In honor of Halloween

The other day while driving to work I had to keep looking at my hand. It felt as though there was a bug crawling across my hand. One of those phantom feelings. Maybe I'm alone in these feelings? As a child I would frequently get a feeling on my shoulder. It felt like someone with long, sharp finger nails grabbed me and held on to me with all their might. It was quite painful. It would happen anytime. It didn't matter if I was active or playing quietly. I use to think I was haunted.

Another thing that happened to me was a large, black spider that haunted me. This spider would drop out of no where. It would totally freak me out. I would shreak and jump back only to watch the thing disappear like it never existed in the first place. Sometimes I really thought I was going crazy because it would disappear and I don't mean that it would slip between cracks. I mean it simply vanished into thin air. One time I was playing with a Barbie Dream house. Not mine. But I remember I was alone. That black spider dropped from the ceiling of the second story down to the first. I screeched and jumped back. Then it simply vanished. It didn't race out of the windows or any of the doors. IT JUST VANISHED!

Now I just get the creepy crawly feelings in my skin. Maybe it's that stupid spider slinking around. Isn't the mind freaky? Who needs drugs when you've got a mind that can conjure up all these weird experiences?

I just tried to find a picture to link to for the Barbie dream house. I couldn't find one, Does anyone remember the rather large pink houses with elevators and veranda or deck type? They were expansive. They took up so much room. That was the reasons why my parents, a.k.a Santa, never got me one. That and the price. They simply couldn't afford it. Modern Barbie dream houses are not quite so large. They weren't as tall as this one but spread out.

It's waaaaaaay too early; and waaaaaaaay too late!

I am so ready to ditch the public schools. I realize that eventually I would have to deal with the pubescent mating rituals but I think that at six years old it is ridiculous for boys to be calling girls at 9:18PM.

Perhaps this would not be happening at all if the older brother wasn't egging the boy on this course. I personally fear that the Big Brother has a thing for Drama Queen. Confused? I know I am.

Last night we got a phone call at 9:15. The boy asked to speak to Drama Queen. I informed him that Drama Queen was in bed. I also explained to him that Drama Queen would not be allowed to take phone calls after 7:00PM.

Then the prank calls started. Luckily I had gone in to scold Passionfruit for picking up the phone before the caller id could register the number. The next time they called one boy asked if I had ordered a pizza and the other talked about wanting to talk to his girlfriend. They immediately hung up and I called their number. For the first few times the boys kept answering and telling me I had the wrong number and hanging up on me. What they didn't know was I am a very stubborn and determined individual. I knew right then and there that I was going to continue calling all night long if that was what it was going to take to speak to an adult.

Finally on the fourth phone call I got the father. I explained the situation, and told him that I was quite frankly a little afraid that his older son had his eye on my daughter. Of course, the man poo pooed me. Told me I had nothing to fear. I then told him that he needed to put himself in my position. I told him that my daughter is a very pretty girl who is very sweet, too. I asked him wouldn't he be a bit worried that boys were calling her at 9:00PM?

These things never happened in the private school I sent the girls to. In fact no boy ever called Drama Queen while she attended there. Last night I was ready to walk in to the school and pull my children out of there. Of course, I know that I can't just act rashly. Those boys are probably harmless but still I am her mother. Is it not my job to do the best I can in protecting my children? Oh well, I'm probably just over-reacting.

Monday evening antics

Well it's finally happened. Drama Queen got hurt. I mean a hurt worthy of all her normal hysterics. Usually Drama Queen screams and cries like she has a mortal injury no matter the severity of the injury. I'm serious. Drama Queen, one day not too long ago, ran into the house screaming as though she had been stung by a bee/wasp or perhaps found an intruder in the garage. Both Passionfruit and I explained to her that that response was inappropriate and should never be done again unless her entrails were hanging out of her. (Okay, we didn't quite put it in those words but that was what we meant.) Oh by the way the offending creature was a cricket. I feel like a failure as a mother to a child of China because Drama Queen hates crickets and will get them killed for her. I sat one day watching her encourage a large black bird to eat a cricket. The poor thing never had a chance with Drama Queen pointing out the cricket's latest hiding place.

But I digress. Last night I was living my life as a single mother of three small children. I was in the bathroom with the youngest who was enjoying a bath. Drama Queen and Storyteller were running about playing. As any mother knows the volume of the play indicates whether or not the children are horseplaying. Well they were loud last night. First, Drama Queen came into the bathroom crying. She'd been kicked. I reminded them that horseplay precipitates injury. I asked them to stop playing so roughly. They denounced my statement and ran out of the bathroom. Not more than two minutes later Drama Queen was back in the bathroom screaming like she was dying. Hardening my heart against such a display. I calmly told her that she would live and that horseplay does indeed end with someone getting hurt.

After a few minutes Miss Independence was out of the bath. Maybe she wanted in on the action, I really don't know. I then went in to tell Drama Queen to get a hold of herself. She came out of her bathroom and the light hit her face just right. My heart sank to my feet. Drama Queen had every right to be crying and whimpering. The poor thing had what would be a black eye! The corner of her eye was already swelling. I ran and put ice in a wash cloth. Still I knew Drama Queen was going to have a shiner. I felt so heartless. I found Storyteller and told her that she must not ever throw anything. EVER. I made Storyteller go to her room. I hurried to put ice on Drama Queen's eye. I held her and gave her kisses.

Finally I got Drama Queen calmed down. Got all of them ready for bed. I read stories to them in the mach king size bed in Drama Queen and Storyteller's bedroom. I even laid down and slept in the middle for a little while. After awhile they drifted off to sleep. I got up to do some house work.

Passionfruit had stayed at work to finish some big project. Never once did I call him to tell him of our activities. He came home around 9:00PM. All the while he was fixing his dinner I looked at him trying to decide whether or not to tell him about the black eye. Passionfruit knew something was up. He kept asking "What?" I kept putting him off. Finally I decided that it would be best if I told him. Passionfruit was shocked. So that was the end of my evening.

Do you recognize this...

I don't know about anyone else but when I am addressed with the following question fear traces a line down my spine. The question? "Do you recognize this..." I sieze, thinking, "Why do you want to know?" What are the consequences if I answer?

Why am I this way? I don't know. It seems like such an extreme question. Like would I recognize the perp? Perhaps it can be linked to the fact that crime has touched my life in a variety of ways that aren't all that pleasant. Of course crime is never pleasant is it?

But this morning my immediate supervisor wanted to know if I could recognize my old computer. About two weeks ago I received a new computer at work. I told her I wasn't sure. So she led me to the computer in question. It looked just like my old one.

Now I'm standing there thinking I'm about to disappoint my Supervisor. I don't want to. So I reach out to touch the side of the CPU because I always stuck notes to the side of my computer. I thought perhaps I could feel some residue stickiness. Instead I felt a bump and somehow I immediately processed that the CPU was not mine! I had no doubts. I provided the required information!

They say that smells stay with you through out your life. I have a co-worker who grew up in India, southern India. He spent a lot of time at his grandfather's and attended a mission camp in the summers. Recently he told me about how those missionaries use to make something for lunch that smelled so repulsively to him and his friends. They could never place the smell.

Then over twenty years later this man met up with the smell again. It was when he was in this country and someone fixed him a tuna sandwich. Once that can came open he recognized the smell. I don't think he ate the sandwich.

Recently Queen wrote about a book she was reading. It had something to do with sounds. She had a really nice blog about the sounds of her childhood. I thought about the sounds that make up my childhood and I wrote about them in my comments to her blog. Later, I realized that all my sounds that seem significant to me were rather scary sounds. Jet planes. I lived on a military base as a small girl and there were fighter planes. They were loud. I remember going to visit my dad at the control tower and hearing those fighters. I remember I didn't like them when they were on the ground. They were just too painfully loud but when they were soaring over head it was great. They were so majestic, so awe inspiring. I use to watch them and long to fly in one. That is the most vivid sound I remember and the one that still instills those same feelings. The other two are from Iran. Helicopters landing at the end of our street. The green grocer down the street exploding. The first is scary because we were always told that if anything ever went wrong, and they (USA) need to evacuate us from the country they would send helicopters to our neighborhoods. The second one was just plain scary. I remember how the house shook from the aftershocks of the explosion. I remember the great big plume of black smoke rising in the air.

I wonder if anyone has studied touch. It seems that touching things can invoke the same responses. Like my CPU or rather my co-worker's CPU. Once I touched it I knew it wasn't mine. Or is it just some sort of bazaar behavior limited to my family? See I have a grandmother, a sister, and a brother and a child who each dislike the feel of certain things. Take the peach. My grandmother, my sister and Miss Independence absolute abhor the feel of peach skin. How I found out about Miss Independence is rather funny. We were visiting Uncle Wolfie's house and they had a lovely bowl of fruit all cut up and ready to eat. Miss Independence was enjoying the bowl very much until she found a peach. The next thing we knew she let out a screech and threw it over her shoulder. Everyone but me sat there stunned. They had no idea what had happened. I just sat there and laughed my head off. They were all looking at me. Wondering what was up with my reaction to this behavior. Once I got control of myself I explained the long heritage of anti-peach fuzz in my family. The other textures that are offensive are velvet, velveteen and cordoroy. I on the other hand do not have those. I can't stand newsprint and chalky substances. No for me touch is a very strong sense. I love satin. I had a baby blanket with satin edging. I still have that blanket. I love to touch things. In my career as a cataloger I have run into so many different books that used tactile elements to them. Perhaps that is why I love my job. Apparently touch has the ability to bring up memories like smell does for most others.

The future Miss Independence

I recently saw Miss Independence standing in my kitchen. I suddenly had a flash into the future-- there was Miss Independence as a young woman. She is dressed in black leather pants and jacket. Her blond hair flows down her back in waves. I realize Miss Independence just dismounted from a Harley. What a picture!

Another time while I played with Miss Independence I had a sense that she might be the one who will leave home first. Only to return for the micro visits that her Texas uncle has perfected. I remember telling Passionfruit about this feeling. I think he agreed.

However, this morning while lying on the ground Miss Independence saw me hug her older sister, and she called to me, "I haven't gotten my mommy hugs this morning." I got down and scooped her up and hugged her for all she's worth. Then Miss Independence said, "Hug me forever, Mommy!" Oh wow! What a wonderful feeling that was!

Lost entries

It never ceases to amaze me that on my drive to work I think of all kinds of things to address in my blog only to forget them as soon as I sit down to write. It's happened to me again, today. I'm sitting here, and I am sure that whatever I was going post would be "the piece". The thing that would get me noticed.

Alas, I must admit that I am a writer wannabe. For years now I've thought that there is a book inside of me longing to get out; however, I am paralized by the knowledge that I can't write. All through grade school and high school teachers beat it into my head that I could not write.

Now I have a wonderful support group. These folks massage my ego with their comments here on the blog. It's nice to be appreciated. So thank you for your kind words. While I was in college I discovered I could write some pretty good comical observations. In fact at one point I wanted to be the next Erma Bombeck.

As I mature I find that I write better every year. I know I'll never get published in the traditional sense, and I don't think I really want to anyway. Sister Sister knows a sister of an author who recently got a book not only published but someone in Hollywood wants to make it into a movie. Sister, Sister got to read the original manuscript and then read the published book. Sister, Sister made an observation that the two were not the same story. She said she liked the manuscript better. And of course we all know that the movie will most likely only make a nod to the novel.

So the other value of blogs is the ability to publish oneself without the meddling editor and publisher. Please, don't misunderstand, I understand that editors do great jobs of helping authors publish polished works but there is a trend too to take a story and remake the whole thing for what is believed will sell. It's a business and you have to protect the bottom line. That is cool. After Queen went on the rampage about people dissing blogs, I went out there and did some surfing around. I found that there are people who are self publishing fiction. There are also photographers publishing their photos in blogs. My sister-in-law does just that. It will be interesting to see the development of the blog world.

Cat blogs, etc.

Adjective Queen recently wrote a blog. She was HOT! It's funny to think how the opinions of others effect us so. Basically Adjective Queen was offended by what a lot of people think about blogs. Many of the opinions she noted basically said they are a waste of time. Boring drivel about walking their dogs and what they ate litter the world of blogging.

I come from a social science background so I don't really think that in the end these blogs are going to be viewed as inconsequential to mankind. In fact I'm surprised that more sociologists and anthropologists aren't studying this media. Also I think that historians will find some value in them, too.

NPR has done a lot of reports lamenting the email situation. People are corresponding with emails instead of letters. Historians were bemoaning the fact that people don't save their email but delete it! Can you imagine!?! They wanted to know how they were going to be able to write about history in the future if this trend continued. Well, may I suggest that blogs are going to take the place of the old fashion letter and diaries. As long as someone maintains these sites to preserve the material, historians will be able to study what we are doing now. What I see as a problem is who is going to maintain the technology so access will be indefinite.

So never fear Adjective Queen-- Your blog will someday pique the interest of some sociologist, or historian. As for mine? A lot of the really good stuff hasn't been published. They remain as drafts. They are either too personal or too rambling to put out there for viewing. I wonder if my children would benefit from some of these entries but then again maybe not. So I figure I will either delete them or copy them to a more controlled venue.

My nearest and dearest

In October Passionfruit and I will celebrate 12 years of marriage. It's strange how time moves. Sometimes it's like it isn't moving at all and other times it's going so fast I'm left reeling. Our years together have been wonderful. There is time when I feel as though I've always been married to Passionfruit. And I don't meant that in a bad way. I mean there is a sense of rightness to this relationship. We fit together perfectly. We compliment each other. Where one is weak the other is strong. What one likes the other dislikes; although, we have plenty in common, too.

When I think about all the things our marriage has been through it astounds me. I mean this is the 10 year anniversary of my destroying a car. Passionfruit marked this year by-- destroying a car. In each case neither of us ever got angry with the other. In fact both of us were just extremely grateful that the other wasn't hurt. In the last few years we've each lost a parent. Passionfruit spent 18 months consoling me while I struggled with an impossible work situation. I've dealt with Passionfruit's rotating shift work on a 24 hour clock for most of my married life. Both of us endured seperations when work has sent us away. We've struggled with infertility and the feelings surrounding that issue. I'm trying to be there for Passionfruit when the stresses of his new job strike. We went through an adoption together. We gave birth to two children together. Yes, I give him credit for the birth experience because he was there walking with me; rubbing my back and holding what ever part needed holding.

As I continue to think about our time together I think that we really haven't been together long at all. Passionfruit still surprises me from time to time. Like his football obession. I wasn't aware of it at all during the time we dated and most of our married life. In fact it's just been the last two years that I've discovered it! I guess the shift work really hid this facet in my man. Also, I still don't get how Passionfruit can be such a messy person but be so immaculate about food and dish cleanliness. Passionfruit gets upset when I let the kids eat off the floor in our house. I'm thinking, "We don't have any dogs, cats or any other animals in the house. So why not?" He'll even peer closely at forks, knives and spoons. I'm thinking that someone so bothered by such things would be immaculate everywhere in his life but he's not.

Now, I don't want to give the impression that I'm dissing my man because I'm not. I love Passionfruit something fierce. It's strange the code in my family of origin is, "It's okay for us to mess with each other but it's not okay for an outsider to mess with one of us." I've carried this into my marriage. I hate it when someone is mean to my honey. I fume and think, "I'm going to talk to so-in-so". Luckily the more mature side steps in and stops any rash behavior but I don't think too kindly about that person for a while. There are times when I'm not so nice to Passionfruit but that's different. Plus, don't worry, I whip myself enough for those times when I'm lacking in my tenderness to my sweetie.

I'm writing this because lately I've been having such strong feelings for my man. It's been a real roller coaster ride. I'm mainly struck by the realization that I LOVE MY HUSBAND. I'm also struck by the realization I'm not always in love with my husband. But I also realize that's okay because I do end up falling in love with him all over again. Those times when I fall back in love with him are some really sweet, wonderful times. They are like frosting on the cake. It makes the cake look so pretty, and when you eat it it's really sweet. It's pure yumminess. The rest of the time you're just getting the cake. It's good but it's all the same. I wish more people would realize that a loving relationship is not static and remains the same. That love actually grows and matures, and if you're lucky it strengthens. Passionfruit and I love. It is one thing that I know is true in this world. We are totally committed to one another and our children.

Let me share what makes me fall in love with Passionfruit. I absolutely adore him when he is playing with our children. I think one of the sexiest things Passionfruit can do is take care of our children. Like washing and putting a bandaid on a boo boo. Those kinds of things are just really heart warming for me.

Passionfruit is a good father. But more importantly, Passionfruit is a good husband. I never go with out. I'm cared for beyond what my parents provided. I feel totally cherished (most of the times). I know I'm loved. I am thankful for this man. I am totally glad I chose him to be my husband. I thank God for this husband of mine.

Mom, I'm a hottie. Like sexy.

Seven years ago I worked full-time. I was also in the process of an adoption. The office I worked in often had discussions that were philosophical and silly.

While I was waiting on news of our child, I remember telling people that there are people that the world considers beautiful and wonderful. You know those folks who are outgoing, popular, athletic, etc. Well if you know Passionfruit and I, you would know that we don't fit that image. We are the other type of people. We are the clutzy, awkward, nerdy people. (Although, Passionfruit is very personable.) Of course there are still many different types of people in between those types.

So I remember telling the folks in the office-- "Wouldn't it be funny if Passionfruit and I were assigned a child from those graceful, popular people in the world?" I mean it would be some sort of weird cosmos comedy. Nerdy parents with a "beautiful child".

Well folks I'm here to tell you it happened. Drama Queen is one of the beautiful people. Last week, Drama Queen told me that a boy in her class told her that she is a hottie. Ya know like sexy. I was totally freaked out! I can't believe that first graders were talking like this. Oh well, they hear things and just repeat them. It never occurred to me to go to the teacher about this.

This afternoon I got a phone call from the teacher. She wanted to know when this happened. Apparently another little girl in class heard the remark and told the teacher. The teacher told me that Drama Queen is a very personable child and that is why she is so popular in class. I know that Drama Queen is a poised individual. I know that she has friends. I've been marvelling at how well liked she is. It's a whole different world for her. It is something I have no experience with.

So I figure there is someone out there in the cosmos who is laughing his head off. I just hope this child who so obviously belongs to those beautiful, graceful people will find the humor behind the situation, and will laugh along with the cosmos at this little kink in the cosmic fabric.

So you see somewhere out there in the cosmos is laughing at this kink in the fate of our eldest daughter.