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.
************************************************

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.