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A journal of the trials, tribulations, and triumphs in the life of a woman in the 21st century.
Last Updated : Sunday, March 25, 2001 09:58:58 PM -0600
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Thank God it's Friday. That's about all I could think of when I was so rudely awakened by my alarm clock. It had been warm in the apartment the last few nights, so John has the window open about half-way (along with the fan that must always run or he can't sleep). Well, let me tell you, it was mighty chilly in that room this morning {and I wasn't even mad at John ;)} I poked one shoulder out from under the covers at 5:45 am and said, "Nope, don't think so" and hunkered down for another 10 minutes until the damn snooze alarm went off again. This continued until about 6:15, when Snookie came in after her breakfast and wanted to snuggle, so she came under the blankets too. Finally, the alarm went off again and the clock said 6:30. NOT GOOD. Gotta get the kids dressed, get them to school, and catch a bus to St. Paul at 7:20. Not gonna happen when one doesn't roll out of bed until 6:30. So, I pawned the young ones off on John and we all headed out about 7:00 or so.
Now, on to a completely different subject that has absolutely nothing to do with the above ... At girl scouts last night one of the moms was complaining about the cookie mom. Now, in case you don't know how this works, Brownies on up sell girl scout cookies. In our Council, we sell them for $3.00 a box. Each troop gets between $ .38 and $ .50 a box, depending on their sales. Anyway, you have your initial sales, where the girls go door to door (or in Rhiannon's case, phone call to phone call) and sell cookies. After the cookies are received and the girls deliver them (and get paid) there is what is referred to as "resales". Our cookie mom chose not to do resales, as she has done this cookie gig before for her older daughter. Instead (and she informed all the moms of this before hand) she ordered a few extra boxes of cookies (about 2 of each kind) so in case someone asked us for a few more boxes, we could sell what we had. Well, we sold out of those pretty quick. Rhiannon sold about 8 of the extra boxes herself. Anyway, one of the moms was bent out of shape because, the way the cookie mom chose to do this, the girls don't get credit for the extra boxes they sell at council. Frankly, considering the very small number of boxes involved (10) I considered this a fairly minor thing. However, this mom was ticked because her little darlin' sold 2 whole extra boxes that she was not getting credit for. And she proceeded to complain to me about this for a full 15 minutes after the meeting. Now, this mom has been a leader before, and a cookie mom, and I suspect she has more than a little control freak in her (this coming from one of the classic control freaks you are ever likely to meet) so I think more than a little bit of this was a matter of "Damnit, you didn't do it my way so you are WRONG!" But come on, we are talking about 2 stinkin' boxes here. Get a grip. Sheese.
Been fairly quiet here at work today. My job is very feast or famine. I am either HUGELY busy or dead. Right now, I am in a dead period (except for the very low priority items that I keep putting off). However, starting next week, I should be getting very busy again.
John is going to be getting little guilt trips for the next few weeks. It is Friday and it is Lent and he went to the Khan's Mongolian Barbeque for lunch with his coworkers. Now, in case you aren't familiar with the significance of it being Friday and Lent, we are Catholic and the Fish Lobby pretty much owns the Pope ever since they started wandering around with Jesus a few centuries back, so we are not allowed to eat meat on Fridays during Lent. (John always says if Jesus had just hung with some ranchers, it would be no fish on Fridays, but I don't think there were a whole lot of cattle operations in Palestine, being as it is, a desert.) Anyway, my husband, the product of 16 years of Catholic education (or indoctrination) choose to eat meat at the barbeque. Now, granted, if you are going to Hell for eating meat on Fridays, face it, you're going anyway. However, we have a 7 year old at home who goes to Catholic school and takes these things VERY seriously. Not to mention, for crying out loud, it is 6 Fridays every year. So anyway, I will be using this lapse to my advantage and be exercising my abilities as a Catholic mother to instill guilt in him for the foreseeable future. Oh what fun.
On a more serious note, the bankruptcy reform legislation that was before the Senate has passed and now goes into conference committee to reconcile this version with the one passed by the House. Now, having worked both sides of the bankruptcy issue (both creditor and debtor) I think the bankruptcy law is a good and necessary law, but I certainly agree that it has been abused. I remember a debtor when I was working for a home mortgage servicer who knew he was going to go bankrupt {Chapter 7, which basically forgives all debts but secured ones (home mortgages, car loans) and government debt} and decided to have a last hurrah and took his whole family to Disney World on the credit card and then declared banko on the lot of it. However, I can tell you from personal experience it is a very painful process to file for bankruptcy and it is not something you decide to do willy nilly. When you are in bankruptcy, you can't take on any more debt without the court's permission. You can't get anyone to rent to you, so you are stuck where you are living. You have no credit cards, so you can't make hotel reservations or rent cars or shop on the internet or any of the things that most people take for granted. Now, I don't blame creditor for trying to protect themselves, however, somehow, the financial lobby has convinced Congress that no stigma exists any longer for people who have filed bankruptcy and people are just doing this to get out of paying their legitimate debts and we need to make the laws tougher. I can tell you from experience this is not true. I have lost out on job opportunities because of my bankrupt status (Chapter 13, a five year repayment plan).
Well, the provision that has me the most concerned in this new bill is the provision that would make it easier for landlords to evict bankrupt tenants. Now this concerns me greatly. Where are these people supposed to go? Granted I have not read this bill and I am not sure what provisions it makes. Is this only for tenants who are way behind on their rent or can landlords evict any tenant who goes bankrupt? Here in the Twin Cities, we are currently sitting at a less than 2% vacancy rate, so I could easily see landlords looking to evict tenants who were bankrupt so they could rent to more well-to-do folks. And when you are bankrupt, no ones wants to rent to you. Where would I go with my kids if I were still bankrupt and evicted?
The credit card companies are the ones doing the most howling, as their debts are forgiven under Chapter 7 or paid at a much lower rate in Chapter 13. However, they are conveniently forgetting that they are the ones who are sending out credit card offers to people who are deeply in debt, to teenagers who don't understand what $1000 of credit card debt will mean to them a few years down the road. Speaking of teenagers, the credit card lobby successfully had removed a provision that would have prevented them from giving credit cards to teenagers who can't prove an income and parental consent. I also object to credit card debt being given a higher priority for payment than a medical bill. It's not right.
Okay, I have gone way longer than I intended. Anyway, I should go and at least appear to be doing something useful for the organization that pays me. Have a good weekend.
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Whew! What a day. I hate it when weekends are more exhausting the the work week. Today was "Beef Day". We buy a 1/4 cow with some friends every year, and today was pick-up day. We should have gotten up at our normal time, alarms going off at our house throughout the week at about 5:30 am. Apparently, John and I are way more tired than we thought, as we slept through both his alarm set for 5:30 and mine set for 5:45. John woke up at 6:50 and we were supposed to be in Cokato by 8 am. Not happenin'. So, we blew breakfast with our friends in the small town diner we like to frequent when we are there. What did we do without cell phones to let people know when we were late?
After packing 201 pounds of beef into coolers in our trunk, we head up to St. Cloud to celebrate my birthday with some of my in-laws. Generally, I get on with my in-laws very well. I occasionally have issues with some of my sisters-in-law (John has 4 younger sisters, two of whom still live at home), but today was a good day, with nary an issue. We were also supposed to go to some friends of ours, who also live in St. Cloud with their 5 (yes, I said 5) children. However, the oldest came down with strep so we decided to just go home.
Got back to the homestead here at about 8:30 and I anxiously checked my email for feedback on my first attempt at posting. I received many lovely welcoming emails from members of the daynotes gang and their wives. And then there was Bob. Mr. Thompson had to go and try to rile me right away with his comments about giving women the vote. Tsk, tsk, Bob. Do you really want to start this way. Oh well, I guess there is no hope for it. There are so many places I could go with this, but you will have to forgive me, I am not going to be as articulate as I would like, as I am running on about 5 hours of sleep. Let's see, I could take the tact it's not that women need the vote, we just need the power to straighten out the mess the men have made. Or, I could point out that women have run things (or at the least, greatly influenced things) from behind their men since the beginnings of this country, Abigail Adams, Edith Wilson, and Eleanor Roosevelt are just a few of the more famous examples from our history. But, instead of those more reasoned arguments, I think I am going to settle, tonight for a more basic bpbpbpbpbpbt. (Ahh, my husband is not happy with that, he says I am getting spit all over his monitor. Sorry, dear.)
As much as I would like to go on about this topic and many others, I am afraid my brain is just not going to keep up tonight. So, before I more thoroughly embarrass myself in my debut, I will sign off. Hopefully, I will be more coherent tomorrow. But don't hold your breath.
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This morning, I slept. Until 11:00 am, which doesn't happen very often around here. (Of course, it probably helped that the smaller members of the family were warned that if they emerged from their room before 9:00, they would be taking naps instead of watching movies this afternoon. It is amazing how well threats like that work, I didn't see either kid until 8:30, which beats sunrise, let me tell you. You haven't lived until a 4 year old {because his 7 year old sister knew she would get in trouble for coming in so she sent her younger brother as cannon fodder} comes in to your bedroom at dawn on a Sunday, wanting to know if he can watch Disney. God help me.)
It is a beautiful day here. The sky is are lovely shade of blue, the sun is shining, and the temperature is above 40! Whaddyaknow, looks like we may get spring after all.
Today was a slow day around the Dominik hacienda. Made a brief appearance in the outside would and ran to the grocery store for a few essentials. (And ended up buying some decidedly nonessential items as well, like chocolate cake with whipped cream icing and fudge on top and SnickersTM and Baby RuthTM filled chocolate eggs. I must admit, my name is Ann and I am a chocoholic.) After spending $50 on what should have been a $20 run, we stopped at the book store for me to use up an old gift certificate and headed home. Now, while I write, the children are safely ensconced on the couch watching Fievel and his rodent friends and John is in the bedroom watching television (probably soon to be snoring). Of course, he kinda deserves it. He went "freezer diving" today. We have a large chest freezer in our dining room. Now, in order to put the 200 pounds of beef we picked up yesterday in that freezer, we need to go through and find any old roasts or just old food that had accumulated at the bottom and get it out. Hence, "freezer diving". A rather cold pastime that I don't recommend. I tell you, next time, we buy an upright. Anytime I am looking for something to make for supper or take to work for lunch, I end up with my less attractive parts sticking up while the entire upper portion of my body disappears inside the freezer. It probably looks like it is in the process of eating me whole, kinda like a boa constrictor gulping down its prey.
Sometimes I think I have three children. On the way home from the store, it was so nice out that I opened the car windows. First, Jack starts sticking his fingers out the window, so I closed his window. After a few minutes and a stern talking to, I open his window again. Then he accuses his sister of waving her fingers out the window, so I close both their windows. Jack, apparently not noticing that HIS window is closed as well, starts doing the "nah na nah na boo boo" at his sister. His father, at this point, jumps in to the fray, starting his own chorus of "nah na nah na boo boo". So, disgusted with the lot of them, I put up his window too. Men.
Talked to a friend of mine today. Seems her husband is in the doghouse and the statement was made that there would be no "num-nums" for quite some time. Hmmm . . . It got me to thinking, wives could unionize and use peer pressure to get a wayward spouse to see the error of his ways. Say, he won't wipe off the countertops in the kitchen, no "num-nums" for him until he does. She makes a couple phone calls and "instant support group" - his friends come to talk him into wiping the counters for the greater good. Can't you see that headline on the news? Instead of the Northwest mechanics picketing at the airport, a bunch of wives picketing . . .well, I supposed picketing is not really necessary, I think we would get our point across fairly quickly. However, John brought up the likelihood that what it would really accomplish is homicide, as the poor husband that started it all would probably be killed within a few hours by one of the guys cut off to pressure him. So much for that idea.
I started a new project last night. My mother-in-law gave me a craft book for my birthday. Now, instead of just covering the cross stitch that I have started as a hobby (mostly 'cause it is hard to put food in your mouth in the evening when you have a needle in your hand. If you forget, man would that hurt!) the book also covers quilting. Rhiannon carries around a blue blankey with bunnies on it that John's grandmother made for him. She doesn't really want to part with it, but she wants to be able to give it to her first child, just like her daddy did. So we came up with a deal, she will give up the blankey if I make her a new one. So, I came across a type of quilting that it sounds like I can do with my limited skills. It is a type of patchwork quilt, but instead of sewing all the patches together and then sewing the stuffing and backing together in a quilting pattern, you make little pillows, kinda like beanbags, that you fill with quilt filling material, then you sew the little pillows together. So we are giving this a try. I was busy cutting out squares of fabric while John was doing his post last night. I'll let you know how it goes. If you're not interested, well, skip any paragraphs about quilts.
Speaking of John, Barbara Thompson wants to know, since John refers to me as She Who Must Be Obeyed (SWMBO for short) what is John. Bob suggested He Who Must Be Dominated (HWMBD). However, since we are married, I think that would be redundant, don't you? And Bob, I'm in just too good a mood today, you can't rile me. I'll give you a history lesson regarding women some other time. 'Course, maybe your outdated opinions are a result of living below the Mason-Dixon line too long.
Well, tonight is movie night for the grown-ups too. We rented three DVDs last night, not a one did we watch yet. One, Frequency with Dennis Quaid, has to be back tonight at 10, so we will be watching that soon. We also got The Sixth Sense and Shanghai Noon, but those we get to keep until Thursday. I'll let you know if they are any good.
Mmmmm . . the chicken I got going in the crock pot smells really good. Marcia Bilbrey tells me she has added me to the Netwidows Recipe Page, so I guess I had better get a recipe page up. I love to cook and, as a member of Weight Watchers (okay, so right now I am a lapsed member, as you can tell from all the talk of chocolate earlier), I try to cook most things fairly light. It is amazing how just a couple substitutions can make something so much lighter but you would never know the difference. If you ever want some good light recipes, I highly recommend Cooking Light magazine. They have some great recipes every month. I have been a subscriber for 2 years now, and I find a few things to try every issue. In fact, several recipes from there have made it into my regular repertoire.
Would you believe my kids actually want their own web page now, so they can get in on the act. It would seem I have geeks in the making. I promised them that I would set up pages for them on mine and type what they want to say. Scary, they are only 4 and 7 and they want equal time. What do they think this is, a democracy? I keep telling them, they don't live in a democracy, they live in an oligarchy (at least in my house). (For those of you who were not poli sci majors in college, or slept through those classes, an oligarchy is ruled by a noble or ruling class, as opposed to a dictatorship that is run by one individual. Class dismissed.)
I have having a terrible time trying to get posted today. John had a similar problem earlier. Every time, either my connect drops out or spaceports kicks me out. Very frustrating, I begin to understand John's frustration and why he wants to switch to another server. Mr. Syroid, that server up yet?
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I had this all typed up in email and sent it home and guess what? Our internet connection never came back up at work (damn Qwest to a fiery hell), so I am cold typing this all in again. Don't ya' just hate it when your internet access is out? I feel like I am so out of touch with the world. Isn't it amazing, a few short years ago, the idea of email and instant information were right out of Star Trek. Now, we take them for granted. One of the first networks I was ever on was an old VAX/VMS system when I was in school at St. John's/St. Ben's. John was the student system administrator (he liked to be called GOD for short. Nah, no ego there.) Once when we were playing a game on the VAX and he wanted me to go to lunch with him and the guys, he turned the planet I was orbiting into a sun, incinerating my ship and then sent me an email message from GOD, asking if we could go to lunch now. He also made all my screen fonts in my log-in change to Cyrillic (you know, like Russian.) And we weren't even dating. Now, if he was that way BEFORE we were dating, you may well ask why I ever dated him, let alone married him. (Remember how your mother always told you that the kid that was picking on you at school really like you, well, apparently that was how John expressed his affections. Luckily, he has moved out of that stage now.) Well, first of all, his family paid me to get him out of the house. Also, he had a cute moustache at the time (now, he is just a complete hair-pie. I have told him that shaving off the facial hair is grounds for divorce.) Seriously though, he does take direction well, he had four sisters to break him in. Never has the man left the toilet seat up. I suspect his sisters threatened to slam it down on certain more delicate parts if he ever did so. It's not like he had someone else to blame it on. Man, am I digressing, now where was I?
Anyway, watched the movie Frequency with Dennis Quaid last night. I really really liked it alot. (John, not so much, but what does he know.) Now, first off, you need to understand I am a fan of Dennis Quaid, but I think it was a good story anyway. The premise of the story is the boy lost his firefighter father in a fire when he was 6 years old. When he is 36, there is a solar flare, just like there was the year his father died and they are able to communicate on the ham radio. I doubt whether that premise holds any sort of scientific water, but it made for a really good story. Anyway, through their communication, they are able to make sure the father doesn't die in the fire. But it changes history in that now the mother is killed. How they work to try to prevent that is the crux of the story. I thought it was extremely well done, especially in how they would show that history had changed. At one point, he is sitting in a bar with his father's old friend (now his partner) and his childhood friend on the anniversary of when his father died. They keep switching back and forth between what was happening with the father in the fire and the child's memories of his dad. As he dad makes different choices this time, the memories start to change, with the father appearing in the memories where only the mother was before. It was a really great way to show the change in history. I won't tell you anymore about the story, 'cause I know some people don't like the plots of movies given away. I will tell you, however, that it has a happy ending. I don't like movies where they kill off main characters, there is enough tragedy in real life, I don't need it in my entertainment.
Speaking of that, I was reading in a magazine today about a woman who won a jackpot of $34 million on one of those progressive slot machines in Las Vegas last January. A couple of months later, she was in her car with her sister, stopped at a stoplight, when they were hit by a drunk driver in a Ford Explorer going 50 miles an hour, shoving her Camero into the car in front of them The sister died, and she is paralyzed from the upper chest down. I also saw on the news last night about 5 St. Olaf College students who were heading down to New Orleans for spring break to do some missionary work at one of their grandparent's church. It was late at night and a drunk driver hit them head on near Springfield, Illinois, going the wrong way on the freeway. 3 of the students were killed. They were scheduled to stop outside of St. Louis to stay with one of the girl's parents. (Did you ever notice that it always seems to be the drunk driver that survives these crashes?)
Why is it we are one of the few developed countries that continues to
tolerate drinking and driving? In most European countries, the laws are
much stricter, with the blood alcohol limit in the .04 range, as opposed to the
.08-.10 limit here in the U.S. But what I really really have a problem with
are the repeat drunk drivers. The man involved in the Las Vegas incident
above was on his 15th DWI. Explain to me why our society allows these
multiple offenders to continue to walk free. In many states, if they were convicted
of any other three crimes, they would be locked up for life automatically.
Why is drunk driving different? It is tantamount to allowing a convicted
murder to walk around freely with a loaded gun, hoping he will show some
restraint and not use it. Now I understand that alcoholism is a disease,
both my father and my brother were/are alcoholics, so I understand that they
can't even have one drink However, there are alot of alcoholics out there,
and most of them don't go out and kill people with their cars. Or they get
one DWI, get scared, and never do it again. What has to happen in our
society before we say "Enough". Enough of our children being hit
on the sidewalk by a drunk who jumped the curb. Enough of our teenagers
being killed by drivers going the wrong way on the freeway. Now don't' get
me wrong, I am not tea-totaler. I like a good drink now and then.
But if I am driving, I have ONE and only one. If I want to have more than one
then the keys go to someone else. It's not that hard. It doesn't
have to cramp your style. You just have to exercise some COMMON
SENSE. Something else that seems to be in short supply these
days. Along with personal responsibility. But that tirade is
for another day.
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I swear, my children have no idea how to look for anything! This morning, for instance, my 7 year old daughter couldn't find her shoes. She swore up and down they were not in or anywhere near her shoe cubby in her room. (To be fair, it seems her brother had used the shoe cubby for entertainment for a while last night before he went to sleep, so the shoes were not exactly neatly stacked.) So finally, I go in the bedroom by the shoe cubby. I say, "Rhiannon, did you bother to lift anything to see if your shoes were under other shoes?" And she says "But Daddy said Jack is supposed to pick up the shoes after school." Sigh. What, did she think she was going to find the shoes telepathically? The shoes would send out a signal beacon perhaps, saying, "here we are, wear us to school today". Good grief.
Unlike his sister, Jack was bright and cheery this morning, despite his nocturnal meanderings. At about 9:00 pm (8:00 is bed time and Rhiannon generally falls asleep shortly after that), John heard metallic clinking sounds in the bedroom, so he went in and found Jack playing on his metal bunk bed with a large number of his Hot WheelsTM cars, which he had smuggled into his bed in his fireman's hat. John came out looking half amused and half sad. Apparently he used to smuggle his "good toys" into his bed at night too. So, there we have it, my son comes by his sneaky tendencies from his father. Not me. It is his manipulative tendencies that come from me. Big difference.
There is one of the FBI's 10 Most Wanted running loose around the Twin City area today. Last night, they had him cornered (they thought) in the 1900 block of Minnihaha Avenue. I know this partially because of the news and partially through the accounts of friends from work who live in that area and couldn't get home from work. One lady was desperately trying to get home to her 10 year old son, who should have been home from school at that time. Once she finally got through the police perimeter, she found her son was not home. Turned out they kept him at school. She spent some very anxious minutes until she got to school and found him. She said she couldn't stop hugging him. And he, being a typical 10 year old boy was like "Geez, Mom, let go, my friends are watchin'". Someday they will understand.
Now, today, they had the Mall of America (MOA) shut down until 6pm, as they thought he was there. For those of you who have never been to MOA, it is roughly the size of a small city. If he really ever was in there, they didn't have a hope in hell of finding him. First of all, they had to evacuate 1000 plus employees and mall walkers. Then assuming he didn't slip out with them, like any mall, the place has alot of entrances and exits. Now they think he got on a bus at the transit station attached to the mall (it didn't occur to them that they might want to divert the busses from the mall after they closed it?). I don't like the idea of this guy running loose anywhere near me and MOA is on my end of town (actually, I don't like the idea of this guy running loose anywhere, but near me increases the nervousness). But since he probably got on a bus, he could be anywhere.
My husband tells me that my stats for this site are very high for a new site. I had 160 visitors on Monday. Thank you to all of you who are stopping by and seem to enjoy my ramblings. Also, thank you to all of you who took the time to send me lovely welcoming messages via email. And, even thank you to Bob for taunting me. That was fun. BTW, Bob, I would argue that the ability of the English to dominate the Irish had more to do with England's superior weapons technology (feudal knights and standing armies) and England's more centrally organized form of government (as opposed to the Irish tribal governments which tended to do more arguing between themselves than fighting off organized invaders) than the way the Irish treated their women.
Speaking of the Irish. I noticed on Marcia’s site the other day that she was talking about being “Orange” Irish as opposed to “Green” Irish. Most Americans don't seem to realize there is such a thing as "orange" Irish.. The majority of the Irish in Ireland are Catholic, the “Green” Irish. (Like my family.) The “Orange” Irish are the Protestants. In fact, in the news when they talk of Northern Ireland, you may have heard talk of the Orangemen or the Orange Order. Although the differentiation seems to be by religion, what I think it really to boils down to is that the Protestants are the descendants of the English and Scots who emigrated (or invaded, depending on one’s point of view). Now, I don’t pretend to be an expert on Irish (or Northern Irish) politics by any means, but (yes, this is where I will probably get in trouble with someone) let’s face it, the Protestants have been there for 500 years, more or less, at some point, they cease to be English and Scots invaders and become IRISH. Now, I realize this is a gross oversimplification of the issue, but it does seem like that is what it boils down to.
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I like this picture, even though it is a good 1 1/2 years old. Don't they look cozy?
I am soooo proud of myself. I am back on program. As I have mentioned before, I am a member (okay, lapsed member) of Weight WatchersTM (WW). For those of you unfamiliar with how WW works, it works on a PointsTM system. (I used to work as a Legal Assistant in Intellectual Property, so I am very careful about marking trademark, hence the TM next to alot of product names, sorry, but old habits die hard.) Based on your weight, you get a certain number of points to eat each day. (1 point is roughly 50 calories, any more than 6 grams of fat adds a point and about 4 grams of fiber takes away a point.) I get 27 points a day, which is damn little some days. It's not that I am hungry, it is I want a big gooey oatmeal chocolate chip cookie. Now, you can earn back points by exercising. However, to earn the 4 points for that cookie, you're talking about 50 minutes of aerobics.
Anyway, March has not been a good month for me. I have only 17 pounds to go to reach my doctor assigned weight goal (I've lost 50 pounds since 1999), so I was doing fairly well after plateauing most of 2000. However, my birthday was March 3rd and frankly, my plan for that day was if I saw it and I wanted it, I was going to eat it and the points be damned. Unfortunately, we had a Fat Tuesday celebration here at work and I took it a little too seriously, so my "birthday celebration" started a little early. We also keep a bowl of candy up front and I am addicted to mini peanut butter cups (maybe I should start a support group . . .) I have not been to weigh in at WW since the end of February. I need to do it and face the music. I am sure I am up, the question is just how much. However, I just want to get a good week behind me before I go.
So, yesterday was the first day of my new plan. I walked up to the State Capitol and back (if you have ever been to St. Paul, you know that the Capitol is a fair distance from downtown, plus it is all uphill. St. Paul has alot of hills). And today I walked to the Cathedral. St. Paul is kind of a neat city, as it has 2 large hills, the highest of which in the area is occupied not by the State Capitol, but by St. Paul's Cathedral. So, here's to staying on the straight and narrow. Now, this is not to say I will never eat a oatmeal chocolate chip cookie again (or stray in other ways) I just need to not make it a practice.
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Well, I have managed to stay on track for 2 days now. Woo Hoo! Sorry, but I wrote my post at work yesterday and forgot to email it home and I was too tired to recompose it. So, it will be posted today, along with today's ramblings.
I watched The Sixth Sense last night. All I can say is "WOW!" If you haven't seen it, you really have to. It is not a horror movie, or a gory movie, or really a scary movie, at least, not once you start to understand what is going on. And the ending is just something you don't see coming. Or at least I didn't and anyone I have talked to about it didn't. I won't give the ending away. However, if you haven't seen the movie yet, avoid next week's issue of TV Guide. I was reading the "50 Most Memorable Movie Scenes" and there was a subset of best "Gotcha" endings. The Sixth Sense is listed as number 9, I think, and THEY GIVE THE ENDING AWAY! How dare they! I am so glad I read that after I had seen the movie. If you do rent the movie, rent the DVD if you have that player. You can watch deleted scenes and commentary from the director, producers, etc. about how they maintained continuity throughout the film without telegraphing the ending. It is just AWESOME. Usually movies that get as much hype and word of mouth as The Sixth Sense got end up not being able to live up to it and I am disappointed. Not in this case.
We got a note home from daycare the other day about Jack, our four year old. His teachers were concerned because they felt he was not recognizing his letters as he should be at his age. Now, this sort of thing always concerns me, as my birth father is dyslexic and so I am very watchful (okay, some would call it paranoid) when it comes to things like this.
So, John made up some flash cards and Jack and I went through them throughout the evening. The first issue that immediately presented itself was attention. Jack would consistently get the first 4 letters of the alphabet right, along with the letters in his first name, but after that, it was more of an issue of wanting to do other things. I swear I could see the gears turning in his little head. "Mommy, I don't want to look at letters, I want to throw things around the apartment and break things like I normally do, so I will call this letter a K or a D, even though I know it is not a K or a D and eventually you will get frustrated with this entire exercise and leave me to wreck havoc in my normal fashion."
I talked to the preschool teacher the next morning, not the ones that wrote the note (they are the "Shark" teachers), but the preschool teacher who has been doing this for 30 years or so. Patty told me not to worry, most kids Jack's age get mixed up on their letters and all she asks when them move up to her room is that they consistently recognize the letters in their first name. She said she would talk to Jack's teachers and see what is going on. The impression I got from her (although she didn't actually say it) was "they are young and over-reacted". Well, geez, then don't send me home notes like that. Sheese. Like I don't have enough stress in my life.
Speaking of stress, the president of my company is a St. Paul City Councilman and is running for the DFL (that is what Democrats are called up here in the great white north, Democratic Farmer Labor) nomination for mayor of St. Paul. Assuming he gets the party endorsement (and that is a big assumption right now, the sitting mayor is not running for re-election, so everyone and his brother is running for his seat), he will take a sabbatical to campaign. If he does, there is going to be some campaigning to be done here to take his place. One one hand, we have the corporate attorney, who, although he is a very nice guy, would like to run the show and run it his way. Rules, they are for everybody else. On the other hand, we have the CFO, a very nice woman, who over-commits, runs behind, and wants to be home with her kids and run the company. If either one of them gets the position, you can be guaranteed that the other will leave and take some people with them. To paraphrase Bette Davis, fasten your seatbelts, it's going to be a bumpy summer. Frankly, both of them have their drawbacks as far as I am concerned. As a working mother myself, I sympathize with the CFO, but I made the decision back when I had only one kid that I had to take myself off the career track for right now and be on the mommy track. Thus I work as an administrative assistant, rather than running a mortgage servicing company (which I would be doing now if I hadn't left my first employer out of college for too long of hours) or working as a legal assistant (when something has a filing deadline, you stay until it is done. Doesn't matter if the attorney didn't give it to you until 4 pm.) There is no "having it all". What there is, is choices. You make 'em, and you have to live with them. And frankly, I can deal alot better with the idea of me never being a VP than my kids growing up warped for lack of attention.
As of right now (3:40 pm CST) there is word of another school shooting, just 4 miles away from the last one in California. What is going on in our society? What is turning our high school kids into killers? Most of the cases have been high school boys of middle to upper middle class parents in large high schools. From what I have read, these kids have been picked on and had parents that seemed to be too busy with their own lives to know what is going on with their kids and indulged them as a result. These kids seem to have never had to suffer consequences for their actions. We seem to live in a society now, that now ones thinks their actions have consequences. Nothing is anyone's fault. It was how they were brought up, or they were told "no" too much as a child, or they watched too much wrestling on TV or ate too many Twinkies (don't laugh, someone actually used that defense in a murder trial). I used to supervise some people who were about 5 years younger than me several years ago, and I was frustrated by this attitude of shoving blame on someone else. I would come in with an error that had been made and how to keep it from reoccurring, and all they could all they could do was say "I didn't do it, so and so did" or "it's not my fault, no one ever told me to verify that" or some other blame someone else kind of answer and I tell you I am sick to death of it. I have friends who teach high school who tell me if they call a parent about a child's behavior, the first thing they hear is "Well, what did YOU do?" Come on, like your little angel has never done anything wrong? When I was a kid, if the teacher called my folks, I was in deep do-do. Now, don't get me wrong, I was certainly given a chance to defend myself, and even given the benefit of the doubt, however, the unspoken reality was, if they went and talked to that teacher and found out I lied, man, my life was not worth living. I was gonna be grounded until I was 30. The only solace I can take is that I am not the only one fed up with this attitude. I am seeing people my age with children are back to enforcing more rules like I grew up with. None of this "be your kid's best friend" crap. Damnit, be their parent. Show them limits, show them that the world is NOT fair and they need to make the best of it. Show your love by telling them NO. And for God's sake, teach them to take responsibility for their own actions. Teaching them to blame someone else is not helping them, or our society at all.
Well, this has gone on way longer than I intended. Hopefully there will be something more light hearted to talk about tomorrow. As for now, I think I am going to go hug my kids, tell them I love them, and to go clean their room.
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Had a good day, so far, diet-wise. So far, eating more protein, especially at breakfast, has really seemed to help the urge to munch.
Well, today I don't feel all that original, so I believe I will regale you with a tale. A tale of the "Coupling of the Dominiks" (okay, perhaps I should rephrase, "The Making of the Dominiks". "The Making of a Couple of Dominiks"? Nah, this just isn't gettin' any better).(Oh, no - Duck -- jd.)
As you may be aware if you have read my main page, I attended the College of St. Benedict (CSB) in St. Joseph, Minnesota. CSB is a Catholic, all girls institution. (All Woman, please - jd) After my freshman year there, I felt the need for larger horizons, so I transferred to the University of Iowa (U of I) in Iowa City (GO HAWKS!). Anyway, I promptly found that all the things I hated about a small school were pretty much multiplied 100 fold at a large university. So, I transferred back to CSB my junior year.
While I was at the U of I, I kept in touch with my old friends at CSB. One of my friends was dating a guy named Rob, who had a roommate named Jon (no I didn't misspell my husband's name. You'll see, just keep reading.) Anyway, she kinda hooked us up over the phone. So all through the winter of sophomore year, I corresponded with and called Jon. I guess you could say we were dating, in a long distance sort of way.
Now, the next fall, I moved back up to CSB. And Jon and I were together. I found that, as is often the case, the guy I had been talking to on the phone and writing to over the winter was not quite the same guy as I met. Jon was much more thoughtful and funny in letters and over the phone than he was in person. But, I decided to give him a chance. One day while I was visiting him in his dorm room with my feet up on his piano (yes, they had a piano in their dorm room, it was a VERY LARGE room) in walks this guy with a mustache named J.P. I don't remember why he was there, may have had something to do with moving the piano. Anyway, we hit it off and he proceeded to try to one-up in the sarcastic comment department.
Jon and I broke up shortly thereafter (let's just say he was less than tactful when he decided to go back to his ex who was "small and needed him" and I was so "big and independent". To be fair, I know he didn't mean it the way it came out, but . . .) I saw J.P. off and on throughout that year. I thought he was kinda cute and my friends kept telling me he liked me, but he never asked me out. Anyway, I was also friends with another John (let's refer to him as J2, who is also not my husband. Confused yet?) who was apparently sending out "signals" to the other guys that we were more than friends. I find out later that J.P. didn't ask me out because (1) he felt he need permission from Jon, who was reluctant to give it, although we weren't dating any more and (2) J2 was sending signals. Okay, am I the only woman who wants to know why I was not consulted in all this? What is this "signal" stuff? Sheese. (J.P., henceforth known as husband number one, was not in the market at the time for feminine companionship, and was far more concerned with breaking up an extremely large group of over thirty friends, and would much rather enjoy friendships with many rather than failure with just one individual. Allegedly. -- ed.)
Anyway, after I went out East to work for the summer and came back to school as a senior, J.P. finally made his move. My roommate and I were having lofts built (which he volunteered to do). To thank him for his help, my roommates and I invited him to dinner. Funny, how suddenly all three of my roommates made alternate plans. So here I was with a meatloaf dinner, movies, VCR, and J.P. He rented 3 movies. I don't remember them all, but I remember the middle one, Predator. Let's just say I have never seen that movie all the way through. (WITCHES OF EASTWICK... What the hell was he thinking using that for a first date move, I'll never know. -- ed.)
Anyway, now that we were a couple, he wanted to go by his name, John (yes, this one is my husband). We started dating at the end of September. (September 30, 1988, truth be told - ed.) By January, we had had the dreaded "where is this relationship going conversation". To which he answered, "well, you are going to marry me". (Please note: I was never asked. I was told.) (And that's the last decision he made... -- ed.)
And that is how it all began. I will tell you another time about how he almost got his ring thrown in the Mississippi. (Of course, I never would have actually thrown it in, I would have made it look like I did and then gone and hocked it.) Oh, and by the way, I did get a small measure of revenge on Jon (he of the tactless break-up), since he was a friend of ours, we made him an usher, so he had to rent a $70 tuxedo and come down to Iowa and rent a motel room. I know, revenge is so petty, but it's fun too!
Ta ta for now. I am off to have dinner with my sister-in-law and her husband at the Mall of America while another sister-in-law watches my kids. Sometimes it is damn convenient to have two sisters-in-law living in the same suburb.
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It appears my husband
did a little editing in my post after I went to bed last night. Hmmm. . .I
will have to think on a suitable punishment. Perhaps I will publish the
picture of him in lederhosen. Or, just sugar up his children with powdered
sugar doughnuts and chocolate frosted sugar bombs and leave him with them for
the day. I will have to think on this. I will let you know what I
decide.
Well, so much for sleeping in on a Saturday morning. Rhiannon had a "come-as-you-are" party at 8:30 this morning. (I went to one of these come-as-you-are "parties", and I use that term merely as I lack a better one at the moment, when I was about 15. Since neither the birthday girl or any of victims {sorry, attendees} were in on this little escapade, it seems to me it was arranged strictly for the amusement of our parents. And boy, were they amused to watch all of us rousted out of bed at 6 am on a sunny June morning. I remember waking up to a crowd of laughing adults in my bedroom, with the birthday girl all but curled up asleep on my dresser. Let's just say, it took the aforementioned girls a while to warm up to this idea. I think we finally all started having fun at about noon. Somewhere out there, there are floating around pictures of me and about 7 of my girlfriends with no make-up and our hair sticking up in whatever ratty pjs we went to bed in. I would pay to have this picture destroyed. If you have it, please email me and we can discuss terms.) Anyway, enough of my tortured past, back to the tortured past I am creating for my eldest. (As a parent, it is one of my greatest joys to come up with ways to torment my offspring. Or at least, they believe that.)
Since we didn't get home until 10:30 last night, the present for the birthday girl still need to be wrapped and the card needed to be made. John said if I took Rhiannon to the party, he would get up and do laundry so we could get going. Jack's godmother (one of the, he has two. Long story, he was born early and was in Children's Hospital in Minneapolis. See here if you are interested) is having a birthday party and we need to get up to Plymouth early to help her set up and maybe let the monkeys frolic in the pool. Anyway, about 8:00 am the kids came in to cuddle. After a few minutes of that, the three of us got up to go get ready. Since it was a come as you are party, only mommy had to get dressed. In fact, here is a picture of the jammies they were wearing. Pretty cute, huh?
Anyway, got Rhiannon to her party, just a little late. Then Jack and I had a little mother-son bonding time. I asked Jack what he would like to eat for breakfast. After consulting his stuffed dog, Barky, he decided he wanted "panycakes". I asked where he wanted to get them. I expected to hear he wanted to go to McDonalds, which is haute cuisine to my son. Instead, after again consulting with Barky, he said he wanted to go "someplace that gives me a basket of toys and books". Well, the only place I know of that does that, and serves pancakes, is Perkins.
So, Jack and I walk into Perkins. Since it is early morning (about 8:45. Hey for Saturday morning, that is damn early for me to be out.) I am still in my glasses and Jack is in his Pooh slippers and Star Wars Naboo Fighter slippers. He got lots of indulgent, "isn't that cute" looks. He was a very good boy, looking at the Hockey pictures in the paper while we waited for a table. After we were seated, he ordered his pannycakes, very politely, I might add. After a short wait, they brought out my food way but not his "teddy bear chocolate chip" pancakes. So, he ate my hashbrowns while we waited for his pancakes. When we were leaving, he picked out his daddy's breakfast, a cinnamon roll and a sticky bun. He was very well behaved, said please and thank you to the waitress and flirted with the 8 year old girl across from him (who didn't behave nearly as well as he did. I was so proud. Mothers are that way, you know, we compare our children's behavior to the behavior of the children around them. Kind of like one of those sliding scale grading systems.)
Sorry, had to intervene a minute. Daddy is trying to get the 4 year old to help put away laundry. The yelling was escalating. Already we have teenage communication issues between Dad and Jack. The louder Dad yells, the less likely Jack is to do what ever Dad wants. (Rhiannon and I were just discussing this, and she doesn't think Daddy has figured this out yet. I think she has a career in Psychology.) God help us in 10 years.
I took a nap when we got home from picking up Rhiannon, after I rousted Daddy out of the bed. He never sleeps until 11, so he must have needed it. So, here we are at 3:30 in the afternoon, when we are supposed to already be in Plymouth, still doing laundry. Hopefully, John is bringing back the last loads now, so we can get going. Plymouth is about a 30-45 minute drive away. The kids are all excited because some friends of ours from Montevideo will be there. They have one little girl who is 6 months older than Rhiannon and one that is 6 months younger. Their third daughter is about 1 year younger than Jack, so the kids get on really well. In fact, Jack has decided that Paige (the middle sister) is his current girlfriend and has been calling her. We have yet to hear Paige's opinion on this relationship, but I don't think it bodes well for my son. Oh well, that way, her dad doesn't have to load the shotgun. <g> You can see the "Jones clan" and Kyle's runs an industrial film company website here. If you are interested in this kind of work, take a look at his page. He has very reasonable rates and does great work!
Well, I had better go or utter chaos will continue to reign and we will get nowhere today.
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This is my third and hopefully final attempt to type my post today, using a laptop John has set up for me. I am using an interesting set up. The keypboard on this laptop is not terribly functional, unless of course you don't mind not knowing what character is going to show up when you hit a key. Personally, I am pickier than that. A personal foible, I know. Anyway, John then gave me a spare keyboard he had hanging around to use. Apparently it was hanging around because the only way to get a capital letter is to turn on and off the caps lock key. Oh well, considering we only spent a buck on the laptop, I think we got our money's worth.
Well, it has been a very busy weekend. Last night we went to a friend's birthday party. Some good friends of ours from Montevideo (Montevideo is spitin'distance from South Dakota) were there with their 3 daughters. Jack had decided that the middle one, Paige, is his girlfriend. She does not seem to be so keen on the idea. However, he spent his evening chasing around Paige's younger sister, Georden. I am unsure of how to explain to my son that the quickest way to get into deep do-do is to date sisters. Not to mention, there is an older sister, T'shael, who could very well be outraged by the mere fact that she has NOT been the girlfriend du jour. The poor kid is in over his head, no matter how you slice it.
Ányway, it was a nice party. Not a huge number of people, but a very fun and jovial group. However, I think the guest of honor was feeling a little down about the people who had said they were going to attend and then did not. Now, first of all, I think if you say you are going to attend a party, especially for someone's birthday, the least you can do is make an appearance, or at call if something comes up and you can't make it. But, she was allowing her disappointment to keep her from enjoying the friends who did come. John pointed this out to her, and I think it helped her for a while. But when we were all packing up to go home, she seemed to be kind of down. I don't know if it was still because of the people who didn't come or just being in her 30's and alone and all her friends at the party were going home to either roomates or family. Now, she is single by choice, but I think sometimes that gets rather lonely. Makes me glad I met my husband in college. I don't know where I would meet people now. You don't want to date people from work, 'cause after the relationship is over, you still have to work with them. But, face it, do you really want to date someone you pick up in a bar??
Then today, we had the Girl Scout International Tea. Junior and Brownie troops chose a country, researched it, and prepared cuisine, displays, and performances that are native to the land. John pointed out, however, that Dr. Keyboard probably would howl with displeasure to see the French display. For French cuisine, the troop had grapes, cheese, bread, and chocolate milk. Not exactly haute cuisine, but hey, give the girls a break, they're seven. Besides, what do you expect for 25 cents a ticket?
After the Tea, we did the weekly trip to the grocery store. Nothing is more aggrevating than realizing after you have been to 2 different stores to attempt to get everything on your list you missed 2 very important items. In our case, grape juice and bubble bath. Hey, these are the highlight of my 4 year old's life!
Now, as I type this, I am watching the Academy Awards. This year, I have actually seen one of the Oscar nominated films for Best Picture. John and I greatly enjoyed Erin Brockovich. I haven't seen any of the others, which is par for the course. We generally don't see movies until they come out on video or DVD. Working all week, I usually don't feel like dumping my kids on the weekend too. I would rather do something with them. Mom and Dad will be their favorite people to be with for such a short time, I want to enjoy it while I can. Soon enough, it will be a drag to be with "the folks" on a Friday night. It is scary to realize that soon, nothing will be "uncooler" to them than to be seen with me. It kinda hurts. And I can't yet fathom that the day will come that I won't see my kids every day. I won't know what they are doing for days on end. Okay, I am depressing myself now, and they are only 7 and 4.
Well, time to wrap this up before it goes on as long as the Oscars. Have a good evening and a great week. And try not to think about the fact that we are no longer cool.
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