The daughter plays soccer, and plays well. So I am finding myself in the rarefied air of the intown soccer elite for girls under 8 years old. The women are beautiful, well-dressed, either a professional (lawyer, doctor) or professional moms who seem to shop a lot. The cars are big: YUKONS, SUBURBANS, TAHOES, EXPERIENTIALS or something; the incomes, bigger. The siblings are almost always boys with a lot of energy, so my son really enjoys his sister's hobby. And the games are fun. Everyone seems supportive, likes the coach and encourages him, and there is much fun cheering and clapping. Once I can muster up the energy to actually get us all to a game, and we get there and get settled and my girl starts doing her thing, it is all good.

My daughter does get upset easily. She is an emotional player. I hope we can redirect that in a positive way. Advice welcome.

One more game tomorrow then we'll take a break from soccer. Till fall, anyway.

HA HA HAAAAA HA HA HA HA HA HAAAAAA HUUH HA HUUUUUUHHHH HA HA HA!

After two weeks, I finished the 16 page, mammoth article, only to find out there is additional Q & A. Damn you John McCain! Or Connie Bruck, either one.

We were in my home state this weekend, dealing with chicken pox and visiting family. Hmmmm. At any rate, I always enjoy summer in Georgia: the cicadas, the heat hovering over the horizon, the ripe smell of everything from asphalt in Atlanta to mown grass in Macon. And I want to move back...a lot. And then, Georgia slaps me in the face. ( LOOK AT HIS GORGEOUS FAMILY BY THE WAY) Thank you, NC, for welcoming me back with open arms.

Hubby and I had a few hours to ourselves and a full 24-hour period without children. When asked what movie I wanted to see, I earnestly proposed several independent and/or foreign films before looking at his face and stating flatly, "OH! I want to see 'Batman Begins'...yes, that's the one."
Who says I am not Master of Marriage?

It was good though - I loved it. And I love Christian Bale and his big ole luscious lips that he talks over, not through. I've been imitating his voice at night when I read to my children...it makes certain books more interesting.

Katie Holmes is dead to me. Too bad.

THE SCENE: A tiny church in a valley of the gorgeous Blue Ridge mountains.

THE CHARACTERS: There were plenty, believe me. But all very nice, salt-of-the-earth types. All ten of them.

THE REASON: My parents dragged my family to this church they have found near their vacation home. It is totally quaint and pretty on the outside...small steeple, whitewashed, picnic shelter outside. Inside it is small and stinky. And, as I've said, full of characters.

Of course I teared up inside - I always tear up at church. I don't think it is the spirit moving me as much as a rare chance for me to sit down for an hour with my thoughts. But who wouldn't be moved by the sweet woman saying they only needed $15 more dollars to get ice cream for the 20 kids who would attend Vacation Bible School? Especially when one's own church's Vacation Bible School is a tightly-run behemoth of a week, complete with sub-staffs, committees, huge budgets, and crafts that require manuals and vats of supplies from Michael's.

So the mountain church experience wasn't all bad. And the sermon had a few nice moments. I could tell my husband kind of got into it. The verse they referenced was about doing like Jesus did, even to the least of these. Clothing the naked, etc. And hey - that's what it is all about, right? Well, that and going to heaven to live forever with your Lord and Savior.

Then the preacher came to chat with us and express his disbelief that anyone could live in Raleigh, the epicenter of legislative excess and evil. He himself had lived in lots of metropolises, but was so happy to be here in this charming small town. After all, he had lived for a long time in San Francisco, and....

WE SHOULD HAVE STOPPED HIM RIGHT HERE.

Why didn't we? We knew where this was leading. My husband and I, with our classic good looks and easy casual style, along with our two Hitler Youth, are the picture of the Southern American Family. (Except that I eschew mongramming and we have two kids, not three or one, which is more in vogue these days). So of course the guy felt totally at ease when he said,

"San Francisco has a different type of person there. It all started with the flower children in the 60s, and now there are just thousands of people there living what I like to call a 'perverted lifestyle', you know,

HOMOS."

Silence. Wide eyes. Internal discussions between the young husband and wife team each urging the other not. to. say. a. word.

"Really!"

Silence.

"Really, they have lots of homos!"

"So, Mr. ____, don't you just love the mountains so much more? It is really gorgeous here."

HAAAANK HAAANK HAAANK DISASTER AVERTED

I think the best part of the whole exchange is that the guy used the word HOMOS, which is actually quite popular with many of my gay heroes. Is this guy reading Trent? Is he researching this 'perverted lifestyle'? Is he learning more and more about fun places to go and people to see in his old haunt of San Fran?

No, I know. He just couldn't bring himself to say the word "sexual".

Did you know I have an "A" versus, say a "B" coil or maybe a "3" coil in my a/c unit? That my unit's air handler is offset, thereby making the coil freeze and the blower unfreeze it and water then rushes into the (insuffiently deep) trap and flows over, creating a problem that we have thrown hundreds of dollars at?

Sometimes I want to find a nice, tiny condo, maintenance included, and give up my rolling estate acreage. Lots of times, really.

This is not my dream house. We bought it because it was roomy enough for the many guests we host and close enough to a good school and friendly enough to support my then-new status as a stay-at-home mom. But I like it and I've had fun re-painting and re-doing. Houses aren't my thing anyway - I'd rather travel than stay home any day. But sheesh - home maintenance is a full-time job! No wonder the folks of yesteryear had staffs. Even my grandmother had a woman clean for her once a week, and did she feel any guilt? NO! I feel like I outsource versus keep someone on full-time, but I might as well hire a home manager. There is so much to learn, so much to know, so much to do.

And then there's the yard.

And the two cars.

And the computer.

Life isn't really that complicated, but I just don't know how to work all my stuff.

More ear candy for you and more eye candy for my husband. Somewheres on that site you can download "Heartbeat" for free, too. I actually drove to a record store today, traded in a crappy Fiona Apple cd and a Babes in Toyland disc that just won't stand the test of time, and got "Anniemal". I cannot remember the last time I purchased a plastic cd case with a studio-recorded cd in it. It was most pleasurable although I was more self-concious and I wasn't able to wear my hightie like I do when I shop iTunes.

It is hot as a mother here. Gad. I've taken to imbibing Gatorade. And it tastes good. That alone should tell you something.

There's nothing else to report, really.

I'm just sayin', he's way scary. "Daddy, can't we play Monopoly instead of Ogre?"

I'm having a VERY HARD TIME looking away from Mr. Cruise these days. The Oprah moment was hard enough - but now we see that Access Hollywood devoted a full half-hour to his rantings on Scientology. Take a look here. I really do think that I should just let it go and not look, but Britney is behaving herself (and I've given up tv since the season finales aired) so what else should I do?

I talked to my Daddy today and we both got so excited thinking about the happy events of July 16th. If you don't know what happens that day, at midnight even, then you should go check out another blog. J.K.'s site is a lot of fun but it offers no info - she is really quite notorious in her secrecy, AND she is nursing a new baby. Number 3 - a girl - two girls and a boy: my dream scenario if I had more patience, money, and stamina and less weight, post-partum psychotic freakishness, and personalities in this house.
Anyway, July 16th approaches and we are all so very ready. Yay.

I haven't wanted to talk about it. Personal issues can be like that - you can keep them inside until they seethe and stew and bubble over like pasta water. But with relief in sight, with an emotional Tums just an email away, the days are looking brighter. Thanks, Apple.