The Faces of Twelve

Updated to add: Thanks, honestly, for the nice comments. I was thrilled with how they turned out. Not because I believe in my own fabulousness, but because I felt they really showcased her personality and (best of all!!) didn't cost an arm and a leg since I took them myself. (No, we won't consider the cost of lens in this equation .... that's a "gimme") :)

To answer a few questions:

6. Achieving 11: I used my photo editing program (I use Photoshop CS4) and ran a "faded" action. You can do the same thing by using any photo editing program and lowering the saturation of the entire photo. If you don't *have* a photo-editing program, then I have no clue .... basically, if I can't take shortcuts with technology, then I'm lost!

5. Lens: I used my new Canon 85 mm 1.8 lens.

4. Where: Shara, there is an overturned semi (don't ask me, who even knows) in a field next to the Dolese plant on Wilshire between Rockwell and Council. The rust-ish background is the underside of the trailer and the graffiti'd part is the back of the trailer. I'm sure I was breaking every OSHA code known to man by letting her climb on it, but I got the exact background I was hoping for, so it was worth risking arrest, ha!

3. Skirt: purchased from a vendor at the OKC Affair of the Heart craft fair in February. I found TONS in little-girl ballerina sizes, but only one booth, with only one skirt, in a size 8-10. I snagged it, felt grateful when I got home that it fit Brayden, and have been kicking myself ever since that I didn't think to get the person's card.

2. Favorites: Brayden's favorite is number 12. And although no-one asked (ahem) MY favorite is number 11, although I can't choose between the "faded" action (which is what I have in this post) or the original in all its vibrancy.

1. Looks like me: I know, isn't it funny? Although, anyone who has ever seen Brayden's birthmom (Hi, M!! <-- waving frantically) has said she and I could pass for sisters, so I suppose its not too odd that Brayden might look a little like me. Except for when she's in trouble. Then she looks just like Blaine.

Again, thanks for posting your opinions .... its great for me to read them!
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Every year I force encourage my children to let me take pictures of them on (around) their birthday. Despite the fact I am falling farther and farther behind, I still consider myself a scrapbooker and like to have the visual documentation of how they grow and change each year.

Brayden's birthday is in February, and while that wasn't a problem in balmy Georgia, now that we live in Oklahoma we've discovered we often have to wait a month or two for weather nice enough for outdoor photography. We had such a day yesterday ....temps in the high 70's, and little to no wind .... a RARITY here.

I was also excited to take her photos this year because I had purchased and Lord knows I needed to justify my new lens. I was really hoping for some quality snapshots.

I'd love to hear your opinions, and I've numbered the pictures so if you'd like to leave a specific comment, I'll know which image you're referring to. For the record, I did not increase color or vibrancy or hue or contrast or anything on any of them. In fact, they came out so vivid that I actually DECREASED the color on some of them ..... guess when you combine the perfect outdoor light with a clear day and a good lens, you get good color ... to the point of kaleidoscopiness ... yes, it is a word. I just made it up.



#1.



#2.



#3.



#4.



#5.



#6.



#7.



#8.



#9.



#10.



#11.



#12.


Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go perform cpr on my own uterus, because it's shriveled up and crying at the realization of how grown up my baby girl is getting.

SPT Challenge April 21

**Updated to add: Lori, you're such a hoot. Did you not see that I commented on my Facebook status to exempt working mothers from my smarmy attitude? Plus, you did enough work on last year's 5th grade promotion ceremony to completely tide you over through middle school, at least. :)

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(See? Little baby sigh of relief that today is an spt day because nothing exciting is happening around here. Oh, wait. Yes it is. Something VERY exciting. But you'll have to wait until later to find out.)

(I think in show business terms that is called a "teaser" .... not sure what it would be called in blog terms.... perhaps "rude and obnoxious" ???)



Self-Portrait challenges for the month of April as per Lelly's Musings. Visit her site to see lots of other posts, as well.

This month's challenges deal with gifting, and this week's challenge specifically was to gift a teacher, neighbor, or co-worker. Well, I don't have any co-workers, so that's out. And I'm actually gifting our new neighbors later today with a plate of cookies (assuming I don't BURN them or anything) --- (the cookies, not the neighbors) --- but I wanted to post this morning, so that was out.

That left teachers. Hmmmm, how could I showcase gifting a teacher with my time or service this past week? Let's see, would it be the three out of five days I've sat in classrooms, monitoring state testing? The day I spent two hours making photocopies for Kendrie's teacher? The hour I spent printing and passing out copies to our PTO thank you party? The .... (ouch! ouch! Sharp stick in my eye! OUCH!!!)

My favorite gift to a teacher this past week was the gift of time and chaperonage (is that a word?) that I gave Brayden's choir teacher last Friday. The sixth grade honors chorus traveled to Arbuckle Wilderness, about an hour and a half away, to compete in their annual choral competition. Six or seven of us parents followed the bus in our cars (because actually riding the bus with 43 screaming eleven and twelve year olds would have been giving the gift of INSANITY and I wasn't about to do that .....) with the idea that we would break off into small groups after the kids sang and tour the Arbuckle Wilderness animal park on foot.

Unfortunately, um, we got rained out. So we drove all that way simply to sing, then turn around and drive back home.

The *REAL* gift of the day was given by my old high-school friend Steve, whose son sings in the same choir. Our bus driver discovered about two miles down the road after leaving the park that the windshield wipers on the bus were completely thrashed and in fact, fell off the blades completely. So she pulled over on the side of the highway and sat there because she couldn't see to drive the bus. Steve and I drove to the next town, bought new windshield wipers, then drove back to the bus and he installed them in the rainstorm.

THAT, my friends, is a gift. Because Lord knows if they were waiting on me to figure out how to install those things, we'd still be sitting on the side of the highway.

PS. The choir received a superior score for their performance ... then won "Choir of the Day" ... then won "Best Overall Choir Performance of the Entire Festival" -- not too shabby, eh??


this is what happens when you let another kid use your camera and forget to explain how the auto-focus button works.

Answers

I gotta be honest with you guys ... I am really struggling to find things to blog about lately. And by "lately", I mean the past six months or so. And by "things", I mean anything that won't put people in coma from boredom. When you find yourself relieved that its Tuesday, and a self-portrait challenge is due, and therefore there's no need to be witty or clever or original, then perhaps it's time to re-evaluate your own blogging abilities. For me, this blog started out as a Caringbridge page; a personal journey through pediatric cancer .... and then evolved into a family blog ... which quite frankly, probably isn't that fascinating to anyone except my mother. My kids aren't little, they don't do cute and funny things on a regular, reliable basis anymore, and if I post one more time about woe-is-me-I'm-an-overweight-PTO-mom-who-is-tired-of-volunteering, I'll have to poke MYSELF in the eye with a sharp stick.

When you realize you're boring even yourself, perhaps it's time to re-group.

So in the meantime, I'm going to do what I do when I can't think of anything worth sharing ..... answer comment questions, and hope inspiration strikes soon, before I'm forced to resort to sharing old naked baby photos of myself.

NES asks: Forgive a stupid question - what's a crop?

A "crop" is the term for when a group of scrapbookers get together and work on their albums for any length of time. Sometimes synonymous with "scrap", but not always. For example, you can "scrap" or "crop" with friends; you can "scrap" or "crop" pages for your albums; you can attend a "crop", but you can't attend a "scrap". Hmmm. Wonder if either of those terms are in Websters yet ....

Dto3 asks: Better yet, what's WOOT!?

As far as *I* know, it's a term used when a person is excited about something, like a cheer. Think of Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman, when she so un-lady-like-ly rooted for a particular horse at the races by rotating her clenched fist in the air in circles, yelling, "Woot! Woot!". You can always go to Urban Dictionary if you need to double-check, because Lord knows I could be wrong.

Stefunk asks: Are you pregnant??

I don't even remember what on earth this was regarding, but I can answer with a resounding "Hell to the no".

Anonymous says: Ok.....I am clueless. What on earth is trash can punch?

OK, anonymous, I know you're only staying anonymous because you don't want your friends and family to know you're soliciting the recipe for trash can punch, you lush, you. Although, I thought drinking trash can punch was a rite of passage in middle America..... no? Not so much? Well, it's basically a ghastly concoction of fruit punch and alcohol --- typically everclear, vodka, or rum. In a nutshell, it's disgusting. I think it's called "trash can" punch because you normally mix it up in large quantities to serve at parties. Or at least you DID, before all the women of the world had to be suspicious of drinking anything prepared by strangers at a party.

However, if you're looking for a much more festive way to deliver a trash-can punch-type drink, do what we used to do (Mom, close your eyes.....) Buy a large watermelon. Cut a small hole in it. Buy one bottle of everclear or vodka, take the cap off, and insert neck of bottle upside down into the hole. Let sit for 24 hours. The booze will soak into the watermelon .... slice and serve at your next party. Viola!! It's the red neck way to get your liquor and vitamin C, all in one package!! Yee-ha!

And now, the fact that I've been able to type two very long paragraphs about trashcan punch and watermelon vodka leads me to my next blog post, titled "The time I checked into rehab".

Alison states: Also, "The Secret Life of Bees"--do you plan on seeing the movie once you finish reading? I loved that book, but have yet to see the movie.

Alison, I actually rented it a few weeks ago with Brayden, when we had a Mommy-and-Me movie night at home. We both enjoyed it very much.

Lisa L asks: Thank you!!! But just one question re: the meatballs...sweet chili sauce, or regular (hot) chili sauce? :)

Um, I'm assuming this is in reference to my crockpot meatball recipe. Clearly I should answer questions in a more timely fashion so I would know these things. Its definitely sweet chili sauce..... nobody in our house does spicy because we are all a bunch of weenies.

Gina gave a very helpful explanation regarding brain tumors and ended with: I hope that makes sense and I didn't confuse you any more...my intentions are good.

Gina, I don't know that I ever got around to saying thank you to you for this information. It made perfect sense and helped me to understand more clearly exactly what the doctors were saying. So, thank you.

Lollyblogger mentions: Third, Have you and Blaine ever thought about making a road trip to MD Anderson in Houston? He seems like a unique case that they would have interest in, and they are the BEST in the world. My husband did his surgical fellowship there, and it's quite a place.

Lollyblogger, Blaine has never been to MD Anderson for an oncology consult, but the Air Force did send him there back when we were researching his options for reconstructive surgery. (Right after they sent him to the breast reconstruction doctor at Emory and I made jokes about him winding up with a big nipple on his head.) As luck would have it, he flew to Texas for a consultation, and the doctor he was to see had a wife who went into labor the day of Blaine's appointment. So while it appears for now things are being handled well locally (and how fabulous it is that he no longer has to travel five hours round trip for every single doctor's visit!) it's good to know the Air Force would consider MD Anderson again if need be. But selfishly, I'm crossing my fingers there is no "need be".

Bridget from Canada wants to know: ..Just out of curiosity who is taking these SPT someone in the family or a timer? Cause they have all been really good.

Bridget, thanks. A few have been me with a timer, but my camera is too heavy for me to hold up with one little dainty butterfly hand. Plus I don't have the coordination to turn the zoom lens, hit the auto-focus button, then press and release the shutter all with one hand. I've borrowed Brayden's little point and shoot a few times, but most of the photos have been taken by my kids.

And for the record, I *did* last week's SPT "Gift a Friend" In fact, I wrote up this great (well, in my own mind, anyway) post about being a princess, growing up in an all-prince world, and how even princesses have to kiss a lot of friendship frogs before they find other princess friends they really and truly connect with. I have a group of them, sadly, scattered all over the country, and one of them turned 29 (ahem) last week and I gifted her with a drive to Dallas to take her out for brunch for her birthday. (And I gifted her with the coolest pink peace-sign purse, too, but since we're not supposed to spend money of our gifts, I guess that part of the visit is ineligible.) Anyway, I felt weird posting something the day after I got news of Thalon's passing, then just a few days later the friend I wrote about in the post lost her father in law very unexpectedly, and I felt weird posting about her, too.

So in a nutshell, the point of the post is ladies, if you have one or two or five or ten friends who you can really, truly count on in a pinch, who make you laugh and listen to you bitch and care about your family and cheer for you all the same, hang on to them. For dear life. Because the older I get, and the more I've traveled around the country with Blaine, the more I'm learning that there are some psycho FREAKS out there to be avoided at all costs, and true friends are to be cherished.

Adam Lambert on American Idol

I am a 42-yr old, happily married, chubby stay-at-home mother of three .........

who has a wee bit of a crush on a 26 yr old singer from California who wears eye liner, black nail polish, and who may or may not be gay.

I'd say there's something wrong with that, but then I watch another of his videos on Youtube, and the crushing begins again.

Holy cow, can that kid sing. And if he's even half as pleasant and polite and respectful as he comes across on tv, I will like him even more.

What's that say?

Backstory: A few months ago, proving that I am unfit to hold a drivers license the worlds' most awesomest driver EVAH, I backed into a parked truck in a mini-mall parking lot. I'm not that uptight about stuff like that, and was perfectly content to drive around with a dent the size of my head in the back of my van, but when it started to rust, I finally admitted it was time to get the thing fixed. The body repair place said they would need to keep it for up to five days, leaving me car-less, and if you think my fat ass is walking everywhere for five days you are sorely mistaken. Taking pity on me, my brother-in-law lent me his old pickup truck, which I totally love. There's no radio and there's no roof liner and I can't make the air conditioner blow anything but lukewarm air and I don't think the doors actually lock. It's scratched and dinged and there's a big damaged spot on the side where someone scratched dirty words on the drivers door last year when my brother-in-law lent it to a lesbian to drive ........ but I love it. When I'm driving it, I flash back to when I was a teenager and I used to borrow my dad's truck. It's noisy and dirty and "Chevy-tough" and causes me to channel my inner-urban-cowgirl and totally makes me want to dig my old ropers out of my closet. Did I mention I love driving it???

This is the conversation I had with my sister today:

Me: "You know, you can suspect you live in a small town when you drive through Sonic and the girl in the drive through window asks you why you're driving that truck and what happened to your van...."

Kelly: "What did you tell her?"

Me: "I told her that my van was in the body shop and I had borrowed the truck from my brother in law. But wait. It gets better. But you KNOW you're in a small town when you drive through Sonic the next day and the same girl in the same drive through window asks 'so how long do you have to drive your brother in law's truck?' Ha-ha-ha!!! Isn't that funny???"

Kelly: "I don't think that says you live in a small town as much as it says you go to Sonic way too often."

Peace, my little man

When I attended the presidential inaugural celebration at Susan's house last January, I got the chance to finally meet in person a fellow Oklahoma blogger I had been following online.

Although I can't say Shana and I are close friends, I liked her immediately, and we even made time to have lunch together since then. She had recently given birth to her third child and has a great sense of humor about life with three little ones.

Best of all, she let me hold her beautiful baby boy Thalon, and smell his wonderful baby smell.

It breaks my heart to announce Thalon's passing. I don't know any of the details, just what Shana has put on her blog. I hope you'll go there, stranger or no, and let her know that her family is in your thoughts and prayers, as they are in mine.

The reason for the season. Oh, wait. That's Christmas

I'm on a favorite photo kick, so I'll show you my most favorite, the best, most hysterical, heart-warming, kick-ass Easter photo EVER.


Kendrie and the world's most horrifying Easter bunny, circa 2000.

Seriously. Have you ever seen a more mutant Easter bunny?

This was taken at my mother's club Easter get together and one of the moms volunteered to come in costume and pose for photos with the kids. Clearly, since this woman was an acquaintance of ours, we couldn't really point out to her that her bunny costume had obviously been through radioactive poison. And possibly melted in a fire. And had eyes painted on by blind people (oh, the irony!) And perhaps run over by a car. And then stolen by aliens and warped. And was THEN shoved in a closet for thirty years, before coming out to see the light of the day at our party. And most importantly, that it was SCARING THE CHILDREN.

It was the funniest damn thing we ever saw. My best friend Kim and I were so busy trying not to laugh (unsuccessfully, I might add) we couldn't even help the poor children who were FREAKED THE HELL OUT by the gross, mutant Easter Bunny.

Oh my gosh, this photo still makes me laugh. Poor Kendrie.

My new, NEW favorites

OK, I know I said I had a favorite photo less than an hour or two ago, but I'm still sitting here browsing through the tournament pictures, and I've found a few more favorites.


I love this one:

because it shows off Kellen's ninja warrior athlete prowess.



I love this one:

because it shows off Kellen's stealth, intelligent, mental ninja warrior capacities. (That, or he's just wondering how much longer until half-time so he can get a drink of water.)



So by this one:

it's pretty clear that's he's not a ninja soccer warrior at all, but rather a poor impersonation of Farrah Fawcett. In fact, I think the boy next to him is wondering to himself, "Hmmmm, dude? Or chica?" although really, I don't think anyone sporting a faux-hawk should point fingers. I'm just saying.



Ahhhhh, wait, here we go:

Ninja warrior soccer skills back in action .......





No, at this point I just have to face the sad truth. This photo makes him look like Ursula from The Little Mermaid.

My favorite

So I've been sitting at the computer this afternoon going through the photos I took at the soccer tournament last weekend in Arkansas -- yes, I realize it's been a week since we got home and no I hadn't even looked at the photos yet I don't know why its taken a week when I'm normally so anal about photos but I'm sure I've been very very very very busy doing other things like holding the sofa down with my bottom and bemoaning the fact my dvr cut off Adam's performance on American Idol this week and complaining that although Target FINALLY opened up after sustaining tornado damage that they've moved everything in the store and why oh why is home decor right next to automotive what genius thought THAT bit of ergonomic-failure up and .... wait. What was I saying? Oh, yes. Its taken me a week to look at these photos, just shut up about it, I lead a very fulfilling life.

I took over 700 pictures that weekend. Without a doubt, this is one of my favorites:



I'm not sure if it's because he's so long-legged and thin that he goes knock-kneed when he bends over to pick up the ball, or because despite the fact it was only 30 degrees we forgot to bring anything to cover up those stick legs, or because he's eleven years old and clearly doesn't know how to pull the stocking cap down on his head properly, which just cracks me up. 7-11 robbery, anyone???

But I love this photo.

I hope you all have a wonderful Easter holiday tomorrow. We are attending church as a family (the whining and complaining about having to wear a dress has already started, three guesses which kid) then having Easter lunch and egg coloring and hunts tomorrow afternoon at my sisters. Without a doubt, I'll be slipping an extra chocolate bunny in above-child's Easter basket in the hopes of putting some meat on those legs.

When good kids go bad

Or, just have too much time on their hands:

And so the pre-teen years begin

Brayden: "Mom, you should know that I got sent to the principal's office today and you're probably going to get a call."

Me: "Why were you sent to the principal's office?"

Brayden: "Because B. sent me a note in class asking me out and the substitute totally had it in for me and embarrassed me and all my friends thought it was ridiculous and I should never have gotten in trouble for it!"**

Me: "Wait. Why did B. ask you out? You're too young to date. Plus, you already have a 'boyfriend' "

Brayden: "No, C. and I broke up two weeks ago. But I need you to understand that it was totally not my fault I got in trouble."

Me: "What do you mean you and C. broke up two weeks ago? Why? What happened? Why didn't you tell me?"

Brayden (loooooonnnnnnnnnnggggg exasperated sigh): "Because I KNEW you would go all Dr. Phyllis on me!"

And with that, I didn't know whether to laugh, or cry at what's clearly ahead.

**For the record, a little further poking and prodding in the conversation revealed a few teeny tiny (picture my thumb and forefinger, pinched very very very very closely together) minor details Brayden forgot to tell me (like the fact she was completely disrespectful to the sub) and that she in fact, actually, probably deserved the trip to the principal's office. And did I mention that the substitute is not only our neighbor, but in my ladies Bible Study group? Man, I love small towns.

SPT Challenge April 7

Self-Portrait Challenges for the month of April, as per Lelly's Musings (go there if you'd like to see more challenges) will all deal with the concept of "Gifting". NOT to be confused with RE-Gifting, as per Seinfeld. Rather, in keeping with the tone of Easter, gifts from us to others.

Challenge for week one is a gift to a family member. Her rules state no money is to be spent on these gifts ........ (Remind me not to exchange gifts with her at Christmas. I think she's missing the point, as personally, I *like* for people to spend money on me!) But ok, Lelly states: "let's focus on the gift of service, the gift of a smile, the gift of a repurposed or gently used item, the gift of a kind word. you know, those gifts that would be hard to wrap in a box with a pretty bow."


Since I was out of town and didn't know what the challenge was until late Sunday night, that meant I had one day, yesterday, to figure out what was a gift I give my family. You know, BESIDES the gifts I give of doing all the cooking and cleaning and laundry and taxi-service. (NOT that I'm shallow or bitter or questioning my status as a stay-at-home mom or anything just because its like pulling teeth to get anyone to pick up a damn thing around here and would it be too much to ask if someone ELSE ran the god-forsaken vacuum once in a while and for the love of Pete why is it MY FAULT when a certain twelve-year-old who shall not be named -- Brayden -- can't find her ipod????????) ***

***Kidding, I'm totally kidding. We re-vamped our chore charts three weeks ago and the kids are ROCKING the chores! Although I was being serious about the ipod ---- she's misplaced it, and it's TOTALLY my fault. Whatever.

Where was I????

Oh, yeah. Gifts.

So I thought about what constitutes a typical Monday for me, since that was the only day I had to come up with a self-portrait. Mondays are the day I normally volunteer at the school, and yesterday was no exception. I made copies for teachers at the elementary school, helped grade a few papers, and I also helped chaperone (a term that is apparently synonymous with "hold jackets and lunchboxes") the sixth grade chorus on a brief field trip to the college next door.

But I don't consider those things "gifts" to my family.

Then I pick the kids up at school and drive them to piano practice. Then we stop and have our Monday-afternoon ritual of letting them buy an icee at 7-11.

But I don't think those things are "gifts" either. They're just the sorts of things that parents everywhere do.

About a month ago, Kellen and one of his best friends, Chance, decided they'd like to meet at the gym near our house on Monday afternoons to shoot hoops. It's our church gym and both of our families have memberships, but since the boys are under age 14 they must have an adult with them. Kellen and Chance like to play for about an hour (or as long as we'll let them). Yesterday, it was so unbelievably nice when two local firefighters offered to play a pick-up game against the boys. The boys LOVED it, playing against the firefighters, and Kellen says he and Chance won, although I have no doubt that was another kindness on the part of the grown ups.

They play from around 5-6pm. That's a hard time of day for me. I haven't even been home yet from volunteering, and then piano practice. It's the only night of the week we don't have soccer practice, and at some point in there I have to prepare dinner. The other two are at home with Blaine, HOPEFULLY finishing their homework, while he finishes up whatever household chores didn't get done over the weekend (which translates into "finally putting that damn load of clothes in the dryer.")

But you know what? Kellen enjoys it. Chance enjoys it. And selfishly, it's a great opportunity for me to get better acquainted with Chance's mom, who I like a lot.

So on Mondays, I choose to give Kellen the gift of MY TIME. I make sure to fix a meal in the crockpot beforehand so we can eat as soon as the boys are done playing. Kellen always thanks me for taking him, and I hope I'm showing him through my actions that making time for him is important to me.



And if nothing else, it lets me watch hot firefighters play basketball ... so really, a win-win.

Poor Sports

Amended to add: It's 3am, and I actually woke up, worried that someone might read this (heaven forbid, someone local who knows a kid on the other team) and think I was bashing the other players or their parents. That wasn't my intention, although I think it might have come across that way. They are a good group of kids, and a few of them interact lots with the boys on our team and seem to enjoy their company. Just that with some people, players and parents, there is this level of competitiveness that I don't understand. A win-at-all-costs mentality that I find silly in an eleven year old soccer (or insert sport of your choice) league.

And what bothers me specifically about it is the people who have it, seem to think less of people who don't. They look at us like we're weak; we look at them like they're obnoxious.

I heard a parent from one of the teams we played this weekend (it's awesome taking pictures from behind the goal ... you would be amazed at what you hear from the other teams when they don't think you can hear them) tell his son, "You need to get a lot more physical this half, just make sure you do it outside of the box." This was from the game that warranted four poor sportsmanship cards. And for those of you who aren't familiar with soccer, a foul inside the box warrants a free goal kick (ie, potential goal) whereas a penalty outside the box is just a free kick. So he was basically telling his son, "Fouling them is ok, just don't do it in a spot that could cost us."

And you know, if that's the attitude it takes to compete in sports, then I'll be steering my son towards trombone lessons in the future. For now, I'm just going to remain grateful that he's on a team of boys (with parents) who feel like we do --- a little fresh air, a little sunshine, play your best (preferably withOUT yellow cards) and have fun.
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I hate poor sports. Specifically, people who whine and complain and always have an excuse when their team loses. Even *more* specifically, people who whine and complain when their CHILD'S team loses.

The refs weren't fair.

The other team cheated.

Home-court advantage.

Discrepancies in the scorekeeping.

The sun was in my eyes.

Whatever.

I hate when the parents act like that because it's obnoxious. It's annoying. It gives out a bad representation; where do you think the kids learn it?

Of course it's more fun to win than to lose, that's not exactly ground-breaking news, but really, parents everywhere should set a better example.

Now, with that public service announcement out of the way, I'd like to commence with the bitching about Kellen's soccer tournament in Arkansas this weekend.

We had our first game Saturday morning at 8am and we lost, 5-0. I guess if I was going to throw excuses out there, it would be that the team we played was a local team, and the boys on our team had all driven four hours to get there on Friday evening and stayed in a hotel Friday night, so we probably weren't quite as well-rested. Not to mention the two players on our team who got up at 3am and drove to the fields Saturday morning. But I won't make those excuses because the other team, plain and simple, was better than our team. We hung in there fairly well, but they were just bigger and faster and worked better together. No excuses.

Our second game was Saturday afternoon and we tied, 4-4. If you ask the parents on *our* team, we actually won by one goal. A goal that the referee called back due to some funky tournament rule none of us had ever heard of .... my other excuse would be that the boys on the other team played rough. Rough to the point of dirty. Dirty enough that there were four yellow cards called in one game ... I don't think I've seen four yellow cards the entire year, and there were four in this game for shoving and pushing and intentional tripping. And that was only the four times it was blatant enough that they got caught. There was plenty more going on behind the scenes .... I know. I was there, with a camera. The other team wasn't necessarily bigger or better or faster, they were just more aggressive, and that's not how our boys are used to playing.

But the boys didn't seem too upset. We took them back to the hotel afterwards and they swam in the pool, played elevator tag, then we took them out to a matinee, then we had a pizza party, and then they all collapsed in bed at an early hour .... like the world's funnest slumber party, according to Kellen. This hotel, as per Kellen, is second in the world for fun ONLY to the Great Wolf Lodge. And of course the beauty in that was I only had ONE boy in my room, as opposed to all eleven of them.

This morning's 8am game had us matched against another team that was bigger ... faster .... better ..... we lost again, 4-1. And with that, we were officially out of the tournament. Hey, wait a second. Something seems suspicious here. Kellen's team, the U-11 "B" team in his league, seemed genuinely, truly outmatched the entire tournament. And the "A" team in our league won all three of their tournament games, 5-0, 8-0, and 10-0.

Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

Does anyone else sense anything fishy here?

Yep, tournament officials confirmed it at our last game. They accidentally switched our "A" team and our "B" team at registration and we played each other's games the entire tournament.

Well, that pretty much sucks.

On the one hand, we can feel good about the fact we were in the wrong bracket and at least the games weren't total routs. Yeah, we got beat, but we didn't get creamed. We did a pretty decent job of keeping up and even managed to score in two of the games. It was a great learning experience, and let our coach get a good look at the areas where we need improvement. Most importantly the boys got to play a sport they love.

Blah, blah, end Susie Sunshine.

Is it wrong that a small part of me is annoyed? Not even that we drove eight hours round trip and paid for two nights in a hotel and tournament fees and all those meals out, and didn't win a single game, but because they never had a realistic chance to win a single game? And not even because they didn't win, because losing is part of life too, yadda yadda, that's not what bothered me. But a few of the boys on the "A" team were gloating about how much better they did, and how there was "no challenge" at this tournament (as if they were playing soccer and yawning at the same time) I just wanted to get down in their little eleven-year old faces and say, "You were playing OUR games, against "B" teams, you arrogant little brats" and honestly, an even smaller part of me just wanted to pinch them.

Because I'm a grown up like that.

For the record, I don't think there is a HUGE difference in the skill levels of the "A" team and "B" team in this league. It's more a difference in attitude. I certainly can't speak for sports teams everywhere ... but in this particular league, in this particular age group, our "A" team has more ego .... more drama .... more attitude. Truthfully, we "B" team parents have sat back this year and watched, commenting to one about how glad and relieved we are that our "B" team boys seem to genuinely like one another and enjoy spending time together, both on and off the field. Sure, they're always happy to win -- who isn't? -- but they also enjoy playing just for the fun of it. They encourage one another on the field, and are quick to congratulate a goal, and even quicker to "you'll get 'em next time!" when a goal is missed. Of course, that laid-back attitude comes through at practice, and games, and I think the "A" team players and parents look down on us a little bit for it. Which is ridiculous, because they're in the FIFTH GRADE for goodness' sake, and you'd think they'd be thrilled just that their boys are having fun, but as anyone who has kids, who play sports anywhere can probably tell you .......... some parents are living vicariously and are pretty pathetic about it, and it shows through in their attitude. And shit rolls downhill, if you know what I mean.

/end rant.

We went back to the hotel this morning after our game, knowing full well we didn't make the "A" bracket semi-finals, and the boys wanted to swim again before checking out. So we let them. And they made up this fun water/soccer/baseball/kickball type game, and were throwing and catching and leaping into the pool and squealing with happiness like little girls. Kellen came over to me at one point and when I asked if he was having fun he replied, "Yeah, this is the most awesome trip ever!" and at that moment, I was reminded of what mattered, and knew that win or lose, the trip was totally worth it.

They are a great group of boys, and a great group of parents, and we've truly enjoyed ourselves these past nine months. I'm not going to pout about a stupid registration mistake at a tournament.

After all, I'm a grown up. Who is a good sport.

Instead I preferred chortling when I heard our "A" team, who, **shockingly** (finger quotes) did make it into the semi-finals, had to play in the cold front that blew into Arkansas today, with temps in the high 30's and 30 mph north winds. Their game took place while we were eating left-over pizza by the indoor heated pool.

And the team that beat us 4-1? They beat our "A" team in the semi-finals ...... (wait for it, wait for it ....) 4-1.

Clearly, Kellen understands the value in enjoying time spent at an out-of-state tournament, whether you win or lose. It's all about the elevator tag.

His mother, on the other hand, is just shallow enough to gain a small sense of satisfaction in knowing our boys played just as well against the same team.

(small print) Because deep down, I am apparently a very poor sport.

Take Six

I was tagged by my new scrapbooking friend Alisa a few days ago but wanted to save the tag for today. It seemed fitting, considering we're on our way to Arkansas for a soccer tournament as I type this.

The tag was to take the sixth photo, from the sixth folder, on your computer, and post it.



This one is two years old, taken March of 2007, and still makes me laugh.

Sadly, I'm not sure his form has gotten much better.

Who knew ole' George had a cousin?

You might remember me mentioning Kellen's class project, "paper doll of historical figure." I was finally able to explain to Kellen that George Washington was actually NOT too concerned with global warming, and after scouring both the internet (and a dollar bill in my wallet) for his likeness, Kellen made a great doll.

Which was promptly chewed up by Brew.

Kellen made the replacement doll tonight. Since we had made the first one together, and I assumed he would remember all the steps, I didn't feel the need to hover too closely as he cut out the clothes, attached the ruffles and the wig, and most importantly, drew in the facial features.

But I **am** a little surprised to discover that George Washington apparently had a cousin ---------

Mr. Bill


"ooooooooh-noooooooooooo, Mr. Bill! Don't let that dog eat me, too!!!"

Nothing

This is a post about nothing.

Because that's pretty much what I've been doing lately.

Oh, I don't mean I've been doing "nothing" .... no, quite the contrary. I've been running around like a chicken with my head cut off. It's just that I've been doing NOTHING interesting enough to write about here.

To recap:

I spent an entire day grocery shopping (remember, I only go once a month, so buying 30-days worth of life's essentials like Cheese Nips and Cinnamon Toast Crunch can take a while ....) BUT! I saved $55.32 in coupons --- not too shabby, if I say so myself.

I got my windshield replaced. (snore)

I got highlights and a haircut. (interesting to me, but not to anyone else.)

I'm getting a collision appraisal from that time in January I backed up into a truck in a parking lot.

I've had the same load of laundry in the washing machine for three days now and I keep having to re-wash it every morning to get rid of that musty smell yet can I remember to put it in the dryer? No, no I cannot. And on this topic, does anyone have any laundry detergent suggestions that will make my clothes smell clothes-line fresh?

See? See how low I've resorted? A blog post asking for laundry detergent recommendations???

Kellen and I are traveling to Arkansas for a soccer tournament this weekend. Maybe I'll get lucky and something exciting and funny and blog-worthy will happen while I'm there. Although it better not be car-related. Because I've got a new windshield and if somebody flings a rock at me on the highway and chips it, I'm going to be extremely annoyed.

The end.

SPT Challenge March 31

Well, I barely squeaked it in before the end of the day ... but here it is, my self-portrait challenge for today. As per the challenge organizer, Lelly, the challenge for the month of March was to utilize self-portraits featuring the number eight.

Or perhaps not technically "featuring" ... but at least making sure there is an eight, however teeny tiny, showing up in the photo somewhere.

Lelly chose this particular challenge, for this particular month, because she had a son turn eight the beginning of March. All I can say is I hope he's an only-child, because if I have to feature "nine" or "four" or "any other number" later this year for an entire month, I might just boycott whatever month it is.

And that would be a shame, because who *doesn't* want to see weeks and weeks worth of obnoxious self-promotion from me on this site??? (OK, you can all put your hands down now. No, really, there's no need to form a line.)



For this, my final March-eight picture, I'm posing in front of my mom's house. That used to be MY house. Blaine and I bought it when we were stationed at Tinker from 1993-1996. When it was time for us to move to Los Angeles, thanks to the real-estate market at the time, it was newer, bigger, and financed at a much lower-percentage rate than my parent's house. So we sold it to them, and everyone was happy, the end.

Except it **was** really weird the first time we came "home" on vacation the next summer, and my mom had all HER furniture in the house, and had done some re-modeling, and we had to sleep in the guest bedroom in our house.

The brick mailbox was a gift from my brother-in-law, who built it for my parents when they moved in. (Never mind that WE didn't have a brick mailbox the entire three years we lived there, clearly he doesn't love us as much as he loves them, or perhaps he was sucking up under the delusion that there will be an inheritance available and he knew he wouldn't get jack from me and Blaine .....)

What I love the absolute most about this house now? That I only live a few miles away. After twenty-odd years of having to fly home for holidays, it sure is fantastic to be able to call my mom, invite her to dinner, and pick her up ten minutes later.

Brew-baker. Brew-tus. Brew-ster.

Yep, I knew it wouldn't take anyone long to guess ..... my friend Lisa from Georgia not only guessed, but got his name right as well, based on my post label from the "dog lumping" entry.

Introducing the newest member of our family (which is now closely starting to resemble a zoo around here, although I did put my foot down FIRMLY at Brayden's request for a pet rat yesterday ...)

Brew.


Blaine and I had always said we would have two dogs .... we bought Barley and then, quite frankly, just got lazy. Too much food required, too much maintenance, too much brushing, too much vacuuming .... in all honesty, the primary deterrent, in my opinion, was that there would be TOO MUCH POOP in the back yard.

Barley seemed perfectly content being the only dog for our family. She got plenty of attention and love, but a funny thing happened .... after we brought Blackie the cat inside and made him a house-cat (which by the way, is still going swimmingly) we realized how ..... how .... how .... how pathetic and lonely Barley must really be!

She would try SO HARD to play with the cat, and the cat was all, "Hummph. I am superior to you. Go away." It was quite ridiculously sad, actually.

And we realized that although we love Barley dearly, she was spending a large number of hours each day, mainly while the kids are in school .... alone. Sad and lonely. So we decided a playmate was in order.

Wow. This was pretty much the best decision we ever made.



We went to the local no-kill shelter and explained we needed a dog that was good with kids, good with other dogs, AND good with cats. Kind of a tall order, but we were hopeful. We had taken Barley with us, and the first dog they brought out promptly growled at her, and was so (head)strong I could barely control him on a leash. Sorry, "Chester", you weren't the one for our family.

The next dog they brought out seemed nice enough, the kids liked him, there was no obvious dissension between he and Barley .... but I don't know. It just didn't feel like "the one" ..... so, keeping "Ronald" on our maybe-list, we asked for one more.

Then they brought out this guy, who they were calling "Walter". I doubt he's full-blood, but at least looked mainly like a chocolate lab .... calm, gentle, leash-trained, didn't lick, didn't jump, sat quietly and let all of us pet him .............. granted, he and Barley didn't have much to do with one another, but hey, by that point she had discovered the pond at the dog park next door and she wasn't having anything to do with ANYONE who wasn't throwing a stick in for her retrieve time and again. So we played with "Walter", watched him interact positively with the other dogs at the park, watched one dog lump a lot of other dogs, and decided we would give it a go.

And so we brought Walter home, re-named him Brew, and promptly fell in love.


Kellen asked, "What is his middle name?" And I replied, "Ski". Yeah. Because we're still classy like that.

Our vet says he's about two years old and in good health .... sadly, he had spent the last five months in the shelter, and they had no idea how long he had been in the pound before that.

With only a few accidents he appears mostly house-trained (hey, you can't be angry when they haven't figured out where the back door is yet) and the first few days he was extremely calm.

The shelter had a 7-day return policy, and at the end of the 7-days, I announced to the kids, "Well, I've decided to keep Brew because he's better behaved and return Barley-the-spaz!"

Now, almost two weeks later, he is definitely coming out of his shell. The tail is wagging all the time, he initiates petting, and is playing more with toys .... although he still completely cowers if anyone raises a voice, which makes me wonder about the life he had before the pound (and makes me cringe a little on the inside ....)

Best of all, he and Barley are fast buds. Wrestling, jumping, running, playing tug of war ....... it's been a great reminder to us that two dogs are better than one, everyone needs friends, and our only regret is that we didn't do this months ago.

ALTHOUGH!!!

We've noticed, as he's coming out of his shell, that it appears they didn't feed him much at the shelter. I mean, how else could you explain hunger like this:

A book:



A whole set of books!:



A boot:



And the age-less, time-less classic ...... the dog ate my homework:

(Yep, that's Kellen's "creative paper doll project" due this week .....)

Needless to say, yesterday afternoon saw us at Petsmart, buying some additional, more appropriate chew toys. And thinking perhaps we shouldn't leave them inside the house without direct supervision.

OMG U R CLUELESS

A few weeks ago our church started promoting a six-week special Sunday school class for parents, educators, whoever-might-be-interested, called "Understand Youth: Connecting with Teens in a MySpace World".

Or something like that.

I called to get more information and was told that the class was geared for people who deal with pre-teens and teens, specifically, middle schoolers and high schoolers. So Blaine and I decided to sign up.

NOT because we really need it, of course, is what we told ourselves. We did that smug parenting thing about how OUR children are not problem children and of COURSE the lines of communication are open at our house and we are VERY vested in our children's lives and EXTREMELY aware of what goes on and perhaps even more importantly, we are still hip. We're not like some of those old fuddy-duddys who are so out of touch with today's youth.

Nope, not us. We are dope. Or rad. Or getting jiggy with it? I can't really remember.

Today, the speaker started the talk by saying many people fall into one of two camps; one that believes the kids of today have never had more advantages and have never been better off, and one that believes the kids of today are hurting like no other generation before.

The speaker said he personally falls into the second camp, based on the extremely high levels of negative, unfortunate behavior being chosen and exhibited by teens of today. He mentioned drugs, innapropriate sexual conduct, binge drinking ......

Then he said, "And cutting, for example, was no where near in the past the problem it is now. Recent studies indicate up to five percent of all male college freshman cut on a regular basis, and up to nine percent of all female college freshman also cut on a regular basis."

And Blaine leaned over and whispered in my ear, "What's the big deal? I used to cut class all the time and I turned out OK."

Clearly, *I* am hip. But I just realized that I am married to a fuddy-duddy.

Clues

So, a few things we did last week during Spring Break:

1. Obligatory day at the park? Check

2. Obligatory day at the zoo? Check

3. Obligatory sleep over, pizza lunch, and matinee of Race to Witch Mountain? Check

We, however, did one additional Spring Break "thing" that was sort of fun and out of the ordinary for us.

Wanna guess?

Here are a few clues (I suspect it will take you about 1.7 seconds to figure it out):


"Just so you understand -- I have always been, am now, and will always BE, the Queen. And don't you forget it."



"Ummmmmmmmm, what the hell just happened here?"

I will never fly again

UPDATED AGAIN TO ADD: Denise, this *was* with a doctors note -- that's the only reason we got the credit! The flight was booked last May 12th, to take place in September. When we found out in August that his cancer had returned and he wouldn't be able to travel due to scheduled radiation, we filled out the medical form, and had Blaine's doctor fill out his part, and the oncologist fill out his part. I understand they need to avoid fraudulant claims, but I figure an application to attend Yale will be less complicated. At that time, we were granted a "credit" from the airline for the price of the fare. That is what I was trying to use and book today (bearing in mind that one year from date of travel is ACTUALLY one year from "date you bought the ticket", NOT "date you were supposed to fly". Which means he had to fly BEFORE May 12th, even though the actual tickets weren't for a flight until Sept. Seriously, could it be any more convuluted?) Although we weren't going to have to pay a difference, because the flight we were trying to book was less than the originial ticket, we were NOT going to receive a refund for the difference. And I was told today that there would be a $180 change fee. And a $25 fee for making the change via a live representative, instead of making the change myself online. Never mind that there is no way to USE a refund credit online, that I could find.

Of course, all that is moot considering Travelocity says United has the fare and United says it was transferred to Frontier and ***I*** said "take a big fat fucking hike" to all three of them.
****************************************************



Why? Is it because they now you charge you not only for the flight, but for your luggage, and for headphones, and for any kind of snack more substantial than lint, and because just as soon as they figure out how, the airlines will be charging us for the freaking AIR in the cabin?

No.

It's because heaven forbid you make travel plans of any kind, that have to be changed or tweaked for any reason ... even perfectly valid reasons like, oh, I don't know .... CANCER IN A PERSONS HEAD ... you will pay change fees and online reservation fees and flight difference fees .... I am single-handedly boosting the economy with this one phone call.

And at the end of the day, even if you still have a smile on your face after paying all the fees, you will hold for sixteen minutes and nine seconds with Travelocity only to be told the specific change must take place directly with the airline. So you will be transferred to the airline, where you will hold for another eight minutes, entering every piece of information exactly as they requested, only to be told by the automated voice person that your request couldn't be processed and to please hang up and call again.

I have pressed buttons, followed prompts, spoken clearly and forcefully into the voice prompts, lost my shit and banged the fucking phone on the computer desk in frustration, and STILL have no idea how much this "new" flight is going to cost me.

As I type this, the wait time for this call is at twenty-two minutes and counting (and lets not forget the twenty-four minutes I had already held before this call -- clearly, I have no idea why I don't get anything done around this house) ..........

UPDATED TO ADD: Just as I was ready to hit "publish post" the United Airlines customer service agent came back to me. And said these tickets have already been re-issued. She couldn't tell me by whom, or when, just that they had been re-issued by Frontier Airlines.

Since Blaine hasn't flown anywhere since he had to cancel this flight last fall, and these tickets are NON-REFUNDABLE NON-TRANSFERABLE IN BIG FUCKING NEON LETTERS, I'm pretty sure that means he hasn't used them. When I asked for ticket information for Frontier so I could call them, the United agent said she didn't have that information to give me, but she would happy to transfer me.

At which point my damn head exploded all over my computer screen and I blew up, frustration and anger literally oozing from the holes in my body At which point I informed the agent "No, thank you. I appreciate your time, but my family will NEVER fly again, unless its an absolute emergency, we will drive EVERYWHERE from this point forward, for the rest of our damn lives, thank you for your time and have a nice day" and I slammed down the phone.

Well, ok, technically I didn't slam down the phone because it was a cell phone. But by golly, I pushed the "end" button really, really hard.

I will not fly. If we can't drive, we'll take a train. Or a bus. Or a boat. Or I'll put on scuba gear and walk my fat ass across the bottom of the ocean floor. I WILL see Australia some day WITHOUT YOUR HELP, YOU STUPID WORTHLESS STUPID BLOOD-SUCKING STUPID ANNOYING STUPID AIRLINE PEOPLE.

Let's blame Yahoo, shall we?

I was all set to update a fascinating, scintillating, high-energy masterpiece** tonight, complete with photos, as I am sure so many of you are waiting with baited breath to hear about the latest exciting escapades of our family. Or not.

But when I tried to upload my photos to my server, I got a notice that Geocities, the Yahoo server where I store my photos, is "down" for some site maintenance and won't be back up for several hours.

So I figure I have a few options:

1. Post the blog entry without the photos. Really, not a good idea because the entire post consists of two pictures and two sentences, so if you take away the pictures you only have the sentences which wouldn't even make any sense without the photos, because then people would just be wondering why did I have these two random sentences and what do they even mean and is Kristie going insane or just not making sense like she always/never does much like this explanation doesn't make sense either but don't blame me I ate too many Milk Duds tonight and am suffering from sugar poisoning.

2. Wait up a few hours, eating more Milk Duds all the while, for the site maintenance to finish, and then go ahead and start typi ......... zzzzzzz .zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzng. (snore)

3. Blather on in this nonsensical manner and hope it counts as a post. Or as a blog fart, to quote one of my newest favorite bloggers.

In the end, my fluffy pillow and comfy bed won out.

Good night!!

**You know I'm kidding right? Unless you count photos of my daughter's orthodontic headgear as fascinating, or stories about me puking green beer on St. Patricks day scintillating.

Wait. Is "scintillating" a dirty word???

My 11-yr old genius

OK, so even though Kellen won't technically be eleven until tomorrow, I thought I would share the following conversation with you as proof that he's wise beyond his years and certainly the early-admissions department at Harvard will be calling any day now ...

Kristie: "OK, so you've got to make a paper doll and dress it up *creatively*, and write a report, is that correct?"

Kellen: "yes"

Kristie: "And who is your historical figure?"

Kellen: "George Washington"

Kristie: "Ok, so it says here that your report is supposed to include a few interesting facts .... so, what do you know about George Washington?"

Kellen: "That he was President of the United States?"

Kristie: "Right, what else?"

Kellen: "That he was in charge of the Revolutionary War?"

Kristie: "Uh-huh ... what else?"

Kellen: "That he was worried about global warming?"

Kristie: "Right, ok .......... wait, what? No, not global warming, what are you talking about?"

Kellen: "Then I don't know anything else."

Kristie: "What about the story about the cherry tree he supposedly cut down?"

Kellen: "Did he cut it down because he was worried about global warming?"

Kristie: "NO! He didn't cut it down at all --- the whole story is false is my point. It has nothing to do with global warming. What about the fact they say he wore wooden teeth?"

Kellen: "And the wood came from the cherry tree he chopped down and THAT'S why he was worried about global warming?"

Kristie: "Oh for goodness sake --- WOULD YOU FORGET ABOUT THE GLOBAL WARMING ALREADY??!!!"

Kellen: "Um, I can't really think of anything else about George Washington."

See? See why I'm sharpening my pencils now, to fill out that Ivy League application????

SPT Challenge March 24

Self-Portrait Challenge for the entire month of March as per Lelly's Musings is to go all Crazy-Eights on ourselves. The only "rule" is that the number "8" must appear in the photo. And for the person who asked, yep, most of my "self-portraits" are being taken by my kids. Hmmmm. I guess they're not really SELF portraits then, are they?? Is a self-portrait one you must take yourself? Or is a self-portrait simply one where I intend for my own image to be in the picture? Because what if I used my timer? And a tripod? Truly, it's a complicated quandary.

Whatever.

Here is today's:



And in case you can't see the "8" close enough:



Happy One-Day-Early Birthday, Kellen!! Eleven years ago today I checked into the hospital, almost two weeks overdue. No dilation, no contractions. You showed no signs of leaving and my doctor said it was past-time to serve you your eviction notice. In fact, I like to joke that you would still be in there given the chance. Although, to be honest, that joke was a lot funnier when you were still little and now it's just sort of icky.

Anyway! Twenty-eight hours later, you still had no intention of leaving. The doctor said, "If you want, we can turn off the machines and let you get some rest, then start again tomorrow ...." I said, "I don't care if you pull this kid out my nose, I want it over with ...." and the doctor said, "Good, because I have tickets to a Lakers game."

8 pounds, 13 ounces. My, you were a fat little chunk.

What happened? You're like a Cambodian now.

Despite the fact you weren't too eager to make your entrance, you've been a delight ever since.

Most of the time.

I love you, honey --- Happy Birthday tomorrow!!

Seriously urgently massively important

OK, so basically it's a computer question, but I had to get your attention somehow, didn't I?

I've got an e-mail in to Shawn, "my computer guy" (basically, I just like to say "my computer guy" a lot for my own sense of self-importance ....) but maybe one of you Peoples of the Internet can help me and then I can quit bugging him which Lord knows he will be happy about ....

My new computer came with Windows Vista. My old computer ran Windows XP. Everything is fine, I love how its running, yadda yadda .... but the Autoplay feature for importing photos in Vista is a disaster. With XP, you could select which pictures to import, then label them and put them in a specific folder ... then press the back prompt and do another set of pictures. This worked GREAT for when you've taken pictures of more than one event on the same card before importing. I label my photos with the date and event name -- for example, "March 2009 Amusement Park". Then, I always know where to find photos on my computer, and this information prints on the back of the pictures, which is helpful as well. Lets say you've got several events on one card, ie, pictures of a birthday party, then pictures of a soccer game, then pictures of an afternoon at the zoo --- all these different events could be saved and labeled separately. It was super-easy to get them all sorted out and saved appropriately, life was good, God save the Queen, whatever.

With Windows Vista, however, the import default is "Import ALL photos", regardless of what they are. There is no way to sort or view before saving. They all get lumped into one folder. So then after they are all imported to the same folder, you have to go in and cut and paste them all into different folders, AND you have to re-name every photo (if you are as anal as I am, anyway.)

Seriously, I despise this feature with the intensity of a thousand burning suns. I spent close to three hours online yesterday looking for a solution. I found PLENTY of other Vista users complaining in chat boards about the same thing, but no solutions. I entered a live chat with a customer service rep who kept calling me "Kritine" and repeatedly assuring me that this "new and improved" way was actually an improvement and that I would grow to love it. Um, no. I won't. It is a pain in my ass and I hate it as much as I hate people who can't spell my name .... I'm looking at you, mr. live chat ...

So!! Does anyone out there know what I'm talking about? Anyone else gone from XP to Vista and discovered how much this stinks? Or better yet, discovered a way around it? Is it even feasible to consider downgrading my new computer from Vista back to XP? (Heck, I don't even know if that's possible, but it is TOTALLY the kind of cut-my-nose-off-to-spite-my-face mentality that I have .....)

And please, no suggestions in the comments about how I should have bought a Mac. Considering I have a brand-new pc sitting on my desk, that's actually not a helpful suggestion.

Ps. Oh, by the way. Blaine starts radiation today. Is it wrong that I'm more upset about the photo feature than that???

24 Hour Brigade

We took part (and by "we", I mean "Kellen", and also mean "while I sat in the stands and watched him like the lazy soul that I am") in a really great fundraiser effort today, held at a local high school.

David Swanson, a local high school graduate and current cadet at West Point, decided for his spring break that rather than go to Miami or Padre or wherever it is those crazy college kids go these days, that he wanted to make a difference. His goal for Spring Break was to raise funds for the Wounded Warrior Project, a non-profit organization that supports soldiers wounded in the war in Iraq and Afghanistan.

Calling his project 24 Hour Brigade ultramarathoner Swanson invited area runners, walkers, mothers with strollers, virtually anyone, to join him in his effort.

I know, I know .... soliciting donations, or getting people to sponsor you for so much money for every mile or lap you run or walk. You've all heard of that, right? What's the big deal???

I'll tell you what the big deal is: This boy (and yes, despite the fact he attends West Point he is still a BOY to me) ran the ENTIRE TWENTY-FOUR HOUR PERIOD WITHOUT STOPPING, EXCEPT FOR BRIEF POTTY STOPS AND NUTRITION BREAKS.

Holy cow, can you even believe it??? Twenty-four solid hours of running, in the hopes he would reach his goal of raising $10,000 for the Wounded Warrior Project.

That, my friends, is freaking awesome.

Since Kellen is the only one in our family who enjoys running (shocker, I know .... you probably assumed I did, too, based on my ultramarathoner body ::cough::bullshit::cough::....) I figured making a donation would be easier than trying to solicit sponsors. Plus ...... um ....... to be honest ........ I sort of forgot about the run until the last minute.

Swanson started Friday evening at 5pm, and we showed up around noon today, right near his 19-hour point. I have no idea how many people joined in throughout the evening, or the morning today, but there was still an impressive group when we arrived. Including one man who appeared to be about my age who (rumor has it) had never met Swanson, but was also a West Point graduate. When he heard about this run he was inspired, but knew he could never run that long ... so he had walked the entire time himself. Running, walking, I can't think of ANYTHING I could do for twenty-four solid hours -- not even eat chocolate!


He had a group running with him, and I was told he had had someone running with him from the very beginning.



This was the really amazing part --- I actually saw the young man smile while running, and at this stage in the game he was closing in on the 100-mile mark. Are you hearing what I'm saying???? He had run almost 100 miles, basically without stopping, and was still smiling! I don't know whether to be shocked, or impressed, or freaked the hell out!!



Kellen checked in, made our family donation, and ran three miles without breaking a sweat. In fact, he probably would have gone farther but in a bizarre coincidence, we ran into friends there (who we didn't even realize, but they are friends with David's family, and we showed up to run at the same time, what are the odds of that --- Hi Stacey!) and it was sort of cold and windy and basically I wanted to go eat lunch. So we left after only three miles.

Clearly, self-sacrifice is NOT my thing.

But I'm so blown away by what this boy (OK, I guess I'll call him a man .... heaven knows with this kind of goodness in his heart he deserves it) has done. When we left the field, rumor had it he had reached double his goal.

As I type this, the run ended almost three hours ago. I hope Cadet Swanson is proud of himself ... I don't even know him and I'm proud of him.

The Lens

Since several (several, SEVERAL) of you have asked, I thought I would share with you what kind of lens I bought to help with these basketball photos. I do feel compelled, however, to point out to you it wasn't just the lens. It was ME. My skill, my talent, my artistic ability, my ......... my ............ ok, yeah, it was the lens.

I'm really annoyed, though. You know why? I was going to point you back to my previous journal entries here and here to show you my first few attempts and how lousy they were.

But do you know what I realized? That when I uploaded the photos, the ones that sort of in a way maybe hopefully perhaps weren't totally suck-ish, from the final game of the season, I labled them with the exact same names as the crappy photos I used in the first journal entry. (Wow, I'm really good at this technology stuff, aren't I?) And although I would have suspected my photo host server would have given me some sort of, oh, I don't know, HEADS UP that they were about to over-write all my old pictures, they did not. So now none of my old pictures will show up.

And because I am oh-so-competent and organized, when I got my new hard-drive, I went in and deleted all the photos that (I THOUGHT) I would no longer use, so now I have no way to recall them. You know, I really need a recycle bin for my recycle bin's recycle bin.

SO!!!

All that to say, if you didn't see the first two sets of basketball pictures, you are simply going to have to take my word for it --- they were awful.

Indoor sports, for me, was a tricky balancing act. A quick enough shutter speed to keep things in focus, but then not enough light came in. The lighting in indoor gyms is terrible. A slow enough shutter speed to let in the light I needed, and the action was blurry. I tweaked, I fiddled, I maniupulated every setting on my camera --- I might have even cursed a bit.

After scouring the internet for suggestions, and accosting friend and strangers alike for information, I wound up purchasing an 85 mm fixed lens, 1.8 f/stop. I'm still not sure what the mechanics of that *specifically* even means, but I know the 1.8 f/stop let in enough light that I could get the pictures in focus. The difficult part for me was adjusting to a lens that did not have any kind of zoom. I had to waaaaaaaiiiiiiiiittttttttt for the action to come to my end of the court. And I couldn't really stand at the end of the court like I had previously because that made the action too close to me. So I stood either at an angle from the court, or I stood up in the stands, which I'm sure the people behind me appreciated. A LOT. And I still tweaked and fiddled, trying to decide which setting on my camera worked best, at which size aperature, and which ISO, and which shutter speed, etc ...... and the end of the day came home and STILL messed with them in Photoshop to get them even close to what I wanted.

The cost of the lens at my local camera store was $499. I bought it online from Adorama for $299 --- quite a savings. It's also much better for auditorium pictures, ie, kids giving choir concerts, plays, etc. I'm still on a learning curve there as well, as I try to figure out the best place in the audience to sit (again,the no-zoom thing is hard for me to get used to.)

I think my next purchase will be a Canon L-series lens ... which as I understand it, has the lower f/stop but also has a zoom feature. For now thought, it's out of my price range, and will have to wait. At least until this fall, when Kellen is playing football (like he says he wants to) on a huge football field and I can't get any photos of my precious baby getting his scrawny ass kicked enjoying the game and I TOTALLY will find a way to justify that lens.

At which point I will probably turn to the internet and beg someone to buy this one off me so I can afford to feed my family.

I almost forgot

.... to let you guys know (ie, use this as a vapid excuse to SHOW YOU) the final set of basketball pictures I took of my nephew's team. By the end of the season, I really felt like was starting to get the hang of my new lens. Had I not been such a tightwad and waited until there were only two games left, I could have bought the lens earlier, gotten more practice, and actually improved tons more. Make no mistake, Sports Illustrated is in no way beating down my door. But at least now, if the coach uses the photos in his end-of-season slide show, I won't be embarrassed to face the parents later.

Take your lumps

Comment uttered by my thirdborn at the dog park yesterday:

"Oh my goodness!" ::cue hysterical giggling:: "That dog won't quit lumping that other dog!!"

Green memories

Twenty-three years ago yesterday, I was a hip, happening (in my own mind, anyway) nineteen year old with my own apartment, hosting a St. Patrick's Day party for a few of my closest friends. And co-workers. And anyone else who wanted to show up. I discovered there is no limit to the number of people who can take part in the world's most awesome game of quarters, and that if you pour half a container of green food coloring into a pitcher of beer, it will turn black, not green. I also learned that no amount of diluting in the world ... no matter how many cases of Pearl you go through ... will ever be enough to make the beer turn green.

Twenty-three years ago TODAY, I discovered it really is possible to expel GREEN from every orifice of your body at the same time. And the "new" boyfriend Blaine, who holds back your hair while you are sitting on the toilet, throwing up into the bathtub, is definitely a keeper.

Happy one-day-after St. Patricks Day, honey. Thanks for the memories --- love you!!

PS. Lest anyone think our relationship is not reciprocal, he decided *I* was a keeper a few months later at a friend's 21st birthday party when he threw up Glen Levitt and Cool Ranch Doritos all over my feet and I didn't complain, but instead put him to bed, face down, so he didn't drown.

Man, I miss the 80's.

SPT Challenge March 17

Self-Portrait Challenge for March as per Lelly's Musings is to follow a "Crazy Eight" theme --- the only rule is the self-portrait must have the number eight in it. Otherwise, no rules.

You'd be surprised how difficult this is. Thank goodness the month is three-fifths over, is all I'm saying.

My photo for today:



You'll notice that my new computer has "8" something-or-nother of memory. Or hard-drive space. (Is that the same thing???)



And the reason for the new computer?

This:


Yep, I am the proud new owner of a full-blown version of Photoshop CS4. Which means this is TOTALLY turning into a photo blog, and I'm going to force you guys to look at tweaked and edited and manipulated photos of my children from now until eternity.

Well, I would, if I could figure out how to work the damn program. I *might* have a little too much horse-power under my belt, if you know what I mean. And I think you do.

See, its just like I was telling Shawn, my computer guy. (How fun is that? To be able to say you have a computer guy of your very own?) Thank goodness I moved here and made friends with someone whose husband is totally computer savvy and literate and allows himself to be hired out for computer work. Because I can barely find my computer CHAIR half the time, let alone figure out how to do all this other stuff like actually make things WORK as they should. Any repair beyond pushing the on/off button is pretty much beyond me.

So what was I telling Shawn? Oh, yeah. I was telling him that I think people my age got the short stick with regard to computers. We didn't learn anything about them in school because they weren't commonplace yet. For goodness sake, I didn't even take "keyboarding" ... let alone any kind of basic computer course. I took freaking TYPING, for heaven's sake, with white out and typewriter ribbons that had to be replaced and CARBON PAPER FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. Does anyone under the age of 35 even know what carbon paper IS?!?!?!?! I remember the one, single, solitary boy in my high school graduating class who enjoyed computers and drove around with an Apple bumper sticker on his car. he spoke in computer-ese and tried telling us computers were the wave of the future and how they would revolutionize our lives. We all totally made fun of him.

Who's laughing now???

So computers, or anything about them, wasn't taught when I was in school because I'm too old. But I'm still young enough that people assume I know how to do things on them. I mean my mom, yeah, she's in her 60's, so she gets a free pass when it comes to computers. She's allowed to call me and ask me to come over and help her set up her e-mail account or change her password or hook up a printer .... because I'm expected to know all that, and more. People my age are still expected to know the tricky stuff --- Like how to set up a new hard drive and transfer all my e-mail accounts and programs and favorites and documents over and download new drivers for the accessories and blahblahblah my ears are bleeding. Because I don't know how to do ANY of that.

In the first twelve hours after Shawn set up my new hard drive and connected my new keyboard (best money I ever spent, except maybe for Lasik, but I digress ...) the following happened:

1. The printer software took forever to load. Then there was a fatal error. Not a serious error. Not a grave error. A FATAL error. What the hell does that even mean??? I managed to fix it by starting over with the software that came with the printer.

2. The monitor wouldn't come on the next day. As in, it was working fine when I went to bed, and was a black screen of death the next morning. Blaine (prompted by a virulent stream of cursing from me .... so bad, in fact, that it even required an apology from me to my children) managed to fix it by using the highly-skilled technical maneuver of "jiggling the wires." He might not be as tech-savvy as Shawn, but at least he can jiggle the damn wires.

3. Half of my installed desktop short cuts didn't work, half the time. Shawn steered me towards the Google search that led me to do something, some kind of reset or something ..... I have no idea. Whatever it was, I did it and now they all work.

4. My screen saver no longer worked. I managed to google the answer to this myself, and discovered the screen saver in Windows Vista is not compatible with a wireless device (my mouse) unless you download and install an *optional* update from the Windows site. What-the-hell-ever, all I care about is that I did it and now it works.

5. I totally cannot figure out the new way Windows is importing my photos and have double folders showing up everywhere, so it's probably just as good I have 8 gig/bytes/ram/whatever of memory because at the rate I'm going, it will be full of photos in a few weeks anyway.

Seriously.

I was born in the wrong era. I should have been an adult in the 1950's. Because I could ROCK THE SHIT out of white out and carbon paper.

Even the kids are starting to catch on ...

Kellen and Kendrie both won "Sensational Citizen" awards at their school on Friday. Back in MY day, it was called "Citizens of the Month", and they did it .... well ... monthly. But now they only do it once every nine weeks, AND the kids totally get to leave campus and go out for a pizza lunch with the principal and what did WE ever get besides a measley mention of our name during morning announcements and maybe a certificate not that I would know because I don't think I was ever ONCE named Citizen of the Month the entire twelve years I went to school there what am I chopped liver not that I'm bitter or anything.

Anyway.

The teachers let all the parents whose kids were chosen (about three hundred and ninety-two of us) know that the awards would be passed out during the Friday morning assembly so we could go for picture-taking purposes.

After the names were called and the certificates passed out, I asked Kellen and Kendrie, and their cousin who was also named, to stick around for a few quick photos.

Kellen didn't look too happy and I asked him why. Not that this is the biggest honor in the history of mankind or anything, but I was still proud of him and thought he would have been more pleased.

"Of all the days," he hissed at me under his breath, "for me to get an award, it has to be today? Book Character Day? The day all the parents show up, and I'm up here in front of everyone, dressed as TOM SAWYER?!?"

And I thought to myself, "Honey, as many dress-up days as you have around here, odds are running about three-to-one that ANY day you won an award would be a dress-up day."

But you notice he refused to take his jacket off ..... oh well, at least he's in good company:


A cat.



His cousin, the squirrel. And his sister, who had the good sense to select Jigsaw Jones, Boy Detective, who dresses like a normal person.



And look, Laura Ingalls is in the house. And for the person who asked if the teachers dress up as well --- do you see Snow White? She is one of the kindergarten teachers. The other seven teachers were ...... (go ahead, you can guess ....) the dwarves.

Basic Math

New hard drive + trying to get everything set up just the way I like it + having to reinstall programs + did you really think, given my total and complete lack of technical prowess, that it would all go smoothly for me? = not a lot of time to blog this week.

Thanks for being patient.

The Rock. And I don't mean Dwayne Johnson.

Neurosurgeon: It's not that it's "inoperable", exactly. Just that the cavernous sinus cavity (located in the skull, behind and slightly below the eye, but not technically in the brain, just like everyone said) has lots going on with it. The internal carotid artery runs through it, cranial nerves, and the opthalmic vein. So unless its life or death, or the patient is already blind ..... neither of which describe your situation .... I prefer not to operate. I am going to recommend more radiation.

Blaine: No surgery??

Kristie: *Only* radiation??

Blaine: Yeah!!

Kristie: Yippee!!

Blaine: No surgery, hurrah!!!!!!!

Sometimes, when you're between a rock and a hard place, the rock doesn't look so unappealing.

Book Review

A while back I was contacted by a nice lady named Lisa from TLC Book Tours and asked if I would like to take part in a virtual book tour review-type … thing-y. Well, about the only thing I like to do more than read is to boss people around with my opinion, so this seemed like a perfect thing for me!



The book I was given to review is Zig-Zagging; Loving Madly, Losing Badly … How Ziggy Saved My Life, by Tom Wilson Jr. Tom Wilson Sr. is the originator of Ziggy the cartoon character, and that character and franchise was ultimately (and lovingly) taken over by his son, the author of this book. In a nutshell, the book entails Tom Jr’s life-long relationship with the fictional, lovable Ziggy, and how that relationship perspective played into the difficulties he has encountered --- mainly, his father’s declining health and the death of his beloved wife, Susan.

One on hand, the book is a straight-forward chronological tale, beginning with the creation of Ziggy during the author’s youth, and moving through the author’s adult life when he took over responsibility for Ziggy when his father was no longer able to do so due to illness, through his wife’s illness, and then through the author’s own battle with depression following her death at age 44.

The metaphor (analogy? I always get them confused) for the book is the drive the author takes twice a month getting from work to home and back along Interstate 71, between Cleveland and Cincinnati, and how that drive is like the journey of his life, with unexpected detours and obstacles and surprise destinations.

Straight from the book jacket: “Our lives aren’t composed like a headstone with a straight line that marks the date of the first breath we take to the last; the journey we’re on is really a zigzagging series of unexpected detours. Every detour is a destination unto itself, and regardless of our plans, it’s what we don’t see coming that often affects us the most ….”

I felt like this book was actually two parts. One, the personal story of the author and the challenges he has faced. Two, his philosophical take on life, love, and loss, and how we all need to learn to appreciate the journey, no matter the route.

What I liked about this book:

My favorite part of the book was the half that comprised his personal memoir. Dealing with a spouse myself who has cancer, I was very interested in hearing about their situation and struggle. I appreciated the obvious love and respect the author has for his family (and even for Ziggy) and felt his love for his father, and then for his wife and two sons, spoke clearly from the pages. I enjoyed the author’s self-deprecating sense of humor, and his willingness to admit that he didn’t always handle things, or appreciate things, or deal with things, the way he should. He was able to poke fun at himself and highlight his own shortcomings without ever playing the sympathy card. Reading about his life, I enjoyed.

What I didn’t like about this book:

There wasn’t anything I officially “didn’t” like, it’s just that I liked certain parts better than others. I was more interested in hearing his first-person narrative of the story of his own life, than in hearing his first-person ponderings and philosophical musings (does that even make sense?) I found the highway-journey-of-life analogy valid, but it didn't hold my interest as much as more details about the author’s life would have. Maybe I'm ultimately nosy, but the part of the story I liked most was getting to "know" the author himself -- a likeable guy who it was easy to care about. Whenever the writing would veer off the "regular" journey, I found myself eager to get back to his personal story.

Would I recommend the book? Yes, I think anyone who enjoys inspirational messages would find something to like about this book. Anyone dealing with loss or grief or simply life's unexpected challenges would most likely find something helpful in what he has written and shared.

And in the meantime, my thanks to Tom Wilson Jr for being willing to open up parts of his life and story with the rest of us.

PS. I feel compelled to urge you to visit TLC Book Tours for more information about this book and author. There is a list of other Ziggy reviewers (who are all, hands down, WAAAAAYYY more intelligent and articulate than me) and a link to a free give-away of the book. But my desktop is out of pocket this evening and therefore I'm typing this on my laptop with no saved links or photos or e-mail addresses so quite frankly, its a damn miracle I even got the plain-vanilla review finished and put out here, let alone any of the special stuff. (Guess I just blew any chances of being asked to review for this site again right out of the water, didn't I?)

SPT Challenge March 10

As per Lelly's Musings, the SPT Challenge for the entire month of March is to "take self-portraits including the number eight."

Since I still haven't lost those eight pounds, this will have to do instead .....

Remember I mentioned PTO Skate Night last week, and how I'm the person in charge, and this month I forgot to take the cash box with the change for the concession stand, the deposit slip, and the list of students? Well the good news is at least I remembered the actual CONCESSIONS ..... pizza, candy, soda, and bottled water. And remembered to ice down the drinks before hand like I do every month, buying fifty cent bags of ice, and happening to notice the weight of the bags, from the local convenience store down the road ... (the same convenience store I used to walk, or ride my bike to, as a child, whenever my mom would give me a quarter for candy and that twenty five cents would let you buy twelve bite-size squares of mini-laffy-taffys which was awesome but not the banana-flavored ones because they were disgusting .......... but I digress ...........)

So here we go ........ EIGHT POUND bags of ice for Skate Night!

Things Learned in the Water

Things learned by the members of our family during our Baptism Sunday:

Learned by Brayden during baptism:

The water in the baptismal is indeed warm, perhaps warmer than a bathtub, but getting out is stinking cold. And when wet, the baptismal robes weigh about fifty pounds apiece, so you just stand there shivering, too wet and heavy to really do anything about it, even with the nice fluffy towel they give you.

Learned by Kellen during baptism:

It doesn’t matter if you are indeed a 10-year old BOY, if you refuse to cut your hair, not one, not two, but THREE church workers will steer you towards the ladies’ changing room after your baptism. (Apparently the robes are fairly uni-sex.) Finally your dad will have to cut in and impersonate God, intoning, “Behold my SON, and let him accompany me to the men’s room, please!”

Learned by Kendrie during baptism:

Yes, the water in the baptismal is definitely deep enough to tread water, like your own personal swimming pool, much to your mother’s embarrassment, and no matter how many times she snaps her fingers at you, you will continue to giggle and tread because THAT’S what its all about.

Learned by Kristie during baptism:

The amount of time needed between the dunking, and the “looking like a raccoon with running eye makeup” phase ---- one blink.

Learned by Blaine during baptism:

That he has been saddled with a bunch of freaks for a family.


PS. As an aside, if anyone had told me twenty-seven years ago that the captain of my high school football team would one day be the senior pastor of my home church who would baptize me, my husband and my children, I would have said they were on crack. Actually, it was the early 80’s … so I probably would have said they were smoking a doobie. But still --- how small world is that? If you’re interested, here’s the quick video of the highlights of the FIRST 173 people baptized at our church, a few weeks ago. I’m really hoping my raccoon eyes don’t make an appearance in a second video.