Sickly

You know how women are always complaining that when a man gets sick, it's as if he thinks the world's revolutions have come to a complete and utter standstill, and everyone in his proximity must kowtow to his every whim because he's surely dying of a runny nose? I'm not really one of those women- not that I think a lot of men don't often act like that, but I choose to ignore them.

To my way of thinking, unless you're under the age of, say, five, you don't need your mother coddling you when you're sick. My children have some pretty healthy coping skills, and basically they know to rest and drink lots of fluids and make it to the nearest toilet on time when they're sick. They generally don't get sick often, and I guess they've learned that I'm not going to hold their hands- not only that, but when they're truly sick, all they want to do is sleep. The only special thing I might consider is allowing a bottle of water in their room for the duration of the illness, which normally doesn't happen. If you're a fully grown man and you still need to be coddled, you might as well call your mother, because I don't have the time, energy, or an RN after my name to deal with you.

People who are chronically sick might get from me advice to revamp their diet into something healthier, drink more water, and I might even go so far as to suggest vitamins added to their daily routine. I'm talking people who just get colds a lot, not the people who actually have something other than a simple virus wrong with them. However, if they choose not to follow my advice, I have no sympathy at all for them when whatever ailment they suffer from returns.

All of that being said, today I am sick with a cold that everyone else in my family has had a couple of times this season. I haven't had a cold in I don't know how long- I don't get the sniffles or fevers or achiness even as often as every two years. Now, though, I am feverish and achy and my throat hurts something fierce, which is made even more painful every time I need to cough. I simply don't feel well, and all I want right now is to be left alone in my misery.

I suppose that's why I tend to ignore most adult whining about sicknesses. I don't suffer from them very often, but when I do, I want to be left alone with a book and a box of kleenex, and if it gets really bad, a bottle of Nyquil. I can't understand a person who isn't feeling well wanting someone hovering over them, bringing them things, and just generally being there. What would someone be able to do for me? I have a horrendous cold, which means I feel like crap. I would feel like crap whether I folded the laundry or not, so I might as well fold it.

The only thing I'd like to get out of doing when I'm sick is cooking dinner, but mostly because I don't want to breathe my sick germs on everyone else's food- and the sight and smell of food is a huge turnoff right now. However, this illness came from everyone else, and there's no one else to cook dinner. So I'll do it, and then retreat to my corner of the couch, where I can curl up under a blanket and not talk to anyone.

Weekend

What a weekend! Today was meant to be a lazy, stay at home and veg on the couch with a book or movie kind of day, but it just didn't happen that way.

We got up early because the local fire department was hosting a pancake breakfast, and while pancakes aren't my favorite food, I do very much enjoy having my nreakfast prepared for me. Visiting with what seems like the rest of the town while I eat isn't too bad, either, and my parents came as well, which meant tons more people stopping by our table to say hello and chat a minute. The food was good, but then, how can you screw up pancakes, eggs, and sausage? The children were amazingly well behaved, and all in all, it was worth rolling out of bed at oh dark thirty on a Sunday.

After breakfast, we went to visit the outlaws, and ended up staying for longer than I thought we would, but it was a pleasant visit. Even at their house and on the ride, the children behaved better than I thought they would. I remember asking them if they were feeling ok once in the car because they were being cooperative and sharing (gasp!) without prompting.

After the visit, we drove around several car lots looking for trucks for the man. We saw several dealerships that had a truck that would probably be suitable (to my mind), but he's fussier and more knowledgeable about such things than I am. I can look at a truck and think "Well, it's a green dodge with four doors and four wheel drive, looks good to me", whereas he's thinking, "Look at the rust by that door panel, and the gas mileage on this is something else, and a 5.7 versus a 4.8 liter is something I have to take into consideration. All in all, it would need some work and has high miles. Next." So obviously he won't be asking me to buy him a truck without him seeing it first, but the driving around did give us a chance to see smaller dealerships' offerings, and once over anything he thought was worth a closer look without any sales pitches.

We stopped at Long John Silver's for lunch, which was a special treat for the kids because we typically don't go out to eat twice in the same day. They were reasonably well behaved then, too, so maybe I've kept them busy enough this weekend to not have the energy to fight with one another.

On the drive home, the girl child was getting tired and whiny, but it's to be expected, I suppose. When we got home, my newest nephew was visiting my parents at their house (along with his parents, my brother and sister in law), so we all walked up to see him. It was fun watching how enamored my kids were with the tiny baby, and they both enjoyed holding him. He's sweet and small, and not yet old enough to roll his eyes at me, so he's all right for now.

All in all, this weekend was wonderful- a dog show, the maple fest, and then the lazy day where we ended up getting things done but were in no hurry to do it.

The next weekend the man has off isn't until Easter, so I know we'll be busy then too, with family dinners and egg hunts and the like.

Mapleiciousness

We went to the Maple Festival today in the town I went to high school in. It's like my hometown, except slightly bigger. Every year they have a two-day festival celebrating all the wonderfulness that is maple- syrup, candy, cream, leaves, trees, etc. They add it to ice cream as a sundae topping, make cotton candy, coffee, and even pulled pork using the stuff.
It nearly always rains for the duration of the weekend, sometimes it snows. This year, though, the weather was picture perfect, which really drew the crowds out. I don't think I've ever been to a maple fest with such wonderful weather, or so many people in attendance.
I ran into several people I knew while there, bought maple-flavored goods, and wandered the streets for several hours with the family and a couple of friends of ours. We had a great day, and the children were actually on their best behavior.
I ate a spiedie sub, followed it with a cheesecake on a stick, had some maple candy and cream, and then had a maple sundae. I finished the day with an elephant ear covered in cinnamon and sugar, and brought home roasted peanuts, almonds, and maple cotton candy. The food is great, and I won't need anything maple again until this time next year.
All of that, combined with the sunshine, made for a very nice day. Even nicer was knowing we still have one more day left of this weekend, and hopefully it'll be just as good, if slightly more low-key.

How Much is That Doggie in the Window?

So today was the dog show. I'd never been to one, and having watched many on tv, knew not to expect that, exactly, but didn't know precisely what I should expect.


The show was being held in a big warehouse-like building, and they'd divided it up into rings, with the perimeter being used for grooming, staging, and keeping your dog until it was your turn to show. I was prepared for it to be messy and loud. It was neither. I was really quite astounded by how quite it actually was in there- you'd have the occasional bark or whine, and the murmur of voices was prevalent, but there were probably a thousand dogs there, and it was relatively quiet in the building. They were also very well-trained dogs, as other than the occasional scent of wet dog as someone was groomed, it was also not unpleasant smelling or overly doggy in the building, either.


We got there in time to see the Great Danes- about 35 big, beautiful dogs, all shined up and lined up and looking gorgeous. They competed against each other, and I made predictions to the man as they went along. Sometimes I was right, sometimes I wasn't, but it was nice to see that I was seeing what is considered the best of the breed.



One funny thing that happened- on our walk in from the parking lot, there was a man outside getting his dane ready to show. I know it's fairly common practice to use some type of black- shoe polish, Just for Men, or some other kind of temporary darkening agent on your dog's muzzle before taking him into the ring (obviously this is only true of the dogs who are supposed to have a black muzzle), but it isn't allowed. So I happened to see this man essentially cheating, and made a mental note. It put me off that dog, and especially off that handler (he may or may not have been the owner, I'm not sure). What's really funny though is considering his competition in the class that dog was entered in, the black was totally unnecessary, since his dog was definitely the best of the bunch- however, I didn't like her from the beginning because I knew he'd cheated. I'm sure he wasn't the only one, but he was the only one I saw doing it. He ended up taking second for the breed, which is pretty good, but what really made me smile inwardly was finding out his dog was bred and is co-owned by a breeder whose practices I don't agree with, and who I would steer clear from. The cheating solidified that for me.



There were only two blue danes there- one a natural-eared from a breeder I'd very much like to contact about puppies when it's time for me to start looking for one of my own, and the other with cropped ears from what I'd consider a backyard breeder. He may have been bred by a reputable breeder initially, but his current owners stood beside me during his show, and they clearly are not doing the breeding purely for the betterment of the breed.




It's amazing the things you can pick up if you aren't talking. Because we were there just to observe, I overheard many conversations about certain dogs, certain judges, certain breeders, and certain owners. It was all very informative, and I look forward to going to the next show.




It was a long day, with lots of walking and standing, but if I hadn't been committed to getting a dane, I would be now. I picked up some useful information, enjoying petting quite a few dogs of many different breeds, and generally had a good time. It certainly wasn't a rock concert or anything so exciting, and I don't know if I'd want to show my own dogs, but it was a decent way to spend a Friday.

Feast or Famine

It seems as if I am either sitting idly by waiting for time to pass or trying to find enough hours in the day to accomplish everything I have on my list. I have no steady-paced middle ground, where there's enough to do but not too much. Why is that?

Last week, I think I may have had definite plans on two days- one was a doctor's appointment that took all of twenty minutes, including waiting room time, and the other was a semi-weekly girls' night out, that had been scheduled for over a week. The rest of the days, and most of those two days, even, I spent my time cleaning the house and trying to convince my plants to grow- essentially just putzing around.

This week, I have had plans (which are things I want to do) or commitments (with are things I'm obligated to do) nearly every day. What gives? Why can't the hectic pace just even itself out a little over the lulls, so that I'm always doing something but never harried?

Tomorrow's plans I am looking forward to- my very first dog show. It's fairly close to where I live and happens every year, yet I never knew about it until a few weeks ago. There are about 35 Great Danes scheduled to be there, so that pleases me. I hope I see at least a few blues with natural ears, and I'd like for them to do well. Other than that, as a spectator and having never been to one, I really have no expectations other than to enjoy the pooches.

On Saturday we're taking the kids to a local festival that celebrates spring's arrival by making maple everything the delicacy. Maple syrup, candy, sundaes, shakes, sugar, leaves, and trees will be on tap (no pun intended), as well as crafts to make and for sale, and old timey tractors and the like. It's a family fun thing, which usually is marked by rain and lots of it, but that seems to be just another part of the tradition that is the festival.

Sunday will be spent recovering from Saturday, no doubt. My brother plans to bring the newest addition to our family- his son- for a visit, and I look forward to that as well. I have only one brother, and his only child was born just a couple of weeks ago, so it's been quite a while since we had a baby in the family.

While I'm looking forward to my plans, and made them because they're things to do that I enjoy, I also can't help but wonder why I am seemingly incapable of spreading them out a little more. Obviously I can't control the dates of either the festival or the dog show, but last weekend when I was doing nothing I would have enjoyed one or the other just as much.

Ah, well, c'est la vie, I suppose. When it rains, it pours.

Wiki-d Fun!

I stole this from a friend's blog:

1. Go to Wikipedia and type in your birth month and day (not year)
2. List three events from that day
3. List two important births and one death
4. List one important holiday or observance

Events:
1919: Oregon places a one cent per gallon tax on gasoline, becoming the first US State to levy gas.
1932: Adolph Hitler gains citizenship of Germany, allowing him to run for Reichsprasident in that year's election.
1945: Turkey declares war on Germany

Births:
1943: George Harrison (of the Beatles, of course)
1965: Carrot Top. Yes, really.

Death:
1983: Tennessee Williams

Important Observance:
People Power Day (apparently only in the Philippines, though)

Happily Ever After

Every fairytale I can recall reading as a child always started with "Once upon a time..." and ended with "...and they all lived happily ever after." Of course they all didn't live happily ever after- there was the unfortunate incident with a stove and Hansel and Gretel's witch, and Cinderella's stepsisters' feet will never be the same, but the lessons we all learned were that love prevailed and goodness conquered evil, and in the end, we, too, could find our prince and live Happily Ever After.

"What utter nonsense" is what I came away thinking at the wizened and jaded old age of about 8, when I decided that fairy tales were lovely stories but completely bogus when applied to real life. Women didn't need men to come rescue them from themselves, and working hard was not only its own reward, but also much more sensible than waiting around letting your hair grow just in case someone managed to get past all of the other obstacles in order to save you from a tower.

This way of thinking didn't stop me from working toward my own happily ever after, it just had me envisioning it a bit differently than the brothers Grimm and certainly differently than the Disney corporation would script it for me. I could and would have a happy life, but I would set about getting it for myself, and so I did.

The true trouble with these stories, though, isn't that they set up a helpless Princess mentality in our little girls. It's that they never say exactly how everyone managed to live happily ever after. When you turn the page at the end of a fairy tale, you read The End, typically in some scrolling script, like a pretty font makes the end better than times new roman. What it doesn't say is the following:

They all lived happily ever after, in a house whose roof leaked when it rained hard, and whose floors never seemed to get quite clean enough to meet the mother in-law's standards. Aforementioned mother in-law managed to only drop by when it was most inconvenient, of course; when the garden needed weeding and the babies needed changing and dinner had been scorched and the clothes hanging on the line to dry were covered in mud from the dogs running through them.
They all lived happily ever after but barely getting by financially some years because they'd invested poorly or been misled by their stockbroker or someone had been laid off or decided to buy a boat, which was a really foolish thing to do since no one had any time at all to enjoy it on the weekends since there were so many chores and errands and other, more pressing things to occupy their time. The boat (or RV or new car or cruise to the Bahamas) wasn't ever for their own enjoyment, anyhow, but merely to keep up with everyone else who was also living happily ever after.
They all lived happily ever after but the knight in shining armor felt ambushed the minute he got home from work by the children and demands and nagging voice of his wife after a long day at a menial job he found tedious at best and grueling more often than not. He dragged himself there every day, though, because he had cute female coworkers who didn't know or didn't care he was married, and the flirtation he engaged in with them that started out as innocent and suddenly wasn't anymore made him feel alive and wanted and as if happily ever after wasn't such a bad place to be. Sure, his armor might get a little tarnished, but to the victor go the spoils.
They all lived happily ever after but the helpless princess eventually realized she was the only person holding her household together. She did all of the cooking, cleaning, child rearing, decision making and planning, and had her own job and money and outside interests- or she would have, if she had had time for them. She realized at some point there simply must have been more to life than living happily ever after, but by then, she was far too entrenched in it to do anything about it.

No, the storybooks never spell out exactly what happily ever after actually is. Perhaps it's because they'd like you to use your imagination and make up your mind that for one princess it was dancing all night every night at different balls, while for another it was singing to bluebirds and skipping through the forest all day every day. What I happen to think is that they never spell it out because it is just as mythical as the rest of the story; if you expect everything to somehow fall into place and some hero to come rescue you just when it looked like you were doomed, you're going to be waiting for your life to start until it's over.

Sure, I'm living happily ever after. I worked very hard to make it that way. I don't know anyone who has a happy life who didn't work hard and make conscious choices to get that life. I chose to do the things I did in my past, leading me to my present, which is very happy- most of the time.
I worked my way up a career path- it's more of a stepladder than an actual ladder in my line of work, but I'm working on getting to the next rung, and until then, I'm content in what is a genuinely fulfilling career that pays the bills and still manages to keep me in shoes. No one ever handed me the keys to the city and I certainly wasn't born with a silver spoon in my mouth, but I enjoy the things I have much more because of that.
I dated a lot of men to know which types of things about them I enjoyed, which I couldn't stand, and which I simply couldn't live without. I may not have dated a lot by Sex and the City standards, granted, but there was a time when I was one bad date away from owning thirty cats. The point is, I put myself through that tortuous experience not to be able to claim I had done it as some crazy right of passage, but because Mr Right or Prince Charming was not going to knock on my door while I sat at home patiently waiting for him to come rescue me, so I went about my regular business, sure, but let myself be open to the possibilities.
That's another thing- what did I think he'd be able to rescue me from, this elusive man I hadn't yet found? The tedium of my job? Certainly not, and besides, I like my job, and more than that, I like having control over my own finances. In this day and age, what's the worst that can befall me, a flat tire? Well, I know how to change a tire, and if I simply don't feel like it, I can pay a tow truck to come get my car and then a mechanic to fix it for me. I am not obligated by some outdated need to be rescued to have a man around. This means that if I do have one around for any length of time, it's because I choose to keep him there.
I have two children, and since they're both healthy and thriving happily with me as their mother, it seems as if I haven't done everything wrong there, even though by many standards I don't parent conventionally. For a good portion of both of their lives, I was their only adult role model and frankly, I sort of think all parents should have to be single parents for at least a short period of time. It makes you stronger in ways you didn't know you could be, simply because you have to be. There is no other option, no room for failure or for handing the duties off for a day or evening or weekend to your partner. It's all on your shoulders, and you really learn just how much it is you can handle.
I am perfectly happy in my home, but that's another thing I had to work very hard for. There was no knight riding up on a white horse who had a castle sitting empty, just waiting for a woman's touches. I had to decide that if home ownership was a dream of mine, I would provide it for myself and my family. I did, and while I love my home and my town and the fact that I can look out a window and know that as far as I can see, the land is mine, there are also downsides. If the furnace blows up and the roof blows off and the basement gets flooded all in the same week, there's no landlord to call. It's up to me to keep us warm and safe and dry.

We have many milestone ages- at five, we can go to school; ten is double digits and seems important for some reason; thirteen marks our entrance into the teen years; at sixteen we can drive; at eighteen we're considered adults and can join the military and get credit and buy lottery tickets; at twenty one we can drink alcohol; thirty used to herald our entrance into middle age, now it seems as if forty is that age. But there is no milestone age for marking our having reached the happily ever after we strive for from the beginning of our lives.

No one tells us we're now living happily ever after, and I just can't help but wonder if people forget that this is it for them. True, we're not all walking around with giddy grins on our faces and breaking out in song randomly (okay, I do break out in song semi-randomly, but there's no giddy grin), but it's all too easy to get caught up in the daily quagmire of life and forget to live. I don't think any one's happily ever after just happens. We work for it, but then when we finally have it, I think we get so wrapped up in just getting through all the little mundane details of life that we don't even realize we have it.

I first realized this was my happily ever after when I was reviewing my Big List of Life's Goals and realized there really isn't anything left to accomplish. Man: check. Kids: check. Career: check. House: check. All that's left is enjoying it, and not taking any of it too seriously.

My Bucket List Part One

I've been thinking for several months (since I finally got around to Netflixing the movie) the items I would put on my personal bucket list, were I given the option. Then I decided, why wait? The following are the places I want to go and things I want to do, but I am trying very hard to do them before I know I'm dying. After all, aren't we all dying, from the moment we're born? Life's too short.

Visit New York City for both Thanksgiving and New Year's
It doesn't have to be in the same year, but I'd like to see the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade make its way down Broadway. My favorite part of it is not the floating balloons- has never been, actually, but instead is the singing and dancing and high kicking festivities going on solidly on the ground. I particularly love the marching bands. I'd also love to watch firsthand the famed ball drop on Times Square at least once in my life. I understand it's quite the melee, but I really do have a burning desire to stand in the middle of the drunken mob and revel in the noise and madness and feel the hope and joy as Auld Lang Syne plays and I kiss my sweetheart and all around me people blow noisemakers and toss confetti. At least that's how it happens in my mind.

Be in New Orleans during Mardi Gras
Even though I am neither Catholic nor French, I have come to understand that it doesn't matter during that time. I would like to stay in the French Quarter for at least a week prior to Fat Tuesday and gorge myself on delicious food and far too many drinks and watch parades and find an elaborate mask and then maybe go to the St Augustine church on Ash Wednesday. I love old churches, I love big parties, and combining the two is something I seriously would love to do before I die.

Watch the Aurora Borealis from a hot tub while sipping a cocktail
I think it goes without saying that I must do this in Alaska- I love (at least the idea of) Alaska, and would move there in a heartbeat if I could bring my family with me. There's just something magical about the Northern Lights, and there's no amount of videos in the world that could possibly compare, I'd think. Having never seen them firsthand, I am determined that when I do, it'll be a simple yet a grand experience, and one that's private. I haven't yet decided which cocktail it'll be, but probably something completely feminine like a caramel-appletini or mimosa, just because it seems to fit. But who knows, maybe a duckfart would fit just as well. When I get to Alaska in the winter (and it'll have to be in the winter), I will know.

Explore the castles of Ireland
There are many things to do and see in Ireland, and plenty of people who want to go there. Some of my distant ancestors were Irish, and perhaps that fuels this desire, but when I get there, I am making a list of the all the castles, both ghoulish and ruined and beautiful and graceful that are spread throughout the country. I think I'd like a summer there, although I may make several shorter trips, if I must. This is another thing that I can't explain wanting to see, exactly, but I just know pictures can't possibly do justice to, and I simply must experience for myself.

Take a college road trip with my children
I am already highly encouraging my children to attend a college far (or fairly far) from home. As much as I'd like to be able to shave off the chunk of tuition that an in state school would allow for, I also really want them to get their first tastes of parental freedom from within the relative safety of a college's (preferably ivy covered) walls. I want them to narrow their choices down to a dozen or so, and then the summer before their senior year, for us to take a road trip, a very meandering road trip, to visit each school. If we can't do it during the summer, we'll undoubtedly have to break it up and do it on long weekends so they don't miss too much school. That will be unfortunate because I think in part it will be an excellent bonding experience for us in our newly forming relationship- we'll be transitioning from a parent-child relationship to one that's more peer-like in nature as they become adults. I also think it'll give both of us an opportunity to slow down and see just a little bit more of our world than we normally do in our hectic lives.

Spend Oktoberfest in Germany
My paternal great-grandmother was fully German- her family came to America when she was an infant, and while I don't know any German and very little of our heritage, it had always intrigued me. I love beer (or bier), food, and a party, and one that lasts sixteen days sounds like a rollicking good time to me. There aren't a ton of international things I'd like to do or see before I die, but that's definitely one of them- and I'd really like to do it while I have good kidney and liver function.

Go skydiving
I'm not really a risk-taker. I don't have a death wish, and I'm certainly not an adrenaline junkie. I do like roller coasters and scary movies and thrilling novels, but that's really the extent of me getting amped up over pretty much anything. However, just once, I'd like to jump out of an airplane and feel, for a few seconds at least, like I could fly. I wouldn't mind having to do it with someone who knows what he's doing strapped to my back- in fact, I'd probably prefer that, as long as I got to go.

Cross the country using only public transportation
I don't even really know why I want to do this- maybe something to do with my line of work- and I'm quite sure it's something that will have to wait for retirement, but I'd like to make my way across this nation using nothing more than buses, and maybe trains for the trip back. I know a Greyhound would be fairly simple, but I'm talking the more localized bus that costs a mere pittance and runs from one neighborhood to the next and back again- that's the way I'd like to trek. It would take weeks, if not months, and I'm sure I'd see so much of this country and its people I hadn't even known existed, perhaps more than I'd care to see. I don't have a reason for wanting to do this, I just do.

I'm not yet thirty and (hopefully) many years from death. I had more things on my list that have been removed, as I've accomplished them. Those included things like visiting Niagara Falls, DisneyWorld, the Empire State Building, and a winery, flying in an airplane, growing a garden, being in someone else's wedding, planning and hosting my parents' 25th anniversary party, and writing a eulogy. I'm sure, as time goes by, I'll come up with more things I simply must do before I'm out of time altogether.

Five Completely Random Facts About Me

1. I only like skim milk
This wasn't always the case. When I was very young, my family lived on a farm in a home we rented, and we drank milk fresh from that farm. I was maybe five when we moved, and it was to a property my parents bought from an extended family member who owned a fairly large dairy farm, and my father went to work on that farm. We drank milk fresh from the cows for a very long time- quite often still slightly warm. Until I was in my teens, I hadn't ever tasted any milk that had been homogenized or pasteurized or had vitamin D added that also didn't need to be poured from the metal milk can it was brought home in to a glass serving jug and back again several times to thoroughly mix the cream in. I didn't know what whole, 2%, 1%, or skim milk even meant, and when my dad stopped bringing milk home and we started buying whole milk, it tasted to me like I was drinking water. When I moved out of my parents' house and into my first apartment, I bought skim milk for the first time simply because it was maybe thirty or so cents cheaper, and I was a poor kid trying to survive on very little money. I got used to it, and now I can't stand anything but skim milk in a glass or my cereal or nearly any other place a person has milk. The only place I can tolerate something with more milkfat is my coffee, and if I have my druthers, I add flavored creamer to that- and definitely not the light or nonfat kind, and certainly not the nondairy kind!



2. Every season is my favorite season
That is to say, every season is my favorite season when it is first approaching or just beginning, and then eventually I start yearning the next season. I guess I'm just fickle that way.
I love the first few hints of spring, and the promise of warm air during the last grey days of winter just when it seemed as if the coldness is going to last forever. I love the hardiest of irises and daffodils and tulips shooting through the mostly frozen earth and smallest buds of magnolias forming on the tree in my front yard even though right under it there's a snowbank not completely melted. I love planning my flower and vegetable gardens and starting my seedlings indoors even though it's weeks away from being able to put anything outside. I love walking through the semi-indoor nursery at Lowe's and dreaming of all the plants I'll buy when it's time, and I love going online and ordering bulbs, knowing the company I order from will send them to me at planting time. Watching each new group of birds emerge from wherever it is they disappear to over the winter- the bluebirds and robins and red-winged blackbirds all make their way back to my woods and deck and I know warmer weather is approaching, and the anticipation of it all is incredibly sweet. The geese can be heard flying overhead and the turkeys are driving the dogs nuts with their incessant gobbling and indecipherable mating calls, and I know spring is nigh. I love clearing out the dead leaves from the beds and discovering new growth already beginning to pop up. I love the smell of spring after a rainfall- it smells like mud and fresh earth and decaying leaves and new sweet green growth and just a hint of warmth.
Then there's summer- heat and humidity and mosquitoes and barbeques. Lazy days where children run through a sprinkler or beg to go to the beach and I curl up with a good, easy reading book or trashy magazine and let the sun beat down on me and listen to the bullfrogs and crickets and simply watch the grass grow. Eventually, I give in and mow it, chopping off the dandelions I was too lazy (or hot) to dig up, and the kids blow some of the hardier tufts away, allowing more to grow later. There's fishing and camping (if the Others get their way) and maybe a vacation in an air conditioned hotel, lots of late nights with cold beer, roaring bonfires, and good friends, and more hotdogs and marshmallows than decent people need. Summer is all about taking it easy and having fun. It's too hot to move too fast, which is perhaps why I love summer. There's still work, of course- there's wood to be stacked for winter, and flowers to be pruned and weeded, and vegetables to be harvested and an actual job to go to, but in the summer, it all seems enjoyable. It smells like barbeque smoke and coconut oil and sand and sunshine and beer with a lime in it and fresh cut grass, and I love all of it.
I love fall for its crisp, bright, sunshiney days, where you need a sweater in the morning, and one in the afternoon, but during the mid-day, you still remember the summer you just left behind. The kids get excited for Halloween, and the parents get excited for school to start. The smell of woodsmoke starts to fill the air, and the days slowly start to get shorter. The moon seems to get closer in the fall, and apples abound. If you're lucky, you have (or at least know) a grandmother who makes the perfect apple pie, and cider mills all open for homemade donuts and cider that hasn't been so processed you forget it ever came from an actual apple. The trees all start turning colors only nature can produce, and when they start to fall, you can drive down a country road and leave a plume of them behind your car in a way that can only be described as magical. The first frost comes and the mums start appearing on front porches next to witches and goblins and broomsticks made to smell like cinnamon. Fall's smell is distinctly apple and woodsmoke and crisp autumn leaves, with a hint of cinnamon and powdery chalk dust and just a touch of frosty snow in the air, and I dearly love it.
Winter comes in quietly or raging here- you just never know, but always with a sparkling snowfall that lends everything a fresh new look I love. It's the promise of skiing just before you can start, anticipating it for a couple of weeks before the resorts open, and the kids gearing up for sledding down the biggest hills they can find with brand new boots and coats and gloves. It covers the faded greyness that fall left behind with a blanket of white that promises a brand new start, and then leaves behind a greyness of its own unlike any other. The carols start, promising new life and joy and peace, but my very favorite ones are the fun ones, the happy, upbeat ones telling stories of it being cold outside in a duet and asking for yachts from santa baby. I love winter for its memories of days gone by and for its beginnings and for its food. Winter is the season of goodwill toward all of mankind, and that is such a joyful, hopeful sentiment, at least in the beginning I can forget how sappy and out of reach it is. It can be dreadfully cold here, which means that we're all ready for it to end by the time it does, but for a while at least I love winter for the fact that it gives us all an excuse to enjoy indoor pursuits. I can snuggle in with my family and play games and read books and watch television, and there's absolutely no reason not to. Winter is the perfect time to play the hermit, which is exactly what I need to do- winter is a lovely time to recharge and refresh indoors for people like me who need a decent amount of alone time, and I love winter for arriving just when it does. The often treacherous roads lend the perfect excuse for not wanting to be social, and everyone seems to stay in, and then when winter's over, we're all ready for another three seasons of being active and together again. Winter smells like pumpkin pie and pine trees and icy cold blasts of air and wood ashes and nutmeg infused eggnog and chocolate covered cherries and whipped cream liberally applied to everything, and I love it for nearly as long as it lasts.



3. My favorite animal is the dog
I have always been an animal lover. I've had several types of different animals for pets- my parents were either also animal lovers, or I was very spoiled. It was probably a combination of both. I've had cats and dogs as all children should, but also hamsters and mice and all manner of rodents, as well as hermit crabs and fish and birds and a pony and horse (there is a difference), and a calf and pigs (which were pets until they weren't anymore). There really weren't any animals I desperately wanted that I didn't get. With all the animals I've owned, and all the other types of animals in the world, I can truly say that my very favorite ones are dogs. I should qualify this to say that I really only think of certain types of breeds as true dogs. Some breeds are pure ornaments (to my way of thinking) and aren't actual dogs. If your breed doesn't reach (at least) my thigh with his front paws when standing on his rear ones, he's an ornament, not to be confused with a dog. A chihuahua is an example of this, as is a Chinese Crested or a pomeranian. While some people choose to have and dearly love these breeds, to me they are useless as anything but ornamentation, and I simply have no use for them. The smallest dog I would consider owning, ever, would be a beagle, and I'd own three or four of them- but then, I'd own as many dogs in general as my town's ordinance would allow, and while I don't really know how many that is, I'm guessing it's a lot, and if it wasn't that many, I'd consider getting them to zone my property for agriculture and claiming I had a dog farm. I might be slightly biased as far as the beagle goes, though, as all of my life my parents have owned at least one, but quite often two beagles. They generally had bizarre names that weren't even actual words, such as Pookie, but lately, the dogs' names have been people names, such as Alice, Molly, and Holly. My own dogs have proper dog names, and are proper dogs that I don't have to lean or reach down to pet, and when I'm sitting they can rest their head on my shoulders. They also know exactly what I'm saying most of the time, and exactly what my mood is, usually without me saying it, and that's more than I can say for pretty much all of the people in my life. There is no love in this world as true, as deep, or as abiding, to my way of thinking, as that as a dog for his master, and vice versa. Yes, I do so love dogs.



4. I don't follow trends
Lots of people don't follow trends because they don't like them or can't afford to. I make it a point to not follow trends as a matter of principle, though. I refuse to be told what to like. When I was young, my parents couldn't afford name brand items like Nike shoes or Guess jeans, and even though they worked blue collar jobs where dressing in business suits wasn't necessary, there certainly was no Armani in either of their closets. But because I didn't wear the name brand articles of clothing many of the other kids were wearing, I was singled out for teasing. Some other kids were, too, and we seemed to react differently to it, the other kids and I. My clothes fit me and were clean, so I didn't see the big deal, and told the teasers this, which started the whole bucking trends lifestyle for me. In fact, when my parents reached the point in their finances, and then I got a babysitting gig and started adding to the clothing fund, where they could have afforded more upscale clothing, I chose to continue to buy the off brand clothes. By this time I was making a statement- one that I would continue to make, I guess, for the rest of my life. Now, I'll buy whatever brand I like that fits me and is comfortable, but I refuse to buy something that's trendy, and I almost never shop at the "cool" stores. I do shop at big box discount stores for all manner of things, but I definitely prefer locally owned smaller boutiques, even if I have to pay more. It isn't just clothing that I make this statement with- I used to be "greener" than I am now- before it was cool, I took my own bags to stores, but now that everyone's on the bandwagon, I refuse to do it simply because it's a fashionable thing to do. Until very recently, I refused to get any of those "shopper's club" cards for any stores, you know- the ones that save you money if you sign up, but also track your purchases- instead, I claimed I'd left mine at home and the very nice cashiers would ring up the store's card, saving me the money without getting any personal information about me whatsoever. I did this because I truly believe it's a sign of the end times. However, now most stores don't allow their cashiers to scan a store card, and eventually I started signing up at the stores I frequented most to save myself some serious dough. I don't recycle nearly as much as I used to simply because it's the hip thing to do, and I will never give up my gas-guzzling SUV because everyone else is buying compact little hybrids, even though I used to drive a compact tiny little car because it saved gas and was better for the environment, and I loved that little car. I go out of my way to not do whatever's hip and in, and while I am only one person making an anti-statement, here I am, making it. I used to be a lot more liberal in my beliefs than I am now, but then the definition of being liberal changed, and its popularity changed and now I am definitely a Republican, and all of a sudden, it is completely unpopular. It's quite amusing to me that even my politics are anti-hip. I rather enjoy being out of the loop on certain things- if I don't know what drug and violence-related terms mean, that's perfectly all right with me. I shouldn't know what they mean, having never taking drugs or been violent, to my way of thinking. I refuse to read certain books because everyone else is all gung-ho about them, and the same thing goes with their movies. Harry Potter and Twilight come to mind, although I truly believe I wouldn't enjoy them in any case. I wouldn't enjoy them twice as much because of their hype, but I won't even give them a chance now. In any case, that's number four- I go out of my way not to follow the crowd, and have for as long as I remember.



5. I really don't like kids
Of all the things an adult can say, this is probably the most vile thing ever uttered. I know we're not supposed to even think this, let alone say it. I won't apologize, though. I have two children. I love them. I can find them enjoyable. I can also find them heinous. My own children are not the exception. There, I said it. I'd like to be able to qualify this, but instead I'll expand upon it. Strangers' kids are the worst, and friends' kids are the best, perhaps with the exception of my own- I won't know until they're fully grown, I think. Children grow up to be adults, and I really do not like most adults. This all works out in the end, because most adults really don't like me. I'm okay with this, because I don't know most adults, and the ones who do like me I typically like as well. I tend to think most children are taught to be entitled, whiny, spoiled, obnoxious, selfish little brats. They get to be this way from their entitled, whiny, spoiled, obnoxious, selfish parents who have no clue how to effectively parent, and that annoys me to no end. Case in point: I embarked on a girls' night on Friday to an adult establishment which was clearly marked on the door "21 and Over", and when we entered, there was what I can only assume was a family inside just finishing their meal. At least I'd like to think it was a family because I want to believe that there's a limited amount of gene pools as stupid as this one was. There were several adults that were in their mid thirties with perhaps five toddlers in tow, who the adults were allowing to run amok throughout the entire place. This alone would have annoyed me, having seen for myself the sign on the door, but what further annoyed me was the fact that every single adult had a glass of wine or beer in hand, and there were several more glasses or bottles left empty at every place setting that wasn't occupied by a sippy cup. So all of the adults had been imbibing in alcoholic beverages, and they were finished with their meals, and now were headed out to drive these toddlers they were obviously not paying any attention to indoors, and they clearly had no problem with this. Not only that, but it was nearly nine on a Friday (why the children weren't already tucked into bed I don't know), and I couldn't help but wonder why no one else in this place, namely the bartenders or owners of the establishment hadn't made sure there was at least one sober adult in the party if they were going to allow them to bring tiny tots into the bar in the first place. Perhaps I'm harsh, but to my way of thinking, if the parents are all illiterate idiots who can't read the sign blatantly posted on the door, there's no hope for the future generation. This wasn't your typical restaurant that also serves alcohol, such as Applebees where children would be expected; it was a bar that happens to serve food, where you wouldn't normally bring young children. So my beef in this case was with the parents, yes, but I also was very annoyed with the toddlers trampling over my very cute shoes and causing me to spill my very yummy cocktail on the little towheads in an attempt to not trample them or be trampled by them. I don't actively hate children, I just don't really like them.
I quite enjoy babies at times, most especially the babies belonging to others. Babies don't move much or speak at all, namely back in a sassy manner, and haven't yet learned the evils of their parents or outside forces, and are sweet smelling and cuddly and like to be dressed up (or at least don't tell you they dislike it) and held and sung to, and I can put them down and know they won't get into my makeup or jewelry and certainly won't ruin my favorite shoes. Babies combine my love of shopping and my love of miniature things, so whenever someone I know has a baby, I get to have vicarious thrills and give gifts, which is a favorite pasttime. If I'm truly lucky, I get to plan a shower, which I have recently discovered is also great fun. I enjoy looking at babies of strangers, knowing full well I can't be called upon to feed or change them, let alone soothe them when they're crying, or heaven forbid keep them while their parents run errands or need a break overnight. Their parents don't know me, and I'm happy to keep my distance and watch them coo from afar, and smile inwardly when they start making a fuss, glad I don't have one of my own. Babies who are the offspring of my friends are wonderful because their parents know me and trust me to care for their precious little bundles of joy for short periods of time, perhaps even an overnight here and there. Their parents have chosen to know and love me, but don't want to take advantage of our friendship by asking too often, and usually offer to pay for my services, which I sometimes accept and sometimes don't, depending on my mood. The babies of my cousins are also wonderful because my cousins are perfectly willing to give up their babies for my holding and cooing but typically we aren't close enough in our own relationships for the duties of babysitting for extended periods of time, and when any unpleasantness arises such as crying or diaper changing that I don't want to deal with I can simply hand the offending baby back and take over a sleeping infant that needs nothing more than to be smiled at and rocked gently. The babies belonging to my brother or sisters in law are also quite pleasant as my nieces and nephews are lovely and family obligation demands that they trust me with their precious cargo even if they don't agree with my parenting, and I can still claim my own family obligations if I don't truly want to have their children for an extended weekend stay. The downside to this is they know my intimate family goings-on, and I can't claim that many family obligations they don't already know about, and I end up with their precious cargo from time to time, and after the baby stage, I really don't like children the way society seems to think we should be inherently predisposed to like children.
The true trouble with children in general is their parents. I don't believe children are inherently evil- they learn it from their parents. My own children and I have been in various public forums where my children have looked up at me in wide-eyed wonder as another child acted out and murmured in awe "You would kill me if I behaved that way!" I believe a healthy dose of fear belongs in every parent-child (or even adult-child) relationship, and as I have two thriving children, clearly I have never had to act on the threat of killing, or even maiming, them. However, the fear is there, and so they have never behaved the way I see some children acting in public- though they are far from perfect, and so am I. I can only imagine the way these hooligans act in private if they're allowed to carry on the way they do in public. The screaming, wailing, and thrashing about is simply not tolerable in my presence, even by strangers' children, and since so many children do behave this way, I simply don't like children. I don't like to hear a child five aisles away in a store whining for something and a parent doing nothing about it. I don't like high-pitched voices shrilly asking questions repeatedly, while a parent ignores it. I don't like trying to eat a meal and having to endure a fork banging, salt spilling, jaw-smacking little Timmy at the next table while a parent doesn't even attempt to correct his table manners. I don't like crying. I don't like crusted snot on dirty faces. I don't like shuffling feet. I don't like hearing "I don't know" when they're asked a specific question they clearly do know the answer to. Children are simply not my favorite creatures, and I'll bet I'm not the only one, but we're not supposed to feel this way, so people don't say it.



There's my five completely random facts. I thought it would be harder to think of five, but apparently being random is something I do well.