The Stranger and I

I was standing in line to rent a movie on Friday night
behind this couple who were laughing and talking,
when suddenly the man let an exclamatory toot out of his rear end.

He paused in his conversation, but his girlfriend hadn't noticed.

The thing is, I noticed, and he knew I noticed.

When the line moved up, I moved up also,
because even though he knew I knew,
I didn't want to embarass him further by standing back
and leaving a wide space between us.

So there I stood,
right in the middle of the invisible green cloud,
in order to spare the feelings
of a man who was a complete stranger,
and yet,
with whom I shared a terrible secret.

I finished paying for my movie
and stepped to the doorway where
I watched him drive off,
with the girl who was clueless
of the connection that had formed between us
in those few seconds of darkness.

The silence I kept for him.
The placid smile that hadn't wavered on my face.

And I let him go.

Wishing him well,
wishing him...less magical fruit,

I let him go.

*

New Job

Yes, I do have a new job!
This is one of those...
must-wear-shoes and comb-your-hair and leave-the-house
kind of jobs.

The guitar studio where middle child and twin boy take lessons,
asked me to join the staff and last Saturday was my first day!
Today is my second day - I only work Saturdays
and so far have three students.

I have two cute little sisters with purple guitars,
and a fifteen year old boy who wants to learn the bass
so that he can be in his friends' band.
He looks like one of the Jonas brothers,
with curly black hair all in his eyes.

I teach keyboard, guitar and electric bass.

Off to work!

*

The Nerve

Last night I was in a horrible mood
and the husband kept giving me valid solutions for my problems
instead of just letting me wallow in them.

The Teenager

"I just have one thing for you to do while I'm gone. It's very important that you do this - it will take about 10 minutes - before I am home. Do it first, before you do anything else so you don't forget. I'll be gone for two hours, and this 10 minute job is the only thing I want you to do for me. The rest of the time is yours."

These were my instructions to the teenager. He loves being home alone just like me,
but I really needed him to begin supper.

I had the recipe card and all the ingredients set out on the counter.
The measuring cups and spoons, the pan, the wooden spoon, all arranged neatly.
I gave him detailed verbal instructions, as well as the written ones.

Cut vegetables, put them into the pan, turn heat to medium, stir for five minutes.
Add flour and spices, stir for another minute.
Turn off the heat, put the cover on, and leave it until I get home.

So I get a frantic phone call just as I am leaving the store to come home.

"Mom? What...um....I can't remember what I'm supposed to do."

"It's all on the recipe card, just--"

"I can't...I don't know....I think I lost the recipe card."

So I come home to find the vegetables chopped (but not peeled), two bowls setting out on the counter with various ingredients in them, nothing in the pot, the entire length of the counter covered in flour and the agitated teenager standing amidst it all with a small black comb stuck into the top of his head.

It was a scene every mother dreams of.

"How long has that comb been in your hair?"

"Huh?" (feeling atop his head)
"Oh, man, I must have stuck it in there this morning...."

I can't really get mad.
Twin boy reminded me again this morning, kindly, that sometimes I drive past his school and could I please not forget to drop him off this time because he didn't want to be late.

peace.

*

First Real Haircut

Twin girl visited the "beauty salon" for the first time in her life at ten years old.
She loved the idea that it was a professional's job to make her look beautiful.
Isn't this why we all pay good money to sit in the chair???


Twin Girl: Before Haircut


Twin Girl: After Haircut

Twin Boy: Needs A Haircut

*

Cheap Thrills

We're all sitting in the kitchen waiting for someone to call us,
because we just got a new phone and the ringer is set to
Beethoveen's Fifth.


Life is really going to change around here when we get cable.

*

Spoiled

I don't really worry about the fact that my aging car is
making a grinding noise when I turn corners,
or that you have to turn the key around three times before the ignition "catches",
but this morning when I pressed the warm-butt-seat button
I realized with a sudden jolt of anxiety
that one day it was just not going to heat up anymore.

Glamorous

Speeding down the snow-slick road on the way to my new job this morning,
I glanced down and saw the tiny cellophane strip from a feminine product
wrapped around the ring finger of my left hand.

On God and His Reasons

We sat in the chair together, last night, twin boy and I.
Our bodies overlapping slightly, with a blanket,
warm, comfortable,
and we talked of God.

I asked him questions and he answered them fluidly, with confidence.

I asked him how he knew there was a God and he said one reason was
that God had made every person to be so unique,
so different from every other person on earth.

I asked him why he thought God did that.

He said - the main reason that God made us all so different,
is because if we were all the same, we would be lonely.

He said - if we were all the same, then the world would be filled
with all of these people,
but there would still only be one person, really.
And that would be lonely.


I think we should ask children more questions.

*

On Hold

Several things on hold for me in life right now...

but yesterday was a new one.

Jerry Seinfeld on hold!

I'm serious!

I had to call the Academic Superstore to find out where in the heck my Multimedia Fusion 2 is, and I sat on hold for 15 minutes.

I was traveling in the car, multi-tasking (tsk) and remarkably, I was having fun.
Jerry had me laughing aloud!
It got so that I sort of didn't want his jokes to be interrupted by the boring representative who was sure to come on any second and make me miss the next joke.

So I listened happily, thinking, "Now THIS is being on hold!"

And then it happened.
The jokes started looping.
My smile froze and then my teeth clenched together.
The dark cloud descended.

It was terrible. It was worse than Muzak.
Hearing jokes repeated - the same 14 jokes played over and over and over
can really grind on you.
You feel sort of tricked, because you remember laughing naively the first time.
Little did you know, the whole loop was a sort of evil mockery.
Got your hopes up? DASHED!!!

On the upside, I did find a really cool outfit at Goodwill yesterday.
$8.52!!! Shirt, pants, belt.
Yeah!

*

Solid

Hey all, check out this link and see the world's stiffest woman!
I always thought I moved around when I played, but apparently I am stiff as a board.

Just wait: next time,

Solid Gold Dancer on bass.

Creole gig


Peace!

Tagged

Hey I got tagged by Beth, a fellow blogger who writes about life as the principal of an elementary school - I love reading from "the other side of the wall" and wondering how similar her experiences are to my own children's dear principal.

And now I'm concerned that I may have placed the apostrophe in the wrong place in the sentence above. Anyone?

Thanks for the good news in the last post! Makes me realize that I have way more good news than I remember most of the time.

Six random things....

#1 Last night I played in a cool little venue called The Creole Gallery, and it was SOLD OUT! I did not think we'd have a crowd on a Wednesday night, especially with the cold - that was fun! That's me with the electric bass, and my cousin is also in the band - he is on your left, and plays all sorts of really interesting percussion instruments.

Wow that was a long first random thing. I could have just said, "I'm in a band."

#2 My favorite candies of all time are Whoppers and Strawberry Twizzlers.

#3 I am a vegetarian but I've fallen off the wagon in the past year. I don't eat it often, but every once in a while...bring on the beef.

#4 My secret wish has always been to be a Solid Gold Dancer.

#5 I can't figure out my hair.

#6 I have a mysterious talent for interpreting dreams, determining dog breed mixes, and writing out imaginary conversations for people who are not sure what to say in most any situation.

I think I kind of cheated and put three in one there at the end. Oh well.

I'm tagging Kelle, Molly, KEK, Kristy, Carin and Diane.

*

Good News

Anybody ready for good news?

I'm just ready to hear something good for a change.

For anyone who leaves a comment here with Good News of ANY kind -
personal news,
local news,
national or world news...

I will put your name into a hat, pick one,
and send the lucky winner a refrigerator magnet from my good friend
Evan G. Vanderwey,
the home loan represenative who is lurking around my mailbox,
hoping to help me take out a second mortgage
when the Teenager begins college.

Go AWAY Evan!

sheesh.

But he has a nice face, he looks young and hopeful.
He'd look good on your fridge.

*

Tears

Sometimes you just need a good cry.

And sometimes, you need a knock-down drag-out, full-blown sob session.
Where you can't catch your breath,
where you can't see any positive light at the end of the tunnel,
where there seems no way out,
in the middle of the night, in the dark, all alone.

Where you hope somebody hears you and comes downstairs to pat you on the back.
But you hold to the secrecy of your tears
just as much as to your need to share them.

I had a night like that, just two nights ago,
and it's no secret that it was the end of a long day,
where I had been away from the children for so many hours,
and had come home to their funny little beautiful hand-wrapped gifts.

And that the very next day, they were all loading into their grandparents' car,
to travel three hours away for fun and swimming.
They were going away and it just came at a bad time for me.
I needed them home but I didn't have any right to keep them there.
They had a great offer elsewhere, you know?

The thought just came to me in the middle of the night:

They're all I got.

All four of them, in one car, on one slippery highway,
in the middle of winter, on Super Bowl Sunday...
it suddenly felt...
dangerous,
hurried,
tempting fate.

So I cried.

Wishing they could stay home.
Wishing I could go with them.
Feeling like I was dealing way way too casually
with these precious little people.

The husband came down, eventually, to pat me on the back
and listen, and soothe.
I understood his words, they all made sense, but honestly,
I just wasn't through getting it all out.
I was on a roll, spouting this injustice and that one,
crumpling tissue after tissue and throwing them passionately to the floor
with each new fear that surfaced.

Finally, when he thought it was over, I said,

"And I have to tell you something."

There was a pause, and then a serious,
"Go ahead."

I let it all out then,

"I (gasp)
Hate(gasp)
Cherry(gasp)
Twizzlers." (sob)

"I hate them.
They taste like plastic.
I like the Strawberry ones.
I have never liked Cherry.
And every year you give them to me for my birthday
and I didn't want to hurt your feelings so I didn't say anything
but if I don't say something now you will just keep getting them for me
for the rest of my life and I just don't want anyMO-HO-HORE!" sobsobsob.

He tried not to laugh, bless him.
He patted me on the back and promised new Twizzlers tomorrow.

Sometimes...you know?

You just need a good cry.

*

Slim

On my way home from the solo and ensemble event yesterday,
I had to stop at Meijer.
I was soooooo tired after playing piano for nearly 9 hours straight...
and I just wanted to get home.

I was starved too, and, it was my Birthday!

So I perused the deli area, looking for something quick to grab -
something that I normally would never buy for myself (as a birthday treat)
but I was in too much of a hurry and couldn't find anything that looked good.

I grabbed the ear-plugs that I came for from Sporting Goods (long story),
and veered toward the check-out lane.
I was on Empty, big-time - tired, sort of depressed
and just wanting to be Home with my feet up.

Standing in the check-out aisle, I absently looked at the stuff there,
mentally reminding myself not to fall sucker to all of those impulse items.
Nail clippers, dog bones, mints, gum,
and weird things like black combs, lint brushes and light-up keychains.

Suddenly I perked up. I NEVER buy impulse items in the check-out lane,
but today was my Birthday,
and I was going to be impulsive.

Yeah, that's right.

I made the decision instantly and started throwing things onto the belt.
It wasn't really much to speak of, just a bag of licorice Snaps,
a three-pack of some kind of dark chocolate truffle and,
(this is wear it gets good),
a Slim Jim.

Not one of those shorty Slim Jims, oh no, this was the big long Slim Jim.
The real McCoy.
My mood changed instantly, from dragging to alert.
I could not WAIT to get into the car.

As soon as I was on the road I was unwrapping those truffles and I ate two of them in a row.
They were SO good.
The kind of good that you experience when you're starving, you know what I mean.
Then I eyed Jim.
I was actually giving myself a little talk, "You really going to eat that?"

I ripped it open and took a bite.

And it was everything I remember from the last time I had one,
which is when I was about 9 years old on a camping trip.

The thing about a Slim Jim is that there is no subtlety involved.
The whole experience is one of major, in-your-face sensation.

First of all, you can't nibble delicately on a Slim Jim.
You have to grab it with your back molars and yank off a hunk.
Then as you chew, you wonder if you were supposed to peel the thing or something -
it has a kind of "skin" that you just have to commit to or quit.
The flavor is smoky, firey, spicey and intense.
The after-taste is greasy, salty, and stings your throat.
You don't really want any more after two bites, but you go back for the buzz.

I made myself eat the whole thing, feeling dangerous and irresponsible.
Afterwards, I ate the last truffle, but it's flavor was reduced.
I could barely taste it at all, actually.
I couldn't face the Snaps.

But after that, I felt pretty good.
I didn't get sick, and I wasn't hungry anymore.
My mouth was numb, but I was awake.

I got home and stuffed the grocery bag into the garbage before anyone could see.
I had this delicious sense of having got away with something.

p.s. I just searched "Slim Jim" and found this site:
http://www.spicyside.com/
where reside people who like Slim Jims.
Their names, I'm not kidding, are:
Freaky Keith, Insane Kim and Twisted Paul.

yeah that's right.

*

I'll Take Them

And a big thank-you goes out to Evan at Cornerstone Home Loans,
who sent me heartfelt greetings for my birthday.
Along with a refrigerator magnet.

I like the cards from the real estate lady too.

And the ones our church secretary slides under our pastor's hand to have him sign.

They all count.

I know, it's dumb.
But I like them.

Peace.

*

What Do I "Do"?

Last night, band rehearsal until late.
Up early this morning to go to the high school.
Rehearsed with solo students from 7:45-1pm.
Pick up children at 3.
Give lesson from 3:15-3:45.
Drive into town for hair cut at 4.
Home by 5:30, get supper ready.
Leave by 6:30 for church band rehearsal.

Spending tomorrow rehearsing some of the 28 pieces of music
that I will play on Saturday.
Arrive at the event an hour away by 7:30.
Dash from room to room, accompanying choir students,
straight through until 5.

Come home and start preparing some bass music.
Students on Monday and Tuesday,
bass gig on Wednesday.
Back to the school to rehearse the band students for their festival.
Another event next Saturday.

Some people ask me what I do, "...now that the children are all in school?"
Huh?
I always have a hard time saying and it bugs me.

I do laundry.
I plan and cook meals and grocery shop.
I pick up after everybody.
I prepare musically for students, for church, for bands, for the school.
I write music, play my bass, and the piano when I need to.
I put my head down until my brain clears.
I field phone calls and plan birthday parties.
I take children to lessons and supervise their practice.
I read aloud to them.
I try to listen to their stories, keep them from fighting,
and give them creative things to do.

But since I can't nail down exactly what I do without bending someone's ear for 5 minutes,
I usually just mumble, "Well...I practice my bass, and um...laundry."

One of these days I'm going to come up with a really cool name for whatever it is that I do.
Until then....

there's a pile of "whites" in the basement calling my name...

Peace.

*

Check It Out

Ahhh, a friend borrowed this from the library.
For me.

It is something special, when another will look closely enough,
beyond the facade,
the mask,
the trying oh-so-hard to live up to others' expectations,
to see you how you really are,
and to say,

"you are something good."

Thanks to my friend.

History

I sat on my couch, all wrapped up in the big red blanket,
watching history,
just a few minutes ago.

I watched a black man become President of the United States.

I listened to the music, and to the words, and watched the faces of the crowd.

I saw our flag waving above it all.

I am not a politician,
not an activist.
Not a Republican,
not a Democrat.

Some people say that I am naive.
A dreamer.
It's probably true.

But sometimes good things happen,
sometimes dreams come true.

I wish it weren't such a moment of history,
a black man becoming president.
It shouldn't mean anything at all.

But there was a day
when a day like today,
would have been an impossible dream.

It is a good sign for all of us everywhere,
that that day is no more.


*

Numbers

I was getting groceries and picked up some cute little bangle bracelets for the girls.
Normally $5...but 75% off, I LOVE 75% off!

In fact, I'm a sucker for 75% off. I have bought WAY too much junk over the years, just for the thrill of doing that math in my head and coming up with the final sum.

It's close to the heady rush I get from Free Food, but not quite.
And that's another post.

So at the register, imagine my dismay when the price came up as $2.50.
Ummm.....according to my lightning-quick math skills, that would be 50% off,
and not acceptable, oh no.

So I politely alerted the cashier.

She looked like someone who had, seconds earlier,
been pulling the pin-curls out of her hair in her own home,
when suddenly and without warning, her body had materialized
at this very register, and now a woman was moving her mouth in front of her,
but only making unintelligible sounds.

I wanted to wave my hand in front of her face to make her blink.

Instead, I repeated myself patiently,

"This is supposed to be 75% off, but it's ringing up at $2.50."

Again, the look of total incomprehension.

I tried a new tact,

"Well, 75% off of $5 would make it $1.25."

Ah, this time she responded, pecking numbers into the machine.

I watched the screen carefully,

$1.75

mmmmm....

Now another person could let that go.

I opened my mouth though,

"ummmm, actually, it should be a dollar twenty-five."

She looked at me doubtfully and now I was alarmed.
Did she think I was putting one over on her?
I grabbed my cool spiral notebook and flipped the page over.

"See," I say, scrawling numbers down,
"75% of five dollars is $3.75",
(blank look)
"and see," I say, angling the paper toward her,
"you subtract that from five dollars, and you're left with a dollar twenty-five."

She looked up from my calculations and shrugged,

"Whatever you say."

I think my mouth was hanging open at that point.
I really wanted to go over this with her again, but the line behind me was lengthening.

I wanted to teach her.
I wanted her to understand.

I went home and did math facts with twin girl instead.

*

Can't Leave Her Alone For A Minute

It seems to me that when left alone too long,
I tend to conjure up my own disasters.

Yesterday, it was my last living Tupperware dish.
I put the frozen bread inside to thaw,
and,
with a quick look around the kitchen,
decided that the oven was the best place to keep it
until I needed to roll it out for pizza dough.

I said to myself, aloud, "Don't turn that oven on."
A little friendly reminder.
Totally unnecessary of course.

Within the hour, folks, I had decided to warm up the
rest of last night's supper,
and turned that sucker on to, "Low Broil."

Not low enough, apparently.

The bread was saved.
The lid to the dish, not.

Today it is the laundry.
While filling the washer with dark clothes,
I carefully poured bleach into the fabric softener dispenser.
Shrieking, I started pulling out all of the dark clothes
and throwing them into the laundry tub.
The spasmodic flinging of clothing jostled the dispenser
and bleach droplets flew everywhere making it way worse.
I filled the tub with cold water and rinsed rinsed rinsed.
My daughter's new skinny jeans were in peril.
I took off my own jeans and threw them into the water as well.
(That bleach went everywhere).

Still acting without thinking,
I looked at the bleachy water inside the washer
and decided to run a small load of whites in order
to help dispel all the bleach. In they went.

Only I didn't think about the fact that the darks were all
in the laundry tub that the washer drains into,
and if I turned that washer on, it would most surely overflow the tub
and flood the basement.
One load of completely soggy clothing would have to be moved.

I was left standing in my underwear, staring at the mess
that I had created in less than 3 minutes total,
afraid to touch anything else.

All by myself, folks.

*

Doesn't Fall Far

Red marks all over the math papers last week.
This is twin girl's cross to bear.
There was one wrong answer that caught my eye though.

It was a story problem:

If there are 3 red marbles and 2 blue marbles in a bag,
what is the probability that you will
pick out a red one with your eyes shut?

Her answer, scrawled in serious, round, 4th grade handwriting
was,

"a good one."

I'm sure creating a ratio was the last thing on her mind.
Instead, she was wondering about the marbles themselves,
and why anyone would want to reach into a bag of them with their eyes shut.
Why not just choose the one that you want with your eyes open?
And why are there no purple marbles?
And why would someone only pick out ONE marble,
when they could grab a whole handful?

I can just see her sighing over the complete irrelevance of the question,
and then carefully printing what she supposed must be,(generally speaking)
the answer.

That's my girl.

*

Hopeful

Taking a pause from an especially painful writing project,
he asks me,

"Do you think it would be rude to write,
'to be continued' at the end of an essay?"

I said it might send the wrong message.

He sighs and returns to the work at hand.

*

Lighter

My New Year's resolution is to clean out the bedroom.
Everything: closet, bathroom, under the bed, things stacked in corners.

I want to get rid of the seven pair of jeans that I own
that I wish still fit me.
I want to get rid of the leather jacket that was brand new
six years ago when I ripped it.
(I've been meaning to get that repaired.)
I want to get rid of the itchy sweater that looks nice
but feels terrible.
And the mint green suit that was in style for about 3 seconds
back in 2002. It was expensive and rarely worn.
It needs to be set free.

I have boxes labeled "Ebay" and "Donate" and huge garbage bags at the ready.
I will toss brand new lipsticks (I have never worn lipstick),
and extra links to the wristband of a watch that I never wear.
(I guess I kept them in case...my wrist grew?)

I will throw away pins.
The kind that you place decoratively on the yoke of your denim jumper.
I never have, and never will, own a denim jumper.
A gingerbread man pin. A fancy "K". A tiny grand piano.
Why do I own these?

I will take the curtain rod out from under my bed.
I will make a decision about it. Will I hang a curtain on it?
Or is it worth the safety I feel, knowing it is under there,
in case I should have to club an intruder with it?

I will get rid of various and sundry items in the bedroom,
and feel a little lighter every day because of it.

It will take me a year.

Wish me luck.

*

Winter Walking

I took twin girl for a walk in the woods because she was ornery.
Not enough sleep, not enough fruits and vegetables, not enough chores.
Too many presents, too much chocolate, too many video games.

So we walked, and she whined.
Until I told her that she should not talk like that in the forest.
She should stay quiet and just use her eyes to find some beauty.

And she did.

Red berries, on leafless winter trees.
Glistening dew-ice, on creekside rushes.
Swirling patterns of frozen flooding,
layered like ribbon jello beneath our feet.

Then...

Slender, bulbous and dripping icicles
in clusters between the fallen tree bridge
and the water.

They are glistening, crystal ice people-sicles,
hair caught on branches above,
feet stirring eddies in the water below.

If you focus on them carefully,
it seems as though the creek is the thing that is still,
and the glassy ice people are the ones moving.

Slender pixies,
melting
as they stand bravely,
feetless and
losing ankles to the tide and the sun,

water skiing anyway.

*

Lost Things

Today I am no longer blue.
I just returned from Kohl's where I lost my Kohl's credit card.
I had it in my hand, and then I didn't have it in my hand.

I rifled through my bags, my pockets, my purse.
Nothing.

I stood in line at Customer Service, with things to return,
and explained what happened to the nice lady at the counter.
She perkily asked for my last name,
and said she'd check but if I had just lost it, it probably wouldn't be back there yet.
Then she reached into the secret lost-but-found things drawer
and pulled it out.

"Today is your lucky day!" she said.

I couldn't believe it, and said,
"Wow, somebody was really honest to return that."

She said, "Oh yes, they usually do get turned in."

Lost things, returned by strangers.

I needed to hear that good news.

Blue

The children are usually the ones who have the day-after blues,
but this year I caught it somehow.

Might be partly because we dropped the teenager off at grandma's yesterday,
and coming home without him is never quite right.
Might be because now the middle child is a teenager too,
turning thirteen on Christmas Day.
Might be how I grossed myself out today by eating a fast food burger.
(I say I'm flexible as a vegetarian, but whenever I flex...I quease.)
Might be that picture of twin girl with what I highly suspect may be the
Last Baby Doll Of Christmas.

The night before Christmas, it is all potential.
The day of Christmas, it is all realized.
The day after, it is all over.

Now we live in the limbo of Not Christmas Anymore,
and Not The New Year Yet.

It's cold and I'm blue.


*

Lookin' Good

I was pushing my cart down the canned goods aisle,
when I thought to call home and ask if we were out of waxed paper.

I was feeling good,
purposeful,
baseball cap on,
there to get the job done.

Then I remembered that my cell phone was not in my coat pocket,
but in my sock,
because my clothes had no pockets today,
and it just worked out to keep it there.

So I hitched up one leg of my pants,
and suddenly I felt sort of cool.
I actually had the thought - fleeting, ridiculous -
that I hoped nobody would become frightened if they saw what I was doing.

Like maybe I was pulling a gun or a knife out of my cool,
concealed leg-holster.

Of course I was wearing big clompy boots,
pushing a cart full of groceries,
clutching a list written on a well-worn spiral notebook
with "Writing Journal" scrawled in a child's handwriting across the front.
And I had a purple washable marker that I was crossing stuff off with.

Yeah I looked pretty dangerous.

Anyway, the illusion was shattered when I reached into my sock
and tugged only half of my phone out, since the back panel had come off and,
inexplicably, adhered itself to my calf.

I peeled the rest of my phone off of my leg,
slid it back together and made the phone call.

Unperturbed.
Uber-cool.
Lookin' Good.

*

SNOW DAY

*

twin boy
*

*

middle girl
*

*

twin girl
*

*

School Daze

Taking a breath for a snappy comment over my shoulder
to the children in the backseat,
I realize I have already dropped them off.

sheez, I'm either talking to them when they're not here,
or we're circling the backstreets around the school
because I can't remember what I have driven into town for.

*

Stitches

They stitched him.
He tripped over the rug at Wendy's,
and banged his head against the trash can.

Nope, no germs to worry about there....

Anyway, today was the big Jiffy Mix field trip.
It's really cool.
They show you a slide show (I think it's an actual slide show),
and they give you a cookie and juice,
and then you walk between the red lines to see all the machinery
and the workers,
and you get to wear a hair net.

But the thing the twins have been talking about
for five days is the trip to Wendy's afterwards.

That's where he earned two stitches.

Funny thing about boy twin,
we always knew he'd end up with a few stitches,
the way he
careens,
cavorts,
caroms
through life.

We lost him once on a cruise ship,
and once at a Target,
and once at a petting zoo.

He was okay those times,
and he is okay this time too.

*

It's A Feeble Request....

...when you hand a ten-year-old a 20 dollar bill for Santa's Secret Shop
and ask her to,

Bring back some change.

*

I Can Take You

That's what I said to the teenager.
Although he is taller than I am now, I still outweigh him by a good ten pounds.
So I thought I could take him.

Now we are not a violent family.
We don't hit each other, even in play.
The worst fight anybody has ever had here
was a spit-fight in the way back of the van years ago
between the twins.

We try to touch each other gently.

But yesterday I was feeling sort of itchy
and I challenged him.
I think I just wanted to get him out of the chair
where he resides with his ever-present book,
slouched and slack.

C'mon, fight me.

He grinned and unfolded his body,
and proceeded to pin me to the floor.
He gave a running commentary to his delighted siblings,
a la The Dog Whisperer.

"See," he says while kneeling on my chest,
"this is what we call the submissive pose."

For my part, I could not stop laughing.
I had no strength whatsoever up against those dimples,
that curly hair, that wiseacre mouth.

There is something so startling,
magical,
and utterly incapacitating,
about the idea of my baby,
growing up.

Yes, I think the paralyzing laughter was why I lost this time.
I think I can still take him.

*

Numbers

His eyes were red and puffy and he appeared past bedtime.

"Ohhhh, come here," I said, pulling him into the chair.

He sank into my lap.

"I was just thinking about how I only have a few more hours left to be nine,"
he spoke into my shoulder.

"Ohhhh, shhhh, it's gonna be alright."

"But these 9 years went by so fast,
and now I'm going to be 10 and I just don't want to be."

I never knew a child who loves to be a child as much as this one.

He added,

"And I don't really know how many numbers I have left."

I thought about that.

I said,

"You are special, because you know how to enjoy the Now.
Most kids just can't wait to be older.
But you, you are living every minute with all you have.
It's going to be okay.

And I think you will have lots of numbers."

He sniffed, and nodded, and left my arms for bed.


I wonder...

Do I love my Now like that?

Alive

The teenager says that he feels uncomfortable
when they are all having their television show
and I run in and dance through their field of vision
and then run out again.

He thinks it's weird.

I said I am not here to make things comfortable for him.

*

Squeaks and Miracles

Today I wore my squeaky shoe to church.
For some reason last year, the right one started squeaking and it's awesome.

I always announce that I'm wearing my squeaky shoe to the family.
They make no reaction whatsoever to my announcement,
but I'm strangely pleased about it anyway.

When I wear my squeaky shoe to church, I have to walk up to the front to play.
We all try to go up as quietly and unobtrusively as possible, but my shoe squeaks every other step and I think it's hilarious.

It's like I have this really funny joke inside of me that NOBODY else gets.

I was smiling all morning.

Right before we were to start playing, a really special person came up to me and tapped me on the shoulder and told me that her father's brain tumor just disappeared. It's completely gone.

I kissed her right on the face.

What else can you do?

Good things all around me.

*

Looking for Something Good

I feel like I just opened a really really good fortune cookie.

My aunt called with a message of peace and love for me.
She told me to look for something good this Christmas season.
She has a sense of something positive that is coming.
She's feeling good vibrations...

Now I am too.

There's a saying that goes, "You find what you're looking for."

So thanks to my aunt, I am making it my goal to spend this season...

Looking For Something Good.

Join me?

The Last Santa

There comes a time in all of our lives, when we make that last visit to Santa.

I don't actually remember my last visit, but the year that I didn't go up to him is still vivid in my mind. I remember being in the department store, and being surprised by someone's suggestion that I go sit on Santa's lap. I remember a slow burn traveling up my cheeks as I wrestled with the truth of the matter...that in other's eyes I still seemed young enough for Santa....that I felt incredibly uncomfortable with this perception....but that secretly, deep down, I wished I were still brave enough to go up. I don't remember how old I was, but that startling knowledge - that through merely the passage of time, Santa had emerged one year as a stranger instead of a friend - left me unsteady, disgruntled.

Today we visited the mall ahead of the crowds and only twin boy eagerly said he'd like to visit Santa. But when we got there, he looked abashed...like a big boy in the nursery. We stood behind the fake trees, and twin girl joined us, uncertainly interested all of a sudden. A Santa's helper peered kindly through the trees and said, "Do you want to visit Santa? Come right in! Come on! You should come!"

So they trudged forward, feet dragging. Something pulled them forward, something pulled them back.
But they smiled politely and spoke their words of request with plastered smiles, with stiff necks.

We all laughed as we gathered up our things.
I said to the husband, "The Last Santa."
He agreed with a rueful smile.
Then all six of us walked away together, arms looped, smiles real again.

But leaving something behind.

*

What is Good

So I am sitting on the couch with my bass, just holding it.
And it's all dark here and everyone is in bed.
And I'm listening to Richard Bona sing,
and his face looks like an angel.
And I think to myself,

"I want to be good inside.
So that whatever comes out of me

is beautiful."


Here is some Peace and Love.

*

Alarms and Things

Tonight I found five dollars in my shoe.

LOVE when that happens.

And this morning I realized
that when you're not used to setting a clock radio,
the sound level of the radio station at 6am
is way WAY louder than it seemed the night before when you set it.

*