In sickness and in health

Bill had ACL repair surgery yesterday. They gave him a femoral block, and advised me post-op to be sure to give him his Percocet every four hours for the first 24 hours. The block may wear off suddenly, and nobody wants to be up in the middle of the night screaming in pain. He actually attempted to decline his 8 pm dose, but I explained why that was not a good idea.

At midnight, it was his voice and not that annoying alarm that roused me from sleep. I fetched a bit of bread so he could take his medicine with food and leaned near his bedside groggily. I had that slightly sick feeling you get when awakened much too soon, and my primary thoughts centered around climbing back into bed as soon as he was done and trying not to faceplant beforehand.

He took my hand. "Happy anniversary."

I smiled. It was the next day already, and he remembered.

He apologized for the less than ideal circumstances of this anniversary, our thirteenth. "I can think of no better way to spend it," I murmured. Even half-awake, I had the clarity to appreciate this opportunity to love him, honor him, and serve him when he needs me. While it is nice to recall those heady days of courtship on a marriage anniversary, it is also fitting to remember those vows of commitment "for better or for worse."

May these thought sustain me through the next few days and weeks as he recovers.

nibble nibble like a mouse

EEEEK!

I haven't seen them, but I know they're here.

Popcorn! Get Yer Popcorn Here!

My boys are Cub Scouts, so they sell popcorn.

If you would like to support Scouting, and you don't have any participating boys in your family, you can order popcorn online here. If you want to support my boys' troop, use this order key: TE31MH. There is a drop down menu for you to pick a local council if you prefer.


But, best yet, if you want to support Scouting and you want to support the troops, you can do both at once! The website has a "Support Our Troops" program where you donate $25 worth of popcorn and they get it out to them.

This $25 purchase allows Trail's End to ship assorted popcorn products - via Support Our Troops - to the men and women of the military. Thanks to consumers who purchase this item, Trail's End has been able to ship 300 tons of popcorn on behalf of the Boy Scouts of America to Iraq and Afghanistan, to Overseas Military Bases, to Domestic Military Bases and to Military Families.

They also ship to APO addresses if you have a certain someone you'd like to gift.

Whose idea was that anyway?

I didn't watch the debate (it just doesn't matter), but I did think this "fact check" article was interesting.

From there, I went here. I have concluded that, no matter what their personal beliefs (left, right or in between), people who leave comments on news articles are among the stupidest people on the planet. I realize that my blunt language is not very nice, but I challenge anyone to find me a comment thread where the majority of the respondents write with correct grammar and spelling, use logic to make a point, avoid broad (erroneous) generalizations, accept that someone may disagree with them without being the embodiment of evil, and cite valid sources for their "facts."

I don't know which is worse: wasting my time actually looking at those comments or wasting my energy getting annoyed by them.

Being Thrifty

Yesterday, the boys began fencing. Even though I knew this day was coming, I was ill prepared and only remembered Wednesday night that they had no athletic pants to wear.

{sigh}

I had already decided that I was going to buy children's pants from Sears, and Sears alone, so I could take advantage of their free KidVantage Club with its Wear Out Warranty (pants on boys last an average of one month before acquiring holes in my house). Sears opened at 10 am, fencing was at 11 am. It was tight, but doable.

We got there early and, as soon as the doors were opened, raced for the boys' section. I grabbed what pants I could find in the approximate right sizes and had the boys try them on. Out of 5 or 6 different pairs of pants, we managed to find 1 to fit Fritz and 2 to fit Billy (one of his was a pair of jeans). That's all I had time for.

Total cost: $46 and change.

After fencing, I dragged the kids to a thrift store that has 50% clothes and shoes on Thursdays (thank you, Denise, for that timely suggestion). I bought 6 shirts, 5 pants, 1 winter coat, 2 pretty Christmas-y dresses, and one pair of size 3 pink tennis shoes that will fit Mary for about one month.

Total cost: $25.38.

Thrift store shopping is a process. I didn't find everything I needed, but there will be more next week, and some things, like a few more winter coats, aren't desperately needed yet. Other things, like size 10 slim boys pants with no holes in the knee or church-going shoes in just the right sizes, aren't likely to ever appear, and I'll have to buy them new. But as long as the kids don't mind, and the selection is good, I see no reason to go retail.

If you can't say something nice, don't answer the phone

I am a bad woman.


For the last week, we've been getting phone calls all.day.long from some NCO Financial. We didn't answer, hoping maybe they would just go away. But the phone kept ringing (15 times in 4 days) and driving me crazy. I knew it was a collection agency. No telemarketer is that persistant.

Finally, I started answering it. Of course, they were not looking for a Bill or a Michelle. They wanted Andrea. Patiently and politely I explained that there was no Andrea here. They would brusquely and rudely hang up the phone.

And the phone kept ringing.

This morning, I had had enough. I answered. I said that I was, in fact, Andrea. I said that I would be more than happy to mail a check today for my credit card which has been in default since April for more than $900.

This did not satisfy them. They wanted my bank account number.

"Are you crazy?" I exclaimed. "You called me. I'm not going to give out my bank account information to you."

I was passed over to a manager. We had the exact same conversation, including the indignation over them asking me for confidential information. The man assured me it was perfectly legitimate. I told him that all the scammers say that. He said he had all my information, so they must really work for the credit card company.

"Really?" I asked. "And what is my address?"

He named a town in Maryland.

"You realize you're calling a Virginia phone number, right?" He didn't seem to think that was relevant. I persisted in explaining that if they were so smart and "had all the right information" why did they keep calling a phone number where no Andrea lived.

"You mean, you're not Andrea?" he asked.

"No", I confessed, "but you people keep calling me all day long even though I keep telling you there is no Andrea here."

He was...um...annoyed.

Now I know it's easy to think that he deserved it. After all, the company was harrassing me. But bill collectors are people too. There are other ways to stop annoying phone calls, and I didn't even have to pick up. I really can't justify lying, especially when I knew it would make somebody angry.

I wonder if he called his wife and complained about that obnoxious woman who was playing games at 9 am.

I just hope I live through Tuesday night. My church has confession during CCD and that will give me time to think of a good plenary indulgence. No point in spending any time in purgatory for a stupid prank.

Election Day

A third of electorate could vote before Nov. 4



My Florida absentee ballot arrived yesterday.



{Don't even ask how I ended up registered in Florida...and my husband registered in New Jersey. That reminds me of last month when I was pulled over by a Maryland trooper for speeding. Jersey tags, Jersey registration, Florida license with a Kansas address...the officer asked why and I said "military." He said, "Oh." I got a warning.}



For me, Election Day might be today. Or maybe next week.



{Maybe I should wait until after the debates? Perhaps something will be said which will change my mind about the best choice? Of course, that would mean I'd commit myself to actually watching the debates. I think more Americans watched the Olympics than will likely watch the debates...and I didn't watch the Olympics.}



The Florida ballot has SIX proposed amendments to the (state) Constitution, including one to require the Legislature to levy a tax to support community colleges. I think that one will be a no. The others, I honestly can't figure out what they're trying to say. "delete a provision...to prohibit possession..." I think that means we're allowing possession, but I wouldn't bet my life on it. When I voted in New Jersey, ballot questions such as these were accompanied by a plain language translation. That was nice.



My Florida ballot is a computerized fill-in-the-bubble form. No more hanging chads. What irked me most about that 2000 presidential election was the attempt to discern a voter's intent. It's one thing to count a hanging chad as a vote, but to count the "dimpled" chads was flat-out wrong. And I was most amused by the media's marveling over ballots with no apparent vote for either candidate. I think we should require ballots to have a "NONE OF THE ABOVE" bubble.



I know it may seem odd to some, but I would rather take the time to vote for nobody than to not vote. I really don't care who is the North Okaloosa Fire Commissioner, so I'll probably leave it blank. And if I'm not sure about if my vote will prohibit or allow possession of property to aliens (LGMs?), then I'll leave that blank too.



But one thing is for sure. Once I fill out this ballot and mail it in, I am DONE. I will cease to pay the slightest bit of attention to politics until the ballots close when I'll watch to see who wins.



Happy voting.

Washed the syrup out

I was sitting at the dining room table, sewing.

whirr whirr whirr

Peter was sitting at the dining room table, singing.

the icky bicky spider

I paid him no mind until he said, "Mommy, can I wash my hands?"

I looked up and realized he had been playing with the syrup on his breakfast plate.

squish squish squish

Both hands were covered, dripping.

I took him to the sink, and he continued singing.

the icky bicky spider

"Itsy bitsy spider," said I.

"Icky bicky," insisted he.

"No, itsy bitsy meaning tiny, not icky bicky meaning cover-your-hands-in-syrup," I chided.

"But I can't say itsy bitsy," he said.

"Why not?" I queried.

"I free {three}. I can't say itsy bitsy," he said clearly enunciating every word.

The ever elusive good night's sleep

Flylady may be right, in theory.

But if I followed her guidance completely, whatever would I do when the baby is wide awake at 1 am?

Is it not better to be productively engaged in the folding of laundry or the washing of those last few pans from dinner than to groggily and angrily watch her empty the contents of my purse?

Birthday Girl

Bill was under strict orders to be in his barrack room at a certain hour to get an update. I knew I was in labor, and I happened to have an appointment with the midwife that morning. She confirmed what I knew, and I went home to call my husband in Kosovo, make final arrangements for the kids, and try to rest until it was time to have the baby.

Three other times I had gone into the hospital to have a baby. I would turn to my husband and ask, "Are you ready for this?" You can never truly know how much your life will change when you bring a new life into it. It is a wonderful and terrifying thought. I think often about Simeon telling the Blessed Mother that a sword will pierce her heart. I wonder if she heard those words with the same optimism with which I usually face a child's birth, despite knowing in my head the physical, mental and emotional difficulties that lie in raising that child to adulthood.

This time, with a deployed husband, I wasn't ready. I wasn't optimistic. "I don't want to do this without you," I sniffled on the phone. Of course, ready or not, babies come.

And five years ago today, Jenny joined our family. Bill was able to listen on the phone, and we had a videocamera taping the event which he watched later. My sister held my hand and got to watch her goddaughter enter the world (it took her a good 48 hours to recover from that experience). It was a calm, peaceful birth. It would have been perfect if Bill could have been there.

Happy birthday, darling daughter. Beautiful, perfect, five year old bundle of sweetness.

Where, oh where, did my baby go?

It won't be long now.

That baby. It seemed like only a few weeks ago she learned to crawl. Now she is holding onto one of my fingers with one hand (just for a little balance) and taking steps. Soon, she will be wholly independent.

They really don't stay little forever.

Little Ears

Little ears listened intently to the "Big Man" tell his war stories at the dinner table.

About how bullets whizzing by you sound just like they do in the movies.
About how bullets sound frighteningly different when they get really close to you.
About sprinting up a hill to save some soldiers' lives.

About other situations where the enemy died.


After the man left, little ears got a lecture on how grownups laugh when they would rather cry.

About how war isn't funny at all.
About how our friend could have died or been injured.
About how the enemy is a person too.


Bill likes to say that soldiers pray harder for peace than anybody else.

I say, except for a soldier's family.

Good deed for the day

My visiting friend told me yesterday of an incident last month. She had indulged her boys and bought hard candies at the grocery store. On the way home, she noticed her seven year old up and moving in the mini-van. She was going to yell at him, but quickly saw that he was choking and turning purple.

Her ten year old son said he had learned what to do in Scouts. He stood up, gave the two-fingered Scout salute, and performed the Heimlich Maneuver on his brother. Immediately, the candy flew out of the brother’s mouth.

"You saved my life," the younger boy gasped. The older brother quietly shrugged and sat down, buckling his seat belt. Just a simple good deed. No big deal, right?


This morning, very early, I had the honor of driving my friend to the hospital for surgery. She was donating one of her kidneys to a woman she finally met for the first time last week. Most of the minor stressors were related to worrying about getting up on time, and concerns about potential traffic on the drive (I myself kept waking up and praying that the baby would stay sleeping for Bill while I was gone). But absent was any anxiety about undergoing major abdominal surgery and losing an organ.

Just a simple good deed. No big deal, right?


We got out the door on time. There was minimal traffic. The baby only screamed at Bill for 10 minutes. I was home in plenty of time for him to get to his 730 am appointment.

The surgery went well, although my friend was vomiting as of an hour ago - a typical response to anesthesia. And the transplant "took." So far, so good. A few prayers for quick healing for both women would be appreciated.

Almost unbelievable

Britain Adopts Islamic Law, Gives Sharia Courts Full Power to Rule on Civil Cases

The government has quietly sanctioned the powers for sharia judges to rule on cases ranging from divorce and financial disputes to those involving domestic violence.


This is seriously scary stuff. What do they do if one party doesn't want to use the sharia court system? What do they do when the sharia courts begin to expand their jurisdiction?

What are we going to do when our Supreme Court Justices jump on the bandwagon?

Tethered

Three kids have piano lessons on Tuesday afternoons.

Four kids have CCD on Tuesday evenings.

Three kids have Scouts on Wednesdays (Jenny's homeschool Daisy Troop meets every other Wednesday). I do not know when Billy's den will meet.

The boys have fencing on Thursday mornings (with homeschoolers).

The girls have ballet on Saturdays.


For each kid, it seems reasonable. One sport. One "activity" (Scouts). I consider piano to be academic (my students would happily drop it). And CCD is "required" (Katie is in 2nd grade - take one, taken 'em all, I figure).

But as my calendar pages are filling up, I'm feeling so very tied down.

Son, there is no Prussia any more

Fritz has trouble with his "r"s, and introducing himself is difficult. I advised him to spell his name to assist those who think he is saying "Chris." I explained that Chris is a common name, and Fritz is not.

"Well, it was common in Prussia," he said.

I mean, really. Everybody knows that Frederick II a.k.a. Frederick the Great was known as "Old Fritz." What's their problem?

Somebody's pants are on fire

"Mommy, you know what? Know what Peter said? I didn't teach him this. He said, 'Shake your booty!' I don't know where he learned it!"

Before I had children I watched a show that demonstrated how little children (6 and under) were incapable of lying. I actually fell for it.

Pol-Sci Field Trip

Bill was out of town when McCain announced his pick for VP. Hoping to elevate the dinner table conversation above the usual juvenile prattle, I brought up politics. Politics are okay to discuss at my dinner table, as long as it remains polite, which means avoiding phrases like "let me tell you exactly why you're wrong on that" (you know who you are).

We talked about the three branches of government. We talked about the two bodies that comprise Congress. I explained the two-party system, and I identified the three senators who are on their party's tickets. We talked about who the governors were, and how one governor had been selected to run on one ticket.

"Some people say that Governor Palin shouldn't run because she has children at home - even a little baby," I said. "What do you think?"

"Well," said Billy, "they have a dad don't they?"

It's funny how kids can get right to the heart of things, don't you think? Even though my brood would be the first to vote their own dad out of office of main caretaker, they do recognize that we're a team in these efforts. Often I will tell them I am going somewhere and they will ask, "Who will babysit us?" I tell them that their father will be their dad while I am gone. He's not stepping in to do my job, rather he's going to his own job (just without me around to tell him how to do it better!).


Yesterday, we took a field trip for our private special interest class on political science. We went to a McCain-Palin rally. I left Jenny and Peter at my friend's house and took her three older children along. It was fun. Cheering, shouting, loud music, clapping. We sat under a shady tree and ate banana-chocolate chip muffins and cookies and listened to the rhetoric. The kids climbed the tree and could get glimpses of the candidates.

I can't help but be somewhat cynical when I hear candidates talk about bringing change. Change does not come swiftly in Washington. Presidents do not enact laws or raise taxes. Laws take years to go into effect anyway. I'm not saying that the executive branch is ineffective. I'm merely saying that no matter who is elected, I don't expect the world to be radically different one year from today. If you're going to talk about change, you need to talk about patience. But in a microwave-lunch, fast food-dinner culture, nobody wants to hear that change will take 4 to 8 years to happen.

My kids aren't old enough to vote, but I want to make this election (all elections) memorable for them. This is history in the making, no matter who wins.

Oh, puh-leese

It was a poor choice of words, but for the McCain camp to act like it was directed at Gov. Palin is silly. Really, that phrase is used so much in government/military circles that it's a cliché.

Sen. Obama is merely proving himself to be of the Washingtonian mindset by using the insider jargon readily and without realizing that the majority of Americans don't talk like that. He did the same thing when he said that the question of when life begins is "above his pay grade."

Fault him for talking and thinking like a Washington insider, not for calling Palin a pig.

It's that faucet-thing that's so tricky

"Mommy, you wanna play restoran?"

"Sure, Peter. Do you have a menu? What's on the menu?" He scans his hands.

"Um...lessee...chicken...fries...soda..."

"Mmmm...how about soup? Do you have any soup?"

"Yes, soup...and rice!"

"Oh! I would like some soup and rice, please."

"Okay, Mommy," says my little waiter. He turns to go get my order.

"Oh, Peter, do you have any water? I would like some water, too, please."

He agrees and starts to go, but stops and turns back. "But I don't know how to make water."

Whatever you do, don't panic

On Wednesday, some scientist plans to try to blow up the whole world. This isn't really making the headlines, and nobody is really trying to stop him, so I guess it's all going to be okay in the end.

Yeah, sure.

Hm, perhaps steak for dinner this week. Better make it Tuesday, just in case.

When it rains, it pours

The kids and I returned, soaking wet, from our grocery shopping yesterday to discover a flooded basement. Since the bulk of the mess was under the boys' bedroom window, my guess is that the window well filled with water and leaked through.

Bill is TDY. In Europe. I'm sure he's miserable.

Well, the boys' room needed cleaning anyway. Somehow, none of the dozens of books scattered on their floor got wet, but they did lose some of their artwork. Oh well.

I've been reading a Charlotte Mason book and last night's reading covered tidiness. Just add that to the long list of good habits my children seem to be lacking. I've got less than 8 years before I set Fritz loose on the world. Guess I'd better get started, especially given this morning's scenario where he dressed for mass wearing jeans with holes in them. After he said his church pants were AWOL, I up-ended every hamper in the house to no avail. He finally found them on the floor of his closet.

{sigh}

The Emergency Flood Service guys arrived at 9 am while I was still in my bathrobe. In about 5 minutes, they'll have to move their van so I can leave. I'm not comfortable having strange men in my house when Bill is gone, and even less having them in the house when I'm gone too. I guess I'll mention the vicious attack dog upstairs, so they'll stay in the basement. As much as I do not like my dog's aggressive nature, times like these I'm thankful for the loud barking which evaporates any potential "easy victim" thoughts.

Happy Sunday.

Overcoming Inertia

It's already raining, but Tropical Storm Hanna is due to hit with fury around noon or shortly thereafter.

My cupboards are bare.

I prefer to move slowly on Saturday mornings, but I think, today, I will be getting out the door a lot sooner than usual.

Clean up, clean up, everybody, everywhere

Yesterday afternoon, we used team effort to clean the downstairs family room/toy room/school room and bathroom. Katie was strutting around with Mary on her left hip and a feather duster in her right hand.

"This is easy, Mom," she said with a tone that implied she didn't know why I was always complaining about such a thing. Yeah, you go girl.


Did anybody else have to vacuum 2 cups off rice of the school room floor?

School in session

Oh, how I wish that my students applied themselves to the subjects I teach- like spelling - as much as they do to their extracurricular drawing.

Fritz and I are reading George Washington's World, and loving it. Billy is listening in and began copying the drawings found inside it, and then Fritz started doing it too. Had I actually assigned either one of them the task of drawing these historical people, they would have balked, of that you can be sure.

My kids hate crayons, and markers are too messy. For years I've been having them use colored pencils, and they've liked that okay. Recently, I bought a bunch of colored gel pens, and they really enjoy this medium. Colored pencils are cheaper, but the pens get better results.

Last year, we read a book on Daniel Boone. The boys pulled from that two important pieces of knowledge about Daniel: he got his own gun when he was twelve (they are counting the days), and he never really learned to read or write. I've tried to explain that there isn't much of a living to be made in hunting and trapping nowadays, but that seems less important than the idea that you can be illiterate and famous.

You'll notice Billy draws for his father and Fritz draws for me. I don't know why that is. I do know that our first week of school, I had very seriously considered sending Fritz to our church's school. Then I saw the $4000 price tag and came to my senses. Actually, I realized that sending him off to another teacher would only shift the homework struggles to the afternoon and evening hours; it wouldn't actually make him a better student. Perhaps these "love notes" are his way of apologizing for all the wrinkles he's causing his momma.

Despite the 4 day week, we should be getting all our work done today. I staggered my students' school year starts. Katie and Jenny are finishing week 1; Billy is finishing week 2; and Fritz began his school year three weeks ago.

I do not recommend this.

The one who is supposed to be working is resentful that the others are not. The ones who are not working are upset that they don't "get" to do school. My friend, Rachel, had a better idea of staggering subjects: first, Latin; then, math; etc. Next year, perhaps, I'll try this.

Another great idea from Rachel was having blocks of time (yes, others recommend this too, but Rachel was right there with the suggestion when I needed it). I had put together a progression schedule, which was the order I wanted my students to tackle their subjects. If everybody progressed at a reasonable pace, I would be able to work with my kindergartener while my older students did independent work. Well, my older students don't like to work at a reasonable pace, especially when it comes to math. I would send Fritz off to do math, and, an hour later, he would be a quarter way through.

Week 1 with Fritz was a difficult week.

Week 2, we began using half hour blocks of time. Although I may go over by a few minutes if they are almost done with an assignment, I try to move on at the end of the half hour to other things. I have 3 half hour segments for math for Fritz, including one segment which is about 15-20 minutes of speed drill, mental work, and lesson (Saxon math). He is much improved and mostly getting his work done within that time frame.

I also start Fritz early - no later than 8 am and by 730 if I can. This is hard on the other kids (Jenny and Katie) who want to begin too. But the girls are improving in their patience, and I think may grow to enjoy the 10 - 15 minute blocks of free time they get because their lessons only take a fraction of the time of their brothers.

Last week, I used a hand-made chart to assign subjects for each student to the different blocks of time. It was a work in progress. After I added in the girls this week and saw how things meshed, my biggest problem was trying to see, at a glance, what we were supposed to be doing at a given time. Thrifty mom that I am (and lazy, too, not wanting to drag 6 kids to the store), I took some old pocket folders and cut them up into an index card size.

Notice the drawing on the front of the card? These cards will change as we work everything out, so using pristine cards or paper didn't really make sense.

I made one card for each half hour block from 8 am until noon. On one side it has the time, and on the other, it has the time and each student's assigned subject for that block of time. I punched a hole in the corner (and reinforced it), and connected them all with a caribiner clip we happened to have. (Pictures are blurry because my good camera is in Bulgaria with Bill). I like flipping the card to the appropriate time block and seeing what subjects we need to be tackling. Each student has a weekly checklist with the actual assignments.

So as we conclude these first, second and third weeks of school, I'm optimistic that it will be a good year. Having four students, especially when the older ones are unwilling to work independently, is challenging. But Fritz is starting to see that having the bulk of his work done before lunchtime is possible, and having the bulk of the afternoon free is wonderful, so his motivation is improving. I'm going to try to do one more complete week (next week), and then Bill should have a week off. Taking breaks when we want to is such a lovely advantage to homeschooling.

Music class

I don't know why, but I've had the show tune New York New York running through my head. So, for several days, I've been dancing around, baby on hip, boldly belting out the lyrics.

Habits like these are one of the many reasons I'm glad I work at home.

It is a rather catchy song, and my kids have picked it up. One of them (Billy, the good memorizer) has the lyrics down pat. But he's off on the melody.

Worse, Fritz listens more to him than to me, and he's not as good with memorizing, so he's hacking the lyrics and using Billy's tune.

They're driving me nuts. I spend half my time singing the song and the other half of my time trying to correct their singing of the song.

Peter has the melody down okay. It's great to see him with his huge grin and big eyes, striking a pose, arms overhead, and singing at the tops of his lungs:

"New Yuck, New Yuck!"

I'm not correcting him.

Opinions, please

Apparently, I have too much free time. And I have too much remnant fabric.

I'm working on a bunch of these to go to my sister's husband and his troop in Iraq. No, I'm not taking orders for any others. I really don't think I can do them this year, mainly because I offered to give any extras I make to my sister's FRG to use as a fundraiser.

I want to use the remnant fabric to make some cute little stocking ornaments. Here is my prototype. I thought I would use a glitter gel pen to write "2008" on the cuff.

So, what do you think I should sell them for? Originally, I had thought $5. Now, looking at it, I think $3. If you saw them at a little kiosk and thought, "Hey, that's cute. I'd love to hang that on my tree. I wonder how much it is," what price would make you consider it, and at what point do you walk away?

And, you military wives out there, any suggestions for making it fancier? I could cut out tiny little velcro patches, but that would be tedious and nothing would fit on there anyway. A soldier could always pin his rank on there. Well, up to a one-star could. Two stars would be too big.

New Month's Resolution for September

Have I mentioned I'm running in the Army Ten Miler? Yeah, that's in less than five weeks. It's gonna hurt.

What's my resolution this month? Run? Actually, I'm okay on that. What I need to do is stretch. I'm very very bad about that part, and it shows. Rather, it feels. I'm beginning to realize that I'm not a kid any more. Muscles, tendons, joints and all the rest do not improve with age. I have a foot injury from two years ago that I am occasionally reminded of, especially since I keep reinjuring it. If I get out of bed too quickly in the morning, I feel my plantar fasciitis. And in the last week, shin splints have decided to be the usual ailment du jour.

So, I must stretch, every day, run or not. Otherwise I'll be doing the Ten Miler on the back of the rescue vehicle.


What is a New Month's Resolution? Every month I look at where I need to focus my attention. Perhaps I've been procrastinating on certain chores. Perhaps I need to spend some extra time with one or more of the kids. Perhaps I'd like to try a new habit. New Month's Resolutions are not grandiose plans to lose ten pounds or declutter the entire house or give up smoking (of course, I don't smoke, but if I did, this would not be the venue in which I would give it up). New Month's resolutions are short-term commitments; they are easily attained goals; they focus on what is needed right now, instead of what is best for a lifetime.

Do you have a new month's resolution?

Good grief Gustav

On Friday, from my husband, via email:

If Gustav hits Louisiana, I'll have to go to Germany.

If that makes sense to you, you must be in the National Guard. It's okay. It's not like we had serious plans for his vacation. And I'll take this change of plans over the scenario from three years ago when Katrina hit: Bill worked 36 days in a row, had one day off, then worked 24 more days in a row. Fun times.

Pray for the poor people in that area.

My baby doll

There's a new life-like, animated doll on the market. She crawls, she cruises. She smiles, she babbles. She eats, she fills her diaper.






Special features:

• Paper shredder mode: sensitive documents can be safely thrown away after she gets her hands on them!
• Room decorator: custom and creative interior design for your floors using common items found in your kitchen drawers or the toy bin or the recycle bucket!
• Alarm clock: set for 4 AM, she will beat you on the head and shoulders while yelling "Dada!"
• Personal trainer: give those shoulders and back a workout! She has her own special way to encourage you to lift weights by lifting her! Even entrenched couch potatoes will be inspired by her cries!
• Spiritual director: from cries for mercy to pleading for her safety to gratitude for such a marvelous creation, she will keep you, mentally, on your knees!

Each doll is made-to-order with a 9 month lead time. Dolls require an average 9 to 12 month maturation to get full results. Results may vary, and each doll is unique. Recommended for ages 20 and up.