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My Promise to the AACPL

D-day will hit in about 40 days and then, the family is off in all different directions.
I’m putting on my brave face but really, I’m getting a wee bit anxious. Too much to do. I have to stop going to the library. Because for me it’s, “Hello, I’m Josielle and I’m an addict.” I’m a gluttonous reader. “Just one more” is heard frequently inside my head. Consequently I’m trying to speed read my way through a pile of books that must go back to the library soon. I know, I know, in the past, I’ve been guilty of failing to return books; in my defense the movers packed a couple of photography books from the my last town putting me on a nationwide library most wanted list. But not this time. No, I will FAITHFULLY return each and every book I’ve got on my electronically monitored library card. That includes any movies or cd’s I happen to have. I swear. Honest.

Unfortunately for me I just received Restless Virgins: Love, Sex, and Survival at a New England Prep School by Abigail Jones and Marissa Miley. I say unfortunately because it’s a fascinating book and I’m having a hard time putting it down in order to do things I need to do before we leave. I can’t multi-task and read at the same time. I’m not that good. So THANKS Chris Abraham for the recommendation. Actually, I’m being serious, thanks Chris, it’s a good find.

Between my reading addiction and the new camera (which I just had to throw in here because I took a picture of Ms Jones’ book; I’m having fun playing with all the doohickeys on this thing) I’m struggling with major procrastination issues.

Anyhoo, I must make it look like I’ve done something today other than satisfy my very selfish desire. I must go fix some dinner. I’ll saute something and read at the same time. I can do that.

Enjoy your evening my keiki, love to all, be good, be brave.

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Ahem.

I know this is crass, juvenile and most certainly beneath me BUT….I’ve created an award for those very special people who are mired in a heavy pile of uh, self-absorption.

To the guy who continues to walk his dog Fluffy on the berm behind my house thereby making my dogs and those of my neighbor go nuts. I can’t tell you how amusing it was to hear this exchange between you and my husband over the fence!   “Hey! Can you walk your dog on the SIDEWALK?!”  “Shut-up! I can walk my dog WHERE I WANT TO!”  “You’re making all the dogs bark!”  “SO WHAT!” (I cleaned it up a bit)  I won’t disclose what followed because I don’t want to make my readership blush.  Although, I have to admire both you and my husband…I was NEVER so proud of your gender as I was at that moment.

Because you have performed your dog-walking duties with such diligence, discipline and dedication not to mention without any recognition for so long-it’s been about a year and not ONE word from your public- I am presenting, to you, the 1st annual, “Big Pile of Poo” award which you so richly deserve! Bravo!

Oh and, please forgive my husband for telling you to quit hiding behind Fluffy but you know, he felt you had that coming considering you threatened to use Fluffy as a weapon.   Actually, I’m thinking a portion of this award should go to my husband as well….he had some fairly creative words for you.

Men, puh, unbelievable.

A Month of Poetry

It seems that April is National Poetry month; imagine my surprise when I came to the realization- poetry is something to be celebrated! Forgive me, boor that I am. It takes me a while to come to certain realizations. You know like, “No J, your husband’s governmental agency does not have your back. You’re on your own honey.” Took me a good six months to come to that conclusion.  I lie.  I’ve known that for a long time, I was hoping it was different this time.  Anyway.

I am not a poet nor a poetry reader. I can’t see myself putting beautiful phrases together coherently and I prefer to hear poetry rather than read it. However, I can appreciate a well written poem read by a man with a beautiful voice.

To ensure I don’t have to read a lick of poetry, I have a long standing date with Garrison Keillor via “The Writer’s Almanac”. I download it to my iPod every day. I listen to the podcast while I do chores. Garrison’s voice (yes, I’m calling him by his first name as I feel like we’ve been intimate considering that I let his sultry voice entertain my auditory cavities on a daily basis) can make any household chore slip by effortlessly. I appreciate him. I’ll never take Garrison for granted. Never, ever. His is a peaceful voice, a soothing voice, a voice of sustenance in this house of chaos. He could have a “Let’s read the phone book in Swahili!” podcast and I’d subscribe. If I weren’t married, I’d marry him. Okay, he’s probably married, I’m chasing a red herring. ANYway…The Writer’s Almanac podcasts are sponsored by The Campaign for Love and Forgiveness which is another fine idea in the grand scheme of things. Out with the bad juju, in with the good. Such a good policy.

The last few weeks have taken a teeny toll on me, the boy-child has flown the coop once again, to Philadelphia of all places! Bear Bone took a lonely walk on a dark and stormy night a few nights ago. He’s back thankfully. Finally, the South America adventure has already started with the red tape kaka, not to mention that I’m sick of watching Al Diablo con los Guapos on Telemundo. Soap operas are bad in any language and actually, I’m living my own soap opera peppered with Spanish phrases right here in little ol Maryland.

Madness, it’s madness I tell ya.

Love to all, my keiki. Be good, be brave.

I’ve Become the “Old” Mom.

There’s no getting around it anymore. The girl-child is eighteen today. As my father told her, “You can vote for McCain now.” (If she does that I’m kickin’ her out of the house)

Lil Ducky. 18. *sigh*

I’m still tripping down memory lane:

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I’m trying to pick the perfect song to accompany this post and I’ve come up with a few good ones such as Rosemary Clooney’s “Baby Mine” or “Turn Around” from the same album. Both cheesy which would be fine as I am the Cheese Queen but it’s a bit too cheesy even for me. I’ve settled on Beth Nielsen Chapman’s “Happy Girl”. In part:

Oh watch me go
I’m a happy girl
Everybody knows
That the sweetest thing you’ll ever see
In the whole wide world
Is a happy girl

Beth Nielsen Chapman-Happy Girl

That she is. My little ray of sunshine with an occasional thunder cloud. Hippo Birdies lil girl.

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Listening to: Beth Nielsen Chapman – Happy Girl

PhotoFriday-Surreal

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Miss J and Prince Charming

The aspect of surrealism isn’t found in the photo as much as it is the fact that these two have been together for over a year. In high school years that’s like…forEVER….

This photo was taken at the Baltimore Aquarium last year. If Miss J finds out I’ve posted it on the ole blog she’ll kill whine at me so, ssshhh.

 

Patty Griffin: Stay on the Ride

There Are Days When You Wonder “Where Did That Cutie-Pie Go?!”

I’ve been going through old photographs for a project I’m working on. Next week Miss J turns 18 and in two months, Smith turns 21. Milestones in anyone’s life. If you’re under twenty-five that is. So anyway, I found some great shots of the babes when they were babes. As I’m tripping down memory lane my soon-to-be-21 son waltzes in. He’s altered his appearance in yet another “screw-the-mainstream” way. I want to throttle him.

In examining my feelings I’ve decided I’m really angry with him so I’m keeping my distance in order to keep the peace. It isn’t the best day for him to show me how he can do this stuff to himself and that he no longer needs my permission to do it. I’m looking at the baby/toddler years and wishing I could get a “do-over”. I mean, look at these photos! He was a lovey! He’s still a lovey but these days I have to don a blindfold to give him a hug. *sigh*

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You can see he once listened to me with a smile. That’s a distant memory too… ah well. I’ll get over it.

Love to all. Be good. Be brave.

—————-
Listening to: Amilia K. Spicer – Only Love Can Break Your Heart

To Do’s

  I’ve got a list of ’em. All items are long and all items are tedious, starting with driving to the bank. GROSSly unfair but them’s the breaks. I’ll feel better about everything when I’m finished.

S’s class times have changed so I’ve got the mornings to myself and that’s how I like it. I get more accomplished this way-I tend to putter and clean in the mornings and I have a better time of it in the mornings when I’m chipper. (Yes, me, I can be chipper!)

I’ve got some ideas floating around in my head about my CED entry for today so I’ll be back later. In the mean time I’ll leave you with the song that’s playing on a loop in my brain.

Alice Smith-Do I