Auld Lang Syne

New Year's Eve 1996

"Promise me you will always take me out on New Year's Eve."

Ryan and I were drunk...very drunk. We had just celebrated New Year's with Ryan's cousin, Shane, and Shane's new girlfriend, Stephanie. (Years later they would marry and Stephanie would end up as one of my closest friends...but that's a different story.) We were talking about all the things that young, stupid, drunk people talk about when Ryan started talking marriage...again. I was crazy in love with him but marriage wasn't on my radar at that point. So I began to demand all kinds of promises and he agreed to every one of them. The only one I can still remember is...

"Promise me you will always take me out on New Year's Eve."

I have not left the house on New Year's Eve since then.

Frankly, I blame myself.

I must admit that I really don't mind staying in. I'm not a party girl. There. I said it.

I have had some fantastic celebrations at home. And except for a few post divorce years, I usually enjoy myself very much. In 2005, Savannah and Ava went to sleep very early. Kaylee was 6 at the time and forced me to stay awake until midnight. We both fell asleep about ten seconds after the ball dropped. 2006 was my first New Years Eve with Kevin. We had all our kids plus a few. I finally had someone to kiss at midnight.

And, honestly, as long as I have Kevin to kiss at midnight, I don't care if I stay home every New Year's Eve.

Thanksgiving

I actually cooked my first Thanksgiving dinner this year. It was a pretty low key deal and I really enjoyed myself. I always wanted to be able to host a holiday meal for my family but my house in Hendersonville was just too small.

Here is what I learned from my first Thanksgiving.

- Never clean your oven PRIOR to Thanksgiving.

- Corn casserole expands in the pan. A lot. And it will flat ruin your clean oven.

- Nobody likes corn casserole anyway.

- I am thankful for wine. There. I said it.


- I can kick ass at Trivial Pursuit when I am intoxicated.

- Nothing will sober you up like hearing the phrase "Katie barfed all over the new carpet!" at 2:30 AM.

- Kids want their mom when they are sick. Period. And they don't care if you have to call and wake her up at the butt crack of dawn.


Kevin has some pics here. I was too busy cooking to take any :)

Tower of London

This was the big one for me. This place was all I had hoped for and then some. It's just such a surreal experience to be in a place with such a history. It's one thing to read about Elizabeth I collapsing at the traitor's gate and refusing to walk up the steps to the tower.

It's another thing entirely to look down at those actual steps. At that moment, she must have fully believed that she would die in that tower just as her mother, Anne Boleyn, had died. >
















It just proves one of my most hard learned theories about life...

You just never know.

You could get your head chopped off or you could end up as Queen of England.

Kinda puts your nonsense in perspective, doesn't it?

Make a Smilebox slideshow

Dylan Cat!

English Breakfast

Kevin was determined that I should experience a ‘proper’ English breakfast. I had been doing quite well skipping breakfast each day but he enticed me with tales of French yogurt. We sat down at the hotel restaurant. They brought coffee. So far. So good. How bad could a breakfast be if there is coffee and French yogurt? I was about to find out…ugh.

First, take a moment to gaze on that tomato...you don't see it? It's the round, shriveled, orange looking thing near the top of the plate. I don't even want to know what in hell one has to do to get a tomato to look like that. Moving on...the baked beans, WTF?!? I really try to be respectful of cultural differences but those beans slopped all over my plate made me pretty much never want to eat breakfast again. I ordered scrambled eggs because I didn’t notice they had eggs benedict until it was too late and, also, I figured it would be pretty hard to screw up scrambled eggs. I figured wrong. They made a sound when I cut into them. Scrambled eggs should not make noise. Silence should be the hallmark of scrambled eggs. The sausage and bacon were weird but edible. The hashbrown was an enigma. I didn’t even recognize it as a hashbrown. I thought it might be burned toast. Burned toast would have tasted better.




I think this dining experience cost about 80 dollars. Seriously. 20 pounds per person. Ya'll know even I can't drink 80 bucks worth of coffee.The yogurt was delicious. The croissant was cold and weird but the butter and apricot jam salvaged it quite nicely. I didn’t travel to Britain with any expectation of gourmet food and this breakfast totally matched my expectations.

Saturday in Windsor

On Saturday, we took the train to Windsor. We planned to spend the day with Kevin’s friend/coworker Heather and her friend, Mark. Since Kevin had been away from home for several days longer than me, he was quickly running out of clean clothes. On Friday afternoon , we had dropped his clothes at a laundry service. In an effort to save precious minutes Saturday morning, we agreed that Kevin would run to pick up his clean clothes and double back to the hotel before meeting me at the train station. I was to walk to the train station alone, purchase our tickets and wait for Kevin to make it back. Unless you have been there, I don’t think I can adequately describe how friggin busy Paddington station actually is. It’s nuts.



I made it to the station and made my way to the ticket counter. After waiting in line for quite a while, it was my turn. I calmly repeated the instructions Kevin had given me. "I need two tickets to Maidenhead with a connection to Windsor and return to Paddington.” I was feeling pretty proud of myself for remembering when the pasty, overweight bag of sweat behind the counter barked something unintelligible at me through the glass window. Uh oh. "Excuse me?” I said, trying desperately not to sound like an American. Bag of sweat barks again from window. “Uh, ok I guess.” I stammer. He rolls his eyes, takes my credit card and hands me back tickets to somewhere…


I was guessing that I still had a few minutes before Kevin made it to the station so I went in search of coffee. I say I was guessing because I realized on this trip that I rely too heavily on my cellphone as a watch. Since I had no cell service, I had no method of telling time…ever. It was kinda wonderful and kinda infuriating all at the same time. I wandered around until I found a familiar sight. London has recently been invaded by a little company that you may have heard of…

Apparently Krispy Kreme is not satisfied with merely fattening up the entire United States so they have crossed the pond.
Thank God.
I rushed into that place as if it were a sanctuary. The lady at the counter asked me if I wanted to try their new flavoring syrup. I ususally don't go for that stuff but as I was shaking my head she said "The syrup tastes just like the glaze we put on the doughnuts." I responded with a hearty "Hell Yeah!" A few seconds later I finally got my first cup of familiar coffee. It was sublime and I think it cost roughly the equivalent of 6 American dollars. At that point, I probably would have paid ten. I’m not proud of that.




Kevin arrived at the station and we boarded the train. After a 30 minute ride, we made a connection at the town of Slough. That’s when I realized what the ticket attendant had been yelling through the window. “Connect at Slough!” Ooops. After the connection, it was a very short trip to Windsor. We met Heather and Mark and headed to Windsor Castle. It was so beautiful that I really feel like words can’t encompass it. And the whole experience was so surreal. I stood inches from original drawings done by Leonardo DaVinci and paintings by Vermeer and Van Dyck. We toured room after room and each one was more ornate and opulent than the last. Honestly, my eyes were tired.

We left Windsor castle and walked down to have lunch at a restaurant by the water’s edge. One of the interesting difference between Britain and the US is that waiters/waitresses could care less about customer service. They are paid a living wage by their employers so tips are just extra. Therefore they don’t seem to have any real incentive to give you good service. (Of course, my protest that their incentive should be the fact that it is their job kinda fell on deaf ears.) Anyway, we ate on the deck overlooking the water. The view, the company, the conversation and the alcohol converged to create an almost perfect afternoon. Lunch took the better part of three hours but it was wonderful. In addition to the lovely alcoholic apple cider, Mark introduced us to this great drink consisting of half lemonade and half beer. Sweet biscuits, it was delicious.




We somehow stumbled back to the train station for the trip back to London. The only real benefit to the public transportation system in London is that you never have to worry about a designated driver. We were going to make a quick trip back to the hotel to change clothes before meeting back up with Heather and Mark to see Mamma Mia.



The theatre was located in Piccadilly Circus. This place was crazy. I have never seen so many people. Everywhere you looked were buses, taxis, cars and a neverending stream of pedestrians. I really loved the movie version of Mamma Mia so I had high hopes for the musical. I was not disappointed. Broadway style musicals are one of my great joys. The energy of a live audience is a big part of the experience and this particular audience was on fire. They danced. They sang. They laughed. It was definitely one of the highlights of the trip.

We interrupt

the London posts for a very important message.

My cell phone died last month. I have a working phone now but all my stored phone numbers are gone. So if you are a friend of mine and I haven't called you since September I apologize. I would love to call you now but I don't remember your number. Did I also mention that my work email got fried and all of my stored addresses went bye-bye? So call or email me and I promise to write your information down somewhere this time. Really. I mean it. I'm serious.

Lazy Friday

We slept very late the next morning. We only had a few days in one of the world's greatest cities and we slept late. Here's the thing...I never get to sleep in...NEVER. Did I mention we were on our honeymoon? We emerged from our hotel room thoroughly unmotivated to do anything but return to our hotel room. We headed out nonetheless and tried our best to be tourists. We made our first stop at the Tower of London. It was so late that they would only be open for another hour so we decided to come back later in the trip and had ice cream instead. That's how we roll.

We ended up at St Paul's Cathedral. How can I begin to describe this place? It was like nothing I had ever experienced before. I found myself literally crying over how beautiful it was. I have a confession though. We arrived just in time to attend the Evensong service held at the cathedral. It was this very solemn, holy service. I was reverent but inside me my eight year old self was jumping up and down screaming "I just walked down the same aisle Princess Di walked down when she married Prince Charles!" "I am standing at the very spot that Princess Di stood when she said her vows!" Look...I'm not one of these Royal groupie types. I don't have any Prince William commemorative plates or anything like that. I do have a weird fascination with Henry VIII but really, doesn't everybody? I just have such vivd memories of watching that wedding on television when I was a little girl. I never in my wildest dreams thought that I would stand in that church.

We ended the day with fish and chips at a pub very close to our hotel. The food was actually fantastic (which I had not expected) and Kevin introduced ne to Bulmer's apple cider. If ever I become an alcoholic, this stuff will be to blame.

First Day

Kevin's flight finally arrived and we began a fairly lengthy adventure to get to the hotel. I really had no idea how much nonsense was involved in getting ANYWHERE in London. I was about get a crash course.

We took the train into London ( I didn't realize how far away Gatwick airport actually was from the city.) It was a good opportunity to see lots of the English countryside and do some people watching. We arrived at Victoria Station in London and the 'overwhelming' began. I'm not sure there is a better way to describe the feelings I had on a a fairly regular basis during this trip. The station was crawling with people.

We took a taxi from the station to our hotel. Guess who had never been in a taxi before? Yeah. I know. Pathetic. Kevin assures me that London taxi drivers must pass rigorous tests before getting a license. That may be true but it's kinda hard to admire the acumen of your driver while clutching the door handle in a futile attempt not to be flung about the car.

Our room wasn't ready when we arrived so we took a walk in Hyde Park, which was right across the street from our hotel. The park is spectacular and around every corner is a scene more beautiful than the next. The problem is that, at this point, jet lag had attacked me with a vengeance. As we were walking, Kevin was talking but I could not focus on anything he was saying. I was in a mental fog and completey convinced that I might become violently ill at any moment. I have no idea how I kept from barfing in that historic park.

We made the very long walk back to the hotel and finally got settled into our room. Kevin was still officially working and had a meeting to attend that afternoon. All I wanted him to do was leave the room. I figured I could be asleep before he made it to the lobby. He must have been able to read my mind because he gave me the 'jet lag' lecture. Basically, you have to stay awake until it's 'bedtime" where you are, otherwise you'll end up messed up for the entire trip. I knew he was right but I was still plotting ways to send him to the meeting and go to sleep.

Kevin convinced me to take a double decker bus tour while he was working. It basically hits all the landmarks and historic sites. They have about 500 of them careening through the streets of London. You can 'hop on and hop off' at any of the stops if you want to take a closer look.

I hopped on.



I did not hop off.



It was just chilly enough to be uncomfortable so I began the first part of the tour in the enclosed, bottom portion of the bus. I spent the next hour falling asleep. "And to your left, Big Ben and Parliament"...zzzzz. "And if you will look to your right, the famous Harrod's department store"...zzzzz. Finally, I gathered the energy to climb the steps to the upper level of the bus. The cool wind coupled with the fantastic views perked me up enough to really enjoy the rest of the tour..



The bus dropped me off very close to the hotel. I had just enough of a 'second wind' to waste an hour on a futile search for a cup of coffee. We had passed something like 37 Starbuck's on the bus tour. Apparently, that corporation had decided to boycott the neighborhood surrounding our hotel. I gave up and made my way back to the hotel. Kevin was still working but the sun had gone down so I felt no guilt at all about sinking into the most delightful slumber.

Across the pond

I was scared to travel alone. I'm embarrassed that I have grown up to be such a wuss but there you have it. In my defense, I think the idea of traveling to two of the world's busiest airports alone on your second ever trip would be a tad daunting for most people. Basically when I landed at Gatwick, I would be completely cut off from communication with anyone. No cell service for me over there. Kevin was to arrive ahead of me and assured me he would be waiting when I landed. I think we all know how this story is gonna end, right?




The flight to Atlanta was too short to even justify the ten minute safety dance performed by the flight attendant. That airport is stupid big but surprisingly easy to navigate. I was able to grab one last cup of coffee which I guzzled down before boarding the flight to London. If I had know how long I would have to go without a decent cup of coffee that week, I would have savored that one a little more.

I was on the aisle of a two seat row. So far. So good. The guy sitting next to me already had his earbuds in and was well into a movie when I sat down. I had been dreading the possibilty of a talkative seat mate. This guy looked like he was going to be perfect. ( A few hours later, he finally spoke to the flight attendant. Turns out, he couldn't even speak English. Bonus!!!)



There was an older lady seated diagonally across from me who had some real wedgie issues. She must have stood up 50 times during that flight to adjust her panties and the situation was only made worse by the fact that she was wearing a mini dress. Look ladies...I don't care what Oprah has told you. At a certain age, you are too damn old to wear a mini dress. Accept it and move on. Also, if you know you're going to be on an airplane for over 8 hours, don't you think it would be a good idea to go with some comfy panties? I just think this gal had enough life experience to make some better choices.

The flight went well except I could not sleep. I knew the jet lag was gonna kick my tail but I really thought I could escape the worst of it if I could sleep for 4-6 hours on the flight. No such luck. My main problem was the flight attendants seemed to come through every hour offering food, drink or (my favorite) the duty free cart. I'm not sure what kind of person boards a plane and then decides once they reach international waters that, yes, they actually do need a carton of cigarettes, a giant box of Godiva chocolates and a two liter bottle of Jim Beam. Kevin later explained the duty free situation to me. I assured him that I understood the concept, I just felt the whole thing was stupid.



We landed in London. I made it through customs. And I began to wander through the airport. My flight had actually landed early and Kevin's flight from Amsterdam was delayed. Surprise. Surprise.

I wasn't freaking out at this point. I could see the estimated arrival time for his flight on the board so I sat down to wait. I was completely exhausted but exhilarated at the same time. I was in London. I had actually left the United states and flown across a frackin ocean. I was going to see all the stuff I had spent my whole life reading about or seeing on TV. I had arrived at the home of Bridget Jones and the Cadbury Chocolate Company.

A Foggy Day (In London Town)

THE LONDON POSTS ARE COMING!!!

I know you're as excited as I am.

Confession

I am a reader.

It's a big part of how I define myself. I spent so much time at the library when I was a teen that my parents were convinced I had a secret boyfriend there. Which, of course, I didn't...unless you count Mr Darcy. I spent most of my high school years nurturing an obsession with Henry James. My senior term paper was about Thomas Hardy.

That being said...I have only read four books since September. Wanna take a guess as to what I read?




The kids gave me the Twilight books for my birthday. I'm not gonna lie. I asked for them. And, then, as I always do, I became obsessed with reading them. I read a ton of books that no one would consider to be great literature. I'm no book snob. I will read almost anything except trashy romance novels. I can even tolerate mediocre writing if the story and characters are good.

The Twilight books have a great story that feels really original. I know vampires don't seem original but the author turns all the stories upside down and really creates a whole new mythology. It's strange but none of the books are scary or gross. I really would have no problem with my little girls reading them. I assumed that they would be filled with sex and violence since they are so popular with teenagers. Apparently kids today are just more mature than I was.

So go ahead and read these books. It's not as good as Shakespeare, it's not as bad as Danielle Steele. It's like birthday cake...nutritionally deficient but totally delicious.

Step Mom

Kaylee called Lia her step mom.


The girls were all in the living room coloring. I responded as always, "Kaylee, please don't call her that. Just call her Lia, OK?" They went back to their coloring and I assumed the conversation was over. Then Anna said "Yeah, our mom doesn't want us to call you stepmom either."

Oh.

Snap.


I was embarrassed that her innocent statement had hurt my feelings. To begin with, I had never asked them to refer to me as 'stepmom'. It's not as if it is a desirable title. "Stepmom", to me, does not conjure any warm, fuzzy images. I think Cinderella screwed that title up for all of us. But I was upset at the idea that I could be considered in the same group as Lia. I always felt that she belonged in the "miserable, lying, cheating, ho-bag who stole my husband and destroyed my family' category while I fell in to the " wandered into this situation long after the divorce" category.

I did realize that no matter how you feel about someone...love, hate or ambivalence. No mother really wants their child to refer to another woman as any kind of mom. It actually makes sense to me now. Even if Lia and Ryan had ended up married in a way that made me not hate her guts, I still wouldn't want my kids to call her 'stepmom'. She hasn't earned it and neither have I.

Mom is a title you have to work for and it ain't easy. You earn it by praying, worrying and loving a baby for months before it's even born. You earn it by walking the floor all night long when that baby has an ear infection. You earn it by reading that same, dumb book night after night because it's your child's favorite. You earn it in a million different ways that you never get any credit for.

You don't earn it by marrying that child's father.

So I am content to be 'just Rachel' and if my kids need any help coming up with alternative titles for their stepmom, I have a few suggestions :)

Wedding Album

Make a Smilebox photobook

Gettin ready

Make a Smilebox slideshow

7 days

"I still believe in a place called Hope." So ended Bill Clinton's infomercial played at the 1992 Democratic National Convention. I was eighteen years old, already a political junkie, and I wept as I watched him accept the nomination. And, yeah, it's probably one of the cheesiest lines ever but it worked because we, as a nation, were hungry for that hope. Starved by 12 Republican years.

It was the first election where I would be eligible to vote. I was at MTSU and the excitement about that election was palpable. I was convinced that Bill Clinton could change the world. And he did. But he sure caused me a lot of embarrassment along the way.

In 1992, even more than Clinton, I was fascinated by Al Gore. Having grown up in Tennessee, I had lots of Gore exposure prior to 1992. The night before the election, flyers were posted all over campus announcing a rally to be held on the tarmac at the Nashville airport to greet Al and Tipper as they returned to Tennessee to cast their vote. My best friend Debbie and I jumped in the car and headed that way. The plane was to come in around midnight. It was fairly chilly that night and the plane was delayed. I don't know how many people were there that night but in my memory it seems like hundreds. People of every age holding signs and chanting "It's time for them to go!" until the plane landed. I can't imagine that Gore was unaware of the rally but he seemed genuinely shocked to see us all there. He must have been beyond exhausted but he never showed it. He took the microphone and said " I've got a good feeling about today." The crowd went nuts. After the rally, Gore stayed for long enough to shake every hand that was offered to him. When it was my turn, all I could think was "One day this man is going to be President of the United States."

I was wrong about a lot of things...

Wrong about Clinton (Whom I still love and spent most of the late 90's defending. You owe me Big Dog.)

Wrong about Gore ( Who, in my defense, was actually the rightful president no matter what the Supreme Court said)

Wrong about Edwards ( Sweet biscuits I am still so pissed off about this. I may need counseling.)

16 years later, I ponder another election. Lots of life has happened to me since 1992. But I am amused at how similar I still am to that idealistic 18 year old. I still believe that politcal participation matters. I still believe that people can make a difference. I still believe that America is worth it. I still believe that the constitution deserves defending. I still believe that democracy is responsibilty.


I hear Barack Obama speak and I still believe in a place called hope.

Believe

I stumbled onto this blog in the usual way (via Shakesville).



I really have no words for how much I love this one...

But these other two caused me to cry a bucket of tears.

It reminds me of the iconic photo of young Bill Clinton shaking hands with John F. Kennedy. It's one thing to tell your kids that they can be anything they want to be. It's another thing entirely for them to embrace that as reality.

3 meals, 4 snacks and a bowl of ice cream

Here's what I've learned so far about what it takes to feed a part-time family of 9.

One regular size can of Pringles will divide perfectly for 5 lunchboxes.

5 lunchboxes take up a lot of precious counter space.

Due to my ridiculously full cart and my fat envelope of coupons, I have turned into that women that everybody hates at the grocery store.

I can't cook vegetables. I know it. The kids know it. I'm not fooling anybody here. Maybe I can take a class or something...

Our monthly grocery expenditure is roughly equal to three weeks pay for me. I think we should get a cow...and a chicken...and whatever kind of animal those cheesy Ritz Bitz come from.

Chicken legs take WAY longer to cook than chicken breasts.

If you happen to undercook a couple of chicken legs, there is a high probability that Dylan will end up with the raw ones.

If you try to microwave some leftover BBQ to atone for the undercooked chicken, there is a high probability that Dylan will end up with the portion that is still frozen.


Dylan's buddies have no problem eating undercooked chicken and frozen BBQ. They had seconds.

Teenage boys are impervious to salmonella...I hope.

No matter how bad, frozen or undercooked a meal is, Kevin just seems really greatful to have something on the table. (I'm sure this will change but I'm enjoying the honeymoon.)

Dear Barack,

I'm scared. There. I said it. I want to believe the polls but frankly, I am aquainted with way too many rednecks who worship at the altar of stupidity. You have one debate left. I'm hoping you are aware that John McCain is going to come at you like a crazy man next Wednesday. He's not mentally stable and he needs to throw some red meat to his rabid base and the Fox news guys. He won't care if anything he says is true. He is desperate.

I'm satisfied that you will have no problem keeping your composure under such an attack. I just want you to understand that I want more than that. I want you to stand up for all of us who have been damaged by the past eight years under the rule of the village idiot. I want you to stand up to the bully that John McCain has become. I don't want you to be shrill. I don't want you to lose your temper. But I desperately want you to make it clear to John McCain, George W. Bush, Karl Rove and every American that watches that you ARE the next American President.

Just kill me

Help me Jesus

My favorite wedding picture

My second favorite wedding picture.

The Wedding

Friday 8/22/08


After all of the nonsense that preceded it, the actual wedding could not have gone better. The 'brides room' at the chapel had this claw foot antique bathtub just sitting in the middle of the room. While it seemed like a completely random decorating choice, the girls had a good time posing in it for pictures which made the last few moments before the ceremony much less nerve wracking. I really have to give all the kids some credit for their behavior. It can't be easy to watch your parent marry someone other than your other parent no matter how much you approve of the union. But if they were bothered, they all hid it well.

So 5 bridesmaids, 1 best man, 1 maid of honor, 1 pastor and his wife, 1 photographer, 1 coordinator ( what needed coordinating?) and 6 guests came together and created a wonderful ceremony. Was it serene? Of course not. Nothing we do ever is or ever will be, I imagine. But it was fun.

When you have been married before, a wedding can create some complicated emotions. Unlike a first time bride, I walked down that aisle knowing what I was walking toward. And even while experiencing the joy of a new marriage, I know I will never forget the agony that a marriage ending can cause. We live in a world where people give up too easily. I said the standard vows to Kevin but this is what I meant...

"I will not give up."

Amen

The Lead Up Part III - The Fug

My wedding posts would not be complete without an explanation for my horrendous hair-do which I will now and forevermore refer to as "The Fug'. I hope to be able to post some pictures soon and I wouldn't want you to get the impression that I thought my hair looked good. Then you would be laughing at me instead of with me and I can't have that.

The fault for the fug lies solely with Kevin. He casually suggested that I go to a salon on the day of the wedding to have my hair and makeup done. Sounded like a great idea at the time. I followed his advice and it led down a path of horror.

As previously noted, I rushed around all morning trying to find a dress. The wedding wasn't until 6 PM but the latest salon appointment I could get was at 12:30PM. I thought that would give me plenty of time to get my hair and makeup done and still run by the nail place before I had to be home to meet the school bus. (You know you are a mommy-bride if 'meet the school bus' is part of your wedding day preparation.)

I arrived at the salon right on time. The stylist (I've forgotten her name. Not sure if I ever knew it.) took me back to discuss what kind of style I would like. I actually brought a picture. I never do that. But I thought this one time it would be ok since I would be looking at this hairdo in pictures for the rest of my frackin life. The stylist looked at the picture, said "No problem" and went right to work. She used a curling iron for what seemed like the better part of a decade. My chair was turned facing away from the mirror and she talked nonstop while working. After the stress of the preceding days, I was actually starting to relax a little bit.

Then she spun the chair toward the mirror and I choked back a scream as I faced my reflection. How could those hundreds of tiny corkscrew curls that she had so painstakingly created have come together to form this this old lady - no hair -bun? It was hideous and bore not even a passing resemblance to the picture. The funniest thing (if anything about this could be funny) was that the stylist was really proud of it. She ushered me into the makeup chair where she did manage to do a decent job. My face was awfully shiny but that little detail was completely overshadowed by the goofy hairdo which made my face look like a giant Moon Pie.

Did I mention that this whole thing took so long that the school bus beat me home. I ran in the house and my three beloved children just stared at me. My own kids wouldn't even lie to me when I needed it most. I sent them out to the van and we headed for the nail place. In general, having a formal hairstyle while wearing street clothes can make you feel conspicuous but working the fug in t-shirt and shorts took me to a new level of embarassment (which, for me, is saying a lot.)

I collapsed into the nail chair and asked for a full-set. I'd never been to this particular salon before. The manicurist went to work and even got the girls settled in to get their own nails painted. She worked quickly and quietly and I'm pretty sure she could tell I was on the verge of unravelling. At one point, she looked at me and said very quietly "You look pretty" and then went right back to work. I knew she was lying but I didn't care. Sometimes you need a compliment.

After all my foolishness leading up to the wedding, the actual event could not have gone better. It was all that I hoped it would be. And if I could do it all over agin, I wouldn't change a thing...except the fug.

The Lead Up -Part II - Dress Quest

The first week living together - all nine of us - went really well. The following week was the wedding. Kevin and Dylan got new suits. Emily and the little girls all got new dresses. Kevin's wedding band was Fed-exed just in time. I made our bouquets. (They turned out tolerable. Martha Stewart, I ain't.) The chapel had taken care of the other details. All that was left was to get a dress for myself.

Take my advice...never attempt to shop for a wedding dress with 5 little girls. It's just a bad idea.

Which brings us to Thursday night. Less than 24 hours before the wedding. No dress.

I convinced myself that Dillard's was my best option so I got up early Friday morning, took the kids to school and headed to Hickory Hollow. I arrived just after 8AM. I'm not a big mall shopper so I had no idea what time they actually opened. 9AM just seemed appropriate to me so I thought I would just get a big cup of coffee and be at the door when they opened. And, yeah, I guess I could have checked the opening time before driving all the way there but I wasn't exactly in a rational state of mind.

At 8:30 I decided to walk up to the front door just to check the opening time. Apparently that particular Dillard's was going out of business so that location did not open until 11:00. I handled that setback pretty well all things considered. I jumped back in the van and drove all the way to Cool Springs. I made it there around 8:50. I had a very encouraging voice mail from Kevin and I had almost convinced myself that everything was gonna work out fine. I would go in, find the perfect dress within minutes and be headed back to Providence in plenty of time for my hair/makeup appointment. Then I realized that it was after 9AM and no one was in the parking lot. I walked to the door to read the sign. Open at 10:00AM. Let the freak-out commence.

I really wanted (NEEDED) to get my nails done so I drove around until I found a salon. I thought this would be the best way to fill the hour before the store opened while eliminating one more item on my 'to do' list. Guess what time the nail salon opened? I was needing that cup of coffee real, real bad at this point.

Store finally opens at 10AM. I go in, pick up the first 6 dresses I find in my size and head to the dressing room. I am brimming with confidence. I will come out with THE dress (not too dressy, not too casual) and this whole nonsense will be behind me. 10 minutes later I emerge without THE dress. I search the racks again and grudgingly decide to give up on Dillards.

I wandered into the mall and headed to Macys. I had no plan at this point. I was just walking. Macy's had two racks of nonsense so I set out for JCPenneys. It's 10:45 and I'm feeling the urge to curl up in the fetal position and coo like a pigeon. JCP is the biggest disappointment of the morning. There are just racks everywhere with barely any room to walk between them. It was as if the store had gone out of business years ago but nobody bothered to tell the employees. After much searching, I found one tolerable selection. Actually it wasn't tolerable, it was just the right size but I simply could not bring myself to try it on.

I walked back out into the mall in a panic. I had no idea where else I could possibly look and I was so frustrated with myself. I'm just not the type of person who loses her cool over something as trivial as a dress. But there I was on the verge of a meltdown in the middle of the Galleria.

I am not ashamed to admit that, at that point, I literally prayed for a dress.

Cool Springs is a two level mall. I began scanning the stores around me when I looked up and saw it. Jessica McClintock. The mother ship. Formalwear is all they sell. I had no idea they even had a store. I ran up the escalator and felt relief for the first time that day. Racks upon racks of wedding dresses both formal and casual in every size. I grabbed three and headed to the dressing room.

I don't think I found THE dress but I found one that fit and was not embarrassing. And it was fifty percent off which made me like it even more. I stopped on the way out for a celebratory cup of coffee and I drove home feeling like everything was gonna work out fine. Little did I know that a hair massacre was awaiting me...

The Lead Up - Part I

There were several times during late July and early August that I really believed this wedding wasn't going to happen. We had spent the better part of a year planning a marriage and about 15 minutes planning a wedding. I still think we had our priorities straight. But the drama unfolded nonetheless. Full disclosure: the drama mostly was inside my head.


We discovered pretty quickly that even a small ceremony with a miniscule number of guests can be a complete pain in the butt to put together. This is where I admit that I acted quite badly. In my defense, I think planning a wedding produces a comparable number of hormones as, say, early pregnancy...with sextuplets. I have no idea why this is true but trust me. I cried every day for two weeks. Admittedly, I am more emotional than your average gal but this nonsense bordered on the ridiculous.


Major life changes are stressful. 4 or 5 major life changes all at the same should make one eligible for prescription meds. We moved in at the beginning of August. I had been packing for weeks and the physical move went as smoothly as could be expected. (Kevin enlisted Dylan, Emily, and some of their friends which helped big time.) I tried to quit my job which involved lots of hysterics at the office. We were also trying to get all the kids ready to start school. It was a perfect storm.

Work

There were lots of great moments during Obama's nomination acceptance speech. But the line that I am still thinking about is when he referenced 'the dignity of work.' I'm not sure I have ever heard a politician use that term and I was happy to hear it.

I once worked as a hotel maid. It was a summer job after my sophmore year in college. I never planned to make hospitality housekeeping my career or anything (although lately it seems like I might have done just that.) It was just a job. As an adult, when I have mentioned this job to different people, it has produced some rather strong reactions. People have seemed embarrassed for me. As if I have just admitted a 3 month stint in a Bangkok bordello or something.

I do believe that we should all work hard to educate ourselves and obviously most of us don't dream of being hotel maids when we grow up. But somebody has to do those jobs. Someone has to clean your hotel room. Someone has to clean your kid's school. Someone has to bring your food if you eat in a restaurant.

Basically, the world is full of jobs that none of us would volunteer to do. And generally (though we are loathe to admit this) those jobs most often end up being done by those of us who squandered their potential opportunities or those people that never had an opportunity to squander. For instance, when I worked as a maid, there were several mother/daughter teams employed there. It's like a generational curse.

I dream that my own children go to college and find jobs that challenge and inspire them. I pray that they always have the luxury of choosing a job rather than being forced to take whatever is offerred. I hope that they use their gifts and talents to help others. But above all, I am determined that they will understand the 'dignity of work'.

Srsly?

McCain didn't pick Mitt Romney...which saddens me. That would have been so fun. If nothing else, I think his choice does pretty definitively prove that he is, in fact, dumber than a sack of hammers. That may actually be his new campaign slogan, btw.

I never even heard this gal's name until this morning. I'm sure that means nothing. It's not as if I follow politics closely or anything.

I think the main problem is that McCain is just a little confused about some terms.

Like 'surprise'...you see 'surprise' is not always a good thing. For instance, if I was pregnant, Kevin would be 'surprised' but that doesn't mean he would be happy. So keeping this pitful pick secret and then 'surprising' us with it really doesn't help.

Also, I think you were convinced by some Rovian goober on your staff that this choice and timing would somehow negate the positive aftermath of Obama's nomination speech. Look John, you got a lot of news coverage today. But you've been teasing these reporters for so long, I'm pretty sure that would have happened even if you had picked Mr Excitement, Tim Pawlenty. Let's be honest here. Obama handed you your ass in that speech. You know. I know it. And probably 80% of the American people know it. You could have tapped Oprah as your running mate and it wouldn't have mattered.

Because really John, most Americans are just not as stupid as you imagine them to be. We understand that there are lots of strong conservative women that you could have picked to be your VP. Granted, most of them piss me off but that only means that your supporters would have loved them. Liddy Dole, Kaye Bailey Hutchison, Christie Whitman. Any of these names sound familiar? And if you had picked any one of them, I would have given you some credit for making a 'bold' choice. (The fact that women make up over 50% of the population should actually nullify the boldness of picking one as a vp candidate, but whatev.) Instead, you picked a token. Once again proving that 'maverick' must be french for 'pandering ninny'. You see, the idea that any woman would appeal to a woman voter is kind of offensive. Most of us have moved beyond high school and we don't travel or vote as a clique anymore. While we may like the idea that a woman could be Vice President or, heaven help us, President, we'd really like to have some confidence that should a woman ascend to that office, she would be able to do the job.

If that notorious phone rings at 3AM, I'm not confident Mrs Palin would even know which end to speak into.

Real Life

We got married.

I really want to write a long post detailing the ceremony and all the craziness that led up to it. I really want to explain how nuts I have been with the move, job change, etc. I really want to share (most) of the details of our mini-honeymoon.

But...

Instead I have to tell you that one of the kids has head lice. Romantic, ain't it?

Emily thinks this is very embarrassing for our family but I find it pretty hilarious. I'm sure some nasty little, neglected kid at school gave it to them...or maybe our kids gave it to them...whatever.



So, at some point, I will post all the details of our blessed union and pics (providing my fugly hairdo doesn't look as bad in hindsight.) But right now, I've got to find a tiny comb and go burn some bed sheets.




Mazel Tov!!!

Book Review

Ann Patchett is on her way to becoming one of my favorite novelists. This is dangerous because as soon as I start to really like a writer, the opportunity for disappointment goes up exponentially. Thankfully, her new novel Run was a completely satisfying read.

The story is about a family and the story is about politics but it does not contain the cliches and melodrama that the melding of those two subjects generally produce. My admiration for Patchett stems from her ability to take a seemingly simple premise and spin it into a powerful story. Her writing is so subtle that I read the whole thing without once rolling my eyes. (This is friggin rare, as you can imagine.)

The book is written about a man and his wife who adopt two African American brothers. The man is a former mayor of Boston who dreams of political careers for his two adopted sons as well as his older, biological child. His wife dies when the children are young and he is left to raise them alone. There is lots more but, for some reason, I can never deliver an effective plot synopsis without ruining the whole book. But,seriously, read it. You know I would never steer you wrong about books...or snack food.

Overheard

In the elevator...

Woman #1 - "I cannot believe that gas has gone down to under $3.50 a gallon."

Woman #2 - " I know. Isn't it a blessing?"

Look...I'm all about counting your blessings...really I am.

But this, to me, is like being happy that your husband only beats you up on the weekend.

August

Who am I

to say forever

when forever taunts me

like a schoolyard bully?

And yesterday

and the day before

wear my regrets

like a uniform.


So I will take every today,

every tomorrow,

and every day after that


and forever will just have to

take care of itself.

Dear Mr Limbaugh,

Sweet biscuits, I hate your guts.

I generally try to pretend that I live in a world where you don't exist. I try to relegate you to the fat, acne ridden goobers I knew in middle school who existed only to taunt those of us who actually came to school to learn and stuff. But this is more than I can take. I am seriously on the edge of a remarkable fury.

I was really sad about the story of John Edward's affair. Not because I'm a lefty hack. (He's not actually running or holding office right now so the political side of me could care less, btw.) But because I really believed Edward's was a good man and I felt strongly about the issues he championed.

I have never hid the fact that I LOVE his wife Elizabeth. She's the kind of woman I aspire to be. Unfortunately, Elizabeth and I now share some common ground that I would not have wished on my worst enemy. And she gets to walk through this nightmare with douchebags like you rubbing salt in the wounds.

According to your ridiculous logic, Mrs Edwards was too smart and used her mouth for too much talking. Therefore, it stands to reason that her husband was virtually forced to betray her. What you probably don't realize, because you have the emotional maturity of a chicken egg, is that Elizabeth has already had that very same thought. She has lain awake at night trying to figure out exactly what SHE did wrong. She wonders what she could have done to prevent this. And she will probably continue to have these thoughts for years. No one will suffer more from this affair than her.

John Edward's is a public figure so Elizabeth will not receive the privacy she has requested during this horrific time in their lives. I imagine her children will see their dad's former mistress on television, her grown daughter will be followed by reporters. And no matter what Elizabeth Edwards accomplishes for the rest of her life, that mistress will forever be a footnote to her story. And for all that, I'm pretty much resigned to hating her husband.

I hate to admit that I have more disdain for him than I do for you, Mr Limbaugh. He was , after all, the one who should have protected them from being fodder for your trash talk in the first place. You're just a pathetic man who makes fun of sick people. And, honestly, how could I have expected you to do otherwise.

Engaging

Always too big, too loud, too much.

Wasted time trying to be smaller, quieter, less.

34 years and finally...






A perfect fit.

Sorrow

Oops. I did it again. I put my faith in yet another politician who has now admitted his adulterous affair. So the main lesson I have learned from this is that I should not be putting my faith into politicians in the first place.

But a bigger question emerges. Am I just pathologically unable to recognize a lying, cheating, bag-o-crap when I see one? After the experiences I have had, one would think that I would be the last person to staunchly defend these accused philanderers. So in one sense, I think my continued naivete proves that I haven't turned into a bitter old cynic. On the other hand, I think it does proves pretty definitively that I am a punk.

Quoted

Be not intimidated... nor suffer yourselves to be wheedled out of your liberties by any pretense of politeness, delicacy, or decency. These, as they are often used, are but three different names for hypocrisy, chicanery and cowardice.

--


John Adams

Actual Headline

Bin Laden driver convicted in war crimes trial

I don't know about you but I feel safer already.

Quoted

"Sometimes I wonder whether the world is being run by smart people who are putting us on or by imbeciles who really mean it."

- Mark Twain

Campaign fun

see Obama pictures

Letter to McCain

Snark is not just about being a smart ass. It's literature. It's poetry. And, in this case, it's probably better political commentary than you will find on the networks, cable or in the New York Times.

Quoted

"Love does not consist in gazing at each other, but in looking outward together in the same direction."

~Antoine de Saint Exupéry

One more reason

http://view.break.com/527579 - Watch more free videos


I never, EVER, want to be single again. Seriously. I mean it.

Insurance Company Rules

This is funny in a 'wanna beat my head against my desk and cry' kind of way. In one sense, I'm actually kind of hopeful. We really could be a the precipice of big changes in our health care system. But I know that change is not gonna be easy and it damn sure won't be pretty. Insurance companies are not gonna give up the golden teat without a fight and they have lots of resources with which to do battle.

I'm not sure a more frustrating industry exists. These are people who will make your child suffer through six bouts of strep throat before they will cover a tonsillectomy. Miss the mark and only get strep five times? Too bad, little fella. Maybe next year.

I see this kind of nonsense day after day in my job. My boss once actually said "Insurance trumps all ladies." I still feel sick just thinking about that statement.

There just has to be a better way...

Henry V- Speech

We've been talking about this at home lately. (I have no idea why. That's just how we roll.) I find it strange Kevin and I have randomly memorized most of this monologue. Kenneth puts us both to shame with this definitive version. It's just so damn awesome...

Em haz birfday!

Happy Birthday Emily!

15...I remember it well. Good times.

Who am I kidding? At 15, I was a dateless nerd who had never been kissed.

But this is about you.

I can't tell your birth story because I wasn't there.
I can't tell any embarrassing stories from your childhood because I wasn't there.
But never fear, I'm saving all your embarrassing adolescent stories to tell on your future birthdays (hopefully with video and/or pictures).

Here is my piece of 15th birthday advice:
Go take a long look at yourself in a full length mirror.
Accept that you are beautiful and live the rest of your life accordingly.

I promise that this will save you much trauma and possibly years of therapy.

Srsly.

Imagine

Imagine, for a moment, what we could have done in those days, and months, and years after 9/11.

We could have deployed the full force of American power to hunt down and destroy Osama bin Laden, al Qaeda, the Taliban, and all of the terrorists responsible for 9/11, while supporting real security in Afghanistan.

We could have secured loose nuclear materials around the world, and updated a 20th century non-proliferation framework to meet the challenges of the 21st.

We could have invested hundreds of billions of dollars in alternative sources of energy to grow our economy, save our planet, and end the tyranny of oil.

We could have strengthened old alliances, formed new partnerships, and renewed international institutions to advance peace and prosperity.

We could have called on a new generation to step into the strong currents of history, and to serve their country as troops and teachers, Peace Corps volunteers and police officers.

We could have secured our homeland—investing in sophisticated new protection for our ports, our trains and our power plants.

We could have rebuilt our roads and bridges, laid down new rail and broadband and electricity systems, and made college affordable for every American to strengthen our ability to compete.

We could have done that.

Instead, we have lost thousands of American lives, spent nearly a trillion dollars, alienated allies and neglected emerging threats – all in the cause of fighting a war for well over five years in a country that had absolutely nothing to do with the 9/11 attacks.

You may say I'm a dreamer but I'm not the only one.

Quoted

Necessity is the plea for every infringement of human freedom. It is the argument of tyrants.

- William Pitt

One word

Questions to be answered with one word only - and no word can be used twice.
(Lifted from Sheila)

1. Where is your cell phone? Purse
2. Your significant other? Kev
3. Your hair? Brown
4. Your mother? Undeserved
5. Your father? Provider
6. Your favorite time of day? Night
7. Your dream last night? 70’s
8. Your favorite drink? Coffee
9. Your dream goal? Recognition
10. The room you’re in? Office
11. Your ex? Slipping
12. Your fear? Alone
13. Where do you want to be in 6 years? Content
14. What you are not? Assertive
15. Your Favorite meal? Demo’s
16. One of your wish list items? Book
17. The last thing you did? E-mail
18. Where you grew up? TN
19. What are you wearing? T-Shirt
20. Your TV is? Smaller
21. Your pets? Hyper
22. Your computer? Slow
23. Your life? Changing
24. Your mood? Anxious
25. Missing someone? Yes
26. Your car? Uplander
27. Something you’re not wearing? Necklace
28. Favorite store? Target
29. Your summer? Cheetah
30. Your favorite color? Pink
31. When is the last time you laughed? Today
32. When is the last time you cried? Yesterday
33. Your health? Good
34. Your children? Happy
35. Your future? Hopeful
36. Your beliefs? Power
37. Young or old? Middle
38. Your image? Evolving
39. Your appearance? Trying
40. Would you live your life over again knowing what you know? Absolutely

More YouTube babies

I dare you to watch this baby and try to maintain your Monday morning bad mood.

Pretty sure these are the last random vacation pictures...

Quoted

Patriotism means to stand by the country. It does not mean to stand by the President or any other public official save exactly to the degree in which he himself stands by the country. It is patriotic to support him insofar as he efficiently serves the country. It is unpatriotic not to oppose him to the exact extent that by inefficiency or otherwise he fails in his duty to stand by the country.

-- Theodore Roosevelt

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