Fear Paralyzes Me

Dillon got his license during Spring Break.

After his first day back to school, he walked into the house and promptly announced, "Stephanie and I want Starbucks." In teen lingo this means, "I want to drive somewhere."

I wanted to say no.

I wanted to SCREAM, "NOOOOOOOO!!! You're a baby! You can't take that device of death out onto those roads where you are inexperienced and just last week a kid caused a horrible accident then died while drag racing in the afternoon! What if you don't come home? What if a policeman comes knocking at my door? I will shrivel up and die without you. I need to keep you here with me where you are safe and I can protect you from danger and evil and tragic accidents that fill up the evening news!"

What I did was throw the extra key at him and say, "Sure. Just be careful and look both ways even if your light is green."

Then, paralyzed, I sat on the couch and kept one eye out the window while I fought back the tears that Mackenzie didn't need to see.

Chicken & Bridget

Tater left today for Colorado. A quick trip - just 3 days.

But it was the perfect opportunity for a girls night. My girlfriend, Lisa, brought dinner, "Chicken Out", and Bridget Jones' Diary 2. It was so funny - I keep replaying in my head the Prison/Madonna/"Like a Virgin" scene.

And I giggle.

"SuperBras" for EVERYONE!

...And He Said, "Ante Up!"

So yesterday was Easter.

I'm upstairs doing my hair and down in the dining room I hear my mother-in-law say to the grandchildren (five of them, ranging in age from 10-16), "Today we're playing for money!" And the pitter-patter of 10 feet scattered about the house, digging into piggy-banks and purses.

They were playing poker.

And look who won:



Let's see...we forgot it was Good Friday and ate Sausage Jambalaya after cracking into the wine about 2:30 and blew off Easter Mass, but we did partake in the 2000-year-old tradition of gambling on the day that Christ was risen...

Yup, we're good.

Dopey

Still have that cold.

My parents, Tater's parents, Tater's sister and her kids are coming on Friday. I've been busy getting ready.

Cold medicine makes me dopey.

Sick & Pitiful

I thought I was getting a cold early last week, but it was just a teaser. The real shebang showed up yesterday. Nothing life threatening, just a headcold, but It. Is. Nasty.

So here is a pitiful entry for a pitiful diary and maybe all will be well tomorrow.

Crazy In the Capital

So my sister, Alison who is visiting fom Indiana, and I decided to go to Our Nation's Capital today. We took these offspring with us:



The ride on the Metro sounded like lots of fun to them until about 40 minutes into the trip. "How much longer?' "I'm thirsty." "I'm hungry." "I'm bored." "Will there be a tunnel?" But little did we know, the fun was just beginning. We set our compass towards 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, and after 5 blocks, saw about this much* of the White House.

*(Hold your hands up, in front of your face, in the shape and size of a basketball. THAT's how much of the WH you can see.)

That fun lasted about 4 minutes. Then it was time to walk on..."I'm hungry." "My feet are tired." "I'm thirsty." "I don't WANT to ride in the stroller." "I want to go home." "This is boring."

So we walked on. And ignored them. And looked for a restaurant, because we were hungry too. But it appears that our founding fathers weren't very forward-thinking when it comes to planning spaces for future Starbucks/Paneras/Mom & Pop Delis. The real estate was all taken up by super-fancy buildings with limestone, columns, statues, rotundas...But no. I mean NO restaurants. There were a few hot dog stands on the street, but none of us were that desperate.

So we head on around the Washington Monument. It was surrounded by a huge fence and a sign: "Washington Monument closed for renovation. To reopen in Early 2005."

Isn't THIS "early 2005"?

We kept walking.

"I'm hungry." "My feet are tired." "I'm thirsty." "I want to go home." "This is boring."

...and kept ignoring.

In our search for food, we passed the Smithsonian station and jumped on there. We ended up riding the Metro all the way back home and eating at a restaurant right by our house.

And we were still smiling:

Get Up!!!

It's after 10am, my sister and her family will be here in about 5 hours, and I'm on the computer.

I have to clean her bathroom, wash her sheets, and vacuum.

What is WRONG with me?

Scratchy, Tickly, Floaty, Coughy

I'm getting sick. My throat is scratchy. My nose is tickly. My head is floaty. My lungs are coughy.

I'm annoyed by that because my baby sister (yeah, she's 33. Shut Up.) is coming to visit for the first time on Tuesday. And I haven't been sick yet this year.

I'm annoyed because my husband and I haven't lived together for 7 months and he just came home.

I'm annoyed because I still have work to do in this house and don't have time to feel like monkey shit trampled by a herd elephants.

Now I'm cranky too. Crap.

A Wish For Happy...

What a Happy day! Last night Tater came home for good. It's been 7 months since we've lived together. I left Japan in August, he stayed until November. We visited with my parents through the holidays and then he moved to Norfolk to attend school, the kids and I went on to DC, the ultimate destination.

Now our time in Japan is over, school in Norfolk is completed, he reports to the Pentagon on Monday, and we are starting a new Chapter in the Story of Us. I wish for it to be exciting (but not too exciting), fun, Normal - without the Drama that living in a fishbowl brings, but most of all, Happy. For when we leave here, Dillon will be off to college and our day-to-day life will consist of just three.

Here's to Happy!

Cheers!

"Wuthering Heights" - Rx For Insomnia

I've been slogging through "Wuthering Heights". It's a work I've been trying to read for twenty years, but have never made it past the first few pages. It's always likened to "Jane Eyre" and "Rebecca", both books I love and have read several times. But this book has me stumped. I'm not sure what it is. So far, I am about halfway through - Heathcliff has just returned after his 3 years disappearance, and Isabella has just admitted her love for Heathcliff to Catherine (BIG mistake).

I think maybe it's that I just don't care. Catherine is a spoiled, whiny bitch, and Heathcliff has a chip on his shoulder the size of Texas (Yeah, yeah, he had a crappy childhood, everyone was mean to him, Cathy rejected him...So what? Get over it already and move on!). I'd like to give them both a good wallop up-side the head and tell them just to run off together and don't look back as they certainly deserve each other.

Now, I'm sure we're both wondering why I don't just Stop Reading. It's because I can't. I've only ever stopped reading one book, and that was "Under the Tuscan Sun" (don't bother if you've seen the movie).

(For that matter, don't bother even if you haven't seen the movie.)

(Just buy the movie.)

Anyway, I WILL finish it, and I hope that in the end I'm proven wrong and feel completely embarrssed that I totally dissed a Classic.

I'll let you know.

March Madness

Yesterday it was 70 degrees, sunny, and Glorious outside.

When I woke up this morning it was still 51 degrees outside.

Right now there's 4 inches of snow on the ground.

I quit March.

Bye-Bye Rocker-Chick, Hello Little Girl!

I cut Mackenzie's hair today. It was WAY past due. Her hair is curly and it has a tendency to turn into dreadlocks by the end of the day. It's been long since she was about 5, but last fall, when her school picture came back I noticed that she had a bit of a "rocker chick" edge to her. So I trimmed it. It looked better, but still not great. I could only trim it because her dad has a thing about her hair being long.

What is that anyway? Daddies requiring their baby's hair to be long... Even if it looks like hell. I've seen a zillion little girls with stringy, dirty hair that would look so cute with a short bob but is long because the dad requires his little girl to have long hair. Creeps me out. Freud would have lots to say about that, I'm sure.

So, anyway, here we are, six months later, her hair had grown out again, and the ends looked like a frayed rope. Something had to be done. With or without Daddy's consent. In my defense I submit,

Exhibit A:



Now it looks like this:



I rest my case.

Furniture Carousel

Ok. So. The kids DID go back to school on Tuesday. Two hours late, but they did go. Yay!

SInce then, I have resumed the really weird task of moving things back and forth all over the house. This is what you do when you buy a house that's smaller than all your worldly posessions. We have about 6 extra pieces of furniture, so I'm using a trunk as a coffee table, a chair as a nightstand, hiding a kitchen table in the closet under the stairs, and moving the rest in circles around our house in an effort to fit it all in. You'd think after a couple of laps I'd give it up.

I painted the basement bathroom orange. I know. But you have to see it before you go, "Ewww". It sounds gross, but its really very cool with an antique mirror and a sparkly wall-hanging from Thailand. And a watercolor of a tiger-lily painted by my own resident artist/son, Dillon.

I've got to go. I have a chair to relocate.