A Little Quiz While You Wait

Meme borrowed from heatherfeather:

1. Grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 18, find line 4, what does it say?
"She was working at the easel and did not turn around as he entered the room." The City Of Your Final Destination by Peter Cameron

2. Stretch your left arm out as far as you can. What do you touch first?
blank empty space

3. What is the last thing you watched on TV?
an interview with J.K. Rowling (I don't have a T.V. so my intake is random and sparse)

4. WITHOUT LOOKING, guess what time it is:
6:40

5. Now look at the clock, what is the actual time?
6:55

6. With the exception of the computer, what can you hear?
cars outside somewhere in the distance and my oldest son on the phone to some wacky friend

7. When did you last step outside? what were you doing?
just a little bit ago. I went to pick up pizza (and it was a perfectly beautiful N.CA. October evening)

8. Before you came to this website, what did you look at?
crazymadmomma.blogspot.com

9. What are you wearing?
old sweats, shirt, sweatshirt, flip-flops (I live in CA, after all)

10. Did you dream last night?
yes

11. When did you last laugh?
sometime today, probably in the last hour

12. What is on the walls of the room you are in?
French poster, cool framed picture

13. Seen anything weird lately?
the banana car across the street

14. What do you think of this quiz?
a clever way to waste some time

15. What was the last film you saw?
couldn't even tell ya

16. If you became a multi-millionaire overnight, what would you buy first?
a new car for my husband since his is a pile of doo

17. Tell me something about you that I don't know.
Two of my sons were born deaf (well, I guess some of you know that)

18. If you could change one thing about the world, regardless of guilt or politics, what would you do?
eliminate hunger

19. Do you like to dance?
nah (only if no one is watching)

20a. Imagine your first child is a girl, what do you call her?
Alexis

20b. Imagine your first child is a boy, what do you call him?
Trevor

A New Leaf

Every now and then my 7-year-old informs me: "Tomorrow there's going to be a brand-new me!" I'll answer with something like, "Oh really, how so?" He'll then list off some self-improvement that he has planned, like waking up early on his own. Or doing his homework right away. Now, these things don't always or even often come to pass, but I delight in his little heartfelt intentions of becoming a better him.

So, taking a page from his book, I've decided that tomorrow is going to be a brand-new me. The last several weeks---from having several rounds of company and then getting sick (excuses, excuses) I've managed to completely destroy my exercise routine and decent (though not great) eating habits. Uck. I feel completely gross and blechy. So, even if I can only do ten minutes of weight lifting and ten minutes of cardio, so be it. I'm going to the club, I don't care WHAT!! I'm going to eat my fruits and vegetables and drink my water, no matter WHAT! It's high time and I'm ready to get going on a brand new me.

Shhhhh!

For over a week now I've had no voice. I've lost my voice before but never for this long. Usually after a day or two, all is back to normal. Not this time. I'm not sure what's going on, but it's getting a little frustrating. Efforts to talk only seem to make things worse and result in a lot of frustration for me---trying to talk---and for whomever it is I'm trying to talk to. My kids don't seem to be overly sad that Mom can barely talk above a whisper.

What's been kind of amusing though is how many times I've labored to say something to someone and find that they start whispering back to me. Usually these exchanges are rather short, but it's been a funny thing to observe. Why are you whispering? I want to ask but don't want to embarrass them. Only once did someone realize she was whispering back and kind of grinned sheepishly.

Try it sometime. It's a fun little experiment.

No Cure In Sight

Remember Trashcanitis?? Well, its sibling is right at its heels: Hamperitis. You know: when the clothes almost make it to the hamper. When the clothes are one or two feet away from the hamper, just not quite in the hamper. Or maybe they don't even make it that close. Some days they just pile up and pile up until the magic dirty clothes fairy comes along and makes them disappear. What luck!!! What a great trick! Do it again!

Hero Of The Evening

I've been sick for days and don't seem to be getting much better. I have sinus stuff and a terrible cough. Today, after picking up two of my kids from school, the youngest one starts throwing up in the van. Earlier last week, my middle son had two nights of high fever and hallucinations---weird stuff. It's a regular sick ward around here! Crank open the windows! Air out the joint! Hurry!

So my poor husband, though overloaded with work (he had to rush home to watch my youngest while I brought my oldest to the orthodontist---hack hack, coughing though I was) decides to go out and pick up something for dinner. I certainly wasn't moving very fast and couldn't possibly have made anything. He's also going to pick up some cough medicine. This whole excursion, which should have taken a half an hour, winds up taking over an hour. He has to go to two stores for the medicine (Buckleys, which is just vile but maybe works) and then the drive-through line was horrendously slow and long. On the way home, the drinks spill twice. As he's getting out of the car, he plans to put the drinks up on the roof temporarily, and while he's looking to make sure the one didn't spill, he drops all the fries and bags of food. I can hear him from my unhelpful spot on the couch yelling out. Uh-oh. Doesn't sound good.

He eventually makes it in, haggard and unamused, with the tattered remains of dinner. He goes back out to clean up, and my oldest goes out and (maybe?) helps a bit. He then, my son, comes in and proceeds to accidentally eat my husband's food rather than his. So Dad comes in, hungry and irritated, only to find that his food mostly got eaten. Oops.

He handles this all amazingly calmly and well while I'm running through all the scenarios of how I would be reacting. None of them really matched his. So I just wanted to say that the man deserves a medal. One of those medal-for-the-day kind of things. I know he didn't save a life or anything or pull someone from a burning building but sometimes these kinds of everyday, frustrating thankless tasks deserve some sort of mention and recognition.

The Densa Society

So, once again I wasn't able to help my son with his homework. Did I mention that he's in the fourth grade? That's right. Fourth grade. Not studying to get his PhD. Not working on his Masters. Not graduating from high school. Nah. Fourth grade. Some of the third grade stuff was tricky for me too. So it has me scratching my head: Did I learn anything in school?? How did I graduate and still manage to be so dumb? Well, I can read and sometimes I can string a few letters together and they make sense, but I guess that's about the extent of it. I know nothing about history. I know nothing about politics. I know nothing about science. I know nothing about math beyond the basics. What else is there? Oh, I know nothing about geography-- local, national, international. And even though I love to read, I know little about literature. I'm sure there's more, loads more, that I don't know. I'm smart enough, though, to have surrounded myself with amazingly smart people. I hope they haven't clued in to the fact that the cookie in their midst is missing most of her chips.

Jessica Simpson and Nick Lachey AD NAUSEAM

I think if I read one more thing or see one more headline on a magazine while I'm waiting in line at the store or I hear one more little update on the current minutely status of Jessica Simpson and Nick Lachey I will be sick on the spot. As in, throw up. Really.

Does ANYONE really care where they are, whether they are wearing their wedding rings, whether they have separated or gotten back together or are heading to divorce court? Does ANYONE really care that they partied separately, that they were seen with someone different, that they spent the weekend in two separate cities, that they spent the weekend together?

"Perhaps they wanted to take a stand against the latest claims that their marriage was over. Or maybe they simply craved some time alone, away from home and the constant media attention (like from the magazine where I get this excerpt). Maybe they just wanted a good Yorkshire pudding---whatever." Whatever is right. WHO CARES???? It's enough to make me break out in a frenzy of foul language and I don't believe in the spewing of foul language.

Hard on their heels is Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes (TomKat, they call themselves. Isn't that so cute? So heartwarming? So clever?). Again, WHO CARES. So far it hasn't been quite as minute-to-minute, but it's getting there. Are these couples really of such consequence that whether they put their left foot first or their right, or they take the pickles out of their hamburgers, or they're ticklish only on their feet---it's newsworthy? Will it have any effect on the planet or mankind in any way, shape or form whether their relationship is bludgeoned to death by an angry mob or whether it survives? I hate to be heartless but honestly, this borders on the absolute ridiculous.

Glad to have gotten that off my chest. Whew.

R.I.P.

Caveat: I love my family to pieces and I wouldn't trade one of them for anything at all in this entire world.

Scenario: I have sleep apnea, which really stinks. I probably get a really good night's sleep once every two weeks. I have a sleep machine, which I use most of the time. If I don't use it, I will sleep through the night but I'll have terrible quality of sleep. If I use the machine, I wake up quite often, though when I'm actually sleeping, I'm getting better sleep than if I didn't use it. It's a toss-up. It's frustrating to not just get to go to bed, go to sleep and know that I'll wake up feeling rested and refreshed. That is as foreign to me as if I woke up speaking fluent French.

Problem: The members of my family, though dear to my heart, are sometimes amazingly clueless about how one behaves in the presence of someone who is sleeping or trying to get to sleep. These are things that have occurred when I have either been asleep or have been clearly trying to get to sleep (lights off, eyes closed---you know the usual clues):

humming, whistling, talking, laughing, debating an issue, working on the computer (one of which is in our room), having a conversation in regular voices (has anyone heard of quietly whispering??), turning on lights, banging, clanging, rustling through various and sundry items. I've even had times where my machine has been on (mask on my face--a pretty sight), lights off, eyes closed and one of my younger kids will come into the room, over to where I'm sleeping (or trying) and ask if I'll go get them a drink. This while there are other members of the family still up and be-bopping around (engaged in any of the activities I listed above)! This when they're perfectly capable of getting their own drink!

I don't understand it really, and mostly it perplexes me. I admit there have been times, however, when I've wondered if I'm so unimportant that whether I sleep or not is of no consequence or value, though I know deep in my heart this isn't it. I know these aren't malicious acts or done with any ill intent. Yet they happen quite frequently, and it's all of them, my dear and beloved family members, who suffer (besides myself) from the consequences of the monster that arises eventually, almost psychotic from lack of true sleep. And yet they don't seem to connect the dots. All the gears are not engaged. I don't know what it is. And I don't know what the solution is, really. Hang a big huge sign on my door explaining that the person in the bed with her eyes closed is asleep and would like to stay that way? Lock the bedroom doors and move a heavy piece of furniture in front of them? Sleep in the car?

This is a minor problem compared to what many people in this crazy world are dealing with. I'll keep the problems I have, thank you very much. I would be able to deal with them a lot more effectively, though, if I could just GET A LITTLE SLEEP!

The Darker Side of Things

Too many years ago to count I started a course to become a court reporter. Had I stayed the course, I would've been working all these years, making good money and having that house on Martha's Vineyard. Well, maybe not that house and maybe not there, but I would've been trained and had the option to work if I so chose. But because of having an infant and then moving in the middle of my course, etc., etc., I got derailed and didn't get back on track until recently. Now that my children are in school and no longer so dependant, the time seemed good to try to finish one thing I ever started.

Part of how I'm trying to get back into the swing of things is by watching Court TV online. It's great practice for me, it's real, it's live, it gives me an idea of what the courtroom scene is like and what will be required of me if I decide to go that route (as opposed to doing deposition work). This has been an excellent means of practicing my machine and improving my speed.

So there's a little background.
Here's the deal:

There is a lot of evil in this world. There are fractured people. There are stupid people. There are people in distress. There are evil people. And it seems that there is no limit to what greed or desperation or fear or arrogance will lead a person to do. What strikes me---beyond the realization that human suffering has no measurable depth---is what a game it becomes in the courtroom. This is not news, I know, but I have been struck anew by the very scary fact that it isn't about justice so much as it's about having a really good attorney. Sometimes the facts are so clear and unavoidable that they're hardly in dispute. But for the cases where the facts are obscure to the point of being almost invisible, where nothing is tangible---not weapon, not motive, not truth---it comes down to which attorney says it better. It becomes a game of words and painting a picture and just who is the better artist.

I've found that it's very stressful for me when a particularly unclever witness is on the stand and is getting leveled by Mr. Forceful Quick Intelligent Attorney. This is not a bash against attorneys. Not at all. I'm just thinking that if it's that stressful for me, what must it be doing to that flustered witness? And the witness may be saying the perfectly right thing and not confusing his or her facts at all but they come to believe that they are at the hands of a skillful attorney. I just watched a trained police officer become perplexed and confused by a particularly aggressive attorney. I heard the man's testimony, and he in no way contradicted himself but because the lawyer said things just so, the lawyer convinced the officer that he'd said two different things. I watched the man sit and try to organize his thoughts and I wanted to leap up and say "No, no. Here's what you said. Stick to it and you're fine. Don't let him confuse you." I'm sitting in the privacy of my room, so no one knows or cares if I jump up and down. I suspect it won't be looked upon so favorably, however, if I offer my opinion and in such a way in the middle of court proceedings.

A favorite cousin of mine started court reporting school the same time I did. Un-derailed, she finished and has been working for these many years. She recently switched from deposition work to the courtroom and she has said that there have been times when, because of the nature of the case and testimony given, she's had tears running down her face. How can you be human and not respond in this way? Though it wouldn't win any awards for impartiality, I would rather this reaction than to become so accustomed to the underbelly of society and human nature that it wouldn't render any response. Let me not get past the tears.

So the question for me becomes....can I do this? Can I listen to this year after year? Can I be witness to horror beyond imagining, to evidences of cruelty and abuse and callousness? Can I listen and not become hard? Can I hear and not lose faith in man, in the ability of the human heart to also harbor goodness and good will? I think I can. I really do. It makes me appreciate and value more what is truly beautiful and good. It makes me often want to gather my loved ones close, hug them tightly and be thankful for their innocence. May it always be preserved.

Tradition, Tradition!

I've read articles and heard accounts of people who have really neat/unique/special family traditions---whether it be at a holiday time or in the summer. Things they do every year at the same time and the whole family looks forward to it. Or maybe it's several families that get together and this tradition forms a special and large part of their growing up years and memories. This tradition weaves itself into the layers of essential life. Now, some of the cooler traditions that have appealed to me seem to belong to a class of which I'm not a member. Having a summer home on Martha's Vineyard will probably never be in the scope of my reality. And that's okay. Let them have their pristine beaches and ice-blue cool hallways of high-ceilinged homes that ring with laughter and the sound of sandy feet. I mean, what is that to me? There are other more attainable traditions that have appeal. A week on a houseboat. A week camping either in the same place or picking a spot on the map. Thanksgiving with traditions around the table, traditions of who comes and who brings what. Whatever the case may be, whatever the time of year, there is something very appealing to me about a family tradition.

And so it has come to my attention that my family doesn't have any real traditions. Not any that are essential, that can't be missed, that are looked forward to by every member every year. And I want that. But how does one go about, at an advanced state of family life, suddenly creating a family tradition? I don't propose that it's too late but I do propose that I have no idea how to go about establishing such a thing with any sort of authenticity or depth---it has to be something meaningful and attainable and cherished. You can't just point to a picture in a book and say, "That's the one I want. That will be our tradition." I suspect there must be more to it than that.

More Of The Same

Along the same lines, another friend from way back has a mantra he tells his kids: "If ya think ya can, ya can." Simple truths. So much power exists in just believing. But, again, it's complicated. If you've always believed, from the beginning of your existence, that the sky is yellow---that's what you were told from the time you can remember---you're never really going to buy into this idea that it's blue. (Okay, okay, we know it's really all about molecules and reflections and it only seems blue, but for the sake of the example)....You can maybe see that the person telling you the sky is blue really really believes it and really feels it's important that you believe it; his or her earnestness moves you. So you concede. You turn your head a certain way as though you've had a breakthrough: "Ah, yes! I see it now! The sky is blue." But deep down you know it's really yellow. It's a leap of faith that's hard to imagine. You can learn to function in a new way; you can remove barriers that you see have been damaging. You can logically talk yourself through the new method of functioning---the more healthy method: I am a good person. I have good qualities. I have strengths. And so on. And you can make strides. But do you really ever get to the point where the sky actually becomes blue?

Armchair Therapy

Some time ago my good friend, Amy, asked me a question that I've never forgotten and have thought about many times since. We had been talking about characteristics in ourselves that we didn't like so well, things about our life that were frustrating. And she asked me: Do you believe some things are inevitable? That question was an epiphany for me. I realized that I did indeed live with the subconscious---and maybe even sometimes conscious---belief that some things in my life are just inevitable, rather than a result and consequence of choices made. Among the inevitable things: I will fail. That's probably the highest-ranking inevitability I believe in, that I will fail at whatever I try. Now that I am conscious that this is a false belief, it helps me to change the language my brain tells myself. But it's incredibly hard to change a lifetime of believing--of feeling--it's inevitable that I will ultimately fail at whatever I try. The reason for this damaging negative message I send myself and have sent myself for decades is a whole other complicated story---how the pieces all fit together is rarely a simple equation. Life is messy.

Among the other inevitabilities: I will never lose the weight I want or get into the shape I want; I will never conquer the traits in myself that are ugly---they'll just stay the same or get worse, no matter what I do; I will never be the kind of parent I want to be; I won't ever finish any important project; I will never be organized........Well, the list goes on and on as you can see---these things that just seem inevitable to me because I believe them to be. Deep down, my belief system is set to these "truths". You may wonder how I even function with such a negative soundtrack, but I do. Just not very positively. Or successfully. Now that I can see the fault isn't in these things actually being inevitable but in my believing them to be so, I realize I have the power to change them. At my very own hands, I can choose in such a way that the outcome of this road I'm on can be completely turned around. It really can happen---it isn't just a nice thought.

Now comes the hard part: doing it. Believing that I can. Believing that I will.

Poetic Injustice

On the heels of the rather funny previous news item comes the sad report of a young man in New York---an aspiring poet---who jumped into the Hudson River to save his book bag filled with his writings. He and the bag succumbed to the current........Perhaps a lesson in having two copies of everything? Or three or four. I'm sure if he could've written the ending to his life story, it wouldn't have been this, no matter how romantically tragic a young poet can be.

Poetic Justice

My favorite news morsel of the day: somewhere in Sweden, a man and his son are out goose hunting. Boy shoots goose out of the sky. Goose, weighing 13 pounds, plummets toward the ground. It lands on father's head and knocks him out cold. Father spends two days in the hospital but doesn't hold it against the goose: "It wanted to exact its revenge, I suppose." I'll say!

Now I know this man could have been seriously injured but since he wasn't, I find the whole thing quite hilarious. I'm not a big fan of hunting just for the fun of it. Unless it's something like rats. That would be fine with me. Otherwise, it seems a tad on the barbaric side. And perhaps these two were actually hunting for food and were going to eat whatever they shot. I cut them some slack if that's the case. After all, this was Sweden. Could be a weekly tradition; I don't know. At any rate, this just seemed like exactly the right ending to the story. From the goose's point of view: Take that, O Man and Boy With Big Fat Guns.

The second funny thing about this story is that the man's name is Ulf, pronounced "Oof". Another fitting detail, if you ask me.

Right. Check.

Today I was in my car, waiting in line behind another car. It had a license plate frame that said this: "Never trust a big butt and a smile."

?

I can come up with some theories and one of them might be right, but......huh???

A Semi-Interesting Phenomenon

Once a year a strange thing happens near my house. There's a main street that I travel a lot, and once a year around this time the parrots come to call and take roost in one tree---the same tree every time---on this street that I've mentioned. They stay for several weeks and then they're gone. Just like that.

This spot is only about five minutes away from where I live, and I often go and park across the street and just watch this tree full of beautiful green parrots. They're loud and very lively. I've never found out where they come from or where they're going or why they stop here. But I love that it's so out of the ordinary and so bizarre. And because it is, I prefer it to be unexplained.