So Soft, Hard Feelings

Here are my snaps when they were just babes. I'll have to put a pic of what they look like now on here.

Soooo, this will be mercifully short. I got an email from my friend who's fiance just died. She was checking to see if some of us girls wanted to hang out with her for a bit this evening. I told her that if my daughter had other plans, I would meet her...And shock of shocks, my 16 year old would rather hang out with her friends than her mom. Weird. So, I picked up that friend and Eggo and we headed over to a beer garden at a place called Martinis (what used to be Bushnell's Turtle for any of you ex-pats). My friend said she wanted to get out of her house, because the walls were feeling like they were closing in. Boy, do I know that feeling. It was a beautiful night and we had a great talk. Remind me to do that in the middle of the week again sometime, will you?

Okay. I better get to sleep now. I want to be all fresh in order to be ready for my last day of work before a four day weekend. Yea!

I Must Confess, I Still Believe

Here is a dark photo of the birthday girl and her husband through the smoke of the book burning.

Today was a million times better than yesterday. I had the worst migraine I've ever had on Monday. Today though? Today was migraine free, plus the weather was amazing, plus I got to run my six mile route, plus it was my friend I.M.'s birthday and fun cookout - which equals awesomeness all day long.

My girls had their own stuff going on. Coadster studied and went to The Airliner for cheap pizza night with some friends. Stinky had a meeting with her dad for religious education classes. She wasn't super happy about it, but it's important to her dad, and a little organized religion never hurt anyone...Except for the crusades and the Spanish Inquisition and centuries of religious oppression. Okay, but you know what I mean.

So, yeah. The birthday party was great. When I first got there, one of I.M's guests was inviting her neighbor, who just happens to be a Pulitzer Prize winning novelist, to the party. The author said that it was his birthday too that day, but didn't come over. Which is too bad, because I think it would be fun to help a Pulitzer Prize winner celebrate his birthday. Don't you?

My beautiful friend S. was there with her two boys and K. and my friend, Wendy showed up with the best sangria I've ever had in my life. It was made with raspberry wine and ginger ale and some kind of lemonade vodka and tons of fresh fruit. I only had one glass, though, because I had to drive.

Earlier, there were about a hundred million kids running around like banshees, but they all went home after it got dark and I.M. started a fire in the backyard with a bunch of her kids' artwork that she couldn't keep anymore. We talked about just how many trees had to die so our kids could give us 54,782 adorable pictures of trees and flowers and dinosaurs. There's only so many of them you can keep without renting another place just to house them all, you know?

As we were sitting around the fire, the guy pictured above came and sat down with us. "I.M. said you guys were friendly, so I hope you don't mind if I join you," he said. Since there were about seven women and our friend Matt H. sitting around, no, we didn't mind one bit if a cute, fun, young, guy came and sat down with us. He was great. A couple of other, younger hipster type guys followed and we all commenced to talking shit.

I.M. put an old encyclopedia on the fire and when a few eyebrows were raised about the book burning, I.M. said, "Shut-up. It's an obsolete encyclopedia that's been sitting outside for a few weeks and it's a little damaged anyway."

"Kind of like me?" I asked.

"Maybe. You've been left outside and you're a little damaged?" the first hipster boy asked.

"Yeah. I guess that doesn't sound so hot, huh - to describe myself as damaged."

"Well, you're only a little damaged. Everything sounds so much better if you say 'it's a little' whatever it is," The first hipster boy said.

"So, if I also described myself as a little heinous, that doesn't sound that bad either, right?"

"Right," he assured me.

"K. remember what I told you the kids in high school called me?" I asked.

"Churlita Tiny Tits?" K. guessed. (My real first name starts with a T. , so the real life nickname actually did flow better together)

"No. That's what they called me in junior high. In high school, we moved to Ottumwa and some of the kids would describe me as being nice, but just a little bit diff'ernt. But they put 'a little' in front of it, so now I'm thinking it must not have been all that bad."

A little later, my friend Matt H., who has this weird fascination, or maybe, obsession with Britney Spears, had K. call him, so we could hear his Britney Spears ringtone. After a good (or bad) listen, one of the hipster boys said, "So, this is what I imagine hell to be like - sitting around a fire, burning books and listening to Brittney Spears."

Since the book was unreadable so I didn't have to feel guilty, and the company was great, and the Britney Spears was funny and didn't last very long, I thought it was closer to heaven.

I Like to Make Love in a Tree-ee-ee

So, tonight I sadly missed an opportunity to hang out with my former neighbor and the author of one of my favorite blogs, "Circle Jerk at the Square Dance", Brando. He was in town for work and we were going to try to meet last night, but he got bogged down with work and then tonight, we were going to try again, but I got bogged down with teenagers. I'm bummed. Hanging out at George's eating cheeseburgers, drinking beer and watching the Cubs with a hilariously funny guy sounded just about perfect. On the upside, he said he and his wife, who is gorgeous AND cool may make it back to town at the end of July with their new baby. I believe that would be a triple bonus.

So, now I'm on the precipice of a three day weekend, and I couldn't be more giddy(or could I not be giddier?). Coadster has marathon show choir workshops all weekend long. (go ahead and laugh, I did) And Stinky has major plans to go to the pool as it's finally supposed to warm up here. Besides running as much as possible, I have a few plans. Tomorrow night, depending on the weather, I may go to my friend K.'s boyfriend's cookout. On Saturday, I have a friend coming into town and I told her I'd meet her and our other friend Shecky out. On Sunday, my friend Libby's husband R. is going to play jazzy stand-up bass with another guy who plays the clarinet in their backyard. I can't wait to hear them. How will you all fill your three days?

...And now for something completely different. Remember when I lamented the supposed demise of one of my favorite trees on campus after the ice storm?

Well, look what a little trooper it is. Sure, it looks a little Dr Seussy here, but I think it's holding up damn fine after its near death experience. Let's give a cheer for our happy little tree.

Last week when I was walking back from my break, there was a couple sitting in its branches getting all ready to make out. Then these two guys walked past and started singing a little song they made up that went something like this, "I like to make love in a tree-ee-ee..." And the couple immediately separated. Awesome.

Confusion Has Its Cost

Oh, well look. Another photo of my snaps set against the beautiful background of my pine green mom car. Lovely.

Today was kind of weird. First, we had a meeting where my boss showed us some new computer applications. Mostly, we sat for over an hour, while he kept trying different things to see if they'd work. On the way out of the meeting, one of my co-workers said, "Maybe if I splashed some coffee in my eyes, it would help me wake-up." Amen and hallelujah.

I also got pulled to work an orientation day. I was supposed to lead a big group of parents from one building, to a room in another one. These things are usually pretty well organized, but today they didn't give me my room assignment until the last minute, so I didn't have time to find out where I was going. I led these poor suburban Chicago parents to the copy center and a few more rooms before it was all over. At one point a mom asked, "Oh my gawd. Are we lAAAst?" (that means "lost" in Chicago speak) I felt like a big, gigantic asshole.

Finally, tonight I stopped at the Picador to offer my condolences to a friend who's brother just died. I only stayed a minute, because it was late and I needed to get home. Even though it was a sad occasion, it brought tons of friends together. I haven't seen that many people in the downstairs or the beer garden of the Picador, since it was still called Gabes. The great part, was that most of the people there were folks I used to hang out with about ten years ago. It was like stepping back in time to 1997, except everyone had a few more tattoos, some had bigger bellies and they didn't seem to be drinking quite as irresponsibly.

Okay, so now I'm very tired and I need to get my beauty sleep. Actually, I need all of your beauty sleep too.

But Now's the Time to Look and Look Again at What You See

There are a lot of very difficult things about being a single parent, and I'm sure I've documented enough of them for me to be able to officially change the name of my blog to, "I'm a Single Mom: Wah-Fucking-Wah" if I so chose. Tonight, in a surprise move, I'm actually going to go the other way and relate something very rich and satisfying about being the sole, head of my household. I absolutely love tucking in my home for the night. The ritual is not only comforting, but it also makes me feel able and confident.

First, I check both doors to make sure they're locked. After we're all safe and secure, I turn down the thermostat. It's not just to save money, we all seem to sleep better at a cooler temperature. Next, I put whatever was in the washer (because there's almost always something) into the dryer and get it going.

Once I've brushed, washed, and changed, (not necessarily in that order) I do my equivalent of counting my chicks. One, two. One, two. I enter each girl's room and rearrange blankets so that my girls are sufficiently covered, turn off any radios and look for hidden flashlights used for covert, late night book reading - just to make sure nobody rolls over onto them in their sleep. At that point, I am free to indulge in my nighttime child gazing which I still do even though they are in their teens. Actually, it's probably more necessary now that I don't get to see them as much in general, let alone when they are quiet and peaceful and not talking to or about their friends.

At last, when the girls are as comfortable and safe as I can make them, I get to go to sleep. I pull out the futon couch and let myself get lulled to sleep by the hum of the dryer. I'm usually so exhausted at that point, that the sporadic clinking and clanking of buttons against metal doesn't even prevent me from drifting off.