New Year's Resolutions and Other Hooey

I never make resolutions anymore. This is mainly because I know I will never keep them. And also because it's somewhat arbitrary to decide to do something just because everyone else is doing it. However, this year seems like more of a fresh start than most. In 2010, I lost my mother and then a month later a very dear coworker died suddenly. Then Chris lost his job and then I learned that the libraries were reorganizing and my job would change somehow. I'd have to go through a round of interviews to find out. Lo and behold... a promotion, just when Chris found a job...

That he hated.

So we moved. Then he quit. Then he accepted Job 3 of 2010. Then Athena changed schools.

The only thing that could have made the year more stressful is if we'd had a baby or gotten a divorce. Fortunately, we did neither. My head might have exploded.

So, in walks 2011 and I says to the Year, I says... "Year, you better not suck even 1/4 as much as last Year did. And really, that still gives you plenty of suckage allowance. And Year, can we do something about making me feel less like a blobby waste of protoplasm and more like the Wonder Woman I felt like two years ago? Maybe?"

And the Year said, "Well, you COULD make that same diet resolution that everyone else makes. That's always good for a laugh."

And I said, "As much as I'd like my failures to amuse you, Year, I know better than to do that. Any other thoughts?"

And we thought, and we thought, and then we thought some more. And then I looked over and saw this book. I had no idea who this celebrity chef was, but I was intrigued by her formula. Three meals each week, designed to flow with the seasons somewhat, that are easy to make and actually can build off one another so that you can use leftovers almost immediately in a different dish. Seemed very similar to my experience with Dream Dinners, which is now, sadly, quite out of business in my area of the world.

I bought this book last year because it held promise of a way to get me in the kitchen more and in a more organized fashion. It also would, by default, be healthier because it would provide me some variety without being too complicated. She leans heavily toward Mexican and Asian cuisine, which are two areas I've done VERY little cooking in. But now as Year and I looked over at it, I realized my resolution could be way easier and more concrete than "Diet and Exercise." Now my resolution could be simply, "Cook everything in this book, in order, whether you think you'll like it or not and see what happens."

So that's the deal Year and I made with one another. So far, so good. I've done two weeks of her recipes and all have gotten better than a C grade from the spouse and myself. We don't ask the kids. Although Athena has been pretty pleased so far. Marcus may actually starve to death. We're watching.

I'm using ingredients I've never even held in my hand before (habanero peppers and hot sauce to name a couple -- and not in the same recipe, thank goodness) and I've made dishes I normally wouldn't want to eat even if I'd been served it at someone else's house (zuppa di pesce -- I don't like tomato-based soups in general). I am finding that my taste buds are more adventurous than I gave them credit for and I've probably eaten more vegetables in the last two weeks than I did in the entire Year of 2010. Take THAT, evil Year.

I did make two other resolutions. Read 30 books (three more than last year) and write more. One book down, one blog post down. Boo yah!

One Week More

We are moving on Friday. Athena is completely stressed out. And you can imagine that if the six-year-old is freaking, Mommy ain't doin' much better.

We've packed maybe 1/8th of the house. I'm pretty sure at this point that the movers will just be moving our furniture and we'll have to carry all the boxes over. Chris was very helpful today while I was working and he packed several boxes. Unfortunately, he doesn't look at the size of the box vs. what he is packing, so I am going to have to repack some stuff. He put Marcus' books in one HUGE box that is not even full yet and is practically impossible to move. But I'm still grateful, as repacking a box is fairly simple.

To make things worse, I can't get myself motivated to do anything at all. I feel completely out of it and exhausted. I think this is a side-effect of chaos. There is no order to anything we do right now. The houses are both in total disarray. Thank goodness we have people doing the work on the new house or we wouldn't be able to move in until NEXT fall.

I keep telling myself this is all temporary. Once we move into the new house (which is HUGE) we will have plenty of room for everything and it will be easier to stay organized. We also have some money now, which will also help in that regard. Overall, the changes we are making should have a very positive effect on our lives. It's just that right now I feel we've only done worse by ourselves by layering even more stressors onto an already dire situation.

Athena keeps scratching her head. I checked, and I didn't see any bugs, but there are some places on her head that seem raw. I'm hoping that it's just summer sweaty head making her itch, but I am of course very worried that it's yet another visit from the lice. If it is, I'm taking a week off work and I'm just dealing with that only. Nothing else. Obviously, they are not happy with the attention I've already given them, so I will do away with them once and for all.

And of course, the only reason I am paranoid that it's lice again is because we are about to move and I have no time to deal with this.

The Year That Needs to Die

So I have been away from blogging for a while. There have been several factors involved in my separation... many of which involve personal introspection that even journaling would not help with. But I must admit that I feel guilty that these last couple of years are completely now outside the scope of this blog and therefore they will be non-years in effect when I read back over my writing or when my children read back over it. The reason I've never felt that I'd abandon blogging forever, in truth, is my children.

This has been reinforced as I now troll through my mother's things and find lots and lots of junk with little tiny treasures sprinkled in. There is a picture of my grandmother while she was on vacation at a place that inspired one of the Disney resorts I have patronized. There is the furniture that my father made for my mother to display her shadowboxes in. And there is the typed up collection of letters that my grandmother sent to my grandfather daily when he was away during World War II and she was home with my mother and her infant brother. These remind me how important it will be for my children to have my writing in order to get to know me better and to learn more about themselves as well.

Most of the time I've been away from blogging has been simply due to writer's block brought on by several different factors. During that time, I was reexamining my life and my priorities. I still haven't quite got it figured out, but a path seems to be emerging for me to take.

But since November of 2009, when we took our 10th anniversary vacation, life has simply been too extreme to really keep up with it in writing. We had a one month battle with lice that we seem to have picked up on the cruise. That was followed by Christmas, which was then closely followed by my mother's diagnosis with cancer. She died a month later and I feel very fortunate that my job allowed me to spend so much time with her. Not just my job, really, but my immediate family too. Chris was exactly the support I needed through that time, and I had some very good friends who also propped me up and carried me through it.

One month after my mother's death, one of the members of my staff died suddenly of a stroke. One cannot really appreciate the loss this coworker's death brought to me and the people I work with. She was an extraordinary human being, and I don't say that lightly.

On the heels of that, Chris was furloughed indefinitely, slashing our income by more than half, just as we happened to begin receiving inheritance from my mother. To say that the timing was extremely important devalues how lucky we really are. As Chris looked for work, I learned that the libraries were restructuring. This restructure resulted in an intense interview process in which I was successful and earned a promotion of sorts. This promotion moved me to a new library, but one I am very happy to be a part of. Soon after I learned I got the job, Chris also got a job, and we began to look for a house. The market is good for buying and we figured we would see what was out there.

In July, we found a house in distress and made an offer. We had knowledge of a mold problem in the home, which is not unusual in foreclosures, so we made an offer that was contigent on the mold being remediated. Two months later (one month after the original close date) we have just learned that the mold is absolutely remediated and on top of that, we got a beautiful new bathroom out of the deal. The bank has been very generous in fixing this house to make it safe for my family and we are so grateful to be moving into a beautiful home within two miles of my work and significantly closer to Chris' job as well.

Over the summer, we also battled lice again and this time, the fight was drawn out because of policies at our day care that I was unaware of. Suffice it to say, the lice are gone and I don't expect them to be back. But we are checking regularly now. Not taking any chances.

We should be moving by mid-October, although the process will begin almost as soon as we close on the house. We then need to sell this house and although we have a buffer in place, I am very nervous about selling in this market.

Still, that said, I am giving myself until the end of the year to expect the stress level to be high, and then 2010 needs to go away and never be heard from again. I have no idea if anyone is even really reading blogs anymore with Facebook and so many other venues available to them, but for me, I hope to really return to saving our lives in writing for my children. I now know how much they will value it.

What I Said Today About Mom

Describing mom is no easy task. She is unique. One of a kind. Truly, in a word, indescribable. My husband plays hockey, and at his game this past week, his teammates offered condolences. When he relayed that to me, I asked him if he told them anything about her and he replied quite honestly, “I would have no idea where to start.”

And this is my challenge today. To tell you something about this woman who defies description. To reminisce over a life that was incredibly full, incredibly busy, and incredibly generous.

So when attempting to meet a challenge like this, it’s best to break it into smaller pieces. Maybe I could speak to you about one or two aspects of her life. But what do I pick? Over her life she has accomplished so much and her talents are so numerous, it is difficult to choose one area to talk about. However, anyone who knows her knows that of all the roles she has had – Garden Council President, DAR Regent, Forest Oaks Community Association newsletter editor – (the list is really too huge), the one she valued most… and the one that is dearest to me, is the role she played as “mom.”

As a child, I had no idea how impressive mom’s juggling act was. After all, she was mom, and that’s what moms do, right? So the fact that over the first 18 years of our lives she managed the household, dealt with our school work and associated activites, got us to music lessons, swim team practice, Girl Scout meetings and activities, art lessons, dance lessons, and theater practice while still managing to feed us, get our hair cut, and get us to the doctor and the dentist just seemed effortless to me. Let’s then throw in that during that time she painted hundreds of ceramic pieces, made dozens of beaded Christmas trees, designed, created and furnished over 25 shadow boxes, played tennis regularly, and stayed active in garden clubs and the DAR (among other things), it’s enough to set any reasonable adult’s head spinning. And she did all of this without mobile phones and computers to keep her organized. She kept it all in her head and on a little paper calendar.

But she didn’t just shuffle us from activity to activity either. She took on important roles in our activities. She became a Girl Scout leader despite the fact that she really had never had any previous interest in the Girl Scouts or the activities associated with it. She freely admitted that her idea of roughing it was a Holiday Inn with no room service and a b/w television. But she was a good Girl Scout leader. She was an instant hit with the troop. She didn’t do it only halfway either. We earned dozens of merit badges under her leadership, and I picked up skills and hobbies I carry with me to this day. And she did take us camping. I am not making this up. She forded the stream to get to the campground in her Cadillac DeVille and she wore her mink coat to keep warm.

When I was a younger child, mom would hint at those upcoming “teenage” years. Every now and then, she’d express that fear that I now understand all mothers have… that once their children hit the magic age of 13 (or maybe 12 or 11, realistically), they will suddenly hate their mothers and turn into rebellious little demons. I actually became anxious about my 13^th birthday. What sort of evil monster would I become? Would I get ugly and hunched over? More importantly, would it hurt?

But the weirdest thing happened. I woke up on my thirteenth birthday, and lo and behold, I thought mom was just as cool as I always did. Maybe even a little bit cooler. Other kids could go hate their moms if they wanted (and in fact, some of my friends did choose to go that route.) I, on the other hand, got to bond with my mom during my most emotionally turbulent and physically awkward years. And I wasn’t the only one…

My friends loved my mom too. Even the ones that didn’t like their own moms so much. They loved to hang out at my house and chat with her. They loved to eat her magically amazing grilled cheese sandwiches. They loved to admire her dollhouse and shadow boxes. And they loved to just chat with her. My mom was, dare I say it… HIP! And again, I’m not making this up… one of our neighbors sent me a note this week that said ever since he met her in 1976, he always thought of her and my dad as “hipsters of the day.” Who knew?!

She supported me through every difficult time in my life. Even when I made choices she wasn’t so sure were best for me, she would support me. She would offer me her opinion and advice, of course, but there was never any pressure from her to change my mind or behave differently. She let me learn my own lessons. And to her surprise and delight, once or twice it turned out that I was actually right.

I must say that when I was 27 and I announced to mom and Linda that I was planning to get married, they were shocked. And had good reason to be. After all, up until then, I had not been great at maintaining a meaningful relationship more than a few months, and my intended was a man whom I had known for about two months and had only been dating for about two weeks. I put myself in her shoes and imagine she must have been, for lack of a better word, completely freaking out inside.

But she remained outwardly calm, asked me some questions (including the ever-reasonable, “Can I perhaps MEET this young man?”) and expressed her nervousness over the short courtship. However, by the end of the conversation (and assurances that she COULD meet him, absolutely), she told me that she supported any decision I made and that her main interest is that I should be happy.

She remained cautious and nervous through the whole engagement and wedding planning, although she never really shared that with me. Linda got an earful, as I understand it, but she was sure to always show me strong support and love. It wasn’t until my wedding reception eight months later that mom pulled me aside and said, “I wasn’t sure about this whole thing… it was all terribly fast, but it is clear to me that Chris loves you very much and he is a wonderful match for you.”

And then, over the last ten years, she frequently took his side in any disagreement he and I would have. When I would call her on it, she would say, “What? He is right!”

Now I’m a mom. And I hold myself up to the “mom” standard constantly. When I talk to my children, I am almost always simultaneously thinking “Is this how mom would handle this situation?” She has set the bar very high. But she raised me to get it right.

When my father passed away, I read a passage from a children’s book that spoke quite eloquently about the circle of life and how death works into it. For mom, I felt it more appropriate to simply read you the lines of one of her favorite songs. It was sung at her high school graduation, and it remained special to her throughout her life. I believe it also speaks well about her death:

When you walk through a storm

Hold your head up high

And don’t be afraid of the dark

At the end of the storm is a golden sky

And the sweet silver song of a lark

Walk on through the wind

Walk on through the rain

Tho your dreams be tossed and blown

Walk on walk on with hope in your heart

And you’ll never walk alone

You’ll never walk alone.

It's The Little Things

As I have been sitting by mom's hospital bed these last two weeks, I've been frustrated that while she is still living and breathing and here with me, the morphine has either had her knocked out or unable to work her mouth well enough to speak. My mother is a talker. And a listener. And she's funny. And she's smart.

And I miss that.

Or rather, I missed it. Today, out of the blue, she woke up from a good night's sleep and started talking. Really talking. Full sentences. The works. Of course, I wasn't here... it was my sister's night to be with her and I was at work. But they called me and Linda put Mom on the speaker phone.

I cannot describe the joy I felt in hearing her voice again. Really hearing it. I was truly afraid that I wouldn't get to have another real conversation with her. And although her facial expressions are very communicative, it's not the same.

She's asleep now. She had a really big day and has managed to stay off the PRN morphine all day. A very low dose of extended release morphine has kept her pain under control and her mind sharp. We are hoping it is a positive sign of what is to come.

But tomorrow, once she is rested again, I sincerely hope she talks my ear off. I cannot wait.

A Cure For Writer's Blcok

So I'm in the hospital watching over my mother. Her diagnosis has changed several times over the last 24 hours, and we will have a more definitive answer tomorrow after a biopsy. But it's not looking good. She is very uncomfortable and practically immobile with pain.

The hospital has wifi "for our convenience," but I am finding that most sites I use on a daily basis are blocked. I would not really be updating my Facebook status with the icky and highly personal aspects of her stay here, but I would like to be able to watch my friends live their lives on the outside. I can't clear out my Google reader because half of the blogs I follow are blocked here in the hospital and I can't even finish setting up my Goodreads account because it is also blocked. (Oddly, LibraryThing is NOT blocked here, so if I had just been willing to pay them their blood money, I could be finishing that task up easily).

And so, I blog.

Mom is just shy of turning 68. She has never really been the healthiest person I know... she has been a smoker since the ripe old age of 12 and although she knew they weren't good for her, she has clung to cigarettes as her main vice. Her other is chocolate, and we all know that chocolate is healthy, so I don't begrudge her that at all.

So we knew this day would arrive. All we've been able to do is hope that it isn't too painful and difficult for her. It looks like those hopes will not come true. She is in for a painful ordeal that may or may not yield positive results.

Watching her, I am reminded of all she has been to me and to all of her friends and family. She is loving and stern, funny and truthful, and conservative and generous. She has been a role model and a rock of support to me and has spoiled me in ways I will never be able to spoil my own daughter. She has ensured I live a full, open and happy life and has guaranteed my comfort and safety, even when I didn't really deserve it.

She is being well taken care of here at the hospital, and yet I find it almost impossible to leave her side. I take pleasure in watching her simply breathe and I enjoy joking with her and making her smile. Work, hobbies, and life's mundane tasks have taken a back seat and at this point, I have a hard time even acknowledging they exist. My sister will be here tomorrow from Hong Kong and Mom is very excited to see her again. It has been almost a year since we last saw her, and just the prospect of her showing up lights up my mother's eyes.

And I suddenly understand yet another aspect of motherhood. I see in her what it means to raise children and set them out in the world. I see the joy she takes simply in knowing that her children "are." And I want my children near me now with a passion I have never before felt.

But right now is her time. She needs to have her girls back just as her girls right now. And she shall have that. For she is why and what we "are."

Life's Little Circles

I've noticed a very strange phenomenon in my life. I tend to get "led" to places that will eventually be important to me. For example, there was an apartment complex in Greensboro that always sort of stood out to me when we drove past it. However, we didn't get to that area of town often, so we didn't go past it a lot. For a while in my elementary and middle school years, we went to a hair stylist who worked very close to them, so that was really the only time we'd get over there. But I always gazed at those apartments thinking that they were... I dunno... IMPORTANT.

Sure enough, after hunting all over town for my first apartment after college, guess where I ended up.

Okay, so that example isn't so strange because I actually get to PICK the apartment I live in, so I could have sort of led myself there (even though I didn't, and there were two other people in on the decision.)

So, Example the Second. There was a building I passed daily after I got my first job. I noticed it many years before that as well, but almost as soon as I got that first job down the street from it, it became a compulsion. The sign intrigued me. The shape of the windows... The location (right next door to a Krispy Kreme)... All of it called to me.

One day, my dad took me to lunch and said, "Elizabeth, you have a loser, dead-end job that you are way too smart for and it is making both of us miserable. Get another job."

"But, Dad," says I. "I have no idea what I want to DO with my life. I'm 23, have a BA in English Education, and all I know is I don't want to teach."

"Just put some resumes out there."

"But WHERE?!" (Yeah, I was probably whining. I was bad about that. Still am, honestly).

"Doesn't matter."

"The only place that even looks remotely interesting is that place over there." I pointed with my steak and cheese sandwich, because we were lunching in the fabulous Greek restaurant that also happened to be right by "the building."

"Then take a resume there."

"Blind? That never works, Dad. This is the 1990's."

"Humor me."

So I did. I just typed up a resume (it was quite short in those days) and popped it in a manilla envelope. On my lunch break the next day, I went right up to "the building" and I handed my envelope to the receptionist, who seemed about as interested in it as I would have expected her to be. "No job in particular?" she asked. "Nope," says I. "Anything you have that I would qualify for would be interesting to me. I really like this company."

I actually said that. And you know what I knew about the company? It's name. That's it. Name only. And, of course, where their building was... between Krispy Kreme and that Greek place. So I ask you, what's not to like?

Needless to say, you can certainly imagine my surprise when I got a phone call THE NEXT DAY for the PERFECT JOB for me. She actually had just finished interviewing, hadn't really liked her choices, and got my resume. She already knew she wanted to hire me (which she didn't tell me, of course, until she actually DID hire me). It was meant to be.

So, all of that is to share one of life's latest little circles. I did my student teaching at Chapel Hill High School. At the time, it was considered the second best high school in the state and it really was a fabulous teaching experience. While I was there, I asked the drama teacher if I could help with the fall musical, because theater is what I really wanted to do. She was delighted to have the help, and I became a character coach for Hello, Dolly! Seriously fun, and the theater there was quite impressive by high school theater standards.

I left the school and I put all thoughts of teaching behind me. I graduated, moved out of town, and started life as a (real) adult. So when I enrolled my little girl in ballet classes at the Conservatory here, imagine my surprise when I learned that her year-end recital was to be at Chapel Hill High School. A full 20 miles from the Conservatory.

Going back, now a solid 18 years later, was completely strange and other-worldly. I remembered parts of the building like it had only been yesterday. And when my daughter took that same stage that I had worked through all those scenes on... well... Wow. Who knew that the building would hold such treasures for me? Especially a building in a town we do not even live in.

So strange where life takes you.

Save the Library

So the County passed a budget that actually saved two of our branches from closing. Apparently, they did this by cutting money to education and human services. Although I am overjoyed that our libraries need not be closed, I'm a bit worried about these cuts. I do have a kid entering Kindergarten, and although we have some of the best public schools in the country, they can't maintain that without money. I'm also pretty much in favor of controlling/preventing AIDS and other diseases... so when money comes out of Human Services... well... you see what I'm getting at.

Still, it's good to know that libraries are so valued where I live. There are many, many other places around the country that are seeing libraries closed and hours drastically reduced. The Seattle area is seeing all schools lose their professional librarians, leaving the school libraries to be run by assistants and other teachers. So so so so sad.

And So It Begins...

Athena and I had an altercation tonight. We've already had plenty. And I'm sure we have plenty more in store. But for some reason, this one seemed really IMPORTANT.

I don't know why. It is just a gut feeling. Like tonight will actually set a tone for us.


Athena is not a very good listener. She, like her mother, is very selfish about 80% of the time. The other 20%, she would literally offer a stranger one of her kidneys. It's black and white with us... no gray. Give or take... no compromise.


It took me a very long time to learn to think more of others, and I still suck at it compared to many people I know. But I do know it about myself now and can monitor my behavior accordingly. Athena, on the other had, has no idea.

So naturally, I feel very strongly about teaching Athena how important it is to listen, be respectful, and freaking share a toy once in a while. We are also in a bit of a money pickle at the moment, so when she destroys something or wastes something, it sends me over the edge.


Tonight, I gave her one of the expensive little character Band-Aid tattoos because Marcus needed one and she wanted one too. She has been VERY good about not asking for Band-Aids for every little scrape, so I coddled her and gave her one. While I was putting Marcus to bed, however, she went in and took another one and applied it herself.


I noticed the open, out-of-place box and asked her if she'd taken another. She admitted it. This is where it gets hard for me. Do I punish her for directly disobeying me and taking the Band-Aid? Or do I reward her for telling me the truth and not trying to cover it up. I chose the former, with a little of the latter thrown in.

There was much fussing and crying. Only her... I assure you. But I did finally sit down with her and have yet another talk about listening and respecting. The conversation seemed to actually click with her for once, though I'm not placing any bets on that. I do like that she's getting old enough that we CAN have a conversation. Hopefully I don't completely damage the relationship before she enters Kindergarten.

Body Language

For the last few weeks, I've been having some pretty alarming symptoms. Alarming to me, anyway. And what's more alarming, they seem to just be worse versions of symptoms I've had two other times in the last six months. Nausea, bloating, cramping, and extreme fatigue.

Sound familiar? Women in the house who have never had children will say... sounds like your monthly friend. Women who HAVE had children will say... sounds like you are pregnant.

It's neither.

So I went to the doctor. They drew blood to see if it's anemia or a thyroid problem. They do also think the lady bits are just showing some signs of age, but the thyroid is a very likely culprit. I had blood drawn today. Should know something in a week or so.

Meanwhile, my body is really, really off. My training for the 5K has taken a sudden nosedive. I'm still running, but I can't run the workout I had been running successfully two weeks ago. My intestines are in knots and tonight, I can't sleep. It's either pass out tired or no sleep at all. No middle ground.

And all I can do is wait now to find out what the deal is. Ugh.

How I Snagged Your Mother

On April 2, we passed the ten year anniversary for our engagement. I would have blogged about it then, but I wanted to scan some pictures from that time to include with my writing. However, our scanner doesn't like Vista at all, and has rejected Chris' laptop as well, so I have nothing. It's a shame too, because we look so freakin' young!

Anyhoo... I thought I'd share the story with you. I won't get into the fact that an ex-boyfriend caught wind that the engagement might be happening and proposed to me the night before we left. It was an act of desperation, for which I should be flattered, but really just made me feel like dog poop. However, I packed my bags and headed to the mountains that beautiful Good Friday... fairly sure this was the weekend, but not really knowing.

Chris found a small cabin for us for the weekend (Friday and Saturday night) at Grandfather Mountain, which is near Boone, NC. We arrived around 5pm and got settled in. Chris then suggested we head to a Hibachi restaurant he knew of nearby. I had not eaten at a Hibachi restaurant since I was a young child and had been frightened of the fire, so I said "Sure!" and off we went.

For some reason, I was absolutely positive that if a proposal was coming, I would get it over dinner. Imagine my dismay when I found we were to sit with ten other people (strangers). I put on my best, "No, I'm totally comfortable meeting strangers" face and ended up enjoying the meal very much. But... no proposal. So, I figured that it wouldn't happen until the next day on our planned hike, and I put it to the back of my mind.

We made a stop at the grocery store for tomorrow night's dinner (my plan was to cook in the cabin) and also the ABC store for me (Chris doesn't drink).

We got back, put groceries away, and Chris started a fire in the little fireplace. It wasn't cold, but it was cool enough for us to enjoy the fire. I sipped at my cocktail (a screwdriver) and Chris started rummaging through his bag. He handed me a bottle of cologne and asked, "Do you think your mom will like this?" I was taken aback by the question (Why would he care if my mom liked his cologne?), plus I was baffled he even HAD cologne (he's not really the sort), but I humored him and took a sniff. "It's fine," I reported.

I don't really remember what he said next. Probably something like "Will your mom like THIS?" All I know was I suddenly had a ring under my nose and he was waiting for an answer. He totally distracted me with the cologne so he could get the ring out of his bag. Sneaky.

I had been expecting it, but the logical part of my brain took over and I reviewed my decision one last time before accepting.

We did hike the next day in the Linville gorge, and then we left Sunday to go back to my mom's for Easter Dinner, where we shared the news with my mom and sister. From there, we went back to my house and started making phone calls. I think we even set the date while we were still in the mountains, but I may be wrong about that.

In preparation for writing this, I asked Chris what his memories were. He barely even remembers buying the ring, which seems very odd to me. But this is Chris we're talking about.

The Dreaded Question; or Mommyfail

Athena asked the dreaded question Thursday morning as we were getting ready. The conversation started simply enough. Athena informed me that it would be very helpful if she had an older sister to help her get ready in the morning so I wouldn't have to. (Mind you, she really doesn't need help in the morning... she was just being clingy that particular morning).

I tried to explain how it would be impossible to provide her with an older sister, as she is the oldest and that cannot be changed. Before you knew it... there is was...

"Well do you GET a baby in your tummy, Mommy?"

I am so ashamed to say that no matter how many times I had thought about this moment, I still stumbled, stammered, and even started with the dreaded... "Well, honey... when a man and a woman love each other..."

Fortunately, I stopped there and restarted. But with all my good intentions and even my desire to be as honest as possible, it's pretty apparent that an almost-five year old girl is not prepared to hear these things. When I got to the part about how a boy and girl fit together, she had clearly heard a little too much. So I backed up and simplified.

"Together, a man and a woman can make a baby. They each have part of what is needed."

Ugh.

We're looking into getting a book for her.

Just Thought You Should Know...

The set of facts below was printed in one of our branch newsletters, compiled by one of our Regional Supervisors. I didn't ask her permission to reprint, but since she sent it out to our library patrons at large, I'm assuming it's okay. It's all public information anyway, but the nuances are hers.

I wanted to post it here, because with all the talk of budget cuts in Wake County, I have been surprised and hurt to see comments from citizens indicating that we were wasting tons of their money anyway. I don't think people realize exactly what they are talking about, so here you go...

Wake County residents borrowed 10,390,295 books from the public library in 2008-that's 11.88 books per person! No other North Carolina county had residents reading so many books.

Wake County Public Library is a bargain. Not only do you save money by borrowing books, you pay less per use in Wake County than in any other North Carolina county. The statewide average cost is $3.99 per circulation, while Wake County's cost is only $1.62 each.

The statewide average circulation per staff member is 16,500, but Wake County circulates over 47,000 books per staff member. Whew!

While we circulate more books than the largest system in the state, our operating budget is just 53% of that system's budget.

Other interesting facts:
-Wake County has the largest public library book collection in the state--over 1.7 million books.
-Our 19 branches are open 65,000 hours a year.
-47% of Wake County residents actively use their library cards.
-Our libraries were visited 3 million times during the year or about 4 visits per Wake County resident.
-Over 250,000 people attended over 4,000 programs.
-Our 600 public computers were used over 1 million times.

Easter Dinner

The finished feast. Note the bread shaped like a bunny at the center of the table. Grandma brought that from Great Harvest Bread Company. Everything else was made at home. Mac and Cheese is front and center.

Dessert!

Strawberry cheesecake torte.

Dying Eggs

Easter Breakfast

Chocolate-Chip Pancakes!

An Auspicious Beginning

In what is sure to become a series this year, I am about to regale you with the story of our first date. (When I say "our" first date, I am referring to Chris and myself. Not "me and you," as I did not date most of those of you reading this. At least... I hope not. A couple of nights along the way are kind of hazy but... well, yes... I'm sure).

Why am I doing this? A good question! Because yesterday was (drum roll please)... the 10th anniversary of our second first date! TA DAAAAAAAAAAAA!


Yeah, you read that right. Ready? Here we go.


I've already shared with you how Chris and I met one January night ten years ago. If you don't remember the story, either blogger ate it, or I will send a prize to the person who can dig it out of my archives. I couldn't find it anywhere. I may have to rewrite that, but meanwhile...

We met in January. In early February, we became aware that we were interested in each other. I was in the middle of breaking up with someone I had been dating for several months who just couldn't seem to commit to much of anything in regards to "us." I was at the "shit or get off the pot" point, and Chris entered on cue, Stage Right.

Although instinct told me that I should really let the break-up sit for a while, I also was kind of intrigued by this self-(over-?)confident young fellow and thought that a little online chatting wouldn't hurt anything. He became more and more interesting to me over the next couple of weeks, and finally, on February 25, he asked me out. To a hockey game. One month away.

"The Canes are playing the Leafs there in Greensboro," he said over the phone line. I had never been to an NHL game. Still... a month to wait for our first date? "Um... sure!" said I. And then I hoped that maybe he'd ask me to do something before then.

The next day, he called me at work and asked what I was doing that night. Truth be told, I was planning on having a couple of beers, a pizza, and watching a movie. But I said what any girl who wants to go out with a guy says to that question, "Oh, nothing much." (Yeah, really hard to get. I'm so good with the head games, aren't I?)

He asked if he could drive to Greensboro (where I lived at the time) and take me out somewhere. "Sure!" says I, again with the playing-hard-to-get. He arrived on time and almost immediately earned himself a black mark on the "potential life-mate" scorecard when he asked, "So... what do you want to do?"

For years... YEARS... I dated guys who never put a moment's thought into planning an actual date. There were a few exceptions... and one who never planned anything, but would wing it without shrugging his shoulders and saying, "I dunno... what do YOU want to do." Is it too much to ask that when a guy asks you out, he has some idea of what he wants to do?! Argh.

He did, however, have something of an excuse... he wasn't from 'round these parts, you see... so he didn't know what there was TO do. I would argue that Greensboro has all the date mainstays of any other medium-sized city... movie theaters, restaurants, go-karts... whatever. But, I cut him some slack... because I'm just that nice. And... he's pretty cute.

As we debated restaurants or movies or whathaveyou, he asked... "Well, what would you have done if I hadn't asked you out tonight?" I told him that I had been planning to watch Return of the Jedi, which my friend had let me borrow, since I hadn't seen it and Episode I was due out in a few months.

He fainted.

Well, no... he didn't faint. But he almost burst a blood vessel when he realized that he was actually talking to a person who had not, in fact, seen every Star Wars movie made to date, and in fact, had only seen Star Wars itself maybe four times. I'm surprised he didn't flee the premises. So now we're tied... one to one... for black marks against our characters.

He then insisted that we watch Jedi IMMEDIATELY and he even resisted the urge to recite the whole movie as it transpired. I was impressed. He kissed me. I let him. I even kissed him back. And then, if I remember correctly, he slept on the couch. I wouldn't let him drive back to Raleigh that late, but I wasn't ready to provide any other comforts, if you know what I mean.

So that is how we had two first dates... one month apart from each other... back in 1999. We did, in fact, go to the hockey game and I learned that NHL hockey really is that much better than minor league games.

Next up in the series... Chris pops the question. Look for it in about two weeks... the 10th anniversary of when he actually asked me.

Back Away From the Scissors

Athena has a serious addiction.

Scissors.

She cannot get enough of their shiny, squeezy, sharp goodness. She's not really skilled with them... especially when it comes to doing her "homework." Each week, she is required to find pictures in magazines of things that start with the letter ________ and take them to school to show off to her friends and stick on the wall. (This week was "X." Seriously? X. Yeah... we forgot our homework this week.)

Anyway, the scissors thing has been a problem since her early 3's. She returned home from school one day missing a big chunk of hair off the side of her head. She and her friend Zachary "cut each other's hair." Apparently, although this doesn't appear to have been a contest, Zach won, as there was nothing noticeable missing from his head.

Months go by and it grows enough for us to cut it to hide the damage reasonably well.

She did it again several months ago right after we got her hair cut. She also cut Marcus' hair, which is especially impressive when you know he'd just had it buzzed. Looked like someone had tried to carve a design into his hair. This time at home. So we hid the scissors.

Marcus seems to have recovered completely (the boy drinks some serious milk) and Athena also seemed to have evened out. Apparently done with hair, Athena attacked Young MC's hockey net two weeks ago. Cut a huge hole in it. She says she is sorry, but I'm not buying it.

Leading us to yesterday. When I picked up the kids from daycare, they were playing outside. So before I collected them, I went into Athena's room to collect her belongings. Much to my dismay, in her folder of stuff to go home was a ziploc back with a large chunk of hair inside it. Just to clarify for me, they had clearly labeled it "Athena's Hair." Drat. Then, on her "report card" sheet, there was a note (copied as it... incl. punctuation errors, etc.):

"Mr. and Mrs. Caran,
I'm sorry to inform you that during nap time Athena
decided to cut her Hair. Ms. Monica and I spoke to Athena and she felt
very bad. If any questions please speak with me.

Thank you"

So since it was unsigned, I went to get Athena, assess the damage, and ask her teacher the first question that popped into my head, "Where in the blue hell did she get SCISSORS during NAP TIME?!"

Side note: I love how they don't sign their notes to me so I never know which of the rotating series of teachers in there throughout the day wrote the note.

I found Athena and asked her where she cut here hair. She held out her greatly decreased length of bangs. Actually, she didn't HAVE bangs... she does now. Here is the scariest part... it's not half bad. You can certainly see that they are uneven when you look hard, but upon a cursory glance, she doesn't look bad at all. I'm thinking from now on, we let her cut her own hair. She's happy. We save money. It's a win-win. But I digress...

I asked her teacher my innocent little question and was surprised to learn that Athena... with her history of NOT napping AND cutting her hair and the hair of those around her... was placed in the ART CENTER to nap. ooooooooookay.

So I went to Ms. Monica... the Center Director... with a little suggestion. "Um..." says I, quite eloquently. "Could we maybe consider NOT putting Athena in the art center at nap time?" Ms. Monica, whom I really do like and respect, came back at me with, "Yeah... that was the first thing I said when I learned of the incident." I'm pretty sure that had we been hanging out at the bar over a couple of cold beers, she would have added a "WTF were they thinking?!" But ever the consumate professional, she did not.

The icing on the cake? Today was picture day. This is the haircut that will live in INFAMY!!! Muahahahahaha....

And no, I haven't taken pictures. Yeah, I'm a slacker.

This Is Why I Don't Break the Law

*sigh*

I got pulled for speeding. It's been at least ten years since the last time it happened. But it always happens in a trap of some sort. Wide, new road... ridiculously low speed limit. This time, it was a school zone.

The good news is... even though I was speeding in a school zone, he gave me a warning! That never happens! The only other time I got a warning was when a cop tried to stop me late at night and I was alone and I wasn't speeding (although I might have been speeding before he actually clocked me... I slowed down before I was in range of him... but that's just between you and me, okay?) In that case, he actually stopped me because he checked my tags and they weren't in his system yet (it was a new car... well... new to me).

Anyway, that's the good news. Hooray! The bad news? He gave me a ticket for my expired tags instead! Dude! I had no idea my tags were expired. I have not seen anything from the DMV telling me to renew. I know this because I've been on a "clean up the paperwork" kick lately, and I've pretty much touched every piece of paper lying around the house in the last ten days... either to file it or throw it away. Or pay it, of course... if it's a bill.

I do, however, have two small children... the eldest of whom has been very excited to get the mail lately. So I'm guessing that something didn't quite make it from the mailbox to the mail sorter back in December or so.

Yeah... the tags were REALLY expired.

Now, I do really tend to follow the law. It was not my intent to have expired tags, and I take full responsibility. The cop said I could just renew online, but frankly, I don't want to drive around for a minute more with expired tags. So I went to the DMV, stood in line for a whole 30 seconds, and got outta there. Guess with all the online business, the DMV isn't such a bad place anymore. At least not for tags.

So now I have my fresh new 2010 sticker on my tag and a pretty piece of paper telling me to show up in court with proof I fixed it. I could just pay the ticket and be done with it, but I've been told that sometimes if you show how responsible you are, they'll waive the whole thing. And I can honestly use that $146 for something else.

The interesting, wacky thing? I got stopped for speeding in a school zone today... March 17th... my son's 3rd birthday. My court date was set for April 30... Athena's 5th birthday. Okay, okay, Karma! I get it! No speeding in a school zone! My children will thank me! Got it!