Flu season

I don't have it yet.  It is being forecasted all around the world.  At least 40 to 50% of us will get it.
The Swine Flu (imagine a demon smiley face here).
Oh, Oh Oh, Wait!  My bad!  It is N1H1!
I am going to be tarred and feathered by the pork industry for that little mishap.

Back to the beginning.  I don't have it yet.  Alot in my area and at my work don't have it yet.  But some are already mentally preparing for the worst.  Some teachers have a multitude of antibacterial solutions in their classrooms.  Students panic over the least little thing.  Oh My God!  I sneezed!  This is the beginning!  What ever shall I do?

Really, that is how some are reacting.  It is a crisis situation. 
Wait a minute.  That is how a lot of people in this world have been conditioned to react.  After the past 8 years of the fearmongers telling us every day if it is a code yellow or red or puce, that we have terrorists in our midst, that no one can be trusted if they question authority such as it is.  Blowing the flu out of proportion is just part of the daily process of life. 
If we let it be.

Of course, in writing this I will probably get the flu.  I will have to stay home and hope that someone catches the bus that hit me.  Then with all good hope and faith, I will get better.
We mostly do. 
The fearmongers will have to find something else....
Let me get my tinfoil hat.

Fixing Things

The internet in our house went down today.  First it was the provider that was not working correctly and then when Tech Support (always state that in upper case, it makes them feel better) got things up and running, then the router crashed.  And, of course, it needed to be fixed. 
Now.
Really.....
Now.
So off to the local Wal-Mart we did go (after a lovely dinner of Julia Childs' recipe of Roast Chicken, fried french bread [made by George] with fresh tomato bruschetta).  Looked around.  Said eeny-miney-mo and ended up with the latest and greatest router.  Brought that puppy home, read the directions (yes, all of them) and proceeded to install. 
It did not work.  I tried.  I tried.  I tried.
I got more that a little tense and then our oldest called.  She has the damndest timing. 
She knew she would be moving.  Putting stuff in storage and she and her son would stay with us.  She needs to go to school.  She needs to get her various licenses that will enable her to get a better job.  One that will help her provide for herself and son.  Cait is working really hard towards that end.  But she needs help.  Knows it and came to us.  So back to the beginning of the paragraph. 
She is moving.  Here.
Landlord called.  A nice guy.  Even as a landlord.  A nice guy. 
Said he was able to rent the house she is in.  Could she be out by Wednesday night of this week? 

Gee, mom.  I need to pack.  I need a storage unit.  I need to go to school. I need to move things. 

My first response was not productive.  Keep in mind I was tense from the computer situation.  The other siblings in the house wanted to use their computers.  George needed to write his column.  I just wanted to surf awhile.  So, my first response was to swear.  Loudly.  Not a rational, adult thing to do.  I went and took a bath.  Always a solution.
George came in a short time later.  Stated Cait and Chris were here and the young man was fixing the computer and internet problems.  I had the cables wrong.  I also had the thing rigged to go too fast. 
George told me to calm down.  To essentially stop overreacting.  My reply was for him to go. 

So things are fixed.  Cait and Chris are making arrangements for the move.  The other siblings are in their respective rooms, probably on their computers and George is writing.  The dogs have us in their sights and things are right in the world again.

Sort of.  I think I need to stop and  look around.  Maybe I need to go back out to the winery and sit and listen.  Maybe I need to get up in the middle of the night and just listen to night sounds.  Let that peace wash over me.  Meditation has never been high on the list for me.  But listening I can do.  The dogs and I can sit.  I can listen and they can protect. 

Saturday in the Park...

Ok, maybe not quite the Chicago tune, but it was a day in the country, at a winery, and a good one at that.
Kansas in August.  Should be hot, right?  Not today.  It was gorgeous!  High 70's, low 80's.  Light breeze.  A scent and feeling of Kansas at its best. 
We were celebrating an artist of note being in the area.  Promoting his work to be sure, but in doing so, he was celebrating Kansas.  Not the eastern part of the state which gets quite a bit of attention, but the country. 
I grew up in this area.  I choose to stay in this area.  I find so many parts really beautiful.  The winery captured that, for me, today.
I wish others could feel that way.  So many leave to find something to amuse themselves.  Hurrying here and there.  Not really slowing down to look.  To see what has been here all along. 
It isn't just Kansas either.  It could be anywhere.  The need to be entertained is so strong.  Stopping to listen, to watch, to sit and be.  Almost a lost in and of itself. 
As I sit and write this, I am in my living room with the windows opened.  Still the same light breeze and quiet of the town coming through the windows.  Not long ago I heard the sounds of the church bells chiming the quarter hour. 
What a peace.

Friday Night

We have 3 kids and now 1 grandson.  We love them all.  Probably lay our lives down for them.  Except for Friday nights. 
Date night.
Or, at the very least, time for the parental units without child intervention.  We feed them, we make sure primary needs are taken care of, then say (lovingly) "Leave us alone!"
Nice food.  Wine.  Movie.  Sitting in the pergola.  Watching stars.  Life is good.
So.  It is Friday.
Blog you later.

Being Grandma

I must admit to not liking the term "Grandma" at first.  Surely there was another term sounding better, younger, perhaps not so old as "Grandma".  Tried several out.  They sounded pretentious or worse just too cute for words.
My grandson is at the crawling, toddling, grunting and whooping stage.  All sorts of noises emanate from the boy.  Mostly with absolute glee. 
Today he had a joyous look when I walked into the room.  Shared a new found old toy with me.  In doing so, he gave a noise that sounded in the realm of grandma.  Maybe gma.  I will take it.
Grandma sounds pretty good.

Passports

George and I are getting passports.  I have only crossed a US border once before.  We crossed about 30 miles over the Canadian border.  Yeah.  Big stuff!
Guess where we have thought of going!  Canada!!  You now need a passport to cross.  Even to go maybe 30 miles over, see a waterfall, maybe a really big lake and come back. 
Homeland Security would have us believe Canada is harboring large amounts of domestic terrorists. 
Hmmm.  Maybe it is the other way around.  I am watching MSNBC.  Lots of talk about Cheney, the CIA under the Bush admin and even Sarah Palin in some wierd way connected to zombies.  Didn't really catch the full story on that one, but I did have to roll my eyes heavenward.  The woman's career is over (I hope) and to even bring on a remotely national scene is just plain silly. 
I digress.

Back to the passports. 
I have to have my picture taken.  I will go to passport heaven (Walgreens) and purchase a photo.  First week in September we will go to the courthouse in Great Bend and take the next steps (money in hand) to get the little book allowing us to cross those imaginary borders.
I don't know that we will ever do huge amounts of international traveling.  But we could!  That is the whole point.  We could if we wanted to.  The choice is there and it is ours.  That is a very cool freedom.

Happy Birthday

We celebrated a friend's 49th birthday today.  I had to laugh to myself.  I remember when he and I plus 2 other upperclassmen in high school got pulled into the principal's office because of Student Council election irregularities.  We had each been encouraging people to vote for our chosen candidates while running the voting booths.  Seems you are not supposed to do that sort of thing.
No one has told the people that in the Middle East.  Of course, getting pulled into the "office" there takes on a whole different meaning.
Happy Birthday Marty.

Dad

My dad died on December 29, 2008. 
There is orange juice on the love seat he helped buy (unbeknownst to him). 
I miss him.

Furniture

I blew up at my family tonight.  My limit had been reached and then some.  A chair and love seat I have had for only 2 months.  The first new furniture ever.  Someone upended a glass of orange juice on it.  Was going to peripherally clean and call it good.  I had a snit.  I cleaned the love seat.  The floor and the wall.  Pretty much talking loudly (very) the entire time.  I couldn't seem to get it through to them the importance to me.  Something I could call only mine.  Never before owned by anyone else.  Not bought at auction or garage sale or given out of kindness because something was breaking down.  Brand new.  I bought it with money left to me from my father's estate.  A last gift. 

It is only stuff.  I know that.  The snit was overreacting to a minor thing in the cosmos.  But no one seemed to really understand.  Hell, I don't know that I understand!

So I have to take the obligatory step back and see what was really going on.  The wussy liberal, understanding side of me. 

I have really enjoyed sitting in my front room on my new furniture the last 2 months.  Looking at colors that make me feel good.  A silent peace.  The orange juice or milk or whatever shouldn't take on the importance that it has.  The peace should still be there.  It will take a while to get it back.  Mostly because I don't understand how I lost it so completely.
It is just stuff.  Only furniture.  They didn't mean to....
Sigh.  I am tired. 

Saturday

Nothing was scheduled for the day.  A true rarity. 
George and I decided to take in a movie in the middle of the afternoon.  Julie & Julia.  A delight.  Most of the audience were middle aged women.  4 men included.  George was one of them.  Talk of all that glorious food and we had leftovers for dinner.  Practicality had to reign supreme.
I have to admit to conversations turning to food, politics or religion quite oftenaround here.  Food sustains us through the rest of the crap.  When things get tense at a dinner, we can always bring up menus.  Things we've had, what we would like to have.  Where people like to eat and why.  What are good memories?  That kind of thing.  Tensions ease.  I remember when my dad would start to get wound up about some problem going on in the world.  He would get louder as the conversation went on.  His eyebrows would start to come together and there would be this deep furrow on his forehead.  Marge would start to look worried and
one of us would have to interject some old dish of some sort.  Something his mother or grandmother would have made.  Subject would change to reminiscing and life would be better for all.  Especially dad.  It took him back to time where there were absolutes.  His mother and grandmother's cooking were absolutes for him.  No could compare.  I know a time when he said a meal of mine was just about the best he ever had, even the meals he had as a kid.  I wept.  I don't think he could have given me a better compliment.

Mothering

I watched and listened to two mothers today deal with their respective daughters' lives. Both made me cry.
A close friend of mine watched her 22 year old daughter go into a surgery for 3 ruptured discs in the girl's back. They had fought tooth and nail for insurance to pay for this surgery. The powers that be first said she was too young for the surgery. If they had their way, she would be disabled and addicted to pain medication until she was 60, if she made it that long. It took a third, objective party to come in and make a decision. The daughter is of strong will like her mother and will pull through, BY GOD! You just gotta know this kid.
The second mom is that of a 12 year old girl. The mother is so paranoid of the world and what it could do to her daughter, she is pulling her daughter out of school to "home school" her on the internet. There are times when this action is completely reasonable and justifiable. This is not one of the those times. This girl will not be given a chance to live. To breathe or to just be normal. Until her mother's death, this girl will not be allowed to live. Period.
This is wrong. Administration feels its hands are tied. No one individual feels empowered enough to take the risk and help this girl. Something has to be done. I just don't know what.
Any takers?

Round and round

George and I have to learn how to childproof the house all over again. The grandson is curious. OK, that is a good thing. Just not when he wants a cast iron sculpture and pulls it over on his head. We have to keep the door to the bathroom closed. Toilet paper is too expensive to be strewn all the over the floor and then shredded. I must admit, the first time was entertaining. Now it is just plain expensive. Child proofing latches need to be bought. Jugged water has to be placed somewhere inaccessible to the boy. The floor is clean but we are all getting a little water logged. My husband gets the worst of it. He is here. I am at work. Asher's mother has classes at the college and a nursing home for her CNA and other acronyms. The other kids have school. That leaves George. It is a learning experience for all of us. I just wonder who is teaching what.

Less than 48 and counting

Listening to the news and pundits today made me realize why some parents have been acting so incredibly paranoid of late. The out and out lies made by a religious and scared right would literally put the fear of God in anyone. It is as though people will be smited for thinking intelligent thoughts. Hell, they might be smited if they think!!

School starts in less than 48 hours. Kids are ready and parents are thinking about keeping kids in surgical masks lest their beloved prodigy might be exposed to germs, thoughts of an impure, liberal sort or maybe just the teenage public in general. Now there is abuse.

Next Generation

My 11 month old grandson pulled a small heavy. Aunt Fi and Grandpa were nearby. He had it done before they could get to him. Ash will be fine. Another badge of honor in the baby world. His mom is another story. She is worried someone will think she abuses him. Comes from when he rolled off the changing table several months ago. Going to the emergency room was traumatic enough. Being treated as though she was abusing her child because he had a bump on his head was quite another thing.

It is a very sad commentary when parents fear the bumps and bruises of everyday life will result in their child being removed. Good God, with that thinking, none of us would have lasted in our parents' homes. Nor for that matter, our own children.

Seeing and being seen

Tonight was the Ice Cream Social for high school/middle school staff and faculty. Tuesday will be the district chicken feed. All are expected to show for at least one and preferrably both. Families included.
No one knows what to expect from my family. We are the most liberal of the bunch and are not really afraid to tackle a situation at any time. We look. Could be fun. And in we go.
Plus free food. My son and husband think that is just the best thing ever. And fried chicken. My God, you would think the son had died and gone to heaven.
It is fun to watch others seeing my husband and I for the first time. He is 29 years older than I am. Alot of people are not sure what to think, let alone say. Neither of us are leary of being on a stage either. So let the comments come. Or at least the looks. One of us will chat. Just to allay fears that nothing "strange" is going on.
Well, at least not that particular minute.

Empty Nest? Hah!

Our oldest and her almost 11 month old son are moving back to the fold for a couple of weeks. Just until she can find a place that is nowhere near where she is living right now. Drugs invaded her work place and neighborhood. She does not want she or her son anywhere near that sort of evironment.

Understand we have a small house. A really small house. Two teenagers still live here. Sooooooo, it just became a little smaller. Can't say no to the young mother. The reasons are more than valid and she is really working towards becoming her own person and being able to take care of both herself and her son. And yet....

Extra child proofing is taking place. No glass out. And I collect glass. Some of the old toys have been put away. Just too old to play with.

The 17 year old aunt is having to clean up her room to make sure it is safe for a toddler as well. Oh my God! There it is! The silver lining to the not so hot situation. A clean bedroom! Hmmm. I can live with this.

Death and Parenting

So today I accompanied my oldest daughter, her son, her significant other and my second oldest daughter to a lunch/memorial service/something I still don't know what to call. The deceased in question was the 19 year old brother of my oldest's daughter's best friend. Died by shooting himself.
Yeah. That is indeed a tough one. The "lunch" was awkward but ok. The event at the cemetary... Well, let's just say, to be kind, was different. One brother could not come into the county where the lunch was held due to outstanding warrents for his arrest. The other brother only just started speaking again after learning of Izaak's death several weeks ago. The sister is trying to hold it together, we just don't know for how long. Mom was there because she wanted to get on with life having long ago given up trying to parent the oldest 3.
The cemetary had young 20 somethings and late teen somethings showing up and drinking to get drunk or had already become so. The brother absent at lunch, was there. Drunk with alot to say. Idolizing his younger brother for dying like a rock star. The mother left. The grandparents left. The aunt and uncle left as did some cousins. One grandmother knew what would happen and offered health concerns as a reason to not be there at all. No closure, no hope, no anything.
I pulled my crew away early on. The significant other said he felt as though the others were being disrespectful to the place, occasion and those who were already dead.
I had to agree.
I had to make my daughter understand the need for hope. Now, I am not going to get all religious here. Not necessarily my style. But there has to be hope. Things, whatever they are, will get better. Unfortunately, for this family, I can't say they will be any time soon. The dynamics are not good and have never been for as long as I can remember.
So again, somewhere, somehow, I have to interject hope.
So again, tomorrow, I will cook. Sounds funky, but that is what I will do. We feed the living, we love the living, we go on. God will go with us. God will feed us. We just have to do the work.