Flaming Inferno Cake
Happy Birthday, Baby. It is okay that you are old. I am too. ;)
Posted by gwendolyn on September 25, 2003 at 09:37 AM
A Glimpse Into The Past
A while back I wrote something about going out to the now deserted Copeland Road Prison. Today, after clicking from link to link to link off of some homeschooling website I came across this. It would be a good idea to mute the sound on your machine before you click on it though. If you can bring yourself to look past the annoying banner ad and the really horrible design it is pretty interesting. I found a whole ton of places that would be really cool to go take black and white pictures of. It might be cool to pick a place near us once every couple of months and make a weekend trip of it. Spend a week researching, maybe dig up something interesting about it to talk to the kids about before we went there. I found out where Al Capone's mansion ruins are here in Florida. There isn't much left except stone steps so I don't know if it is worth visiting but things like that are everywhere. There are a lot of places that have little or no ruins left but some of the places are well preserved. Just a thought. Maybe there is something interesting near you.
Posted by gwendolyn on September 24, 2003 at 04:12 PM
Secret Hanshakes And Pimping Cookies
Over the past few weeks I have been feeling a lot better. Aside from my brief yet intense round of screaming kidneys, all has been fairly well. I have hesistated to write or talk about it because I highly suspect that celebrating the fact will undoubtedly jinx the whole thing.
In light of the improvement, both in health and in location, I am making more of an effort to distance myself and the children from the hermit routine that we are so used to. Park day is once again becoming our "Friday thing". The children are getting outside to play nearly every day. We have been shopping a lot lately which isn'ty such a great thing as Home Depot is getting more than their fair share of our money this month. It does, however, get us out of the house and gives us something constructive, or destructive depending on which way you look at it, to bring home and do while we are here.
Savannah has been invited to join a fellow homeschooler's Brownie troop. We attended the troop's ceremony that graduated them from Daisies to Brownies yesterday afternoon. We just observed so that Savannah could decide if this was something she was interested in doing. The first Brownie meeting will start next week. I found it both odd and convienent that one can just jump in anytime and doesn't have to start at the beginning and complete the previous levels. You are assigned to a level according to your age and nothing more. At least this is the way it has been explained to me. Maybe it gets more complicated beyond Brownie status. I don't know.
It is a fairly informal group which pleases me to no end. The mother who invited us is a really nice lady. She seems like someone I could hang out with, but then again I have piss poor judgement when it comes to people so I don't know for sure. We have done a few things together before. We seem to be on the same page in a lot of ways and we seem to have at least a little bit in common. Yesterday, I was the outsider grown up at the meeting though and no one except the inviting mother and the other troop leader were very friendly. That is okay though because I wasn't there for that purpose.
Though you can go all out with the uniform if you like, this group will only require a brownie t-shirt and any form of tan bottoms along with just the brownie sash for badges and pins. I am not much for organized anything but I am also aware that each of my children needs a chance to make friends outside of the family and be a part of something fun and see that they are still an individual and can be a part of something else. I have mixed emotions about the sales and fundraising but I do realize that this teaches the girls that money doesn't fall out of the sky and if they want to be able to fund their adventures then they must put forth an effort to aquire the money. Even if it is annoying as hell, I have to choose my battles.
We have discussed the idea of cub scouts with Logan who doesn't seem interested. I would by lying if I said that I am not a bit relieved about that. I know that isn't the typical all-American motherly thing to say. No one has ever accused me of being the typical all-American mother though. Isn't there some weird scout leader/ pedophile issue though? I just know that Savannah is in it mostly for the other seven squealing six year old girls' company. I don't know how long it will last. It may lead to some socialization and possibly other activities. It is all fine and good to learn a few little songs about being a good girl and making friends but I don't want a bunch of brain washing for either of them. Logan would be more impressionable. I am not saying that scouts are bad. I just don't know enough about either organization yet too be totally for it or really against it. I am instinctively against anything with lots of pledging, reciting, and conformity.
Posted by gwendolyn on at 12:24 PM
Seeing Red
I have spent the better half of a day reading everything there is to read on color. The color red in particular. I have recently become very fond of using the color in decorating my house and I am afraid that it is a passing phase and eventually I will become very sick of it. Lipstick and underwear are one thing, upholstery and lighting are another. It is becoming very expensive to change my mind.
I accidentally did this with the a sage green color in both the living and dining area and ended up quite miserable. It seems that the green in the fabric of my dining room chairs happen to match nicely with a table cloth and napkins I found and then we ended up painting the walls green which totally depressed me. So thinking it was just too much of the green, we repainted the walls a neutral tan which didn't seem to do anything for me at all.
Meanwhile, we happen to find a sleeper sofa in a sage green, tan, and dark pink, stripe fabric that seemed to match the dining room stuff and since the two rooms were connected and we thought we desparately needed a sleeper sofa (when what we really needed was a fucking bigger place to live) it seemed like a good idea to try to carry the colors through the two rooms since they were practically one room. I should have known right then and there that more sage green was going to make me absolutely miserable. Now I just want to throw the couch off the balcony. I have considered a slipcover, but find them extremely annoying.
It seems to me that it is the floral pattern and not the red in my bedroom that I don't love about it. I am thrilled about painting the wall red and I happened to pick up a color brochure that featured a red bathroom with white fixtures and trim and was completely smitten with it. I hadn't really considered red as one of my favorite colors before. I had a brief fantasy awhile back of having a red sofa but it wasn't meant to be. It wouldn't fit into the room we needed it for.
I ended up putting a tall white vase with deep red colored gladiolas on the kitchen counter a few days ago, that triggered everything.
Mr. Monkey wants pendant lighting hanging over the center of our new natural colored wood dining room table. We saw a few different ones this weekend. Some blue, some orange, a few white ones and a red one. I immediately liked the red one. I don't know why. I couldn't put red lighting in the dining room without recovering the chair cushions in a different fabric though. I do think red would look very nice with the light wood. So, before I go buy an electric staple gun and several yards of some variation of red fabric I want to figure out what is going on with me and red. It would look really nice with a crisp white tablecloth though.
I briefly entertained the idea of reordering the red sofa that wouldn't fit into our other apartment. I don't think I can talk him into that though. I like the idea of the red sofa and then saddle brown leather accents. Maybe a trunk or ottoman or something. I have seen some throw pillows like that somewhere, I just can't remember where.
Red is a supposedly passionate color. Um, duh. I read it can cause an increase in appetite and blood pressure. Not sure if that is such a great thing for me. I also learned that it can cause overstimulation and aggressive behavior. I would hate to start having fits of rage and get so fat I can't fit out of the house.
When I played flute in high school our practice room was painted red as our school colors were red and white. I remember our band director saying that it made everyone talk to much and be too rowdy and never pay attention. Over one summer break he painted the entire place baby blue. I can't remember if it had any affect on any of us.
Maybe I hate sage green and light blue rooms because that is the two standard colors for hospital rooms. Maybe I am just passionate and aggressive. Maybe I am just a moody bitch. I dunno.
Posted by gwendolyn on September 22, 2003 at 05:08 PM
Take Me Anywhere
This popped into my head just now when I was longing to jump into one of the pictures on Textism of somewhere in France. Then another equally depressing fact occurred to me that no one ever freaking emails me anymore. Ever. No one calls. No one writes. No one loves me anymore. Bastards. Then it only seemed natural that it should be playing in the background of my random self pitying.
Take me out tonight
Where there’s music and there’s people
And they’re young and alive
Driving in your car
I never never want to go home
Because I haven’t got one
Anymore
Take me out tonight
Because I want to see people and I
Want to see life
Driving in your car
Oh, please don’t drop me home
Because it’s not my home, it’s their
Home, and I’m welcome no more
And if a double-decker bus
Crashes into us
To die by your side
Is such a heavenly way to die
And if a ten-ton truck
Kills the both of us
To die by your side
Well, the pleasure – the privilege is mine
Take me out tonight
Take me anywhere, I don’t care
I don’t care, I don’t care
And in the darkened underpass
I thought Oh God, my chance has come at last
(But then a strange fear gripped me and I
Just couldn’t ask)
Take me out tonight
Oh, take me anywhere, I don’t care
I don’t care, I don’t care
Driving in your car
I never never want to go home
Because I haven’t got one, da …
Oh, I haven’t got one
And if a double-decker bus
Crashes into us
To die by your side
Is such a heavenly way to die
And if a ten-ton truck
Kills the both of us
To die by your side
Well, the pleasure – the privilege is mine
Oh, There Is A Light And It Never Goes Out
Posted by gwendolyn on at 03:30 PM
Everyone Has A Twin Somewhere, Right?
Everyone who knew both my father and my mother have always told me I look exactly like my father. I do. I haven't seen my father since I was a child, by choice, but I remember what he looked like when he was my age now and I look just like him.
When I was a little girl my grandmother used to tell me that I looked just like my dad's grandma. She didn't have any pictures of her. I am not sure why that is but maybe it had to do with the fact that my grandparents had divorced before I was born. I never knew their parents names. I can't recall ever being told. My paternal grandfather remarried and did not stay in contact with his children or grandchildren. I met him once when I was very young. All I can remember is being very scared of him as he was an abusive father and husband, just like my dad. He had a tattoo of an anchor and another of a lady. He lived in Dayton with his new wife.
My grandmother remarried a wonderful man and he was, in every sense, the only good grandfather I ever knew. I stayed in contact with my paternal grandmother and step grandfather for a few years after my parents divorce. When I was a teenager I had a pretty messy "falling out" with my grandmother and I simply never spoke to them again. I hated that. My step grandfather was a very good man and he died a year or so ago and I don't think I will ever forgive myself for all of those years lost. He would have loved my kids. They had never met any of my children except for taking my son to their house to trick or treat once when he was a baby. Just so they could see him. Once. As much as I loved them I realized my grandmother would never change so I quickly decided that nothing good would come of that so we never went back. It is a long story. A messy one. I will skip it.
So all of these years of growing up I simply accepted the fact that basically that part of my family was pretty much dead to me. Any contact with any of them would only lead to trouble for us. Then after I finally got up the courage and left the mess in Ohio that was my maternal family, they also became just another group of people I would probably never see or speak to again. I missed the last few years of my Great grandmother Marie's life, I have two other great grandparents living who may not be around much longer. I am told they both cry whenever we are mentioned.
It makes me sad. I have my husband's family, I have my mother and sister. They are "my people" as I have become accustomed to referring to family. Still, there is a lot of emptiness and bad memories tugging at my heart. My children don't know their grandparents or great grandparents. If they did they would only know exactly how scary and screwed up people can be. If they ever asked me about their ancestors I would not be able to answer any of their questions. I wouldn't have wise old grandmothers waiting to tell them all about where they came from. That is hard for me.
Once in a while I search a couple of the public records sites to see if any of my relatives are in prison or have been in trouble. I know, weird, as usual. Something very strange happened. Terry did a search for my father's name and ran across a site of a family tree that was done by a girl named Sarah in MO about two years ago.
I found the phone number of her her mother, Diane, and called her. Diane's father Mel's last name is my maiden name. Her father had a brother with the same first and last name as my father and his father. They were approximately the same age and came from the same area. However, her uncle died in the 60's and my grandfather is, to the best of my knowledge, alive and resides somewhere in central Florida.
For some reason though, I look exactly like her grandmother Della who died two years before I was born. I emailed Diane these pictures. She agreed.
One of the pictures has Logan in it. Logan looks a lot like her nephew. She sent me a picture. It is incredible how many features they share. I am not going to link it though because it was a private picture and wasn't already available to anyone on the internet and I don't feel it is appropriate to do so without permission. Terry and I both agreed that the boys look a lot alike so I sent her more pictures of Logan from when he was younger, around the age her nephew is in the picture. However, we still cannot figure out any way that we could be related.
She has been researching their family history, with the help of Mel, for twenty years. She phoned Mel and told him about me, he added to the mystery by telling her that her uncle had been married before he married her aunt, which she didn't know up to that point. Still, the years he was married to her aunt don't solve anything because they were the same years my grandfather was married to my grandmother. The only way it would be remotely possible is if her uncle was also my grandfather and was leading a mysterious double life and then faked his own death, which is highly unlikely. Also, according to my mother his parents were named Rose and Charlie, not Della and Frank.
Still, how do we look like these people who came from the same area and share the same last name?
Side note: The comparison to Della's picture is most similar when positioned beside the photo on the "quiet" style sheet of this site.
Posted by gwendolyn on September 18, 2003 at 11:40 AM
Brain Bleeders
I have been sick for two days. Kidneys. Been hiding behind the box of pain medicine. I finally gave up any hope that it was just going to pass at 4 a.m. this morning.
I chilled, sweated and ached. He stayed four inches behind me everywhere I went in the house. I said I would be okay. He wasn't going to let me faint in the bathroom. Again. He doesn't like it when I get up in the middle of the night. He jumps up when that happens. I am kind of morbid because that fact both comforts and amuses me a little bit. That is how I know he loves me. That and he laughs at my brain bleeder references.
He hurries me back into bed and then pins me down with his leg so I can't wander off and hit my head on stuff without him knowing it. This is eleven years of marriage. This is the good stuff. You can't get it just anywhere, people. Even if he doesn't dance.
Though I swore them off, I agreed to go see a d*ctor. I described. He prescribed. Pee in a cup. Hefty bill from Walgreens and I am on my way back up again.
Such is the ebb and flow of my wellbeing.
Posted by gwendolyn on September 16, 2003 at 04:43 PM
Eleven Years
Happy Anniversary, Baby.
Posted by gwendolyn on September 15, 2003 at 08:36 AM
The Dunkin Donuts Gods Are Angry
Am I the only one uncomfortable about the gigantic powdered doughnut heading for us from the East? The weather channel is making me jones for White's Bakery. Meanwhile, I have absolutely no hurricane kit prepared. I think we will just drive far far away from it if it gets too close.
One gallon of Proper Purple for Logan's room. I think it will turn out nicely. There is a nice balance between the dark purple and the white white. We just need to accessorize for him.
One gallon of a custom blended red for either one or two walls of our bedroom and since there is no appointed color name for it I think I will call it Come Fuck Me Red. Matches my lipstick. This weekend...between Depp flicks...we paint. Again.
Posted by gwendolyn on September 12, 2003 at 03:44 PM
Double Digits
Logan woke up at 7:30 this morning, in his new bed, in his new room, in his new home to the sound of the children's computer saying "Happy Birthday" over and over again in a deep electronic voice. His sisters were perched on the floor at the foot of the bed trying not to make any noise before the computer did and his father and I were standing in the doorway with the camera ready to capture the look on his face when he sat up and realized there was a brand new mountain bike sitting in the middle of his room with a big bow on the handle bars. Various cards and gifts and phone calls have followed. Plenty of trips outside to the multipurpose court to ride around have followed.
I have prepared three different kinds of meat to put on the grill this evening. I have no clue why as it is only the five of us eating and two of us won't eat beef (even on a special occasion). Logan is a carnivore at heart and I pick these special occasions to indulge him. I cheated and picked up deli potato salad and cole slaw to go with. I am debating baked beans but will probably pass because I just realized I am out of brown sugar and you just cannot have good hillwilliam baked beans without it. I can live without the bacon in it but I have to have brown sugar. Of course I would just love to have a big ol' tub from Scruby's but that is kind of out of the question at the moment. The smell of devil's food cake, made mostly by Logan because that is our tradition for the birthday child to get to make their own cake, is taunting me from the oven. The French Vanilla Fudge Pie ice cream is screaming at me from the freezer. So far, so good.
Ten years ago today I became a mother for the first time. I had absolutely no doubt in my mind about what I was doing. No second guessing. No second thoughts. No wondering what I should do with a baby.
It was like seeing perfection for the first time. It was the hardest work I had ever done so far. It was amazing. Becoming a mother was kind of like breathing. I just did it like I had been doing it my whole life. I kind of had in a lot of ways. My brother was five years younger than me. My sister is fourteen years younger than me. My life up to age nineteen had pretty much consisted of taking care of my siblings. The last ten years has been spent just "being the momma" mostly. His childhood is legally half over. I wonder what he will think of his life in ten more years. I wonder what feelings he has way deep down about his life now. He has a "pleaser" personality. Even if he was miserable he wouldn't tell me. He wouldn't want to hurt my feelings. He is a good guy. I hope he is happy. He is one of my four best friends. I am grateful to be here with him. Not just today, but every day.
Happy Birthday Bean xoxo
Posted by gwendolyn on September 09, 2003 at 04:31 PM
Ain't It Always The Way
I bitch, no one hears me. He bitches, and it makes the news. Darn Monkey. He isn't even the one who drags three children to the store!
Posted by gwendolyn on September 05, 2003 at 04:53 PM
Jesus Seriously Needed A Maid
I decided last Thursday morning that even though I really couldn't afford to move in early I couldn't stand the wait any longer. So Thursday and Friday were spent moving as many boxes as possible over in the back of the van and all our clothes in the trunk of the car. Saturday we had family over from the Gulf coast to help us move the rest. I wasn't much help in the lifting department. I ended up having to clean our new apartment as the cleaning people they have come in here obviously don't know the difference between clean and disgusting. It seems that the former tenent, Jesus (according to the junk mail we are still getting in our mailbox), was a complete slob in the kitchen and bathrooms. I would hate to see what the carpet looked like before they replaced all of it. Ick. It really bummed me out at first because I had very high expectations of this place. When we moved in here in 2000 it was spottless. Of course we were only the second family to have lived in the apartment. Maybe rentals age in dog years. If I am going to pay $2500.00 just to get in the door of the place, I want it clean.
At any rate, I cleaned the place up myself after the housekeeping service left and aside from the very problematic grout between the tiles in the kitchen which are in serious need of some chemical I don't currently possess to make them the proper color again, the place is extremely nice. It is just as roomy as I remember it being. Garages rock. Ferris needs a good wash and wax and some TLC with the leather cleaner and we should not have to worry any more about weather, birds, or stupid people banging their doors into him.
Yesterday was my birthday. I didn't get emotional like I did last year. I guess I figured I am pretty lucky to have seen it come around. It was pretty much a day like any other. It came, it went, I am older. I got some very nice birthday cards from my kids and Terry and my mom and in laws, Terry's dad called, money from my mother because she knows I need it and sometimes I am really sorry I think such horrible thoughts because sometimes she does try to help me, lipstick shades for every mood from my other mother that I will have to try out when I am feeling a little better about myself. My crew took me to The Cheesecake Factory for lunch since we had never been. I managed to not get sick! We bought linens for both of the children's bathrooms and ordered Logan his own bed for his new room. Then I came home and watched Don Jaun Demarco and went to bed. I am an oldster. This is what oldsters do on their birthdays.
Posted by gwendolyn on September 02, 2003 at 03:25 PM