Observe. Interpret. Chronicle. Might I Add Repeat?

Over the past few months, whenever I needed to go back to the well, so to speak (God, I wish I still had well-water in my life—Jesse and I have decided that lead tasted wonderful and we were only marginally diminished), I’ve caught up on my Maynard James Keenan reading.

Yeah, you read that right. Not only does that man front some of my favorite bands and make a kick ass bottle of wine (and some pasta my husband is desperately trying to convince me to eat, STAT), but he also writes a column. Insert contented sigh of admiration and hero-worship here.

After we tried what J termed my ‘rock star wine’ (Caduceus: Anubis) and found it delicious, my husband looked squarely in my eyes and said, “Some people have too much talent stuffed into one body.” Don’t I wish I had that problem. Don’t we all?

Yeah, the other thing you’re reading right is that I have another hero-worship thing going on besides The Bloggess. Don’t judge. I excel at hero-worship. There’s more than enough to go around.

One of the little tidbits of reflection I read today brought the point I need brought home. I’d seen him allude to this line of thinking once during a concert, but the written word is more resonant for me. In the post he speaks of the time when the mundane and the creative were more closely aligned. He speaks of how important the creative was to each and every one of our ancestors. It allowed them to live. It allowed them to think of ways to survive the threats of their world. It allowed them to transmit their cultural knowledge to younger generations. They did this by using the three steps listed in the title of this post. They did not limit creativity, block off time for it, or create compartmentalized encampments in their mind between the ‘real things’ to be done and the creative things to be done.

I tend to be guilty of all of the above.

As of late, the creative has been lacking a bit in my life. Know what? My life has sucked a bit for the lack of it. Granted, yes, there’s been school shootings and elementary school lockdowns (Ant was in one this week; his report of the event is heartbreaking, and I cannot write about it yet) and broken furnaces and holiday retail hours and all the other crap that can drag a girl down… but I think the fact that creative time for Momma has dropped off the family calendar altogether has taken the largest toll. Hard to brainstorm around a broken furnace when your mind lives in this constant state of to-do list.

We’ve already established that Momma ain’t spending enough time on herself, now haven’t we? Although I’m happy to report that I broke the ugly UGG cycle and have lost the clip (the ponytail band is a bit harder to relinquish, but I did yesterday; today is second-day hair, and all bets are off) and even put on lipstick, just as Liz Taylor intended…

You can't see the lipstick here. Mainly because I've had
three cups of coffee at this point. And yes, that's a
legitimate SWEATER...

So there’s some movement there. I need to make sure there’s movement on the creative front as well.

I am a very fortunate woman. I have a supportive husband and older children capable of entertaining themselves and an amazing boss who demands we take the time off we need. I also have 16 days of vacation, starting today. There will be holiday machinations during this time off, to be sure, but there will also be days and days of unfilled time in which I can be creative to my heart’s content. I’m really looking forward to it.

At this time, I’m placing no limits on myself. I tend to do this. I tend to tell myself things like, “Well, you should at least catch up on laundry while you’re off” or “Why don’t you write several posts and schedule them?” or “Why are you even thinking of a new project? You have so many other things you’ve never finished!” No limits allowed this time around. I’ll do what strikes me when it strikes me, and if it appears in blog posts or short stories or finishing a project or just plain crafting, that’s fine. That’s what I am doing. It’s important work, after all—allowing the creative juices to flow, allowing the problem-solving channels to become unblocked, allowing serendipity to walk in and do its thing.

The Longest Follow-up Post Ever

I’ve received a lot of questions in regards to the post I wrote about my son being diagnosed with OCD. Three questions stand out, though. Three questions flooded my inbox, over and over again. Three questions that people really wanted me to answer. I don’t know how well I can answer them, but I can give it a shot.

How did you know something was wrong? What are the signs of OCD?

K was always a particular child who preferred to be clean and refused to eat junk food (in other words, he’s a health nut, and may not be our child), so when the symptoms first started I attributed it to teenage weirdness; the dramatic increase in hygiene and appearance that many teens experience. Over the course of the summer though, my inner dialogue went from “Hmmm” to “Huh” to “Wow” to “This isn’t right” to “Oh, HELL no”. His symptoms escalated, in other words.

Cooking Post: The Ubiquitous Breakfast Burrito

YUM...

Do you know what we haven’t had in a long damn time? A cooking post. Okay, you likely see cooking posts all the time, but we’re talking about a cooking post from ME… which are few and far between and the world’s easiest things to make, because really? A girl can have limits to her talents.

Do you remember when I told you that I was scared of fast food? I still am, but there’s one thing from McDonald’s that I just cannot live without. I bet you know what I’m talking about, if you’ve ever heard me wax poetic on the benefits of tortillas and cheese in every meal. It’s the damn breakfast burrito. I love those things. I know they’re awful for me; I don’t want to know what’s actually in them. They. Are. Delicious.

Vignettes: Failing

You know it's good when it gets a place of honor next to my
Walking Dead comics and my Jane Austen movies...

For my birthday, J bought me the first season of Games of Thrones on DVD. No matter I’m on the fourth book—I jumped up and down and squee-ed like a girl in the middle of the living room. There’s nothing I like more than getting J hooked on a TV show (like the Walking Dead) and then telling him that if he wants to know as much as do, or if he wants to know what happens after the cliffhanger, well, then he should read the book!

Because, let’s face it, I’m mean and conniving. And too cheap to pay for HBO.

We watched the first two episodes on my birthday—but J fell asleep in the middle of the second, because he’s been working long hours all week on huge project. Then, I was off yesterday, with lots of free time and no motivation… so I watched some more.

You know, just to make sure they stuck to the story line…

So, last night, when J came home from work ready to watch more of a show he’s already hooked on after 1.5 episodes, and found out that he’s now 4.5 episodes behind me in a ten episode season…

Don’t worry. I went back to the second episode for him. Now, THAT’s love.

***

K is at that point—a point all 15 year boys hit, I fear—where he’s part know-it-all, part arrogant jerk, and part bumbling idiot. 

He’s one of the younger kids in his class, so he hasn’t been gunning to get his learner’s permit nearly as hard as I did at his age. He envisions that all of his friends will be willing to pick him up and take him wherever he wants to go; no matter the price of gas or where we live or that an intermediate driving license pretty much keeps teens from doing this exact thing for the first six months of their driving privileges.   

Or the fact that I have problems with anyone driving my children around—much less teenagers I don’t even freaking know!

All of this to say that he’s not too worried about taking his written exam. Surely not worried enough to actually read the book, or study for it, or anything…

Given that I will be expected to provide him with a two ton chunk of metal in which he can careen himself into others- injuring everyone involved—and with higher insurance rates to boot-- I’ve been pretty adamant that he needs to study and take this driving test thing seriously. I figured this summer would be spent with his head buried in the MO written test book, and then a good chunk of it would be found behind the wheel in a driver’s ed program (let’s face it, the professionals should get him to a place where I can tolerate being in the same car as him—as a passenger—before I begin teaching him the finer points).

This has not been the case. 

So, yesterday, I took a gamble. I placed my parenting experience on the line. If K thought he was such smart shit, he could just go take the written test, then. My gut told me this would be an eye-opening experience. He really needed an eye-opening experience to take this seriously. Of course, it could backfire on me, and he could pass… and then bug me to drive all weekend long. But I didn’t think this would happen. I was praying this wouldn’t happen. 

We went to the examination center, prepared with all of the correct documents and accoutrements. He was given a small white form to fill out by a wizened, elderly woman who’s likely sat behind that same desk for the last fifty years. When K couldn’t even remember his address, she raised her eyebrows at me in a way that said, “Okay, Mom. I see what’s going on HERE.”

After helping him fill out the form, and then taking his picture in that awkward way that only the DMV can do, she directed him to the computer he would take the written test on, and began to usher Ant and I out of the room. Her final words were, “Mom, we’ll see you and Brother in about 15 minutes. He’s only allowed to take the test twice in one day.”

And take the test twice, he did. And failed both times, thank whatever deity you may prefer. And promptly came home and stuck his nose in the damn written test book. 

***

During our trip to Florida back in June (which was a lovely trip I have yet to write about here, sheesh), somewhere, somehow, the boys started speaking in a Russian accent. I don’t even remember how it started, but everything was in a Russian accent. Then it was saying ‘Russian’ things. Then it was mocking the GPS on my phone in a Russian accent:

“After making U-turn, travel 7,539 miles to Mother Russia.”

J made the fatal mistake of laughing at them the first few times, and then it was all Russian, all the time. It got old real quick. Especially since Ant’s Russian accent is like a bad Cold War movie from the 1980s with story-lines of nuclear bombs going off when he snaps his fingers and K’s Russian accent sounds more like Sammy Davis Jr than anything. 

Once we returned home it settled down significantly, and thankfully so: the stereotypical and poorly performed impersonations are one of the more embarrassing parenting failures of my life.

Then, along came the Olympics. Oh, the Olympics, with its ever-present annoying commentators who like to reminisce about the ‘good old days’ when it was all US vs. USSR, all the time. Now Ant speaks in a Russian accent so often that I think he may be forgetting how to speak like a Missouri hick.  

School starts in 12 days. This should be interesting. 

Tell me; what have you failed at recently?

Weekend Wrap-Up: The Spring Break Edition

I’m wrapping up early again this week, as I plan on squeezing every last moment of relaxation out of Spring Break (only two more days) with the boys. After Spring Break, I have six more weeks of chaos at work, and the boys have nine more weeks of chaos at school. And then summer school starts. The very next week.

Next thing you know, it will be the Fourth of July. *Sigh.*

Spring Break, in our house, means the park, fishing, naps, and mindless TV. Like Lost Girl. Which I’ve been watching WAY too much of this week. Zombies and fairies and advertising executives in the 1960s don’t seem like they would mix, but they do. They SO do.

Spring Break also means actual cooking. So we’ll start with what didn’t hit the blog this week, and that is another cooking post. It didn’t hit this week, or last week, or for several weeks, for that matter. But, I did make the Twitterverse jealous with my tales of homemade (but not by me) cannelloni in my oven.

Yeah. You're jealous.

Then there is what I did when I wasn’t here:

I’m back to writing at the lovely Sprocket Ink, which has a pretty, new layout design and header. This made me want to match mine to theirs. You should go and check it out, if you’ve missed it, when you check out my posts on the Hunger Games Haters and what Stand Your Ground Actually Means.

Around the interwebs:

Alex of Late Enough scored another TWO mentions with her hilarious post on How Not to Write and for linking to the Craziest Wifi Names in her weekly wrap up post. My favorite is “You can haz internets.”

Scary Mommy gave me more hope that I can be an accomplished writer someday as well. Also, she wrote the best Momfinitions post ever.

Noa from Oh, Noa reminded me of my favorite post at The Oatmeal. Too bad J didn’t taking dishwasher loading in Home Ec.

And the Bloggess, yet again, confirmed (for me) that we are somehow related, because I’m fairly certain that my great-grandparents had done this at some point in time.

So, what was up this time last year?

I gave you some insight (PG-rated) on what it’s like to live with J.

Which leads me to beg the question: What weird and random witticisms does your spouse come up with that leaves you shaking your head?

Weekend Wrap Up: Missed Callings & Twitterisms

I’m getting the wrap up done early. There are things to be done! The sky is clear for the first damn time in a week (literally, it has rained—poured—every day for the past week) and I plan to do something with that, even it is to stand outside and remind myself that the sky is blue and marvel at the lake in our backyard. Also, there’s this movie to go and watch and the farmer’s market to attend and a bridal shower tomorrow. And- Oh. My. God. Mad Men.

Yeah, that’s right. I actually have weekend plans that do not revolve around laundry. Which is a miracle, since the dryer broke on Monday, and it took until Thursday for us to get it fixed. So let me start with what didn’t hit the blog this week:

The dryer decided that it didn’t want to heat up any more. While I was angry with this inanimate object, I also felt bad for the dryer, because it’s been a good sport for twelve years now. A Google search told J and I that it could be one of four things—all easy to fix—but when J decided to start messing with it and forgot to unplug the damn thing from the wall (thereby electrocuting himself when he accidentally touched the fuses) I threw a red card and said that I would pay for someone else to come out here for thirty minutes and fix it. With the plug safely on the ground.

J can fix a multitude of things around a house, but anything electrical is his kryptonite.

R—the dryer fixing guy—was a riot. In 30 minutes he fixed my dryer, made Super-Sophie fall in love with him, and made me belly-laugh no less than five times. This man had missed his calling as a stand-up comedian. Or perhaps a psychic. He walked in our door, and had all five of us (including the dog) pegged. Which was quite a feat, given that J was at work, and Ant was at school. He had a whole repertoire of dryer related jokes and puns. And my dryer (for the first time in years) actually dries a load of laundry in one turn of the timer.

Which R told me it was supposed to be doing this whole time. I guess I forgot about that after twelve years. I tried to take a picture of him, but he wasn’t too keen about being on my blog. Sorry R. You’re too awesome not to share!

What I did when I wasn’t here:

Sprocket Ink is on Spring Break hiatus, (but I’ll be posting again there next week, once again), so let me tell you about #wineparty.

I know that many of you don’t get Twitter. Some of you may have tried it, and didn’t see the point of this seemingly random conversation facilitator.  Some of you are like me; you love the randomness of the conversation, and you enjoy being the first to hear about something, and you find the challenge of 140 characters or less to be a personal call to action. #Wineparty (that’s a hashtag, a way to track convos, if you are unaware) happens every Friday night (8pm central) and is hosted by @blogdangerously (that’s a handle, or username, for you newbies) and I have met my Twitter tribe. Every Friday night that I can, I get on there, and the conversation usually ends two hours later with all of us saying something along the lines of “I love you people!”

And the actual conversations? Well, it’s like a damn cocktail party (hence the hashtag #wineparty) and the conversation flows along weird and unexpected channels. Last night’s went like this:

NO talking about Hunger Games (for people like me who haven’t seen it yet)!

Spring weather!

What happened to winter?

Oh my God, the bugs! And spiders, and prehistoric mosquito flocks

And the other vermin…

Like weasels, raccoons, possums, and chipmunks.

You shouldn’t try to hug a chipmunk.

Chipmunk hug rape is wrong; respect the woodland creatures’ personal space.

Why aren’t the spam bots picking up on this yet?

Hooray! We’ve confused the promoted ad people and the sexy time spam bots and saved the Twitter!

It looks a bit like this:

Those "creepy little bastards?" Was a mention of the spider who shared our bed.

 Twitter fun makes me realize that all Facebook does these days is give me the chance to play Words With Friends and comment on my friends’ cute babies. Twitter is where the talking goes on.

Other awesome things on the interwebs:

Alex from Late Enough brought this letter to our attention. It’s the most awesome kid letter ever.

This list of the top ten reasons the Walking Dead should kill off Carl made me snort coffee out of my nose. At work.

Mama Pop writer Molly made us realize that Mad Men characters have some badass* parenting skills that we should all start using.

*This is called sarcasm.

And what was I nattering on about this week last year?

Ant debuted as a featured writer on this blog with his post on Plants Vs. Zombies.

Before I wish you a wonderful weekend (damn it, I just did) I want to ask you to comment about your first Twitter experience, if you have one-- for the newbies. What did you first think about the Twitter, fellow Tweeters, and what do you think of it now?

Weekend Wrap Up: Rained Out

I had the biggest of plans for this weekend. Now, granted, they weren’t very exciting plans, but they were important plans: Weeding out the front flower bed WITH the help of my husband, who actually had the weekend off! Fixing the window screens, which Sophie adores putting her paws through every time someone walks down the sidewalk. Sorting through clothes and getting a Goodwill pile together, to make room for the new clothes I bought for myself and the new work shirts J bought for himself, and assessing what the boys need for the summer.

If someone had told me 15 years ago that this is what I would be excited about on a weekend, I think I would have been backing away from them slowly without turning around.

How much of this got done yesterday? Not much. We spent a good chunk of the day staring outside to see if it would stop pouring. Keep in mind that the weather had called for spotty showers. I think we may have been hit by every single one of those showers… Well, we fixed the window screens in the big front window and we fixed the screen in the patio door. We have one more window to fix, but it also involves rebuilding the screen frame, and power tools and fully charged batteries for said cordless power tools. The fantastic thing, though, is that this fix is so super cheap and easy enough that I can do it. Perhaps I should add blog posts in home improvement to my cooking and university posts.

Which I solemnly vow that I will get back to at some point in time…

But let’s wrap this week up, shall we?

When I wasn’t here:

I discussed how we are placing the entire species at risk by banning children from more and more places, like interactive children’s museums.

I also related my surprise at being in whole and complete agreement with PETA (carnivore that I am) when it comes to their newest foe.

Awesome things from the interwebs:

Two of my awesome things come from MamaPop. Have you checked out this site? You should. One of my standing favorites is the recaps of the Walking Dead every Monday.

And this article on Boomerang Kids (from the perspective of said boomerang kids) is so very, very true!

Finally, finding out that Scary Mommy will be in St. Louis (at left Bank Books—one of my favorite places ever) for part of her book tour makes me all giddy and fluttery inside! She and her husband met at the university where I used to work! Small world…

What was I doing this week last year?

K and I were locked in a battle of wills over National History Day, which I was hoping would solve all of our apathy problems… and it did, kind of.

What didn’t make the blog?

Well, this did make the blog because I just blogged about it right up there! That being said, I know you want to see a picture of my awesome husband working away, right? Of course you do! Now, you’ll have to forgive me for the quality of the picture, because I had to sneak one of him…

And here we see J in his natural state: home improvement...

I still think it was well worth it... I hope you have a wonderful weekend, and if you are hoping to accomplish some household task, I hope that your more successful than we were!