Category: Musings and Mutterings

That’s my Who-ville name!! What’s yours?

From this link, click “Enter site” at the bottom, and then drag the magnifying glass over to “City Hall” on the upper left hand side. Then choose Your Who Name.

Last night Frank and I went on a date. Sounds funny since we’ve been married so long, but it was a date nonetheless. Frank made reservations at Mrs. K’s Toll House in Silver Spring. We both dressed up in fancy duds and had a lovely dinner. (No Onions anywhere!) After dinner, we drove down to DC to see the lights and to visit the trees on the mall. Since our reservation had been a bit later, we didn’t really have time to get out and walk on the mall, but we cruised about in Everett and listened to some beautiful holiday music while we looked at the decorations and then we came home. It was very very nice.

Which is what I prefer to remember, as opposed to the conversation I had with my sister in the parking lot prior to dinner. Her birthday is Dec. 9 and I had forgotten to call her on her day. (Not my usual style, but it was a concert day and it just slipped by.) Dave’s birthday was the day after, and I wasn’t even up to go out on his day, so I still wasn’t thinking of my sister either. A few days later, I remembered that I had forgotten, so I went and got her a card- she won’t read her email- and figured I’d write my apologies in there. The next morning, with pen poised over the paper, Sean shows me a news article where I learn that my nephew has been arrested. Now I know that my card probably isn’t appropriate anymore and that I owe my sister a phone call, but I’m not going to call her that day since the arrest was fresh and I wanted to let her get over the things you have to take care of when your child is in trouble. That led to a quiet time, early for a dinner reservation, 10 days after her birthday, when I finally made the call. Glad I did, and glad I waited. She was teasing me about forgetting, but kinda serious because she figured something had to be very wrong for me not to remember her. I explained that I had seen what was going on in her life and was giving her a bit of space before I checked in.

 She’s a mess. Her son is facing jail time and almost 40k worth of fines and damages and some of the root of his behavior can be traced to his father (they are divorced) who is mentally and emotionally abusive and a drug addict. My nephew is part of one of those downward spirals that drugs can drag a family through. I offered my love and support to my sister and walked into the restaurant.

Frank and I just looked at each other, both feeling the same sympathy/empathy for my sister. Not the best birthday nor holiday for her this year. We said we owed our children a discussion to say two things.
 1. See, I wasn’t kidding when I said this kind of thing could happen and to follow the rules, this is why I was always “up in your junk”!
 2. Thank you for listening and following the rules!
I love my kids.

A few of my creations from long ago. I miss my clay…

739 seats have been assigned, at least 100 reassigned, 188 singers have been rehearsed and uniformed, food and supplies for over 700 people have been purchased and loaded into my car, emails, phone calls, directions, lists; all done. Now it’s time to settle my nerves a bit and trust that I’ve done a good job and all is well. I’ll let you know tomorrow!

Frank found 124 versions of LIttle Drummer Boy for me on the web. ( I only wanted one, but this is interesting) We’ve heard a country version, a grunge band, choral, klezmer, operatic, pops orchestra, guitar – you name it. Frank suggested we put it on my MP3 player. I told him I think Little Drummer Boy 124 times might be fatal.

Just like any other evening in my office, my cat is under my desk lamp sunning herself, the dog is just behind my chair casters, testing fate to see if I’ll run over her, and Frank and I are sitting at our respective desks poking around/working on our computers. We are all in the smallest room of the house, funny how that’s the coziest little spot.

With my children all young adults, (almost oxymoronic, eh?) and the usual concert time crunch in the beginning of December, I made the suggestion that we get an artificial tree. This is the second year I’ve suggested it.

Frank was not amused. In fact, his reaction bordered on indignant. How DARE I consider a faux fir??

Sean was backing the idea of a plastic pine. He even suggested that we could all build a fire in the back yard, trudge out into the cold to the shed, shuffle around inside and come out with “the perfect tree”! Funny boy.

It so happened that yesterday, Sean had brought home a truck and everything fell into place for us to get our tree, kinda. We had originally thought we might go (yikes!!) cut down a tree at a tree farm, but the messy weather didn’t really allow for that, so we piled into the truck and crept through the messy slushy streets to a local roadside tree vendor. Frank, Jr, Sean, Shawnda and I sloshed through the slushy pavement, pulling out trees, shaking them off and spinning them to see if there were holes, or crooked trunks. We were the only silly ones there.

Sean hates the cold and wanted everything to be done fairly quickly. (But that’s just Sean most of the time) It didn’t help that he was hungry and really hadn’t eaten all day. He and Shawnda stood to one side and looked less than comfy. Frank and Jr were ready for the hunt, talking of how they were gonna ‘sawzall’ the poor thing when they got it home. I swear I could see the tree quivering. (that also could have been the person holding the tree simply shivering; it was 28 degrees outside)

After searching the “cheap side” of the lot, we went for the firs. For years we had gotten soft wispy scotch pines so the needles wouldn’t hurt the kids feet, but now that we are all those oxymorons, we can stand the tougher needles of the firs. Just means that MOMMY gets to decorate the thing ’cause now the needles poke their HANDS!

With our prize in Frank’s hands we loaded the tree into the trunk and I quietly thanked Frank for being so indignant for another year.

Yesterday was dress rehearsal for one campus’ concert. It’s a long day, but it went very well. I was given an authentic home made danish that was purchased by one of the families for me at the Danish Festival. She found out that part of my heritage is Danish, like herself, and generously thought of me! What a kind thing for her to do. Actually, many of the families in this group are kind, and I’ve been blessed to be a part of their children’s world.

You all may remember my likening my job to a cat herder? Yesterday, I watched something so that confirms that thought for me.

 It’s great to watch Da Boss at work. She’s very focused and intense on getting the music “just right”, but she’s always playful and kind with the children. Certainly dedicated to providing the best she can at any performance, she needs to coax and convey to her living instrument the sound she wants to produce. I recently read a book by Neil Peart, the drummer for the band “Rush”, that talked about how he gets into ‘the zone’ before a performance and his drive to make each performance the best he can. I know Da Boss has a similar mindset, but while Neil only has to use his body and his drum set, Da Boss has over 130 individual instruments she has to work with. It’s always awesome.

But I digress, although not by too far, because unless you understand this about Da Boss, you might not get why this whole scenario was interesting to me.

During rehearsal, we have the children on risers and most of them are all wearing the same color to indicate their group. One of the other members was conducting a piece and while the kids were singing, I see Da Boss go into prowl mode. Just like a cat that hears something scratching, her ear was attuned to something she wanted to ‘catch’. She hunched down and listened, creeping toward the group. With the children standing there, they reminded me of blades of grass and she was the cat on the hunt. Doubled over, she slipped in between the kids (she’s a tiny thing) and almost disappeared behind a row. On went the singing and soon, you could see her slowly stalking the row, looking for her prey. Like a cat  in the grass she continued to weave her way through rows until suddenly, she emerged from the group with a look that said she found what she was looking for.

This simply illustrates how serious she is about making sure the performance is the best it can be. Not simply for herself, but for the proper education of the singers and the enjoyment of the audience.

Today, we’ll see how it works out!

I’ve been awake since 4:00 am. I didn’t even get to sleep until midnight. Not too sure what the deal is.

Yesterday, November 26th, was my eldest baby’s birthday. She’s now 27 years old. Wow! I called her yesterday to wish her a happy day and she sounded beat. She had 4 children with a stomach virus for Thanksgiving and was trying to manage a clothing store during the heavy holiday season. She’s come a long way and I hope she continues to endure. She has a court date soon that will determine a large part of her life. Disturbing conversations with small children were discussed as well. Poor babies.. why are people so dense at times?

Another event is marked by Heather’s birthday. It’s the annversary of the first time I talked to Frank. Heather had just turned one on Thanksgiving day that year. We had family and food and after the big Turkey meal, she had her little party. I still remember her little blue party dress and clip. She was more interested in standing on her toys then playing with them, but isn’t that normal for that age? 🙂

    Seems the child was marked for drama even then. Attending her birthday was my Grandfather, Step Grandfather and Grandmother. They posed for a photo together; something I was shocked to realize later in life. They weren’t too keen on each other. Under that strata of tension was the tension of waiting for Heather’s father to arrive to celebrate her birthday with us. He was supposed to have attended the Thanksgiving dinner, but seemed to never arrive. In the days prior to cell phones that meant I just had to wait and wait and wait to see if he’d show up. With no call and no show for hours after the meal, I had postponed Heather’s cake and presents as long as I could and I let her open her gifts and smash her cake without his attendance.

One year old babies definitely need a bath after a cake smashing session, so I bathed the child and realized that I only had a few diapers left. Yikes!! (Back in the olden day, boys and girls, there were the BLUE LAWS and NOTHING was open. No Walmart, no CVS, no grocery store, and definitely no liquor store- tho I think they wouldn’t have had diapers!!) The only place that was open was a fairly new exception to the rule and that was 7-11. My mom and grandparents were happy to play with a freshly bathed and scented baby for a bit, so I got into my Corvair and drove up to 7-11 in the hopes of finding some diapers. Lo and behold,  I found a number of things I had been looking for. Diapers and her Dad!! Strange how timing plays out that way, isn’t it?

After schooling my rage at finding Donnie out frolicking with friends, and reminding him that he was supposed to be attending his daughter’s first birthday, I left for home. Not too long after, he showed up… just as she was getting ready to be put to bed. He had brought a gift of a plastic tea set that was ages too old for her, and had many small chokeable parts, in a paper bag. (Guess that was all he could find in the 7-11) He stayed for about 15 minutes and then promptly announced that he was leaving due to some other engagement.

I was livid and hurt and after putting H to bed and finishing out the evening with my family, I crawled into my bed and lay awake listening to my CB. Close to midnight, I heard a voice that caught my interest.I was listening to a conversation between two males and for once, it wasn’t about drinking or what their “20” was. After listening for a short while, and in a gap of the conversation, I decided to make contact. I was so depressed at this point that any conversation was better than nothing. I suppose my comment wasn’t the most intelligent thing said, but it did get their attention.

 “I have a dog on my feet and can’t move or he’ll bite me.” (How’s that for an opening line… yeah I know.. pretty lame!!)

After introductions were made, I talked for a few hours to Frank and David. (A different David than the Doctor, btw) At first I thought Frank was the elder of the two. My guess had been that he was about 26 or so…  Wrong!! More like 16, and freshly so! But he had a way about him that was funny and after David had signed off the air, I gave Frank my phone number and we talked ’til dawn. Now, 26 years later, we are still verbose, we have replaced the cb with the internet and he’s still fun to talk to. For as much as I have to hold against Heather’s father, I have to thank him for being such a putz and making me so miserable that I lay in bed listening to my cb radio late at night!

This is great. Libby and I have been quoting it all weekend. Some of you may be offended by language, although it’s not as bad as most Rap songs…Enjoy!The Landlord on FunnyOrDie.com