Memories and Stuff

     Another Sugar Cookie Day has come and gone. It wasn't quite the mess it usually is. Mostly because there was limited participation by the seven children involved. Mostly, they spent the day arguing or looking at various electronics. Usually, we confiscate the iPads that the school sends home, (which have become the bane of my existence) for the weekend, but, I forgot this weekend, and, they were out in full force.
     Occasionally a child would come into the kitchen to assist. One of my nieces fashioned a sugar cookie head stone for my sister, because, "Smoking kills, Aunt Bri."
     Mostly they argued all day. About who got which sprinkle color. (Next year, I am just going to have everyone just bring their own. This was traumatic.) About who got which frosting color. About this kid not playing with that kid. This kid said something mean to that kid, so, that kid said something mean back, and now this kid is crying, and everybody is mean. Mostly we told them to get out of the kitchen and stop interrupting. Because we were in the kitchen, we apparently missed fights over who got to sit in my recliner, who got to play video games next door, and, the very best: who got to play with legos in the boys room.
     Bearded Man was out hunting most of the day. He was pretty exhausted by it all, so, he came home and took a nice long refreshing nap, to recover from a day in the woods. He missed most of the fighting happening right outside the bedroom door. He must have been very tired.


   
      Just getting to Sugar Cookie Day was traumatic. The day before, when I should have been happily whipping up nine batches of sugar cookie dough, I was battling a horrific 2 week long migraine. (Today is 17 days and counting. It happens.) and a ridiculously painful toothache. Like, seriously, I was in tears over a toothache. It was awful. Anyhow. I also learned last minute, that Lexi's flute needed to be fixed, and, it needed to be repaired soon, as, she needed it for the school concert and to practice for upcoming solo fest. So, home from work I went, Lexi and her flute hopped into the van, and 30 minutes right back to the same area I work, we went. We dropped off the flute, which took less than 5 minutes, and headed the half hour back home. Where, I commenced cookie dough making.
     During the mixing of the first batch, my hand held mixer, with me for at least the last 3 or 4 years, seized up and died.
     Bearded Man offered to run to one of the local Dollar stores and pick up a cheap mixer to get me through the rest of the dough.
     I hooked it up and plugged it in, and the kids all stood around watching. I had it for less than three minutes before I tiredly said "Jasin. I think it's on fire." Everyone stood there in horror, as, smoke billowed out of the mixer, and the smell of burning plastic took over the sugar and vanilla scents previously perfuming my kitchen.
     "I am returning this! It lasted less than five minutes! I want my ten dollars back! Save the beaters, because I am taking it back."


     "While it's on fire??? Get it OUT of the house!"


     "Seriously! Lasting less than a few minutes is ridiculous! I am not swallowing the cost of this! I am taking it back!" He yelled in outrage, waving the smoking appliance around


     "GET IT OUT OF THE HOUSE FIRST!"


     "Seriously! Ten dollars could buy - "


      "JASIN! GET THE MIXER OUT OF THE HOUSE, BEFORE IT REALLY DOES BECOME MORE THAN SMOKE! PUT IT OUTSIDE!"


     "Make sure you save the receipt!"


     "Get. It. Out."


     "Get your coat on. We are going to Wal Mart and getting you one a stand mixer. I am not playing around with this anymore."


     Not one to let an opportunity for a new kitchen appliance go to waste, me and my headache and toothache tugged on boots and threw on a coat and hopped in his truck.


     We are now the happy owners of a red stand mixer, and my cookie dough was made in short order.


     The day after Cookie Day was another Sunday School Day. I nearly dread them anymore. Anyhow, this week's lesson was the 4th and 5th Commandments. We had gotten to number 5 - "Thou Shalt Not Kill" and, as soon as I read that off, Kaila, who was sitting in the corner, reading, looked up and sighed "Well, great. There goes my weekend plans." and it went downhill from there. During this lesson, the discussion came up that talked about how violence begets violence etc, and, how a calm reaction can stop a violent outcome, or something along those lines. Respect and all that...

     "For instance" I began "I have a coworker that I love to itty bits. But, she's a smoker, and, when she comes in from smoking, she sprays fabreeze, or whatever, all over the place. It causes terrible headaches, and, sometimes, it's really hard to deal with it. I've talked to her about it, but, she gets a little touchy about it, and really doesn't stop. How do you think I could deal with this in a kind way, to try and get someone I really do like, to stop this? Can any of you think of a solution?"


     "You tried being nice. That didn't work. You really need to get mean at this point." One student began.


     "Take one of those aerosol cans of room spray, and, right before you leave for the day, tie a zip tie around the trigger handle so it won't stop spraying, and throw it in her room and run out of the building!" advised another.


     "Write her up!"


     "Turn her in to the boss!"


     "Steal it while she's outside smoking!"


     "You guys!!!!!!" I gasped in horror, "Did you learn NOTHING today?????"


     "Nice guys finish last!"


     "Wear a face mask."

    "Get a new job?"


     "Okay. Your homework this week, is to come up with a KIND and PEACEFUL solution to this problem, that will not cost me my job or a friendship!"


     Anyhow. Next week is the Christmas party. That shouldn't be too traumatic. I plan to fill them up with junk food, and park them in front of Charlie Brown and Rudolf. Merry Christmas to me!!!!!


    I am going to go down in history as the worst Sunday School teacher ever.


    Alrighty. Breaks over. Till next time!


    
    

I Have No Idea Why the Neighbors Keep Moving!

     We made it through Thanksgiving! The high point being when I had to explain to my very full dining room that Joe was trying to put salt on Lexi because he had decided she was a slug, and, that's how you kill slugs. Something we had only discovered the evening before, when she started yelling at him for shaking salt in her hair while she sat at the kitchen table. Honestly, I am not sure if it was that I actually found it that funny, or, if I was really over tired, but, I laughed so hard I couldn't breathe during the telling of it.
     You know. Warm holiday memories and stuff. Why wouldn't Joe be throwing salt at his sister?


     While family arrived, my sister was watching "National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation" on TV. The similarities to the Griswold Family and the Dick Family were remarked upon. "Yeah. You'll notice that the house next door is up for sale again. This will make the forth time it's been for sale since we've lived here... Honestly, I think we bypassed the Griswolds, and are more along the lines of the Brother in Law..."
     The neighbor's house actually sold the other day, so, within the next few months, a new family will be moving in. I suppose they will figure the craziness out eventually. And, either join us or hate us. These things could go either way.

     Oh, let's see. With Christmas right around the corner, there has been some Christmas related activiy or other every single day since last Saturday so far. The other day, it was "National Cookie Day", and I had to stop at the store on my way home anyhow, so, I grabbed two trays of cookies for the kids, "just because". I did not realize that one entire tray was full of nothing but coffee flavored cookies. I didn't even know that was a "thing". Long story short: maybe cookies made primarily with coffee is not the best thing to give your kids only hours before bedtime. Or, anytime, really.


     Speaking of cookies, this approaching weekend is the yearly "Sugar Cookie Day" at my house. Which is what everyone excitedly calls it. My nephew wrote a paper about it for school. I tend to think of it as "The Day my House gets Trashed, My Feet Hurt, and, the Beginning of the Two Months it will Take to Clean all the Sprinkles" Honestly this tradition started before we even had kids, and my sister would come over to my first appartment and we would make cookies right before Thanksgiving every year. It's lasted 20 years now, and, we've only missed a few years! I have already informed my kids that I fully expect to kidnap my Grandchildren for this some day.


     I am taking a vacation. Seriously. Eleven whole days of not going to work. I almost didn't. I actually thought about just canceling my time off request, and saving the time off for emergencies. But, the thought occured to me - I haven't had any real break since I started my current position over four years ago. (The yearly trip to Black Lake does not count. That is NOT a break, and, as I told Bearded Man the other night, I actively dislike him by the end of Black Lake week every year.)
     Anyhow, I think burn out is pretty much settled in. So, I am taking the eleven days off, and I plan to spend as many of them at home, not leaving the house, as possible. I cannot wait.


     With the Christmas season, come Christmas lists. "George, have you made your list for Santa yet?" I asked the other day.


     "It's secret."


     "What do you mean, it's secret? What are you asking Santa for this year?"


     "It's secret! I am not telling anybody."


I eventually happened upon him studiously writing a list. It consisted of:

• A Four Wheeler
• Pokemon cards
• Beer cans
• Venison jerkey

I have no idea why all the neighbors are moving away from us...


     Bearded Man and I did some shopping last weekend. There was no beer or four wheelers bought, just so we are all clear on that.
     Bearded Man also had his first foray into Sephora. For someone in his line of work, who deals with all things gross all day, I was slightly shocked at his reaction to the chemical and overpowering heady scents that made breathing difficult, emitting from Sephora. Gasping, he stood at the check out, while I nicely informed him that our all about make up kid, Kaila, cannot wait until she turns 17, and is able to work there. He couldn't get out of that store fast enough. There were several comments about the clear lack of safety, working in such a terrible place. I figured he had pretty much hit his breaking point by then, and we went home shortly after the trauma of Sephora.


     Oh, what else. Sunday School continues. I have a few students who pretty much do not want to be there, and, make life as miserable as possible for the entire class. I find that I dread Sunday School, and, I don't believe any learning or any good has come from it at all this year. It is mostly spent trying to get a select few to behave. One in particular. I suppose there is the chance that he will grow up to become a priest, but, the odds aren't terribly good so far. Ah well. My entire class moves up next year. Maybe there's hope for the next class. I suspect this will all come back to haunt me on judgement day. "Ummm, Moriah, is it?" "Yes, St. Peter" "And, did you really threaten to beat one of your Sunday School kids with his own hockey stick if he didn't knock it off immedietly?" "Well, in my defense, there was no actual hockey stick present, sir." Will be my last words before the button is pushed, and I am sliding straight into hell.


     Ah well. That's pretty much all the excitement for now. If I don't knock out another one of these things before Christmas, hopefully everyone has a great whatever they celebrate!
    
    

Quick Update

     Boy, has it been awhile! Mostly, I have been working through my lunch breaks, but, being a holiday week, things are a little slower at work, and I can quick knock out an update.


     Since we last caught up, I have gained yet another minivan. On the way to work one day last month, I had an unavoidable collision with a nine point buck that effectively killed both the van and the buck. I was okay. My first thought when I saw the inevitable happening was: "I am not going to make it to work." Followed by "OMG, I have nineteen patients scheduled today." so, I called my boss first and let her know. Priorities and stuff.
     Anyhow, we were already in the middle of buying Bearded Man a new truck, and the dealership was delighted to add another vehicle sale to the mix, and, two days after I totaled my last van, I drove home a newer model of the exact same thing.
     I tried. I looked at a few SUVs, but, realistically - they wouldn't have worked. So, it looks like my minivan days are to continue for a few more years.
     The kids were more than happy to name the new van for me: We now have "Felicia", so the kids can yell "BYE FELICIA" at me, every time I leave.


     On to other things. For most of September and October, our lives were pretty much ruled by the school play. It was rough toward the end, but, it was a successful play. Honestly, the last two weeks of practice were intense for the entire family. It was during this, that the van was totaled, and, we had to haul George all over Western New York three days in a row, way past bed time, to deal with cleaning the old van out, picking up the rental, going to the dealership to look at new vans, and then going back there the next night to pick it up. (The new van wasn't actually at the dealership the night I picked it out. I literally looked at the online picture, the carfax and, the mileage, and the color of it, and decided on that one. I didn't even see it before I bought it, let alone drive it...)
     Now that the play is over, we are somewhat back to normal again - meaning - the time changed, and it's dark shortly after I get home from work, and George, who is not an indoor child by any means, is driving us all to distraction with his pent up energy with very little outlet. Don't even start sending me suggestions. We've done it all. The extended bathtimes. The legos. The dancing. Work outs. Games. Painting. Scouts. Go outside and play in the dark. (That one is kind of scary, because, we have a hard enough time keeping track of him in the daylight....) I am thinking about contacting a relatively new karate place in town, and seeing what it would cost to put the child in marial arts a few evenings a week. On the other hand: that would just give him new ways to torment his brother.... we'll think of something, I imagine.


     With the holidays approaching, we have spend the last week baking and getting things done around the house. Normally, it's not that big of an issue. I can knock out a meal large enough to feed a crowd without even thinking about it. (One of the perks of growing up in a large family. Some day, I will not have a crowd to cook for, and am going to be seriously confused as to how to cook small portions of anything.)
     With all the craziness though, possibly my subconcious was wondering how I was going to get things done this year, because, I had a dream that I announced to a rather large crowd of people that Thanksgiving Dinner was ready, and then realized that: I had only cooked a turkey and some peas. And that I hadn't even cleared the dinner table off. We've been baking all week though, so, there will be a regular dinner on the table tomorrow.
     This year, the older kids have wanted to help out, so, it's been a group effort, getting things done. I even learned how to use a power drill the other day, as the kids and I put together a new storge unit for the laundry room. I absolutely had to You Tube how to get the bit in, and I am still not convinced that I had it in correctly, but, whatever I did to it seemed to make it work for the most part, so, we put it together. Nevermind that I stripped a few screws. We just used the hammer and pounded them in the rest of the way... It was a learning experienc for all of us.
    
     A few months ago, I cleaned out the refrigerator and was absolutely aggravated by the wasted produce I was throwing away. So, I began the "Produce Chopped Challenge" for the kids. The latest challenge was Dragon Fruit, which netted three very different smoothies. It took off in an unexpected way though - the kids are really utilizing everything in the kitchen, and have come up with some pretty interesting dishes. Joe being Joe - has whipped up some pretty incredible stuff - but conitnues to refuse to eat any of it. He will taste what he's working with enough to figure out what he wants to do with it, but, that's about it. Still! I can't believe the kitchen skills this really has taught.

     Honestly, I can't think of a single thing to write. It's been so hectic between work and the school play, that, until a few weeks ago, I hardly ever saw the kids. The night before the play, they didn't have any practice, and we took them all out to dinner. It was so so nice to have everyone in one spot again! It occured to me - three of the kids will be graduated within the next 6 years. The days of a house full of kids are dwindling faster than I am okay with. While going through all the Holiday prep lately, I've thought about what life will be like when the kids begin heading out on their own, and starting their own families. I suppose we greet each stage as it comes, but, the older they get, the faster time flies.


     I know this is fairly short and not terribly exciting - hopefully next time around I can whip up something a little more fun! Have a great Thanksgiving everyone!




  

Sunday School Teacher Smack Down

     I tried the whole "Food Prep" thing last night. I am not entirely sure what inspired it. Possibly it was one of those 90 second videos online that show ridiculously simple recipes. It doesn't matter, I suppose. What does matter, is that, I did "Food Prep".


     Actually. Now that I think about it, it could have also been inspired by a Facebook marketplace post selling workout CDs and weights, and an Ab Roller, all for the handy dandy price of thirty dollars. So, after work one day last week, I went and pulled forty dollars out of the ATM, and then had to break a twenty, and  bought licorice in order to do so. Baby steps and stuff.


     I waited for half an hour in the decided upon spot, for a very nice older woman to show up with the goods. She cheerfully handed it all over, informed me the ab roller was "brand new" because she had bought two of them, thinking her daughter would like one too, but, apparently her daughter didn't. Thus, I was essentially stealing this thing.


     Happily I drove home, chewing on licorice, and thinking about how skinny I was going to be. I hauled everything out of my van, and the Bearded Man began to put the ab roller together. Only to find that the "Brand New Ab Roller" was missing several parts and some screws.
     Seriously. If you can't trust nice old ladies in a parking lot, who the heck can you trust??


     Anyhow. The other workout kit included three weighted bars that can also screw together and become one long weighted bar. Last night, I saw it under one of the beds in the boys' bedroom, as, it apparently makes a fabulous ninja stick.


     Since I was going to be all healthy and stuff though, I decided to try the whole "Food Prep" thing. Also, trying to find time to make lunch in the morning is this side of impossible (for me, anyhow) and, unless I find the energy to do it before bed, it really isn't going to happen. As far as I can tell, half the people I know do this food prep thing, and my social media is constantly filled with pictures of the resulting piles of pre made breakfasts, lunches, and perfection, while I am frantically chucking a can of soup and a banana into my lunch bag every morning.


     So, here were are; How we got to Food Prep.


     Last night, I watched George head up to bed, looking studious in his reading glasses with a book tucked under his arm. The fact that he headed to bed on his own with no arguing, prompting, meltdowns or excuses should have been suspicious, but, I took the opportunity and ran with it. Right into the kitchen. Whipping out a package of chicken, red wine vinegar, and rosemary olive oil made by my newest sister in law's dad - seriously. He grew rosemary for months, for the express purpose of making rosemary infused olive oil for her Bridal Shower. I love the stuff, and, also, he sets the whole parenting bar pretty high for the rest of us...
     I began chopping and cooking the chicken, digging out the new (BPA FREE!) containers I had recently bought for this whole food prep thing, and then yelling at my kids because more than half of them are already missing, and how the hell does this happen when there has been exactly NO occasion to use them for the love of the Good Lord and all His little children????
     I began cooking all sorts of other things, too, to make entire meals. Using two cast iron skillets, a food processor, three chopping boards, most of my knives, cell phone recipes and a cookbook, I finally had made exactly five lunches for this week.


     Here's the part where I could have smugly taken pictures and posted them on all my social media with fourteen hashtags. But, there wasn't a clean surface anywhere in my kitchen to put those containers, so that I could take pictures even if I had the energy. I stepped out for two minutes for something, and, walking back in, realized the full extent of the mess. Every surface was covered in something. Tomato seeds over here, Tzatziki sauce all over there. A dripping food processor, cutting boards. Knives, spoons. The kitchen was a disaster. Piling all the lunches for the week up, I was shocked to find that this entire exhausting mess had reaped five fairly small containers of food. It was a Thanksgiving meal prep for twenty people sized mess, for five small containers.
    
     Is it just me??? I don't know how many Facebook pictures I have seen, of made ahead meals, taken in sparkling kitchens. How did this even happen?? All I can surmise is: I need a kitchen for cooking, and a kitchen for taking pictures of cooking, or, I need to cook, then clean, then haul it all back out of the refrigerator and take pictures, to make it look effortless. That's really the only solution I can come up with. 
     The only good thing I can say here is:

• The chaos of the kitchen drowned out Joe's howls as George tormented him. And vice versa.
• My lunches will be fabulous this week
• I must have burned at least 47 pounds last night.

     After the kitchen was scrubbed down, I looked around and announced to Bearded Man, who had finally deemed it safe to walk in "I am starving."


     "There's hot dogs left over from dinner, if you want some."


     "Okay."


     All that healthy food prep goodness - followed by a hot dog before bed. Gotta start someplace.


     Yesterday was also Week 3 of Sunday School. There was nearly a Sunday School Teacher Smack Down.


     I went to church with a migraine totally brewing. George decided to sing every possible singing part in an opera voice, complete with falsetto on top of his lungs, and, it just went downhill from there. I find that the worse George behaves, the madder I get at Bearded Man for sleeping through as much of church as he possibly can. Which really, in retrospect, makes me the worst person of the entire scenario, because, you shouldn't go to church and get mad at other people in church, especially if you are married to them. Either way, it's a weekly thing. The kids decided years ago that he probably sleeps through church because he's old enough to have lived through the entire bible anyhow. All of this is old news to him, as far as they are concerned.


     After church, comes Sunday School. So, me and my pounding head wandered down to my classroom to get ready. Weekly Sunday School begins with music. During music, I noticed one of my new students standing near her teacher from last year, looking distressed. I am absolutely familiar with this kid, and completely aware that she doesn't handle change well. So, watching her with last year's teacher, I knew we were in for a treat. Last year's teacher would bring lots of snacks, donuts, cookies, cakes, candy, hot chocolate, juice and had a great big prize box, so, every week, the kids were able to pick out a new toy. She is sweet and nice and beautiful and has the best shoe collection I have ever seen. She is so nice.
     Eventually, I watched in resignation as my student and last years' teacher made their way over to me.
     "She's not feeling well...." began last years' teacher


     "She will be okay. It's a fairly common thing for her."


     "Well, I thought maybe I could take her outside with my class and get some fresh air."


     "No, I don't think that's a good idea. She really needs to be present in her own class. I think if we start this, she is going to want to be in your class every week."


     "Well, I think I should take her out of this room, and maybe see if her mother is here."


     'She will be okay, and music is almost over."


     "I think she should maybe go upstairs and sit by herself and collect herself for awhile."


      "I really think she will be okay. She can't be upstairs alone anyhow. It's policy." I said through gritted teeth.


     "I really should just let her be with me for awhile. She's not feeling well, and has anxiety, and I can take her outside and help her." She responded, also through gritted teeth.


     "Seriously. If we start allowing this now, she is always going to want to be with you. She needs to be in class. She isn't going to get used to it, if we haul her up to her mother, or wander around outside, or sit in your room eating donuts every week. She will be just fine. I promise."


     "Well, she's very upset, and, I think I should really step in here and help her. She should be allowed to be with me for a bit..."


     "No. I really don't think so." I gritted, my head pounding. "Listen. I will go see if her mother is here, but, she is NOT getting out of Sunday School. She's been doing this for years - I remember she did this a lot in the grade before yours. Once she settles down, she's fine. She just needs to realize that she will be okay - which she will five minutes into class, and she will be just fine."


     The mother was not in the church still, so, I hauled the child into my room, told her - nicely - I am not a complete jerk - that she could sit and have a bottle of water and collect herself, but, that, she really needed to be present in class, and that I promised it would all be just fine, and that she wasn't going to be able to hang with her old class. She nodded, accepted water, and whipped out her cell phone. Not sure who she was trying to reach, but, I left her there and went back to the music room to collect the rest of my class.


     "So, she's with her mother?" nodded the other teacher.


     "No. Her mother isn't here."


     "oh. So, she's upstairs resting?"


     "No. She is in my room drinking water."


     "But, she's going to be outside at some point, to get fresh air, right?"


     "Yes. As soon as class ends and her mother picks her up."


     "I really think I should take her. I at least feel empathy for her... I had anxiety when I was a kid, too."


     "I feel empathy too, but, we can't let this happen, because then she will want it every week. She was fine the first week of Sunday school."


     "Yes, but you weren't here last week, and Jasin let her stay with me."


    OMG. So. At this point, I was definitely the monster here. With a mental note to chat with Bearded Man about this after Sunday School, I collected the rest of my kids and headed into my room.


     Only twenty more classes to go. *packs Sunday School Survival Flask* And this is why I am going to hell this week.
    

Bridesmaid Wanna Be

     My youngest brother was married this weekend. Preparations were in full swing, and I took the day before the wedding off, to clean the house and get ready for my out of town cousin and her son. I didn't really want to clean anything, so, I decided to visit my sister's salon, instead. I had to drop some things off to her anyhow. The plan was to quickly duck in and out, and get back to housework. But, my sister began digging through my hair like a deranged monkey when I walked in, and announced I needed to get my hair done. "What color will I be this time?" I asked. "Never you mind. That's none of your business." she snapped.
     There was another customer ahead of me, so, I waited and visited. After the other customer's hair was done, the other customer decided she would have her eye brows waxed. And then most of her face, her chin and half of her neck. She was extremely specific, and gave exact angles, "don't take ANY off the TOP of the eyebrows, do this, this, this and this, but NOT that or that, and make sure you don't touch the top. You are touching the TOP OF THE EYEBROWS, Brianna!"
     "You do realize everybody has a little bit of peach fuzz, right?" remarked my sister, rolling her eyes. "Don't forget - I want it in THIS angle on this side, and THAT angle on that side." continued the other customer.
     My sister glared at me sternly while I laughed silently behind the other woman, and then went to work. After waxing everything, the other customer whipped out a humongous bright yellow flashlight/floodlight that was nearly as long as her forearm, and as round as a salad plate and, I believe, the exact same model the actors used while filming Jurassic park in the rainy night scenes, and asked for a mirror to be held above her, while she shined the light at her face, examining everything minutely. "Bri" I said, watching this in fascination, "I don't remember ever seeing that flashlight before. Why haven't you ever offered to let me shine it when you do my eyebrows?"
     "BECAUSE SHE BROUGHT HER OWN FLASHLIGHT, MORIAH! BECAUSE, NORMAL PEOPLE DON'T DO THIS, MORIAH!!!! BECAUSE NOBODY EVER DOES THIS, MORIAH!!!!"


     "Oh. Well..." I said to the customer, "You should really get one of those LED flashlights. I think the light is a little brighter, and, you could probably get a smaller flashlight."


     "SHUT UP, MORIAH!" shouted my sister


     "I did have an LED flashlight, but, it stopped working, so I brought this one, instead."


     "She does this all the damn time." glared my sister.


     I am nearly positive that the only reason this customer isn't banned like all the other customers that drive my sister crazy, is that, it was our mother.


     Eventually my hair was done, and then I went home and became psycho cleaning mom, before making a late evening run half hour away to the store for last minute odds and ends, screeching home twenty minutes before my cousin and her son, Spencer arrived.
     They had no sooner arrived, when Bearded Man hauled Spencer off to a local watering hole, to hang out with his friends. Spencer was still talking about the experience two days later, as they prepared to leave. They apparently arrived just in time to see someone come marching over from a different bar, because he had heard someone at the bar they were at, had said something offensive, and, proceeded to knock the guy out cold. The guy that knocked the other guy out was none other than one of my kids' baseball coaches this year. Fine examples for youth and all that. While everyone watched the police and the ambulance crew at work, the bartender evidently threw out someone's chicken tenders, thinking they had left, and, when they all trooped back into the bar, the owners of the chicken tenders threw an unholy fit, and began screaming and throwing things. When Bearded Man told me about all this the next morning, my comment was: "My cousin is going to kill you." Spencer, however, had a fabulous night, and can't wait to come back and do it again sometime. He told EVERYBODY about his adventures the night before.








     The next day, we all made it to the wedding, held at "Hawk Creek", a wildlife preserve that his new wife is a big part of. Her vulture flew the rings in, during the ceremony. The following reception was absolutely beautiful and very elegant. Every little detail was perfect, and the entire evening seemed to have a little bit of magic in it. The Fisher family being the Fisher family, was the first on the dance floor, and the last off the dance floor. One of my brothers announced "Apparently we were seated as far away from the bar as possible on purpose..." however, the Fishers are nothing if not determined and in shape, so, the trek was no problem for most of the clan.

     Planning for an elegant, formal wedding, back in April, I bought a dress. In thinking about it though, I decided possibly it wasn't the best dress. It was more of a "Southern Church Revival" dress, and really only needed a "Church Lady Hat" and a pair of gloves, to complete it. (Which was heartily agreed by my co-workers.) So, last minute, I went out and bought a different dress.


     Firstly, I need to say: I rarely take "selfies" they are hugely uncomfortable, and, I always feel weird taking them. However, recently, I took one and sent it to Bearded Man, asking him to guess where I was. (I had to kill a few hours recently, and decided to wander around the Botanical Gardens in Buffalo)

     So. Anyhow, this is what I took, with really no special posing. Just, snapped and said "Where am I?" and sent it to Bearded Man.




    

So, I went out, and bought this dress:

                                           Which, was just grand, until I arrived at the wedding and saw
                                              the bridesmaids who all looked like:

And, in horror, I looked like a Bridesmaid wanna be, who had gotten kicked out of the wedding, but was going to show up and wear the dress anyway and cause awkwardness.

Also, I couldn't even look at  pictures of myself the day of the wedding, because EVERY. SINGLE. BLASTED. ONE. OF THEM. LOOKED. LIKE. THIS:

Seriously. All of them. As in: what I look like when I snap a selfie is apparently nothing like what everyone else snaps when pictures are taken. Selfies are evidently lies, and, when I see them on Facebook, I will now wonder what people REALLY look like now.

 

     Anyhow. No one but me seemed to be uncomfortable with my wardrobe choice, and, everyone had a really wonderful time. Honestly, the venue was incredible, and the reception was really amazing. Crazy how all the weddings in our family have all been so different and so unique. And all of them heartily enjoyed by the Fisher clan. I think we're out of weddings for awhile, so, I am not sure what we are going to do for entertainment in our family, but, we're pretty resourceful, so, we'll probably think of something!    

     Till next time!



Sunday School Season Has Begun

     School Play season has begun. It was decided at the end of last school year, that this years' play would be "Beauty and the Beast".
     Originally, Kaila had deeply coveted the role of Belle, but, halfway through things, decided she really didn't want Belle at all.
     Auditions were held this week, and, Joe threw his name in to audition for main cast, along with Kaila. I figured that, being a 7th grader, his chances of a very large part were very small.
     This morning, I received a text from Kaila. She is thrilled to be cast as Mrs. Potts! I congratulated her, and went on with work, before wondering "Oh! What is Joe going to be?" and sent a text to Kaila asking. Her answer had me laughing with tears for literally fifteen minutes. Because, whoever auditioned my kid pegged him perfectly. I couldn't believe he was cast in such a large part, but, I also couldn't think of a more perfect person to play... wait for it:




COGSWORTH!
 




   Even now, writing this, I am still laughing. Just too perfect. I cannot wait to see this play. Seriously.


     Now that school is back in session, that means the schedules are going to start winding up again. I wish I could say that they had wound down for the summer in the first place, but, they really didn't. There wasn't much down time over the summer, either. Because of the insanity of the last several months, my normally organized life has not been. And my normally halfway clean house has not been up to my standards by any means. My flower beds were sadly neglected this year, as was "Clean the House Saturday" - mostly because we were rarely at our house on Saturdays.
     This weekend is IT though. Another brother is getting married next weekend, and my cousin from New Jersey is coming to stay, which is exactly the push I need to clean my house, and dig out the boys' room/guest room.
     Last weekend was going to be IT for all that, but, my children inconveniently all fell ill, and put the kibosh on those plans.
     Except, this weekend, Bearded Man and George are going fishing with a neighbor, Kaila has to babysit all day Saturday, except when she has to go sing the National Anthem for all the football games at school Saturday night, and Lexi fills in, and, Sunday begins Sunday School classes again.
     I can do this.


    Speaking of Sunday School. This year was going to be different. I was prepared. I spent hours one Saturday afternoon this summer, and did my lesson plans for the entire year. Enough with feeling that I was never really qualified to do this. I could and would finally get my act together and teach the daylights out of what will be the biggest class I have had yet. Since no one has thought to dismiss me from my duties, I suspect I am going to be teaching Sunday School until George's Confirmation. Not that I am counting or anything, but, that puts me at about another 8-9 years.
     Anyhow. I had my plans ready, my Sunday School teaching bag packed, new supplies bought, all my extra books at the ready, with answers to questions that I have no answers to, but apparently every 7th and 8th grader ever needs to know.
     8 days before Sunday school started, and, at the beginning of the "Holiday Weekend that was Supposed to be Clean the House Weekend" I woke up to a cheery email from the head of Sunday School. In which we were informed that the new books for our new curriculum were now in and sitting in our class rooms, and, we were all expected to be there for a teacher's meeting the day before Labor Day. And that Sunday school times had changed. Instead of 9:30-11:00 am, it will now be 11:00am until 12:30 pm (You  know, effectively killing most Sundays and any family plans for the entire Sunday School Year, as well as the hours of work I had put into my Sunday School year of plans that I had spent hours and hours on.)
     Looking blearily at my phone, I had to restrain the urge to throw it as hard as I could. And then pick it up and throw it again. But, I figured the Good Lord wouldn't appreciate that. Adapt and overcome and all that. Also, I was trying to be a good Sunday School Teacher for once, so, I figured this was a test. I think I might have failed it, but, on the "up" side, I did not actually write or send the email response I was mentally composing at the time.
     I left the sick children at home with Bearded Man and went to the Sunday School Teacher meeting. The Head of Sunday School is the most optimistically cheerful person ever, but she's also real enough to write things like "Thou Shalt Not Steal" on her classroom supplies. If I was any sort of decent teacher, I would head to my room early and get it all set up, decorated and ready to go for Sunday, but, once again, we've established that I'm really not. Also, the whole house cleaning thing really really needs to happen. So, maybe next year I will try again to be a good teacher, and, possibly attempt to be prepared again.


     Probably the stress of switching Sunday School plans was so horrible because it has been a really rough few weeks. Everyone has the odd bad day or so, but, I was having entirely more than is acceptable, and  my normal optimism was pretty much gone, by the time I received that email. I must have really looked terrible, because a co-worker handed me a bottle of wine and told me I should probably drink it soon. So, I took my bottle of wine with me last night to a "Stained Glass Painting Class" put on by the local library. I figured I owed my friend Wendy, as, she shared her wine coolers at the last painting class, so, it was sort of my turn. Armed with my bottle and two glasses, I headed over. Wendy wasn't there, but, I ended up sharing it with other ladies at my table. We proceeded to have a lot of fun, and, the entire bottle was gone by the time we were finished.


     Before I tell the next story, please please take it with a grain of salt. I am a pretty relaxed mom with my kids. I truly enjoy their company, and, we tend to laugh a lot. Kaila and I frequently have "Meme wars" via text, and, probably I should be a better example and a little more "mom like" sometimes, but, honestly, we will laugh so hard, while sending memes to each other from across the room.
     The other night, we were doing just that, while also talking in general. "Mom, I need chips." Kaila mentioned.
     "No you don't. I am not buying you chips."
     "I really really really need chips!"
     "I am really really really not buying  you any!"


Eventually, I got up to assist George with getting his bath ready, and was standing at the bathroom sink when Bearded Man walked in and said "Kaila said you want chips?" at which, without even thinking about it, I swore on top of my lungs. What I had just said had me clapping my hands over my mouth in horror, as Bearded Man and Kaila stood there laughing harder than I have ever seen, partly in shock.
Forgetting completely about George, who was sitting in the tub directly behind me, I walked out and apologized, but, we were all laughing too hard, and I was too horrified to even think about poor George. Ever the antagonizer though, he didn't miss a beat. Later, with the wide innocent eyes of a choir boy, he clasped his hands over his heart and announced he had been traumatized it, and thought he should probably "tell a priest!!" about his mother.


So, that's this episode's reason why I am going to hell.


I know that our church's priest is pretty tech savvy, as, I've seen him playing on his smart phone before church, and hastily putting it in his pocket as he prepared to begin things on Sunday. It is my sincere hope that he never, ever, finds out about this Blog.
I think too, that it's probably a good thing my mother doesn't read it, either...


Alrighty. Wish me luck, in my cleaning and Sunday School endeavors!
    

The Strength Behind a Book Club

     Update on the tattoo fiasco from the last Blog: There is no update. My poor co-worker is so mad at her son and daughter in law for putting blank memorials on their bodies that indicate that she needs to die in order to be finished, that, we are not allowed to talk about it.


     Back on the home front, my kids are still too young to get tattoos, so, they are mostly in my good graces. We are dealing with another issue though. George has become something of a picker. A hoarder. A whatever it is you call people who bring home large quantities of stuff that no one else seems to want.
     George has always been a wanderer. He's always off visiting someone somewhere, and it is this side of impossible to keep the child home. Apparently in his daily travels, he became aware of "curb stuff". The things that people put out at the curb for free, on non garbage days. Mostly because it isn't enough to have a garage sale, and no one has the energy to list it on line and then deal with fourteen thousand in box messages asking lots of questions about what is essentially going to end up staying on that curb until garbage day unless someone picks it up.
     It began with the concrete column. He was so proud of his superior strength as he lugged it home. Followed by a large concrete planter, two hanging baskets, a large shelf, a box of purple hangers, and whatever else came home that first day. My kid became addicted and, has spent the entire summer bringing home treasures of every kind. If I had a place to store it all, I imagine he could have enough things to completely furnish and decorate an entire house, indoors and out by the time he turns twelve.
     Since then, he has brought home, sometimes with the help of Joe:

• Three lawn chairs
• A canvas lawn chair that seats two
• A weed whacker
• I mentioned I needed a frame for a picture, and one appeared within 24 hours
• A glass turtle tea light holder
• A HUGE outdoor Christmas wreath
• Half of a very large and very heavy entertainment center
• a fire pit

I know there are more things. I just cannot recall them. Lexi was able to measure the dimensions of the entertainment center, and lo and behold it will make a lovely headboard, so, I just need to catch the Bearded Man in a good mood, so we can haul it up the stairs and wrestle it over her bed.
     The neighbor that had put the weed whacker out came over to ask if George would like a TV big enough to fit inside the humungous  entertainment center. I declined before my kid could accept it. Seriously. He's 7. He does not need a 48" TV. The line needs to be drawn somewhere here. As it is, I expect I will have some explaining to do, should there be a weed whacker incident, and I have to lug him to the ER. He now owns a pair of safety goggles and is not allowed to use it unless he has sneakers on and at least one parent is home. Thankfully the weed whacker is electric, so, he can only go so far with it. My front lawn was used for practice and really took a beating. The neighbor who had left it at the road came over and George happily told him that the weed whacker was working beautifully, and that his Daddy was able to fix it. The neighbor smiled indulgently and told him that, while it worked sometimes, but, sometimes it doesn't work. And George cheerily replied that it was all fixed now, and working just fine every time. At which the neighbor, who had just spent a fortune on a new one, turned around and went back home.




     On to other things. Yesterday, I read an online article about a semi-local farm that grows sunflowers, that  is having a terrible time with people who are stopping and picking their sunflowers. The farmers have asked very nicely that people please stop doing this, as, this is their livelihood. The farmers even put up a sign, pleasantly allowing pictures, but asking that no one pick the sunflowers. The farmers have even pointed out that people need to drive up a private driveway, in order to even see the sunflowers. The problem persists. The farmers have just about had it. Anyhow, this weekend, a young lady and, apparently at least one friend, went to the field at night. In the dark, they picked a sunflower, and proceeded to pose in front of the "Please Don't Pick the Sunflowers" sign, take a picture of the girl holding  it, and then post it on social media with some obnoxious comment.
     I could not believe how many people defended the girl in question. Many said that maybe the sunflower (looking all not wilted) had broken off on it's own, and fallen, and maybe the girl didn't even pick it. Maybe she put it back after the picture. Maybe we don't all know the entire story, and who are people to judge? How dare people have a problem with this!!!! The outrage on behalf of the girl and not for the farmers was amazing to me. (meanwhile, this was in the middle of the night on a private driveway...)
     I read another story about an intruder breaking into a house in Texas at the height of the recent hurricane, and subsequently getting shot. I was rather shocked at the staunch defense of the intruder, rather than the concern of the safety of the family whose home was broken into. The online outrage toward the homeowner was shocking. When on earth did we become a society full of people who are allowed to do whatever it is they want to do? And when did this become okay? Why on earth are we defending terrible behavior, and chastising people that have a problem with it?
     Anyhow. I was thinking about all of these things yesterday. I was thinking about the terrible things we hear every single day, and the all around desensitization to it, as well as the overall acceptance anymore that "people are just terrible." and no one argues it anymore, because, it seems to be true. I thought about my kids getting ready to go back to school, and my hesitation to let them ever out of the house again, in the face of the daily news, both near and far.
     And then, I headed out to the monthly Book Club meeting. I mentioned the Book Club a few months ago, as I grudgingly read a book that I hated every page of - mostly because it made me think about things I would rather not think about. I find that I look forward to the Book Club meetings more and more each month. They are relaxed and attended by women who appreciate the uninterrupted break from life in general.
     Every month, whoever attends the meeting donates a small amount, and we choose a charity to give it to. We have found that the books that have been chosen have struck chords with us in one way or another, and, we have been able to apply them to our local lives in general. I find myself thinking about the books and the meetings and the different opinions of the books for days afterward, usually.
     Last evening, with the weight of horrible human nature weighing heavily on my shoulders, I went to the meeting. The last book was a true story and touched on the life of a young boy who lived in terrible home conditions, hunger, lack of necessities, his entire family drug dealers and users, and of one woman who just happened to stop and ended up befriending him. We talked a long time - not necessarily about the book, but, because of the book - about similar issues in our own areas. To listen to stories from these book club women, about how they have helped when they could, when faced with similar situations. About teachers who have made sure kids were fed, and school staff who made sure there were clothes, about neighbors who helped kids that were from families facing difficulties. Local men who made sure every kid was included in sports, whether they had the money or transportation or not, and who went out of their way to find these kids. Families that assisted with soup kitchens, families that donated, local women who all seemed to go the extra mile for kids that need to know that at least one other person  cared about them and thinks they are worth the effort.
     The resounding message in our book this month was, that one person who stopped and cared, probably saved the child in our book's life. Without her kindness, he likely would have not had the same happy outcome.
     We all wondered "What can we do?" "Do we do enough?" and then we sat and talked about story after story after story about how everyone HAD helped. But, in speaking about it, no one seemed to think it was anything big, but, the frustration that it wasn't more. And, the question kept coming back to "Would we stop and help a child in the street?"
     I went home and thought about it. I sat on the porch and thought and thought about it. I thought about it some more. I can never seem to put into words verbally, what I am able to do behind a keyboard. But, I thought last night, that every single person there, or who was spoken positively about, HAD stopped. In our tiny town, often ridiculed for it's remote location and for it's habitants in general, more than several people have quietly gone out of their way to make a difference. So many people were there to help in any small way, people who needed that extra person to lean on. All of the amazing, strong, wonderful women that come to the book club, and so many that don't come to the book club, have made such a difference, and really never knew it. From raising children that are shown by example that we care for others, to, helping those kids who need it, to, being the shoulder to lean on for other women who need it. No matter what the job position any of these women hold, they all made a big difference.
     Honestly, it was humbling, to know that our tiny little town is so full of such strong amazing women who have no idea that they are!!!!  They are just being decent human beings, and doing what they can to help. Without the fanfare and without needing to garner social media attention for it.
     We wrapped up the meeting, held in a pavilion next to our beloved Case Lake, and walked to our vehicles in the near dark, all of us, I think, feeling a little recharged, but, maybe some of us wondering if we do enough. We had already decided to donate this month's money to the local food pantry. I paused and chatted with one of my friends before we left, as we had both been a little concerned about another friend. She had provided the much needed shoulder to our other friend, and, probably helped out more than she realized.
     I realized in the drive home that, nothing really derogatory or negative had been said about people - just an acknowledgement that there were issues, and that there had certainly been people who had quietly done what they could to help. No one thought that what they had done had been uncommonly special or helpful, and everyone kept saying "Would we stop, like the writer of our book did, to help a homeless or hungry child?" and no one seemed to realize they all essentially had in their own way.


     I thought about this. And I thought about our recent explosion of rocks. Someone in our town began "Franklinville NY Rocks" In which, lots of people paint rocks and hide them around town. Kids and families and adults are finding happy little rocks everywhere they look! There is an entire page on Facebook dedicated to it. And, for the most part, it is probably the least negative page on my social media. People have happily began painting and hiding rocks. So many kids and families have become involved. It was remarked upon at our meeting that it was such a nice non negative all inclusive thing. When people find the rocks, they can snap a picture and tag the Franklinville NY Rocks Facebook page, and then re-hide the rocks.


     The conclusion I came to, as I sat on my porch thinking about the entire day, beginning with the miserable news stories, and wondering about humanity in general, and ending with spending a few chilly hours at dusk by the lake was: There is certainly hope. There are so many more nice people out there than we hear about. There are wonderful, kind, helpful people who quietly do what they need to do, often without a second thought, to make the world a little better. To make other lives a little better. There is more kindness out there than any media seems to report about. There are nice people, good people, decent people and amazing people out there. Our little town is really just a speck in the middle of nowhere, and, we certainly have the same issues as most other towns. But, I think the smallness of it really makes for fuller appreciation of good people in the face of what appears to be so many bad people. And, our good people seem pretty determined to overcome the misery and negativity caused by the bad people. I sat on the porch and thought about the rotten things I have seen even in our town since we've lived there. And then I thought about all the conversations during the meeting, full of the positivity and kindness of others. I thought about how it all just outweighed the badness. Possibly it's easier to pick up on these tiny nuances in a small town vs a large area. Possibly we are remote enough that we really need to put the chin up and make a difference, because that's the only way it will happen.
     Anyhow. I really thought I wanted to write this. It's not the usual run of the mill Blog, but, I just thought that maybe people needed to hear that there is certainly goodness in the world. Most of the book club has no idea of the existence of this Blog, but, it certainly should be acknowledged that I am so very impressed by the strength and kindness and the decency of the women in my town. (And, of course, so very many outside of it!) In the face of such overwhelming badness around us, I felt a little better about my kids' futures, knowing there are so many wonderful people still - we just don't hear about them.


     Alright. Off the soapbox now, and back to work for me!

    

Tattoo Memorials for People Who Aren't Dead Yet

     A co worker came into work today all  upset. (I've mentioned her before. She's approximately 4 feet tall, pushing 60, a grandmother, drives a full sized pick up truck decked out in pink camo, and, I am absolutely positive she could best me in any street fight or hike.)
     Anyhow. She was pretty upset today. It seems her son and daughter in law have decided to get (more) tattoos. Her daughter in law has decided to get a dream catcher on her knee, with feathers dangling down her leg. The feathers will each be dedicated to her own and her husband's parents and grandparents who have passed, while leaving feathers blank (for fill in in the future) for my coworker and her husband.
     My coworker's son is getting tombstones with his grandparent's and his father's names on them, with blank spots for my coworker and her current husband, when they get around to  not being around anymore.


     "Wait. What? So, every time you look at your kid and his wife, you will get to see a blank spot just waiting for you to die?"


     "YES!"


     "Well. That's kind of creepy. How does that even work? I mean, your ex husband that died already - will  you be next to his feather, or, will  your current husband be there? Do you want to be between them, or, would that irritate your current husband?"


     "Moriah!"


     "Seriously! This is permanent! You need to pick a feather now, so that either you or your current husband don't end up next to your LAST husband!"


     "I hadn't thought of that...."


     "And, your kid will have a tombstone that is blank in wait for you on his body? Does this mean he likes you enough to take care of you when you're elderly, or, is this his contribution?"


     "Ummmmm."




     "These are some pretty valid concerns! Are you even allowed to pick the color of your feather???"


     "Pick the color?"


     "You need to call him RIGHT NOW, and do these things! They are getting the tattoos today. You need to clarify colors and locations before it's permanent! If they are going to have your names inked onto their bodies for all eternity, then, you need to get this decided now."


      "I was so upset about this, but, this has made my entire day. I am going to call him and demand a camo feather right this minute!"


     "You're welcome."


     I don't know how I would feel, looking at my kid if they had decided to call me and inform me they were getting a tattoo on their body for the specific purpose of putting my name on it after I died. I am lucky enough to not make enough money to encourage my children to do away with me before I am ready to go. There really is nothing in it for them.


     Speaking of kids taking care of elderly parents - Joe has decided he might like to look into online college classes. Someone posted a recent link to college course materials/lectures/quizzes online, and he can't wait to check them out. He would really like to spend his middle and high school years working on college courses so that he is closer to his Doctorate. He is determined to work at Berkley some day, and really has no patience for the aggravation of going to middle school. I figure Joe is my best chance at getting put in a decent nursing home some day. In considering this, I should probably step up my cooking game, to ensure my continued favor with the child.


     Also, while we are on the subject of skin - poor Kaila has had photosynthesis sensitivity for years now (She's allergic to the sun. No lie.) This usually manifests itself in hives around her hands and wrists. While we were in Black Lake though, the poor kid broke out all over in hives everywhere the sun touched. Since we've been back: if she isn't in the shade, my poor pale daughter starts to break out in hives again. Lexi, in her obligatory Little Sister role cheerfully announced "Well, I would say that this is evidence that she really is a vampire - she's pale enough! But, I happen to know that vampires can't see their reflections, and Kaila spends a lot of time looking at herself in the mirror. So, she's not." Had we been closer to the lake at that announcement, I am sure Kaila would have pushed Lexi in. Hopefully this is something she outgrows soon.

    Last night we took the kids to a county fair. George decided we needed to check out the horses. He informed every single one of them that he loved them, and they all seemed to appreciate the sentiment. If that child grows up to work indoors in an office of any kind, I may cry. He needs to be in the outdoors. His passion for all animals and wildlife and the absolute inability to keep him indoors or at home almost demands a career of some sort in the great outdoors. (I write this in my office with no windows, by the way...) Ah well. He's seven years old. I suppose a lot can change in the next ten or so years.


     Alright. Break's over - back to work!

"My Mom is the Craziest"

     Last week was the 3rd Annual Dick family Vacation to Black Lake NY. It has become tradition, and, we are already reserved for the exact same thing next year.


     I think Bearded Man was there. I know this, because, he drove us there. I recall him parking near our camp and wandering off to carry his fishing supplies to the boat, while the kids and I unloaded the van.  That was pretty much the last time I saw him, until he drove us all home again. I think he was fishing most of the time. If not with the boat we rented, then, in someone else's boat. If he wasn't fishing, then, he was wandering around the campground, visiting with other people. He was up and out of the cabin before we woke up, and didn't really come back until we all were asleep. One day, he hopped into the fishing boat of the "Camp Creepy Guy" (Camp Creepy Guy was voted over the nightly bonfire on the beach, because he was just weird.) Everyone remarked upon it, when Jasin and Camp Creepy Guy still hadn't come back after dark. Looking at me questioningly, the other campers remarked that there was a pretty decent possibility that he was fish bait now.
     With a sigh, I explained "No, we're used to it. If an ax murderer wandered into our house some night, Jasin would probably go downstairs and inspect the ax, offer to sharpen it for him, demonstrate the best way to swing the ax, tell him where to find better axes, ask him if he had a back up ax, offer him a beer, and  tag along for support. It's just how he is."
     Eventually they putted back into the dock area via flashlight, safe and sound.


     The kids had a great time, and played hard from the time they woke up, until the time they went to bed at night. There were 13 kids on our side of the camp, ranging from ages 16 to 2 and they all rolled around and played together like a huge pack of puppies. George forgot his swim trunks, so, every time he was in the water, it caused another clothing change. I spent a lot of time doing laundry last week. To do laundry meant hauling it down a steep hill, across a wooden bridge, up another hill, and across the campground, to the laundry area. Which consists of one small coin operated washer, and one small coin operated dryer. Every year, it's like the Hunger Games for grown ups, because, if  you sleep past 6:00 am, and don't get your laundry in, then, plan on staying there doing laundry until at least mid-afternoon. By Friday, it had gone from a friendly "Oh, it's no problem! I will come back later!" banter between myself and one another woman, to, barely suppressed civility, as we tried to get our laundry done before it ate up an entire day. Seriously. I spent a lot of time playing solitaire and reading books - four and a half books total, actually - while waiting for the many many loads of laundry I had to do every day. Sometimes I could wrangle an offspring to go switch it over from washer to drier, or, haul it back to our camp for me which was nice, because, every time I hiked to the laundry area, I was followed with "Oh, that poor thing!" "You poor lady!" "MORE laundry???" "Are you doing the wash again today?" "Oh, poor thing!" Well. It was either do the laundry, or, have naked children running about. Honestly, a real vacation at this point, would be to a hotel/spa by myself, with daily massages, a private hot tub, and room service.


    
   Before we left for vacation, I was approached by someone who was a relative of another kid that Joe went to Boy Scout Camp with. The relative informed me that one of the kids Joe had camped with had told her that Joe had been swearing quite badly at camp. I nodded in understanding, thinking she was referring to one of the two OTHER Joe's that were there. No, she was definitely talking about my Joe. I was actually shocked at this statement. I agreed to talk to Joe about it, but, I could see that the person talking to me was not happy with my kid, and alleged that the child who had told her this, had also taken the blame for a lot of bad language. I assured her I would look into it.
     I called Bearded Man. "Jasin? When you picked Joe up from Scout Camp, was anything mentioned about bad behavior or swearing?"
     "No. I know there was some issues with a few other kids, who did nothing but fight the entire time, and the camp counselors needed to get involved a few times, it was that bad. Why?"
     "I was just informed that Joe was apparently swearing like a sailor, and that another kid took the blame for it."
     "What???"
     "I don't know. I mean, I know Kaila has the absolute ability to swear up a blue streak, and I have heard Lexi mumble things under her breath, and, George could make a trucker blush with the language I am fully aware he is capable of (disclaimer: just because they CAN rattle off filthy language, does NOT mean they are allowed to....) but, Joe? Have you ever even heard him swear?"
     "No, I really haven't."
      "Does he even know HOW to swear?"
     "I don't know."
     "I mean, if this was George, I might believe it, but, honestly, Joe usually prefers to put people down with big words and condescending comments. I don't know if he would lower himself to swearing, actually."
      "It doesn't sound right" agreed Bearded Man
     "Okay. Well. I suppose I will talk to him about it."


     A call to Joseph was placed. "Joe? I was just talking to so and so's relative. She was pretty upset, and told me that so and so told her that you were swearing pretty badly at camp, and that so and so took all the blame for it....Joseph. You know better."
      "I. DID. NOT." Joe bit out curtly.
      "I mean, I know kids swear sometimes, but, honestly, it's not appropriate, and, if another kid was getting in trouble for it, then, that makes it even worse,  Joe."
      "I do not swear! I know much better words, so, I don't have to swear. I never swear, I didn't swear, and I do not know why they are saying I did. Mostly, when everyone was being bad, I ignored it. I didn't want to deal with the drama."
      "Well, Joe. I can't say for sure if you did or didn't. But, if you DID, then, you know better, and you better not do it again. If you didn't, then, I expect that you continue to keep your language appropriate."
      "Mom. I need to get back to my book." he said impatiently.


     Hanging up the phone, I thought about it, and wondered if he had or hadn't been swearing. There wasn't too much more I could do about it. I wasn't going to punish him for something I wasn't entirely convinced he had done, but, I felt badly that another boy may have gotten in trouble for something my son had allegedly said. Fast forward to last evening - immediately after work, I had to take Joe to the school for 7th grade orientation. (I cannot believe that three out of four of my kids will now be in the "big" school! How did this happen??)
     Anyhow, the child in question happened to sit at the same table as Joe and I. Determined to get to the bottom of things, and, apologize to the poor kid if necessary, I brought the subject up. "Oh yeah!" the kid said, "Joe was swearing!"
     "I was NOT swearing!" Joe insisted.
     "Yes you were!"
     "I did not."
     "I am so sorry you took the blame for it." I interrupted.
     "He did not take the blame for ANYTHING, because I did NOT swear!" bit out Joe.
     "You said the "C" word!" burst out the other boy. At which I am nearly positive I paled considerably. Getting ready to haul my kid out of the school by his collar, I said "WHAT "C" WORD?????" as the other boy's mother looked on in horror.
     "You know. THE "C" word! C-R-A-P!"
     Falling back in relief, I said "That is really not a swear word."
      "It is in MY house!" the child said cheerfully. "We aren't allowed to say it. OH CRAP! I just dropped my hot dog."
     At which his mother told him "We don't say that word."


     Thankful that we had gotten to the bottom of it, we continued with the 7th grade orientation. During which I over heard Joe say: "There are probably a lot of crazy people in my family, but, I'm pretty sure my mom is one of the craziest." In a tolerant acceptance tone of voice.


     Into the auditorium we trooped, where the principal began the usual power point presentation. Since I have sat through many many many power point presentations given by the principal there, I can only conclude she gets paid by the power point. The highlight of the evening for me, however, was during the introduction of the new teachers joining our staff this year. The new 7th grade Spanish teacher popped up and waved when her name was called, and I honestly burst out "Oh my God! She looks EXACTLY like the Magic School Bus teacher!!!!" Seriously. She is Ms. Frizzle in real life form.
    
     Last thing to note: I now have a child in 7th grade, and a child in 8th grade. This means that they both get to sell: Mums, poinsettias, geraniums and impatiens throughout the year, to pay for their 8th grade trip to Washington DC and Gettysburg. Shameless plug here, but, these flowers are the BEST. When I no longer have children in these grades, I will be shaking down my friend's children for these flowers. That being said - you need flowers? Come see us. Mums will be available for ordering soon!


     Okay. Back to work for me!


    


 

SURPRISE!!!!!

     This past Saturday, I turned 40. This past weekend also included Joe coming home from his nearly week - long Scout camping trip very late Friday night, and George and the Bearded Man leaving for an overnight camping trip first thing Saturday morning, until Sunday. I figured the Scouts had effectively ruined any possible birthday plans, and decided to catch up on things around the house for the weekend.
    
     Suddenly, I knew something was happening. I wasn't sure what, but, little comments from Kaila and my sister, and I knew something was up. I looked at Kaila and said: "I'm going to need to clean the house, aren't I? Am I looking at 'Hey! It's Aunt Bri and the kids coming to hang out!' clean, or, 'Company is coming!!!!!!!!!!!!!' clean?"
     "I don't know what you are talking about. Please stop asking me questions."

     So, I made sure the house was "Company is Coming" clean.


     Saturday morning began by packing George up shortly after dawn, and shipping him off with the Bearded Man. "Mom. I wish so much I could stay here. I can't tell you why. I just wish I could be here." he said longingly on his way out the door. "I am sure you will have so much fun,  you won't even think about it." I assured him. And then finished cleaning the house.
 
     At noon, I was hauled away "For reasons,  okay??" and, we spent three hours killing time, before I was allowed back home again. Kaila pulled in the driveway, and people began pouring out of the house for a surprise Birthday Party! There were people and decorations everywhere. Kids ran around with balloons, the dining room was strung with streamers, and the kitchen was full of food. It was just incredible! A flashing tiara was stuck on my head, and a sash was thrown over me, announcing I was 40, and I was instructed to not remove either of them. After awhile, my sister excitedly told me to look at the card she had brought me. The envelope read "MORIAH! GUESS WHAT????????" looking questioningly at my sister, I opened the card, while she barely contained herself. Opening it, I read "WE'RE GETTING TATTOOS THIS WEEK!!!!!!!!" The look on my mother's face was priceless. Brianna and I have talked about getting some sort of small "sister" tattoo for a few years now. She has already talked to a local tattoo artist. After some discussion though, we decided to do tattoos after the summer swimming season, so, maybe at the end of August.
 
     We had so much fun during that party! Deanna, my sister in law, had brought lots of food, and made a cake, and Joe perked right up because there was all this "Joe approved" food, after the depravation of Scout Camp, and the terrible things they tried to feed him. ("Mom. There were days when I literally only ate apples, because that was literally the only thing decent to eat. Even as a pretty much Mexican person, I could not eat the Mexican food they served one day!" "Joe. Once again - you are not Mexican. Not even a little tiny bit." "And, on the day they had ribs?? That day, they gave us two rib bones with hardly any meat on them!" He arrived home at almost 11:30 Friday night, and proceeded to eat two steaks, a spoonful of peanut butter, and a large glass of milk.)
    
     At one point, the guys marched all two thousand (give or take a few) kids down the road to the local ice cream place, and, all the ladies convened on the front porch. Where my sister began to regale us with her recent tea purchase experience.


     "I was here last Saturday, and Ri here was telling me she really liked this tea - it's spelled C-H-A-I I think", began my coffee addicted sister, "so, I went to East Aurora, because I heard there was a tea store there, and I got LOST. So, I was already all stressed out, when I finally found the store. And, there was the handsomest guy there and he started out all nice, but, I asked him for this tea, and I have no idea how these things work, and so he started to show me this - I don't even know how you say it - Chai? tea. He's telling me to sniff  the tea, while he waves the scent toward me. It was so disgusting. So, I finally picked the two that smelled okay, and said, "Okay, I will take those two." and he looked at me funny, and said I have to buy it by the ounce.  What the what? Okay, whatever. And then he starts to weigh it! He delicately puts these weeds into this bag, and weighs it, and keeps shaking the bag, and adding more, and it was this whole process, and I am rolling my eyes, and then I stop and say 'WAIT! How does she drink that??' and the guy is all shocked and says, 'you put it in water' and I was all 'YOU EXPECT MY SISTER TO DRINK WEEDS?????!!!!!!!' And so then I had to buy a special teapot, and he was trying to explain all these things, and I told him to just write directions down, so you could do this, but, my sister better not have to drink weeds."


     I was laughing so hard. I assured my sister I could brew the tea and not drink any weeds. There was a lot of laughing involved while we sat on the porch. I am not entirely sure what the ladies there who were not used to my sister thought, but, they must have liked it, because we did discuss all of us getting together once a month. The subject of her salon came up briefly, and she casually mentioned she just had to ban another four people this week. I am eternally grateful I haven't been banned yet. Honestly, she could make a fortune, she's this side of exclusive.
    





      It really was the best time, and I was so happy! Eventually, people began to leave, and I happened to walk into my house. It appeared that all two thousand children who had been there, had thrown a college style two day bender in approximately six hours. Gazing around at my house, I was amazed at what the pediatric population was capable of. I can only imagine what their future college years hold in store, because the little savages are really very capable of considerable chaos. It was worth every minute of it, too. I think they had just as much fun as I did! I shrugged and told parents all day that my house is pretty kid friendly, and they were fine. And, it was.




     Earlier in the day, shortly before we left the house, one of our neighbors had come over. They are getting a pool and had just dug up lots of concrete decorative edging. He had barely asked if I wanted it, before I burst out that I would love it. I assured him I would be over with the Bearded Man the next day to pick it up, and, in the back of my head already began to make plans for it. When Jasin arrived home the next day, tired and grouchy from his camping trip, he was not the most enthused person about going to haul concrete garden edging, but, we did go get it. The decision needs to be made now - do I re-edge an existing garden with it? Or, do I start a whole new garden? I need to think about this for awhile. There's a fine balance between garden friendly yard and kid/dog friendly yard...seriously. The neighbor had no idea that I absolutely considered garden things a birthday present. With the collection of bricks that I have, along with the new concrete goodies, I have the potential to do some pretty amazing things in my yard.


     One more thought on my party. All laughter aside, I need to mention that: My little sister is a struggling single mom, who works two jobs, and who does her level best to juggle things the best she can. She is regularly exhausted, and could use surgery on her hand, as well as considerable back and neck work. She is not on any form of public assistance, and does it all on her own.
     My sister in law, Deanna, also works two jobs, recently got married, and is a hugely busy person herself!
     And, last but not least, who out there, hears regularly of ANY 16 year old, not only buying tickets and taking their mom to a concert, but, helping to plan and pay for a surprise birthday party for their mom, too? While their car continues to sit in the driveway, because she spent most of her money on her mother, and didn't use it to put  their car on the road?
     It is honestly humbling, that these incredible strong wonderful ladies did this for me, and, I am honestly truly grateful. Keeping in mind that my sister took time off of work to do some of the pre birthday planning - including the tea buying experience - as well as the expense that all of these ladies went through,  is just really a recipe for making the happy tears flow. I can't thank them all enough!
     Even Lexi and Joe spent their own money and bought me birthday cards!
    
     Seeing old friends and new at the party was just so much fun, and it just made the whole day perfect. Seriously, it relit knowledge that there are still good people in the world out there. It was so nice to be reminded that wonderful people exist, and that I can call so many of them my friends and family.






    

Rotten Tomatoes

     So tired. But, sometimes, the Blogs written while I am tired turn out to be the best ones...


     I've been battling a respiratory thing for months now, and, honestly, it's wearing me right out. So, most days are just a blur anymore. This past weekend, I guiltily laid in my recliner, thinking of the myriad of things I needed to get done. I got up and mowed the lawn. I spent an hour trying to breathe properly again. I cooked dinner. And spent an hour completely worn out. And, apparently, I tormented any child - mine or not - that came near me.


     The Sunday began with Joe leaving for his week long trip to Scout Camp. He will be roughing it on the banks of Chautauqua Lake, and enjoying his days in the water. I was informed on Saturday, that he was declaring Saturday a day of Celebration and Mourning. Celebration, because it was his last day at home, and, mourning, because he would be gone for a week. The rest of my kids were in celebration mode because he would be gone and we could have decent foods again, now that the pickiest eater in the house is gone for a few days. Poor Joe.


     Shortly after Joe left, Kaila was scrolling thru her phone, when she read aloud in horror "Mom! listen to this:  "Man trades baby for 15 Big Macs"! That's terrible!"


     "You are so right." I agreed.


     "I know! Who does that?!"


     "I would have totally hold out for fries and a strawberry shake, before handing the baby over..." I continued musingly.


     "MOM! I am so glad, as the oldest, you didn't trade me in for Big Macs. Wow."


     "You truthfully have no way to know for sure that you are my oldest, now, do you?" I pointed out.


    So, my status as a terrible person was already set, when we wandered out to the front porch. One of the little neighbor boys from next door came over. He climbed up the stairs to my porch, and looked around suspiciously. Glaring at me, he demanded "Why is there a bee flying on your porch??"


     "Do you like it? I ordered it from Amazon last week, so I could have porch bees." I explained.


     "MOM!" came Kaila's response again.


     After a full day of these things happening, I was told by my eldest, that I needed to be nicer to little children. (The same one who's current motto is: "I don't like children unless I am paid to.")


     "I don't see why I have to curb myself. It's not like I will have to pay for their therapy.


     "MOM!!!!!!" 


     Tuesday, I had taken the day off, because, my amazing 16 year old had saved her babysitting money, and bought tickets to go see One Republic at 6 Flags Darien Lake. We headed out early, so we could play in the park for the day first, before heading over to the concert. And what a concert it was! We had the absolute best time! I think more so, because I still can't believe Kaila did such an amazing thing for me. How many kids do that for their mothers?? We did discuss "people watching" while waiting in line for a ride.
     "I don't know why you like that "People Watching" thing so much." Kaila commented


     "How do you not??"


     "I mean, what's the big deal? It's skeletons wandering around wearing meat suits."


     "That girl right there? She's probably super nice. She looks very sweet. But, she's gorgeous, so, people want to hate her, but they just can't, because, she's just too nice. Which, actually makes people sort of hate the poor thing more."


     "WHAT?"


     "That lady there? The one that has been chewing on the same mouthful of granola for the last ten minutes? She works out. She runs, she probably is, at the very least, a vegetarian, but obnoxious about it, and probably pretty judgy toward anyone who eats anything that includes meat or non organic produce, and, I am pretty sure her neighbors hate her on principal."


     "MOM!"


     "But, her baby is super cute! That little girl over there? She was so excited about today! She wore her special sparkly earrings, her sparkly ring, she painted her finger nails just for the occasion, and gave herself a purple French tip on one finger nail on each hand - and did a good job! - and had her hair specially braided for the day. Also, she is totally in love with her outfit."


     "Wow. You're crazy."


Anyhow. We had a really amazing day, and it was completely worth the sleep deficit the next day.


     We have found, with Joe gone, that George has no idea who to torment. So, he has decided upon Lexi. Unfortunately for George though, while Joe just screams "MOM! George keeps (insert latest transgression here...)" Lexi plays on the same dirty level as George does. So, they have been tormenting each other mercilessly. I am not sure if not hearing Joe's constant howls of "MOM!" is worth the trade off of listening to George's constant howls of "LEXI KICKED ME AGAIN!!!!!" Joe will be coming home late Friday night, and George will be heading off to camp early Saturday morning. Things should be back to normal again next Monday. George misses Joe so much though, that he has slept in Joe's bed every night, as well as drawn a large heart on the wall next to Joe's bed, and colored it in with blue crayon.
     I made the mistake of mentioning that to a friend of mine, and she was slightly horrified that George had drawn on the bedroom wall. A few years ago, I told the kids I didn't care if the drew and/or painted on their bedroom walls, as long as they didn't draw and/or paint on any other walls. Seriously, I have bigger things to worry about. So, the kids' bedrooms tend to be pretty colorful. Also, it assists with the guilt I feel when I look at the boys' bedroom walls. When we bought the house, it was Kaila's room. We painted it Cinderella Blue, and I threw glitter into the still wet paint, so, the entire room sparkles beautifully. I will only be able to stick planets and stars in that room while explaining the sparkles are like the stars in outer space for so long. Eventually the testosterone will kick in, and I will have to up my game around here.


     One last note. I love my gardens. This year, I truly wish I had more time and energy to work in them, but, overall, I love them. I planted two tomato plants in containers and, for lack of anyplace better to stick them, plunked them in front of my porch. I proudly watched these plants grow, and faithfully watered them every day. Every day, I come home from work, look with horror upon my wilted plants, and rush to water them again. There are lots of tomatoes on  my plants. Most of them rotting.
     Who screws up tomatoes?? The easiest plants ever? Apparently, I do. Because, I am not seeing much hope that there will be any decent tomatoes on either of my poor plants. Mostly, I am literally growing rotten tomatoes.
     With the Pokémon Go craze starting up again though, they may just come in handy.


     Alrighty. Break time over. Back to work for me!