Narnia - Worst Band Trip Ever

I'm just not a cold-weather person. However, I agreed to chaperone The Girl's spring band trip to Winter Park Colorado. Everyone told me how much fun I'd have skiing and when I mentioned my complete distaste for the cold unless it involves a frozen cocktail they all said, "Oh, but it's a DRY cold. You won't even feel it!" What a load of overcooked horse shit! This poor tree was standing upright and looked like it belonged on a Christmas card when we arrived. By the time we left, it had snowed so much, the poor thing looked like it belonged in a Tim Burton movie.

We aren't even going to talk about the 18-hour charter bus ride with the old lady passing the most noxious gas across the aisle from me the whole way, and the failure for the driver to remember to stop for meals. It snowed the whole time we were there, but let me mention that Winter Park is 12,060 feet above sea level. That's more than 2 miles up, folks. Guess what! There's no fucking AIR up there! The first day I couldn't walk more than 10 feet without stopping to gasp for breath. I felt like I was hungover from a 3-day bender and ready to pass out any minute. I knew I wasn't going to be able to even attempt to ski that day because I couldn't get my breath and felt cognitively impaired from the lack of oxygen. Nevertheless, I was fitted for the hundred pounds of ski accoutrements (60-pound boots, 40-pound skis and the ski poles that kept flying everywhere in part because they were astonishingly light in comparison to the other equipment and in part because I don't know how to handle them), and lugged them back to the condo - stopping to hyperventilate every 5 feet because now I was loaded down like a pack mule. We went to the ski village, but I just ate lunch and went right back to the condo so I could make some attempt at adjusting to the altitude, although I never really did all 5 days we were there - and yes, I drank water constantly and it didn't help. I can't tell you how many times I thanked myself for quitting smoking 12 years ago.

While I was vainly attempting some semblance of recovery by wheezing on the condo sofa, and watching the snow fall, which left me even more out of breath, The Girl took the ski class and attempted the first bunny slope. It took her an hour to get down and she hated every minute of it. Immediately upon reaching the bottom, she went straight to the ski rental place and returned her equipment, telling the folks there, "Thanks, but this was NOT fun. I'm more of a margaritas on the beach kind of girl." That night, she got sick - as in riding the double-decker porcelain bus sick (<--concurrent diarrhea & vomiting which requires one to sit on the toilet and vomit in the trash can). The next morning was the competition, but she was still sick, so we called her band director to let him know. He sent up Pepto, which she took and promptly shat back out. Needless to say, she wasn't able to perform at the competition that morning. We spent the day in the condo. She slept and I read a couple of novels and watched the snow come down while practicing my new hobby of asphyxiation.

The next day we both felt a little better so we rode the shuttle bus into town for some shopping and Indian food. It was interesting to notice that the other passengers on the bus who were geared up to ski did not look like they were having fun. In fact, they all looked pissed off. I kept thinking, "Isn't skiing supposed to be fun? These folks don't look like they're having fun at all."

In town, I found a place that sold a tiny bottle of "rescue oxygen" but it was $40 and we were going home the next morning so I didn't buy it when I saw it, thinking that maybe another shop had it cheaper and if they didn't, I'd just come back later. I couldn't find another store that had it, and by the time I got back to the original store, they had closed for the day. By that time I was willing to pay triple that just to get a few moments' relief.

We went back to the condo so I could return my ski equipment, which had sat unused in the condo since I dropped it off (<--read: threw it in the floor) the first day. I thanked the rental guy for the room decorations and he seemed surprised that I never made it to the slopes for all that big fun everyone else was having. Nevermind that in addition to anoxia I was also freezing my ass off the whole time, despite wearing no less than 3 layers of clothing plus a jacket and a coat at any given moment. Later in the day, we attended the awards ceremony, which was fun, even though it was still snowing. There were kids from all over the country. One of our choir girls was selected to sing the national anthem for the opening of the ceremony. Both our band and choir received superior ratings and best in class awards. The event coordinators held a big street dance for the kids and I went to dinner at a little BBQ joint while the kids danced, mingled and made new friends. I drank a DrPepper, ate about 5 pieces of okra and half a rib and started to feel nauseous. I thought I was going to hurl on the walk back to the bus but managed not to. By the time we got back to the condo half an hour later, you guessed it - it was my turn to take a spin on the double-decker porcelain bus. Let me state that I just don't get sick other than a cold once every 18-months or so. On the even rarer occasions when I throw up, usually it's a very quick, small and quiet affair. Not this gig. No, I was throwing up with a volume and profusion I didn't even see during morning sickness. All. Night. Long. I was so weak and breathless that I didn't think I was going to be able to get my luggage downstairs to the bus but somehow I made it. So, trash bag in hand, I snagged the seat closest to the toilet on the bus just in case I needed to continue with the previous night's festivities. Oddly enough, no one wanted to sit by me once I explained my malady, so I had the luxury of having 2 seats to myself for the ride home, which lasted another 20 hours. The highlight of the trip was seeing one of my favorite actors, Billy Bob Thornton, at The Big Texan Steakhouse in Amarillo on the way home. That's him in the ballcap kneeling on the front row. Although there was much discussion of mustard, please be proud of me for not saying, "Fuck me Santa" in front of the kids, because I reeeealllly wanted to.


We didn't make it back to Fundietonfieldvilleview until 4am and didn't make it home until nearly 5 after unloading the bus and driving home. I had to be at work to teach at 8am & The Girl had to be at school at 8:30 - "or else." Fuuuuck. At least we could breathe and were through gagging, shitting, barfing and gasping. It took another 3 days for my lungs to not be sore anymore. I'm just glad to be back home, well, and able to breathe again.

A Little Advice

So here's the deal. The Girl is an absolutely amazing young woman. She's strong, smart and has very clear and firm boundaries. Having the last six years free of the constant trauma, drama and chaos you brought to our lives has been refreshing. Given the years of hell you put us through, I remain skeptical, but she's nearly a grown woman and she's always had a mind of her own. It's up to her to decide the nature of her relationships. If you're less than genuine, she'll see right through the facade and shut you out again. You have no clue how fortunate you are that she's decided to allow you back into her life. Don't fuck it up this time.

She's Such a Brute!

I'm so proud of my Girl. See, this boyfriend that she met earlier this summer was getting clingy and whining about not her not having any time for him. Well she's drum major and has a job, so when she's not doing band stuff, she's at work. We barely see her either and she lives here. So she was tired of the whininess and in the process of trying to break up with him at his house. He was trying to argue with her about it, then he got mad. He grabbed her arm, pushed her into the wall and drew back his fist to hit her. He didn't even get his hand all the way back when he found her knee planted firmly and with great gusto in his testicles, then himself on the floor puking his guts out. She kicked him again, yelled "Fuck You!" and stormed out. It's nice to know she's listening to me, even when she pretends not to. Nobody has to put up with that kind of shit and if she had put up with it this time, she might be doomed to a life of abuse forever.

Go Girl!

There and Back $5

So I won a prize over at Brunhilda's. How cool is that? Although she wants to envision us Texas wimmin as all having big ol' bleached blonde bouffant hair and bright red dragon claws, I just don't fit that pattern. My makeup is pretty minimal. Hair and nails are both cropped short and the closest thing to bleached blonde as I get are the highlights The Girl talked me into awhile back that I am allowing to grow back out and the -ahem- "natural platinum" that's growing in as I get older. I own a tanning bed but plan to sell it because I haven't used it in a couple of years.

I promised a juicy, newsy post, so first things first: I survived the oral exam but won't know until around Labor Day whether I passed. The problem with the oral exam is that examinees are given ten minutes to formulate a case and talk about it for an hour with two examiners who have no knowledge of the examinee's clinical skills. They know whether or not examinees have passed when they allow us to check out, but we have to wait six weeks for the "official" letter from the state. There are only one or two other states that still do the oral exam because of the lack of reliability and validity, partly because examiners only receive 3 hours' training and the outcome is highly subjective, but Texas still hangs in there because that's the way it's always been done.

I have some misgivings about my outcome because my anxiety level was through the roof. Ordinarily, I can talk about neuropsych all day long, but Saturday I didn't feel like I could construct a coherent thought to save my life. First of all, I like to think deeply when I'm formulating a case and take into consideration as many of the potential variables as possible. That just can't be done in ten minutes. Second, the people I've trained with over the years were genuinely down-to-earth people that you wouldn't know were psychologists if they didn't tell you. My two examiners acted the psychologist stereotype. It was creeeeeppyyyy (*shudder*). We were seated in a very tiny stark white room with a table, tape recorder, a black file with my name on it, and a 2-way mirror. The examiner seated closest to said mirror kept trying to look into it to see if anyone was on the other side - either that or he was checking his hair, or to see if there was something in his teeth, I don't know. Then, he kept checking his fucking BLACKBERRY throughout my exam!! Goddammit, if I had to leave my cell phone turned off and in the waiting area, he should have been held to the same standard.

The worst part though was the questioning. I had only ten minutes to review the case, which by design, contains only limited information. I could take notes for that ten minutes but that was all. Bet your ass I filled a page in that time. Then, instead of asking one question at a time, the questions were embedded - like 2 to 4 questions all in one shot. By the time I'd get finished with the first part of the question, I'd forgotten the rest and had to ask the guy to repeat the next part - of course, he repeated the whole fucking thing. Then, they started reading the questions e - x - c - r - u - c - i - a - t - i - n - g - l - y s - l - o - w - l - y, as if they were thinking , "Wow - this one is really stupid. How the fuck she got through doctoral study is beyond us..." Either that or my mind was racing so far ahead that there was a warp in the spacetime continuum and it just seemed that way. Then, they asked me what I'd done to enhance my professional skills in the last few years. Um, duh? I just cranked out four degrees in ten years? Finished 231 credits toward a 135 credit PhD in clinical psychology with a neuropsychology concentration as the cherry on top? Did ground-breaking research in the relationship between geriatric cognitive functioning and affect? All those CE's I've taken in the last 4 years? Teaching a doctoral level hands-on Halstead-Reitan lab? Did I mention that I did all of this while juggling work AND a family AND community activism? Does any of that count? Because really, I'm not so sure because my cogitator is really fucked up right now. At any rate, we'll know by Labor Day. Meh. I'm just glad to have it over with - at least until January if I failed the goddamn thing. Fuckers.

I learned yesterday that I'll be presenting my research in geriatric cognition and affect at my state psychological association's annual convention in November. Tragic that they misspelled the title of the research on the website. Gotta remember to call them Monday to correct it. It's Dysphoria, not Sysphoria, fools.

In other news, my intro psych class is over. They were awesome and everybody got an A. I doubt I'll ever get a class that good again. The developmental psych class I was scheduled to teach for Summer II didn't make (even though I worked my butt off getting the course ready to go - upside is that at least it's ready to go next time), so my finances are looking beyond bleak right now, but I'll make it. I always do. I applied for a full time position at the community college but they wait until the last damn minute to make a decision over there, then expect you to be ready to go - like - yesterday, so I probably won't hear anything from them until mid-late August (classes start August 25).

In the interim, I've been selected to take the faculty training for a big, giant corporate university and will start this Tuesday. The recruiter wants me to teach undergraduate and graduate level courses online. We'll see how it goes. In my research though, I've noticed that they advertise for faculty pretty regularly and that there are over 20,000 - yes, kids - twenty thousand - online instructors for this school worldwide. My entry level faculty trainee class is about 250. Jeez, Louise. I can't imagine the management structure they must have in place to keep track of that many people - and that doesn't include the on-ground people or administrative staff. The picture at the top is one The Girl took the other day for my faculty profile. She said that of the dozen or so pictures she snapped that day (actually sitting on the edge of the pool with my feet in, but I cropped all that out), this one captured my personality the best. See? I told you I don't have big hair.

The Girl worked at Sonic for about 2 weeks after drum major camp and never got a chance to work more than 2 hours at one time, even though she got a "promotion" to carhop the second day. By the time we factored in a gallon of gas there & back and taxes, it wasn't worth it for her to work there. Sooo, I talked to The Man and pointed out that sad little fact and that she would never be able to save for another car if she couldn't get any hours. We agreed that she would be better off at her old job, where she could at least work a full shift and get tips from being the best little tableside guacamole girl ever. Of all the guac I've eaten there (which would be approximately a shitload), hers stands out as the best, and I'm not just saying that because I'm her mom. People she doesn't even know request her specifically to make their guacamole. She's started doing this thing she calls "Guacamole Theater," where she acts out bastardized scenes from movies with the knife and the avocado as the main characters and the other ingredients and tools (salt, lime, tomato, garlic, onion, cilantro, molcajete, pestle & spoons) play the bit parts. (Knife: "I am Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die." Avocado: "Ayudame! Ayudame!" After a mighty duel, Knife slices into avocado with a great squishing noise as the other ingredients shriek in terror...et cetera). That Girl is a scream, I tell ya. She's happier there, having loads more fun and making a lot more money, so everybody's happy. She even has a new car, 2 years newer, 4-door & white which we found for exactly the amount the insurance company settled back in April. All's right with her world.

The Man has a job interview Monday for a job which he is totally overqualified but it's close to home and since, despite my efforts, I'm not making shit for money, and the weather's been too dry for his hay business to get any work, somebody's gotta work around here.

A Monday Well Spent

The Girl and I traversed to our beautiful state capitol this weekend so she could compete in the Texas State Solo and Ensemble Competition today. Per the rules, she played the third movement, the Rondo (Allegro) from Stamitz' Flute Concerto in G (scroll down to Stamitz and click on 3. Rondo (Allegro) for a pretty crappy MIDI file that will at least give you the general idea of what she did). This is same solo she played at the Regional competition back in February but this time she nailed that tricky run that's bedeviled her since she started working on it last summer. The adjudicator wrote glowing happy gushy things on the feedback sheet and for her near flawless performance, The Girl earned herself a Division 1, which entails a gold medal and another entry on her already kick ass high school resume. Oh yeah, then there's the bonus: she just wrote her own ticket for a full-ride scholarship to any university in the state. Funny thing is that although she's excited and proud of her rating, she's even more pleased that she nailed that run.

To ice that cake, she received a phone call from a potential employer 5 minutes later asking that she come in for a job interview tomorrow. All's right with the world.

She Got It!

Okay so (Queso? I love queso!) for the next two years, if you ever come to our little town of Fundietonfieldvilleview, Texas or any of a number of other tiny Texas towns on a Friday night during football season, the girl on the podium - you know - the cute blonde one wearing the cape and directing the band? That will be my very own Girl. That's right. The Girl got drum major and when the announcement was made, she received a standing ovation from the band she'll be leading for the next 2 years. She's worked very hard to earn it, but while she was learning the music she was to conduct for tryouts, she was also helping the other kids who would be competing against her with their conducting skills. She's so amazing. I want to be like her when I grow up.

Hat Trick Plus 2

We just returned home from the annual Fundietonfieldvilleview High School academic awards ceremony. The Girl came home with the Outstanding Band Student award for the 5th straight year. She sooooo rocks. Hardcore. Drum major tryouts are Thursday. Keep your fingers crossed.

For All the Moms

I got this in an email today and just wanted to share it with you in honor of Mother's Day.

This is for the mothers who have sat up
all night with sick toddlers in their arms,
wiping up barf laced with Oscar Mayer
wieners and cherry Kool-Aid saying,
'It's okay honey, Mommy's here.'

Who have sat in rocking chairs for hours on end soothing crying babies who can't be comforted.

This is for all the mothers who show up at
work with spit-up in their hair and milk stains
on their blouses and diapers in their purse.

For all the mothers who run carpools and
make cookies and sew Halloween costumes.
And all the mothers who don't.

This is for the mothers who gave birth to
babies they'll never see. And the mothers
who took those babies and gave them homes.

This is for the mothers whose priceless art
collections are hanging on their refrigerator doors.

And for all the mothers who froze their buns on metal bleachers at football or soccer games instead of watching from the warmth of their cars.
And that when their kids asked, 'Did you see me, Mom?' they could say, 'Of course, I wouldn't have missed it for the world,' and mean it.

This is for all the mothers who yell at their kids in the grocery store and swat them in despair when they stomp their feet and scream for ice cream before dinner. And for all the mothers who count to ten instead, but understand how child abuse happens.

This is for all the mothers who sat down with
their children and explained all about making
babies. And for all the (grand)mothers who
wanted to, but just couldn't find the words.

This is for all the mothers who go
hungry, so their children can eat.

For all the mothers who read 'Goodnight,
Moon' twice a night for a year. And then
read it again, 'Just one more time.'

This is for all the mothers who taught
their children to tie their shoelaces before
they started school. And for all the mothers
who opted for Velcro instead.

This is for all the mothers who teach their sons
to cook and their daughters to sink a jump shot.

This is for every mother whose head turns automatically when a little voice calls 'Mom?' in a crowd, even though they know their
own offspring are at home -- or even away
at college -- or have their own families.

This is for all the mothers who sent their kids
to school with stomach aches, assuring them
they'd be just FINE once they got there, only
to get calls from the school nurse an hour later
asking them to please pick them up. Right away.

This is for mothers whose children have gone
astray, who can't find the words to reach them.
For all the mothers who bite their lips until they
bleed when their 14 year olds dye their hair green.

For all the mothers of the victims of school shootings, and the mothers
of those who did the shooting.

For the mothers of the survivors,
and the mothers who sat in front of their TVs in horror,
hugging their child who just came home from school, safely.

This is for all the mothers who taught their
children to be peaceful, and now pray
they come home safely from a war.

What makes a good mother anyway?
Is it patience? Compassion? Broad hips?
The ability to nurse a baby, cook dinner, balance the checkbook and
sew a button on a shirt, all at the same time?

Or is it in her heart?
Is it the ache she feels when she
watches her son or daughter disappear
down the street, walking to school alone
for the very first time?

The jolt that takes her from sleep to
dread, from bed to crib at 2 A.M. to put
her hand on the back of a sleeping baby?

The panic, years later, that comes again
at 2 A.M. when she just wants to hear
their key in the door and know they
are safe again in her home?

Or the need to flee from wherever she is
and hug her child when she hears news
of a fire, a car accident, a child dying?

The emotions of motherhood are
universal and so our thoughts are for
young mothers stumbling through diaper
changes and sleep deprivation...
And for mature mothers learning to let go.

For working mothers and stay-at-home mothers.

Single mothers and married mothers.

Mothers with money, mothers without.

This is for you all. For all of us...

Hang in there. In the end we can
only do the best we can. Tell them
every day that we love them. And pray
and never stop being a mother...

Right Side Up Again

We've all heard horror stories about insurance companies jerking people around when it comes time to pay on a claim, despite thousands paid in premiums. I am proud to say that didn't happen. My Texas Farm Bureau Insurance agent, Marc Lancaster out of the Hood/Somervell County office returned my phone call from Sunday at around 8:30 yesterday morning. I called in the claim a little after 9am when the main office opened and the claim was COMPLETED before 1pm. I had to go to the wrecking yard to sign the release of the vehicle to the insurance company and retrieve The Girl's remaining possessions and will have to sign a power of attorney & send it back with the title, but as soon as those make it back to the home office in Waco, they'll cut me a check for nearly what we paid for the car back in July. Granted, I'm not telling The Girl how much it is. All she knows is that she has to get another job - closer to home - and I'll be taking her to & from until she can save an as-yet-to-be-determined amount of her own money to get another car.

Marc told me today that our premiums will barely even go up because he's keeping us on the premium line & just adding a point. I hate to sound like a commercial, but Farm Bureau Insurance has branches in all 50 states. You should call them. Their coverage is more extensive and for lower premiums than any company I've seen. On top of that, they have the most amazing customer service - bar none. If you call Marc for a quote, tell him Doc sent you.

If you're interested, here are the pictures we took yesterday at the wrecking yard - with the car right-side-up. We never did find her paycheck. Then again, $140 is a small price to pay...

They Walked Away

It was the call every parent dreads. The Girl called in sick to work and she, her godsister and two other friends went driving around yesterday afternoon - in TWO cars, no less. With the price of gas, "cruising" is on my list of pretty-much banned activities, but we were at Suz's helping her move into her new house - where apparently the teenagers don't have to lift a finger - and I didn't want to make waves. This has always been a bone of contention between the two of us. She thinks the kids should never be "bored," so she pretty much lets them do whatever they want (her two have always been brats, too - big surprise). I think that if you keep them busy, they don't have time to get bored or in trouble. But what could I possibly know about anything? Nevertheless, the girls got "bored" sitting around. Nevermind there was plenty of work available that they would have been perfectly capable of doing.

45 minutes after they left, Suz's cell phone rings and my daughter is screaming something about a wreck and wanting her mom. She didn't call me because she couldn't find her cell phone so she used her godsister's & Suz's number is programmed in at #1. The Girl was crying and screaming, "I"m sorry I'm sorry I'm so sorry!" As I calmed her down so I could find out where they were so we could get to them, all I could think was, "I'm so thankful she's able to make this call."

So we all loaded up in The Man's pickup and headed that way - down a windy, VERY bumpy country road. Apparently The Girl stopped so that the other 2 girls could catch up. When they did, she gunned it, lost control, hit a tree, flipped her Explorer and skidded many yards down the road, totaling her car.

Imagine driving up on this scene, knowing your child was driving that vehicle - yeah, the red one that's upside-down:
Or this:
Or this:

Interestingly, in a reflexive, protective move, The Girl threw her arm across Suz's daughter's chest on impact. Once the vehicle came to a stop, they both crawled out of the open windows. Had the windows not been rolled down, they both would be picking glass out of their skin today. Instead, they have only a few abrasions from the airbags deploying and on their necks from the seatbelts holding them in place. Oh, and the emotional toll on The Girl from losing both her beloved car and her equally beloved job in the same instant.

The police, fire & EMT guys said that they were lucky. If they'd been in a convertible, then most likely they both would have been killed or seriously injured. A convertible like the red convertible Mustang my goddaughter HAD to have, so Suz naturally bought for her. The car they almost drove but didn't because Suz's daughter isn't licensed yet and The Girl isn't on their insurance policy.

So in the postgame analysis, even though The Girl thinks I'm mad because she wrecked her car, I'm not. I am thankful to be able to call the insurance guy tomorrow about handling the totaling of her car instead of cashing her life insurance policy and finding myself in the surreal and unenviable place of having to plan a funeral for a child. I'm happy she's home watching TV and sending text messages to her friends instead of on life support or in the morgue. I don't mind being inconvenienced by taking her to & from school until she can afford to buy another car. I don't mind helping her find another job closer to home or even taking her to and from the new job so she can save money to get another car. I'm endlessly grateful that my only child, my precious Girl, is home, safe and mostly that she is still alive to be able to try out for drum major in a couple of weeks, go on her band trip, compete at All-State solo & ensemble and most of all spend another summer floating in the pool and solving all the world's problems with me.

Way to Go Band!

Man, oh man, our band kids here in Fundietonfieldvilleview, Texas are an amazing bunch. They competed in the UIL concert & sightreading contest Wednesday and earned straight first divisions in both. That, coupled with their straight ones in marching back in the fall, earned our little ragtag bunch of band nerds the much-coveted Sweepstakes Band award for the first time since the 2002-2003 school year. As "the mom that goes to stuff," I had the privilege of witnessing both events. From my seat at the back of the auditorium during the concert event, I watched 2 of the 3 judges bobbing their heads and appearing to really be enjoying themselves. During the sightreading event (where the kids have to perform a piece of music they've never seen before after their band director talks about it for 4 minutes), they didn't sound like they were sightreading at all. It was flippin' awesome.

Soooo, the party will ensue at my house next Saturday. It's going to be a blast they've worked hard to earn. This coming week is Spring Break for The Girl. Hopefully, we'll have the pool ready to go by then.

The Girl Is a Rawk Stah!

The Girl racked up yet another musical accomplishment yesterday. She earned a first division on her flute solo, the 3rd movement from Stamitz's Flute Concerto in G, played from memory. If you get a minute look the piece up. It's fun to listen to & The Girl says it's way fun to play. Earning that first division means that she gets to advance and compete at the All-State solo & ensemble competition in May. This is amazing considering that it's like pulling teeth to get her to practice - ever. Woohoo! Go Girl!

Truth is Stranger than Fiction

This weekend has breathed new meaning into the phrase, "Truth is stranger than fiction." To begin with, The Man had gotten lazy about some things and the situation was getting worse, despite my modeling the appropriate behaviors and giving gentle hints. I refuse to nag, but he was not responding in the appropriate manner to gentle attempts at correcting his behavior, so Friday morning I sat him down and discussed the problem with him in a very businesslike manner giving him graphic detail of my long-standing dissatisfaction. When I said my piece, he said (are you sitting down?), "You're right. I'm sorry," all in the same breath. Then he set about making it right and actually giving me more than what I asked. I'm still stunned.

If that wasn't weird enough, Saturday morning, The Girl came to me and told me of a good friend (16) who met a 19-20 year old Marine a few weeks ago. They had been text messaging and she said she was in love with him and was planning to sneak out of her house Valentine's weekend to go give him her virginity. Now I'm not the abstinence queen, nor have I ever preached abstinence before marriage et cetera, but The Girl was really freaked out - not necessarily because her friend was going to have sex, but that she's underage and the guy will probably bail as soon as he gets what he wants - and what if she gets pregnant? Then what? The Girl said she'd feel somewhat responsible if her friend got pregnant or worse and she knew all along what her friend was planning. "Besides," she said, "If somebody has to sneak off to do something, that's a really good sign that maybe they shouldn't be doing whatever they're sneaking off to do." I told her that if it was that important to her that maybe she should talk to the girl's parents. She said she didn't know how to do it and asked me if I would. I pointed out that she was running the risk of ruining their friendship, that her friend might not ever trust her again, and it could go all over the school that she's a snitch. Still, she was willing to take that risk in her friend's best interest because she didn't want her friend to get hurt.

So I got in touch with the mom. You know going into some conversations that whatever news you have to give is going to be so bad that the only way to tell it is to just tell it. Good thing that's part of what they teach you in shrink school. I'd hope that someone would be kind enough to give me a heads up if it were The Girl. I asked her to go easy on her daughter because we all know how slick guys can be and asked her not to tell that my daughter was the one to break confidence. I guess she didn't hear that part because it wasn't 20 minutes before The Girl was getting a slew of text messages saying, "I thought you were my friend, how could you do this?" et cetera. I have to hand it to her though. The Girl stuck to her guns and explained to her friend that a real friend wouldn't let her do something that stupid. This from a girl who says she never wants to go into psychology, haha.

When I asked if she'd heard from her friend this morning she said, "Oh she's not mad at me anymore. In fact she thanked me." Again, I'm stunned.

Oh, and over 5,000 visits already? Gee thanks y'all!

New Driver

Please don't let The Girl know I'm half in tears this morning. I can hardly believe that as of yesterday, my sweet, precious baby girl is licensed to drive a car - all by herself. You know, of all the "firsts" in a child's life, this one has to be the scariest. I'm about to send her to school alone, driving her own car by herself for the first time. Oh, I'm not worried about her. She's a good driver with a good head on her shoulders - very conscientious and polite, watches her speed (mine, too when I'm driving) and isn't a road-rage event waiting to happen. No, I'm worried about all you other fools out there driving around on "auto pilot" while you're talking on your cell phones, putting on your makeup, reading your mail, et cetera. Take it easy out there and pay attention please - that blonde in the cute little red 4X4 truck is my baby. I'd like her to come home in one piece.

What a Long, Strange Trip It's Been

This is going to be a long post. We've got about 10 days' worth of adventure to cover so go ahead & visit that little room before you get started.
Friday, June 13, 2007

6:30 am. The Girl & I were packed up for our 9-day adventure and about to roll out the door when the phone rang. It was one of my band booster friends (one of about 2 that I can actually tolerate for any length of time) calling to tell me she & her husband had bought me a nice bottle of wine and she wanted to bring it to me so that we could have it on my graduation day. Of course we all know how much I hate presents - especially wine - so we hung out a couple of extra minutes to visit with her before safely tucking the wine in my suitcase. Little did I know that was to be the theme of the week.

We got to Mom's and got her stuff loaded but with an oxygen tank in the back seat, we really didn't have room for the cooler. We decided that it was okay though. We could always stop for drinks & munchies if we wanted to. The weather was beautiful, we had toonz and each other and we were not on a schedule. So we stopped at Sonic for breakfast before we even left the county ;o)

Later in the day, The Man called and said something like, "I know The Girl is in the car, so just answer yes or no." Then he proceeded to tell me about how our son in law thought he had found a car for her but he didn't want to get her hopes up in case it didn't pan out. The problem was that he wasn't giving me yes or no questions so I was having to tell him what I needed to tell him without giving it away. We decided that if it did turn out to be a good deal, we'd get it. He was even going to pay for half. (Okay, say AWWWW...) He called later to tell me our son in law, a Ford master technician, had checked it out and would have bought it for the grandtwins, so he was going to go ahead with it. More on that later.

Sooo, we finally made it to my great aunt's house. We attempted to follow her directions and ended up being taken 60 miles out of the way. There are basically 4 exits along the entire Kansas turnpike - the motto of which is "Welcome to Kansas - Just keep moving, then get the fuck out." If you miss your exit, that's just too gawddamn bad - you have to drive at least 30 miles to the next one, pay to exit, collect a new ticket then pay to exit at your real destination if you can find it. I knew better than to listen to the directions of a 75-year-old who rarely leaves her hometown. Thankfully I have a wonderful sense of direction and excellent map reading skills. We got there and had a great time hanging out with my cousin, great aunt and the 13 year old grandson she's raising. The kid is a very talented guitarist but can't play guitar hero to save his life. The Girl had fun with that. Oh yeah...and that wine? Didn't make it through the evening. It's okay though, you'll see that there's plenty more where that came from.

Oh yeah, the picture is from Pome on the Range, a big orchard where we pulled over & bought what else but apple wine!

Saturday, July 14

We traversed to Mom's best friend's place just outside the suburbs of KC. Of course, since I have been described as "a tailgate party waitin' to happen," if I'm around, the tequila must flow, right? They had this big ol' margarita machine that was like an oversized blender. You pour the tequila & margarita goodie over about a 5 pound bag of ice and turn it on then 10 minutes later you have (sort of) restaurant style margaritas. I thought a good blender would have been more efficient but the machine was cute and fun. We went to a Macaroni Grill with her very patient husband and 85-year-old mom and just about took over the place.

The picture is a sculpture we made from straws, a crayon and a stub of their lovely rosemary foccaccia bread that bears a strange resemblance to something that's bound to be obscene. We scared the shit out of the waiter, but then again we live for socially inappropriate behavior.

Sunday, June 15

We left Missouri to head back over the river to the KC, KS suburb where Grandma & Grandpa live. No sooner did we get there than Grandma wanted us to sit down and eat. Nevermind we had just stopped at Sonic for lunch less than an hour before. The aunts & uncles who were there to see us didn't eat so it was kind of weird but we didn't want to hurt Grandma's feelings so shove more down we did. These grandparents are Mom's ex-inlaws but with 40 years of water under the bridge, they all got along and had a lovely visit until my aunt & stressball uncle arrived from St. Jo to pick mom up. Later we drove around the nicer neighborhoods of KC looking at the fountains (BTW, it's legal to play in them in KC - which is reason enough to go there!) all of the old mansions and we went to the hotel where Mom, The Girl & I would be spending the rest of the week so we'd know how to get there and I could show them where to meet us Thursday night for my dissertation defense. I made sure to make up a playlist on my iPod just for Grandpa that included Dean Martin, Frank Sinatra et al. He loved it.

Grandpa had a head injury a couple of years ago and has some dementia as well, so it was interesting for me as a neuronerd to spend time with him. He naps a lot during the day but doesn't realize that's the reason why he can't sleep through the night, despite everyone telling him that's what's going on. Since I'm kind of an expert in the area of old folks, I told him the same thing everyone else has told him and even though he isn't going to change a damn thing because he's a stubborn old Italian, at least he heard what I said and accepted it as having some grain of truth. Maybe it wasn't my expert status but my good bedside manner and gentle handling of him that did the trick. Then again, being the favorite granddaughter doesn't hurt either.

Monday, July 16

Grandpa was damn determined that we were going to have Egg McMuffin from his local McDonald's for breakfast. I didn't bother to tell him I haven't done business with McDonalds or WalMart in years. He's old and he likes it so I graciously sucked it up for one day and pretended that was the loveliest fake cheese I'd ever consumed in my life. Gaaah.

We made up for it at lunch though. After Grandpa's morning nap, we toddled down the road to Quick's Bar-B-Q down on Merriam Lane. Everyone has their favorite KC BBQ, but there's a certain nostalgia there for me because I was raised on the sauce, which we had to import to Texas through various family members when they came to visit. Nothing like a big ol' plate of Quick's ribs and a coldbeer. Aaaaaahhh... I made sure to get a case of sauce while I was there, since I'm down to 3 bottles left from the trip Mom & I made there last summer.

The Girl & I made our way to the hotel and got checked in & settled. The Girl was asking about what to do next and where would we meet up with my friends from school when the seminars let out. She was excited to meet them but had some concern about whether we should try to call them or not and how would they know where to meet us. I told her not to worry - we'd grab a drink (mmmmerlot for me, cherry coke with extra cherries for her), grab a couple of tables in the lobby and relax a minute. I have a tendency to draw a crowd. She didn't believe it until people started drifting downstairs and before long we had about 15 people there gushing at her about how wonderful her mom is. Then MY Mom showed up and the gushing really began. Somebody could have gotten the bighead over all that adulation.

My friend J, who started the program at the same time I did, and who moved to Texas from Indiana because she couldn't get a practicum site anywhere in her state (Imagine! Turning down free help!), had planned to take me to dinner that night so we ate in one of the hotel restaurants. Mom, The Girl, and one of my neuronerd friends tagged along. Again, we kept ourselves amused by exhibiting socially questionable behavior. After dinner we went to the bar, and ran into even more of my friends. Let's just say I couldn't move without someone buying me a drink. Then the VFW Junior Vice Commanders from all 50 states & Puerto Rico showed up. Mom & I are both life members of the Ladies' Auxiliary. Those guys live to carouse, so from what I remember, we were in good company. We closed down the bar and poured ourselves into our Heavenly Beds. The beds at the Westin are out of this world.

Tuesday, July 17

I did nooooot want to get up. While I wasn't sick, I had a bit of a headache and just wanted to sleep. What I needed to do, however, was finish my Keynote Presentation for my dissertation defense, which was to take place in 2 more days. There's a mall attached to the Crown Center complex, so Mom & The Girl explored there while I slept and half-assed worked on my presentation. By the time they got there around 2, it was definitely time for me to eat, so we went to a burger place in the mall called Fritz's that serves the food via an interesting model train and hydraulics system. It was definitely a kid restaurant but fun, the food was pretty good and we enjoyed it. Then I went back to the room and worked on that presentation some more. Oh joy.

Later there was a welcome reception for everyone. More friends - more wine...(see, I told you there was a theme...) and a balloon/Heineken bottle sculpture, as pictured above. By this time, The Girl is starting to figure out that grad school may not be so bad after all. Mom, The Girl, my program advisor, another student & I then went to a lovely Japanese restaurant and proceeded to order one of just about everything. We loved the food, but the company was better.

Wednesday, July 18

First things first, I've been on the committee for a student-led scholarship auction for the last 5 years, so I held my last hurrah. Mom bought me an anatomically-correct caveman with interchangeable "clothing" and a Sigmund Freud action figure. He was hawked as "Therapy so easy a caveman can do it."

I had previously scheduled a lunch with my program advisor, but don't get to see her often so even though we'd had dinner the night before, we took her to Fritz's for the train-delivered burger. Her favorite part was the chocolate shake. Once we got back to the hotel, we ran into my chair and she wanted to go over the edits she wants to see in the next week or so. It's simple stuff, just expanding and explaining some areas a little better. No big deal.

Since The Man was going to join us around 7, around 3 I checked he & me into the adjoining room & so sis could take my bed when she got there.

One of the students I mentored when she entered the program had scheduled a dinner in my honor at Pierpont's restaurant (and ginormous wall o' booze) in the historic Union Station building at 8:30. The Man arrived at the hotel at 8:20 and the restaurant was going to stop serving at 9 so we had to book it across the skywalk to get there in time. There were about 20 people there, all gushing about how I had helped them or inspired them in some way during their time with me in school. By this time Mom & The Girl were getting used to it, but this was The Man's first exposure to people in my program en masse. so I think it was a little overwhelming for him, but he seemed pleased.

The day before we left, The Girl spent 6 & 1/2 hours raking grass which was almost long enough to bale, and hauling it to the back of the hayfield. The Man didn't pay her for it, as he would normally, but she didn't complain. While we were at Mom's best friend's house, I printed off the pictures he had emailed me of the car and stashed the paper in my purse. I gave it to him at the restaurant. He leaned over to her, handed her the paper and said, "Do you think this will do as payment for all that work you've done around the house this summer?" You should have seen her face. Of course everybody had to give him shit, "What? Dr.S is graduating but The Girl gets a new car?"

After the dinner, we waited in the lobby for my sister to arrive around midnight from Walla Walla with - you guessed it - more wine. A case of reallllly good stuff plus 4 more bottles in her suitcase, to be exact. Hate that. Sucks to be me.

Thursday, July 19

I don't know what the hell everybody else did all day, but I finished that fucking presentation, then felt nauseous until it was over. Okay, we had lunch at Milano, which is an excellent Italian place, and I don't usually eat Italian out because people fuck it up so badly. I don't eat most things at Macaroni Grill and won't even darken the door of an Olive Garden. Other than that though, it was all about polishing that Keynote presentation for me.

My other sister and her little boy came to the hotel and a cousin thankfully came to pick him up so he wouldn't have to be bored and get in trouble for trying to entertain himself during my talk. My dad, his new wife and my brother (who left his little boy at an uncle's house) came in from about 15 miles from my home. My father and his scary woman were also there. So there's mom, her ex in-laws and her first 2 husbands and their wives and all but one of my siblings, who had to go fight terrorism somewhere, all getting along like peas and carrots. It was weird. Good, but weird. Five minutes into my talk, I notice two of my very dearest neuronerd friends sitting there wiping tears from their eyes! I hadn't settled into my groove yet so it was necessary for me to stop and tell them to stop immediately or I would have to join them in their bawlfest and then we might never get out of there.

Once I finished the presentation, my associate dean led the questioning by asking me, aside from the results I got on my research, what was the thing I was most pleased about. I told her that I was just happy I didn't projectile vomit on her and the other members of my committee. I think the only thing that saved me was that I had the hotel bring in a long, skirted table under the guise of setting up my computer on it, but in reality I just wanted to be able to take off my shoes since it's murder to stand in heels for over an hour. My chair was pleased with my work and informed me that she had never seen a dissertation talk so well put together. Much beloved second faculty reader was very happy with the way I discussed the many shortcomings of the Folstein Mini Mental Status Exam (unfortunately the most often used "tool" discussed in geriatric research) for diagnosing dementia. He also told me that he had never seen a dissertation presentation so well attended. The room was set up with 40 chairs. They were all full.

Sometime early on in my talk, I noticed that Grandpa left and never came back. My aunt said to me after it was over that before he left he leaned over to her and whispered, "I gotta pee. This is the longest damned wedding I've ever seen." He then waited in the hotel lobby until it was over.

Afterwards, we all adjourned to a friend suite for a lovely wine (duh) and cheese reception. We got around the weird ass KC liquor laws by serving in a suite, where you can serve whatever you want, instead of the room where the defense was held, like the hotel wanted us to do. It was big fun, and after not having the guts to eat dinner, that was the bestest gawddamn cheese I ever ate. The wine though was outstanding. I'm so glad I didn't pay the hotel $45 a bottle for the K-J. My sister & I stayed up until 3:30 talking and solving all the problems of the world.

The picture here is of my last slide...the text and Devo's "Working in a Coal Mine" came in first, and each tool element came up at .1 second intervals in time with the opening strains of the song. It was cool.

Friday, July 20
With the dissertation defense out of the way, I could really relax. The Girl went with my sisters and our father to Worlds of Fun, which The Girl describes as kind of like Six Flags but lamer. Mom & I took The Man to Quick's then went back to the hotel for a nap, then we went to see Harry Potter. Yes, we're all fans - Mom even bought the book the day it came out.

Suz & her new husband and daughter came in right before the movie was over. My sisters went to our aunt's house to spend the night so the remaining 7 of us went to my favorite restaurant, Morton's, for dinner. The Man & I had our first "date" at the one in Nashville many moons ago and try to go to them if we're in a town that has one. We go to the one in Dallas sometimes too, but of all of them it tends to be the noisiest. Of course with the Social Skills family, none of whom had ever been to a restaurant much nicer than an Applebee's, in tow, the one in KC was probably a bit noisier than usual this time. They brought me a little bottle of champagne. It was cute. The best part of the meal though was the chocolate truffle cake and Douwe Egberts coffee. I have wet dreams about that stuff.

My camera takes pretty crappy pictures so I'm waiting for people to email them to me, although I don't think any were taken here.

Saturday, July 21, Graduation Day!
First thing was a champagne brunch for the graduates. The menu was visually appealing, kind of a higher-end version of Grandpa's egg McMuffin, but with a poached egg jiggling about on top of each side of the English muffin. Ewwwww - runny egg goo gives me the huzz, so I just ate the Canadian bacon, grilled asparagus & tomatoes and had an extra glass of champagne. The whole point of the brunch though was for the office of development to hit us up for alumni donations. Fuck that shit. Let me at least pay off my student loans. Jeez.

The Man & I walked around the mall for awhile and I remembered that it was the 7th anniversary of when our neice was killed in a helicopter crash while on vacation in Hawaii. She would have been 22 this December. Maybe I shouldn't have asked him if he had talked to his brother yet that day. We had some frozen custard while we watched the kids play in the fountains outside then went back to the room so he could talk to his brother. It was sad but in a way I think a necessary part of what he needed to do that day. They usually spend the weekends hanging out together doing cow & hay stuff so it was probably harder for them this year since they couldn't be around to distract one another from the gravity of the day. I decided around 4:30 to grab some dinner since it would be the only chance I'd have once the festivities got underway. The Man wasn't hungry because he was busy reliving his grief so I gave him some space and went anyway. Not to worry - I wasn't alone. My sisters & nephew, The Girl, & Suz's family tagged along.

I had to be downstairs at 6 for robing. Although I had the option of spending a mere $25 for the rental gown instead of the nearly grand I did for custom gear, I am so happy I bought my shit. The rental gowns looked as if they had been used for pajamas and they smelled like dirty feet. I looked sharp as hell in my black robe with the PhD blue velvet and matching blue velvet tam. I was the only one who didn't go for the rental robes but gawddammit I earned that PhD blue velvet so I wore it proudly even though I stuck out - no - make that stood out, in my typical grand style. I'll post pictures when I get them.

In the 10 minutes between the group photo and time to line up, the outgoing student body president & I decided we had just enough time to saunter down to the bar to do a shot. In our robes. Hell yeah. The bartender gave us "doctoral size" Lemon Drops that were about twice the amount typically served. My brother happened to be in the bar (big surprise) and even picked up our tab (even bigger surprise) as we slammed our glasses down on the bar to head back upstairs to do our thing. It really hit the spot, but I was wishing for some ice water or something after sitting on that stage for the next 2 hours.

We had an unusually large class of 15 this time but the Awfully Persnickety Association really wants PhDs to be finished in under 10 years, so the school is pushing those with longer tenures to get the hell out. Whether they graduate or quit is up to them. At our graduations, each graduate speaks - theoretically for 2-3 minutes, but these folks maundered ON and ON and ON and they were boring and sad and I kept thinking, "Isn't this supposed to be a celebration? What the fuck is wrong with these people? Stupid shrinks," et cetera. My last name is wayyyyyy down the alphabet so I had the honor of going last - and I felt a pressing responsibility to bring up the mood of the room (over half of which was there just to see me walk). Soooo, again in my usual grand style, I basically performed a 3-minute comedy routine. My antics (which included donning a big, fat sparkly tiara with my tam) had everyone laughing and smiling and ready for the wonderful party in the ballroom next door. If you're interested, I'll post it in a day or two.

The party afterwards was lovely, with a DJ, dancing, open bar, and the most beautiful dessert table you can imagine. We weren't finished celebrating after it was over at midnight, and we still weren't finished celebrating after we closed down the bar at 1am. The Man went upstairs but Mom, the Sisters & I hung out in the lobby with many friends until beyond the wee hours. My friend with the suite brought out a tray of homemade lasagne and more wine and we begged wine glasses from room service and found a corkscrew and someone else got a couple of bottles of champagne from room service.

When Sister #2 was leaving to go to the airport at 4:30, Mom, Sister #3 & I went upstairs (I'm the oldest, so I would be Sister #1). I knew The Man wanted to leave at 7am, so instead of going bed, I just showered and packed so we'd be ready to go when he was. I knew he'd want to drive so I planned to sleep on the way. It was the least I could do since he'd pretty much gone along with whatever I wanted to do since he'd been there.

Sunday, July 22

Once I navigated The Man out of KC, which, BTW, is the single most underrated city in the United States, I went to sleep and didn't wake up until we were in Emporia, about an hour & 1/2 away. Apparently The Man travels differently than we do. He likes to stop at McDonald's. I was already over my 10-year allotment of their food and was a little tired so I didn't have the energy to complain. I navigated him back onto the turnpike and didn't wake up again until it was time to get off of it and back onto I-35. Went back to sleep until Oklahoma City, where we stopped at - you guessed it - McDonald's again, then drifted in & out for the rest of the drive until we picked up his demo at the place where he works.

Honestly, I was a little worried that I might not be able to stay awake long enough to get Mom, The Girl & me back home but we made it just fine. When The Girl & I got here, her car was parked in the garage, all shiny & red. She thought she wanted a black Mustang but after driving this one she thinks she'll like it better because it's higher up where she can see better, and like me she's so incredibly tall.

Our delight was tempered when we got in the house though. Friday night while we were gone, our much beloved 11-year-old Labrador Retriever, Boomer, had been run over and killed by a car. The Man called our son in law to help him retrieve the dog from the ditch & bury him at the back of the hayfield with our other pets who've crossed over the Rainbow Bridge to wait for us. I miss that dog and can barely look at the pool without expecting to see him in it. My little red dog Sam is just whining and grieving over him.

So there you have it sports fans. The full report. I'll post pics as I get them in.

Tools for Success

So Saturday The Girl and I attended Texas Flute Society's annual flute festival at the University of North Texas. It's a fun-filled flutey day that caters to players at all levels and we recommend it highly to anyone interested in flute. Just like any convention, my favorite part is always the exhibitors rooms. There one can find all things flute-related, from accessories like flute-shaped cell-phone charms (you know I bought one) music stands, and sheet music all the way up to a $23,000 solid 14K gold Haynes handmade flute with engraved keys.

The coolest part is that all the major flute manufacturers set up exhibits and encourage attendees to play the flutes (they also provide alcohol swabs for the germophobes among us). What better way to sell a flute than to let it speak for itself? The Girl had a wonderful time working her way down the array of flutes offered by the Dallas flute specialty store Carolyn Nussbaum Music Company. She got halfway down the line of about 40 instruments and out came the sweetest, purest flute music I've ever heard her play. Her eyes widened and she said, "OHMIGOD! Did you hear that?! This is my flute, mom." She didn't want to put it down. Surprisingly, it wasn't the solid gold Haynes, either. Mind you, it was noisy as all hell in that room between seasoned pros noodling around on the Chaminade and beginner band kids who'd never even seen a piccolo before trying to screech a noise out of one, but the sound The Girl got out of that flute was phenomenal and soared over the din. It raised the hair on my arms - and that's hard to do.

One of the Carolyn Nussbaum employees came over to help us (everyone who works for her is a flute teacher and they really know their stuff). We took that flute and a couple more with several extra headjoints out to the hallway where it was somewhat quieter so The Girl could really listen to what she was playing. Our helper kep running back and forth bringing more to try. We narrowed the selections down to two, including The Girl's original selection, but just when things were getting interesting, it was time to run downstairs so she could play her solo.

In the past year and a half or so she's been pretty shy about me listening to her play, but to my surprise she actually let me go in the room to listen this time. When she started to play, it was clear that she was fighting her own flute (which is a really nice one: solid silver, open hole, B foot, French pointed keys, solid gold engraved lipplate, garnet gemstone crown - nothing to sneeze at) to get it to do what she wanted it to do. I wanted to cry. She had outgrown her flute and in her shyness to share her playing with me, I had missed it.

All I could think of is that she will be competing at All-State solo and ensemble Memorial Day weekend and she doesn't have the tools she needs to be successful at the level at which she is playing. Shit. Soooo I cooked up a plan - an activity at which I am highly skilled.

Thursday was the last day of school and she only had to be there for part of the day. I picked her up and fed her some line about how Honey (my mom) had a doctor's appointment in waythehell north Dallas and since she can't drive in the crazy traffic up there, we had to take her. We picked mom up and were on our way. We pulled up to Carolyn Nussbaum's store and the kid was clueless until she saw the name on the door while we waited to be buzzed in.

The woman with whom we worked at the flute festival was off that day, but I had called for an appointment the day before, and she remembered us and the flutes we were interested in. We worked with Carolyn herself in a quiet, private room with an impressive assortment of flutes and headjoints based on the ones we liked at the flute festival. One by one we worked through the combinations of instruments. The Girl got some major lessons in body mechanics and got to do some more serious work on the piece she's playing at All State. Carolyn was fun, professional and didn't push any particular flute, but really worked with us to find the perfect one for The Girl.

Two and a half hours later, guess which flute we ended up with? The one The Girl picked out at the festival - not because it was the most expensive or the prettiest, but because it was the one she produced the best sound on. Sure, it was more expensive than I'd have preferred but I'll be able to sell her old one for about a grand (watch for it on eBay) and she'll be able to repay me the remainder of the expense in scholarship money down the road. --Oh, and it will be the last flute I ever have to buy. Evahhh.

The coolest part about the whole deal though, besides the accolades about being The. Best. Effing. Mom. Ever., is that having the right tool for the job has sparked a renewed interest and belief in her own playing ability. That's priceless.

tags technorati : flute, teenagers, motherhood, Muramatsu, Carolyn Nussbaum, Texas Flute Society

We May Have Created a Monster

I don't know if I've mentioned it, but The Girl is Just. The. Coolest. Chick. Ever. A typical Texas girl, she's been shooting guns since she was old enough to hold one by herself and she got her first rifle of her very own when she was 11. She's always enjoyed shooting and even took her first deer this winter. Last fall she started working with the local 4-H shooting sports group and has done pretty well in light rifle events. However, Thursday afternoon at practice, she picked up a bow and arrow at the shooting range, and absolutely fell in love with it. Today (Saturday), she took second place in the senior division in a statewide 4-H basic archery event.

The best part for her though was that even though we had to get up at 5am, she had a blast and made a ton of new friends. She just walks up to people, introduces herself and starts talking to them like she's known them her whole life. It's the damnedest thing I've ever seen.

I hope I'm half as cool as her when I grow up.

tags technorati : family, self-confidence, motherhood, teenagers

Just When You Think They're Not Listening...

As I may have mentioned, The Girl and I have an open communication policy, particularly when it comes to issues about relationships and sexuality. There are no sacred cows and no subject is taboo. Ever. I tell it like it is and don't candy-coat anything. She knows all the lines that people will use to get in her pants and the appropriate shut-downs she can use if she doesn't want them there. She knows that men are like buses and that if one bails on her, she can wait 15 minutes and another one will come along, but the next bus will have more money, a bigger dick and know how to treat her right. She also knows that she doesn't have to marry the first one she sleeps with or the first one who asks. At least that's what I've told her, among many, many other things. Sometimes though, I've wondered how much of that wisdom, mostly gleaned from my history of really fucked up decisions, has actually gotten in.

Until yesterday, that is. We were sitting at Sonic in a neighboring town around lunchtime, sunroof open, jamming to some hot tunes and throwing down some fish sammitches while they're still around for the folks who "do" Lent (- damned ol' "limited time only" bullshit), with tater tots and cherry limeade when she informs me that The Boyfriend has been telling her how much he loves her and wants to be with her forever and how he wants her to be his wife. (Insert sound effect of car tires squealing on pavement then crashing into something, here.)

Donning my very best poker face, and with bated breath I asked, "So, what do you think about all that?"

She replied, "I told him, 'Hey dude - slow down! I mean, I love you and all but I don't even know what my favorite color is, much less who I'm going to spend the rest of my life with.' Because, jeez mom that's just effin' scary. I mean, he's going into the military after graduation and I might not ever see him again and I just don't want to have to deal with all that shit right now."

Whew - and I thought she wasn't listening.

tags technorati : family, motherhood, teenagers, sex