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!



    

That's a Lot of Mrs. Fishers!

     When last we left our writer, she was headed to her brother's wedding. My brother is now happily married (seriously. The pictures I've seen so far from the wedding show him smiling more than any other pictures that I have ever seen of him. Either I haven't seen enough pictures of my brother to make an educated decision, or, he really hates having them taken. Anyhow. He looked pretty happy in the wedding pics I did see.)
     There are now Three, soon to be four Mrs. Fishers in the family. My new sister in law - who has been a sister in law for as long as I've known her, only now it's official - prefers that she be referred to as "Mrs. Ben Fisher" because, just plain "Mrs. Fisher" reminds her of my mother. I did happen to be part of two separate conversations this weekend, involving Bearded Man and/or various sisters in law, asking each other what one should call the Mrs. Fisher Matriarch. None of them apparently feel comfortable addressing my mother as "Mom", "Carol" or, "Mrs. Fisher". Bearded Man shrugged and said he hasn't addressed her as anything in the 21 years that we've been together. The general consensus is that they all just establish eye contact and begin talking when it is generally established who they are talking to. It's a system that's apparently worked for 21 years, so, I think that was the agreed upon solution.


    
     I should mention that my half purple hair is subtle enough that very few co workers and none of my patients have noticed it. I still love it! Except; I am not a hairdresser. I happened to look in the mirror at work this morning and realized I had completely nailed the "Mom from A Christmas Story" look perfectly. I think I achieved it by not blow drying my hair this morning, which is in direct contradiction to my promise to do whatever my sister told me to do with my hair so that she will continue to do it for me. I think I am fairly safe admitting that here, because she does not have time in her life to read my blog.
     To my brother's wedding, I wore a perfectly nice Mom appropriate dress, and my hair had that "after working all day I had literally five minutes to get ready to go" look to it, and I wore comfortable sensible flats. Everybody's picture of "Mom." My older sister made a very brief appearance, and, at pushing 50, she is tall, has a fabulous figure and has hair that does NOT indicate "Cookie baking fluffy harried mom" I saw her for literally less than one minute, but, I saw enough to see that she wore jeans and a tank top and (I think) her trademark stilettos.
     My little sister rocked a pretty maxi dress, and, even after working all day, had fabulous hair and also looked gorgeous. Ah well. I have the "Mom Look" nailed I suppose. By the way: the bride was stunning as well. I took one look at her and my brother and promptly burst into happy tears. Compounded when I saw the airplane charm attached to my brother's boutonniere in honor of our Dad, and then again when he mentioned that he was wearing one of our Dad's ties. Oh my goodness. If I am this much of a mess when my brother gets married, I can only imagine the mess I will be if my children ever trip down the aisle. Less than two years before Kaila graduates. I imagine I will make a weepy spectacle out of myself then, too.


     The day after the wedding, we headed to a Fourth of July party at the home of some friends, who also happened to be George's Baseball Coaches this year. I was hesitant to go, as, I had been dealing with an overtired George all day, who was bouncing off the walls in hyper overtired state all day. But, we went anyway, and, as soon as we arrived, I knew it would be okay. George's baseball coach is literally a grown up version of George, and, their home was every little boy's paradise. They had a creek to play in, and a tree house and a tire swing and water balloons and football and lots of space to run. It was such a good time, that they can't wait to go back! Also, it was the anniversary of my Dad's passing, so, it was really nice to have the distraction.


     After another late night, we were all up early, as, we were headed off to the Bridal Shower for the future Mrs. Malachi Fisher, held up near Buffalo. Bearded Man had to work, so, I had to bring George along with us. Joe was thankful for the opportunity to stay home and read uninterrupted. Overtired George and my girls in tow - we headed out. It was a beautiful champagne brunch, and there were beautiful happy people everywhere. And; George. He enthusiastically picked up a pen, and decided - unprompted - to fill out a "How Well Do You Know the Bride and Groom?" questionnaire.   "What is the bride's favorite food? Subs!" he wrote excitedly. "What is the groom's favorite food? Pizza!" "Where did they meet? IN A BAR!" "Where did the groom propose? IN A BAR!" He scribbled. I was laughing. Until someone read those questions out loud later in the proceedings, and, George happily called out his answers. I literally had my face in my hands, as my  kid's answers rang loud and clear throughout the room, and I was unable to shush him from where I was sitting. YIKES!


     Update on the resident learning driver: She has not really gone job searching, because she is in  hot demand as a babysitter all over town. There was even a house cleaning job last week. I wish I could say she has diligently saved up her money and that her beloved car is on the road - but - she hasn't and it isn't.
     She does drive at every opportunity, and is improving every day. While she does have to wait six months before she's allowed to take her road test, I have told her that I won't allow it until she can competently drive: Back roads, gravel roads, snow covered roads, rain slicked roads, grooved pavement, the NYS thruway, the city of Buffalo, roundabouts, parking lots, curvy roads and nighttime roads. There is no point in having a driver's license, if you aren't able to drive in cities or in snow. We practice when we can.


     Update on the surgery kids: they had their post op check up this week, and are both fine. The appointment was really just a formality. I had to make George stop dancing and sit in the exam chair, so that the ENT specialist could check out his mouth.


     Update on the resident nerdling: Joe spent most of my brother's wedding tucked into whatever quiet corners he could find, buried in a book. He will be wrapping up his participation in the local library's Lego Club this morning and then hitting the computers to learn more about the recent science article that talked about a recent successful teleportation into space. His future goals are to get a Doctorate in Nuclear Science and work at a large lab located in Berkley California. He begs me frequently to please take him to Berkley, so he can check things out.
     Also, he signed up to run Cross Country this fall in school. He has been advised to start running now, so he is ready then. I won't let him back out, because, sometimes, you need to put the books down and get some fresh air. I think it will be good for him, so, he is going to stick to it. If I was a good mother, I would head to the school track with him, and run too. But, the title of this blog clearly indicates that I am fully aware that I am not perfect, so, mostly I just nag him a lot. I may be convinced to possibly do a nice sedate stroll around the track while he runs, though.


     Whew! It was a busy weekend. Till next time!

A Trip To My Sister's Salon

     One of my brothers is getting married today! The plan is to call home at 4pm, tell the kids they had better be dressed appropriately and ready to go, zoom home from work, throw on a dress, try not to weep at my reflection, slap on some make up, fluff up the hair, and be out the door and on the road again within five minutes.


     In preparation for the wedding, and also because I was due, and I am tired of the glittering gray hairs, I headed to my sister's salon last night to get my hair done. "What are you going to get done?" asked an innocent co worker "Whatever she does to it." I replied. "I have absolutely no say in the matter."
     Daughters in tow, as, Kaila needed her hair done too, we headed out. Things are never dull at my sister's salon. Ever. Last night was no exception. We arrived to see a young lady in the chair, finishing up a cut and color. Chattering away, my sister snipped with her scissors, and, finishing, yelled "Get outta my chair!" to the poor thing, who stood up, announced she loved it, paid my sister lots of money, and scooted out. Next up was Kaila. While Kaila was getting her hair done, another customer walked in. My sister finished brushing color onto Kaila's hair, and yelled "Get outta my chair! YOU! Get in the chair!" to Kaila and the next guy. The poor man hopped into the chair and asked to have his almost non existent hair cut and washed. "You want a perm with all that hair, or what?" she demanded. The tough body builder/farmer meekly announced she could do whatever she wanted with his hair. So, she did the "usual" and yelled "Get outta my chair!" as soon as he was done. He gave her money and a hug, and headed on his way, announcing how much he loved her. Kaila was back in the chair to have her color washed out, when the next guy came in. "Are you Donna?" "No. I am Brianna. Who are you?" "I was told this was the best place in the whole entire world, to come for a haircut." "What do you want?" "Well, I want a buzz cut, but the wife wants it trimmed. To look exactly the same as it does now." "Wait. Isn't your wife the one that's always in jail and kind of terrifying??" "Yeah. But she tries to make it out for the kids' birthdays." "Awright. I will cut it the way you want and just lock the door when you're done, so she can't come in and get me." she decided. "Kaila! Get outta my chair!" she yelled, whipping the cape off my kid, "Get in the chair!" she yelled to the man standing there. "I forgot it was my anniversary today." he announced. "Ohhhhh. Not good." said my sister, shaking her head and snipping away. "I know. But, you can't blame me - she's usually in jail for these things!" "What about the holidays?" "Jail." "Even Christmas??" "Yeah. But, I think she was out for Thanksgiving last year. And she always makes sure she's out for birthdays." "Gotcha."
     My girls sat in absolute fascination, as the conversation continued. Finishing up, my sister whipped the cape off of the man and yelled "Get outta my chair!" to the man. He looked at himself in the mirror and announced "I look damn good! I would do me in an alley!" gave her a hug and money, and announced he would be back for all future haircuts. "Ri! Get in the chair!" she yelled at me. "I know what I am going to do to your hair. It will be amazing. But, you don't deserve it." she glared at me.
     "Oh, please! I promise, I will do whatever you ask!" I begged
     "I don't see why. Just scrunching it for two seconds is not going to do anything. I don't know why I bother. You don't use products, you don't blow dry it. You don't deserve it."
     "I will do whatever you tell me to,"
     "You will get what I give you!"
And she began to paint things onto my hair. While we are at the salon, we continued to talk about the phones listening to us. Every so often, I would hear "Let's see what the phone thinks!" and, sure enough, there was always something pertinent to what we were discussing. "Look! It's an ad for Captain Morgan! My phone gets me, Bri" I said, showing her my phone.
     Eventually another customer came in, and I was screamed at to get outta the chair. The next customer was an old family friend for as long as I can remember. When it was his turn to get outta the chair, my sister was given money, a hug, and, yet another customer announced his love for my sister, and happily asked that we all meet up again in 4-6 weeks to re-convene. "RI! Get back in the chair!" yelled my sister, and I hopped back in.
     Eventually, my hair was finished, and I was told to get out of the chair, and my girls were put to work helping her close down the salon for the night. I was fluffing my hair in the mirror, and checking it all out. "Thanks Bri! It looks great! I love it!"
     "Oh. By the way - it's purple in the back." she said casually as she walked by.
      "WHAT? Give me a mirror!" and, low and behold - I have decidedly purple hair under layers of blonde highlights and brown. It manages to look wonderful, while still keeping me professional. Just incredible.
   
     My sister is like that Soup Nazi on Seinfeld. She has absolutely thrown people out of her salon. She has a nearly cult like following, and, her customers adore her like no other. It's amazing. As incredible as that girl is with hair, I am not sure why she isn't wealthy and commanding a top salary. Most of her customers hug her before they leave, even her pediatric customers.


     Anyhow. If nothing else - my hair will look fabulous for my brother's wedding tonight. I also need to tell my mother she looks fabulous - as - she popped into the salon while we were there, and I said "Have you tried on your dress yet?" I MEANT to say "Does it look fabulous, (or awesome)?" but, couldn't pick an adjective, and  it came out "Does it look awful?" to my mother's horror, and my sister's howls of laughter. It doesn't matter if my poor mother wears tonight - I have to assure her it's amazing.


     Have a great weekend!