Changes Daily

An Argument for Civility

2011-02-24T00:13:00.001-08:00

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me.

That is the biggest fallacy we sell ourselves. We can tell ourselves names, judgment, derision doesn't hurt. We can say we are stronger than anything anyone can say to us. We can tell each other are walls are too high to be penetrated by ugliness. But when we are alone, in the dark, and the tears are coming, we know the truth. Words have a power far mightier than any weapon.

Words have incited riots. Words have caused panic. Mere words have brought great people to suicide. Words have turned people into killers. Words. Words said in anger, in ignorance, in judgment.

Words can be used for great things. We can't turn our back from communication. It is responsible usage of words that causes our society to achieve great things, to right terrible wrongs, to empower, and to cause change.

But we have come to a time in our country where unfettered and irresponsible use of words is leading to the downfall of what we have. Words are the poison spreading amongst us.

I am a victim of words. The things I have heard in my 38 years are hurtful, disgusting, and harmful. They have stuck with me and helped to define me. Although I try to escape and disempower them, they are deeply embedded. I know I am not winning that battle.

The past two years have been hell. I was coming to a point in my life where I was finally happy. I had survived back to back abusive bosses to land a job with a group of people I adored. They adored me. I had built a part-time business. I was working like a dog, but the work was going to pay off. I was digging my way out of school debt, saving for and planning for, the future.

The rug was pulled out in stages. First, my business collapsed. A dispute over my fees, which was ridiculous. I had low standards and would have reasonably negotiated anything in dispute. But, greed drove the opposition. The reality of the situation was, after four years of providing him with work, he found someone who could do half as well for half the price and that was good enough for him. He never even paid what he owed me.

We adjusted to the first rug pull. I had another contract, twice a year. It wasn't a sure thing - I had to apply twice a year - but I had enough seniority, I should get picked. Until I didn't. Second rug.

There was some shuffling of debt after that rug. We tried not to dip into savings. Pulled back on the reigns. Canceled a trip we were planning.

Few months later, the partners told me we were experiencing a work slowdown. They wanted me to go down to part-time. Temporarily they said. I believed them. Why wouldn't I? I had just earned a productivity bonus. The work had been coming out of our ears, and we were just about to get a new load of cases.

So, we shifted some more. I tried to negotiate lower payments with my credit holders. It was a temporary situation. I wanted to put it all in perspective. They wouldn't work with me. Not a single person I talked to was willing to lower my monthly payments by even a dollar. In fact, one company I talked to offered to close my account if I would make payments that were $200 more than the payments I was now struggling to make. My income, in five short months, had been cut by 40%.

I did take on some part-time work during the "temporary" down shift. I babysat. I cleaned people's houses. Anything people needed help with, I offered. It helped, a little.

I got used to less. I stopped updating my wardrobe, going to the gym, and took my kid out of preschool. We had just signed a new lease before all our troubles started so, unfortunately, we were stuck in our lease. I inquired about moving to a lower cost apartment in the complex or negotiating a lower rent. We were told it was entirely possible - if we paid two months' rent in penalty for the move. So, we could save $200 a month if we paid $4000 now.

I felt fortunate to have a job. Until I didn't. The last rug got pulled. A few days before the end of the month and right before school started. I got no severance. I got no warning. I got called into the bosses' office and told the firm was shutting down and that was my last day. My medical benefits would end at the end of the month. I was given my last paycheck. To my horror, I realized it was just enough to pay rent. No groceries, bills, or anything else (even laundry) could be paid out of that.

That weekend, I went into panic mode. I was absolutely freaked out. I sent my resume to about 200 places. I applied for unemployment. I paid rent. I canceled everything that wasn't necessary. No cable, no phone. Everything I didn't have to have was gone.

Unemployment took 8 weeks to arrive. The next month, I used savings for rent. The calls began from creditors. No calls came from the hundreds of resumes and leads I hopefully addressed every day. The creditor calls got more and more aggressive. They claimed to be outside my house looking for my car. One actually came to our door. I asked everyone for a job.

I took every job I could. I taught reading to my son's class and cleaned poop out of the mice's cage in the kindergarten class. I babysat. I drove kids home from school. None of it was enough, but it was something.

There wasn't a moment where my life got easier or more relaxing. The stress and anxiety were my constant companions. I recall randomly bursting into tears, angry tears, pretty much every time I was alone in my car. I didn't want to scare my kids, but I was barely holding it together. If I felt like they were safe and didn't need me to protect them, I am fairly certain I would have driven my car off a cliff. Because that's how my life felt - like I had fallen off a cliff.

Unemployment started coming, but just when I would get in a rhythm of paying my bills on time, the checks would be delayed. I'd owe late fees and then I'd be behind. By December, I was broke - my accounts were empty.

I applied for everything I had any ability to do. Many, I never heard from. Even in my own industry, i heard very discouraging advice. "Not much out there. You have a degree, no one will touch you." It was true. When I would get an interview, all anyone ever wanted to talk about was why a lawyer would want a non-legal job.

Despite all the hell I went through, I felt I could handle it all because I knew I was not alone and I knew I wasn't going through the worst. People had lost their homes. Desperation was a floor below me. I had an obligation to feel blessed that I had managed to stay with a roof over my head.

One day, I was reading in the newspaper about how people were not getting their unemployment and how people were falling through the cracks because of it. I had been in a delay pattern with unemployment and could not understand why more people were not talking about it. It seemed like every six checks, an unspecified error would be discovered and I would be required to resubmit information and call EDD. Only EDD did not return calls. They also did not answer their phones. So, seven weeks went by without money. We were desperate.

I emailed the writer of the article and thanked him for shedding light on the issues. Next thing I knew, I was being involved in an article, myself.

Little did I know that my story would bring out such hatred. Somehow, every way I lived my life was under scrutiny. Never mind that I had done everything in my power to keep my family going. I had taken any work offered to me. I was exhausted - and never stopped looking for work. I was one of 12% unemployed. How could I be viewed as so different from others?

The article brought every hateful comment I can think of out of the woodwork. I was lazy, a waste of space, a leech. I was stealing. A crook. A terrible parent. A good-for-nothing baby breeder sponging on society. Unworthy of even kindness.

People made these comments in anonymity. Behind computer screens and avatars. Without much more of a thought.

These are thoughts I was not strong enough to hear. They have damaged me. I am not a whole person anymore. I have lost my trust.

We say so many things without thinking of their impact. We don't imagine yelling at the slow lady crossing the street or commenting on the parenting skills of another will ever have an impact. We blow off our own emotions by speaking ill of others. We go on with our day done with that moment, not giving it a second thought.

Well, it does have an impact. It does last. It hurts, it stains.

I'm all for the power of words. I'm all for the freedom of words. But if you think names will never hurt, you're wrong. Names take on a life of their own and have so much more power once they are spoken.

Deep down, I know I am not what they called me. But some part of me thinks less of myself because of it all...

PoP Mart

2010-02-24T20:49:00.000-08:00

PoP is in full swing and its already made a difference to me. I had forgotten how easy life can be when you chart a course and motor on to it. For me, setting my mind to something has always meant it will be, whether I have directions to get there or have to wing it.

In high school, I was a terrible student. Making friends and keeping friends always meant more to me than taking time to learn. Unfortunately, I couldn't figure out a way to balance a complicated social life, academics, working, family life, sports, and church. Something had to give. I gave up nourishing my mind for the sake of nourishing my soul.

Sometime in my adult life, the course changed. The roles became reversed. Having been out of the social scene with my peer group, I focused on academics. Law school, to be exact. There, I decided to nourish my mind, forsaking my soul in the process.

Its interesting that you can go a long time without nourishing your mind in any collective fashion. The world is around you to stimulate and satisfy your curiosity. Friends provide exciting conversations and adventures.

Flip the picture and you find your soul can't go for too long without being nourished. You need the life blood of companionship, love, friendship, and communication. Providing for your soul is like breathing.

This past week, I have done for myself what I have been missing for so long. I took time to reflect on the things I needed in my heart. I looked at problems not just in the black and white, but also in the grey areas. I made decisions not based on what appeared right, but on what I needed from the situation. I gave myself permission to fail if I tried, and agreed to allow myself to feel whatever it was I was feeling as long as I was honest in my heart.

Two truths became clear to me. I am not perfect. (BUT) I am loved and worthy of that love.

A few weeks ago, I was in church. It was before PoP came to me. I was down, despondent over a friend I was missing. We seemed to be drifting far apart. I didn't know how to handle it. At the time, I saw only two possible solutions: the friendship would continue to drift and end, or the friendship would heal itself and go back to where it was.

While thinking on this, the father took the stage and began his homily. The scripture was 1st Corinthians, "Love endures all things." Ok, I said, is this a message for me? Then the father said, "You are loved." He looked right at me. Hmm, must be a coincidence? Ha ha - - there are no coincidences, especially in church.

On the way out, father made a point to shake my hand, look me square in the eye and say, "You are worthy of being loved." How in the heck did he know?

You see, I never saw the secret, hidden, third possibility of a solution with my dear friend: the friendship would take a new tack. What I hadn't counted on was that my dear friend loves me. Until that point, I hadn't felt worthy of anyone loving me. Lucky, sure. But deserving? How could I possibly deserve such a wonderful gift as flawed as I am?

The answer, of course, is simple. People love me because they see the good in me. They are not focused on the negative things I see in myself.

So, I accept that you love me. I accept that I am worthy of that love. I will try and believe that I have earned that gift.

I will stop worrying about the end of that love.

Love, after all, endures all things.

The Power of PoP

2010-02-19T10:24:00.000-08:00

Alright, I admit it. Being positive is not easy in today's world. There are fears and insecurities and anxiety. Being positive can't come about just by pushing those thoughts out of my head. I can't just ignore that they are there.

I can, however, choose to believe different things about myself.

So, here goes.

I am beautiful.
I am special.
I am intelligent.
I am strong.
I have value beyond what I can give people, do for people, or say for people.
I can do anything.
I am woman, hear me roar.

Alright, that last one was just for laughs. Which brings me to my favorite one: I have an awesome sense of humor.

In starting the PoP project, I had forgotten how many of these things I have shoved on a shelf and ignored for so long. How can I expect to get anywhere in life if I can't remember who I am? Its easy when you are scared to embrace that. Its easy when you are hurt to let that pain take up lodging. Its easy when you are worried to live with that.

But I was never about taking the easy road.

So, here I am. Love me or not. It really doesn't matter because I love me. That's no laughing matter.

The Positive Affect

2010-02-18T21:13:00.000-08:00

I am not used to being a religious person. There, I've said it. I'm not ashamed to be religious. I've never shunned God. I just don't find much opportunity to talk about my beliefs in every day life. God is a large part of who I am, but that's not all there is to me.

I've always believed in God. I can't remember a time when I had any doubts as to God's existence. Sure, sometimes I have doubted when others have said, "That's God's work" or "God told me to," but that is because I firmly believe we, as humans, have no real right to claim anything in the name of God. We are human and our actions, while they might be divinely inspired, are merely human.

Many of you may know that the season of Lent is upon us. Its been a rough year for me, spiritually, emotionally, financially, and mentally. In some ways, I am stronger than ever before. I have learned to stand up for myself, and to truly believe I have that right. In others, I am weaker. I can't help but see the negative around every corner. I can't help but hesitate, waiting for the other shoe to drop. It always seems to, right at the worst moment.

So, here I am in the season of Lent with a strong, strong desire for inner peace. For tranquility. For security.

And then a song came into my head:

"If you want to be somebody else, change your mind."

So simple. I want to have a positive outlook. Voila, there it is.

So, my lenten challenge to myself is to spend each day ruminating on the positive, not dwelling on the negative. What went right? I'm calling it the Positive Outlook Project - or Pop. I want to have more POP in my life.

Will you join me? I think you will! (The old me would have wondered if anyone even read this).

Here's my thought for today:
Today, my daughter, age 4, sang her heart out to one of my favorite tunes. Every off-key note brought a deep smile to my face, and an even bigger smile to my heart.

Oh, and I am one week away from finishing my novel. I can feel it.

Joy is just around the corner. Let's go visit it.

Full Circle

2009-08-28T21:46:00.000-07:00

And so it goes that superstar has come full circle. Its been a wonderful journey, through lots of valleys and obstacles. I've learned a lot along the way.

On Tuesday, I walked into work for the last time. I don't know if I'll ever get those words "we have to let you go" out of my head. I saw it coming, but had hoped upon hope that if I just shook the magic 8 ball a few more times, the outcome would be different.

Its rough when you find a home to realize its time to move on. I started out nearly every job interview saying "I want to find a place I can grow with." My interview with this wonderful firm had been no different. Surprisingly, they wanted me to grow with them, too.

And so it went. For over a year, we grew together. They, a new firm. Me, an attorney still trying to get her sea legs after being tossed through so many violent storms. We had our share of trials and tribulations. Cases that kept us up at night. For once, though, I was part of a larger something. The collective collaboration seeking to right wrongs that I thought I would be joining when I joined law school.

Its sad when a loved one dies. You feel lost. You feel like you'll never love again. You feel scared about facing the future without them. You miss the support, the comfort. I miss my firm. I miss getting up in the morning and going to a place where everybody knows my name (and they were always glad I came).

For now, I am enjoying some quiet reflection. The loss of an income far surpasses any loss I've had in awhile and, yet, this isn't what phases me. Its those words "we have to let you go."

And so, I went. I'm out here on the road less traveled, sticking my thumb out and hitching a ride. All I know for sure is that the ride I was on is over. I have no more e-tickets. I'm plumb out of gas money. Its time to move on.

If only a tornado would pick me up and sweep me away to Oz.

Being an attorney has no heart to me anymore. I'm not sure if it ever did. For now, I guess, I'll have to let it go.

I'm not sure the profession will miss me. But, somedays, I'll sure miss it.

Best Quote This Week

2008-10-10T10:13:00.000-07:00

In response to news that Wachovia executives would receive millions in "golden parachutes" after the buy-out by Wells Fargo, one analyst had this to say:

"I don't know that the captain of the Titanic got a bonus for driving the boat into an iceberg," Glassner said. "They at least had the decency to go down with the ship."

Amen.

So, the rest of us poor schlubs are drowing in the frigid waters, but you made sure you got on the gold-gilded life raft, didn't you.

Quit Pussyfooting Around

2008-09-23T09:25:00.000-07:00

Enough is enough.

Our government is acting like a child who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar and crumbs on his lips and is asked "Who ate all the cookies?"

Like a child, our government wants us to believe that even though all the evidence available points to it as the source of financial failure, it has no idea how our economy got so bad. No idea.

I'm a mom, I know better. Its time that our leaders stood up and took responsibility for the mess they made. THEY made this mess. By allowing graft and corruption - by participating in graft and corruption. Over the past eight years, our country has been free for the taking from anyone greedy enough to try.

President Bush will be riding out of the White House soon - - his coffers full. Just like a naughty child who has come to visit and destroyed the house, we are now left with his mess to clean up. Its deplorable, disgusting and so Anti-American.

Wake up, America. Its time to send these kids to bed without supper. They are ruining everything.

The Art of Not Caring

2008-09-17T13:01:00.000-07:00

Superstar is working on something that has been plaguing her for quite some time. You see, for the longest time, I found my value only in how others viewed me. I couldn't do or say certain things because it would hurt others' feelings. I was a nice person. Then I realized something.

I have no idea what other people think of me. Sure, there are sometimes cues that I can grasp, but unless I ask (and I would never do that - - what would they think?), I will never know I am right.

I grew up believing that the worst thing I could do was not be liked. How could I survive if I couldn't make people love me? How could I not want to be judgment proof? How could I not want everyone to love me?

The real truth of the matter is that I needed people to give me what I didn't know how to give myself. I needed people to love me because I didn't love me. I didn't know what there was to love. Don't get me wrong, its not that I thought I was this horrible person - its just I had never learned that the one and only person who needed to approve of me was me. (and God, of course)

I recognize this as my son starts school and I see so much of myself in him. Only, he is 1000 times a better me than I was at that age. He has it going on for himself. He is happy, kind, funny, and extremely smart. He also does not let other kids' behavior effect him. That is a gift that I am proud to have given him. Now, I hope to only be able to give him the rest of the picture - internal satisfaction with himself.

So, I might begin talking about what I like about myself on this blog. You can feel free to join in, but its not necessary. I recognize that people are going to see me differently than I see myself, but what is important is that I truly, for the first time ever, love who I am.

Isn't it interesting the full circle that superstar has been around? I started this blog with a declaration of who I am - a mother, a daughter, a wife, a sister - but I had no idea the value of my own self. I called myself superstar, but I never bothered to figure out what that really meant to me. The only thing I had to cling on to during those tumultuous times was that I valued those roles and believed I was meant to do better at them. Now, I can fully embrace those roles.

The single thing I am proudest of is the type of mom I am. I truly must say that I am doing a great job. The day to day stuff might be a bit screwed up or flat-out wrong. In the end, though, when my kids go to bed and when my kids wake up, they know one simple thing: they are loved. In that, I have done what I was meant to do. My kids need that simple tool. With that, everything else becomes possible.

Love truly does conquer all.

And now, for a sadder note - if you out there in the blogosphere have a higher power whom you speak to, even on occassion, could you please drop a good word in for the Super-In-Law? The Big C has entered our little world, and right now, there is a lot of uncertainty. Having had someone very near and dear to me die of cancer, I know how my husband must be feeling. A prayer or good thought would go a long way.

Peace,

Superstar

A dedication

2008-08-28T12:33:00.000-07:00

I am dedicating these lyrics, to a song I find all too familiar and heartbreaking, to two special someones. They won't know who they are, because they were too blind to see how they treated anyone, anyhow. But, the rest of you all who know me and know them know who this song is meant to be for.

This is my cathartic way of giving you two the finger, a sayonara, and of cleansing my own soul for good.

I will not make
The same mistakes that you did
I will not let myself
Cause my heart so much misery

I will not break
The way you did,
you fell so hard
I’ve learned the hard way
To never let it get that far

Because of you
I never stray too far from the sidewalk
Because of you
I learned to play on the safe side so I don’t get hurt
Because of you
I find it hard to trust not only me, but everyone around me
Because of you I am afraid

I lose my way
And it’s not too long before you point it out
I cannot cry
Because I know that’s weakness in your eyes

You never thought of anyone else
You just saw your pain
And now I cry in the middle of the night
For the same damn thing
Because of you

Maybe this post wasn't so Christian, but I sure do feel better today.

Jumping

2008-08-27T12:32:00.000-07:00

I watched about three minutes of the film regarding suicides on the Golden Gate Bridge and found myself unable to stand watching any more. Its not because of the sensationalism. I'm not offended or hurt by the film or the filmmaker. Actually, I applaud him.

The part that got me was when a man, who appeared to be my dad's age, climbed over the railing and perched, ready to jump. He was well dressed and appeared to be healthy. Just before he jumped, I turned it off. That was somebody's father or brother or son or...

Its easy to be scared of and judge something which you don't have any personal investment in. For me, suicide is an all too real threat - an all too real disease. The people they showed jumping from the bridge did not appear "crazy" or "delusional." Just the opposite, actually. These people were all dressed well, and looked happy. They were ready to meet their fate. One even crossed himself and said a last prayer.

What frightens people most is not understanding what motivates people to kill themselves. You can't understand unless you've been to those depths or had a loved one go through it. It seems senseless. Life is here for the living. You don't get to take it back when you succeed at suicide.

I had an uncle who killed himself. One day, he was with his family, the next, he was walking into the ocean, wading into his death.

What strikes me the most is how lonely suicide must be. When you are in pain, loneliness is a second cousin. But, at least those who die naturally have the potential for being surrounded by loved ones on their way out of this existence. For those who commit suicide, they are usually alone.

I am glad that many of the people whom I've known were suicidal got help or did not succeed. Once you turn away from that pain and start reaching for the light, your life really does get better.

Hope, peace, and prayer for those in need.

Hurry Up and Wait

2008-08-26T13:29:00.000-07:00

For those of you who have grown with the Superstar's family, you will understand the milestones achieved yesterday. Yesterday, my first born, started kindergarten.

Kindergarten isn't today what it was when I was that age. I recall being incredibly bored in school. It was a feeling that, with great teachers who respected and understood that they, alone, could make the difference between boredom and creative sparks.

Kindergarten was about numbers, letters, reading, and getting along with other kids. Except for the last thing, I had known those things for several years by the time I started school. I was well beyond beginning readers, and I was well versed in my numbers. Getting along with other kids was something I would always struggle with. When you are writing ten page stories in kindergarten, kids who are just learning A-Z have a hard time understanding you.

Still, I got the idea of play. Play was an outlet for this fantastic storytelling that dwelled within me. I could assign characters and develop plots, and I had a ready band of children willing to assist me in acting through my stories. Of course, to them, we were playing house or pet shop. To me, we were working out the kinks of my future novels.

My son is a lot like me. He is a thinker. A ponderer. A person of great intelligence waiting to excitedly find someone who can understand him and speak to him in a language he understands. He's four, but in so many ways, he is wiser than most adults. He has the features of a four year old, and, in many ways, behaves like a four year old. When it comes to learning, though, he has the spark and knack of someone far older than him.

My son has always been this way. When he was trying desperately to learn to crawl, he would keep trying until he fell back on his belly in exhaustion. One day, he saw a child crawling, and he was riveted to him. He stared in contemplation for what must have seemed like hours to him. At his next opportunity to be on the ground, he crawled.

He learned to walk in much the same fashion. Trying, observation, and success.

One day, about two months ago, my son picked up a new book and read it. We had no idea he was even close to reading. Every day, he recognizes more and more.

My son's passion is animals. When I say passion, I truly mean obsession. He has volumes and volumes of books on animals, which he studies religiously. He can't read most of the books, but he gathers great observations from them. He can tell you, for example, where penguins live, what they eat, and what their babies look like. In fact, he knows all of the continents and which animals do and do not live on them.

For me, watching my son go through these miracles of life are the most precious gifts. There was no way, then, I would ever have missed his first day of kindergarten.

His entourage - grammy, daddy, sister, and I - walked him to his class and checked him in. He placed his new backpack on his hook and his lunch with it. Then he found his seat. We, unfortunately, saw nothing else of his first day of school.

We picked him up at the end time and were so excited. We asked him about school. Apparently, he is so great at school, he only has three subjects left to learn: art, snack, and recess. Oh, and he knows all the girls' names already.

I hope his journey through school continues to be as enthralling as mine, but a little more successful. Superstar can't count the number of times she has wished she had applied herself more in school.

And now, I have two observations to make: one down, one to go - and, only 13 more years until my first retirement plan graduates.

Congratulations, little star.

Greed, The Game

2008-05-21T15:18:00.001-07:00

"Zeflugerhaufen: that's Swedish for he who parks his boat in the handicap slip." The world according to Rose Nyland.

I just wanted to announce to the world that I am dropping out of the game.

I've noticed an alarming trend in our country: greed. Now before you all titter and scoffaw at my obvious late arrival to the world, let me explain.

Greed started at the top. Sure, there was always the average joe who was greedy, too, but most of us looked at them with scorn. Today, I'm afraid, I'm finding more and more examples of greed which are becoming commonplace in our lives.

We used to be a society that charged something for the neccessities, but usually, those things were reasonable and there was a sense that everyone had the right to them. Now, we pay pet rents and extra fees to keep your phone number unlisted (hey, privacy costs!), and heck, it even costs nearly $.50 just to send a letter to someone. Banks charge you a "teller" fee for talking to one of their employees. Doctors charge you if you cancel on them but give you nothing in return when its their turn. If someone can find a way to make money off of you, they will.

Just today, I heard the following news stories:

- American Airlines is now going to charge passengers $15 to check A SINGLE bag. Nevermind that they are an airline and know that people - - including children - - will be flying on them for the purposes of travel. Nooooo .... if you expect to fly, you must pay. This, on top of ever increasing air fares and less accommodations on airplanes. You now only maybe get a seat (sometimes they oversell, after all...) and that's it. No food, no leg room, no drinks - and now you can't even bring a change of clothes without paying extra.

- Walmart has so graciously offered to cash all rebate and economic "stimulus" checks for free! How generous. Of course, if you like, they will give it to you on a handy dandy walmart card.

- Lou Pearlman, creator of N'Sync, Backstreet Boys, and OTown, bilked over $300 million out of investors in a scam. This included many elderly people who lost all of their life savings, and members of his own family. As if practically owning the Billboard Top Ten in the 90s didn't bring him enough money...

I just recently went through my own greed situation. I worked for a woman who I thought was good and decent. She was a church-going woman who told me she believed in fighting for equality for all. She told me she believed faith would sustain her. Unfortunately, she also believed faith was supposed to sustain me and my family.

You see, when I first started working for her, she told me that she could not provide a great salary. We agreed to $500 a week until the business grew. It was a struggle, but I believed it was only temporary until I could make the business more successful. Then I found out a few things.

My boss made over $100,000 personally last year. I made $20,000 off of her. She came into the office one day a week. I came in five. In the first month of this year, I brought in $60,000 in fees and five new cases. She brought in nothing. So, who got a raise?

She did. First, she bought a new computer. Then a watch. An expensive watch. Then I started noticing that while I was eating day old bagels from the store where we could buy them for $2 a bag, she was eating out at California Pizza Kitchen every day. She would park her car in the garage and pay $50 a day to park it. She always had her nails manicured and got a daily latte.

And she had no problem with the inequity.

Greed is an ugly monster. Once we let it become normal in our society, we have reduced ourselves to nothing more than the children in Lord of the Flies. Who will come out on top? Who is expendable?

Well, everyone, count me out. From here on out, I hope to counterbalance this greed with a philosophy of giving.

Who will join me?

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If you Blog it, they will Come

2008-05-12T22:29:00.000-07:00

I have been scolded by other bloggers in the 'osphere for not regaling you all with tales of the superstar in her element. Its been awhile, I know. But superstar has been meaning to blog. Its just I'm still working on thinking about writing my to-do list. When I get the time.

One might wonder how the timeless wonder queen has found time to add breathing to her list, but, someone told me that breathing was the first requirement in doing anything else. (Sigh). See, I can't even get through this blog without breathing.

Other things on my to-do list? Eat. I have no problem making things. My house is full of casseroles and roasts and baked goods. Only, I am making them during the time I have scheduled for eating them. So, somehow, my list is out-of-whack.

Anyhow, back to our regularly scheduled topic (Thank Goodness for TiVo is all I can say.)

Tonight, I got to take a time out from being mommy, lawyer, daughter.... and I got to go back to the good old days. When I was just me. A sister and a total nerd, but a totally funny nerd who loved to hang out with my brother. And watch baseball.

That's right. I said it. I've returned to my house of worship. The Big B.

I used to watch baseball religiously as a teen. My best friend and I secretly collected baseball cards. I still have my collection. We would go every season and buy pack after pack. We threw out the disgusting gum, separated the cards into teams, and then ranked the teams by teen-girl important rankings. Cutest players on top. Except for our beloved Giants.

We did not mess with the Giants. The Giants had their own order. Irreverent, sacrosanct. We knew all the stats - RBI leaders, best on-base percentage, who had the lowest ERA. We, as 16 year old girls, knew as much about baseball to rival any boy our age. We just didn't share that knowledge with anyone else. Girls weren't supposed to know that stuff. But we did. And when just she and I watched the game, the talk turned from who had the tightest uniform to who really ought to be sent down and what the scouting reports had said. The secret world of female baseball fans....

My favorite player was Matt Williams. He was an awesome third baseman (how many Golden Gloves will it take to convince the rest of you?) and will always be in my hall-0f-fame. I knew all his stats, his slugging percentage, how many games he played per season. Whenever he came up to bat, I was ready to cheer him on.

My favorite baseball memory was with Matt Williams. Once, I saw him play the hidden ball trick. I had always wanted to see someone pull the prank. And it was against the Dodgers. It was the fifth inning, one man on first, one on third, and the pitcher was rattled. Williams and Clark walked to the mound. I was sitting just about third base a few rows up. It was a Sunday game. I was there with two of my best friends (shh, Dodger fans....). We were losing.

I don't recall who the pitcher was, but Matt and Clark were there for a few minutes, and then the they walked away. Clark kind of trotted and then got set up, staring at home, looking ready to attack the baseball if hit his way. Williams kicked around some dirt on his mound, cleaning it off. Everything looked normal.

The pitcher walked to the mound. He bent forward, eyeing the catcher. He called off one sign after another. The call came for the split-finger. He started into his wind-up. Clark and Williams hunched down, ready to charge the ball. The pitcher hurled his arm forward. Its then that I realized, and I think the runner on third realized, he didn't throw anything but an air ball. You could almost see the runner's eyes widen as he turned and leapt back for third base. And there was Williams, smiling, standing there with his arm out-stretched and the ball in his hand, tagging the runner. The ump called "You're Out!" Story goes that Williams smiled, looked at the rookie, and said, "Welcome to the majors. Oh, btw, this is my base."

The players back in those days had a whole bunch of class. Baseball wasn't about they money or the endorsements or the big ticket contracts. It was about the game. The Love of the Game. They knew that they shared that love with their fans.

It was nice to be back in the mix, sharing the love at Pac Bell Park. The players names have changed too frequently over the years, but my heart has not. The game has a life of its own; a rhythm, a feel, a pulse. Disconnect from it and you always feel like you are missing something in your life. Reconnect and the jazz is back in your step, the twinkle back in your eye.

Tonight, I got to go back in time and spend a high-fiving seven innings sucking down hot dogs in foggy air, with a permeation of beer and garlic fries wafting by, while rooting on the black and orange clad Giants. It might not get any better than that.

Prayers for Britney

2008-01-31T11:14:00.000-08:00

As someone who grew up with a mother who was mentally ill, I have been spellbound by the events unfolding in Britney Spears' life. She is unraveling rapidly, and I only pray that the right person with the right words comes into her life to protect her and help her find a path to wellness.

I don't remember the first time my mom was institutionalized. I have heard the story - of how she slit her wrists and was taken to the hospital for evaluation. I remember days of not understanding where she was. I remember crying, thinking if I said the right thing, she could come home.

Its funny because I don't remember a time as a child where I lived with my mom. But I remember crying for her.

Even then, I had a sense that she was not well. I had a foreboding, an inkling, that my Mom needed something we weren't able to give her.

As I got older, I grappled with what it was she needed. My mom was anoerexic, depressed, and, often, suicidal. Every Christmas, we eagerly looked forward to visiting with her at her home - only to get "the call" that she was being hospitalized and Christmas would have to wait.

At first, I was terrified of what demons existed in my mom. I was sure that she was inhabited by some evil that could infect us all. I prayed. In the end, I'm sure my prayers helped - but not because there was evil in her that was driven out - but because she had angels guiding her.

I had a lot of anger that was hard to understand. There were moments where I was so tired of my own struggle with understanding my mom that I selfishly wished the struggle would end. That if she wanted to end it, why couldn't it just end?

Just as quickly, I felt tremendous guilt. The thing I wanted was my mom, healthy. I didn't want her to die. I just didn't know what to do with my own feelings and frustrations. I felt helpless in her battle to get well.

It is difficult to make people understand how terrifying mental illness is. You see, the people suffering from mental illness often do not even know. Their reality is just as real as yours. Only their reality sometimes includes people telling them to do bad things, visions of things that aren't there, or demons chasing them. Voices that don't exist say things to them that are horrible and degrading - and there is nowhere they can go to get away from that. There is no "off" button for the symptoms plaguing a mentally ill person.

Of course, not every mentally ill person hears voices or has hallucinations. Some are cloaked in a despair that is so deep, it bows their head and extinguishes the light in their souls. Depression is like a dementor. It sucks all the goodness out of you until all you feel is a deep, lingering, sadness and the absence of hope. The hole is so deep in your heart that you wonder if anything good exists inside of you. It hurts. It really, really hurts. You know the world around you has beauty and yet, you just can't see it.

I feel so terribly for Britney Spears. Say what you want about anything she has said or done - she is still a human being. She is going through a very lonely and terrifying experience and she really has no one. Her family is trying to be there for her, I surmise, but they seem to be part of the problem. Everyone wants her to just quit being silly and get back on track - but it is way beyond that. She needs to know that SHE has value - not her ability to sing and make money. That she has value to her children, to her family, and, most importantly, to herself. That if she never sings again, her world will go on spinning and she will be just fine.

Her children need her to get well. They are where I was 30 years ago - with a dad who probably doesn't know what he's doing, but cares enough to try, and a mom who is too sick to notice, but her love for them is what is sustaining her. I want to reach out and hug them all and tell them I've been there and there is hope. They will make it through.

My story has an incredibly happy ending. After 30 years in the mental health system, my mom found her worth again. She found hope and a path to wellness. She is now working with others who suffer from mental illness and is a wonderful grandmother to my two kids. I never imagined this path for her when I was young, but I am glad my prayers were answered.

Get Over Yourselves

2008-01-24T11:10:00.000-08:00

The headline on the news banner this morning seriously disturbed me. It seems that an anti-gay CHURCH group will be picketing Heath Ledger's funeral. His crime? Portraying a homosexual in a movie.

Usually, I roll my eyes and chuckle at this sort of news - the protest of someone for portraying a large portion of our society. Its not that Heath was homosexual, its just that he pretended to be, for the sake of a paycheck. Apparently, pretending is bad. Perhaps these church goers should picket themselves as they seem to be pretending to be Christian.

This time, however, I must put my foot down and call out this behavior for what it is: Biggotry. This is not God's message, people. God, through Jesus, taught tolerance, love, and devotion. Judgment of human behavior is God's job and God's job alone. (Let he who is without sin cast the first stone). The whole notion that God would send someone to hell - and that it is alright to scream about his punishment at his funeral - over being homosexual is silly. Honest, it is.

Homosexuality is not an aberration. It has been around since the beginning of time. It certainly was around in Jesus' time - who do you think invented the orgy? The Romans, I am sure! Yet, I don't recall a single Bible story about Jesus preaching against homosexuality or ordering his followers to scream and carry on whenever a homosexual (or someone pretending to be one) was in their midst. Perhaps I missed the Sermon on the Mount II where Jesus discussed the tenet - Love Your Neighbor, unless he's gay.

The issue here is this. A family has lost a son and sibling. A child has lost her father. People have lost a friend. Let them mourn in peace, for goodness sakes! I don't agree with you or your lifestyle, extreme church going folk, but I sure as heck don't plan on going to any of your funerals and yelling at your family and loved ones how sick your beliefs were or how God is rejecting you for them. You know why? Its wrong and because, well, frankly, I have no idea how God feels about you. That's God's business. From what I was taught, though, God loves all of us.

Finally, I just have to say that you might want to rethink the way you deliver your messages. Holding signs, screaming, and carrying on is not effective. Holding a sign that says, "Thank GOD for September 11" is disgusting. Protesting at people's funerals is distasteful. If you truly believe homosexuality is wrong, then go and talk to people. Write about it. Listen to people and give them some respect. You might not change anyone's opinion, but at least you will get yours heard. For now, all you are doing is turning people off.

Signed,

Superstar Christian Mom to Two Beautiful Babies who welcomes all with open arms.

Ban the Fatties

2007-12-14T11:18:00.001-08:00

Enough is enough.

On the heels of some politically-correct groups pronouncement of the pure evil that is Sesame Street, comes the announcement that Santa has got to go. It seems that Santa is not the role model we parents thought he was. Santa, says the report, is obese. And that is no good.

We can't have our kids idolizing the fat, can we? I mean, what if they want to grow up to be big and fat just like Santa? And Heaven Forbid they should eat cookies that close to bedtime! And whole milk? That's just downright pre-historic.

Maybe we could re-shape Santa to fit the new ideals. Perhaps Santa could live in Barbados 1/2 the year and work out at the Barbados 24 Hour Fitness when he is not enjoying outdoor sports like every good role model should. Santa could compete on the reformed children's heroes episode of The Biggest Loser. Mrs. Claus will be brought to tears when she sees his makeover - gone is the bowl full of jelly - in its place, a rock-hard, day old biscuit. Nothing is shaking. Of course, no one is laughing anymore, either.

And, instead of giving coal out, he could fill stockings with nutritious tofu bars. No more dolls and toys - lets make sure Santa gives kids the right message. Soy chocolate bars and ab-buster 5000s for every girl and boy. All the presents could be hidden outside, instead of under a tree, inside, by the cozy (and lazy!) fireplace. Kids could dig for their presents - getting an extra workout while they are at it.

Why are the reindeer doing all the work? Santa should be the one running from house to house - do you know how many extra calories that would burn? Nevermind that Christmas would take ten years to complete. Santa cannot just rest on his laurels in a sleigh and call himself a proper role model.

Frankly, I am sick and tired of this rhetoric. What kind of role models do we want for our kids if not Santa? Perhaps Ghandi is proper - he was skinny. Seriously, what are we teaching our kids if we reject role models based on the way they look??? Should we only idolize Hollywood stars because they work out 24-7 and get paid for looking svelte?

How about those that actually do some good in the world? Are we seriously to reject someone just because they are fat? What about Mother Theresa? Not exactly the skinniest woman. Not fat, either, but by what standards are we measuring?

If we want our kids to have positive body images, we have to give them that skill. And they don't get it by our judging everything in their lives by what body image it portrays. I'm sorry, but I draw the line at rejecting a wholesome concept in my house by just what the person portraying it looks like. If I start teaching that message, then why has our country fought so hard for civil rights and equality. Shouldn't the obese be given the same treatment as the non-obese?

Santa is a good and noble person. He gives to others. He dedicates his life to bringing joy to children. What more of a positive image can you give to your kids?

Santa, thick or thin, you are welcome in our house. And no, those aren't fat free cookies. Enjoy!

Take Some Responsibility

2007-12-03T10:35:00.000-08:00

Our world has become almost entirely devoid of the concept of personal responsibility. We are mired in lawsuits, allegations, finger pointing, and blaming. Our first reaction is, well, reactionary. As sophisticated as we have become, in this area, we are still infants.

I am a lawyer and sometimes, I like to think of myself as part of the solution. Others like to point their finger at my profession and blame us for creating the arena for the problem to exist. Or, as I sometimes see it in my cynical moments, we are entrepreneurs capitalizing on malcontent.

But, there is a tiny known secret in the legal profession. I will share it with you here, because, frankly, I am tired of knowing it and not putting it to good use. Here it is: 90% of lawsuits are born in the first moments after wrongful conduct.

You have no idea how many times I have heard: You know, I decided to sue because of the way they treated me following X.

This scenario plays out every day in our society. How many times have you felt yourself angry not at something that happened, but at how the person who did it to you treated you? When you get in a car accident and the first thing the person says is: "You were speeding!!!" (when you weren't) and not: "Are you alright?"

Well I, for one, have had enough. Its time that we all stop thinking with our fear and start using our hearts. Not everything a person does is meant to harm you - - in fact, very few people have that intent naturally.

When you do something wrong, own up to it. Just like when you were five and stole a candy bar from the store because your brother dared you and your parents marched you right back to the store to apologize. Look people in the eye and say sorry. I hurt you. Acknowledge that.

Because if I have to read another story about a beautiful, beautiful girl driven to suicide by someone humiliating her on my space - and the parents reaction of: We have a Constitutional right to use the internet and he did nothing wrong by pretending to love her and humiliating her... well, I am going to speak up. Each and every time.

Get ready - because Superstar is taking names on this issue. You don't want to get an Assie Award from Superstar. They are coming in January - Biggest A-Holes of 2007!

My Many Thanks

2007-11-20T11:13:00.000-08:00

Not sure if I will blog again before Thanksgiving, so I wanted to post my gratitudes for the year. I have had a truly blessed year. Thanks to all my friends and family who saw me through the past couple of years so I could make it to this year. Your words and support mean a lot to me.

Now, in no particular order, are the things I am extremely grateful for:

1. My kids. When I signed up to be a parent, I imagined long nights, worries, and struggles. I was half right. No one told me that with those long nights would come this unsurpassable love, magic happening right before your eyes, laughter and joy every day, and the ability to learn about and love yourself unconditionally. My kids are the best gift God has ever given to me.

2. My husband. Without him, there would be no number 1. ;) It is so comforting to love someone and just know they feel the same. We are building a life and a family together - and although we struggle, we both are committed to that vision. Our struggles come from being human, but our love for each other comes from some other divine source. My husband has taught me faith, hope, and security.

3. My family. We are a weird bunch. Unique. But I am proud to call myself one of them.

4. Healing. The past couple years have been very emotionally damaging - with an abusive boss, suffering from post-partum depression, and just really feeling so insecure and lost. I thought I would never be happy again. This year, I have found myself. I have become more confident in myself as a mother, wife, and attorney. I know who I am and why I like that person. I have also began to realize what was missing in my life - a true sense of faith, a connection to my family, and the ability to stand up for myself.

First, God sent me a boss who has a strong faith. She also refuses to let me quit on myself. Its been hard, but I have learned to push through even when I am scared. I know now that she won't let me quit, so I won't let myself quit, either. Second, God made me realize that my family needed me and I needed them. Finally, God put me in situations where I needed to make a stand. When I realized that and had the courage to stand up for myself, I realized how easy it is to really take care of yourself.

5. My brothers. Yes, they are part of the family, but I am extra thankful for them. I wanted my kids to have really good relationships with my brothers, just like I do. Unfortunately, at the beginning of the year, my oldest brother and I were not speaking. It was the most serious rift he and I have ever had. Also unfortunately, something happened to him which caused us to turn to each other for support. Although the event was something he and I both wish had not happened, it was a gift because we now are closer than we were before. And, my kids adore both of them - they are always excited when their uncles are coming over.

The funny thing, too, is that when you throw one stone in a pond, it ripples. My parents, now, are becomming closer to the kids, too. We all need family, and I am so glad that we have finally figured out our new roles in a family which now includes another generation.

6. My job. I have a great job now. Its flexible and I am more in control of what I do and how things get handled. My opinions are at least listened to. My boss and I don't always get along - mostly because we are also good friends and neither of us can handle stress very well. However, I have learned a lot about myself and being a lawyer from her, and I enjoy working with her. To me, that is really all that counts.

7. My dog. She loves me no matter what. She is a good dog and she wants to be with her pack all the time. We love her, too.

8. Just enough. I am thankful that I have had just enough to get by this year. While I always want extra security financially, I am so thankful that I have been able to support my family this year. It seems like whenever we needed a little extra, it was there. Its been a rough year financially, and we are in debt, but we've managed to keep a roof over our heads, gas in the tank, and food in our bellies. We have so much more than some people in this world, and I am thankful for that.

Go blog with love, everyone. Be thankful for the gifts you have - whether big or small.

Happy Thanksgiving.

What you think your kids don't know

2007-10-25T11:32:00.000-07:00

I am often struck by the things that come out of the mouths of my (almost) 4 year old and 2 year old. They are truly little sponges and sometimes, they reflect things I don't even recall teaching them. While I can never be truly perfect around them, it is moments like that where I am humbled and reminded to keep trying to model great behavior because of it.

But, last night and this morning, I was reminded of something else. You cannot shelter your children. Even if you never bring a word or concept into your home, it has a way of finding entry. Kids are not immune from the world and, as long as you let them into the world, they are going to observe far more than you like. You can provide an environment full of educational, wholesome programming, vegan foods, religious studies, home schooling, and puritanical beliefs, and they will still view something in the world you disagree with. And they will bring it home with them.

So, what do you do? First, don't judge. Curiousity is a good thing. It is the forefront of science, mathematics, music, and academics in general. Curiosity stiffled equals opportunities wasted.

Second, don't be scared. God provides us these opportunities to help kids learn and grow. Kids need morals to be modeled for them - - they have ideas and discussing those ideas helps them learn what your morals are and why.

Third and most important, love with blindness. No, I don't mean that you should ignore negative things your kids do - I mean that you should love them, period. No matter what. You can model and pattern all you want, but if a kid feels insecure in his parents, he will eventually turn away. If he feels loved, he will always turn back. So, love with the faith of God in your heart. God trusts us - - trust your kids.

So, anyhow, last night, I am playing with my son and daughter with some old toys of mine (Playmobil). We had some soldiers and cowboys and whatnot. Well, my son pulls a little toy rifle out of the box. I have done my best to keep guns and gun talk out of his life. I think guns are a personal choice which should be made by responsible adults. My choice is no. I think for the average non-hunting human, they tend to pose more problems than solutions. I think they should never be around children without responsible adult supervision.

With all the violence in the world, I simply did not want my kids exposed to guns until they were older. I had no idea he already knew what they were.

My son picks up the toy gun and says< "Oh, look, a GUN! [My cousin] says they can eat people."

I asked him what he meant. He said: "Well, if a moose attacks, you use the gun so the moose won't eat you and then you eat the moose."

It struck me that he had that thorough an understanding of what guns could do.

This morning, I had a similar revelation touring a kindergarten for my son. On a door of an adjacent 2nd grade classroom, they had a list: Good/Bad. Under the bad list, they listed alcohol, and then several correct names of elicit substances. I had no idea what 2nd graders needed to learn about drugs or that they could name them.

Fear, but an opportunity.

What Happened In Vegas

2007-09-13T17:44:00.000-07:00

My mom and I just returned from a 5 day excursion, sans children, to Vegas.

Yes, we were the ones who thought we got a jackpot everytime two bars sat side by side on our slot machines.

And, yes, we were the ones cheering like drunken sailors at the nickel we'd just won.

Though we won no more than $50.00 at any one time (which is actually impressive if you are playing penny slots), we felt like big winners - save the United flights, and the parade of hotel rooms the first night. (Seriously, how many toilets can be broken in hotel rooms before you decide that the hotel might need some upgrade...)

There are some things I am definitely glad I did.

Here is what I learned:

I haven't spent that many quarters in an arcade since I was 10.

I can now beat every three year old at fascination.

I smacked a chicken and won.

My mom is better at popping things.

I am glad not to be sharing my lungs with all of the smokers in Vegas anymore.

How can you make cheesecake tasteless? Just ask the buffett at Circus Circus

If you win on every spin of the reel, you don't care that you are actually losing. Its fun to win.

I make a helluva gangster.

Canters is only Canters if it includes the waitresses.

Outside of San Francisco, no one knows how to ride a bus. And they have no idea what the definition of "too crowded" is.

When you find a game you are good at, stick with it. It pays off.

You never know when you can afford a clock.

Out of the mouths of babes

2007-08-23T10:06:00.001-07:00

A conversation between my 3 year old and 2 year old in the backseat of the car last night:

"Nattie, do you want to go to Costco with me and Daddy?"

"No."

"Aw, c'mon! Costco is where all the old people go to walk around! It will be fun!"

Messages in the Universe

2007-08-02T18:45:00.000-07:00

Have you ever noticed that when you need it the most, answers to your most complex problems seem to be right there in front of you, suspended in mid-air, ripe for the plucking. And if you thought about it, often those answers had been dogging you for weeks - calling to you and sending you messages until you made just the right decision.

For a friend of mine, she knows that she has hit on the right solution to a problem when she turns on the radio and hears the Rolling Stones: "You can't always get what you want" (Sometimes you get what you need).

For me, I have learned that if I listen to the universe long enough and pray, the solution is right there before my eyes. Of course, there have been times when I have been stubborn and refused to interpret the sign correctly (Ahem, Mark), but there has always been one.

There has never been a bigger sign in my life than those signs pointing to my now husband. Not only was the boyfriend I had at the time cheating on me (extensively), but his parents hated me. (ME! I am not that hateable!) That should have been clue one.

However, it was not until a few things happened: (1) I began having dreams about Carl. No, not those kinds of dreams - but dreams that no matter what happened, he was there by my side. When I woke up from those dreams, I would realize that he was such a good friend, he would always be there for me. (2) my grandmother came to me in a dream and told me to marry him. (3) While thinking about him, I finally enjoyed the movie When Harry Met Sally. (4) The first time I kissed him, I could think of nothing else for days. He got hit by a car. We were both a little dazed. (5) I tried to imagine my life without him. I couldn't even begin to picture it. I tried to imagine my life without my ex. That was very simple. The life I pictured included Carl. (6) Even my ex said he expected me to date Carl after we broke up. (7) when I received letters from Carl, I read them over and over - searching for some hidden meaning. (8) I was always excited when I heard Carl's voice over the phone.

These are just some minor examples. Now, my brother, who served as our best man, will tell you that he was the one to cause Carl and I to date. That's not really the case. Actually, I blame his sister.

The day I broke up with Mark, my ex, was devastating.

I had been to class, had a decent and fulfilling day, and returned to the office at the dorms, where I reported to work. Kristy, a cute staff member who was known to be flirty with the guys, was there. I said hello. She would not look at me. There was something wrong with her and I could not quite figure it out - I racked my head for what could I have possibly done to her? ANd then I knew.

"Hey, Kristy, um, what's wrong?" ------------> expecting to hear what I heard.

"Oh, Heather, I don't want to tell you."

"Whatever it is, Kristy, I won't be upset with you."

"Um, well...."

"Alright, I know it has to do something with Mark."

Kristy looked up and I knew from the look on her face that I was right.

You see, Mark had called Kristy the night before and asked her out. In doing so, he introduced himself as: "Hey, this is Mark, you know, Heather's boyfriend." DUMBASS!

She told him off and turned him down - and then fretted all night about how to tell me.

I was seething. It was one thing to cheat on me quietly, beneath the surface. It was another thing to humiliate me with people I lived and worked with.

I called Mark and left him a message. He did not respond. I called his work - one of the waitresses who knew me (and who I suspected he had been trying to get together with) answered the phone. I asked for him and she said he was unavailable. She then asked me what was wrong - so I told her. Let's just say he never scored with her after hearing what I had to say.

A little while later, Mark finally called. He gave all the typical excuses - I smothered him, I had let myself go, he had tried to let me down gently (when - last week when you bought me a dozen roses, or in between all those times we made out?)... etc, etc, etc. For the first time in our relationship, I did not let him get away with it. I told him off - I did not back down. I informed him that the only person with responsibility was him - that I was not there unzipping his pants and I was not there dialing phone numbers for him and that I certainly was not there when he was sleeping with other women. I told him that he was a fuck up and undeserving of love. I told him that I was his last champion on earth - that he could have had my undying loyalty and love for the rest of his life - even if we weren't together - if he had just treated me with respect. But he just could not.

After the breakup, it was 1:00 a.m. I was tired and sad. The only person who I could think of who would support me no matter what was Carl. I called. His sister answered and gave him the phone - neither she nor he was angry that I called. That was the moment I really knew. See, what I thought I wanted from Mark was always there with Carl - someone who loved me for who I was and would always stand by me.

So many years later, we have been married 5 years (tomorrow) and have two kids. Times have been up and down - but even in the most down parts, I know that he loves me and stands by me.

The universe was speaking and I finally listened.

I'M FINALLY DONE

2007-08-01T11:25:00.001-07:00

Alright, everyone, I am finally done with Harry Potter.

Now we can discuss it.

Things that I thought were going to happen (any maybe they did):

Lilly was Dumbledore's sister.
Snape was Harry's Uncle.
Harry was to become the new Defense of the Dark Arts teacher.
Dumbledore was in hiding.

Oh, and some things the definitely did happen, which I won't post here out of deference to slower readers than myself.

So, what did you guys think was going to happen that may or may not have happened?

My Miracle

2007-07-30T11:31:00.000-07:00

This weeked, I saw an excellent, quirky movie. There are some adult themes in the movie, so its not the best movie for kids - otherwise, I recommend it wholeheartedly. The movie was St. Ralph. It is about a boy who is about to be orphaned in the early 1950s. His mom has slipped into a coma and the adults in his life (teachers and friends' parents) are busy making plans for her death and his care.

Ralph, however, has other plans. He asks a nurse how to wake his mom up and she says it will take a miracle. He sets out to find out what a miracle is and how one makes one happen. His teacher, played by Campbell Scott in one of his best roles, tells him that a miracle has three parts - faith, purity and prayer. The faith, he says, comes when you believe in something that is impossible just because you believe in it.

After Ralph gets into trouble for questioning faith (something the head priest does NOT want the kids to do), he is forced to join the cross-country team, for discipline. Campbell Scott is also the coach. At one meeting, they are discussing the Boston Marathon - and Ralph misunderstands and believes they are all going to go and run it. So he asks the coach if they are all going to get to go or just some of the runners. The coach says it would take a miracle for a 14 year old high schooler to win the Boston Marathon.

Ralph found his miracle. I won't tell you the rest of the movie because it is that good. The kids in the movie are great and the writing is superb. I thought this movie was right up there with Billy Elliot and Rudy.

So, I got to thinking about miracles and blind faith.

Yesterday, I went to the San Jose Giants game with my kids. It was their first baseball game and they loved it. They are young, but they found the game exciting, and, even better, they got hot dogs and to hang out with grandpa and Uncle Will. Things were going smashingly well until all of a sudden, I felt faint.

One moment, I was helping my daughter with her hot dog, the next moment, I felt myself slumping forward and going cold and clammy. I tried to get my husband's attention, but he just didn't seem to hear me. I'm sorry for it now, but I hit him. He finally looked, with a "WHAT?"

The look on his face when he saw me was panic. I'm sure I had the same look on my face. All I knew was that I had to lie down or I was in trouble.

I'm not sure who called the medic, but next thing I knew, he was there, taking my blood pressure. It was 90/60 - very low for me. All I wanted was to be out of the sun, lying down, in some air conditioning.

The happy part of this story is that I am fine. My miracle is that while driving home, and starting to feel better, I realized how incredibly happy I am and how lucky I am to have my great family. I looked at my kids and realized that I wanted to be a part of their life as long as God lets me. And if God's design is that I can't be a part of their life until they are grown, I realized that I wanted them to know each and every day how much I love them.

The best thing was that I realized that, all stresses aside, I have the most precious gifts from God. I have a loving husband, loving friends, and a beautiful family.

This knowledge was my miracle.

Do Superstar a favor. The next time you feel negative about life, stop for a moment and count your blessings. You are truly blessed to be God's child.

Go with love.

19 Minutes

2007-07-23T10:37:00.000-07:00

I just finished reading a very moving book. No, it wasn't Harry Potter - although I will be starting that tonight. The book I read was called 19 Minutes, by Jodi Piccoult, an up and coming writer who explores the dynamics of relationships.

The book was about a school shooting. We got introduced to all the characters - each had their flaws and their redeeming characteristics - even the shooter. Ms. Piccoult tells the story about each of these ordinary people - with thoughts and feelings just like ours - who intersect in an extraordinary way. The book asks the question - who is responsible? And the answer? We all are.

The parents of the young boy who committed the shootings, Peter, did their best to raise him. Peter was the second son and a very sensitive soul. He was much more difficult to raise than his older brother - an easy going, well-liked athlete to which everything came easy. The older brother is killed by a drunk driver, perhaps at the moment that Peter needed stability in his life the most.

Peter never fit in. From the first day of school, he was labeled and scape goated and bullied. At first, as many kindergardeners, he just did not notice. His parents were proud of his uniqueness and saw no reason for him to modify himself to accommodate anyone else.

Peter had a best friend, Josie. Josie would play with him, exclusively. Josie was the only one who would play with him. Josie, however, was keenly aware of how everyone else saw Peter. She eventually realized that if she stayed friends with Peter, she would be very lonely. Josie wants what everyone wants - someone to talk to. So, she gives up her friendship with Peter in order to fit in. Secretly, she always regrets the decision.

The teachers felt fairly helpless. They could discipline the kids when they saw them bullying Peter, but they knew that there were many moments where they were not around. They knew that in those moments, the bullies used all of their pent up anger at being disciplined to bully Peter. The teachers felt like they could do nothing - so, they did nothing. Their best advice was to tell the parents to teach Peter to be tough.

The other kids saw their teasing of Peter as harmless - "kid's stuff." After all, they razzed each other all the time. They weren't actually friends with Peter, but that shouldn't matter. This is how kids treat each other. None of the adults in their lives made them stop, so how wrong could it be?

Peter, for his part, tried to just suffer through. He stopped trying to tell people. It just made things worse. He told his mom and she threatened to punish him if he did not stand up for himself (on the advice of a teacher). He told Josie and the best she could offer was "well, if I am friends with them, I can make sure they leave you alone." (In reality, she could not because she was not strong enough to risk losing their friendship to stand up for Peter).

At the end, after the shooting, people wanted to blame Peter as being a defective monster. They wanted to blame the parents for raising a monster. They wanted to blame the school for not doing enough to weed out the monster. The only finger they didn't point was the finger at themselves - the one that asked, what did I do to contribute to this?

When I was in junior high school, I was bullied. It is nothing to the extent of what I see and hear kids going through these days. The unwritten rule of bullydom, back in my day, was that it happened during school hours, on school property. You got a bye when you were at home or on the weekends - unless, of course, you tried to go to something that you were not invited to where the bullies hung out.

My bully had been one of my best friends. She was a tough girl - from the day I met her. She had short, jet-black hair, wore black eye liner, and dressed so provocatively, Madonna told her to put some clothes on. We had met in the 5th grade when she was transferred into my class. I don't recall why she did not start the year with us or where she came from - all I know is that she was a force to be reckoned with.

In the 5th grade, there were four of us girls who were inseparable - Diane, Jennifer, Gail and I.

Diane was in the 4th grade and she was boy crazy. She was very funny and liked to play board games. Her parents were divorced and she had a creepy older brother, Grayson.

I had known Jennifer since the wee days of grade school - I think 1st grade. My stepmom fell in love with her - I thought she was bossy, but after several "forced" play dates with her, I actually fell in love with her myself. She had the coolest mom who always liked to stay up late and talk with us about anything. No topic was off-limits and she knew how to listen and keep a secret. We all felt like we were one of her kids. Oh, and Jennifer also had an older brother, Kalvin, who Gail was madly in love with.

Gail was the wild child of our bunch. She was 11 going on 32 - only not a mature 32 - the kind of 32 that ends up in rehab or on an episode of Jerry Springer. Gail had a little brother who was nice, but annoying. He knew enough not to try and tag along, but he also knew how to get his sister into trouble - and fast. Gail's parents were professionals by day and alcoholic pot dealers by night Gail knew this and often used it as leverage against them. Once, she stole about $200 of their stash and flushed it down the toilet, just because she could. Unfortunately, her father was also an abusive asshole. If Gail got below a B, she got beaten. Gail was dyslexic and unfocused. I think mostly because she had so many other things to deal with.

For the most part, in 5th grade, I was part naive little kid and part intuitive and well-beyond-my-years wise. The naive part of me assumed that my friends, who I spent every waking minute with, wanted their lives to play out just like mine - you do your time in school and with your family, and then you make something better of yourself. The intuitive part of me knew when a kid was in trouble - and I knew Gail was in trouble. I was naive enough to think that my friendship alone would be enough to help.

Gail did not go to junior high with us. Having barely made it out of 5th grade, her parents decided a change of pace would be good for her. They enrolled her in a junior high which was supposed to have superior academics than our neighborhood school. As with everything, though, they never did do their homework - the school also had a rep (among the kids) as having a rampant drug problem, as being lax on violence, and as being gang-affiliated. To give her credit, Gail lasted 6 months before she began running away to sleep with her boyfriend and began skipping school. At the end of the year, she was expelled and had to do summer school in order to make it into the 7th grade.

One day, Gail called me and asked me to come hang out with her. It was that summer and she was skipping summer school. I was looking forward to starting 7th grade - and having classes to rotate to and from (including an honors' English class and honors history.) Although I didn't know everyone, I did have a good best friend - Linda - who I had sat next to throughout 6th grade. We did everything together, and I thought that was great.

The day with Gail started off well - especially when she told me that her parents had enrolled her in my middle school. I was really excited. Diane had just graduated and would be joining us - the 4 of us would be together once again! Gail was interested - as always - in what boys were at our school. It was then that she told me we were going to go meet up with two boys from her previous school - after she picked up the girl she was babysitting that day.

We met the boys at Children's Park. Gail sent the little girl off to the swings to play - barely batting an eye in her direction or making sure she even actually made it to the swings. The next 30 minutes were the most uncomfortable 30 minutes I recall in my life up till that point. Gail's friend, Mark, reached in his back pocket and pulled out a joint and a lighter. I was 12 - I had never seen marijuana. All I knew was that they were there, in the park, in the complete open, with lots of adults around, breaking the law. I knew what my parents would say if I came home with a police officer - especially a police officer telling them I had been smoking pot. At the age of 12!!!

I tried to play it cool. I talked with the 3 of them and made jokes and laughed. At first, I thought, alright - I'll get through this. After all, Gail was one of my best friends - - surely, she would not force the issue with me. I mean, its one thing to be square - its another thing to be square and tested for being square by a bunch of kids who really hate squares. In all honesty, I could care less that she was smoking pot - I was shocked because I thought that was something only older kids did. I was wrong.

To this day, when Gail passed the joint to me, I wonder how my life would have changed if I had taken a puff. I didn't. I looked at it, held it, and then passed it on. I wanted nothing to do with it. I wanted to travel back 30 minutes when my life still included playing Barbies and eating brownies while doing each other's hair.

After the kids finished getting high, I pathetically followed them around - sick to my stomach. Was my friend in big trouble? Was she an addict? Was there something I could do to help her? What about the little girl - who she now could not recognize - whom she was supposed to be responsible for? Could I allow her to be in danger?

In the end, I called Diane. I was so shocked, I needed to talk to someone who could listen and advise me without involving our parents. After all, if I was going to break the unwritten code of kids by telling her parents, I needed to have some support. What shocked me was that Diane was not shocked, had known Gail smoked weed, and believed that I should keep my mouth shut. And she was a year younger than me!! In the end, though, I followed her advice - although I was still shocked.

Gail, on the other hand, saw me as a threat. I knew things about her that could destroy the very comfortable world she ran because her parents would not bother to involve themselves in her life. (Except for the occasional beating). I knew she was in trouble and hurting. I knew that she really wanted what everyone wants - love and acceptance. So, she took those very things from me.

Our first weeks in school, Gail and I had an unspoken, uncomfortable truce. She was new to our school and knew no one. 7th grade was new to us - particularly with a schedule of a new class every period. It would take us awhile to get the routine down enough that we could start establishing the social order.

I had many things against me as a 7th grader.

First, it was the year of Guess! jeans. The jeans cost over $100 a pair - at a time when you could buy JC Penney jeans for about $10. My parents could not afford to buy me anything - and all of the girls had them. 7th grade was about running with the herd - if you could not, for whatever reason, you got picked off and thrown to the lions. Being poor made me different.

Second, I was smart. Really smart. School bored me. I often did the assignments ahead of time so I could read ahead and tweak the assignments and be creative. I didn't do this to show-off; rather, it was the only way I could survive the tedium of being in a class where I knew the answer 5 minutes before the teacher finished writing the question on the board. I wanted to be able to remain on the same level as my friends and yet still enjoy school. I wasn't nerdy enough to hang out with the straight-A students (although they did welcome me eventually).

Finally, I was sensitive. To a fault. Whether it was the substitute teacher, a stray dog, or the school's biggest nerd, I could not sit back and watch people get hurt - or, for that matter, join in. Which is a problem in junior high when you are either part of the herd or dinner for the lion - or in this school, the lionness.

Gail came to school and was welcomed by our 4-some with open arms. We were so excited to be back together! Only, this time, we had new people - we had all branched out and developed new friends. Gail was not used to being anything other than the ring leader, the center of attention, and the girl who was talked about for all the wrong reasons. She quickly set about trying to make her mark in the new crowd.

I was expendable. First, I had knowledge that could see her doing serious counseling time in her room and away from the new social icon status she was building for herself. Girls wanted to be her; boys wanted to be with her. I didn't want to grow up that fast.

Secondly, I made her feel dumb. I made her self-conscious. I didn't try to; but, when we would study, I would be done with my homework in the time it would take her to get her book out of her bag - if she had even remembered to bring it. She wasn't much of a student, and she didn't really want me helping her be one, either. It went against her image.

It was around the time that our science teacher was assigning semester projects that the thin ice on our friendship began to crack. Gail had begun hanging out with my best friend from 6th grade, Linda. Linda was the preacher's daughter - very sweet and expected to be a good girl. Much like any girl that age, she was tired of being labeled by everyone else's expectations. Gail drew her in like a moth to a flame - someone that her parents would vehemently disapprove of (and yet not, since they were all about "tolerance."). Linda and I were assigned partners on the science project; we sat next to each other in science class, did labs together, and worked on all our science reports together. It must have seemed like a slam dunk to our teacher - a gift he was giving us.

We could not even agree on a topic. I wanted to do something fun - and easy - which would give us big bang (grade-wise) for our effort. Making an airplane or something like that. She wanted to do a project she could copy off her cousin - thus making no work - that sounded really "scientific." It sounded boring - and dishonest - to me.

I thought it was just an ordinary spat between friends. I had not doubt that we would patch it up and be on our way to an A. Only, this is junior high and the rules are different than the real world. In junior high, when two girls are fighting, the vultures line up. And when the vultures don't see a friendship rip apart or new gossip being slung around, they hurry things up by injecting their own version of the story - whether they heard it from Ferris' fourth cousin's sister's friend - into the equation.

This is why Linda believed I called her a stupid bitch. I found out years later that a "friend" of Gail's (a follower, really), had made up this story because, well, Gail was tired of Linda's split-loyalty between me and her. I, at the time, had no idea that I was even in a power struggle or that someone else considered me a threat.

Before I could sneeze, the whole school believed I called the preacher's kid a stupid bitch. The more versions of the story that were passed around, the worse the things I said. According to the story most people believed, I was upset that I was paired with the "stupid bitch" because I would have to carry all the weight and do all the work if we were to get an A. The people telling the story - many of whom barely knew me - all rallied to Linda's defense. Overnight, I was a pariah. A conceited, stuck-up, needing a knocking down a few rungs, pariah.

Unfortunately, I made matters worse. I didn't recognize the seriousness of the charges against me. I still raised my hand in class, still tried out for the softball, volleyball, and gymnastics teams (and made all 3), developed a drama club after school, started a canned food drive, and, the horror of all horrors, I asked to be switched to a solo science project. One day, after school, I spoke with the science teacher. I told him the truth - that I didn't know why, but that my science partner no longer wanted to sit with me or work with me. I said that I did not want either of our grades to suffer because of our argument, but that I knew we could not work together without her feelings being more hurt. Which I did not want. He listened and agreed to let me change seats, let me change projects, and let me do my project solo. I gave him all the notes I had typed so far and asked him to give them to Linda - that way she would not have to re-do the 1/2 of the work I had already done. I thought I was being considerate.

The next day, someone poured a full can of soda into my school locker. My homework and books were sticky and ruined. The teachers were sympathetic and let me turn in what I had.

By that afternoon, it was all over the school that I had asked the science teacher if he would kick Linda off our project, but that he refused and told me to do my own work. It was also all over the school that I told the teacher Linda was not smart enough to do the assignment on her own and insisted she take my notes so that she could learn what the project was all about.

The next morning, someone stuck gum into my gym lock. I could not open it and got a write-up for being out of uniform. The teacher removed the write up when I told her what happened after class.

The thing about our teachers is that they were either naive or could care less. Not all - some were there for me in a way that saved me. But there were some who witnessed the bullying going on right under their noses and counseled ME to do more to fit in. One teacher even participated by telling me I was such a bitch for turning in one of the more popular girls for cheating. The problem is, I never even knew the girl cheated - nor had I said a word.

Under their careful watch, the bullying escalated. I was tripped, thrown into lockers, and had my books and things stolen and thrown into trash cans or mud. People threw things at me, at my hair - and stuffed horrible, mean notes in my locker. When out on the school yard, they would walk by and kick me or shove me over the benches. When I cried, they would taunt me even harder. One day, while playing a pick-up game of volleyball, they stood by the side of the court the entire game screaming vulgarities at me, about me, and telling me exactly what they were going to do to me the moment they found me alone. I pretended to ignore them, but inside, I was terrified.

In fact, that became my strategy. I refused to say anything to anyone at any time. I didn't speak for a year and a half - in school, that is. I didn't raise my hand, didn't look anyone in the eye. And when they made comments - which they did, all day during classes, at recess, at lunch - I did not even look at them. I pretended I could not hear a thing. It was very lonely.

You see, the thing is, that I had friends - in secret. I had friends who would help me or call me - as long as no one else knew they were talking to me. When you are a social pariah in junior high, no one wants to catch it. People who you shared your lunch with on field trips when they forgot theirs or their family was too broke to send them with one suddenly had never met you before in their lives. You could know everything about them, but you wouldn't dare tell anyone. I was heartbroken the day that Jennifer, who had been avoiding me, ran quickly up to me in the yard and handed me a note. She ran into me, wild-eyed, and slipped the note into my hand. After she did, she pushed me away and said, "don't touch me, freak!" She gave me a pitiful look and walked away.

The note said that she was sorry but that she could not be seen with me. She said that she cared for me, but was not strong enough to go through what I was going through. Although we made some feeble attempts at friendship later in life, that was pretty much the last moment we were truly friends.

After that, I spent my lunch hours in the library. Frankly, it was brilliant. I always loved to read, and, heck, it was better than sitting outside and pining for something I couldn't have. It was better than sitting outside and being afraid every time I walked too far away from a yard teacher or every time they turned to deal with something else. There was absolutely no way Gail would ever step foot in the library - even if it was guaranteed that she could harass me in there.

I was very lonely. I remembered the days of spending time as the 4 of us, and I longed for friends again. Maybe that is why, when I received a note from Juliette, I was really excited. She was a kid no one really liked, either. She was loud-mouthed and brash. I figured that I had found a safe harbor in a stormy sea.

At first, we sent notes back and forth. The notes were stupid, junior high notes - what do you think of the homework assignment, do you like my hair... that kind of junk. And then, Juliette got personal. She asked me how I was holding up and if I was feeling o.k. Honestly, it was the first time anyone asked me for my side of the story - including teachers. It was the first time that someone showed me that they wanted to support me, too. So I told her the truth. There were days when I wanted to open a window and jump off the ledge. There were days I had a plan. There were days I felt so ashamed of myself that I couldn't imagine God would miss me if I left this earth.

Part of me felt like if I started talking about it, then maybe the girls who were tormenting me would understand. Maybe they would know how hard it is to exist in a world for 50% of your waking day where you were unwanted. Maybe they would know how humiliating it was to have your family ask why you never talked to your friends anymore or why no one ever called for you. Or, even worse, why when they did, they yelled "BITCH!" into the phone and hung up. Maybe they would understand how desperate I was to just find out what the rules of the game were so that I could catch up on playing it. All I wanted were friends.

Apparently, I hadn't a single friend - not even Juliette.

Two days later, buoyed by having someone who listened, I decided to try my fate at the lunch yard. I was feeling so good, I had decided I was going to find Diane or Jennifer and just start talking to them. That is, until I was walking down the hallway and I was cornered by a few of Gail's cronies. They were there, they said, to offer me some advice and some assistance. With a menacing look, Meghan, a girl I had known since first grade, began reading from my letter to Juliette.

She looked at me and said, "We would all support you if you would kill yourself. In fact, I'd be willing to give you a little push off the ledge for courage."

The happy ending to this story is that their words that day backfired. Instead of being pushed further into the depression that had gripped me, I saw light. I became angry - angry enough to want to live my life in spite of them. I wanted them to be bothered by my existence. I wanted them to feel powerless over me. I became strong. I fought back.

The amazing thing I learned is that bullies are little dogs in big dogs' clothing. They barked and growled and fussed - not because they were going to rip my throat out, but because they were afraid of what I would do to them. Bark first.

In the end, I did win. Tired of being unable to get a reaction from me, Gail called a truce. I agreed to one, but only in words. I had no intention of ever trusting her again. I knew that I would be going to a prestigious high school in a few short months, and that neither Gail, nor any of her cronies, had been accepted.

A few weeks after our truce, Gail and Linda decided to bully a very young 8th grader - my new seat partner in science class. They threatened to beat her up over some money she supposedly had borrowed in 6th grade. They wanted it back - with interest. She was scared and sad and did not know what to do. She talked to me about it. The first thing I told her was to tell no one about their threat or her conversation. I told her what had happened to me. Luckily, she followed my advice. I then told her that she needed to protect herself by telling her father. He was a good guy and would know what to do.

Two weeks later, Linda (the nearly straight -A student) and Gail were expelled. Seems the school did not take their extortion threat against my science partner very lightly.

My nightmare was over. I reinvented myself in high school. The damage was done - I stopped trying to be the best in class. Instead, I settled for mediocre with friends. I was so lonely, all I wanted was friends. I never saw Gail or Linda again. Last I heard they both dropped out of high school - Linda could not get along with other kids and got her GED. Gail just dropped out.

Me? Well, I went on to go to college and law school and become a lawyer. The best revenge, someone said, is living well.

I worry about bullying because I have two small kids. My son is the smartest and funniest boy I have ever met. He is also extremely sensitive and cares deeply about having friends. My daughter is tough and stubborn - yet also has tender feelings.

What I have learned is that it truly does take a village. As parents (and educators), we are not just responsible for clothing, feeding, and stimulating our children. If we ever want them to become productive, responsible, and capable adults, we have to educate them socially, too. Which means that we need to monitor their social interactions and teach them how to interact with tact and grace. We cannot tolerate bullying. Little bullies grow up to be big problems. And kids who have been bullied have lost immeasurable psychological growth. Its not just a stage. They are not just being kids. Its not a rite of passage.

Its cruelty. Its not alright. It should not be condoned.

A Dream Deferred

2007-06-18T13:48:00.001-07:00

I got to vicariously realize a dream this weekend. No, it wasn't my dream - but I felt like it was since I was there at pretty much the inception of the dream - and to hear that it was finally being realized for a friend of mine, well, it was as if I was getting a wish granted, too.

I met Grant in my second year as a resident assistant at Long Beach State. Grant was one of those guys that girls love, and teachers don't. Don't get me wrong - Grant is one of the nicest people I've ever met. He's also insanely funny, even when it might not be the best time to be funny.

Grant was in my friend's building that first year. I did not know much about him except that he was a drama major and everyone said he was talented. I happened to have a theater appreciation class and *had* to see one of his plays - they were right. He was very, very talented. (The plays, as I recall, all pretty much sucked. The avant garde, tortured artiste type of plays - - which really means boring subject, weird sets, and off-the-wall dialogue.)

At the end of the year, Grant surprised us all by applying to be a resident assistant. Not that he wasn't qualified - its just that Grant and authority did not seem to mix.

It came down to Grant and one other guy for the job. Julie, my boss, agonized. In the end, we both just liked Grant so much - our doubts about his ability to be authoritative were completely outweighed by the thoughts of how much fun we were going to have at our staff meetings.

Grant totally upheld his end of the bargain and then some.

That year on staff, we had Davian, Gary, myself, and Grant - oh, and Julie. We all cracked each other up. Staff meetings were supposed to be an hour - and often lasted 3. Even the simplest discussion became fodder for a drawn out laugh fest.

Grant, for his part, was far more caring about the position than I ever thought he would be. I really underestimated him - which was a function of not really knowing him. I am glad we chose him because I got to know an extremely talented, likeable, and kind guy. Not to mention funny.

The event that sticks out in my mind happened that spring. Grant and I both signed up for a geology field lab. It required us to be away on the same weekends - which meant our staff had to cover for us. Grant and I would ride to the weekend retreats together - wherever we needed to catch the bus - and ocassionally talk. Grant had worked as a jungle cruise skipper the semester before, and he could do impressions of pretty much every Disney character. On the way to and from the lab retreats, Grant would pop on some Disney tape on his car stereo, and he would do all the voices. It was great!

During that semester, and those drives, I got to know Grant - and I learned that it was his dream to be just like Weird Al Yankovic. Grant idolized him. He also loved Dr. Demento and MST (mystery science theater). In fact, Grant got Dr. Demento to do his radio show from our cafeteria - and in the process, got his first on-air gig. Grant convinced Dr. Demento to let him play on his show.

It was the first time I heard Grant's shtick. I was more than impressed - let's just say I became a fan. He did contemporary songs - one was "I Want Hair Like You!" (to the melody of the Friends' theme song) - the lyrics were so clever and smart.

At the end of the year, at one of our staff meetings, Gary was discussing a roommate situation. When Julie asked him how serious it was, Gary said, "Well, its not like they are throwing toasters yet."

Grant and I graduated that spring. I left to come back home. Grant started his entertainment career. His act - Throwing Toasters - performed locally, at first. Then it put out its first album. Then he did a national tour - and so on and so forth. He now makes a steady living off his act.

But, this weekend, he finally realized his dreams: Grant got to open for Weird Al.

When I got the email from him, I could not have been happier. I was there when Throwing Toasters got started!!!

So, check out Throwing Toasters - maybe if we all support Grant, he can get a world tour of his very own.

Misquoting God

2007-06-11T11:49:00.000-07:00

One of my biggest pet peeves is people who do things in the name of God. I can understand the human nature to do so. If you want to get a message across, it seems so much stronger if you throw the weight of authority behind it. But, to me, it is so disingenuous to do so.

God loves us all equally. Just like a parent. Sure, at times, it may seem that God shines his light a little brighter on one child than another. This is true of all parents. Sometimes in trying to give one child just what they need, another child gets slighted. But, we always try to meet each child's needs. God is the same.

I don't think its fair to use God to fight your battles. Those are your issues, your thoughts, your opinions. You may believe that God would support you in your battle, but, wouldn't God also support the opposite? If God is the ultimate parent, wouldn't he love your enemy just as much as he loves you? Isn't that the point of 3/4ths of the Bible???

If your message can't stand on its own without the weight of God behind it, maybe you need to re-think the message, or the way its presented. Sure, there will always be those people who listen to you simply because God is part of the conversation. But, wouldn't your message appeal to more if you could make it more about being the right thing to do and less about well, because God said so?

You see, I don't believe anyone who tells me what God said - except for God. God is capable of communicating on his own. God touches my life and sends me signs and messages that he loves me. But the God I know has never blown up a roadside bomb for me or held pictures of aborted fetuses outside an abortion clinic to scare women for me.

But we humans do these things "in the name of God." We hate each other. We talk down to each other. We stiffle each other. We ruin religion for each other. We bomb. We mutilate. We hurt. And we do so, in the name of God. For him, because of him, because we are sure it is what he would want.

Just like any child, we test the bounds of God's love. We are destructive, hoping God will rein us in. Unfortunately, we have stopped listening to God. Instead, we have started deciding for ourselves what God does and does not want. Its really simple. Put down the picket signs, disarm the bombs, stop the hate chatter - and listen. If you really want to know what God wants, listen. I promise you, you will hear.

Until then, I will blog, in the name of God.

For Some, A Great Day, For Others...

2007-05-25T16:23:00.000-07:00

For those of you who don't exist in my world, you have no idea of the significance of today. You may be thinking, well, it is the start of a three day weekend? Maybe that is what is so exciting.

Actually, that would be exciting if I didn't have so much to do that I was going to be working every single minute of the weekend...

No, folks... today is the day that bar results come out.

I have a few friends who are still struggling to pass the bar. Its been awhile. One might say they should not be lawyers, but honestly, that's not true. I have met so many shoddy, can't-practice-law-without-their-excellent-paralegal lawyers, that I know its not true. A few of my friends I know would make an excellent contribution to this profession just given their tenacity and their ability to overcome such steep obstacles.

In all honesty, I am sure that many people questioned if superstar would ever be a lawyer, but I am. And I gotta tell you, I am starting to believe I can be a good one.

I entered law school with a 2.95 gpa and a 156 LSAT. For those of you not in the know, those scores put you just above the threshhold of mediocre. (See, loser.) Its not that I was incapable of lawschool. Its just that I had a series of rather unfortunate events, which began with my incredibly stupid first semester of college (classes? where? wait, am I supposed to go?). You never really recover from that act of stupidity - it weighs down your gpa no matter how many A's and B's you eek out. If I could found a way to erase them...

Then, well, my LSAT stories, hillarious in hindsight, were not the best precursors of success for me. (Seriously, I had a marching band playing outside my testing room throughout the entire exam...)

So, I entered the only law school that accepted me, grateful. It was a truly divine providence moment - the law school that admitted me ended up being absolutely the best place for me. I can't imagine having a better experience in law school than in the law school I went to.

My story proves three things: First, test scores do not always predict the potential success of the taker. I came in with mediocrity and rose through law school to become a valued student. I was a peer mentor, and on the dean's list nearly every semester. In fact, I graduated just at the top third of my class.

Second, sometimes God answers prayers even when you think he didn't. The thing is, he answers the prayers you really want answered, even if you are saying something else. Because God can see into your heart and soul and cares about what is the best for you. And sometimes what is best for you isn't getting that $200,000 a year job or getting into Princeton. Sometimes, it is getting fired and finding your dream job.

Finally, I learned that present behavior always has future consequences - whether good or bad. If you do something good, the universe gives back to you. If you slack off in class, well, you are not going to find a lot of forgiving law schools - even if that slack off was one semester in the beginning of college when you were homesick and aimless.

So, to all my friends and maybe future colleagues who are about to find out the bar results (in t-minus 1 hour and 15 minutes), good luck. I hope God answers all the prayers he should.

Bits and Bites

2007-05-08T11:11:00.000-07:00

Just some short news from the Superstar ledger:

Heard on the radio this morning: spay your cats and dogs to save their lives. If you don't, the shelters will be overrun with unwanted cats and dogs.

Alright. Now, before anyone jumps on me - I do believe it is good to spay/neuter your pets (unless you are going to breed them). However, does that argument make logical sense???

You have a pet you love. It becomes pregnant - - do you kick it out of the house into the street? Has that pet sinned since it is unwed?

More than likely, you will keep your pet. Spaying/neutering will NOT save YOUR pets life (on the argument presented). The babies, however, now THEY may be in overcrowded shelters.

Still, all-in-all, good idea to spay/neuter. Animals are calmer (especially males) when they are fixed. They do not have to deal with the biological urges to mark their territory, aggressively fight for any potential mate; etc.

Second news item:

Did something this morning I have not done in a long time - spent the morning in the pool. Tsunami warnings followed.

Third news item:

When it rains it pours. Why is it I have spent the last two weeks scrambling for a new contract and then, within the space of 24 hours, I have received 5 weeks' worth of work from my contracts. Wahoo - - but, I could have been done with half of it by now! LOL!!

So, what is your local news? Love to hear it and share it with the world....

Superstarintraining

Hot Weather Blues

2007-05-07T11:33:00.000-07:00

Hot Weather Blues
Hot Weather Blues
I've got Them,
Hot Weather Blues

Oh-h
When it gets hot, I get into a funk
My skin feels like its frying,
My kidneys seem to have shrunk
I'm feeling kinda woozy, much like I am drunk
Because, its hot and I don't like it!!!
**********************************************

I know I am in the minority on at least one thing: hot weather. I cannot stand it. Give me fog, snow, even a blizzard, and I will prance around in my shorts and tank top and soak that good old moisture up. But heat? I wilt like a flower who has never been watered.

I've been this way since I was a child. When the sun came out, I jumped in tubs full of ice, ate ice water for dinner - - anything to get myself cool. I've often thought maybe my temperature regulator was out of whack. Because I just can't stand heat.

What's worse is that once the heat is over and the inevitable lovely fog layer returns (to my praises!), I can't seem to let go of the heat. My skin traps it in and I feel like I am roasting for days. I could sleep under the fog blanket for three nights and I would still feel kissed by the sun.

So, for all of you sun worshipers, I just wanted you to know - you can have my spot at the beach. Just leave your towel there on cold days for me. Until then, I will be trying my hardest to stay cool.

I wish I could enjoy the sun - it does feel so good on my skin (for the first 15 minutes). And I love hot weather things - like swimming in the pool, ice cream, baseball games in the twilight, barbecues, icees; etc.

Well, enough complaining about the heat - I'm going to go look for some air conditioning....

Pestrogy

2007-05-01T11:05:00.000-07:00

Pestrogy: (n) Things that annoy superstar. Such as, blogspot's log-in is a pestrogy.

Sorry, folks, but with the new blogspot log-in, and my technological illiteracy, I have been having the most difficulty logging in. I can't seem to figure out which freaking password and log-in blogspot wants! Ugggh.

So, today, I kept trying my log-in name and password combo. First one did not work. Second one did not work - which password was it??? Oy vey. One of the word verifications was pestrogy, and I thought it was appropriate.

Other pestrogy's in my life:

1. People who say something horrific and then try to explain that it is o.k. because they are Christian. Really? Its o.k. to be completely ignorant about some faction of humanity because you follow Christ who advocated that you should treat your neighbor like yourself?

2. Hypocrisy. Say what you are. If you are an a-hole, just be one. Own it. But don't be one and then tell people you are kind and generous. A certain ex-ex-ex-boss of mine (someone I worked for eons and eons ago) likes to portray himself as a defender of human rights. Behind closed doors, he is one of the worst violators I know. He is one mean, mean, mean person.

I'll give you an example: I suffered from post-partum depression. One night, after a very long day of work, I was finishing up some work that he had just told me was needed for the next day. I brought it to him for review - now, I was a very young attorney, and I looked to examples for how to do the things I needed to do. So, I used an example of what was done by a much more senior attorney, and I worked hard on my own work. I even thought out the strategy behind doing it the way I had.

So, I go to boss and hand him my work for review and commentary. He starts ripping into me about being incompetent - how come I did not know this is not how he would do it. I tried explaining that, hey, this is the example he told me to follow and I did it exactly the way the person he told me to mimic had. I even told him why I thought it was done that way. So, he again goes on and on and on about how bad of an attorney I must be to have followed that example - I should have known certain things were not certain ways. Did I mention he also brought up every mistake I had ever made from the beginning of time.

Well, it being a late night and me being depressed anyhow, I lost it on him. It was the first time ever where I told him off. I told him that I was not going to sit there and listen to him rant on me when I neither had the time nor the patience. I told him that I would be happy to go back and fix the issue, but that I would not tolerate his tone or derision when I was just trying to learn.

The next morning, having fixed the issue, and having to spend the day with him at court, I softened. Not that I wasn't still angry, but I knew that I needed to have him on my good side because my psyche really could not tolerate a whole day of emotional blackmail from him.

So, I apologized. I told him about the post-partum and that perhaps I wasn't seeing or thinking clearly when I blew up at him. I told him that I was very tired and I was struggling with the hours he was forcing upon me, the pressure, and the stress of a newborn. At the time, my daughter was just three months old, and I was still getting up with her every two hours at night.

Fast forward several months. By this time, I realized that my post-partum was, perhaps, not just post-partum. I was slogging through my days and I was really having a difficult time keeping my focus. I was never happy. Things made me cry really easily. To top it all off, I was so terrified of my boss - he would find me, anywhere, and if I couldn't answer every single question he had off the top of my head, he would go off on me. (It wasn't just me, it was pretty much everyone that he did this to. However, because of some things we had happen in the past, he had a special affinity for making me miserable). I got a knot in my stomach every morning just thinking about coming near the place.

So, I went and talked to my doctor. I told her what was going on with me, and we discovered two things - 1) the birth control I was taking was causing me a hormonal imbalance which was causing my depression; and 2) the stress of work was creating a further imbalance.

In short, I could fix one by simply ending taking the pills. The other, I needed more long-term assistance with.

So, I went to our HR attorney and asked her to assist me in talking to my boss. I told her that I needed a better way of communicating with him and that we needed to figure out a way so that I could have less pressure and stress. I was very candid with her. I told her that I knew it was my reaction to him - that there are jerks everywhere, and I did not expect him to be any less of a jerk on my account. She said she would help me talk to him.

The day came where we were supposed to sit down and talk. Only, he beat her to it. He called me into his office, on the auspices of discussing a recent assignment. Instead, he asked me what I had been talking to the HR attorney and was I planning on suing. He was paranoid about being sued. All the time.

Now, granted, I would NEVER sue this particular person. He would make your life absolutely miserable. Believe you me, if you sued him, by the end of the lawsuit, he would make you look like a puppy-beating Nazi-loving pedophile.

So, I told him that I wanted to find a better way to talk to him - because I did - and that I thought we should discuss it with the HR attorney.

We sat down later that day with the HR attorney. I told him that I was depressed and ill. The next moment I heard something that will never leave me. He accused me of lying. He said, well, first its post-partum and now you are depressed - so, what do you want, accommodations? You want no work while you sort it all out?

All I had said, mind you, was that I was ill and needed to seek some counseling.

The end result was that I did seek counseling. Over the next several months, he goaded me. He began writing more and more things to my personnel file. He would say sly little comments like "are you feeling alright today or am I going to make you cry." None of it was something I could point to and say, F-Off, jerk - you know what you are doing! Knowing him like I do, I knew what he was doing.

Why this makes my pestrogy list is because in the past year, he has won/settled several cases for large sums of money. In each one, he triumphs the result stating that he truly believes people should have freedom from harassment in the workplace. Apparently, he did not mean me.

Maybe I misunderstood him. Maybe I misunderstood a lot of things. I do know that I am in a better place now. I get to be happy, and it is o.k. with the people around me. I wish he could know that feeling, too.

So, what makes your pestrogy list?

Bosses (sigh)

2007-04-26T10:43:00.000-07:00

Just some random thoughts about bosses. Feel free to add yours in.

I send one really important email to my boss. She did not respond.

Instead, she sent me an email telling me not to respond to a list-serve she asked me to join. I sent one response. I did not want to join the list serve, but now that I have, I find that I get 100s of emails a day. So, yesterday, during my lunch, I went through and erased them all - but I did respond to one. (Sigh).

Its not that big of a deal, she's a very nice boss most of the time and MUCH better than my old boss.... (who made me into a lawyer whether I liked it or not.)

Other annoying boss habits (and not this boss, just in general):

- telling you to do it their way and then subtly forgetting that they did when it all backfires.
- telling you to do it your way and then when it goes wrong, acting like they told you to do it the right way.
- remembering their errors as your errors and your successes as their successes.
- Not telling you which holidays you can take off until the last minute.

Anyone else have any other boss issues?

(Yes, for those who have wondered, superstar will be trying very hard to keep this blog up and going)

The Future

2007-04-25T11:52:00.000-07:00

I know, I know, I have been an absent mother and my children are all probably scattered in the wind. I have forsaken all of my beautiful blogfans and now you are all probably gone.

So, why have I started two new blogs you might ask?

Well, because I can. And I have decided that there are some things I really want to tell the universe, but this, my superstar journal, is just not the place for it. That's why.

I have to give it up to a few of my friends for the inspiration. K, my dear blogger over and www.sturmndrang.blogspot.com, who started me blogging with her old blog, now defunct. Her blogs are funny, self-depricating, and just fun to read.

And then there is my dear dear friend, W, back from the brink of fictional leukemia (I killed him off in one of my stories), over at www.iconnoone.blogspot.com. His writing is great - and I am usually blown away by the content.

Then there is our friend, A, who writes over at www.milefromthebeach.com. I get the most inspiration from A's blogs, which are religiously themed, but with class and a real openness not only to God, but to others's viewpoints. He makes me comfortable talking about God - which is a big thing since I never really have been before this time in my life.

So, what are my new blogs? Well, one is pure whimsy - www.letterstobono.blogspot.com. All the things I ever wanted to say to Bono but have not gotten the chance.

The other is a bit more on the serious side. It is my way of giving back to the blogging community and also my way of renewing my own spirit - www.crimesurvivor.blogspot.com. It is an anonymous site (except for, of course, the moderator) where anyone can have posted their story of surviving crime. It is meant to be cathartic.

So, that is what I have been up to. This all, of course, means that I have rededicated myself to writing, blogging, and being a presence. I plan on posting at least once a week. I hope you will all come back to read what I have to say.

Please check out all of my blogs and let me know if you have any ideas for future blogs.

Talking to you soon....

Superstar.

The Unbearableness of Not Knowing

2007-03-13T13:05:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago, I stopped at a playground with my son, Josh. Josh is 3 years old. When asked, he can tell people his name. His parents are "Mommy" and "Daddy." He lives at "Willow House, near Uncle Will." Only his daddy and mommy use the phone - and they just push a button to call Grammy. He has a sister named Natalie Beans, and a dog named Midi Sit, Quiet. He does not live in the City, but he drives Mommy to work there at least once a week.

This information is important because it is the extent of his ability to communicate his identity to anyone.

So, we are at the playground. It is a nice day. There are few kids around, but they are very nice and play with Josh. They even help him up the slide. But, then they have to leave.

I decide we should go, too. I call for Josh. He runs the other way. He is not ready to go.

I don't chase after him. Its not that I don't want him to come - I don't want the chase to become a game. So, I call for him. He retreats further.

By now, Josh has his back up against a fence. On the other side of the fence is a hill covered with trees. Below the hill is a sidewalk which leads under the freeway. There is also a very busy street and freeway entrance.

Before I can react, Josh sees a hole in the fence. It is big enough for Josh. It is not big enough for Mommy. He disappears through the fence. All I can see is his little brown head bobbing up and down above his blue-clad back. He is disappearing quickly.

The only thing I can do is turn my back on him and run for the playground entrance, around the playground fence, and down to the sidewalk below the hill.

It is agony in those moments between seeing him dart through the fence and making the turn onto the sidewalk. I cannot see my child. At that moment, I have no idea where he is. I am failing at keeping him safe.

As I make it to the sidewalk, I do not see Josh. A homeless man points to the left and tells me he was moving really fast that way. With no hesitation, I run in the direction he was pointing.

My only thought is that I will turn a corner and see Josh's brown head bobbing up and down in front of me.

I have faith.

I turn a corner. No brown head.

I keep going, knowing I will see him in front of me at any moment.

And then, I make it to an intersection. I can see miles to either side. I see lots of things. I do not, however, see a 3 year old in a blue shirt with brown hair. He has simply vanished.

The happy ending to this story is that God sent me some angels. The same kids who played with my son heard me screaming his name and ran to assist me. On the way, they found a lost and frightened little boy, who could hear his mommy calling his name and who could not figure out how to find me.

But in those moments when I did not know where he was, I found life unbearable. I found the not knowing to be the worst feeling I ever could feel. Seeing my child again was both wrought with the pain of losing him, relief at finding him, and fear of ever feeling that feeling again.

It reminded me to hold on to the things I love. To appreciate, truly, the gifts I have been given. To accept that which God has offered me at face value.

My son is not the only person in my life who is lost.

I fear, every day, for my brother. Six months ago, we had a falling out. It started rather innocuously. At first, it seemed like it would by a typical spat with my brother - him being slightly irrational about something he actually caused, and me listening and waiting it out.

The problem is, instead of our usual pattern of him letting it all out and me taking it, I broke the pattern.

At the time, and still, I was genuinely concerned for him. I believe(d) that he was suffering far greater than he actually was admitting to anyone - especially himself. I knew my brother had past problems with drugs, alcohol, and other things, and I had noticed many of the same behaviors cropping up. Even more disturbing was the fact that none of his old friends hung around him anymore. He had no support network.

In the year or so prior to our big falling out, my brother had almost cut all ties with his family. He stopped attending all family events, including his nephew (my son)'s birthday. He just would not show up.

I had a very hard time deciding what to do. I finally prayed for some courage to do what I felt was right. I set a boundary. I told my brother that I loved him and that I needed him to know I was always there for him, but that I would not tolerate his behavior anymore.

We have not spoken in 6 months.

For me, it has been nearly unbearable. I feel like he is lost, running through some trees or stuck somewhere, without someone to protect him. I worry about him nearly every day. I check news stories about unidentified bodies to see if he matches their description. I also check crime reports, to see if he is a suspect.

There is a hole in my heart where my brother should be.

Supporting Britney

2007-03-02T10:53:00.000-08:00

I wanted to chime in on an issue which most of you would probably think I am too out of touch to have an opinion: Britney Spears.

For some of it, you are probably right. Heck, I'm not even sure I spelled her name right.

But, there is something in the way Britney is behaving that resonates with me. I wanted to let her know that I support her and that she is going to be okay.

The issue is much more complicated than the media might lead you to believe. On the one hand, it seems quite easy to tell Britney that K-Fed is a jerk and she really ought to leave him. As well, it seems very easy to say that Britney is a mess and should not be left in charge of her two children. All of that seems very easy.

But we're not there, are we?

How well do we know about the marriage of K-Fed and Brit? Well, we know that they argue alot. Hmm, yes, and have you met many newlyweds who don't?

Well, we know that they "irresponsibly" got pregnant again after only months of the birth of their first son. Sorry. Try again. There is a reason your OB will tell you - NO sex for six weeks after birth. A recently pregnant woman is THE most fertile woman in town. Your chance of getting pregnant again is at its highest right after giving birth. It decreases, slowly, as you get further from birth. Don't believe me? Ask my daughter, who is only 18 months younger than her brother....

She shaved her head! While I personally believe that may be a sign of insanity (especially since her hair was so beautiful!), what does it really say? That she was tired of longer hair?

She nearly dropped her infant!!! Um, really? A new mom made a mistake?!? Shock! Gasp! Take those babies away RIGHT NOW! IF that were criterion for removing children from a home: (a) no mother would be allowed to keep her kids - I have dropped both my children, banged Josh into the wall (one late night when he was nursing still and I was so bleary eyed I couldn't see straight), tripped while carrying them, and shock - fed my children chocolate!; (b) if that was criterion, then how do all these babies get killed by abusive parents???

Here is what I do know about Britney.

She is going through a very public and painful divorce.

She has two babies.

The media constantly calls her out for the slightest indiscretions.

She's very young.

Now, I know that as a new mom, I suffered from post-partum depression. I didn't know it until my second child was over 6 months old. I couldn't shake the blues. The only joy I felt in my life was my family. Everything else felt like I was slogging through quick sand.

I, too, worried about my impact as a mother. I had no idea if I was doing it right. It was excrutiating to have other people monitoring my every move as a mom - and I only had my family doing it, not the entire world. I didn't turn on the news and see: Superstar was so tired today, she did not get out of the sweats she's worn all week, and she skipped Joshua's bath. Experts say the children may be in danger.

I would have (and still would) killed a man with my bare hands if he tried to take my children from me. The mothering instinct is very, very strong in me. Even when it puts me in opposition with other people I love, the mothering instinct is alive and well.

I cut my hair, too. I needed a change. I shed my entire life - quit my horrible job, moved, and cut my signature hair. It felt wonderful.

Post-partum is not a joke. You feel inadequate, lonely, and unloveable. I never resented my children - they were the light of my life. My husband was my other light. But, I felt like I was always letting them down. The person I wanted to be as a mom - supportive, loving, always there - was not someone I felt inside of me. I felt embarassed by my job and ashamed of the person I had to be while working the position I had. I did not feel like I was a positive role model. I also felt like my children should not have to suffer just so I could be happy.

Eventually, I got some counseling, and life was much better. I am now ever so happy. Truly, deeply, soul-satisfying happy. When I laugh with my kids, I really feel it. I think they see the difference, too.

I don't know if I could have made all of those steps towards the positive place I am now with the world watching me.

So, I want to say this: please leave Britney alone. If she goes back to K-Fed, or not, it is not for us to decide. Let her have some time to find a place within herself where she can trust that she knows who she is and knows her self-worth. Maybe she never sings again. Maybe she goes into seclusion and becomes a full-time mom. Maybe she goes to Broadway.

I do know that at crossroads in life, such as the one she is at, dramatic changes are sometimes lifes way of redirecting you to a path you were always meant to take. Sometimes, we are lost and don't even know it until a boulder blocks our path.

Britney, I support you. From one mom to another, I wish you health and happiness, not just for you, but for your babies.

Too many delays

2007-03-01T12:17:00.000-08:00

Every single day, blog fans, I plan on blogging. Throughout my day, so many things bombard me and I think: "that would be a great blog topic!" But, when I have the topic, I am nowhere near my computer. When I'm near my computer, I don't have the time.

Superstar is starting to live up to her name. I am very busy. Not rich, at least not monetarily, but busy. For the first in a long time, too, I am happy. I mean soul-satisfyingly happy.

So, the topics I meant to cover, in brief:

1. The Racist Asian Weekly Column: If you haven't heard about it, I really don't want to give it any press, but here goes. An "opinion" piece writer over at Asian Business Weekly has written a series of ignorant, racist ranting articles. The latest, titled "Why I Hate Blacks (and you should too)", caused quite a stir. Many, many things trouble Superstar.

First, don't hate what you are. You cannot label other people in the universe for ridicule over the very same qualities you espouse. Hate racism? Don't be racist. Don't use pervasive racism as a cloak for your own racist activities. I understand that horrible things happen to people - and that we should not allow people to be racist towards one another. But an eye does NOT equal an eye. Why is it racist for someone to say: "All [fill in the blank] are lazy," but not for the people targeted to say, "And [group targeting] are all crackers." Any time you start to use a qualifier such as ALL or EVERY when describing a group of people, you are about to make an IGNORANT statement. Just shut your mouth!

Think its okay to do so because you feel like your race has been oppressed? So did Hitler. 'Nuff said.

Finally, why was this same editor allowed to print: "Why Whites Hate Us" "Why I hate Whites," and other rhetoric - but it was o.k. Now don't get me wrong. Rhetoric hate speech, while someone has the freedom to engage in it in our country, is, in my opinion, always wrong. Whether the Pope is espousing it or Farakhan (and forgive me for misspelling it, I admit that I am ignorant to the spelling). Filling your vocabularly with words that espouse hatred is just wrong.

Racism can be resolved. It involves a complicated process of education, tolerance, and forgiveness. We must learn about each other, how to work with each other, and how to forgive each other for the bad examples shown by people from all races. The world is beautiful and a gift.

2. My second topic is one of my favorites. Kids. Mine, to be exact. For those who aren't aware, I birthed, three years ago, a 40 year old soul. Two years ago, I birthed a teenager. The 3 (40) year old has made the following astounding observations:

"I am not a banana. I am just a boy."

"Pancakes do not grow on trees. Daddy has to make them."

"I can play bongo on your butt, Mommy!"

"Camels do not like [my sister]. They are from Agent Egypt."

"If I get out of the tub, I will be cold." (yes, he's three, but isn't that a brilliant observation?)

"Sleeping in Mommy's bed is warmer."

Now, the (almost) two year old, who isn't vocalizing as well as her brother, still manages to get her point across. The other morning, she woke me by striking me on the head with the TiVo remote, grabbing my hand, and commanding, "Come on!" She dragged me out of bed, first to the t.v., then to the kitchen table, where she proclaimed, "Banana! Milk!" and then, with a perfect smile (seriously, a halo popped above her head) "Please?"

Life is good in the Tanner household.

3. I haven't got a number three. Just wanted to say I missed blogging.

4. Ellen. Her oscars was awesome. Love her, anyhow. Ellen, if you are reading this blog - superstar thought you were awesome. It kind of made me want to aim lower to be just like you. ;) Seriously, you made me feel like you were living MY dream to host the oscars. Way to go, Ellen. You are an inspiration.

Superstar is back. I will try as hard as I can to continue blogging.

See you tomorrow.

Day Three Disneyworld!

2007-01-19T10:05:00.000-08:00

WE actually go the parks this day...

SEPTEMBER 9, 2006 - "EXCUSE ME, I HAVE A TURTLE TO TALK TO" (NATALIE TANNER)

Isn’t it funny how, no matter how late you stayed up and how tired you are, you never have trouble getting up on the first day of vacation?

Right on time, I woke up - I think it was about 6:30 a.m. - and knocked on the door of Will and Mom. Will was already out - having taken a walk with Carl. The kids were still asleep. Mom and I watched t.v. and talked excitedly about what we would be doing that day. At 7:00, Will and Carl returned. We all went to take showers/get dressed.

At about 7:30, the kids finally woke up. We got them dressed, got their sippy cups and gear together, and gave them a snack to tide them over. We headed down to the bus stop with Joshy asking us if we were going to Disneyworld today. Yes, Joshy, we’re going to Epcot. No, mama, I want to go to Disneyworld....

The bus to the TTC came first, so we decided to hop on and monorail it into Epcot. We thought it would be exciting for Josh and Nattie to ride the monorail. When we got to the monorail, we asked the cast member at the head of the line if we could possibly ride with the kids in front. There were only two other people waiting at the station. The CM said sure, why not.
Mom and Will took the strollers into a different car. Josh, at first, was worried that grandma was not coming with him. He was o.k., though, when we climbed into the front cab and he could see the tracks - well, sort of. There was so much condensation on the window, there was only a very small portion of track visible through the window! Oh well, at least he could talk to the driver. Thing is, though, the driver would NOT talk. He must have been in a bad mood because he just mumbled a little bit and seemed really annoyed at our attempts at conversation. The kids were excited, at first, but then the ride - without a view or talking - dragged on and on and on. When we got to Epcot, the driver just got off the train without a word. He didn’t even stick around to see if we needed help off the train. Wow, am I on the Universal Studios monorail???
After our ride of silence, we met up with Mom and Will and headed towards the park. I had signed Carl up for the pin trading event that was going on that day, but we decided to check in later (BIG mistake - more later). Even with a special event going on, the park was not crowded one bit! Security took forever, but with two kids, you have a lot of gear and all of it was searched.

Finally, we made it to the turn-style. The new thing this time around was that every ticket included a biometric reader. I found that it took some finagling to make sure you remembered which hand you used and sometimes it took more than one try, but it always worked for us. Also, my son is very big for his age (he’s only 2 but looks 5 or 6!), but we were only asked how old he was twice. Each of those times, once I answered, there was never a question again.
FINALLY! We are in the park!!! We decide to head onto Spaceship Earth - our traditional first ride. Here is another annoying thing about WDW that I never knew before. They have "designated" stroller parking areas for each ride. Sometimes, these areas are close to the entrance. Sometimes, however, they are neither close to the entrance OR the ride. And the strollers are not looked after. Which means - if you have anything valuable - say a camera bag, a Pal Mickey, that Nemo stuffed animal your son wanted and he does not understand send it back to the hotel... - you either risk losing it or you haul ALL of it AND your kid on the ride. At this point, we were lucky. All we had was the kids, the camera, and Pal Mickey. But, the stroller area was neither near the entrance nor the exit!!!

So, on the ride we go. Its Mom and Josh, Will and I, and Daddy and Nat. As always, I love the ride. Mom reports that Josh thought the people were talking right to him and he was really paying attention. Natalie liked the colors. It was a great ride and no tears. I guess it was going to be o.k. in the dark after all!

Afterwards, we decided some breakfast was in order for the kids. We did not want them to peter out on the rides, so we headed over to the land. Again, had to park the stroller outside and then carry the kids up and down the stairs. (My arms were never so tired!!!). Both Josh and Nattie walk. Josh RUNS ahead and is hard to catch - and at this point in life is just starting to get the idea that running ahead isn’t going to work. Nattie walks, but she is so tiny and short that people don’t see her and she often can’t reach the handrails to go down stairs. So, we ended up carrying them.

Down to Sunshine Food Fair we went. Wow, this place has changed in four years!!! I wanted some water, so I chose a bottle of berry-flavored water. I got Josh and Nattie each a plate of eggs and potatoes to share. They already had some milk. I think I spent about $10 because I did not want to put it on the dining plan - - although I could have used snack credits here. The eggs and potatoes were actually pretty good. The eggs were the standard cafeteria type, but nice and warm and fluffy. The potatoes were O’Brien with peppers and onions in them. They were very good and loved by the kids. My brother and Mom got bagels and cream cheese, and Carl got something sweet, I believe. All-in-all, it was a nice respite.

We decided it was time to go over to the Living Seas. Josh is a HUGE Nemo fan. He loves going to our local pet stores and seeing the fish in their tanks. We thought it would be extremely cool for him to see WDW’s tank! As we entered, we realized that Turtle Talk was going to start soon, so we got into line. We played around with Pal Mickey while we waited. We went in and got a seat on the first set of benches. Josh wanted to go sit with the other kids, so I let him, as long as he sat down. (He was very good! He sat through the whole presentation!). Nattie also wanted to go sit with the kids, but I knew her. The minute the presentation started, she would be right at the screen staring wide-eyed and blocking everyone else’s view. (At least this is what she does with the t.v. back home.) I held onto her and distracted her until the show started.

Joshy was excited when Crush came out and started talking. Natalie could not believe her eyes. She leapt out of my lap onto her feet and began bouncing up and down, pointing, and screeching, "LOOK, LOOK, TUH-TUL, TUH-TUL, MAMA!" It took the powers of Hercules, Poseidon and Zeus himself to keep Natalie from running straight over to Crush for some one-on-one time. LOL!! Poor thing. Every time we see turtles from then on out, she wonders why they won’t talk to her.

Once the show was over, we went back out into the tank area. First, Josh and I walked around the small displays. He could not believe his eyes - they had so many fish! Eels and Starfish and Clown Fish and Angels.. Oh My! I sorely wished his Uncle Dave were there to share his love for fish.

After awhile, I finally convinced Josh that there were more fish to see upstairs. Up we went to the BIG tank. All Josh could say was "Woah!" We wandered around in search of the elusive sea turtles. When we finally saw one, it was as big as our car!! Josh had a great time sitting on the railing next to the glass and looking at the fish swim by. Eventually, Natalie joined us.
Just as we were getting ready to head back downstairs, they started the dolphin show. Cast members explain different facts about dolphins while the dolphins show off some skills. Kids are allowed to sit up front, right next to the glass. We let Josh go down and he was so excited - - its hard to believe he’ll be in school soon. He’s my baby!

By this time, we had been in the park a whole 3 hours and Grandma had yet to buy Josh or Nattie a single thing. So, off to the gift shop we went. Nattie picked out a stuffed Crush (by pointing and squealing "TUH-TUL! GRAMMY!"), and Josh picked out a few small stuffed magnets. We decided to have everything shipped back to the room - which turned out to be a big mistake.

We all decided to go back to The Land and watch the Timon and Pumba movie on conservation. As we left The Land, though, Josh had a complete melt-down. He thought we had left his toys at the store and that we had lost them. He refused to leave. My son is serious about his toys. He absolutely loves them. If he gets a book he loves, he will read it over and over and over until the pages wear out. Same thing with toys - if he loves them, they go EVERYWHERE with him - the car, the bath... So, we should have realized that he would not understand that his brand-new toy was not gone forever! Finally, Grandma was able to go back into the store and retrieve one of his stuffed animals out of the bag. This placated Josh and we were able to move on.
I should also add how very, very hot it was today. I think it hit 98. Now, we left 55 degree temperatures back in San Francisco. It was a bit of a shock to say the least. The kids were absolutely melting even though we all had plenty of water and sunscreen (the spray on Coppertone stuff ROCKS!).

So, off we trek back to The Land. We find every body and get into the nice air conditioned theater. Its then that my brother looks at his watch and realizes we have 10 minutes to make our dining seating at Coral Reef. Every one is so hot and tired, though, no one wants to get up out of their seats! So, I volunteer.

Back out of the theater and back out in the HEAT and over the LONG trek to Coral Reef. By the time I got there, I was wilted. I stopped at two water fountains along the way.

I walked in and checked in. I explained that my party would be along soon and that we would be so appreciative if we could get a table by the tank. They said they would seat us all when we arrived, so I went and sat down in the lobby. I also asked for two high chairs for the kids. I thought I would have a long wait.

No sooner had my bottom settled in the cushion, the waiter showed up. I explained to him that the rest of my party was not there but would be along shortly. He was a little confused - he didn’t know if he could seat me yet or not. I think he was new. So, he went and conferred with the manager, and then came back and told me to follow him. I did.

Walking into the dining room, I was, at first, impressed. The tank is certainly marvelous. But the marvel is for those 6-8 tables that actually abut the tank. For the rest of the 50 or so tables, you are in "tiered" seating - kind of like at a movie theater. To look at the fish, you have to look at everyone else dining. Which, as we all know, is a social taboo (even though we all do it to check out what everyone is eating...). The rest of the dining room is really nothing special.
So, at this point, there is maybe one family seated at the tanks. I am led to the front of the dining room and I am thinking - cool, we’re getting seated at the tank! Nope. We got seated at a booth - which was neither at the tank nor would it accommodate high chairs. We’re also right off the kitchen.

The waiter is fairly nice. He gets me a drink right away, hands me the menus, and then takes off to seat his other tables. I am a little worried since the lobby is way far away from the seating area and I am not sure if my family will know to ask for our reservation or if they will assume that I have lost my way. I figure, though, if I get up and go, I will lose our almost-great seats. So I wait. And wait.

Finally, I see the gang headed my way. We all get arranged and then look at the menu. It is the same one I read off of www.wdwig.com weeks earlier. I figure they at least have specials - nope. The fish choices are pretty blah - BBQ salmon sandwich, grilled tilapia, or mahi mahi with some sort of spicy rub. Wasn’t feeling BBQ, tilapia sounded bland, and I just don’t like spicy. So, hmm, no fish, I guess. The only items remaining were a lobster salad (which, from the waiter’s description, sounded like it had very little lobster and a whole bunch of other junk that did not sound good at all), a steak, or a vegetable streudel - with sprouts and other things I didn’t want. So, I guess I’ll have yet another steak.

For starters, we had:
Mom: Salad
Carl/I: Crab/Shrimp souffle
Will: Fish chowder.

Mom’s salad was just a regular salad. Nice, but nothing special. The crab/shrimp souffle was surprisingly bland. It tasted like a crab/shrimp jello mold. My daughter absolutely devoured it, though. Will proclaimed his fish chowder the absolute best he’d tasted.

For entrees, we had:
Mom: vegetable streudel
Will: BBQ Salmon Sandwich
Carl: Grilled tilapia
Me: Steak, au gratin potatoes, grilled veggies.

Mom said her streudel was very, very bland. The vegetables were also rock hard. Will said his BBQ sandwich was o.k., nothing special. Carl’s tilapia was very bland and very small. There was one piece and it was barely the size of his finger.

As for me, I had the steak. It was disgusting. I ordered it medium rare and it was practically rare. It was extremely salty in some spots - as if it had just sat in the seasoning. The vegetables were also rock hard. I gave them to the kids and they couldn’t eat them. The only thing good was the au gratin potatoes - although they were also salty - and if there was a whole baby potato’s worth, it was an accident.

At this point, the kids started the melt down. They were tired and hot. We agreed to take them back to the hotel for nap time, but we couldn’t get the waiter back to pay for the meal! When he finally did, we ordered our dessert to go and asked to pay for the kids’ juices on our room. We thought this would speed things up.

20 minutes elapsed and finally our dessert and room cards came back to be signed. We got the kids and took off (promptly forgetting our desserts! Ugggh!). Mom and Will stayed back to enjoy the park and dessert.

The walk to the bus stop seemed to take forever. It was soooooooo hot. Plus, explain to me - if the parks no longer hand-stamp you for return due to the biometrics, why do you have to walk all the way to the middle of the entrance to exit - and then walk all the way back to the left for the bus stops. Shouldn’t you be able to exit out of any turn-style? (Sigh). Tired feet complaining here....

So, anyhow, as we are approaching the bus stop, I see this bus in a stall. I am so tired. I keep looking at it and thinking its not our bus, its not our bus. It leaves and we finally see the sign board telling which busses go where - yup, it WAS our bus.

So, we get to wait another agonizing 20 minutes for the bus with two over-tired toddlers and two folded-down strollers in the heat. To give my husband credit, he was the one who took the kids into the lawn area and let them run around until the bus came while I watched the strollers. Getting on and sitting on the bus in that air-conditioning has NEVER felt better.
When we finally got back to the hotel, it took barely 15 minutes to get the kids down for a nap. Carl took one too. I took the key to the other room and went in to read my book. After awhile, I got bored, and went up to the lobby to do some souvenier shopping at the Mercantile. I got something for the kids and a new dog dish for our dear dog. When I returned, Mom and Will were back from their adventure.

Our dinner reservations were at 6:00 at Raglan Road in Downtown Disney. We figured we needed to leave by at least 5:00 for the bus stop to make sure we made it on time. At 4:45, Josh was still fast asleep and attempts to rouse him did absolutely nothing. After 5 more minutes, Carl suggested we all go to dinner without him and he would stay behind with Josh.
Nattie was absolutely delighted for some alone time. It started raining as we left the hotel - and would pour later on - and she thought that was great. She absolutely did NOT want her hood over her head. Nope, let the rain fall!

After waiting about 20 minutes, our bus finally arrived. Even though it was pouring down rain and evening, we still made the obligatory stop at Typhoon Lagoon. The stop was empty, of course. Finally, after about 45 minutes, we arrived at the Marketplace. We had five minutes to make our reservation.

Never having been to Raglan Road, we ran. Luckily, we took the right direction and found Raglan Road in about 2 seconds. What can I say about Raglan? Well, if you’ve been to an Irish pub before, you know exactly what its like inside. Very cozy, warm, and inviting. Raglan was much larger than I had anticipated. It has quite a large dining room and bar.

We were seated after about 5 minutes and a high chair was immediately brought over for Natalie. I was disappointed when I looked at the appetizers when I didn’t see the dish I had been dying to try - Crab Me Silly. My brother asked the waiter and he told me that the kitchen could whip it up for me. Wahoo!!! Our waiter here was great. He immediately brought out a milk for Ms. Natalie and some soda bread. I’m not a fan of the Irish soda bread, but this stuff was pretty good. At least it kept Nattie busy!

For starters, we had:
Will: Chicken skewers with guiness-mustard sauce
Mom: Goat cheese with berries
Me: Crab Me Silly - a kind of crab pate with tomatoes. I found that if you mixed it with the goat cheese, it was heavenly!! I even told the waiter!

The starters were absolutely fabulous. We each tried a bite of the others. And it was neat since there was just enough to feel right and not enough to be stuffed.

For entrees, we had:
Will: Sod’s stew.
Mom: Fish and chips
Me: Salmon.

The entrees were delightful, too. The salmon, at first, had an odd taste to it. Pretty soon, however, it all melted in my mouth in a perfect blend of sweet, salty and smoky. It was pure heaven. I could only finish ½ of it, though. Everyone else was very pleased with their meals - even Nattie, who shared a little bit here, a little bit there.

Towards the end of the meal, Nattie had enough of sitting still. For a 1 year old, she had been very, very good. As fussy as she was, I knew there was an issue. Yep, time for a wardrobe change...

It was then that I realized I was sans diaper bag. Uggghhh. It had just slipped my mind. Off I went in search of a shop selling diapers. Oh, and did I mention it started pouring? Absolutely monsoon, shirt-drenching, pouring. Nattie loved it - she was already wet, so why not?
Will and Mom stayed to order dessert and settle the bill.

Finally, after I had walked the entire length of Downtown Disney, I found the ONE shop that sells diapers, Summer Sands (or something like that.) They pointed out the nearest restroom. So, I go in. Now, Disney caters to families with children, right??? So, how come in the shopping plaza where parents spend $100s of dollars, was there a restroom that not only was disgustingly dirty (seriously...), but did not have a changing table!?! This is Disney, right?!? So, we did a little fancy footwork and managed to change Nattie into a clean diaper and clean outfit while she remained seated in her stroller. There was NO way I was letting her touch that dirty floor... seriously, it was that gross.

After the changing fiasco, I met up with Will and Mom, and we went shopping. It was extremely difficult to find any toys appropriate for Nattie - not quite a toddler, no longer a baby. We finally settled for some Jo-Jo figurines, which turned out to be a great choice because now she "loves her Jo-Jo!"

We shopped for awhile and then Carl called and said he and Josh were up and missed us. We stopped at Earl of Sandwich and ordered Carl a turkey club with potato salad to go, and got a few fruit cups for the kids. The sandwiches at Earl were fabulous and the kids LOVED the fruit cups - which were better than the average cup they give you, with actual chunks of things other than melon. ;)

Back to the bus stop where we waited and waited and waited - while we saw bus after bus after bus for the All Stars and Saratoga Springs and Port Orleans - and pretty much every value/ moderate resort. This would become a startling trend - all the so-called cheaper resorts seemed to have 2-3 times more busses!

We finally made it home, gave the kids their bath, and let them wind down. After the kids were asleep, Mom, Will and I played mad libs, watched South Park, and just wound down. I went to bed at 12:00, ready for our day at Animal Kingdom.

DAY TWO TOTALS:

FOOD: 4.5 Tiggers. All for Raglan Road. Soooo not impressed with Coral Reef. Seriously, save your money there. But try Raglan Road! It was awesome!

FUN: 4.0 Tiggers. Watching Nattie so excited about Crush made this day so special. Also, spending extra time with her alone was great. Making the mad dash for diapers at DTD - not so fun - and neither was the great Coral Reef melt-down. Oh, and did I mention the heat? Still, for a first day - not so bad.

DISNEY FACTOR: 2.5 Tiggers. It started off with the monorail driver being just so unfriendly. Seriously, we are about the friendliest people on the planet. If you can’t be nice to us, wow, are you in the wrong job. Then there were just the little things - the outrageous walk from stroller parking to the rides, the lack of interaction between cast members and guests, the long wait for busses while two or more came to every other resort, and the inability to find a diaper OR clean bathroom with a changing table. I was just constantly disappointed by the Disney factor today. However, every where Nattie turned at DTD, someone was handing her stickers for being a good girl - which she loved - and they called her princess - which I loved. Oh, and our Raglan Road waiter was just great.

Day Two Disneyworld!

2007-01-18T14:40:00.000-08:00

Now, the fun really begins:

SEPTEMBER 8, 2006 - "BUT WHERE’S DISNEYWORLD, MAMA?"

At 3:36 a.m., I awoke with a start. I hopped up, got orientated, and immediately went into the bathroom to get dressed. I was as quiet as possible to let everyone else sleep as long as I could. When I was done, I checked the clock again, and quietly woke Carl - which, of course, woke Mom. We all wondered what happened to the alarms.

Mom got dressed and then pulled out her cell phone to see if she had set the alarm right. It was then that we realized that the clock in the room, inexplicably, was set an hour ahead (I did not do it, I swear!). It was actually only 2:30!!! By now, though, we were all fully awake and were afraid if we went back to sleep, we really would sleep through all of the alarms.

Mom and I decided to get out of the room to the IHop on property. Carl stayed behind checking his email and watching the kids. We walked over to the restaurant and each ordered turkey sandwiches. Nothing too heavy, but good protein.

At 3:45, we arrived back at the hotel. We talked for about 15 minutes and then started the arduous task of getting the luggage to the lobby. Carl decided he would drive it over. Unfortunately, as he left the room, Natalie woke up. She saw her daddy exiting the room and the door shut, and she let loose with a panicked wail. To the people staying next to us at the Travelodge that fateful night, I am truly sorry. There was no calming down a one year old who woke in the middle of the night to see daddy disappear! What made it worse is that her crying woke and scared her brother - who joined in the fracas. You could hear us over the landing airplanes.

Right at 4:30, we finally pulled up to the lobby. Our hotel shuttle driver was right there. We had a HUGE limo-sized shuttle van all to ourselves. We put the strollers in the middle, and the kids on the benches. The ride was a blast. Every time we went over a bump, we’d all go flying in the air - I held tight to the babies who were yelling: "Whee!" the whole time. I felt like our vacation had begun!!!

We arrived at SFO right on schedule - at 5:30 a.m. Our shuttle driver unloaded all of our luggage. We took up the entire curb island with luggage and strollers!!! I sent Carl to get a luggage cart - it was worth the $2 to not have to carry it a few feet. Finally, we were off on our harrowing journey across the street, each of us carrying luggage and pushing something. We must have looked like we were going on a year-long trek!!

We walked into the Continental check-in area, and my brother was the person in-line right in front of us. We all confirmed we had not heard from Dave – so, we assumed he was still not coming. Will had trouble checking in because Dave was the other name on his reservation. Continental now has automated check-in stations for you to enter some code that is listed on the ticket of the first party reserved - which is why Will didn’t have the code. It was on Dave’s ticket. (Sigh). After about 20 minutes, he got it straight with the help of the ticket counter lady.
We were next and found the new system at Continental completely baffling. Of course, it was 5:30 a.m. and I had been up 3 hours. The lady helped us, too - I still could not tell you how it worked.

Finally, off to security. A few days before our trip was the big London scare which disallowed all liquids on board aircraft. The security was pandemonium. It seemed that no one really knew what the exact rules were. To top it all off, they had all the old rules. The worst, however, was when I got to security and Carl realized his I.D. was in our checked luggage. Security sent him back to the main counter to see if they could get his i.d. back - which left me and my mom with all of our carry on luggage, two strollers, and two babies - by ourselves. Uncle Will was already through security at this point.

I got up to security - had to take my shoes off, take the kids shoes off, take all the luggage out of the strollers. Then, had to take the kids out of the strollers and they had to walk through the metal detector by themselves! Yes, even the 1 year old... Then, I had to collapse the strollers and put them through. All of this while I also tried to keep an eye on the kids. Oh, and get myself through, by myself. While all of this was going on, a gentleman next to me fell in the walkway and could not get up - so that security screening area was out of order, too.

Finally, Carl caught up with me - the security let him rejoin us. They were unable to get his i.d. back, so he was automatically assigned to the most rigorous security screening. So, his assisting me was short-lived. They did allow him to take Josh over to the strollers and Uncle Will and Nattie over to her stroller and Grandma so I could put my shoes back on and collect every piece of luggage since they decided to swab each and every one. Apparently, the excedrin bottle I put in the carry on (for migraines), set off a nationwide alert....

By now, it was nearly time to get on the airplane. I thought we were finally going to get a rest to suck down some water before getting on the plane. Unfortunately, the moment we sat down, I realized no rest was in my future. My daughter sat down next to me and smiled a smile all parents of diaper-aged children know only too well. And then the smell hit me. Diaper change time! Thank goodness there and not on take-off!!!

By the time we came back from diaper change, it was time to pre-board. I have to say TGFPB - Thank God for Pre-Board. Lugging all that junk, folding two strollers in the jet way, and getting two wiggly kids into seatbelts is quite a feat.

Uncle Will sat in the window with Josh in the middle and Grandma on the aisle. On our row, I sat in the aisle, Nattie in the middle, and Carl on the window. We had it all planned. We each had a diaper kit and portable dvd player for the kids, as well as books, snacks, and activities for the long plane flight. It ended up being a bit of overkill.

Nattie did NOT want to be put in her plane seat. She fussed and fumed and wailed and kicked - and finally, I got her not only IN her seat with the seatbelt on, but happy. She had a bag of treats, and was trying to get comfy, until...

"Miss?" the nice stewardess prompted. I’m thinking uh-oh, what’s wrong. "You’ll have to hold her during take off."

I tried explaining nicely that we had purchased the seat for the baby. Nope. Seems, even though I read and was told previously that it is preferable for kids to have their own seats, that it was their regulations that we hold the kids. (This would become an increasingly frustrating problem....). So, I hauled Miss Nattie, who was now content, out of her near-sleep state, into my lap.

Again, she wailed. And wailed. And wailed.

To which nosy-body in front of me began telling me how I should have brought their car seats and how her daughter never cried because she could fall asleep in the familiar car seat and on and on and on. For someone who had children, she seemed most bothered by our kids. Which is weird because so many people around us thanked us at landing for doing what we could for the kids and said they were sorry the little ones had it so rough....

After the flight took off and it was safe to put Nattie in her seat, I got a snack out and the portable dvd player. The headphones were up above and the seatbelt light was on, but there were hardly any people around me and everyone seemed to be listening to music or something - even the woman in front of us. So, I set the dvd player up and got a movie on and put it on softly.

Natalie was delighted. Until...

Woman in front: "You are going to use headphones for that, aren’t you?"

Urrgggh. Gee, I didn’t know this was the "quiet" plane and that no one was allowed to make noise!!!

I got up and got the headphones. I tried to put them on Nattie’s ears. She struggled and, again, began wailing.

Woman in front: "You know, if she’s that fussy, you really should take her in the back and rock her. That’s what I always did with my kids and they never put up a fuss on planes and.." yada yada yada.

Oh, did I forget to mention that during this whole thing Carl was working on his computer and completely oblivious?

In the row next to us, Mom was making some pretty funny faces at Woman in Front. Until, that is, she turned to my mom, who had the portable dvd out for Josh, and said: "You will be using headphones for the convenience of the other guests, right?"

Seriously, I could not hear the dvd and I was in the row next to her!!

To make matters worse, this lady had her own head phones on and was listening to music on her computer - and, by the way, she was sitting in my brother’s seat! That’s right, it was Uncle Dave’s seat - so, she shouldn’t have been sitting there anyhow!!! To top it off, the plane was only ½ full - - she could have changed seats at any time, but she wanted a row all to herself. Ugggh, it was just annoying.

Anyhow, just to get away from her "advice," I did take Nattie in the back and had a nice chat with the flight attendant. She had a kid at home and she was absolutely the best. She even held Nattie so I could go to the bathroom!!! We stayed back there for about 30 minutes - - by then, Nattie was asleep. I handed her back to Daddy and then took an empty seat in the row behind so I didn’t have to hear any more advice. Then I took a nap.

When I woke up, it was time to land in Houston. It took us forever to get off the flight - but our strollers were waiting for us, which was a God send. We headed over to our next gate and Uncle Will went to Burger King to get us lunch. Oh, joy, another turkey sandwich! LOL!! No worries, the kids loved the fries and I am glad we ate - - neither flight had a real meal. [The first flight had breakfast - cereal with milk, a banana, and chocolate chip bread. I do have to say it was much an improvement over the last trip’s breakfast. The second flight had snack food.]

On the second flight, we were not able to pre-board. Seems they have a lot of kids going to Orlando.... anyhow, our seats were nearly dead last to board. Thankfully, however, there was still plenty of overhead space. And this time, EVERYTHING went overhead. I decided not to get out the dvd player since the flight was only a little over 2 hours long.

My brother was able to change seats with a nice gentleman who had their aisle seat. My brother and Carl sat in one row and had Josh while Mom and I had Nattie. This flight was much smoother - although both Josh and Nattie cried, they both fell asleep within minutes of take off and slept through the whole flight. Poor Mom was literally holding Nattie up! Her arms must have ached but neither she nor I wanted to risk waking Nattie! Of course, as soon as we went to land, we were told we had to pick her up. Again, the wailing - she HAD been peacefully asleep!!!
Meanwhile, Mom and I watched the free t.v. channel with an episode of Joey. It was actually pretty funny. I loved Friends, but never had the time to get into Joey. Too bad - it was actually pretty cute.

Right on time, we FINALLY landed in Orlando!! Woo hoo!!! Then, we waited. And waited. And waited. And waited. About 30 minutes after we landed, our strollers were finally brought up and off we went to find the magical express.

My only complaint with Magical Express is that it was hard to find and a FAR walk from where we were. Which, I understand, is nothing Disney can do about it since the airport is the one telling people how to get there. Anyhow, we eventually did find it and, within MEAR moments, we were on our way. There were only about 10 of us on board and we had the only kids.
Needless to say, the kids were bouncing off the walls. Especially when the little video presentation came on. We nearly had a melee, however, as my son bitterly exclaimed:

"Momma, You said we were going to Disneyworld! Where’s Disneyworld!!!"

This continued throughout the bus trip, even as we pulled up to the Wilderness Lodge. Even as we passed the Epcot Ball and the Tower of Terror. We wouldn’t find out for days what poor Josh thought Disneyworld was.

The feeling when you arrive at Disneyworld is like no other. You are exhausted from the trip, but rejuvenated at the peacefulness and relaxation that is your vacation. Disney knows how to make you feel that the moment you arrive on property.

Another thing I did not like about Magical Express is that they dropped you off in the MOST inconvenient place - at least at Wilderness Lodge. Instead of being dropped off in the passenger unloading zone, we were dropped off down the stairs in a different unloading zone. Which is fine, but if you have a whole bunch of luggage with wheels and two strollers and you are MILES away from the bellman, it makes it really hard to get inside the hotel. And its not the best welcoming moment, either. True, most of our luggage would be coming with our magical express stuff. Still, we had to figure out how to lug what we had with us and the two strollers, up the stairs.

Finally, we went inside to check in. The kids and boys went to watch the lobby movie - that was great. Mom and I checked in. We asked the guy at the desk what we could do about my brother not showing up and he said that we had to call reservations and cancel him, which could actually end up having my mom and brother paying more to re-book the room, or we could do nothing. We decided to do nothing. I feel bad for my brother and think its such a waste of money, but it wasn’t fair that they should have to pay more. Besides, there was always an off chance that he would decide to come after all. (He didn’t.)

After we got checked in, we went down to our room. At first, I was a little disappointed. We had requested connecting rooms, and we were put down on the first floor. We had no balcony - but a little patio. Of course, there was a rabbit hanging out right on our patio most mornings and Josh thought it was there just to say hi to him - now that is Disney magic. The second disappointing thing about the room is that our room had only a single king-size bed. Now, our reservation was officially only the two adults - but, it was clear that the kids were on the reservation, too. At first, I scratched my head and thought: um, where do they expect everyone to sleep??? The room felt really small, too. It just wasn’t what I had remembered from our prior trip, and I wasn’t all that happy - - at first. (As the trip wore on, I realized we had a room very close to the pools and the king-size bed was big enough for ALL of us to sleep in, which meant the kids didn’t wake up and freak out over where they were.... the size still bugged me, but we had this great shower....).

A few minutes after we got in the room, there was a knock at the door. I had ordered a welcome basket for the kids and it had just arrived. It had a pal Mickey, stuffed Mickey and Minnie dolls, and two trucks. The kids were in Heaven! Nattie adored Pal Mickey! It talked to her! She would love it and kiss it and hug it - too cute.

We had ordered groceries, too, from gardengrocer.com. We didn’t want to bring water and diapers and wipes - so we ordered them. Just as we were getting ready to leave for dinner, the phone rings and bell services says that the groceries are there and they will be right down. Right down turned out to be nearly 45 minutes later - - turns out the luggage came at the same time, so they brought everything together. Now, rather than call us back and tell us that, we waited and waited and waited.... This was not the type of Disney experience I remembered.

So, finally, hungry and exhausted, we went up to Whispering Canyon Café. We had a delightful meal. The kids LOVED the restaurant so much, we ate there several times on our trip.

This is what we had (we were on the meal plan!):
Me: nachos, steak with mashed potatoes and mixed veggies, and apple pie
Mom: meatless nachos (they will make them!), roast chicken, cheese cake to go.
Carl/Will: salad and all-you-can-eat skillet; I don’t recall for dessert, milkshake.
Josh: macaroni and cheese.
Nattie: hot dog.

Total, above food plan: $10.00 (for kids’ meals and drinks). We also shared with the kids. We had more than enough food and ended up not eating a whole bunch.

After the food was brought out, they started the horsey race. Josh looked like he really wanted to go, but, at 2, he’d never go by himself. So, Daddy took him over. At first, he was really shy. He hung back and just looked at everyone. But, with a little encouragement, he ran around the restaurant with his horse like the best of him. When he got back to the table and saw us swinging our napkins and cheering him on, his whole face lit up. It was like the whole restaurant was cheering just for him! Not to be outdone, Daddy took Nattie for a walk all the way around the restaurant. You know, not a single person looked at us strange for cheering and waiving our napkins for Nattie! It was pretty cool!!!

I have to say the food was o.k. The nachos are always good here. The steak was tender and done right, but there was nothing special about it. It was just o.k. It tasted like a good steak I might buy at our local grocer - which is usually not a very high grade or good cut. Something you could get at Sizzlers, for example. The dessert, though, was just way too much. Every bite was so sugary and so sweet, I felt like I was going to go diabetic. I ate about one-quarter of it, mostly because I was hoping it would get better. It didn’t. (Sigh).

When we got back to the room, I realized that all of the refrigerated items I ordered were missing from the grocery order - but they were on the delivery slip. I was just too tired to deal with it then. (More on this later)

Mom took the babies shopping at the Mercantile while my bro and I settled up the kids’ bill. We all agreed to meet at the bus stop at 8:00 the next morning for our trip to Epcot. After that, we got the kids cleaned-up, in pajamas, and then we all watched Nemo and went to sleep. By the time we fell asleep, it was nearly midnight - way late for Josh and Nat!!! As we went to sleep, Joshy turned to me and said: "Momma, tomorrow we go to Disneyworld?"

Day One Totals:

Food: 2.5 Tiggers. Plane food was not as bad as years past, but certainly not enough to constitute a meal. If we hadn’t brought our own, we would have had two cranky kids and we would have been starving. I do have to say that, with the new restrictions (which have since been lifted), the airlines were GREAT about getting us milk for the kids right away. This really helped distract them on the take-off. The meal at Whispering Canyon was really nothing special - except for the nachos, which I love.

Fun: 1 Tigger. Every bit of fun we had after we landed was taken away by the Woman in Front of us on the plane. Ugggh, that was some of the most miserable four hours I have ever had!!!

Disney Factor: 5 Tiggers. I was pretty disappointed with my initial impression of the hotel this time around. Nothing was like I remembered it, and it seemed like the cast members did not have that little extra something in their step like they have in years past. For example, when we went to guest services and asked for some help with our bags - - instead of the usual "absolutely," we got a little hemming and hawing and "gee, no one is available." Which is fine, but just not what I am used to from Disney. There was a whole bunch of that - cast members seemed less interested in making your experience magical than in making your experience adequate. They did their jobs, sure (and I KNOW those jobs are hard....), but we missed that extra something that has always been there before.

That being said - the day warrants 5 Tiggers because of the reaction Josh had at Whispering Canyon Café when he went on the Pony Ride. I was pleased that Disney offers these experiences for anyone who wants to have them. Josh clearly had a great time, and Nattie did, too. And I tip my hat to the other Disney visitors who thought nothing of a tiny 1 year old being carried around the room for her parents/grandma to wave napkins at her and cheer on her journey.

Day One Disneyworld

2007-01-12T10:14:00.000-08:00

Well, vacation-planning fans - here is the recap of the first day of my September 2006 vacation! Yes, I know its January now...

SEPTEMBER 8 - 17, 2006
WALT DISNEY WORLD
THE TRIP THAT ALMOST WASN’T

THE PARTICIPANTS
Heather Tanner (33) - trip reporter, mom, and in need of a vacation! 5th trip
Carl Tanner (39) - My hubby, dad, and tolerant. 4th trip.
Joshua Tanner (2) - son, loves all things Disney. 1st trip.
Natalie Tanner (1) - daughter, loves "Foofy!". 1st trip.
Uncle Will (37) - My brother, and the best Uncle. 4th trip.
Grandma (...) - My mom. Fearless thrill seeker. 2nd trip.
Uncle Dave (39) - My brother. Sigh. Didn’t make the trip...

THE PLANNING
This trip originally started out as a combined family trip with a good friend of ours, Wendy, and her brood. In 2002, after our last trip to the world, Wendy, a DVC-er, started hinting that it would be cool for us all to take a trip together. My brother was all for it as they share something in common - a love for the Poly.

We initially planned a trip in September, but contemplated moving it to October, due to Wendy’s schedule. Alas, it was not to be - after months of wrangling and planning and with some additions to her family, Wendy decided it was best if we tried to do a trip together at another time. (I’ll hold you to it, Wendy!!!).

The trip was set. In September 2005, exactly one year before we anticipated going, we called in our reservations. September 8-17, 2006, staying at the Wilderness Lodge. At the time, Disney had just announced the dining plan and new magic your way tickets. My family, staying in one room, chose the dining plan. My brothers and mom did not. For us, it made sense. The kids, being 2 and 1, did not require the dining plan. At the time, my son was content at still eating off our plate and my daughter was not even thinking of solid food yet. For $70 a day, we fed our whole family.

Over the months that followed, we planned the trip. We held monthly Disney nights where we watched a Disney movie and made a themed dinner. (Lady and the Tramp = Italian night, of course!). We talked about how we wanted to tour with the kids, whether it made sense to schedule out our time; etc.

In early 2006, Disney announced the free dining plan with your package - for the times we would be there. I jumped at the chance. Unfortunately, with the package, the only rooms left available were woods view, which meant an upgrade in our accommodations. It meant no difference on the room Carl and I had with the kids, but about $200 more for my brothers/mom. So, I paid the difference. Now we all had the dining plan!!

Several times over the course of the year, we all came to the point where we considered, for a brief moment, not going. Our car continuously kept breaking down and then my husband got sick and needed emergency dental surgery. Our finances were out of control. Similar things happened to my mom and brothers. In the end, though, we all decided that the vacation was the only thing that had kept us sane! So, we decided we would most definitely go!

By May 2006, the flights to WDW from San Francisco were still not available on Jet Blue or Southwest. We heard a news story that plane flights were expected to drastically increase over the summer due to rising fuel costs. We did not want to take the chance, so, we booked the first flights that met our requirements through Travelocity. The fares, at $330, were much higher than we had ever paid in the past, but the lowest we were offered. Plus, they were the right times - later, cheaper flights did become available, but nothing around the times we wanted to fly.

The other issue we had was with dining reservations. Months before we left, we booked a few places that we knew we wanted to try - Le Cellier, Cinderella’s Royal Table (dinner), Cape May Buffet, and Alfredos. We had hoped to play the rest by ear. As we came closer to the trip, however, we heard disturbing rumors that the dining plan was filling many of the restaurants up and no reservations were to be had. To test it out, my brother and I picked one restaurant and tried to get a reservation. We found that, while there were reservations to be had, they were very scarce. So, we immediately selected all of our sit-down restaurants and made reservations. (This rigid structure proved to be VERY hard with the kids who would nap or be hungry at other times.)

Three days before we were supposed to leave, my brother, Dave, dropped a bombshell on us. He was not going on the trip. I don’t want to hash out the details here. My brother acted for reasons I still do not understand. It was sad. I was sad. The kids were really sad. But, we decided to get over it and go on with our trip. We left open the possibility that he would change his mind, just in case.

SEPTEMBER 7, 2006 - THE DAY OF OVERPACKING
The day finally arrived. My first day off work. I think this was probably the most excited I had been since, well, the last time I went to WDW!

My morning started at 8:00 a.m. I got up, dressed the kids, and got them in the car. We had many, many things to do!!

Our first order of business was to pick my mom up at her house. She lives about 20 minutes from our house, so I drove the kids over to get her. Meanwhile, Carl finished packing his things (I had packed for every one else... LOL!).

When I arrived, we lugged Mom’s humongous duffle bag and carry-on bag down her stairs and encountered our first of many luggage struggles. With two strollers in the trunk, her suitcase would not fit. We drive a beat-up Toyota Corolla, and with the two car seats in the back seat, it just barely squished between the two kids. Poor babies - they could no longer see each other and were not thrilled!

Our next stop was breakfast. There is a great café near my mom’s house that has a built-in play house filled with toys for the kids. The kids can play while the parents can keep an eye on them and eat. I had a HUGE omelette with chicken, mushrooms, and jack cheese. It was so big, I barely ate half of it! The kids were no help - they had the toy room to themselves and refused to eat! LOL!!

After breakfast, we made the following stops: bank, gas, post office, pharmacy, pet store, grocery store, and deli (for dinner.) At 3:00, we returned home to find Carl still packing. Man is he slow! LOL!!!

Our next issue was getting all of the luggage, the strollers, and people to the hotel near the airport where we chose to stay overnight. We decided to do this because we needed to be at the airport at 5:30 a.m. We had a crazy neighbor who screamed at us for making noise at 10:00 a.m. and did not want to incur her wrath in the middle of the night while trying to lug luggage and tired children down the stairs to a shuttle. Plus, we needed to find a place to park our car so we didn’t get ticketed for street sweeping.

Here is what we did. Carl took me, the kids, the dog, the strollers, and some of the luggage. We dropped Midnight off at Pet Camp for the week. Then, he took me to the hotel and unloaded me and the kids and everything else in the room. Then, he went back to get Mom and the rest of the luggage while I watched the kids destroy the room. LOL!!!
Now, I need to say a bit about our luggage situation. It was crazy and out of hand!!! We had the following for three adults and two babies: three backpacks, three portable dvd players and cases, two purses, a computer bag, a camera bag, two strollers, 6 suitcases, and a bag of munchies.

My brother arrived at our hotel room about an hour later. He helped me watch the kids destroy the room. LOL!

Finally, Carl and Mom showed up with the deli sandwiches for dinner. Neither Josh nor Natalie was all that hungry for sandwiches. But, the adults gulped theirs down! Uncle Will left to go to his house at about 7, and we got the kids in their bath. As we were all getting ready for bed, my mom realized she could not find her medication and could not recall if she had packed it after we picked it up that day.

So, at 8:00, Mom and I drove back to San Francisco to get her medication from our house. Thank goodness it was there. The kids, meanwhile, watched Nemo on the portable dvd with Daddy. (These portable dvd players turned out to be a lifesaver!).

We arrived back and headed to bed at 10:00. 6 alarms were set for 3:30. We needed to be in the hotel lobby by 4:30 and several of us wanted to shower before we got on the plane. Plus, we need to haul the aforementioned luggage to the lobby and take the car to long-term parking and take the poor kids out of bed. Off to slumber land....

Stay tuned for Day Two to find out if Nattie made it on the no-fly list.

Update on Superstar - 2006 in review!

2007-01-12T09:46:00.000-08:00

Yes, I am a little behind. Already, we are 12 days into 2007 and, not only have I not given my annual year-in-review, I have not even finished my NY Resolutions. That will be another blog.

2006 was a year of tremendous personal growth for me. I completed many of my NY Resolutions. That, in and of itself, ought to win me a TACCIE (will!).

This year, I finally got my driver's license. Its amazing the difference that has had on my life. I can now get out in the world and see and do things without an escort. Although, truth be told, I usually have at least two escorts in tow - they like their car seats and seeing the world with Mommy.

I also moved, quit my job, and lost weight. Three big life-changing events and they all happened in the last 3 months of the year. You know how sometimes something seems like it oughta happen and you just can't figure out how to make it so? And then, out of nowhere, the answer comes hurtling down at you like a sledgehammer? Yes, that was how Oct-Dec felt for me. But it was a cathartic sledgehammer. (Will, I dare you to use that phrase in your next novel...)

Don't get me wrong. I am still remiss about a few of my resolutions. I did manage to have savings for the last 1/2 of the year, but those savings accounts are dwindling to pay the bills that quitting my job left behind. Its o.k. because this year, I will focus on living within my means. A time honored tradition amongst the broke, I tell you. Seriously, it felt absolutely dynamic the other day to walk out of Costco with money after having bought everything on my list. Yes, I brought a list shopping and rarely deviated from it.

I also did not do much writing or work on my sewing business. I've been so busy making money for the bills that I get too tired to do anything else. I am going to solve that equation this year.

Still, my favorite and not-so-favorite moment of 2006 (yes, all wrapped in the same package) was my trip to Walt Disneyworld. The not-so-favorite moment was the fact that my brother, D, decided not to go. I don't want to get into details. Suffice it to say that my brother has some problems to deal with and he cannot really see what he's got in front of him. The absence of my brother in my life is a necessary pain. I miss him so much, but I also know that if I am an impediment to his getting well, then I have to give him the time and the space he needs to figure it all out. I can love him from afar, even if it hurts.

The trip was absolultely divine. It was nothing we expected. For me, though, it was just what the doctor ordered. I could have spent the entire time in the hotel room relaxing and it was what I needed. I didn't - I had fun. I got to see Disney through my kids' eyes and it was magical. I got to hear my daughter squeal at the sight of Mickey Mouse. I got to see my son excited over riding the rides and seeing Beauty and the Beast. Laughter is infectious.

When I returned from Disneyworld, a small little seed was planted in my heart. The seed that told me I deserved to have inner peace and happiness and that I should never allow anything in my life that would compromise that again.

God works in mysterious ways, my friends.

My Apologies and Happy Holidays to You!

2006-12-19T09:54:00.000-08:00

My Christmas Wish came early this year. Like so many wishes, it was wrapped unconventionally and did not, at all, seem to be what it turned out to be from first glance. But all of you out there know, the universe works in mysterious ways.

I'm sure my faithful readers all recall the myriad of posts about my boss, my job, my depression, and my overall misery. I was on a journey, only I did not know it. My journey was sad and long and driven by fear. But now it is over.

I found happiness this Christmas.

It is the best gift I ever could have been given. Here is how it all came about:

Right before Thanksgiving, my boss and I had the end-all-to-be-all knock-down, dragged-out fight. Its the same fight we had every six months. He said somethings really offensive and I stood up for myself. All of a sudden, my job, once again, was in jeopardy.

It was depressing. In the two-and-a-half years I spent at that place, I can recall two compliments. The rest of the time, I toiled in absolute anonymity, mostly because I was terrified of calling attention to myself. People who were noticed there were just not happy.

I laid it all out on the line. I was tired of being pushed down. I wanted the bully to stop his beating and look me in the face. I was ready to do that for myself. It was a triumph.

Needless to say, it did not go over well with the bully. It never does. I stood firm. The pressure was applied and it got hotter and hotter. But I would not sway.

In the end, I walked away. I held my head up high as I walked through the doors one last time. The boss and I came to an understanding and he apologized. In his world, that is tantamount to winning a nobel prize - he never apologizes to anyone. It was heartfelt. On a personal level, he and I were able to walk away from each other with the same personal respect we have always held for each other. In the simplest way possible, we found a way to agree to disagree.

I returned one day to assist my former supervisor in transitioning my work load. He called me a class act. It was nice, because I do pride myself on being respectful. I also got the sense that at least some people would miss me.

So, flash forward 19 days to today.

I hit the ground running. I took exactly one week off and made some quick connections. On Monday, I took the kids to the zoo. By myself. It was fun and we all had a blast. On Tuesday, I went job hunting. I was hired for the first job I applied for - a seasonal retail job which is really helping ends meet. By Friday, I had a second job interview lined up, for Monday, when I would also be starting my third job.

Stay with me here.

For now, I work three (or four) very unique and distinct jobs. I love them all. I have employers who appreciate me and respect me. We may not always agree, but they trust in my intelligence and experience and I trust in theirs. The added bonus is that I have a very flexible schedule. I have to work to pay the bills, but I also can finagle the schedule - so, it means time. Precious, precious time. With my family.

It means cartoons and pancakes in the morning before work.

It means hugs and snuggles in the evening after work.

It means spending a magical evening at the shop where I work watching my kids run around and pick any toy they want - because my boss fell in love with them and wanted to play Santa Claus for an evening.

In the past two weeks, I have changed. My kids get to see me happy again. I have a new hairstyle (its short!!!), a new attitude, and best of all, a smile.

That is all I really could have asked for this Christmas. God blessed me and my family. May he do the same for you and yours.

Happy Holidays.

***** Oh, and Will, before you post your response, YES, I still want a gift from you... ;)

What I want for Christmas

2006-11-16T12:44:00.000-08:00

Those of you who know me know that its been a pretty rough year for me and my family. This week, in fact, has been brutal. The kids are sick, my boss has just upped his abusive treatment of me, and we're broke.

I've been pretty sad this week.

But, a good friend told me that I am looking at the situation all wrong. She says I keep wondering why I am suffering - taking the responsibility for the hurt and not the solution. You know, she is right. I can't change the things in my boss' mind that make him think its o.k. to treat people the way he does. Its not a matter of education - he is purposefully ignorant. I can't change what others aren't even willing to acknowledge. All I can do is control my reaction to the situation and try to make it better for me.

For Christmas, I want motivation.

I want sentiment.

I want peaceful thinking.

I want joyful memories.

I want meaningful embraces.

I want forgivness.

I want the protection of angels.

I want hope.

I want faith.

I want charity.

If I can't find that in myself right away, I am doing what the lost do - - I am turning to others to guide me out of the fog.

Tell me your stories. Tell me about your angels. Tell me about your faith. My heart is open and ready to accept your tales.

God works in mysterious ways. A coworked just stopped in and said she noticed I had had a rough week. She then told me how much of an inspiration I was to her.

Let's share our spirituality at the beginning of this season of giving. Tell me your favorite Christmas/Hannukah/Holiday stories.

Today is Not my Day

2006-11-08T08:59:00.000-08:00

WARNING: Some might consider this a TMI post

Today is not my day.

It started off with a dream. I had a sassy and sexy dream about, well, I'm sure it was my husband although it wasn't his face in my dream. I dreamed me and this Carl impersonator were dating and things were just blissful. You know, that time when you are first falling in love where the sun rises and sets on your partner's smile? It was a great dream. What a great dream to start my day, right? Well, that is, until the dream took an ugly turn and I was suddenly and horrifyingly being attacked by a deranged ex-girlfriend hell-bent on killing me.

Luckily, I awoke with a start before she could dream-kill a rabbit.

I had a hard time going back to sleep.

I woke up to news that Ah-nuld is gubernor, again. Not that I am surprised.

I had to leave my house at 6:00 a.m. and drive to Daly City BART. Not bad, but I've never driven in the dense fog before. No, no worries, no one got hurt. But, it was a stressful and harrowing 15 minute drive as I constantly lost and then re-found the lane markers and road. Seriously, folks, high beams in the fog is not a good idea.

[Should I listen to my subconscious since my fingers just typed God instead of fog?]

So, get to BART and then make a wrong turn (actually, asshat in the lane next to me would not let me over and I missed the correct turn....). Instead of parking in the open lot which I find safer, I had to park in the lower lot. I've never been in the lower lot and - to educate all of you - you have to find small green or blue signs to tell you if the spot is "daily" or "reserved." I felt like I was on the Amazing Race. Of course, none of this is clear as you pull in the lot, so I slowed to read the sign and the SAME asshat honked repeatedly behind me. I finally found a spot and God-willing, my car will still be there, intact, when I get back tonight.

I get to work at 7:00 a.m. - EARLY. I get to tell my boss that a video we shot did not come out and so, I may have to re-shoot it for the THIRD time. Ugggh.

So, I come in to work and check my email. Only to find out that paypal has reversed two charges I transfered between the two accounts I have. I was loaning myself money from a credit card. Paypal decided upon themselves to reverse the charges - the credit card company didn't complain and neither did either of the parties in the transaction (since both were ME!). The stupid thing is that I could have just made many smaller transfers and paid my bills that way. But, instead, I made two large transfers, into my bank account, and then used bill pay.

So, I spent 45 minutes on the phone explaining that I was the only party in the transactions and that I did not complain, so why the reversal? Even the paypal tech thought it was odd. My paypal account now shows a negative balance of nearly $4000. Man, I started hyperventilating at that moment!!!

Perhaps the day will get better. Doubt it.

Things I am addicted to

2006-11-03T12:17:00.000-08:00

Time for a Friday afternoon confessional. Sorry, fans, I have to admit my addiction to the following:

1. The sweet, sweet taste of Butterfinger mini-crunch bars. The only redemption is that they are so small so I am not eating as much of this crispy treat as I possibly could at one sitting.

2. The smell of rain.

3. The sound of my daughter's laugh and my son's singing. They have absolutely no inhibitions and they don't worry if they sound right, look weird, are being judged. That will come in time, I know - - so, for now, their innocence is completely infectuous.

4. The glow of my husband when he is taking care of the kids. He doesn't get to see it, but I do. The naturalness of it, the complete and utter caring gestures. He exudes security, warmth and love and they are drawn to it.

5. reality television. There, I've said it. I admit it. The things that real people do for the sake of "perhaps" winning a prize fascinates me.

6. Checking my email. Its not like its changed in the past 10 minutes.

7. cookbooks. I hardly use them, but I love reading them.

8. Ice cream. any flavor.

What about you?

I've got a Cane for Peace

2006-11-02T11:39:00.000-08:00

I liked this statement from Keith Olbermann enough to re-post it. Your thoughts?

Olbermann’s Special Comment : There is no line this President has not crossed — nor will not cross — to keep one political party, in power.

Transcripts below the fold:

And finally tonight, a Special Comment.

On the 22nd of May, 1856, as the deteriorating American political system veered towards the edge of the cliff, Congressman Preston Brooks of South Carolina, shuffled into the Senate of this nation, his leg stiff from an old dueling injury, supported by a cane. And he looked for the familiar figure of the prominent Senator from Massachusetts, Charles Sumner.

Brooks found Sumner at his desk, mailing out copies of a speech he had delivered three days earlier — a speech against slavery.

The Congressman matter-of-factly raised his walking stick in mid-air, and smashed its metal point, across the Senator's head.

Congressman Brooks hit his victim repeatedly. Senator Sumner somehow got to his feet and tried to flee. Brooks chased him, and delivered untold blows to Sumner's head. Even though Sumner lay unconscious and bleeding, on the Senate floor, Brooks finally stopped beating him, only because his cane finally broke.

Others will cite John Brown's attack on the arsenal at Harper's Ferry as the exact point after which the Civil War became inevitable.

In point of fact, it might have been the moment — not when Brooks broke his cane over the prostrate body of Senator Sumner - but when voters in Brooks's district started sending him new canes.

Tonight, we almost wonder to whom President Bush will send the next new cane.
There is tonight no political division in this country that he and his party will not exploit, nor have not exploited; no anxiety that he and his party will not inflame.

There is no line this President has not crossed — nor will not cross — to keep one political party, in power.

He has spread any and every fear among us, in a desperate effort to avoid that which he most fears — some check, some balance against what has become not an imperial, but a unilateral presidency.

And now it is evident that it no longer matters to him, whether that effort to avoid the judgment of the people, is subtle and nuanced — or laughably transparent.

Senator John Kerry called him out Monday.

He did it two years too late.

He had been too cordial — just as Vice President Gore had been too cordial in 2000 — just as millions of us, have been too cordial ever since.

Senator Kerry, as you well know, spoke at a college in Southern California. With bitter humor, he told the students that he had been in Texas the day before, that President Bush used to live in that state, but that now he lives in the state of denial.

He said the trip had reminded him about the value of education — that quote "if you make the most of it, you study hard, you do your homework, and you make an effort to be smart, you can do well. If you don't, you can get stuck in Iraq."

The Senator, in essence, called Mr. Bush stupid.

The context was unmistakable: Texas;the state of denial;stuck in Iraq. No interpretation required.

And Mr. Bush and his minions responded, by appearing to be too stupid to realize that they had been called stupid.

They demanded Kerry apologize — to the troops in Iraq.

And so he now has.

That phrase "appearing to be too stupid" is used deliberately, Mr. Bush.

Because there are only three possibilities here:

One, sir, is that you are far more stupid than the worst of your critics have suggested; that you could not follow the construction of a simple sentence; that you could not recognize your own life story when it was deftly summarized; that you could not perceive it was the sad ledger of your presidency that was being recounted.

This, of course, compliments you, Mr. Bush, because even those who do not "make the most of it," who do not "study hard," who do not "do their homework," and who do not "make an effort to be smart" might still just be stupid — but honest.

No; the first option, sir, is, at best, improbable. You are not honest.

The second option is that you and those who work for you deliberately twisted what Senator Kerry said to fit your political template. That you decided to take advantage of it, to once again pretend that the attacks, solely about your own incompetence, were in fact attacks on the troops — or even on the nation itself.

The third possibility is, obviously, the nightmare scenario; that the first two options are in some way conflated.

That it is both politically convenient for you, and personally satisfying to you, to confuse yourself with the country for which, sir, you work.

A brief reminder, Mr. Bush: You are not the United States of America.

You are merely a politician whose entire legacy will have been a willingness to make anything political — to have, in this case, refused to acknowledge that the insult wasn't about the troops, and that the insult was not even truly about you either — that the insult, in fact, is you.

So now John Kerry has apologized to the troops; apologized for the Republicans' deliberate distortions.

Thus the President will now begin the apologies he owes our troops, right?

This President must apologize to the troops — for having suggested, six weeks ago, that the chaos in Iraq, the death and the carnage, the slaughtered Iraqi civilians and the dead American service personnel, will, to history, quote "look like just a comma."

This President must apologize to the troops — because the intelligence he claims led us into Iraq proved to be undeniably and irredeemably wrong.

This President must apologize to the troops — for having laughed about the failure of that intelligence, at a banquet, while our troops were in harm's way.

This President must apologize to the troops — because the streets of Iraq were not strewn with flowers and its residents did not greet them as liberators.

This President must apologize to the troops — because his administration ran out of "plan" after barely two months.

This President must apologize to the troops — for getting 2,815 of them killed.

This President must apologize to the troops — for getting this country into a war without a clue.

And Mr. Bush owes us an apology… for this destructive and omnivorous presidency.
—
We will not receive them, of course.
This President never apologizes.
Not to the troops.
Not to the people.
Nor will those henchmen who have echoed him.
In calling him a "stuffed suit," Senator Kerry was wrong about the Press Secretary.

Mr. Snow's words and conduct — falsely earnest and earnestly false — suggest he is not "stuffed" - he is inflated.

And in leaving him out of the equation, Senator Kerry gave an unwarranted pass to his old friend Senator McCain, who should be ashamed of himself tonight.

He rolled over and pretended Kerry had said what he obviously had not.

Only, the symbolic stick he broke over Kerry's head came in a context, even more disturbing: Mr. McCain demanded the apology, while electioneering for a Republican congressional candidate in Illinois.

He was speaking of how often he had been to Walter Reed Hospital to see the wounded Iraq veterans, of how, quote "many of the have lost limbs." He said all this while demanding that the voters of Illinois reject a candidate who is not only a wounded Iraq veteran, but who lost two limbs there: Tammy Duckworth.

Support some of the wounded veterans. But bad-mouth the Democratic one.

And exploit all the veterans, and all the still-serving personnel, in a cheap and tawdry political trick, to try to bury the truth: that John Kerry said the President had been stupid.

And to continue this slander as late as this morning — as biased, or gullible, or lazy newscasters, nodded in sleep-walking assent.

Senator McCain became a front man in a collective lie to break sticks over the heads of Democrats — one of them his friend; another his fellow veteran, leg-less, for whom he should weep and applaud, or at minimum about whom, he should stay quiet.

That was beneath the Senator from Arizona.

And it was all because of an imaginary insult to the troops that his party cynically manufactured — out of a desperation, and a futility, as deep as that of Congressman Brooks, when he went hunting for Senator Sumner.

This, is our beloved country now, as you have re-defined it, Mr. Bush.

Get a tortured Vietnam veteran to attack a decorated Vietnam veteran, in defense of military personnel, whom that decorated veteran did not insult.

Or, get your henchmen to take advantage of the evil lingering dregs of the fear of miscegenation in Tennessee, in your party's advertisements against Harold Ford.

Or, get the satellites who orbit around you, like Rush Limbaugh, to exploit the illness — and the bi-partisanship — of Michael J. Fox — yes, get someone to make fun of the cripple.

Oh, and sir, don't forget to drag your own wife into it.

"It's always easy," she said of Mr. Fox's commercials — and she used this phrase twice — "to manipulate people's feelings."

Where on earth might the First Lady have gotten that idea, Mr. President?

From your endless manipulation of people's feelings about terrorism?

"How ever they put it," you said Monday of the Democrats, on the subject of Iraq , "their approach comes down to this: the terrorists win and America loses."

No manipulation of feelings there.

No manipulation of the charlatans of your administration into the only truth-tellers.

No shocked outrage at the Kerry insult that wasn't; no subtle smile as the First Lady silently sticks the knife in Michael J. Fox's back; no attempt on the campaign trail to bury the reality that you have already assured that the terrorists are winning.

Winning in Iraq, sir.

Winning in America, sir.

There, we have chaos: joint U.S./Iraqi checkpoints at Sadr City, the base of the radical Shiite militias — and the Americans have been ordered out by the Prime Minister of Iraq… and our Secretary of Defense doesn't even know about it!

And here — we have deliberate, systematic, institutionalized lying and smearing and terrorizing — a code of deceit, that somehow permits a President to say, quote, "If you listen carefully for a Democrat plan for success, they don't have one."

Permits him to say this while his plan in Iraq has amounted to a twisted version of the advice once offered to Lyndon Johnson about his Iraq, called Vietnam.

Instead of "declare victory — and get out"… we now have "declare victory — and stay, indefinitely."

And also here, we have institutionalized the terrorizing of the opposition. True domestic terror:

– Critics of your administration in the media receive letters filled with fake anthrax.

– Braying newspapers applaud, or laugh, or reveal details the FBI wished kept quiet, and thus impede or ruin the investigation.

– A series of reactionary columnists encourages treason charges against a newspaper that published "national security information" — that was openly available on the internet.

– One radio critic receives a letter, threatening the revelation of as much personal information about her as can be obtained — and expressing the hope that someone will then shoot her with an AK-47 machine gun.

– And finally, a critic of an incumbent Republican Senator, a critic armed with nothing but words, is attacked by the Senator's supporters, and thrown to the floor, in full view of television cameras, as if someone really did want to re-enact the intent and the rage of the day Preston Brooks found Senator Charles Sumner.

Of course, Mr. President, you did none of these things.

You instructed no one to mail the fake anthrax. Nor undermine the FBI's case. Nor call for the execution of the editors of the New York Times. Nor threaten to assassinate Stephanie Miller. Nor beat up a man yelling at Senator Allen. Nor have the first lady knife Michael J. Fox. Nor tell John McCain to lie about John Kerry.

No, you did not.

And the genius of the thing, is the same, as in King Henry's rhetorical question about Archbishop Thomas Becket: "Who will rid me of this meddlesome priest?"

All you have to do, sir… is hand out enough new canes.

Random Thoughts

2006-11-01T09:45:00.000-08:00

Just some random thoughts on this Wednesday, November (!) 1.

1. Why don't we have a Halloween for adults? Trick-or-treating, but for practical things. "Hey, Marge, they're given out toilet paper over at the McCallums!" "Well, I got toothpaste next door!"

2. How is it that Christmas became an October event? I saw my first Christmas commercial yesterday. Tragic. October is the month you finally get used to fall. Where baseball ends. Even the coldest states do not usually have snow yet. So, why are we promoting a winter holiday before the fall holidays are even over? Seriously - at my local Walgreens, they were stocking the shelves yesterday with ornaments and Christmas cards.

3. Superstar has lost 10 pounds just by eating less. What's going to happen when I finally figure out how to fit a regular exercise routine into my day?

4. What constitutes remodelling? Painting? New furnishings?

5. Why are children so wise and adults so ignorant sometimes? Doesn't wisdom usually come from experience?

6. Do you suppose dogs really taste the salmon in Beneful? If so, do they know its salmon?

7. Should I be worried that my daughter knows the words "chocolate" and "Tivo," but not the words "bed" and "stop" ?

8. Is it impolite to ask someone if they are male or female if you really can't tell?

9. Should you tell a stranger their fly is down?

10. What do you suppose is the agenda of the Bush administration? Who are they setting up to run in the next election?

Oh No They Did Not!

2006-10-31T09:49:00.000-08:00

There is a point in every parent's life where they develop the uh-oh sense. The uh-oh sense is the ability, instantly, to tell when things that appear normal are actually not.

Maybe it is an instinct instilled deep inside that is activated when you bring the baby home. It is honed by the constant need to check on the baby's breathing - not trusting your own eyes seeing the flesh rise and fall with breath, the parent often develops acute abilities to touch the child to sense for breathing without waking the baby. Waking the baby is the worst possible thing you could do.

Eventually, you become more adept with your skills. You learn to hear ordinary sounds - children's laughter, for example - and discern which laughter means they are playing together and which laughter means they are giving the cat a bath in the toilet. It is subtle, but a nuance that only a parent could pick out.

Last night, my skills were tested.

In the living room, after an hour-long battle to get the kids into bed, I rested. My weary eyes were focused on The Bachelor (no, seriously, I'm not into it and I certainly do hope he picks Jen or Sadie and not that Lisa woman...). My field of vision blurred when all of a sudden, my ears registered something.

Silence.

Not a comfortable silence, either. Silence that demanded investigation.

I stood up and began walking towards the back bedroom. Just then, a small doll-like figure appeared out of the corner of the room. It ran towards me, curls a-bouncing, half-grin illuminated in the darkness, a menacing laugh eminating from blood red lips. My daughter.

"Back to bed!" I commanded, patting her backside in an effort to push her towards her bedroom door.

As I bent down to grab her hand, a familiar, yet unplaceable scent wafted to my nose. Her hands were sticky. My tired brain registered that something was afoot.

I escorted the darling back to her bed and gave her stern instructions that she should remain within the bed for the duration of the evening. It was then that I noticed that my son was without his blanket. It being a cold night, I decided to tuck him back into bed.

As I neared his bed, the familiar smell met my nose again, in stronger and stronger degrees. It was as-if I was playing hot-cold with my nose and I was definitely hot. I still could not place the smell.

I bent down to grab the blanket. The smell was intense. Minty, clean. I grabbed the blanket, and something was completely wrong. Squishy, cold, gunk. What the ??? It was then that I saw my son's face, covered in gunk, and his hands holding the toothpaste tube.

Slowly, I realized the brand-new tube was empty.

All over his bed.

All over his pillow.

All over his blanket.

All over him.

My spidey-senses were correct.

I laugh now, but I tell you, those first few moments in exhausted surprise were harrowing. There were hands to wash, sheets to strip, pajamas to change. 45 minutes later, I emerged from the danger zone a little tarnished, but unscathed.

The kids, I'm afraid, suffered a little of the "you are in BIG trouble" lecture. They fell silent and stayed in their beds.

For kids have a special sense, too. The "momma really means it this time" sense.

Its all in the sound, I tell you.

Bible Stories are Wasted on the Young

2006-10-30T10:40:00.000-08:00

Last night, I tried to tell my son a bible story. It went a little something like this.

Me: Once upon a time, there were two pigs.

Momma, were they on the [Noah's ark] boat?

Me: Yes, they just got off. Once upon a time, there were two pigs.

Momma, were they with the elephants?

Me: Yes, Josh. They were with all the animals on the boat. The pigs were named...

Were there sheep?

Me: Yes, and giraffes, too. The pigs were named Josh and Nat.

The pigs were on the boat? Josh is not a pig.

Me: Yes, they were on the boat. No, that is just the pig's name. So, the pigs' father...

Was he on the boat?

Me: Yes, the father was on the boat. So, anyhow, the father gave each of them shiny coins.

Shiny coins like at Disneyworld?

Me: Sure. They could do whatever they wanted with the coins.

See the animals? on the boat?

Me: Yes, sure. So, anyhow, Josh took his coins and bought flour and eggs to make bread.

Can we make cookies? Pancakes? For the animals on the boat.

Me: Not right now. So, Josh makes bread and he sells it.

But I want cookies.

Me: O.K., Josh makes cookies and sells them. And he uses the money to make more cookies.

Chocolate chip?

Me: O.K. And Nat takes the money and buries it.

Nat likes cookies.

Me: So, the father comes back.

From the boat?

Me: yes, Josh, from the boat.

With all the animals on it?

Me: Yes, Josh. So, the father comes back and asks them what they did with the coins.

Were there elephants on the boat?

Me: yes, but we're not on the boat anymore.

Are we on a farm?

Me: Sure.

I want to be on the boat.

Me: O.K., you can be on the boat, but I'm talking about the pigs.

You said I could be on the boat.

Me: Fine, we're on the boat. So, the dad asks what the sons did with the coins...

Are there alligators on the boat?

Me: yes, and sheep and goats, but we're talking about the pigs.

horses?

Me: yes. O.K., so the pig who buried his money still has the same amount and the pig who made a business is wealthy beyond compare...

Does he own a boat?

Me: Yes, he bought Noah's boat.

With all the animals?

Me: Yes, all the animals. Elephants, sheep, tigers... you name it. So, the moral of the story is...

Flamingos?

Me: Even flamingos. The moral of the story is you reap what you sow. Which means...

I like animals.

Me: I know, Josh. O.K., you get out of life what you put into it.

Can I have animals?

Me: Sure. O.K., stories over.

Moral of the story: No more main characters as animals.... ;)

Captions

2006-10-27T16:58:00.000-07:00

What is she thinking? Submit your caption.

Who am I?

2006-10-27T10:12:00.000-07:00

All humans on earth ponder their worth at some point in their lives. Sometimes they ponder their worth in moments of despair, other times, it is in moments of quiet reflection. I am more in the latter category this year.

My therapist, whom I have stopped seeing for good reasons, shocked me with a revelation. My entire self-worth was based on how I perceived others perceived me. It was an ingrained pattern - I adjusted my behavior to meet what I believed were the expectations of others. I had such inner turmoil because there were times when my own version of me was so vastly different from what I thought someone else's version of me was that I could not rectify it. It was exhausting and anxiety-inducing.

She said that I truly needed to learn who I was, who I wanted to be, and to be true to that person.

This may seem odd to ask, superstar readers, but I want to know who you think I am. Yes, it seems counterintuitive to figure out who I am by asking the world to tell me who I am. Aren't I just trying to define who I am again by the expectations of others? Not exactly. You see, for a long time, I have sensed that I am my own worst critic. I have sensed that the thoughts in my head that I attribute to others are actually my own. I want to shatter this illusion for once and for all.

So I take this courageous step. Please, lay it all out - the good and the bad. I need to hear who I am to you. Remain anonymous if you like, but please be honest.

Starting Young

2006-10-25T11:56:00.000-07:00

Having grown up in faith, I believe it is important for children to see a sense of faith and learn about it from their parents. My husband and I disagree to what extent you should interfere in your child's growth in faith, but we both believe that seeing faith in practice is as important as teaching your child the alphabet. It is a concept that should be introduced at a young age.

About a year ago, when my son was just starting to really talk and get into reading, we started the nightly prayer. Each night, our whole family gathers at his bedside and we recite a prayer. Most often,the prayer is simple: "God is great, God is good, Let us thank him for our day." My son has long-since memorized this prayer and can recite it even while wiggling for a chance to play with his trucks one last time before bed.

Sometimes, particularly when it is just me and the kids, we change the prayer up. One time, we prayed for the safety of soldiers, and for the health and prosperity of family and friends. But, we always pray - and my son has really come to enjoy it. On nights when its late and we sometimes forget because we're focused on getting everyone to bed, he will, in a jilted tone, proclaim: "But its prayer time!"

It occurred to me, however, that to him, right now, these concepts are just words. Maybe children instinctively know who God is, but it is not something we ever told him. Nor do we go to mass as often as we should. Our lives have become increasingly complicated and, shamefully, church is not the priority it should be. Our children's only hold on faith is these few moments when we all take time out of our busy lives and join together in prayer.

Listening to advice

2006-10-20T14:09:00.000-07:00

There is a band I have listened to who sings two of my favorite songs - I own one of their albums, but I know hardly anything about them. Anyhow, the band is Sister Hazel, and one of their songs goes something like this:

"If you want to be somebody else, change your mind."

Its really interesting if you think about it. One could interpret the lyrics as saying, don't try to be somebody else - be yourself. Change your mind about being someone else.

But the other interpretation is my newly adopted attitude. In order to change something about yourself, you first have to change the way you think about that subject.

For me, lately, its been my weight. I firmly believe that everyone is entitled to be the weight they feel comfortable with. Naturally, when health concerns come into mind - for the morbidly obese or the anoerexic population - medical intervention may be required to help that person have a healthy body image and to survive their conditions. But, when a person is just fat - and I mean that they are fairly healthy otherwise and just aren't societies vision of humanity. Well, fat people and super skinny people and those in between should be allowed to be happy for being who they are.

I still believe that.

But, my weight is not working for me anymore. For a long time, being overweight was a comfort to me. I didn't worry about eating dessert after a huge prime rib meal - it tasted just as good as the beef did before it. You see, I thought that to lose weight, I had to give up everything that tasted good or the experiences that came with it.

And then, I changed my mind.

My struggles with weight are not about dieting and overeating. Its not about having that piece of chocolate cake or not. Its about ONLY eating what is bad for me and not what is good. And eating that in excess - even when I am no longer hungry.

So, now, I am reforming. At first, its been difficult. I like my ice cream and Diet Pepsi a little too much. But, with my new mindset, I understand that nothing is forbidden. I just have to look at food as a tool. Some food feeds my body, some foods feed my emotion. The trick is to fill up on what feeds my body and limit what feeds my emotion. Nothing is off limits.

So, how am I doing? I feel great. Last night, I had my ice cream - but I just had less. Knowing that was helping worked. I've cut back to one Diet Pepsi a day - and I really don't miss it. Instead, I'm drinking bottle water I have gotten really cold in the fridge at work. I'm eating more often at work, but eating less at each sitting - and what I am eating is infinitely more healthy for me because that is all I am surrounding myself with.

I don't know that my current efforts will cause me to lose weight. What I do know is that I am changing my mind on my relationship with food. I feel healthier and I feel like I am setting a better exampled for my kids.

So, take some advice from a song. If you want to be somebody else - change your mind.

Nothing to say

2006-10-13T10:28:00.000-07:00

Its been a long, tiring week, and I've really got nothing to say. So, I'll leave a question for you, my dear friends, to answer.

If Santa comes down your chimney with a gift costing less than $100, what would it be? Hmmm?

Headache

2006-10-11T10:33:00.000-07:00

I have a migraine today. They are about the worst things in the world. Your head pounds and its hard to keep your eyes open. Every follicle of hair hurts - even your skin feels "off." Plus, I have a hard time concentrating and have to have things repeated over and over. I feel "out of it" and I know that others sense it, too. Its tough explaining to your boss "I have a migraine." It sounds too personal, too feminine. And he looks at me as if I am making an excuse about something.

Which I am, sort of. I want him to know I am not a space cadet - - just in a lot of pain. I also want him to know that, despite that pain, here I am! Working hard!

Not that any of it matters - - really. To him, I will never be a great employee. He trusts me like last week's leftover chicken.

He'll understand, soon, what its like. His wife is having a baby in December - - so, he'll understand how hard it is to come into work after the baby cried all night. The strain it puts on your marriage because you just have to go to work and she has to be there, all day, overwhelmed. How neither of you will totally understand the strain the other one is under and will secretly think you have it worse than they do. How no one seems to care that you are exhausted and overwhelmed and plagued by fears of being incapable of taking care of the baby for one reason or another.

Of course, he'll also understand that none of that matters when the baby is curled up with its head against your heart, a picture of contentment and peace. When the baby learns a new skill - to laugh, to roll over, to crawl, to walk - to say "mama" or "daddy" for the first time. The way every thing about your child is both funny and frustrating, and always endearing. How secretly you know your child is the best thing on the planet.

I feel blessed to be a parent. It is the best thing that has ever happened to me. Its also the hardest thing.

Kids

2006-10-10T13:29:00.000-07:00

Last night, we tried a new thing with our daughter. She's 1 1/2, going on 15. Being the baby, and I didn't realize this until last night, she has been pretty sheltered. Long after we had stopped carrying her brother from place to place, she still gets carried. She still gets snuggled to bed and has her food cut for her.

You might think its because she's the baby or a girl or ... Those all might be true if we weren't progressive parents who believe in equality between our kids. ;) Nope, the reason that Nattie gets what she wants is because she has perfected an ear-splitting, paint-peeling, infertility-inducing shriek. I imagine its how the harpees sound, or the banshees when they cry. It is, to her parents, what the low, shrill cry of a dog whistle is to canines. The moment it erupts, you would do absolutely anything to make it stop.

Up until now, that plan worked like magic. Shriek starts, parents fly into action, shriek stops. Everyone happy. Only now, the little devil behind that angelic smile has realized that her shrieking has magical powers. And if She Does Not Want to go to Bed She Does NOT Have to. If her brother gets out of bed, he loses a special toy (until morning - - we're not evil!). That usually works. But Nattie has nothing that motivates her that way.

So, last night, we were bound and determined she should stay in bed, by herself, at bedtime. A reasonable parental request, right?

Right away, I knew it was going to be a long night. At first, Nattie wandered around like a ship adrift offshore without a light to see the pier. I wasn't even sure she understood that the mattress adorned with princess pillows and princess blankets was her bed. Understandable since her brother has taken quite a liking to Princess Wawa and Hippopotamus (Aurora and Pocohontas - still not sure how she's a princess...).

Once we established that, yes, the mattress with the pink frilly sheets was, indeed, Natalies, I thought we got somewhere. Until I see a tiny streak out of the corner of my eye headed for the kitchen. It was too small to be the dog, too short to be a ghost, and too quick to be her brother. So, I stand and make my way into the kitchen. There she is, sitting perfectly poised and confident in her dinner chair at the dining room table.

"Eat?" she says to me innocently - as if she has no idea why I could possibly be surprised to see her there.

Once again, I walk her back to the room, place her in her bed, and put the covers over her. She snuggles down underneath the blankets and I kiss her goodnight. In that moment, she is the picture of perfection and innocence and I just want to love her all night.

I settle myself back in the living room, watching the Bachelor. No, I'm not into it, but really, was there anything else on???

A minute later, I hear footsteps. Nattie has in her hand an object which she proudly hands to me.

"Here you go!" she proclaims, standing proudly and smiling. She could not have looked any prouder if she were a cat that just caught a canary.

"BED!" her dad and I point to her room. The smile fades, her head droops, and she turns back to her bedroom.

Finally, I thought we had peace and quiet. It was great. But, um, isn't it a little too quiet?

Once again, I trudge down the hallway to their room. Nattie has shut the door - never a good sign. When I walk in the room, they are both wide awake, playing. Josh is still in his bed - - no way was he risking losing his favorite toy - and Nattie is by the side of his bed.

What are parents to do when their kids are smarter than they are???

The latest visit

2006-10-05T11:54:00.000-07:00

Continuing the previous blog....

So, after Christmas, I was pretty upset. My family was pretty upset. Things were tense.

I tried really hard to build a good relationship with MIL. I sent mother's day cards, planned visits for her with my children, picked out nice Christmas gifts... you name it. Nothing I did was acknowledged. It was as if I did not even exist.

Her visits were worse. For days, I was railroaded. Everything I did was wrong - from the way I dressed to the way I disciplined my kids. I would come home and the whole house would be rearranged - not because I wanted it that way, but because she felt it was better. Hubby would ask me to refrain from speaking to her about how I was feeling, so I did. It felt like a tornado swept through our house and we needed to spend months picking up the pieces.

MIL just left from helping us move. Now, before I go into what happened while she was here, I need to say one thing. MIL was invaluable to us during the move. She worked hard. She got things done. I appreciated that. As usual, though, all of the good stuff was overshadowed by the hurt.

The first night, MIL showed up in the middle of the night, a day early, wanting to sleep at our house. She knew that our furniture had been moved that day - we had absolutely nowhere to put her. As well, she brought her (untrained) puppy along - which is fine, but, in the middle of the night during a move is not the time to introduce her to my dog. So, instead of packing, hubby took MIL to the new place and got her set up while I got the kids to sleep - a laborious process that evening. At midnight, hubby and I finally went to sleep. I had to be up at 6.

The second night, Hubby and I had agreed that I would stay at the house and pack while they took care of the kids and enjoyed the new apartment. Only, MIL changed her mind. She insisted on staying and cleaning the kitchen. When she was done, she pulled out the bed and went to sleep - it was in the middle of the house and I could not get anything done without keeping her awake. Still, I stayed up until 1:00 a.m. despite being exhausted from an unusually hard work week.

Meanwhile, we have MIL's puppy (who is not watched and untrained) who keeps running around the house pooping and peeing everywhere and chewing up our things! MIL refuses to discipline her and gets angry when I intervene! Yet, MIL tells me what I am not disciplining my children right!!!!

At 5:30 a.m. the next morning, MIL got up and immediately began cleaning. Not much I could do but get up. Hubby arrived with the kids and I drove them up to my mom's so she could watch them. The deal was that I could relax at mom's for awhile and then drive back to help.

At 10, hubby called and asked me to come back home. He said that my stepmom wanted to help up at the new place and asked me to go up and help her. As soon as I knew my mom was o.k., I drove back to our old house to grab our cell phone before heading to our new house. MIL threw a fit. She did not want me to go to the new house - she thought I should stay there and pack the rest of the house. I told her that I was just doing what hubby had asked me to do. I went in the back of the house and came out and found her on the phone with hubby!!! "He wants to talk to you." So, now, hubby wanted me to stay at the old house... urrrggghhh!!!

So, I do and I work pretty hard until I have to go back to pick up the kids.

The next day, again up around 5:30 with only about 4 hours sleep, I am volunteered to both watch the kids and set up the house. I get a lot done - setting up the kids' room and 1/2 the kitchen. Later, stepmom comes over and tells me a story.

Seems that, the day before, my stepmom had actually gone over to our old house to help move. When she got there, MIL was there and immediately began talking to her. MIL told her how worthless I was, how lazy, how I don't know how to keep house or raise my children. Both stepmom and my brother (who is very easy going) were so upset, they left.

The next few days progress with increasing rudeness. I put something away, come home, and find it rearranged. I hear little comments behind my back. Dinner is made for everyone but me. I make dinner and she treats them to dinner on the way home. I try to engage MIL in conversation and get nothing. I offer to make lunch, better/more pillows or blankets and I'm rejected.

So, hubby tells me last night that I have been incredibly rude to his mother. When I ask him to please explain what it is I have done to be perceived in such a way, he tells me that he has been forbidden from telling me. We talk it out - the stress with this visit, the hurt his mom has wrought. We come to an agreement that we cannot afford for him and the kids to go visit with her following this visit. We also agree that he will talk to his mom.

This morning, his mom left at 5:00 a.m. She didn't even say good-bye to us or the kids. She left her blankets in a heap on the floor and her coffee mug in the sink. The tornado has finally moved on - but not without touching down one last time.

Right as I was getting ready for work - at 6:30 a.m. - the phone rings. Its hubby's sister whom I have always gotten along well with. From my position 1/2 way across the room, I can hear the gist of the conversation - why is your wife (me) so mean to mom? Why won't she let you visit with mom?

So, now I am the horrible shrew of the family. Hell bent on destroying the matriarch and ruining her son and grandkids.

Its days like this that superstar really just wants to drive her car off a cliff.

I need help

2006-10-05T09:48:00.000-07:00

My mother-in-law just left from a whirlwind one-week visit. As with most visits from MIL, the path was bumpy and is now strewn with debris. I don't know how to clean it all up.

My relationship with MIL wasn't always bad. When I was first dating hubby, she and I got a long. We joked and laughed and shared recipes. She always had a tough veneer, but I saw the love she had for her son. I shared that love. I wanted to get to know and love her.

After we announced the wedding, a tiny crack in the relationship formed. Perhaps MIL was upset because the announcement came by telephone (hubby was visiting me in CA and they are in UT) or because it came on Christmas. We were so elated that we did not want them to have to wait to hear or accidentally hear it from someone else.

MIL started planning the wedding for me - not nearly as bad as my own stepmom, I might add. It was little things, really. A call one day from the party supply store - she was there to buy all of our silverware and plates. But she didn't ask - she just showed up at the store and then called me to confer over a color choice. I didn't think anything of it at the time - I accepted the graciousness of the offer because it felt like it was tinged with love and acceptance. Heck, at that time, it probably was.

In the weeks closest to the wedding, it came down to time to plan the rehearsal dinner. Traditionally, the groom's parents pay for the dinner. Nothing was traditional with our wedding, so I never assumed they would pay. Hubby and I would pay for it ourselves - but had a hard time deciding where. MIL would have none of it - it was their role to pay for the dinner, so they would. I was grateful because we were pretty broke.

Planning the rehearsal dinner became a new challenge. The instructions I got were: "somewhere nice..." This is fine, but each place I picked got rejected for a reason I would only find out later. "No, not that place!" (Hubby translates: "A little too expensive.") "I think you are making a wedding faux pas by inviting your aunt" (translation: "The guest list is too large!") This went on and on and on until the evening of the rehearsal dinner when we went to the only place that would accommodate us - and MIL ended up inviting 10 extra people on her own. All of this, again, is fine.

Except that the flak from that evening was brought to us on our wedding day. The waiters weren't great, the food was not nice.... I could do nothing about it, then. I had failed in my absolute first task as their DIL. I was supposed to anticipate their criticism and go with it from there.

The marriage has continued in the same way. After we were married, visits with my MIL were initially pleasant. We shared some good times and talked about my classes and her business. Hubby was still involved in the family business and he would travel to Utah, sometimes for weeks at a time, to work with his mom.

Everytime he returned from these trips, I would notice, he would cast a critical eye on me, on our house, on our life - as if somehow being in Utah cast an unpleasant palor on our lives that he just then recognized. Everything that had been just fine with our lives before he went to Utah was suddenly absolutely wrong. I needed to lose weight (true), he needed to lose weight (possibly true), he wanted to be more in charge of the finances (fine), he wanted to have more friends over (fine); etc, etc, etc.

I never had a problem with the suggestions. All of them were valid and valuable. There was something in the timing and the tone that always bothered me. The message it sent to me was that we were not good enough. That our life, which was happy and unencumbered before the visit, had no redeeming value. True, we were not perfect, but we were happy. Very happy.

So happy that I became pregnant. Hubby and I were nervous, worried, overjoyed, excited, and scared out of our minds. One can never be truly prepared to become a parent, but I know I felt (and I think he did, too) that we were woefully unprepared. We lived in a one-bedroom apartment that was already crowded, and we had no savings. I barely made enough to pay for that little shack.

We decided to tell each parent in person about the news. My mom was first as it happened that we saw her on Mother's Day. Hubby's parents were second - we flew up to Utah and made a weekend of it. They were gracious and inviting and overjoyed. I had no idea how quickly that would change. ( We told my dad and stepmom last - partly because I was a huge chicken about telling them)

It was when the baby came, when my prince arrived, that this tentative relationship really began to crumble.

J was due on November 13. Because I was diabetic with the pregnancy, my OB told me that if I did not have J early, they would induce me into labor on his due date. Hubby's parents wanted to come down for the birth of his first child. I thought that was sweet and supportive. Day after day we all waited, at first patiently, and then impatiently, for J to arrive. Meanwhile, my in-laws toasted the town - visting tourist attractions and enjoying their time here.

It wasn't until later that the chinks started showing in our family armor. Jokingly, or so I thought, MIL demanded that I birth J. Seems she had a business appointment back in Utah and needed to return and J's birth was becomming less convenient for her. Later, I realized, she wasn't joking when she told me she needed to leave and that the trip had been a total waste. I was pretty deflated.

J finally arrived on November 18, a mere 24 hours after MIL left for Utah. I was ecstatic. He was (and is) the most beautiful baby boy I have ever seen. I took naturally to being his mom - no matter how scared I was about the challenge of raising him ahead of us, I knew I loved him and, somehow, that would be enough.

Almost immediately, the "advice" began. I know this is a problem with all parents - the unsolicited and unwanted advice. But, as with before, things became tense after each telephone or call from MIL. Suddenly, the "good mother" I had been before the telephone call or visit with MIL, was not good enough. I didn't interact with the baby enough (never mind that J nursed for 2 hours at a time every 3 hours - I was EXHAUSTED!). I didn't know how to fold a blanket, change a diaper, wash clothes; etc. Nothing I did was good enough.

At first, I thought this was all because MIL did not see me with J. She could not see what a beautiful and profound thing this relationship with my son was. How I was the only one who could calm him or make him smile. Secretly, I feared that I was a terrible mom - - but I believed that my love was enough to sustain J.

The month before I needed to return to work, we decided to visit MIL in Utah. The whole family went - even our dog. We rented a car, packed it up, and drove to Utah. It took us 3 days - we needed to stop constantly to let the baby nurse or the dog out for a run. The trip up there was ecstatic and full of promise.

Almost immediately upon arrival, I felt tension. Hubby and mom would have hushed and whispered conferences - many times when they felt I couldn't hear them - and, later that day, hubby would have new "suggestions" for how I could be a better mom. Many of them were things he and I had already discussed and decided the opposite would be better for us. Somehow, after talking to MIL, he ALWAYS found new perspective - and opposition - to his previous opinion.

At first during the visit, I fought it. And then, I succumed to it. I didn't want to fight with my husband and I didn't want to disrespect his mother in her own home. I ended up spending a lot of time crying, holding J close to my heart, and knowing I was doing the right thing. I worried about the future of my marriage - if I could not find a way to mend the relationship with MIL, I feared that the relationship with hubby would never by complete.

I thought, though, that my fights with MIL's beliefs were just philosophical. Different ways of achieving the same results. Later in the visit, however, the fight became about protecting my son from what I felt was abusive treatment.

There are some things you see in your life that you just cannot turn your back away from and condone - no matter what is at stake. There were two such events in that first visit with J. The first was when we allowed MIL to baby sit and I came home to see her propping up my 2 months old son in a walker and pushing him to walk. She said she was trying to strengthen his leg muscles. Already, the pressure to be perfect.

The second was when I saw her purposefully squirting water in his eyes. I asked her what she was doing, and she said she didn't want him to be afraid of the water. I shudder to think how she'll teach him respect for firearms or firecrackers, or...

It was in standing against this cruelty, I became alone. My husband is incapable of seeing the cruelty and incapable of comprehending the effect it could have on our children. I don't mean that to sound as negative as it is. He loves his mom. His love is fierce. It endears me to him that he loves his family so much. But, he has been taught to turn a blind eye to this sort of behavior and to see it not for what it is - cruel - but as a necessary learning step. Its not.

I went away from that first visit with J and my MIL lonely, alienated, and scared. I need my hubby to be there with me - as a part of my life - but I also feel a fierce desire to protect my kids. I am especially concerned about their feelings. I want my children to always understand their value and to have at least two people in their corner - their father and mother. And, to the best of my knowledge, hubby agrees with me.

When we returned from that first visit, hubby again began reinventing our lives. It took about a month until he calmed down and realized our life was fine. Not perfect, but fine. Again, occassionally he would get a phone call from MIL and occassionally, we'd go through the cycle of why our life isn't perfect and why we aren't good enough.

The next holiday season, when J just turned 1, my MIL shocked us all, two days before Christmas, when she called from the road to say she was coming for the holiday. This was all fine and good except that we had plans, which suddenly had to change. Instead of having an intimate Christmas Eve dinner with my family and kids, we now were having guests - and no one would commit to how many guests. There was a potential that we could have as many as 20 people in our tiny (now 2 bedroom) apartment. We had seating for maybe 10. I wanted to make a nice dinner to impress my friends and family - but what to make when it could be 5 people or it could be 20?

I also wanted a nice family-only Christmas morning. Time to just be with hubby and J. Christmas dinner was always spent with my family if we were in town. But, now I had my MIL's feelings to consider - did that mean I now also had to cook Christmas Dinner? Would I miss Christmas with my own family?

The answers to these questions never came. MIL refused to commit to anything. She didn't want to be uninvited, but she also didn't want to rsvp. She wanted the invitation to remain open just in case nothing better came along.

The evening she arrived was just a disaster. My mother was supposed to spend the night with us but decided to skip it so that MIL could have the sleeper sofa. MIL showed up, late at night, with her dog. She hadn't told us she was bringing her dog. My dog is fine with other dogs, but is a little territorial.

MIL also showed up with about 35 boxes full of stuff she'd pulled out of storage. Again, no warning. Now, on Christmas Eve, I had my house full of people and boxes and nowhere to sit!

Christmas Eve arrived and I spent the entire day cooking. We had salmon and ham and green beans and mashed potatoes. Hubby cleaned while I cooked and, intermittently, wrapped presents. In the middle of the day, Hubby received a call from Father-in-law that he needed a ride from Oakland airport. Again, last minute. The timing was smack-dab in the middle of our pre-planned holiday party. MIL insisted that hubby pick up FIL from the airport who was, after all, just trying to spend Christmas with us.

Except neither of them were. We found out later that day that hubby's sister was staying in Danville - a short drive from our house - with her in-laws. (her RICH in-laws, I might add....). Neither MIL nor FIL intended on spending Christmas morning with us, at all. They were just hoping they could use our place to crash on Christmas evening, after they were done spending Christmas with sister and her family. We, I guess, were convenient.

But, both MIL and FIL accepted the invite from my family for Christmas dinner.

So, the holiday party begins. A few family and friends - and I am finishing dinner. I set the table nicely and begin to take dishes out - so people can serve themselves buffet-style. I excuse myself to the restroom. When I come out, MIL is in the kitchen dishing herself up a plate of food and has taken over the cooking. She's decided to add some spices to some of my dishes and has sprinkled cheese where cheese wasn't intended. She's also begun to pass out plates to people of food - whether or not they wanted what was on it.

About 20 minutes later, MIL announces that she and FIL are tired and will be leaving since her son won't allow her to stay there overnight. Of course, not true. We had asked them to stay at a hotel because we wanted Christmas morning as a family and because we no longer had enough room with my mother staying there - which had all been arranged long before 2 days before Christmas!

So, MIL and FIL take off for a hotel - which they had hubby book at the last minute. About an hour later, hubby gets a call. They are lost. No, they don't want directions. They want hubby to come drive them to their location. He does. An hour after that - and it is now about 11:00 p.m. on Christmas Eve! - MIL returns to our house. Seems the hotel won't take dogs, so she's staying with us. I put my foot down (and get the evil eye) and, instead, we keep her dog. We have her dog for the next 6 days before she comes and picks it back up...

The next day, we have Christmas. Hubby's folks were given the time and address of my folks and agreed to meet us there for dinner. At 7:00 p.m., 3 hours after the time they were supposed to arrive, hubby finally gets ahold of them, worried. We were all starving but did not want to start without them. Hubby pulls me aside and tells me they aren't coming - they decided to stay at the sister's in-laws because they were having so much fun. It hadn't occurred to them to call. My parents are pretty hurt, but we go on with dinner.

Later, before we left, though, MIL calls hubby back. She, at first, asks how Christmas was. Hubby tells her and tells her what a nice meal we had. MIL then asks hubby to bring her a plate of leftovers!!!!

Hungry

2006-09-28T12:22:00.000-07:00

So, I've decided its time to shed this unwanted weight I've been carrying around for far too long. I won't call it a diet - more just time to get real. Dieting implies to me a short-term project, but that is not what I'm doing. I'm trying to change my eating habits for good.

I'm off to a great start. I have gone from having 3-5 sodas a day to nearly none. Occassionally, I'll have one, but I don't finish it, either. I have started drinking water or water with crystal light mixed in.

I'm also eating a lot of salad. Truth be told, I like vegetables. Not all of them, mind you, but most. Besides, if I eat vegetables, I don't feel guilty putting some dressing on the salad because I'm counterbalancing. Even when I was diabetic while pregnant, the nutritionist allowed me to have a fat at every meal!

So, basically, I am trying to follow the diabetic diet I had - limited carbs and sugars, more veggies and protein.

My problem is that I am hungry!!! I know its just my body adjusting and I'll be fine. I just had a fine snack of Kavli bread, cream cheese and turkey. It was good, but it needed a fresh tomato. Anyhow, I should not be hungry, but I am, still!!!

So, any good healthy recipe ideas? I'm thinking taco salads, fish tacos, BBQ salmon salad, yum! The other day, I even made hot dogs and, instead of a bun, I wrapped it in a lettuce leaf. A little messy, but I really didn't miss the bun!

The Greatest Gift

2006-09-26T15:36:00.000-07:00

I have redefined my notion of the word "miracle."

When I was growing up, and until recently, I believed miracles happened in grand ways. Diseases healed in inexplicable fashion, grandmothers finding inhuman strength to lift cars off babies, extreme weather missing the church where everyone is huddled for safety and, instead, striking an abandoned building already slated for demolition.

You see these miracles in the news, on television shows, in your local newspaper. Like me, you may even ponder the emotive power of these events and their proof that the universe has some omnscient being at the helm.

But this week has been miraculous to me. You haven't read it in newspapers or seen it on the news. The miracles are small in relation to the cosmic proportions of most miracles. Still, I attribute their being in my life as a sign that someone, somewhere, is taking the best care of me.

I awoke one day last week happy. Not euphoric. Happy. The kind of happy that settles in your heart and soul and allows you to focus on challenges with positivity. The kind of happy that finds you reminiscing about the love you have for your spouse. The kind of happy that allows you the freedom to dream of the future and smile on the past.

For a long time, I felt disconnected from my universe. I felt unable to cope. Overwhelmed, undersupported. I stewed in those feelings. I festered and allowed them to grow. And a friend told me to have faith.

She was right. I trusted in others. I went to therapy. I talked about subjects that had never seen the light of day outside of my mind. I was honest. Honest about my fears and anger. And then, one day last week, I decided it was time to say goodbye and let go.

Its ironic that in this chapter of cleansing in my life, I chose to end it with my upcoming move from San Francisco to Pacifica. Metaphorically, I could not imagine a better imagery for how I am feeling in life. It is time for me to move forward in life. To recognize that as much as I loved the past, I can create a future with boundless possibilities.

Where will my future take me? Only time will tell. But, I have faith. I believe in myself. And I understand, having lost those things for awhile, what a precious gift that is.

My friends, I have witnessed a miracle. I have found true peace in my heart.

8 more days

2006-08-31T17:30:00.000-07:00

Sorry, I've been too busy to write.

In Eight Short Days, I will be at Walt Disneyworld! With the kiddies! And Grandma! And Uncle Will!

I'll try to update you all while I'm there.

I cannot wait!

Pennies from Heaven

2006-08-25T11:43:00.000-07:00

I heard somewhere once that departed relatives will leave coins for us as markers to let us know they are still with us.

As you all know, lately, I have been going through a very rough and stressful time. At first, I was pretty down and hopeless. It seemed like nothing would go my way and problems were just becoming insurmountable.

I have faith. Sometimes, that is all I have. Still, during the darkest hours, I found it increasingly hard to grasp onto that faith and wring hope out of it. Although I believe everything happens for a reason, when it was becomming harder and harder, I wondered if I just wasn't hearing the message I was supposed to hear. I wondered what lesson I was foregoing.

And then I saw the first penny.

Oddly enough, I was worried about finances. I felt completely bogged down and could not see a solution out of our current financial state. I was worried about how this would set us back, how we would recover, and what the ultimate damage to our financial outlook would be. And as I sighed and looked down at my feet, there it was. Shining in the sunlight like a beacon.

A penny. A penny which gave me $.01 worth of hope - which at that time, was far greater than I had before I saw it.

I felt relieved. It was a sign.

But, then, things got worse. Problems with the neighbor, figuring out how to move, wondering if we could afford our new plan. The stress was eating away at me - worried all day about the neighbor's antics, worried all night about our next encounter, worried constantly about whether we could afford our choices.

A few days after the sighting of the penny, I found a dime. It, too, was a shiny beacon. I smiled when I remembered the story of lost coins being placed by relatives. I said aloud: "Thank you so much, Grandma! Do you suppose next time you could leave me the winning lotto ticket?"

Merely remembering that connection brightened my mood. The dime was a token which reminded me that I was not alone. My grandmother's spirit was there to guide me and watch over me. Once again, I felt self.

And then the neighbor escalated her scary behavior. She involved my kids. She screamed at them. I was afraid for their safety. I no longer wondered if the decision to move was right. I had made the right decision and the knowledge of our future escape made me lighter and brighter. Where before finding the penny, before making the decision to walk a different path, I could not have coped with our neighbor's behavior, I found myself surprisingly strong in my resolve.

But I was angry and scared, too. I have long known that my children and husband are what my life is about. They are the reasons my days are filled with joy. My neighbor's surprising behavior jeopardized that in my heart and mind and I knew I would and could do all that was necessary to protect them.

Over the next few days, I found coin after coin as I contemplated what I would do. It seemed that everytime I was deep in thought or stressed out about a problem, down I would look and there would be a shiny nickle or penny or, once, a quarter. It depended on the deepness of my thoughts or the severity of the problem.

We decided to file a restraining order on our neighbor - to keep her at bay. At the time we made the decision, I was completely frightened of her. I did not believe there was a more peaceful or less disruptive way to protect my family. We felt alone. And the coins stopped.

Something about filing the restraining order made me uneasy. I wondered about the severity of the impact on our neighbor. I wondered about the destructive force of wielding such a tool. And then, I realized, I had not been completely honest in my heart. I had never shown my neighbor compassion. She was clearly mentally ill and I fed into that. A part of me longed for her to suffer as she was making me suffer. While I would never make her see the impact she had on me, I could clearly see the potential impact I could have on her.

It was time to let it all go.

I was sitting outside the courthouse waiting for the bus back to my office when all of these thoughts occurred. I had just received my filed restraining order back with instructions to have it served on our neighbor. The temporary restraining order had been denied. I thought about that. I wondered what I was going to do once the papers were served on our neighbor and I had no recourse against her for her yelling or swearing or putting threats on our door - other than to wait for the hearing to occur. My stomach tied in knots as I imagined the reaction from our neighbor after receiving the papers. And then I saw it.

On the bus, as I was walking up the steps, sat a shiny penny.

If ever a sign there was, it was that penny. It was time for me to let it all go. My fear, my anxiety, my sadness, my grief. I wanted to have value in my life - as much as that penny held. I wanted peace. I wanted to be the person I remember being so long ago, the person filled with compassion.

I went home and told my husband my decision. I could not go through with the restraining order. Frankly, I think we were both relieved.

Within days, we were back to normal. Only a different kind of normal. The routine was the same, but, we were different. We had been through a challenge and now we could see the end of it. Our path was clear to us.

I just read the story of the young woman kidnapped 8 years ago who found her way home. For eight long years, I can imagine, she waited for a sign. A sign to show her how to take the path back to where she should always have been. Through those eight years, I'm certain, the only thing she could truly claim as hers was the hope in her heart.

The lesson that I have learned is this: Things don't always have to make sense. That is what faith is about. Opening yourself up to see the potential and the posibility that life is offering. Wondering why it is so will only prevent you from moving forward.

Troubles

2006-08-18T09:54:00.000-07:00

Sorry all for the delay - I've been having troubles. First with my crazy neighbor and then with blogger, who suddenly did not recognize me. (I think neighbor has been whispering in blogger's ear.)

But, I'm back now. Missed me, missed me, now you've gotta kiss me... (in lieu of the kiss, superstar will take generous donations...)

Woo Woo

2006-08-11T22:15:00.000-07:00

Superstar and family have a new home! No more mean neighbors! We just signed the lease for a 2 br/2 ba a few blocks from my folks in Pacifica. You know, I am sad to leave the city, but so happy to leave this sick situation. And now that I know that my family is safe, I can relax - - oh, and make sure that we make the landlord understand exactly what kind of people he is dealing with.

Too excited!

A Tangled Woven Web

2006-08-08T10:04:00.000-07:00

I promised Andy that I would blog more about my influence on poor Alexis and the biggest lie she ever told.

As you may recall, Alexis had a mad crush on Ricardo and really wanted to get to know him. As you may also recall, our church youth group went to Mendocino Christian Camp in Little River, California and it was a haven for us.

One day, at school - I think it was toward the end of the school year - Alexis was lamenting the fact that she would not be able to attend work camp at Mendocino that year. Her parents were going to be traveling and, in no uncertain terms, she was going with them. She was saddened not only by the fact that she would be missing the camp, but that she would be missing precious time to get to know Ricardo.

I asked her what she thought about taking a weekend trip up to Mendocino. Alexis drove, she was the most responsible person I knew, and my parents trusted her. They would have absolutely no problem sending me with Alexis for the weekend.

Alexis thought this was a great idea. For the next week, we planned our trip to Mendocino. We knew what food we would bring, what we would do during the day, what time we would leave to get there. It wasn't until Monday of the following week that the wrinkle came into our plan.

Alexis ran up to me, breathless, and said, very giddy, "Ricardo wants to go with us!!"

She was completely flustered but also excited. It didn't occur to me that Ricardo going with us would be a problem. The more, the merrier.

"There's a problem, though, " she said sadly. "I don't think I can go."

I looked at her cock-eyed and wondered what she was saying. I wasn't the one with a crush on Ricardo - it would do me no good to go to Mendocino alone with Ricardo!

I bit. "Why not?"

"Well, you see, my dad will flip if he finds out I am taking a trip with a boy."

I knew her parents and didn't exactly think this was true. After all, Alexis was the most responsible person I knew. She had also been on plenty of trips with boys, albeit supervised ones. Finally, she wouldn't be alone on the trip - I would be there. But, Alexis was convinced. Once again, she was depressed and saddened that she could not back a trip work to Mendocino with Ricardo.

Frankly, I forgot about the trip and Ricardo until, at the end of the week, Alexis came to me again.

"So, can you go next weekend?"

I smiled. "Your parents said yes?"

"Not exactly. I'm spending the weekend with you. "

Ahh, yes. But this was not the only challenge. Even though our parents had never met each other and would have no reason to, Alexis was afraid if I told my parents the truth and she lied, that her parents would somehow find out.

So, I lied too. It wasn't that difficult. I told a lie that was almost the truth. I told them that Alexis and I were going to have a girls' weekend. I just didn't tell them we were leaving the city.

The night before our big trip, Alexis called. She was nervous and guilty. She had thought of all the horrible things that could happen. She still wanted to go, but was regretting lying to her parents. In case something happened to us on the trip, she left a note in her pillow case letting them know why she lied. I did the same thing. My note said: "Alexis told me to lie." Yeah, well, it was the truth.

The whole drive up to Mendocino was a blast. Ricardo was about the funniest boy I had ever met. We all got along like old friends and laughed and laughed and laughed.

The weekend was absolutely spectacular. We slept in the main cabin, had bbq with the camp owner, Frank and his wife, Margie. We renewed our faith. We played volleyball and watched amazing sunsets and even more amazing starry skies.

It was Sunday morning when all heck broke lose. Frank suggested we call our folks and let them know we were about to leave. Alexis turned pale white and blurted out, "But they don't know we are here!"

Frank very calmly informed us we were no longer welcome in his house that day and were to leave for home right away. I can't really blame him. We were on an unsanctioned visit and he, just becoming aware as a responsible adult, could not condone it. Nicely, he did not call our parents. But, he did give us a strict lecture. To this day, I feel bad about the fact that neither Alexis nor I had ever considered how Frank would feel if he knew we were sneaking away to see him.

We packed up and were on the road within 20 minutes. Ricardo felt bad when we told him the whole story - he did not know that Alexis had lied because he joined our trip.

We got home about 5:00 that evening, where we were both relieved to find our notes still in our pillow cases. I found out later in life that my parents had known, all along, that I was in Mendocino. I had told my brother who told them. They were very upset that I lied, but understood I was lying not to deceive them, but to keep a promise to a friend. Still wrong, but at least my motivation was more pure.

Shortly after that weekend, Alexis graduated and went off to Amherst for a year. She went off a woman with courage. It wasn't that lying taught her to take risks, it was that she had learned, through our adventures, how to take risks. I am still convinced to this day that had we told the truth, her parents would have let her go on the trip anyhow.

Friday Category

2006-08-04T11:21:00.000-07:00

Superstar is tired today, so I think I will just post my usual category and get back to regular blogging on Monday. So, today's category:

If you could have one superpower, what would it be and why?

Why I was Late Four Years Ago

2006-08-03T14:18:00.000-07:00

Four years ago today, my husband and I were married. My wedding day, by far, was my favorite day of my life. Followed very closely by the births of my children (tied for 2nd) and my law school graduation. Oh, and need we forget the day I found out I passed the bar exam on the first try.

The planning of my wedding was not nearly as fun as the execution. I had only been involved in one wedding prior - my aunt and uncle's - and I was only 12 then. My experience consisted of one day shopping for a dress, a rehearsal I don't remember (and a dinner I didn't get to go to...), and the day of the wedding where I had to get all gussied up and then remember my walk. It was not a pleasant experience at the time - although now I look on it fondly.

Problems with our wedding started almost from the moment we announced it would happen. After the cheers and the well-wishing around the Christmas dinner table, my stepmother turned to me and said, "Do you have the date and the place reserved?"

It was then that I knew we were in for a long haul.

Two days later, my birthday, we arrived for a birthday dinner and a table full of bridal magazines. When we still didn't have the date and place reserved, we got admonished and informed that the wedding may not happen because no place would be available. My aunt, the wonderful woman that she was, stopped by to drop off a pair of earrings she had purchased the very next day for me to wear on my wedding day. I did not have the heart to tell her my ears weren't pierced.

Eventually, we got the date picked - August 3 - and reserved the place. My husband's uncle is a Franciscan Brother and we picked the church he was closely affiliated with. Because we were "family" so to speak, we were given parishoner treatment and greeted warmly.

Originally, the wedding was set for the afternoon. This would give us time to get ready, relax, and enjoy our reception.

By September, we had our D.J., reception hall, and caterer picked out. I thought we were on a roll. This is, of course, until the church called us and told us there was a slight mix-up. You see, because we were not technically parishoners, they could not give us the same rights as their long-term parishoners. And, well, the church had been promised by another father to a couple of parishoners for their wedding at the exact time we requested it. They could do our wedding earlier or another day - they could not do any later.

I called around. Our caterer was fine with the change - he was just making the food for us to pick up, anyhow. The problem came with our D.J. - he already had gigs booked solid - we only got him because of a cancellation. I absolutely adored our D.J. (he was the ONLY one we spent over budget on because he was that good.) So, changing the date was not an option.

This is how our wedding came to be at 10:00 a.m.

The morning of our wedding, I woke up calmer than I have ever been in my life. I knew I had angels watching over me and I absolutely, without a doubt, knew that I was marrying the right person. Our love is comforting, soothing, supportive, and natural. I never worry or wonder what my husband is feeling or thinking. I know with 100% certainty that he loves me.

It was still dark out. I took a shower, got dressed, and marvelled that the next time I saw the house, I would be married. At exactly 5:30 a.m., there was a knock at the door - it was my best friend, Susan. We were beyond excited to see each other. She gave me an awesome gift (I think of her every time I see it) of towels and a green tote.

She marveled at how calm I was.

We drove to my aunt and uncle's house, where, to my surprise, my other two bridesmaids were already there. The two Jens had begun talking and were having a great time with each other.

Much to my other surprise, my aunt had put out a lavish breakfast spread of pastries, fruit, and juice. I was touched. She was such a thoughtful woman.

At 6:00 a.m., my uncle drove Susan and I down to the hairdressers near the church. The plan was for Susan and I to get our hair done and to call him when we were nearly done - he would bring Jen and Jen down to have their hair done and then we would all go back to get dressed.

It was kind of odd - although there were two women in the shop, only one would do our hair. The other had some issue over whether or not she would get a tip and just sat there. She refused to touch our hair. The first girl kept insisting that she would share the tip, and I even offered to pay each of them separately. She agreed, but then would not start on Susan's hair. Very, very odd.

My hair took about 45 minutes. It was the coolest do I have ever had. The whole time, Sus and I talked about old times and laughed and laughed and laughed. By the time the girl started on Sus' hair, it was nearing 8:00. We had only an hour to get the other two girls' hair done and get dressed.

Time for Plan B.

The girls came down with their dresses and began their hair styles while Susan was being finished up. The other woman, realizing there were now four of us who needed our hair done, agreed to finally help. The plan was that they would get dressed after their hair was done and we would pick them up there.

Sus and I hoofed it back to my aunt's house. When we got there, our limo (supershuttle) had just arrived. Officially late by our schedule, Sus and I had 15 minutes to get dressed and put makeup on.

Now, those of you who knew Sus and I as teenagers have no doubt we could do this. We are the same two who would sleep until 10 minutes before finals, get up, have breakfast and a shower, and make it to class on time.

Finally, we left the house, boarded our coach, and headed to pick up the other girls. Of course, they weren't ready.

I forgot to mention the cards. Sus and I have a sordid history of sending each other weird greeting cards. All through high school and college, whenever something important was coming up or one of us was away, we knew we could count on a greeting card. They were always funny. I never knew what to expect (and, so, always opened them in private.) One time, she sent me a congrats on the baby card - in my freshman year in college. Wherever I was at the moment, though, I laughed.

For my wedding, Sus purchased a stack of greeting cards. Whenever I needed a laugh, she handed one to me. It was awesome. They were all funny, but what was more awesome was that in that simple gesture, she reminded me of the love she and I share.

So, as we stepped onto the supershuttle, Susan handed me a card.

Finally, at 10:00 a.m., the girls' hair was done and they stepped into the shuttle. We were 10 minutes from the church. I pulled out my cell phone to call my husband. After all, why wouldn't he be answering on his wedding day? LOL!!

The supershuttle arrived and we were whisked up the stairs of the church. My nylons were falling down and so was my garter. (TMI, I know, but its a really important detail if you're me. Man, I was sooooo uncomfortable.) My stepmother was aghast when I pulled them up, right there in the foyer. Yeah, probably not one of my classier moments - but the doors to the church were shut, at least!

Us girls quickly put our purses away and then lined up. The church had a coordinator who was standing there ready to open and shut the doors. I heard "Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring" start from our dear friend, Lisa, the organist. I saw my girls, who represented all the years of my life and the joy and support of friendship, walking in front of me.

And then it was our turn. My dad and I. To the end of my days, I will remember this special moment, this special walk I shared with my dad. We've had many fine moments, but nothing can be quite as joyful as the moment your dad walks you down the aisle. Its hard to explain, but, its at that moment that I realized what I was gaining. I was gaining a man who would respect me, love me, honor me, and cherish me - just as my dad had all the days of my life.

The doors opened and we stepped through. I still remember the sound of the pews as all the guests spun around to catch a glimpse of the bride. I remember hearing the sound of flash cameras going off and seeing the distinct glares and glows. Most of all, I remember catching the first glimpse of my husband-to-be, and knowing that I had someone who would accept my heart for the rest of my life.

It was then that I leaned into my dad, feeling his warmth as I had so many times as a child. It was comforting and loving. I whispered in his ear.

"Dad, at this pace, we'll never make the buffet."

And then in the next moment, I realized I had forgotten to bring the prayer that my husband and I were supposed to read in the service. I contemplated turning back, but realized that probably would not look right.

From that moment on, the service took on a perfectly-imperfect state. My father gave me away, at which time, I kissed my husband (hey, I hadn't seen him in days! I was excited to see him!) and then muttered "Oh, I'm so sorry! I wasn't supposed to do that!"

Then I immediately leaned over and told the priest, "Father, father, I forgot the prayer!"

He was so gracious and just nodded his head. With a big grin.

I couldn't find the right hand to put the ring on. Then I had trouble remembering which finger. I actually argued with my husband. Until I realized I was wrong. Somehow, it was still his fault, though.

And then, the priest pronounced us husband and wife. We may now kiss.

Its been a glorious 4 years. We have 2 souveniers to remind us of our love for each other. Oh, and let's not forget our splendifourous anniversaries - the first at Ikea, was the best.

So, Carl, I just have to say - you are the superstar of my heart. I love you and everything you do and are to me. You are the best husband, father, and friend to our family.

Here's to 4 more years (and no, not like Bush years - real years.)

Timing

2006-08-02T09:26:00.000-07:00

It was a warm summer night, about 3 weeks before school was set to start. Alexis and I were at her house, on one of my rare evening's off from work, and we were bored. We wanted an adventure. Something to talk about during the long school year.

Now, there's a thing you should know about Alexis. I was a bad influence on her - sort of. We never got into any trouble, mind you, but the Alexis before we were friends and the Alexis she grew into are two different stories.

When I met Alexis, she was a strict vegetarian. She listened to her parents, never lied, and stayed home on school nights. She dressed conservatively, and not only did not think about sex before marriage, did not want to date before marriage. (Not sure how that was going to work....). Alexis was the top of her class, got a 1580 on her SATs and was a devout feminist. Everything Alexis did, she did to perfection.

But, she was lonely. Her life was safe, but far from fun. And then we became friends.

I liked Alexis. She was extremely kind. She was funny and thoughtful. She placed a high value on her friends. Most of all, when hanging out with Alexis and her crew, you could just be yourself. There was no judgment, no peer pressure, no concern of whether or not you were popular. Fun nights were spent at costume parties or bowling or watching Gone With the Wind.

On that bored summer night, Alexis and I had done all that - we'd watched movies, ate popcorn, discussed boys. But the warm summer nights were calling to us. So, we quietly slipped out of her house, into her car, and headed for adventure.

The first place we went was Pier 39. We walked around the closed pier, hoping to catch a ride on the carousel. It was just closing, but the guy in charge decided he'd like hanging out with two, young teen girls, and let us go around once, for free.

After that, we bid adieu to the Pier guy, and headed out for more adventure.

As usual, I was in love. His name was Thad, and to this day, I think he was one of the most beautiful boys I have seen. He was tall, with smooth skin, and dark hair. He dressed uber-preppy and had the best sense of humor. He was what had drawn me to Alexis' group in the first place. A chance to meet Thad. (I know, a little self-centered of me, eh?)

So, as we drove around, Alexis and I talked about Thad. And Rick. Oh, did I mention that Alexis was in love, too? Alexis had a great thing for Ricardo. He was blond and drove the coolest convertible. All the girls were dying for a ride.

On this evening in particular, Alexis and I stopped at 7-11 for slurpies and a chance to plan the rest of our adventure. We browsed the aisle and stopped, in fits and laughter, when we came to a new kind of cookie - Thaddy Grahams.

And just then, inspiration hit us. We should deliver the Thaddy Grahams to Thad and leave him a little secret admirer note.

While we were at it, though, we should get something for Ricardo - Trix, it was decided.

The purchases made, we drove over to Ricardo's house, first, nervousness increasing as we got closer. I wrote the notes, with my left hand, while Alexis drove. I don't recall what they said - - they were silly little poems - but, we taped them to the boxes. At Ricardo's house, I got out of the car and dashed quietly to his house, leaving the box on the front porch. At Thad's house, Alexis did.

Over the course of the next month or so, Alexis and I left "surprises" every chance we got. One of the more elaborate evenings, we both dressed in black, and drove to Thad's house. We had made a book story about Mr. Smily and how he needed Thad's help in getting his smile back. We left the story with a clue about where the smile was hidden. Then, we made a chalk outline of Mr. Smily on Thad's porch (it was out of masking tape, actually). Underneath the porch, we hid that day's present.

It was fun and creative. We had a blast as we came up with more and more elaborate schemes. Each time, we used a theme. We also used the same colors each time - Purple for Ricardo and Blue for Thad. At school, Alexis and I wore purple and blue laces in our tennis shoes. Alexis often wore purple or blue tops. It was exciting to be right there in front of them, flaunting our handi-work and have them not have a clue.

Not that we didn't get feedback from them. Alexis was Thad's confidante. He would tell her all about stuff that was going on in his life - including the mysterious gifts he was getting on his porch. He didn't know what to make of it - thought it was funny and clever, and enjoyed the attention. His mother, of course, was over the moon that some girl would go to such efforts for her son. She told Alexis that if Thad wouldn't date her, she would. LOL!!

After the first month of school, I was finally ready to reveal my crush to Thad. There was a school dance coming up and I was completely ready to confess. My friends built me up and told me that it would be o.k. They even agreed to attend the dance with me.

That evening, I must have changed outfits 16 times. I borrowed clothes from my friend, Carrie, who also did my hair and make up. I was feeling confident and looking as good as I could.

The dance started off right on time. My friends and I headed out to the middle courtyard, and stood around, talking and laughing. There was no sign of Thad. It was a cold evening and it got dark quite quickly. After nighttime, there was a DJ in the middle courtyard and two big screens showing videos and other images in sync with the music.

About an hour after the dance started, when I was about to give up hope, Thad showed up. He was in a new outfit and incredibly handsome. My heart was pounding - I was so excited and could not wait to dance with him. The DJ was playing an MC Hammer song (I think!) and then moved into a Depeche Mode song. One fast song after another. I waited for my chance.

At last, it was just about time for me to ask Thad to dance. I went to the restroom to freshen up and came out to my friends. I asked "Where's Thad?" The looks on their faces clued me in - something was not quite right. My stomach sank.

Just like something out of a John Hughes film, I slowly turned around. It seemed as if the world had stopped rotating. "I Miss You" was being played - a slow tune about lost loves. And then I spotted him. About 15 feet from where we stood, Thad was wrapped up in the arms of a sophomore on my soccer team - Jordan. She was blond and cute, and I never knew they even knew each other.

I was crushed.

I ran back to the back of the theater. I was on stage crew and had a key - and I shut the door behind me. It was mostly dark, but private back there. I cried and cried and cried. I played soccer with a roll of masking tape. I tried to sit the whole dance out - even if I wanted to, I was too embarassed to go back to the dance with my eyes red and my make-up tear streaked.

By the time we revealed the mystery of the Thaddy Grahams to Thad and Ricardo, I had moved on. I was dating my brother's friend and, although Thad was single, I had distanced myself from my feelings for him. Still, it was fun for them to know that we had done all of that for them and to hear their feelings about it. They appreciated it and had a good time trying to figure out who was doing it - - oh, and Ricardo and Thad became friends as a result.

I don't think I have ever had as much fun since the summer of purple and blue. It was the adventure we were looking for on those warm summer nights.

Alexis has moved into ministry somewhere in Jackson, Mississippi. I used to get long letters and news letters from her. I stopped getting them sometime around the time I came home from college.

Ricardo went off to college, and I have never heard from him since.

Thad went to Harvard, I believe.

As for me, well, most of you know my story. I met the love of my life and we married - 4 years ago tomorrow. He has just enough Thad, just enough purple and blue, and everything else I ever thought I ever wanted in him.

Still, I can't help but wonder if, back in that summer, I had only asked Thad to dance sooner or if I had told him about the Thaddy Grahams sooner, whether or not it would have been me, and not Jordan, in his arms.

Timing is everything.

Cruelty

2006-08-01T16:52:00.000-07:00

I was saddened today to learn of the death of nearly 50,000 dogs at the hands of the Chinese government. It is horrific to me how any person can maim or kill an animal without any remorse. Animals are innocent and pure and loving and loyal.

Of course, the Chinese have a different view.

Rabies was inflicted on their community, causing them to fear a widespread outbreak and further deaths - deaths of plague proportions. In a panic, the Chinese government's short-sighted approach to solving this problem was to publicly beat every dog they could find to death - some in front of their owners. Some owners were paid as much as 50 cents to kill their own dogs. Others were treated to dogs being ripped from their arms and beaten in front of them.

The world is a complicated and tragic place right now. We have all had hurt inflicted on us and we are all guilty of inflicting hurt on others. I don't like to think of myself this way, but I am sure that, to someone out there, I have ripped a puppy out of their arms.

Ask any person who has hurt them in their life, and they will have an answer. Ask anyone whom they have hurt in their lives, and it might take a little while longer.

To live in peace with each other, we have to be honest. We have to know who we've hurt and we have to say we are genuinely sorry. We have to accept the request of forgiveness from another.

To those who I have hurt in my lifetime, I am truly sorry. My intentions in life are never to hurt another. Sometimes, I am clouded by my own hurt and my own truth and I do not see the effect I have on others. I am deeply sorry if my actions hurt or offended you.

I don't want to perpetuate a world that kills innocent animals in a selfish attempt to solve a problem they created. I will not participate. I cannot condone this type of cruelty and denounce it here.

I am taking a stand for those who could not, even if it is just in my heart.

The image of those poor, innocent animals being ripped from their circle of love and bludgeoned to death is horrific and stays with me.

Will you join me in peace?

Christopher Caen article link

2006-07-28T16:45:00.000-07:00

http://www.examiner.com/a-92250~Christopher_Caen__You_know_you_re_really_a_San_Franciscan_when___.html

Friday bits and bites

2006-07-28T13:23:00.000-07:00

Hi all- Re-capping a few items:

Stressful week - seems I may have an ulcer. Not suprising, really, with all that's going on with the neighbors. Received complaint from landlord that we allow our children and our dog to run wild all day and night. This from same neighbor who said just the other day: "No, you guys are just fine, I have no complaints." This from the same neighbor who, when we had days where we KNEW our kids were unusually loud, would say: "oh, no, you're just fine. It doesn't bother us at all."

So, we've been trying to work with them. Last night, they "summoned" us with an official-sounding letter (man, they have a lot to learn about legalese), which, apart from several, um, for nicer terms, inaccuracies, finally spelled out the complaints: we exist in their living space. Seriously, the complaints were: "loud walking" "someone moving on the bed" "noises of loud chores" (um, how do you do chores any loudly than they are done and are they sure they were talking about us??) - etc, etc, etc.

The most bizarre complaint was that we did chores at 4:30 a.m. Anyone who knows me knows that to be completely false. If the sun ain't up, neither am I. Unless I was sleep-cleaning again.

I gotta tell you, folks - - if you are going to make unreasonable requests of people and they actually agree to try and meet those requests - don't get all uppity and escalate the situation without another word to the people. Sheesh - we never heard another word from these people, other than "yes, you're doing just fine."

I also gotta tell you, not as a lawyer, but as a prospective juror. Exaggeration = lying. Yeah. If you can't stick to the facts without embellishing, then its best to not put it in writing. One kink in your credibility picture can sink you.

Also, don't make your true desire - why you are harassing and using other people - so obvious. This statement: "We have spoken to the landlord... we don't feel its fair that we have to live with these conditions and pay FULL RENT..." really show what you are after. Me smart sumtymz. Sumtymz I add to and to and get for. And, no, superstar is not the one who capitalized FULL RENT the first time - they did.

I am good at playing the tit for tat game. Especially when you have eagerly invited me to participate and have ignored my request that we refrain from doing so.

Oh, and another thing: Don't mess with a mama lioness. You can pretty much harass the nicest person to death about themselves - but mess with their children? Oh, no, you will never see it coming.

And one last thing. If you are going to go all "legal" on a lawyer, you better know what you are talking about. One thing a lawyer knows is their rights and how to exercise them. I also know restraint. But, see tit for tat. If you have a paper trail, I have to have a paper trail. Its how the game is played.

Other news? Apparently, my blog was featured in a Christopher Caen article. He took offense at my calling his father, Herb Caen, a non-native. I stand corrected, Christopher. Conception at the world's fair totally counts in my book.

Legality or Morality - Which do You Choose?

2006-07-27T12:05:00.000-07:00

I know I promised the story of the purple and blue shoelaces, but that will have to wait. Superstar has an important public announcement.

I was watching the most excellent program on FX last night: 30 days. If you haven't seen it, you should grab some popcorn and settle in to watch it some night. 30 days is a show by the same documentarian who did the expose on eating fast food - Supersize Me. (which, Superstar has never seen but thinks she may watch to start her new doctor-ordered diet.)

Anyhow, the premise behind 30 days is that he takes people with strong opinions on a subject and has them live their opinion for 30 straight days. Essentially, its a "walk in the life." The first show I ever saw was about living in poverty. The show's creator, and his fiance, moved, for 30 days, to skid row. They left all of their credit cards, cash; etc. - so they could feel what it was really like to be impoverished.

The first night, they slept in a flea bag motel. They had nothing to eat. The next day, they went out to find jobs. The man got a job as a day laborer - digging ditches, if I recall. The woman managed to "score" a job in a coffee shop. Both jobs made minimum wage. The man had to take on a second job.

The next day, they managed to rent a tiny studio apartment. They were excited, though, because, with the amount they were making, they could afford the apartment and groceries! Wahoo. (Boy, do I know that feeling). Their first night, they made beans - in the can, over the stove (they had no pots.)

In fact, things were going well until the guy got injured at work - I think he broke his wrist or something (I don't remember.) He couldn't work and also incurred a large ER bill.

The series is very, very good.

Last night, they had a very excellent look at illegal immigration. They had a man, Frank, who had immigrated from Cuba as a child. His father was able to bring him and his mother legally into the country and they soon became citizens. Frank was vehemently opposed to illegal immigration. He felt that if people come to the country to live, they should become citizens. He said if they do not then we are just allowing our borders to be exploited by people who have no loyalty or sense of responsibility to the country. In fact, Frank was part of the controversial group, The Minutemen, who patrol the borders and call border patrol when they see people crossing illegally.

For 30 days, Frank lived with the Deguzmans, a family of illegal immigrants, struggling to make it in East LA. The family lived in a one bedroom apartment. There were 5 kids and 2 adults. Many of them had to sleep on the floor. The father earned $15,000 a year doing two jobs: apartment manager and day laborer. Because he was illegal and had no work documentation, people paid him pennies on the dollar, under the table. (Note: 2 of the kids were born after the family fled to LA and are US Citizens)

The daughter, Armidia, was about to graduate from high school. She earned a 3.8 gpa, was a champion golfer, and dreamed of going to Princeton on a Fulbright scholarship.

For the first 15 or so days, Frank and Armidia argued constantly as they both struggled to "convince" the other why their position was correct. Frank sympathized with Armidia but said that if she truly wanted the opportunities she sought, she should get them legally. He said that nothing justified breaking the laws of a country.

I understood Frank's position. It is a sad reality, but our country can only do so much to assist the citizens of the world. Somewhere, we've got to draw the line. I'm glad I don't have to draw it, though.

Frank's convictions were so strong, he refused to light a candle at a rally for an immigration bill and could not support the bill, which would allow a period of amnesty for families like the Deguzmans to become citizens. He thought that the illegal immigrants protesting for "rights" was ridiculous - he said rights are earned and belonged only to the citizens of our country.

A pivotal moment in the whole show was when Frank was sent to Mexico to stay with Mr. Deguzman's brother. Frank arrived and walked into the "home" of the brother - Mario - and was stunned. The walls and floors were so completely filthy, they looked like they were made of dirt. There was no running water. The roof had holes in it. Part of a wall was missing. There were four families that slept in this house - with the cockroaches and other vermin the young children were willing to point out. The cockroaches were about the size of your foot. It was absolutely disgusting.

Mario explained why his brother left for the U.S. At the time, he had three small children and a wife. The economics of his region had taken a downturn and there were absolutely no jobs to be found. Without work, he could not feed his family. The poor became poorer.

Mario then showed Frank where his brother had lived. I guess you could call it a house. It was, essentially, three walls. No roof, no fourth wall - even the door was only half a door. The floor was dirt and weeds. The house, again, had no running water - they rigged up a hose from the well up-hill. The well, by the way, had no treatments and was not covered in any way - any infected creature that drank from that well infected everyone who used it with various parasites and diseases. It was unsanitary and completely unhealthy. There was also no bathroom. Whenever the kids had to go, they tromped out to the field behind their house. Absolutely no dignity.

In the end, Frank softened on his views. While he still believed illegal immigration was wrong, he also understood the dire circumstances that abject poverty made such choices more than black and white. He agreed to assist the Deguzmans in whatever way he could in becomming citizens. Oh, and Armidia? She did not make it into Princeton. She got into Santa Clara, but, without the Fulbright scholarship, has to wait. For now, she is going to community college and saving any money that she can towards tuition at Santa Clara.

The whole debate reminded me of a friend in college who had once been an illegal immigrant. I worked with both he and his sister. When I heard their story, I was absolutely stunned.

You see, Octavio had lived in Nicaragua as a child. Unbeknownst to him, his older brother was a part of the guerilla army fighting in the revolution. During the day, his brother would go off with a group of "friends" and, at night, he'd come home and have hushed conversations with his parents.

When Octavio was about 8, he began tagging along. At first, he would just bring coffee to the various factions of men meeting up in the fields and hills. After awhile, he would be asked to carry a note between the groups or a package.

One day, as he approached the hill where his brother was, his brother came racing up to him, a panicked look on his face. He told Octavio that he must immediately go home to mom and dad. No questions asked. Somehow, Octavio knew not to argue.

When he arrived home, Octavio's parents were waiting with his little sister, Irella, and two suitcases. Without any explanation, they marched quickly to the train station, buying separate tickets for Irella and Octavio to go in separate directions. Irella was headed to Los Angeles. Octavio was headed to a small city in Southern Nicaragua.

Octavio was told that when he got to his destination, a man would be waiting for him and would take him in. When he got there, he found no one. At the age of 8, Octavio was homeless.

Octavio slept on the streets and made money shining shoes and carrying packages for people. One day he was met by a man who felt sorry for him and offered him a place to stay. He agreed.

A few years passed and the man presented him with a gift: a train ticket to LA and the address of his uncle, where Irella had been sent. He did not know at that time whether or not Irella had made it to LA. She had.

Octavio settled into LA and became a citizen.

Years later, he still does not know what happened to his family. He has never seen his parents or brother again. The last thing he heard was that they had been gunned down by the military. But he has never found any official record of that. He may never know.

So, how do we take care of the citizens within our own borders and yet turn away people who are fleeing such horrific conditions?

Its an issue that's bigger than one solution or one answer.

The Year of Living Nicely

2006-07-26T10:57:00.000-07:00

I was a junior in high school. It was March. I had a mad crush on Fred O. (He was just so cute!) It was the year of teddy grahams and purple and blue shoelaces (this will be tomorrow's post.)

Youth group was in a rut. Most of us had jobs and barely made it to youth group anymore. When we did, we played hard, but still separate. The guys tolerated the girls, but really didn't want us in their game of trashketball. Which was fine. We really wanted to gossip and catch up with each other and not being involved in the game was fine with us.

There were also the younger kids to contend with. Some were nice but shy - we would talk to them if they talked to us, but they were from such different worlds. Some were odd. They always tried to talk to us and we tried to avoid them. Some fit right in. Pretty much like every group.

I was in an odd position. Having just established myself as one of the "cool" kids in the group, I didn't want to jeopardize my position. The kids I had spent most of my life afraid of were now happy to hang out with me. I enjoyed being around them.

At the same time, some of the "odd" kids (especially the older ones) were my friends. I really thought they were cool people, too. In fact, at that time in my life, I had the most diverse friend base one could have - I had an uber-popular best friend (we're still friends to this day), a shy girl whom all the guys loved, completely nerdy but fabulously fun friends, athletes, drama queens, stage crew... I had spent so much time in junior high lonely, I now made friends with everyone. I LOVED people.

I got a call one day from Alexis about youth group. Alexis had come to church one day with me. We were supposed to hang out, but I had to go to church for a youth group function (I think it had something to do with the work camp). So, Alexis and Kellene (another senior) agreed to tag along. It stuck to Alexis. (Kellene came for some time and then dropped out when her social schedule got busy.) Alexis and church were like peanut butter and jelly. The minute you put them together, you knew it was right. (I might add, too, that when Alexis joined, she brought Lisa Quagmire - who was one of the sweetest people I have ever met.)

Alexis slowly worked into the Christian lifestyle. I think she found great comfort in faith. She was such a nice person to start off with - I think she found a genuineness in being Christian that suited her purpose.

I wish I could say the youth group was kind to Alexis. It was not. Alexis was not someone who cared about her appearance (although when she did - woooooaaaahhhh. She was beautiful!) She wore mis-matched clothes, glasses, and did nothing with her hair. She was extremely smart, verbose, and, well, nerdy. To the uber-sophisticated girls in the youth group, Alexis was not someone they valued.

But I did.

So, when she called me and asked if I wanted to go to Mendocino with her that weekend, I immediately said yes. You see, the youth group would be going to Mendocino for work camp that summer. Originally, the four seniors - Alexis, Laura, Dave and Lisa Q. - had all decided that they would take control of the camp and plan the week in such a way that it would be memorable. Unfortunately, at the last minute, Lisa Q. could not go. Alexis suggested I replace her (I'm sure, much to the protest of Laura and Dave....).

We drove up to Mendocino on a Friday afternoon. We talked all the way up there, sang, and really enjoyed each other's company. It was odd being at the camp with just the four of us - I had never been there without a huge group. Let's just say that I was a bit spooked to go to the bathroom by myself at night.

Mendocino Christian Camp was a magical place. I could feel God everywhere. Nestled in a grove of redwood trees, you feel as if everything else has disappeared. It is you, nature, and peace.

The camp is a work-in-progress. Kids from all over the U.S. come for one week and do "projects-" building the camp from the ground up. Our youth group had worked on a new chapel, bath rooms, walkways; etc. For a portion of the year, the camp is offered to various charitable groups to come and convene - kids with disabilities, low income kids; etc. Your contribution is one tiny piece of a large ministry giving the gift of God's love to many.

That weekend, we planned the summer's work camp. Dave, Laura and Alexis had decided that they were tired of the way the youth group usually behaved at work camp. Past work camps were mired by mean-spirited pranks (hanging one member's underwear from the flagpole), and division. We decided to be leaders in creating a "nice" work camp. Instead of playing pranks on each other, we'd pull surprises. People would be told they were valued, not scorned.

I admit, at the end of the weekend, I did not have much faith in our plan.

I was surprised when, at that first youth group meeting back from Mendocino, the girls instantly took to the plan. They had plans upon plans upon plans. Many of the ideas were things I never would have thought of - and they were extremely gracious, loving and giving.

Flashforward to summer.

The first day, we had to drive to Little River - about a 4 hour drive from church. The girls, in an effort to get the week rolling, decorated the boys' van.

We arrived and were surprised when the boys came over and offered to help us with our luggage. Hmmm.... was change happening?

At that evening's devotional, we each drew a name. We were going to have secret prayer buddies - much like Kris Kringles, only we would just do nice things for each other.

That evening, the girls retired early to the cabin. This, in and of itself, was a miracle. One of the girls, the most gossipy one of the bunch, piped up: "It would be really nice if we could surprise the boys with dinner or a party." Huh? Did she really say that? A flurry of planning began.

The next morning, I woke for a busy day of work. When I went to the bathroom, there was a note with my name on it taped to the mirror. I was a little skeptical. I opened it and it was a beautiful drawing with the words "God loves you, your secret prayer partner." I was humbled, honored, and felt so loved. What an awesome way to start the week.

Others had similar notes waiting for them. As we all shared our prayer notes, you could see the joy spreading through the group. They say God works in mysterious ways. That day, I noticed more helping, more talking, more joy and laughter than I had seen in our group in years. It was like God reached in to each of our hearts and took away the barriers that prevented us from seeing the humanity in each of us.

That evening, us girls held our surprise party for the boys. We got permission from the pastor to stay up late. The Lohmanns, who were serving as our chefs that trip (and who we had surprised with a trip out for dinner that night), had gotten us flowers - one for each of the boys. We had snacks and music and were ready for a few hours of fun.

The guys were very surprised. They thought they were going to bed. They were quieting down and ready to turn in. As we each kidnapped our boy, with the flower and an invite to the party. (there is a really funny story in there about the boys mooning Mrs. Lohmann and young Sara Lambsi, but that should really be another day...)

The party itself was fun. We all socialized, ate snacks, even danced some. And then we went to bed. We felt very happy that us girls did something nice for the boys. We thought it ended there.

Not so.

The next evening, we were all turning in for the night - in our bunks, talking, before lights out. There was a tapping at the door and a moment later, in walked Brett.

Brett was one of the older senior boys - he was handsome, talented, and very affable. (I might add that I later discovered he was the author of my secret prayer partner notes.) Many a girl had a crush on him at one time or another.

Brett began that the boys would really like to thank the girls for the party and the nice surprise. Then, he said, they had a surprise of their own. The next morning, we would all be treated to breakfast in bed - and no morning chores. With that, he clapped his hands twice and Kieran, another senior, appeared with a giant menu board. We could not believe it! We each ordered our breakfast, and then talked for the next hour about how stunned we were that the boys had done something so nice for us.

Breakfast never tasted so good. It was brought to us hot, in bed, with flowers on a tray.

The lesson I learned that summer was simple and authored by God. Sometimes it takes more than wishful thinking to effect change. You have to activate change. You have to place heart, mind, soul and faith into the mix. Sometimes just changing your attitude is the key ingredient to changing the attitude of someone else. But, most of all, when you act with love, love is returned to you.

Update from Amber-land

2006-07-25T13:31:00.000-07:00

I just got off the phone with Amber - who is on her lunch break at the first day of the bar exam.

She predicted every single one of the bar exam questions on this morning's essays. We talked yesterday and she told me what she thought it was going to be - - and we were absolutely right. I'd say you can't be more prepared than that.

Still crossing those fingers...

The 75th Annual Bar Exam

2006-07-25T10:25:00.000-07:00

Today marks the first day of the 3-day California bar exam. It is an exam of epic proportions. I know only one who is taking it this time around - my dear study compatriate who missed by a mere 50 points on the last go-round and is currently fighting ovarian cancer.

My bar exam was a pure delight. People think I am ill for saying that, but I really enjoyed it. I spent three days in a hotel while taking the exam - watching junky movies and eating pizza. In the morning, I went to the exam. Knowing that I knew what was on the exam and enjoying the challenge was an awesome feeling. I wasn't scared because I was prepared.

I hit on a strategy early on in my studying that I believe was the difference in my passing the first time: Prepare for the worst. One day, I was absolutely freaking out. I couldn't remember anything, didn't feel prepared, knew I would fail. I kept getting the mortgages questions wrong. I couldn't remember what an equitable servitude was or what elements you needed for contract formation. Worst yet, I was struggling in the subjects I'd done well in in law school.

So, in order to quell the panic, I imagined my worst-case exam. What would I LEAST want to see on the exam? I prepared for that. Imagine how great I felt walking into the exam prepared to tackle my worst subjects. Imagine how I laughed when the very first essay was a topic on my worst-case scenario list. I nailed it.

I talked to Amber yesterday and she is in good spirits. She felt ready. She tackled her demons and is ready to put all of that behind her and walk into the exam. For better or worse, she is ready to take the exam by the horns.

So, superstar asks a tiny favor of you all - when you are conversing with your higher power at some point over the next three days, would you slip in a good word about Amber?

Youth Group Reflections

2006-07-25T09:41:00.000-07:00

I grew up in a church with my best friend. Only, we didn't become best friends because of church - actually, in spite of church.

As I understand it, our mothers were friends. They both became pregnant around the same time - my mom first. She was overjoyed and the church, at first, was too. A baby in the midst seems to always delight some people.

That is, until the impending birth of my best friend was announced. You see, she was not to be an ordinary child. Her parents had been trying and failing for years - and had long since resigned themselves to being childless. They were older and many thought beyond the point in their lives when they would consider having children. But they always desired to have at least one.

Imagine the hoopla and pandemonium when they announced they were, at long last, pregnant. A miracle child to a richly-deserving couple.

My mother, of course, was happy for her friend. But, a small part of her was sad. Sad that her own joy was overshadowed by the impending miracle birth.

We were born a mere 16 days apart. I was late, she was early. We were as different as night and day. My mom likes to say I was 12 pounds - 6 in each thigh. I was her little mac truck.

The miracle, on the other hand, was a slight thing - when people saw us together, it was like a mac truck and a balerina.

Flashforward to junior high.

By the time I was in junior high, I was extremely shy and extremely awkward. I had short hair which made me look like a boy. I alternated between having baby fat one moment, to being a full-grown woman the next. For someone trying to blend into the wallpaper, being the first girl to develop in your group is not a positive thing.

I didn't really know any of the kids in church. I was afraid of them. They seemed to all be so dynamic and funny and well, different from me. I couldn't talk to them - I ended up sounding either too smart and condescending or silly and non-sensical. The more I tried, the worse it got. I was lonely and on the outside. Still, my desire to have friends was stronger than my fear of these kids.

My best friend was a part of this crowd. She seemed to be the leader. She had the nicest clothes, the coolest birthday parties, and it seemed that all of the guys were in love with her. She was pretty and funny and sure of herself.

I remember one year being invited to her sleepover party. She was allowed to invite 6 kids from church and she had a falling out with one of them. She asked me if I wanted to come. I was extremely nervous. I *knew* this was somehow going to backfire on me. Up until the last minute, I thought about changing my mind, getting sick, running away. But something told me to go.

I had a great time. Us girls did all the things you are supposed to do at a slumber party. We watched movies, ate popcorn and brownies, and sat up talking until her parents threatened us short of our lives to go to sleep. The next morning, we played football on her front lawn. When that got old, we played football cheerleaders.

We didn't become instant best friends after that - but, the mystique, at least, was not as great. We knew something about each other. Although we traveled in different circles - our parents no longer socialized - we had learned something about each other.

Flashforward to High School.

My best friend and I were the only ones from our church to go to our high school - except for an older boy who was a sophomore and who we both had a mad crush on. (So mad, we watched his football practices mercilessly until we overheard him telling a friend that he had his own groupies. Yeah, that was embarassing.)

From the moment we entered high school - and found each other as sources of comfort in such a scary new place - we were inseparable. But it wasn't a typical friendship. We knew each other. We knew what the other one was thinking. We wanted to be around each other. We supported each other, laughed, cried, and defended each other. We did not judge each other.

It was interesting how I became involved, at the point my best friend and I became friends, with the other kids in the youth group. Suddenly, they became more interesting. I felt more connected to them. I was not afraid of them - although I still desired their friendship. When my best friend got a job that took her away from church on Sundays, I stayed with the other kids and we formed our own bond. True, it was never what my best friend and I have - but, it was the kind of thing that comforts you in the moment.

My best friend and I now live worlds apart. She is in North Carolina raising her horses and her daughter. I live very close to where we grew up raising my son and daughter. We talk infrequently - our lives are so very busy. When we do, our conversations are frequented by laughter and memories too good to let die.

Its at those moments that I close my eyes and thank God. Sometimes you have to love first to receive love. You have to be willing to let go of the wall and open your arms for someone to come to you. You have to take opportunities presented.

I don't know if I had decided not to go to that slumber party if my best friend and I would have not become friends. I just know that it helped - it helped me see her as a person and appreciate the people I was afraid to be around. It helped me learn to be myself around them. It took away the mystique and uncomfortableness - because now we shared something.

So, here's to friendships born under God.

You Made a Difference to Me

2006-07-24T11:24:00.000-07:00

I learned a powerful lesson this weekend from someone who has been the author of many of my life's powerful lesson: we are all human and all feel inadequate at times.

This weekend, I went to a wonderful reunion of friends I grew up with at my family's church. It was a great time - seeing everyone whose faces seemed frozen in time, and, meeting their children. It was nice that everyone had such open arms. We were all genuinely glad to see each other. Stories were happy and loving - old issues between us have long since fallen away. We have common bonds and grounds which we all struggled through. Sometimes the struggle was hard, sometimes it was fun. But, through it all, was one person holding us all together.

Pastor Dave.

I cannot describe the love and admiration I had/have for this man. Growing up in the church I felt alone. I felt unwelcomed. I felt less than. It seemed that I was always forgotten. If we had a birthday party every month, when it came to be my month, they'd decide it was time to stop doing them. Stuff like that. In high school, the pastor of the church, Dean, could never remember my name. He called me Jennifer alot. I stopped correcting him. Nevermind I was born into and had grown up in the church. The message I got was that I was forgettable and unloveable.

I tried to pretend it didn't matter, but it really, really did.

Pastor Dave got that. He welcomed all of us. He challenged us to be more Christ-like with each other. To be loving and receive love. I still remember one evening at youth group when we came in and found cut-out hearts on the walls of the rec room with our names on them. The devotional was about acceptance and treating each other as we wanted to be treated. We were then to go to each heart - besides our own - and write an adjective to describe that person. We got the hearts back. I did not look at mine until I got home - I dreaded what my peers would have to say about me.

When I read the heart, it was filled with love.

Pastor Dave truly saved me through my teenage years. I valued his opinion - even more than I probably thought I did at the time. He was a "safe" adult. He talked to us in a non-judgmental way. He wasn't afraid of the hard topics like so many of our parents were. He was consistent and loving. Most of all, he showed us that being a Christian IS a struggle, and it was o.k. to not always understand the right choice to make.

Pastor Dave made me feel welcomed by God.

Imagine my surprise last night, feeling this and knowing that many of us in the room felt the same way, when Pastor Dave said, "I'm surprised so many of you remember me." It was another classic Dave moment - here he was, a hero in so many of our eyes, but so humble and human. Why would he think he had any impact on any of us when all he did was be himself?

So, I just wanted to leave with a few words from an appropriate song:

"You made a difference to me
And as far as I can see
If there's one thing I know to be true
I'd (have been) lost if it wasn't for you."

Thanks, Pastor Dave.

Friday Category

2006-07-21T09:49:00.000-07:00

Its Friday, folks, and you know what that means! Its time to play categories.

Today's category:

Why the prosecutors really want to take Barry Bonds down.

Tolerance

2006-07-19T11:20:00.000-07:00

Superstar needs help from all you theologians out there. I am in a quandry. Just to warn you, this post is part vent, but that is just the frustration seeping from me. Really, I need some spiritual guidance.

I have a neighbor. She is insane. I really think she is. The problem is, her insanity is rubbing off on me. Her actions are so incredibly self-centered, rude, demoralizing, inconsiderate, bizarre, harassing, and just down-right evil, that I find myself seething. At first, I tried to be understanding. But, as her complaints got more and more bizarre and her requests equally as odd, I found my tolerance level sliding down, quickly.

My mommy meter is telling me to react.

Her requests and complaints are impacting my relationship with my kids. I fear so much her behavior, that I am overly restrictive on the behavior of my kids while in our apartment. My two year old cannot behave as a two year old in his own home.

I am all for raising my children to be respectful of others, especially in public. I want my children to know how to behave and to be kind and considerate. For this reason, we are constantly reminding my son of his manners - saying please and thank you, not chewing with his mouth full, asking to be excused from the dinner table. These sorts of things.

If I add her litany of complaints, however, in order for my son not to be "impacting" her life, he must: be quiet between the hours of 8-12 and whenever its hot and she happens to want her door open; not run, anywhere, ever, in the apartment complex; never squeal, laugh, giggle, be a child, enjoy himself; etc.

On the flip side, her behavior is free and wild. At 10-12 each night, she arrives home. She stomps up the stairs, talking to herself, her dog, the neighbors - pretty much anyone who is within ear shot. She makes no attempt to quiet herself (despite her repeated requests to others to keep quiet when she is sleeping at noon on a Sunday.) The other night, she went up and down the stairs at least 10 times in an hour - all while I was trying to get the baby to sleep. It was after 10 at night.

When she finally arrives to her destination, she slams her door shut. That is the only way she can insure it is closed. She has never asked the landlord to fix it.

She lies about me to the neighbors. She told them all that I was allowing our dog to defecate in the back yard and not cleaning it up. This is completely untrue.

She told one of the neighbors that I did not like them. Also untrue. She is really the only one I do not like.

She complained about us parking our bikes in the garage, even though every one has their bikes in the garage. The next day, one of our brand new bikes was stolen. I know, it could be a coincidence.

She complains about people parking in the driveway. She leaves early in the morning to take the dog for a walk. Our car was towed one morning from the driveway. The ticket was for 7:00 a.m., and it stated that it was a phoned-in complaint about someone blocking the caller's driveway. Again, could be a coincidence.

So, here is my question, theologians. I have wracked my brain, prayed, and contemplated what I should do in this situation. I get the whole "turning the other cheek" idea. I also know that the scripture says you must continue turning the other cheek, over and over and over. But, if my turning the other cheek and behaving as the scripture would have me behave is impacting others I love, how do I rectify that?

Can I act with Christ in my heart when I deal with her, yet still deal with her? Is it alright to refuse to interact with her?

Help!

What makes a Hero?

2006-07-18T09:55:00.000-07:00

I am sitting here listening to "Golden Dreams" on my CD player. It is a song all about the great heroes of America, and the "golden" spirit of America. Its got superstar pondering. What happened to all our great heroes?

You can point to pretty much any era in American history and you know who the heroes are. Whether they are championing the rights of many or few, women or men, minorities, or all Americans. You know their stories. Franklin Roosevelt's WPA program, Martin Luther King's impassioned speeches beseeching inequality, Nelson Mandela's refusal to submit to an abusive regime, Susan B. Anthony's push for women's equality. These were heroes in their words and actions. They carried their beliefs into the international spotlight and challenged people to think about them.

Who are our heroes today?

Certainly not Bush. He fails to recognize that the world stage even exists, and he certainly isn't playing to any audience but his own.

What does heroism mean? Sacrifice? Strength in convictions? Walking the walk?

Was Jesus Christ a hero?

Superstar knows only one thing, folks. We desperately need a hero to bring the world out of the place it is in.

Ironic that on my cd, these words just came on: "And in the world a heart of darkness, a fire zone."

Your thoughts...

High Anxiety

2006-07-17T10:29:00.000-07:00

I now understand why so many in this profession told me to think hard about my choice to become a lawyer, back before I was in law school. Of course, I was drawn like a moth to a flame, to the pure intoxication of the principle of law. I wanted to help people.

But its not really about all that. Just like any job, but worse. Some jobs you find that there isn't joy in the day-to-day, but you still find personal satisfaction from your participation. Teaching, for example. I understand from my friends who are teachers that the moments they spend actually teaching are pure delight. Its those other moments where they are dealing with parents who believe their children are perfect, kids who've never been taught socially, dwindling budgets, test scores; etc. Its the politics of teaching that ruins teachers.

I have found, for the most part, that it is lawyers who ruin the law. I am one. I so desperately want the truth of that statement to be called into question. But everything I hate about the profession has to do with the people in it, and not the law. And, alas, I cannot practice law without interacting with the people.

Don't get me wrong. I have met a tremendous amount of nice lawyers, ones that I admire and respect. Most of them are just as dissatisfied with the profession as I am. We daydream about making our own path, but, in the end, we are just so beaten down by the negative energy.

Lawyers are mean people. They find and take advantage of weakness. You cannot be kind or it will be used against you. You can only be a shade of honest, and only then, if it suits your purposes. You have to manipulate facts to create truth. You hide what you can justify. You justify what you hide.

And most of all, you sit behind your computer at your desk hyperventilating, hoping the rest of the lawyering world never learns about your inadequacies, because they will use them against you. You practice a persona you don't even like because it is the mask you must wear to survive. You fear someone finding out just how much you don't know. You fear what you don't know. On the other hand, you don't want to know what you don't know.

The only thing of value I have truly learned about the law by being a lawyer is this: Law is a game. There are no rules. There are too many rules. The rules constantly change.

Friday Category

2006-07-14T12:35:00.000-07:00

Weirder things than my dreams

Click on my Link

2006-07-14T12:33:00.000-07:00

Please click on the google adsense link above. It generates much needed income for me! So far, just by myself, I've manage to earn 18 cents.

Thanks, all!

Weird dreams

2006-07-14T11:19:00.000-07:00

We all know I have weird dreams. Never before have I had a series of weird dreams all in one night. But, I did - and they are all somewhat related. Here goes:

In my first dream, I was at work and I got this really hot case. I talked about it with a coworker and she was looking at me quite oddly. So, I finally asked her "What? Why are you so upset?"

Turns out the person being sued was our boss - only it was some weird name I didn't recognize. He apparently went by that name in a quilting chat room, where he was apparently reknowned as some quilting expert.

So, I decide not to take the case. Later that day, I am working in my office and my supervisor comes in. He's a really nice guy in the day-to-day, only, this day, he's dressed like Tommy Lee Jones in Men in Black - - he even has the memory stick.

You guessed it. Not only was I fired, but I was made so I never even remembered I had this job. LOL!!

So, I woke up, changed positions, and went back to sleep. On to weird dream number 2.

I decide to take a cross-country trip. I'm driving and have my map (which I am reading while driving - so unlike me.) It is pouring down buckets and I am the best driver in the world because not even looking at the road, but at the map, in the rain, I manage to not only not hit anyone, but to stay on the road and in my lane.

Anyhow, I come upon this little port town - right on the water it has cruise ships and airplane - 747s, not water craft. Apparently, they are a tourist town. It was a very beautiful town. I find a nice hotel, check in, and about an hour later, there is a knock on my door. Another man in a suit walks in. I have no idea who he is, but, apparently, I do, because I am talking to him.

He asks if I am here on the job. I find myself saying yes. He hands me a folder with one piece of paper and asks if I understand the seriousness of this and how it must be protected. In my head, I'm feeling very Jason Bourne-ish. I take the paper, pull a folder out of a suitcase that has just appeared on my bed, and add it to other papers.

I find myself saying I will get it to him. Who he is, I do not know.

Next thing I know, I'm walking into a cafe and approaching a table. My husband is at the table and I find myself with a strong sense of animal attraction. I must have him right then and there. Of course, I don't - - even in my dreams I have some respect for others.

He gives me the look that drives me wild. I give him one back.

We sneak out to the garage - to a waiting van. I need to give him the papers, which are in the van, but, apparently, I also have to kiss him.

The minute I kiss him, a video camera appears in my face and a news caster is at the side of the van. The reporter wants to know where I have been and what happened to me.

I begin to answer, but see something out of the corner of my eye that is alarming me. 4 men, in black suits, approaching my husband.

I yell. "Shut the door!" He shuts the door of the van and we get ready to flee.

Its then that I realize my kids are not with us. I cannot leave without them. I did this all for them. We race to the house to pick them up - hoping the beat the enemy, whoever they are, from getting there.

Sometime on the drive over, the van turns into a king-size bed, with my husband and I sitting on the edge steering it, and my in-laws resting with their heads on the pillows. In the middle of the bed is my mom and brothers. They are playing madlibs.

We get to the house and I wake up.

Another change of positions, shaking of my head, and I am back to sleep.

We are leaving the house, trying to run from the crowd. A young hispanic woman comes running over to me and says "this way, this way. Its your only shot. We hope you make it!" She points to a dirt path that leads into a corn field. Its covered over and incredibly dense. We could get lost in there for ages. My husband has the baby and my mom has our luggage (cuz whenever you run from the mob, you have to pack a few essentials, I guess.) Its then that I realize I cannot find my son.

That's because there was a shiny playground down the other path. He is over by the slides waiting his turn to go down. I look back. The enemy is right behind us. The hispanic woman is telling them we went the other way - she is pointing them away from where I am, but directly towards my son. If I don't leave now with the family, they will see us on their way past. If I do, though, I will have to leave my son. They may recognize him.

Luckily, I woke up before I had to decide. It was a very Sophie's Choice-esque movie.

Long day

2006-07-11T15:24:00.000-07:00

The one thing I really hate about my job is me. Go with me here. I am responsible for everything - even things I have had no say in or responsibility in doing. Somehow, though, the mere fact that these things happened on a case I am working on - - well, that's my fault.

It would be fine if I only had 20 cases - which is the average for most firms and 2nd year associates. But, I don't. I have almost 50. At one time, I had 77. 20 cases you can micromanage. You can know everything that is in the cases at every moment of the day. 50? You are lucky if you can keep up with deadlines.

So, today, a major error was found in one of my cases - at a crucial time. I admit, it had never even occurred to me to check on this one particular thing. Why would it? It happened well over a year ago - - well before I was the one in charge. It was my boss who made the error - but, I should have caught it in the year since then.

Things just are not going my way today.

It got worse

2006-07-11T09:55:00.000-07:00

The towing and storage and tickets totalled $1013.00. One thousand dollars.

Oh, and the best part? Someone called to complain about the car being parked in the driveway. I can only think of one person who has it out for us who would actually call for a car being parked in our own driveway.

I guess it could get worse

2006-07-11T09:17:00.000-07:00

Superstar is having a stressful life right now. I'm struggling to grasp the meaning in this series of events or to see the end of this tunnel. I guess part of it could be a test to help me remember priorities, but who knows?

My morning started by coming downstairs to find our car being towed. Seems we had one too many parking tickets. Yes, completely our fault. But, crap, the whole reason they were unpaid is, well, because we're broke. One of the tickets I do not believe was even ours - it had a completely different license plate! I pleaded with the officer not to tow our car, but I'm sure you all know the futility in that. I don't know how much it will be, but with towing charges and penalties, I'm sure it won't be pretty.

This comes at the worst possible time. My husband had to have emergency dental surgery 3 weeks ago. It cost a whopping $2000. We managed to convince the dentist to take 1/2 and then put the other 1/2 on a payment plan. What can you do? He was in pain and getting sick, and it had to be done.

Of course, this also comes after 3 medium car repairs (totalling about $500.) Our radiator hose exploded, then the brakes went out, then we needed new tires.

To top it all off, in a mere 9 days, I have to figure out how to pay the remaining $450 for my brother's vacation that I owe to him.

So, superstar fans, I think I will have a fundraiser. Starting this weekend, you will be able to buy "Save Superstar" merchandise on my cafepress web store (which will be up and running by this weekend.)

On top of that, I have signed up for some secret shopping stores - man, I hate doing the cell phone shops, but they pay $10 and don't cost me a thing out of pocket - nothing but time.

And anything I have that's not nailed down is going to EBay.

Uggh, blog error

2006-07-06T09:57:00.000-07:00

I posted this great blog yesterday, only it didn't post and now I'm getting an error message trying to retrieve it. (Sigh). Just so you all know, it was pullitzer brilliant.

So, I think I will start today talking about my favorite subject (no, Will, its actually NOT Disneyworld.) Josh and Nat, my two kids.

They are absolutely the best things in the world. Even if they are going through a trend of not sleeping until 11:00 at night.

Natalie is in love with all things electronic. She's 1, and the world stops when she sees a new gadget or gizmo. She absolutely has to have it. So it was that I found her walking around the apartment (a new skill!) with my cell phone to her ear saying "He-wo?" and the TiVo remote in her other hand, busy pushing buttons. Ahhh, she takes after daddy. Next thing you know, she'll be toddling around with her laptop mumbling about how java script is so out-dated.

Joshua, on the other hand, is in to all-things motorized. Mostly trucks, but he does take a shine to air planes, helicopters, and boats on occassion. In fact, the only way I got him to nap the other day was to turn on Nascar for him. He could only watch it if he agreed to lay down and within minutes, his body told him it was tired. Ahh, a fine example of the spirit being willing...

Joshua's latest thing is being potty trained. I have found this is a lot more laborious, and a lot more fun, than I thought it would be. See, Josh needs motivation. But, he's not like most kids. Most kids you say, hey, sit on the potty and you get ice cream, and they JUMP. Not Josh. He needs a reason - other than ice cream - why sitting on the potty makes sense. After all, he's never needed to sit on the potty before, so why now?

So, Daddy and Mommy have become potty comedians. Yes, toilet humor. I channel my inner- Pauly Shore. His bath toys have all taken a turn at going potty. The toilet seat has even spoken to him. And last night, just to prove to me why he is so loveable, my husband held the potty-revival. (Seriously, I could hear, "I feel the need, the need for PEE!" and "Oh yes, I feel the pee from the top of my head to the tips of my toes, springing forward!" coming out of our bathroom and my son in a fit of giggles.)

I can't say that potty training has been completely effective. We've had two successes, three accidents, and 22 "I'm never going potty again" statements. Clearly, Josh has recognized that he controls his bodily functions no matter how much we coax it out of him.

When he is successful, Josh gets to go to the Noah's Ark cookie jar and pick out a prize. Mostly, there are hot wheels in there - which Josh will do just about anything to get! So, the other night, while trying to get Josh to sleep for the night, he yells from his room:

"Momma, Momma, come quick! I've gotta go to the ark!"

Kids, gotta love them.

Where have you been, superstar?

2006-07-05T13:12:00.000-07:00

Yes, I know that I have let you all down. It seems all that I am capable of, lately.

I have been busy. Not that I could tell you with what. My body tells me I've been busy by the ache in my bones, the constant yawn, and the feeling that I have been saddled with cement boots.

My mind is changing for the better, though. I have not felt more inspired or motivated in years. Which, of course, is probably why I am so tired.

I have a dual plan - work really hard and find a new job. I've decided that I really want to be missed. For awhile, I've been doing what it takes - because I just was not motivated to make my boss another dollar. But, now, I've decided for my own personal integrity, I am going to push hard to get stuff done. When I leave, no matter the murmurings, I want people to see that a whole lot of stuff got done, and I did it all.

So, on the other front, I am (hopefully) close. I don't want to disclose details, because I don't want to jinx it. Besides, you never know who is reading these cyber diaries.

I've also begun a crusade to keep our house tidier. Those of you who know us know what a fantastic feat that is. There are four of us (five, if you count the dog) - and only two of us are of "cleaning age." We have about 15 people's worth of things in an apartment meant for 2. So, we're crowded, cluttered, cramped, and disgusted with our living situation. There is stuff everywhere. It hasn't got a home. It just "lives" in our place.

That is project # 2.

The third project - well, I have begun to write again. Call it boredom with summer programming, or a lack of quality things to stare at on the boob tube (even with 900 channels and TiVo.) - I feel ready to write again. I'm not sure when I and writing had a falling out, but I just stopped one day. I've missed my old friend and missed my dream of seeing my words in the hands of children everywhere.

That is project # 3.

Oh, and I have never forgotten project # 4 - Win the Lotto.

I'm it

2006-06-26T10:20:00.000-07:00

You'll have to forgive me, I'm a bit under the weather (and my mind has been playing all sorts of odd tricks on me) with bad back pain. Hoping for a doctor's appointment today...

Also had a run-in with NFH - neighbor from hell - last night. She asked me to please stop dumping trash down the trash chute because she was trying to read (with her front door open!) and it was disturbing her. So, now, along with not walking by her window, airing out my apartment on a hot day, talking, and pretty much existing, I am not allowed to clean. Fuggetaboutit. I said, "huh-huh" and shut the door. To which my mom said, "She's a f-ing insane lunatic." LOL!! Gotta love mom.

So, I've been tagged by Icon. Here are my responses to his tagging:

Four Jobs I've Had.

1. I was a jack-of-all restaurant trades when I was in high school. I spent time as a waitress, dishwasher, salad girl.... you name it. The only thing I didn't do was cook, and that was probably a good thing. It was one of the best jobs I have ever had. I learned a valuable lesson - the more versatile you are in the workplace, the more you will be able to work. If your position is filled but you can fill someone else's position.... you will always have a shift to work.

2. In college, I was a resident assistant. It forced me out of my comfort zone to make friends and talk to people. I still have those friends - we talk all the time, even though we're mostly married with kids and on our own careers. For 3 years of my life, they were my family.

3. Paralegal/clerk: Now that I am a lawyer, I recognize how valuable the work I did as a paralegal and also how cushy. I got to do the same work I am doing now without the responsibility and I got to go home at night. Of course, my earning potential is better now.... but, at what price?

4. Lawyer: I have a love-hate relationship with my career. I love the potential opportunities my career gives me, but I am not yet in a place where I can act upon those potentials. Not sure if I can hang on long enough to make this career live up to its potential.

Four Movies I Could Watch Again and Again

1. Dirty Dancing (Yeah, even after all these years, I LOVE that movie!)
2. Grease
3. Cinderella Man - I hate boxing and Russell Crowe, but I LOVE this movie. I just watched it again this weekend on HBO.
4. The Amazing Mole (hey, Will, can we watch it on Saturday?)

Four Places I've Lived

1. San Francisco, CA
2. Long Beach, CA
3. Pacifica, CA

That's it.

Four TV Shows I Love to Watch

I'll admit it - I am a reality show junkie. I just LOVE reality t.v.

1. The Amazing Race
2. Road Rules (the older shows)
3. Made (another MTV classic)
4. Right now - - Hell's Kitchen.

Four Places I've Been on Holiday

1. London
2. Victoria, B.C.
3. Orlando, FL
4. Munich

Four Websites I Visit Regularly

1. Mouseplanet - mousepad
2. www.iconnoone.blogspot.com
3. www.bipolarroadtrip.blogspot.com
4. www.thebaddate.blogspot.com

Four Favorite Foods

1. Ice cream
2. pizza
3. sub center - super turkey with cheese
4. cheese burgers

Four Places I'd Rather Be

1. Disneyland/Walt Disney World
2. A Cruise Ship
3. Europe
4. At the lotto office with the winning powerball ticket.

Four Songs Wedding Reception D.J.'s Will Refuse To Play

1. Love Hurts
2. I Saw Red
3. Bohemian Rhapsody
4. Anything featuring Barney

Four People to Tag

1. Carl, but he doesn't believe in blogging
2. Anyone reading this who has a blog that hasn't already been tagged

Share some ideas

2006-06-22T11:59:00.000-07:00

Well, as most young families starting out, we have been hit with a temporary financial set back... Ours came in the form of emergency dental surgery and brake repairs - all in the same week we had to replace our radiator hose (it exploded on a road trip) and alternator belt. Its going to be a tight one, folks...

So, what are some ideas for saving money? Here is what I have come up with:

1. Leave the credit cards at home - - makes you think twice before buying something if you'll have to go home and get the credit card first.

2. Ebay it. We have so much crud in our house - - its going to be someone else's crud soon!

3. Stock the pantry in times of plenty. It drives my hubby nuts, but when we are flush, I tend to stock the pantry for times just like this. When I see a good sale of non-perishables at the store, I grab a few extra and put it in the pantry. Then, when you're lean, you have food to work with. Sure, you still gotta buy milk, eggs, fruits and veggies (and, in our case, diapers), but, at least you won't starve.

4. Make it stretch. Leftovers can be made into entirely new meals if you plan ahead. Chicken one night can be chicken stew or soup or tacos or pizza the next.

5. Cut costs where you can. Even remembering to turn off the lights when you leave the room or putting the heater on only after you have put a sweater or blanket and are still cold - these small inconveniences save money.

6. Make a lunch. Bringing lunch saves $5-10 per day. At the end of a work week, that's $25-50.

What are some of your ideas?

Profile of a Bad Neighbor

2006-06-21T13:22:00.000-07:00

This is a venting post, so beware!

I have this neighbor. I call her EN (evil neighbor). EN is one of those people who can't sit idle and let others be - she must always be involved in, creating, or resolving drama. Whatever is happening in the world, she has to be in control of it and disturbing it.

Unfortunately, she lives right next door to Superstar - in a tiny apartment complex that is more like shoeboxes stacked on top of each other than individual homes.

I've lived in these shoeboxes for 6 years now. EN moved in when my son was just walking - so, about 2 years ago. Until then, our community was idylic. We ALL got along. In fact, we often hung out with each other or brought each other brownies, cookies; etc. One thing about our community was that we looked out for each other. I knew my neighbors and they knew me. We helped each other. Yes, occassionally there were squabbles, but they were usually resolved quite quickly and amicably.

I still remember the day EN moved in. I was awoken with a thunder of activity outside my window. It was a warm morning, bright and sunny, and I was getting some much needed rest. All of a sudden, I heard this loud, horrible banging sound. When it didn't stop, I peeked out my window. Numbnuts was lifting furniture into her second story apartment with a rope from the ground floor. Its not as if the furniture was too bulky to make the stairs or to be carried - I'm sure, for EN, it was easier to lift the furniture by pully system (and promptly bang it into the walls and railing for the entire apartment complex - on a Saturday morning at 7:00 a.m.).

It stopped suddenly and I thought that maybe my new neighbor was just clueless. I had no idea how self-centered, egotistical, and inconsiderate she was. I would find out pretty soon.

EN had barely finished placing her last box inside her apartment before she was banging on our door to complain about something. Here I thought she was banging to introduce herself. No, instead, the first of a long litany of complaints was being levied at my door.

"Would you mind not walking your dog so close to my door? It gets my dog barking and that upsets me."

Never mind that I have to pass her door to get out of the building or the fact that my dog wasn't barking. (I shudder to see her with children - this is her dog that she's blaming other people for making behave badly - I wonder what the world would force her children to do!)

The litany of complaints over the past two years has gotten increasingly more self-serving, bizarre, and, at times, downright harassive. Among her complaints:

* We had flowers on our shared deck that were blocking her access to the fire escape. When we moved them, she promptly put furniture and other things on the deck, effectively taking over the entire deck. Not to mention that she would go out there to smoke and leave butts all over the deck - - and, after we complained, instead of finding a new place to smoke, she would just get up and close our deck door.

* We parked our stroller in her vehicle parking space, which she never uses. Other people do, as well. She uses another space that doesn't belong to her (in fact, if we wanted to pay for parking in our building, it would be our space). Somehow, she thinks she gets to control both spaces. She parks her bike in the basement, too, in someone else's spot. But, somehow, we shouldn't be allowed to park our stroller there. And the reason we started parking our stroller there is because she complained when we parked it in another common area - even though others in the building parked there bikes in that area.

* She complains that our dog barks (we know she does), but she'll come up to the window, bang on our door and swear at the dog when she thinks we're not there. Hello, dog not going to like you if you do that.

* She lets her dog run free throughout the complex, leaves her door open like the rest of the apartment complex is her living room, and then gets upset if my dog runs in her apartment, when I am trying to take her out for a walk.

* She yelled at us once because when our bag of trash went down the garbage chute, apparently, it ripped open, spilling diapers into the garage. We had no idea. She didn't tell us what happened, just yelled at us to stop dumping our damn diapers in the trash. Like, where the heck else are we supposed to dispose of them? We would have gone and cleaned them up, if we had known.

* She doesn't like to hear us when we walk by her window, even though that is the only way we can get out of the apartment building. It doesn't matter what time of the day it is - we'd better be quiet. But, she has no problem slamming her door, talking loudly on her phone or to friends, yelling at our dog, or any other thing when she comes home late at night.

* One summer, it was incredibly hot and we had our door open to cool off. It was 2:00 in the afternoon. The baby started crying and I tried to comfort him. She came out of her house like it was on fire screaming at me to shut my damn door. She had all her windows and doors open. She said that she hated to hear any of us in her apartment or to hear our children in her apartment. But, again, she has no qualms about conducting her entire life on our stoop.

Its mostly us that she takes her wrath out on, but we're not alone. She yelled at our neighbors for parking their car with a miniscule hanging over the driveway - - only, it wasn't the driveway that cars come out of. We have a "fake" driveway that looks like a garage but is really just a storage unit. The only reason it would matter if their car was hanging into that driveway was if someone wanted to pull into that driveway to run upstairs for a moment. She was home and doing laundry, no plans to go out. She just felt the need to correct his behavior.

She also yelled at her other next door neighbor for chanting too loudly at 10:00 a.m. one morning. Our neighbor is a Buddhist and she chants every day, twice a day, for about 10 minutes. Its not my favorite thing, but its in the middle of the day and its her religion!!!

I've found signs all over the building - - citations as to various neighbors EN code violations. She's left notes on nearly every neighbor's door.

When she wants something, you hear a compliment. "Oh, your son is getting so cute? Can I borrow an egg?" Its almost in the same breath.

So, not that I can or would do anything, but its still fun to think about - what do you all think would be a good remedy for EN? How can I make EN go away?