Re-entry to civilization successful. More or less.

The phone rang 12 times yesterday. There were 62 emails (mostly from MoveOn.org and various Democratic candidates. Honey, what sites did you visit whilst I was gone?). Book club was easy and fun and the discussion quite interesting! The society party of the year was hot and crowded but not without its charms...I was glad I didn't wear jeans (I'm talking to you, jeans girls!! You should not toy with those of us who worship at your fashion altar!)but I was mortified I had to slip out just as I was awarded a door prize. In my defense, the last sitter available in town was 12 and her bedtime approached. I saw, literally, everyone I know in town. I was reminded of how pretty my friends are, and smart, and of how much they drink. A few of their husbands are hot, and a few of their lesbian partners are entertaining, and most of them are incredibly wealthy.

I am reminded again of the movie "Friends With Money". I am the Jennifer Aniston character, but with frizzier hair and more restricted access to marijuana. I work, which is somewhat unusual in my circle, and I don't have a cleaning lady (or man. Have I ever told you about the golden days with Dust Bunny cleaning services? My dear friend Russell - what a pleasure it was to have him clean and then to sit and smoke a ciggie and dish about the Raleigh hipsters after!). We travel regularly, but that is in lieu of other delights such as buying clothes at stores that aren't Target or Kohl's, and letting our house fall into complete disrepair.

Money is a bigger issue than anyone ever thinks it is, and though I shouldn't complain because I have shelter, tasty and diverse food, and entertainment galore (including the iMac, which frankly is just an indulgence and a totally fun one at that), I sometimes wonder where my true peers are. Why is it that I have surrounded myself with people wealthier than I am? We moved from our old neighborhood partially because we didn't seem to have the money of our neighbors, and now our new neighborhood is full of homes over a million dollars and people with three kids in private school and OMG the cars!! Our church, our school, even our family members (save the Kansans, who are modest to a fault and I think would live in a middle-class fashion even if they were loaded) all seem to have money, money, money. Beautiful philanthropic gestures abound in my circle, however. Most of these people are generous to a fault, it should definitely be said. But they also have televisions from this century.

Maybe everyone is in debt. And there is no doubt that I compare myself to other people far too often. But really, would I have it any other way? There is a certain lack of stress in driving a 12 year-old car. (God love Mazda! It has NEVER been in the shop!) There is a "romance in the struggle" for sure, as my husband reminds me daily. We would go to public school even if we didn't have to, I'm fairly certain. Eating at home means being together and great conversation. As for having to clean my own house.....ok, well I don't see any bright side to that at all.

There's a lot more to say on the subject, but we have four kids this weekend! That I have had this much uninterrupted time is fairly amazing (though there is a small urchin doing crunches and pushups right beside me right now). Though we are fairly broke right now, we're going to have pizza for all and a movie tonight. And I think that is a completely good use of funds, especially when you have four sweet friends and a hot summer night and a big, unkempt den with a sectional sofa and the love of your life right beside you.

Are you interested in the "Cloverfield" buzz? I so very totally am.

We're in the midst of the child-free three days. We're trying hard to get in everything we want to do/see/eat, and all the while pretending we aren't really in town. But we were found out, and we ended up meeting friends for dinner. Twice. (I would link to the restaurants but Blogger is acting up. We ate at South and Riviera.) Still, fun was had. We also enjoyed a gallery walk featuring a very clever and eye-catching installation at Designbox. Aren't we hip. We saw the charming "Once" - and I cried (once). Sweet. We had breakfast at the Morning Times with Mayor Meeker. He didn't speak, but we didn't either - we're not morning people.

The house is clean, the cupboard and fridge are bare, and my husband is very well satisfied I should think, so we will end our mini-break on a high note tomorrow when I go to fetch the urchins. I think we're ready to become full-time guardians once more. I'll be gone again for a while so be sure and read my buddies, whose web pages I have linked below left.

What to do? We'll be in another town on the night of Harry Potter 7's release. I'm going to google LOCAL BOOKSTORES IN SAID TOWN right now. Also, the movie. We've made it a tradition to see it with my brother-in-law and his wife....but can I wait? Can they wait? We might have to plan a joint viewing and text each other throughout or something. I'm very excited about seeing Helena Bonham Carter, though the Fug Girls have already noted that she dresses like a Death Eater even in real life (please do note the euphemisms used for Tim Burton's bits).

My daughter is eager to begin book 6; we are not so eager for the mostly invisible, moody-when-present reader that she becomes when engrossed in an HP book. And then there's my son, who has gleaned key information from her by noodling her, his greatest talent.

Harry Potter. Who knew this phenomenon would cause so much stress?

In the online diary spirit, I'll give you a quick recap:

OVER: June (essentially), Vacation Bible School (finally), and tennis lessons (regretfully - what fun! What a foxy, Carribean instructor the children had!)

IN JEOPARDY: one of my jobs. But I'm not really sweating it at all - though I will miss the cash, won't you, honey? Still, one door closes...whatever.

BEGINNING: a quickie family trip involving some good adventure, meetups with friends, and relaxation;
my period, and soccer(what have we gotten ourselves into).

SLIGHTLY ANNOYING: the neighbors, the heat, the drought, my boss's exotic travel plans and the jealousy they are causing, and my gums.

MOSTLY PLEASING: The Motorcycle Diaries, my current summer playlist, and singing in the choir.

TOTALLY RAD: Absurdistan,
the childrens' new pasttime of riding the stairs in their sleeping bags, and a fun apres-choir outing with my hubby and fellow choristers last night.

There is other stuff that friends are enduring, stuff almost too hard to fathom and think about, and suffice to say I am grateful that MY stuff is only slightly annoying compared to life-altering and horrifying. And - at least my cat's worse vice is butterscotch-colored diarrhea left in a fairly self-contained area.

With that lovely image, I'll bid you all a vaya con dios - and gallop away!

Damn you Katie and Posh! Curly hair's reign was so short! Is the Side-Swept Bob going to dominate this year?

My last pedicure was May 23. I love a friend with a detailed calendar who can remind you of such things. Seeing as I have kept my toes on constant display ever since, I think it is high time to get them done again. What color? I think my current color may be "I Only Drink Champagne" or something more silvery. You know I want something black...check out what you like on this OPI Night Brights Review and get back to me.

And you kids wonder why I lurve Spoon. The first paragraph of Sasha Frere-Jones' review of the new album in the "The New Yorker" goes like this:

"The Texas singer-songwriter Britt Daniel has recorded only two songs that are more than five minutes long. He hardly ever plays guitar solos, is a terse interview subject, and would never be photographed wearing an untucked T-shirt."

The new album is out July 10. That, along with Kelly Clarkson and "Icky Thump", have me pretty excited for the summer's prospects.

Angelina Jolie keeps talking about how she lives a bold life. Do I?

I rarely spend my time doing what I want to do, but often spend my time doing what I feel obligated to do.

I am also really, very negligent in reading up on the Democratic candidates or anything about the election.

Maybe that will be my assignment as I go under the knife for my troubled gums tomorrow. I'm scared, but I have a little friend to hold my hand throughout.

Starbucks to Release Sonic Youth Celebrity Compilation. What do you think? I was a little shocked. Kind of like if Bob Dylan did a Victoria's Secret ad or something.

We are back from the cool, cool mountains. I am hungover. And today we are going to the skating rink. Hello, summer.

There was hope that this was a free weekend with nothing to do. But now, we are seeing friends from Kuwait who are visiting, friends from South Carolina who are visiting, going to a global warming speech at church, fixing my car's hydraulic lifts struts thingys, going to soccer practice, going to a dinner party, and hosting a few little girls for my daughter's birthday.

That's just how I roll.

In the meantime, summer started off in fine form. I'm sleeping great thanks to the night guard (I think) and I've been able to sleep in a bit despite the blinding sun now streaming through the windows, unfiltered by the now-absent trees my neighbors stole from our planet. We had some bickering at the house, but then everyone seemed to fall into the groove of not doing much. We went to the bookstore and signed up for the reading program (free book in Sept.!), ate lunch out, shopped for Daddy, and then all collapsed in heaps with our magazines and library books.

I'll be computerless for a few days next week, and I think that is a good thing, though I will miss the radar desperately.

In the meantime, I encourage you to read, rest, and reflect on the good things that summer brings.

Whilst I am generally beloved, I have, throughout history, encountered some real haters. I remember their faces, but try as I might, I can barely remember their names! Well, I remember one or two, but I really seem to have blocked most of them. Healthy, right?

More than usual, I am experiencing a high level of enemies right now. Whether it is because I know more people than I ever have (since college maybe) or because I don't have time for this shit (due to jobs and end-of-year) or because I am truly a rebel I just don't know. I know that people don't like me because they are jealous, or they can't get close to me, and I'm not being vain when I say that. Well, I am, but I'm trying to be honest. I sometimes have no clue what I have done to offend. Which is an affliction for 99% of the populace, I'm sure.

In the case of the Room Mom Who Hated Me, I can trace the dislike back to a certain instance where I was wrong. But guess what people? I apologized. Twice. And to her husband, too. And what I did was not that bad, really (I recommended a movie to her daughter...one she didn't think her daughter was ready to see). One other mom suggested that the Room Mom and I were just were not destined to click. Thanks for that advice, babe, but in my case, if you can't get along with me then it is because I either hate YOU or you're not trying...because I really know how to get along with people.

With the exception of my extended family, but I guess that is another post for another day.

Anyway, the year has ended and I don't have to deal with the RMWHM anymore. Or not for two full months and change. And that, my friends, is why I am not a fan of year-round schools: sometimes a girl needs a break from the hate.

We chose, in a fit of penny-pinching, to see a movie on date night instead of having a gourmet restaurant meal. At Mission Valley we get free popcorn because we GO TO A GYM. Is that funny or what? I got extra butter.

We saw "Knocked Up", and for all my current personal hoopla over "Dreamgirls" (I cried three times - the three times I watched Jennifer Hudson sing "And I Am Telling You"), Judd Apatow's movie is my new favorite for this year and last.

The guy is a genius, and not just for the seriously raunchy sex talk and bodily function humor in his movies. He loves women, and I'm so grateful. He even seems to find the genius in his own wife - who performed one of my all-time favorite drunk scenes. She's equally funny and talented in this film.

Somehow, he takes intense subjects, life dilemmas, and bad people, and makes them sweet, funny, and sad, sometimes at the same time. He imitates, in his films, the way life seems to be every single day for me. I think I need to Netflix "Freaks and Geeks" to get more of his viewpoint.

I'm no movie reviewer, but I know what I like. And I wasn't alone in our (newly refurbished with sparkly curtain!) theatre last night in liking "Knocked Up" a LOT.

NOON by Louise Glück



They're not grown up - more like a boy and girl, really.
School's over. It's the best part of the summer, when it's still beginning -
the sun's shining, but the heat isn't intense yet.
And freedom hasn't gotten boring.

So you can spend the whole day, all of it, wandering in the meadow.
The meadow goes on indefinitely, and the village keeps getting more and
more faint -

It seems a strange position, being very young.
They have this thing everyone wants and they don't want-
but they want to keep it anyway; it's all they can trade on.

When they're by themselves like this, these are the things they talk about.
How time for them doesn't race.
It's like the reel breaking at the movie theater. They stay anyway -
mainly, they just don't want to leave. But till the reel is fixed
the old one just gets popped back in,
and all of a sudden you're back to long ago in the movie -
the hero hasn't even met the heroine. He's still at the factory,
he hasn't begun to go bad. And she's wandering around the docks, already bad.
But she never meant it to happen. She was good, then it happened to her,
like a bag pulled over her head.

The sky's completely blue, so the grass is dry.
They'll be able to sit with no trouble.
They sit, they talk about everything - then they eat their picnic.
They put the food on the blanket, so it stays clean.
They've always done it this way; they take the grass themselves.

The rest - how two people can lie down on the blanket -
they know about it but they're not ready for it.
They know people who've done it, as a kind of game or trial-
then you say no, wrong time, I think I'll just keep being a child.
But your body doesn't listen. It knows everything now,
it says you're not a child, you haven't been a child for a long time.

Their thinking is, stay away from change. It's an avalanche -
all the rocks sliding down the mountain, and the child standing underneath
just gets killed.

They sit in the best place, under the poplars.
And they talk - it must be hours now, the sun's in a different place.
About school, about people they both know,
about being adult, about how you knew what your dreams were.

They used to play games, but that's stopped now- too much touching.
They only touch each other when they fold the blanket.

They know this in each other.
That's why it isn't talked about.
Before they do anything like that, they'll need to know more -
in fact, everything that can happen. Until then, they'll just watch
and stay children.

Today she's folding the blanket alone, to be safe.
And he looks away-he pretends too lost in thought to help out.

They know that at some point you stop being children, and at that point
you become strangers. It seems unbearably lonely.

When they get home to the village, it's nearly twilight.
It's been a perfect day; they talk about this,
about when they'll have a chance to have a picnic again.

They walk through the summer dusk,
not holding hands but telling each other everything.

Wal-Mart is in Brazil. But this week, the employees are in Bentonville, AR. I know, because I heard them stomping, clapping, and chanting a Wal-Mart cheer in the Northwest Arkansas airport the other day. The entire facility shook with the raw force of the Wal-Martness of it all.

Fayetteville, AR is very pretty. There were indigo buntings all about. There were nice bookshops. My son really, really wants a Razorbacks t-shirt. Leave it to that boy to find some sort of retail need, even in the heart of the Ozarks.

In other news, I got glasses today. I don't know if they are sexy-secretary enough for my husband, but I'll soon find out. They are not what I expected to get, but they were certainly the first choice of everyone in the store. They are, however, BIFOCALS! But those are now called "progressive lenses." Come on, call them what they are. I can take it.

In other news...

Have you tried the Buffalo Chicken Wings-flavor Goldfish? I can't find any reference to them on the Internet. Did I dream it up? The intense, spicy flavor? The lick-your-fingers saltiness?

Also, I bought some deodorant and won't use yours anymore honey. I got some kind of Kuka Coconut scent. The web site says that my "scent expression" is as addictive as Caribbean folk music (what is Caribbean folk music? is it not politically correct to use the word reggae?). I was just excited to have a pina colada party in my pits.

From "The Tail Section":

"Okay Des, why did you stand there with your mouth agape when you could have high tailed it into the water and brought poor Charlie an air tank?

Maybe that is exactly what happened! Wasn't that the song Charlie was 'writing' playing on Jack's radio when he pulled up to the funeral parlor?"

So, not Locke or Ben!

It's not that I don't have anything to blog about, it's that I don't know where to start!

My daughter's soccer team won the championship game for their age level. And a good thing, since the coach a. found religion right before the game and has us pray and b. he only left the best players in the game at the end. Did I agree with these strategies? Not really. I also don't agree that the team should rent a gas-guzzler to drive around contributing to greenhouse gasses for two hours.

At age 8.

But I'm glad she won and it was fun to be on the championship team, if only this one time. Another such victory would be unlikely in her lifetime, but would be amazing....

Are you listening to me, Atlanta Braves?

I was highly disappointed with the 24 finale, much like the rest of the country. Actually, I was relieved that Jack didn't die. At least die during an awesome season!

Tonight is the Lost finale and I'm highly excited. Our church has an important vote on moving forward with an expensive and somewhat controversial renovation project. I'm going, mainly to SUPPORT MY HUSBAND, who has worked so hard and did me so proud when he was chair of a starter committee for this project. But I will have to leave at my witching hour - sometime before Lost starts and when my children grow tired of sitting on a hard floor watching some poorly animated Christian video and need to get home to rest up for bureaucratic testing.

And also the weather? It is hot and dry and I don't like it.

Back to perky happiness tomorrow, I hope.

Grocery store breakdown:

My local Harris Teeter: friendly, friendly people...I love them all including Tim the bagger who calls me "Gorgeous" or "Pretty Lady", and Miss Doris who is sweet despite what all else she has going on and I suspect it is a lot as she is raising her granddaughter. Expensive, but small, which I like, and beginning to carry quite a bit of organic stuff. I hate their deli and rarely go to it.

My local Food Lion: bleak, full of trans fats and high fructose corn syrup and no produce to speak of. But convenient and cheap as all hell. I frequent it in the summertime when funds dry up at our house. (The life of the preschool teacher and the self-employed dude - it sucks to be us)

Whole Foods: I'm always on guard the moment I enter that store. The employees are mercurial, the aisles always unfamiliar, the choices overwhelming. But I go, I sometimes find a bargain (there is no cheaper, better milk and you can get an iced tea whilst you shop), and I can pop in the yarn store, wine store, and book store during a visit.

Fresh Market: my guilty pleasure. A sample of coffee, classical music, and pretty flowers. I am lured by the creature comforts it offers. I don't think their meat is good at all. I think their baked goods are stale. I never find a dinner for the fam that is reasonably priced. But I go there, enticed by their siren song, at least once a week. There I said it, I've confessed.

Kroger: Big. Bulky. Reminds me of when my children were tiny and women accosted me for not having a hat, blanket, long pants on that baby. Depressing. Even seeing the word "Kroger" gives me the heebies.

Trader Joe's: Hello, gorgeous. Come over to Raleigh, won't you? This chain is so.....HAWAIIAN. Their foods are so tasty. The store is so manageable. Lots of white people shop there, but I never said I wasn't white. The crab cakes! The simmer sauces! The meringue cookies! I always take my own bags and they treat me like the Saviour of the Known World. That said, I can't get maxipads there. But it doesn't matter. No, Trader Joe's, it doesn't matter. I think I will always love you. We'll make this long-distance thing work.

YouTube - Baby Jesus Prayer in "Talladega Nights"

There's no shame in watching it again.

Sickie went back to school today. He is a good sort. And frankly, much better behaved when sick. But we like his effervescent crazy self too.

Lost continues to be crazy good, and last night made me cry, but there is much on the Internet to read about all that and I won't contribute any more to it.

I long to post the picture I took on Mother's Day and to tell you of the charming sentiments I received and compliments, etc.

But instead I want you to feel my pain. The pain I feel upon urinating. Why? And more importantly, why now? A UTI! Do adults even get those? Ouch.

And feel the pain of my son, whose vomiting has stopped but whose appetite has not returned and who insisted he must go on the field trip wherein the class hiked 2 miles in the sun, and who had to be carried (by his endocrinically-challenged mother) up a long gravel trail to the car.

Also, my son, he has emotional pain. He had written a darling missive to his mom entitled "Happy Mother's Day" that was stolen on the bus and then passed around to a bunch of ugly, stinky, wart-ridden girls on the bus who taunted him by saying he loved his mommy. He ran all the way home and hid in the bushes for 10 minutes after the bus ride. And we are not riding the bus this week (that is, we won't ride it if he ever goes back to school). Double ouch.

The pain affects my poor daughter, who has decided to go ahead and try out for an advanced soccer training program. This thing is expensive, it feels like it is so NOT us, it involves four days of tryouts??, and I just don't know, nor does she, if it is the right thing for her. Is it? How will we ever know? I hardly think she is the next Mia Hamm. But what if she really is?

The pain of the checkbook and its empty, gnawing feeling is one you've heard before and may be experiencing yourself this lovely month post-taxes. OUCH. OUCH. OUCH.

I'm going to call my gynecologist now.

In my quest to consume less and reduce waste, I keep paper bags in my trunk for groceries.

These bags are sturdy. They biodegrade quicker than plastic.

They do not, however, hold vomit effectively.

Time to restock the car with something practical.

Anyone want to convince me to sign up forTwitter? I just don't know that I need to know any more than I currently know about what perfect strangers, or even my friends, are doing right now.

Do you love Sarah Susanka? If you do, then I love you. My cousin, who has a very varied life and currently lives in New Hampshire for the hell of it, turned me onto her. Creative gift-giver that I am, I bought "The Not-So-Big House" to give to my brother and sister-in-law in ATL as they were planning an addition. But they already had it! So now we own it and we pour over it as though it were porn. Or Braves stats. Whatever.

Now, Sarah Susanka has delved into lifestyle. I haven't had time to do research or even glance at the book due to other stuff going on. But I can't wait! I'm sure it will give me plenty of ideas about weeding: taking out friends, family issues, and inherited knick-knacks from my life to let my perfect garden grow.

Because I am too busy and my life is so-big, I only just now forgot to tell my sweet Canadienne about Susanka's appearance this week at our favorite local bookstore. Sorry! I need to read the book and then I'll never forget shit like that again!

Have ya missed me?

I've been having a lot of fun.

I'm so transparent -- my friends can tell this week has been magical for me. Those that don't know me have worried. "Are you stressed? Are you ok?" My closest peeps smile and nod knowingly at my hyped-up energy level, intense rambling, and buzzed demeanor.

The "tired old church play" I referred to earlier on this site finally took off, and I enjoyed the hard work, the creativity, the artistic people, and not least of all working with my daughter.

The job fell into my lap, literally. That has happened to me countless times (I actually interviewed for only one job I've ever held - the others were handed to me). And many of those jobs didn't work out so well. This job has not been easy on my family (though: the cash, we love it). But there is no denying that this Spring has been a valuable one for me in many ways.

In the meantime I've neglected the artists and musicians who usually keep me afloat. But it has been nice, for a while, to be one myself.

I completely sold Amy Winehouse to my cousin-in-law, and he has since found some fun facts about our favorite drunken British chanteuse:


1. Amy Winehouse's 'Back to Black' reached No. 1 in the U.K.
2. Ghostface Killah guested on the U.S. version of 'You Know I'm No Good,' but the pair has never actually met.
3. She's been tapped to record the theme to an upcoming James Bond movie.
4. Is known for drunken onstage antics and told us, "I enjoy alcohol. I really enjoy alcohol."


P.S. Hey cuz! Hope you don't mind I put you up on the Internets.

The DL -- Music. Pop. Indie Rock. Comedy. A Web Show From AOL Music: MORE Amy Winehouse.

(I have not watched all of it, I won't lie, but I want to. Does that count?)

More music news:

Last night we were the lucky guests of our dear friend and the Reigning Patroness of the Arts in our burgh at a jazz show featuring Nicole Henry. (Be sure and find a photo that highlights her killer biceps) So much culture and such fun drinking it in these days! Nicole hushed the house with an impromptu bass/vocal version of "Misty", and she did some fine readings of standards and show tunes. We had a great time chatting during the show, which may be the best way to see a show? I get shhleeepy shometimesh when I sit in concert venues; last night I was hyped up and a bit tipsy and engaged in various discussions about asses, indie rock, and local honey.

Tonight my family had our last little dinner together til Sunday, and I'm acting out a bit. I don't throw tantrums, but I fuss and fret and whine when I know we are all about to be separated. I'm trying to get used to it, because I know it will be the norm soon enough.

I will stop here due to the extreme rambling that seems to be occurring. Happy Weekend!

Via Stereogum, a web site that I wish I was writing/had written. My friend ANP of ATL could write it, and has, at various points in his life, waxed quite poetically about our favorite band.

To wit:

I think the downward slope began with New Adventures
in Hi-Fi, which in retrospect is a pretty darn good
album (except for "Leave").

I didn't really care for Up, haven't listened to it in
years and have no really desire to listen to it again.

I liked Reveal quite a bit when it came out. But I
listened to it again a couple of weeks ago, and it
didn't do much for me this most-recent time.

I thought "Bad Day" was kind of fun and I've listened
to it a few times, but it didn't knock my socks off. I
thought "Animal" was hideous and I've only listened to
it twice.

I know you have experienced a renaissance of sorts in
the past year or so with R.E.M., and I wish I could
experience something similar. But they just don't work
for me right now.

Don't get the idea that pop music in general doesn't
work for me right now, because it does. Just not
R.E.M.

I don't dislike them, I just feel nonplussed by them.
Which I think is better than outright disliking them,
in spite of what the Holy Bible tells us about it
being better to hate God than to be lukewarm about
Him.

(I don't believe in the Holy Bible; that analogy just
seemed to fit)

I used to love Liz Phair, now she really rubs me the
wrong way. But this is because she made a conscious
decision to try to appeal to the masses and be a
slicked-up sex goddess with photo spreads in Vogue and
in ads for Calvin Klein. Which on the surface seems
not so different from the pissed-but-charming sex
addict she portrayed on Exile in Guyville. But it is,
I just can't explain why right now.

REM have not taken the path of Liz Phair, but they
haven't done anything to interest me in a while
either. Maybe I shouldn't lump REM and Liz together,
but they are two recording artists (how do you like my
use of that term?) that have fallen in recent years
from once-high pedestals in my esteem

Do you have a couple of hours to waste? If so, I highly recommend the indie rock collective gathered by Jesus Christ on His blog. The site can rarely handle the many hits that It gets (and deservedly so) but if you are patient you can watch dreamy hipster girls sling out the hits.

So far I've enjoyed Wilco girl and of course The Verve girl. I mean, I went for that one first, obvs.

I look forward to perhaps checking out the Radiohead and Pixies girls. And maybe Laura Viers girl can make me like Laura Viers?

My solo weekend with my son went just fine. A nice family treated us to the best Mexican in town, I got to watch the Austen adaptation, the boy and I had a huge fight which meant that he was then sweet as pie the rest of the weekend, and man, we did the sports. We went to the driving range for HOURS, we played one-on-one for HOURS, we watched the Braves v. Mets (Glavine v. Smoltz!!! I was in heaven!) for HOURS (and I took a nap, too...bliss!)

Now everyone is home and tired and grumpy. Grrrr. We are so busy that sometimes our down time is not fun. Maybe because we know the down time is just build up to more busy time.

Something has to give. But it won't, not until school lets out. And I flee this tired old town and disappear into the mists for days on end. I cannot wait.

Can we really abide the fact that the phrase "campus shooting" is a common phrase in our country's vernacular?

Art may not heal us at this moment, but I remember certain affecting books, music, and films at times like these, and I'm cautiously optimistic about a forthcoming film version of one of my favorite books. Stikeira Knightly is in it, but she looks great, the sets look great, and the story is one of atonement...

What a yicky day. The wind is scary and getting stronger, trees are down all around, the news is all about the 21 kids killed at Va. Tech (some execution style?) and damn that Dr. Phil for doing a show about a six year-old who was raped by her grandfather (and damn the gym for putting close-captioning on the tvs right in front of my elliptical machine).

It's as though the world didn't realize that I am already a worrywart. I'm focusing on new music and will do some yoga with the kiddos this afternoon. Also? I put another Austen flick on my queue for the weekend. There are some small, satisfying pleasures to be had in this life.

Lost cast interviews...that reveal a little, not a lot. I know we are going to have a Ben flashback, and that should take place May 9 if my sources are correct...and they sometimes aren't!

Wednesday's episode of Lost had me in tears three times. That is good television.

My husband likes to read this guy's armchair quarterbacking...I like to read the comments on Pop Candy.

So I'm not really a Thomas Hardyphile. But I was completely affected and shaped by Kurt Vonnegut, so today's news is hard to take.

His philosophy to be nice to each other is one I've always found helpful and important. Loss is painful enough - do we really need to be unkind in addition to all the woe it brings?

I'll be a little sweeter today in memoriam.

"Do you like Thomas Jefferson or James Madison better?"

"James Madison."

"I KNEW IT! We were destined to be together. Who else could know you like I do??"


later....


"Here honey, I just read this article about Thomas Hardy in the New Yorker. I saved it for you."

"Wow. I love Sergeant Troy."

"Yeah. Well. The article went flying over my head, anyway."

"Gosh, maybe I should read "The Woodlanders...."

Well, Happy Easter people!

We had the best damn ham we've ever tasted today! And we enjoyed some damn fine company as well, and heard some fantastic church music that made me a bit embarrassed and worried for my little set-up. Hmmm.

Anywho - hope the bunny was good to you today. The bunny pictured above was NOT good, thus keeping me well on-track for never having baked a successful cake.

It's the little dude's birthday. I never said he wasn't a rascal, or occasionally ill-behaved, or didn't make awfully dangerous and/or disgusting choices, but: this morning he has awakened us early with admonitions to not argue or have any strife, for it is his special day. He has loved on us with pure, unadulterated sweetness and been so tender with his sister. He is grateful for his gifts (roller blades...agh) with effusive joy. He is happy and open-faced.

Seven years ago he came into the world with a lot of trouble and not a little late, but every year since has been a fascinating and enjoyable adventure. The only vision I had for myself as a mother, really, was one of playing outdoors with a little boy - one of my favorite jobs as a camp counselor. I had forgotten how bad they smell, how infuriating they can be, and how sometimes they are too cool to be near you. But I never knew that a little boy could really really love his mom, that after about the 50th time of telling him something he would get it and embrace it, and that he would just exude exuberance from every pore at just about every moment.

Until he slows down, finally at night, and falls asleep almost immediately, and looks just like the angel he is.

Here is your Tuesday music moment, of particular interest to my husband and a long-time friend and occasional visitor to Whilst. A Tribute To Joni Mitchell

Spring Break is here! It has yet to disappoint. Our dear friends arrived yesterday with their newish bundle of yurmy lurve and a fun four-year old playmate for my urchins. Tomorrow we'll head downtown with in-town friends to check out some opera and organic produce, and Friday we'll see the shark IMAX. We're nothing if not diverse people. As my neighbor says, I'm an inch deep and a mile wide.

Main hazard of a career in children's music: highly scuffed toes on all pairs of shoes from the kneeling.

My son dreamed that SpongeBob was sliced in half by a group of stingrays. Luckily, Gary's juice?? spared him and also turned the evil stingray good.

Is early childhood officially stopping here?

Other random musings include the ineptness of my hose when it comes to washing off the loads of pollen. Everything. is. yellow.

And finally, I just cannot keep those Starburst sour jelly beans in the house. They are eerily delicious. My favorite colors are green and blue. What about you?

I can't say that it is what I would do, but John Edwards' decision to keep running is something I can respect. Respect as a personal choice. And as his and Elizbeth Edwards' own decision made after great care and meditation.

The comment that ought to calm the angry mob is by Ellen Goodman in her column today, but I guess there are those that would see her byline and skip it. She says that there is a lot of illness in the presidential race: Giuliani has had cancer, as had John McCain. And Hillary's husband has heart disease. Do we need to start debating whether or not those folks should run or stay home with their spouses?
Ellen Goodman:| His mission, her legacy

Oh Maddy, I still love you.

(though I spent the weekend with Amy....)

"So who is more strict, me or Daddy?"

"When Daddy is mean he is like Professor Snape, when you are mean, it's like a Howler.

I'm a little late to the party (again), but I'm glad to even attend any event with Amy Winehouse. I've had trouble, with all my new music of late, finding a woman I like a lot. This girl is crazy, apparently a drunk, has voice, and is BRITISH. What's not to like.

Here is something interesting to read about Garrison Keilor's essay on gay America, written by the woman who writes "Finslippy", a blog I sometimes check out:Alice's essay at AlphaMom

There are other interesting things. There was my birthday which was a day of incomparable delights - a song written (and recorded! on GarageBand!) in my honor, breakfast in bed, coffee with some right-on females, lunch with my delicious husband (and "dessert" with him later), great gifts, and many good wishes.

There was a mediocre episode of "24" last night. But that doesn't warrant a comment.

There was the celebration of my dad's birthday in Georgia this weekend. Going to Georgia is such a vast, intense mixture of emotions for me that I can hardly talk about it much less write. But suffice to say, my husband had to talk with me A LOT last night before having his dessert because I had to just empty out my brain and heart.

The shiny, lovely side of the Georgia coin is being with my family and having fun times with my daddy. I feel incredibly lucky to have had him for so long and I pray daily to have him just a little bit longer if not much much longer. Many friends have lost parents this very month, so I'm mindful of the gift I have.

Damn is that depressing. Ok! So please do remember to celebrate spring tonight at 8:07... I plan to celebrate by watching deleted scenes on my new "Borat" dvd and perhaps grilling an organic chicken breast after soccer practice. Happy vernal equinox!!!!

I can't blog right now, I'm watching Eddie Vedder induct R.E.M. into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Damn, I feel like I'm at my child's college graduation.

I know y'all wish I would move on, and I will. But sheesh, they are my home boys and gad, I feel old thinking they've been around so long, and man, did they influence me wildly.

As an addendum to the previous post where I was so irate about the woman who imposed on me so unceremoniously, I saw her yesterday and was snubbed (is she shy? She bettter be) and I had to park behind her SUV with a, yes, "W" sticker on it.

I leave you to your own conclusions here.

But enough nastiness, its Lent, and my sacrifice has been really worthwhile. I have totally cheated - hard not to do so when the tabloids stare at you in the grocery check-out line, a place I find myself most nearly every day. So I know the Jolie-Pitts are adopting again. I also have heard some rumours of a Liz Hurley wedding in India! and that Britney has done something else.

And it is nice not to really care.

Am I more productive? Who knows. I've been working on a project with my brother: 65 memories for my Dad, in honor of his 65th birthday. I wrote an award nomination for one of our PTA committees. I've helped block the church musical production and wrangled the children for the performance (and had a lot of fun doing it). I taught my preschoolers. I slept through the 7:30 a.m. call at church this week - OOPS. I've watched one of my two tv shows. I've cooked hot delish meals. I've excercised every day. I've carted children about here and there. I helped with homework and played a LOT of one-on-one. I went to my very last Junior League meeting of all time.

Wait, what?? If you read that list at all, I salute your attention span and your kind interest in my mundane-at-times life. But did you see that last one? Yes, I'm resigning. Not sustaining, not taking a leave, quitting. It was fun at times, I learned a lot, I got a free trip to Tampa out of it, and now it is time to move along.

With all my free time, I plan to sit on a community board for a non-profit preschool, exercise even more, and hopefully do something fun for volunteer work like help coach one of my son's teams or start a Girl Scout troop with my daughter. We'll just have to see. Ideas welcome!

R.E.M. In the Hall is a nice tribute to our boys. Over the weekend, I had occasion to hear some friends talk about how R.E.M. played into their life story - their memories of early albums and seeing the band live when they were young and carefree. Want to share your own memories here? Now's as good a time as any what with the band making it into the HOF.

Unanimously approved! My favorite part is "...;and for other purposes." What purposes? Their political activism? Stipe's movie production credits? (Thanks Nate P.!)

Not so happy about the rally promoting passage of an amendment against gay marriage in Raleigh today. No new legislation needed, people. Also? You were really making traffic about impossible on Peace Street. And, much like my colleague and friend Big Arm Woman, who grows tired of the ranting and raving about how we've screwed the environment, I am close to becoming numb on the gay marriage amendment topic due to all the wailing and whining. Watch out all you rallying pro-marriage legislation lovers! You might just make the general populace think that gay marriage is kind of boring and blase, and then what????

The Arcade Fire played New York this week... and you know how I do; I know set lists, celebs that showed up (THOUGH THAT IS NOT OFFICIALLY CELEBRITY NEWS, PER SE), and how they sounded on each of the five nights.

But I won't go see them live.

No, when they play nearest here it will be in Asheville, NC and I will be in my church's fellowship hall helping produce a tired Broadway musical for the congregation.

God help me.

You know, it's true: J. Lo did indeed "float in on a cloud of glamour". Read more here.

I know, I know...but technically it is not celebrity news, per se. It is celebrity style-bashing, completely different animal.

I'm trying to get my mind off of the moaning from the corner. My poor husband had four wisdom teeth extracted this morning, and where he was cute and funny and pathetic earlier he is now swollen and miserable and pathetic. Sad.

I'm trying to be a good nurse. I've only dozed off once, and have not yet had any wine. I've prepared lots of drinks and broths, and I've asked lots of questions, such as "Can I change your gauze?" and "Is it time for me to insert the Phenergan suppository yet?"

I shouldn't even post because I am in such a snit over such snitty things right now. Too annoyed by big cars, bigger houses, materialistic, boring people, and sucky music. (Luckily, I am listening a lot to non-sucky music, and am eager for the new Arcade Fire release, so all is not lost on that front.) Yesterday, for instance, after running all over creation to take my children to their (very limited and well-chosen) activities (which all seem to happen on a Tuesday...why is that? Other days we have nothing going on at all!), I sat down and had a brief breather. I was looking forward to one-on-one time with my daughter at dinner, because my husband and son were going to watch the Stanley Cup champions lose again.

Then, as soccer practice ended, I am given the task of waiting with the girl whose mom hasn't shown up yet. Why? Because I AM THE ONLY PARENT WHO GOT OUT OF HER CAR. So I wait, and then the poor girl attempts to make conversation, and reveals that she is the youngest of four, but not for long, because her MOM IS PREGNANT. At this point in the story I'm starting now to see what is about to happen to me. The girl borrows my cell phone, calls her mom, who asks to speak to me. The mom left a message for the coach that he must not have gotten (BECAUSE HE WAS AT SOCCER PRACTICE MAYBE??). And she has to run a carpool down to the basketball gym (where I had just been).

I wait for option 2 to come. It doesn't.

I offer to take the girl home. I don't know her mom, don't even know her last name. I get directions and drive to her house.

Which is huge. And I find out the dad is a doctor. And there is a lovely, brand-new shiny car in the driveway.

And I wonder: how is it going to go when you have another baby? Also, why not hire a nanny or babysitter to help you, as you can clearly afford to do? Because lady, you put me in a foul mood, messed up my evening, and caused my daughter to ask questions about why OUR car is so old, our house so small, etc.

I'm just about over all the excess that I see around me every day, but I know there is no avoiding it. I must change my reaction to it. I'll do that, but for now let me stew a bit in my own bitterness.

This shit happens every day for all of us, I know. But I myself have learned yeah, it takes a village, but to take care of your own is a brilliant thing.

You won't believe me, but my husband and I called all of the marquee AMPAS awards last night. We very well may have won my college friend Mark's 14th annual Oscar contest. (Again...I won circa 1994)

As for fashions, I know I gave up celebrity news, but I just wanted to glimpse the gowns a bit more closely so I've looked at the NYTimes page. I promise not to watch Access or buy an Us Weekly. I promise.

We had a grand weekend with brother-in-law and sister-in-law, including fun dinners out, walks and talks, munchkin basketball, munchkin musical theatre, and of course Oscar-watching. My SIL and daughter were quite opinionated about the fashions. I gleaned many of my comments below from listening in on their discussions:

I hated Jennifer Hudson's jacket...wrong, wrong, wrong for her body type; I secretly liked Kirsten Dunst's thing though wish Anne Hathaway had worn it; God love Meryl Streep and I mean that in a good way; Helen Mirren is a goddess; Reece and Maggie were great; Beyonce not my fave though at least it wasn't strapless; if it had to be strapless I vote for Jada Pinkett Smith.

(And Clooney and Daniel Craig were delish as always...and Clive, baby!)...but I'm not really looking...I just fell upon that picture...)

What did I give up for Lent last year? I know it was alcohol the year prior. I can't remember at all.

This year it will be celebrity gossip. I cannot imagine how boring I am about to become.

The fact that Lent is the only Christian season I really buy into says something very deranged about me, I think. Perhaps I need an indulgence of some sort.

Actually, today I bought some shoes. On sale, but shoes I did buy.

"No, I like it fine. I'm just not overwhelmed with love for it like I thought I might be."

"But you were a huge fan of Battlestar Galactica back in the day!"

Thus, our little experiment is over and we STILL don't have any new shows to watch.

Meh. Today I miss the little boogers.

And I have a slight cold....sheesh.

It's not that I don't love my children, I do. And, unlike most every other friend of mine, I am rarely without them. I hire sitters infrequently, I fret when my children are at Grandma's, and I don't go anywhere on weekend days or in the afternoons without my brood. I've been on three girls' weekends total since they were born, and away with my husband twice. I'm no hero, I just like to be with my family.

But six days of staying home with them is enough.

I've gotten where I really like my time when they are at school. I feel like a better person when they come home and much more eager to spend the copious amounts of time with them that I do. I like working out. A lot, and whenever I want. I miss volunteering at school, I miss grocery shopping for healthy meals. I even miss missing them. Which I do, but not enough to homeschool or anything.

It's a tough time of year anyway, and now add to this the illness, the missed school and catch-up work thus piled on, and the bad weather (that is luckily ending...we're going to have a warm-up this week)...at least I have Hawaii to fall back upon. Admire the 20-footers.

Happy Valentine's Day! Mine has been bleak due to the illness and vomit-cleaning and paying thousands of dollars to heating and air concerns. But the children are sweet to me and to each other, my hubby brought me a lava rock flower plant (presented with a comforting poem in which he rhymed "ca-ca" with "shaka"), and only three children showed up to choir tonight! So not so bad all in all.

For those scrambling for some Valentine's fun tonight, here's a very Mimi Smartypants holiday plan:

All that Christian propaganda to the contrary, Valentine's Day was originally a sexy Roman fuckfest, the original Ice-Storm-esque key party, and thus the entire holiday is about pleasure and should be celebrated as such. You do not need to be partnered to indulge either. Throw some conversation hearts into a bottle of vodka (thus forming CONVERSATION VODKA) and load up your favorite porn.

Fun! Maureen Dowd, she who is a Bush-hating, feminist-loving, popular columnist, has lashed out against chick lit. And in time, too....call it Valentine's Syndrome, or my weariness at my current bedside challenge, or a general post-Hawaii malaise, but I lingered for two seconds longer than I should have at the brightly colored chick lit table at our library today. I'm not saying a girl can't lurve Bridget, but I like Dowd's point that the marketing seems a bit unfair. Read some responses here: mediabistro.com: GalleyCat

So many of you have called and written to ask me if I'm excited about The Police and their reunion and tour. Well, I am! I didn't ever get to see them because I was grounded for making a "C" on my report card, despite having tickets to their Atlanta date, circa 1985. My boyfriend at the time, Stephen Schieneman, saw them at the Omni the night I was to go and goaded me the day after in the parking lot of Central High School. I'll never forget him doing that, and I may never forgive my parents for not letting me go. For that, and for keeping me from seeing the Tom Petty/Lone Justice pairing that same year. How am I going to parent effectively in the future with that kind of background?? My children will be able to talk me into anything musical at this point. Starting now, perhaps...

We went shopping today to replace our newish mattress that was a non-flippable type and sounded like one was rolling over on a bag of potato chips every time we turned. The Mattress Police had to come check out our crap replacement and they said that the mattress was a dud and they gave us money to get another one.

So off we went. We took our son, because he is in that bed as much as we are, what with his evening reading time and his morning snuggle time and his middle of the night needing-comfort time. To find the perfect mattress, I was on my right side, my husband was on his back, and my son was in the middle, making farting noises and kicking us with a swift confidence every 20 seconds or so. It was as realistic a test run as we're going to get.

It's not that I want to watch more tv, its that I can't seem to hold my own in conversations with my friends and family if I don't. So my husband and I took an evening to do something a bit unusual, in this house anyway, and we sat on our asses for about three hours tuned into the networks.

We watched:

"Ugly Betty": Ok, I get it. Clever, and I love America Ferrera, and I do think Vanessa L. Williams is really pretty, really! But I can't commit - the show is an hour and whilst it was more engaging to me than "Weeds", say, I just don't know how aghast I would be after a time. I like to be aghast.

"The Office": This is brilliant, and I want to watch, and probably will in complete seasons via Netflix or my new video iPod (someday?). I like all the actors, I think it is cute and clever and a bit painful - all I really need in a sitcom.

"Scrubs": No one ever talks about this show, but I know you watch it all you Garden State groupies. Witty repartee and topical subjects...I think it is a good show and thus worthy of the uh, lack of hype.

"30 Rock": Tina Fey is adorable but I thought Alec Baldwin was writing it in and the witty repartee reminded me of "Scrubs".

"South Park": It's time I came out of my closet (like Tom Cruise and John Travolta did in a recent episode) and admit that we love this show. It is grimy and yicky and I often must shower after to wash away the filth, but watching it made the three hours seem less like ten that night.

"The Sarah Silverman Program": We've seen two episodes now, and whilst I don't think it is the answer to all that is wrong with television like the New Yorker does, I don't hate it either (as the Gawker and Stereogum kids do). I like the gay couple a lot, and I see where she's trying to go, and I do think she's pretty hittable in addition to being an acerbic comedienne who likes to use words like "queef" and shoot birds a lot.

We also rented "The L Word" from Netflix, having not been wowed by "Weeds". (The show is ok, we just think all the people are evil, and we also think Mary Louise Parker is good but maybe a one-trick pony in the show? Ah...I'm going to get some flack for all this) I thought "The L Word" might....you know, lift my husband's spirits some. His main comment however, was: "Talk, talk, talk". I took that to mean "too much talk, not enough girl-on-girl action". Eh - I didn't care. Jenny Beals is HOT!!

I found that when in Hawaii, you often feel the urge to go to ABC Stores - The Stores With Aloha. The urge is best fought off
by examining your spending thus far on your trip, and thinking about the fact that you owe no one anything, and that this gift-giving that goes on in your circle of friends is really a bit much. But then you see darling little bags of macadamia nuts or some decently priced and kind of cute t-shirts, and in you go.

My daughter and son only liked the ABC stores because of their ubiquity. They chose to shop elsewhere. Like at Billabong. (Please note: they prefer the one on Kalakaua.) They are really little fashion hounds, and in my son's case he feels the need to try everything on, compare products, and talk with the salespeople.

We tried to buy him a t-shirt at the actual Monster Pipeline competition site, but he got in trouble with a vendor for putting his gnarly, sandy, dirty hands all over the merch, so we had to leave quickly. These are the retail life lessons everyone must learn, I suppose.

A week from today we were at the North Shore looking at monster mess and baking in the sun. Trying to decide whether or not to eat at Cholo's again. Heavy, heavy sigh.

Possibly the most heart-pounding moment I had in Oahu was when I saw the cages...well, that and the whale sighting.

Being back is not so much fun. I totally get the whole Hawaii thing now.

We're home. We learned a lot. The children learned to surf in about 5 minutes. And I learned some secrets about a certain popular entertainment that airs on television. But mainly we learned to do what this gesture means...let's hope we can keep it up through the dreary winter months.

Golden Globes Well-Played: America Ferrera as described by the Fug sisters...I agree wholeheartedly. I didn't watch the Golden Globes, as I was completely engrossed in the four hour season premiere of 24, and I don't TiVo, and I don't have DVR, and I won't buy the newly released version of the season premiere, so I sat glued to the telly for four hours over two consecutive nights whilst my children called out to me to read to them, or tuck them in, and I ignored my lesson planning, and hey! Screw packing!

Packing we did eventually have to do, for tomorrow we leave for Hawaii. Good times. Or so we hope. Ice storm expected tomorrow...and I've flown out of one of those before and know the horror. And money is tight (did you know it costs about $2500 to get your wisdom teeth removed??????? WTF????). And I'm a big ball of worry as usual. But the children are game and excited, we've had more than our share of lovely wishes and sentiments for our travels, and we'll go to see the dearest of friends in a tropical paradise. Really, now -- how bad can it be?

No. You're not imaginging things. I'm now the Recycling Block Leader for my two-block section of McMansion Manor, and have been "witnessing" to my children's choir about recycling...we're singing "For the Beauty of the Earth" the Sunday before Earth Day.

As you may have guessed, despite Al Gore or maybe because of him, I found this movie very galvanizing and I hope to God the rest of the population does too.

Congratulations to R.E.M. on their much-deserved inclusion into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame!

Have I mentioned they are my favorite band? And that they are from my home state, and even my home town? My mom even played bridge with one of their moms... thus my backstage pass at a show in Boston circa 1996.

Go listen to some R.E.M., cause I know you have some. Or go watch this. Or this. (THE BASS MY GOD!) And ignore the bassist's backup flatness on this. And this is great...it is consistently one of my favorite songs of theirs live, if not on record.

Well, my over-eagerness at the gym for five days straight got me a day in the bed with a thrown-out back. Two things of note about this latest ailment: one, I have now been to a chiropractor! And it is so super-awesome! I will admit that I was a total wuss and screamed when she popped my back the first time....and the neck thing was truly terrifying, but I felt taller and in less pain after.

(I have a new theory: that chiropractory will be the new psychotherapy for the twenty-somethings of today. During my first adjustment, hipsters and emo-kids were flocking into the office in droves, and they were asking about nutrition, exercise, marriage advice, restaurant recommendations, real estate value, etc. etc. I just went to feel better, and feel better I do. It remains to be seen if I will let the holistic healing truly begin ((like, can Dr. Hall tell me if we should renovate or hold firm in this post-bubble market?)) I signed up for an additional 6 sessions. Time will tell.)

Secondly, my daughter seems to have inherited my less-than-perfect health, and I'm so sorry about it. She is still a serious athlete, despite her asthma and her cramping limbs, and her headaches, and her occasional constipation (DEAR DAUGHTER IN THE YEAR 2017: I APOLOGIZE FOR MENTIONING ALL THAT AND HOPE YOU WILL UNDERSTAND THAT VERY FEW PEOPLE READ OR CARED ABOUT THAT LAST PART AND YOU ARE STILL LOVELY AND DELICATE IF NOT REGULAR). But I hate that she is limited at all. Today she played in a soccer tourney with her elite team (made up of several members of the best teams in her age group) and she played tough and well even at 7:30 a.m.! She dominated defensively and was fast and coordinated and scared of no one....but her hips hurt, and she had to have her inhaler, and her feet were all blistered and bloody with the new, indoor soccer shoes. All the while I was limping and smelled of the biofreeze on my back and was having a little bout of tachycardia and also a residual effect of the salmonella. SUCKS. And SUCKS that I have passed it on to her. (And yes, I have a dr's appointment tomorrow to follow up on all this crap)

I feel the need to add an emoticon here: :-(

I'm busy working out and improving my diet in the new year, but now am wondering what I did to make this happen: I look like Dakota Fanning.

Also kind of like two Asian actors. And two actors who maybe aren't completely dissimilar to me, Lauren Graham and M-L Parker. (Ok, maybe I just like their work better than, say, Sharon Osbourne's. No offense Dakota! You were bril in "Charlotte's Web"!)

Happy New Year (almost)!

Here is a not-to-do list, via Kiddley, a site that makes me feel like I have way too much I ought to be doing...regardless, enjoy and use this as a guide to help you make your New Year's resolutions. Mine is not, sadly, to blog more. It was to give up trans fats a la New York City, but today I had the most delish fries at Cloos' Coney Island so I might give up all the other foods so as to enjoy the fries. I do that at Five Guys anyway - no meat, but an entire bag of peanut-y fried goodness.

So maybe I'll resolve to enjoy myself more. I've decided that I'm my favorite person and so why not spend a little more time together? I might just take myself out for some one-on-one time. Listen to my inner thoughts more. Get to know me that much better.

Either that or keep on not smoking.

TO LISTEN:

Many, many songs are traditional spirit-boosters in our household...the classic Wynton Marsalis Crescent City Christmas Card is an all-time favorite. We love anything jazzy pretty much, and have even embraced Diana Krall's seasonal recording. That isn't to say we don't explore indie rock Christmas...and this year there was nothing more fun than Sufjan Stevens' collection of the gifts he gave his friends over the years.
(full disclosure: I don't own it, but am kind of hoping I do by Tuesday afternoon.)

But if you are in the mood for something lighter, may I recommend the Justin Timberlake guest spot on SNL's newest digital short?
TURN THE VOLUME DOWN IF THE INLAWS ARE AROUND!

TO LAUGH:

My brother, who loves a little fart humour, sent me two funny links today. This is the easy way out, but I'm taking it: I think my twelve days of Christmas feature are going to amount to about six...but I will be back at it on the Eve or Day. And I'll go til the Epiphany. So we'll see. In the meantime:

Try a couple of holiday favorites on the fartsichord. You know you wanna. This was more fun than I thought it would be. I enjoyed typing in "mount reindeer" and "grab self".

Do you think this is for reals??? (via Trent)

TO DONATE:

This time of year is the hardest financially for many of us, but the more you give the more you'll feel better about the state of our sorry world. I promise. And, if you give now, you get the tax deduction for '06. That's why I love to just dole it out this week and next.

Online, you can visit fun, easy sites for the children to help start discussing philanthropy, including the Salvation Army's SnowDays site. To be honest, this could be a sham, but it is kind of fun. And don't forget to drop your change in the bucket on your way out of the Teeter.

Shaw University's jazzy Christmas tunes are a great cause. Visit their web site to listen and click on "pledge form" to donate.

We give to the church this time of year because that is how we were raised. Now that I work there a bit, I actually see the good that area churches really do. From hosting homeless families to paying electric bills for strangers to providing support for me and my rich white friends when life sucks....well, organized religion has its merits.

On a global scale, it is most glamourous (and holiday-appropriate) to go RED....I love all that stuff. Can't wait to see my sister-in-law's red iPod Mini.

Mostly, just look out for you and yours. Selflessness is not always fun, but it makes life better for all of us. So suck it up.

FOR THE SWEDES:

My husband is one quarter Chilean, making him dark, sexy, and full of machismo. Another quarter is South Georgian, making him a lover of collard greens and fried meats. Yet another quarter is midwestern, which is why I love him. And the final quarter is Swedish. The Swedes love them some Christmas. So in celebration of Jul, we'll go over some of the fun traditions of that cold and blustery? land. (Hell, I don't know the weather. I do know Hanna Andersson though.

First, you'll want to make a Santa Lucia crown and hat. Santa Lucia died on the 13th and folks celebrate this Italian saint by letting blonde-haired children walk around with candles in their hair. It's all very special.

Our Swedish relatives enjoy glogg, but not enough to actually drink it...maybe because they are too busy drinking coffee, which they do all day. Real Swedish coffee involves eggs, but I won't discuss that in case bad memories of the Great Salmonella Incident of ought 6 come up. The relatives love to push the lutfisk on you, no matter what time of year. I am sorry I never got to experience the evil fish crap on Christmas Eve, but I have had potato sausage and damn is it good.

I also lurve lingonberries, on everything, especially Swedish pancakes.

Finally, to finish out your Swedish holiday, I recommend you go to a Lutheran church and greet your people. Not a bad group of folk, Lutherans. Garrison is their poster child.

Ok, enough Swedish! I have to get on the ball. I've given you only four or five days of a Whilst Christmas...but there's more to come. Assuming I survive tonight's alcoholic onslaught.

TO EAT:

It wouldn't be Christmas without my tasty Whole Foods truffles, available in the preferable chocolate or the cappuccino flavors. About $4.99 a box at WF. Now they are making the truffled roasted walnuts too, but those have not stayed in the house long enough for me to form an opinion. Obviously SOMEONE likes them.

North Cackalacky represent! Don't let your holiday season slip by without the wholesome Salem goodness finding a place on your table.

My husband's favorite recipe involving the amazing Indian River grapefruit and oranges we get this time of year, thanks to the high school's fundraiser, is a red wine/dijon vinaigrette poured over blanched asparagus, orange or grapefruit sections, and avocado slices. So festive! From one of our many Nathalie Dupree cookbooks - she is Georgia's answer to Paula Deen. Oh wait, Paula Deen is from Georgia, too.

There is no better appetizer this time of year than Olive Balls. I can personally guarantee their success at your holiday event...especially if any member of this family is invited.

The other Whilst traditions at Christmas involve a fun coffee cake that my mother makes...but to get that recipe would mean she is dead and I just don't want that at this point. Of course we always indulge in the Georgia tasty Fresh Air barbecue treat (no web site for the Macon location) no matter where we are...turkey be damned! And I hate my friend Brooke for introducing me to the whole concept of sugared peanuts. WHY??? Why did you do it? My new morning meal is the evil peanuts, with a smattering of red and green M&Ms, and half a grapefruit. Breakfast of Champions.

We'll return to my Twelve Days Whilst Christmas Approaches feature, but I was interested to learn that Muhammed Yunus went to Oslo to receive the Nobel Peace Prize. SEE? I'm not just a Justin Timberlake-obsessed female with mommy blogging tendencies! Anyway, I've been reading an article on microfinance in the New Yorker. I've not finished the article, and I've been reading it for two weeks now, but I'm getting the idea. Provide monies to the poor, and in many cases (especially in Latin America) to women, and charge them interest and give a payment schedule, and entrepreneurship may win the day. The success stories in the article are modest, but they are successes nonetheless, and I hope to get to the end of the article with a better idea of a new kind of charity...a pro-commerce kind.

The magazine is in the bathroom...but now that the Prize has been awarded, I've decided to upgrade it to the bedside table.

How does a microcredit bank or loans to the very poor compare to the feel-good and splashy charity of "Extreme Makeover: Home Edition"? And does Ebay really signal a chance for people the world over to finally trust one another and become players in the global economy on their own scale? Discuss amongst yourselves.

My family finds it hard to be trendsetters, but thus is the burden we bear. I hope they had a very nice time of it. We sure did.

TO VISIT:

Boylan Heights Arts Walk. Sadly, you missed it. By far, my favorite artwork was in Rebus Works, open year-round. So you are in luck.

Extreme Makeover Home Edition house in progress.
This is all very exciting. This is taking place three doors up from my husband's old apartment. And this freaks me the hell out. I'm sad they tore down a 1920s bungalow. I'm very very sad for the neighbors next door to the family who will have to see the awesome structure all the time. I'm heartbroken about the deli worker in the grocery store today who stopped one of the men in blue Extreme Makeover shirts and thanked him and told him it was her favorite show, etc. and that she hoped one day HER house was chosen.

So if it is your thing, go on by. The family is certainly deserving. (Along with the most of the rest of the neighborhood)

Governor's Mansion tours. Hours vary, though I think this week is the only open week. I can't find anything worthy on the web to direct you to, but if you live here go on by: the Carolina Hurricanes Christmas decorations shouldn't be missed!

TO WATCH:

Here is the best listing of the tv specials that I could find on quick notice. We missed Charlie Brown, but that is because they showed it in early June and we just weren't prepared. Sheesh. At least wait until December! I guess network can't compete with cable.

I'm not necessarily a big fan of the famous Christmas movies. I've never even seen "It's a Wonderful Life" all the way through. "Bad Santa" is up on my Netflix queue, though. A classic in the making?

If anything, I remember Christmas scenes in movies that aren't necessarily Christmas-y. Harry Potter always has something festive in his films. "Little Women" has a lovely Christmas moment. All the Austen films have some Michaelmas talk. There is the Christmas tension in movies like in "Ordinary People" and "About a Boy" and that thing with Sarah Jessica Parker that I saw last year...that looked funny and then Diane Keaton dies.

The big debate in my household is whether to let the children see "The Polar Express" or not...I've heard it can plant the seeds of doubt. And there is already a sprig growing here. We also are dubious about "The Nightmare Before Christmas". My son would love it, because he is just that sort of death-obsessed violent freako that Tim Burton would enjoy as a dinner guest. But my daughter is a sensitive flower...we'll just have to see.

One can hope. This guy is from Macon, GA so he really was dreaming.

And thus begins the 12 Days of My Kind of Christmas, or Jingle Belle, or A Concerted Effort to Keep Organized and Not Too Anxious This Here Holiday Season.

TO DRINK:

The Fresh Market's "Christmas Traditions" coffee is a favorite from way back. They call it "Christmas Blend" now, due to some trademark issue, but it still tastes the same. Even people who don't like flavoured coffees like this one. Even girls who gave up coffee because of salmonella poisoning and its ongoing health problems will be brewing some come December 1.

Whilst the Slate reviewer hates it, I still think Silk Nog is the bomb. I like making French toast with it, and I feel good about serving it to my family versus pouring up a glass of high fructose corn syrup + nutmeg. Available at local grocers.

I had this Prosecco with my Thanksgiving turkey, and think it will be just great with all the other holiday goodies too. Maybe too good to mix with POM.

And because I am now a tea snob, I have to give a shout-out to a tea that has been good to me even during the years I was strung out on coffee. I found this tea in England yea many years ago...but saw it just the other day at Southern Season and boy was that nostalgic and fun. The tea is called Spiced Christmas tea, and it is yummy and orangey and all things Brit.

(If you need a tea ball, consider the charming and locally produced tea stick).

My body failed me a bit this Thanksgiving...as it has many times before (see salmonella episode of summmer '06, and seizure disorder of the Furman U. years). I had cramps, a bad cold, and a thrown-out back all in one week. Surely some of it was due to the stress of traveling 8 hours to GA with the youngsters (though they were very easy), then 5 hours to the mountains with my mom (though she was pleasant company), and then 5 hours back after a few days with all the relatives (though the warm and stunning mountain setting offset most of the tension).

My mind didn't fail me. My new liquor and coffee-free self was not quite as anxiety-ridden. And I was able, with only one exception, to observe the family drama and not participate in it. One wonderful night I immersed myself in the attentions of my oldest friend and her gorgeous, enticing family, and after he arrived, in my husband's affections. I reveled in my not-empty bank account - a definite bonus from the stress of working outside the home. I thoroughly enjoyed a lovely prosecco that my buddy and I purchased at the mecca of foodie goods. I watched my children act lovingly and appropriately and I played games with them and talked to them about issues big and small. I slept in. Twice. And I didn't see all of it, but I got to watch the first half of "My Fair Lady", which is something I did on one memorable Thanksgiving. Together with my hubby, I re-read my wedding vows, which were spoken on the Saturday after Thanksgiving 14 years ago.

Now on to the holiday rush. I plan to give you, my adoring public, all kinds of holiday tips and festive Internet finds in between running the Christmas pageant and shopping and decorating. But I wanted to stop for a minute and remember Thanksgiving. I didn't fail to be thankful.

I never have gotten to attend my local Stitch n' Bitch group's meetings here in town, but I like their vibe and I certainly enjoy their free tips. Their new cause is aboycott of "Sew Fast Sew Easy". Seems like the knitting world is always full of angst...

That said, I made some headway today in my knitting. Didn't finish my daughter's halter top, which at this point is so big it could fit me and my "girls", if only they weren't really really droopy, like overripe eggplants or..ok, you get the picture. But I did look into my hostess gift idea for the holidays, and I bought mySELF some yarn, by God! I will make myself something for once. A light blue scarf - perhaps a small rib, extra long and cozy. Yay. Thrice yay.

I really tire of the phrase "not your father's" this or that. Or sometimes "not your grandfather's" or "not your mother's". It is over people. Newsweek uses it at least twice in every issue. I saw it today in the freaking Times. What demographic do they suppose that phrase speaks to at this point? I remember the commercial. We all do, now that it will live on in perpetuity in the American lexicon.

Grrrr.

The juries are in, and Borat is a hit (though maybe Tim Allen will conquer the weekend box office receipts with that Santa movie), but more importantly my boy Sacha Baron Cohen is finally a star. Madonna saw him first, but we were quick to jump on the Ali G bandwagon. Borat was always our favorite character. The New York Times goes on and on about the brilliance of the satire and his poke-funedness and how Cohen's Jewish background comes into play. I'm sure I'll be able to to wax on all that after I see it, but I am just eager to laugh my ass off and weep tears of happiness into my Mr. Pibb.

My husband told me that the buzz is that if Borat does huge box office this weekend that the Academy won't recognize Cohen...but he is so revered that just maybe he'll get a nod for Best Supporting Actor. And why not? In the (somewhat garbled) words of Jean Girard, "you taste of America".

This has been out for a while, but it made me happy today, for four minutes or so. Some yummy pomme frites and walnut-encrusted duck leg made me happy for almost an hour!

"Consider earphones a social cue.
Wearing earphones is like hanging a “do not disturb” sign off your nose. Like an engrossing novel, they help you avoid interactions with annoying strangers on airplanes or subways. Unfortunately, they send the same go-away message at work. That’s useful if you wear them only when you’re on deadline, but your iPod is more likely to irritate co-workers if you hide behind it eight hours a day." - from The Morning News' correspondent Margaret Mason's article on iPod etiquette. I've posted on iPod etiquette before, I believe it was after I found out my friend Lynn wore hers TO THE DENTIST. I like this choice in concept. After all, who really enjoys the strange, controlled, one-sided discussions you have at the dentist? The brief spurts of talking between spits. But in practice, wearing the iPod during the teeth cleaning sends a message that seems a bit hurtful to the very kind dental hygenist and/or dentist on whom your pain management depends. And that is dangerous.

In other news, Halloween was fun, on the whole. Pumpkin carving and eating witch-shaped pasta and trick-or-treating were highlights. Right before Halloween we were "Phantomed", which is a new neighborhood "game". That I hate. Like her. I agree that it shares qualities with a pyramid scheme, or even worse, a chain letter. After a chiding phone call from a Mrs. Robin Guard-Davis who said she was chair of the Phantom Commmittee, and that I was officially on Phantom Probation for lying to my children (only for a day or two - I finally gave in and told them) and for not making homemade snacks, I tried to lighten up and enjoy the Phantom ride. (Mrs. Guard-Davis, as you may have guessed, is a pseudonym for an equally vitrolic and non-domestic neighbor who thought it very funny that I didn't tell my children we had been Phantomed. ) I swear - each holiday becomes more and more tiresome the closer we get to it, and that, folks, means something has to give. I can't take my children out of school, I can't avoid the church anymore than I already do, and I'm already seen as a bizarre mom who - gasp - likes to just hang with my family and play games....so the answer lies somewhere else. Where? I'll keep you posted.

It's no fun at all, but I haven't any time to post right now. And this, in the middle of NaBloPoMo! Yet, priorities are just that...and in my constant battle to put my family first, I am currently fighting small insurgencies of extra-curricular activities along with sniper-like seasonal events. So blogging must take a back seat.

That said, my daughter's homework was excellent the other night. (In general, her entire school experience has been excellent. This year in particular has been stellar super scrumptious excellent.) She was asked to fill in a chart for a Mrs. Chen, giving her a schedule of all of her errands, and how much time she would have to do them before meeting the young Chens at the bus. For example, if Mrs. Chen left the mall at 1:15 after having spent 50 minutes shopping, and it takes her seven minutes to reach the grocers, how long can she stay at the grocery store before needing to leave to get to the bus stop (time to drive from grocery store to bus stop=ten minutes). LOVE IT! I was so happy that I understood the homework and could actually assist my daughter should she need help, and that here was a real-life lesson that would serve her well down the road, and mainly that I felt much more effective than Mrs. Chen that day! She only went to the mall, the grocery store, and the auto repair shop. Please. I can nail all that in an hour.

Good Girls Go Bad, for a Day - New York Times: not an indictment, but a little essay on the sexy Halloween costumes my generation of women, and beyond, seem to favor.

As an adult, my costumes have been: Bruce Springsteen circa "Born in the U.S.A.", a baby with a diaper, a fly fisherwoman, and a K&W server, complete with hairnet.

Some of us don't need a flippin' pagan holiday to exude a little heat. Rawwrr!

You know I wanna piece of that pie! Listen all the way through - the bridge is SICK.

You all are just going to have to ride out my fascination with JT.

Also today: Gramps' birthday, Friday the 13th, the school Fall Festival aka Event Causing Belle's First Fall Meltdown Due to Too Many People and Fall Treats Such As Cotton Candy (Meltdown #2 to follow next week), Lemony Snicket's End, and prep for our trek to the coast to celebrate friends' impending adoption of their daughter. They travel to China next month. Happy times.

My yard has three yard signs in it now. One for a guy who we know who is running for judge, one for a judge who is running for reelection and was STRONGLY ENDORSED(by my husband's boss), and one for a County Commissioner candidate who is far better than the alternative. Soon, a sign promoting the local bond issue will join the happy patch of signs. I am not alone - everyone in our 'hood and all around us have signs. I particularly enjoy how our stretch of lawn offers high-visibility for our chosen endorsees.

But today, we drove by my brother's house, far north of here (I mean, not like Quebec City, but it seems really far away) and saw no signs. Actually, we saw one. Just one. And very few bumper stickers aside from the occasional "W", but those seem to be disappearing quicker than you can send an IM message.

What is up? Is it that these folks are too busy to care? Are there neighborhood ordinances forbidding signage? Are my neighbors and me too precious and really shouldn't promote various candidates so much? I could probably make some gross, and sort of mean, generalizations here. But I've gotten in trouble doing that, so I won't to keep life simpler. I'll just report the facts and then see if any of you can help me figure out why my fellow city dwellers don't seem to be getting involved.

Whoa!! this reminds me of the great Sharpie innovations of 2002!

Halloween - not my favorite holiday for years, until I discovered that if I sent my children out with their Dad, I could stay home, drink wine, dole out candy to the few visitors we have, and watch "ET". Now things are getting dicier. My daughter wants to go trick or treating alone, and she wants to dress like agirly whore. I've never bought into the whole "women have to look campy and hot" thing for Halloween, and I really don't want her starting all this crap at her tender young age. Then again, she doesn't ask for much, she's very good and sweet, and my son is going to wear an eye patch, carry a sword and call it a day. So I have some cash to spare.

If she wears that get-up, she ain't going alone, though.