The Itsy Bitsy Monkey

Second Assignment

noreply@blogger.com (bel) — Thu, 12 Nov 2009 16:18:00 +0000

I was about 12 or 13 when J ran away. It wasn’t unusual for him to disappear, but one day he was really gone and we didn’t know to where. I admit that I did worry for a moment, until he called from Colorado and told us that he and D had left to get away from the crowd they had been hanging around with and that he was okay. Mom and Dad told him they would send him a bus ticket whenever he was ready to come home and reminded him to keep calling and checking in. That was that for me. I was in junior high had other things to worry about than my middle brother, who may have been infinitely cooler than me but was in no way smarter than me. He would come home. Mom and Dad would handle the worrying. I wasn’t going to miss him teasing me or being obviously embarrassed by me or telling me to go away. I wouldn’t miss the police cars dropping him off in the morning or the green ink stains on the bathroom rug from where he’d tried to dye his hair again. And honestly, it was nice the way the kids at school reacted when I told them my brother and D had run away. Concern, amazement, awe. Finally I had something interesting to talk about.

Eventually he and D ended up in California. They got clean and learned to surf and make bagels. Then when he did come home, he had changed. He was still way cooler than me but now in a way that I actually wanted to be. He was clean and healthy and confident. He got a smart, pretty steady girlfriend and ran for student office and won. What a loser…

Things changed at home, too. Mom and Dad started fighting more. They went to counseling. And when Dad’s contract at the college expired and he got another teaching job in a different state, he moved and we stayed behind. We stayed so J could finish high school and Mom, who had just gotten a promotion, could get a little experience in her new position. The plan was to move to be with Dad after J graduated.

Dad came home for the weekend sometimes. I would come in the front door after school and hear the vacuum running and know that he was there. And I would feel disappointed because that meant I couldn’t watch “Santa Barbara” and that there would be fighting that weekend. It wasn’t that I didn’t love my father or miss him; it was just easier, less tense, when he wasn’t there.

One evening, somehow, Mom, Dad, J, and I were all sitting at the table eating dinner together. My oldest brother wasn’t there, but he had moved out and rarely ate dinner with us. We were eating and talking and the tension was building, like it usually did when we were all in the same place together, and then my dad broke his tooth. He exploded. He swore and then shouted, “YOUR MOTHER WANTS A DIVORCE!”

That kind of ended dinner.

My mom came into my room later to check on me. She had already talked to J; I’d heard her go into his room and knew she’d come to me next. I was doing something random, reading on my bed or lying on the floor or something. She said, “I’m sorry, sweetie. That wasn’t how we wanted to do that.”

“That’s okay,” I said. And it really was.

“Why aren’t you crying? Everyone else is crying?” she asked.

“Everyone?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said. “Even J.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I guess I’m just not surprised.”

First Assignment

noreply@blogger.com (bel) — Thu, 05 Nov 2009 16:48:00 +0000

Dad and I had an early dinner and headed out to my piano lesson. It was dark earlier than usual because the sun had gone down behind thick snow clouds. He parked the car behind the church, and as we got out and started across the street to the building that housed the church offices and Sunday school classrooms, we could hear the gentle tap, tap of the first snowflakes falling on the holly bushes that lined the side wall of the church.

The front door of the renovated old farmhouse stuck a little. It always took the slightest extra nudge to pop it open. My stomach jumped with the sound of the door un-sticking, and the butterflies that had been fluttering just a little became more forceful as we went in and started up the wooden stairs. I was always a little nervous before my piano lesson, but this night, each step up to the next stair just increased my nervousness because I knew that Holly would know that I hadn't practiced what she had assigned for me. Plus, I needed to cut my fingernails.

The lesson before mine was just finishing. I could hear the last few notes of a piece and then Holly's voice. My nervousness turned to a guilty dread as I listened to the sound of a folding metal chair scrape the floor and then the student's mother's voice getting nearer as they came toward the door. I hoped that they knew they could take their time. There were the usual hello's and how-are-you's when they opened the door and came out and my father and I went in. I took my time crossing the long room to the tall antique upright in the far corner. I sat on the round-topped wooden stool and was relieved to feel that it was too low. I stood and postponed my lesson a little longer by spinning it higher. Very slowly. Eventually, though, I had to sit down. It wasn’t that I hadn’t practiced at all; I just hadn’t practiced what Holly had told me to.

I sat and turned to Holly. “Before we start, can I play something for you?” I asked. I had read ahead in my lesson book and knew that I could play the next piece well. She agreed, and I opened my book.

I don’t remember the name of the piece or the way the notes looked on the page or even the melody. I have a vague feeling now that the piece was in the key of D Major. Maybe D minor. What I do remember is that when I started to play, I felt the music fill the room. I don’t know where it came from. The music didn’t come from inside me. It felt like came through me. It flowed out of me as if I was the instrument and the music played me. And while I played, I wasn’t full of butterflies anymore. I was confident and comfortable and whole, engulfed by the music.

Can You Help?

noreply@blogger.com (bel) — Tue, 03 Nov 2009 16:59:00 +0000

Would you do me a favor? Would you leave a comment describing the sound of snow falling at night? Thanks!

New Stuff

noreply@blogger.com (bel) — Sun, 01 Nov 2009 01:46:00 +0000

MN, Didn't You Mention a New Writing Project? Remember when I posted about NaNoWriMo and mentioned that I had another thing I was going to be working on (Rae @ Us in Tejas is doing NaNoWriMo, by the way - and The Grandpa)? So Thursday before this last one, it started. My new project.

What?! What Is It, Already?! I joined a writing program at my church called "Writing Your Spiritual Journey." The end goal is for us to each create a rough draft of our own spiritual autobiography by the end of the... um... seminar (? I'm at a loss for what to call it... It's not really a class...). I joined because I thought it might help me answer the question, "Why am I a UU?" but I'm not so sure it's really going to do that. So far it looks to be an exploration of our definition of "spiritual" and events in our life that we might call spiritual. What's cool is that everyone in the class seems to have a different definition of spirituality so there is bound to be some good food for thought.

Huh? So at our first meeting, the leader had us draw a picture of a place from our childhood that we considered spiritual. I drew the mulberry tree in Moomie's parents' front yard because at my grandparents' house I felt safe and free and in touch with my spiritual self. Then she gave us the assignment to write about a moment from our childhoods when we felt spiritual. It seemed like this moment might possibly have happened in the spiritual place (for lack of a better term, but you know what I mean, right?), but I couldn't think of one there (until later). The moment I have chosen to write about didn't even happen in the same state. But it was. Spiritual. And it has been followed by similar spiritual moments throughout my whole life, and when those moments are missing from my life, I don't feel quite whole.

Are You Bored Yet? I am not sure that I am going to come away from this with a "spiritual autobiography," as she claimed, because to me that should include the questions in addition to the certainties. But I think I will at least have a clearer idea of when I feel most spiritual and will be able to explain it to other people. Better than I'm doing now. Hopefully...

Oh, hey! I Changed My Alias

noreply@blogger.com (bel) — Wed, 28 Oct 2009 14:24:00 +0000

I'm not Mommy's Nintendo anymore. I chose that name for a purpose (so PSP would know who I was), but now I'm just gonna be me. So you know.

To Answer a Question

noreply@blogger.com (bel) — Tue, 20 Oct 2009 21:17:00 +0000

The Grandpa Asked "Are you doing NaNoWriMo?"

It Didn't Work Last Year I thought about it. I got a little more written last year during the month of November, but I got nowhere near the 25,000 words they encourage you to write. So maybe I'll commit to write but not to track my words...

Besides Starting Thursday, I will be working on another less fictional and more personal writing project that I will probably be filling you in on as it progresses.

How About You? Have you got 25,000 words to get out during the month of November? If you're doing NaNoWriMo, leave a comment and we'll follow and encourage you!

Natural Remedies and The Crud

noreply@blogger.com (bel) — Fri, 16 Oct 2009 23:09:00 +0000

So it turns out that adrenalin and sheer will power are enough to keep a cold at bay for at least 2 weeks. For the last 2 weeks of rehearsal before the Follies, I was ignoring something. It caused me to wake up with full-fledged laryngitis one morning, from which I recovered before rehearsal, and had me singing in the tenor range the morning of the show, but all the happy-energy chemicals one produces when in the presence of like-minded friends doing something incredibly fun made it possible for me to sing in the right octave well before the show. I refused to be sick and so I wasn't.

Unfortunately my life has returned to the same old same old (for the moment) and my adrenalin supply seems to be waning and so now I am sick. And the stupid virus is apparently ticked off about having to wait. But no fever. So no flu. Just The Crud.

For the Love of God (or the deity of your choice)...

noreply@blogger.com (bel) — Thu, 15 Oct 2009 16:08:00 +0000

Huh? What's That? I'm a UU*. One thing UUs do well is make fun of our faith. Or lack of faith, in some cases. Like this joke:

Q: How do you run a UU out of town?
A: Burn a question mark on their lawn.

When I told my Catholic friend that I was going to a church where you don't have to believe the same thing as everyone else to join (or anything at all, really), he asked, "What's the point?" Which is a good question. And the UU answer is that the point is whatever you want it to be.

So? What Is the Point? For me, it's about fellowship. You might remember I signed up for a theory class and also joined the choir (normally I'd insert a link to a previous post here, but I'm feeling lazy so you should click the tag that says "church" if you're interested in reading more about it - although the link probably would have taken less time than typing all of this). The theory class ended and the choir turned out to not be quite what I hoped for, though, so my plan to make musical friends at church fizzled. But then I saw a short paragraph in our monthly newsletter about a little production called "Follies."

I Am Braver than I Thought, Apparently Getting involved in Follies required me to contact a person I had never met before. This is something I'm not good at. Although, I'm better at it than I was before therapy (click the "PhD" tag). Thank goodness he gave his email address and I didn't have to call him or this post would not be happening. I sent him an email and he called me back and said that all the parts had been cast but that he could write me a few lines in scene III and I could be in the opening and closing numbers and could I come to rehearsal the next day. Whew! Three lines and a part in the chorus. Very manageable.

Really, I Carried the Whole Show I think I was possessed at my first rehearsal because I raised my hand when he asked if anyone wanted to sing a solo. And at the next rehearsal I volunteered to take over a part he was thinking about cutting from the show because someone had dropped out. And the next day he called to say that someone else had dropped out and could I take their part too, which required him to rewrite scene III again so I wasn't talking to myself. So I went from 3 lines and singing in the background to a bunch of lines and gags and dancing in more than half of the scenes and a solo "hula dance" at the end. Plus, I bowed 3rd from the last and got a great big cheer. And if you ask someone who saw the show about Zuzu? They'll know who you mean. 'Cause Zuzu is awesome.

I Am Zuzu, Hear Me Giggle What I discovered doing this (SRO, btw) show, where I made more than a dozen new friends in one fell swoop and became a familiar face to people I've never met before (like the dad who I still don't know who said what a good job I did when he saw me on my way out of Lulu's school this morning), is that I love audiences. LOOOOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOOOOVE audiences. I may have already known that, but I had certainly forgotten in the past 15 or so years. I was so comfortable in this highly amateur but still well-written and produced production. I relished hanging with the cast at late-evening rehearsals and giving input and making jokes and planning new gags. Rehearsals are a small sort of audience experience, where you can try out your stuff. And the night of the show, after the sanctuary had FILLED UP, when the opening number ("Dueling Banjos" played on banjo & tuba) was finished and I heard them for the first time, the crowd, the applause and the cheers, it felt so right that I almost cried. But that would have ruined my entrance so I didn't. Because I'm a professional. So to speak. From there it was a whirlwind of excitement and laughter and music and fun and energy, and I barely remember it. But in a good way. The way a person might barely remember saying their wedding vows or 18 hours of labor or other such powerful stuff. It was perfect.

What's Next? I didn't actually get to see most of the show because we only had 2 full run-throughs and I was on stage or backstage most of the time, but someone is making a video and we're all going to get together and watch it soon. I am not-so-patiently waiting for that little party. And I've made clear that they can call on me whenever they need someone to participate in anything creative. Or in anything, really. Like writing the Follies next year. And maybe I'll try choir again since I know some people now. And other things... If I can continue on this brave and rewarding path...

Go me!

*Unitarian Universalist

Katie Says:

noreply@blogger.com (bel) — Wed, 14 Oct 2009 15:38:00 +0000

I know you don't know Katie (she's in Lulu's class this year), but I had to share this with you.

I was sitting with Lulu and Katie and some other kids while they ate lunch the other day and we were talking about names and I was trying to get Lulu to say her full name so I said the only thing that seems to work, "What do I call you when you're in trouble?"

Katie piped up then with this: "When I'm in trouble, my mother calls me 'terrorist'!"

Oh, Where to Start... Where to Start...

noreply@blogger.com (bel) — Wed, 14 Oct 2009 01:52:00 +0000

Did you miss me? Oddly, while I've been away, I have found me. More on that later. For now, here's what my Facebook status says tonight:

[MN] was totally confused when the girls and I got home from [Pete]'s piano lesson this evening and found [Husbandguy] cleaning the kitchen. I had asked him to take care of dinner because whatever virus had been stalking me last week is finally catching up (I made it wait until after Follies), and the first thing he said was, "There is a showing at 6." I couldn't understand why he was thinking about going to a movie! What movie? And what about dinner? It was 5:00 when we got home. And what about [Lulu]? Was he thinking we'd take her? She had fallen asleep (hard) in the car so was he just thinking he and [Pete] would go? It had been so long since we'd shown our house that it didn't occur to me that he meant potential buyer was coming to look at it! Anyway, fingers crossed... It's not too late to postpone the piano tuner yet so I doubt this is the one...

To catch you up, the Follies is what I'm going to tell you more about later, our house is still for sale and we haven't shown it in about a month, and I had been waiting to call the piano tuner because I didn't want to get it tuned and then move it and have to get it tuned again right away but it was almost torture to play it so I called him on Monday and he's coming next week so if we do get an offer from this buyer, I still have time to postpone the tuning and not pay twice, thus preventing the cosmic practical joke. Also, that is too many characters for a fb status so half of it is in comments (just in case someone clever wants to call me on that...).

Welcome back, MN!

LL Says:

noreply@blogger.com (bel) — Fri, 04 Sep 2009 23:06:00 +0000

HG sent Lulu to look for something in her room and she ~~yelled~~ screamed at him that she couldn't turn the light on, and he said, "Is that going to help?" and she said, more calmly, "No. But you are getting up," which was true. He was on his way to turn on the light. Ah! Fine and consistent parenting in action.

Abby

noreply@blogger.com (bel) — Wed, 19 Aug 2009 14:34:00 +0000

Hey! Who's in Charge Around Here Anyway? Husbandguy doesn't think this is as funny as I do, but it's easily corrected so I'm enjoying laughing about it. Abby isn't sure whether she or HG is more dominant in our little "pack." On Monday, after he got home from work, great big HG had some trouble from our less-than-3-pound-puppy. She was doing this move near, not on, his feet that he didn't think girl dogs do (but they do) and which is an attempt to prove to the movee that the mover is more dominant. I think it's hilarious! The tiniest living creature in our house thinks she just might have more pull than the largest living creature in our house. HG, like I said, doesn't think it's as funny as I do. Yesterday I had him give her her dinner, and I am encouraging him to feed her and give her treats whenever the opportunity arises so hopefully the question in Abby's tiny puppy brain will be answered zippity quick. She didn't do it yesterday...

The Second Grossest Poop Experience I've Ever Had This morning, Abby correctly moved her bowels in the right place and everything, and when I was fumbling for her little puppy jerky treat, she turned and basically swallowed her... um... movement in one gulp. EW! SERIOUSLY?! EW!! The vet said to put meat tenderizer on her food and that would make her poop taste bad and she would stop, but I didn't have any meat tenderizer until I went to the grocery store yesterday so hadn't had a chance to try it and... EW!! SERIOUSLY?! Obviously I didn't give her the puppy jerky. And I did spike her food with MT this morning. I had suspected that she might be one of those dogs because of the way she was really, really interested in her poo, but I hadn't seen her actually do it. I wonder, though, if she's done it and we just didn't see because she didn't seem to be pooping much and her breath yesterday was very, very sour. Still, EW! But also, we love her and will fix it.

Color Abby's breeder thinks she's actually going to be a creamy tan color when she is all grown up. Right now, her fur on her back is creamy tan near her skin with black tips so she looks black unless she's ruffled. Does anyone know? Will she eventually lose the black. I don't care what color she ends up being. I'm just curious. HG won't speculate with me about it. He thinks it's a waste of time...

Catch Up

noreply@blogger.com (bel) — Mon, 17 Aug 2009 18:26:00 +0000

Lost in Translation At the veterinarian on Friday, the girls and I were waiting in the waiting room (as opposed to the bathroom, right?) and a lady came in with the scruffiest little poodle mix dog. His name was Ziggy. He was the cutest ugly dog I've ever seen in person. When the receptionist asked Ziggy's mom what was wrong with Ziggy, I could have sworn Ziggy's mom answered, "He's got boogers coming out his ass." I was shocked! Alarmed, really, that she would be so blunt, especially since there were 2 small children in the room with us (Pete and Lulu). I hoped they hadn't heard, or at least hadn't understood, her. But then the receptionist said, "Ziggy's got boogers coming out of his eyes? We'll have to do something about that!" Jeez, lady! Don't confuse me like that! I've only lived in this city 16 years. How can I be expected to understand the accent?!!

Wait, MN. Why Were You at the Vet? So you're probably wondering why we were at the vet, right? Because last you knew we didn't have any pets. I could tell you that we were just visiting, for old-time sake. But that would be a lie. Remember we were Eagerly Expecting something? Well, it came. And it's wonderful and fuzzy and... Oh! Just see for yourself!!

Her name is Abby. She's a dog. A maltipoo, to be precise. And she's teeny-tiny. Husbandguy wanted us to get a cat, but I wasn't interested in the cat hair and claws so I got us a cat-size dog. She weighs 2 pounds right now. Pete's a little afraid of her. Mostly because she's unpredictable and kind of mouthy, like most puppies, but she's a sweetie and follows both girls all around so I think Pete will get over it pretty quickly. So now ~~we're~~ I'm potty training and teaching her her name and getting her comfortable in her "room," which is our bathroom with a gate across the door. So far, so good. She's been here almost 4 days and has us pretty well trained, meaning she only has potty mistakes when we're not watching...

So there you go. That's what's new. And also, we've had pretty good traffic through our house. Even though it feels like sometimes our house is more on a tour than on the market, we're still hopeful...

Wednesday

noreply@blogger.com (bel) — Wed, 12 Aug 2009 23:13:00 +0000

I love the day
Gray.

We move the plants
From under the gable,
Watch the rain glance
Off the leaves, not able
To find the dusty,
Dry crust
Of soil below.
"It was your turn to water, you know."
"I am."

The sky
Moves by
On gray days.
Flowing,
Blowing
Fluffy puffs
Of laundry lint
With just a hint
Of denim
In them.

Pete Says:

noreply@blogger.com (bel) — Fri, 07 Aug 2009 13:52:00 +0000

The other day, Pete was looking for her black pants in a pile of laundry I was folding. When she found them, she noticed a little bit of grey fuzz on one leg. She dropped them back into the pile like they were slimy and this happened:

Pete: Ew!
MN: What's wrong? Oh, that's just lint.
Pete: It's yucky!
MN (brushing lint off pants leg): It's just a little lint from the dryer. See? It's coming off.

Pete (looking for something else to wear): I don't look good in lint.

Waiting

noreply@blogger.com (bel) — Tue, 04 Aug 2009 10:47:00 +0000

Is It Just Me? I keep getting this feeling like I'm forgetting something that I was supposed to do. But when I really pay attention to what I'm feeling, I realize that it's actually more a feeling of constantly waiting.

Eagerly Expecting A week from this coming Friday something very nice is supposed to happen, but that's all I'm going to say for now because I don't want you to judge me until it's been done. I know you don't know what I'm talking about, but that's kind of the point. And if you do know what I'm talking about, shhh.

Anxiously Anticipating Maybe this makes me a bad mom, but I am going to admit that I am looking forward to school starting. It's not just that I am ready for my girls to be gone from the house for several hours and not be constantly fighting with each other or pestering me to turn on the TV. Also, school starting means PTA and volunteering and SOMETHING ELSE TO DO. I think maybe I need a job. I'm glad we don't home school.

Suspensefully Supposing I am always waiting for the scheduling agency to call and tell us we have to leave our home for a couple of hours so someone can show it to its next owners. That hasn't happened nearly as much as it should be. Maybe it will happen more after the broker open house. Our agent promised a free bottle of wine to the first 6 agents who arrive. Hopefully, then, we'll get at least 6...

Finally Finished On the other hand, we got our own computer back yesterday, after more than a month of it being held hostage by some guy in the tiny town where Poppop lives to be "fixed." Again. After he fixed it wrong the first time.

I am hoping that this means that you will be hearing from me more often. Thank you.

Phooey!

noreply@blogger.com (bel) — Sun, 02 Aug 2009 20:49:00 +0000

First... Thank everyone for the help with our showing on Tuesday. It went so well that they immediately scheduled a second showing on Saturday. Tuesday was the wife, and Saturday was her bringing her husband by to show him what she'd found. Cool! We made the list!

So... I thought about asking for your positive energy again on Saturday but decided not to since I've been a terrible blog-friend, barely posting, rarely reading, never commenting. It felt like I was using you. I didn't like it. I was afraid you wouldn't like it. And also we had another first-time showing scheduled for Saturday. It looked like a potentially really great day.

We cleaned up and cleared out... We spent the afternoon with Moomie, who kept apologizing that she didn't have anything for me to do, but I was enjoying the company that is so pleasant and so rare for me during the summer and didn't mind at all. I showed her how to play Farmville on Facebook...

But then... I called home to check our messages after the 2 showings were scheduled to be over, and... sigh... the second showing had canceled. They didn't even come back at all. I don't know why. Maybe they found the perfect house among one of the few they saw before ours. Maybe the lack of extra energy had a muffling effect on the brilliance that is the life-to-be in this house. Maybe St. Joseph's feet need to be buried more than just by mulch (he's all the way up to his ankles in dirt - I just couldn't get any deeper). I don't know. I just don't know. It was discouraging, though.

'Sokay, tho The other showing did happen. I know because I left a dozen chocolate chip cookies on a plate on the (brand new, super cool) range, and when we got home there were only 8 left. We haven't heard anything about that, but it was just yesterday and today is Sunday so I'm not concerned or anything. And also, the house has only been listed for 10 days and this is only the second weekend we've been on the market and our agent has a broker open house scheduled for later this week and 2 showings in 10 days is pretty good in this market I think.

Still... It would be nice if this is a unexpectedly short experience rather than a tediously long one.

Would You Do Me a Favor?

noreply@blogger.com (bel) — Mon, 27 Jul 2009 23:32:00 +0000

Hey.

Could you send some positive energy our way mid-morning tomorrow (Tuesday)?

Someone is coming to see our house.

St. Joseph is buried in the flower bed, the kitchen is spotless and uncluttered, the bird feeder is and will be full (of seeds and birds), the flowers in the front haven't given up yet, and the porch and shutters are freshly painted, so hopefully we won't need too much of a boost, but if you get a moment, would you help us out?

Thanks.

MFI*

noreply@blogger.com (bel) — Mon, 27 Jul 2009 11:21:00 +0000

Warning Prepare yourself for a supremely boring post.

Where Have You Been? I am sorry I have been absent from the blogosphere. I hope you haven't abandoned me. I've been a little busy. Just a little...

On the Market We're selling our house. We spent last week (with Nana and Poppop's help) making it look like a model home. Well, as much as a house lived in by a family of 4 can look like a model home. We did a fantastic job, too. Our house looks awesome. Now if only someone would come look at the awesomeness...

Our Next Home Yesterday we spent some time looking at neighborhoods on the other side of town. I have been hesitant to actually look at houses because I didn't want to find the perfect one and not be able to get it since we still have to sell our house, but there is this one neighborhood that several homes for sale sort of in the area we are considering, and on the map it looks like it's right next to the highway (it is) and we wanted to see what effect that had on the neighborhood (just a little noise). While we were over there, we looked at another neighborhood nearby that we liked better (it has sidewalks!) and walked through a couple of open houses and really liked one and want it and now need our house to sell ASAP because the agent said they're taking the one we like off the market next week if they don't get any offers.

That's That See? Boring. I told you.

A Sad Off-Topic Remember my friend Dawn's puppy Cosette? She apparently has a liver defect and isn't going to make it. I am very sad about that. Poor puppy.

Anyway, I'll try to do better about writing now that we're done cleaning out the house. It would help if Poppop's crappy computer guy would give us our computer back.

*Missing From Internet

Pete Says:

noreply@blogger.com (bel) — Tue, 14 Jul 2009 11:18:00 +0000

Yesterday, while wandering through the "mall" that connects the "tall buildings!" downtown (or uptown depending on who you ask), Pete noticed one of those doors that goes round and round and said, "I want to go through the EVOLVING door!" We let her take a turn all the way around, but I honestly didn't think she seemed any more evolved when she came out than she was when she got in. Oh well...

And then? There were these pigs? And they all had wings!

noreply@blogger.com (bel) — Mon, 13 Jul 2009 12:44:00 +0000

Clean? Really? Nuh-uh! I should have taken a "before" picture because the "after" photo is way more impressive if you know what it was like... um... before. Let me try to paint you a picture instead. Close your eyes. NO! Wait! Don't do that. That won't work. First, read and memorize this description and then close your eyes. See how there is carpet on the floor, all around the bed, even under the window? Imagine, if you can, that you cannot see the carpet. Instead what you see everywhere is one big pile of dolls and paper and blankets and animals and books and teenytiny toys. In some places, the pile is 2+ feet deep. Now imagine that the carpet has been MIA for weeks, no, for months. I had stopped going in there, really. Since I couldn't get to the bed, Pete hadn't had sheets on her bed in weeks. I gave her the sheets and told her I'd help her put them on if she cleaned up enough for me to get to the bed. See now? It's all made up. See? And it only took about 3 hours of work to find the carpet!

Buried Treasure We found all kinds of stuff in there. Pete's been complaining that she doesn't ever have any pencils to write with. We found a shoebox full. One at a time, we found them and put them into the shoebox. We found raisins and lollipops and ew. They have all been thrown away and the no-food-in-your-room rule has been reiterated. Speaking of throwing away, we found 2 kitchen-size trash bags full worth of trash.

What Happened? So why the sudden change? After months of living among the mess, why did Pete decide now that her room needed to be cleaned? This: Husbandguy and I bought the Hannah Montana Season 3 Soundtrack and put it on a high shelf in our closet and told Pete she could have it if she cleaned her room. That's not exactly a bribe, right? Because we probably would have gotten it for her anyway at some point. But it was her idea to actually do it. She got up yesterday morning and said, "Mom? Would you help me clean my room today?" and I said yes and then we sent HG and Lulu away and dove in. When we finished, Pete wasn't all give-me-my-CD-now like I thought she'd be. She just seemed satisfied that we'd finished her room. In fact, it was several hours before she even asked for it.

Basking Each of us, Pete, HG, Lulu, and I, have found ourselves wandering around in Pete's room, enjoying the clean just because we can. Pete's pretty proud of herself (I am too) and looked a lot better rested when she emerged this morning than she has all summer. Who knows how long the clean will last. I'm going to try to remind her to put her things away, but it's really up to her.

Comments from People Who Saw the "Before"
the Grandpa said: "That can't be her room!"
Moomie said: "Good thing you took a picture!"

A Meme

noreply@blogger.com (bel) — Thu, 09 Jul 2009 22:08:00 +0000

Septembermom did not tag me for this so I stole it (and I am not taking it personally that she didn't tag me since I've been terrible about posting...).

The Rules for this meme:

1. Respond and rework. Answer the questions on your blog. Replace one question that you dislike with a question of your invention, and add one more question of your own.

2. Tag other people.

What is your current obsession? Cosette. She is all I can think about. I can't wait for Dawn to send more photos. Next week she'll be big enough for us to go and see her in person. Aw! I can't wait!!

What are you wearing today?
My comfy old shorts with purple paint stains (that the guy at the pottery place said would come out when Pete accidentally painted me but which didn't) and a hole where Howie's claw caught them. Also my blue 3/4-sleeve shirt that I love almost as much as my stripey 3/4-sleeve shirt.

What’s for dinner?
Not sure yet. The girls had sandwiches of their choice, but I'm waiting for Husbandguy to get back from Pete's swimming lesson and we'll eat together.

What would you eat for your last meal?
Hmm... That's a tricky one... Would it include meat? Probably not. Probably something southwestern flavored with black beans and cheddar cheese. And chocolate cake, moist and dark with little or no icing, for dessert.

What relaxes you the most?
I had a funny answer, but it might raise alarms. It has to do with a prescription my neurologist gives me when I'm on steroids. Actually, it is accurate to say that Xanax relaxes me the most, but not the most often. That honor would go to reading, I think. Or a quiet house with no conflict...

If you could go anywhere in the world for the next hour, where would you go?
Maine. On the beach. With my notebook.

Which language do you want to learn?
Spanish. Definitely Spanish. Then I could talk to the neighbors. And anyone else who speaks Spanish but not English.

What do you love most about where you currently live?
Our next-door neighbors, even though we can't talk to them without an interpreter (something thankfully usually available in the form of a grandchild). I am on a mission to move to a bigger ~~kitchen~~ house in the very near future and wish I could take them with us.

What style is your current home decorated in?
Early Boarding House. This is a term I heard from someone when I was younger (Moomie, if it was you, take credit in the comments, okay?) and it is appropriate, I think.

If you were a time traveler what era would you live in?
I would want to go to the future and see how everything works out. Far enough into the future that some of the big questions have been answered.

What is your favorite color?
Blue. I am a big fan of just about any color, but blue is the best.

What is your favorite piece of clothing in your own wardrobe?
The shorts I mentioned above. They are comfy and fit just right.

What were you doing ten years ago?
I was still technically a newlywed (1.5 years) and enjoying my 20's. No kids. No curfew. *sigh*

If you had $300 now, what would you spend it on?
Cosette. Shhh...

What are you going to do after this?
Put Lulu in a bubble bath and finish folding the laundry that I washed on Monday and Tuesday (don't judge me!). I might write a little if I am inspired.

What are your favorite films?
I really, really like "Ever After." Maybe that's cheesy, but I'm a sucker for Cinderella. Oh! Also I love "Cinderella." And "The Many Adventures of Winnie-the-Pooh." And I loved those movies even before I had daughters. I can't think of any grown-up movies right now.

Your favorite books?
My 2 most favorite books of all time are "Little Women," which my dad introduced me to when I was in the 2nd grade and "A Prayer for Owen Meany," which I discovered on my own as a result of raiding my oldest brother's bookshelf. He didn't have that book, but he had a bunch of other ones by John Irving and I had to have more! (Do you want those books back, by the way, Big Brother?)

Do you collect anything?
I used to collect elephants and still have an elephant collection and welcome new elephants as gifts, but I don't actively collect them on my own at the moment. Oh, but I do collect recipes. And then I don't follow them...

What makes you follow a blog?
Humor, good writing. I also follow the blogs of people I know personally, which usually also include humor and good writing, which says something about the circles I move in, maybe.

What was the most enjoyable thing you did today?
I had a veggie sausage on a mini bagel for breakfast. It was kind of downhill after that, unfortunately.

Ann's Question:What makes you comment on a blog?
If something in a post really strikes me, I usually leave a comment. I also like to leave comments every now and then to encourage bloggers I enjoy to continue blogging.

Amy's Question:What is your favorite thing to do when you have some free time?
Writing, reading, baking. Not in that order. Not sure what the order would be, though...

Tonya's question:What is a talent you wished you had?
I wish I knew more about decorating. It would be nice to put a name to my tastes and be able to find more things that appeal to me.

Gena's question:As you may know, I am all about "Serene Moments", so what is your "Serene Moment"?
I am woefully short on "Serene Moments" these days.

Noelle's question: If you could go to heaven who would you see, and why?
My grandparents. I miss each and every one of them and don't feel like I learned as much from them as I should have.

Vickie's question: Who is your favorite actor?
Oh, I don't know. Oh yes I do! It's Lulu. She is SOOOOO dramatic!!

Kelly's question: What was your favorite subject in school? I really enjoyed my language classes. English, Spanish, and Latin. It was fun to learn the history of the languages and their literature.

My Question: What do you want to be when you grow up? Or if you've already achieved that goal, what was it? I would like to be a published author. I think I'd like to see my children's fiction published, but even getting this most recent short story in a journal or something would count. I'm not trying very hard to achieve my goal, yet. Guess I should grow up...

Do I have to tag someone, even if I stole the meme? I guess I should. I'll tag Princess Sparklepants, ...45+aA, and Mommy T. You know, if you guys want to...

And if there's time, I might even finish it!

noreply@blogger.com (bel) — Sun, 05 Jul 2009 23:52:00 +0000

It's Like It's Writing Itself! So there's this story in the writer part of my brain, and it keeps on writing even when I don't have my notebook, which is really inconvenient! But I know that it's really a story, the story, because I can remember and write down later what gets written when I am tablet-less. I am concerned, though, that I won't have the time for writing that I had this weekend. We spent the weekend at Husbandguy's parents' house, and I just secluded myself to write when I got tired of being The Mom, but tomorrow it's back to all the usual stuff, which doesn't include writing. *sigh*

Not to Bring You Down - I will find time, though, because I suspect that this story is coming from the steadily growing puddle of discontent that surrounds me, which I will address at another time, and since I don't see that evaporating any time soon, I am certain that the story will continue to flow forth until it is finished. I guess I will just need to take my notebook to the dentist and the zoo and piano lessons so I don't miss any of it.

Now for Your Thoughts: This is the first paragraph:

"Mom! Answer your phone!" the voice of a 4 year-old girl called out. The command repeated 2 times before she got to her cell phone and answered it. She had considered changing the ring tone to something less personal but had just never done it.

So? Do you want to keep reading? I think you should, but I'm the author and that's kind of like how parents are supposed to think their kids are all sunshiny and stuff, right? Are you bored by the beginning? Or would you be willing to try out the next paragraph? And the next? Want to know who's calling "her"? What do you think? If it helps any with your decision, this story is not about my life. Except that the main character... Well, you'll have to wait until I finish it...

A First, of sorts... I would like to be able to finish this one. I think it might be worthwhile, maybe even publishable. I think this because, as I am writing I am thinking about the fact that my first draft is very rough. I never, never ever, ever think about editing. Everything I write is "good enough" in the first draft, in the raw. Not this. My rough draft is so rough I'm looking for my emery boards right now. But also I'm writing it out longhand so the editing will have to wait until the story is finished and I'm ready to create the digital copy. I am hoping this will help contribute to the actual completion of this project, something I'm not known for...

Time Off: To finish it, I think I'm going to need to get away from my life. Spend some time as Not the Mom. Blasphemy, I know, from The Mom, but also I would like to be The Writer, and right now the 2 roles don't work well together. It sucks. Seriously. So Meme and TG, you may be getting a call from me in the next couple of days about your weekend plans and whether me, by myself, writing furiously in my little marbled notebook at your kitchen table or on your balcony-thing would interfere with them. Just a heads-up!

Wish Me Luck! Seriously. Just wish me luck...

De-Evolving

noreply@blogger.com (bel) — Sun, 05 Jul 2009 00:24:00 +0000

Remember I mentioned before that I believe cleaning is not good for a person; I mentioned it a couple of times. Turns out it might be hazardous to your intelligence too. I realized yesterday, while I was cleaning, that my lips were dry and I was very thirsty. And then I realized that I always get that way when I'm cleaning. Then I realized that I was breathing almost exclusively through my mouth. And isn't "mouth-breather" a term that a person might apply to someone they felt was less evolved than everyone else? So I'm not going to clean any more (except washing and drying but not folding clothes) because I don't want you to call me that.

*Sorry I've been MIA recently. It's been nuts since school ended. I promise to do better and hope you don't remember this post from a while back...

Musical Me

noreply@blogger.com (bel) — Sat, 27 Jun 2009 20:53:00 +0000

Enough Already with the Nostalgia! You're probably tired of my "I used to be..." posts. Although, I haven't done one in a while... So here. Here's another. I used to be known for my musical ability. I was considered a musical person. I played nearly all the instruments in the band (I think saxophone was the only one I never attempted any version of), I took piano lessons for years and years, I sang in the chorus - even made it to All-State, and at church, I was in the voice and handbell choirs and did many piano or flute or voice solos. Ah, the good old days. When it wasn't unusual to hear things like, "I'm/We're singing/playing-the-[instrument] at/for [something]. Can you accompany me/us?" or "Our tuba player graduated. Now what will we do for the bass line? Oh, maybe you could..." "You" meaning me, of course. *wistful sigh*

Gone! It's All GONE! *tears hair* But then I moved here. What's the musical difference between NH and NC, you ask? I dunno. But for me it's big, apparently. Because here I am not known as a musical person. I'm known as a good baker, the person who increased PTA membership by 75% this past year, the mom of 2 brilliant and beautiful girls, and to some extent, a writer, but musical? Oh? You played the piano? Hmm. That's *snore* interesting... My one musical friend moved away years ago (and now is moving even FARTHER AWAY >:-P), and our piano stood neglected for many, many, many years. Until Pete started lessons. Yay for Pete! The poor piano was soooo lonely.

Slowly but Surely... Remember that I joined the church to join the choir. I think I mentioned that before (click the tag that says "church" below to read all about it). And then I decided not to join the choir because I don't want to have to go to the late service ever. That's too much of my Sunday away from the family. But then my need for music wasn't met by joining the church like I hoped it would be. So when I saw in our newsletter that the choir director was offering a 3-week music theory and sight singing class, I signed up. A little review would be a good thing, I felt, and just maybe...

Teacher's Pet? In high school, my band director invented an award just for me: The Most Instruments Played Award. I was honored. I earned it. I had talent. He knew it. I have been, now, to exactly 1 theory class and have already made a name for myself. We introduced ourselves and talked about our musical background, and the choir director seemed maybe a little impressed by mine. That felt good. And then he started the class, and all of the sudden I was again the Most Musical of People. The first class was, of course, very basic theory: note values, major and minor, key signatures, etc. Stuff I remember. By the end of the class, he was asking questions for us to answer and would say to me, "I know you know this," and then he'd call on me only if no one else answered. It was cool. Maybe I don't need to take this class... But he promised to cover chords and everything later, which I do need to review, so that will be good, and I know I can use practice sight-singing. And maybe he'll ask me to help out with the music in some way some Sunday.

Plus, it feels good. To be Most Musical again. Oh, and I stayed for choir practice...