08.31.2006

After a particulary trying day at the office, I came home to a box on the kitchen counter, waiting for me. It was just what I needed, a number of prettily wrapped packages, from my Secret Pal




Inside, I found these lovely and thoughtful gifts



Thank you Secret Pal!

08.30.2006

From our trip

This is Girl - my in-law's precocious cat


During a quiet moment, beading



Our very precious great-niece



Clean coal electric plant along the Ohio River



DH



After 110 degrees, 70 degrees on the bike is quite cold

08.29.2006

On top of everything else, we are suddenly very aware that we have the fair this weekend. The 'World Famous Goshen Fair'. All hell has broken loose here. All three children are freaking out about their entries. What with thirteen hour work days,I do not know if I can finish work in enough time to prepare my entries. Instead of sleeping last night, I knit a pair of mittens. A whole pair of mittens in one night. For the fair. Ok, I got two hours of sleep. the kids and I are figuring out, down to the minute, exactly how much time each of us need to bake our entries for each of the three days. It's getting a little nasty in the kitchen. I have come to the realization that I need a second oven - one just isn't enough.

I'm off to work, to try and keep a (ripping my hair out)closing together. And to keep two divorcing people from imploding. With luck, I'll make the mortgage. And that'll be good, because I don't think our fair entries will keep us very warm. In the van down by the river.

08.25.2006

I'm back. Way too early. We had to come back early because there were a couple of client emergencies which had come up and have to be dealt with. Now. So I have a crunchload of work at the office to wade through. And there's a big pile of mail at home with what looks like a couple of boxes, sitting on the table, waiting for me to deal with the clients so I can wade through it. So, it's off to work I go, shivering in the frigid 64 degree weather (after 110 degrees, it is frickin' cold here!) Sob, sob.

Confessions

I habitually check dooce.com and quintessentialmom.wordpress.com/ for updates.
I ate one-sixth of a pint of Ben and Jerry's Dublin Mudslide today.
I drink way too much tea.
I love Mad Russians way too much.
I wake up my kids in the morning by kissing their foreheads and noses gently.
I fall into paroxysms of joy when I smell blooming things as I drive down the highway.
I actually enjoy doing laundry - but hate putting it away.
I suck at cleaning toilets and floorboards.
I often work at home and prefer it so much more than working in the office.
I want fervently to find a job that I love and am good at - so I never have to work in the legal field again. Ever.
I have a twisted sense of humor.
I spend more time reading, thinking or writing about things I want to do than actually doing them.
I fall asleep every time I try to meditate and often when I pray.
I am consumed by deep, heartfelt joy when I hug my children and bury my nose in their hair and squish them.
I write a lot. I draw a lot. My brain is often in some other world. If you see me in public, and I don't say 'hi', it is because I am somewhere else, not because I am blowing you off.
My children are the greatest blessing and gift ever in my life.
I love the feel of the sun on my skin.

08.18.06

Along the Ohio River (damn, she's heavy and soooo fast)



A really big bug that didn't hit our faces, but was still twitching . . .



Somewhere in the backwoods of Arkansas . . .

08.17.2006

Hey! I just have to blurt out that DH and I been married 21 years today! That means our marriage is old enough to legally get drunk. In the immortal words of Stewie, "That's funny. To me." (Family Guy)

So that's a big middle finger to all you family members and friends who said we were wrong for each other, too young and definitely shouldn't get married because it won't last. Even if we end up getting divorced next year, I'll still laugh - because my marriage has lasted longer than yours!

08.16.2006

I've spent more than half my life with my husband. And half of that time was spent in the rarified environment of college towns. Places of understanding, freedom of thought and acceptance. Places where one's religion, ethnic or economic background or race did not matter. What you have to offer to the community, who you truly are is all that matters. We are all brothers and sisters, all citizens of the world.

Let me backtrack a little. The first eight years of my life was spent growing up in Southern California, mostly with my mother. My dad wasn't around much before the divorce when I was four, and I saw him two or three times after that. Granted, my mother was nuts, but she was also neither bigoted or racist. While there were many Mexicans, Native Americans, Asians and Indians in southern California in the late 60's and early 70's, I noticed no differences between myself and them. My mother was a little ahead of of her time, I guess. We ate the foods of many cultures and wore the clothing of those as well. I used to get tanned so dark as a child that my mother's friends would laughingly call me a little Mexican or little Indian. I took this as a compliment.(Later, as a teenager, I felt terribly deprived that I had never had Wonder bread, Skippy peanut butter, had my hair cut in a bob or wore those 'charming' polyester outfits that the other girls wore. I resented that I wasn't raised 'white bread and mayonnaise).

All this changed when I turned 8 and was sent to live halfway across the country with my grandmother. A lovely, cultured woman, my grandmother was one of the most virulent racists I have ever met. I saw black people for the very first time when I came to Illinois. My grandmother had very specific, very hateful opinions about blacks and jews. She did not think much of Mexicans, Asians or Indians, either. Her teachings of exclusivity and superiority extended even to the all-white town we lived in and the all-white private school I was sent to. Being a Mayflower descendant, I was taught that we were genetically and culturally superior to everyone else around. As a naturally shy and quiet child, my genetic superiority did not help me socially - but that is a discussion for some other time. I listened to her, but I don't remember ever taking any of it to heart. It seemed to clash with what I was reading about St. Francis, Ghandi and Buddha, but I had been taught to never question my elders.

When it came time to go to high school, I begged to go the the public high school instead of remaining in private school (mostly because I couldn't bear yet another four years with the same stuffed shirts) and after being granted dispensation, I discovered, naturally, that my grandmother had her head up her butt. In a school just the next town over, nearly as snooty as the town I lived in, there were Haitians, blacks, Iranians, Japanese and jewish kids. Despite my grandmother's propaganda, those kids were no different from me (except that maybe they got to have Wonder bread, watch tv and didn't get locked in their rooms). There were geeks and nerds, artistic types, popular kids and jocks, and color or race had really nothing to do with it. In spite of all my grandmother had tried to beat into my head, the black kids were no more athletically inclined than me, nor were they less smart than me. And, thanks to a great history teacher who showed authentic newsreels, I learned that the holocaust had actually occurred. I shit you not.

And why am I rambling on so? Well, it's this: for most of my life I've actually believed that we humans are all the same - we all love and want to be loved, we're all brothers and sisters living together in this world - even though some of us behave like rabid animals towards each other, sometimes.

So, it surprised me - no it really floored me - when in a certain state down South, this last Monday, I, or rather Dh and I, experienced discrimination. I know, you're thinking 'sure, yeah, right'. To be blown off and shined on because your skin is the wrong color. To have an opportunity, a job dangled in front of you like a carrot - but denied you because - because you're white. It's a mind blower - for sure. I suppose I've been a little naive - thinking that being a good person was all that mattered - only - it's not. I guess there's just some places I'm just not wanted - because of my skin color - and it has nothing to do with who I am or what I have to offer - and I'm just having a hard time with that right now. I mean, I thought our species was so far beyond that. I thought that didn't exist anymore. Wow.

08.06.2006

No knitting post here. I've been on the road. We had to leave earlier than planned as a large front was moving in that would have kept us pinned on the east coast for about a week. So we left last Saturday - I had half an hour to pack(!) (can you imagine, packing in half an hour when you thought you had until Tuesday to go to the store, do laundry and pack? Torture!) We had mostly good weather, although we ran into isolated thunderstorms in Pennsylvania and had to wait it out for about two hours under an overpass in the middle of nowhere. It was fun though, there were eight other bikes under the bridge with us.
The rest of the way has been hot and sunny. I have been drinking enough water and powerade to float a small island. And, in spite of constantly applying superstrong sunscreen, I am turning a deeper shade of brown - well, my face and chest and arms. My legs are still pretty pale - cuz you know - you have to ride in jeans.
It is currently 101 degrees where we are - when we pulled into town on Friday, it was 106 degrees. And I miss knitting, sob, sob. And beading - I was longingly watching my brother-in-law making his rosaries yesterday - he was very nice and let me look through his bead boxes.
Soon, we leave the blast furnace for what the natives colorfully call 'hell'. DH should be quite happy.