The Crab Chronicles

Slogging Through Sunday

Another rainy day. I am afraid my entire house is going to mildew. Yikes. At least we are all healthy, knock wood. So many folks around here are out with the swine flu. The kids say the schools are really seeing a lot of absences.

I woke up in the middle of the night with a terrible crashing sinus headache. I took motrin to let me sleep, then did the Neti Pot when I awoke. It usually helps, although pouring warm salt water in my nose is gross. Today, it didn't help. I finally got some Sinutabs when we went to kroger and they helped.

Alesia was in a PMS pissy mood all morning, and I didn't act too mature myself, due to the headache and trying to buy groceries in pouring rain. We went to Kroger around noon, and it was raining. There was some yelling when we left the store, I have to admit.  I kept warning Alesia to be quiet and she wouldn't listen. She kept sighing and saying snotty little remarks like "We NEVER go to Five Guys Burgers!" and "I'm NEVER going to drive again!" - sounding much like a whiny 8 year old, not an 18 year old. Finally, when we were at a light, I just turned around and glared at her. Then she started crying. Mother kept trying to steer the conversation to neutral areas. I sat and glared at the other drivers. Alesia snuffled loudly in the back seat and said how horrible I am. I growled at her. She cried.

No Mother of the Year awards for me.

Sometimes I can hold it together and sometimes not. When she gets on my last nerve and pounces, and I have a splitting headache....

After lunch I took the kids to the movie. Everyone was in a foul mood. Michael's tennis match had canceled again.

Choosing a movie was tough. There was almost nothing to see that we hadn't already seen before. So we ended up seeing the new Quentin Tarantino movie Inglorious Basterds. It was campy and ridiculous. Somebody needs to tell him 20 minute dialogue scenes are too boring, but those soggy long scenes didn't ruin the movie.

The Dawgs beat the Hawgs last night! Go Dawgs!

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!

Trojans and Gladiators

Yesterday was wild and scary. We have had so much ^%*!ing RAIN that when you step on my lawn it’s like trying to walk on a saturated sponge. It rained off and on all day yesterday. Today and tomorrow we are supposed to get more rain. Mother saw the back yard turning into a lake yesterday and called me almost in tears. I rushed home, and thankfully the rain had slacked off and the house wasn’t flooded, but it was a fear. On the way home I was calling my brother trying to figure out about going to a hotel with the dog, how to sandbag, etc. There’s a slight slope to the back yard and we have drains out there, but it’s not a safe situation.

Mother and I are thinking a retaining wall might be the solution.

If I ever again contemplate buying a house with a creek behind it, slap me. Hard.

We talked about maybe buying a new house. However, my kids are used to this house. It’s in a settled older neighborhood and we have great neighbors. They have some stability and security, which they never had before in their lives. As much as I would love a different house, one not obviously constructed by stoned hippies in 1968, the old house will have to do for now. It’s not worth having my kids feel disrupted and insecure.

I talked to the guy fixing my computer and he said there was a Trojan wreaking havoc on my system. I will be honest, when I heard “Trojan” my first thought was condom, and I was momentarily confused. Then I remembered it is also some nasty computer demon. I feel like the computer has had a nasty disease. It’s very disturbing. I should get it back tomorrow, Lord willing.

We watched the movie Gladiator last night. Michael has a test in social studies today, and it’s covering the same time period, so I wanted him to have a movie to reinforce those lessons. They talk about the Roman senate and repelling the Germania barbarians, which all ties in. I re-read the sections of his book he will be tested on, and he seems to be remembering everything well. I told him my ancestors were mostly Celts, fierce clannish warriors who painted their faces blue and scared the crap out of civilized people, and he was tickled by that.

So we were sitting there watching the movie, and Alesia stopped it to ask me what the word “bold” means. Just when I think her vocabulary is where it should be, she pops out with something like that and I know she still has a ways to go on vocabulary.

OTOH, Michael and I are reading together all the Harry Potter books, and when I ask him about a word I think he might not know, he knows the word 80% of the time. The only ones I have to explain are British words we don’t use here, like “crisps” for potato chips, or “petrol” for gas. One paragraph I read the other day was all about “rubbish” falling out of “dustbins,” and when I finished reading I asked him if he knew those two words. He shook his head. “We say trash is falling out of trashcans, Hon,” I told him. He has an amazing ability to learn new words just from context clues.

I enjoy reading the Harry Potter books, for one reason, because they are so English. We are two countries separated by a common language, as some famous person once said. Something was in the book yesterday about “black pudding” being eaten, and I looked that one up. Apparently, it’s made from animal blood. I have a pretty strong stomach, but that’s enough to turn me vegetarian. We won’t be trying anyblack pudding  at my house any time soon. Treacle tarts, toffees, and sausages - all those things sound yummy. Not everything does. Of course, we read about spotted dick the other day and he thought that was hilarious. It’s concocted out of dried fruit and custard. When I think of dried fruit I just think of passing gas, which is the effect it has on me. We have enough of that at our house.

 

Still Here

My computer is still screwed up. I have a repair guy fixing it, so hopefully I will get it back in the next couple of days.

I met my cyber buddy Julia late yesterday afternoon and she gave me two absolutely beautiful hand-thrown pottery pieces, a bowl and a vase, and as soon as I get the computer back I will post photos. They are really nice items. I am so excited to offer them as prizes.

PLEASE make your donations to Antares and enter the raffle asap!

I will post more asap. Right now I am on lunch hour at work, and I have to catch up on emails while I eat, so stay tuned! I will post again when possible.

Computer Boo Hoos

I am still having computer issues. My computer is only about 5 years old and it’s already a dinosaur. I called a technician today about working on it and he asked me what was wrong. I told him it said something about the disk being full and then he started asking me questions as though I spoke the same language. I wanted to cry. Finally, I said “You must talk to me in Fisher-Price language because I am really that ignorant. Here’s what I can do with a computer: I can turn it on and type, and not much more.”

There was a pause.

“Is there a USB device on the computer?” he asked.

I had to think. “No, I barely know how to use one. The big box thingy with all the guts in it is right on top of the table I use as a desk and no, there’s no plastic thingy sticking out. I would see it.”

I am sure he was thinking, this woman sounds intelligent, and then the word “thingy” pops out. She must be blonde. Technical type people hate the word “thingy.” I love it.

I once dated an engineer and he shuddered every time I used the word “thingy.”

He then said something and blah blah blah is what I heard, then the word terabyte. All I could think of was that it sounded like something a Tyrannasaurus Rex would do, like “The terabyte of it’s mortal enemy turned the helpless dinosaur into lunchmeat!”

Yes, I am that clueless.

 

I have a tip for all you parents out there. If you want smart kids, give them bananas. When I got home yesterday Mother was napping, so I grabbed two bananas and headed up to my room. Michael ate a banana and proceeded to whip through his homework with his brain fully engaged, which is a miracle.

I swear I heard angelic choirs singing, as he did most of his homework on his own.

I remember reading some email about the wonders of bananas where it said studies have shown your brain works better if you eat a banana. We buy them regularly. Now I have to just make sure the kids eat them. If the banana has a brown spot they won’t touch it. I am perfecting the wonderful banana bread recipe of my aunt Jane. If I puree the bananas really well and call it cake, the kids will eat it.

Michael brought home a lovely progress report yesterday, with all A’s and B’s. Alesia’s was all A’s and B’s too, she said, although hers was at school. I told the kids if the final report card with the semester’s grades were all A’s and B’s, there would be a reward. I was thinking cash $$ but I may have to dip into savings, depending on how much the dead computer will cost to fix.

PITY PARTY

These are the major issues I’ve had to deal with in the past few months:

-Got laid off from my job [although ultimately that was good, since I now have a job I like a lot better]

- My car needed $1,000 worth of work done on it

- I had to buy new glasses and stop wearing contacts

- My computer has a bad boo boo in its thingy and I’m suffering from pain in the wallet, not to mention severe withdrawal from having to check email and post blog entries on my lunch hour at work

 

And, since I’m kvetching, here are a few other fun facts:

-    My beautiful Silver Queen corn got eaten up by bugs, waaaah…

-    Michael lost an entire pair of tennis shoes and had to have yet another new pair, waaah…

-    We keep having issues with our home phone, waaah….

-    My eye infection never goes away, no matter how many drops I put in my eyes, waaaah….

 

I could go on, of course, and you could think, wow, Dee, call the wambulance already and hush up, but I digress…

At least I’m not stuck in the Chicago airport, like my boss.

 

RECIPES

I made the best cake last night. I used a Duncan Hines yellow cake mix, and did the alternate recipe on the side of the box. You add eggs and oil and a box of pudding mix to the recipe and it makes a richer cake. I got crazy with it. Instead of 1 cup of water and 1/3 cup oil, I did all corn oil. I also used butterscotch pudding mix, not vanilla. I addes in cinnamon, allspice, nutmeg, and cloves. I love the sweet spices. Last, I dumped in half a bag of toffee brickle pieces. The result is very good. Mother said my Mamaw [who studied home economics in college] always said if you want a moist cake, to use Crisco. There’s nothing I hate more than dry cake.

I also made good Italian Fried Chicken. Super easy recipe. Wash and heavily salt your chicken and let it sit on paper towels for 10-20 minutes. Put the pieces in a pan or bowl and cover with buttermilk. Let it stand for 10-30 minutes in the buttermilk, which tenderizes and whitens it. In a shallow bowl, pulverize half a sleeve of Ritz crackers, and add 1-2 tablespoons of Italian seasoning mix, and a lot of garlic powder or salt. Dip each chicken piece in the crumb mixture and fry it in the oil of your choice. I used a mix of olive oil and grapeseed oil. It was really tasty.

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.

   

Computer Issues

My computer is acting ugly, as we say in the south, and right now it won't start. I am trying not to panic. I will try and post on my lunch hour and catch y'all up on what's happening in my world. [I am at work, which is why this is so short.]

Regardless of my computer issues, the raffle for the Antares Foundation continues. Please send your contributions as outlined in the post above, and you will be eligible to win one of the FABULOUS PRIZES!!

Kids Are Back!

When I started this entry it was 5:15 p.m. and Alesia and I were the only folks in the house awake. Mother, Michael, and Coco were all sound asleep.

The kids got back about 2:30. Mother and I were headed out to a late lunch. We hung out with Melissa and her girls for a few minutes listening to their tales of the weekend. I looked at Michael and thought, he is exhausted. He later told me he burned his mouth on a flaming hot s'more last night.

We finally got to Red Lobster and ate, while the kids regaled us with anecdotes about their wonderful camping experience. They got to go hiking, shop in Helen, GA, see an Oktoberfest parade [Helen is modeled on a German Alpine village, see below], go fishing, tell ghost stories, and eat deadly s'mores.

When they came back, the house seemed like a home again.

I let Alesia go out driving about 6. She has now done almost 8 hours of the 40 required to get her license. She is getting better all the time, too. I don't get pale and have heart palpitations any more.

We came home and she helped me make banana bread. Let's hope this time it's not dry.

Michael has homework to do, but he has been asleep for nearly 4 hours. I doubt he will wake up before tomorrow. That's OK. He needs his sleep. We can finish up his homework early in the morning.

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.

 

By the Hairs on My Chinny Chin Chin

Yesterday I finally got the correct lenses for my new glasses, the lenses with the stuff that makes them turn into sunglasses in the sun. So what’s it doing today? Cloudy and rainy.

 Michael was so wired last night, and was so uncooperative with Mother, after dinner I just stuck to our normal routine of movie, reading Harry Potter, and bed. We postponed finishing homework. However, I got him up an hour early this morning and he sat and finished his Science workbook pages. He whines a lot about exercises where he has to read and find the answer. I have taught him this: read it aloud. Look at the question. Find the key word or phrase in the question. Look for that word or phrase in the text. Re-read the paragraph containing the key word. Then, and ONLY then, can you ask for help, if you still don’t get it. He doesn’t get it if he reads silently. He must hear things read to him, or read them himself. What kind of learner is that, auditory? I always had to write things down to remember them.

He was fussy and sleepy early this morning, until I gave him some orange juice and a bite of banana. Then, presto, he was cooperative and able to finish his own homework.

So he finished his Science while I made his regular breakfast. He had a bowl of pasta and cheese, leftover from last night.

We have learned the hard way that if he doesn’t eat quality snacks [including protein] he becomes either hyper or non-functional. The difference is so dramatic it’s scary.

I thought raising a boy would be much easier than raising a girl. I was never a girly-girl, preferring to wear my brothers old clothes and play football in the street, to doing girl stuff. I was flat wrong. Raising Alesia has had its tough moments, but Michael goes to dark places when he’s upset. Given his history, I cannot leave him in his room to sulk for hours. I might leave him in there one hour, like last night, but he curls up in a ball and sleeps. That was how he handled difficulties in Kazakhstan, sleeping a lot. It’s what depressed people do.

I used to indulge in pity-parties sometimes when I was a teenager, but after a short time, my mother would always throw open the door and command me to get off my butt and DO something. She can put a tone in her voice that simply will not take no for an answer. She could stop a train with that voice. Long after I left home, if I was having a day when I was really blue, wallowing on the sofa or in the bed, after a couple of hours I would hear her voice in my head, and I would pull myself out of it. I am trying to imprint my kids that way.

 My dad has been dead 13 years and I still sometimes hear his voice in my head.

Michael’s saving graces are his sweetness and his humor.

When I came home today from work, the kids and I ran around frantically for a while, getting the kids ready to go camping. I posted a camping packing list outside their rooms. They tend to forget a lot if I don’t give them a packing list. My friends Melissa and Andrew took them up to the North Georgia mountains late this afternoon.

So anyway, things finally settled down late this afternoon, and while we were waiting for the kids to be picked up, Mike and I read some Harry Potter and Mike calmed down. He snuggles very close to me when we read. I know he feels like he’s too big to want a cuddle from mama, but he craves affection and closeness, probably because he missed out on it so much in Kazakhstan. We were having a nice moment, and suddenly he looked deeply into my eyes and touched my chin softly. “Can you get rid of the beard before I come home on Sunday?!” he said, a wicked twinkle in his eye.

I laughed. When I told Mother about it later she laughed really hard.

One of the unfortunate things about being menopausal is I get little whiskers on my chin, and I am oblivious to them until Mike points them out. One of those many little joys of menopause…

 

The house is way too quiet tonight. I took Mother and we had dinner at Bambinelli’s, but it’s been a dull evening since then. I miss the kids.