The Crab Chronicles

Happy 4th in Pictures

Well, 47 years ago about this time, my mother was thinking..... OW!! I was born at 9:30 at night. I think that means my rising sign is Kentucky Fried Chicken...

This is what I looked like a few months later, after I fattened up a bit. Note the alien expression on my face. I was telepathically communicating with the mother ship right when the photographer snapped the photo. Either that, or I had a wet diaper....

I had a leisurely morning, watering flowers and chatting with my brother. Then I set off for Stone Mountain. Alesia had a close friend in the orphanage, S, and she was adopted right before Alesia came home. S lives in Indiana with her mom, and they came down for a long weekend visit. So I took Alesia over to the Marriott Evergreen Conference Center. I mapquested the directions, because although I've been to Stone Mountain park many times, I'd never been to that hotel. I got totally lost. I drove aimlesslessly for about 20 minutes. I finally asked a policewoman, and we found it. I parked the car right by what I foolishly thought was the lobby. I then walked about a mile of corridors. Finally S and her mom came out and I left Alesia with them. I think they were going to swim, do some park activities, and then watch the fireworks display tonight. I will get her back tomorrow afternoon.

It took me all of 18 minutes to get home, once I oriented myself. Have I mentioned that I HATE mapquest?! Don't mention one of those creepy car computer voices talking to me, either. nope, I should've called the hotel. I needed a human being to tell me where to go. Computer voices freak me out.

Anyway, I hope Alesia has fun. Stone Mountain Park is a fun place, with lots to do.

One funny note, S has totally straight hair. When we saw her today, her hair was in beautiful ringlets. Her mom said she spends a lot of time curling her hair. Alesia had perfectly straight hair. She spends a lot of time straightening her hair. If it's not perfect, she pulls it back.

I spent most of the rest of the afternoon being liesurely. Bruce and I pondered the bamboo harvest.

I am pondering what to do with it. Think I could sell it on Craigslist?!

This is the old garden.

Note the tomatoes. I am going to have a bumper crop of tomatoes this year. Here's the harvest just for today:

Here's Bruce with all the tomatoes in his shirt, preparing to go home:

I don't want to think about what Mike was planning to do with the Bamboo Club...

Bruce and Mike worked hard this morning, helping me by putting some pavers and mulch in the side yard where nothing will grow.

I think I need to buy some more pavers. Bruce said the next heavy rain is going to wash away all the mulch. He's probably right. I want it not too muddy, though, because I like to walk around that way every day and check on my melon patch.

My pumpkin has some icky looking places. I don't know if it will survive. It's crawling all over the place, though...

These are some of the flowers in the back yard. Don't they look marvelous next to the blue of the trampoline?!

Here's the view from the other direction.

Anybody know what this spiky plant is, or why it had babies?

This is a peace lily that was given to us in 1996 when my father died. It was in a big pot for years, and wasn't faring too well, so I stuck it outside. Mother told me it would never live. She was wrong. It LIVES!!!

I think it likes the views of the flowers I have in front...

I love geraniums. They are hearty and beautiful. These are my Impatiens. They worry me.

I almost forgot to show you my side bed. Isn't it fabulous?! Lots of corn and beans.

Oh and look - a boy too!

He was playing with this huge iron spike that Uncle Bruce gave him. He was happily throwing it into the lawn, slowly aerating the soil for me [cough cough] and then he lost it.

Finally, Uncle bruce helped him and they found it. He stopped playing with it, then thankfully...

i've had a nice, relaxing day. That's all the news that's fit to print...

Almost Birthday

My last day as a 46 year old. Hard to believe.

 

At 8:32 I woke up, threw on pants and a shirt and went downstairs. Drank half a cup of tea. Talked to Bruce and Mom. I watered the back gardens. I have to water early in the morning or I’ll cook the plants. You think I’m kidding? The highs all summer range from a “cool” 88 to a scorching 100+.

 

There are green beans in my raised garden bed! I am very excited. In a few days or a week, I can cook a mess of green beans. Yum. Corn is getting high too, but not like an elephant eye, not yet.

 

My main garden was hiding a ginormous cucumber! YAY! Got excited, started whooping and hollering. Mike gave me the stinkeye. He needed coffee.

 

Bruce said all the way up to the mountains every time the kids saw corn or veggies growing they hollered Look! Mom would be so excited to see that!

 

By late morning we had finished a leisurely breakfast and Alesia and I went to Kroger. She was very calm, and helped me find things. Sometimes she is in a foul mood at Kroger, but I think it’s because Michael gets on her nerves.

 

When we got home, Alesia made me a peanut butter chocolate pie for my birthday. We celebrated today instead of tomorrow. The pie was delicious! Alesia made the pie all by herself. I was very proud of her.

 

When we got home from grocery shopping, Bruce and Mike in the backyard, hacking down bamboo. The damn bamboo was growing up too close to my trees in the back and so they hacked it down for me. That was helpful.

 

Michael and I spent some time early in the afternoon watching Wimbledon coverage. I was trying to psych him up for getting back in shape for the tennis team, which resumes practice Monday.

 

We saw Transformers II this afternoon. I liked Transformers I. It was cute and funny, and I actually understood most of what was going on. This new one is incomprehensible. It’s also VERY LOUD. At one point I dozed off, then the noise started up again, and I couldn’t sleep. I hate when that happens. I spent the rest of the movie with my fingers in my ears.

 

When we were watching previews, I got tired really quickly of seeing things blowing up. One movie showed everything major in the world blowing up – the Eiffel Tower, the White House, the statue of liberty. I have no idea what the movie was called or what it was about, I just think OK, everything blows up. Whoopee.The only movie I saw a preview for which I thought looked really interesting was one called Funny People with Adam Sandler. It was about human beings, praise God. It looked clever and funny. It was written by Judd Apatow, who is often gross but is undeniably smart and funny.

 

Before we went to the movie, I put a Boston Butt pork roast in the oven, salted and peppered, and let it cook about 4 hours at 325. Bruce finished it off on the grill, and it had a wonderful flavor and was very tender. My dad used to cook Boston Butts on the grill all day and make barbeque. It works just as well to start it in the oven and finish it on the grill. The meat is usually very tender, and then you just add sauce. Bruce basted it with a mixture of cheap barbeque sauce, balsamic vinegar, and wine. We added Bullseye as we ate it. I think Bullseye is the best barbeque sauce, and I’ve tried them all.

 

In the south, barbeque is taken very seriously. My dad would drive 100 miles on dirt roads to some tin-roofed shack in the back of nowhere to get some good barbeque. In later years he perfected the art of grilling the Boston butts, then he liked to put them on an old wooden table and hack the meat up with an axe. You haven’t lived until you’ve had axe-cut barbeque.

 

We ate a late dinner and didn’t do a movie. At this moment, Bruce and Michael are watching a show on the Food channel about a barbeque competition.

 

I’ve had a lovely birthday.

Back from the Wilderness

Bruce and the kids got back from camping yesterday afternoon about 1.

 

Michael smelled like a mixture of smoke and dirt, all afternoon. Finally about 5:30 I persuaded him to take a bath. He loves to take bubble baths but sorta hates to admit it, of course. He at first refused bubbles, but when I added a few, from his liquid soap, he was pleased, I could tell.

 

Alesia spent all afternoon putting her photos on the kids’ computer and making a slideshow. She didn’t smell like smoke, which was a great thing.

 

Bruce recounted the tales of their adventures. Yesterday morning, he took the kids hiking. You can hike part way up the trail and see the big waterfall. Bruce stopped to rest, and Alesia wanted to climb the 400-something additional steps to the top. Bruce was tired and said no. He said they exchanged a few words, but she acquiesced to his wishes. He thought he was in good shape, but he wasn’t ready to climb like that. He was amazed at how agile she was, and nicknamed her “Ninja girl.”

 

Michael said he didn’t sleep at all the first night, but slept the second night. Bruce had a tent with air mattresses. It looked pretty comfy. I could tell yesterday afternoon when we were having quiet time during Mother’s nap, that Mike was overly tired. He slept like the dead last night.

 

Bruce said a raccoon got into their food the first night and ate all their doughnuts. He said he heard a rustling and woke up and shone a flashlight on the coon, and scared it. He had lifted the top of the doughnut carton and eaten the doughnuts one by one. Mr. Coon didn’t return on the second night.

 

From the photos, the campsite looked really nice. Bruce said he didn’t realize until they got there that each site has electricity and running water hookup. The enclosures are large, too.

 

Since Bruce is leaving either tonight or in the morning, we did my birthday celebration dinner last night at a little Thai restaurant in Tucker. It’s called Mai Thai, and has sushi as well as Thai food. Everything was very good. Mother doesn’t like Chinese food but she is OK with Thai. She was able to get some scallops. I had seafood cooked in a clay pot, including some very tasty calamari. I like it if it’s not overcooked, and this wasn’t. The mussels were a bit chewy, though.

 

I keep forgetting this is a holiday weekend. I went to the bank yesterday morning and the lines were unreal. Tomorrow is my birthday. I don’t have any big plans. A friend of Alesia’s is in town and we will get together with her and her mom at some point over the weekend, but that’s the only plan.

 

Hard to believe I will be 47. Yikes…

I'll Be Happy When

I feel a rant coming on.

I checked out Adoption Under One Roof [see link at side, I'm too mad to hyperlink] and saw a story about Tom Cruise having to defend his adopted children. He has tabloids saying all the time that he loves his biological child more than his older adopted kids. Grrrrr!!

I am no huge Tom Cruise fan. I think Scientology is nutty and he needs to hush up about it.

However, he doesn't deserve to be hassled over his love for his children. That's hitting below the belt. That's scummy, sleazy, despicable journalism.

I checked out a cute blog called Mama's Losin It and she has some fun writing prompts. I chose #3, I'll be happy when__________.

I'll be happy when journalists stop distinguishing between bio and adopted celebrity children. Rosie O'Donnell, Tom Cruise, Jamie Lee Curtis - why can't journalists refer to their children without using the word "adopted"? Why does the word "adopted" have to be inserted? I guarantee you, this irritates them as much as it does me.

I never realized until I became a mom that I could or would love my adopted daughter as much as a bio child but God, in his infinite wisdom, showed me differently. He showed me that your heart can and WILL love a child 100%, without reservations, regardless of whether or not that child came from your body. Every parent I know with adopted and bio kids will tell you this same thing. You love each child because they are YOURS. Biology doesn't mean diddly. [If you hear an adoptive parent say differently they have no business being a parent at all, IMHO.]

Maybe I didn't go through the discomfort of carrying my kids in my body, I have to admit that, but I carried them in my heart for way more than 9 months. I spent many uncomfortable hours scrambling to find the money to adopt them, stuffed into uncomfortable airplane seats [20 hours each way for Alesia's 3 trips, 14 hours for Michael's two trips], lost a LOT of sleep, and, on top of everything else, had to contend with people telling me I was crazy to adopt older kids. Pregnant women rarely have to deal with that nonsense. 

[You want to know more? Read Adopting Alesia: My Crusade for My Russian Daughter. [No, this rant is not just to push the book.] 

No, a child is a child is a child, whether they share your DNA or not. The heart doesn't make two kinds of love, bio and adopted. The heart knows only that love is love, and a child is a child. If I accomplish nothing else in my life, if I can cause one naysayer to recognize the truth of that, I will feel I've accomplished something.

I love my kids as much as one human can love another. What's even more beautiful is that they love each other.

Tom Cruise, you tell those tabloid journalists to go to hell. They're idiots.

Life in the Goofy Zone

I don’t know what happened to the day. It slipped away from me. I got up and watered the veggie gardens, made breakfast for me and Mother, and drank my tea. After that I am clueless. I remember doing some laundry and putting away clothes. I remember reading a bit. I scanned in some photos. Late this afternoon I went to the store for a loaf of bread. The rest is a blur.

 

When the kids are not here I lose track of time. It’s like being in a cheap sci-fi movie.

 

I did spend some time scanning in some old photos, which was fun. I used to cringe every time I saw a photo of myself as a child, but now I just chuckle. I was an incredibly goofy looking girl. We have only a few photos of me where I look sweet and pretty. The rest, I am a goofball. Oh well.

 

Here’s a montage of me

Here I am at 2 or 3, and I look OK. Nobody knew I was horribly nearsighted…

The comforting thing about the shot below is that as goofy as I look, with my messy hair, clutching that enormous doll, Bruce looks more goofy.

Here you see my first pair of goofy glasses. Check out the hair on Bro. We liked to run around the lake in the fishing boat. One time we were horsing around and the dog fell out.

Here I am at a family reunion in 1974 [or 1975, not sure], outside an Atlanta hotel. I won't identify all my cousins because they would be mortified. Suffice to say, I am wearing the enormous aviator glasses and the blazer. Bruce is on the far right next to my uncle Bob, in the first photo. In the second photo he has disappeared. Both my uncles were wearing plaid pants, which tells you right there it was the 1970's. My cousin Chris is the one with the longest hair and those long sideburns. He was visiting from California.

A few years later, and I took my goofy glasses and tried to put them on the dog. Bruce had just finished basic training, which is why he was so skinny.

Finally, age 18, and I have contacts! I don't look terribly goofy any more. In fact, this is one of the few photos every made of me where I feel like I look reasonably normal. Ah, to be 18 again...

Finally, the photo below shows my grandmother Cordelia on the far left - from whom I inherited my high forehead and curly hair - and on the far right is Ceph, who liked to stick out her tongue after she had a glass of sherry or two. In between them is Aunt Annie, who had 6 children. Guess who I take after the most?! [hahahahaha]

 

Missing My Babies

Tomorrow is the first day of July. YAY! I have already flipped both calendars to July. June was not a great month in so many ways, chief among them because I was laid off, of course.

 

My brother got in pretty late last night, and we had a short visit before everyone headed off to bed. This morning, I was the first one up, as always, and out the door to water the garden. I made a cup of tea and was eating some cereal before the Major even came downstairs. Highly unusual, but he had a long day yesterday.

 

Within a short time, the kids were packed and headed off to the North Georgia mountains to camp at Amicalola Falls State Park. Being a mom, even though Bruce assured me there was plenty of food and water in the truck, I had to do certain things. I had to interrogate him about his medical kit. I had to pack a small backpack with apples, oranges, bottles of water, and a sleeve of Ritz crackers. I had to pack extra towels and light blankets in a bag with extra flashlights, soap, a small sewing kit, and salt and pepper. I went over the packing list with Michael. I checked his bag. When he wasn’t looking, I slipped his pocket knife, camera, and a yoyo into his backpack.

 

I pulled Alesia aside and told her to look after Michael and be a little mommy if he needed her. I pulled Michael aside and told him if Bruce wasn’t around [like in the shower or the bathroom] to look after Alesia and protect her. I pulled Bruce aside and quietly told him that Michael needs lots of hugs and Alesia is afraid of the dark. I told all of them to look after each other. Am I nervous? Anxious? No. Of course not.

 

Well, not until after they left. Then Mother decides to tell me that Bruce said he would only tell the kids one rule: if they see a bear, get under the truck. Huh? A BEAR? He took my babies out where there are BEARS???!!  I was sorely tempted to drink my lunch out of the Harvey’s Bristol Crème bottle I have stashed away. [I didn’t though! Nothing but cooking wine has touched my lips in more than 4 years.]

 

Now, I won’t say I miss the kids, but look at the photo below of Coco. The look on her face is exactly how I feel. I miss my babies. The house is way too quiet.

 

I spent the afternoon working on book marketing and talking to a couple of different friends on the phone. For dinner, Mother and I split the leftover shrimp dip from the party and some leftover beef stew from last night. We watched CNN and the coverage of Michael’s Jackson’s death spectacle. Obviously he was super talented, but now it’s coming out how screwed up he was also. What a tragedy. I just hope and pray his children stay together and wind up in a loving home.

 

Bruce called late this afternoon. I talked to both the kids. They had their campsite set up and everything was going well. I could hear in their voices that they are having fun. I just hope they can sleep tonight.

 

When Michael was with his birthmom and they were homeless I know he slept outside a lot. I hope the camping experience doesn’t bring back bad memories.

 

Alesia took this photo of Mike the other day and I just love it. He was at the pool, and happy.

 

 

Here are a couple of photos Alesia made at the aquarium a couple of weeks ago. Top - Anya, Alesia, and Frank's wife Laura. Bottom, Mike and his friend Clay.

 

My friend Cindy posted a lovely review of my book on her blog. Check it out. Thanks, Cindy! Also, my friend Julia posted a nice review on her site, Brainella. Thanks!! Blessed are the current and former librarians!

Wonderfully Made, Or Not

My friend Andrea over at The Creative Junkie just posted a hysterical piece about how she explained the birds & bees to her 5 year old, after finding the child and a friend playing Ken and Barbie make a baby. I'm sure that was horrible for Andrea. My heart goes out to her.

When Alesia came home, I realized that I was now parent to a 13 year old girl and I had no idea if she knew anything about where babies came from. She was physically about the size and shape of an American 10 year old, and had not started her periods, but I had to do something.

I remembered my poor grandmother, raised in a proper Victorian home where babies arrived every year or two and nobody knew anything. She started her periods and thought she was dying of some terrible disease, until one of her 6 sisters set her straight. I didn't want that to happen to Alesia.

I invited my friend Kate, who is a Russian interpreter/translator, to come over and visit, about two days after we arrived back home from Moscow. Alesia was still getting used to fast food and microwave ovens.

Kate was great about explaining things to Alesia in Russian. While she was there it occurred to me I needed her help. Kate agreed to explain the facts of life to Alesia in Russian, which was extraordinarily kind of her.

First, Kate asked Alesia if she knew anything about sex or where babies come from. Alesia said yes, of course, a man and woman take off their clothes and get in bed. That was it. That was all she knew. I wish we could have stopped right there, but I knew it was important for Alesia to understand her own body and how it worked. Kate explained the whole thing, in detail. I was fascinated by the hand gestures. Kate must be part Italian, somewhere in her background, because she has very expressive hands. Alesia's eyes were huge, wide as saucers, much the same expression as she has in this photo, made less than a week before she got here:

Still, when she finally got her period it was horrific, for both of us. Lots of pain, and mess. The language barrier was still an issue. More troubling was the fact she had forgotten a lot of Kate's talk and was just horrified by the whole situation. I was, too. Lots of crying, done by us both.

Now things are fine, except for the PMS. I won't even go there.

With me, Mother tried to explain scientifically, exactly what happens. I was 9 years old, and Mother knew I was in danger of starting my periods early, which in fact did happen. So Mother gave me a book and told me to read it. It was called Wonderfully Made. I Googled the book title, just for fun, and I found this funny blog which shows a lot of the illustrations from the book. As you can see, it was not a very informative book. I realized pretty quickly that amidst all the neato illustrations, there was no real explanation of how the sperm and egg actually got together. That was a crucial piece of information and I was outraged that book didn't cover it. Curiosity was my undoing.

Sometime around this same time, the early 1970's, my parents purchased a book called The Joy of Sex. I am sure they tried to hide it from us, but my brother and I found it. It had beautiful pen and ink drawings of a hippie couple having sex. The biggest fascination for me was the carefully drawn armpit hair on the woman. Up until then, our main source of information was the Better Homes and Gardens baby book, which had a small photo of a woman breastfeeding a baby.

When Mike turned 12, I felt like I probably needed to go ahead and explain things to him, because he was going into adolescence. Actually, the moment I saw a pimple on his face I had a panic attack, thinking, OMG, I need to explain all the icky boy stuff to him like unwanted erections and wet dreams and I have only the vaguest idea of how to talk about those things...

I emailed my brother and several close male friends to see if any of them would be willing to talk to Michael about the facts of life and all the icky boy stuff. To my surprise, none of them jumped at the chance. My brother, ever the diplomat, expressed complete disinterest in the whole situation.

I was telling Mother about it and she reminded me that when my father tried to explain the facts of life to my brother Bruce, it was a disaster. First, he sat Bruce down and tried to talk to him. Bruce ran out of the room and was not seen again for hours.  Next, Dad took Bruce out on the lake, in our boat. He went out to the middle of the lake and cut off the engine. As soon as he started the spiel, Bruce jumped out and swam to shore. Finally, Dad got Bruce in the car and got on the interstate, doing about 70 mph, and Bruce was trapped. Dad explained the whole thing. At the end of the speech, Bruce said "I knew all that already. How fast are you going again?" They got home and Bruce was not seen again for hours.

With me, I had the vague and inadequate Wonderfully Made. Then I got an explanation from Mother that left me completely puzzled. It took years for me to figure out what happened between a man and a woman, and I remember thinking, Ken and Barbie cannot do that because their arms and legs aren't flexible enough. I secretly hoped I didn't have to grow armpit hair to make a baby. Sometime during this whole thing, we saw a film in school where a hippie couple gave birth in a lagoon, which looked a little weird but not too bad, and another one where they showed the baby emerging from the screaming mother covered in blood and ick. I thought to myself OK, this is worse than a horror movie. No way can that not hurt like hell.

Around the same time, I asked Dad what he thought the first time he saw me. That was a loaded question. With Bruce, Mom kept going in and out of labor, for a week. He couldn't make up his mind to be born. Mom would have pains, and they'd go to the hospital. The pains would stop, and they'd go home. Finally, there was a horribly long labor, and Dad set up a card table in the waiting room. All his friends came and they played poker, drank beer, smoked, and grew facial hair. Mom was down the hall dealing with a boy and a kidney infection. That was 1959.

In 1962, with me, Mom waited until the last minute to tell anyone she was in labor. I was almost born in a folding chair at a 4th of July Party while Mother ate barbeque and peaches, except the host of the party was her doctor. He noticed she was wincing every few minutes. Next thing you know, he gives Mother something to slow the labor, pops her over to the hospital, reaches in and unwraps the cord from around my neck, and there I was. By the time Dad got there with the beer and the poker chips, I had arrived. He said he took one look at me and, he told me later, he thought "She looks like a skint squirrel."

Thank you, Pappy Yoakum. What a Hallmark moment.

Anyway, I digressed. Back to Michael.

With Mike, I wasn't sure of all his English words, and so my explanation had to be rudimentary. He kept looking at me like, you've GOT to be kidding me. I finally ended up drawing pictures. He got a look on his face similar to the one below. I started explaining the icky boy stuff and he bellowed "I KNOW!! Stop talking!" and it occurred to me since we weren't in a moving car, I better be quiet.

Now, I have already decided that when I have adolescent grandchildren, I am going to volunteer to tell them the facts of life. I'm not going to provide icky details of anything. I am going to say when a mommy and dadddy want a baby - or when a single lady pushing 40 wants a baby by herself instead of waiting for Mr. Right Now - they call an agency, do a homestudy, and some months later, there's a new baby in the house. I like that. Clean and tidy.

Or I will just tell them to Google "procreation."

Not YouTube though. No reason to go there.
 

Irons In The Fire

Party day. I am tired.

 

The kids and I went to work right after breakfast and we really got the house cleaned up. Alesia scrubbed down the kitchen and the kitchen floor, and ingeniously found ways to store things in the cabinets, out of sight. Mike helped me water plants, vacuumed, and hauled a lot of things which needed to be put away in the garage.

 

When we were pretty much done cleaning, about 12:30, Alesia announced she was going upstairs to get a shower. Mike and I went to Arbys to pick up sandwiches for lunch. When we got back, Alesia was clean and had rearranged her room. After lunch, she rearranged Michael’s room.

 

Both their rooms now have much more floor space, because the beds are smack against the windows. I was not terribly pleased, but they assured me they would keep their curtains closed – which they usually do anyway – so I wasn’t going to fuss too much. I remember taking great delight in rearranging the furniture in my room fairly often, when I was a kid.

 

My party went well, although I didn’t have a big turnout. Several neighbors came, but only one of my MAPREC families. The weather was so hot, the kids stayed upstairs playing. However, at one point Michael took the neighbors’ 4 year old outside and supervised him, and Mom said she looked out in the back yard and the little guy was just running around in circles like a dog, then he’d plop down and rest, then run around again. He was on the trampoline. Mike was very patient with him.

 

Michael got to spend several hours yesterday at the pool with his buddies, and taught himself to do a flip off the diving board. All day long he’s been saying “I have to go back to the pool so I can flip! I don’t want to forget!”

 

We’ve worked hard all weekend, and really for the past week, so I told the kids tomorrow is a rest day. We all need to do laundry, but that’s not a tough task.

 

I meant to take photos of the party but I just forgot. One of my neighbors, Jenean, made me a gorgeous cake with the Russian flag on top and an inset of the book cover. She has a website. If you're in the north Atlanta area and need a special cake, let her know.

The kids and I made dinner of the party food, and watched Valkyrie, which was interesting, but not as good as I had hoped.

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Mother sent me an amusing email, which is below. I know I am old, because I have heard most of these expressions all my life and I still use a lot of them. I've never heard of "barking at a knot" or "between hay and grass." They didn't list one of my favorite expressions, which one of my great grandmothers liked, "climbing fool's hill" - usually applied to a foolish young man.

A LICK AND A PROMISE

  
'I'll just give this a lick and a promise,' my mother said as she quickly mopped up a spill on the floor without moving any of the furniture. 

'What is that supposed to mean,' I asked as in my young mind I envisioned someone licking the floor with his or her tongue. 

'It means that I'm in a hurry and I'm busy canning tomatoes so I am going to just give it a lick with the mop and promise to come back and do the job right later. 

'A lick and a promise' was just one of the many old phrases that our mothers, grandmothers, and others used that they probably heard from the generations before them. With the passing of time, many old phrases become obsolete or even disappear.  This is unfortunate because some of them are very appropriate and humorous. Here is a list of some of those memorable old phrases:  

 1. A Bone to Pick (someone who wants to discuss a disagreement) 

2. An Axe to Grind (Someone who has a hidden motive. This phrase is said to have originated from Benjamin Franklin  who told a story about a devious man who asked how a grinding wheel worked. He ended up walking away with his axe sharpened free of  charge)   

3. One bad apple spoils the whole barrel (one corrupt person can cause all the others to go bad if you don't remove the bad one) 

4. At sea (lost or not understanding something) 

5. Bad Egg (Someone who was not a good person) 

6. Barking at a knot (meaning that your efforts were as useless as a dog barking at a knot.) 

7.  Barking up the wrong tree (talking about something that was completely the wrong issue with the wrong person)

8.  Bee in your bonnet (To have an idea that won't let loose ) 

9.  Been through the mill (had a rough time of it) 

10.Between hay and grass (Not a child or an adult) 

11. Blinky (Between sweet and sour as in milk) 

12. Calaboose (a jail) 

13. Catawampus (Something that sits crooked such as a piece of furniture sitting at an angle) 

14. Dicker (To barter or trade) 

15.  Feather in Your Cap (to accomplish a goal. This came from years ago in wartime when warriors might receive a feather they would put in their cap for defeating an ene my)  

16.  Hold your horses  (Be patient!)  

17.  Hoosegow ( a jail) 

18.  I reckon (I suppose) 

19.  Jawing/Jawboning (Talking or arguing) 

20. Kit and caboodle (The whole thing)  

21.  Madder than an wet hen (really angry) 

22. Needs taken down a notch or two (like notches in a belt usually a young person who thinks too highly of himself and needs a lesson) 

23.No Spring Chicken  (Not young anymore) 

24.Persnickety  (overly particular or snobbish) 

25.Pert-near  (short for pretty near) 

26.Pretty is as pretty does  (your actions are more important than your looks) 

27.Redy up  (clean the house) 

28.Scalawag  (a rascal or unprincipled person) 

29.Scarce as hen's teeth  (something difficult to obtain) 

30.Skedaddle  (Get out of here quickly) 

31.  Sparking  (courting) 

32.Straight From the Horse's Mouth  (privileged information from the one concerned) 

33.Stringing around, gallivanting around, or piddling  (Not doing anything of value) 

34.Sunday go to meetin' dress  (The best dress you had) 

35.We wash up real fine  (look good when we are cleaned up) 

36.Tie the Knot  (to get married) 

37.Too many irons in the fire  (to be involved in too many things)        

38.Tuckered out  (tired and all worn out) 

39. Under the weather  (not feeling well this term came from going below deck on ships due to sea sickness thus you go below or under the weather) 

40.Wearing your 'best bib and tucker'  (Being all dressed up) 

41.  You ain't the only duck in the pond  (It's not all about you) 

 Well, if you hold your horses, I reckon I'll get this whole kit and caboodle done and sent off to you. Please don't be too persnickety and get a bee in your bonnet because I've been pretty tuckered out and at sea lately because I'm no spring chicken.  I haven't been just stringin' around and I know I'm not the only duck in the pond, but I do have too many irons in the fire. I might just be barking at a knot, but I have tried to give this article more than just  

A LICK & A PROMISE!

 

Preparing to Party

So, I figured out that if I attach a tune to a multiplication fact, Mike remembers it. Seven times six is forty-two – sung to the tune of “Joshua Fit the Battle of Jericho.” Eight times eight is sixty-four – sounds just like “Bille Jean.” Wonder what made me think of that?!

 

We have done a ton of work today, and it was about 96 degrees. I so wish I was kidding. I got up and did everything outside early, well, except for errands. I cleaned my room. Alesia cleaned her room and bathroom, without a word.

 

I asked Michael to clean his room. He came in every 5 minutes whining, “I don’t know how to clean! I need help!”

 

“Michael, first get everything off the floor. Next, pile all the junk on the bed. Then decide what needs to be put away and what needs to be thrown away. Put away what needs to be stored, in a drawer or your closet. Make sure your shoes are out of the floor."

Another time he came in complaining. I was so exasperated. I was trying to wrestle dust bunnies in my room, and scrub the bathroom. I finally said “Michael, you need to learn how to clean. When you have your own apartment one day you will learn that young women don’t like guys who keep a nasty, messy place.”

 

To my surprise, he turned around, and resumed working on his room. I think adolescence is starting to take hold. His voice is changing. His legs are getting hairy. He is starting to notice girls. Lord help us.

 

After making another run to the grocery store, and eating a quick lunch, I sent the kids to the pool. So I had a couple of free hours. I should napped or read. What did I do? Surfed the net. Computer addiction looms.

 

Our movie tonight was Paul Blart: Mall Cop. I didn’t think it was all that funny. However, it’s a safe movie for kids. No bad language or excessive violence. I actually liked the “making of” stuff a lot better than the film itself.

 

I am dead tired. I am pleased that about 90% of the housecleaning is done, and tomorrow I can get the kids to finish cleaning and I can fix food, and hopefully the party should be a success…

 

Multiplication Drama

We started two years ago telling Michael he had to learn his multiplication tables. He reluctantly started learning them. He just finished 5th grade. He should know them. I've bought him regular workbooks, special workbooks, computer games, handheld games, flashcards, even a video of someone SINGING the multiplication tables and does he know them?! No. Not entirely.

I took Alesia to therapy today and while I was gone I told Michael to work on some workbook pages with Granny. When I cam back, she told me they spent a lot of time on ONE long division problem, which he screwed up because he didn't know his multiplication tables. At one point he refused to do what she asked him to do. She was furious. I got irritated, to say the least.

At lunch, Mother and I took turns trying to explain to him about the multiplication tables being the building blocks for long division, how he has to know them to do well in school, etc. He sat there stone-faced.

I took Michael upstairs to my room after lunch and told him we were going to work on multiplication tables. I used flashcards. We tried repeating. We tried writing. I tried singing little songs about multiplication. I was very calm, and tried to make the whole thing like a game.

After less than 30 minutes, he informed me he couldn't remember any more and he would never know them.

"I can't remember!" he wailed, like a baby.

I gritted my teeth and said quietly, "Michael, you know them all except these 14. You need to study those. You can't watch TV until you know them."

"What?!" he exclaimed.

"Michael, I have tried everything I know to do. I've bought games, books, workbooks, flashcards, you name it. Granny has tried, Alesia has tried, I have tried - we've all tried to help you. You simply HAVE to learn these, now."

"I can't! I can't remember!" he pouted.

"OK, since you have that attitude, then no pool and no Nintendo, until you learn these final 14 multiplication facts."

He pouted. He sulked. He curled up in his laundry basket and read a wrestling magazine.

At one point he went outside and was beating a stick on the ground so hard I heard it in my room.

Finally, he came back to my room and we worked on some more multiplication facts. He still can't remember all of them. I'm offering incentives, though - internet computer time, and even viewing of a wrestling DVD from Netflix. He has to study though. He has to drill every day.

Meantime, I am trying to write a song about all the multiples of 7. Any ideas??