Bye Bye

When your children are growing, there are any number of rites of passage that that mark the growing of your kids, not only in size but in maturity, independence, attitude, etc. Levi recently turned 15, got his driving permit and started high school. There’s two pretty darned big rites right there. But these rites are expected. When one has a child, you expect the first day of school, the first bicycle, the first sleep-over away from home without you, the first license, girlfriend, chin hair. But there are other rites that catch a Mom off guard. Things you don’t plan for, things you don’t see coming, but that are solid reminders nonetheless that your children are growing up. Many of these are little things, but that makes them have no less of an impact. As you may have guessed, one of these little things happened today … I gave away all our craft supplies.

When one has children, one is often called upon to help produce various projects from dioramas of an African veldt to models of cells to working volcanoes. There are 4-H fair entries and school projects and things they just want to do for fun. Over the years, I had built up an enormous cache of widely varied craft supplies. Moms never throw the left-overs from one project away as they know they will likely be able to use them on a future one. And this stockpile of ribbon, yarn, modeling clay, pipe cleaners, bits of wood, bits of stone, bits of everything imaginable has bailed us out on many last-minute ‘Oh Mom! I have to make a (fill in the blank) for school tomorrow!” emergencies.

But now it’s gone.

It hasn’t been used for years and I can’t see it being used in the future. Bye bye craft supplies. We’re into a new phase of life now.

Tuesdays With Noirrie

What's In a Name?

A fair lot, I would say. When Lane was born 16+ years ago a number of people, when told what his name was, asked how we spelled it? Laine? Layne? Laene? Um ... no. Just L.A.N.E. I'm not sure when the I-must-find-a-new-and-unique-name-for-my-child craze started but, apparently, it was before that. The old standards were no longer good enough and people started branching out trying to find original names for their babies. And, when all the original names appeared to be taken, they just started spelling them in new and 'interesting' ways. And, by spelling them in an interesting way I mean, of course, blatantly misspelling them. There is a belief among many that naming your baby something unique will make them unique. I am of the belief that the child either will or will not be unique on his/her own merits and not because of whatever handle their parents stuck them with at birth. But that's just me.

At last night's county 4-H sale, I found myself "reviewing" some of the names on the sale roster. Here are just a few that caught my attention:

Blaak - Is this Blake? Cause it sure reads as black.

Torrie - I bet she hates the Whigs

Cutter - Have you met his brother Emo? (Sadly, of 127 kids, this name was found twice)

McKenzie - Not unusual these days, but also on this roster of 127 were: Kenzie, Kenzi and Kenzee. I default to the 'original' spelling thing.

Anastasia - A pretty name, but really, who's not going to associate this with a Russian princess?

Arden - I just can't help but think Eve Arden when I read this.

Brooklene - Close to Manhatteen

Kaghe - We keep our parrot in a kaghe.

Mirriah - They call the wind .....

Cyruss - Middle name Billyrae

And, bless her ....

Jemimah - No explanation needed

You know, I have a very simple name and yet I still have to spell it for people. Do you think anyone, ever, will spell Kaghe right? Come on folks! Give these kids real names and let them be emotionally scarred by other things!

Tuesdays With Noirrie

Just checking in ...

(Before Stacy scolds me because it's been so long since I've blogged!!)

Nothing worth mentioning has happened lately. That's why I haven't been here. So, here's some randomosity ...

Driving to town one day recently, I saw a couple of Canada geese in the ditch, looking for all the world like they were intending to cross the road. I slowed down just in case they decided to hop out in front of me as critters so often do. When I got close, I saw that it was a mommy and daddy goose with their three little baby gooses. That was about the cutest thing I've seen in a long time. Awwwww.

Lane uses my bathroom on occasion, instead of using the guy bathroom. But it's only every now and then. For a while, I assumed it was because 'his' bathroom was taken. It wasn't. I finally asked him why because I could find no discernible pattern. I'm afraid I cannot tell you the reason because he would murder me if he found out I put it here. Suffice it to say that the reason was so damned funny that I laughed out loud, long and hard. And every time I think of it, it still brings a smile to my face.

My guys were sweet enough to buy 'me' a nice, flat-screen high-def TV for Mother's Day. Awwww. Sweet. And they were even thoughtful enough to put it in the room where I watch TV, not the one where the boys have all their game systems. Awwww. Want to guess how long it took the boys to move the xBox and hook it up to the new TV??? *grump*

Lane has said for a while that, once he's out on his own, he's just going to have cats, no dogs. We recently saw a comedian who said that a single men who owns a cat is either gay or an evil genius. It's not too hard to figure out which one Lane will be.

We've had lots of storms in the last few weeks. Lots of awesome lightening. I love lightening and will usually set a lawn chair in the end of the garage to watch it. It's been making me miss my Dad though. He loved storms.

I drove by a yard in town the other day that was COVERED with those gaudy pink flamingos. That's still going on?? It's long been a tradition in our town to occasionally flamingo someone's yard. The person who gets flamingoed holds on to them for a time and then places them in someone else's yard on the sly. I hadn't seen this happen for a while. It's nice to see that some traditions never die.

The Chronicles of Narnia; Prince Caspian

Go see this movie. Go see it now! Seriously. It was awesome. After having seen, and loved, the first one, I didn't know quite what to expect from the second. The previews look good. But, then again, previews always do, don't they? I've seen too many movie series where the first one is spectacular and the following one falls spectacularly on its face. That was not the case here.

Caspian is every bit as beautiful in its visuals as the first. Lane worded it best when, upon leaving the movie, he asked, "Do you ever see movies like that and then find that you just hate our world?" Yes. Yes I do.

It's been long and long since I've read the books (although seeing this movie has made me want to get them out and read them again). So I cannot attest to how well it followed the book. I can only say that the movie was beautiful and highly entertaining. Often, after about an hour and a half in a theater, I'm starting to squirm. I'm not a good sitter. But I was surprised that this one ended so quickly after 2 hrs. and 24 minutes. Nary a squirm one.

Classic lines from this movie (which will make no sense until you see it but which you will probably love after you do) ...

*I* am an adult.

Can you see him now?

Go see Caspian. Tonight if you can.

Tuesdays With Noirrie

Do, or do not. There is no cry.

(Yeah, I know that's not Noirre, but I just had to use his image here.)

There are two kinds of people in this world ... those who Do, and those who sit back and bitch about what has been Done. Now, in all fairness, I do have to admit that there really are three kinds. There are the Do Nots who appreciate what the Does do. But they are a tiny fragment of the equation. And the Do Nots who actually tell the Does that they have done a good job and that they appreciate it is such a small percentage that I can't give you the number as my calculator doesn't have that many decimal places.

If you're a Do, you know it. If you're a Do Not, you also know it. However, if you are a Do Not, there are some rules that you should know about that, apparently, many of you do not. Whose rules? Mine, for now, but I plan to see if I can make them universal law.

Rule 1 - You may not utter any sentence to the Does that begins with any of the following: "Why didn't you ..." "Maybe you should ... " "I think you ought to ... "

Rule 2- In referring to any event which the Does planned and you, as Do Not, did not, you may not refer to it in terms of "we". "We" didn't do squat.

Rule 3 - You may not sniff, roll your eyes, huff, puff, stomp or otherwise show any physical form of discontent over what has been Done. Sit your ass down and smile.

Rule 4 - You may show your appreciation to the Does in any positive form including, but not limited to, smiles, hugs, verbal thanks, singing of praises and monetary gifts.

Honestly people, if you're not willing to do the work, you really, really need to just shut your mouth. If not, you may find yourself having the job the next time.

And, on another note, but completely unrelated to this post, I cannot wait until both my family reunion and my term of service as 4-H community leader are over.

Tuesdays With Noirrie

It Takes a Thief

Clearly, I will never have a career as a thief. How do I know this? Because I recently attempted something that I wasn't even sure was completely dishonest and nearly fainted doing it! Here's the deal .... Steve's birthday was last week. Steve is both very easy and very hard to buy for. Easy, because he's not particular and will appreciate anything you get him. Hard, because he's not "into" anything really so it's hard to come up with something that will WOW him. One of the few things, other than just crash, he does like to do on his off time is play blackjack. But he very rarely does this. I think there's a part of him that feels guilty for leaving his family to go to the casino even though none of us minds at all. After all, it's not like he's doing it every night and losing the grocery money, KWIM?

SO, the boys and I agreed that wrapping some chips from one of the local casinos and giving them to him for his birthday would be an awesome idea. That way he'd go, he'd play, he'd have fun, and he'd not feel guilty.

SO, off I goes to the casino to get the chips. Now, the day before I had discussed this plan with a friend. She agreed that it was a great idea! However, she warned me that they might not let you take the chips out of the casino. But if I just stick them in my pocket and walk out, they'll never know, right? Well, maybe they have sensors in them or something and an alarm will go off like at Wal Mart when they forget to deactivate that little strip. Hmmm.

So, not wanting to break any chip laws, my first stop at the casino was the cashier who I asked if I could take chips out of the casino or not. He informed me that he wasn't aware of any rules against it. But then he proceeded to suggest that I more or less 'hide' them when leaving. AND, should anyone stop me, he never told me that. Ah. Great. Like I wasn't a bit paranoid before.

Naturally, the only open table at the time - 9 a.m. - was the one with NO players sitting at it and the pit boss standing behind the dealer. Gulp. Luckily, when I walked up to the table the PB drifted away. Nice. Maybe he's not paying attention now. (Yeah, right. Like it's not his JOB to pay attention!) I asked the dealer for four $25 chips. She goggles and asks me, "TWENTY-FIVES???" Sheesh. Like that's high-rolling or something? Or maybe I just looked poor. Who knows? But she took my cash and then, to my horror, called over her shoulder to the PB, "CHANGING ONE HUNDRED." Thank you so much for calling attention to me, Miss Helpy. After getting my chips, I asked for and was directed to the rest room. Step one in sneaking out.

This is where the paranoia really began to creep in. I escaped into the restroom where, by this time, two cups of coffee and nerves dictated that this be a legitimate visit. Once inside the stall I heard someone else come in. Did they send someone to keep an eye on me? Gulp.

The chips now safely hidden away in my pocket, I exited the restroom and unobtrusively strolled around looking at the various slot machines as if just checking them out. Now, exactly how unobtrusive one can be when one appears to be the only patron in the entire casino at 9 a.m. on a weekday morning, I don't know. But I was trying to tell myself that I was. On one aisle, there were two casino employees seemingly just strolling along and looking things over as well. Two aisles over, here they came again. Shit. They really do have people following me!

I turned a corner and ran into Levi's two soccer coaches who work there. I stopped to visit with them thinking this might throw off my pursuers. Of course, then I immediately wondered what they thought about Levi's mom hanging around the casino at that time of the day, but there was nothing to be done for it.

At this point, I decided to make a break for it. I strolled purposefully toward the exit, neither looking left nor right, just acting for all the world like I was doing nothing wrong. Naturally, the table where the goggle-eyed dealer gave me the chips was the one RIGHT next to the exit. And now the PB is standing with her again. Watching me leave? Knowing I have chips on me? Calling security? I kept walking, expecting at every moment to hear "Ma'am! Please stop for a minute!" Of course, I never did. Sheesh. They're just stinking CHIPS for heaven's sake. Chips I paid for. But the very idea that one may be doing something wrong is a powerful paranoia inciter.

Obviously, I will never have a career as a criminal. If something as simple as smuggling casino chips sends me this far over the edge, committing an actual crime would probably cause me to just fall over dead at the scene. Case closed.

I am glad to report that Steve loved the gift and happily trotted off to the casino that evening and played to his little heart's content, so I guess it was all worth it. ...... Next year he's getting a tie.

Tuesdays With Noirrie

The Mist

Have you seen this movie?

Being a long-time Stephen King fan, I've wanted to see this movie since it first came out in theaters. There's the King factor, plus it just looked really good. Well, I finally saw it on Saturday. I kind of wish I'd noticed where, on the cover of the DVD, it said "One of the most shocking movie endings ever". Maybe that would have prevented me from seeing it. But probably not. First, I'll just say that the movie was pretty good. It seems like with movies made from King's stories, they're either great or awful. This was more toward the great end of the spectrum, although not quite there in my opinion. I reserve great for The Green Mile and Shawshank Redemption. Still, it was pretty good.

Until the end. Nothing like having a movie kick you square in the balls. And that's what this one did. It was incredibly disturbing. Three days later and I'm still thinking about it. I was so unprepared for it. I won't say what 'it' was ... I'll just warn you to pull up your protective emotional blankie before watching it. And, if you do, let me know what you think.

Tuesdays With Noirrie

Random Thoughts

Man, I'm full of it today. [Do not insert comment here.]

Here we go ....

To be added to the list of things that I don't get - celebrity gossip. I mean, who cares? Why does anyone really want to know who's doing whom, who's gay, who's drying out, etc.? I saw a clip from a South Park episode where Barrack Obama - you know, the potential leader of our entire nation - was being interviewed and a NEWS FLASH broke in about yet another Britney Spears antic. I found it hard to see this as funny because there are so many people obsessed with celebs that I could almost see this actually happening. This clip was shown on the Today Show. It was shown in conjunction with another clip of Britney's cameo on some sitcom or other (I wasn't paying particularly close attention.) And then they announced that if that cameo "... didn't fulfil your Britney fix, you can bid on the outfit she wore for that cameo!" Um, who wants that? Seriously. Please tell me. And this is just the tip of the celebrity gossip iceberg. Speaking for myself, I do NOT want to know anything about actors other than how they perform in whatever movie I happen to be watching at the time. What I find even sadder is that this type of information is often passed along in the form of "news". Someone, somewhere, needs to look up the definition of news.

On the same Today Show, some expert or other (did I mention that I was only paying partial attention?) stated that we've become a society of germophobes and it's actually making us sicker. YES! They confirmed my long-held belief that my shortcomings as a housekeeper are actually building up my family's immunity and, therefore, keeping them healthier in the long run. We NEED to be exposed to a certain amount of germs in order for our bodies to build up that immunity to them. Smug.

I really, really, seriously, deeply hate my insurance company. Wouldn't it be nice (and, in their case, novel) if you could get the correct, complete answer the first time you called? And not get a different answer each time? Wow. Imagine.

Why is it that this sporadic back pain I've had for the last few years has always gone away within a few days when left to its own devices and yet, when I finally seek chiropractic help to stop it from recurring, it has now hurt continuously for a week and a half? I know he'll make me better in the long run. It's just waiting for the long run that hurts.

I still can't believe that I'm on Myspace with all my teenaged WoW friends. Honestly, I'm way too old to even be there.

Tuesdays With Noirrie

Chosen by a Cat

My friend gave me a book to read called Chosen by a Horse by Susan Richards (and, honestly, I'm still not sure I've forgiven her for that!) In the book, the main character receives a rescued horse to care for. She watches as this mare goes from a sad, skinny, mistreated animal to a healthy, glorious, beautiful creature under her care. Many things about this book reminded me of our Sunny. Or, more accurately, Levi's Sunny.

Levi had wanted a cat of his own for quite some time. Last year I told him he could have one for his birthday. About two weeks before the day we headed to the Humane Society to choose one. There were several kittens and young cats available. They have a little room where you can take the potential pets and spend some time with them to try to get to know them a little. After playing with a number of kitties, Levi chose the one who was to become Sunny. Honestly, I was angling for the little orange and white one who was beautifully marked, a few months old and looked sleek and healthy. My second choice was the year-old grey tabby female who displayed a very sweet personality. But it was Levi's choice. He picked the skinny, runty-looking little orange male with the attitude. Oh well.

We had hit Wal Mart for a wide variety of feline supplies, including a brand-new carrier, on the way to the Humane Society so were all ready to bring his new friend home. Levi was immediately in love. Sunny, not so much. Oh he was affectionate and playful, but he also displayed so many of those typical cat characteristics including accepting affection when HE decided he wanted it.

He was kind of a sad-looking little thing. He was so starved that his skin just draped loosely over his tiny, little hipbones. His head seemed over-sized compared to his skeletal figure so that he kind of resembled one of those creepy bobble-head thingies. But Levi didn't care. He thought he was beautiful. He named him Sunny, more in honor of his color than his personality.

And then Sunny got sick. Two days after bringing him home, he developed a cough. I understand that 'kennel cough' is not unusual for rescue pets like this. However, his breathing became very labored and he grew lethargic. I immediately took him to the vet and pumped a fairish sum of cash into him. He was quite an ill little kitty. One night not long after that, Steve and I were discussing how to handle it when Levi's birthday gift died on him. That's how bad he seemed. But, he was tougher than he looked and he rode it out, beat the bug and grew into a fat, healthy, beautiful cat.

Being a cat, he doesn't display the attitude of gratitude that the horse in the book did. Or maybe he does in his own way. Levi takes Sunny into his room and night and closes the door so that he stays there. Given a chance, Sunny will escape. And yet on those nights when Levi doesn't lock him in, Sunny can often be found sleeping next to Levi on the bed. Apparently if it's HIS choice, it's OK. He is, as far as he's concerned, the alpha male. Almost from the moment he entered the house he began trying to assert his dominance over the other two pets. The dog doesn't fall for it. The other cat did. He strolls about the house with the air of an aristocrat who has graced us with his presence. We often call him The Young Prince. Well, when we're calling him something polite that is. He won't voluntarily come sit in your lap, but he will at times deign to sit on the back of the couch behind you and slap you repeatedly in the back of the head with his tail. We've chosen to take this as a sign of affection. He's aloof, demanding and arrogant. But he does occasionally wrap his tail around your leg briefly as he walks past you and I think that might mean he likes us. He has free run of the house, his own jar of treats, gets the toilet flushed just for him when he's hanging over the rim wanting to watch the water swirl and more affection than he really wants. You'd think he'd be grateful. But he's not. He's a cat.

After paying the last of the vet bills, those on top of all the supplies and the adoption fee, I told Levi that his birthday gift ended up costing far more than we ever spend on each other. He agreed that was true, but also pointed out that Sunny actually ended up being a gift for the whole family.

And, really, he's right.

Tuesdays With Noirrie

Embarrassed

[SS Blog Challenge - Your most embarrassing moment]

I can be a bit of a smart-arse. I sometimes make rude smart-arsed comments. Sometimes even crude. And they never embarrass me. At least ... not when I do it on purpose.

Last year my high school volleyball coach called and wanted me to be his assistant coach. I really didn't think I could commit that much time with my own boys being so busy, but I thought I'd talk to him about it anyway. Upon entering the gym, I noticed the ball cart. This is a wheeled cart that holds about 30 volleyballs for practice. Back 'in the day' when I played, volleyball had a pretty small budget compared to other sports. We had a few nice, new balls for games, but our practice balls were crap. Old, brittle, brown with age. The first thing I noticed about most of the balls in the practice cart were that same agedness. I picked one up and carried it into Coach's office with me where I held it aloft and asked him, "Do you still have the same balls you had when I played for you?"

Without missing a beat he looked me straight in the eye and said, "Yes, I do."

*Blush*