I'm back

It's nice to come home from vacation. And really shitty at the same time.

It was a good one. We went to the beach every day. Although there was a heat wave, we stayed in a house with central air.

I do have a lot to write about, but my 16 hour shift looms ahead.

The shitty part of vacation is going back to work. Especially when you are going through one of those cycles where you despise your job.

I have been through these cycles a million times and I know that I get through them and on the other side, I am fairly content.

But for now.."Fuck this" I think to myself as I haul myself off to the shower.

Wooo..I'm back..See you tomorrow, right?

In a Pickle

Sorry I haven't been around, but it is June.

School ends on the 21st and then comes a trip to the Shore.

Things will be much calmer after Friday.

I feel bad, and I hope my brother doesn't mind yet another one. I know he reads this from time to time.

But having Horst coming up first thing in the morning clad in short spandex asking me to go out to buy him a jar of pickles,

and the subsequent argument because he wouldn't specify the type of pickle I had to buy,

was just too funny not to share.

Have a terrific day!

Happy Father's Day!

One time, B was asked by somebody what he was going to get me for Mother's day.

He replied, "She's not my mother."

So I take that point of view right into Father's Day.

B gets nuthin from me. I make the kids make him cards.

But I did start a tradition last year, which is to bring him a cup of coffee in bed, then the kids and I climb into bed with him and make him watch this on the computer.

I am so, so disappointed that they no longer have the whole cartoon on you tube.

So here are two clips from the cartoon. Better than nothing I guess..

Happy Father's Day!

And Then There Were 5

I am not looking forward to picking my kids up from school today.

I took the kids last night for a nature walk on the Parkway next to my house.

I took V and then he was picked up by B who drove by to drop off G who had just come back from  a friend's house and wanted to join us in our search for ducklings.

Thankfully B showed up as V desperately needed to pee and we were thinking of scouting for an outside spot by that time.

With V, I spotted several green frogs and a pair of cedar waxwings.

With G, we spotted the frogs I saw before, 2 muskrats, a lone male duck and a fucking squirrel.

Don't you hate when you hear a rustle in the trees or bushes, you get all excited as to what it may be making those noises,

and there's the fucking squirrel with a look in it's beady eyes that says, "What?"

The best of all, we saw a mother ducks and her terribly, horribly and unbearably adorable babies

Here is a little video we took.

Last night, 6 ducklings were with their mother. 

This morning, I checked on them after walking the kids to school and there were 5. 

I looked around for #6, but there was no sign. 

I know how nature is. I know why ducks and other animals have so many babies, but it still made me sad.

I wished for a moment that places like the Parkway had benevolent spirits or creatures that looked out for little ducklings. 

But no, they are stuck trying to survive with a small blunt nosed mother to protect them and good camouflage. 

And a bit of luck I suppose. 

Both G and V are well versed in the ugly side of nature and death. They have had family members and pets die, they know in detail how animals are killed and processed before they hit the table. 

G wants to be a falconer someday..

But a missing little duckling is certainly not going to go over well. 

I hope the little guy just got lost.

A Brief Rant

I don't care who you are.

I don't care if you have saved 50 thousand Romanian orphans from a life of poverty and prostitution.

I don't care if you are Jesus, come back to Earth to save us all. Or The Dali Llama.

I don't care if you are the nicest, most considerate, best, best, best person in the whole wide world.

If you are a person who wears perfume for any sort of engagement that takes place in a small auditorium,

You are an asshole.

I went to G's ballet recital, and I was strategically placed in such a way, that I was surrounded by women wearing too much perfume.

I am allergic to most synthetic perfumes. Not to the point of anaphylaxis, but my eyes start to burn, my skin starts to itch and my nose plugs up.

I watched the first part of the performance with a piece of my collar up around my nose.

G's friend Iz, cruel child, wouldn't let me hold the stuffed animal she brought, up to my face as a makeshift air filter.

Happily, I received a paper towel along with the bouquet of flowers that I got for G during intermission.

I held that up to my face for the rest of the performance.

Next time I'll take an allergy pill before I go anywhere like that.

Or better yet,

I have this little pipe dream I entertained myself with during the worst of it. 

Keeping a gas mask in my purse for such moments and wearing it when needed, in the most nonchalant manner possible.

It will most likely never happen, but it gave some humor to a very uncomfortable situation.

The little girl who made G cry at ballet camp last year, screwed up on stage. I grinned hugely behind my wad of paper towels. 

See, it wasn't all bad.

Private Area

I am officially on the home stretch. I survived Special Olympics. I survived the dinner dance. Now it's on to ballet mayhem.

I will be sitting outside of a ballet studio for the next 2 days, actually for 1 more day. Then there is the recital. Then done.

I have made plans for V during this time.

Tonight he goes to a friend's house to play Dragon Age-aka Dungeons and Dragons. I love how my heart sings when I write that. I love how B's heart sinks a little when it's even mentioned.

My geek genes totally kicked the ass of his athletic genes. (The ones he claims to have-he is not that sporty-but likes to watch sports)

Saturday evening he goes to sleepover at his friend N's house. N is a girl. V has already stated to me on many occasions, that he is going to marry N.

Honestly, I know it's a little early in the game, but I do hope that happens. N is lovely, as are her parents, so it totally works for me.

We were on our way to get his allergy shots last night. In the car, he was talking about what he was going to bring to N's house for the sleepover.

He mentioned that he couldn't wait to show N his private area.

After I gained control of the car, which had swerved into oncoming traffic for a moment, I said breathlessly, with a large knot in my gut,

"What do you mean by private area?"

"It's a Port O John I built in MineCraft. It where I keep my diamonds."

I was relieved that his private area wasn't his private area-but still, what a weirdo.

Bye Lump

I had a greasy yellow lump excised from my right calf today.

The surgeon showed me-it was pretty gross.

I also learned something.

I learned that if you have the right insurance, and a large amount of greasy yellow tumors beneath your skin, having them removed can be as addictive as chocolate cake or getting another tattoo.

I went there to remove one and made plans to have 3 more removed from my forearm.

I don't know if I am giddy from excitement or from my body's reaction to being cut open.

It went well and I am well.

It has been a pretty good day.

I walked the kids to school along with a bunch of other kids and 2 friends.

I harvested a shit load of chamomile, which I will hang to dry before my numbing medication wears off.

and I just finished eating a homemade German chocolate cupcake.

Not too bad for this week.

Plan K

G asked me yesterday which I preferred; Plan A, Plan B, or Plan C.

We were driving back from the new bee spot. I was disappointed because when I arrived, I saw my host family out in the pool and from where I was parked-they looked to be having a very good time.

I didn't want to bust in and say, "Hey, I 'm about to open the beehives so watch out!' I decided to leave and come back another time.

It was poor planning on my part. Next time I will call ahead and have a specific time.

It has been an awful week. The past three weeks have been pretty awful. I know they could have been far worse-but they sucked mightily.

I am hoping that it will be ending. As they say, bad things happen in threes, so I am hoping for a better week.

Not that the week ended all that bad, in spite of not being able to go check the bees.

The weekend was good, thankfully. Exhausting, but good.

So I was sitting there with G, who was waiting for an answer.

My response was, "I always prefer Plan A, because that is my first choice. Plan B is usually fine and Plan C is usually somewhat acceptable. Unfortunately, I have been having to go with Plan K lately. Plan K usually sucks in some way."

I am thinking that I may need to start making better Plan A's, never mind B and C.

Just something that I think I will be meditating on for awhile.

And while you are out there-do a sun dance for me-I need to get into those beehives.

I'm Ok With The Asteroid 1

Sometimes I will see something or read something and find myself looking at the rest of humanity with disgust and disappointment.

If you were to run up to me at that moment and exclaim that an asteroid was coming right now to destroy the planet, I would nod my head and say, "Yup, that seems like a great idea."

Despite having kids and many loved ones, despite loving so many things about my life and this world, at these moments, I would be totally Ok with the asteroid.

This almost always happens when I am in Walmart.

 I read an article in National Geographic this week that made me wish for that asteroid.

It was about the trash problem on Mount Everest, of all places. 

It has become quite the thing to do, to climb Mount Everest. There are companies that will bring any asshole up to the peak, with or without experience. 

While there are many decent and serious climbers and companies that take people up, there are plenty  who are not. 

The mountain is now littered with the bodies of climbers who didn't make it, trash and piles of human excrement.

I'm assuming that due to extreme weather conditions, you can't just send a Port O John up the mountain, nor some person with a spiked stick and a bag.

You'd think that if you went through all the trouble and expense to get up the mountain, you would at least be respectful and clean up after yourself.

 But no. 

Mount Everest, also called Holy Mother by it's indigenous people, has a problem with people shitting all over it.

 I think of all the shit and trash on other smaller, less well known mountains.

Then I think of the trash blowing down my street and all over the Parkway.

Then I say, "I'm Ok with the asteroid."

A chance of a lifetime, to scale the highest peak in the world. Admire the breath taking views and vistas. Feel the accomplishment of a lifetime. Just be careful you don't step in shit.

One More Week

One more week and I will be officially finished with end of the year kid business.

Yesterday was Special Olympics, Wednesday I have to get Lyd ready for a dance and then next weekend is all about G's ballet recital.

Then I can breathe a short sigh of relief before I am stuck with them 24-7 for 2 months.

I have much to do before I have to go to work at 8 but I wanted to share a Von-ism to make your weekend a little more cheerful.

On the way back from Special Olympics yesterday (I had to drive back and forth to URI twice in a day) V and G were talking to me about their middle school plans.

G is hopefully going to get into a gifted program at an area school. I am working on the application and keeping my fingers crossed.

If she doesn't make it, it's off to Catholic school.

V has been struggling with maintaining focus while he is in class. Suddenly a lightbulb went off above my head.

"Hey V, you know if you don't do well in school and can't get into the gifted program" (btw, V is scary smart, his only problem is that he only tries when he feels like it), "You'll have to go to Catholic school, where they make you go to Mass every day."

V's very colorful response was, "Fuck that shit!"

I began to compose a letter to Father Augustine-the head priest about V's response out loud in the car to the kids.

"Dear Father Augustine,
We informed V today that he may have to attend your school. V's response was "Fuck that shit.". We thought you would like to know first hand V's feelings about your church and attached school.
Sincerely....

V was in the back seat yelling, "No Mom don't write the letter!"

Have I told you about what I do to him when we pass the nun that walks on our Parkway frequently? I slow the car down and make to open my window and tell him I'm going to tell the sister what he said whenever. (I've said before about his vocabulary).

Nothing like V-baiting-he gives the best reactions.

I felt victorious-no threat of taking away electronics or TV, beats the threat of daily Mass attendance.