Getting Bent...Losing in Translation

Getting bent:

• 11-19-2010 -- I had been so proud that I had done a killer job keeping our grocery list under $100 in Thanksgiving week. Came home with Josh after a lovely day at the Carr Center == hit a granddaddy monster buck five minutes from home -- or did he hit me? He had a grey throat, grey body, all muscle. More like a train with horns than a deer. Car held up surprisingly well, but Radiator was busted, and front grill had been punched in. Of course, it all happened five minutes from closing time for our insurance...more drama, and our local police couldn't be bothered to file a report. Sheesh! --> 3, 9025.23 estimate not totaled, Insurance does seem to cover big honking bucks. Lots of front work, some work on door. The radiator needed replaced, the air-conditioning unit needed flushed. ---. 7-8 day repair.My mantra now a day is “Go Bucks– The Hell Away From My Car!”I want to put it on a bumper sticker.

·January 22, 2011 -- I have sold my first copy of my first book ever, to my cousin Steve Rice.

·Small Boy has his own version of a magic word: Abbra-CAN-Dabbra!

 

Losing in Translation:

Not that it’s any consolation to all of you who have actually been interested in the great going-ons of my life, but I really have been a writing fool of late…sometimes in more ways than one.

Just as I planned to release all of the Bickerstaff books into the wilds of Amazon, I was told rather pointedly that my grand plan for self-publishing the beasties my way so that the family could get their grubbies on the stories they’ve literally been waiting generations for & then seeking out an agent /publishing company so that they may do all their bells and whistles theirway – wasn’t going to work. I would be laughed at. In fact, I was laughed at. Frequently. The audacity of daring to publish my work for free, for doing what agents get paid to do – I was met with such equal parts of guffaw and horror, that you’d think I just set up someone’s beloved Nana in a thong bikini on a greased pole competition. Well, after a series of wet-noodle thrashings, I decided on a temporary compromise. I halted just before pushing the fatal button that would confirm all of the Bickerstaff books for sale, and have decided to try getting an agent first…

Of course, knowing me, this may last until June or July when the absurdity of it all annoys me too much, but we shall see. As far as I can tell, the whole purpose of trying to publish a novel the “Old-school” way is to make you loathe the sight of your own work. And don’t even get me started on the absurd hoops I have to jump through just to suck up to faceless strangers from an ungodly amount of faceless/heretofore-unheard of agencies. Two-page, 30-page synopsis, five-page synopsis and overview, a detailed map of electrical outlets in Fort Knox, and don’t forget tell me how wonderful I am and make sure to work out the cramp in my pinkie-toe, and I want a five-page essay telling me why you chose our agency and describing the very special intimate bond we have as two complete and utter strangers – One with connections and one without. Ah, if only the sucking-up-ness would continue on forever. They make me feel that all the time I “wasted” writing in my life would have been better spent practicing my Toady-skills. I do think some of them are legitimately trying to see how serious a writer-hopeful is, but I also think most of them are truly enjoying hazing all the naïve little rookies.

It occurs to me that I may not have the necessary patience or sense of humor to ply my craft in the old fashioned way…especially when a simpler, more streamlined, less foolish way is readily available. However, the one good thing that has come out of this is that thanks to the absurd requests of agents and their sundries, I have found and corrected a few more minor typos in a couple of the stories – and I have made the acquaintance of some genuinely brilliant writers who have graciously guided me in the ways of writing, and their courtesy and knowledge and humor has greatly restored all of my faith in the writing/publishing process… They have given me hope that someday, if I keep submitting and balance the right ball on my nose, I may find an agent who truly believes in my work and is truly worth all of the time and effort I spent trying to get passed the intercom at the gates. For now, I’m holding out the idea of pushing the final button on Amazon, just to keep myself from getting too depressed about this foolish process. I may not do it, but it’s been helping me to know that I have another option.

My current project isn’t my own project. A fellow in my writing group wants to publish his son’s travel journal and has kindly offered to pay me for going all the way through it and setting it up. I’ve really loved the idea of paying for Jon’s anniversary present with my own money, rather than his. And if I can pull this off, maybe this can be an ongoing thing. Who knows?

 Josh’s eye has improved somewhat because we’ve been patching it, but he’s going to need eye surgery for a muscle that is still throwing off his eye’s alignment. We have one more checkup first, but it looks like it will be done after May.

*Sigh*

The last few weeks have been a trying beast. There was a terrible breakout of meningitis in our community, and a little boy passed away and one little girl had to be in Critical care for a while. Several kids, including Josh had to be given emergency doses of powerful antibiotic, but Josh was never in direct contact with the other little guy. We were concerned about how to talk to Josh about the other little boy, because Josh is so death-obsessed already (the one downside to living around older folks who spend their days talking about “hopin’ they’ll be around for this or that” – that is, when they aren’t talking about the products of their bowels *sigh*). In the end though, as tragic as the situation was, Josh and the other kids seemed far more impressed with the fact that the antibiotics made their *ahem* pee red and yellow than anything else. Just before Josh officially cleared the 10-day window for possible infection, he suddenly started throwing up violently, and woke up screaming that everything hurt. Jon called me home from my writer’s meeting, then called the Nurseline…and because of the meningitis scare, they told us to skip urgent care and go directly to the ER, where Josh would likely have to have a spinal tap (because of course, there’s no other way to test for meningitis). Oh, we were all kinds of freaked. Then we got up there, they checked him over and gave him anti-nausea medication…and what we now like to term the “$150-dollar-cherry-popsicle”. He held it down. The sudden pain in his head and neck disappeared. The docs didn’t do the spinal after all (Thank God!), but decided it was sour stomach and stress (likely due to Josh’s concerns over the next day’s kindergarten testing). We went home, feeling raw and fragile. Josh slept like a sedated log and woke up the next morning to breeze through the testing like it was nothing. I think poor Jon is still rattled about it.

Adding to the fun was/is Jon’s fear of a furlough thanks to the political jokes in Washington. It still may come into play sometime this year, but he’s decided on a damn-the-torpedoes attitude after he discovered that he (and everyone in his office) is essential …but that the Area Office, Central Office, and Administrators were not. (Ha!) As it stands, he’s still going to work, and he’s decided that By God! We will be taking our first family vacation this year, because By God! After holding his breath through umpteen weeks of Congressional foolishness, he is in dire need of one now. For a while, he had severe stomach pains, migraines, and night terrors again – and he’s been grinding his teeth so much at night that he’s had to wear a mouth guard. I’m hoping that as things settle…or at least that when he finally knows what he can expect, that all of his stress symptoms will subside.

So…our first family vacation. *rocks back and forth, chewing on lip* And I get to plan it. *rocks back and forth* No pressure, no pressure.

I am equal parts brimming with excitement…and sloshing about with equal parts of deep concern. Josh and I are still butting heads – I mean, attempting to communicate in a healthy and loving fashion that does not involve a case of Advil and a strong wish for strong drink, (I think the heaviest we have in the house is 1% milk). Or the pervasive need to lock one of us in a padded, soundproofed room. My mother seems to take a perverse amount of glee in the situation… she keeps chuckling and muttering something about “payback”. Josh’s personality and conversational skills have indeed progressed remarkably, but trying to get him to do anything he doesn’t particularly want to do is … let’s just go with difficult, and leave it at that. I’m looking forward to everything else on our vacation, but I confess, I'm really hoping he packs “Cooperative Josh” and leaves that little bull-headed persona at home.

Well, that’s it, everyone. Next time you hear from me, I shall have posted glorious photos of our great doin’s, and God willing and the creek don't rise, we'll all have come back from our escapades in one piece. Take care, one and all.

Love you bunches, Kim

BIG NEWS!!!

Just click this link.  Please, Please, Please, just click this link.

Off Like A Herd of Turtles

Look Closely and you'll see the Double Rainbow

OUTTAKES

• I have a brother named Huubanna and a sister named Huuwanna and a horse named Adonna ...no I'm just kidding. His name is Scoobert. -- Josh playing with his imaginary friends.
• After a long day, after months of complaints from Josh on every single, flippin' aspect of every single, flippin' meal put before him, I decided to make the first white chicken chili of the day, and when Josh turned to me with a very serious look and his hands on his hips, I braced myself for the worst. "Mommy, that was really, really Giant-Big-Good!"

I've been looking back through my camera (my favorite way to cheat and remember all the things I keep forgetting to tell you about), but there's just so much stuff, so I'll give you the snippets and hope I'm more on the ball the next time.

We've had some sad losses on our end in the last few months.  Kay Johnson, one mom's best friends for well-over thirty years passed away from a surprise heart attack.  Mom took it pretty hard, and for several weeks after, we were just keeping tabs on her, and trying to be there when she needed us and out from underfoot when she didn't.  As usual, she took most of her frustrations out on the house and the garden, but she let some of us into her grief and that seemed to help too.  Somehow, she made it through the memorial.  They were the true-life incarnate of the odd couple.  Kay, by golly, lived her life exactly the way she wanted to...and Mom, well, Mom's got this sort of "Just-So" thing going, as in she likes to have her life "Just-So"... the house "Just-So", she was/is/likely always will be the "goody-two-shoes".  I think Kay was her personal monkey wrench (and I mean that in the best possible way), and I honestly think they got more out of their lives because the other was in it.  They drove each other crazy. On a constant basis.  Kay thought Mom needed to loosen up.  Mom thought Kay could stand some reigning in. (Both of them were probably right...but you didn't hear that from me :P   )  It was really a potassium and water kind of relationship, but somehow, it worked.  They'd been friends longer than my lifetime. There wasn't a day that they didn't call each other at least twice. 

The next loss was more recent.  As you know, I've been frantically trying to beat a path through the Bickerstaff stories.  Well, there was a good reason, and her name was Sheila Rice.  Sheila was one of the founding members of my writing group.  She was a class act, always dressed to the nines, witty, sharp, not above a shameless poke at one's ego (if she thought it would do that person some good), but always ready to build people up when they needed that too.  When I was still working out the logisitics of this motherhood gig, she took me under her wing a bit.  She reminded me so much of my Grandma Rice, in so many respects...a consummate storyteller who was always reciting lovely long poems to people...their lives seemed to parallel in so many ways.  Right about the time that I started into the Bickerstaff stories (in earnest), we found out that Sheila was having several health issues.  She had loved the chapters of the Bickerstaff stories I'd read, and I thought that if I could just get them done quickly and correctly, that I would not only be finally keeping my promise to my grandmother, but my promise to Sheila, who had made a point to tell one of her closest friends that I "was a real writer"  (She was the kind that didn't give out compliments unless you really earned them.).  As it was, I only got the proof of the second story about two weeks before she passed away.  I had never really been asked to speak at a memorial service before, but they asked several folks in the writers group to help say goodbye...and I'm grateful that I had the option.  I left my only two proofs of the finished Bickerstaff  stories with her family... and in the dedications, I made a special one for Sheila the Magnificent...Her faith in the potential of others worked almost as much magic as the hard work she expected out of them...and it was wonderful to have someone like that backing me up.  There's a rumor going around right now that her family would like the group to try to finish her stories...for she always had "A Thousand Beginnings"...I may try, but I tell you...only Sheila could leave us with a thousand beginnings... and that seems right.

It hasn't been all tears though.  We had a lovely day at the zoo with the Greats, Harry and Helen.  I think it was the first time Helen had really been sightseeing in Columbus for some time, and with the exception of about two and a half hours where (Jon & Josh)  and (Me, Harry, & Helen) lost track of each other and couldn't contact each other because Jon's cell had died (more on his phone shortly.)

Then we took Josh to the local fair -- I swear, I will never get used to such a quiet little fair.  No noise. No screaming music or ride noises.  It's very cool and very weird at the same time.  First he pulled 14 feet, 1/2 inches at the little pedal pull and then we spent about six hours hopping Josh between the Merry-Go-Round (and he was adamant that he did not want me standing beside him as  a spotter this time....he's much to big a boy for that, thank you!) and the bouncy house with the seriously grouchy attendant. 

One of the really super fun things that happened was that Jon and I won the WICKED LOTTO, which means that we showed up about two hours before a Columbus showing of it, and waited around with a bunch of others to hear our name get called.  That gave us the option of buying these 2-3 hundred dollar tickets for, oh, $25 bucks a piece.  We made a deal with another couple that if they both got called, we'd pay for the extra tickets, and if we both got called, we'd let them do the same.  As it happened, they hit the lotto twice, but were gracious and classy enough to hold to their bargain, and Jon and I ended up three rows from the stage and close enough to count Elphaba's fillings.   We may never meet them again, but from the bottom of our hearts, thank you Mr. and Mrs. Summerfield, wherever you are.

Jon has also been suffering a bit of a set back lately. Rumor has it, a certain little boy got a hold of Daddy's cell, but however it happened, Jon's phone has parted company with itself.  It is literally broken apart, and you can't read the top screen at all, but believe it or not, it still works.  Calls can still be made...though he's not always certain who it is he is actually calling.  We expect to rectify the situation in the near future, but we shall see what happens.  In the meantime, did you know that Sam's Club and Wal-Mart just GIVE AWAY the dummy display phones?  We just found this out, and Josh now has a flip phone (case) and a qwerty phone (case) and he's left our phones alone for the most part now.

Josh's school did a terrific Halloween party (and the little girl who came as Ariel was totally working the room -- she knew she looked good and made a point of letting everyone else know it), and we did our usual Trick or Treat at the mall....and then we decided to change things up.  This year, he decided against Iron Man at the last minute and went as Darth Vader instead.  Oh yes, his father was Sooooooo proud.  Jon even broke out his college light saber (last seen just minutes before our wedding) so that Josh could be properly equipped.  And then, we let Josh go Trick or Treating, in town, to houses, for REAL.  "You mean I can go up to the houses?  But I'm not supposed to take candy from strangers..."  He had me there, but we wandered nearly every street that wopperjawed little town had, and Josh came home with nearly two pounds of candy and was just as thrilled as he could possibly be.

Up next, planning a run on Children's Hospital -- Josh seems to have an alignment issue with his eye.  We're hoping for the best, but we are also getting him psyched about the idea of being a pirate for a little while (if he has to wear a patch).  Fingers crossed, regardless.  And then onto his birthday and the holidays.

Thanks for waiting all.  More to come when we have it.

To Tide You Over - What do you think?

A dear friend has just reminded me that I have been completely unsociable since, and I find this hard to believe, JUNE.

I plan to update the blog properly tonight, but for now, here are the tentative/initial covers for my upcoming book-y progeny (expected to hit Amazon officially this Spring)... so really, I do have a really good excuse...well, this time, anyway.



Picture Blog - Mohican, June 2010

<--Love this shot.  There were a two pairs of herons flying low over a lake. It was just magical.

This is one of my favorite spots.  You simply cannot take a bad picture of this bridge.

Because this is part of a natural reserve, the animals had no fear and no shame.  This yearling was hanging out in somebody's front yard and barely gave us a glance when we pulled up with our camera.

"Oh My God!", "That's Enormous!"

The title this time comes from one of my favorite Who's Line Is It Anyway sketches. 

OUTTAKES:

• Josh (describing how his throat hurts because of his allergies) "It's like a night wasp." 
• Jon (responding to the bossy GPS voice telling us that our next turn was in .5 miles) in his best Python-esque voice: "NOBODY expects a right turn in .5 miles!"
• So the other night, we finally got to sit down and watch the Tony Awards. Josh was totally into it, and paying particular attention to the audience. Every time the camera landed on one fellow in particular, the little Glee-addict would yelp, "It's Mr. Shue, It's Mr. Shue!!!" Then, when they actually intro'd him, he changed it up to, "It' Matthew Morrison, Mommy. Matthew Morrison!" *Ahem.*

For the longest time, the only thing I could have written was that all three of us were slugging through the joy of allergies on a grand scale...and that we were/are losing the Battle of the Ants -- never mind how many ant traps we've put out for the little buggers -- I swear they are using the bait as breath mints.  In truth, I should not say little buggers...The last wave resembled the ginormous ants from the movie, THEM, and I half expect them to say @#!$ it, and just pick up our house by its foundation to take back to the nest. Would that only the ants had made a cameo, but we've also been host to several wood spiders (oh, god, I _hope_ that's just a wood spider), the smallest of which was three inches long. We've managed to keep our arachnophobic fears in check long enough to get them out and away from the house, but I swear -- this guy wasn't there one minute, then I turned around found him on top of the laundry, and I will attest in court that he looked up at me, smiled, waved one leg while doing a perfect Jon Lovitz "Why, Heh-Looo!" 

Pardon me while I muffle my own scream.

Of course, we can't be fighting B-Movie Monsters or ex-SNL actors all of the time.  Back in April, Grandma O. had enough back pain, and decided to schedule a surgery.  Well, the older (read Mom, Uncle Jerry, and Auntie Suzing) swept in ready to do battle with doctor-lions...only to find out that Gram was put on the back burner for  five days because of medicine and heart issues the docs hadn't known about/considered before.  I got to be the messenger, relaying what pitiful information we actually knew about the situation (and even as time went on, we had seemed to get less input from either the docs or Grams) to the younger part of the heard, but I was given strict (and fierce) orders not to encourage the cast and crew to "stop in" for fear that Grandma O. would think we were circling the wagons for the last time. 19 tests and an oil change later, she was cleared for surgery at 3:30 p.m. on April 26th. To this day, I don't know that anyone really knows the exact name of her surgery, but she had to have a thirteen inch incision in her back, through muscle, to ease the pressure of a disk on her spinal nerves. While she suffered a great deal of incision pain...and wasn't expecting the amount of rehab pain that came into play, she seemed to enjoy most of her stay at the Center across from her home.  Roxy, her dog could come over any time, and Grandpa Ours (our beloved "Sun King") had at least one or two meals a day with her.  While Grandma seemed to treat the experience as an odd-sort of spa ...where she didn't have to lift a finger or fix a meal, Suz was given the task of, um, riding herd/acclimating Grandpa to the situation...and for any number of reasons, he was not "happy" about it all. Don't get me wrong, we know he was worried about her.  However, anyone that knows Grandpa O. also know that he has a way that he liked things done...and Gram's surgery and recovery was something of a disruption in the way he liked things done.  Oh, yeah, Gram's surgery was rough on her...but some of us still contend (out of hearing) that Suz may have won the runner's up prize with "Mr. Congeniality". I tease, I tease. I'm serious, but I tease. 

*     *      *     *     *

The good news is that my book, "Hum A Few Bars... : A Collection of Short Stories and Poetry" is inching closer to final approval mode (Jon's still double checking certain tax questions) but it really will be available on Amazon soon (yes, really and truly it IS going to happen!) -- though the finished product may have more pages than are currently listed.

To check out my official Amazon Author page (and get a quick look at the cover), go here:
I'd really appreciate it if you would take the time to preview some of my work in this book, here:
and please help me out by answering the questions you find there -- I'd really appreciate your time and help in this matter.

As I was getting the book in order, I got the chance to talk to one of my dearest, hardest-to-catch friends, Carole.  I had realized that I didn't have any good pictures of me. (Who am I kidding? I loathe all pictures of me.  In my head, I see myself as pretty and if not thin, well certainly not as I am...and then I see a picture of myself and I look like the old cartoons of The Shmoo from the old comic strip -- bloody hell!).  The last good picture I had of myself was a black and white of me holding Josh when he was brand new, and Carole had taken the shot, so I needed to check with her to see if I could use it as my author photo.  (For the record, Carole NEVER has any bad pictures.  She's a ringer for Audrey Hepburn and even her driver's license photo looks like a Vogue Cover.)Talking to her was divine...she's one of the people I can always fall back into conversation with, as if time and distance never played into it.  I think we talked for about forty-five minutes...and of course, because I was on the phone, and he wasn't, Josh decided to chase me around the house with his noisy toy-claw (I should take a hammer to my head for buying that racken-fracken thing, much less bringing it into my house!).  We are still working very hard to establish polite boundaries when someone is talking on the phone, but of course when I mentioned the incident to Mom, she snickered and muttered something (rather loudly) about payback and five kids.  I have no idea what she was talking about.  I still wish I could master her ability to be *ahem* "reminding us of proper behavior" (read: keeping all of us from jumping off each other's heads) one second and be able to snap on a cool, Donna Reed composure the moment the phone rang.  I simply don't have the hang of that trick, yet, though her skill with that technique boggled and amazed us for years.  When the phone rings at our house, I keep feeling I need to pick it up with one hand, and throw a steak to the lion chewing off my leg with the other. Jon keeps gently reminding me that a whip and a chair are not actually apropos to proper parenting, but he's usually not on my end of the phone when he calls. Whi-CHAAAA! Back! Back! Down! Stop.Climbing. On. My. Head. No! You can't talk to her. Because I'm trying to talk to her.Ow! My Hair! Let Go! Whi-CHAAA!

*     *     *     *     *

Somehow, we made it to Jon's vacation, and Josh was packed up and gift-wrapped and sent to the Wild Woman's for a week of Bible School with a big bow on his head.


Ohhhhhhhh...the boy may have departed our domicile, but the drama didn't stop.  Mom and Dad keep letting him sleep in their bed with them, and for four of those nights with them, Josh would snuggle up to Mom, get his back scratched, smile, then HURL all over her (oddly enough, Dad seemed to come out of these escapades with no additional bodily fluid on him...He was and is "The Wizard!").  Apparently those allergies would do their worst when he was down for the count, and once all of that copious snot hit his stomach, well...it's a technicolor yawn, a quick clean up, and then he'd sleep like an angel all night.  I can tell you, from an hour and a half away, I felt so bad for mom...but from an hour and a half away, I confess, I was kind of pleased not to be in firing range, too. :)  Mom was certain that he wasn't sick enough to come home, and according to all reports he loved dancing and singing in Bible School, though every night when we'd call (and we could usually only catch him around 7 p.m.), he would mope and fuss and roll out the tragedy mask. Oh, he'd be fine the next day, but the moment we call, it was, "Ohhh, Mommy. When are you coming to get me, I miss you."  G.U. Harry had a harder time catching up with Josh than we did, and it seemed to take a toll on him.  At one point, he got so desperate to talk to "his boy" that he called at a quarter of 10 one night. If I haven't said this before, in my family, if you call before nine in the morning or after nine at night, it usually means someone is in the hospital....so that phone ring was greeted with hold-your-breath-say-a-prayer-terror...and it was not helped that Josh was in full-out misery mode, and had gotten himself so worked up after our call that Mom (who has never once made use of the "Naughty Chair" for Josh) finally plopped his little scrawny butt right down and told him he couldn't get up until he got a grip.  When Harry called that night, Josh went off on another tear again, and Harry was convinced he was being tortured ...because, obviously, Mom does that (somewhere in the middle of all of that abject adoration, dancing and tickling of his back she always tries to make time to work in a little constructive Torquemada-ing for character building purposes)  You never saw a man with his head so slumped and his tail so tucked between his legs...and don't think all of us (but Harry) were well aware that Josh was working every angle he could.  I know it was a long haul for a little kid, I really do...but all reports said Josh was having a blast and was even brave enough to volunteer to help with the morning prayer in front of 160 people, so I knew he wasn't in dire straits. The drama only went to eleven when the day was almost over, and he was shagged out completely. When the sun came up, his mood did a complete turnaround.

Back on our end, our goal had only been to get him there, and we were so focused on that aspect that we completely forgot to figure out what we were going to do in our boyless state. For the first two days we just stayed home, under the radar. After much hashing and re-hashing, we decided against the spa-animal preserve (Kalahari), and instead we opted for one night at Mohican (though you'll be proud of me, I stayed clear of the Fire Tower this time) and one night in Columbus to catch the touring show of Chicago.  Mohican was as wonderful and soul-bathing for me as it was the last time around.  I felt a blank of calm just wrap around me like a blanket the moment we pulled into the parking lot.  And just like the last time, it was as though the resort was open only for us.  Because it is a nature preserve, the animals were utterly brazen and completely unconcerned about the two-legged visitors in their midst.  Deer pranced alongside our car as we drove, or meandered around people's front yards nibbling on their flowerbeds. Squirrel kits let us get within three feet of them without so much as a tail-flick. In fact, the only truly jarring moment we had during our visit was when we were on our way to a lookout point, and nearly turned the car right into four bull mastiffs who were sitting in the middle of the road.  They were so huge, I thought they were bears at first.  Their owners had the land on either side of the rode, and the (car-eating?!!!) dogs were allowed to roam the property freely.  Eventually, our hearts started beating properly again, and we continued to my favorite spot, which was a covered bridge.  Jon and I split up and he took a trail while I took a gazillion shots of the bridge, and then we met up again about an hour later.  We partook of Amish goodness for dinner, and the day was kind enough to remain beautiful until we got back to our room, then the rain came down like it was dancing.  We took our coffee out onto the balcony and listened to the rain hit the leaves.  It was pure heaven.

The next day, we had more Amish-y goodness for lunch (and I shall restate my personal theory that if the road to Hell was paved with Amish pies, people would get there and say, "Yeah, it was _Totally_ worth it!") and set our course for the next destination, Chicago via Columbus.  I didn't find much soothing about our hotel this time around, and soothing didn't enter anywhere near the description of the traffic, where every dip in a car felt the need to reenact every flippin' action sequence from every flippin' eighties-cop-movie. But Chicago?  Well, Jon was *ahem* caught up the moment the first dancer and her mile-high support hose stepped onstage (and, in all fairness, I can't blame him.  She really was quite stunning!), and then the rest of it came at us non-stop. Bonnie Langford played Roxie Hart, looking like a baby Reba McEntire, and acting like an evil Sandy Duncan (but it WORKED!)   Brenda Braxton was a bit more subtle, pacing the stage like an exotic cat.  They took a few more liberties with certain numbers (particularly "I Can't Do It Alone"), but all-in-all, it was genuinely enjoyable. 

When Josh came home, we jumped into the Summer Reading program, and last week, Josh had the opportunity to hose down some poor fellow with a fire hose when Fire Chief Rick came in to do his Safety routine. He has a running spiel that never fails to get a chuckle: "If you see a gun lying in the ground what should you do? That's right. You don't touch it, you call you mommy or daddy and have them call us, because guns can hurt you.  What do you do if you see a box of matches or a lighter on the ground?  You never play with it, but you call your mommy or daddy to put someplace safe, because fire can hurt you. Now, what do you do if you find a quarter lying on the ground?  You call me, that's right. And I'll come and get that quarter!"  The fire truck's siren was still more than Josh could handle, but Josh was still beaming about hosing down the lone father at storytime for days after the fact.

*      *      *       *      *

We marked our anniversary gently this year.  It was quiet, it was lovely. We celebrated with grilled steak and roasted corn, and laughed at Josh's delight as he tried to chew on his well-buttered cob. In the end, there was more butter on him than the corn.  Again, it doesn't seem possible that we've been married eight years, somehow it actually feels as though we've been together all our lives. I'm sticking to my plan to feel like a newlywed on our seventieth anniversary. Jon's agreeable, so long as I'm still giving him head rubs when it rolls around.

By Way of Explanation

There's a very good reason that you're seeing a vast quantity of "new posts" without actually seeing any "new posts".  I'm going back through and doing a cut and paste on my posts so that I can start editing this beastie in earnest.  In theory, this was always going to be in book form eventually, and this is the easiest way to do that.  Thanks for you patience.


Sincerely, Kim S.

Another Message For the Following Folks (and my other Bloggy Buddies):

(And then I will stop with the Billboard-messages for a bit...really, I will.)

Not only do I have follow-y folk, but you seem to be good-natured enough to do what I ask of you. So, for your next quest, er...test...er...um...

Please hop on one foot, while patting your head, and rubbing your belly, and climbing the highest peak to retrieve a rare black orchid for my selfish little self whilst I sit here on my tush eating bonbons.


Actually, I do have a very serious request, if and when you have time. I would deeply, deeply appreciate it if you would tell me when you like a post (and why). Initially, this blog began as a "Tension Breaker! Had To Be Done!" (And I don't know whether I should award brownie points to those of you who know which movie that came from -- it may just encourage you to melt your brains for total strangers...and that's just too much responsibility for me), but somewhere along the line I started to mull the idea of compiling the very best posts and trying to publish them.  My problem is that this blog has been going on for several years now, and other than the first two posts, I don't know what else should be thrown in the mix.  My other problem is that what amuses the heck out of me may have the opposite effect on you, my very kind audience. I’ve asked my Mom to help me with this, a retired English teacher -- because you'd think she'd be superb about editing and tweaking...but she's also very silly...and she's my mom...and you know moms. Imagine asking your mom to help you redo your first finger-painting masterpiece, and you know she'd act like you're cutting off a limb. Oh, the horror!


So, if you choose to cavort in my archives or my future postings, just give me a heads up on which ones really spoke to/humored you. And if something sucked vast and unfortunate quantities of brown stuff, let me know that too…so that I can make this project and future postings more fun for all of you.



I know, I know.  I'm a total stranger with absolutely no power or pull over you, and I'm asking you to do extra homework. *wiggles fingers, attempts Bella Lugosi stare and eerie voice* Comment.  Cohhhhmehhhht. I can only assure you that it's for a good cause.

Thanks again for your time and kind consideration.  Have a great day, everybody. Kim S.

How Did This Happen? A Message for The Following Folks:

Um, I want to say "Thank You" to my new bloggy followers.  I confess, you had me doing the ol' John Ritter spittake today when I went from being followed by about 2 people yesterday to fifteen this morning.  I hope to continue to amuse (or at least be amused) with my posts, and I thank you for your time and kind consideration. I wish I could show all of you on this blog (you're all showing on the other two), but I'd have to change the layout completely and I'm not comfortable doing that.


Now you have me curious, and because I am curious I do have one teeny, tiny, itsy, bitsy, not-really-that-big-favor to ask of you.  Would all of you be kind enough to post a comment letting me know how you found out about me?  They say that curiosity killed the cat, but everyone always forgets the second part, "Satisfaction brought him back." 



Again, I thank all of you for your interest.   Sincerely, Kimberly S.

Eggs on the Brain

OUTTAKES

• "I am the adult here. I am the adult here.  I don't want to be the adult here. I nominate the cat." -- one of my status posts to FB on a less than smooth day.

•  Josh on a recent visit to my mom's:"Do you have a surprise for me upstairs?"
• Me *embarrassed*: "Aw, baby, please don't..."
• Mom *laughing*: "And who's fault is that?"
• Josh *deadpan*: "Yours."

•  I am going to be a football player when I grow up, and I'm gonna play this *holds arms wide* much! -- Josh

•  Josh: "Huuwanna's family all died."
• Me:  "Of what?"
• Josh *matter of factly*: "Diarrhea. They had a LOT of poop. But Huuwanna has no poop.  He never poops."

•  Josh:"I am going to be a daddy and work in a gas station because it (the pump) counts as fast as me.  My little boy will be called "Huuwanna" or "YuBaba" (*this last is the name of a character from Spirited Away)

On the Friday of Easter Weekend, a stressed mother with four kids had her timing belt go Kabluey! in front of our house...Help didn't arrive for at least three hours...but believe it or not,  this was not a bad experience at all. The house was a wreck before they got here, but most of it was just clean laundry that needed a path beaten through it, and Josh's toy stash...so I wasn't _horribly_ embarrassed.   The kids were very nicely behaved ranging from about 5 to 8, and thankfully, we have a "few" toys around our place, and a good-sized yard, so they dashed around playing basketball or hide and seek or bubbles or whatever with Josh following behind in fascinated thrall, and I did my part to help keep tabs on the ducks and try to destress the frazzled mom.  Sadly, they live in Columbus and were just down for a visit, and we will likely never see them again.  People breakdown out here all of the time...and most of the time, they couldn't break down in a better place -- in spite of the wicked traffic coming around the curves (as I have often said, this is the Land of Fix-It...where they know cars and carpentry and wiring and more). Of all the folks who have had car troubles by our house, they were by far the most pleasant. A while back, there was a horribly drunk, belligerent couple that had a flat, and were cussing and screaming so loud at each other that all of my inlaws, after assessing the situation, returned to their homes, locked the doors,  and kept a hard eye on them while they (the in-laws) did a mental count of all shotgun shells on hand.  As freaked as I was about that duo, I remember I was actually more afraid that someone across the river was going to light a match -- nothing could convince me that there wasn't going to be an alcohol-induced explosion, even at that distance.  The beer fumes just poured out of the couple like liquid nitrogen.  Five days after they were gone, our trees were still having difficulty standing up straight and some of the wildlife had to admit they had a problem and are now in Squirrels Anonymous.

One of the more unexpected things in my life happened the same Friday as the unexpected play date. We had yet another new arrival at our house, and no, it’s still not what you think. Jon came home early (literally pulled in twenty minutes after the family pulled out), and we threw ourselves into the car for a lovely road trip. Now, ostensibly, we were going up to buzz a car dealer and then we were going on a quest for our first Burrito Buggy Burrito of the season. We never made it to the Burrito Buggy. We’d been eyeing a particular car for about two weeks, and going back and forth on whether or not we could even pull off another car for at least two years. (It took Jon seven months to research televisions…by golly, he likes to have all the facts in hand before he makes a decision.) Somehow, the stars aligned on this one. Since it wasn’t moving out quickly enough, they dropped the price a couple of hundred. It scored a 91 on the carfax report and was babied within an inch of its life by the previous owner, and only had 57 thousand miles on it. It’s a cream white (not a glaring WHITE-white)2005 cr-v with a light interior, and we think that was the only real reason it stayed on the lot. Josh managed to be fairly well-behaved throughout the car buying process, which included an hour drive and several hours "in talks", but by the end, he couldn’t express his impatience strongly enough, even with the bribe of a gold balloon. That aside, Josh loves my car so much that he wouldn’t set foot in the little civic from that point on. That wouldn’t have been a bad thing, except that I then had to drive on miles of unfamiliar, curvy roads with white knuckles, while a very smug preschooler grinned all the way home. I made the mistake of letting my mom give it a trial run, and very nearly had to full-body tackle her to pry the keys from her hands – and really, there’s just no way to spin that properly. It would seem, I’m not the only convert. It took me five days before the shock wore off and I started to get excited and silly and absurd about the whole thing. This is the first car that was ever purchased with the intent of being specifically mine. This is my first car. Jon's just going to go out for the next four years and put a bow on it, just in case I forgot that our anniversary is well and truly covered. Of course, it has the added benefit of being able to get Jon to and from work safely in the winter…a rather crucial bonus considering there is so much black ice and river between here and there.  Sweet, wonderful Jon.  Remind me that I owe that good man a burrito.

I shall call it, "The Luggage" after Terry Pratchett's creation. It is a surprisingly spiffy car, despite the moniker. One of the loveliest bits of this whole thing is that for the first time in a long while, my driving phobia is easing up. I just feel safe and relaxed in that car. I’m up high, I don’t feel like I’m going to be crushed by everyone, Josh is far enough in the back seat that he can’t kick the front (as much) and sound in the car is subdued. I can still hear him, but if he starts a tantrum, I can just turn up the radio a little and tune him out until he chills out. The car has more gimmicks and secret compartments than may be truly necessary, but it’s a deeply enjoyable drive…and I wouldn’t mind having this car the rest of my life.

For me, the car was the ultimate…for Josh, though, he had his sights set on only one thing…the Bowling-Alley Easter Egg Hunt (for Operation Feed). He had to wade through several other Easter Egg hunts to get to it, though (Genesis, Two at his School, one at home, and of course, that one). I think I was especially pleased with the first one at his school. We were running late, and they started early…so of course, it could have been a catastrophe of unheard of proportions when we finally pulled in to find that the eggs had already been hunted. God bless the ladies there – they were determined that no one got left out. Since two other little girls were in the same fix, the teachers dashed out and hid some more eggs just for them to find, then all three of them went in to cookies and candy. Then the teachers dashed out again to hide a further batch of eggs for the very small sproglings. It was too adorable (and yet another reason that I am so glad we made the choice we did in sending him there).  He now has enough candy to last him until Halloween...and believe it or not, it really will.

And so we keep moving on. The lilacs have come in bloom. We’ve had a few thundershowers, but on one of the prettier days, I took Josh to the park the other day, and let him pedal around on his little bike. I came to the conclusion that he handles it well enough that we could probably take the training wheels off. Four and a 1/3rd years in…and the training wheels finally come off.

Yeah, that seems fair.

LIFE IS TOO BIG FOR MY HEART -- The Blog of the Very Small Boy

Two days ago, in an effort to encourage Josh's love of books, and his writing skills, we picked up a Mead Primary Journal and started a new tradition.  Before bedtime, Josh sits beside me and tells me his favorite parts of the day, and I write them down.  Then he draws a picture at the top about one of the things he talked about.  I love this!  His eyes light up as he realizes that he can hear his own story back to him.  After thinking about it further, I realized that one of the things that fascinates me most about Josh is his use of language.  He is intuitive, even when he's still reaching for the words, and the unexpected wisdom and the quips I'd never expect to hear from someone still so innocent about life never cease to catch me off-guard. I'm not talking out of Mommy-Bias, and you'll see that soon enough. 




With his permission, I have been granted the privilege of posting his statements, stories, quotes and even his journal in his own blog.  He dictates, and I try to keep up.  On his blog, you will find his own words (I've only taken the liberty of structuring them into poetry). I will include pictures that may not be posted on the KoF blog, and occasionally, pictures he has taken himself. I will continue to post to my normal blogs, but I consider Josh's to be the icing.


I don't know what's going to come of this project.  I only know I don't want to forget it, and I just want to see what happens next.


And so, it is with the greatest pleasure, that I invite you to see the world through his eyes. 

LIFE IS TOO BIG FOR MY HEART

-- The Blog of the Very Small Boy

"Three" Funny.

Out Takes:

• Hearing this a  LOT lately:  "Oh, Kim, you are too funny!"  I want to respond, "That's cool. My personal best is three-funny and but I think I can make it to five-funny by next week if I really work at it."

• Recently, at a certain much-loathed (by me) restaurant, Josh swiped my sandwich and "ate it all gone".  I told him I'd let it slid this time, but the next time he swiped my sandwich, I'd throw the book at him. "No, Mommy. That would hurt."

• My question to Josh, "How does your first banana pepper taste?" His answer, "Like a bee."

• I was dropping Josh off at Mom's for a recent visit.  We hadn't been in the driveway fifteen minutes when he said that I needed to go back home.  When I was still talking to Mom half an hour later, he handed me my coat, and began pulling me towards the door, telling me that I was "wasting his time and cramping his style."

I'mma gonna seriously kick me some groundhog-buttocks.  What in the unholy hemorrhoids of hell was that last February? And seriously, why would someone give that much power to a rodent with anger-management issues, anyway?!!!  Jon stopped counting inches of snow, and merely looked out the window, moaned in agony and more-or-less called off work the entire month.  (And he still has vacation days!!!)  Thankfully, the power stayed on, and we managed to remain healthy and warm through this last ice age.  Josh, of course, was outside every single second, making a gazillion snow angels, and a half dozen snowmen...all of whom wore a frighteningly p.o.'d expression on their faces -- a look not helped by the flaming neon yellow and orange golf balls G.U. Harry used for their eyes.  Not that I can fault G.U. Harry. The man is eighty(-ish) and started traipsing about on our roof with a snowshovel when the snowdams on our eves back up and the water began leaking into our living room window.  Superman's got nothing on Harry, for no sooner had the frantic call gone out than he leaped into action, whipping that shovel around like a ninja -- Hwaa, Wahhhh! and our roof came back to its senses immediately and hasn't dared to leak since. 

We've had a new arrival in our house.  Josh's first imaginary friend, Huuwanna the dragon, has appeared.  I'll let Josh tell you about him: "He has 68 brothers and sisters, and is the youngest."  He started out at 34 years old and seems to age down.  "He has a mother and grandmother (the grandmother is 37 years old)" and they may or may not be dead (now) - don't ask me why. "He is yellow, and brown, and red, and orange...he's about two feet long and is a real dragon.  He has feet, and he'll just fly over you if he wants to." His teachers have been darling about the whole thing, and have said that as long as Huuwanna follows the rules and plays nicely with the other kids, that they are just fine having an extra student each day.  So far, Huuwanna has been declared the most polite dragon anyone has ever "met", and as long as Huuwanna gets to join the party, Josh is only too happy to show him the ropes and teach him the ways of the world, and as a added bonus, Huuwanna gets to sleep on Josh's cot, so Josh is quieter at nap times so he won't wake his little friend (dragons apparently need a lot of sleep, it seems).

*     *     *     *

I have to admit that I may be getting old...okay, okay "old-ish"...I'm now taking pills the size of my head on a daily basis (when I remember).  Well, Jon calls them vitamins and the cannisters call them all vitamins, but darned if they don't look like gel cannonballs.  Maybe they are "family-style" vitamins.  Maybe they are actually escape pods.  No matter how you look at it, even my big mouth seems tiny by comparison.

*     *     *     *     *

I woke up one morning to hear my peeper frogs chirping at full-speed.  For some reason, I didn't think they'd be back already.  I mean, it may be March, but it's also been so cold and weird lately.  They caught me by surprise.  Their return does coincide with a rise in the river...I've lived in this house for years, and I still feel vaguely uneasy when the waters rise.  It still feels like it's watching and waiting. On the other hand,  Josh isn't phased at all.  In fact, he just found out that his school has tadpoles...not just tadpoles, but bullfrog tadpoles, and that they are going to watch them grow and then release them back out when they become adult frogs.  I'm so jealous.  If you've never seen a bullfrog tadpole, it looks like some baby version of the Loch Ness Monster, all green slime and staring yellow eyes (no wonder the book THE MYSTERIOUS TADPOLE was written).  I'm going to have to take pictures with my cell phone, because there seems to be a problem with my camera's memory card. Gack and double gack.  I had a full card (I know, I know) but this is irksome.

*     *      *     *     *

Recently, Josh cashed in his  "Good Boy Star Points" ...for 134, he got a MAJOR SPECIAL DAY...buck a bag o'books at the big library, Kanji Japanese steak house in N'rk -- and I have give some major props to our cook, a young fellow who's tips depend on his showmanship, but who took josh's fears of noise and fire into consideration and toned down his routine substantially (oh hell, yeah, he got a big tip!) -- then, we were off to Toy's R Us for a stash of toys.  After that, it was Magic Mountain, where Josh rode the bumper cars, and flirted with little pixie-girls by smashing into them, and then he was off to the ball-pit where he played and played and played for a full hour. We finished the day by checking out Half-Price Books, and then we dashed home with a little boy who was too tired to know he was supposed to drop...and kept buzzing around and around until he finally couldn't move anymore.

*     *     *     *     *

Last weekend, we took Josh to his first "audience" show at the big library...Pirates of Penzance done by a traveling troupe of  4 players from Opera Columbus On The Go.  Josh behaved well, and the show was very nice...though all of us agreed "Maybel" was used to singing in larger rooms than the itty bitty library auditorium...the young lady had a voice that could knock you back a few feet.  I wasn't certain how four people could pull off a show that traditionally has so many players and harmony requirements, but they managed. Still, their pirate king was not my pirate king.  There really can be only one, and if you haven't seen the rapturous joy of a baby Kevin Kline cavorting in nose-high leather boots and a flippy shirt, then you have missed out on one of the great happy-s of life.

*       *      *       *     *

And now to our last adventure this month.  We stopped at Josh's school to view a special exhibition of Dr. Insecta , expounder-upon-er of Madagascar Hissing Cockroaches, Scorpions and assorted crawling heebie-jeebies.  Harry came along with us, and I think Josh spent most of his time with his head buried in Harry's neck (this after weeks of build up where Josh couldn't WAIT to see all of Dr. Insecta's mult-legged little buddies).  Now, before we even got in the door, we were met by a sign saying, "Warning, this building has been exposed to Conjunctivitis, please wash hands frequently."  But it was Dr. Insecta, and I couldn't keep Josh from seeing Dr. Insecta, not after all of the hype and getting him all worked up to see the show...and it seemed that I wasn't the only one who couldn't back out for a lousy reason like Pink-Eye...Dr. Insecta's room was packed with kids, absolutely packed with kids (though, not surprisingly, I saw far fewer kids there when Josh got dropped off today).

Even with the heads up, because we had turned the furnace off and the fans on this last Saturday evening, Josh's eyes got all watery and he was sniffly.  I held out hope that it was only allergy issues. Still, to make sure, we planned to take the Small Boy up to Urgent Care the next morning so that if he did have the gunk, we could have antibiotics in him before school started.  When morning came, so did more congestion, more eye issues, and the usual stomach issues.  We got him in, found out that he had double-conjunctivitis, double ear-infection, and his chest was wheezy enough that they gave us an inhaler for him, along with the other clear-it-up medication.  Oh, and I've got pink-eye, too.   The fun part is really just trying to give Josh his eye drops...the new kind that they are trying happen to sting.  So, of course, just trying to get him to hold still while he's getting dosed and is screaming and thrashing becomes a lesson in strategy, diplomacy, and balance....and then again, it's a lesson in not-so-much.  Yesterday, I tried to do the dosing at his pace, let him ease into the idea and he ended up dodging me for two hours.  Today, I gave him a heads up that I had to give him his drops in 30 minutes, and I still ended up having to restrain him to dose him.  When I blew on his eyes a moment later,  so that the sting would settle down, he was fine in seconds. But before that, drama, drama, drama.  Why can't all kid's medicine be the pink stuff? All of them love the pink stuff.  You don't have to chase them to take it, they come straight to you and practically thank you for it.  "Oh, Mummy. Best and Most Wonderful Mummy in the Whole Wide World. I am deeply in your debt for looking out for my physical well-being. Where would I be without you, oh Mummy, oh Mummy that I love."  Y-eahhhh...that's a bit thick, even for me.  I'd settle for kid medicine that doesn't require a parent to perform unreasonable feats of contortion to A) avoid being clobbered by the sick sprog and B) get the dose into the sick sprog.

Last night, the second I had dosed Josh and blown into his eyes, Jon came in from visiting his parents.  Of course, Josh gave Jon the reception usually reserved for, oh, Ceasar Augustus...and I was immediately sloughed into the evil queen category.  I'm glad somebody got the hugs and cuteness, but since we're stuck with the drops for the rest of the week, I suppose I'm also stuck polishing my apples and cackling.

*     *     *     *     *     *

Oh, and one more thing.  I've sent my Hum A Few Bars manuscript to the critiquers. Once I hear back from them, I'm on my way to the next stage...and maybe, just maybe, this baby will come out to play after all. Fingers crossed, everyone. Fingers crossed.