She's Tidied Up, and I Can't Find Anything!!

I have to say DH totally won the Christmas present sweepstakes. For the past several major events (anniversary, birthday, etc.), he's asked what I want. Jokingly (not really), I've been telling him I want a house elf. You know, my own personal Dobby who will keep things tidy and bring me a sammich when I'm having a snack attack at midnight. Amazingly, he found someone. Her name is Wendy.

She doesn't have pointy ears or magic, but she definitely knows how to tidy. She and her daughters arrived this morning, and when I came home from work, blam! My house is freakin' clean. Of course, there are stacks of things everywhere--books, boxes, and whatnot--but that's my fault. Surfaces are clean, floors are clean, bathrooms are clean. She even left fresh flowers on the table! Couldn't believe it. Still adjusting to the fact.

Obviously, Wendy and crew can be so efficient because they don't have an emotional attachment to our stuff. They move at will to get the job done. The one unfortunate thing is that nothing's where I left it. Which is fine--I can move stuff back--but my tiara is missing! This is the Queen of Writing World Tiara that I bought with the Puffs some time back, and it is a vital talisman for the writing. A must-find. Methinks a text to our house elf is in order.

That, and huge thanks. It's hard to admit that I really can't do it all. I know what to do, but making it happen is often another thing entirely. God bless the Wendys of the world, who can.

Roundup

Closing the book on 2009--it's been a good year. Interesting. Weird. Frustrating. You know, the usual. I did manage to read 135 books (some re-reads, but mostly new titles). I'm finally unstuck with the current WIP, and even though it's moving more slowly than I'd like, it's moving. We took a family trip to Washington, DC (awesome!), rode/survived the train, built a jillion memories. Tonight, we're dropping the ball and watching fireworks at our friends' house and hoping to stay out of trouble, haha.

New decade tomorrow, fresh start, clean slate. Gotta love a new year.

Merry Christmas

It came upon the midnight clear,
That glorious song of old,
From angels bending near the earth,
To touch their harps of gold:
"Peace on the earth, goodwill to men,
From heaven's all-gracious King."
The world in solemn stillness lay,
To hear the angels sing.

Still through the cloven skies they come,
With peaceful wings unfurled,
And still their heavenly music floats
O'er all the weary world;
Above its sad and lowly plains,
They bend on hovering wing,
And ever o'er its Babel sounds
The blessèd angels sing.

Yet with the woes of sin and strife
The world has suffered long;
Beneath the angel-strain have rolled
Two thousand years of wrong;
And man, at war with man, hears not
The love-song which they bring;
O hush the noise, ye men of strife,
And hear the angels sing.

And ye, beneath life's crushing load,
Whose forms are bending low,
Who toil along the climbing way
With painful steps and slow,
Look now! for glad and golden hours
come swiftly on the wing.
O rest beside the weary road,
And hear the angels sing!

For lo!, the days are hastening on,
By prophet bards foretold,
When with the ever-circling years
Comes round the age of gold
When peace shall over all the earth
Its ancient splendors fling,
And the whole world give back the song
Which now the angels sing.

--Edmund Sears, 1849

Overflowing With Blessings

Cornucopia

Etymology: Late Latin, from Latin 

cornu copiae "horn of plenty"

This year, like every year, I have so much to be thankful for. This year, like every year, I get so busy worrying about what's wrong, I forget to be truly grateful for all that's right. Here are some things I'm thankful for today:

• A family who sticks together, even when we get on each other's nerves.
• A house that's a mess, which reminds me of the abundance in our lives.
• Friends who cheer your triumphs and comfort you in times of need.
• Neighbors with friendly smiles and a cup of flour when you're in a pinch.
• A table overflowing with good food.
• Children who understand true giving, like Frick, who helped cook and serve a meal for those less fortunate and learned how friendship really isn't about income, and Frack, whose giggle is enough to make anyone's life better.
• A husband who puts up with a lot and still smiles whenever I come in the door.
• So many more gifts I can't even count. That is the meaning of true blessing!

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!!

New Beginnings

Today, our new senior pastor preached his first sermon. I had a feeling, since he's from SC originally, he'd remind me of my father. He did! Listening to that voice wasn't a stretch. He's a good speaker, avuncular, I think he'll make some people happy.

Of course, since it was his first day, we had a pretty full house at the services. That's good...and yet, I was a bit cranky. You see, a chunk of those folks filling the pews were returnees--members who bailed when things got tough, when the interim stretched longer than we thought, who basically took their toys and went home until things suited them.

I'm torn. On the one hand, I know I should probably be all "prodigal son" and kill the fatted calf and celebrate their return, but on the other hand, I want to ask them in a really loud voice WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? The church still needed people. The missions the church supports could have used their hands. The work goes on whether you're having a hissy fit or not. DH and I could really have stalked off with a clear conscience, considering that we were good friends with our former pastor and his wife (who some of the returnees treated horribly), but we stuck it out. We were invested in the church, you see, not worshiping the pastor.

Let's hope the new guy gets a better deal than the old guy. The way we treated him wouldn't meet many good definitions of "Christian."

Hugging a Porcupine

DH brought a book home from the library about being the parents of an adolescent the other day. It had a perfect title: How to Hug a Porcupine. And since, more often than not, I'm getting a faceful of quills when trying to deal with Frick these days, it's proven to be sound advice, more often than not.

I always thought I'd be a better parent of a teenager than a young child since I have so many years of experience with teenagers at school. I love younger kids, but some of their habits (especially the whining) drive. me. up. the. wall. I was suuuuuure I'd be so much more effective once they started to creep up in the double digits, age-wise.

What's that old proverb about wanting to make God laugh? Yeah.

Anyhoo, Mr. Frick is becoming, more and more, Mr. Prickly. Everything's cool until I suddenly cross some unseen border, then WHAM! Quillface. Case in point, last night's homework. I'm trying to deal calmly with him, and he gets nearly apoplectic. And doesn't finish. So now I need to wake him up early so he can finish. Never mind that he asked me to wake him early; I'm sure to get zapped for trying it. Open House was last night, and I can see clearly what needs to be done, but he's not hearing it. He knows better (even though he's trying to make algebra do things that are mathematically impossible). He's offloading all his issues on a different issue that even he admits isn't the issue. It's maddening.

And then he turns around and is the most generous, hilarious, wonderful tween in the universe. It's enough to drive you crazy.

Someone who's survived these years, please let me know my face isn't going to be permanently perforated. I'm all for patience and forbearance, but let's face it, they don't sell those qualities at Targét. At some point, the tank'll be dry, and I'll still be in a faceoff with a bristling little rodent. Help!

Bringin' the Heat

'Scuse the baseball analogy, but I'm fixin' to make it do double duty in a sec. Today was opening day of fall ball for both Frick and Frack, since Frack's softball opener was rained out Thursday night. So it's been a loooooooooooong day at the ballpark. BallparkS, that is. Up early to take Frack to her away game, then 1-1/2 hours in the growing heat. By 10:30 we'd already reached the high 80s. Thankfully, the girls won, 9-2, so those hours of sweating it out in her polyester triple-knit uniform--with pants, no less--were worth it. Took her sweaty self home for some lunch, then off to our home field for Frick's baseball opener at 1. By then it was 92 degrees in the shade, with humidity of 63% or more, so the heat index was 101. Since Frick's now in junior baseball, we're talking seven innings of slow poaching. Thankfully, we had hitters and they had weak pitching, so we got called after the third batter in the sixth because of the ten-run rule. Yay!

Back home to find--instead of blessed air conditioning--a HOT house. The fan's blowing, but nothing's cooling. This happened the other day, too. Yegods. Flipped the breaker back and forth, praying that it'll start blowing cool, and hightailed it out of there for a Panera Bread. Free Wi-Fi and unlimited iced tea refills. And they've brought back blondies! Thanks to the Lord for tiny mercies. I may survive until bedtime after all...assuming the air kicks on.

Band Geek WIN

Tonight was middle school band night at the high school where the denizens of Chez mimi are zoned to attend. Since I'm a proud graduate of that same school, I was especially interested in having young Frick, my aspiring tubist, attend. You see, he plays in a wonderful middle school band. The problem is, most of the kids at his middle school go to a nearly lily-white suburban marquee high school--let's call it FooFoo High School, just for funzies--with a small slice going to Frick's future alma mater, which has a much more diverse population. As a result, his band director is all over whatever happens at FooFoo High and totally neglects OUR high school. Or so it seems (mimi does admit to a bit of touchiness and snobbery when it comes to OUR school vs. FooFoo High, which is populated with teens who drive far nicer cars than the teachers and have the attitude to match*). So Frick has been hearing all about how WONDERFUL and FABULOUS FooFoo High is and bubkes about his own school.

Until last night. I bring him to the band room--which was the library when I attended--sign him in, and he disappears into the tuba section. They bond immediately over his cool mouthpiece and he turns on the Parental Ignoring Beam and I leave. I know when I'm superfluous. Still, I worry. He's only in seventh grade. He's very very small compared to those big high school kids and their humongous Sousaphones. So an hour later I text him: Having fun? Glad you went? Do you want one of us to be there while you're at the game? He texts back:

Yes, yes, and no.

Ooooookay then. We leave him to his fun. DH goes to pick him up at the end of a very long night, and he arrives home brandishing a sheaf of tuba arrangements for things they played in the stands, a grin wider than a bass drum, and total excitement about AlmaMater Band. Yay!!

The moral of the story? NEVER underestimate the power of music.

*DISCLAIMER: One of mimi's partners in crime, the Bed Bandit herself, has a daughter attending FooFoo High. Mr. and Mrs. Comic Book's son goes there as well. I personally adore these two children and their younger siblings who will be attending FooFoo High because they live on the other side of our lovely hometown. But that's all the love FooFoo's getting from me. So there.

Carb Coma

Today we had the second annual "Lasagna Throwdown" to benefit the music department at the church, and we're all comatose from the great food! Mexican lasagnas, traditional lasagnas, seafood lasagnas, sauces, more pasta, desserts...the South Beach people would be appalled. But we were happy!

Even more fun, some of us performed the Silent Monks' version of the Hallelujah Chorus. I was the "of" in "King of Kings," DH was "lu," and Frick was the short monk. Check out this version, performed by one of our local high schools, and you'll see what I mean. Fun stuff! Yummy stuff! Time for a nap!

Carolina in My Mind

Ahh....mountain air. There's something refreshing about escaping the ridiculous humidity in Florida and enjoying cooler days and nights in the Blue Ridge. Driving up from Atlanta, you can totally understand the scriptural reference "I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help" (if I may go all King James for a moment). The Appalachians don't have the jaw-dropping vistas you see in the Rockies, but there's something about them...probably the fact that they're the oldest mountain range on earth.

At any rate, we'll enjoy a few days in NC before collecting up Frick (who's been on a trip with the middle school youth from church) and Frack (who's been in the mountains for a week, visiting the grands) and heading back home. It's a nice reset button for the summer, now that we're on the downhill slide toward the new school year. I just wish it were closer...that loooooooooooong drive through middle Georgia on I-75 is surely the Devil's handiwork.

mimi Does Monuments!

I am one tired puppy, let me tell you. I wish I'd remembered the pedometer, because I have no idea how much we walked. I only know it was a lot. After a yummy breakfast at Afterwords Café near Dupont Circle, we hoofed it down Connecticut Avenue to Lafayette Square, then over to 1600 Pennsylvania Ave. I've been to DC before, but my memories of a lot of these places are from a tour bus. How great to walk up! I only wish we could have scored tour tix, but alas, the denizens of Chez mimi do not, in themselves, constitute a school group. We'll have to settle for a Capitol tour Monday instead.

After the White House, on the Museum of American History. We took our time (First Ladies are the coolest! Julia Child is my new hero! They need more artifacts in the pop culture section!), did some experiments in the science lab, played on the Chicago streetcar, and basically wore ourselves out. Then, because we know how to prolong a good time longer than sane people, we toured monuments. All the monuments.

No tickets for the Washington Monument, so we walked and goggled, then down the Reflecting Pool. The new WWII Memorial is gorgeous, the Vietnam Veterans Memorial as moving as I remember (I saw it the first year it opened), the Korean War Memorial lovely, but I wonder if there's a monument for WWI, and if so, where is it?

We spent some reflective time with Mr. Lincoln, then took a slow walk around the Tidal Basin while the sun went down. We got to see the new memorial to FDR. Let's just say that he seriously deserves his spot in the top five of all U.S. Presidents. And also that the bounds of American tackiness don't exist. I don't know what exactly to say about people who pose for pictures, grinning and clowning, in front of a line of bronze statues representing a Depression-era breadline. I'm not sure there is anything to say except go read The Grapes of Wrath and then come back and apologize. Epic American fail.

I confess, I had a total squee fangirl goosebump moment in the Jefferson Memorial. He's my all-time favorite president, and I have to say that reading the selected Jefferson quotations in the memorial and the info in the exhibit reinforced exactly why he is so awesome. Erudite and passionate, Jefferson loved life (including things that illumine life, like poetry, music, and literature) and liberty (personal liberty and the freedom to choose and learn your own path). Incredible.

Considering Lincoln, FDR, and Jefferson back to back to back really makes you wonder where today's statesmen happen to be, if there are any anymore. I'm not sure anyone walking the halls of Congress today would deserve a monument. Think they're wondering about their historical legacy in between cozying up to lobbyists and working so very, very hard to get re-elected? I doubt it. Maybe they need to spend a little time at the monuments themselves, just to remind them why they're here in the first place.

Ten This Tuesday

Ten years ago today, at precisely 6:13 am, Miss Frack arrived in the world. That means today, at precisely 6:13 am, I became the mother of two children who are now in the double digits.

She's gorgeous, and I'm not just being a proud mama. She's really objectively gorgeous--willowy, long legs, shining hair, bright smile. I wonder how many of us were gorgeous when we were ten and somehow forgot (or never believed), those of us who have been the walking wounded on the inside for years and years because we just weren't...enough. Or thought we weren't.

Women are funny creatures. We can run the world and still doubt ourselves. I know so many capable, strong, amazing women who are just as insecure about their abilities and certainly their looks (adolescence can be an evil thing) as the least strong, least capable person on earth. We raise families and think we can't manage ourselves. We raise daughters and have understanding to our mothers. We pick up our children, dust off their scrapes and kiss their boo-boos so they can recover and play while ignoring our own wounds. Let's face it. We have issues.

My wish for my daughter today is that she doesn't have those days (or as many of them) as I seem to have had. Let her long-legged, bright-smiling self be the one she counts on as she turns eleven and eighteen and forty-'leven. For today, let me love my little girl for exactly who she is, and in the process, love the little girl inside me, too.

Success Looks Like...

...this fabulous young woman, who is now a proud graduate of the University of Florida. Prior to joining the Gator Nation, I taught her in my AP English class. She started hyphenating her last name with mine at the tops of her papers and calling me "Mom," so of course, "Mom" was in the O'Connell Center this morning taking pictures and beaming alongside her actual for-real mom. They don't tell you that these moments are the bonus pay you'll get when you become a teacher. They are so worth it.

Congratulations, C!! I can't believe you're (I'm??) this old!!

Tigger vs. Eeyore

Normal me:

Today me:

My sisters would find this whole discussion trés interessant, since they are both self-confessed Eeyores, ready with an "Oh, bother!" at many of life's travails. I, on the other hand, tend to be that annoying optimist who looks for the pony at the bottom of the pile of manure. You know, bouncy trouncy flouncy pouncy fun-fun-fun-fun-fun!!

Except for lately. It's probably the constant drain of too much stuff in the house and seemingly no time to get it all straightened out--and that's not even considering the schoolwork and the mom tasks and the taxi driving and the writing--but I have been way tired lately. And way tired usually ends up with not much happening at Chez mimi, creative or otherwise.

Maybe it's spring fever. It certainly is gorgeous out there--trés distracting. Aside from a visit from the pharma fairy, any ideas on how to get the bounce back?

Happy B-Day, Buttercup!

My girl Buttercup is turning the big 4-0 today! Don't let the demure pose fool you, though. This is one kick-butt writer we're talking about. Given the personal storms she's weathered the past couple of years, her forties ought to be smooth sailing--she has two great kids and a rockin' guy, so hitting the decade when women can finally do what they want and not worry about what people are saying about them is going to be the bomb. Love ya!

Very Proud Mom

So I'm watching a movie earlier when I realize that my son is explaining to his two friends about one of the pictures on our refrigerator--the one of our terrific San Francisco friends Jeff and Bill. Of course, I stop listening to the screen and really tune in to the 11-year-old boy conversation.

Let's just say most 11-year-old boys 'round these parts aren't that familiar with pictures of sharply-dressed gay men bearing flowers (they were dressed up to serve dinner at their church). I heard a couple of strange noises from the guest boys, then Frick says something along the lines of, "This is Jeff, and this is Bill. Jeff taught my dad in college and that's how they became friends, and Bill is a great cook. And he's really nice." And he proceeds to explain that yes, they're gay, yes, they're a couple, yes, we hung out with them in California, and yes, they are totally cool in a tone of voice that basically lets his friends know that there will be no gay man bashing in our kitchen, thank you very much.

I look over at S and we both think--and he says--"I could cry." Me, too. There's hope for this old world yet.

Wrap It Up

mimi will not be changing her middle name to "Nostradamus" anytime soon. On January 1, I made the following predictions:

1. Florida will not get hit by a major hurricane despite Apocalyptic reporting from The Weather Channel and nearly every Florida newscaster drawing breath. - Right on the money. Go me! Second career in meteorology!
   
2. Hillary Clinton will win the Democratic nomination for President. - Um, nope.
   
3. Mitt Romney will win the Republican nomination for President. - Um, nope again!
   
4. Get used to saying "Madam President." - No, but we can get used to saying "Madam Secretary," which ain't too shabby.
   
5. Britney Spears will do something stupid. Oh, wait a minute. That's not a prediction; that's a certainty! (Although girlfriend deserves a calm 2008!) - Girlfriend got herself a calmer 2008 and released some killer tracks. I'm glad to see her getting it together! Nobody deserves the kind of public breakdown she had to suffer through.
   
6. Ratatouille will win the Oscar for Best Animated Film. - This one was truly a no-brainer.
   
7. Reese Witherspoon and Jake Gyllenhaal will get engaged. - No, but still going strong.
   
8. UCF will repeat as C-USA champs and win their bowl game this time. - (pause for hysterical laughter) Erm, no. The wheels totally fell off the Knights' wagon. Maybe next year!
   
9. Celebrity obsession will be "so five minutes ago." - I wish, but no.
   
10. They'll finally get the goods on Barry Bonds. - Still no, despite a fat head and obvious visual confirmation to the contrary. What is taking them so long??

Clearly, predictions are not my forte. So I won't be making any for 2009. Some stuff that did happen in 2008:

• I won NaNoWriMo again!
• I read the Dick Francis backlist. They were a chunk of an all-out reading orgy that included 90 new titles and 36 re-reads. That's a total of 126 books for the year, or an average of one book every three days.
• I watched a bunch of movies. I didn't keep track of those.
• I didn't keep track of my bank balance very well, either. You'd think all those courtesy pay charges I keep racking up at the credit union would have kept the entire American financial system afloat, but nooooooooooo. Something to work on.
• Got to see the Canadians, though. That was fun!
• Also went leaf-peeping in beautiful Western NC.

Basically, I can't complain. Chez mimi and its denizens are basically healthy, basically happy, still employed, and still together. All in all, that makes for a successful year.

Florida, For Real

Pretty, aren't they? These are two of the Spanish horses from the wild herd roaming Paynes Prairie. Nice day spent with the rents, all the grandkids, and lots of walking and nature. Not a bad way to see out the year.

Merry Christmas!!

For those of us who never experience a white Christmas, a little snow, courtesy of Currier and Ives:


Enjoy a restful and blessed holiday!

Leaf Peepin'

mimi père and Wicked have lived in the mountains for seven years now, and this is the first time we've visited in the fall. Leaf peepers, the locals call those of us who slow down traffic and wander about agape. But can you blame us? Check these out:


Autumn. Le sigh. I have a sudden urge to go read some Keats.