Friday, June 26, 2009
Monday, June 22, 2009
All right y'all, it's finally happened. The flying car is a reality. THIS IS TOTALLY AWESOME! Someone has actually come up with a plane that can touch down, fold up its little wings and go cruising on down the highway. The idea, the company says, is to create a car that can go around bad weather when the situation calls for it.
Honestly? I think someone was just trying to replicate Star Wars and came up with the next best thing…
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Anyway, all whining aside, the ballet went well. None of the parents knew where the kids were supposed to be, the kids were so wound from spending hours...and hours...and hours in line that they were about to implode by the time they got on stage to perform, somebody knocked an entire bottle of water all over the dressing room floor and they managed to close the curtain too early not once, but twice-once at the beginning of the last act of La Boutique Fantasque ("The Magic Toy Shop) and once on top of Aurora at the end of Sleeping Beauty.
Overall, I'd say it was a smashing success (assuming I could actually find my "m" key, which apparently I can't).
Seriously though, we all had a good time. My daughter's class decked themselves out in Italian tarentella gear and spun around on stage. There was almost a head on collision in the middle of Sleeping Beauty when one of the dancers missed her blocking and cut off another, but I was so busy snickering about the fact that my friend's daughter managed to drop my rather large, rather heavy plastic bracelet on the extremely hard and uncovered floor and send it rolling down between the seats all...the way...to the front of the room to really pay much attention.
The extremely acoustically friendly room, might I add.
Have you ever seen Ray Stevens's "Mississippi Squirrel Revival"? Check it out here. This is EXACTLY what it looked like-minus the laps in the woman's dress, of course! Oh, and the revival. But it was definitely a red, plastic squirrel...
Anyway, the girls were darling, Chelsea had a blast, and it's time to get this summer on the road. Good night all.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Today has been awesome. Exhausting, but awesome. It started out terrible-Garrett wouldn't go to bed last night, so I stayed up way too late and wound up falling asleep on our loveseat. Now, normally this isn't something I'd mind. As a matter of fact, there are many days I go out of my way to fall asleep on my loveseat. It rocks! While a loveseat might have been meant for two people, however, it certainly wasn't meant for three. Not in any position that resembles sleeping, at any rate! About halfway through my 300th episode of Buffy (okay, not really, but I was so tired it even felt like it to me!) I was dozing in and out of sleep in a cramped, contorted position that the Olympic gymnasts would have been envious of!
Garrett finally passed out on me at about three in the morning, and we migrated upstairs. I had had great plans to get up this morning around five so I could go running and get some work done before I had to take Chelsea to ballet. Of course, this plan greatly hinged on being able to go to bed early, which between having company over until eleven and having my very own three year old Kapuchin climbing all over my living room just didn't happen. I woke up at 9:00 still exhausted and wedged between my daughter, who crawled into my bed, kissed me on the lips and promptly passed back out, and my husband, who was starting to wake up and, in the way of people who have no respect for sleep, decided I should be awake too.
Needless to say, I was a little cranky when I finally realized what time it was, woke up my daughter and stumbled downstairs for some breakfast.
The beginnings of a huge headache and a bowl of finely ground Frosted Mini Wheats crumbs later, I was ready to get this show on the road. I was counting on having ten minutes in a nice, hot shower to pull myself back together, maybe taking a little time to spit shine my aura (which had to be pitch black by that point in time) and start feeling a little more human. I forgot one thing. My husband LOVES sharing the shower.
Get your mind out of the gutter.
Seriously. I'm a shameless shower hog. I HATE sharing my shower, even with the kids. I like to light a candle, crawl my half human, half alien morning self into the shower and just sit and broil for a little while. I don't have to share the hot water, I have room to stretch, and I can sing and talk to myself and meditate to my heart's content. Have you ever tried to channel energy through your chakra when you're half awake and someone's talking in your ears? It's enough to make a saint suicidal.
More importantly, in a house full of people my shower is the only ten minutes in a day I actually get to myself. I treasure that time. I can massage my scalp, shameless exfoliate my skin and enjoy ten minutes out of the day where I don't have to be anybody's mommy, anybody's wife or anybody's contractor. I can just be me, which (at the risk of sounding like a complete and utter emo) doesn't get to happen a whole lot these days between work, school and my family. Take that away from me and my day's already off to a rough start.
Throw in an overtired and whiny six year old who doesn't want to have to deal with putting on her tights for ballet and you've got an instant recipe for disaster. By the time I dropped her off at class (after a futile search for the shoe she lost last week that never did reappear), forced her into her old, slightly too-small back-up slippers and sent her in to class I wasn't fit company for man or beast.
Thank God for friends. I'm good friends with the father of one of the other dancers in Chelsea's class, and he took one look at me and just gave me a hug. I needed that. Just a simple, undemanding hug from a friend. Hugs moved on to coffee with the kiddies in tow, and a quick shot of caffeine and a bagel later I was feeling something close to human again. Of course, the quick dousing in the deluge that started coming down the minute we stepped out of the coffee shop might have helped. I love getting soaked in a summer storm, when it's hot enough to fry an egg on the sidewalk and the water's coming down nice and warm.
We were soaked by the time we got back to the studio, having promised the kids to send a car back for them, but it was so worth it.
Well, my stressed little mind was turning a mile a minute with my ten mile long to-do list after class (Yes, I spent ten whole minutes going through everything I was supposed to do today. Isn't that pathetic?) but was informed that the kids wanted to spend the afternoon together. My first instinct was to refuse-I had work to do, after all. But Chelsea's friend is going out of state soon and may be gone until we leave for New York, so I didn't have the heart.
I'm glad I didn't. We had some errands to run first, and let me tell you-there are some days when I'm SUCH a woman. I wanted to get Chelsea loaded up on dance stuff for next year, since I'm not sure how far away the nearest dance shop's going to be next year and don't want to spend August scrambling to find out, so we spent a small fortune at Walmart and Dancer's Wardrobe. Retail therapy. Nothing beats it.
Anyway, after coming home, tossing in a load of laundry and scrubbing the dirt out of her tights with a toothbrush so she'd have a clean pair for her recital tomorrow, Chelsea and I headed out for some fun with friends. Hey, there are some things more important that packing closets, right? We wound up watching some Mythbusters, busting some maggots and catching the middle of "Tomcats" before the kids announced they wanted to hit the pool.
Oh. My. God. I haven't had that much fun in forever. We had the girls tooling around the pool on their kickboards, and I've finally got Chelsea swimming! It was a big moment. We couldn't even get her off the ladder next year, so I was a little worried about my ability to fulfill my promise to have her swimming without a floatie this year. I shouldn't have been. She hit the water like a fish this year. She's finallys swimming! Oh, only for small stretches-one or two feet, tops, before her feet go down in the water. But she's doing it! I was so excited, and it was so great to actually have people to celebrate with. Then Chelsea's friend wanted to try swimming, and she's picking it up fast! I was impressed!
Four temper tantrums later we were out of the pool and on our way back to the house. I wound up bringing all of the kids home with me, and their dad showed up with the makings of cheesy french fries and chicken nuggets in tow. I could have wept at his feet in gratitude. We made up dinner, hooked the kids up with some popcorn and a movie and retreated upstairs with two plates of loaded french fries and the seventh season of Buffy. It was awesome. It was so nice to just spend a day hanging out, not desperately trying to work my butt off to fit 30 hours of "stuff" into 24 hours of day.
A half an hour of bonding time with a lavender candle, a microblog and two blog posts later (I post at the WitchSchool site as well) I'm feeling good, if exhausted from a day at the pool, and very, very ready for bed. I finally found a little peace. I think I'm going to drink up a little more, then head for bed. Tomorrow's going to be a very, very big day.
Peace out y'all.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Dude. Get over yourself. You quit Star Trek. Your movie career never happened. You have a wife. You have two beautiful stepchildren. Grow up and be grateful for what you have, and develop the talents that you do have rather than the ones that you don't. Child stars don't transition well. It's amazing how many child stars have found themselves in precisely that scenario. Find something else to do, and stop whining. Please.
All right, I feel better now. Sorry, I was packing this morning to the happy tune of Wil Wheaton, which normally should have made the experience exponentially less painful but in actually ended up just aggravating me. I can't stand it when people whine horrifically. I mean, I know I tend to sink down into the mires of self pity. I know it's easy for me to obsess about things that are past-the sting of not being able to finish Med Tech school still rears its ugly head and pokes me in the butt every once in a while. But really? Even I'm not that whiny. Get over yourself, see reality the way it really is rather than the way you wanat it to be.
Phew. All right, rant aside, I know I still owe you a blog about the Ren Faire, and it's coming, it really is. But ye olde muse just isn't feeling the VRF today. Maybe tomorrow. The sun will come out tomorrow, there's always tomorrow, and tomorrow...well, who knows. Right now I have to go finish getting my stuff together for tonight, when I finally get to watch my daughter dance her tarentella dance and enjoy my last night of being an uninvolved parent on the Virginia Ballet Scene before we move to New York and get to start the process all....over....again.
What about the stress of constantly finding work? The pressure of often unrealistic deadlines? The tension that comes from having to do your work to somebody else's satisfaction? Yes, writing is infinitely preferable to, say, being an accountant, but whoever says it isn't stressful is either doing it as a part time hobby or they're still living the nine to five and looking with envy at all the writers of the world sitting here, just like, putting their thoughts to paper while chilling in their pajamas and watching "Pink Panther".
As I was walking this morning in my neverending quest to lost hte weight that absolutely refuses to go anywhere and listening happily to Wil Wheaton's "Just a Geek" while rolling down to CVS on a quest for the appropriate hair "stuff" to do my daughter's hair for her dress rehearsal tonight, I was feeling pretty chill. I was thinking, "They're right. The only stress that goes along with my job is what I give it!" Realistically, however, even freelance writers only have 24 hours in a day.
That doesn't mean I'm ready to turn in my keyboard for a 9 to 5er, although the thought has occurred to me more than once in recent months that I would be a lot more relaxed if I could leave work at work and just come home and chill out. Then I think about the stress of finding a baby-sitter, and the aggravation of having to find someone to stay home with the kids when they're sick, and along with the vindictive feeling of justice that comes with knowing that my husband, who telecommutes, would finally get to know the joys of being a work at home parent (right know he's working out of his grandmother's spare bedroom, without the constant distraction of children who want to play, or go swimming, or go to the park, or do the myriad other things that children want to do on summer vacation) I think about how incredibly bored I would be.
So I realized. I really like being a writer. What I don't like doing is writing without feeling, by rote, with constant repetition. Somewhere along the way writing stopped being fun, and with it I felt like I was losing a piece of myself. So my promise? I said I was going to take this year and learn to enjoy my life, and six months into it I've already lost touch with that. I'm still wrapped up in the past, with a healthy dose of excuses for not making this reality everything I want it to be. I don't have time. It's too hard. I'm scared if I actually take that step and publish my own stuff with my own name on it people aren't going to like it, and I'm going to be a public failure.
Isn't it time I got over that? People are paying me a lot of money for my writing. In fact, I've been getting paid for my writing for the last two years. Obviously I have some smidgen, no matter how little, of talent. I think it might be time I said goodbye to fear and pride and started writing the way I've always done-with a little personality, and not like a mindless drone with nothing better to do.
Anyway, after making that promise to myself I guess it's time for me to take my pajama clad bottom upstairs and take a shower, and get ready for work. I think I'll slip on my comfy capris, and a light tee shirt, and curl up with my laptop at my brand new, newly acquired desk that so conveniently holds my schoolbooks underneath. I'll wrap up my newly found blogging addiction and go feel human so that when John comes by with Chelsea's ballet bag, which was left in his car and which I, in a move that all of those mothers who know the minute their child has left a piece of clothing anywhere would be appalled at, didn't even notice was missing, I'll be dressed and looking something like the professional I am.
My sister-in-law actually gave me an itemized list of everything her kids had left over here the last time they spent the night. I want to be her when I grow up.
Lolz. The Pink Panther wins again.
Monday, June 15, 2009
Friday, June 12, 2009
And today marks day 7 of Garrett's path to recovery after getting his tonsils and adenoids out. I swear, if I'd known teh poor kid was going to be so miserable I wouldn't have bothered! Okay, yeah, I probably would have (ENT said his tonsils were huge), but still. I would have been better prepared-and drafted backup for more than a couple of nights! As it is I haven't slept for more than 3 1/2 hours at a pop since Garrett's surgery, since we have to get up every four to dose him (which is always accompanied by plenty of righteous indignation). I'm pooped.
I'm supposed to be sitting down tonight to work on my final paper for my strategic marketing class, but I really don't feel like it. I so only accomplished half of what I wanted to do this week. I have grand ambitions of being able to take off the second half of July and the first half of August to help get this move taken care of. Of course, by take off I mean have my regular clientele caught up for about 4 weeks ahead of time, which is a great idea except for the part that with Garrett being as sick and miserable as he is I'm struggling just to get through what I HAVE to do in a day. Extra? Yah. Right.
So, a quick poll to all of you Twilight fans out there. Who hated the movie? Seriously? I loathed the movie, which isn't saying much when you consider the fact that I had to beg, lie and steal to get ahold of the book. I thought they butchered the book. Royally. So guess what? I'm now counting down until New Moon comes out in November.
Yes, I know. It's irrational. It's illogical. It just plain doesn't make sense! But there you have it. New Moon was, by far, my absolute favorite book of the Twilight quartet, probably because it made Bella much more three dimensional. She's heartbroken. She's shutting down. Then comes along this incredible man who pulls her out of her misery and puts her back on the straight and narrow. I love the way Stephanie Meyer portrays Bella's quest to get over Edward and move on with Jacob. She seemed so real here, much more so than she did in Twilight.
So yeah, in case you couldn't tell I was just a little pressed on New Moon. So now, even though intellectually I realize there's almost no chance that it's going to be better than the first I now almost have to go see it. I'm probably going to end up going to see it in the theatres. How pathetic is that?
I'm discovering that I really enjoy blogging. It's taking the pleasures of venting to a journal and slapping them up there for a live audience to see. No, it's not always witty, although I'm sure I could be if I wanted to. I don't want this to be a major publicity scene. This is the one place where I get to share my thoughts about politics, religion, movies, books, current events and my oh-so-boring life with everyone else out there.
Explain to me why we couldn't wait to grow up? When we were kids we couldn't wait to grow up and be adults. We had all these big plans for what we were going to do when we didn't have our parents staring over our shoulders. Now that we're adults, who can say they did half of what they said they were going to do as a child? I know I haven't. I still haven't gone any farther out of the states than Canada. I've never gone skydiving or white water rafting, and my significant other looked at me like I was crazy when I suggested it. Around here I'm the woman who cleans up the messes, puts away the laundry and occasionally escapes into glorious geekiness.
It's good to get to go online and be the zany, dorky and somewhat geeky woman I know I can be. Live long and prosper!
Thursday, June 11, 2009
No, not everyone in Hollywood is a druggie. Even I know that, and I'm probably the least pop culture proficient person I know. Not having cable will do that for you. That doesn't, however, stop many of them with living lives that seem to exist between rehab sessions. For Wil Wheaton, his drug of choice seems to be the arrogance of youth mixed in with the heady feeling of invulnerability and the unshakable belief in success that plagues us all through our twenties. That, at least, is a misstep I can respect!
So, to all you bookworms out there, and all the Trekkies that are holding back from picking up the book because Wil Wheaton's conversion from backseat actor to budding author just seems too, well, wierd, jump on the bandwagon and pick up a copy of Just a Geek. You can buy it online. You can pick it up in the bookstore. You can even download a copy of it from Amazon for your Kindle (like that isn't the coolest invention EVER!). Just get it, read it. I promise, you'll feel better about yourself, your future, your past and your sense of humor when you do.
Monday, June 8, 2009
When did fun stop being necessary?!?
I want to do something wild and crazy, just for the fun of it. I want to paint my face and dance in the rain and wear pigtails in public and sing at the top of my lungs and do all sorts of things I'm supposed to be too old and too mature to do, just because they're fun. I want to write about all the funny things my kids did today just for the fun of it and not because someone's expecting an e-mail (but oh, you should have seen Garrett trying to row across his baby pool in a plastic Halloween candy bowl!).
I want to go out and do the craziest thing I can find to do, just for the fun of it. Let's hear it for growing up.
Saturday, June 6, 2009
In other words, do you reach a point where you've lived with someone so long the two of you just stop being friends and turn into blissfully oblivious roommates? Or is that friendship a rock solid foundation on which you build? And do the people you love ever really see you, or do they only see what they want to see?