Sure Could Use a Little Good News Today

Anne Murray was one of my favorite singers when I was little. She has such a unique voice. I still love to listen to her stuff. I often hear this particular song in my head. I don't know exactly when it was released, but it was sometime in the mid-80's.

Things have been pretty intense around here for the last month. My friend's daughter died on January 30th. She was 2. The day before her memorial, my son was diagnosed with a pretty darn scary illness and instructed to get a CT scan ASAP. We spent four days in agony imagining the worst of the worst. We had to give our dog back to the shelter last week, as we just couldn't house train her--despite more effort, money, and tears than any pet owner should ever be subjected to. I found out my neighbor's cousin delivered a stillborn baby last week. And my own cousin is dealing with profound health issues with his baby girl. Yesterday, a friend of my mother-in-law backed her car into my MIL's house. Sometimes, I just want to hide under the covers until the world learns how to play nice.

The good news, though, is that we're doing all we can here to support my friend. Tomorrow, we plant a majestic Austrian pine in honor of her daughter, from whom I learned one of the most valuable lessons of my entire life. My son is fine. He has a chronic condition of the optic nerve that we'll need to monitor, but he does not have a brain tumor. My cousin's daughter finally found a medication that seems to be working. Yay! And my mother-in-law got her house boarded up. The contractor starts the repairs in three weeks.

I am so grateful for the moments that make my life grand. Today, I watched my youngest squat and peer closely at something. It is such an adorable pose, and they outgrow it all too quickly. Tonight, my husband took me out to dinner and we had uninterrupted conversation for two hours! I don't always have something glorious to report every day, but every day is glorious nonetheless.

And I registered today to take the PLACE test. Am I on the ball, or what?!?

Mighty Fine Friends

I've always loved the song, "Jeremiah was a Bullfrog", from the time I first heard it as a young girl. I thought the notion of a bullfrog with friends was mighty silly, indeed. Bullfrogs gave you warts if they peed on your hand when you picked them up. How gross. As a grownup, I am fortunate to have several mighty fine friends. And they often have great wine. And opinions. And they share both with me.

Lately, some of my friends are suffering. Life is just a giant lesson, and I learn something new every step of the journey. One thing I've learned from my friends lately is to enjoy--no, savor--each moment with those that I love. The moments just before I fall asleep, when Kevin and I reconnect and share small details that made our day the unique day that it was. The moments on the phone with my sister when my neice says something adorable and I get to witness. The interactions between my daughters, or my son and one of my girls. Those are so precious. And I'm so grateful that my mighty friends taught me how to appreciate those moments for what they are.

Waxing philosophic mood is ending, so I'm off for dinner and a beer. Yum!

Damn Douglas County

Well, today should have been a great day. Indeed, today WAS a great day. As my Granny always says, "It's better than the alternative!" Boy, ain't that the truth. Anyhoo. . . I went to bed last night in a state best described as near-euphoria over Barack's triumph over the Evil Empire that is today's Republican party. And I woke up to hear the results of our local issues in the same state of excitement. Boy, did my bubble burst quickly. Almost every ballot issue went the opposite way of how I voted. I hate living in this damned county. What is it with the tight-fisted Republicans around here? How can they vote FOR increased gaming limits (with all the proceeds going strictly into a huge vat of money exclusively for community colleges), but AGAINST their local schools? How is that okay? How can they defeat a measure for new libraries in our county that would cost less money than the purchase of ONE hardback book per year?!? How can they agree that it's okay for oil and gas companies in our fair state to continue to receive tax subsidies to the tune of $320 million a year? Did they not hear about Exxon's record-breaking profits this year? Are they really stupid enough to fall for the vague threat of "pass through"? And THAT money would have gone to a lot of wonderful causes throughout our entire state--ALL of higher education, to name one. I'm just so disappointed in the notion that hope could prevail on the national stage, and right here in this historically red state, and yet every single local measure that would have enhanced our community failed. Where's the hope in that? I feel completely defeated, even as the Obama Biden sign still sways in the breeze in my front yard.

And what's up with Republicans anyway? What makes one choose to affiliate oneself with that party? Aside from religion, which defies all explanation, what other reasons are there? Extraordinary wealth? Yes, I concede, those of that ilk would stand to gain much by affiliating with the Republican party. I don't know very many people who earn more than $250,000 a year. In fact, most folks I know get by just fine on less than $100,000 a year. And many of those people are Republicans. With children. I just cannot wrap my brain around the economics of a blue-collar Republican. That's such an oxymoron. Or maybe just a moron. . .

I am wondering who Granny voted for this year, but I'm too chicken to call her up and ask. My gut knows the answer, but the confirmation might be more disappointment than I can bear.

Poo Poo on Palin

I don't want to be sexist. Really. I hate hypocrites more than pro-lifers, but I guess they're sorta the same so that's not such a good comparison. I digress. I don't want to be sexist. And I don't want to be a hypocrite. But who does Sarah Palin think she is? All women of my generation know that you can't REALLY have your cake and eat it, too. One must prioritize. For women, children win out over careers. Just sorta the way it works out when we're the gender with the uterus.

I want her to share her secret with me. Who is taking care of her children while she's off fighting all the unethical jerks who live in Alaska? Who's changing baby Trig's diapers? Who's helping little Piper get her homework done and helping her with her reading and taking her to practice and lessons? Who's there to talk to Bristol and Willow about all the issues that plague teen girls these days? Who eats dinner with them every night? Who's doing the laundry? Who's scheduling all the well-child checkups for the baby and taking the time to run him to the doctor for all his vaccinations? Who's making the dentist appointments and the grocery lists? Who picks up the dry cleaning and gets dinner on the stove? When does she find time to romance her high school sweetheart? When does she have time to just be Sarah?

This isn't so much about Palin as it is about ME. I want to go to back to work, you see, but I can't figure out how to teach 8th grade and manage three kids--none of whom is an infant with special needs--much less be first in line should something happen to the most powerful person in the free world.

I can't figure out how to drop them all off where they all need to be to get to where they have to end up for the day, only to find some way to pick them all up at the end of the day to run them to and fro for various activities. When do I make dinner? When do I do laundry? When do I help with homework? When do I sleep? It's still a mystery to me, so I guess that's why McCain picked Palin and not me. Well, there is that little issue of choice to get in the way. . .

Uprooted

I've always thought highly of the notion of roots and wings. I felt firmly rooted in my childhood. I had parents who were in love, often to my chagrin. I had a sister who irritated me, but looked up to me, too. I had grandparents that I actually adored and spent as much time with as possible. Once, a cousin of mine smirked disdainfully about my "Leave it to Beaver" family, and I was highly offended that he so easily placed us in that category of deadly-normal. Normal was boring. Normal was insignificant; unnoticable. I yearned for some small degree of dysfunction to strike us and add excitement to our lives.

My life mapped itself out on the back of my eyelids as I slept away my youth. My wings spread, but not too far or wide. I was wholly predictible. I attended college. I got married. I started a career. I had babies. I stayed home to raise those babies. Roots and wings took on new meaning for me once I was the mama.

Tonight my granny uprooted me. She called me on the phone. Long distance. On a landline. From southeastern Oklahoma. She'd heard on the news that there was a tornado in my town. Turns out, it was about five miles from my house. I had no idea there was a tornado in my town until Granny called me. Long distance. On a landline. From southeastern Oklahoma. The tornado turned out to be insignficant. My husband and I wondered how the hell it made the news in southeastern Oklahoma.

But I was uprooted all the same, tornado or no tornado.

Granny told me she doesn't want me to come to her house for our visit this weekend. It's been over a year since I've made it to southeastern Oklahoma to see her and Pa Pa; longer still since my kids and husband went to visit. As she tried to explain her reasons to me on the phone--on her dime, no less--all I could think of was that this is the second time she's done this to me. Grandmothers do not tell their grandchildren to stay away. They do not say, "Don't come!" with a hand extended in a warning gesture to "Stop!" That's all I could see in my head.

And just like that, twisted, tangled, uprooted.