Well isn't that just perfect...

Today's themed picture is "Imperfect" and my first thought was it was self-portrait time. When I was younger before people started wearing the WWJD bracelets there were PBPGINFWMY bumper stickers. That stood for Please Be Patient God Is Not Finished With Me Yet. And I always loved that idea. That we are all always still improving. When I graduated from high school my best friend bought me a front license plate for my car that read "I might not be perfect, but parts of me are excellent" I liked that thought as well.

I'm not perfect. I'm about as far from perfect as you can get and I am really okay with that. I am a firm believer in the school of thought that perfectionism is a disease and you have to learn to let things go. There are areas that I can get obsessive about and I have to remind myself that it's okay to not be perfect. That in our imperfections the best things can be found. That mistakes can be the best part of your day. That the wrong turn can have you end up in the place you were meant to be all along.

I've also been accused of trying to be perfect. Usually you get that one when what you are doing is different than what someone else wants you to do. Or if your moral stance doesn't line up with theirs. And that's another area where I have to say I am imperfect. I have an ideal in my head that I am working towards. Let's say an enlightened me. But I still fall short of that ideal. A lot. I have a wicked temper at times. I can be judgmental. I can be impatient. Those are things I don't want to be. And I think I am getting better at it. Except when I'm not. And that's okay as well.

Imperfection is fine. It's a good place to be. If I were perfect I wouldn't have a chance to learn. To grow. To change. And that's really what life is about isn't it? Growing, changing, learning?

At least that is what I keep telling myself. For now I will be happy to be perfectly imperfect.

Oh and as far as the picture went? I used an older picture of myself. Today I look grubby and didn't feel like putting on makeup or doing my hair...vanity...yet another one of my imperfections. And that's a good thing for anyone who had to look at the picture. You're welcome.

Remember?

Remember earlier this month when I was stumped for something to write about and I promised a brilliant and shiny blog later that would make up for it?

Yeah, this isn't that one.

I have nothing for today so I will share a few funny bits of conversation from yesterday's field trip.

Me: Look at that! On the road 15 minutes earlier than planned and Dad isn't even here!
C: Umm...you know the beach is west right?

Driving down the road and C's head whips around to look behind us...
Me: What's up?
C: We just passed the Charbonneau District and I have a friend back home whose name is Charbonneau.
Me: Umm...THIS is home!
C: It's funny when I am there I do call here home. And when I am here I call there home. No place is home when I am there.
Me: That's deep...Home is where you aren't.

Mother to 9 year old son: Can you see the octopus?
Boy: No
Mother: When she takes a picture the red light shows him.
(being helpful I take another picture)
Mother: Did you see it?
Boy: No
Me: (stepping to the side and pointing to where the octopus is hiding) See him there? It looks sort of like a pile of sticks and a bulb.
Boy: (now dripping with attitude) I see it. Thanks so much for all the helpful information.
Me: (turning to look at him giving back all of his attitude plus an extra dose to show he is not being nearly as clever as he thinks) And thank you for being so polite about it.

Driving home passing the Burger King we stopped at on the way to the beach to get something to drink and use the restroom...
Me: And there is the Burger King. Did you want to stop again?
C: No, I think I am okay. Cause it's you know...Burger King.
Me: It was a good Burger King, just exactly what we needed it to be when we needed it to be that...
C: Ummm...Okay....
Me: Remember when we stopped at that Burger King that one time?  Good times...good times...

There were many other moments but those are the ones I can remember right now. It was a good day. A good trip. The aquarium was nice, but we remembered why we don't go often. Lunch was excellent. If you are in Newport we recommend Georgie's and the blackened crab melt.  Oh. My. Gosh. Seeing the dock was very cool (see yesterday's blog) and of course just being at the ocean was excellent.

So I still owe you a brilliant shiny blog. Or I at least have to hope your memory fades about promising you one. Which it would probably help if I didn't remind you....

Field trip!

Today C and I headed out to the coast. The weather was okay, not excellent, but okay. But we went to see a piece of history. At the beginning of the month a piece of debris from Japan washed ashore. But it wasn't just any old piece of debris, it was a 70 foot dock that had broken free during the tsunami last March. And for some reason I wanted to see it for myself.

And I am not alone. Since the dock washed ashore thousands of people have come to see it. The parks department said last year there were around 2000 cars through the parks department parking lots the first two weeks of June, this year? Over 12,000! All to see a piece of junk basically. Why did we all go? Why go look at it? I can't answer for everyone else but I thought I'd try and pin down why I went.

We could see the people there to see the dock before we could really see the dock!

I guess first off, if I'm being totally honest, it's because it was an excuse to go to the beach. I love going to the coast as you all know. And Newport isn't one we get to very often. It's another hour further away, it's not as California-like as Seaside so I don't love it as much. It's not close to Tillamook so there is no ice cream on the way back.... But it does have the Oregon Coast Aquarium and it's still the ocean after all so it will do.

But the real reason is that I had a hard time wrapping my brain around it. The whole thought of the dock being HERE when it was THERE. We all watched the footage of the tsunami with our mouths hanging open. Just to see the devastation was unreal. The water wiping out everything, lifting cars, trucks, buildings... And then to think that this dock had been part of that devastation but it wasn't done. It then floated across the ocean and ended up here on our beach. Just over a year later. And no one noticed it. There is a lot of hubbub about that right now. Because this wasn't a small piece of debris, this is a 70 foot long dock, and NO ONE saw it until it washed ashore! Isn't that amazing?

And here it sits.

Now one of the first things they did when it washed ashore was check it for radiation, safe. And then scrape all of the wildlife off of it so it didn't contaminate the shoreline with a host of non-native species. Then they just left it there. There is a lot of debate now on what to do about it. Taking it apart is going to cost money. Who pays for that? The company in Japan doesn't want it back, which is good because how would we get it to them anyway? There are some people who say, leave it there! Turn it in to a monument to the lives lost during the tsunami and let people come see it! There are others who want it off their beach. It's an eyesore! It's causing crowds! And then there are those that are concerned about the safety. It washed ashore during a storm, what happens during the next storm?

For me I am just glad I saw it. And touched it. I will be thinking about that dock, what it represents to me, for a long time. There is something to it, you know? Torn from it's moorings during a storm only to survive a perilous trip across the ocean to wash ashore in a sleepy little Oregon coastal town to be turned in to a tourist attraction....

Okay, or I just wanted to see it because it's cool. Because it came from the ocean. Because one of the things I love the most about the ocean is that it is vast. That the water washing up on our shore touched countless other shores and will do the cycle over and over again. I love the ocean because it makes me feel small and large all at the same time. And seeing this dock, knowing I might have watched it fall apart during the tsunami coverage and then be able to touch it here now?...well....yeah....it's just cool.

Yes, I made him touch it too....

One year later....

Last year this time I was checking the weekend weather forecast and getting ready to do one last cleaning of the house.  Brent's cousin Kim and her husband Dave were headed to Portland to spend the weekend with us. It was their 26th Anniversary trip and we were really excited to show them around our part of the country for a change.

Then the phone rang.  It was my sister Ann. All she could choke out was..."It's Dad.  It doesn't look good."  She said she would call me back and hung up. Now this wasn't the first time in my life I had gotten a call about Dad being sick, or in the hospital or even not doing well. But this was the first time I could feel the bottom start to fall out of the world during the call. For those of you that remember when Brent's dad died I actually thought it was my sister Ann calling to tell me Dad had died instead of my mother-in-law Ann calling to tell me about Jack. So to say that it was unexpected would be lying. But to say I was ready to accept it would be as well.

I texted Brent to let him know Dad was failing and by the time I got a response from him asking me what I wanted to do (we are talking a matter of minutes) Ann had texted me to let me know Dad was gone. Brent told me he could get a ride and would be home as soon as he could. I started to try and put together all of the pieces of what needed done. The moment when grief and practicality collide is always an interesting one for me. It's like your brain splits in to two pieces. There is the part that is wailing, tearing your clothes and putting ashes on your forehead and the part that is making to do lists and they are working together so you are functioning while tears are streaming down your face.

We still had company coming. Yes, they would totally understand if we all left them here for the weekend on their own but what good would it do to drag Brent and C to Albuquerque until the funeral? I would fly out as soon as I could and start on the things that needed done there, they would stay here with Dave and Kim and then fly out for the services. I would leave an itinerary for Brent to follow of all of the places I had planned to take Dave and Kim.  He and C would still have dinner with them that night but I would beg off. I just couldn't. Everyone would understand. I got a flight for first thing the next morning.

During that time my mother called as well. She wasn't sure if I knew yet but of course as soon as I heard her voice and started to sob she knew. Most of you remember that my father died on my mother's birthday. We were all in shock about that one as well. How could that happen? How was that fair? How do you reconcile my mother saying it was God's will and now Dad was in a better place with the fact that she believed God would think it was okay to take him on her birthday? There were times over the next few days that I had to bite my tongue when people would tell me about God calling Dad home and how wonderful it was. I would smile and nod and squeeze my hands together to have something else to focus on so I didn't point out that this belief they held meant that God deliberately chose my mother's birthday to kill my father and that didn't seem like the kind of God I really wanted to spend eternity with. Instead I just smiled and nodded and squeezed....

We all made it through the weekend. Brent and C entertained Kim and Dave and sent me pictures of all of the places they went.  The weather was just about as good as you can hope for June in Portland. Some rain but some sun as well. And I was really glad all of that went mostly according to plan. Albuquerque was what you would expect it to be. I wrote about Dad (of course) here and here and I'm sure other places as well, but those were the two I wrote closest to his death. The things that stick out the most from that time period are the feelings of being adrift. Of not being sure what exactly we were all supposed to do. There were the funeral plans to make, of course, but that didn't really take a lot of time. My Aunt Carol handled a lot of the little things, kept us all corralled on the same page. My family spent a lot of time sitting together semi-quietly. My grand nephew was our comic relief. To a two year old it was just a bunch of people together telling him how funny and fabulous and adorable he is. So he was the bright grief free spot for all of us.

I also fondly remember getting together after the funeral. We all went to my brother and sister's house and ate lunch and played games. It was as close to a normal family visit as anything that weekend was. I think we were all so tired of being sad we needed a time to laugh and relax and since it was just us, just the family, we felt like we could. And that for me was our first piece of, it's going to be okay. Because that's what happens. You have to figure out how to make it okay. To keep moving. To keep laughing. To keep living. Because one death isn't all. Even if it's your father.

So now it's been a year. We are finally at the end of all of the firsts. Which I knew from Jack's passing that those were the worst. From here on out it will be the big days that you dread. His birthday, Mom and Dad's Anniversary, the anniversary of his death. And it will be the little ones that take you by surprise.  The times you see someone who looks like him. You catch yourself saying something that he would. The times he shows up in your dreams. And for a few minutes the grief will clutch your heart and you will feel like you just want to stop again. To sob, to tear your clothes, to get those ashes out. But it passes...and you keep moving. Because you have to. And because that's what Dad would want. And for me I know my father would want me to keep living the best life I can, as the best person I can be, and telling the worst jokes I know.

Family trees....

Samantha sat on the back porch of her sister's house and bit in to the peach she had just picked. She closed her eyes and tipped her head back enjoying the feeling of the juice fill her mouth. The fuzzy skin of the fruit against her lips and teeth, the flesh of the fruit almost melting in to her mouth more than being bitten off. Warm from the sun and just almost too ripe it was the only perfect moment of a very hard day.

As she took her second bite her niece Elizabeth (Lilbet to everyone in the family) announced, "I like to play pretend."

Samantha smiled at her niece, "I liked to play pretend when I was a little girl as well. What is your favorite thing to pretend?"

Lilbet peered at her aunt ignoring her question and said, "Momma says you still like to play pretend. She says you like to pretend you're better than all of us."

Samantha almost chocked on her peach. "Does she now? And what else does Momma say?"

Now that Lilbet knew she had her aunt's full attention she launched in to an almost pitch perfect imitation of her mother. "Momma says, you like to waltz in here wearing your fancy shoes that cost as much as her entire outfit and look down your nose at her and her house. She says that since you moved to the city you like to pretend that you weren't raised on a farm in the middle of nowhere and that you are..."

"Elizabeth Ellen Gardner, you get in the house this instant." Samantha's sister had appeared at the backdoor of the house just in time to prevent Lilbet from sharing whatever else Lori felt about her sister.

"I'm sorry about that, that girl talks like there..."

"...was a two for one sale on words at the 5 and dime." Samantha finished one of her father's favorite sayings with her sister. Though when he used it, it had been about Lori herself as Samantha recalled.

Lori had the good sense to look at little chagrined about what her four year old had just shared with sister. "I'm sorry, I wish she hadn't said that to you."

"You know what Ms. Cicily would say, Never say in front of a child what you don't want them to say in front of everyone else."

As Lori looked down at her feet Samantha fought with her self about letting her sister off the hook or making her squirm just a little longer. "Look, I know we have our differences but this is about Momma so we just need to work past it right now."

Lori took a deep breath and launched in to what was obviously a rehearsed speech, "I am doing the best that I can. I don't know why Ms. Cicily thought she needed to call you anyway. We are handling things. You didn't need to drive all the way out here to check up on us."

It was Samantha's turn to take a deep breath and to try and keep from yelling at her little sister. "Ms. Cicily felt that she needed to call me because this is the third time this month Momma has wandered off. I know you are doing the best you can, but you can't take care of your house, your kids and an old woman who doesn't remember what year it is let alone where she lives half of the time. I'm not saying you are doing a bad job of it, I'm saying no one could do a good job of it. You have too much on your plate and trying to take care of Momma is too much for you. It's time we took her to the nursing home in Alsatia. I toured it when Daddy was sick and it's a lovely place. They do a really good job watching out for the folks that are there. It's clean and well run and the staff is just lovely."

"Momma said she didn't want to go in to a home like some woman with no people of her own. You know that." Lori crossed her arms and set her face into it's most intimidating glare.

"I know what she said, and I know when she said it. But that was 5 years ago when Daddy died. She wasn't wandering back then. She was able to take care of herself. She can't do that now. You know it and I know it and I don't know why you feel you need to be so stubborn about it."

"You don't know what I do. You don't know how hard I work to keep things running out here! You waltz in every few years and throw your money around and think you are being the good daughter when you aren't! You are the one who left! You left! You left me to take care of everything and run everything and do EVERYTHING! So don't tell me now that this is what we have to do. You don't know anything about what we have to do!"

"Three times this month, Lori. Three. And how many times last month? And the month before? She's not going to get better. I'm sorry, but that's the truth. She isn't going to wake up one day and have all of her memories back and never forget again. Each day that passes she gets farther and farther away. It's not your fault. It's not my fault. It's not even her fault. It just is. And we need to do the right thing by her now." Samantha knew she was using her "professional voice" with her sister right now. And she knew that it drove Lori crazy when she talked to her so calmly when she was so angry. But Samantha also knew that she was dangerously close to yelling at her sister and she wasn't sure if she started that she'd ever be able to stop.

"You always do this! You always think you know everything!"

"I always do this? By always do this I guess you mean I always have to be the one to play the bad guy? Who had to take Daddy's keys away from him when he kept insisting he could drive and that the scratches and dents on the car happened in parking lots when he was no where around? Who had to come out here when Daddy was so sick and forced him to mind the day nurse so you and Momma could get a little bit of a break now and then? Who had to threaten to put him in hospice care if he didn't settle down? Who had to make Momma move in with you when she couldn't manage her own house anymore? Who was the one who had to show her how nice it would be living in your guest room and getting a chance to see her grandbabies every day? If that's what you mean by I always do this, then yes, yes I do. I always have to fix things because you won't!"

"You left me with all of this to take care of! You waltzed out of here at 18 and never looked back and left me to deal with all of it on my own! So don't you dare try and tell me how much you have had to do over the years!" Lori's face was turning bright red as she yelled at her sister.

"Bullshit. Bullshit. Bullshit. I'm tired of that, Lori. That's always your line, I left you to deal with all of this. I went to college. I got a job in the city. I have a life out there. You fell in love with your high school sweetheart and couldn't wait to get married. You bought the little house down the road from Momma and Daddy so you and Gary could help them work the farm and live out here in paradise just like you had always wanted to. You benefited from all of that all along. You got to be the golden daughter. The one who Momma passed all of her recipes to. The one whose children got all of her and Daddy's attention.

Did you know I am up for a full partnership at work? I've worked hard for my company and I am this close to it paying off. More money, more responsibility and my name on the goddamn door. It's between me and another one of the junior partners. One who went to all the right schools, lived in all the right places and thinks it's just wonderful that I grew up calling my parents Momma and Daddy. That I have actually milked a cow with my bare hands, can you just imagine? And that I've done so much to better myself. Like there was ever anything wrong with me because I happened to be born in a small country town instead of in a big city.

And then I get a call from Ms. Cicily that Momma has wandered down to their old house and is yelling at the lovely young couple that live there to get out of her house.  And that though they are truly lovely and patient this is the third time this month she's done it. And I might want to come on out and talk to you about what needs done. So I had to leave work early. And you know Mr. Man didn't leave work early. You know he probably worked late. And you know he probably told the partners that it's great, just great that I am making sure to take the time to be with my Momma out on the family farm and that who knows...I might just decide to pack up and move back out to the country because after all you can take the girl out of the country, but you can never take the country out of the girl. And there goes my fucking partnership!

But here I am, Lori. Here I am. Doing what I always do. Which is telling you what you already know but don't want to admit to yourself so you can keep on being the good daughter and I can keep on being the bad one. Momma has to go in to the home. I called them on my way over and they have a bed for her. Pack a bag and I will take her tonight. You can get the rest of her things together later and you and Gary can take them this weekend. I will arrange for the payments out of the trust Daddy set up before he died. You won't have to worry about anything. Because that's what I do, Lori, that's what I always do."

Samantha turned and looked at her sister who was staring at her like she had just lost her mind. And maybe she had. She was just so tired of fighting. Finally Lori's expression softened.   Lori shook her head a little and  set her mouth in to a firm line.

"Well if they have a bed for her and they are expecting her I guess it would be rude to keep them waiting."

And with that she turned on her heel and marched back in the house to pack up a few of their mother's things so Samantha could take her in to Alsatia to the Whispering Pines Home for Active Adults. Though there were no pines and the adults weren't exceedingly active. But she hadn't lied to her sister, it was a lovely place with a kind staff. Ms. Cicily's husband had spent his final years there and she highly recommended them.

Lori brought Samantha her mother's suitcase and gave her a little basket for herself. "I packed you a peach pie I made this morning. Give it to the partners tomorrow. I bet Mr. Man won't know what hit him then."

Samantha looked down at the half eaten peach she was still holding. Sometime while talking to her sister she had squeezed it hard enough that now she had a handful of peach goo instead of the tempting fruit she had started with. While she was washing up at the kitchen sink Lilbet twirled in to the room. She was wearing a princess hat with a veil dangling from the top and a long skirt made from scarves that she was playing with as she danced. "I heard you cussing when you were yelling at Momma. Ms. Cicily says that people who cuss show a distinct lack of imagination."

To hear Ms. Cicily's words spoken so carefully from Lilbet's mouth made Samantha laugh. "Yes, she does say that. I have heard that more than once from Ms. Cicily."

"Are you really taking Grandma away?" Now Lilbet looked concerned.

"I'm not taking her away. She is going to move in to town. You and your Momma and Daddy can visit. You can bring your brothers and you can have Sunday dinner with her if you want to. Or you can sit with her in her room. When ever your Momma says you can visit you can visit."

Lilbet narrowed her eyes, "Are you going to take her in your truck?"

"My truck? I don't have a truck, honey, I have a car."

"But Grandma always says that out of her kids you were the one who didn't truck any nonsense."

Samantha laughed, "Yes, yes she did. But it doesn't mean that I drive a truck. It sort of means that I just do what has to be done. No matter how hard it is or how many excuses could be made."

Samantha turned to go back out on the porch and saw Lori standing behind her holding Momma's suitcase. "Lilbet, you go change out of your play-clothes and clean up that mess you left in your room. It will be time for dinner soon." Lilbet did one more twirl and left the room. "I swear that child will be the death of me. Always in everyone's business."

"She'll be fine. A good mind is a questioning mind. Or at least that's what Ms. Cicily says."

"How old is Ms. Cicily now anyway? That woman never seems to age."

"I would bet she wouldn't tell you, or she would have something to tell you about someone who asks a lady her age."

Lori looked down at her feet. "I'm glad she called you. I was just so ashamed that I wasn't doing a better job. I just...." as the words failed her the tears started to flow down her face.

Samantha crossed the room and took her sister in to her arms, "Hey, now, none of that. You did a fantastic job. You have taken the best care of Momma that you could but she just needs more now than you can give. You know if you could go back in time and ask her she would tell you that we are doing the right thing."

As Samantha held her sister rocking her back and forth like when they were children she repeated over and over..."it will be all right...it will be all right..." She wasn't sure if she was trying to convince Lori or herself.

Lori took a step back away from her sister, "Are you going to be okay getting her settled on your own? Gary won't be home for another hour but if you want to wait until then I could go with you."

"Ms. Cicily has offered to come with me. You know she volunteers there three days a week? They told her that if she wanted to stay tonight with Momma and help get her settled in she was welcome to. She has been getting ready for us to make this move for awhile. I think she was just waiting for the right time to call me.

I will call you when we get her settled in. You all still go to the church up in Alsatia right? I was thinking you could visit on Sundays after services? Eddie and I can make it out here on Wednesdays or Saturdays. And with Ms. Cicily there her three days Momma won't really be lacking for company. It will be okay. I know it will."

And with that Samantha squared her shoulders and took her mother's bag from her sister. "Now let me go put this in my truck and we will tell Momma together...."


*edited ending 6/16/12

Old stories....

Okay, going to go in to the way back machine for this one. It's about old boyfriends, being totally wrong about something and not going to jail. And it's long and probably only interesting to me.  :-)

I was raised in the church, I know I say this a lot but it really did shape the way I was raised in a lot of different ways. There are some subtle differences in growing up that happen if you are raised in an environment like that. A big one is around dating. Dating as a teenager is supposed to be about fun and hanging out and having a good time. Well in the church (in my church anyway) dating is really more about looking for your spouse. The way our youth minister described it dating is like a job interview. And so dating as a teenager in the church, especially dating other people in the same sisterhood of churches, is a little different than what is probably your experience. Talking about marriage at 15 or 16 was perfectly normal behavior. Not that we would get married that young...don't be silly.  I was 18.

So anyway...this blog is about two different boyfriends I had before I started dating Brent. And a point where their stories cross in that "it's a small world" sort of way. The first boyfriend (though not chronologically) I'm going to talk about is Charlie. Charlie and I were completely mismatched and should have never EVER dated. And so as teenagers do we did off and on for close to three years. I first met Charlie up at the camp our church and sister churches went to during the summer. My sister wanted to take her fiance up to show him around the camp that had meant so much to her growing up and a friend of mine was head cook that summer so I tagged along for the ride. We were only going to spend the day up there and then head back.

As I was walking in to the dining hall to find my friend there was a boy laying down on one of the porch swings. As I walked by he craned so far to watch me walk that he fell out of the swing.  Now how is that for a way to get a girl's attention? I laughed and kept on going. I ended up staying the night with my friend Amy and riding back in to town with her the next day instead of going back with my sister and her fiance. And that was the start of me and Charlie. We spent time together that day and exchanged addresses (this was back in the day where if you wanted to talk to someone who lived in another city or state you sent them writing on paper...through snail mail, I know, right? How did we ever survive?) and found out that we were actually going to be at the same camp later that summer working so we would see each other again soon. And I ended up seeing him even before that. He and his two friends decided to drive up to Albuquerque from Portales to see me. Not a lot to do in Portales and a trip to Albuquerque was better than sitting around watching the grass turn brown during the summer.

So for the next few years we did the long distance thing. Not in the traditional way, I dated other people, he dated other people, we just didn't tell each other about the other people. I think we did things to each other just to see how miserable we could make the other one. Once on a trip to Albuquerque as he dropped me off he said, "I love you." my response was the automatic, "I love you too." to which he said, "No you don't. You just think you should." What?? Okay... One time up at camp (stop snickering!) I was up working and hadn't mentioned to him I would be there, because I knew he would show up and I was interested in another boy that was up there...anyway.... he found out I was there and sent me letters. Lots of letters. See up at camp if you got mail the joke was to write something on the outside that would be then read out loud to everyone at mail call. So for the last three days of camp I got letters every day with a lot of "Oh baby, I miss you so much" written on the outside.  A few weeks later he did show up to the camp I was working, it also happened to be right before my birthday and so he brought me a present. Charlie lotion. I know...that sounds really gross, but it was a perfume in the 80s Charlie and Charlie Girl.  He brought me the big bottle of lotion so I would "Think of him everyday." I was allergic....

That Fall he came up to Albuquerque for the big marching band competition and my friend Chrystal and I went to see him. He was busy being the big man in front of his friends, putting down my school and their band. Now I had a lot of friends in marching band and besides that it was MY school so I did the only logical thing in response...I got together with one of his friends that was there. I was a peach in high school, I think I've mentioned that before?  You would think that would be the end of our relationship but for whatever reason we kept getting back together off and on for another stretch. Though we were awful to each other each time. I can remember very clearly one night sitting at the kitchen table on the phone with him. Not talking. I can't remember why I didn't hang up, but there was something I was waiting for, so I sat in silence on the phone (long distance! I cannot believe my parents didn't kill me for that) for ages and I thought..."I am going to end up married to this guy sitting in silence for the rest of my life." Thank goodness I was wrong about that one!

The summer before my senior year and his freshman year in college we ended up at camp together again. It was a weekend camp and I was working with my friend again. Charlie showed up to visit and had a beard. I took one look and said..."Shave" that was how I greeted him. But that night we sat up late talking, sitting on the swing sharing stories and for the first time in our entire time together I thought, I might actually love him. Really love him.  And the funny thing is we weren't a couple right then. Just friends. And barely that. The next morning he came in to the kitchen with a face that looked like it had been through a meat grinder. He had shaved. One of the guys he bunked with said, "I don't know why he did it, but to shave a beard with no cream is brutal." I knew why he had done it. And I felt a little bad because the night before while we were talking the beard had grown on me and I thought it looked nice...ooops!

So fast forward again to part way in to my senior year. Charlie was coming in to town with his college singing group. He wanted to see me and after our time together at the end of the summer I thought, okay, this might actually work. The knock on the door comes I open it and yell..."Ricky!" Not realizing what he was doing he brought a friend with him from college to visit. See, his friend sort of knew my family and Charlie thought it would be fun to bring him. Not realizing that sort of knew my family translated to his older brother and my sister had been engaged at one point in time. My parents LOVED his mom and brother and sister and everyone had been heartbroken when Matt and Susan split up.  Oh and had Rick forgotten to mention that he and I had dated when we were younger?

My parents came out and greeted Charlie politely and then fawned all over Ricky, excuse me...Rick. How's your mom? How's the rest of the family? What are you doing? On and on. The light was beginning to dawn on Charlie that he had been duped. It got worse when we went to visit a friend of mine. Charlie decided to bring out the "big man" persona. He popped his cowboy boots up on Cinnamon's table and told me (yes, told me) to get him something to drink. Rick on the other hand was polite and nice and took the time to fill Cinnamon in on our past history. Which just made Charlie madder as he realized how tied our families had been.

See, as I mentioned Susan (my sister) and Matt (Rick's brother) had been engaged. And during the time they were together I met Rick. We were friendly as the beat upon younger siblings of big personality older siblings are. We understood each other pretty well.  My sister told me that Rick (though it was Ricky at that time) thought I was cute but I really didn't think he did. I just thought she was trying to embarrass me by having me flirt with him only to get rejected. Yes, I had serious trust issues where she was concerned, you can't say you blame me. But it ended up that it was true and we did get together. In that very innocent way you do when you are 12 and 14. And we spent a lot of time writing letters to each other and became pretty good friends through it all. Though we only had one very short stretch where we were any sort of real couple and like I said, I was 12 or 13 so it was pretty sweet and innocent even then. And this was the first time I had seen him in a few years.

So we all went out that night and then made plans to get together the next day. Now here is where I am not sure if it was a set up by Charlie the whole time (long awaited revenge for me getting together with his friend) or something he came up with on the spot when he realized how much attention Rick was getting. But anyway, we all went to the mall together and while we were there Charlie met up with two girls he knew. They were college age girls and took great joy in treating me like I was a child as I was still in high school. As Charlie flirted relentlessly with them in front of me I, of course, got madder and madder. But instead of making a big scene I went for a walk. Standing up on the second floor at Coronado Mall looking down at Charlie and the two girls (they knew I was watching and put on quite the show for me) I reached my boiling point. Rick had come up to talk to me. And I tried to talk him in to lifting the cement planter next to us and dropping it on Charlie's head. He laughed, assuming I was joking, then spent the next half hour telling me hilarious college stories to calm me down. It worked. By the time he was done talking I was less homicidal and just amused. And I knew Charlie and I were never getting back together again. Finally.

Rick and I spent a little more time then talking about Matt and Susan and how sad that had made everyone. Though it was the right decision for those two it was especially sad for me because I already knew that her current husband was not a good guy. And to know how close she had come to being with a good guy who had a family my family actually liked it was a little depressing. So then Rick made the offhand comment that he and I should get married to tie the families together after all. So we made one of those pacts you normally only see on sitcoms that if we weren't married to other people by the time we were old...like 30... we would marry each other. He of course was lucky and dodged that bullet as I was married to Brent just over a year later. But it was still a funny turn of events. One boyfriend comes to visit and you end up with a pseudo-engagement to another in the same weekend.

And, Rick, if you are reading this...I totally wasn't joking about dropping the planter on Charlie's head....

The one where I piss you off...

Okay, this is a political/personal mash up blog. And because it has both political things and my own (let me stress that again MY OWN) opinion on a hot bed item it's probably going to piss you off.  By you I mean everyone. This will be an equal opportunity offender blog. And sort of a mash-up so bear with me as I blend two different ideas in to one piece.

So this has been the political year about the War on Women. The Democrats grabbed on to a few legislation ideals from the Republicans and said..."SEE! LOOK! They hate women! Don't elect them." And for awhile the Republicans floundered with this. They didn't know exactly how to respond because well, it looked bad for them. Then there were a few pieces put out that I personally thought were very good points. They showed other parts of the world where women are raped as young as 10 or 11 because the AIDS epidemic has spread so greatly the men feel this is a good way to prevent catching it.  Of course the men are the ones spreading it, to girls as young as 10 or 11...hmmm....They showed parts of the world where genital mutilation is still common. Taking away a woman's ability to even get pleasure from her own body. Showed statistics on education of women in places where only the men are deemed worthy. And then said, maybe this is the sort of thing that a War on Women really looks like. Maybe we are just being a bit silly here by saying I don't vote the way you do so it's a war? And I thought, good for you, Republicans. And then the Ann Romney thing happened...

You know where Mitt Romney was out stumping and said that his wife has been telling him the number one concern with women voters is the economy and then Hillary Rosen pointed out that Ann Romney has never worked a day in her life and then the Republicans ceded their high ground as fast as they could and said..."SEE! LOOK! They hate women! Don't elect them!" And a *facepalm* and *headdesk* later and we were back to square one. Sort of.  Because then I talked to C on our weekly phone call. And I realized I was actually further back than square one.

See, he didn't understand what the fuss was. Because Ann Romney hadn't worked a day in her life. She had gone from her parents to school to marriage and kids without ever getting a job. And I had to explain that you can't say that. That raising kids is work. And he said, "Yes, it is. But that's not what they were talking about. They were talking about the economy and jobs and what women thought and she hasn't ever had a job. She doesn't even have to worry about money because they are extraordinarily wealthy." I told him again, that yes, he was right but you still can't say that women who stay home with their kids don't work. And he said, "But that's just being willfully ignorant and ignoring the context of the conversation. Everyone KNOWS what she meant by saying she hadn't worked."

And yeah, well, he's right. And that's actually my biggest issue with politics today.  You have to be willfully ignorant to participate with it. Neither side is willing to compromise anymore. To the point where Obamacare is vilified as left wing horribleness when it's based on a proposal put forth by the right when Clinton was pushing for his own healthcare reform. Where neither side can pick a side on an issue until they find out what the OTHER side thinks. Working across the aisle is seen as weakness instead of seen as the WAY OUR POLITICAL SYSTEM WAS DESIGNED TO WORK. You have to allow yourself to get bent out of shape when someone from the other political party does something sketchy while at the same time be willing to justify it when your guy does the exact same sketchy thing. You have to be willfully stupid. And I just cannot be willfully stupid.  Accidentally stupid, temporarily stupid, but not willfully stupid.

Okay, so that ends the political part of the blog and on to the personal part...which ties in to the political part but is a sort of separate issue.

As many of you know I have been stumped lately by the "What do you do?" question.  Because I don't do anything. But I get a lot of grief from family and friends for answering, "Nothing." Yes, I keep up the house. I run the family's errands. I cook (sometimes). I write a blog. I write some other things. But I don't do anything that I get paid for and I don't do anything that I wouldn't do even if I did do something else. If that makes any sort of sense. And that brings me back to Ann Romney.

I stayed at home with C until he was 3 years old. When I tell people that I always say I was lucky enough to be able to stay at home with him until he was three. When Brent got out of the Navy we (as a country) had just hit a bump in the technical field and jobs were not as plentiful as they had been so I went back to work. We couldn't afford for me to stay home anymore so I didn't. And I worked until C was in high school where I was lucky enough to be able to quit my full time job and work part time out of the house for another advertising agency and then with my own company. But it was very part time and mostly I was lucky to be able to be a stay at home mom for C again. So in case you weren't following all of that, let me sum up.  I've done both. I've been a stay at home mom and a work outside the home mom and here is where I piss you off...

Stay at home mothers don't have a job. Just like working mothers don't stop being moms when they get a job. Yes, being a parent is hard work. Being a stay at home mom is full of its own challenges and issues. But it's not the same thing. When I stayed at home with C I cleaned house, cooked, took care of what he needed. When I went to work outside the home I cleaned house, cooked, took care of C...You understand? I didn't stop being a mom just because I had to go to someplace else and get a paycheck. Being a mother isn't your job. It's your life. So stop trying to get some extra worth from what you do by putting a title on it like that. And stopped getting pissed off when someone says that you don't have a job.

And for all of you stay at home dads out there the same thing applies to you, though I feel a little more sympathy in your direction.  Being a mom who stays home has always had a place in our society where no one looks askance at you for your choice. Being a dad who stays home is starting to reach that place. But not completely. And I totally get that there are people out there that judge the choice you made and you really feel like you have to justify it by calling it your work, or your job. But, dude, you are a parent just like the rest of us who are parents out there. It's not a job. It's not your Work. It's your life.

For those moms and dads who stay at home and see their counterparts in the workforce who drop their kids off at daycare, pick up dinner on the way home and live the easy life, let me tell you that's not the way it goes. When I was working when C was in full time child care we figured out that I was making between $1 and $2 an hour once you took out the extra things we needed because I was working. Childcare, an extra car, those sorts of things. But it was an extra $1-$2 an hour we couldn't make it without. So I was putting in 8-10 hour days at work knowing that I was making less than minimum wage, that C was in childcare instead of with me and dreading the phone call that he was sick and I would have to take off work. Because you can get fired for that sort of thing and there goes that $2 you needed. Imagine the guilt you feel as a parent when your child is sick and part of you is worrying about them and another part is worried about your job. Then come the weekends, and they are filled with all of the things you don't have time to do during the week. You clean, you cook, you shop, you run every errand, when the kids get older you also have to fit in whatever sport they are playing. It's not easy.

And for those of you who work outside of the home, think about how hard your weekends are. How you are trying to get everything done and entertain the kids and take care of every thing that is going on and then spread it out over the entire week. It doesn't get easier. It's not like there is less to do. Housework is like a gas it will fill the space you allot it. And if everyone is home all the time the messes are bigger, the cooking is more, the need to find things to do is greater. And who do you think runs the school activities? The sports teams? The general day to day of what happens with kids out in the world? Yes, those are the stay at home parents. Add to that the times you get asked (really asking is a nice way to say it since they assume you will just do it) for a favor since "you don't have anything else you need to do". It's not easy.

So yes, it's work. Yes, it's a challenge. Yes, you are doing the greatest thing in the world (if you are doing it well that is) but no, it's not your job. It's your life. It doesn't matter if you do it as a stay at home parent or a work outside the house parent. Instead of getting all bent and twisted over someone saying you don't work or don't have a job or shouldn't work or shouldn't have a job just let's all agree we are parents. It's not a job. It's your life. So for all of you stay at home parents when someone asks you what you do proudly answer that you do a lot of things, but what you are is a parent. Try that one on for size. And for all of you work outside the home parents when someone asks you what you do you can use it as well. I am an accountant for a living but a parent for life. And stop just stop trying to pussyfoot around each other. Stop being willfully ignorant in what you say and what you take offense to.

And for goodness sake someone help me figure out what to answer for what I do when someone asks! I tried out I'm a stay at home mom for a kid who didn't stay at home but it doesn't really flow....