Magical Me

In three days I will see the final installment of the Harry Potter movies. This will bring to a close over a decade of adoration and adventure with a beloved book series that has been created into an (almost) equally captivating movie series. Since anyone who knows me is aware of my ability to "geek-out" when it comes to Harry Potter, I've decided to dedicate two posts to this cultural phenomenon. Tonight: the books!

SPOILER ALERT: IF YOU HAVE ANY INTENTION OF READING THE NOVELS (AS YOU SHOULD) I DISCUSS A FEW OF THEM HERE.

As an English teacher, it is no wonder that my heart will always favor the novels. Rowling's work manages to envelop me every time I pour through the pages to experience the tale of the boy wizard. I fell in love with these during college in 2000, and continuously kicked myself for not noticing them sooner. Perhaps the reason they stayed off my radar is the same reason so many (unfortunate) people have yet to run through the barrier at King's Cross Station onto Platform 9 3/4: they have incredibly negative pre-conceived notions about who Harry Potter is.

It is not just young adult fiction. It is not just fantasy fiction. This is actual literature. Rowling manages to lay out the entire Hero's Journey across all seven novels. Archetypes pop up throughout the entire series with Potter being the Scapegoat Hero in the end. The writing advances with each book earning them upper level reading lexiles. This is genius in that the books are meant to grow with the reader. Even as an adult who reads the whole series on a regular basis (at least once a year), I try to get through the first three as quickly as possible because they are a bit juvenile They reflect the life of a 11//12/13-year-old, but by Order of the Phoenix I've escaped back into Harry's world because the much larger themes of humanity, loyalty, friendship, integrity, love, death, etc. are all present and just as meaningful to a 30-year-old as they would be to a 15-year-old reading them for the first time.

As soon as I was hooked, I made it a point to be at every midnight release for books 4-7. I did stay up through the night devouring Rowling's words much to the teasing of some of my friends. I just had to know what happened to Harry! I have a vested interest every time I read because I love the characters and feel their pain, happiness, anger, fear. Harry grows page after page and I remember being a teenager and what that entailed (two points: Harry was born in 1980 which would make him MY age and even though I was never expected to bring the downfall of an evil regime, I still had to make my way from awkward teen to responsible adult like Harry does).

One of the most beautiful aspects about Rowling's writing is her ability to weave the stories across each other. Everything has a purpose. Nothing is superfluous. If she mentions in one book that two characters have birthdays around the same time of the year, it will be important later (it could have been Neville Longbottom and the Sorcerer's Stone). That is also why re-reading them is just as entertaining and awesome as reading them for the first time. In Order of the Phoenix, Petunia makes a reference to Dementors that "that boy" told Lily about. Well naturally the reader is to assume Petunia is speaking about James. It isn't until Deathly Hallows that we learn it is actually Snape! Brilliant!

I know I keep referencing Order of the Phoenix. It's my favorite, and I'm okay knowing that I'm in the minority in that. Here is where Rowling really shows her eloquent grasp on what it means to be human especially a human teen. Harry is arrogant and angry and agitating. He has already saved his own skin multiple times and feels entitled to leadership rolls including being a full fledged member of Dumbledore's "good guys" club. As an adult, I know that Harry still has much to learn about himself and the world (I'm sure my friends in their 40s and 50s would say I still have much to learn about myself and the world). Naturally, I like watching Harry be knocked back a few pegs by not being selected as a Prefect. He may be the "Chosen One," but he's still only 15. (I teach 15-year-olds and wouldn't trust them to take down Voldemort.) He must learn to deal with not being "chosen" for once, and it is difficult for him. Everyone deals with "failure" at some point.

One of my favorite places we are introduced to is St. Mungo's Hospital where witches and wizards are taken care of by Healers when they are ill. I love that we see this side of the magical realm. Even with their abilities, they are still human and flawed. They can still be hurt and die. It also shows the wide range of careers witches and wizards enjoy (this includes all the things going on in the Ministry of Magic which we also get to know in book 5). They are people with 9 to 5 jobs and families to feed. In doing this, Rowling only makes her world and the characters within in it so much more believable. Perhaps the most poignant event is Neville visiting his parents. This gives him a dimension we have yet to see, and we understand a little more about the pressure his Gran places upon him to become the great warrior for good his parents were.

Order's greatest antagonist is not Voldemort this time, but rather a toad faced witch: Dolores Umbridge. She is the personification of all that is wrong with bureaucracy and the education system. As a teacher in a system that I feel is sometimes beyond help, Umbridge's declaration that passing tests is what school is all about solidifies my distaste and hatred for her and those/the system like her. She's the worst kind of evil because she truly believes she is doing what is right and has the powers in control supporting her!

Then there's the death of Sirius Black. He's the best link to Harry's past since he is Harry's godfather and James' best friend. My hopes where set on Harry and Sirius being a family when all was said and done. For three novels Rowling had me believe in it. It's just so upsetting I'm not even sure I can even continue writing about this...

All the books are timeless and the bottom line is these books are so much more than paper and ink! One of my dear friends loathes to read the written word, but she managed to read this entire series. I think that says a lot. I cannot wait until my son is old enough for me to begin reading to him the tale of the boy who lived!

Thicker Than Water

I love this song by the Laurie Berkner Band. It's a nice sentiment, isn't it? "If you're in my heart, you're in my family..." Yet I've learned that it is so much more complicated than that. I wish it were as simple as choosing who to keep in my heart therefore creating my family. That would make it incredibly easy to surround myself with "yes" relatives. Never again would I have to listen to a point-of-view that didn't coincide with my own!

Fortunately, God knows better than I and saw fit to place me in a family that is going to do what is best for me regardless of what I want to hear, see, or do. Actually, they have saved me from making a few HUGE mistakes in my life while also teaching me to step back and really look at a situation before I allow my hopeless romantic tendencies to shoot me in ridiculous directions. I can't really complain when I look at my life now and see how great it truly is. Even though it was key I make some minor mistakes while growing, saving me from the negative life changing ones is an important job for family. In the end I know that I learn from ALL members of my family whether or not I am in the mood to keep them in my heart.

If I didn't already make it clear in earlier posts, my husband's grandmother "gave" us a set of dishes that I didn't want or need. By gave I mean she conned us into paying $100 for them to get them off her hands. This angered me greatly and when they arrived it took everything in me not to kick the UPS boxes down the street. Deep down I know that marrying my husband meant the joining of our families, and if I expect him to respect my family, I should show his the same courtesy. (People can argue with me all they want, but I believe that you marry more than that one person. It's a package deal, so if the future in-laws are pains in the ass before the wedding it is probably wise NOT to get married.) I was due for Reconciliation anyway (I go once a month), so I figured I should ask for some help in handling the anger I felt towards the grandmother-in-law (GIL).

No, the priest did not guilt me into keeping the dishes. Actually, he had me laughing so hard I sort of wondered if I could be heard outside the Confessional. My favorite part was when he told me it would have been instantly gratifying to go skeet shooting with the dishes and when GIL asked how the dishes were working I could say they were a blast! However, in the long run he knew I would feel bad, since the dishes are really nice, if an occasion arose where the dishes actually came in handy. He reminded me how important it was to look at these situations in various ways and helpful if I could find a way to turn the frustration and anger into humor (he also referenced Everybody Loves Raymond in there somewhere). When I started to think about it, it was $100 that we didn't have to pay on the room where we stayed or on admission to museums or food since hubby's dad paid for pretty much everything. Do I like that I was bamboozled? Of course not, but GIL will be gone some day and those dishes might be a fond memory for my hubby if only for him to shake his head and smile/smirk about his grandmother.

Soooooo....

We have a new set of dishes:

Have Tot Will Travel

There are a few things I came to grips with while traveling with my tiny tot. Naturally, my anxiety level shot through the roof when my hubby proclaimed we were taking a 5 day vacation out of state because that meant we would be on an airplane for hours (I don't do road trips). I remembered the days of being on an airplane with someone's kid screaming or bludgeoning the chair in front of him with a foot (I usually was in said chair as it happened). Then there was all the stuff I didn't want to forget to pack. Small children require a ludicrous amount of luggage especially if they are not potty trained yet. Since we made it back to Texas a happy family, I did a little reflection and decided to offer up some useful tidbits:

1. ALWAYS pack the stroller. Even if you have to check it at the plane. Even if your hubby says it's for lazy parents because two parents should be able to tag team and watch one kid. Even if it will cost a small fee. Just take the damn stroller. There will come a point when your little one will refuse to do any more walking (which-chances are-you already knew as an intelligent mother hence arguing with your hubby about whether or not to take it) and will need to be carried. At 30ish pounds, that little stinker can get heavy.
2. Don't worry about being judged. It finally occurred to me on the way home that the only people judging my parenting skills if my son lost it on the plane would be the ones who have NEVER had kids or been around them. Everyone else either had children my son's age or older children who were once my son's age, so they were more empathic than irritated whenever my son reared his terrifying terrible two head. (So all those people who were hacked during that less than a quarter of the flight my son cried can go do something inappropriately diabolical to themselves. He's two! He's never flown before! He was a perfect angel on the flight home.)
3. Don't pack "baby" items that you can buy at a local store. My son already required a ton of packing, so we didn't pack diapers. We had a few to keep in the carry-on for the traveling, but then hit up the Golden Eagle to buy a package of them once we got to Slippery Rock. That saved suitcase space and weight. If my son was still itty-bitty, I probably would have done the same with formula.
4. Allow others to watch your child. I'm sure somewhere someone will think I was just being lazy. However, whenever we were near family everyone else wanted to play with or watch my son. I would have simply added to the old adage "too many chiefs... ." Therefore, I sat back and let the great-grandparents and grandfather walk around and entertain my son. I felt bad the first 10 minutes but figured "oh well-they wanted to meet him so they can get to know him while I enjoy my vacay."
5. Over book the activities (but make sure to rank them in case you can't do them all). I knew that one day would be a complete family day, but that still left roughly 3 days to entertain my son and myself. I made sure to have a list of places to go and see. It turned out that my list came in handy since we did everything I suggested. The one day we didn't plan anything other than family time turned out to be a disaster.
6. Make sure all activities are appealing to you and your child. We had a blast at the Children's Museum, and my son actually enjoyed the Museums of Natural History and Art (we "rented" a stroller for that one). The zoo was the only iffy activity, but it still worked out okay for us. Nothing we did was entirely for adults or entirely for children (not even the Children's Museum).
7. Be grateful that ketchup is classified as a vegetable. I bet most mothers are concerned about making sure their children eat as balanced a meal as possible. Unfortunately, vacation means eatin' on the fly most of the time or going to restaurants that don't necessarily cater to stuffing kids full of vitamins and minerals. My son lived off of hot dogs, grilled cheese, and cheeseburgers. Most of these didn't come with a side of broccoli, so fries and ketchup it was. I figure that five days of that won't kill him.
8. Be understanding if your hubby gets a little edgy toward the end of the trip because the two of you were sharing one room with your kid. I don't think I need to explain that one any further.

I would like this list to be an even 10, but alas it looks like 8 is where it must stop. However, feel free to comment any other tips or tricks you've learned while going on holiday will the kiddos.

Tomorrow, Tomorrow, I Love You Tomorrow

There's a small part of me that is sad to see Pennsylvania go. It might have something to do with the fact I actually had a pretty good time this week, but mostly I think it is because the low at night has been around 50 and the high each day has only reached 75. As much as I love Texas, I do NOT love the humidity that awaits my return (neither does my hair).

Today's trip took us all to the zoo/aquarium. I don't think my two-year-old is quite ready for a zoo because he seemed more entertained by the playground within the zoo than the actual animals. Hmmm. I'll give it another go in a few weeks with the zoo back home.

This vacation has really caught up with me, so the rest of this post will be a short photo journal of my day; however, I am already compiling a "things I learned while traveling with a two-year-old" entry for tomorrow:

No, no, no Grampy! Don't feed me to the tigers!

Waitin' for the tram and eatin' Cheerios.

 Wow! The animals actually come out during the day at this zoo because it is ungodly hot.

No slide to big for this boy.

Holy cow! I've never seen a sign that designated someone be short.

This has nothing to do with the zoo, but I figured I should document my son's redneck tendencies.

It's a Will-o-saurus

It is safe to say that today was infinitely better than yesterday. I believe the Cosmos had some balancing to do (or maybe I racked up a ton of positive Karma by maintaining civility towards GIL yesterday). Whatever the reason I'm incredibly grateful.

The father-in-law (we'll call him Pops) spent the day with us on our journey to the Carnegie Museums of Natural History and Art. Pops' rule is that the hubby and I pay for NOTHING while he's in town. Done and done. Trust me, I will not argue. Honestly, I think Pops sincerely enjoys having us here. He's really hit it off with my young William (then again, my son is too adorable not to love). He's even treating us to the zoo/aquarium tomorrow.

The recap for today's adventure with ole Carnegie is pretty brief because a museum is a museum. We walked around the dinosaur exhibit in the morning and then walked the few blocks to Primanti Brothers for lunch. Yum-o. If you've never had a Primanti Brothers sandwich, you are an unfortunate soul. You pick a type of sandwich (I'm a pastrami and cheese girl), and that is placed on the bottom piece of bread. Then they proceed to stack french fries and coleslaw on top of that! Heaven on Earth? Why yes it is. I have yet to be able to lift one though. I use a fork:

I know you can't tell, but there is meat and cheese at the bottom. It's a multi-course meal in between two pieces of bread! Genius!

After lunch we strolled through the Art museum, and I was actually impressed with the contemporary section (except for the piece titled "Drain"-it truly is too stupid to even explain-it was just a drain mounted in the wall). The way the museum was set-up made it easy to snake through time periods. I loved it. Pops even bought be a book of Andrey Avinoff's work because I was so mesmerized by it in the exhibit. Avinoff worked mostly with water color and charcoal, and I love it when my sister uses these mediums. I guess that is why I was drawn to him (as always-pun intended):

Iridescence courtesy of the Carnegie Museum of Art

We headed back and after a bit of relaxing (hubby was in desperate need of a nap) joined Pops for dinner. Now, mother-in-law (we'll call her Patience because he has had to put up with GIL for a significant amount of time longer than I) made a simple request that we bring her some Butler BlueSox gear back. The BlueSox are the prospect baseball team for her hometown. Naturally we couldn't just walk into JC Penney and find BlueSox paraphernalia, but hubby found out that the BlueSox would be playing the Slippery Rock Sliders (a few streets over from where we're staying) this evening. Figuring it would be worth a try, we packed up the Bugster and Pops and headed to the game. The bad news is that they were only selling Slider gear, but never fear dear Patience because hubby got the direct number to the BlueSox owner and will be calling him tomorrow. Apparently all the BlueSox stuff is locked in his law office for safe keeping. Hubby fully intends to swing buy and purchase some.

A quick shout-out to my kick ass hubby because he's been so encouraging when dealing with GIL and so accommodating in managing the Bugster AND a model son to a dad he sees every few years or so.

One more day down, and one more day closer to returning home. 

 Left: Hubby loves the triceratops Right: the biggest turtle EVER

Brushing up on fossil finding skills

I know this is incredibly morbid, but this is EXACTLY how they had all the birds set up in the aviary section. Depressing isn't it? They couldn't be flying through the air or at least up right? My husband suggested I find a way to photoshop this poor fellow onto his tummy and put him in ridiculous backgrounds as if he were "planking." The humor helped lift the tone a bit. Also, according to their chart, I would be a Kiwi, hubby would be an Ibis, and Willster would be a Puffin based on our personalities.

This sign is in the parking lot of the ball field. I suppose prospect baseball can be dangerous.

Is It Saturday Yet?

Well it happened. Today my visit to Slippery Rock delivered all the frustration and anger I had been dreading, and thought I might avoid, earlier in the week. See I have never been comfortable around the grandmother-in-law (GIL) because I...well I...I don't like her. Something about her just isn't right (plus she canceled all the hotel reservations for the hubby's dad and aunt and herself for our wedding citing the danger in Hurricane Rita who was suppose to hit the weekend of our wedding meaning she missed her grandson's wedding-BTW I live in Dallas which is no where near the coast-also GIL managed to fly to California to see her daughter but has never been able to make it to Dallas). The last time we visited years ago we stopped in a McDonald's to grab a bite to eat and she thought that would be the prime opportunity to trim her toenails that were bothering her in her socks right there in the middle of the restaurant! Then she had the audacity to complain about a restaurant who didn't have the proper white tea cups. Really?

Why did I expect any less this go around? Honestly I didn't which is why I was so nasty about the trip up here. As mentioned before, part of this trip was to also help ship a set of dishes that the GIL insisted we have. Actually, she was quite put out that we refused to drive up here with a two-year-old in order to take the dishes back with us. In her lunatic state, she wanted to wait till we got here to bother taking them to Staples and shipping them (another issue: she expected us to set aside an entire day for a 30 minute errand). It turns out ole GIL isn't as loony toony as I assumed. We got everything to Staples and once it was all packed up and labeled MY HUSBAND AND I WERE EXPECTED TO PAY FOR THE SHIPPING!!! What the hell?! Are you effing kidding me? I DON'T NEED THE DAMN DISHES AND WAS ONLY BEING POLITE IN AGREEING TO GO ALONG FOR THE SHIPPING EXPEDITION. $100 was spent on a set of dishes we'll never use and don't have room for. I was livid! The manipulative crone got us to pay to take those stupid things off her hands! Even if I had liked the dishes and contemplated keeping/using them, I sure as hell don't want them now!

Naturally that put me in a wretched mood. I figured whatever GIL had planned for the rest of the afternoon might take my mind off of it. NOPE. She expected us to kill 3 1/2 hours between Staples and dinner (my son missed his nap today because of her stupid plan) just sitting in the "mall" and letting Will play in the indoor playground. Ah! We could have let Will nap and then met up with them to go to Staples, and I wouldn't have been bored out of my mind. Obviously that did not improve my temper. I hoped it wouldn't get worse, oh but it did.

We got to the restaurant for dinner (I actually enjoy Eat'nPark) and Will started to whine a bit. Of course he did because he was exhausted. She started sort of whining back, "Oh are you thirsty. Do you want water?" I let her know that he would be fine as soon as the server came around and got him milk. She passively chastised me and said to Will, "You want water don't you. Yes Grammy will get you water." Then she looked at me condescendingly and with a dismissive tone demanded, "We'll have some water." Uh okay psycho. Do I look like I work here or that I'm indentured to you in any way? She actually expected me to go and hunt down a server somewhere in the restaurant and get water for my son. (I must have misheard you because you said Grammy would get the water so get your old ass up and find a server yourself!) When it was clear I was going no where because my son was just fine waiting for the server she began to holler at her husband (a total gem by the way-I like him the same amount as I dislike her) who was slowly making his way to the table, "Get the waitress. Go over there and get her!" No joke. She sat there and did everything but snap her fingers at her husband. Good grief!

I know a lot of this is probably lost in translation since you really have to experience the GIL to know what I mean. I am just grateful that we won't have another all day GIL experience while we're here.

More pics of my cutie-patootie:

 Daddy bought him a Pirates baseball bat and ball. He insisted on holding it in the car.

 Yea for indoor playgrounds at the "mall."

He was so stinkin' pooped that he actually fell asleep while eating dinner. My fellow mom's out there know how frustrating that is to watch your child battle both sleep and hunger.

A Staples Expedition

Day two of our family vacay has ended successfully. As a matter of fact, this might be a shorter entry because I'm exhausted and want to share a bunch of pictures. We spent the morning in Pittsburgh at the Children's Museum and IT WAS AWESOME! It is the coolest museum I've ever been too. I wanted to quit my job and move to Pittsburgh just so I could work there! Actually, it is so beautiful up here and the people are so nice, I gave some consideration to moving here. Then I remembered that it snows A LOT up here in the winter. I don't like snow. No...I HATE SNOW AND COLD. The thought of being snowed in or having to shovel my way out of places makes me cringe. That alone is enough to keep me in Texas (sinus issues and all).

Anyway, the museum was the perfect place for my son to run around and be all hands on with the exhibits. They have an area where kids just make various forms of art. Will painted three pictures, screen printed a picture, made paper, played with magnet art, and messed with playdoh. We killed nearly an hour in that section alone. Then we walked through the rest of the exhibits. The Mr. Roger's neighborhood was pretty cool, but a lot was lost on my son since Mr. Roger's is really my time and not his. However, everything else was beyond exciting and I had to take a few videos because still shots would not do the place justice. My plan is to make a short movie about our trip, so I'll share that when it is ready.

We did our family duties by visiting the grandparents this afternoon. They were disappointed to hear yet again (because he's said it numerous times before) that my hubby has no intentions of becoming a Freemason. They also tried to pawn more "stuff" on us but I stood my ground and might have even offended them. Then the grandmother insisted on Chris going through a small album and identifying all the relatives in it. (At one point she covertly accused me of not paying attention, but only she and Chris could see the album because it was small! What did she expect me to do?) The whole time this was happening I kept visualizing in my head this scene from Golden Girls (just the first 3 minutes-I think you'll get my point).

Finally it was time to go because our Bugster-Mugster was getting hungry and out of sorts, but not before we planned our excursion to Staples for tomorrow. I have no idea why the grandmother is insisting on this being an ordeal. We're shipping a box full of dishes not transporting Oscars. Ugh!

To maintain balance with the Force, I'll end with happy pictures from the museum today:

 

We're waiting to hear from the DMA to see when this will go on display.

Making paper from colored pulp. Pretty cool.

Anyone up for joining me on a trip to the Land of Make Believe?

One step closer to a Pirate's Life!

A giant Light Brite Board! How rockin' is that?

I'll be checking back in tomorrow, and I've also been tweeting periodically (WordNerd80) if you'd like to follow.

Won't You Be My Neighbor?

It's Croupe Family Vacation Week 2011! I promised a few friends I would blog my adventure in the Keystone State so they could experience the frustration and misery I was bound to feel while here. Misery and frustration? On vacation? Yes.

I've been sort of a bad wife lately (okay I've really been a "witch with a 'b'") when it has come to planning this trip. Chris wanted to visit his grandparents perhaps because he knows this could very well be the last time he will see them alive. Plus he wanted Will to meet his great-grandparents and paternal grandfather (that's correct-Will's NEVER met his paternal grandfather and my son is 2). Therefore, my hubby booked a FIVE DAY stay in Slippery Rock, PA where his grandparents live with the expectation that his father will arrive on Wednesday of this week. Not so bad? MY HUSBAND PLANNED NOTHING ELSE FOR THE FIVE DAYS WE WOULD BE HERE.

So I'm expected to find a way to entertain a two-year-old for hours on end in a small, college town? Uh, no thank you! There are plenty of fabulous museums in Pittsburgh, so that's where I suggested we stay (mostly so we would be in my natural habit-a city) and just drive up to Slippery Rock the one or two afternoon/evenings his grandparents wanted to see us. I even looked into the various museums and noted information of two and on the zoo. I told my husband that planning three things during a five day stay was more than sufficient, and I'm confident we would be able to do all three. He disagreed. However, he did concede to the Children's Museum and EITHER the zoo or Museum of Natural History. (I have a feeling I'll win though because who wants to sit around and stare at his/her family for hours on end-why do you think mi familia brings their own alcohol to family parties?)

At 3 A.M. my husband's alarm clock rattled me out of my two and a half hour nap (I was up late celebrating my sister's engagement). Since I had showered before hittin' the hay, I just threw on my sweat pants, a t-shirt, and a ball cap. I got the Bugster dressed and we were all out the door by 3:48. Did I mention this was in the morning? Yeah, my hubby thought a 6 A.M. flight to Milwaukee then catching a connecting flight into Pittsburgh was the best way to go. I vehemently disagree. NO ONE should be forced out of bed before 6 A.M. But I digress...

It was our Willster's first plane ride, and I've spent weeks praying for a pleasant flight. He slept the first leg of the journey, and I thought I was in the clear! Boy was I wrong! (Thanks goes out to a buddy o' mine who suggested giving Will something to nibble on as the plane took off to distract from and help with the ear popping-it worked like a champ.) The last 45 minutes of the first flight were a sobbing, screaming nightmare. My son had decided, "all done airplane" and tried to remove his Cares Harness (a HUGE waste of time and money-no one checked to see that he was secure with it and it didn't really fit-not to mention the flight attendant almost made us remove when she did notice it because she didn't believe it was government approved). It took everything in me not to bawl too. I was THAT mom with THAT kid. My hubby volunteered to sit next to our son on the connecting flight; I was convinced we wouldn't be able to get my son on to the next airplane without a fight. The second flight turned out to be significantly better than the first, and we landed at 11:00 A.M. PA time (even though it was technically fourish hours-getting up so early and my son's tantrum definitely made it feel like five+ hours on a plane). We were all starving so we grabbed McDonald's because we knew Will would eat a cheeseburger and some apples. It also didn't hurt our moods to get some food in our bellies as well.

My super hubby let me doze for an hour or so when we got to the Applebutter Inn (that's correct-we are staying at a bed and breakfast not at a hotel-I had to purchase a $12 hairdryer at the Family Dollar because I never pack one BECAUSE HOTELS HAVE HAIRDRYERS). Then it was time for our first family visit which went relatively well (pun intended). Unfortunately we were handed "stuff" to pack and bring back.* Great. Now I get to figure out how some of this "stuff" won't be getting home with me or where it will go if it does finagle its way to  my house. We had dinner at a lovely Italian restaurant where Will ate all of his great-grandfather's olives and croutons from the salad. I suppose I must admit that day one was pretty successful. I did apologize for being so out of sorts about all of this to my husband. In return, he is taking us into Pittsburgh tomorrow to the Children's Museum where they apparently have a replica of Mr. Roger's set-up! That adventure should definitely produce some rockin' memories.

For now, enjoy the pics I took today:
 

This one made Facebook: 4 A.M. start time, two flights, and one cheeseburger later...

Killing some time watching "What I Am" by will.i.am while mom wakes from her nap

The Applebutter Inn-we're three of 8 people staying here-too quiet and it kind of freaks me out but it is beautiful outside

I figured this is the perfect time and place to try my very first Clark bar

Tune back in tomorrow to see how we survived the museum.

*One of the reasons for this trip is so his grandmother can ship us some flatware that she wants us to have-another thing we DON'T need that will sit in a box taking up space somewhere in our house. I know, we didn't have to come here for her to ship it, but I am trying to play nice and it is simple and lovely flatware. It could have been far worse I suppose.

The Way to THIS Girl's Heart...

If I asked a few of my dearest girl friends to pick their favorite actor from 2009's Star Trek*, they would probably fall into either Camp Chris or Camp Zachary with regret that they could only choose one. And who could blame them? I mean look:

 

Whew! Is it a little warm in here to anyone else? That's a whole lot o' hotness in one photo.  Yet my vote belongs to the British Dish who played Scotty:

Go ahead and judge me. I don't care. See, my weakness has always been and will always be the off beat funny intellectuals/brains/nerds. If a man can make me laugh while holding an intelligent conversation, he will forever have a diligent devotee in me (just ask my husband). I thrive off geek vibes, and don't even get me started on what happens to me when I find out a fella can write code. Perhaps it is because I am finally finding my way around the nerding world. 

My own geeky tendencies have always existed, but alas, I lived in a time and place where being popular was life or death and those kids (the ones who got to wear Reebok double-tongued shoes instead of the no label versions my mom tried to convince me were the exact same thing) found my habit of pretending to be Wonder Woman absurd. They certainly didn't share my elation at the discovery of The Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi when I was twelve (imagine my mother holding out on me this quite vital information-she knew that New Hope VHS was wearing thin I watched it so much), and naturally the popular kids steered clear of SF and fantasy (How do you not find dragons cool?). What was a four-eyed, brace-face to do? 

I shoved all these interests way down deep inside in hopes that I could better blend in with the crowd. However, what I discovered was that the intricate worlds of comic book heroes peaked my interest then and definitely now more than before, and I bemoan the fact that I didn't immerse myself into that culture when I was younger. Eagerly I await the release of the final installment of Harry Potter and Jackson's The Hobbit (don't think I'm not also keeping tabs on the Star Trek sequel). Since my passion for Jim Henson has been a constant in life, Labyrinth and The Dark Crystal rate at the top of my fave fantasy films. My two-year-old son can quote Yoda for goodness sake! Of course this also means that the pull toward the clever comic relief (most often a nerd in his own right) in films, television, and real life is too great to ignore.

With that said, I heard Simon Pegg on one of the various talk radio stations my husband insists on listening to in the car. Now, I was well aware of Mr. Pegg before Star Trek (if you haven't seen any of his other films, I'm not sure we can be friends anymore), and his interview promoting his biography only whetted my appetite for more. As of 9:30 this morning I am the proud owner of:

I can't start reading it quite yet because I have to finish a book for my book club. However, I am nearly busting at the seams in anticipation of the amount of aforementioned "geek vibes" that will pour forth from these pages and into my soul.  Mr. Pegg if your book delivers like I hope it will, very shortly you will have one new loyal fan admiring you from Dallas, Texas! 

*The problem with this statements is that only one of my dearest girl friends will have seen Star Trek because we are the duo of nerds in our group, and I have a feeling she too would pick Simon Pegg.

Wanted: A Square Peg

It occurred to me the other day that I need to round up some new friends. I have no intention of replacing my current ones! They are a hoot and I'd be lost without them, but if I ever plan to leave my house and have grown up contact ever again I MUST make some additional friends. See, I am married and have an oh-so-adorable two-year-old. This apparently disqualifies me from happy hours and get-togethers with my single counterparts. Okay, it makes sense, so it would seem logical for me to find other moms of wee ones to hang with while killing time this summer. But this is where it gets tricky because most moms (from what I've discovered) that tend to have play dates and do things with their little ones during the day are stay-at-home moms. I teach which means 9-10 months out of the year my son attends daycare. I most certainly don't live the lifestyle of the stay-at-home mom. I don't think it's wrong or anything. It's just not for me, so what do I have in common with these moms? Not to mention that my biggest fear is that I will lose myself to being a mom (because I'm an overachiever and will put 110% into any job I undertake) and then what happens when my son is 18 and out of the house? Who will I be?

I'm almost ready to put out a personal add, but I think that wouldn't be a great success. There is no denying my squarepeggedness (new word-look out Webster). Therefore, the person whom I seek would have to be equally odd (relatively speaking). I have plenty of gal pals that match one or two qualifiers, but I clearly don't see them enough because cabin fever is slowly starting to creep up on me. If anyone out there fits, please know I'd love to meet you:

1. Female
2. Late 20's to mid/late 30's
3. Lives within 20 minutes of me
4. Has children between 18 mo to 3 or 4 years
5. Either sews or would be interested in taking up sewing
6. Has a husband/partner obsessed with sports (most particularly the NFL and Longhorn anything-this will come in handy when either of us needs somewhere to go when fall rolls around)
7. Enjoys Star Wars, Muppets, Harry Potter, 80s anything (mostly John Hughes), superhero films, Linkin Park, Blue October, Muse, Phoenix, Lenka, British folk/pop/punk, shopping, shoes, reading, movies
8. Either has a full time job (preferably in education) OR is a stay-at-home mom who won't judge me because: I think organic is a scam, I hate putting my kid in a full body floaty to swim in a pool, I allow my child to watch television, I insist on teaching my son words like "cumbersome," and believe in appropriate discipline including spanking

See? I don't ask for a lot...okay, so it is a lot. But I truly believe way deep down that there has to be someone out there like me. If it's you, we should meet!

Preventing Paranoia

The way a lot of people treat turning 30, you would think our entire lives are on the decline. According to my calculations (and I know that's dangerous since I teach English-BUT I consulted the CDC with this one),  in 2007 the life expectancy for an average American was 77.9 years with decreases in death rates over the next couple of years. So somehow we're all living longer (I blame ForeverWare) which means at 30 I'm not even half way done with my life. And seeing as I know myself to be an above average American:), I'll probably live even longer than 80. Therefore, there is no need to start panicking about the multitude of feebility that will plague me when I'm senile some day.

Yet a relative of mine decided a subscription to Prevention magazine would be a thoughtful gift? Really? How about Entertainment Weekly or People? Since I'm an educator, National Geographic or something literary would have even been more appropriate. Okay, stop scolding me for being ungrateful especially since the reason so many people are living longer might just be because they are reading their Prevention magazines. Hear me out on this one: Prevention magazine does NOT cater to my age group nor does receiving a "gift" subscription do anything to dispel the absurd myth that 30 is old. How do I know this? Because Marie Osmond is on the cover of the current issue being fabulous in her 50s, and I cannot even recall who was on the last one but I know that she too was quickly approaching 50 (so I looked it up and it was Teri Hatcher-no I don't watch Desperate Housewives because I feel that target audience is one and the same to that of Prevention). Why on Earth would I be interested in this magazine? The fear of osteoporosis? I drink milk and watch Forrest Gump's mom talk to me about keeping my bones strong with Boneva (yes, I do know her name is actually Sally Field-she was in Laverne and Shirley...oh wait...that was Cindy Williams-oops I guess I AM rounding the bend).

Even setting aside the fact that all the advice in this thing seems to target women so confidently right past middle age (which I also do not fear approaching because I know so many gorgeous and intelligent women at this age), Prevention has not made me feel any better about preventing anything! It's more like a harbinger on all the ways my body could go horribly wrong. One of the cover stories proclaimed something to the effect that having surgery in July could kill me! Oh great! I'm a teacher and if I need any type of operation I always have it done in the summer...wait for it...IN JULY! How am I still living?! Another cover story had in quotations, "My doctor told me I was fat!" and then proceeded to instruct me on how to get a more caring physician. First of all, I didn't read the article so I don't really know the context BECAUSE I see my doctor maybe twice a year and don't need a more caring relationship. I just need whatever meds I have to see him about before he'll prescribe them. Secondly, maybe I am fat. Maybe he's doing me a kindness for health reasons? Should he actually call me fat? Well probably not if he intends to stay in business, but he might mention I could lose a little weight here or there, and that is probably not a surprise to me which would be the real reason I'm upset.* Moving on. Basically perusing Prevention only shows me all the ways I'm already sick or could be sick or on my way to Death's door. I don't need a magazine for that. I have WebMD when I think something's wrong and I'm in the mood for a bit of hypochondria. Is 30 older than 20? Of course. But it's a helluva lot younger that 100, so for now I'll prevent myself (ha-get it-prevent) from freaking out about the 1001 ways I could die and allow that subscription to simply find its way to the recycle bin after glancing through it for courtesy's sake.

That Family Circle gift subscription, however, has some pretty darn good recipes.

*It should be noted that since I first posted this, I did go back and glance through the article. However, the amusing part was that on the cover right about this story was how to lose 7 pounds in 7 days (or something just as ludicrous). I think Prevention is sending mixed messages. The doctor can't call you fat, but this magazine can assume you are trying to lose weight?

Keep Sewing Forward (or "Sew very old one. Sew like the wind!")

There's a scene in Meet the Robinsons where Wilbur is explaining his father's difficulty in inventing the time machine. He goes through all the prototypes and eventually points at a frowny face picture and a picture of a toilet. (It doesn't translate as well in print, but I couldn't find a YouTube video of the scene.) That particular scene has moved forefront in my mind as I stare down a sewing disaster.

Every year my gifted students have an end of the year party and choose a particular theme. This year's class was particularly clever in that they decided all the juniors would be a particular Greek god or goddess and all the freshmen and sophomores would come in simple togas as the plebeians they are. Because of the role I play in my students' lives, they assigned me Gaia or Mother Earth the original goddess. She and Father Time begot even the mighty Titans. I readily jumped on board and about a week ago had a fabulous idea. I used to sew in college and thought it would be great if I could put together a simple olive green dress and buy a copper/bronze fabric to wrap around as a toga. Then I could wear the green dress again and again. It would be significantly cheaper than finding a costume and far more useful. Well, college has been many moons ago and I don't have my own sewing machine. That's when idea number two popped into my head: I'll use my grandmother's machine and bond with her while I sew! It was brilliantly devised! I would have an awesome handmade costume and quality time with Grandma.

As I mentioned before, I have sewn before. I might not understand every single direction in a pattern, but I sure know how to cut and pin and put together. If I had simply asked my grandmother for her machine and brought it home, I probably would have had a few bumps but a relatively decent dress when all was said and done. Instead, I probably shoved my grandma a few feet closer to her grave. Of course it was unintentional. How was I supposed to know she would take over the whole project to save me any frustration from what she deemed was a bad pattern and awful choice in fabric?

There were the more hilarious moments when she described one of her thimbles as a condom for a little bitty petey. And one evening my mother even came over and we had a few good laughs between the three of us, but four days into this dress adventure and I was still sans dress. With my event tomorrow, this evening I had to fight every urge to grab the pieces of fabric and the thread and needle and finish putting it together by hand. As my grandma struggled to get everything just right, I could see the finished product in my mind and ways to put all the pieces together in an acceptable way. Yet out of love and respect for my grandmother I controlled all those impulses because I didn't want to hurt her feelings or make her think she was causing me anxiety over an unfinished product.

Since my life has been in the crapper anyway as of late, I came home determinedly miserable but stable. Then my mom called to check in on the progress, and of course I started to lose it. Mom understood how frustrated both parties were, not at each other, but at the blasted dress. She offered to call Grandma and see if she could help finish up the dress tonight. Two hours later my mother called me back and asked me to meet them at JC Penney.

Apparently, my mother made the executive decision to simply buy me a suitable dress to match the toga wrap. Her choice saved the sanity of my grandmother and me. I gladly met them and fell immediately in love with the dress she had chosen for me (this is saying a lot because my entire life we have gone 'round and 'round about her taste versus mine). The icing on the cake is that she also purchased me jewelry to match!

I'm a little put out about the time and material lost in this endeavor, BUT I am still getting my grandma's kick ass sewing machine out of the deal and will probably start taking sewing classes for something new to do.

Passing the Furry, Red Torch

It has taken me 20 years to come to terms with the death of my childhood hero: Jim Henson. The foundations of my imagination were created in large part by Fraggle Rock, Sesame Street, Muppet Movies, Labyrinth, etc. The first book I ever learned to "read" was The Monster at the End of this Book: Starring Lovable, Furry, Old Grover! In 1990 all of this came to a crashing halt. When I was 10 and he passed, I was convinced no one would ever be able to affect the world the way he had.  There's a quote of his, "My hope still is to leave the world a little bit better for my having been there," and I will defend to the death that that is exactly what he did.

So by the mid 90s I was disgusted at the replacement of Kermit the Frog's stardom on Sesame Street with Elmo. Part of the anger stemmed from the Disney purchase of the Muppets and then not really doing anything big with them (like they have with the Princess line). It turns out a majority of my frustration, I now realize, was built on the fact that I couldn't understand how all these children could possibly move on and embrace a Jim Henson-less world when I couldn't. Their Sesame Street would never have a Muppet Newsflash. They wouldn't get to stay up late during the summer to watch The Storyteller. They would never understand the appeal of David Bowie as a super cool antagonist. I was very hurt and very angry. Who was the perfect target for my animosity? Elmo of course (if you don't believe me just read my post where I dub him as probably the worst thing to happen to Sesame Street).

Why the change of heart now? Simple- Being Elmo: A Puppeteer's Journey. This was one of the films during the Dallas International Film Festival a few weeks ago. Even though I wasn't the world's largest Elmo fan, it would talk about Jim Henson in some aspect, so my husband and I bought tickets and went. Talk about a life changing movie! I am aware that many people collaborate and cooperate to keep shows like Sesame Street on air for 40+ years, but the person who mended my heart was Kevin Clash. Through his story I realized that a person can truly leave a legacy behind. Kevin Clash grabbed the Muppet/Sesame torch and has run full speed with it. Everything about him is admirable. Everyone should see this movie. One would have to be soulless not to be moved by it. I felt ashamed at my scathing attacks on Elmo. What Clash achieves through his red, furry friend changes lives just like the Muppets did for me. Later that week I finished a 3 page, hand written letter to Mr. Clash thanking him for reminding me of the goodness in the world. I even read his biography My Life as a Furry Red Monster: What Being Elmo Has Taught Me About Life, Love and Laughing Out Loud  As expected, I loved it. 

Does this mean I'll be donning Elmo gear from here on out? Probably not:). What it does mean is that I have a new respect for both the Muppet I called "obnoxiously red" and for the man behind him.

The Soundtrack of My Life

There are times when I truly enjoy a nice, long drive (long equaling 30-60 minutes) when I can put on the music I want to listen to and rock out if necessary. I had such a drive this past Saturday on my way to get my hair cut. The music of choice: Linkin Park.

Many people are surprised when they discover what an avid fan I am of this particular group. I bought Hybrid Theory in 2000 and haven't looked back:). Even though Meteora gets the most play, there's just something about how they can scream at me one minute and actually sing pretty darn well another. I sort of see them as a catharsis for many of the things I tend to feel or want to say. Reflecting on my adoration for them, I also began to think how I define life through music. People, places, emotional states all have their own song in my head. (I even have one that I will change the radio station from when it begins to play because it makes me think of an ex-boyfriend.)

What really had me thinking on Saturday morning's particular drive was what people would be able to learn about me simply by listening to the two songs that I feel define me the most: "I Enjoy Being a Girl" from the musical Flower Drum Song and "Numb" by Linkin Park. I also realized how long it took me to getting to a place in my life where I could find two songs to properly define me.

"I Enjoy Being a Girl" Flower Drum Song:



(This version is from the film and slightly modified.)

I'm a girl, and by me that's only great!
I am proud that my silhouette is curvy,
That I walk with a sweet and girlish gait
With my hips kind of swivelly and swervy.

I adore being dressed in something frilly
When my date comes to get me at my place.
Out I go with my Joe or John or Billy,
Like a filly who is ready for the race!

When I have a brand new hairdo
With my eyelashes all in curl,
I float as the clouds on air do,
I enjoy being a girl!

When men say I'm cute and funny
And my teeth aren't teeth, but pearl,
I just lap it up like honey
I enjoy being a girl!

I flip when a fellow sends me flowers,
I drool over dresses made of lace,
I talk on the telephone for hours
With a pound and a half of cream upon my face!

I'm strictly a female female
And my future I hope will be
In the home of a brave and free male
Who'll enjoy being a guy having a girl... like... me.

When men say I'm sweet as candy
As around in a dance we whirl,
It goes to my head like brandy,
I enjoy being a girl!

When someone with eyes that smolder
Says he loves ev'ry silken curl
That falls on my iv'ry shoulder,
I enjoy being a girl!

When I hear the compliment'ry whistle
That greets my bikini by the sea,
I turn and I glower and I bristle,
But I happy to know the whistle's meant for me!

I'm strictly a female female
And my future I hope will be
In the home of a brave and free male
Who'll enjoy being a guy having a girl... like... me.

This is pretty straightforward. I like dressing up and putting on make-up. I like buying cute shoes regardless of the damage they may do to my feet later. I've always liked having boys get me nice things (I forewarned my husband and he hasn't disappointed yet). Pink is my favorite color, and I am convinced I was a Disney princess in another life. However, I do love knowing that having a Prince Charming is nice but not necessary for me to be successful. I can be a girly-girl and still kick ass as a woman.

"Numb" by Linkin Park:



I'm tired of being what you want me to be
Feeling so faithless, lost under the surface
Don't know what you're expecting of me
Put under the pressure of walking in your shoes
(Caught in the undertow, just caught in the undertow)
Every step that I take is another mistake to you
(Caught in the undertow, just caught in the undertow)

[Chorus:]
I've become so numb, I can't feel you there
Become so tired, so much more aware
I'm becoming this, all I want to do
Is be more like me and be less like you

Can't you see that you're smothering me,
Holding too tightly, afraid to lose control?
'Cause everything that you thought I would be
Has fallen apart right in front of you.
(Caught in the undertow, just caught in the undertow)
Every step that I take is another mistake to you.
(Caught in the undertow, just caught in the undertow)
And every second I waste is more than I can take.

[Chorus:]
I've become so numb, I can't feel you there,
Become so tired, so much more aware
I'm becoming this, all I want to do
Is be more like me and be less like you.

And I know
I may end up failing too.
But I know
You were just like me with someone disappointed in you.

[Chorus:]
I've become so numb, I can't feel you there,
Become so tired, so much more aware.
I'm becoming this, all I want to do
Is be more like me and be less like you.

[Chorus:]
I've become so numb, I can't feel you there.
(I'm tired of being what you want me to be)
I've become so numb, I can't feel you there.
(I'm tired of being what you want me to be)

Perhaps a bit more telling? Ask anyone who knows me and they'll tell you just how good I am at playing the game of life (metaphorically-although I'm pretty good at the actual board Game of Life). I know how to be diplomatic enough to keep peace, stay out of trouble, and maintain the right connections. That also means that I have my own secrets, insecurities, and frustrations that are not always allowed out to play. Therefore, this particular song fits my life much more often than people realize especially since the person/situation to which this song is addressed shifts so much for me.

Now my mission is to come up with a legitimate soundtrack for my life. I want to include songs that make me think of friends, family, and significant events. Perhaps when they finally make a movie of my life (Natalie Portman as me, Amanda Bynes as my sister, and Seth Meyers as my husband), this soundtrack can be what they play!

I'm a Legend!

Okay, okay maybe not really a legend, but I just discovered that I was an integral part in creating a service sorority on the Stephen F. Austin State University campus. No really.

So here's the story as I remember it:

While at SFA I had a friend named Lindsey and I would often drive her home when I would go home for a visit. On one of these visits to the DFW area we started wondering what would happen if we started a sorority. We didn't mean that we would start a chapter of an existing one. We didn't want to have to answer to the Greek council because, I'll be honest, there were very few social sorority gals we were impressed with especially on a campus already known for its social activities. Plus we didn't want to have to dedicate every waking hour and every single penny to our sorority. It would be something girls could be a part of without extra pressure to participate. The more we talked about it, the more we seriously thought we just might be able to begin a service sorority that would actually take hold and become big at SFA.

After throwing around mascot and color ideas (because that's the most important part of establishing any type of club), we landed on Gamma Kappa Omega because it sounded cool and three of the letters were in GECKO. Name for the sorority-check. Mascot-check. Colors...we were going to go with red and black when considering a ladybug as the mascot, but that didn't really define who we wanted to be as a service sorority. I don't quite remember how, but we eventually landed on lime green and aquamarine/turquoise/blue (trust me-it looks good together).  As soon as we returned to SFA, after our enlightening weekend, we filled out the necessary paperwork and started looking for recruits.

We had a small group of gal pals that eagerly joined up and became the first set of officers/members. Even though we wanted to be dedicated to serving the community, we still adopted a few social traditions and made them our own. Of course this meant we had big and little sis activities once we convinced a few more girls to sign-up.

So what happened? I definitely don't mention my sisterhood status to anyone. Here's that story:

A co-founder turned out to be a little unbalanced and things between the two of us did not end well (I'm not the only one she abused-I believe she left a barbie hanging by its neck in the closet of a girl who had her dorm room after her-all she did to me was say unforgivable things about other people behind their backs then tell them I said it which ostracized me in a very special kind of way). So GKO started to be the one time I actually had to deal with her. Then I got a little nervous when our "service" sorority started to have a few more social events than it probably should. Therefore, it was becoming what I felt was a "wannabe" Greek sorority. Even though a couple of other officers picked up things and really set it on the right track by steering things back to volunteering and building a sisterhood through that, I had already started to separate myself from the organization because of my unpleasant experiences (my little sis kind of slacked off on the gifts thing-petty I know but I really worked hard on everything I got her). I kind of felt like an outsider since everyone else lived off campus, my little sis wasn't really into it, and Co-founder Crazy had soured the experience a bit. To top it all off, the original zest of founding something great started to fizzle and I figured it wouldn't last because those of us who started the group were just a bunch of friends who liked to volunteer and hang out. Once we all graduated I couldn't imagine anyone picking up where we left off.

BOY WAS I WRONG

A few weeks ago my friend, and co-founder (not the crazy one), sent me an e-mail regarding a GKO reunion. That's correct. A reunion for all the members since the organization's inception in 2000. This service sorority has been going strong for 11 years! They have a website and feel free to notice my name listed first as a founder under "Our History." My friend did attend the reunion. I did not. Since my affiliation with the Geckos waned, I didn't feel right showing up to a reunion. It turns out that my friend was like a celebrity since she is a founding officer. Apparently part of a pledge's job is to memorize the complete history of the organization and who all the founding members are. That means I too am a "celebrity." Had I gone, it seems my uninvolvement would be a forgivable offense.

After looking at what the Geckos have been up to, I'm quite proud to have been a co-founder of Gamma Kappa Omega. These girls are really making a difference while continuing to build a strong sisterhood. So I decided I'm going to be proud of my sorority status. I'm going to pull out my shirts and the next time we have a college shirt day, I will wear one. I've already e-mailed the current officers and told them I want to be involved somehow. We'll see how it goes. 

I love the 80s!

The title of this post is a gross understatement about how I truly feel regarding the years 1980-1989. Being born in 1980 makes me actually a child of the 90s because I didn't experience the 80s during my formative (a.k.a. adolescent) years. I didn't get to parade around in the glorious fashions of the day because I was occupied with other things like learning to walk and speak and going to kindergarten. So I spent a lot of my teen years longing to belong to the decade of big hair, synthesized music, and bitchin' teen movies. Of course, the 80s weren't popular when I was in high school; the 70s were the decade to love. (That's okay. I don't really believe loving the 70s would have improved my status much anyway.)

Wouldn't you know, it's 2011 and for the past few years the 80s seem to have come back in fashion! If that seems hard to believe, just look at the current trends among the youth. I believe leg warmers and colored tights are huge again. I've seen Mohawks make a comeback, and am I the only one rediscovering the melodious sounds of British pop/punk bands?

Let me paint a better picture of my obsession: I own all the movies John Hughes made reflecting teen angst. I fell in love with John Cusack because of The Journey of Natty Gann and decided I must marry  him after Say Anything. (And yes, I still adore him to this day.) I wanted to be on Dance TV because of Sarah Jessica Parker and Helen Hunt. The Fraggles kept me company along with Labyrinth (kick ass soundtrack by David Bowie) and The Dark Crystal furthering my adoration of Jim Henson as well as the 80s. In college when I had to create a decorative bulletin board for the residents on my floor, instead of doing a Valentine's Day themed one, I made a Molly Ringwald bullentin board since her birthday is the 18th of February. A dear friend of mine recorded all of VH1's I Love the 80s on VHS so I could watch them anytime I wanted. I searched radio stations to find the ones who highlighted one hit wonders from the 80s. The Karate Kid I and II got so much play in my VCR, that they were among the first DVDs I owned. However, I guess it wasn't enough to have The Golden Girls playing every evening "forcing" me to research any references made in their jokes that I didn't understand so my knowledge of the 80s could expand.

In 2003 I met a man I was convinced was only 6 years older than me (seriously, ask my friends if my husband acts or looks his age). It was only after falling head over heels for him did I discover he was in fact 11 years older than me. One might think this gap in our age would be too great to bridge. Not true. He was an actual child of the 80s! He graduated high school in 1988! He lived the decade I studied so vehemently! In the end I married my very own 80s commodity (I sort of let the whole "marrying John Cusack" thing go by this point). One of the great things about my husband is that he'll sit next to me while watching shows that regularly reference or discuss the 80s and answer me when I ask, "Did you do that?" or "Did you have one of those?" or "What event are they taking about?" Since he is a genius, I think he enjoys being able to share his wealth of 80s facts and experiences with me.

Therefore, when TBS debuted a show, Glory Daze, that follows four freshmen (a jock, a Young Republican, a proud Jew desperately seeking female company, and a clean-cut Catholic school boy) as they enter college in 1986, I had to be there for the pilot episode. As expected, I love it! The music is superb, all the characters are charming, and the episodes have great names like "Hungry Like Teen Wolf" and "Shamrock You Like a Hurricane." And of course my husband is always next to me when we watch ready to answer any questions I have or comment on memories the show brings up. It's good to know that the decade I adore will live on for decades more (and even if it doesn't perhaps the flux capacitor will finally exist to send me back to a place where girls just want to have fun).

3 Decades and Counting

I turned 30 this year. I'm incredibly proud of this fact. This means I've survived 3 decades of life! Every year is one more gift from God to see what I can make of it. It seems sort of dignified to say I'm 30. I'm officially a grown-up. All those years as a child deciding what my life would be like, and here I am. Now I didn't become a famous movie star (or have a famous movie star fall in love with me-that was the much more common fantasy), and I have yet to pen the next great American novel, but I have a career where I actually make a difference. I have friends that make me laugh. I have a child who loves me. I have a roof over my head. I have a crazy family that I could never do without. It seems to me that things are going pretty well. Perhaps that's why I've always loathed the term, "those were the best years of my life" when referring to high school or college. Shouldn't every year be the best year of your life? You exist! That's a pretty good start. I also become very frustrated with people who want to live in the past by behaving inappropriately for their ages. What's so terrible about your life right now that you constantly remark on/act out ways to escape it? (No wonder society seems to be crashing and burning! So many people want to remain adolescent. Why? I already quake at the thought of some of my teenage students running the world some day.)

After 30 years, I like who I am. I hated me in high school. Started to like me in college, and finally decided to embrace fabulous me in my mid-20's when I realized I could like the color pink, sparkly things, flowers, dresses, make-up, jewelry and still be a pretty assertive gal. It's all about my confidence in the end, and even though I'm not quite as bold as I'd like to be someday, I think I'm getting there.

I also insist on seeing the good in people. I truly believe there is good in everybody. Someone would really have to be a pretty big slime to convince me s/he doesn't contain a descent core. The downside to being so sickeningly optimistic about humankind is that when I'm proven otherwise it's a really hard blow. Fortunately, I am not proven wrong very often. Besides finding the good in everyone also allows me to love with my whole heart (the only way to love in my mind). I believe these are the things people like about me who choose to be around me. I enjoy knowing that God is using me to be a beacon of light, love, and hope.

It's with this mindset that I embark on 2011. I'm going to make year 31 count just like the previous 30. I'm going to stand strong in my convictions. I'm not going to agree with something that goes against my beliefs because "it's more common than you think." That's the ridiculous adult equivalent to "everyone's doing it." I'm also not going to allow anyone to care for me with any less zest or fervor than I show him/her or deserve. People who cannot love me for who I am with their whole hearts don't need to be in my life. I give a lot as a friend and am worth a lot as a person. I will continue to learn about my faith and relationship with God. I will continue to give 100% in my life (of course I'll distribute it amongst the different facets accordingly because I've tried the 100% to each facet of my life and that nearly killed me). I am determined.

"When, in the early morning, you are reluctant to get up, have this thought in mind: 'I rise to do a man's work. Am I still resentful as I go to do the task for which I was born and for the sake of which I was brought into the world? Was I made to warm myself under the blankets?'...You do not love yourself. If you did, you would certainly love your own nature and its purpose....Display then those virtues which are entirely within your power: sincerity, dignity, endurance of pain, indifference to pleasure, contentment, self-sufficiency, kindliness, freedom, simplicity, common sense, and magnanimity." -Marcus Aurelius

An Elmo Adventure (a.k.a The Reason I'm on BP meds)

Exactly one year ago I purchased a stuffed "Classic Collectible Grover" by Fisher Price for Will for Christmas. I was determined that my child would not only love Sesame Street (and all things Jim Henson), but he would also adore Grover. Much to my dismay, the Muppet Monster that has stolen my child's heart is not the intended "Broba" but rather "Melmo" (Elmo for those who don't speak 20 month old.)

As previously stated in another post, I wasn't a huge fan of Elmo (he's sort of grown on me). Something about him always kind of rubbed me the wrong way. Then of course there was that ridiculous "Tickle Me Elmo" crazy of the mid-90s (it seems so long ago doesn't it?). Therefore, I had promised myself not to allow my son's excitement over Elmo dominate my Christmas shopping this year. Naturally that means I got him two Elmo books, an Elmo movie, an Elmo plate/bowl/fork/spoon set, an Elmo toothbrush/toothpaste set, and planned on getting him the Elmo version of the Grover stuffed toy. Note that I used "planned" in that sentence.

See, a few months ago I contemplated getting the "Classic Collectible Elmo" during a routine stop at Babies R Us. However, I was still in denial about my child's preference of red monsters to blue ones. I passed and figured I could always get it later. I even told my mom not to get it when she saw it because, if he was going to get one, I wanted to be the one to see my son's face light up when handed his very own "Melmo". Well "later" occurred to me a week or so ago since Christmas is now seven days away. Surely, I reasoned with myself, no one wants the plain-ole-don't-do-anything-Elmo so there will be plenty to choose from.

That poor logic sent me on an Elmo hunt earlier this evening. Of course I started at Babies R Us since that is where I knew they had them before. It was great because there were maybe a total of 10 people in the whole store so no Christmas crowds. There was Grover and Cookie Monster and Ernie but no Elmo. Wait, let me rephrase: There was no "Classic Collectible Elmo." If I had wanted my Elmo to play the guitar, they had him. If I had wanted my Elmo to do the hokey-pokey, they had him. If I had wanted my Elmo to chatter, they had him. And of course if I had wanted my Elmo to tickle himself into oblivion, they had him. I believe they even sold just Elmo hands (no really-gloves that your kid wears that make his hands look like furry, red monster hands-my husband assures me that emo kids buy them to wear to raves). After a very nice employee looked in the back and double checked the stock, he shared the sad news that they were out. The light at the end of the tunnel was that the Toys R Us down the street appeared to have some.

Now I had to really consider my option here. It is one week before Christmas, and the Toys R Us I would be going to is so filthy and run down it actually gives me the creeps (this is really sad considering it is the beloved Toys R Us of my youth). There's no question that I love my son enough to face a Christmas nightmare. The question was whether or not I wanted to face said nightmare for an Elmo toy. After a deep breath and reminder to myself how blessed I am to have a healthy, happy child; I figured giving him an Elmo was totally worth it. Then I stepped into Toys R Us.

As expected, my hands went immediately into my pockets, and I sucked in my breath. I hoped that if I made myself skinny enough I wouldn't actually have to touch anything or anyone on my way to the Elmo aisle. I even did a few pirouettes around the children running amok (why weren't they at home asleep?) and sidestepped down aisles to keep away from bumping into "things." It was a complete madhouse and the further back I went into the store the more my vision blurred and temperature rose. Both being sure signs my BP was shooting up. Then there it was: an aisle with an ungodly amount of "Tickle Me Elmos." Clearly, there's no shortage this year. Unfortunately, there was no "Classic Collectible Elmos" either. I grabbed an Ernie (so I could point to the picture of what I wanted on the back of the box-I didn't want to leave anything to chance) and decided to find someone who worked there to see if they had any in the back or at another store. Silly me.

It ended with me deciding that all employees during the Christmas season should be required to wear light-up hats that say "I work here" and have arrows pointing down to the wearer's head. My acute case of claustrophobia also kicked in the closer I got to the exit as the lines formed one big blob of people. I prayed to God to make sure I got back out of the store without having a stroke. If He could help make that happen, I would head straight home.

What about Elmo? Well, I gave up on the "Classic Collectible" version since it seems no store within a 40 mile radius of my house sells them. I did find on Amazon a company named Gund who apparently makes them as well. I order both an Elmo and an Abby Cadaby (my husband's not thrilled at the thought of my son getting an Abby but Will likes her too and if I bought both I got free shipping). Since I'm the one who screwed this all up in the first place, I did go with the free shipping at my husband's request (instead of the pricey one day) even though the earliest they would get here is the 23rd of December.

I shudder to think what Christmas shopping will be like when my child is actually old enough to make requests.