Day Three And All Is Relatively Well

So, it's Day 3 of my being a full fledged stay-at-home mom. G has no school since he was 18 months old. He's relieved, and I have been a little anxious about being around each other ALL DAY. I mean, he's a great kid, easy in so many ways... but we are ultimately alike, territorial and in need of constant input.

Surprise, surprise, we haven't killed each other yet or even come close. I expected at the very least a demand of attention or territorial dispute over the TV or computer. There hasn't been too much of that. Although, admittedly, my Law & Order view time has diminished.

Last night Abs and I decided to catch the feral kittens from the garage. Turned out to be an easy task, however, one of the kittens has an atrophied paw. We rushed her and her siblings to the doctor's office where they were kind enough to look her over. It isn't life threatening at this point, but she'll probably need a leg amputated. I just need them gone... taken care of and to a good home. (Not coyote food.) M is dancing around with anxiety, swearing those kittens must go. He's not having to convince me about that one.

I ache today. A deep ache that covers me like a heavy blanket. I didn't sleep well last night. This is what is going to be difficult managing G for the new weeks and G AND Twiggy afterwards. How will I react to Twiggy's schedule? If they weather would just stay clear and hot, I know I will be better off. The sunshower I previously mentioned brought this ache. The overcast weather can often smother me in pain.

Time to go check on the boy. Silence is golden, but it usually involves something I have to clean up. ;-)

The Circle Comes Round

Dear Mom,

The baby birds are back on your front porch. Dad hadn't mentioned them, and I was pleasantly surprised to see them back. I am not sure it's the same Momma Bird by looking at her, but surely it is. At least, it's that same type of bird. Momma Bird watched me carefully but rather smugly I thought. She feels safe up there with her babies. I am glad.

I remember watching them intently last year with you. We counted the three little heads and watched Momma come and go, foraging for food for those precious babies. I continued to report when you couldn't see them anymore. I know you held a special place for them, those creatures of nature. I watched them intently because I had the feeling that when those babies flew away, you would too.

Those babies left first and then you eventually left to join them.

I took seeing the new family of birds as a sign. A sign you never really left, that the nest is still home even when the birds are gone. They came back to that safe place to nuture Life. You'll be here when my new baby arrives in the next few weeks.

Amazing. There is a sunshower. You've heard me. I could go on, but I think that's enough for now. It was such a gift how much we understood each other.

I love you and miss you, Mom.

~L

His Chosen People

Phineas Icklebutt, our youngest cat of hand chomping fame , has finally decided to choose us as his people. I had been noticing that he has really attached himself to M. At night, as we start heading to bed, Phineas will launch himself onto our bed with vigor, wanting to be petted and play his favorite game: Blue Ribbon.

We used to call the game String, when Sebastian and Bina were younger. It was a very popular game. As any cat owner knows, dangle an object such as string in front of a playful cat and all hell breaks loose. They pounce, they jab, they tumble, they set their sensitive Cat Radar to "Kill." It's a wild time for human and cat, The Ultimate Play. The ultimate bonding experience.

String has been various sizes of string and rope and even the tie to M's bathrobe. Phineas found the ribbon in our room. It's actually a remnant from my doll primping days. I have this doll collection and had bought fresh ribbon to replace old and worn bows. This one was obviously not needed and has been floating about waiting for a purpose in life. I suppose Phineas felt the connection, being of feral cat origin. He too has been waiting for his purpose to emerge.

It has taken over a year for him to accept his fate as A Cat Who is Willing to be Owned. (or, rather, A Cat Who Owns His People.) He's still working on emerging from his shell and it may take years more. I know he's accepted us, not because of the string, but because of what happened at 3 a.m. the night before last. You see, for the first time, he Defended His People.

We have several neighborhood feral cats. Not one of our cats is usually interested if one of these cats wanders within sight of the house. They usually just sit and stare. One of the neighborhood ferals, Mama Cat aka Rascal has taken up residence in our garage and had four kittens there. Mama Cat is finally getting used to us and won't hiss when we are around.

So, when she came up to the back door at 3 a.m while my insomniac husband was at the computer hanging out with Phineas, something wonderous happened. Phineas reacted. He snarled and spit. He fluffed up his fur and threw himself mercilessly at the door. He let Mama Cat know she was Unwelcome. An Intruder. NOT PART OF THIS FAMILY.

M said he was surprised at this reaction. Me? I was pleased, because it is a step in leaving his feral past behind.

For the record, Mama Cat reacted as any good woman would with a calm look of "What the hell is your problem?" If cats could roll their eyes, I am sure she would have. In the end she walked away with her dignity.

And left Phineas with a new sense of family.

It's a Small, Small World

I met Caroline in 1997 when I first moved to Dallas. I landed a contract job in the marketing department at a large telecommunications firm in the Dallas area. Caroline had been in the industry for some time. She is a real go-getter and I would grab on to her coattails every chance I could get. I have learned quite a bit from her over the years.

I am good at making friends wherever I go. I enjoy getting to meet and share with new people. Many of those people leave my life when the orignal connections are severed. Not Caroline. She has a tenacity about her that I admire and love. We stayed friends as she went on to create some things in her life. She built a house, dated an old friend of mine, started her own business.... She's Caroline. Bound and determined to push ahead. I wish I had that kind of drive.

After my old friend broke her heart, she moved on with grace as usual. Shortly thereafter she met a man in her church. A man she really clicked with. A man she decided to marry.

We liked David immediately. He's warm and kind and gentle. A very grounded spirit. He's a great companion to Caroline. We attended their wedding, which was beautiful.

Within a year of the wedding, M and I stepped up in our determination to have a child. We had been unofficially trying after six months of marriage. Five years later, it was starting to feel very "now or never." I asked Caroline to meet me for lunch. I wanted to break the news in person that our determination had succeeded, I was pregnant. Once I told her, her face lit up. "Me too!" She exclaimed. We were due between 3-4 weeks apart.

G was born, then G2 and we got them together early on. They hit it off, and it really isn't any wonder. Caroline and I run at similar speeds, as do our spouses. The G's just celebrated their 5th birthdays. G will tell anyone who will listen that one of his best buddies is G2.

Now Caroline and I are pregnant again, but due three months apart. It's funny how these things work out.

But life gets even funnier, in a strange coincidence kind of way.

David and Caroline came to my mother's Memorial Service in November. They even ventured out to my Dad's house. After the service, I had suggested to Dad that he use David for any trust/estate/will work since this is what David does for a living. Dad thanked me kindly but hadn't acted on that information.

In that strange turn of events, David's parents came to visit this past weekend for G2's birthday. David's Dad noticed my Dad's name while at their house. I have a pretty distinctive maiden name, and while not common, it's not completely left field either. David's father, Whit, inquired about my Dad's name as someone he knew a good 20 years ago in the banking industry. I talked to my Dad and sure enough, Whit is a friend and colleague with whom he had lost touch.

So, how likely is it that best friends (G and G2) would end up with grandfathers that were good friends many years ago? That one of my best friends would marry a man whose Dad knows mine. Given that we didn't all grow up here in Dallas, it's just very strange. And wonderful.

Everything works on Purpose. And it is a wonderous small world after all.

We Speak Each Other's Unspoken Language, Fluently

This cracks me up since I have parents from the midwest and absolutely no Yankee experience whatsoever:

Your Linguistic Profile::

55% General American English

25% Dixie

15% Yankee

0% Midwestern

0% Upper Midwestern

What Kind of American English Do You Speak?

The Graduate

G graduated today. He's officially finished pre-K and moving on to kindergarten next year. He's no longer my baby, he's no longer my toddler, he's no longer my "big boy." He's a school kid. Okay, okay, he has another two and a half months, but I might as well start this mantra now, so I will be accepting by then.

Part of me is so proud of his growth and abilities. Part of me screams "NO! NOT YET! I AM NOT READY TO LET GO!" I am not ready for him to be more in charge of his life. Don't get me wrong, he's got a pretty good head on his shoulders for being five. He has always amazed me with this advanced thoughts. But he is five. This crazy juxtaposition shows up in myriad ways.

He laughs at burps and farts (we call them "poots" in our house.) Then most of the time he will remember his manners and say "excuse me."

He can't write his name well. He's adding, subtracting and multiplying.

He is starting to choose how to dress himself. And not the with the fashion flair I would have hoped.

He has an opinion on the death penalty. An opinion he formed on his own and doesn't mirror my own. (Thanks to my Law & Order obsession.)

He likes to play and to learn. He thinks about cause and effect, but quite often forgets to think when trying to be silly. When we parental types are serious, he gets especially silly. He wants the laugh, he wants to be sure we keep perspective and that in the end it's really okay.

He doesn't care that the house is cluttered. Unless the dishes need to be washed, then he might be willing to help. Especially if "help" means earning back privileges taken away when we was being too silly to think about his actions which have consequences he doesn't like.

He asks me to hold up my feet in the air so he can measure just how big his feet are in comparison to mine. Virtually a toe's length away.

He still worships his parents and wants to be included in everything M and I talk about and do. He wants to feel he's an integral part of this family, which of course he is. I cherish this about my little man. I hope it never changes. Still, I realize it will. He'll start school and grow and learn and become more and more independent. I can't wait to see the man he'll become, actually.

This journey is one day at a time. One laugh at a time. One tear at a time. One school day at a time. I am so proud of my graduate. And I look forward to watching each "graduation" of his life with this same pride and sadness.

I love you G!

Hump Day, Dump Day

I've had things to write about. Lots of things. Semi-dramatic things, personal thoughts things, TV things. I haven't been in the space to sit and "download" from my brain to the keyboard. However, I was thinking today of my blogless space and I think I will just download random thoughts. Let's see if you can keep up...

* My cell phone was stolen last week. I didn't take it seriously when my Dad said I should call and cancel it the moment I discovered it. I thought, no... I am being pregnant and will find it in the refrigerator, or in the couch, or in under the back seat of the car even though I searched under those seats a thousand times. I just knew it was me and my inherent disogranization. I would find it... eventually. But when M called it on Tuesday out of habit and some dude answered, we knew. It wasn't misplaced. It was gone. GONE. I wasn't getting it back. We cancelled and then I proceeded to storm about like the pregnant mad woman I am. I loved my phone. It's the first phone I have really adored. Silly, but I am SO picky. Usually I would relish the thought of picking out the latest and greatest gadget. But, I've been through several cell phones in my life and the thought of having to shop for a new one was nearly unbearable. When the hormone surge died down, I got a new phone. And so far, I even like it. Woe be unto the jerk who stole my phone though. I have phone records for the days he used it. Don't piss off a pregnant woman who secretly wants to be a Private Investigator. Cause I ain't done with that story yet.

*Grey's Anatomy, Grey's Anatomy, Grey's Anatomy. *sighs* I love that show. It's so brilliant. I think it might actually overshadow Lost. (barely... tough to tell, Lost still has the season finale to go!)

*A recent Grey's Anatomy had Meredith refuse to admit that she's Scary and Damaged. I loved Finn's speech about being okay with being Scary and Damaged. I think as human beings, we all are. And we're afraid to admit the ways in which we are. We try to cover up those ways in front of other people, but we cover nothing. People usually see YOU. Scary, Damaged, Beauty and Joy, etc. Or perhaps that's my delusion. I want people to think I am Wonder Woman. Could people really love me for who I am? Flaws and all? Yes, they do. And even I love me this way. At the core, I really do. I just occasionally forget that I do. Thank goodness for days like today, when I remember. :-)

Amazing Grace

I played Amazing Grace for my mother at her Memorial Service. Of course, I did it in typical ~L fashion and used the version by Ladysmith Black Mambazo. It isn't a traditional rendition, but then my mother and I didn't have a traditional relationship.

I think we were bonded by something bigger. She referred to it as a mystical umbilical cord. We could tap into each other in profound and interesting ways.

I remember clearly the day she told my sister and I she had breast cancer. It was at the dining table in our kitchen. I was 15. She began by saying she didn't know how to say what she was about to say. I looked at her for a long moment and said "I know, Mom." She looked at me back for what seemed another long moment. She shifted uncomfortably and then gave a strained laugh and said "No, I am not pregnant." I watched her and said, "I know." She proceeded to tell my younger sister and I that she had tested positive for breast cancer. I took it well for the moment, because, I really did know. I knew she had cancer. I knew what that could mean. What it would mean.

She came out fighting, determined not to let it get the best of her. Life moved on. My sister and I graduated high school and left home. When I was in college, we found out that the cancer came back by moving to the bone in her torso. She had been in remission 6 years. She started going to MD Anderson in Houston.

She kept fighting. In 1993, I met M and we decided to marry the following year. My mother came to the wedding with a cane and neck brace. We tried not to acknowledge the shape she was in. After my wedding, she went back to the doctors after a self-imposed break. They did tests and informed her that her neck bones had deteriorated so much, they had no clue why on earth she was walking, or using her arms. That shook her to the core. She stepped up therapy.

My sister married, and within the first year found out she was pregnant. Everyone was thrilled. The treatments were working and Mom was able to do almost everything as before. She obsessed with her garden, she shared life with my Dad and welcomed her first grandchild into the world. Within two years, my sister and I ended up pregnant at the same time. My sister had niece #2 just 17 days before my son was born. Mom wasn't in town when G was born, but made it back the next day. I spent my first Mother's Day with my new son and my Mom.

I couldn't tell you with precision what happened when after that. Time flies and being a mother screwed my sense of time.

My mother began having problems again, losing some of her sight. We found out that cancer had moved to her brain. She endured surgery, which initially proved successful, although the doctor told us honestly that it only bought our family time. How much she didn't know. Nine months. Two years. No more than ten years, but more than likely somewhere between the first two guesses. My Dad set his sights on five years. Once again, I knew. This was the beginning of the end. I wanted to believe. I really did. But I knew. I think she knew too.

I got pregnant again the spring of 2005. I told them the instant we found out. I wanted something for Mom to look forward to, to perhaps live for... even if it was just a little longer. I miscarried shortly before week 7. We spend Mother's Day 2005 in a quiet and sad joy. I told Mom everything I needed to tell her. How I loved her. How she was my best friend. How I appreciated her and everything she did. I said all things in my heart and soul. She shared back.

In the Fall of 2005, I found out I was pregnant again. I knew this one was a keeper. By this time, I was helping out as much I could to care for Mom in this final stretch. Some days we would simply sit on the porch and hold hands, staring out into the garden she worked so hard to create. (I didn't really know just how much she could still physically see. I am sure she filled in the gaps with memory.)

She passed on November 15th, 2005. M, G and I were there when she went. It was peaceful for her. She fought for twenty years. TWENTY YEARS. Amazing. Amazing Grace realized.

So, needless to say, it's a bittersweet day. I am on the verge of welcoming child #2, grandchild #4 into the world. My Mom is here, in the way she can be. I miss her terribly. I can't think too much about it: G was up all night throwing up. He needs my attention. He needs *his* Mom. It's a wonderful feeling. :-)

Happy Mother's Day to all Moms out there. All of us deserve the celebration.

No More Idolizing

It's being widely talked about in the media today: Chris Daughtry was voted off American Idol.

It's a travesty.

Chris was the best singer in my (oh so) humble opinion.

I like Taylor, and I guess, America loves Taylor. I like that he's quirky and doesn't fit the predisposed notion of what a "Pop Star" should be. He's salt and pepper. He's cute, but in a "boy next door" kind of way. Still, I thought this show was about TALENT. Taylor can sing, absolutely. But not SAYNG... I mean, REALLY REALLY SING. Yes, Kat can. I feel she's a little too "polished" and she tries to sing. She doesn't let go very easily.

Chris just got up there and did his thing. There's something about him I find more "IT" than anyone else. Such a frigging shame. I am sure we'll hear more from that boy. I hope so, anyhow. (I have just a teeny you-can-idolize-me-anytime crush, can you tell? I LOVE a bald man with facial hair, so tasty...) Chris is just so his music. He puts his heart and soul into and just IS music. He can let go. I also loved his choice of Live's version of "Walk the Line" and Queen's "Innuendo." Not everybody (okay, hardly ANYBODY) can pull a Freddie Mercury. I think Chris at least did it justice.

No more Idol voting for me. My choice is gone. *sighs*

I am done ranting now. Just had to get it out. :-)

The Hero

I am so high. I can hear heaven.
I am so high. I can hear heaven.
Oh but heaven, no heaven dont hear me.

And they say that a hero can save us.
I'm not gonna stand here and wait.
I'll hold onto the wings of the eagles.
Watch as we all fly away.

Someone told me love will ALL save us.
But how can that be, look what love gave us.
A world full of killing, and blood-spilling
That world never came.

And they say that a hero can save us.
Im not gonna stand here and wait.
I'll hold onto the wings of the eagles.
Watch as we all fly away.

Now that the world isn't ending, its love that I'm sending to you.
It isn't the love of a hero, and thats why I fear it wont do.

And they say that a hero can save us.
I'm not gonna stand here and wait.
I'll hold onto the wings of the eagles.
Watch as we all fly away.

And they're watching us
(Watching Us)
And they're watching us
(Watching Us)
As we all fly away.
yeahaahh...ooouuhh(#3X)

--Nickelback

Shut Up, Already!

When you are expecting a child, you dream of all the traits that your child might inherit from you. Your grace, your wit, your thick dark eyelashes. Rarely do we think of those other traits. The ones that drive us and everyone we know crazy. I am seeing a few of those develop in G and I have to chuckle. They are my traits, so it doesn't bother me so much, I understand them. It's M that now has to deal with TWO of us who now run these little programs. Thank goodness M is one of the most patient, gentle and kind people I know. Otherwise G and I would be in trouble.

One of the traits I am starting to see in him is the Fine Art of BedTalking. You see, some of us don't go to bed and fall asleep immediately. It's a place to relax and where your brain slows down enough that you might actually catch up with thoughts which raced through your head earlier with such speed that they weren't communicated appropriately. M has had to deal with this for years. He's the practical kind of person: when the lights go out, he's ready to sleep. He's not ready to hold deep and meaningful conversations. I consider him a captive audience, for as you well know, I don't sleep all that easily most of the time. He is usually obliging with a few "uh-huhs" and "mmm's" until he starts snoring in my face. That's my cue to shut up, roll over and try to sleep or get up and sit at the computer.

Last week he got a double whammy of this BedTalking phenomena when thunderstorms brought G into our bed. Despite my Ambien-laden brain, I was awake enough to engage in conversation with G, because that's what we do. We talked about lightning and thunder, what has been going on in school, the Mythbusters program from a couple of weeks ago and what toys he'd like on his Christmas list. Meanwhile, M is snoring away on the other side of G. Not a true, deep snore. A disturbed snore. A snore that wished it wasn't a snore and was actually something more deep and meaningful ilke Sleep. G and I tried to not giggle much. My hushing would only result in further giggles and away we'd go into whispers of a different subject. I finally had to shut my eyes and not look at G so he would quiet down and drift off to sleep himself.

M could easily remedy Having to Endure the BedTalking by moving, but we have a Tempurpedic mattress and therefore every other sleeping surface in the house in Vastly Inferior. So, M will put up with a little BedTalking until Quiet ensues and Peace befalls the house. Because it will happen... eventually. :-)

You Do the Math...

Today is my 29th birthday. Okay, Okay, my 8th annual 29th birthday. I made another revolution around the sun. I survived a year I wouldn't wish on my enemy, had I any.

So, I declare today a new beginning to a new chapter. Heck, maybe I'll even finally turn 30 next year. Then you guys can take me out drinking, since I can't this year.

Apparently we'll need to take Kay out in the fall, since she'll just be turning 18 (for the __th time?). That's always cause to celebrate! (I never knew you were that much younger than me!) :-P

ABC's of Me

*List stolen from another blogger. Feel free to share...*

Accent – I think it's mostly midwestern with twinges of Southern living and Texas. I was born in Alabama and started out life with a more horrendous accent. Thanks Mom for working that one out.

Booze of Choice – Wine: Riesling, Beer: Newcastle Brown Ale/Guinness, Alcohol: Margaritas (tequilla)

Chore I Hate – Cleaning.

Dog or Cat – Cat, as previously addressed.

Essential Electronics – Computer (PC), cell phone (Nokia), TiVo, iPod

Favorite Perfume – None. In a previous life I wore Red by Giorgio, but the older I get the more sensitive I am to perfume.

Gold or Silver? - Platinum. Trick question.

Hometown – I was born in Birmingham, Alabama. Wouldn't call that a hometown, though. Austin, Texas is more my speed. Lived the longest in Dallas, Texas.

Insomnia? – Uh, yeah. Most of the time. Ambien and I have a long standing relationship. Comes with the fibromyalgia.

Job Title – I've seen most episodes of Law & Order. Why can't that be a profession?!?! I am good at designing Powerpoint presentations and performing research. I have also made a pretty good sidekick at trade shows. I have a secret desire to be a Private Investigator when I grow up...

Kids? – I'm so close to officially saying two… how weird! G, 5 and babygirl, not yet.

Living Arrangement – With husband of 12 years, son, and four indoor cats. I am trying hard not to count Momma Cat and her three kittens who have taken up residence in my garage. Our house is actually a piece of JFK-related history. If you ask nicely, I might tell you more.

Most-admired Trait – How much I adore my friends and family? *grins*

Number Of Penguins In Your Bathtub – No penguins, but how does four crocodiles do for ya?

Overnight Hospital Stays – Just having G. *knocks on wood*

Phobia – hm. I have all sorts of weirdness, but no direct phobias that I am aware of...

Quote – "Be the change you wish to see in the world" Mohandas Gandhi

Religion – Neo-pagan, Buddhist, Kabbalist, Christian, Taoist, Quantum Theorist. I think that about covers it.

Siblings – a younger sister, who currently resides in Germany

Time I Wake Up – When I wake up. Some days it's 3 a.m., some days it's 6:30 a.m. with my boys, some days it's noon. (Note: refer to "Insomnia" above.)

Unusual Talent/Skill – I have what I lovingly refer to as "monkey feet." I manipulate my toes with a decent amount of skill. I once changed the CD in my mini-stereo completely with my foot. From opening the CD player, opening a new CD case, taking the new CD out of the case, taking the old CD out of the player, putting the new one in, closing the player lid and starting the music. I had a paint roller in my hand and my hands were messy with paint so I had incentive to attempt such a "feat." (I'm so punny.) Luckily, G seems to have inherited "monkey feet" too, although I have yet to see him use them with such mindbending skill.

Vegetable I Refuse to Eat – Don't much care for lima beans, but I will eat them. Finally had some good Brussel sprouts and eggplant, I will eat them if they are made to my liking.

Worst Habit – Too hard on myself/super self-critical.

X-rays – Dental, spine, foot (when I broke my toe)

Yummy Foods I Make – Lasagna, spaghetti, chicken tortilla casserole, blondies

Zodiac Sign – Taurus... and how.

Love and Devotion

People don't choose cats, cats choose people. Sure, you can walk into any shelter and head home with a perfectly nice feline. You signed the papers, but that won't make the cat yours. You'll feed the cat, pet the cat, talk to the cat but the cat still isn't your cat until the cat decides you are their person.

Dogs aren't like this in my experience. You get a dog, feed the dog, pet the dog, talk to the dog, you then own the dog. The dog will be loyal and devoted until you (repeatedly) mistreat the dog. Then the dog *might* decide whether or not to love you back.

Our family has four cats. Our four cats have their person(s). Sebastian is largely contented these days to choose me as his primary person and M as his close second person. Bina and Phineas have chosen M as their primary person, with me being a close second for Bina. G belongs to Genevieve.

We got Genevieve from a local Petsmart as an SPCA shelter cat. I had seen another cat online who caught my eye. Once we got to the location, the cat we went to see certainly was beautiful and sweet, but Genevieve took the cake. She was talkative, Siamese AND Calico and had zero fear of three-year old G. No Fear of a Miniature Human Being being the primary trait we needed to find in a new cat. Which is a fairly rare trait, FYI. (Our older two felines, Sebastian and Bina tried to remain blissfully ignorant of G as an infant and just made sure to steer clear when that strategy miserably failed.)

Genevieve took to G immediately, to all of us really. She fit right in. She didn't care that the other cats hissed at her. She has no fear.

After we got G his bunk beds, Genevieve quickly learned to negotiate the ladder to the top bunk. She tucks him in almost every night and goes to wake him up in the morning. The top bunk is her own personal "happy place." During the day, that is where you will often find her, sleeping away on the top bunk at the top of her world.

This past weekend, I think it really hit home with all of us just how much she loves her boy. G went to the lakehouse with G2 for an overnight. When he finally got home early Sunday evening, M and I were excited to see him. But not more than Genevieve. She made a beeline to the front door and talked at him excitedly in her Meesy voice. Once M scooped up G and plopped on the couch, there was the cat. Throwing herself on G. Kneading frantically in the air. Purring like a freight train. Repeatedly rubbing his chin with the response of much giggling.

Yep, people don't choose their cats. Cats choose their people. It's a beautiful thing: A cat and her boy.

P.S. Genevieve usually doesn't mind her picture taken. I forgot to ask, therefore, she wasn't happy. Oh well, a little encouragement from M got the picture I wanted. My bad cat etiquette.

Alrighty, Almighty

The Universe to Its Infinite Self: "Look, she blogged about it, do you think she got the picture?"

Its Inifnite Self: "We think so, perhaps We should cut her a little slack."

The Universe: "Yes, We think We should. "

Its Infinite Self: "Okay then, We'll have her take another good look at those flying creatures. She'll discover that they are just Little Black Ants."

The Universe: "Little Black Ants? Are We serious? Why couldn't We come up with a better name... Little Black Ants..." *huffs*

Its Infinite Self: "Well, it is a good marketing ploy, simple and straightforward. People don't have to guess what We created. They *are* just a little black ants, after all."

The Universe: "We came up with Thylacine." *sighs* "Guess Our creative juices were tapped after that. But then, consider what happened to those. Don't see any around anymore do you?"

Its Infinite Self: "We're right, We're right. Simple is best... timeless."

The Universe: "Indeed."

Smite Me, Oh Mighty Smiter

I tempted the Universe. Baaaaaad mistake.

A few weeks ago, Janine and I went out to have a lovely ladies lunch. We were chatting about all sorts of things, getting to know each other. During our conversation, I mentioned that M and I have been extremely lucky to be a position where we haven't had to adhere to a strict budget. Heck, we don't even keep a check register anymore. There has always been "enough" to cover what we need. Even "enough" for things we simply want, though not to extravagance.

So, I am munching down on shrimp, feeling good about not feeling broke. Shuddering at the thought of ever going "back there." Oh sure, there was a time when M and I were first together that we had to watch where the pennies went. That was some time ago. When we were still transitioning between studenthood and true responsible adulthood. Now we've got a house, a kid, another kid on the way and two reliable cars. We're there. Responsible adulthood.

And then I opened my mouth and gave cause for the Universe to take me down a notch. Or two. Or five.

It became apparent in the first few days post Janine-conversation that the Universe had formed intentions. We got a letter from the IRS. First round audit. They want five digits.

Crap.

Okay, okay, I will take some blame for that. I did the taxes. I didn't include the 1099 M got that year. My oversight. My fault. But that wasn't the only thing they detected. Apparently there was some miscommunication about cashing out M's 401K, which we needed to live on for 9 months. *sighs* We're still trying to work that out. I have a feeling we'll owe it, and there goes my new bathroom remodels. My kitchen remodel. (At least until we get this thing paid off.)

This lesson may not have been enough.

Today I come home to find that there is a swarm at my back door. A swarm of tiny flying creatures. On the INSIDE of my house. Trying to get out. Termites, I think.

Crap.

If that is what it is, I can also kiss our deck goodbye with probably no replacement in sight. (It is where I suspect they are getting fat and happy.) No new garage siding for awhile. No new spiffy digital camera that I wanted for my birthday/Mother's day. No new laptop on the horizon.

I guess as soon as Twiggy comes into the world, I can start thinking ways to make some money. Become a family contributor again. Right the wrongs. Beg forgiveness of the Universe. (Which ultimately means getting my shit together in some form or fashion.)

Until then, I think that watching Groundhog Day and Bruce Almighty a few times just might be the ticket to a little more laughter around here. It will at least provide some perspective.

I talked to my dad last night. He's so lonely without my mom. He would like to move on, date a little, eventually finding a new partner to share the rest of his life with. It's a painful road to take, but I am proud of him for considering it. We can't bring my mother back. He deserves some happiness. It's been an emotionally difficult few years. A little levity would be good for him.

He was relating a story to me told by a pastor friend of his. The pastor has a friend who has terrible diabetes. This friend hasn't been able to adequately control his blood sugars which has lead to the failure of his kidneys. Now he's on dialysis, daily. If that weren't enough, he just found out yesterday that he had breast cancer (it can happen in men too!) They don't know what stage it is in, or what treatment he will need. The problem with treatment is that the dialysis has weakened him, so some treatment may not be an option. Oh, and it was his wife's 60th birthday yesterday too. She still has her parents in a nurseing home, neither doing well. She is dealing with losing both her parents and her lifelong partner, unsure of who will pass first. All of this puts my life clearly in perspective. What's a few flying bugs and owing the government a chunk o' money at that point? Your health is SO important. And although mine isn't great, it is manageable. I won't die from it.

It's all about perspective. Once you have a clear line on that, all else becomes so much less significant. We all have hard times. It's a part of being human. If life were easy, there just wouldn't be as much point. We don't learn from "constant happy." We learn from the ever changing landscape.

I promise to listen, and not to tempt G-d with my pride. G-d provides the answers and solutions as well as the challenges. I just have to be ready. Be able to recognize the opportunities. And be willing to do something about those opportunities.

So, bring it on, Universe, bring it. I am listening....