Just read

I am a firm believer in education. I don't think you can go wrong investing in any type of education for your child. There are so many good educational programs out there; art classes, music classes, overseas education, scouting, acting, dance, and sports.

However, the most important educational keystone starts at home and is the easiest thing to do. All you have to do is read to your kids! Anything! You can read science or fashion magazines, fiction, non-fiction, bios and informational flyers. As long as it holds their attention. I scan yard sales, thrift stores, and used bookstores for children's books. I rarely pay over .50 cents for a book. Occasionally, I do buy hard to find children’s classics new at the bookstore because they are hard to find used. People tend to keep their favorites at home. They don't want to let go of old friends. I bet you have a book that you fondly remember from your childhood. If you don't, I feel really bad for you! Some of my best memories are my dad reading "The Hobbit" and "Little House in the Big Woods" to me before bedtime.

I recently found out the county that we live in offers a literacy program called, “Dolly Parton's Imagination Library” to every resident preschooler. Basically, a book is mailed to the child every month until they turn five. This is to encourage literary and to help parents help their children discover a love of reading.

The program is offered in over 40 different states and many Indiana counties. What I found interesting is that some people have a skewed opinion of this program. After an article appeared in our local paper, a local citizen wrote:

"Applause for Dolly Parton, and for Cass County for creating the potential for its children to develop love for reading and appreciation of literature; however, before those books can become effective the children need to learn to read and comprehend the material."

My response was:

"Children’s books can be very expensive, especially the "classics". Our family participates in this program, and I can't wait for the book to arrive every month. It is an opportunity for me to have lots of books on hand that my son loves to read. He is only two, but he loves to go get books from his special bookshelf and bring them to me to read to him. He also "pretends" reads to himself. To Mr. Willett who posted "before those books can become effective the children need to learn to read and comprehend the material." I think Mr. Willett is missing the point. Building a love of reading starts at an early age, not just when a child is "able to read and comprehend." By that time, it might be too late!"

Even though this program is offered and administered in our area by the United Way, it is intended for all children to have this opportunity, no mater what their income. I have recommended this program to many of my neighbors, and some think it is some kind of charity program for "poor" people. This isn't the case; it is just intended to promote literacy. If they don't want to accept "charity" when they send in their registration form, they can gift the program $30. So if you live in Hendricks County Indiana, or in another location that offers this program, by all means take advantage of it. Your kids will love it, and you will love getting free books!

Post Holiday

I'm in a post holiday letdown mood. Today was not a good day. I felt like everyone was a grouch, and they kept sending "bad energy" my way. And I don't even believe in all that jazz.

My first mistake was going to Wal-Mart. That is usually enough to put me in a bad mood. I wanted to use some of my leftover Christmas money to buy a humidifier. My house is dry as the Sahara desert. We wake up in the morning with killer dry mouth. Your lips feel like you have been licking sandpaper all night. So I wanted to buy one of those massive, easy care units to leave on permanently, in hopes that some moisture would return to Death Valley.

Purchases in tow, I walked my big tummy and cart to the nearest checkout lady. She didn't have any customers, and was standing at the end of her aisle. She saw me coming, smiled, and said, "I can help you here." Then, from out of nowhere, a woman with a HUGE cartload of groceries flew around me and cut me off. I just started in disbelief at the vixen. Well, whatever. A nearby aisle was also open, so I just diverted there. I just couldn't believe that someone could be so rude!

So soon I was checked out and on my way out the door. Now, you know for some reason Wal-Mart is incredibly insane about security. If you buy batteries or VHS tapes in the electronics aisle, you have to pay for them back there. They won't let you out with your 3.99 batteries. I guess I can understand they have a lot of losses on DVD's and CDS, but for gods sake let me pay for smaller items with the rest of my groceries.

Anyway, I'm pushing my cart out the door with my kid playing happily. I have in my cart the three items I have purchased which include the humidifier and two white bath towels. Suddenly, from out of nowhere, a disembodied voice starts giving me instructions to stop. This mechanical voice scares the crap out of my kid, who begins wailing at the top of his lungs. I continue on my way, as these stupid security gates go off on a regular basis. I have never actually seen anyone ever stop for one. All of the sudden, I am practically grabbed by the crazy old coot greeter who declares, "You have set off the security alarm," In a crappy rude way. He glances suspiciously at my bag.

I sigh, and hand him the receipt. Meanwhile, my kid is still screaming, this time at the crazy old coot. "You see," I say, "I just bought these three things and I paid for them." I was thinking he would just let me go, but NOOOOO.

He mumbles something under his breath, grabs my humidifier and receipt and says, "I'll be back." What? Can't you SEE I bought the damn thing? I have a PROOF OF PURCHASE! Anyway, I stood there, fuming, while the little man ran off with my merchandise and receipt, while my kid continued to wail. Sigh. Some days you just can't win.

What seemed like decades later, the man comes back, gives me my stuff, and indicates that I'm free to go. It's great to know that I won't get arrested for attempted humidifier and or towel robbery!

My child is still upset, and I across the palatial parking lot. I stick him and my purchases in the car, noticing that I was not parked in a convenient location to the cart return. Normally, I always return my cart, but as my child was screaming his head off, and I wasn't feeling that great due to being 8 months pregnant, I felt this was an okay time to just leave the cart parked between the aisles. As I left the cart, a middle-aged man comes up to me, gives me a crappy look and then points to the cart return. "It's just right over there," He says accusingly, waiting for me to return the cart.

I just stared at him unbelievingly. "Right," I said, heading for my car.
He sighed, gave me A LOOK, and them proceeded to grab my cart and head for the return.
"Thanks!" I said brightly, closing my car door.

When I got in my car, it hit me what a colossal jerk that guy was. Plus, my kid was still crying. I put my head down on the steering wheel, took a few deep breaths, and then started feeling around the back seat for kid snacks and a sippy cup. A few gulps later, my kid was quiet, and I was headed home, away from the crazy people in a post-holiday world.

When you assume you make an a$$ out of yourself

I have a problem with assumptions. I am quick to assume things are the way they should be. Have you ever heard the saying, "When you assume, you make an a$$ out of yourself?" I have done this on more than one occasion.
I've heard of people coming up to a women and asking her when she was due, assuming that she was pregnant. Then they found out they just made a huge a$$ out of themselves because the woman is just FAT!
In work situations, this can be disastrous. If you assume something is correct mistakenly, but never double check, it can lead to disaster. I learned early on to double check items, if only to keep my boss from asking why I "assumed" something was true. Well, it made sense to me.
So funny story, when we moved into our new house, we were pleased to find that the new fancy smancy fridge had a filter. Our water is really hard here, so we have been using it a lot. My husband commented the other day that he thought we needed a new one because it seemed the water quality was decreasing. I agreed.
Then we had some family over for dinner. Our cousin commented that the water tasted icky. I told her to use the water from the fridge because it was filtered. She said she did, and it still tasted funny.
The next day, I went to pull the water filter out. It has a little plastic cover that encases it in the fridge. I snapped the clasp open, and was shocked to discover that there wasn't even a filter in there! The compartment was empty! It had a little blue cap on the back that said bypass cap. Ha ha ha. I laughed so hard.
So, I know this may be a boring story to you, but I found it hysterically funny. We have been using this fridge since September. We have commented many times how nice it was to have filtered water cold from the fridge. We assumed that we had a lovely new fridge feature. But the joke was on us. The cheap bloke who sold us the house never put one in the fridge after he bought it.
Needless to say, I used some of our Christmas money and ordered a new filter today. It should be lovely when I finally get it installed.

O Christmas Tree

It's that time of year again. Time to push back the annihilated turkey carcass and pull out the Christmas decorations. My neighbors have already set up the fake lighted deer and the huge massive snow globes with Frosty in them.
I am a big fan of the less is more approach. A simple wreath and a few tasteful white lights suites me. But I have to admire the gung-ho Christmas enthusiast who spends several thousand dollars on light displays and plastic critters.
Last year, a family that lived just north of us went a little crazy. You see, the dad was an engineer. Do you know what happens when you give an engineer free reign with the Christmas lights? Things get a little crazy. This guy had about a million lights on his house, synchronized to electronic type music. It was something to see. In fact, so many people wanted to see it that the city asked him to please turn off the display. He was causing traffic problems in his neighborhood. He lived in a standard American sub-division. Wouldn't you just LOVE to be his neighbor? His display was so impressive that he was featured on the Today show. I'm just wondering if he is going to do it again?
I don't ever remember my family going over the top at Christmas with the decorations. At most, I think we just strung a few multi-colored lights around the windows, trees, or whatever happened to be handy.
We always had the fresh Christmas tree. We would travel to the nearest tree lot and pick one out. We always argued about what tree we were going to get. Then the tree man would lash the tree on top of our 1982 escort and away we would go. When we got home, it was with much grumbling and mumbling that dad finally got the tree into the stand. One year, the tree was horribly bent, and we had to tie it up with some wire. Another year, our cat Hoggles decided that it was a good place to hang out. He would piss all over the tree, marking his territory. It was a little rank. This cat also had issues, so he would hide in the tree, and then pounce out and attack your ankles. That was a great cat.
I found quite by accident several years ago that I'm actually allergic to live Christmas trees. I was sleeping on the couch at a family members house with my face about tree feet away from the tree. I had a terrible allergy attack, and could barely open my eyes. I was a mess.
So now we have a lovely fake tree. Last year, I upgraded and bought the tree with the lights already on it. All I have to do is take it out of the box and plug it in. It's the best invention ever.
My son has discovered the tree this year. Luckily, I had the foresight to buy all plastic ornaments. He likes to pull them off and throw them around the room. Last night, I picked up about 10 bulbs and reattached them to the tree. He has also decided that he really likes the plastic bead garland I have on the tree, and throws a fit every time because he can't quite figure out how to get it off.
I guess in a few years I'll be able to put the fancy glass ornaments on. Until then, I guess I'll just have to grin and bear it.
Happy Holidays!

Bedrooms and Bathrooms

I've been working on getting the house in order lately. Maybe it's a nesting thing. My mother-in-law came over and helped finish the nursery.

I wanted the baby's room it to be just perfect. My son was early, and with the following chaos, I never really got to do the nursery the way I wanted. Luckily, it had been previously painted blue, so at least it wasn't just plain white.


I also didn't want it to be too pinky pink. So I picked out a nice pale purple color and some lovely decals. I went with the decals because I'm too lazy to do stenciling and I didn't want to mess with borders. Plus, once she gets a little older, we can just peel them off. Easy!

So we took a grand trip to the fabric store and bought yards and yards of pretty frilly eyelet and fabric. Luckily, my mother-in-law is really good at that kind of thing. When I start a craft project, I usually end up over buying fabric.

So we spent the weekend planning cutting and sewing. I think that it turned out fabulous. Now we just need the star to make an appearance.

In other news, we are starting to THINK about potty training my son. I’m really not pushing it, but we bought a potty and put in a bathroom. He has been ignoring it, but today decided to test it out. I made sure to make a big deal about it. Now his potty is his favorite place to sit.

My little cowardly lion

Here are some pictures of my son dressed up like a lion for Halloween. I was surprized that he actually consented to wear the mane/hat. He was cute as a button. We took to a few houses, and he even got to munch on his first candy bar, a Twix. He loved it. He had chocolate all over his hands and face. He got a little scared at all the strangely dressed kids that came to our door. He was my little cowardly lion. It would have been perfect if I had dressed up like Dorothy, and my husband the tin man, but we didn't get that together.

Trick . . . Or treat?

It's that time of year again, and I'm having difficulties.
It's the time of year when thoughts turn to crisp autumn leaves, mulled apple cider, and hayrides. It's that time of year when the plump juicy pumpkins seem to be mocking you from the grocery aisles, "Come on, you know you want to plunge a long sharp knife into me, scoop out my insides, and display my carved head on your porch!"
Since moving recently, I've had a really hard time getting into the autumn spirit. First of all, my yard is barren of any type of trees that might actually lend some color to the surroundings. Of course, I can enjoy all the wonderful color around me while driving places, but it just isn't the same. Next year, I think I might just plant a couple of maples and a few burning bushes, just to spice it up a bit.
I recently purchased a few cutesy things to decorate the house with. I bought an inflatable pumpkin because I'm too lazy and busy to actually carve a real one, and two plastic trash bag ghosts that I hung on my porch.
The first day, my fake pumpkin blew away. The second day, one of my ghosts decided to get lost, and the third day, the last lonely ghost decided that we were pretty lame, and joined his buddy. Someone in my neighborhood is probably wondering why all these cheap chintzy Halloween decorations keep blowing into their yard.
But, as I only spent $2 on these decorations at the dollar store, I really don't feel bad.
Halloween has never been my favorite holiday. I think it goes back to when I was a kid. I was usually always a witch, clown, or a hobo. My costumes where made out of various items we had around the house. Part of the problem was that since I was so tall, I could never fit into the cool costumes they sold at the store. On the few occasions we did buy costumes, I usually had to modify the outfit to fit somehow.
I was just trying to get into in this year for my son, who is now 18 months. He is going to be a lion this year. I hope he doesn’t get to scared by all the people in funny outfits.
I past years, I've been a bit of a stick in the mud about the whole thing. I just get really annoyed at having to answer the door bell ever few minutes. My husband loves it, and he usually gets the candy duty. This year, I might take him around to a few houses. 30 something isn't too old to trick or treat, right?
I'll be the really tall woman, wearing a witch hat.
Muhahahahhahahahah
Happy Halloween!!

Why I love thhe Bureau of Motor Vehicles

I found a BMV in Brownsburg, not so far away, and really not busy at all. I was trying to get away with just getting a replacement ID. I told them that my old one was destroyed, which wasn't a lie because Ohio BMV destroyed it! But they figured me out and I had to take ANOTHER written test. The Indiana test is so stupid. They ask you all sorts of dumb questions about rules for teenage drivers and when you can get your license. I'm 31. I already have my license. I don't care how long you have to hold a learners permit before you can get the real thing. Arrrgg. Anyway, passed no problem, and got the new ID. My son was really good, but I was bribing him with goldfish the whole time I was taking the test, so he was happy. I was afraid they would think I was cheating, because I get getting into his diaper bag for treats!

Then, when I went back up to get my test graded, the lady said, "I thought you lost your ID."

Yeah, whatever. I just played stupid. I told her I thought I could just get a replacement. Then they gave me a hard time about switching my license, because they had three different addresses for me in the system. They wanted to know why I moved around so much. I told them that my new address should be the only one I have for a while. I wanted to tell them to mind their own business.

The BMV totally pisses me off, but I don't have to go back for a while. By the way, they told me that Indiana is going to get a new plate design next year, so everyone will need to pay for new plates. Great huh? Illinois has used the same plates for a few decades now. I love it when they make you pay for new metal.

New Home

Here is a picture of our new house. I'm kind of itchy to get started on the landscaping, as the huge grass bushes in the front aren't doing anything for me, but that will have to wait until spring.
Our move was really crazy. I think everyone was in such a rush to get the heck out of Cinci, that we went a little to fast. My bed got broken, but thank goodness my father-in-law fixed it. Everything else is scratched up and dented. But hey, we all made it in one piece, right?
So we have a long list of projects we want to do, and not enough time to do any of them. On a good note, I did get my curtains hung in the kitchen today. Not easy to do when you have a great big tummy like I do right now. It only took me four tries.
For the uninformed, we found out we are going to have a little girl. I've picked out a lovely paint color for the nursery, and my son's new bed arrived today. So we can start working on getting him out of the crib. Easier said than done, I think.
My son is starting to get a temper. His new thing is to bite mommy when he gets mad. So he's had his first time-outs already. He has a breakdown when my husband or myself reprimand him. It almost breaks your heart. After a minute or two, I give him a big hug, and tell him to keep his big teeth to himself. Hopefully, his little sister doesn't have the same urge. I don't know if I can handle two biters at once!

Procrastination

My son and I went to the park today. He loved playing on the swings as usual. I thought I would take him over to the creek to take a look. He took one look at it and proceeded to walk right into it! It's only 1 inch deep, so I wasn't worried, but that's really not what I had in mind. Then, he proceeded to SIT in the middle of the creek. So at this point, I figured what the heck, he's wet anyway. Then he decided to give ALL the rocks in the creek a taste test. Sigh . . . needless to say, I had to strip him down in the parking lot and change his diaper before we went home.

Once home, my plans of packing daunted me. I really hate to pack. It always seems like I get stuck doing it while my husband is off working in a different state at a new job. Sure, when he comes home on the weekends, he packs up speakers and computers and bits and bobs, but the drudgery gets left to me. I hate cleaning out closets, I hate packing dishes, and I hate packing knick-knacks and associated goods. Blah.

That’s why I having a moving sale this weekend. At least, I think I am. I have to get up off my tired butt and make up some flyers. It's really not going to help to have a sale if I never advertise it.

I already sold my fridge and range. I placed the ad in the local newspaper over the weekend and then promptly forgot I did it. I really didn't forget, but when the first caller rang up at 7:30 in the fricking morning, I realized that I hadn't even thought about cleaning out the fridge. 10 fridge viewings later, I decided that I needed to clean it up and drag out the cooler. Finally, a cantankerous old man showed up and bought the set for his grandson. What a nice thing to do. Except they trashed my house getting it out. The fridge spilled water all over the floor, and the walls have some lovely dings and scraps now. Oh well, I guess we would have caused just as much damage. Besides, it's my landlord's fault for not supplying basic kitchen appliances in the first place. Then, when we offered to let him buy them at a discount, he refused, saying he didn't want the bother of maintenance.

Well, I can see that. But now, after who knows how many tenants dragging appliances in and out, the carpet is trashed. Oh yeah, and the tile is now cracked and chipped in the kitchen. So sorry.

Sigh. . . . On that note, I have some boxes to pack. I guess I’ve procrastinated enough. See you all in INDY!

Walmart Woes

I've developed an unnatural love/hate relation with Wal-Mart. I love the low prices, but I HATE everything else about the store.
How to I hate Wal-Mart, Let me count the ways!
1. Dirty stores -- not all the stores are dirty, only the old ones. The new ones are usually relatively clean, but NEVER trust the bathrooms. Even in the newest stores, the bathrooms rival bus stations and rest stops for dirtiness. I think I've been in cleaner port-a-johns.
2. Customer Service -- What customer service? At a store nearby, I walked in to exchange an item at 10 am. There were 10 people in line, and 1 worker. That one worker was arguing for 10 minutes with a customer about a return. Finally, I gave up and left. When I returned later that day, it was the same situation.
3. Unstocked Shelves -- I was buying the Wal-Mart brand of baby formula. However, they would constantly run out. I would go to the store and face an empty shelf. I would ask the clerk if they had any in the back. They would just shrug and point to the liquid formula at the bottom. I don't want the liquid, I want the powder you idiot! Baby formula is not something stores should run out of. It's not like you can switch brands back and forth. My son was sensitive, and would take a day or two to adjust to a new brand.
4. Crazy fellow customers -- Wal-Mart attracts the craziest fellow shoppers. One time, a guy came up to me and pointed to my purse in the front of the cart. "Is that your purse?" "Yes," I answered. Then he berated me for 5 minutes about how he could steal my purse in 10 sec. flat and how I shouldn't leave it in the cart. Go away crazy man! It's my problem if my shit gets stolen by crazy Wal-Mart Shoppers. Also, never leave your CART unattended in Wal-Mart, even if it has stuff in it. Someone will steal it quicker than you can say "mental ward".
5. 100 check out lines -- 2 open checkouts. Why! I don't understand why they taunt you with unused lanes when you are standing in a long line with screaming children. It's like waving free crack under the nose if a crack head. Open up another line already! Put those greeters to work!
6. Speaking of greeters, they creep me out. Get rid of the greeters. They always smile a creepy smile at you, and try to strike up an inane conversation. Also, they will tackle you if there security system goes off by mistake. There is nothing better than being tackled by an 80 year old in a blue vest.
7. Inattention to detail -- In the Wal-Mart I shopped at in Indy, a three year old boy just died because a store display (a mirror) fell on him. What? Did someone forget to tighten the bolts, or did they just haphazardly stock the display? Once, when I was in a Wal-Mart, I went to grab a plastic produce bag, and the very heavy metal holder came crashing down on my foot. It wasn't attached to the display properly. Although my smashed toe wasn't life threatening, it could seriously hurt a child. Apparently you take your life in your hands when you shop at Wal-Mart!

Toxic Boss

Everyone at some point has worked for a terrible company or a toxic boss. I had the pleasure of working for both at the same time. I think a pre-requisite for management in that company was a small brain and an over active libido.

My manager was a 19-year-old girl who was hired for her looks. She was blond and giggled a lot. I was hired for my previous experience. As it turned out, I was the only one in the whole department who knew what I was doing. I would do my manager’s job, and basically run the whole show. She would then take all the credit.

Her boss was an egomaniacal jerk. Six of us were crammed into a little office. He had a plush office right next door. The thermostat was in our office. He would get furious at the heating system, and would then run into our office and start swearing and beating on the little plastic box that covered the thermostat. The customers on our phones would always ask what was going on.

Meanwhile, he would sexually harass my young manager. He would offer to buy her clothes and give her money. Of course, he wanted a little “something” in return. I might add that he was married.

He would encourage all the managers to sleep with clients. He said this was good for business.

When it came time for my performance review, they told me they couldn’t give me a promotion from a Representative to a Specialist because I was already a Specialist. Apparently, they hired me as a Specialist, but never told me. They also wouldn’t give me a raise, because they said I was already making more than my 19 year old manager.

Then the final blow came. They won a new account, but promised the client the world without ever asking the people who actually did the work if it was possible. I was a member of a four-person team. My manager was always out on business, so I had to do her job, my co-workers where slackers and were never at work. Basically, I had to run the entire department myself. I got an ulcer and literally had a breakdown one day at work.

When we lost the client, I was told that it was my entire fault. I should have “tried” harder. When I offered to give my two-week notice, they back peddled and said that it wouldn’t be necessary. I stood up, walked to my desk, penned the notice, and slammed it down on his desk. I have never regretted leaving that horrible company. What is your worst experiance? I would love to hear. Leave a comment and share with us all. It will make us ALL feel better.

This is a picture of our son "helping his dad". He is already showing an aptitude for computers and hard work! Hopefully, he never gets a toxic boss.

Books I've Read -- Summer 2006

I saw something like this on another web site, and thought it was a pretty good idea. I'll leave out the kiddie books. But I do read a lot. Hey, it's more entertaining than drivel on network TV. A summery of books I've read this summer.

Inge: a girl's journey through Nazi Europe--Bleier, Inge J. -- This book, or rather the author annoyed me. She finds fault with everyone and everything. Her insecurity and churlishness infect the whole book. First, she says it is her father's stupidity they didn't leave Germany earlier. After her sister leaves for the US, her jealously is apparent. She is sent to live with her uncle, and she doesn't say nice things about that part of the family either. Her uncle ships her off to live in a group home, and she is angry about that. It's really frustrating, because you know that the people around her are doing all they can. An interesting read, if nothing else. And I guess I can understand her anger. It is just very raw, like wounds that never heal.

A Midwife's Tale -- Laurel Thatcher Ulrich -- A fantastic, if not slightly dry, look at daily life at the turn of the 1800's. The diary of Martha Ballard covers births, deaths, and everything in between. The author draws connections to the diary to cultural changes that were occurring in America after the revolutionary war. All in all, a good read, even if I did skip a few parts. The author got a little long-winded at times. This book has now been made into a documentary on PBS's American Experience.

Hiding in plain sight: the incredible true story of a German-Jewish teenager's struggle to survive in Nazi-occupied Poland, Lauer, Betty -- The title tells you everything about this book. It is a true story of a young girl that manages to elude the Germans with a fake identity card. Even though she has the official card and has relocated to larger city, she lives in constant fear and poverty. Throughout the book, she has several close calls with both German citizens and soldiers. Sadly, she loses many family members to the tragedy of the Holocaust. The most amazing thing about her story is that she never gives up, even when her life appears hopeless and lost.

Double Deuce Parker, Robert B. -- Okay, as you can tell, this is my new favorite author. A mystery. The main characters, Spenser and Hawk try to solve a double murder, a young mother and her 3 month old child who where gunned down in a drive-by near the projects where they live. Gives a lot of insight on my favorite silent tough guy, Hawk.

Night passage Parker, Robert B. -- The first in a new series by Parker, this book introduces us to Chief Stone. Stone is a cop that has problems, but he is trying his best to work them out. I hate the ex-wife. I wish he would lose her. I don't think he does, because she keeps showing up in later books.

Love stories of World War II -- Larry King -- This was a really good book. A very heartwarming story about how couples meet and came together during the worst of times. Although all the stories didn't have happy endings, it still left you with a warm and fuzzy feeling. This book leaves you believing in romance and true love. Probably not the best book if you just broke up with your significant other.

Stolen Lives: Twenty Days in a Desert Jail - Malika Oufkir -- Malika was born into a life of privilege in Morocco. Her father, a general in the King's army was close to the royal family. She is "adopted" by the king to be a companion to his daughter, who is about Malika's age. She misses her family dreadfully, but feels like she can't ask to go back. The first part of the book describes her life of fancy and luxury in the palace as a pampered child. When she gets older, she returns to live with her family. After her father falls out with the king, he is arrested after a failed coop attempt. In retaliation, her, the rest of her family, and two family friends, are thrown into a desert jail. Unbelievably, they are held in harsh conditions for 20 years. After a daring escape, they are eventually released. Many readers find Malika arrogant and spoiled, however I feel like she is just relating her life in the best way she can. She was, after all, practically a princess. This is a very hard book to put down. I would highly recommend. It is amazing that things like this still happen in the modern world.

THE FOURTH

There is nothing that compares to the smells, the sounds, and the lights of a good fireworks show. This is what the 4^th of July means to me. Oh yeah, and all that patriotic stuff is pretty good too. I always get a tear in my eye when the Star-Spangled Banner is played.

When I was a kid, we always went to the fireworks show, but my dad would complain and moan. He hated the traffic. At the time, we lived in Fort Wayne Indiana. The show at the Coliseum was spectacular, but I think the whole city showed up. Parking wasn’t a problem, because they had a huge lot, but getting out was. It would take us hours to get home. Dad would grumble and moan the whole time. To this day, I would rather wait around for the lot to clear after a show than rush out and get stuck in the traffic. I have never really understood the people who leave early. I mean what’s the point of going if you miss the end?

My most memorable 4^th was the year we went to visit my family who lived at the time in the high New Mexican desert. They had bought tons of fireworks, and of course, it was just our family and the rattlesnakes. If I remember correctly we had a big cookout in a fire pit and then shot off a ton of bottle rockets and shells. I think that was the year I fell going down the path to the backyard and put a prickly pear cactus through the palm of my hand. I can remember sitting there with my hand in a bowl of water while my uncle picked out the needles. Ahh, the memories.

This year, we decided to try the fireworks show with our 14-month-old son. For the first time, we would expose him to a timeless American tradition. Last year, he was only 3 months old, and we thought it might be a bit much for him.

The only problem is that the shows around here all start around 10 pm. Way past the little guys bedtime. But it worked out okay. I put him down for a “nap” about six, when I woke him up to leave he looked very confused.

Luckily, the local fireworks where held within walking distance of our house. We loaded the stroller full of bug spray, flashlights, and picnic blankets and made our way to the local park. We felt a little smug about the fact we didn’t have to deal with traffic. The city lot near there isn’t very big, and people were parking all the way up the street by our house, about a half-mile away from the park. It would have been pointless to drive anyway.

The scent of the holiday filled the park air. Pizza, hot dogs, and funnel cake filled the air with a heady smell. Vendors sold glow in the dark necklaces and light sticks. Kids raced by, beating each other with bats. My son was wide-eyed, staring at the mass of humanity.

They had a pretty good cover band. They played some Chicago covers and a few bluesy numbers. Our son was dancing and clapping along with the music. I was amazed that he was getting so into it. The stage was far away, as we had chosen to sit near the back so we could make a quick getaway if the boy got upset.

When the fireworks started, I braced my self for wails of fear. However, he just grabbed a handful of my shirt, and a handful of dad’s shirt, and stared wide-eyed and open mouthed at the display. I know he was a little confused, but he seemed to enjoy it.

No, it wasn’t the biggest show I’ve ever seen. In fact, it was a little tame and short, but it was perfect for the little guy. It was over in 15 minutes. We held our hands over his ears for the finale, because it was extra loud. But he loved it. What was the best part of the night? He went right to sleep as soon as we got home.

The Saga of Mr. Bear

The Saga of Mr. Bear is a sad one. My son has been ferociously teething since he was three months old. He grabs Mr. Bear in a mighty hold and then proceeds to chomp down on his head with the force of an ancient snapping turtle.

Mr. Bear gets no rest. Daily and nightly, his head his used for teething purposes. Once my son has had his way with Mr. Bear, he leaves him lying in a sodden and mangled heap.

Because of this abuse by an uncaring and demanding one year old, Mr. Bear has a hygiene problem. To put it succinctly, all the other stuffed animals avoid Mr. Bear because he stinks. In fact, when an unwilling parent picks him up, it is usually with great hesitation and disdain. The stench of Mr. Bear is unbelievable. He has reached the point in which we MUST do something.

So this brave mother took it upon herself to clean and sanitize poor Mr. Bear. This has been done on several other occasions, with a somewhat successful outcome.

Usually I take Mr. Bear by the feet, and firmly plunge him headfirst into the laundry detergent. While this is not recommended for stinky small children, it does work fairly well on Mr. Bear. He comes out smelling fresh. The only problem with this is that his discoloration remains. His yellow stained head is a warning to the stuffed Big Bird and Barney to stay away from toddlers.

This treatment needed to be different. Mr. Bear was suffering greatly. He had turned an unnatural brown color. I say unnatural, because Mr. Bear is not a brown bear, but instead a cute and fuzzy white bear. Maybe he is albino, because he isn’t a polar bear, and I’ve never seen a white bear in the wild or at a zoo. But I digress. Mr. Bear had a serious dermatological problem that could only be helped with extreme measures.

We took Mr. Bear firmly by the legs. “Ohhhh nooooo.” He complained, “Not the laundry soap dunk!”

“I’m afraid, Mr. Bear, that it is worse than that. We have arranged today a white vinegar dunk. We are hoping this will remove your unsightly stains.”

“Oh nooooo. It burns! It burns!” He sobbed as I dunked him head first into the preparation in the Pyrex measuring glass. I left Mr. Bear in the solution for a good five minutes, against all protests.

Upon retrieval from the solution, Mr. Bear exclaimed, “I’m never talking to you again.”

“Fine, Mr. Bear,” I said, “But realize I do this for your own good.”

We then took Mr. Bear firmly by the legs again and dunked him into a vat of laundry soap. The solution we used in this instance was a little more powerful this time, as in the interim I have started using All Small and Mighty. It is a lot more concentrated than the regular version.

“Hurmmmph,” was all Mr. Bear said.

Then we buried him way at the bottom of the other laundry. We dialed the water up to blistering hot and commenced with the spin cycle.

Unfortunately, when I took him out, he was still unsightly brown. We repeated our previous torture steps, and placed Mr. Bear back into the wash. “I hate you,” Mr. Bear exclaimed, his beady eyes glaring at me.

“This hurts me more than it hurts you.” I told him, stuffing a blanket on top of his head.

After the second wash, Mr. Bear was only slightly discolored. I think my son may have partially digested his head, and the stains are now permanent. However, he does smell much nicer now. Mr. Bear is still not talking to me, but that’s okay, I can’t understand him anyway, as his head is now back in my son’s mouth. Until we meet again, Mr. Bear.




*******************News Flash***************************

We are happy to announce that we are expecting again. A new Miller will make an appearance around the first of February!

Road Rage

I don’t think road rage is altogether a new thing. I bet back in the days of chariots, Major Phoebes of the Roman Army got irritated when Plebe Thaddeus’s sporty new war horse cut him off on the highway, and threw a spear at him, or at least exchanged verbal blows.

I just don’t understand how some people could be so clueless. I love the balding men in the flashy sports cars who are blabbing away on their cell phones, going 20 miles an hour, weaving though traffic. Or the driver eating a hamburger and not noticing that the light has just turned green.

I was turning out of Walgreen’s the other day, when the irritating driver in front of me decided to turn left, out of the right hand turn lane that I needed! I was so pissed. Not only because they were clearly breaking a traffic law, but also because from that particular intersection it is difficult to turn left even in the correct lane. After waiting for what seemed like an eternity, a break appeared in traffic. However, this numbskull wasn’t paying attention, and MISSED the chance to go.

I became livid. My blood pressure skyrocketed. My son was crying in the back seat, and the rush hour traffic was unrelenting. Finally I broke, I yelled and banged on the steering wheel,” If you don’t move your car, I’m going to road rage you!”

Unfortunately, I didn’t realize in my irritation that my windows were down. I realized as the driver looked back at me with a scowl on their face. However, my goal was realized, and the car in front of me vacated my lane. I realize in retrospect that the driver could have been packing some heat. I could have become another causality in the growing conflict between drivers. I really should learn to keep my mouth shut, at least when the windows are down.

Graduation Weekend

Our little brother Jay just graduated from High School. When I first met my husband, Jay was about six. I’ve gotten to watch him grow up. From a skinny little rug rat playing hoops on his toy basket in the living room, to a strong and handsome young man playing football on the field, he has been a joy to watch.

So it wasn’t an option to attend the graduation. We had this trip planned for years. But I knew when we read the weather report we were going to be in trouble. It was going to be hot! Blazing hot. I think I nearly melted away to nothing this weekend.

We arrived on Friday night, after being in the car for five hours, and our little boy screamed for about three of them.

The next day, we arrived at my husband’s parent’s full house. The rest of his family from Arizona was in town, so the house was bursting at the seams. My little niece was there, and the two kids approached each other warily. My son burst into tears the moment she touched his toys. He hasn't quite yet learned the art of sharing. Soon however, they began to at least tolerate each other. By the end of the weekend, they where going wild together, running around the living room and bouncing off the walls.

They had decided to make homemade pizzas for the open house, and the preparations began on Saturday. My sister-in-law Julie used two industrial sized cans of tomatoes to make the sauce, 10 lbs of flour to make the dough, and at least 10 lbs of cheese, which was shredded. I think about 10 onions where cut, and at least 2 garlic bulbs where minced. My eyes were watering so bad from the onions, I had to stick my head out the doors a few times to clear them. I smelled like a big onion all day. Phew!

On Sunday, we got ready for the big ceremony. Upon arriving at the school, we got a few of the last remaining seats in the bleachers. It was so hot in there. It was in the high 80's outside, and without air conditioning in the gym, and the humidity at 200%, it was like a sauna in there. Buckets of sweat oozed out of every pore. I felt bad for the poor graduates, who had to wear those heavy robes. I'm really surprised that no one passed out from the heat. About 20 minutes into it, by son started to fidget, so I took him outside. When I walked in the hallway, it felt about 30 degrees cooler out there. So I stood in the doorway and watched. I think I had the best seat in the house. I got to see everything, and stay cooler.

The open house was a blast. Julie's homemade pizzas were a big hit, especially with the teenage boys. She couldn't keep them coming out of the oven fast enough. My father-in-law, as a joke present, gave Jay a luggable computer to take to college with him. It was circa 1980's, with a mini screen and a huge body. Jay was surprized when he opened his real gift, and found a tiny labtop to take with him instead.

On Monday, we had a delimna. Grandma really wanted to take my son and neice to the zoo, but my husband and I really wanted to avoid Chicago. The traffic, the drive, the crowds. We decided to drive the whole family to Indianapolis, about 2 1/2 hours away, and go to the Indy zoo. It was on the way home for us, and broke the trip up for our son. He hates being in a car seat for more than 2 hours. It worked out well, because our good friend had free passes for entry, and the whole family got in free.

My son really likes fish. In fact, I should really get him a fish bowl or something. He enjoyed the seahorse exhibits. The other things in the park, he really wasn't interested. He was more interested in people watching and cousin watching than anything. He did seem to take interest in the big bull in the farm area. He wanted to reach out and grab him, but I didn't think that was such a good idea.

So, exhausted, sweaty, and happy, we got home at a reasonable time on Monday night. My son wouldn't let go of my hand the whole way home, and wouldn't fall asleep either. I had a huge headache, and ended up sitting in the front seat all scrunched around so he could hold my hand. I sang to him for about an hour on the way home.

I still haven't unpacked all my bags and done all the laundry. But on a good note, my son slept really well today!THE WHOLE CLAN! Click here for more pictures!

Full of Poo

Caca, Poo, Poo-Poo, Poop, Turd, Guano, Sewage. Stinker.

Am I being shocking? Well, we all do it. Having a child gives you a whole new outlook on it. It’s just a natural body function.

Of course, before I had a baby, I knew that babies had poopy diapers. I just didn’t know there would be so many.

My son is a prodigious pooper. About four times a day, I’ll smell the fragrant whiff of methane gas, which indicates a blue ribbon stinker in the works.

My biggest exasperation is that my son WILL NOT lay still to have his diaper changed. If I’m lucky, I can distract him with a book or a toy. If not, he will end up crawling away from me at lightening fast speeds, getting poop all over him, his clothes, me, my clothes. Sometimes, it takes me a good ½ hour to change the pants. Sometimes, I’ll just leave his pants or shorts off, because it’s just too much work to get them back on. I swear I need a nap after one of these titanic struggles.

Actually, lately I’ve discovered that he loves me to sing him some silly song and wiggle his feet around like a maniac. So I have to so all that and try to get a diaper around him at the same time. I’ve actually become quite good at the method of taping a diaper on while the baby is crawling away, standing up, or being held up in the air by Daddy. They should have a contest or something. I bet I would win.

Thank God for Pampers and the good folks at Proctor Gamble, which just happens to be headquarted here in Cincinnati. I feel like driving up to the gates, giving the guard a smile, and saying, “I’m not psycho or anything, but if you could just let all your poop engineers know I think they make a good diaper.” I’m sure that would brighten their day.

I’ve tried other diapers. Actually, I've tried every other diaper in the world. None of them work to hold back the oceans of poop delivered to me every day by our own personal poop factory.

I can’t wait until the little boy is potty trained. When that happens, I’ll probably need to buy toilet paper by the skid. Until then, I just hope that Pampers keeps those coupons coming.

Let's Swing!

My son loves the swings. I think he would stay on it forever if I let him. When he was a baby, he would be content for hours on the baby swing. He would close his eyes and drift away. One time, he slept almost four hours in the baby swing. I would have to wake him up to eat.

As he has gotten older and finally grown out of the baby swings, he discovered the playground swing. The first time I put him into one, his eyes got big and he grabbed the chains. A huge smile lit up his face. It was like he was saying, "Hey mom, I grew out of that baby swing months ago. Have you been holding out on me?"

Unfortunately, the nearest park with swings is a good 10-minute walk from my house. It only has two of the toddler basket swings. It is a very busy park. Typically, before we get to the park, I'm straining to look through the trees and bushes to see if the swings are occupied. If they are, we head straight to the library. Usually, when we come out, the swings are available.
However, like most places in the Midwest, we have had about two weeks straight of rain. Even if it wasn't raining, it looked like rain. I really didn't want to get stuck out in the rain 10 minutes from my house. So we haven't been going to the park. My son has really been missing his outings. He is so bored of the same toys, over and over again. I try to mix them up, but he does have his favorites.

So my husband decided to build him a swing. We have had this toddler swing a friend gave us some time ago, but we have never had a good-sized tree or porch to hang it on. We thought about hanging it off the aluminum awning here, but I didn't want chance damaging the porch.

We put our heads together, scratched out some rough geometry, and came up with a few plans. A trip to the hardware store and back netted us 6 2x4's and some nuts and bolts. With my husband's hard labor, and my somewhat helpful holding techniques, we managed to put it together in one afternoon.

Before the swing was even up, my son was anxious to get into it. His little legs began pumping as his hands attempted to grab the chains before they were even up. Finally, we plopped his little butt into the seat. The smile on his face was something to see. "All right, Mom," I'm sure he was thinking; "Now I can do this all day long!"

On a final note, he swung and swung and swung, protesting once when I tried to take him out. So Daddy swung him some more. Finally, he put his head down and promptly fell asleep. "This is the life!"

Here's to my husband, and the super fabulous, $38.24 swing set. Now all it needs is a coat of paint.

The BIG Night

Recently, I've been reminiscing about a little thing called Prom. Do you remember your prom night? Dressing up in overpriced duds, driving to the florist to pick up the lovely corsage/buttoner, doing your hair and make up over and over again in front of the mirror as you moan and complain about the brand new zit that just appeared.

Posing with your date while your parents/their parents take thousands of pictures. Driving to the prom, tense with anticipation. The arrival, the gushing over friend’s appearances. The obligatory photo op, pasted grins while posing in front of plastic palms. Sweaty palms as you dance to the newest saccharine love song.

Drinking tropical punch out of plastic cocktail glasses. Playing with the candle wax because you are bored out of your mind, and your date is seriously annoying you. Rolling your eyes as the girls leave like a flock of hens to "powder their noises". The endless gossip in the bathrooms as the girls chat about who is hooking up with whom.

I went to a formal once, I don’t remember if it was the prom or not, with my boyfriend. He annoyed me so much; I broke up with him the next day. My good friend was dating my boyfriends’ twin brother, and the twins took us to a cruddy burger joint called Hot and Now before the big dance. Imagine being all dressed up in fancy clothes and going to a drive through that sold .33-cent hamburgers. They didn’t even have a dining room, and the guys wouldn’t let us eat our budget burgers in the car. They insisted we drive back to my friend’s house, where we dined in style on our cold meal. They only reason we ended up going through the drive through is because they had forgotten to make reservations at the appropriate restaurant.

I actually had a good senior prom. The year was 1994. I went with a dear friend, who I had a massive crush on at the time. We both worked together at Burger King. Mostly on cash, but sometimes in the back. I remember making burgers together. Many high jinks insued.

I asked him to the dance. I did that a lot in high school. I didn't have the patience to wait for the boys to untie their tongues and pop the question. We would talk for hours and hours at work, joke around, and hang out. We would talk for hours on the phone almost every night. He loved Mariah Carey, and I loved the Beatles.

Anyway, the night of the prom, he gave me a dozen roses instead of a crappy corsage. I thought it was the sweetest thing. We went over to his dad's house, and his dad make creepy comments while snapping pictures. His dad was an interesting ex-army guy who at that time was an army recruiter.

We had a great time, and although we never actually dated, we still remain the best of friends. I was talking to him just last night, and he asked me if I remembered the vest he wore to the dance. He thought it was ugly, I thought it matched my dress perfectly. I'll let you decide.

I wanted my friend Eric to be the "maid of honor" at my wedding, but I chickened out, as my husband and I were married in a Catholic church, and I didn't have the balls to ask the priest if it would be okay. Somehow, I didn't think the Priest would go for it. .

Also, I have a picture of my best friends and I at another formal. They will probably kill me for posting this, but I couldn't resist. Besides, doesn't everyone have big hair and dresses on prom day? Remember this is circa 1992-1993. Let me know some memories about your prom!

Fuzzy Little Caterpillar

A fuzzy little caterpillar came to visit me today. Actually, a whole FAMILY of fuzzy little caterpillars came to visit. They brought Mom, Pop, Little Joey, Gramps, and Grandma to dine on my newly planted flowers.
They are taking over my patio. I've almost stepped on them in my bare feet (ick), and they seem to like it under my porch swing in the shade.
Actually, they really aren't that attractive. They have that furry body that you just know is going to send shivers down your spine if one happens to touch you.
I'm living in fear my son will pick one up and chomp on it. "Yum, Mummy, LUNCHTIME!"
Maybe they will turn into a lovely butterfly, or maybe they will be some kind of nasty moth. I really don't know. They better just leave my herb garden alone. I've got plans for that basil.

******UPDATE********

Based on my extensive on-line research, I've determined that the family that has moved in with us is part of the clan "Malacosoma americanum" or Eastern Tent worm. In sudden shocking news, this intrepid researcher has found out that they are a pest! Apparently, they have been evicted from numerous homes for defoliating the landscaping, having loud and noisy parties, and generally loitering on scenic walkways and fruit trees. Once they have all that parting out of their system, they curl up for a long siesta and become nasty moths!
Unfortunately, I have learned that I can't use insecticide to kill them, as this is generally ineffective. So murder seems to be out of the question. Maybe I’ll just ask them quietly to keep the noise down. If that doesn't work, maybe a relocation program may be in order. Click here for more fascinating information about the Eastern Tent Worm.

1st Birthday and Beyond

We celebrated our son's first birthday the other day. We had some good friends visit with their little boy, and hilarity ensued.
The boys had fun playing outside. The picked grass, and my son tried to eat a handful of dirt.
The carrot cake was a big hit. Our son loved the frosting.
For his birthday, he got a rocking horse, which he hasn't quite figured out yet. As long as you’re making it bounce, he's happy. He also got the book Green Eggs and Ham from his Grandpa. It's one of my personal favorites, and I'm sure we will enjoy reading it together.

After our friends left, we were all tired and feel fast asleep. So much for the party! Yawn! Snore!

To see birthday pictures, click here.

Dirty Little Secret

I have a dirty little secret I want to tell you about. You see . . . SOB SOB; I'm addicted to SOAP! No, not the stereotypical stay-at-home mom soap addict who has to watch Guiding Light, Passions, or General Hospital, but the liquid kind that comes in a bottle.

It all started as a child. My parents would only buy generic Suave shampoo, you know the kind, and you have probably bought this brand in the past or have some on your shelf right this moment. The "flavor" my mother preferred was the Strawberry scent. I can still remember the lingering odor of vine ripened, chemically created, juicy pink fruit fantasia.

As a child, we had hair shampoo (not usually conditioner), Lux bar Soap, and Dawn dish soap. My parents could use these soaps to clean anything. For example, stain in your shirt? Use the bar soap to pre treat. Car needs washing? Pull out the Dawn. Floor need mopped, a squirt of Dawn in the mop water would do the trick. If we ran out of shampoo, we used Dawn or Lux on our hair. It would leave my hair feeling like straw and a dry unmanageable mess. I wouldn't recommend it. If we ran out of Dawn, then we used the Suave to wash the dishes!

The funniest use of household chemicals came when my dad tried to make his own car windshield wiper fluid. I believe he used a concoction of Dawn and Bleach. To this day, I don't know why he just didn't spend the .99 cents on a jug of the blue stuff, but I think he was trying to be thrifty. Needless to say, his concoction had disastrous results. It smeared the windshield, leaving it impossible to see out of. This was not helped by the fact that the wipers on our maroon 1982 Ford Escort were probably original to the car. The rubber edges had peeled off, and the sharp pointed edges dug into the glass, making a horrible screeching sound with every pass. This concoction etched the glass, made a soapy nasty mess, and then stained the hood paint. For years after that, I would look at the ruined hood and shake my head. We still tease my dad about this to this day, although sometimes he pretends he doesn't remember!

I expressed my early love of soap by making my own shampoo formulas. When we had hair conditioner (usually also Suave), I would mix it with the shampoo, making my own early shampoo/conditioner formula before the big brands even did this. I think I should be getting some money from somebody!

Once, we moved into a new house that had a dishwasher! Someone in my family put Dawn into it. (Everyone had done this at some time or another I think), and the kitchen was overrun with bubbles. Someone in my family also tried Dawn in the washing machine, with the same results. After that, we actually bought dish soap and laundry soap.

As a child, I think I was a bit of a handful. I remember one time when my mom was punishing me. I was grounded to my room or something. Maybe I was standing in the corner. That was always a big punishment in our house. I was mad, so I took the container of Dawn soap in one hand, and then started yelling, "I hate you, I hate you!" to my mom. I know, I know, it wasn't very nice, but I was a willful child. Before she could do anything, I announced that I was going to punish myself, and squirted the soap in my mouth for "punishment". I don't know if my mom was madder at me for screaming at her, or for being so cheeky with the soap, but needless to say, I was in even more trouble.

So that's where my addiction to soap started. Once I grew up, and started buying my own groceries, it seemed like I couldn't stop buying soap. Especially shampoo. I don't know what it is. I get bored with one brand before it is used up, and then will buy another bottle. I end up with four or five half used bottles kicking around. Then I have to suck it up and finish them before I let myself buy any more.

I think the back of soap bottles actually make interesting reading. For example, the back of my body wash bottle says: "When your skin looks and feels beautiful if shows -- You are radiant. Caress Glowing Touch Body Wash gently cleanses and moisturizes for beautiful, silky soft, glowing skin. The luxurious lather . . . leaves you looking radiant." Wow! It can do all that! Amazing. Forget the tummy tuck and face-lift! Just buy this soap! Also, the name amuses me "Glowing Touch!" I'll let you make the connection! Just remember, you can use sex to sell anything, even soap.

I also have an unhealthy collection of household products. At the moment, I probably have 20 different household cleaners. The problem is, nothing seems to work as well as I want it to. I like my tub spotless, so I have about four different products for that. I have several different kinds of floor soaps, and three different kinds of counter top cleaner. I tend to buy things in big bottles from the wholesale club, because it's a good deal, but then I have these huge bottles hanging around.

Every new soap/household product I have to try. I have two Swifters, a mop, two brooms, and associated laundry products. I'm hopeless!

Finally, I decided that enough was enough. I have put myself on a ban from buying any more soap. I'm not buying another one until it's all used up. It's been six months since my last purchase of household soaps. You know the funny thing? I still have lots left. Maybe I can get out a jug and whip up some windshield washer fluid or some car wash -- or maybe not!

April 2nd, 2006

The daffodils nod their heads with queenly grace,
While Robin's twitter and hop from place to place

The springtime breeze warms the land
While mother nature plots and plans

The trees awake with joyful green
While neighbors start to tend and preen

J Miller 04/02/06

Eventful

We went to visit my husband’s parents this weekend. It was an action packed trip. On the way to their house, we inadvertently drove through a tornado. It started out, as these things do, as a bad rainstorm. It got pretty bad, with driving rain, wind, and hail. The lightening show was brilliant. The tornado went to the north of us. We missed it by maybe 10 minutes. They closed the highway, and we were sitting and sitting in traffic. After about 20 minutes, my husband pulled out a police scanner from the depths of his seat. He proceeded to pull out the instruction book, and they we turned it to the trucker channel. Those truckers are pretty funny. One guy who kept saying "nanoo nanoo" like Mork from Mork and Mindy, and another female trucker was telling everyone how much she wanted to see a tornado.

People started to get out of their cars and walk around, talking on cell phones. I really didn't see how this was going to get the cars moving again, but maybe they just needed to stretch their legs. People started turning around in the muddy median. The guy who was in front of us tried this, and ended up getting stuck in the mud. My husband decided to try it. I was nervous to say the least. I had visions of us stuck in the mud, while carrying a wailing baby. However, his rambunctious sprit paid off, and we made it though the mud. After that, my husband consulted his in car computer GPS unit, and we found an alternate route. 10 minutes later, we were again stopped on yet another closed road. Apparently the tornado had done much damage, and this road was also closed. However, we learned from an official looking gentleman that the main road was now back open. So we proceeded on our way.

Going past the affected area, we say about 10 ambulances, 4 fire trucks, and about 50 cop cars. Pieces of roofing and siding were littering the road. Homeowners where out with flashlights, surveying the damage. It was all very exciting and scary. Check out here for a local article on the storm.

Around the time that we were getting stuck in traffic, my son woke up. He was not happy. He likes the nice vibration of the car, and the road noise. He started crying and crying, nothing was making him happy. Unfortunately, he ended up crying off and on all the way to our destination. Nothing was making him happy. He just wanted his nice bed, not a hard uncomfortable car seat.

Once we got to our destination, we had a nice visit. My son was wide-awake at midnight, entertaining his grandparents with his antics. Finally, we all went to bed, and we all slept like logs.

On Saturday morning, we had an appointment to get my son's haircut for the first time. We packed up the little boy and hauled him over to the family barber. Bruce has been cutting the Miller boys hair since grandpa was a young’ in. My son is the third generation to have his hair cut in this quaint small town barbershop. My son was so good. They sat him up on the genuine barbershop chair on a board they laid across. Daddy held him, and Bruce went to work. SNIP SNIP, the long baby locks came off and reveled a handsome little boy. The little boy was fine until Bruce got out the electric clippers, and then the tears started to fall. He didn't like those at ALL! We got some great pictures.

Later on at Grandma and Grandpa's, we celebrated Grandpa's and my son's birthday. Grandma made the Miller special Red Velvet cake (we make it without the red coloring) with special frosting. My son was so funny. He didn't know if he should eat the cake, or play with it. He eventually decided that it was yummy to his tummy and scarfed it down!

We got home late last night, without running into any storms, and without any tears from the little boy. He was so tired after his eventful day; he slept the whole way home. Oh, blessed quiet! Click here for some other pictures of the weekend.