| Thursday, November 30, 2006 |
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Slippery When Wet |
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Yesterday I rode in a very tiny Corolla with a very good driver to Omaha for a series of meetings having to do with teenagers . The weather sucked and we debated whether to postpone, but we pressed forward. After all, we were driving away from the freezing rain and sleet that were blanketing KC. I am not a good passenger in any weather, and I was operating on about 40 hours with no cigarettes. The makings of a socktopus sat in my lap, as I was trying to use the 3 hours wisely and occupy myself while the 3 of us gabbed about our jobs that have the same titles, even though the responsibilitites are vastly different. The truck in front of us went off the road and bounced around on the median guardrail. We looked at each other nervously, called our traveling companion in a different car who was at least an hour ahead of us. She assured us that the conditions would improve shortly. We kept on. Soon the windshield wipers were turned off and we were almost going the speed limit, when suddenly we found ourselves sliding across the median, zigzagging toward the oncoming lanes, careening back thru the median, where we precariously paused at the edge of I-29 , then scooched back into the northbound lane and continued on to Omaha. The whole thing probably took about 4 seconds; After about 5 minutes, I stopped shaking. Another minute later, J from the back seat said "What were we talking about?" and I replied, "I don't know, but I think I just swore alot. " In those 4 seconds I did not see my life pass before my eyes. I DID have the realization that I wanted a smokey treat, I DID thank goddess that J in the driver's seat was calm and a good driver, and I DID think to myself, "good grief, I am about to die and there is a vibrator in my backpack, but thank god they won't find me with any cigarettes." Our 3 hour drive took about 4. The return drive was not so easy. Getting to KC was not so bad. It was the drive from the Plaza where my ice-encrusted car was waiting for me and the snow was falling thickly and not at all quietly that tested my non-smoker status. A good half an inch of ice covered the car. I could not open the driver's side door so I had go around and push it open from the inside. I had no ice scraper, no hat, no lunch (breakfast meeting was at nine and it was now 3:00), high heeled boots, stupid gloves, and a mother who would not quit calling my cell phone to ask me where I was. It took an hour to get to K-10. I found 2 peanut butter Lindor balls in my purse that became my lunch. I called Gypsy, I called home, I called Gypsy again to discuss her progress down College Boulevard vs. my progress toward K-10. I called Hussy, who was right behind Gypsy but had to stop for gas (i may not have had anything else, but I did have a half tank of gas). I repeatedly rolled the window down so that I could reach around and yank the windshield wiper after every third swipe and try to knock the ice off it. As I crept away from the Plaza where every car in friggin KC was blocking an intersection, I searched for unsecured wireless networks on my laptop in the front passenger seat so that I could surf the weather online. As soon as I could find one to connect to, I was allowed to slip forward just enough to lose it. I was in hell. After a stop at the farm store in Lawrence for a new heated water bucket for the goaties and some ice melt, I arrived home. My 4 hour drive from Omaha to home took over 7. Next week I have to go to Iowa for a coupla days. I was going to suggest that Kansas secede from our district that stretches from Kansas to Canada and join the one to the south of us that includes Texas, Oklahoma, Arkansas, SouthWestern Missouri, and MEXICO so that I don't have to drive north all the friggin time. Then I turned on the Weather Channel (Jim Cantore is almost as hot as Don Harman - what is it with me and meteorologists?) and saw what is going on south of us. I just need to move to Hawaii. Nearly 72 hours without a cigarette.
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| posted by Rosie @ 11/30/2006 06:37:00 PM |
3 comments
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| Wednesday, November 29, 2006 |
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Today will be a challenge |
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It has been since Monday about 10 p.m. that I have not had any cigarettes. It helped that I felt like yakking all day yesterday and I am still kinda queasy this morning but that is not stopping me from downing a pot of coffee and dumping chipotle salsa all over my sauteed veggies. I'm a glutton for punishment. I have to ride with other people today to Omaha for a series of meetings tonight and tomorrow morning, then come back with them. I hate winter, and I especially hate going anywhere when there is a winter storm advisory, but even more, I hate it when I am not behind the wheel. And I can't smoke all the way because 1) I quit and 2) I'll be in a car with two (other) non-smokers for at least 3 hours. My goal is to sit in the back seat and sew soctopii so that my time is used wisely. I hear tell that Sandusky, Gypsy, and GB are all quitting with me. Hmmmmmmm. I can get thru the next coupla days easily enough - I have a boatload of work to do. The real test will come when I get a drink in hand and other people are smoking around me. Even right now with laptop in lap, giant mug of coffee at my side, and the weather channel telling what's in store, I could almost gag one down, but I can break this classical conditioning situation. It's the beer in one hand that knows that there is supposed to be a smokey treat in the other hand that will really push me to the edge of my willpower. How does one deal with an oral fixation, anyway?
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| posted by Rosie @ 11/29/2006 08:56:00 AM |
1 comments
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| Tuesday, November 28, 2006 |
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Oh Gawd someone please shoot me |
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I haven't said it in a long, long time. "I'll never drink again" has not come out of my mouth since way back in college. Not that I haven't earned myself some winner hangovers, I've just learned to shut up and take my lumps. Today I am not thinking about giving up my favorite poison, but I am thinking about laying down the lighter and not smoking anymore. I have quit smoking several times over the years, with great success at least twice, but the problem is I really don't want to not smoke. Today, even thinking about having a smokey treat makes me run to the hurling throne just in case anything comes out when I dry heave. I smoked too much last night. I have a cigarette hangover. I was warned by Sandusky that I either need to quit or come clean to Roxarita - all that ridiculous sneaking around on Thanksgiving was almost Keystone Cops. The kiddos are gonna figure out in a few years that I can be blackmailed to keep my mother in the closet if I don't do something about it. It's expensive, too. A carton of American Spirits goes for $50, and we go thru probably 2-3 cartons a month. That's some great shoes and handbags that I could be sporting, rather than a cloud of stinky smoke, a lung cookie-laced hack, and tiny lines around my mouth from all that butt sucking. Adam quit cold turkey. He said he was an asshole for about 4 days and then he was done with it. I don't even smoke as much as he did. I can do this. I'll have the Kiddo for 2 weeks straight over Xmas before he jets off to NYC to see his Dad, so that will be a good time to not party quite so much and maybe forego the smokey treats. Please help me in this endeavor!
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| posted by Rosie @ 11/28/2006 11:40:00 AM |
4 comments
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| Wednesday, November 22, 2006 |
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Thanksgivings and Misgivings |
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We are upon the time of year that I look forward to most - when friends and family set aside their differences for a day (or not) and sit down together for an all-out gutbuster and the occasional knock down drag out family fight. My family never fights. We don't know how. We were all raised to suck it up when we were upset and turn all that anger into passive-aggressive bullshit. It makes for mellower Thanksgivings and family gatherings in general. Friends would return from family get togethers and tell the most outrageous stories about drunk grandparents hurling insults at their beloved offspring, hairpulling twin aunts who couldn't be nice for one day, and bratty cousins who were baked all day. So foreign to me! Some of my favorite Thanksgiving memories: * As a child we met in the basement of Carrie Nation's home in Medicine Lodge, Kansas because we wouldn't fit in any of our houses. I barely remember toddling around and being given fruit from the amaretto sours of the grown ups. * The time we got my dementia-touched grandma drunk and played Monopoly all day. We were in Conway in the house I grew up in and Grandma had moved in with us because she and Granddad were beating each other after 50 years of marriage. I had never liked that woman (not a fun, cookie baker of a grandma) and that day I kinda softened to her since she was tipsy and not so mean. * Sometime around 1992 I went to California with Harley's daddy for a wedding. We drove to Ensenada, Mexico and spent Thanksgiving with friends on the beach in their rented house. It was very strange for me since I was young, clueless, surrounded by older people who were hard partiers, and we were all nestled into this amazing house on the beach while stray dogs starved at our doorsteps and the locals were scraping to get by. Definitely a punctuation point on being thankful. * The Thanksgiving after I got divorced. I hated my family and they hated me (all passively, of course). Boyfriend and I had Thanksgiving dinner and festing at Brenda and Big Harley's house on 6th Street. Jenna's then-boyfriend Gary knocked a glass of red wine over on Bren's granny's tablecloth, so I covered for him and blamed it on the stray cat they had taken in. It worked, Jenna and Gary got married, and we confessed a couple of years ago that it wasn't the cat. * Five years ago when Sean and I had just started publicly dating and he and his mom came and joined us. He was not a big fan of Thanksgiving until that point, when he realized that you really can just get together with the people you want to be with and not be forced to hang out with folks who make you unhappy. * Three years ago when Berger was with us for Thanksgiving. "Berger" was Elvis Berger, a World World II vet and retired math teacher from Lawrence who had alienated his family by being an unpleasant old cuss, so I took care of him. He and Mark talked military, Lisa pulled the Jew card on him, and he smiled and ate pie all day long. He died the next summer and is buried in Oak Hill Cemetery. Was that the same year that Shay drove the 4 wheeler into a fence and tried to decapitate himself? * Two years ago when we over-served Shay and convinced him that it was hot and he needed to take his clothes off. We then posed him with my shearling Santa hat and The Joy of Cooking so that all you can read is "Joy" in this obviously drunk, mostly naked guy's arms who looks like he had an all night ski party (sniff sniff) with Santa's elves. * Tomorrow. I am sure that by this time Friday something really exciting and fabulous will have happened. Gypsy will call from Dallas, Lauren will call from Southern California. Uncle John's quiet demeanor and practical jokes will be sorely missed. First-timers will join us for the holiday - which starts at noon today - and some folks will make their last appearance here as they move on down the road to different callings. Others will continue a tradition that began many years ago for my family in the basement of a member of the Women's Christian Temperance Union. How far we have come from our roots. Happy Thanksgiving Everyone. Be well.
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| posted by Rosie @ 11/22/2006 07:46:00 AM |
3 comments
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| Thursday, November 16, 2006 |
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Family tradition |
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 Last Christmas I started a tradition that crazy Aunt Rosie will make each of her nieces, nephews, and her own kiddo a sock creature from the "original rockford red heel" sock. Last year they all got the original sock monkey. To carry on this new tradition, this year they will all get the socktopus, pictured at right. This is what happens to crafty, homecki types when they are doped up on prescription narcotics and they can't get off the sofa without strategic advance planning.I go to the doc Friday to learn what will happen to the cast on my leg, and hopefully rid myself of these damn crutches which are going to get me more hurt than I already was.
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| posted by Rosie @ 11/16/2006 09:38:00 PM |
4 comments
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Two good things |
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 Hound dogs are a good thing.Walker is a Tennessee Walker Treeing Coonhound mix that I got from the humane society about 4 years ago, and he really knows how to chill. Please take inspiration from his laziness. I certainly have. The other good thing is on Marisa's blog, so go look at her Fork You blog (from yesterday) which is a cooking show she is podcasting. She'll teach you how to make sushi Philadelphia style.
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| posted by Rosie @ 11/16/2006 11:17:00 AM |
1 comments
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Regression |
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  I have discovered that every morning at 9:00 a.m., when Montel takes over after my beloved Fox4 News, I can click the remote a mere four times to wander down memory lane. That's right, I watch Sesame Street for an hour while I write, knit, pick my toes, whathaveyou. Luis is currently carrying a crib with Gordon while Elmo and Big Bird interrogate them about adoption. The child to be adopted is destined to arrive at Sesame Street today. I can't wait to see how they do this - you know, deal with diversity and the rainbow-colored cast on SS. OMG, Bob is on and he is ancient! Oh, here's the baby... and it is a boy from Latin America. He is being adopted by a single woman who appears to be of Anglo ancestry. So on the screen, we have: Asian male, Latino male, African American male, Latina female, caucasian female, caucasian male, Latino bambino, Zoey Monster, Telly Monster, Cookie Monster, Elmo, Burt, a talking dog, and Big Bird. I challenge you to find as diverse a group of creatures interacting without conflict in any setting.I am trying to think back to the days of Mr. Looper's corner store and determine if SS was as diverse when I was young and was expected to watch it, or has it changed dramatically? You have probably heard about the more newsworthy changes to the show: Everyone can see Snuffalupagus now (not seeing him was teaching children that grownups wouldn't believe them when they were on the receiving end of bad touches); Mr Hooper/Looper died in reality, so they wrote it into the show to deal with loss; Cookie Monster doesn't eat cookies constantly (I always thought he was a bad influence anyway - teaching kids how to perfect an eating disorder by having his throat removed); and Oscar the Grouch is married and has children. Celebs vie for the chance to guest star on SS, more so than for the SNL host spot, and the writing on SS is better than SNL in my opinion. My favorite episode is where Jamie Lee Curtis introduces Elmo as a new character in the menagerie of colorful, animated fluff. Obvious changes I am noticing today: *I am learning sign language - a new word every day, Today's word: exercise. *A dancing millipede just sang to me about exercise. *"One of these things doesn't belong" tells me to get up and move; Sitting around doesn't belong. *There seems to be less emphasis on sharing and learning to count and read, lots of emphasis on cultural diversity, acceptance of differences, and dealing with obesity issues. * Characters, human and muppet, of all levels of handicapability, family composition, and ethnic background but nobody overweight other than Big Bird, who could be well within the acceptable weight range for a canary of his height. I cannot find documentation on the USDA mypyramid site for him. *The Noodle Brothers are dancing - a bang over the head about exercise. I've noticed the McDonald's commercials that air on Nick and Disney stations are all about Ronald being athletic and they really don't try to overtly sell any food to kids. Some of the kids at church indicated that they get the damn message - Move it! Get off your asses! They are tired of hearing it. They get it at school all day long. When did education stop being about the 3 R's and turn toward obesity (school lunches are notoriously fat-filled and carb-loaded), how to turn your parents in for drug use, and using puppets to teach good touches vs. bad? I guess the assumption is that the parents don't have the time, the skills, or the wherewithal (include their perceived responsibility to address the need, which may or may not exist) to face all of the crap that kids have to deal with in our current social construct. I'll end my rant with one of my fave SS songs, which I have on CD and they just sang: We Are All Earthlings... Some of us have feathers Some of us have fins Some of us are furry And some of us have skins We swim and hop and slither And leap and soar and run And we all live together On a planet of the sun We are all earthlings We are all earthlings Spinning around together On a planet of the sun We live in the desert We live inside a tree We live high in the mountains Or deep beneath the sea We live in tents and cabins In houses just for one And we all live together On a planet of the sun We are all earthlings We are all earthlings Spinning around together On a planet of the sun Floating down a river Swinging through the trees Climbing up a mountain Going with the breeze All of us can have a happy healthy place to be If we can float and swim and climb in earthling harmony We are all earthlings We are all earthlings Spinning around together On a planet of the sun Spinning around together On a planet of the sun
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| posted by Rosie @ 11/16/2006 09:01:00 AM |
1 comments
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| Wednesday, November 15, 2006 |
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Thank goddess for cooking shows |
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So I am offically dying of boredom. As much as I like to lay around, this is not fun. I stink. I have been in my nightshirt for way too long now. I watched all my Sex and the City tivos and I have been wowed by Ming Tsai, Paula Dean, Emeril, Rachel, that skinny italian chick with the enormous head, Bobby Flay (I want to flay him) and an assortment of lesser known foodies who want to teach me how to have a fuss-free Thanksgiving. PLEASE! Thanksgiving is all about the fuss. I changed my phone ring tone to a rooster crowing because I thought it was appropriate, but all it does is scare me. I went to Costco yesterday and there is absolutely no room in this house for one more grocery. I am doing my best to NOT eat everything in sight, and it helps that I can hardly get up to roam the kitchen opening and reopening the frig to see what looks like it wants to be eaten. I got smart and bought 15 pounds of grapefruit so I can tediously peel each one section by section because I can't stand the skin that envelops each segment. Ming is cooking a Hawaiian fish once reserved for royalty called moi. I don't think I could eat it since it is too close to moist, one of the words I dislike. Look back to Oh, How I love words from February 23 to review the list of words I like and words I dislike. And blogger made me upgrade to Beta Blogger. I don't like change, and I especially don't like change that benefits someone other than me. It appears that this change benefits google and blogger and does not really do anything helpful for the users of either. I guess that is what you get when you use other people's stuff for free. My ankle feels really crooked and keeps making me think of Misery and that scene where Kathy Bates hobbles James Caan and smacks the shit out of his feet with a sledge hammer, snapping his ankles in one of the most horrifyingly personal attacks I have ever seen in film. Wow, I like loritab.... and ducks.
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| posted by Rosie @ 11/15/2006 02:47:00 PM |
1 comments
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So a funny thing happened on the way to the kitchen |
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 Good morning! Some of you know that I have insomnia. I wake up nearly every night from about 1 to 3, and I obsessively clean, or watch TV. Last night, right on time I awoke at 12:57 and decided to bake the cookies that I am sending to the UUA Washington office (they bought me in a service auction) because I had already cleaned the pantry Tuesday morning. A slight miscalculation of the stairs and next thing I knew, I was laying (lying? - I hate that verb) through the threshold into the mud room, banging on the floor for Sean to come up from the basement and drag my black and blue ass to the hospital. (edit: Sean thinks i made it sound like he did not hear "the massive thump" as I hit the floor. He heard. I was banging the floor as I dropped several F Bombs) Mom came over and stayed all night, and she just made me bacon, eggs, and hash browns for breakfast - this rules! No one has made me breakfast without me having to pay them in years! She probably used metal on my teflon pans - oh well.So, I am full of loritab and ibuprofen, and I am already hating crutches, and I have a minor break in my ankle with a fiberglass cast immobilizing the whole thing. I need to go to Dr. Schrader to see how we'll proceed but I am pretty sure that I won't be able to drive for a few days since I really can't move my toes. Please come see me! Please chat with me online! On gmail and YIM I am beckihomecki. You might think that I am used to being home alone most of the day since I do 80% of my work in my chair, but this is going to be hard for me. No treadmill, no up and down the stairs a thousand times, no running to the school 3x a day to deposit and retrieve kiddos, no obsessive cleaning of the coffee pot or refrigerator. Oh, I am bored already. I'll post what happens on Montel later. So Friday - not sure if I'll be up, but I'll bathe nonetheless. David is coming over to smoke some briskets for the Last Tailgate, so feel free to come over Friday after work and entertain me with Yahtzee/Kniffel and dominoes. Maybe I can even pull out a jigsaw puzzle. Ohhhhh, I hate this.
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| posted by Rosie @ 11/15/2006 07:24:00 AM |
5 comments
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| Tuesday, November 14, 2006 |
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What do you call those pills that make you never have to sleep and you can get lots of stuff done? |
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That is what I asked the Hubby a while back when I felt like I had too many things to get done and not enough time to do them in. He refused to answer. Good call. Reading Gypsy's account of her list-making obsession reminded me of a conversation I had recently about mental illness and mania. My question is this: is it possible to be just the right amount of manic? Can a person be deliriously happy all the time without being thought of as a clueless twit or someone perpetually wearing rose coloured glasses? One of the main points of the DSM IV-TR Edition is that a person could have all of the indicators for any illness addressed in the DSM but if these indicators do not cause the person any problems, it doesn't friggin matter. So I have felt manic lately, but I don't think it is causing any major problems; it helps me get things done, and I like getting things done. It happens every year about this time - the flurry of all the parties compounded with the stress of working for a church during the holidays. Especially a church that calls the Sunday before Xmas "the Christmas Program" and then tells me I am focussing too much on Christianity. Who's crazy? Etymology lesson: Mania comes from the Greek mainesthai "to rage, go mad," and from this same root, we got maenad, the name used to refer to the female members of Dionysus' orgiastic cult. From Answers.com: "In Greek mythology, Maenads were female worshippers of Dionysus, the Greek god of mystery, wine and intoxication, and the Roman god Bacchus. The word literally translates as "raving ones". They were known as wild, insane women who could not be reasoned with. The mysteries of Dionysus inspired the women to ecstatic frenzy; they indulged in copious amounts of violence, bloodletting, sexual activity, self-intoxication, and mutilation. They were usually pictured as crowned with vine leaves, clothed in fawnskins and carrying the thyrsus, and dancing with wild abandon." So somehow we ladies made a leap from being slutty partiers with a Greek sugardaddy and a penchant for mob behavior, to being mentally ill women who need depakote in order to function on a day-to-day basis. What changed?
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| posted by Rosie @ 11/14/2006 07:21:00 PM |
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| Monday, November 13, 2006 |
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Could have been the whiskey |
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Might have been the gin. Remember that great party song from high school - Wasn't that a Party? I woke up this morning with that song ringing in my head. Although I never drink gin or whiskey anymore, I sure had me some tequila, hot damn, and my beverage of choice - barley pop. I'm not sure if anything else passed my lips, but it wouldn't surprise me if it did. Despite the cold, the wind, and the snow/rain, dozens of friends showed up, and some fire department vols from Willow Springs Township. We didn't burn up anything really important that was not destined for the fire - that tree in the goat pasture smoldered throughout Saturday and finally died down. Thanks for coming, everyone. You left some things behind: Sandra Boynton book Moo, Baa, and La La La!; A very cute stuffed monkey; Cobalt blue thinsulate glove, on the smallish side; Gray Eddie Bower wool jacket, size M, with one glove in one pocket and nested gloves in the other; Gray nylon glove with black trim, largish; metal cake pan; some other assorted dishes (some of you know this will make me crazy). Update: A platter with "count your blessings" on it; A pillow in a light blue case; a clear, colorless, glass baking dish about 7 x 11. That's just what I found in the house. I haven't even roamed the grounds yet. Lemme know what else you lost here and I'll take a closer look around. See you at FSB tonight for Jim's birthday!
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| posted by Rosie @ 11/13/2006 09:16:00 AM |
6 comments
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| Friday, November 10, 2006 |
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Oh Zephyr winds that blow on high, |
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Lift me now so I may fly. It's the day I look forward to every year - almost as much as Thankgiving. Thanks to Don Harman (whom I still love even though he just returned from his one year anniversary trip to Vegas), who I neglected to invite, we have been cursed today with 15 mile an hour winds. Poor piglet. We'll figure something out: smaller fire, several smaller fires, burning down house, etc. The show must go on - who is bringing the elephant to burn in effigy?
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| posted by Rosie @ 11/10/2006 01:51:00 PM |
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| Wednesday, November 08, 2006 |
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It's a great day to be a Liberal on the high plains |
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O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay! We have slain the Republicans!!!! I'm no political analyst, and I am pretty pumped about yesterday's poll results. Aside from my incredible friend Goddess Going There not winning in the **** district in her battle for state rep (She came damn close - she rocks!), I pretty much got what I wanted. Not only did my candidates win, I have renewed faith in the people of my state, and nation. We came out to vote in record numbers, we fought some incredibly hard battles, we had a near-unknown candidate beat the incumbent who had the Prez stumping for him (maybe not such a good idea to have W and Dick on your side these days), even the nutty Missourians passed ALL stem cell research! And best of all, Phreaks like Phil Kline have been told how we feel about their misguided attempts to save us from ourselves. Please, fight real crime, stay out of our medical records. Even our neighbors to the North in S Dakota showed that not everyone in the heartland is a conservative kook bent on controlling everyone else's behavior, or making them pay unheard of emotional costs to atone for seeming indiscretions - those sluts should have to raise their babies - right? Especially the ones that dressed so whoorishly that some poor guys had to go and rape them because they were driven wild with passion for their bodacious tatas. So, my attitude is that things are looking up again: Sarge will get in to Topeka tomorrow, and hopefully we'll get the need to control the Middle East out of our blood soon; We'll have the bonfire Friday and some sort of metaphorical phoenix will rise from the ashes; and the Jabberwock has been slain by the snicker-snack of the vorpal blade of Reason.
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| posted by Rosie @ 11/08/2006 08:32:00 AM |
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| Sunday, November 05, 2006 |
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Overheard in my truck today... |
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First 13-year old Girl: So, what do you think of weeds? Second 13-year-old girl: Weeds are hard to get rid of. Me: Are you two talking about boys? First 13 YOG: We're not very subtle, are we? Me: Don't worry about it, the boys will never figure it out. They then explained to me that some boys are flowers, even though some are not the most fragrant or beautiful in the meadow, and some are just weeds - hard to get rid of and growing in places you don't want them to be. So would the boys figure it out? My first guess is that they were talking about the maryjane, but they are too clever to call it weed, and I am guessing they would never talk about it in front of me. It takes a few more years of trustbuilding before my teens talk about partying in front of me. I scored points years ago with my then-seniors when I turned them onto vitamin B to help with the hangover factor. I figured I could tell them not to party, and they would think I was a ninny and do it anyway, or I could help them recover and get their butts to their jobs and classes. I struggle with the hypocrisy of drug use and drinking. I partied my ass off, mostly just drinking (thank goddess they invented wine coolers when I was in HS - praise Bartle and James), got great grades, held a job, did extracurriculars, didn't die in a firey wreck, and who the hell would I be if I told my high schoolers to not drink? I sure as hell am not going to encourage it, and I'm not the cool older friend who buys them beer. I honestly think they drink less than they smoke, since the cheeb is easier for them to get, and has less noticeably negative side effects. One of my 9th graders told me last week that kids in his school were doing heroin in the bathroom. HEROIN! What is going on?!! I don't expect every kid to be in their church youth group (if they even have a church/synagogue/coven/whathaveyou), become an Eagle Scout, get straight A's or those other things that are supposed to identify "good kids", but can't they just be kids? So I spent the afternoon again wrangling teenagers, trying to keep my Mom from ruining all their fun, and listening to one of my friends complain about his father-in-law, the retired marine who forgets that everyone else is not a marine. My mom bought the youth group in the church auction to come out to her house and do some yard work. They drug downed branches around and threw them into the truck for the burn heap, flirted, ate, raked leaves when one of them lost a ring in the grass, and goofed off. At one point they were throwing leaves and jumping in piles of them and Mom said, "They're acting like children." I had to remind her that they are children. They are supposed to act like that, not shoot up heroin in their high school bathroom. Not exactly what I was hoping for in a Sunday afternoon, but OK nonetheless. What I was really looking for was a beer, followed by a nap. I hope that that the teens learn as much from me as I do from them, and I can always sleep when I'm dead.
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| posted by Rosie @ 11/05/2006 05:02:00 PM |
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| Wednesday, November 01, 2006 |
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And the winner is.... |
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 in the category for Cutest Viking....The Kiddo. Aren't you glad he's not a Golem? He's already decided that next year he wants to be a gladiator, so that I can work on that costume early, and not the day before it is needed. So, back to planning for Bonfire, Thanksgiving, and The Brewers' Guild Holiday Bash. So many parties, so little time.
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| posted by Rosie @ 11/01/2006 08:14:00 AM |
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