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I get a kick out of Facebook.

I just thought you should know.

Bossed

One thing that I'm not especially enjoying about Grampy's visit is that he likes to keep checking up on me to see that I'm doing what he thinks I should be doing. I'm pretty used to doing my own thing at my own pace and have managed quite well for years but now I find myself supervised and bossed and hassled just a little bit.

Things that have had to be done right now:

• check the mail
• take out the trash
• cut the grass
• trim the edges
• blow the clippings off the sidewalk and driveway
• get to the store for more milk, pop, yogurt, etc.
• get the laundry out of the dryer and folded and put away the moment the buzzer goes off

He really doesn't have much else to do here except make sure that I'm getting things done in a timely manner and he doesn't appreciate me working in short productive spurts interspersed by an hour or two of goofing off (which is my preferred modus operandi). He likes me to have a steady work schedule. He also likes me to get everything done according to his standards. If I sit down to read or watch TV, well, he's noticed that a few more pine needles have fallen off the tree onto the lawn and are, at this very moment, just ruining the look of the house.

And then he'll notice that I've been running around the house all day and I really ought to sit down in the chair next to him and rest for a minute. He likes to have chats throughout the day. Which is fine, as long as I'm choosing the chat topics. If you know what I mean.

I would never in a million years tell him to knock it off. I know he's staying only a short while, I know he can't change his mind about the way things ought to be after having it made up for 84 years, and most importantly, I think it's probably a really nice change for him to be the bosser instead of the bossed. Grampy will tell you himself that Gram was the pusher of the family.

But I'm starting to have disturbing glimpses of what might happen when my darling Mr. Dub retires from his career and begins hanging around the house watching me, supervising me, and offering up better solutions and ideas for me to do my work better, faster, more efficiently.

People sometimes forget that in this house, I'm the queen.

And that's bugging me just ever so slightly today. But please please please, none of you say anything to him about it! I'm just letting off a little steam.

Gavle

That picture is of Carl XVI Gustaf. He's the Sveriges Konung (Swedish King). He's dyslexic, which has nothing to do with anything.

Gavle, Sweden is where Taylor is spending his time right now. I did a little research on Gavle (but can't figure out how to get my keyboard to spell it right. The "a" in Gavle should have an umlaut).

Gavle is a port city. It has about 65,000 inhabitants. The Gavle Goat is regularly set ablaze at Christmastime but recently they started coating it with fire-resistant stuff to discourage arsonists. I don't really "get" the Gavle Goat thing, but I suppose it's one of those things that makes a lot of sense if you grew up there. Sort of like Velveeta cheese makes sense to Americans.

They produce Gevalia coffee in Gavle, Sweden. Gevalia is Latin for Gavle.

"Gavle" means river banks. The average temp in January is 21 degrees F and in July the average is 63 degrees F. I think I might like the weather really a whole lot in Gavle, Sweden.

Taylor says when the people find out that he and his companion are Americans they switch to English. He says they speak fairly good English. One man, possibly intoxicated, came up to them and told them that in Sweden there is no hope, no money, and no cash. Another guy accused them of urinating on his Catholic Virgin Mary with their Mormonism.

Interesting folks, Swedes.

You can see a satellite image of Gavle by clicking here. The body of water you see there is the Baltic Sea (Gulf of Bothnia on some maps).

strange and bizarre

It's been a weird day. I don't know if it's just me, or if it's the hot,muggy weather after we've enjoyed a few days of cool Autumn, or what, exactly. Things have been going wrong for no discernable reason, and tempers have flared over seemingly nothing.

Some days are like that, I guess.

Looking forward to tomorrow and hoping things improve...

District Choir Auditions

I honestly don't know how people work 10 hours on their feet. I remember that I used to do it, but I guess I'm out of practice.

My feet are actually throbbing.

It was a good day though. Our choir booster club made a fairly good amount of money by hosting the district auditions at our high school, and all of our school's students who auditioned made the cut.

Including my Little Prince. He's going on to Regional Auditions on October 25.

Lucky for me, I'm not. Unlike today, I won't be:

• Hauling coolers full of drinks and food up and down stairs
• back and forth across the school (It seems like a quarter mile one way. I'm not exaggerating.)
• rearranging wooden tables and chairs
• lifting, reaching, bending
• walking
• walking
• walking some more
• and then hauling it all back to the choir room and putting it all away when it was over
• all the while smelling the bitter stench of coffee
  

I didn't have to make the coffee since I don't know how. I've discovered that when people find out you don't know how to make coffee they think it's funny. And then they want to make it themselves. Which is just peachy with me.

If I do go to chaperone on October 25, I'll only be having fun with the kids and not doing any of the heavy lifting.

random bits of fluff

Stuff that's on my mind:

• I decided a long time ago (right after the last time I got a speeding ticket) that I wouldn't speed anymore
• mainly because it's dangerous
• but also because I'm tired of getting speeding tickets
• which isn't exactly true
• what I'm really tired of is taking Defensive Driving class
• Anyway
• I realized this morning that 35 mph seems fast enough
• which makes me feel two things at the same time.
• One, that I'm getting really old,
• because HELLO - 35 mph is slow
• and Two, thank heaven because it has really been a drag trying to watch my speed and slow down ALL the time.
• I was also thinking about how cRazY I feel when I'm feverish
• like loony-bin crazy
• hallucinations
• visual and...and...and whatever that word is that means you hear it
• aural?
• Do you ever wonder if people really have an aura?
• That they might really bugs me
• I don't want people having inside information on me
• I would be bummed if people could "read" my aura without my knowledge
• Would they know that a lot of the time I'm pretending to be understanding and patient but really I'm thinking "Get with the program, people. It's not that hard."
• But that I am also at the same time thinking, "Man, this program is hard."
• Or would the aura-reading people just know that I'm inconsistent and basically flaky?
• Which of course begs the question - Amy, do you really think people have to see your so-called aura to know that you're inconsistent and flaky? Get a grip, Mrs. Dub.
• Anyway, back to the feverish hallucinations
• When I was a whole lot younger than I am now I worked in a store where I engraved the items that I sold
• jewelry, name tags, lighters, pens, other fancy crap that people bought
• like that sweet, silver baby cup in the picture
• I've engraved hundreds of those little cups
• and I really loved engraving
• and sometimes when I imagine myself finding a job I think "I'd like to do engraving again"
• but then I realize that most everybody is doing their engraving with a computer engraver now
• which is not the same at all
• because a computer doesn't have the love
• and if you're buying a special gift, like a sterling silver baby cup,
• and going to the trouble of having it engraved
• don't you want it to have the love of a human being and not the soul-less-ness of a computer?
• Anyway, when I used to be an engraver we used what we called "copy"
• which were all these little brass plates, hundreds of them, that each had a letter or number on them
• we would use them to spell out whatever name or date or sentiment was going to be engraved on the item
• and we copied over the letters with a stylus that had on its other end a diamond-tipped engraving thingy
• ANYWAY
• whenever I am feverish I hallucinate myself with a stylus going over and over and over my engraving copy.
• Loopy, fanciful, elegant letters and numbers and designs
• which I suppose is better than hallucinating monsters and bogey men
• but still
• it's enough to drive you bonkers.

That's enough. Carry on, people.

Brrr

It's cold here today. Cold and rainy. The perfect kind of day to stay in the house, make some soup, and have the flu.

Hope it is sunshiny and healthy wherever you are!

oink

My Little Friend tested positive for Type A flu today. Ever since we left the doctor's office I've been running around trying to get his meds, trying to get his schoolwork (he's out for the whole week), trying to get everybody situated. I'm tired.

The doctor gave me a prescription for tamiflu too. You bet I'm taking it.

cereal

Reese's Puffs are delicious.

It's dark and stormy outside the Dubs' windows today. Inside, well, inside it's Reese's Puffs Cereal. It's pretty bad for you, I guess, as far as food goes. But a bowl of Reese's Puffs can lighten up a dark and stormy mood. And if drowning your sorrows in a bowl of cereal can prevent you from taking out a contract on your loved ones, here's a spoon.

Peanut butter and chocolate-flavored crunch.

Busy busy busy

It seems like each day gets a little busier than the last. Having my grand-dad here adds a whole other dimension to the busy-ness. (I first typed "business" and then tried busi-ness. Neither of them looked like what I meant. Is busy-ness even a word?)

I have a headache that won't go away. I'm tired. I still have a lot to do today.

That's all folks! (For today anyway. I'll be back tomorrow.)

God Loved Us...

...So He Sent His Son

(Hymns, No. 187, 3rd verse)

Oh, love effulgent, love divine

What debt of gratitude is mine,

That in His offering I have part

And hold a place within His heart.

Effulgent is a good word. Effulgent: shining forth brilliantly; radiant.

(http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/effulgent)

We sang this hymn in church today. The third verse struck me particularly. It is quite an extraordinary thing to believe in, and yet I feel something - I don't know - cosmic whisper to me that it's true. I'm grateful I have felt God's love for me and that I've felt his love for other people. Especially while preparing for seminary during times of prayer and reflection I often felt that God loves and cares for those teenagers and wants them to be happy. I believe God is the source of the love that I felt for them. It was sometimes quite overwhelming.

You could say, if you were quite poetic, that it was effulgent.

Hunky Bob

That's what we call this funny looking man.

This morning I told my Little Friend that Uncle Bob is coming to visit on Monday. His eyes lit up. His face beamed.

"Yay!"

Birds on a wire

Today, my lovely cousin J's blog has a super cool video about birds and wires and music.

It's neat. You should check it out.

It reminded me of something I saw a few weeks ago. I had stopped at a red light, as I am wont to do, and was watching some birds on the telephone wire across the intersection from me. This one particular bird landed quite spectacularly on the wire and then hopped sideways for several feet along the wire until he was next to another bird and he folded his wings and settled down.

The other bird immediately flew away.

And I thought of Junior High School. Where people are generally shunned who do things a little differently and want a little validation and some casual conversation.

I felt bad for that bird. I wondered if birds have b.o., and I hoped he has good self-esteem anyway even if the other birds don't appreciate his style.

Be kind, friends.

Choir Booster Club

It's in full swing. Our high school is hosting TMEA District Auditions on September 26 so for the next week I'll be running around like, well, you know.

This year will be easier than last year because this year:

• I don't have bronchitis
• We didn't just have a major hurricane blow through here
• I don't have any broken bones

Everybody keep my Little Prince in your thoughts and prayers that he'll be able to do his best as he auditions for All-State Choir. My lovely niece A (who is a SENIOR this year!) will also be going through the audition process.

Wouldn't it just be the coolest if they both make it to All-State?

a great big spoonful of nasty

Do you remember that scene from You've Got Mail where Tom Hanks visits Meg Ryan and she's got a cold and she says "My head is starting to get fuzzy"?

That's how I'm feeling today. I don't enjoy it. I think it's caused by a combination of a variety of cough and cold pharmaceuticals, a lack of quality sleep for, oh let's say the last five years, and a virus. The head cold has now taken up residence in my chest as well which is making me very nervous. It still sometimes hurts to cough due to those ridiculous broken ribs which I have been dealing with for the past year.

I don't like to take medicine. I hate trying to swallow pills and at least half the time I end up choking and gagging and sometimes throwing up. Medicinal syrups are gross. I don't even like cherry flavored stuff because the taste is just like cough medicine.

Yes, I'd like a Route 44 Robitussin Limeade, thank you!"

In celebration of that fuzzy head feeling, please enjoy the following from my favorite children's poet.

Nonnie von Sequitur

by Kenn Nesbitt

I'm Nonnie von Sequitur.
Apples are good.
Remember the alphabet?
He's chopping wood.

The things that I tell you,
may seem rather strange,
but that's just because
here's a dollar in change.

And next week I'm going to
isn't this fun?
So never let anyone
hamburger bun.

If maybe you're wondering
what's going on,
please let me explain it.
The milk is all gone.

When doing your homework
that man is a spy.
I'm happy to see you.
Just give it a try.

This pencil is yellow
and everyone should.
We're having a thunderstorm.
Apples are good.

This may seem bizarre
but it's just what I do.
I'm Nonnie von Sequitur.
Thanks for the shoe.

poor, poor, sick baby

I'm sick. Not the take-me-to-the-hospital-because-this-is-serious kind of sick. Just your average cooking-dinner-and-loading-the-dishwasher-has-thoroughly-exhausted-me kind of sick.

Drippy head, sore throat, aches and pains, fatigue. No fever.

So I can't even dazzle you with outrageously impressive numbers. Like 104.5 or 103.6 or 105.0. You know, the kind of numbers that would make my family and friends worry about me and really insist on bringing dinner over here tonight.

Nope. It's just regular old 98.6 served with a side of tylenol and a box of kleenex.

AFV

Will you admit to liking this show? It's so lame, and so funny. I mean, really, does watching some guy get it in the crotch ever get old?

When they were little my kids loved it, and my Pretty Girl called it "America's Funniest Show".

Now all these years later, it brings a smile to my grand-dad's face.

And that's reason enough for me to watch it every night.

Retail Worker

Walmart. Or Target. Or Kohl's.

My friend T works at Kohl's changing the sale signs. She goes in at 8 pm and works till midnight a few nights a week. She doesn't have to wait on customers or clean up or re-stock anything.

It might be nice to have a job that is sort of mindless and non-hassle-y. Sure, the pay is not great, but it's not the kind of job you have to take home with you. Which would be really nice, right?

Because I have enough work at home with me already.

Counselor/Social Worker

I've thought about this since I was in my early twenties. I don't think I could handle it day in and day out for very long. So much heartache parading through my office every day -I don't think I could take it after a while. I can see myself volunteering in crisis situations on a monthly basis. Maybe. I would have to train for it and try it and see. I would like to help women who have been hurt and who are trying to rebuild their lives.

I've run into quite a few people in my life who are victims of various terrible crimes, and some of them have seemed to embrace their victimhood. How do you help somebody like that? How do you help someone who refuses to forgive their perpetrator? I wonder if the training to be a social worker teaches you how to deal with people who are stuck in what has happened to them and are consequently unable to move on with their lives.

I've been a victim of a traumatic and felonious crime. I forgave "my perpetrator". It took a long time and it wasn't easy and I haven't forgotten what happened. But I don't live with the fear or the suffering any more.

What I've learned is that when you refuse to forgive you hold on to the pain and the suffering. You can't let it go without forgiveness. I believe it is impossible to give the pain back to the person who caused it until you let go of it and forgive them.

What I've learned is that suffering doesn't make you special. Everybody suffers one thing or another. The people who learn and grow from their suffering are those who have figured out how to forgive. They are the special and uncommon ones. Forgiving means letting go of the anger and the blame and the pain. Forgiving means that, whatever it is that has been done to you and however terrible and unjust, you don't let it define you and control your life. Forgiving doesn't mean forgetting and I do not believe that being forgiven by the victim relieves the perpetrator of any responsibility for the crimes he's committed. It just relieves the victim of the suffering.

I want to be happy and at peace. I don't want to be a victim. I want to be truly free of what's happened. I believe that can only happen through forgiveness.

I don't want to be a victim OR a survivor. I just want to be me. I want to choose what's mine.

Medical Professional

When I was little I wanted to be a nurse. When I grew up and started college I wanted to be a Radiologic Technologist. Or a Diagnostic Ultrasound Technologist. Then I found out that even people taking x-rays or doing ultrasound on patients have to deal with very personal health care situations.

I'm easily grossed out. I don't want to touch, see, or smell puke, mucus of any kind, pee, poop, or saliva. Blood I'm okay with, but not any of that other stuff. I wouldn't mind giving people shots or stitching up their cuts or taking care of newborns.

I wouldn't like cleaning up some poor drunk who fell off a curb and cut open his forehead, and then have him puke on my shoes while I was stitching him up. That would pretty much suck as a job.

The medical field is not for me. I'm glad I figured that out before I spent a lot of time and money learning how to do any of it.

Professional Hostess

I'm just kidding!

But we had Bunco here at the Dub house tonight and it was really a lot of fun. Everybody liked my food (or acted like they did, anyway) and the house was ready when the guests started arriving so I feel like I was ahead of the game for once!

Professional hostess would be a tough job. When I used to read the Houston newspaper every day I'd read the society pages and I always marvelled at the perfect Stepford-wife-ish faces, clothes, and homes of those high society ladies.

And the menus - oh wow.

While it's fun once a year or so, a whole party season would get old pretty darn fast. You would have to have a caterer, florist, housekeeper, professional shopper, decorator, dermatologist, manicurist, hair-stylist, and probably other helpers too that I can't even imagine. I think they all have boob jobs, too. And can you imagine having to pose for pictures like that one above? Several times a year?

(And you know that Docia Rudley is smiling and looking like she's having a good time but inside she's going "These shoes are killing me and if I have to listen to one more lawyer joke I'm going to hurt somebody. Why can't I just be a law professor? Why isn't that enough? Why do I have to go to all these ridiculous society parties?")

That's a lot of hassle just for a party. I'd rather just hang out with my friends while wearing my comfy clothes and having lots of girl talk and laughs and diet Dr. Pepper.

Accountant

I think I would be good at this. I took Accounting in high school and made all A's, did some bookkeeping for a while when I was a teenager, and I feel a pull toward it every time I browse through the college catalog.

I already:

1. wear glasses
2. own a calculator
3. can work under a deadline
4. possess a Type A personality
5. am exceedingly nerdy

But I think I would rather eat a live bug every day than go to work as an accountant.

Baker

This is the career that remains the strongest possibility for me. I feel driven to create the perfect loaf of bread. And then to create it over and over again. I'm not sure where this drive comes from but bread is something I can be passionate about. I need to find a better balance in my life so that there is time to fully investigate it. There is something about bread - it feeds the body, yes, but really good homemade bread also feeds the soul. The scent? The effort put into making it? The dedication required to make it fabulous? The fact that even mistakes are edible? I don't know. But there's something.

Dreaming of owning my own bakery someday...and seriously considering purchasing my very first buckets of whole grain rye and oat groats.

Gardener

Living in the land of fire ants, monster bugs of other sorts in unending variety and population along with the high heat/high humidity (all that heat and humidity make for a lot of plant diseases too) has put an end to any thoughts of one day becoming a gardener.

Now I just try to get through the weekly yard work without being eaten alive or having heat stroke. I admire people who manage to make a beautiful garden in this place.

Professional Organizer

I love all the organizing/cleaning shows on tv. I think if I took the classes I'd be really good at it - for a certain kind of client.

One problem with this job for me is that a lot of people have pets. And if they are in need of a professional organizer, chances are very, very good that they haven't cleaned up after their pets in a long, long time. Cat and dog hair and dander really do a number on my immune system.

I've also realized that a cluttered house is a symptom of something much deeper that probably cannot be cured by someone simply coming in to help sort things out. All that crap provides something for them. Safety, security, validity, refuge from the storm, I don't know. It seems to be psychological in nature and it's deeply upsetting when you suggest that their possessions/treasures aren't precious and valuable and worth saving and hoarding and piling up around their homes. It seems like the longer people hang on to these behaviors, the harder it is for them to see any other way. It becomes a compulsion, sometimes. An actual mental disorder.

I believe that people and their relationships are negatively impacted by the inability to let go of things. My own point of view is that if everything is precious, nothing is. Do you know what I mean? I don't understand what the big deal is about all the junk that people own but I see that for many people it is a very big deal. I don't think I could be very understanding or patient with clients. I think it's really sad when people are not happy living the way they do but when it comes right down to it, they are incapable of making positive changes in their environment. A clean, comfortable, safe, and organized home is so important. I would like to help people accomplish that.

Just set all that crap free, people. Let it go. Send it back to the universe.

Or the landfill.

Scientist

I love science. I love biology. Astronomy. Chemistry. Zoology. All of it.

All of it that doesn't involve math, anyway. I think I would really love physics if I could just get my head around the mathematics.

I used to think I'd be a scientist when I grew up. My smart sister is studying to be a biologist and my smart brother just got his master's in physics. I'm proud.

Today is my smart biologist sister's birthday. I won't say how old she is, but oh boy, she's getting up there.

Happy Birthday Jen!!! I wish you happiness and good fortune for this day and every day.

If, without cheating, (and cheaters - you know who you are! no googling, no clicking on the pic) you can be the first to tell in the comments section what woman is pictured in the photo above, you'll win a prize.

Seamstress

I like sewing. I've made lots of things over the years. I'm competent but not especially fabulous at it. I still don't know how to adjust a pattern to fit a person although I can usually fix the problems once the fabric is sewn into clothing. (Something just occurred to me - I wonder if it is a problem with 2D vs. 3D perception? Maybe. I have trouble with that in areas other than sewing.)

I really like sewing when everything is going smoothly. Once I hit a snag with the pattern instructions, or heaven forbid the sewing machine is acting up, frustration usually overcomes me. That, and my house falls into utter chaos if I spend more than half an hour intensely involved in some sewing project.

Someday I'd like to have a craft room where I can keep my sewing machine set up all the time. I think I'd sew more often if I didn't have to drag everything out each time the mood strikes me. And it's not so much dragging it all out that I don't like, it's knowing that I'll have to gather it all away so we can eat dinner on my sewing table, which just so happens to double as our dining room table. It would be nice to leave a project laying out just so, so that I can start back up as soon as I'm ready.

I've sewn stuff for love and for money. I've learned over the years that I much prefer sewing for love. So "seamstress" as a profession is out.

I bought a new serger yesterday. Buttercup will make her grand debut in just a few short months. She will be packing light -all she's bringing with her is her birthday suit - the girl needs some clothes!

Chef

I used to think I wanted to be a chef when I grew up.

I like cooking. I think I'm good at it most of the time. But I have issues:

• I am somewhat of a picky eater - no shellfish, no mushrooms, no thank you.
• I have food allergies - most fruits and some raw vegetables make me itchy and miserable.
• I am made queasy by anything too disgusting like whole, dead animals of any kind. I have no desire whatsoever to cut up or debone a chicken or gut a fish. Also, noodles are sometimes kind of gross.
• I consume no alcohol at all, not in a glass, not in my cooking. I wouldn't have the first clue how to pick a good wine from a bad one.

So you see "chef" isn't really an option for me. Chefs have to do some unpleasant tasks and they definitely have to try everything they cook and they have to cook the food their customers want to eat. Which means if people want Bananas Foster the chef has to make it (and try it to make sure it's right). And I can't eat bananas and don't eat rum.

But I would like to improve my cooking skills and I love reading cookbooks and trying new recipes that fit my rules.

And I would really like to wear a toque.

Careers...

...I've thought I might do when I grew up:

Jeweler. Not the jewelery-selling kind of jeweler. I mean the cutter, polisher, designer, and maker kind of jeweler.

Gemologist has also appealed to me. It's more of a scientific job, but lots of very beautiful things pass through a gemologist's hands.

I have a very large jar of interesting and/or beautiful tumbled rocks. There are some semi-precious stones of very low quality in there. I love them and it satisfies some sort of need that lies deep within me to admire them and handle them and let them sift through my fingers.

(I can't explain my attraction to pretty rocks. I wonder if it is just a girl thing, or if it is unique to me?)

My children, knowing this about me, have brought me many pretty rocks that they have found. Some are very lovely, some are broken chunks of concrete.

I love them all.

"That's hotter than

a stiff ****."

So says Julia Child as she's picking hot noodles out of boiling water with her bare hands in the movie Julie and Julia. And oh my word, what a funny movie! My favorite parts were the ones focusing on Julia, and the Julie Powell/Amy Adams segments weren't as funny or as well written. I do think it's an interesting idea - to take a year to prepare every recipe in a cookbook - and I might try it. Not with Mastering the Art of French Cooking, but maybe with a cookbook I already own.

Julia Child was so awesome. I remember watching her show with all my brothers and sisters and we thought she was so funny with her accent and her cooking. I think it's interesting that a lot of my siblings and I still watch a lot of cooking shows on tv.

Speaking of her accent, where did Julia get that accent? She was from California for pete's sake.

Anyway, it's a pretty good movie and Meryl Streep does a wonderful job portraying Julia Child. You can almost forgot it's not really her.

I miss Julia Child.