Planning committee.

I am strapped for time, over scheduled and being pulled in 12 different directions. I need time to sit down and figure out where all the paths are leading and how I can merge some of them...or at least get them to run in parallel directions. That got me to thinking about how we (go ahead and admit it...you'd take them if someone offered) could use a few more hours in each day. Now I know that is not how the world was designed, but who says things have to stay the same? Things are renegotiated all the time...contracts, salaries, relationships...so why not hours of the day? I'd like to propose a committee, I'll even chair it...cuz I have so much extra time...to renegotiate the number of hours in a day. I'll start high, give a little-to look flexible...then dive in hard for the best deal (OK, I have been know to meet half way...but I'll be strong). What...another 4 hours...day light of course...that's not asking too much...just a little breathing room. Settled. Now, who can connect me with the Maker of the World? Tomorrow at noon would be good.

I can see it now.

Breaking News: Independence mother sought in questionable practices (for jail or institution?). An unnamed 41 year old woman had been accused of locking two sons in their bedrooms...no, not bad enough; duct taping them back to back...no, they might think that was funny; sending them to the basement with nerf guns...no, they might break something; making them load the dishwasher and mop the kitchen floor...no, they would some how turn that into skating on soapy rags; putting them in the backyard and locking the door-from the inside...no, they would consider that an adventure; leaving boys in house and sitting in her car with the radio cranked full blast...no, the neighbors might investigate; back to sending them down the hall to their own rooms (and letting them duke it out all the way there) with a stern warning to stay there and NOT interact with each other...ahh, peace and quiet (perhaps a cocktail at the Grouchy dog...for the mother...not the boys)...for two minutes...then whispering, and scheming and some sort of elaborate plan being acted out at the end of the hallway...fun, adventure, collaboration, sounds of havoc and possible destruction.  Just the way is should be...but shhhh don't tell them where I'm hiding.

Not the way I remember it.

Too bad the libraries cannot charge admission...or rent out quiet space or tables. I opted to work from one of the local libraries today to avoid the distractions of a home office (animals, laundry...the refrigerator) and was shocked to see the crowds. I got here early and it was like Macy's the day after Thanksgiving. No lie...I stopped counting at 50...and that's referring to the number of people waiting at the gate to get in. The security guard that opened the gate looked like he was ready to call for back up. I had to do a little elbowing and a drunken walk to keep people from getting in front of me and taking the coveted spot in the corner study room...the private one with outlets and glass doors. I stepped out to take a break and almost every chair in this place is being warmed by an adult butt attached to a face that looks like it would rather be some where else. Some studying, but mostly people working or looking for work. It's really quite a site to see...and really quite sad. Damn economy!

It's all Semantics.

Do you have any idea what I'm trying to say here? I use text messaging and instant messaging a lot...and oh yeah, I write a few blogs (did you catch the tone of my voice changing there?)...and I have a habit of using sarcasm (yes, I should probably take that up with my therapist). I can use the standard text language to shorten my stroking time (even impressed my teenaged niece with my speed and agility...and you won't hear that often in the same sentence with my name) and can add a few icons to help with the mood, but I have not mastered the art of typed semantics. I have pissed off a few people who could not "hear" my snickering behind the words and left others confused as to what the heck I was talking about. I know this is an issue for sociologists, especially in the study of children and their use of non-face to face contact. They are not learning the same things we did as kids...only the really brave or stupid kids called someone a bad name to their face, but were poised to duck or run even before the last words were out of their mouths. I could write a book on cyber bullying, but all I really want to know is how to get my voice across written media...with the intent and feeling in which I say it in my head. For now I will just sit back and wonder who and how many actually get what I'm trying to say...and no one will ever truly know.

The Passing of Winter.

I feel really badly for the teachers at this time of year (at least in places that truly have four seasons). The Wild Ones are all home by four, but the house is quiet until after eight...and then the only noise is that coming from my mouth as I stand in the door an holler at them to get their skinny little butts in the house and start getting for bed (some times I even threaten no reading time if they don't hurry up). Then they are up at the crack of dawn, scrambling into clean (I hope) clothes and stuffing some protein and carbs in their system so they can get outside to get a few innings of baseball in before the bus comes...and then stomping off to the bus if Sandy comes before they get their last (home run I'm sure) hit in. The fresh air feels good and the heat from the sun is intense (even at 40 degrees this morning...wearing shorts and t-shirts). I don't have the heart to say no to the late nights and the early mornings (as long as they scramble through the homework and some nutrition) and I hope that the invigoration that they get will carry them through the day when the lack of rest starts to settle in. Perhaps I should pack a treat for the teachers to help them deal with the sun and fresh air starved Minnesota children who have finally been unleashed into the most welcomed time of year. Better yet...I should just try to get them to bed on time.

Whew...I'm not crazy after all.

Well, maybe I shouldn't go so far as to say I'm not crazy, but at least I am not really hearing things. My life is filled with noises...from kids, a spouse, animals, phones, computers, iPods and occasionally the TV...which manages to put me on sensory overload by the end of the day. So after our two and a half hour morning ritual of getting the Wild Ones off to school, the house suddenly becomes very quiet...and I become very happy. Although now that it is spring, there is an abundance of sounds coming from outside...mostly birds. This morning as I was sitting in my solitude I thought I heard voices...and living-literally-in the middle of "no where" I was a little concerned. I opened one of the back doors to see if one of the cats was "calling" me. They weren't right there so I started calling for them. They didn't say anything back, but I swear a bird started mimicking me and calling the cat's name...this may cause concern over my sanity, but feel free to stop by and I will let you listen...and what is really weird is that the cats came running to the door. At this point, all the animals were accounted for and I sat back down at my computer. But...I could still hear the voices. I tried to pretend they weren't there (cuz really I thought I must be imagining them) and continued to work. A while later I got up to do something in the basement and realized there was a TV on in the living room (no one turns the TV on in the morning so it never crossed my mind). At least I know I am not crazy...and I think I will leave it on, you never know when you might need a little company.

Torture.

This is my brain on html. So I had this great idea to learn how to create web sites...not the template kind, oh no, the real deal with all the crazy languages and codes. Honestly, I am loving it...can't step away from the computer...totally fascinated with what I am able to create...until I got to the chapter where I had to get my really cool brainchild onto the internet. After all, that is the only place I can share my masterpiece. I was kind of hoping I could click a button or two that would make it appear...all quick and easy. Not only is that not quite how it works, but finding a name and a place to store it is an issue that the book says to "research on your own". Now I know why. I spent about 8 hours yesterday researching domain names and hosts which lead to my intense need to figure out how the entire internet process works (this for a girl that still doesn't understand how you can take a piece of paper, send it through the phone lines...fax...and have it "magically" turn into a different piece of paper, identical to the first, some where else...huh?). The bad news...it took the Big Guy to explain it to me first and then 4 hours on the computer to help it soak in. The good news...I get it. DNS, NSP, NAP, MAE, protocols, applications, routers, hierarchies, backbones, IP, ISP, TSP...yep I get it, my brain hurts, but I get it. So now what? Well nothing, I guess, unless you consider that I may have saved a few neurons from atrophy in my old age. Perhaps I should think about getting a job...or just getting out a bit more.

Happy Birthday Baby!

Can you even think back 12 years and remember what life was like? Other than the freedoms (which are coming back with a 12 year old that can babysit) what I remember most about 12 years ago was the agonizing pain I endured for more than 24 hours until the relief of the emergency c-section and then the most adorable, white haired, scrunched faced little girl they placed near my head (see c-section comment...arms strapped out to my sides). The pain went away and was replaced by the most incredible love (don't believe me?...try 3 more babies in the next 4 years). And look at her now...taller than her mother (with legs that go almost to my arm pits), A honor roll every quarter, beautiful smile and the hugest heart you have ever had the honor to be touched by. I am so proud of who she has become and feel very lucky to be her Mombo. Happy 12th Birthday Migli!

It's Starting to Feel Like Spring.

The birds are waking me up in the morning, it is light again at the first bus run, the trees are budding, the winter jackets are put away (ok, they are really in a pile by the back door...but no one is wearing them any more) and what's that...a snake dangling from the kitty's mouth? Yep, it must be spring. I didn't believe the Tall Wild One when she calmly stated that the cats were outside playing with a snake...maybe I just didn't want to believe it. But, dang it, I happened to catch something out of the corner of my eye...and sure enough the cats were pouncing around the back yard with something black and wiggly between their paws. When I went out to yell at them (I don't know why I even bothered...they are cats you know) one of them picked it up and looked like he was going to bring it to me (which if I had asked him to do...he would have run the other way or simply looked at me like, "Yeah, right!"). That is when the real screaming began and I almost knocked over the Tall Wild One trying to get back in the house...I may have even closed her out there by mistake. Thank God for little boys. My Shaggy Wild One came to the rescue and used a stick to carry the (now dead...I think) snake to the garbage can out front. I thought that was the last of it...but I couldn't get it out of my mind, or what I thought the feel of it would be, off my skin. I was still thinking about it this morning when I realized that the garbage needed to be taken down to the end of the driveway for pick up. Thank God for big boys. The Big Guy graciously agreed (after taking out the kitchen garbage and leaving the lid of the can propped open) to haul the can down on his way to work. Fast forward to my phone ringing after the Big Guy had left...he forgot about the garbage. So I sucked it up, put on a pair of gloves (some how I was convinced they would protect me) and tip toed around the can looking for any evidence of a slimy (yes I know they aren't really slimy, but come on we are talking about a snake here) legless creature. I tipped the can to get it on it's rollers and proceeded down the driveway...for about three steps. I was sure that if I wasn't watching that the snake would creep over the edge and make a bee line for my arm. I turned around and walked backward (down the lonnggg, steep driveway) keeping my eyes peeled for any movement. Fortunately, I made it with no problems...now I just have to make it to my car and hope that it didn't escape over night to find a nice warm place to take cover.

Benign.

What a difference a word makes. Surgery...a piece of cake. Recovery...long and slow, and oh yeah...complicated by an injured shoulder. How does one go in for "female" surgery and end up with a swollen shoulder. My mom couldn't seem to remember much that happened after the first happy pill, so when the nurses were trying to figure out what had happened to her shoulder...she just wasn't much help. The anesthesiologist acted defensive, but did admit that they had administered some sort of meds that contained amnesia type substance...hmmm...wonder if they gave her that before or after they dropped her off the gurney? Looks like she's gonna survive...and thank goodness for the hurt arm...that's the only reason they gave her the "good" drugs.