need to clean my room, buy groceries, and pay bills. Instead, I'm sitting here writing a blog. Oh well, it's supposed to be a "day of rest."

So, one of my favorite sites, a site I read every day, is the Pioneer Woman site. I love it that she blogs almost every day. Like my friend Cindy, who has 39 kids and still blogs every day. Amazing. I have other blogs I love but the blogwriters only post about once a month, and it's so frustrating to check and there's no new posts! None. Really irritates me.

Anyway, back to Pioneer Woman. She redesigned her website. It's really quite awesome.
http://thepioneerwoman.com/2008/03/crooked.html#comment-172346

[If that link doesn't come through look to the left and down, on my list of links.]

Ree, the Pioneer Woman, lives out west somewhere, where there are few trees and a lot of horses and cows. There must be a staggering amount of animal poop out there. I was pondering this a minute ago. My cousin's wife spent an entire Saturday morning recently sitting in a long line of trucks, waiting to buy horse poop from a local stable. She has a beautiful garden. However, she shovels a lot of poop to get it. My father used to swear by cow poop. I should go out to Pioneer Woman's place, put me a double wide out there, and start an internet poop sale business. I could make millions! I might could get a TRIPLE wide! Woo hoo!! Who's with me?! I am actually not kidding.

I had a funny conversation not long ago with a friend whose wife is a real career woman. I mean, the woman WANTS to wear panty hose and high heels. Really. He said something about my career as a paralegal, and being ambitious like his wife. I let that sink in for about 3 seconds. "Let me make something clear, here. I was raised by a gorgeous 1950's heartbreaker Junior League type mama, and a career-obsessed banker who worked 12 hour days. Guess which lifestyle looked better to me?! I just haven't found a victim - I mean, husband - to support me in the manner I'd like.  Heck, I'm so old and fat now, I'd be fine with a  sweet ol' bubba in a doublewide trailer in Valdosta, if I didn't have to work a real job."

There was a long silence on the other end of the phone line, then he laughed. He was probably trying to decide if I was serious or not. I am still pondering that myself.

When I was younger, like what I call the Young and Stupid years - my twenties - I thought I wanted to live in the city. I even went to New York City and had a couple of job interviews.  Then I went back to Knoxville and settled down in a real place and job. God was watching out for me.  I wouldn't have lasted long up there. I would've had to join one of the secret groups, like my friend Joanne, who lived up there for a couple of years. Yes, there are displaced southerners up there who gather and eat and  socialize, talk slow and eat non-healthy foods. I went to a gathering. It was such a relief to hear people talking about  SEC football and finding decent bisquits there in the frozen north,  instead of  folks who  looked at me like I was nuts when I said the word "arugula" sounds like a skin disease to me. Some people have no sense of humor. But I digress.

The older I get, the more I envy my friends who live in the country. Nobody bugs them about wearing Crocs all day, or makeup. They don't have to drive like Dale Earnhardt on crack 1.5 hours a day to get to their jobs. They don't worry about their kids being kidnapped every time they ride bikes. They still have internet access and cable TV. They can actually see the sky all day. They know people in the grocery store.

The doublewide is starting to sound good. I am not kidding.

I might even be willing to shovel some poop, if I could live in the country...

Here i am, just out of college, in paralegal school.

Busy Saturday

We have had a nice day, pretty laid back, after the initial excitement this morning.

Michael had an 8 a.m. soccer game. So we were up early - I had a hard time sleeping last night, I was so anxious we would oversleep. Michael was NOT a happy camper about being up so early on a Saturday, but he ate his eggs and toast. by the time we got out to the field it was nice.

I so enjoyed talking to the other parents this morning. It was also more fun because I am learning the boys' names. The kids played better - the game was tied.

We came home and Mike got his shower and rested a bit. He was really tired.

Our movie tonight was "American Gangster," which stars Denzel Washington and Russell Crowe, two favorite actors. It was rather disappointing, though. I will review it on the movie blog site when I can.

Granny and Alesia got pedicures, and Mike and I went shopping. We got some beautiful fresh corn, tomatoes, and cantaloupe from a small stand near the karate school. I also bought two lush petunia hanging baskets for the front patio. I couldn't resist. We have tulips coming up in the front flower bed.

I spent some time today weeding, which is great to do on a rainy day. We've had rain on and off all afternoon.

We got an e-mail from Bruce saying that he had gotten the box we sent him only a week ago! I was so surprised and pleased. We sent him a singing frog, and his only remark was "I hope you didn't pay too much for that." My brother can squeeze the life out of a dollar - he takes after Dad, who was also tight-fisted when it came to money.

I have been corresponding with a lady from Kazakhstan who is here in the USA studying, and she has written an article I wanted to share, which is really interesting. I hope she can come to visit us one day.

Hi Dee!

 

Please look at my story (now posted on the Fellows' website) at the following link:Thanks. Larissa.

 

 

http://fellows.humphreyfellowship.org/page/102860/index.v3page;jsessionid=sgrb848x6xbr?ct=cdisplay&nt=true&cd_eid=57970

 

We went to the condo this afternoon and I took some new photos for the listing. Here's an extra I took:

Grades, Milk, and Bombs

So yesterday was a nerve-wracking day at work, and today is worse. I am helping another paralegal with a project, and it's due today. I don't want to go into the details, but it's a huge case, and those always make me nervous.

When I got home last night I asked Alesia if she had given her art teacher the note I had typed to her, asking her to explain one of the things she wanted on Alesia's project, and verifying that Alesia can turn it in late. Alesia didn't even take the note. Right after I typed it, I had said "Be sure and put this in a place where you won't forget to talk to her about this." Alesia had totally forgotten about it.

So last night I once again printed out her grade reports for Biology and Art, and opinted out all the zeroes. I have done this weekly since the semester started. She has promised to make up her work, turn it in, etc. She doesn't do it. More zeroes accrue.

Without getting mad or screaming at her, I had yet another Come to Jesus meeting with Alesia last night about her grades. I will spare you the details. I have tried to get her to understand the importance of going to college and getting a decent job. I have failed - either that, or it's that her brain just can't retain the information.

I finally just said "Alesia, think of the worst day of your life, a day when you really had to do hard physical labor, and you got sweaty and stinky, and at the end of the day you were exhausted. Do you remember a day like that?"

She got a faraway look in her eyes and nodded.

"OK. So if you don't go to college or technical school, EVERY DAY will be like that. You will have to clean toilets or wash dishes, or do some awful job you will hate, and it will be exhausting. Do you want that?"

She looked horrified. "No!"

"OK. Then you need to go to these teachers and ask them how to fix your grades. I will take you in early, or arrange for you to be picked up after school, or whatever, but I won't do this for you. It is YOUR responsibility. You are 16 years old. The choices you make right now will affect the rest of your life."

She got busy with her homework.

Then I spent an hour helping Michael with his homework, that he hadn't done all week - he had not brought it home. He asked if we were having pilmeni for dinner. "Nope. Pilmeni is for boys and girls who do their homework, and write down spelling words correctly, not for careless or lazy folks."

He cocked his head at me. "So we'll never have it again?!"

I stared right back, unblinking. "We WILL have it, if you do what you're supposed to do."

SUPPER

Sometimes we have the most interesting conversations over the supper table.

I had to stop at Quik Trip on the way home last night for gas, and I got milk and bread. The only milk they had was Pet milk. Alesia and Mike both drink big glasses of milk at dinner. I hadn’t seen the Pet brand in years.  

When we first sat down, I said to Alesia “How is the Pet milk?”  

She got a funny look on her face. “What do you MEAN the pet milk?!” she said suspiciously. 

“The milk you are drinking. It’s Pet milk,” I said. She looked suspiciously at her milk, my little Forest Gump. Mike was grinning. Nothing gets by him. 

“What IS this stuff you bought, Mom?” Alesia asked. 

I finally realized the source of her confusion. “The brand name is P-E-T, Sweetie. That’s what I meant. How do you like it? We usually drink Mayfield. I grew up drinking Pet milk.” 

She looked relieved. “Oh. I thought you meant we were drinking some weird milk…” 

“You thought I went out and milked someone’s pet, so you could have milk tonight?” I teased her. 

“Well, I didn’t know, Mom,” she said, with great annoyance. I thought of the scene in the movie Meet the Parents where Ben Stiller makes a funny remark about how hard it would be to milk a cat, much to Robert DeNiro’s disgust.

“Well, we wouldn’t get much milk from Coco, huh?! You know, in Kazakhstan they drink fermented horse’s milk,” I said brightly. 

Mike chimed in. “I’ve had it! It’s yummy!” 

Mother gave me a look of horror. “Horse milk? You’re kidding, right?”

“Nope. It’s a nomadic cultural thing. The nomadic tribes who have lived there for centuries would drink it. It’s considered a sign of hospitality, to offer a guest the drink. I think it’s called Kumys.” 

Mother: “Let’s not discuss it! I am getting sick!” 

“Me, too!” Alesia chimed in. I looked at Michael and shrugged. 

Here’s an interesting link to a site that talks in a very general way about Kazakhstan and the food and culture:

http://www.foodbycountry.com/Kazakhstan-to-South-Africa/Kazakhstan.html 

We then went on to discuss the history of Kazakhstan, a little bit. I talked about how a yurt is rather similar to an Indian teepee. The yurt is made of felt. Mike has a toy yurt I bought for him as a souvenir.

I try to do my part to help the kids be proud of their birth countries and their heritage. Who knows if I will succeed?

IN OTHER NEWS
Every time I listen to the news and hear about the bombing in the green zone, it upsets me. Then I e-mail Bruce and he e-mails me back so I know he's alive. This is today:

"Boy, I don't know what the TV is showing, but I'm getting tons of emails about the "seige".  What drivel...... 

The long and short of it is that the IZ is huge - and covered in dust/dirt/sand.  So any time one of these rockets hits it throws up huge amounts of dust/dirt/sand.  Looks cool on TV I guess.  Stuff (cars mainly) burn pretty good and there's lots of them, so that gets on TV.  Then they get various angles, so THAT goes on TV, then we let'em burn as you do not want to get close in case they have grenades on board.  It's also usually a few minutes before the all clear is sounded, so the fire really gets going.  And then the TV folks start filming again, then get different angles........... And so it goes."

  

The Giggling Girl

Yesterday, when I woke up Michael, Alesia  was already awake. He got out of the bed and started shuffling towards her bathroom, and I stopped him. "Look, Alesia's in there. Why don't you go use my bathroom?" I suggested.

"This one's closer." he muttered.

"Yes, but Alesia is in there fixing her hair. You know what that means," I said gently. With a great sigh, like a condemned man walking the last mile, he shuffled off to my bathroom.

When Alesia came down for breakfast, I looked at her and smiled. She looked at me with great suspicion. I grimaced. Smiled. Grimaced. Usually that makes her laugh. Not yesterday. She pushed past me to get her cereal, with a look of disdain only a 16 year old can employ.

I knew I had to try sopmething else. As she walked by, I said "Oh My LORD - I think I see a wave in your hair. Yes, it's a wave. What happened? How can it not be straight as a board? Did the flatiron break? Was there an accident?"

She finally smiled. "Mom!"

I repeated warnings to her throughout breakfast. Honey Nut Cheerios might cause hair curls, I warned. She giggled.

Giggling is a form of exercise, for Alesia, it seems. The giggles erupt at odd times. Last night we were watching "Night Shift," an old movie about two guys who run a brothel out of the city morgue. It's a lighthearted comedy. ["Another film about hookers, Mom?! Nice!" Michael had teased me.]

In one of the final scenes, Michael Keaton's character asks an angry Henry Winkler for the keys to the limo. While he's still talking, the camera stays on his face, and the keys are just thrown at him, hitting him on the cheek. Alesia was rolling on the floor laughing. [ROFL, if you like acronyms] After the hard laughter had died down, the giggles came. Then when Michael Keaton's character fell flat on his face, a lot more giggles.

By the time she had Coco in her arms and was about to say good-night to Mother, Alesia was giggling so hard I was afraid she was going to drop Coco. I tried to get her to stop, but she kept giggling. Finally, I said, "Did you talk to your Art teacher about turning in your project late?!"

She stopped giggling and gave me a reproachful look. "I forgot!"

When I was tucking in Michael a little later, I called to Alesia "Can you come give Michael a hug, please?!"

She called out from her room next door, "No! The opposite!"

I looked at Mike. He looked at me. "What does that mean, Mom? I guess the opposite of a hug is a kick?!" he looked irritated.

I called Alesia again. Another call about the "opposite." She didn't appear. I threatened a time out. Finally she came in there, sullen. "What is wrong with you?" I demanded.

"Why should I have to come in here?!" she pouted.

"What did you mean by the opposite?" I asked.

"I meant HE should come to MY room!" she said, indignant.

"Why? Can't you walk in here?" I asked. "Oh WHATEVER!" she huffed, turning to go back in her room.

"Hey - " I called to her back.

"I'm NOT hugging him!"

"Get BACK here!" I hollered. "Group HUG!"

Mike loves group hugs. Alesia hates them. She rolled her eyes. It was like hugging a giant piece of plastic. Mike giggled.

A few minutes later, prayers said and lights out, I left Mike's room.

"Night night! Love you Mike! Love you Alesia!" I called, as I started down the hall.

"Mom!!" she called, in a plaintive voice. I quickly started to go in her room. I opened the door.

"What are you DOING?!" She snapped. "Just shut the door!"

I keep promising Mike that some day, she will be nicer. Pray for us.

What You Need to Do To Succeed

This will have to be a quick update, as my lunch hour is quickly nearing the end. [I wrote a review of the movie Eastern Promises and it's on the Scribblerchick Movie Dish site, if you're interested.]

I had a meeting with Mike's teacher and the principal yesterday afternoon. The consensus was, we will wait and see how he does on the CRCT before making a decision about letting him skip a grade. At least they didn't say no, he can't skip. I am not sure it's the thing to do. However, he is very smart and quick to learn, when he focuses, and I think he could master an entire grade's math and English, in a summer. I just hate that he's 3 years behind his peers. Even 2 years is bad, but not as bad as 3. If I don't skip him, he could be the only 8th grader shaving every day.

I was able to take Mike to soccer practice yesterday. He is shorter than all the other boys, who are his age. However, they look like young boys. There is an open innocence in their faces which is not in his face. He has seen too much, suffered too much. As I said in the meeting, I don't know if emotionally he will be better off with his "peers" or with younger kids. He has great compassion and tenderness for kids who are younger.

Mike went off on a ranting and raving episode in the car on the way home from soccer practice. He didn't like the scrimmage. He was bored. He wanted to play in front. Oh yeah, and he didn't like having to take ESL. He didn't like not getting to play more in school. He gets bored a lot. Blah, blah, blah. I listened to this diatribe until he had exhausted himself. I reminded him I have no control over any of those situations he doesn't like. I then asked him a question.

"What does a person need in order to succeed in life?"

He shot me an exasperated look. "I dunno."

"Well, in order to really SUCCEED, you need to do two things. You need to work hard, and have a good attitude. If you don't do both, you will NOT be successful."

He rolled his eyes.

When we got home, I asked him again what a person needs to succeed. He said he didn't remember. I reminded him. I asked him again at breakfast. "Mom! Give it a rest!" was the sharp retort.

"Nope. Not gonna do it. You need to UNDERSTAND this stuff, Buddy. Then when I see you working hard and having a good attitude, I'll let it go."

I wish I had included "Have faith in God," but I didn't. We talk about that a lot, though, so I'm not worried about it.

I should give seminars..

The War There, and Here

I just had a rather disconcerting encounter in the breakroom with a lady who works on my floor, but not on my team. She's older, very sweet, always says Hi when I see her around. I got a couple of good newsy e-mails from my brother this morning, and I was preoccupied with the news.

So when I was walking down the hall, I saw her but it didn't register, and I didn't say Hi first, which I usually do. I was walking to the breakroom to heat up my lunch and just totally in my own world. She was approaching from the opposite way. She got closer and finally said "Hi, Dee," in sort of a surprised voice. I immediately felt guilty for not saying Hi first. That was disrespectful.

See, I am southern, and courtesy is a big thing with me. Plus, it's a family thing. My father would rise up from his grave and slap me if I were not courteous to folks in the workplace.

I got my leftover lasagna out of the fridge and got a Diet Coke. I was waiting for the lady to finish using the microwave and when she said "How are you?" I just replied, "Well, my brother's in Iraq, and he's on my mind a lot these days." She shot me a look and "humphed" when I said the word "Iraq."

I was taken aback. She's one of the sweetest, most low-key, mild-mannered people I've ever met. Really.

"We shouldn't be over there!" she said.

"Well, You may be right - I certainly have conflicted feelings about it - but we have to support the troops over there," was my response.

"We have no business there!" was her heated reply.

I saw this was going to escalate, but I had to make one final remark.

"Well, he is over there to do a job, and regardless of how I feel about the situation, I support HIM."

"We got no business over there," she muttered again as she grabbed her food and left the breakroom. "I will pray for your brother, though!"

I don't like to discuss politics [ever] and I am not going to do it here. However, that little encounter kind of shook me up.

I turned on NPR this morning after I dropped off Michael. (I know I am getting deep into middle age now because I prefer NPR to music these days.) If there's a story I don't like, I switch it to music for a few minutes. The story this morning was a man [probably a military chaplain of some sort] who was talking about getting e-mails with names of the servicemen and women who have died in Iraq. He said he read them every day and said a prayer for them and their families. As the story went on, I found tears streaming down my face. I had to turn it off.

I say this prayer 5-10 times a day, every day, "God, please don't let my brother die over there. Please keep him safe."

Can't we all agree that, regardless of our politics, that we must support the folks who are there?

I have been a huge fan of Robin Williams for about 30 years, since his first HBO special in the late 1970's. I never missed a Mork & Mindy episode. I bought his albums. I try to see all his movies. I think he's a brilliant man, even though I don't always agree with his politics. He has stated publicly that he opposes the war in Iraq. However, he has also donated a lot of his free time to going to the middle east with the USO and do free shows for the troops. You can read more about that here. I have an even greater respect now for Robin after reading [from many different sources] about his dedication to entertaining servicemen and women.

My father was in the military during the Korean War, although he didn't go to Korea. When he was finishing up his training, in New Jersey, he and a buddy went into New York City one weekend on a pass. They were in uniform. They wanted to see a Broadway Show. They walked all over the theatre district but there were no tickets available to the shows they were interested in. Finally, they stopped in front of a theatre showing The King and I, the original production, with Yul Brynner. There were no tickets, the ticket taker said, except standing room. Dad and his friend were debating about buying the standing room tickets, when a limo pulled up to the curb, and an older man in elegant evening clothes got out. He spoke to the ticket booth and came back out to the sidewalk, muttering to himself. He saw my father and walked over, holding out the tickets.

"I just found out I can't use these tickets, fellas, would you like them?" he asked.

Dad said "We sure would, but we don't have much money."

"That's OK. I am giving them to you, if you want them," the man replied.

Dad and his friend saw the show while sitting in the best seats in the house.

A random act of kindness, from a stranger. My father talked about that for the rest of his life. The first time he told me the story, I asked why he found it so remarkable for the guy to give them his tickets. He wasn't going to use them anyway. Dad explained that the war in Korea wasn't a popular war, and soldiers weren't always treated well when they were out in public, in uniform. He wouldn't have been surprised if the rich guy had just torn up the tickets, rather than give them to a couple of young soldiers. Dad left for Germany the next week.

Dad later married my mother, who did a number of shows for the USO, in her days as a young singer around Atlanta.

Dad and I got into some spirited debates when I was in college, about the Vietnam War. I thought it was a terrible war, and we shouldn't have been there. Dad thought we should've "Gone in there and won it!" Needless to say, it was a sore subject in our house, even years after the war had ended.

So this is our history. I am very familiar with both the pro-war and anti-war sides of the coin. My reality, right now, though, is simply that I want my brother home, safely.

These are some excerpts from his recent e-mails, just so you know a little of what it's like for him there:

"We don't need cars, though we have'em if needed.  For travel across to other bases, it becomes a full scale effort.  We travel then in hardened vehicles with all sorts of hardware and driving very fast.  Mike would love it... LOL!

For travel back and forth on the base, we have busses that go from our sleep area to the office area.  We usually travel with our body armor on as we have to be with in a few minutes of it.   We always have (even the showers and bathroom) our weapons and ammo handy.

Hardened means bullet proof glass, armor panels and such like.  The body armor is kevlar underneath, but has ceramic plates inside to stop rifle bullets.  It's some heavy stuff, runs about 35 pounds, the helmet and other stuff gives me about a 50 lb load.

The news coverage is over the internet, there are TVs here, but you have to pay for'em. I don't have one.

Watching movies goes two ways - one, the embassy has movies at night, two, you can buy, rent or trade for DVDs.  I don't have much interest in movies...

I don't have much I need.  Once I get the glasses from y'all, I'm pretty set.

Got a bike from one of the guys who's leaving soon.  That should be fun - maybe I'll write an article on "Biking in Baghdad"...  Subtitle, "Rockets and mortars as traffic control devices"...  LOL!

They actually have big bottles of Tobasco in the chow hall..."

Regardless of your feelings, please say a prayer for my brother, and for everyone serving in the military. They make huge personal sacrifices. They deserve our care and respect.

Monday, Again

It sure has felt like a Monday, all day. I didn't get enough sleep last night. I was cranky all day. What else is new [YAWN]...

I had a surreal lunch hour. I took my friend from work to pick up her car, and as we were stopped, outside the parking deck, I saw what I supposed were tiny blossoms from the pear trees, which are in full bloom. But they followed us, which was odd. I finally said "Is that SNOW flurries?" and my friend laughed and said "Yep. Weird, huh?" or words to that effect. It was bizarre. Yesterday I was out in a short-sleeved shirt doing yard work for a while, totally comfortable.

Then I got to Walmart in Marietta and as I was turning in, I noticed the Dobbins Air Force Base landing strip is just across the road. A plane came in REAAALLLY low, like, I ducked down in my seat. I mean l-o-w!! Yikes. That combined with hunger and seeing snow in March made me feel like I was in an alternate universe.

I came home and Michael had a comment on his agenda saying he had talked and been disruptive. I offered him a choice of 3 punishments - lose the Gameboy for a week, do a 30 minute time out, or weeding the back yard. He chose the 30 minute time out. I let him kneel by my bed, where he could support himself a bit. He could also see my computer. So it wasn't as harsh as it sounds. I HATE punishing my kids. Makes me want to cry. I had warned Michael, however, that any more bad conduct remarks would mean swift and sure punishment and I couldn't back down. When he got up, he came over and hugged me, and wanted me to hold him a few minutes.

Alesia's endoscopy is scheduled for April 17th, time undetermined as yet. I dread it. I am relieved we will finally, hopefully, find out what's wrong. We are trying to go on vacation in May and I want her to be better by then.

This is one of the photos of my condo I am trying to sell. I couldn't make the colors print out right on the flyer I am trying to make. I can't tell if the photo is too dark, or I need a new color ribbon:

this is the master bathroom, that Lesleigh and Alesia and I have all worked hard to get painted

Easter 2008

I decided yesterday that today would be as quiet and low key as possible. Too much frenetic activity yesterday. For that reason, we avoided the huge crowds inevitably at church, and slept late.

I am too tired to write much, Here is the correspondence between me and my brother, which gives the highlights:

-------------- Original message from Bruce:

Well had a nice late morning and had a great lunch with my buddies.  Lunch was shrimp, chicken kabobs, prime rib and the usual fast foods.  Why some of these idiots would have a hamburger instead of prime rib and shrimp is beyond me. 

 

Things are going along just fine.  I am getting out some (meetings at other buildings) and plan to get a digital camera .  Lots of interesting things here - mainly the palaces we occupy.

 

YB/YS/YU

From: "[email protected]" <[email protected]>
To: Bruce
Sent: Sunday, March 23, 2008 3:33:11 PM
Subject: Re: Easter Sunday

Good to hear from you. We had a really busy day yesterday - Mike's soccer game, cleaning house, guests for dinner - and today we just plan to relax.

I wish you would go ahead and get a digital camera. We are dying to see what you are seeing. Get one at least 5 megapixels. Mine is a Sony Cyber Shot, 6 megapixels. It works well.

The kids' birthday are both in July - Alesia on the 9th, Michael on the 19th. Might be a good time to get Mike a knife, for his birthday. Alesia still likes dolls, if only as a collector thing. Also, clothes would be a hit. Just remember she is about a size 5 in American sizes.

Love,
Dee

-------------- message from Bruce:

Check on the digital camera.  Got a good web site, should be ordered tomorrow.

By the way, read where the "Green Zone" is getting hit by rocket fire.  We usually learn these things via Fox or CNN.  I'm at the other end and it's about 6 square miles.  I'm in a hardened building so I can't even hear the impacts.  Just thought you would like to know.. LOL!

Talk to you in the morning!

YB

MESSAGE BACK:

To Bruce:

Thanks for letting us know the rocket fire is not on your head, so to speak. Mother was concerned. I was not, because I figured you have enough sense to get away from where they're shooting at you... LOL

We went over and rode around Stone Mountain at lunch. The weather is nice, in the 60's. There were not too many people there. We had the buffett at the old hotel over there, and it was excellent food. The hotel's restaurant has a huge balcony, and the kids spent a lot of time out there looking up at the mountain, waving to people, and doing god knows what else...

We started watching a movie called "Reds" this morning, and it stars Warren Beatty. I was telling Alesia who was in it and she looked at me, brows knit in confusion. "Corn Baby?" Nope, uh, that's Warren Beatty. But you can call him Corn Baby. Sort of fits. Mother and I laughed for 5 minutes.

Keep your head down.

XOXOXOX
Dee

I can't seem to get the spacing thing to come out right, so I am going to tuck in a photo here from my cousin Mark Embry, who is an amazingly good photographer:

-

The Easter Bunny Never Sleeps

It's after midnight, and I just finished putting together Alesia and Mike's Easter baskets. They are getting a couple of small gifts each - MIke a stuffed Garfield, and a toy car keychain. Alesia is getting new undies and a new eyebrow pencil.

I guess I shouldn't type when I am so tired. I said on yesterday's post the Emory campus is "hug" - of course I meant to say HUMONGOUS. LOL

We got up and ran to the Kroger - literally running through, trying to hurry so I could get Mike to soccer for his team photo. This obnoxious woman in Kroger tried to cut in front of me in the checkout line, then became infuriated when Mother apologized and said she needed to get right behind me because we were together. Mother didn't have much in her cart. She drives the motorized carts. The woman flounced off to another line, bumping Mother's cart. Mother said really loudly "EXCUSE ME!!!" and I thought Oh Lord, Granny's gonna tear into  that woman right here in the Kroger. It could get ugly. Have I mentioned that Mother is a Steel Magnolia, emphasis on STEEL?! LOL

Got Mike to soccer on time. Ran over to the condo to take photos for them to load on the ad sites. It was high noon and the sun was streaming in the windows.

Back to the soccer field, and I delivered the snacks to the coach. I got some Capri Sun juice packets, string cheese, and yogurt. I figured they would need protein. Other folks brought snacks, too.

We had a lively discussion in the stands, among the parents, about movies. I steered them towards my movie blog, even though I haven't been able to write much there.

Came home and had a sandwich for lunch, and made the lasagna for tonight. I didn't do my usual homemade sauce, but I jazzed up the Classico with some fresh garlic and red pepper. I think what makes my lasagna good is that I use real Ricotta cheese, Italian sausage and ground beef, and a use a lot of garlic and a splash of red wine. Everyone said it was excellent. Lesleigh and Steve Alper and his son joined us. We had a nice evening. Lesleigh and Steve liked each other, which always helps when you have guests.

The kids helped me clean up a bit around the house, which makes me feel good. Tomorrow I plan to do very little. I have to help Alesia with some schoolwork.