What We're Reading This Week

I'm reading The Fiery Cross by Diana Gabaldon. This series, the Outlander series, are the perfect summer reads. They are historically sound enough that I'm not constantly saying, "Now that ain't right!" They are interesting for those of us who want something light, yet thick, something with enough tension to hold us but not so much tension that we can't put it down and go to sleep at night. I think I will be sad when I'm finished with all of them...then again, maybe I'll just start over.
Martina and I are reading this Laura Ingalls Wilder classic. We have enjoyed all of her books except Farmer Boy. I liked that one, Martina...not so much.

On the Banks of Plum Creek is, like all of the Little House series, sweet, innocent and exciting. There is adventure and mystery all hung on the framework of a safe family life. Perfect for my 7 yo daughter.

We Drink Out of Jars

Yes, I mean that. I do not buy glasses for the consumption of liquids, I simply save jars and use those. They are glass, thick and hard to break. I don't feel bad when one gets chipped or broken. They are free *and* we are keeping something out of the landfill. What's not to love? Well...to be honest, we've had a few guests who have turned up their noses at first and that is a little bit embarrassing. Eventually though, they get thirsty and get over it.

What kind of jars do we save? We have our favorites, absolutely. Bon Maman jelly jars are number one on our list. They are actually attractive. Then there are the Green Mountain Gringo jars, large enough for a goodly amount of cold water on a hot day. Then there are the big jars, salsa and honey jars, which are used for outside activities like mowing grass or working on the lawn mower. We also have a few tiny jelly jars which (it suddenly occurs to me) would make excellent shot glasses.

Someday maybe I'll buy new, thin, glassware for drinking out of but for now I am happy with the way things are and those guests whose noses sought thinner air over our jars? I don't invite them back.

Why Is Everyone Afraid of the Police?

It has finally come clear to me. Police only interact with people in negative ways. Police are there to enforce the law and I understand and appreciate what they do in that respect...but do they have to be nasty when there's no criminal available? Could an officer maybe smile at a kid? Not in my experience.

Example: I'm taking the kids to the Virginia International Tatoo in Norfolk. We park and walk a few blocks, passing by about 8 police officers on the way. I smile and say, "Hi," to each of them. Most just ignore me, the one who makes eye contact just frowns and looks threatening.

My 7 year old daughter is terrified of police officers. I have tried telling her that they are the good guys. The police are here to help us when we need help. The police are here to enforce the laws. I tell her: You know our friends X and Y? They are both police officers. This does not help at all. X is great and funny, Y is grumpy and fractious. They cancel each other out.

Example: When I was 7 months pregnant I called the police to help because 2 Rottweilers were attacking and apparently killing my goat and my pony. After waiting for the police to show and suspecting they wouldn't (not a rarity as they often did not respond to calls such as this) my husband grabbed his pistol and headed for the barn. The police showed up, disarmed my husband and held us while they 'rescued' the dogs who continued to attack my livestock for the duration. After about 20 minutes I said I'm going to get my cell phone and call the vet. I started for the truck where my cell phone was. The police officer pulled his gun and held me at gunpoint until the other officer caught the dogs and Animal Control arrived to put them into a truck. I was not allowed to check my animals nor was I allowed to call the vet. Absolutely no consideration was given by those officers for my livestock, for my (very pregnant) self, or my husband. We were treated like criminals, despite having called to ask for their assistance. Eventually their Sgt. appeared, saw that we were being held at gunpoint and apologized profusely for the lack of professional behavior and ran the two officers off our property.

This was terrifying to me. I was PREGNANT and held at gunpoint for the crime of hoping to save the life of my goat.

I think that police officers need to do a bit of PR work. Okay, a LOT of PR work in order that normal people, people who do not commit crimes beyond speeding a little or drinking beer on the front porch, might actually trust them a little. It's not by chance that so many of us feel as though the officers we admire from afar are really freaking scary when we have to interact with them in person. Even if it's only to say, "Hi."

The Best Birthday Ever

Yesterday was my 45th birthday. Honestly I almost forgot about it and had planned to meet my friend, T, for sushi until Mark informed me that my family required my presence on that particular evening. I rescheduled the sushi date and tried hard not to listen to the flurry of planning that was happening in whispers in various locations throughout my home and workplace. All very sweet and flattering.

The day began with a leisurely morning and a precious, handwritten card from Martina. Late morning had Travis, Martina and I driving to the shipyard for a little while and then lunching with Mark and the other kids...and my father, sister, cousin and step-mom at Frankie's Place. We were sitting at 3 different booths but that didn't matter. It was great seeing everyone. BUT just after ordering my vision began closing in and I had to stumble outside and lean against the wall and breathe some fresh air. My vision got to where it was about like looking through an oil funnel when Mark came out and fetched me some Excedrin Migraine. Maybe it helped. I haven't had a migraine in a while and usually I brew up a pot of lemon balm tea and lay down. Didn't have that option this time. The headaches are generally due to stress, hormones or dehydration and to be honest, all three were in play yesterday. Which sucked. But I put my head on Mark's shoulder until our food came, then I ate lunch and went to Randall's house and put my feet up on his remarkably soft couch until I could see properly.

All this time Martina, love bunny extraordinaire was bouncing around trying her best to make it a perfect and lovely birthday. How could it not be with all the attention? So we went to the pool and I watched her swim with her cousin R, for about an hour. At the pool I had a nice visit with R's dad, Jeff who loaded an unfinished corn hole set into the back of my van! AWESOME. He didn't know it was my birthday, I think he actually made them for Mark which was sweet. I'm excited to finish them and play.

Mark came home with a bag of blue crabs, took them out back and 'popped the tops'. My brother and sister-in-law called. Travis got the pot set up for steaming the crabs. Around 6 p.m. Aleia came in the back door. She took the night off work to come hang out. She brought charcoal, a card and roses. A short time later Randall, Elizabeth and Missy came in another door bearing steaks, rosemary-garlic roasted potatoes and peach cobbler with vanilla ice cream. And birthday cards. Travis had already made salad and some salsa-cheese dip. Mark and the kids cooked, we all hung out and chatted. The younger kids played Rock Band, like always, one of the sounds of happiness in my life.

L-R: Mark, Missy, Randall, Travis, Aleia, Martina, Elizabeth

By 9 p.m. the kids had all gone back to their respective homes and I was tucking Martina in to the first chapter of On the Banks of Plum Creek.

It was about as perfect a day as happens in this life. Oh! My step-mom sent a gift and a card with Elizabeth. For me, though, the best gift of all is having my whole family together for a while. My cup runneth over.

More Cats than Cash

This is what happens when...

you have 2 female cats, no money and PETA won't return your calls...

Gizmo, mama of all blacks and the short haired gray.

PJ, mama of the fluffy ones and the lovely tabby.

The two mamas are litter mates and while Giz had her babies on our back porch, PJ chose to deliver under our neighbor's shed. Her kittens were destined to be feral and we had to wait for them to become mobile before we could get our paws (heh) on them. They are being handled as often as possible and are still young enough that it will have an effect.

We now have 8 cats that we want and 8 kittens who are in need of homes. They are very lovely. There is one little black one with white eye brows! He looks kind of like an owl. There are calicos and steel grays, a tabby and several blacks. All looking for a place to be loved.

Twitter, Tumblr, Facebook. What's the point?

This morning I went online and deleted my Twitter and Tumblr accounts. After giving both the good old college try, I have to admit that I do not see the point of either. Maybe I just lack the drive to click and click and click. Perhaps it's my age (45 tomorrow!). I suppose that it could be my seemingly slow brain waves that find no pleasure in massive information reception, those small and irrelevant sips that don't quench my thirst or even aggravate one. Give me a nice thick book for information. Besides, I just feel like pecking out my every thought and recording it on the internet is a little bit weird. I don't much care for reading other people's either.

No, I won't miss Twitter and I certainly won't miss Tumblr. I haven't deleted that damned Facebook account though. In a world where most of my time is spent catering to the needs and demands of others, Facebook is all about me and I kind of like that. Each quiz that tells me what imaginary creature I am or who I was in a former life is an unabashed, harmless me-fest. Of course they're all bullshit and it doesn't matter at all. What matters is my happiness at the chance to be utterly self-absorbed for just a few minutes each day.

However, there may come a day when I delete the Facebook acccount, too. Social networking? That's something you do at parties, after work happy hours and The Town Pointe Club, not while you're wearing underpants and swilling Scotch at 2am in your living room. I like real, breathing people, warm bodies, and the ability to touch and gesture when we interact which leads to admitting that I often dislike the cold impersonality of plain text and the inability of said text to convey any real emotion as well as a person-to-person interaction. There are times when this emotional distance is a saving grace but in my mediocre, daily interactions I find a conversation with a friend I can make eye-contact with...un-Facebookable.

Sibling Worship

Martina, 7, is so lucky, so blessed, to have 4 older siblings to learn from, to pester, to worship. Each of her older sibs brings something fantastic and unique to the life-experience mix for their youngest sister.

Travis, 17, is here. He is here, in her life every day. He reads Greek myths, helps her scrub the dirty water buckets for the chickens, takes her for walks, and set off fire crackers for her viewing pleasure. He is the one she kisses goodnight, every night. Travis cooks her breakfast. Even at 7 she seems to realize that he is one who shows up...and he is. He babysits her when I work. He loves her in the gentle, even-tempered, horribly important way that every little girl needs and which effects her every relationship with men. Forever.

(I promise to take some photos of these two together this weekend and post them ASAP!)

Aleia, 18, is the littlest big sister. She's little in almost every way. Aleia is a tiny little gal who is also quiet of voice, quiet of action and quiet of spirit. She is the girl who sits in the floor and plays dollhouse endlessly with her little sister. She, somehow, has the endurance to take orders and roll play and participate in long hours of imaginary play with Martina without breaking. Not being one of those who can do that, I tell you that I am immensely happy that my youngest child has someone who can. (This is why there are no pictures. I'm so relieved to be relieved of my duties that I go hide when Aleia is with Martina.)

Eli, 20, the biggest big sister...not that she's big. Compared to Aleia she is, but compared to a normal human she's just about perfect. She was in the room when Martina was born.

Eli is the Pied Piper of Children. Wherever she goes, if there are small children, they circle around and bounce and sing and participate in her zany games. She is loud. She is rowdy. She is babysitter who wears your children out so that they sleep through your hangover the next day. For her little sis, she is the girl who plays crazy, who calls and takes her on dates on the day-of movie premieres. Elizabeth is the one who remembers birthdays and birthday wishes, who covers her big, big heart with her big, big mouth. But we know her game and we love her for it.

Randall, 22, biggest big brother. He is the one I refer to as Martina's companion bookend because they are the two on the ends, propping everyone else up in the middle. Randall is the only one of the kids who does not put up with his little sister's mess. If she licks his face, he licks her face right back. If she is in the mood to kick shins, so is he. Randall is also the hero who Martina knows she can call out for if she's in trouble, like Miss Polly calls Underdog. He will save her. He is big and strong and almighty. Randall carries her up mountains and poses her like a statue on ancient monuments and holds her hand to keep her safe.

I know one lucky little girl who has four older siblings. Her name is Martina.