I thought this was a family show.

We were watching the finale of The Amazing Race, and having a discussion about the teams that were still in the race.

Rose: I like all the teams that are left. But if I have to choose, I think I would have to say I am rooting for the two Chippendale guys.

Me: They certainly turned out to be really nice, didn't they?

Rose: Yeah, they're really . . .

Me: Charming?

Rose: Muscular.

Wish List

Calvin finished making his Christmas wish list the day after Thanksgiving and promptly posted it on the refrigerator. As it was a full two pages long, I briefly glanced at it, then moved on to more pressing items. I finally got around to reading the whole thing. Here is an excerpt.

A laptop for Minecraft and other things like school

Basically anything electronical like video games or handhelds

Stuffies

Rocks, rocks, and . . . more rocks

New paint and carpeting for my room.

Lot and lots of hugs

Having ALL the Justin Bieber songs deleted off our iTunes and everyone's iPod

A sandwich

 Letting me set up a lemonade stand

Having Santa leave one of the cookies on Christmas. :)

A bamboo

I love this kid.

Signage

Rose posted a sign on her door a few months ago

A new sign appeared today.

It says:

NEED TIME ALONE.

Please read the following:

Listen, peeps, I need time alone to be calm and and be me. If you wish to speak with me, please come back in an hour, then re-read this message and do as instructed. This is not one of those stupid "Keep Out but I'm ignoring it" signs. If you enter now, it will be not be pretty. Face the wrath of my stupid attitude, blah, blah, blah.

Merry Xmas,

Rose George

The entertainment value is priceless.

The kids have been banned from all electronics for three days. We shall not examine the reason why and move straight to the effects. They say they're bored, but that's not what I've been seeing.

Sabrina came out of her bedroom wearing this.

She said it all started with an empty Kleenex box, and it went downhill from there.

And not long after hearing hysterical laughter from the kids' bedrooms, I found this on our shopping list.

I'm thinking that I will be banning electronics more often in the future.

Honesty may not always be the best policy

Me: Sabrina, you have such gorgeous long eyelashes.

Sabrina: So do you.

Me: No, I don't. See?

S: Oh, wow, um, they're fine. Not as long as mine, but they're really . . .

Me: Shut up. I see the look of pity on your face.

S: Well, at least you match. You don't have eyebrows either.

Me: Nice.

S: Look on the bright side. At least you won't get an old lady's beard.

It must be tasty

Overheard while driving:

Friend: I like poetry.

Sabrina: I write poetry.

Calvin: I eat poetry.

Goodbyes

A few weeks ago my grandmother died. It was not unexpected. She was 87 and had not been in good health for a very long time. Still, expected or not, it is hard to lose a loved one. I have been thinking a lot about her lately, remembering.

I loved going to my grandma's house. It was truly a magical place for a young child. My grandma loved collecting things. Over the years, her house became very crowded, but it was a treasure trove for a young girl. You never knew what you might find when you opened a door, looked under a bed, or pulled open a drawer. I can remember spending many hours looking through drawers of my grandma's jewelry, trying on piece after piece and feeling very glamorous.

Out of the multitude of things she collected, I specifically remember spoons (purchased from every place she visited), wind chimes, roses, and books. Her family room had shelves and shelves of books, most of them either religious study books or cookbooks. It's the cookbooks I'd like to talk about today.

I have never particularly enjoyed cooking. I can follow a recipe just fine, but I don't find a lot of joy in the actual mechanics of cooking. It's a chore that has to be done every day. However, I do like looking at cookbooks. I love looking at the pictures, thinking about various tastes and textures, and planning elaborate meals in my mind. I subscribe to a few different magazines solely devoted to cooking; this despite the fact that I rarely follow through with creating any of those meals. Lack of follow-through has never stopped me from clipping recipe after recipe. I have often wondered why I do this.

I inherited some of my grandma's cookbooks. I was especially excited to be in possession of the Betty Crocker Cookie Cookbook which I loved looking at as a kid. One day not long ago, I sat on the couch with my grandma's cookie book for a trip down memory lane. When I opened the book, literally hundreds of recipes clipped from magazines and newspapers fell out. I immediately went to my cookbook shelf and pulled out all of Grandma's books. Sure enough, every single one of them was full to bursting with clipped recipes. What do you know? I inherited my penchant for clipping recipes from her!

My vague sense of embarrassment over my silly little habit has vanished. No longer do I feel guilty about buying magazines I never really use. No longer do I feel frustrated about clipping recipes I will never actually make. Because now every time I clip a recipe and slip it into one my cookbooks, I remember my lovely grandmother and know a little piece of her lives on.

I grudgingly accept your right to exist

Rosie's first boyfriend broke up with her a couple of weeks ago. Since then we've all suffered: Rose because her heart was broken; the rest of the family because we have been subjected to Justin Bieber's "Baby" over and over and over again. But there have been signs she might be coming out of her funk. Instead of silent tears pouring down her face, she's been really angry and snapping and snarling at everyone in the family. This evening she had the following conversation with her father:

Rose: Dad, it doesn't bother me as much to be around "Brick" anymore. My friend said I should talk to him and tell him that so it won't be as awkward when we have to do stuff at school together.

David: So you are ready to tell him that you are done wishing him a horrible death in a pit of fire, and you acknowledge that he has a right to exist on the planet?

Rose: Yes! Can I actually tell him that?

David: It's not my business.

Rose: (smiles)

*UPDATE* Ice Cream! We're Gonna Have Ice Cream!

Less than a week after my husband sent this pointed letter to Blood Source, we received this in the mail.

We laughed, shook our heads, and then high-fived because, hey, free ice cream, right? But then we both looked at each other and said, "Wait a minute . . . Do you think?" No, we thought. It couldn't be. But then again . . . Which has led to this online poll. After reading the above letter, do you think that:

(A) This is a sincere if pathetic conciliatory attempt to placate a faithful, but apparently really annoyed, donor by well-meaning staff who just did not get the point at all.

OR

(B) This a subtly sarcastic poke back by someone clever who thought, "You know, from the tone of his note, what I think this guy REALLY wants is a sappy hand-written note and an errand! But don't overdo it in case he's just an annoying jerk who won't get it and will complain to the CEO or something."

We're raising a con artist

(At soccer practice)

Kids: Hi, Coach David! Welcome back! How was your trip to the moon?

David: Um . . . great. Thanks for asking.

(a few weeks later)

David: Kids, I just wanted to let you know that I won't be at practice on Thursday or the game on Saturday. But your other coach will be here to take good care of you. I'll see you next week.

Soccer kids: Okay, Coach David. Are you going to the moon again?

David: No, I just got back from the moon three weeks ago, so it'll be while before I go again.

Kids: We'll miss you. Have a good trip.

(Later...)

David: Calvin, do you have any idea why those kids keep asking me me about going to the moon?

Calvin: Maybe.

David: Care to enlighten me?

Calvin: Last time you were on a business trip, my teammates asked me where you were. I said you were an astronaut and taking a trip to the moon.

David: And they bought that?

Calvin: Apparently.

The needle wasn't the only thing that was sharp today.

(guest post from my husband)

Dear BloodSource,

As a long time reasonably-regular whole blood donor, I would like to comment on the on-line rewards program:

I certainly don't donate for the gifts. But there is a nice touch about being handed a little something along with a sincere "thank you" from an engaged employee after they have poked your finger and stuck a big needle in your arm. Or getting a personal acknowledgement when you hit a "big" milestone - 5 pints, 10, 20, whatever.

Having just donated my 19th with BloodSource, I was directed to the rewards site, where I see that I get zero credit for my last however-many-donations in the last few years, but I got 200 points for this one and starting now I can get another T-shirt with just 700 more points.

Great. My donation now earns me a buck or two of credit towards eventually earning a cheap "thank you" gift, which I now have to log in and order myself. As if I needed another errand to do. It's not enough that I take an hour to donate in the first place, and have to skip the gym for a couple days after, now I have to go shop, too?

I feel like someone's not only insultingly trying to incent my donation with a ridiculously small amount of cheap crap, but is actually giving a specific value to my donation of precisely 200 points worth of said cheap crap. If you are trying to enhance the idea that my donation is worth "a lot" in the subjective sense, 200 points on the cheap-crap-scale pretty much  undermines that message. "Yes, You do save lives. Save six more and you can order a coffee mug!" If I save 60 lives, I'll be up to something nice!

Or my donation isn't worth an actual token of thanks from a person, but you'll let me take another half-hour of my time to go on line and order an ice cream certificate if I really want to. "Please, pretty please, won't you take my blood today? I REALLY need a new mouse pad, and I only have three more pints to go!!!"

So I doubt I'll be visiting the rewards site again anytime soon. Don't worry, I still strongly believe in donating blood and I am happy to do so as often as I am able. But I'm not going to go spend a bunch of my time every third donation to check in and order my own $5 thank you gift.

How about this instead: I'll pretend my donation is still worth "a lot" to you, you keep the 200 "reward points", and I'll just take an extra pack of Oreos and a 2nd bottle of water on my way out of the van.

Yours truly,

David George, A-negative

(cynicism is in my blood)

"Why me?" mother asks.

Rose: Rose is wondering what her family is doing today.

Me: Why?

Rose: Because Rose is hungry, and Rose would like to get something to eat soon.

Me: Why are you talking in the third person?

Rose: Rose is practicing for the Third Person Event.

Me: What's that?

Rose: The Third Person Event is where every member participating talks in the third person for a whole week, unless they are talking to a teacher or an adult who doesn't enjoy the wonders of third person.

Me: You do realize that Elmo is also a creature who speaks in the third person, and it makes me want to punch him in the face?

Rose: Rose will take under consideration the fact that her mother is one of the adults who has a problem with this event.

David: Rose is wise in that assessment.

Who says schooling stops during the summer?

Sabrina: What should I do, Rose?

Rose: This, this, or this.

S: No, no, and no. I don't like those options.

R: (very calmly) Fine, I'm leaving.

S: But I need your opinions and help.

R: (also calmly) No, you don't. And I'm not happy. (leaves the room)

(a short while later)

S: Rose! Come help me mash the cookie dough. I don't like getting my hands dirty.

R: Awesome! Kill the butter! Kill the butter!

S: You're not doing it right.

R: Yes, I am.

S: No, you're not. Do it this way.

R: Trust me. I've mashed many, many doughs in my life. I'm an expert.

S: No, you're doing it wrong.

R: Do it yourself then. (and walks away)

S: Come back! I don't want to do it! I hate how messy it is!

R: Guess you should have thought of that before you started criticizing me.

We Scoff at Boring

We knew we were going to be doing a lot of hiking and horseback riding on our vacation, so we invested in refillable water bottles. Knowing that there are some in our family who object to others touching their stuff, David thought it would be wise if we labeled the bottles so they would not get mixed up. He asked Calvin to do that job. Calvin said sure and went off with the water bottles and a sharpie. A while later he came back and deposited the bottles on the table with a flourish. "I'm done!" Everyone stared at the bottles in confused silence. The water bottles were labeled, all right, but not with our names. We read the names off: Edison, Donut, Toadette, Lance, Lileep, Chrysanthium, Freebob, and Srack. I looked at Calvin. "Why?" I asked. Calvin replied that he thought just putting our own names on the bottles would be boring.

We stood around in silence a few second longer, and then there was a mad rush to claim particular bottles. I said Lance was absolutely out as it brought back horrid memories of high school and the one and only time I ever went on a date with a guy named Lance. This date consisted of Lance showing me his large collection of Star Wars figurines, after which he turned to his chess board and proceeded to go over the highlights of his best games. Lance then proudly informed me that his full name was Lance Lars Lopfer III, and that when we had a son he would be Lance Lars Lopfer IV. I guess since I had been dumb enough to actually sit through his discussions of which Star Wars character was the best and why, AS WELL AS his chess lecture, he decided I was a viable candidate for marriage. Needless to say I didn't need those memories raining down on me every time I took a sip of water on this trip. I decided to go for Donut, thinking it might make me a little bit more attractive.

The bottles were divvied up, everyone seemed more or less happy with their choice and off we went. Nobody ever complained about their chosen name. In fact, when the name on Rose's water bottle rubbed completely off (she had Toadette), she grabbed a sharpie and wrote the same name down again, even though it was a prime opportunity to change it. And Calvin was right, it definitely wasn't boring as the whole vacation I heard things like, "Anybody want some Lance?" or "I had Freebob twice last night."

In the dark

When you live near a city, you never really experience true dark. Except for the few times they have gone camping with their dad, my kids have lived with light. More often than not, when I check on them before I go to bed, they are asleep in their rooms with their lights on. So this week in Wyoming has been a learning experience for them. We are in the middle of nowhere, and when the lights go off, it is dark. You can't see your hand in front of your face. We gave the kids flashlights to keep beside their beds in case they had to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. Sabrina decided very shortly after the lights went out that she needed to go, but she was having trouble finding her flashlight.

Sabrina: Dad! Dad! Help me! I can't find my flashlight! What should I do?

David: It's right on your bedside table. Just pick it up.

S: But I can't find it. I can't see! How am I supposed to find it when I can't see?

D: You need to use your other senses.

Calvin: Taste?

Me: Yeah, you'll need to lick your way to the bathroom.

S: That is not funny, guys.

(a little bit later)

C: Dad, is it true that when you can't see, your other senses get sharper?

D: Yes, that is true.

Rose: Is that why I can smell someone's fart?

Ah, the joys of communal living.

Wilderness Fun

We've had the safety and wilderness talk. The kids seem to be having a great time. They come to dinner beaming.

Calvin: Guess what I did today?

David: What?

C: I peed outside!

D: You did what?

C: I peed outside, in the wilderness. It was fun!

D: Where?

C: Right over there in those bushes.

D: I can't believe you did that! What were you thinking?

C: You said I could.

D: I did not!

Rose: Yes, you did, in the wilderness talk you gave us.

C: Yeah, you said that when we were in the wilderness, we could pee in the great outdoors.

D: I meant when we were on hikes, not in the bushes next to the public dining hall.

C: Well, I guess you should have been more specific.

Vacation Update

I'm back to writing, dear readers, after a few days in the wilderness of Yellowstone where there was very poor cell phone service and no wi-fi. I was disconnected from the world, and it didn't excite me as much as my husband had hoped it would. You would think he'd know after 22 years together that roughing it for me is a hotel with no room service. And now that includes no wi-fi. I expressed my astonishment that Yellowstone was not connected, and my dear husband loftily informed me that the National Park Service had better things to spend their money on. I told him we would just have to agree to disagree on that point.

Before Yellowstone, we spent a couple of days in Jackson Hole, Wyoming. The first day we did an alpine slide. The slide was fun, but Sabrina was convinced she'd plummet to her death on the ski lift up to the top. I made David go with her. The second day we spent on the Snake River whitewater rafting. It was a gorgeous day, and we saw at least a dozen bald eagles and osprey.

We then traveled to Yellowstone. We saw bison, elk, and wolves, and gorgeous scenery. Because we were there on nights with no moon, Rose, David, and my father-in-law were able to go to an astronomy lookout and use giant telescopes to look at the galaxy. Rose even got to see the rings of Saturn.

We were fortunate enough to stay in the Old Faithful Inn. My favorite part was the tour of the Old Faithful Inn that gave us some of the history of the park and the hotel. We got to see lots of geysers, including Old Faithful. We went on the geyser walk, and David and the kids loved every minute of it. Calvin at one point said, "This is the most epic vacation ever! Thanks so much, Dad!" This was said just as a group was passing us on the geyser walk, and one mom said to her teenage girls, "Did you hear that little boy? You should be more grateful." David and the kids were so determined to see Grand Geyser, which has a four-hour window of when it is estimated to erupt, that they sat in the sun for two hours. They assure me it was totally worth it. We also saw Old Faithful, again and again and again. I think I have to agree with Sabriba's assessment that geysers are a little like over-enthusiastic hot tubs.

Yesterday, we left Yellowstone for Ring Lake Ranch outside of Dubois, Wyoming, for a week of hiking, horseback riding, and general relaxation. It is somewhat primitive, by my standards, although at least we don't have to sleep outside. David gave the kids a safety talk before we left. By the time he was done, I was petrified, and I've even been to this ranch before. I texted my friend to tell her goodbye as I was afraid I might not be coming back alive. She asked what the safety lecture included, maybe don't let a horse step on you and avoid poop? I told her that horses didn't even make the top ten, because it was too busy being filled up with ticks, scorpions, rattlesnakes, wild elk, falling from rocks, and avoiding the glacier-fed lakes.

More soon, assuming a rattlesnake doesn't get me first.

Dirt revisited

Sabrina: Mom, Calvin won't put down his sunshade. Make him put it down. He's obstructing my view of dirt.

Calvin: No, you've got miles of dirt on your own side.

See how much fun we're having?

We're on a family vacation, driving through the desert in Nevada. The girls and I are gritting our teeth and doing the best we can to endure. David and Calvin are having a grand old time. David gave our son an atlas of the 50 states and showed him the route. Calvin instantly fell in love with this concept and has been keeping us informed with regular updates as to where we are and how far we have to go. When not poring over the map, he's been looking out the window and peppering David with questions.

Calvin: Look, Dad! Did you see that?

(a few minutes later)

C: What about that, Dad? Did you see that?

(a few minutes later)

C: Did you see that? Did you? Did you?

Sabrina: It's dirt, Calvin. Just dirt. It's ALL dirt.

David: Hey, guys, we're over halfway there!

S: We're almost there?

D: No, I said we're over halfway there. We still have five hours to go.

S: So. Much. Dirt.

Stupid fortune cookies

In other words -- you're ugly, girlfriend. This "fortune" doesn't even work with the traditional endings people like to add. When did fortune cookies stop giving predictions and start giving out the sort of harsh truths only your mother would say?

RALFing

A friend of ours recently introduced us to Words with Friends. It has quickly taken over our whole household so that frequently you will hear someone screaming from another room, "NOOOOOOO!" or, "Seventy-three points for ZEP? You've got to be kidding me! That's not even a word!" The latter has happened enough times that we have changed the name of the game. It is no longer Words with Friends, but rather Random Arrangement of Letters with Friends, or RALF. Now in addition to the howls of frustration you will also hear someone say, "Hey, have you RALFed yet today?"

Calvin wanted to get in on the action, so I've been playing with him. He is particularly good at RALFing. Some of his most recent words include PECH, FUD, and YAG, all RALF-tastic words. He has also discovered the chat function on the game where, in addition to playing, he likes to practice his trash talking.

C:  I'm going to beat you >:)

Me: Bring your lunch because it will take you ALL day. ;)

C:  We won't even get to BRUNCH >:)

C plays JOW for 24 points

C:  See that pure skill.

Me: Not skill, but the power of RALF.

C: I got the moves like ralf. I got the moves like ralf

C: I got the mooooooOOOOOooooves like ralf.

Dinner at the George household

Sabrina: One of my life goals was to be six feet tall, but it looks like I am never going to achieve that. I am devastated, but I believe I am going to have to resign myself to being a high-heel-wearing short girl.

Rose: I like my height right now. I'm taller than most of the boys in my class.

Calvin: As long as I'm not freakishly small or really, really, really, really, really, really tall, I don't care what my height will be. I can still have pie.

That's my girl

Sabrina: Mom?

Me: Yup.

S: I like my teen books, but I've decided I like adult books better.

Me: Oh, really? Why?

S: The girl characters are too whiny and weak in the teen books.

It's all in your perspective

While at the bookstore yesterday, I got the kids a treat to eat while they were reading their new books. Calvin chose an apple tart. After making a valiant effort at eating it with a fork, he finally gave up and ate it with his hands. This was, predictably, extremely messy.

Rose: Calvin, oh my gosh, look at your hands! They're all covered in --

Calvin: Heaven.

It's so hard to be 12 years old.

It was really hot, and Rose had a couple of gift cards to spend, so we went to the book store yesterday afternoon. She spent some time in the kids'section, picked up a couple of books, put them down, and generally looked sort of uncomfortable.

R: Um, Mom.

Me: Yes, sweetie?

R: I'm not really sure I belong in this section anymore.

Me: Oh, really? Why not?

R: I'm thinking I'm just too old for it now.

So I told her there was a teen section, and she asked where it was. I took her there, being very familiar with its location due to her older sister practically living there. She browsed for a while and then turned to me and said, in a very disgusted voice:

R: Are ALL these books about love?

Me: Pretty much.

R: Then I'm going back to the kids' section.

Tooth Loss Revisited

While we like to be ahead of the game in many things here at the George household, we are ever behind the eight ball in tooth loss. None of my children got their first tooth as babies until they were over a year old. This has translated into late tooth loss. Unfortunately for them, this is hereditary. I also lost my teeth very late. I remember watching every kid in my first grade class get to put up sticker after sticker on the tooth-loss chart, while the column after my name stayed pristine and unsullied. I hated that teacher. I never got anything. By the time I started losing my teeth, nobody was doing charts anymore. Therapy is helping me to deal with this loss.

The delay in tooth loss means that we are still getting visits from the tooth fairy at the George household. Sabrina just lost her last baby tooth last month, and she is well on her way to 14. I cannot tell you how tired I am of reminding that fairy to exchange teeth for money; so tired that often it is forgotten until weeks later when one of my children hands me a letter asking me to deliver it to the tooth fairy, and if I happen to see him, would it be at all possible to let him know that he is obviously showing his age since no money has been delivered on time for quite a while now. There is a general air of weariness around everyone involved in these transactions, a little bit of cynicism, and a wish for it to all be over. Here is the latest note from Rose.

Dear tooth fairy, Here's my stupid, gross tooth that made my mouth look awful. I hope you're happy. Rose :(

What did they say?

We took the kids up to Ashland to see a couple of plays last week. One was Animal Crackers, a completely zany and fun Marx Brothers show. And since we were at the Shakespeare Festival, we thought perhaps we should take the kids to see Romeo and Juliet also. David was preparing the kids before the show started letting them know the play was going to be close to three hours including intermission. Calvin says, "Why does it have to be three hours?" This made the older gentlemen sitting next to me giggle. He said, "I've often wondered the same thing myself."

Later, about 20 to 30 minutes into watching Romeo and Juliet, David leaned over to Calvin.

D: Calvin, do you know what's going on?

C: (disdainfully) Of course. I understand old English, Dad.

D: Great. Can you tell me?

Guess That Will Teach Her to Listen to Me

All eighth graders were required to write a graduation speech and present them to their class. The top few would be chosen for the graduation ceremony. Sabrina panicked. "What if I get picked? I hate speaking in front of people, especially my classmates!" I said, "How many are in your class? 100? What are the chances of you actually getting picked? Just complete the assignment and forget about it."

Two weeks later, she comes storming into the house after school. "I can't believe it! I'm in the finals!" A week after that, "Thanks for that stellar advice, mom. Guess who got picked to give their speech at graduation? And my teacher, who KNOWS I don't like speaking in public, told me I was in and then gave me an evil grin." And because we are also evil and delight in torturing our children, David and I did not let her back out.

I am sure you will not be surprised to hear that she rocked her speech on graduation night. The following is a transcript of her speech. (I have no clue where she got that sarcastic sense of humor. It must be from her father's side of the family.)

Graduation Speech

My name is Sabrina George. When I saw the words "Graduation Speech Draft due Tuesday" on the homework board, fear was struck in my heart. Then, it got worse. My teacher handed us a packet, with prompts and sentence-starters that were so cheesy it was almost funny. And my personal running commentary said, there is no way in the world you are going to write a speech that starts with "I looked back to the day we started at this school, and saw lost little children running around without a clue, and thought, my how we've grown," or "We were challenged, and as a team we overcame those challenges," or something equally cliché. This is middle school, people, not happy-go-lucky Rainbow Land. So I decided to make my speech to you honest.

There have been some extremely rare, extremely special moments (for example, I'm up here speaking to you) and there have also been many moments of chaos, disruption and drama. We've also grown a lot, and before you say, oh no, she's a hypocrite, let me say this: It's true. I'm taller, by at least a half inch. And really, it's more important to take away the few great memories, the little joys, than to think back on middle school and say, wow, it wasn't all that great, really. Especially since it’s hard not to have a good time at this school.

Over the course of this year, I have changed, as well as the rest of you probably have. I have gotten braver, toughing it with no shortage of melodrama through all of the incredible challenges a middle school girl faces. For example, getting a good grade on a test when you were daydreaming about your celebrity crush for the duration of the unit. Or the daunting task of making it through a mini day when you've forgotten your lip gloss. These formidable obstacles help shape a teen, making her stronger. But this isn’t supposed to be all about me, I will acknowledge that the rest of you have become pretty awesome too.

We have done a ton of fun stuff together this year; "studying", enduring spirit rallies, you name it. We also get to see our friends, which is the whole point of school, anyway, right? We love our friends, and some of our best memories are because of them. Our friends help us through the bad times, which means we need them pretty much all through middle school. We also laugh with them, vent to them about our terrible lives, and make memories with them. Our friends being there means we find a way to have a great time and goof off no matter the circumstances. That's part of why this year has been so good.

This school is really awesome, and that helps too. We have great teachers, and two whole free periods for working on our “homework”. And even though we would rather be at home watching TV, listening to music or hanging outside, we have to admit the curriculum is good. I've actually learned a bunch of stuff this year, and getting good grades has been more challenging.

High school is coming. I know that many people "encourage their fellow graduates to look forward" to harder classes and stricter rules, but quite frankly, I'm scared. I keep imagining big things with sharp teeth waiting for me at the end of summer break… High school is going to be new, and different, and we're going to have to grow into it.

This year has been cool overall, and next year, although bound to be fraught with danger, will bring more exciting adventures and challenges. Good luck!

Mum's the Word

Rose used to be a chatterbox. She would speak for long periods of time on any subject that was on her mind, and she would speak so quickly that it was very tough to get a word in edgewise. Basically, your job was to just nod and interject an, "Oh, really?" from time to time. But as she has approached the teenage years, that communication flow has slowed from a roaring rapid to a slow trickle. Most days she won't speak to me at all. I just get a head nod or eye roll. And if talking is absolutely unavoidable, she'll throw an unintelligible grunt in my general direction. I've become an expert in interpreting grunts. If there was an exam to test fluency in grunting, I would knock it out of the park. I've seen her talking animatedly to friends, so obviously it's not that she doesn't want to talk; she just doesn't want to talk to mom. I won't deny that it's worried me a little. I used to think quiet would be a blessed relief after Sabrina's constant histrionics, but I was wrong. At least with Sabrina I know everything since her life motto is, "No thought left unsaid!" It can be wearying, but I know exactly where I stand and what's going on. Rose is a mystery.

Then, the other night I was curled up in a chair in the corner of our family room reading a book. David and Rose came and sat down at the dining room table while David helped her with her math homework. They worked on algebra for 30 minutes or so, and then the conversation opened up. Rose started asking David questions. They talked about school, grades, when to starting thinking about college, boys, soccer, and the best way to write the letter "G". I stayed absolutely still, trying to make myself invisible. It was such a wonder to hear her open up and talk, I didn't want to ruin it. I just sat there and listened with a smile in my heart, thanking God for my husband.

100 Days

A few months ago I wrote about how my husband had lost his mind. He wanted to get back into being a serious runner, and this is how he proposed to accomplish this. On Saturday he completed his goal of running for 100 consecutive days. My hat is off to him.

While I'm very proud of him, it still irks me that I can't claim to have done the same thing. He is completely crazy, but that doesn't stop me from wanting to compete. This is difficult, however, because I have no desire whatsoever to run, or do anything really, for 100 days. So I started thinking, what could I do for 100 days straight? Or, better yet, what have I already done so I could immediately start claiming a victory? Here is a list of some ideas I came up with.

100 days of . . .

1.  No vegetables.

2.  Drinking wine.

3.  Yelling at my kids.

4.  Sleeping.

5.  Crankiness.

I'm open to other suggestions. Help me reach my goal.

Eclipse

Maybe it's just because I'm not a science fiend, but I thought the eclipse didn't quite live up to its hype. It was much more fascinating to watch the people in our neighborhood all gather with their cardboard projectors and try to interest the kids, most of whom quickly lost interest and left to go play with their bikes and skateboards or, in the case of my son, go inside to play video games.

I will admit sunlight coming through the trees made for some pretty patterns.

Rose making a video for her science teacher

Sabrina is just worried about how the eclipse might affect the Doctor

Tears for Who?

I'm upstairs folding laundry when all of a sudden I hear hysterical sobbing. It goes on and on and does not stop, so eventually I go to investigate, in case someone has died.

Sabrina is on the couch crying as if her life was ending. I ask her what's the matter, and after a while I piece the story together through her sobs and sniffles. Apparently, she had just finished the season two finale of Doctor Who (new version) and was devastated to find that Rose and the Doctor were separated . . . forever.

Into the Wild

Rose: We're going whitewater rafting this summer, right?

David: Yes.

Rose: What class of rapids will there be?

David: I think it's class 2 and 3, honey.

Rose: Well, that's a little disappointing. I was hoping for 4.

David: I think you'll have fun anyway.

Rose: I don't know, Dad. You know I'm an adventure-in-the-wild type of gal.

This from the girl who refused to ride her bike without training wheels until she was nine.

Little Monster

Me: That's Rose's bracelet. You might want to ask her before you wear it.

Sabrina: No, I don't think I'll say anything. I bet she won't even notice.

A short time later. . .

S: Rose! You're wearing my hair clip. You can't wear my hair clip!

Me: (just looking at her in disbelief)

S: (grinning) I am aware of the irony here.

Trouble in High Heels

David:  Sabrina, you'll need to change out of your dress and put on pants so we can go soccer shopping.

Sabrina:  I'm fine.

D:  No, really, please change.

S:  I don't want to. I like my dress.

D:  I'm just thinking it would be easier for you.

S:  Dad, stop.

D:  So you're really going to run with a dress on?

S:  I'm not going to change.

D:  Or how about trying on shoes and pulling the socks up above your knees? I'm thinking that might be a little embarrassing.

S:  Dad, please. I did martial arts in P.E. today in this dress. I think I can handle some shoe shopping.

The Glow is Gone

Sabrina: Hey, Mom, while I was visiting grandma's house, I saw a picture of you. You were so pretty!

Me: Um . . .

David: Were?

Sabrina: Well, I mean, you're okay now, too, but back then you had this . . . glow.

Me: I don't glow now?

Sabrina: Not really. How come you don't glow anymore?

David: Having three kids will do that to a person.

Me: Yup, you're the reason I sit here now all dull and tarnished.

It Has Tentacles!

I would like to preface this with the statement that I've been sicker than a dog for almost a full week now. So let's just agree to chalk this little incident up to loss of brain cells due to illness, okay?

I caught the flu. No wimpy 24-hour stomach bug for me. Oh, no, I had to go and catch influenza and do it up right. This afternoon, I ventured downstairs for the first time in five days. Until then the most I've been able to do is drag myself from my bed to the bathroom and back again, whereupon I'd need hours to recuperate from that little jaunt. Full-blown influenza is the absolute pits. But after days of chills, sweats, aches and trying to hack up a lung, I thought I would go downstairs and make myself a piece of toast.

On shaky legs I made it down the stairs, glad for the banister to help keep me upright, and made myself a piece of sourdough toast. Thinking I had accomplished enough for the day, I decided to go back upstairs. As I headed toward the stairs I saw . . . something on the floor. Not sure what it was, but too tired to really care all that much, I kept on shuffling. Until the something scuttled away from my approaching feet.

I immediately shrieked and leapt onto the couch in a single bound. This was quite impressive since I had lost most of my voice due to coughing so much, and the couch was a good five feet behind me. The girls shrieked in sympathy, then stopped and said, "What happened, Mom?"

Me:      A spider! The biggest one I've ever seen!

Sabrina went to take a look, then screamed louder than the first time and also made an impressive leap for the couch. "Oh, my God, what is it?!?"

Me:      I don't know. A spider?

Sabrina:            Spiders DON'T HAVE TENTACLES, Mom!

Me:      I know. But what else could it be?

Rose:    (standing on her chair) What is it? What is it?

This was taken after the fact and only after much cajoling and bribing. The girls were surprisingly reluctant to reenact this for me so I could take some quality photos.

  

Sabrina:            What are we going to do?

Me:      Let's call Calvin.

We all spent a good few minutes standing on furniture and yelling at the top of our lungs for my nine-year-old son to come and save us. He couldn't hear us because he was plugged into his computer game upstairs with his headphones on. About this time I started thinking all those years playing "Lava" with my children were going to come in handy, because I needed to figure out a way to get from the family room to the stairs without touching the ground. No way was I getting anywhere near that tentacled monstrosity.

Fortunately, Calvin finally heard us and came down to see what was wrong. We explained the situation, and he said he'd be right back. A few minutes later warrior Calvin came back down.

I nixed the book idea since I'd rather arm-wrestle that spider-thing than face my husband if our new wood floor was dented. Calvin came back with a Swiffer mop. Now that was some good thinking on his part. I was impressed. It provided a fairly large rectangular area with which to squish the spider, while still giving him some distance from it. He squished it flat, said it was dead, and headed back up the stairs. As he disappeared from view he said, "Oh, by the way, it was only some lint."

How Do You Compete With Crazy?

I think those of you who are acquainted with me know that I loathe exercise in all of its many and varied forms. But lately I've been noticing creaks and groans in the joints and I have had to face the fact that I am no longer a spring chicken. To counteract the effects of time, I decided it was time to implement an exercise program. So for the last month I have been quietly exercising. And by quietly I mean bitching, moaning, cursing, and generally being a pill about the whole thing.

I sucked it up and started moving my body. I have exercised four times a week for a month now. I have done everything from yoga and pilates to a spin class and walking. I even went to a body pump class taught by my friend Erin that was both frightening and amazing and left me hobbling for a full four days. I have been very proud of myself.

Until a few days ago.

That is when I found out that my husband took my exercise idea and, as so eloquently stated by my daughter, raised it by about a billion. Nothing simple like moving your body a couple of times a week for him. Oh no! Never one to do things by half measures, he decided he was going to run every day for 100 straight days. That's right. You heard me. One Hundred Days Of Running. Good lord, how can I compete with that? I told him I now officially hate him as anything I do looks pathetic and wimpy compared to him.

If you want to follow him and see how he's faring with this ridiculous goal, you can read about it here. http://run100days.blogspot.com/

It's Not Easy Being an Evil Genius

Sabrina: Calvin, let me give you some tips here. When you attempt an evil laugh, you have to let it all out. You can't do it through your nose. If you do, you just end up blowing snot on people, and while that's evil, it's not really the evil you're going for.

And You Thought iPad Was a Bad Name

I received a nook for my birthday a couple of years ago. Upon acquiring it, it did not take long for me to jump on the ebook bandwagon. I love it for many reasons, not least of which is that I can hide my book buying habit from my husband. Twenty-five (thirty-five? forty?) books are much easier to hide in my nook than on my bedside table.

But then family members started borrowing my nook, most notably Sabrina, but also David and Calvin. And therein lies the downside of keeping all your books in one small electronic device. If you don't have your device, you don't have your books. Good thing I keep a small stash of paper books for just such emergencies.

But my stash was running low, so I bought Sabrina her very own nook for her birthday so she would stop borrowing mine. She discovered when setting it up that you can name your nook.

Sabrina: Mom, guess what? You can name your nook!

Me: Yes, I know.

S: What did you name yours?

Me: My nook.

S: That's totally boring. I named mine Nookie.

Me: Ha ha ha!

S: What? What's wrong with nookie?

Me: (giggling) Absolutely nothing, dear.

David: Nope, nothing wrong with nookie.

S: Why are you guys laughing? I don't get it. What'd I do?

D: Do you spend a lot of time with nookie?

Me: Hee, hee, hee.

S: WHAT? You have to tell me!

Me: Um, nookie? Slang term for sex.

S: Ewwwww! That's gross. Why would people ruin a perfectly good word like that? I'll have to change its name now.

(a few days later on the way home from school)

S: I was talking with my English teacher today. I told him how many books I read over Christmas break. He was really impressed.

Me: Yup, all you really need in life is just you and some nookie.

S: MOM!!

Me: (innocently) What?

S: Don't be so gross!

Me: All I said was that you really like to spend time with your e-reader. Get your mind out of the gutter, girlfriend.

S: You did that on purpose! My nook is no longer nookie. I have officially renamed it.

Me: To what?

S: Nookalicious.

Me: (snorting) Oh, yeah, that's much better.

(a few days later . . .)

S: I have an announcement. Since I cannot deal with your childish behavior, I have hereby renamed my nook Steve.

Me: Are you going to make sure that you and Steve get some quality time together this weekend?

S: Oh. My. God. You are so weird, Mom.