Blind but Beautiful

For 42 years, I had perfect vision. My mother-in-law called me "eagle eyes" as well as a few other things I can't print here because I don't have that precautionary thing on my blog telling you it is R rated. Let's just go with the "eagle eyes" and be happy.
I am not proud of this now, but I did make fun of my friends that were older than me when they had to hold things out with extended arms in order to see them. I have always told you I am the same in real life as I am on here. This ridicule is further proof. I particularly liked to make fun of them when they couldn't use the phone book because they couldn't read it.

But, as they say, payback is a mother-in-law.

Anyway, at 42 I began to notice that the eyes in needles were shrinking. After that it was a slippery slope until I gave in three years later and got some reading glasses. I did not wear them on a fashionable string around my neck. Thankfully, the year my husband wanted to buy one of those for me for a birthday present, one of my kids tactfully asked him if he was out of his mind. Crisis averted.

A couple of years after that I got prescription glasses that I can wear all the time. Cute ones.
Everything was going swimmingly. Oh sure, gone were the days that I could read anything without my glasses. I could no longer remove a splinter even with them on. And that phone book - curse those people. I had no idea a font could even be that small.
Life was good until a month ago when I decided to buy a magnifying mirror that attaches to my bathroom mirror. You know, just to help me see a stray eyebrow or so.Holy Grand Canyon, was that my face? Granted, I have never shelled out the big bucks for those expensive anti-wrinkle creams but you would think some of that stuff I have slathered on over the years would have made my face at least still look human. And how in the world were small children and woodland creatures not falling into my pores? I've seen potholes smaller than what I'm carrying around everyday.
It took me several days to pluck and prune my way around my eyebrows. Apparently, I am genetically linked to Larry Hagman.
So, while I'm slightly more depressed about the way I actually look now that I'm no longer happily lapping along the banks of deNile, I take comfort in the fact that people are not averting their eyes quite as much. There's just one problem.

Depth perception. It is awfully difficult to stand the correct distance from that mirror and see what is going on. Which is why last night instead of plucking a stray eyebrow, I forcefully tweezed a big hunk of skin off my face.

Go on, you young people. Laugh. Laugh long and hard. Because you know what.
Your day is coming.

More Points about Celebrities

In a move that made perfect sense to me, Amy Winehouse is now the proud owner of new breasts.

Yes, those were the only things keeping her from being the perfect woman. I can see that if you have reached the pinnacle of Amy Winehouse, you might sit around and ponder what you could possibly do to better yourself. Think, think, think. There must be something. Oh, wait. There it is. The only thing left to work on is the chest size. Congrats Amy. Great decision.

In related news, Jon Gosselin is holding doors open for women.
Kanye West has vowed to help the struggling Cuban economy.And Lindsay Lohan has promised to not wear white after Labor Day.
Ahh, all is perfect in celebrityville. And we owe it all to Amy. What an inspiration and leader she is.

I wonder if she has any ideas about health care.

Adventures on Facebook

We are a facebook family. Our oldest kids have had their facebooks for a few years but my husband and I really didn't start ours until the beginning of the summer. We had heard from enough parents of college kids telling us that facebook was the one sure way to have a little peek into our kids' lives. We're no dummies. We knew a good morsel of advice when we heard it.I'm mostly friends with family. At first, when the shiny gleam was still on it and it had that new facebook smell, I befriended a small group of people I had gone to high school with. And had not talked to since high school.

Well, there's a reason for that.

Turns out, if you haven't talked to someone in almost 30 years, you're probably not going to enjoy getting updates all day long of what they have been doing or which dwarf they are most like according to the latest facebook poll. The worst for me has been two people who have begun a relationship since I started my facebook. Sugar drips off the screen when those two are on. I thought only lovestruck teenagers wrote with such saccharine.
I was wrong.

But my facebook is mostly fine. I don't do much on there except peek into my kids' lives without leaving any trace. Turns out that leave no trace adage is just as useful on facebook as it is in the wilderness.
My husband's facebook? Now that is a different story all together. He has a stalker.A male stalker.

This guys puts the creep in creepy. Every little thing my husband writes on there, this guy comments on. And in creepy, stalkerish ways. Things about how much our kids love their dad (he's never met our kids), what good parents we are (he's never met me), how he wants my husband to give our "beautiful daughter a hug from him".

Ewwww. And my husband wants to "defriend" this guy. Why doesn't he, you ask. And yes, that is a good question. Here's the answer. Our kids won't let him.

Turns out, they are peeking into our facebooks too. And laughing their heads off.
You have to hate a level playing field in parenting.

The Concept Car of My Future

Dennis LeRoy Anderson, a 62 year old Minnesota man, pleaded guilty to driving his motorized La-Z-Boy chair while intoxicated. Apparently, he had 8 or 9 beers at a bar and then drove this bad boy home.
No, he shouldn't have driven while intoxicated, especially since he hit a parked car, but let's get over these criminal actions and focus on what is important.

You can drive a La-Z-Boy? Oh sweet nectar of life, this may be the answer to all of my problems.

Not since Bed Knobs and Broomsticks has anyone dared to solve the age-old question of why we don't travel in complete relaxation mode.Oh, sure. Some of these fancy new automobiles have luxury features. DVD players galore. Fancy features that allow the car to park itself. But I ask you, do they come with an elevating foot rest?

Imagine the possibilities. Waiting in that horrible school pick-up line. All the other mothers tucked away in their matching minivans. Not you. No. You are kicked back in your recliner, shades on, enjoying the afternoon. Trusty beverage in the singular built in cup holder. Now that's living.Appointments and errands? You'd just stay in the chair. Drive that puppy right into the waiting room of the office. No more hard, straight backed waiting room chairs for you. And shopping. I'm pretty sure the aisles at Target are wide enough to accommodate your standard sized La-Z-Boy.
Yes sir. While I don't condone Mr. Anderson's drinking and driving habit, I have to tip my hat to this man and his ingenuity. I'm thinking if Detroit is smart, this could be the concept that pulls them out of the slump they are in.

I'm already planning how to accessorize mine.

Sharing some Blame

I was not near a TV or my computer when the balloon scare riveted the nation. Fortunately, I missed the grueling two hours when apparently the country was united in fear and prayer for the safety of six year old Falcon Heene. When I finally learned about the incident, Falcon had just been found and I was able to breath a sigh of relief along with so many others.
Only to find out a few days later that the parents are now probably going to face a myriad of charges related to the incident and the belief that the whole turmoil was orchestrated by the father and possibly the mother for media attention.

Disgusting.

But, I'm going to go out on a limb here. I'm going to purpose that while, if these allegations are true, the Heenes are criminals, society is at least partially to blame.

Here is a family who has already made money appearing on a reality show called Wife Swap. Twice. The producer of that show had a show in development about the Heenes. TLC was pitched a reality show idea by Heene.

What have we created? In a culture where "entertainment" is defined by who can be more uber-fertile than the next gal, where we watch total strangers romp in hot tubs, make out and a few days later promise to love each other for the rest of their days, where we love to watch people do and eat things that make us want to vomit, how can we expect people not to do bizarre things to chase fame and fortune.

Even fleeting fame and a small fortune.

Last week when I wrote my post on my children and their career goals, a few commenters pointed out how great it was to hear of kids that didn't want to be reality show stars. It had never occurred to me that this would be a career goal for anyone. But of course it is. It's almost all they see. It's a large portion of what we spend our time talking about. And our reality show contestants are our celebrities of today. They are our Grace Kellys and our Robert Redfords. Oh my.

I'm not saying reality shows are inherently evil or we are all doomed if we watch them. Not at all. But, I do think we might need a little balance. A little less media attention to the bizarre antics of folks. It seems to me like a disproportionate number of children are being negatively impacted by these people trying to one-up each other.

I'm glad Falcon Heene was found with no bodily harm.

I just hope he is safe.

More Confessions

As an astute observer of the world, I have a new question I am pondering. Why are some confessions so easy to accept while others are not?
As I grapple with this question, I am struck by the fact that the worse the crime - the more offensive the act - the easier it seems for society to forgive and forget. As I mentioned in an earlier post, Roman Polanski is a prime example. Drug and rape a 13 year old girl? Apparently, lots of folks have already let that one slide. Cheat on your spouse? Practically a prerequisite for public service jobs these days.
However, there are issues I cringe about commenting on when I am at your blogs. Crimes I am committing that touch such a visceral nerve that I just know you all will never forgive me. Crimes such as...

I don't like dogs.
There. I've said it. Now don't get all riled up yet. I'm not going to sneak past your invisible fence and harm poor Fido anytime soon. I'm just not going to go out of my way to pet Fido or offer up my crotch for his smelling pleasure.

But admit it. Any of you that are dog people are right now wondering what could have gone so wrong in my formative years to make me such a warped adult.

Another area that usually gets a less than desirable reaction - when I admit to people that I don't eat meat. Yikes. I can hear you all screaming through the screen. It really is OK. I don't mind that some or most of you all eat meat. My own children eat meat. I feed it to them. Oh no. Now I've got the vegetarians mad at me too.
So why this imbalance? Why do issues such as which type of pet we like or what we eat cause longer and more vehemently written comments than lying, cheating, or stealing? The only thing I can imagine is that we tend to think that the smaller issues are ones that people are judging each other on. Childbirth falls into this category. Thank goodness I'm covered on that one. I've had everything from a scheduled c-section, to a natural hospital birth to a home birth. I struggled with infertility for years and was on two lists to adopt. I had twins, singleton births and a miscarriage.

It's a minefield out there just trying to decide what truths to admit to and which ones to keep to myself. So I've decided to just be completely honest and trust that you all will accept the real me.

But I bet you still think less of me because I don't like dogs.

Of careers and children

I think that one of the biggest responsibilities of me as a parent is to encourage my children to find and follow their passions in life. I would love to think that each of them will choose a career that is a joy to them - not a job that is drudgery to go to every day. However, that is often a struggle.

I have found that I am limited in what I can expose my children to based on the people I know. Of course, many careers get tremendous exposure from the media. I'm sure that's how little boys and girls have always dreamed of being an astronaut. But think about all the careers that aren't so glamorous and don't get that exposure. How would my children even know to dream of such things?
The struggle goes much further than that. In our society, it seems we limit which careers we think are the correct ones for children to aspire to. My daughter has always wanted to be a teacher. What is the comment she has heard the most often? "Why would you want to do that? You are so smart. You could be anything," Not exactly a glowing recommendation for the esteem teachers receive. However, she has not been dissuaded. But even with the negative comments she received from peers and other adults, she did get tremendous encouragement from her own teachers. And there are multiple community resources and groups for aspiring teachers. We can all continue to hold out hope that some smart people will become teachers.
Not every career path has even that much support. One of my sons wants to be a writer. Oh my. The looks I get from people as a response to that seem to be saying, "Well, at least he doesn't want to be an artist. Still, you'll be supporting him all of his life."
And the community support? Non-existent. At least here. Maybe some of you who live in larger metropolitan areas would have some support. Here, I actually had his sixth grade teacher pull me aside and caution me that I would have to protect him as he grew up so his gift of writing would not be extinguished from him altogether. There's a little parental burden to drop onto someone.

Where would any of us be without great writers? What would we have learned in life? Where would the pleasure have come from? Even in this day of technology, we cannot continue to grow and thrive without gifted writers.

So I'm trying. I know nothing about the business of writing but I am blessed to have some friends through this blog that are successful writers that have passed on some tips and encouragement to our family. These women have helped me tremendously. But, it isn't just me and my son they are helping. They reach out to all writers. And they have a wonderful online literary journal that is re-launching this week. I wanted to give each of you the information and encourage you to check it out.

You are cordially invited to attend an "open house" beginning Wednesday, October 14, in honor of the newly renovated Rose &Thorn Journal: http://www.roseandthornjournal.com

Drop by, sign up for the newsletter, check out the new digs (and blog!), follow us on Twitter and Facebook, leave us your comments/thoughts, and wish us well!

Rose &Thorn is a quarterly literary journal featuring the voices of emerging and established authors, poets and artists.

Now...go enjoy the open bar and appetizer spread!

Angie Ledbetter &Kathryn Magendie
Co-Editor/Publishers
Rose & Thorn Journal

I hope you will find a little time to show these women some support and encouragement in their efforts.

A Question of Happiness

My college son is taking a course called "Perennial Questions and Modern Manifest" which I cannot explain the meaning at all to you except to tell you that best I can figure, colleges charge $1000 per letter in the course title. If you remember that, you will never again wonder why your darling offspring are no longer in "English" or "Math".
He has tried numerous times to explain this course to me and give me details about the professor and the discussions that occur in the class. After a minute or so, I promise you his voice magically transforms into the teacher's voice from the Charlie Brown movies and I no longer hear a word the boy says. I smile sweetly. He hasn't caught on.
I did catch enough to know that this is some sort of philosophy class and the professor is quite taken with the idea of child-like happiness versus mature happiness. Apparently they have spent hours discussing whether a trip to McDonald's can in fact give you true happiness. The professor contends that it never can while the students of course think it would. This explains why most of us would rather hang out with the students than spend five minutes with the professor.
My son is having the hardest time blindly accepting this man's theories and ideas. Which is great. That is what college is all about - discovering your own beliefs and values. Questioning authority.

But once again, I find when I search my heart, I am to blame for my son's inability to agree with this man. My son lived 18 years with me - a case study in child-like happiness.

I am a happy person. Almost all the time. And yes, I have some large things that are the foundation of my happiness - health, I would say love but I'm pretty sure the professor lists that as a child-like pursuit, a home, etc. But little things make me happy too.

Oh so very happy.

And I like to focus on those small things. I spent years teaching my kids to do the same thing. I have told each of my kids so many times that every day of their lives, when they wake up they will have a choice. A choice to be happy or not.As for me, I'm going with the happy.
Child-like or not. It is working for me. Now I realize some people are not this lucky and have medical issues that truly prevent them from being happy. But most of us can choose. And don't we all know those people who seem to never want to be happy? I actually go out of my way to avoid those people. I do. I even skip social situations where I know I will be in a small group with a person like that.

So what if a bag of Doritos, a cool fall breeze, the smell of cinnamon, or the purr of a cat makes me happy? I'll just continue to smile my child-like happy smile and spread the joy.

I think the perennial question is why everyone wouldn't want to do the same.

I don't like the mirror

I am so tired of the way I look.

Not so much physically. Not my body or my hair or anything like that. Frankly, I don't want to think about that aspect of how I look too much because if I wanted to change those things, that would entail work. On my part. Like exercise. And I'm just not prepared to go there.
No, what I am so tired of is how I dress. I look frumpy. Tired. And I don't look like I was stylish a few years ago. I pretty much have a look that screams that I haven't ever been stylish.
Most days, I'm just here at home and the only poor souls that are subjected to seeing me are relatives. Since I still do all the laundry, cooking, and shopping, chances are good that they aren't going to complain anytime in the near future.
Occasionally I do venture outside the house. It is on these days that I am so very disappointed in myself. Because inside myself I feel young, vibrant, appealing.

Outside, I'm a mess.
But I'm caught in that time of life where I look foolish in clothes designed for teenagers. And I don't really want to wear clothes that look too mature.

So, what's a 40-something woman to do?

Oh well. I guess I'll just continue to dress old and wrinkly. At least my clothes match my skin.

I'd love a celebrity-free world

Celebrities drive me nuts. I barely watch television but somehow they manage to invade my life and make me crazy anyway.

My latest frustration - the celebrities speaking out against the detainment of Roman Polanski.
I am not versed in the law. And neither are these celebrities. You cannot convince me they are supporting him based on some infraction of his civil rights or other legal technicality. Of course, to give them some credit, even they aren't claiming that.

For anyone who may not know, Roman Polanski was detained on September 26 in connection with a case from 1978 in which he admitted to drugging and having sex with a 13 year old girl. It's hard for me to truly understand the actions that occurred after that admission - I've read reports of a plea bargain as well as reports of him fleeing the country prior to sentencing. Those are the details I leave to the legal professionals.

However, over 700 celebrities and leaders in the film industry have reportedly signed a petition calling for his release.

I wonder if any of those 700 people have 13 year old daughters.

Whoopi Goldberg stated that she didn't understand why he was being detained since it wasn't a "rape rape".Excuse me? When a man in his mid-40s gives a 13 year old girl drugs and then has sex with her, when is that not rape? I don't care what profession you are in - that is a crime.

So to Penelope Cruz, Adrien Brody, Debra Winger, David Lynch, Martin Scorsese and the others who have urged his release, I'd like to say that we hold you to the same laws as the rest of us. There are just some laws that I'd like to see us apply to folks no matter what their social, economic, cultural, or political backgrounds.

Sex with school-aged children being illegal is one of those laws.

And I'm sorry celebrities. We may pay you to entertain us. We don't pay you to define the standards by which we live.

Thankfully.

Volunteering and the IRS

Today I get to turn over the treasurer's books for a school support organization to the new sucker who is going to take over that job.
Yippee and pass the alcohol.

And yes, I'm thinking even you non-drinkers might have been sorely tempted after doing that job for three long years.

Please keep in mind that one of those years I didn't even have a child attending that school.

No, there is not a special reward waiting for people like me. God is up there laughing. He gave me good sense and an ability to say no. I know he gets a big old belly laugh when I don't use either one of those talents.

I though it would be a relatively easy job. I balance my own check book. I've never bounced a check. I pay my bills on time. Surely those are the full set of special skills needed to be the treasurer of a group that clears a good ten thousand dollars in a good year. Right?

Ha! You're just as crazy as me. Oh, no. Turns out, the beloved Internal Revenue Service has 99% of their trained staff focused just on little organizations like mine.
I guess that explains the rationale behind those commercials where people that owe $50,000 in back taxes can pay $3.47 cents and the lint from their pockets and walk away happy campers.

Not so much my little group. Reams of paperwork. Forms due all through the year - I still can't tell you when. I fill them out when I get a letter stating I'm so overdue that they will dissolve our group within a month if I don't comply. Why do I wait? Because that is the only letter I ever get.

It's comical really. You know I love to read the news and I get particular joy from seeing how the big companies have made fortunes by not following the tax laws. Yet I get weekly email tips from the IRS on my tax-exempt organization. Light reading? I don't think so.

I'm going to pass this stack of goodness off to the mom who made me want to kiss her when she said she'd be our new treasurer.

And I am never going to volunteer for that job again.

Was it just me or did anyone else hear a laugh from on high?

And now a word from the weird

I think most of us are sometimes worried about going to the doctor. We don't want to go unless something is truly wrong. Most people worry that they will make the appointment, go in, and the doctor will tell them they are perfectly healthy. Nothing ruins a day quite like hearing that news.

Mothers are often particularly concerned with this. We all ask each other for medical advice about our kids. We sure don't want to drag them to the doctor unless it is really necessary.

That's why I was so happy to come upon this medical story from Canada. Oh sure, they have that fancy health care system up there so maybe they aren't worried about unnecessary trips to the doctor. But, I'm wagering this one would have seemed legitimate no matter where you live.

Three urologists reported a man came into the emergency room with a ballpoint pen in his urethra. Seems he thought this insertion might be...ummm...pleasurable. When it wasn't, he did what any other sane person would do and decided it wasn't in far enough. Well, doggone it. When that didn't work out the way he planned either, he decided if he pushed it in far enough, it would come out his rectum. I'm guessing anatomy was not this gentleman's strong suit in school. After the same procedure used to remove kidney stones was utilized, the patient was discharged home.

It does kinda make that H1N1 look less news worthy, doesn't it?