Another Pleasant Valley Sunday

Ah. Is there anything better than sleeping in on a beautiful Sunday morning?

We are not a church going family. When Liv was about five, I went through a period where I felt that I had to find a church for us. We visited more churches than I could count and none of them really fit. We tried open congregations at first and I was pretty much dismayed at the vanilla-esque feel of them. Either that or they were just a wee bit too new agey for me. I remember sitting in one church and feeling a step away from hysterical laughter as the husband and wife pastors urged us to find your inner child and delight in the splash of sunlight coming through the windows.

Please.

Spare me.

I was raised Catholic and that was the church that I knew best, so for a while I attended services at my local Catholic church.

I think it was the spirited sermon on how we should all approach homosexuals in a way that would hate the sin and love the sinner that was the final nail in my coffin there. If I want to hear that sort of idiotic rhetoric, I will talk to my sisters. Well, to one sister in particular who believes with all her heart that I am hell bound and has begged me to allow her to have a priest give me last rites on my death bed so that I can possibly be spared from dancing with Beelzebub in the hereafter.

The only religion that remotely fit my beliefs was the Quakers. And in my city, they do not have a church but instead take turns having Sunday service in their homes.

I did not want to have to clean my house for Quakers.

So, I decided to stock up on all religious tomes and let Liv decide if she wanted to join a certain congregation. I have done my best to teach her about all religious teachings. So far, she seems to like the basic Jesus story the best but has not asked me to take her to certain church.

So, sleeping in on Sunday is one of my happier times. I always hear Bing get up around 8 (late for her) and she takes the dog for his run and by the time she comes back, Liv is usually up and eating breakfast.

Today, I heard the house wake up around me and sighed and settled back down into my new 1000 thread count mahogany sheets and fell back asleep. When I awoke again, it was nearly 10 a.m. and the sun had traveled from one side of the bed to the other.

I love my bedroom. It is the room in my home that is all me. Bing shares my bed, but not my closets. Her clothes are in the guest room drawers and closets. This room is MINE.

My walls are painted a smooth creamy buttermilk color. I have plantation blinds on the windows. Our bed is a full sized sleigh bed. No king sized monstrosity for us. Bing and I like to touch butts in our sleep.

My bedspread is an old fashioned cream colored chenille spread, or as Bing calls it: Grandma Betty design. My floors are all oak, polished regularly and I have gorgeous scatter rugs, one an oval chenille braided rug in greens, another an Adeline rug and my favorite, a Cecilia rug.

My walls are decorated with things that are specific to my heart.

A beautiful painting of a slender slice of a moon with a face on it with bright ruby lips and delicately closed eyes. It was painted by a good friend of mine.

I have a drawing that Liv made when she was about five framed on one of my walls. It shows a house with crooked windows and stalky yellow flowers in front of it. Two stick figures are holding hands in front of the house. They are exactly the same size. A small bright red box sits at their feet with a handle coming out of it. I always thought that this was a shovel but Liv told me a few months ago that it was an elf house with a very long chimney.

Oh.

Across the top of the paper, it says, I luv Mama.

Me too, you.

On the wall opposite the bed, I have a cork bulletin board with all kinds of letters and notes from Liv and Bing.

There is an enlarged photo of my Da that I love. It was taken down South when he visited a navy buddy. These two men are standing side by side in suits and fedora hats, smiling with their hands behind their backs. My Da's dimples are prominent in his face and his Paul Newman blue eyes are merry. He looks so handsome.

Above our bed is a dream catcher that Liv made for me at some summer day camp when she was about 7. It is not particularly pretty, but I often look up at it in the mornings.

A brass figurine of Lakshmi sits on my dresser. I hang my necklaces and bracelets on it.

In my adjoining bathroom, there is another drawing from Liv, her first real one of me. I have a small head on a large body with a big yellow smile that is so huge that it goes outside of the lines of my head. It is one step up from a stick person. I look like a very fat woman in a bright red muu muu with spidery brown hair and tiny raisins for eyes. The smile takes over the whole face. It also says I LOVE YOU on it.

An ivory shakyamuni sits on top of the toilet. It holds a clove scented candle. I light it whenever I take a bath. Bing says it makes her think of a baked ham, but I love the scent.

I have three windows in my bedroom and all have a plant in front of them. The window closest to my bed holds a large fat aloe plant. I cut off small snips to use as antiseptic for burns and when Liv was smaller, to put on small owwies. She loved to help snip off a bit and then rub the cool gelatinous center on her injury.

In front of another window is my giantess philodendron. I have had it since college when a friend gave it to me for birthday gift. It was once very small. Now it is huge and has come through several moves with me, including an out of state one. It spreads and has to be regularly cut back. Bing says that the philodendron is trying to find a way to choke us in our sleep, it snakes across picture frames and two wash boards that I have hanging on the wall. I think it just likes to assert itself. It is big and healthy and green and happy. When the room begins to get too jungly looking, I trim it back and I swear it chuckles at me. I can almost hear it say, "Okay, Maria...now...watch THIS!" as it starts creeping across the room again.

In front of the last window is a small tidy looking jade plant. I bought it several years ago and it hasn't grown or spread. It basically likes to be completely ignored. Once a month or so, I will stick my finger into it's pot and start at how dry it is. I will water it and then forget it. The jade prefers that. And the late day sun that comes pouring through the window in sheets.

My bedroom is my sanctuary. Next to my bed is my marble topped bedside table with a lone white ceramic chamber pot on it. It is full of thimbles, spools of thread, an ipod, a few bottles of nail polish and stray keys. Under the chamber pot is a photo of Bing that I just adore. She is naked from the shoulders up and her smile is seductive and warm. Her eyes are heavy with post lovemaking fatigue. Her hair is tousled from my fingers raking through it. She looks exactly like herself and sometimes when we are fighting I take that photo out and let myself fall into it, remembering that this is the woman who can still take my breath away.

Waking up in this room is a pleasure on a fine day like today.

Sliding my feet out of bed, I reach around for my slippers with my feet and pad down to the kitchen in my nightgown, hungry for some breakfast.

Liv offers to make it.

"Let me do it ALL," she says. "I want to pretend like this is my own little cafe and you are my customer."

Sounds good to me. I tell her to make me the daily special and settle down with the Sunday paper to wait.

Before long, my breakfast is ready to go.

A cup of pure kona peaberry Maui coffee (already made by Bing), a small glass of pineapple juice, a slice of rye toast with chunky peanut butter on it and a bowl of Cream of Wheat.

I make a fuss over it.

Close my eyes and pretend to swoon over the light smattering of brown sugar on top of the Cream of Wheat. I ignore the rather big lumps in it and tell Liv that I think her cafe will be a big success.

She smiles at me and points to her homemade name tag.

"Ma'am, my name isn't Liv, it's Carmina," she says politely.

Oh, dear, I tell her. I apologize. It's just that you look remarkably like this child I know named Liv. She is a genius, you know. The top of her class and an Olympic level swimmer and soccer player...

Liv forgets herself then and slides into my lap, taking a sip of my pineapple juice and a bite of my toast, leaning over to read the funny papers. I sip my coffee and look out the window at my full-to-bursting garden. Bing is already outside trimming the hedges. My sweet peas, pole beans, butcher's pipe and honeysuckle are meandering a bit too wildly, will need to be cut back. My climbing roses are doing just that...climbing.

In less than a month, it will be time to can and freeze. The clematis, morning glories, moon flowers and english ivy will all go to sleep for the winter. I will put the garden to bed, hoeing over the soil, turning it over on itself, crooning to it to settle down, time to rest.

It will get hectic later in the day, Bing's mother will drive us crazy by calling twelve times to bug us about helping her purchase a new car. Bing's sister will have a fight with her husband and call me sobbing. I will spend a beautiful afternoon sitting in a Starbucks, sipping green tea and listening to her go on and on about how how selfish that man is, why is it that she must do everything? Can't he scrub the toilets just once? I will nod and be a good listener, knowing that she would do the same for me although it will never happen. If Bing drives me crazy, I turn to my bff, Harriet. I can swear and call Bing a lazy, selfish pig and not worry later that I said too much about it.

I will drag myself home feeling resentful about an afternoon gone so fast. Bing will be mowing the lawn, Liv will have weeded the garden without being asked. Socks will run to me and jump all over me the second he sees me, asking me in his worried Ernest Borgnine dog voice,

"WHY do you always leave me? You know how I worry about you when you're gone! I missed you like the dickens, now come over here right this second and let me jump all over you and act as if you have been gone for a year instead of two hours..."

A roast will be in the crock pot. Our next door neighbor will have brought over 4 huge ears of corn, fresh from his garden and we will boil it up. Liv will bring in a bucket full of beans and squash to add to the dinner. I will have stopped at the bakery and nabbed a peach pie for dessert.

It will be a good dinner. The phone will ring three times during dinner. It will be Bing's mother and we will let the answering machine take it, Bing rolling her eyes as her mother's voice proclaims that "I hope you are looking into a new auto for me, dear. I only have two thousand dollars to spend, so find me a good bargain. How about Greg's List? Can we look there? And I drove by your house yesterday and noticed that your crab apple trees are dropping already. Too soon for that, don't you think? Oh...and do you need any toilet paper? Walgreens has some on sale. I will walk down there if you need some, since I DON'T HAVE A CAR YET..."

The phone will go quiet then and we will go back to eating. It will ring again and Bing will leap from her chair, answer it and yell, "DO YOU WANT ME TO LOSE MY FREAKIN' MIND? STOP CALLING ME EVERY TEN MINUTES!"

Liv and I will exchange a glance and keep eating.

There will be a small silence and then Bing will sigh and say in a quieter voice, "NO. WE. DO. NOT. NEED. TOILET. PAPER. WE ARE USING THE EXTRA MAGAZINES WE HAVE. WE'LL BE JUST FINE. WE WILL USE LEAVES FROM THE OAK TREE IF WE GET DESPERATE."

A small silence. Then Bing will say, finally spent and exasperated, "Mom, I'm kidding. No, I guess that was not funny. Goodbye now. I am unplugging the phone."

She will hang up and do just that. She will come back to the table and sit down. Pick up her fork to take a bite of her beans.

And then she will crack a smile and we will all start laughing.

Just another Pleasant Valley Sunday....

We will clean up the dishes after dinner and I will remind Bing that TRUE BLOOD is on tonight and that there is Ben and Jerry's Cherry Garcia in the freezer.

Liv will come up behind Bing to hug her and Bing will smile with her hands in the dishwater and then reach around her back to pull Liv in for a bubbly hug.

"Life is good," she will say, smiling.

We will nod.

Because it is.

Soccer as life.

This morning was Liv's soccer game. It was a gorgeous day for soccer, all sun splashed and cool. For her 9:00 a.m. game, I had to wear a sweater as it was still chilly.

Liv's team is coed, so they must play in the boy's league. This means that the games are a bit harder. She has always played on girl's teams and tell me I'm a sexist, but I swear that those games were much less rough than her games this year. This year, she discovered, up close and personal, what a head butt feels like. After her first game, she confessed to me in the car that she had been almost scared.

"That red headed boy decided that he was going to HAVE that ball, even if it meant kicking me as hard as he could. And he was SNEAKY about it, too," she told me. "I felt like a bull was coming at me."

Her coaches noticed this too and took that into consideration at their practices. So, this week, Liv's team was much more prepared.

But the team that they played was far better than they were. They just were. It happens.

They managed to keep them from scoring for the first half of the game, but really that was ALL they did. The ball was seldom at their goal and most of their time was spent simply trying to prevent the other team from scoring. At halftime, Liv was sweating like a pig and looked almost mad.

She came over briefly to throw her sweaty pig self into my lap.

"They are SO good," she lamented. "They are fast and tricky and ruthless."

I nodded sympathetically. "Just go out there and do your best," I told her lamely.

She looked at me and tried to refrain from rolling her eyes.

During the second half, Liv worked mightily to get control of the ball.

And then she did an odd thing.

She began running to the WRONG goal.

She must have been shocked as she prepared to kick her goal when she looked up into the face of one of her teammates, playing goalie and shouting at her that "Are you NUTS? YOU'RE GOIN' IN THE WRONG DIRECTION, DUDE!"

She hastily tried to right her error, swung around and tried to kick the ball away. But it was too late, one of her opponents had a clear shot and kicked the ball in for a goal.

Liv hung her head as the other team leaped up in high fives and belly bumps.

Her coach let her play for awhile a longer, but seeing that Liv was not doing well, she took her out and sent in another child to take her place. Liv was blinking back tears. I tried to catch her eye, but she was having none of it. She paced the sidelines, calling out encouragement to her teammates.

The other team scored again before the game ended, so Liv's team lost 2-0.

In the car on the way home, she was stoic about it.

"I messed up, I felt like I let my team down, but you know, nobody gave me a hard time about it. I think they all felt bad for me," she said.

I smiled. "I noticed," I told her. "You have a good team. They knew you felt badly, didn't want you to feel worse. Time to let it go and move on."

Liv agreed.

"So," she said. "It's the neighborhood party today. Can I go over to Constance's house after I change? Isobel's mom is going to drop her off too and Constance's Dad said he'd walk us over to the rides and games and keep on eye on us. Constance's Mama said she'd drive us home after supper...."

I said okay.

After I dropped her off at her friend's house, I thought about the morning on the drive back home. I thought about how resilient children are. A mistake like that, something similar to messing up royally at the workplace, would have set me back for at least a day or two. I would be agonizing over my ineptitude, trying to figure out how to redeem myself.

But, Liv and her teammates have it right.

Just shrug it off. Let yourself feel badly for a short while and then let it go and go on to the next game. Pick yourself up, take a shower and put on play clothes and go meet your friends for Dundee Days. Eat a hot dog and a sno-cone and go jump on a big trampoline for a bit.

We all should be able to do that, you know?

We can learn a lot from a children's soccer game.

Meme number 6980

I nabbed this one from Deb.

1) What bill do you hate paying the most?
Anything that sneaks up on me. I budget for groceries, etc. but last month my car taxes came due and that sort of annoyed the snot out of me.

2) Do you miss being a child?
In some ways, yes. I miss having someone else make all the tough decisions. I miss that naivete about money.

3) Chore you hate the most?
I really dislike unloading the dish washer.

4) Where was the last place you had a romantic dinner?
I am embarrassed to admit that I can't remember. Bing and I seldom get all goopy at dinner. We aren't the candlelight types and we aren't very romantic about anything. I feel kind of squirmy when I am around a couple who do a lot of pda-ing in front of me.

5) If you could go back and change one thing, what would it be?
I would have become an English teacher and taught high school. I think I would have been good at it. But, now I am so used to making good money, that it would be hard for me to earn a teacher's salary like Bing does. It always brings me up short when I see her pay check. It is TERRIBLE that we pay teachers so badly.

6) Name of your first grade teacher?
Mrs. White. I remember her because she was one of two teachers in our building who weren't nuns. I also remember that I ran into her at the grocery store when I was grocery shopping with my parents and I was just flabbergasted to see her buying peaches. I guess I thought she went into the classroom closet at night...

7) What do you really want to be doing right now?
Sleeping. I am really beat from work but if I go to bed now, I will wake up at 3 a.m. and not be able to go back to sleep. Plus, after we get Liv to bed in an hour, Bing and I will put in our Dexter dvd and watch the next show. I am NUTS about this show. We don't get Showtime, so we have to buy the DVDs when they came out. We are on season three with Jimmy Smits. AH.

8)What did you want to be when you grew up?
When I was 7, a nun. In middle school, an actress. In high school, a high school English teacher. After one year of college, I decided that medicine was a great idea, but I wanted to be in an area where I didn't have to deal too much with blood and guts.

9) How many colleges did you attend?
One college.

10) Why did you choose the shirt you have on right now?
I was in the mood to wear dark blue today.

11) What are your thoughts on gas prices?
I'm good with them...BULL SHIT. Just checking to see if you're still reading. Like every one else with a brain, I think they suck.

12) First thought when the alarm went off this morning?
I wondered what they were talking about. The DJ seemed really excited and I set the alarm deliberately on a Spanish station and place it across the room from me and set on LOUD. This way, I won't go back to sleep. Because waking up to loud Spanish music is a good way to make sure you don't hit the snooze button.

13) Last thought before going to sleep last night?
It was probably work related. I have a few really snaggled up clients and I often try to undo all the knots as I am drifting off to sleep. This may be why I constantly dream about my work place and I am usually either naked or have lost an important document.

14) What famous person would you like to have dinner with?
Garrison Keillor. I love the way he writes and I can listen to him talk for hours on Prairie Home Companion. Plus, he is a liberal Democrat too. And he is very intelligent and witty. I like that in a dinner companion. Or, I could invite Johnny Depp, but I know what would happen. I would knock over my wine glass or spill tomato sauce on my white blouse. So, I'll stick with Garrison. He'd be more interesting anyway and I bet that he is the kind of guy that if you spilled, he'd help you mop it up and not think badly of you.

15) Have you crashed your vehicle?
Just once. I got into a fender bender. My fault. Bad memory. Let's move along, little doggies.

16) If you didn't have to work, would you volunteer?
I do work and I do volunteer now. If I didn't have to work, though, yes, I would volunteer more.

17) Get up early or sleep in?
ABSOLUTELY sleep in. I already sleep until nearly 10 on the weekends. I LOVE sleeping in and now that Liv is 10, I don't feel guilty about it. We buy doughnuts at the store on Friday nights and she has a doughnut for breakfast on Saturday and Sunday. Or, Bing will make her pancakes.

18) What is your favorite cartoon character?
All of the characters on KING OF THE HILL, but especially Boomhauer and Dale Gribble.

19) Favorite thing to do at night with a guy/girl?
Since I'm such a die hard romantic, I will have to say watching DEXTER with my wife. Yeah, we are just a couple of hot cougars in love.

20) When did you first start feeling old?
I was young, probably in my thirties. I found out that I had Meniere's Syndrome and Rheumatoid Arthritis when I was in my early thirties and I also began going gray. I often feel older than I am but I hide it by acting like a ten year old.

21) Favorite lunch meat?
I like corned beef. On rye.

22) What do you get every time you go to Wal-Mart?
I pretty much refuse to shop there on principle. I hate the way Wal-Mart comes to small towns and the shops on Main Street die out because of it. If I HAVE to go there, (and sometimes we do because Bing can get great bargains there when she shops for mittens and coats and hats to donate to her school. We do that every year) I usually end up with a lot of things like batteries, laundry detergent, etc. It is hard to resist. Everything is so damn cheap there. But, the people there can be just fuckin' creepy.

23) Do you think marriage is an outdated ritual?
No. I would love it, though, if we ALL could get married, not just you heteros.

24) Favorite movie you wouldn't want anyone to find out about?
Love Story.

25) What's your favorite drink?
Apple martinis or coffee with a splash a real cream, not that fake stuff.

26) Who from high school would you like to run into?
His name was Matt and I always had this very secret crush on him. He went to an all boy's school but we hung out a lot at parties. We once shared a kiss in a dark corner of the parish basement but that was as far as it went. He never asked me out and I acted like he didn't exist. May be why he never asked me out, you think?

27) What radio station is your car tuned to right now?
A classical one. Liv and I listen to it on the drive to her school in the morning. It calms her. As soon as she gets out of the car, though, I turn it to my book on tape.

28) Sopranos or Desperate Housewives?
I watched ALL of the Sopranos and loved it. I have never seen Desperate Housewives, but it looks sort of stupid to me.

29) Worst relationship mistake that you wish you could take back?
When Liv was an infant, I tried to make it work with Bing. It didn't. I failed. I just was not ready to be in any relationship. I really hurt her. I would love to have never given that pain to her.

30) do you like the person who sits across from you at work?
I have my own office, so I don't really sit across from anyone. My office sits between our newly hired spanish translator and my co-worker, Julie. I like both of them a great deal, especially Julie. We call her "Julie, our cruise director" because she is really perky and wholesome.

31) Have you ever had to use a fire extinguisher for its intended purpose?
Nope. Just for its unintended ones....kidding, kidding....calm yourselves down. Although I would LOVE to use it at work on the pimp down the street who fancies himself to be Huggy Bear from Starsky and Hutch.

32) Last book you finished reading?
Hope in a Jar. It was not all that great.

33) Do you have a teddy bear?
No, but Bing does. Her sister brought it home to her from Germany. If you tip it over, it makes this noise like a cow mooing. I guess the bears in Germany moo. I often play with it and drive Bing crazy by tipping it over. She doesn't find this funny, especially when I moo along with it.

34) Strangest place you have ever brushed your teeth?
I can not think of any place strange where I have brushed my teeth...maybe in a plane's bathroom?

35) Do you go to church?
No. Maybe one day I will find one that I agree with...

36) How old are you?
51. Getting up there....

So, here is my question for you: If you could change your name to another one, what would it be? Mine would be Lily. I have always loved that name.

A typical Maria thing.

Today, I tried once again to get Bing to go see the movie, Julie and Julia.

No dice. She wouldn't budge.

Liv had a birthday party this afternoon and after I dropped her off, I decided that...fuck it....I would just go by myself to the movie. I called Bing's cell, knowing that she was out mowing the yard, and told her not to expect me for a few hours.

I have never gone to a movie by myself. Never. I could have called my sister or Harriet or a few others, but the movie would start in twenty minutes and I had just enough time to get there, so I decided to go by my lonesome.

I bought my ticket, a diet soda, and popcorn. Put lots of salt on it, something I never do since Bing is so health conscious and we usually share.

I found a seat right before the lights went down.

And then...watched the movie. It was pretty good. Not AS good as I hoped it would be, but good.

I decided to pee on my way out of the theater and ducked into the women's room.

As I was washing my hands, I looked into the mirror and

there she was, looking back at me. MY EX.

We had not ended on good terms. I believe the last words she had spoken to me were, "You're a heartless bitch, you know that? Are you sure you don't have klingon blood?"

She looked fantastic.

Actually, better than fantastic. She looked hot. She'd lost just enough weight to be all svelte and slinky looking. She smiled at me in that way you smile when you sort of recognize someone but can't place them.

For one brief moment, I hoped I could get away clean.

Not happening.

Her smile faltered a little and she said, "Well...well...well. Hello, Maria."

I nodded and smiled bravely back.

"Hi, Etta, it's been a while...."

She had on a date outfit. Nice jeans and an empire waist top, her hair was all sleek and shiny. A shade of lipstick that was perfect for her.

And there I was....

No makeup. Dirty hair, pulled back in a sloppy clippee. Sweat pants, for fuck sakes. A tee shirt that said, Mary is my homegirl.

Flip flops.

Chipped red nail polish on my toes.

The beginnings of a small zit on the left side of my nose.

Boy howdy, I looked good enough to eat.

We made some inane conversation about the movies we had seen.

Then she said, "I better get back to my sweetie..."

Of course, I had no sweetie waiting in the hallway for me. Nope.

My sweetie was home mowing the yard.

I was in a movie theater, looking like shit, all by myself.

We did that ta ta! thing and I actually dawdled in the bathroom long enough where I thought she must surely be gone. I smiled wanly at myself in the mirror long enough to see a big piece of popcorn stuck in my teeth.

Drop dead gorgeous, that's me alrighty.

I walked out to the parking lot and went to unlock my car door.

Beep, Beep!

I looked up to see Etta in the passenger seat of a swanky, low to the ground sports car. With the top down. Bing would know the car make, but me? Naw.

The car driver was a dead ringer for Catherine Zeta Jones.

I waved and yanked my door open.

I clean up well, I swear it.

Just not today. And if I had stopped home first to gussy up, I can guarantee you that I wouldn't have seen her.

So, I did what I do best. I went home and asked Bing if she thought I was butt ugly.

She rolled her eyes.

"Pretty is as pretty does," she drawled. "And baby cakes, lately you've been kind of a cranky ass bitch, so I think you had some bad karma coming....Now, don't be such a vain diva. Go pick up Liv and pick up some rolls at the store on your way home, okay? I'll make dinner."

I went into the bathroom and slid on some nice dark plummy lipstick.

Just in case.

Of course, I didn't see a soul.

How about you? Any good stories about meeting up with the ex?

Small things pull us through.

I've known it for a long time.

It isn't the major occasions that stick in our heads, it's the small joys, the small, pleasing happenings that pull us through over and over again.

I often see articles in cheesy women's magazines about how you should call to mind your blessings before sleep.

It does work. You just have to veer away from insipid things like: I love to watch my baby kitten sleeping or my beloved's smile making the room light up.

Things like that make others nauseous when uttered.

So. these are my small things. Some may make you nauseous, others not so much.

1) I love everything about soccer fields. Liv has played soccer every year since she was five. She has gone from being just one little kid among several trying to kick a ball in any direction, to a strong player who starts every game. I love the feeling of pulling into the crowded parking lot and vying for a parking spot and then letting Liv sprint forward to join her team on the field while I come more slowly, lugging my lawn chair and a big water bottle for her, packed tightly with ice. The field smells all green and succulent, children and their parents and siblings are everywhere, lots of noise and hope in the air. Defeat too. But, mostly it is just the fun of playing. The players join hands at the beginning of the game for the Y pledge and then the team captains (that would be my Liv) step forward and wait for that ball to be thrown up into the air....I love watching her pony tail fly as she canters across the field. Love it when she comes out of the game to rest, pouring water over her head and taking big gulps, telling me that she is or isn't doing her best, how she can't wait to get back in there and get that ball. I love her coaches, Rosa and her husband, Jack, the way that they let everyone play. Liv's team is from her Montessori school and they are truly a rainbow, kids of every color and size. And this is best: they genuinely like each other and get along.

2) I love football season. When you live in Nebraska, you learn quickly that there is a reason that broadcasters refer to us as the Husker Nation. Games are broadcast over the intercoms in grocery stores, when you pump gas and it is not uncommon on a game day to be stopped at a red light in your car and have someone roll down their window and ask if you are listening to "the game" (no need to specify which game, we know which one) and ask "how are our boys doing?" Since Bing is UNL alumni, we get home game tickets every year and we attend. With true joy. I love walking into the stadium, into the sea of red. I love cheering and watching the game, the air crisp and cool, the energy thrumming all around me. I love when our boys run out on to the field and the sound of our support roars around them.

3) I love waking up at 4:30 in the morning and realizing that it is Saturday and knowing that the alarm isn't going to go off in an hour. That feeling of tucking your hand back under your pillow and drifting off to sleep.

4) I love the end of a migraine. Kind of a crazy thing to love you say? I beg to differ. I hate the beginning of the migraine when the halos start, when everything looks like it has a yellow halo around it and then the tunnel vision and then, oh god...the pain, usually on one side of the head and so intense that any noise or light makes you feel like throwing up. The middle of the migraine is awful too, laying like a dead person on the bed, trying not to move too much because it just makes the aching worse. But, the end of the migraine is like a soft prayer, feeling the pain lesson, the body relax, feeling yourself come back to the living, suddenly hearing the birds singing and the cars going by outside in the street and knowing that yes, it is almost over. Soon, you can get up and take your place in the world again.

5) I love the part in lovemaking where you start to lose yourself and jump into the other person. I love looking up into Bing's face, into her eyes and seeing that tenderness, that....glee...that adoration. The full on passion of it all, having to close my eyes with pleasure because I love her so deeply that it hurts and I feel tears starting. The dipping and darting, the guttural noises that come flying out of our mouths only to be cut short by a steamy kiss. I love feeling so on the edge, so almost out of control, so teeming with terror at being so open and honest and so, so, so....there and nowhere else. There is a song that reminds me of this and it is cheesy, so indulge me, please.



6) I love being in the middle of a good book, a good movie, a good song. That place of contentment where you know that it is very good and you are very interested and sort of leaving your existence to see what happens next, or in the case of a song, sometimes taken back to a place where you felt a certain way, were in a certain place in your life or with a certain someone.

7) I love going out to my garden with a basket on my hip and looking around me and seeing such abundance that I fucking don't know where to start.

8) I love the way a shower feels in the evening when the daylight is fading and it's time to close the shades and curtains and settle down in pjs with a good book, a good show on television or a good talk.

9) I love the car ride home from work, knowing that Bing has picked up Liv from our neighbor's house where she goes after school, and that they will both be in the kitchen making something good for dinner. That Socks will see me and his tail will wag crazily and he won't rest until I have given him a pet and told him "there's my good boy!" Bing will have her hands full chopping or sauteing something, but she will lean back and smile and accept a kiss. Liv will begin talking the second she sees me with her "Guess what happened at gym today?" or "I have so much math homework tonight!" I will lean down and kiss the top of her head, listening and nodding, promising to help with homework later and help her set the table. And then up to my bedroom to slide out of those damn nylons and slide into sweats and a tee shirt.

10) I love my hostas this time of year, all lavender and abundant, straining their necks to the sky.

11) I love my after dinner walk with Socks, wandering around the neighborhood or to a nearby park, sometimes alone, sometimes with Liv or Bing. I stretch my bones and do some problem solving for the next day, glad to be out in the air.

12) I love waiting. For the next movie in the Twilight series, for the next part of the puzzle in Lost, Heroes, True Blood. I love looking forward to things.

13) I love small surprises. Bing coming home, grinning at me and holding up a DVD of DEXTER, the third season and knowing that once we get Liv to bed (too violent for her) that we will dish out a bowl of coffee ice cream and two spoons and dive into this strange, wonderful show.

14) I love sitting at a kitchen table and visiting with my sisters. We are all so different and so the same and we're all interrupting each other and listening hard and not so hard and laughing and saying things like, "You are so much like Da!" or "Well, you never could hold your liquor!" or "Why you decided to get another dog is beyond me!" I love having a deep past with these three women and a deep future. The truth is that we would NEVER choose each other as friends and sometimes their small town minds and stray racisms drive me insane and make me feel ashamed for them. But, they are my sisters and blood is thicker than water and I love each of them thoroughly and fully and am glad, in the end, that they belong to me.

15) I love Liv's taste. I love her Beatles backpack, her plaid lunchbox and her black high tops with pink piping. I love how she throws her hair back in a pony tail or has me give her two braids. She barely looks at herself in the mirror, is completely unaware that she is beautiful. I look at her with her friends, notice that one of them already is trying on danger by dyeing a hank of her hair bluish, while yet another one has the practiced giggle of a girl who want to be noticed by boys already. Liv has none of this. She is solidly ten. She likes and supports her friend's hair, but has no desire to dye her own. ("I like my hair the way it is.") And when she laughs, it is loose and easy and totally unaware that it is anything but a simple laugh. There is no intent in it but pleasure. At Liv's school,they are taught to speak french from kindergarten on, so now as a fifth grader, Liv is nearly fluent. Her teacher tells them every year that they can pick out a french name to be their own for the year. Liv never chooses any name but her given one. Says she likes her own name just fine, thanks. I find that I like this about my child. I like it that she is so completely comfortable with herself and has no desire to even change her name. Or perhaps it is that I love this scientific, pragmatic side of her. She isn't whimsical or prone to pretend to be a princess or a gypsy, she doesn't feel the call of it. She does have a good imagination, she had an imaginary lion for a friend for much of her childhood, but she is more down to earth than almost anyone I know besides Bing and her Father. When her friends came over this summer and Sven would stop by, there was always that high pitched giggling from them and furtive glances out of their eyes. But, when he would leave and they would say to Liv, "Oh, you are SO lucky to have Sven for a neighbor!", she was completely clueless that he was a....well....a boy. He was just....Sven. She loves him, but it would never occur to her to act like a show pony around him. I am fervently hoping that this lasts well into her teens. One friend insisted on bringing her lip gloss with her everywhere and Liv had little patience for it. ("Why do you want to put that goop all over your mouth? Does it at least have sunscreen in it?") Liv has never shown any interest at all in trying on my makeup and a part of me hopes she never does. She enjoys painting her finger nails and toenails (and mine), but that is the extent of her primping.

16) I love putting my hands in hot dish water after dinner, cleaning a pot and looking out into my back yard at the oak tree. Soon all of those deep green leaves will go all gold and red. I like feeling useful and content.

17) And lastly, I love the little prayer or saying or poem, or whatever you call it that Liv and I have been saying for years together every morning before we start our day. It is by H. H. The XIV Dalai Lama and goes like this:

May the beauty of your life become more visible to you that you may glimpse your wild divinity.
May the wonders of the earth call you forth from all your small, secret prisons and set your feet free in the pastures of possibility.
May the light of dawn anoint your eyes that you may behold what a miracle a day is.
May the liturgy of twilight shelter all your fears and darknesses within the circle of ease.
May the angel of memory surprise you in bleak times with new gifts from the harvest of your vanished days.
May you allow no dark hand to quench the candle of hope in your heart.
May you discover a new generosity towards yourself and encourage yourself to engage your life as a great adventure.
May the outside voices of and fear and despair find no echo in you.
May you always trust the urgency and wisdom of your own spirit.
May the shelter and nourishment of all the good you have done, the love you have shown, the suffering you have carried, awaken around you to bless your life a thousand times and when love finds a path to your door, may you open like the earth to the dawn and trust your every hidden color to it's nourishment of light.
May you find enough stillness and silence to savor the kiss of god on your soul and delight on the eternity that shaped you, that holds you, and calls you and
May you know that despite confusion, anxiety and emptiness, your name is written in heaven.
May you come to see your life as a quiet sacrament of service which awakens around you a rhythm where doubt gives way to the grace of wonder, where what is awkward and strained can find elegance, and where crippled hope can find wings and torment enter at last into the grace of serenity.
May divine beauty bless you.

So...tell me...what are the small things that pull you through?

Stayed too long at the fair.....and yes, another post with a song.

Today was my first day back at work this week. I took Monday and Tuesday off to be with Liv. Unlike almost all the children in my city, she doesn't start back to school until August 24th, so we had a small dilemma. Bing is already back to her high school teaching job and I didn't want to ask Hal and Nora to babysit Liv when they will go back to picking her up from school every day next week. So, I decided that Liv and I would have some mother/daughter time. Tomorrow, I will drop her off at my friend, Harriet's house to spend the day. Thursday, she will go to my sister's house and Friday, she will go to an all day play date and subsequent sleepover at her bff's house. Then, Constance, her bff, will spend all day Saturday with us and spend the night.

It was a very nice relaxing two days. We didn't do all that much, just chilled out together. Read our books in the same room together, ate lunch together, worked in the garden together. We went shopping for school supplies and a few new clothes, a new winter coat for her, and shoes with cleats for soccer. Caught up. Lots of together time.

Is it bad that I was ready to go back to work today? Liv is good company, but at ten, she is very chatty and craft oriented. I would rather do just about anything than do crafts. But, there I was, my clumsy fingers making origami projects.

Yawn.

And we baked. We baked two dozen key lime cookies and sent them to Sven at football camp at his swanky-west-coast-college. I can proudly say that there were no blackened bottoms on those cookies. They turned out perfectly. We baked six dozen all together and took a dozen over to Sven's mother, a dozen to Hal and Nora, a dozen for Harriet and the last dozen, we kept for ourselves.

Yep, I was ready to go back to work.

We spent Sunday at an amusement park with Sven. Liv was excited. She is finally old enough to go on just about any ride she pleases. And she pleases. A lot.

So, Sven went on the roller coaster and a few of the wilder rides. We all ate like pigs, had moon pies, slurpees and cotton candy. Hot dogs.

Towards the end of the day, Liv had worked up her courage to go on a ride called the zipper. It was one of those caged rides where a sadistic ride attendant not only keeps the cages flying up in the air, but also makes them rock crazily upside down. Liv thought it looked like fun. Sven was more skeptical, but game.

They climbed in and got buckled up nicely. Liv waved happily at me. The attendant took a big breath and then heaved their cage around and around. Liv gave us the thumbs up.

They began ascending into the air. I watched them, shading my eyes against the sun and lost track of their cage. Were they that one or that one? I wasn't sure.

And then I heard it. A wailing sound.

"MAAAMMMMAAA!" Every woman in my vicinity, including myself, frantically looked up.

But, I knew that voice. It was Liv.

I saw their cage go hurtling by me. Liv's face was a grotesque mask of terror. She was sobbing. I ran to the attendant and told him that he needed to stop her cage immediately.

That piss ant had the audacity to grin at me. "Aw, she'll be fine," he drawled. "Just let her adjust...."

Their cage was getting nearer again, after another spiral around. I heard Sven yell out, "Dude! Stop our cage. This kid isn't digging the ride, man!"

I glared at the man and told him that either he stopped the ride or I would. And did I mention that my child pukes really, really easily?

He stopped the ride.

Sven leaped out and helped unbuckle Liv and led her out.

Her face was almost green. She gave me one horrified look and then frantically covered her mouth with both hands.

Sven got to her before I did. He swooped her up and nearly upended her in a nearby trash barrel. She threw up. Alot.

Hot dogs, mostly.

By the time she was finished, I had pulled kleenex out of my purse and had it ready for her. A few gawkers stared with revulsion. Two teenage girls giggled loudly and said, "EWWW. GROSS!"

As I wiped Liv's face, a park attendant was already carrying the barrel away, holding his head as far away from the barrel as he could get it.

I took Liv into the bathroom and had her splash cold water on her face.

But, the amusement was over for her. It was no longer even vaguely amusing.

We walked in silence to the car. I gave her a hug. She was limp, not returning it. She would not look Sven in the face and sat morosely looking out the window all the way home. When we got home, Sven said he'd be back later to say goodbye. He sensed that Liv needed space and sprinted back to his house.

Liv didn't cry when we got to the house, but she looked as if she badly wanted to.

I asked her if she wanted to take a shower. She did. I ran it for her and she hopped in, staying in for a long time. When she got out she brushed her teeth and gargled with Listerine.

She was finally ready to talk. And yes, she was more embarrassed than anything else. It is humiliating to throw up in public, I told her. But, the thing is...everyone forgets it in about ten minutes except for you.

She nodded. She mentioned that she felt very embarrassed to have puked in front of Sven. I reminded her of the time that he puked in front of her a few years ago. We had come home from kindergarten and witnessed him throwing up in the bushes in his back yard. Later he told us that he had gotten sick from smoking cigarettes. So sick that he had never smoked another one.

That seemed to help Liv.

She went and laid down on her bed with the ever faithful Socks. Probably gave him an earful. When I peeked in at her later, she had fallen asleep, so I let her skip dinner.

When Liv woke up, I made her a pbj sandwich and she and I headed out to say goodnight to the garden. Liv brought our boom box and the cd that Tinton had made for her.

We sat in our adirondack chairs in the back yard and listened to the music.

"Can I crash your party?" It was Sven.

I said sure. Noticed a pink blush slide up Liv's face.

Well, get it over with. And then get back to life as usual, I thought. Face him.

Liv did well. We talked about small things, about Sven's going back to school the next day. Then he reached into his pocket and held out a pack of juicy fruit gum to her.

"Always take gum with you when you go out," he told her. "In case, you feel like you're gonna puke...you know I won't be here to throw your head in a trash can after tomorrow...."

She stuck her tongue out at him. He called her a disrespectful little runt and chased her around the yard, Socks barking at his heels, thinking he needed to protect her.

"Sic him, Soxie," Liv called to him.

Socks, of course, is all bark and no bite and is crazy about Sven, so he just stood there, cocked his head and smiled in a bewildered way.

Liv demonstrated.

"Ok, Socks,"she instructed. "You get down here and take a good hard clomp out of this beefy redneck boy's ankle..."

Sven reached down and patted Socks. "Good boy, that's my buddy..." he said.

Liv shook her head, grinning. "Traitor..." she muttered, not hiding her smile.

Then a Pete Townshend tune came over the boom box. Sven announced that he loved this song and turned it up. He held out his hands to Liv and said he'd dance with her if she promised not to throw up on his shoes....

She took him up on it.

And they danced. He managed to dip her every so often, always begging her to "hold that puke in now, girl..."

I sat there drinking them in, smiling. My sweet girl and the boy that she had met when she was two and he twelve.

He and his mother had come over with a welcome-to-the-neighborhood offering of a peach pie. Sven had been a short, sturdy tow headed boy then. Liv was in her play pen while I unpacked boxes.

Sven had looked around hopefully. "Do you have kids?" he asked.

"Just this one," I said, gesturing to Liv.

He went over to her play pen, and hunkered down, peering at her through the mesh.

"I guess she'll do..." he commented, sliding a finger in to her through a hole.

Liv, usually shy with strangers, sat round eyed, watching him cautiously. Then she stuck one set of fingers in her mouth and with her other hand, grasped his finger. And smiled at him.

"Can I take her out and play with her?" he asked.

I said okay, but that she had to be watched carefully. She wasn't familiar with the house yet and there were lots of dangerous things for her to get into.

He held his arms out to her and heaved her out by her armpits. She let him do it without a word of protest.

They've been friends ever since.

So, I sat there watching them seeing my baby girl as a toddler now all grown up into a ten year old and Sven, a dramatic difference from the pink cheeked 12 year old with the earnest smile. Now he stands 6'3 and has muscles on his muscles. A six pack. Abs. Pecs. You name it. He still has blonde hair, but it is cut into a crew cut. He is every inch the football player.

They laughed together as they danced to this song:



When the song was over, he would wave goodbye and give her one last armpit swing in the yard. Liv's long legs would soar up into the air. All embarrassment would be gone from her face.

It is now Wednesday and we've sent him his cookies.

Come home soon, Sven. You will be missed. But, you know that.....

The Pain of Men

The day that Liv was to come back home, I was out in my garden in the morning. Sven, my soon-to-be-going-back-to-that-swanky-West-Coast-college neighbor, came out to keep me company and beg some vegetables for his mother.

I loaded up his basket and we talked as I worked. (I learned long ago that he sucks at gardening.) He was anxious for Liv to come home, we had planned an outing to take her to an amusement park. Sven had agreed to do this since I hate any ride that flips me around too much. This means that I like the carousel and the ferris wheel. Let him take her on the big bad rides, all of which Liv is finally tall enough to ride. But, that is a story for another blog. This one is about men and their pain.

I asked Sven why he was going back to school so late. Last year, he had to be back in early August for football camp. This year, no?

He didn't answer for a while and then he told me the story. It seems that a famous football player's son was coming to play for his school, vying for Sven's position. Sven had been playing second string for his freshman year and most of his sophomore year before finally getting to play first string for the last part of the season last year. This year, he was hoping to play all first string.

And then...the football player's son arrived with lots of fanfare. Plus, yes, the aging football player had donated a pretty penny to the program....

So, Sven had been asked to skip the first two weeks of training so that the new kid could "acclimate." Now, he is fairly sure that he will lose his position to this pip squeak who is a newbie, but just happens to be the son of the famous football player, which will give his team publicity and air time with the media.

I was furious. "HOW CAN THEY DO THAT TO YOU?" I asked, mad as hell. He shrugged.

"It's money for the team, Maria," he said. "And media attention."

I asked him if this kid was any good. Another shrug. He had seen something called this kid's "tapes" and while he thought the kid had potential, he also thought he was untested and resting on his father's laurels a lot.

I suggested that he change schools. He said no. He didn't want to lose a year of eligibility. He was going to go back to training camp in a day or two and try his best to prove himself, maybe try another position.

But, it was killing him. It was. He was outwardly calm, he had spent the summer pondering this and thinking his options over. He had carefully outlined his best choice and decided just to do his best and leave the rest to fate.

No wonder he had been so down all summer.

I was mad FOR him. Told him that. He smiled. Thanked me.

This was the kid who was the star of his team in high school. It must have knocked him for quite a loop. He said that it had forced him to think about other things, like what he wanted to do with his life besides football. He was really thinking about changing his business major over to pre-med. He thought that sports medicine might be a good place for him.

I sat back on my heels and tried to be supportive, but I was hurting for him. Football is this kid's life. Or it was. And it says a lot about him that he was taking the high road here, not really blaming the kid, but determined not to just hand him that position either. He was going to do the best he could with the choices he had. But, he's a smart kid. He knows how much it costs to run a college football team, how the media attention would be a boon.

"Let's not dwell on this, okay?" he finally asked. "I just want to take Liv out for some real fun tomorrow and then I'll leave for football camp on Monday."

I agreed. He went off to his house to take his mother out for lunch and then get ready for a going away party at a friend's house. I took my basket of freshly picked vegetables into the house. Not too long and I will be canning...

So, Liv and her father came home after supper that night. They were both tired and worn out from pulling an all day ride in the car. By 8:30, Liv was dozing on her feet. I suggested that it was time for bath and bed and she didn't fight me on it.

I took her upstairs and ran a bath for her. She has been bathing by herself for years now, but we needed to be with each other, so she let me soap up her long blonde hair and then she held back her head, sitting in the tub, while I poured buckets of water over her hair, rinsing it out. Then I soaped up a wash cloth and gave her a bath. She was docile and sleepy in the water, leaning her head on my shoulder as I leaned down to wash her knobby knees. Socks had not let her out of his sight and even though he dislikes being too close to water, he had insisted on accompanying us into the bathroom and stood on his hind legs, his front paws on the side of the tub, watching her and begging for a pet, even though her hands were all wet.

I helped her out of the tub and dried her off briskly, pulled her long white nightie over her head. I sat on the closed toilet seat and had her sit on my lap while I brushed out her hair and then I told her to go downstairs and tell Bing and her father goodnight and get Socks his nightly dog cracker.

She went down with Socks hot on her heels and came up soon with Bing and Tinton following. It was only 9:00, but they were turning in too. Bing commented that it had been a long day and she was tired. We had fought that day over a movie and I glanced at her curiously, hoping that she wasn't thinking that we would engage in some hanky panky after lights out. She didn't bother looking at me. Her eyes had circles. She was really tired.

Good. Because I was sincerely NOT in the mood for sex.

I let Tinton carry Liv off to her bed and I went into my bathroom for a long hot bath. I indulged myself, poured in a capful of baby oil and washed my skin with sweet smelling goat milk soap and then just lay back and re-played the day, thinking about our poor Sven and about how good it was to have my baby back home. I was glad for the end of the day. Tired. It was not yet 10 p.m. What a bunch of party poopers we all were!

I dried myself off and put my nightgown over my head, poked my head out of the bathroom door to complete darkness. Everyone was in bed except me.

I listened for a moment, could hear Bing's even sleep drenched breathing. Good. I sighed. Maybe tomorrow would be a better day for us. No more fighting.

I walked into Liv's bedroom, standing at the doorway until my eyes adjusted to the darkness. I heard the rocker creak and shift and noticed Tinton sitting in it. He held his hand out to me and I walked over and took it.

He started to pull me into his lap in the rocker, but I resisted. Not a good idea. Bing wouldn't like it. I shouldn't do it or even consider doing it. I felt, rather than saw, Tinton smile. And then he got out of the rocker and waved me into it. I sat down and he sat at my feet, settling his tall frame gracefully and silently on the floor. I ran my fingers lightly through his long Indian hair and he caught my hand and gently kissed it and gave it back to me.

Liv was out like a light. Tinton whispered that she was almost asleep before her head hit the pillow. Socks was cuddled up next to her, in soft doggie happiness. His mistress was home at last.

Tinton and I spoke in whispers. I asked him if it had been a good vacation and he said that it was wonderful.

"She's getting so big!" he exclaimed. "She is such a smart, even tempered little girl, Maria. No bratty theatrics. None of that silly pre-pubescent giggling that I thought she would be about at her age. She has a scientist's mind but a poet's heart."

Was it my imagination or was he choking up? I stayed silent. He went on.

"She has the best of our families in her," he said. "We had the best time. We talked a lot. She missed you so much, though. She kept seeing rocks that she thought you might like. If she had her way, we would have weighed down the car royally."

I told him that I loved the rocks she had brought home for me. Especially that glittery blue one.

"She knew you would like that one the best. She predicted it," he said. He leaned against my legs and his body went a little limp. I looked down at him.

His voice was soft even for a whisper. "I am going to miss her when I leave. It gets harder every time."

Pretty interesting, I told him, for a guy who had no intention of being anyone's father ten years ago.

He laughed softly. "And now I can't think of any role that means more to me than being Liv's Dad."

I nodded. I knew that. He had grown from a post college kid who blanched at the idea of fatherhood to a man who was a wonderful father. Someone who Liv could count on. Always. I told him that. He didn't say anything for a while and then I felt his shoulders shake a little. Crying? I felt his cheek. Wet. Yes.

I sat back and rocked. Let him get in control. It didn't take long. Tinton isn't an emotional man, as a rule.

He changed the subject, talked about how he was going to spend a month with his girl friend in Colorado and then meet up with Nirand in Arizona for the autumn. They had a project that would start in late September and go until nearly Christmas. He and Nirand would visit us for the new year. Spend a week or so. Was that okay?

I said that of course it was. We would be home from Christmas in Chicago by December 27th or 28th. Anytime after that was fine. I patted his shoulder and said that I was tired, ready for sleep. He was too. He stood up in one fluid movement and then held out his hand and pulled me out of the rocker. We both stood, arms around each other as we watched Liv sleep for a short while.

"She is so magnificently beautiful," he said.

Oh, yes, I said. Oh, my yes.

We both leaned down to kiss Liv's soft cheek goodnight. I went first and gave Socks a kiss too. Tinton went next and awkwardly patted him after kissing his daughter.

"Goodnight," I told him.

"Goodnight, Maria," he said, and headed up to the attic bedroom to the four poster bed.

I went into my bedroom and got into bed. I felt Bing move to make room. She was awake. I took a long cleansing breath and pointed my toes out straight in the bed, feeling my body relax. I felt her hand tentatively reach for mine and I curled my fingers into hers, where they belong.

We slept.

The next morning, after a breakfast of hot cinnamon rolls and coffee and juice, Tinton packed up his car to leave for Colorado. He brought in a present for Liv. He had made a tape of all of the songs that they had listened to on their vacation, songs that he had noticed that she especially liked. The Beatles. Pete Townsend. The Cure. Some other groups that I didn't recognize. Liv beamed.

We walked Tinton out to his car. I checked out my flower bed, giving them some time alone to say goodbye. I looked up to see her leaning against him, hugging him, her face snuggled against his chest. She was smiling happily. No tears. I looked at his face. It was contorted. He was biting his lip. It was probably the most emotion I had seen from him. And it was all for her. She finally pulled away and before she could see his face, he plastered on a big happy smile.

"Okay, now," he said, shaking his finger at her. "I want to hear all about school and if you like your new teacher, okay?"

She promised. "And you will come visit after Christmas and bring Nirand, right?" she asked him.

He promised. She also promised to tell him how it felt to be on her first coed soccer team. He promised to send her "groovy" rocks.

And don't forget to look at our star through your telescope once in awhile," he said.

"Oh, yeah!" Liv said, happily. "Mama! Dad and I picked out a star for us. You and I will have to do that too, okay?"

I said sure we would.

One last kiss and a fast hug and he jumped into his car and pulled out of the driveway, waving to us. We waved back, my arm around Liv and hers around me.

She was glad to be home, so she wasn't crying, but she would miss him. He knew that. He also knew that she was very, very glad to be home. As she should be.

We walked back into the house. I glanced over at Liv, looking for any sign of tears. She isn't that emotional, but you never know. No. She was fine.

"So" she said. "When is Sven coming over so we can go to the amusement park?"

I checked my watch. Soon, I told her. She went off to throw a ball for Socks. I went to stand and look out the front door, hoping that Tinton was doing okay. Goodbyes are hard.

He and Sven were in some pain. Sven was learning that life is not always fair. That sometimes people who don't deserve things get them and that people that do, don't. A tough life lesson, but we all have to learn it. He would be fine.

Tinton was learning that love is bittersweet. It is the finest thing in the world, but damn...sometimes it just fucking hurts to love someone THAT much. He would be fine too.

We were all good people, living out our lives in this interesting world.

We'd all be okay.

I turned to go out to call Liv in to wash her face.

It was almost time to go.

The fight.

It always amazes me when readers or friends tell me that they wish that their relationship with their spouse could be as healthy or as happy as the one I share with Bing.

Bing and I are no role models for a perfect relationship.

Sometimes we fight.

Our relationship sometimes seems to me like a constant striving for compromise. We are very, very different individuals and while we love each other, we are hard pressed to understand each other at times.

Sometimes I dislike her intensely. And I suspect she feels the same about me.

I always love her, that is never in question. But, I don't always like her.

Like yesterday.

Liv was due to come home after supper, so I suggested to Bing that we go to a movie since it was the last we would be able to see for a while without having to find a sitter or sneaking off to one when Liv was at a friend's house, etc.

She thought that was a fine idea.

She suggested that we go see the new GI Joe movie.

I was flabbergasted. She has known me for over thirty years. Does she really not know that I HATE war movies or any sort of movie about boys with their disgusting toys? And really, what normal person would want to see such an idiotic movie?

I counter suggested that we see Julie and Julia or The Time Traveler's Wife.

She looked at me as if I had suggested that we go watch someone read a telephone book.

We tried to find one that we both wanted to see. She thought I might like District 9.

I thought it might be okay...until I read two reviews talking about how gruesome and graphic it was.

I struggled hard to convince her that she might especially like The Time Traveler's Wife.

"It has TIME TRAVELING in it. That is sort of interesting, don't you think?"

She was having none of it.

"Maria, it is a romance. A soupy ass romance. You know how I HATE those chick flicks...."

She went on to remind me that the last movie we saw together was (500) Days of Summer and that it was a "ridiculous snoozer."

I sniped back at her that how the HELL did she know WHAT kind of movie it was since she FELL ASLEEP after the first half hour???

She frowned. Opened her mouth and shut it. Opened it again. Which was a mistake, in my opinion.

"Maria, any sane person would not be able to stay upright during that movie...."

ANY SANE PERSON????

Them's fightin' words.

I ended up shouting at her that I would NOT sit through some violent, idiotic GI JOE movie, with stupid boys acting out their dumb ass fantasies.

She answered (in her snottiest I-am-Bing-I-know-best voice) that she had no intention of sitting through some lovey dovey peace of junk movie about Julia Child or some time traveling love story with that dopey looking Eric Bana.

Eric Bana is hot. Any sane person knows that.

So, we didn't see a movie. Or spend the day together.

I went grocery shopping, buying all of Liv's favorites. When I got home, she watched me unload the groceries.

"Wow...you didn't load up on my favorites when I came home from Florida....," she commented.

If looks could kill, she would have been on the floor.

She went to Goodwill to shop for school clothes. She asked me if I wanted to go with her and I said something completely snotty about why does she have to ALWAYS get her clothes from Goodwill? Can she EVER buy anything new?

"It's new to me, Maria," she answered quietly.

I wisely shut up. Because actually I think it is cool that she does that but I was in the frame of mind that NOTHING she could do was okay with me now.

She went by herself.

I went for an afternoon walk with my sister. Bing paid bills.

Liv came home and I lost myself in her for a while.

Liv's father, Tinton, was going to stay the night and leave in the morning.

Before we went to bed, he asked me quietly if everything was okay with Bing and me.

"We're fine," I said, dismissively. "Well, okay, we'll BE fine eventually. Today was just a bad day in the love story of Bing and Maria."

He let it go.

And we will be fine. We always are.

But, the perfect couple? Hardly.

We did fall asleep holding hands, but that was about as close as I would let her get to me.

We will be back to normal in a day or two.

How about you. What is your love life like these days? And please don't give me this shit about how you never let the sun go down on your anger or never fight because I just might puke.

And now I am off to take Liv to an amusement park for the day. Sven is joining us as he goes back to his West Coast big shot college tomorrow.

There might be an interesting story in that.....

Fais do do

I love Bing's family mostly. They are Cajuns, originally from Louisiana, transplanted here on the prairie. They came about fifty years ago to work in the packing houses. Bing's uncles and their families came first. Bing's family came much later. Most of her family still lives in Louisiana, but they do visit a lot.

Her family parties beautifully. They always have a Cajun band, eat lots of crawfish and two dishes that I like a lot: boudin and maque choux.

And boy howdy, do they drink.

We went to her uncle's last night after he called to invite us over ("We gon pass a good time, yeah, cher.")

I loved it. It was a warm summer's night and at first I just danced with Bing, listening to her voice go all Cajun on me. She slips into it like a glove, calls me cher and her lagniappe.

But, last night, her uncle ZL taught me how to do the Cajun two step. I have been wanting to learn, to surprise Liv when she gets home. Bing has tried to teach me, but frankly, she lacks patience and I lack aptitude.

Uncle ZL, upon hearing that I wanted to learn, would not take no for an answer and by the end of the night, I had mastered it. Well...ok...I didn't really MASTER it, but I learned enough not to make an ass out of myself. Bing taught Liv over a year ago, and Liv, being her usual coordinated self, learned it in minutes.

It took me the whole night and I had to keep stopping to rest as I am no spring chicken anymore. Of course, ZL never had to rest and he is 70....

So, now I can do this...and I didn't fall on my ass the way the lady does in this video. But..hey...I DID IT. And I didn't suck! I could NEVER do this in shoes, though, I had to do it barefoot.



Liv comes home TOMORROW!!!!

Take on me

It had just been kind of a crummy day for both of us.

Work had been long and tiring. One of those days where I am not inspired, don't feel as if I make any difference at all to anyone. I had a four year old call me a skank ass bitch while his mother rolled her eyes and looked at me helplessly.

She and her son are seeing me because he has been kicked out of four preschools and in order to get into a new one, he has to have written proof that he has had behavior disorder therapy.

My work was cut out for me. Especially since the mom told me over the phone that he was "such a dear heart and I think his teachers have just been incompetent!"

He learned the words skank ass bitch from someone, dude.

Bing's day hadn't been much better. It's first day back for teachers and she said she spent the day drowning in motivational speakers who were less than inspiring. Nothing irks her more than a speaker who claims to "tell it like it is" to teachers when they have never taught.

So, we were both crabby when we got home. I wanted a bowl of Cocoa Puffs for dinner and some mindless television, maybe a dip into Blogville and bed. She wanted a salad from our garden, some good music and a long bike ride.

We both arrived home and everything about each other drove us crazy.

I asked her if it was really necessary to leave all her slop piles all over the house. Jesus Christ, she'd only been home for a few days and I could barely fit my bowl on the kitchen table and WHY was there a tuba laying on my dining room floor?

She asked me if I could please learn to park the car decently in the garage without knocking over the lawn chairs that sit in the back.

I pulled out my Cocoa Puffs and she sighed and rolled her eyes.

"God, why don't you just go out in the yard and eat dirt for dinner? Cocoa Puffs have NO nutritional value!"

I told her to stop acting like a priss ass judgment queen. I am often kind like this and so gentle.

She said, "I just want to keep you healthy and alive so that we can enjoy our old age together. Is that so terrible?"

I informed her that I would probably die before old age as I would trip and break my neck falling over all of her GOD DAMN PILES! I also told her that a four year old had called me a skank ass bitch today and I was in no mood for her to be so incredibly annoying and irritating. GIVE ME SOME SPACE!

Oh, I can be so winsome and sweet.

We didn't talk after that. Just silently ate our dinners. I took my book out and read while I ate. She watched the news.

I was rinsing my bowl in the sink when I heard her turn off the television and turn on the cd player. Loud.

I walked in the living room and she was grinning at me, holding out her hands.

"C'mon, you skank ass bitch," she purred. "Come dance with me. Let's get this bad day out of us..."

And we did. We danced and ended up laughing.

The phone rang. We peeked at caller id. It was Bing's mother.

"No fucking way," she said. "Not tonight."

We didn't answer.

We just danced.

And this skank ass bitch felt a lot better.



Tomorrow is another day and all that cheery shit.

Have a good week, y'all.

Shampoo and therapy

I have the best woman in the world to cut my hair. Her name is Ruby and I won't give you her address because she is already too busy and once you read how good she is, you will want to fly down here to the plains and get your hair cut by her.

Ruby has cut my hair for several years. She knows my head. Inside and out. She took me in on a rainy day when I ducked into a Great Clips shop for a trim. She was saving up for her own beauty shop back then. Two years ago, she and three of her friends went in together and bought their own place and within a month, they were turning people away.

There is something magical about that place, a good vibe, a steady beat of warmth. It's good for the soul. She and her friends sing together a lot and their grown up children come in with their guitars, violins, whatever and play, so there is very often music as they cut your hair.

As far as I know, I am the only white woman to go there.

Ruby's shop is deep in the projects of my city. She has bars over her windows because when she didn't have them, she was robbed four times. Now, she has bars, but she doesn't have to like them.

Parking is terrible. I often have to park a few blocks away. I imagine that this scares many people away. But, since I work in the projects five days a week, I have grown unafraid to walk the streets. There is a rhythm here. You watch your step and you'll be fine. Don't make eye contact with the wild eyed ones. The drug dealers are okay, they tend to be friendly and helpful even after you turn them down.

I go to get my hair cut after work on Friday and luck out and get a parking place less than a block away. When I walk into Ruby's shop, let's call it Ruby, Iva and Wanda Sue's Hair Peace because it's close enough and that's what it is....the place is hopping. It is a friday evening after all, and date night.

Ruby is waiting for me, sitting in her chair, her big colorful muu muu a big happy splash around her. Ruby is not going to blow away in a big wind. She is substantial, heavy boned and a stay put type of person. Her hair is piled up on her head like always. Today it looks like a tower of Pisa. She gives me a hug like she always does.

"Well, the last time I laid eye on you, you had so little hair that I thought I was gonna hafta do a comb over for you," she tells me, her voice low and gurgly. "Now, you's lookin' better. Come on and sit y'urself down and let me grab you a cup of cawfee."

It is hot outside, but I don't care. I will never say no to Ruby's coffee. It is deep and dark and full of chicory. I will be wide awake at ten tonight, but that's okay. It's worth it.

Ruby hands me a chipped mug with the words WELCOME TO TITUSVILLE on it and I take a small sip. You have to start out that way. This coffee bites. I close my eyes and take another sip. Yes. Perfect. Ruby chuckles.

"I can not understand how you can NOT be from the South and still like that coffee," she says. "Most everyone that comes in here says it is too strong unless they be from down South."

I tell her that no, I'm a born and bred prairie person, but Bing is from Louisiana, maybe it's her fault.

"Well, maybe it's photosynthesis," she tells me.

I stare at her briefly. I think she means osmosis but I'm not going to quibble. Not with Ruby. I smile. "Maybe so," I say.

Ruby lets me get about halfway through my coffee before she starts turning my head this way and that, figuring how she is going to cut it. It is finally growing back again after a year of falling out by the handful. But, now it is almost completely gray instead of salt and pepper. Whatever she decides will be fine with me. She snorts when people have the audacity to bring her cut out pictures of how they want their hair to look. She says that all the cutting in the world is not going to make Whoopi look like Halle. I just trust her. And she has never given me a poor cut.

The other women in the shop sometimes ignore me. I don't take offense. I am white and people down here don't have many reasons to trust us. But, Ruby's fellow haircutters are always kind to me. Today, one of the woman's sons is here to pick her up after her hair cut and he has a guitar that he is softly playing. Ruby's son, Darnell, is here too with his violin (or "fiddle" as he calls it) although he is not playing it. He is sitting stealthily glancing at Ruby now and then. Ruby tells me under her breath that he is hoping for a twenty spot but that she has no intention of giving it to him ("He can set there grinnin' at me like the fool he be, but until he picks up a broom and does some serious sweepin', he ain't gittin' jack sprat from me...") Darnell sits heavily on Ruby's heart. He is in and out of jail a lot. Once for drug dealing, another time for being the driver in a Kwik shop robbery. Ruby's older children are all out on their own and making honest livings, but Darnell, her youngest, somehow just doesn't seem to know how to land. She has paid for him to go to tech school, to learn how to be a bartender and had hoped that he might take over her business, but he doesn't seem inclined to do much of anything. He is a talented musician and sometimes plays in various bands but is not reliable and always ends up getting booted. I do like him, though. There is something sweet in Darnell. I don't trust him as far as I can throw him, but I do like him.

I sit back and let Ruby rinse my head in her sink with warm water. The temperature is perfect, not too hot or too cool. Ruby's hands are gentle, so gentle that I have to bite my lip because I get choked up from her tender touch. She sees this, I know , but doesn't comment, just sits me up and wraps a nice warm towel around my head while she gets her clippers and scissors ready.

She begins combing through my hair.

"My, you have a lovely shaped head," she says. She says this to me every time that I come and it makes me feel good. She used to comment on my thick hair but doesn't anymore. It is no longer thick and I am lucky to even have any. Ruby doesn't pander, lie or flatter and I like that in a person. If she says I have a lovely shaped head, I have one, but my hair is no longer beautiful and we know this. She will work with what I have and make the best come from out of it.

I sit and look at her combing out my hair and suddenly without warning, she pulls my wet head for a hug into her bosom. Then, as quick as she hugged me, she sits me back up and begins smartly combing through my hair again. I swallow. Once. Twice.

The other women are busy talking and the guitar player and Darnell are toodling on their instruments. Ruby leans down and says quietly to me, "What's troubling you, hon?"

In general, I am not a sharer. But, Ruby is different. I trust her.

I sigh and tell her that Bing is coming home tonight and well, I don't know how I feel about that. When she left a month ago, I felt such an ache, but I got used to being alone after a few days and acclimated. It does bother me how easily I always acclimate to her absence. It makes me uneasy. And now, well, my house is all clean the way I like it and Bing will come home with all her piles and constant need for noise. The television has rarely been on since Bing and Liv have been gone and I'm not much of a music lover, so the house has been very quiet. Peaceful. Now she will come home and don't get me wrong, I have missed her. A lot. Truly. But, I will miss my silence. Bing always has either the television on, the radio or the cd player. My long nights of sitting in my leather swivel chair with a book and a pickle for company are gone now. I'm such a hermit. Not really designed for co-habitation. Is it terrible that I am sort of dreading her homecoming as much as I have missed her?

Ruby ponders this as she cuts and combs. Finally, she gives her opinion.

"Plenty of time to be alone when you're an old woman," she tells me. "For now, be glad that you are going to be able to kiss her face again. If you need some silence, go take that hound of your'n for a prance around the neighborhood. Haven't you missed your Bing? C'mon. I know you love that woman. I see it all over your face."

I nod. Yes. I do love her. So much.

"Well, then. Quiet your mind about worryin' this matter to death," she finishes. "Save your worries for payin' the rent and keepin' y'urself alive. Speakin' of health, how you feelin"? You're lookin' not half bad. Let me have a look-see at those finger nails now."

Ruby is a true believer that fingernails are the looking glass into your health. I hold my hands up for her. She frowns.

"Well, I'm seein' some ridges. I don't be likin' that much. But, they're not nearly as ragged as they looked the last time you were here. I think you must be healin' up nice as you please, Maria. So, okay...now...let's take this conversation off of worryin' and steer it to lookin' ahead. Tell me something small but good that you are lookin' forward to."

I think while she works. Finally I have my list. I tell her that Liv is coming home in a week. She smiles. I tell her that The Time Traveler's Wife is opening next weekend and I am looking forward to that. And hey! I just found out that one of my favorite books, The Lovely Bones, is going to be made into a movie and it opens in December. THAT is good news. I will can my vegetables in a couple weeks and that is always such a pleasure, to have all those beautiful shining glass jars sitting on my pantry shelves. Liv will come home from school and help me can and I love that time together. It's been an odd summer, the a/c has been off more than on and we've had lots of rain, so much that I haven't had to hand water my garden much. And in another month, Cornhusker football starts and we will be donning our red sweatshirts and baseball caps and going to Lincoln to watch our boys play some smash mouth football. Lost begins again soon. Soon, all the leaves will turn red and gold and Bing, Liv and I will spend an afternoon raking and then come in all red cheeked to eat chili simmering on the stove all afternoon. We are going to Chicago for Christmas this year to visit Vince and Thuan. And Liv's father is coming to stay for a week after the New Year. Bing and I have plans to see (500) Days of Summer tomorrow and spend the day together cruising Goodwills, the only place where she shops for clothes, for her back to school clothes. So, lots to look forward to, if I just put my mind to it.

Ruby smiles again. See? she says. You be one lucky woman, Maria. And here's something else. You have a nice full head of hair again. It may not be all thick and shiny like it was, but it is there and it is HAIR.

Of course, she is right. I say so.

Ruby finishes with my hair and rubs some sweet smelling stuff on it. It smells like patchouli and makes my hair shine. We smile at each other in the mirror. She tells me that she still thinks my neck is too tight and she is going to ask Ivy to come over and give me a neck rub. She does and Ivy comes right over and begins kneading my shoulders like bread. Ivy is a small woman with huge hands. They are as big as frying pans.

I feel myself relax. Ruby says that she feels like singing, but isn't in the mood for no spirituals today, she is missing her home state of Mississippi and she wants to sing about it. She calls to Darnell and the guitar player to play a song that she knows and they do. Soon she is belting out a song that is is rollicking and soulful and happy and mournful and true. It is this one:



No full orchestra, just a fiddle and a guitar but Ruby, Ivy, Wanda Sue and a few others sing on key and full throated and it is every bit as good as Sheryl.

At certain words in the song, Ruby looks at me and nods as if to say listen! so I do that.

My shoulders relax.

The song ends and another begins, but I am ready to leave. Bing will be home in an hour or two and I want to change into that sleeveless sundress that she likes, the one with the tiny blue flowers all over the white cotton.

I pay Ruby and hand Darnell and his crony ten bucks apiece.

Ruby shakes her head at me but takes a twenty out of the cash register and hands it to Darnell and tells him to shoo, get out of her hair now, it's time to close up. He grins from ear to ear and is gone before she can hand him a broom.

She smiles and keeps shaking her head. "I'm gonna regret givin' that boy money," she says. "That child finds trouble without even tryin'."

I push on the door to go outside. It is hot and humid out but I am wide awake with all that chicory flying through my veins. My hair looks really good too. I walk back to my car and let myself sashay just a little bit. At 51, too much sashaying just looks ridiculous.

I get in my car, wincing as my legs slide over the hot leather seat. I turn over the ignition and pull my little bug out into traffic.

I always feel better after some shampoo and therapy. I think of something I forgot to tell Ruby when I was naming what I looked forward to. I forgot to tell her how much I look forward to seeing her the next time. As I am driving by Ruby, Ivy, and Wanda Sue's Hair Peace I see her pulling down the shades. I wave but she doesn't see me. Doesn't matter. She knows I'm here, out here in the world, glad for her company.

We all have bridges that help us cross over. Who are yours?

Hiding from my mother in law.

It was pretty pathetic. A 51 year old woman crouching down on her kitchen floor like a burglar.

I came home from work tonight exhausted. All I wanted was a bowl of Cocoa Puffs, a quick check of a few your blogs, a walk with Socks and bed.

I got the mail, saw it was all bills and stashed them on the kitchen counter to be looked at tomorrow or maybe the next day. A quick peek at my car taxes made me frown and not take a gander at any of the others.

I shook some Cocoa Puffs into that pretty blue bowl that I like so much and debated making peanut butter toast too. Naw. Too tired. Not hungry enough. I had just poured the milk in the bowl when I heard the doorbell ring.

Shit. It couldn't be my sister, she's on vacation. Most of my friends are good enough to call before they show up. Maybe it was one of the neighbors. Whenever Bing is gone, they sort of circle the wagons around me, convinced that I am helpless.

I went to the dining room to peek out of the hurricane blinds to see if there was a car in the driveway.

And then shrank back quickly.

My mother in law. No. Ew.

She's not THAT bad, but she tends to over stay and I wasn't in the mood for her talking at me. Which is what she does. She doesn't talk to me. She talks at me.

This is what a conversation with her goes like:

Me: Hi Mom. (She insists that I call her "Mom." I don't like this much. It makes me feel like I am Bing's sister instead of her partner. All the inlaws do this, though.)

MIL: Hi, dear. Did I interrupt your cleaning?

Me: Um...no. Why?

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. NEVER ask a question that gives her a lead in.

MIL: Well, you look sort of sloppy.

Me: (looking down at a perfectly fine pair of jean shorts and a tee shirt) Oh..well, no. I wasn't cleaning.

MIL: I didn't think so. You aren't much of a neatnik. I came over to give you these.

She hands me a plastic bag. I peer in and see toilet paper, three toothbrushes, four peaches, a bag of pork rinds, a glade plug in air freshener, a can of french onion soup, generic baby shampoo and three cans of peas.

Me: What's all this for?

MIL: Well, I was at Hy-Vee and there were a few sales. Well, the toilet paper I got at Walgreens, it was two for 5 dollars, can't beat that with a stick.

If Bing is home, she hands the bag right back to her mother. Tells her that we don't eat junk and we like fresh produce. The peaches are fine, but nothing else. Her mother will argue that we take the air freshener and the baby shampoo. Bing will tell her flat out that she thinks air fresheners stink and Liv uses goat milk shampoo.

If Bing is not home, I take it and thank her.

MIL: Do you need me to come trim your hedges?

She is 82. She hasn't trimmed hedges in years. She says this to let me know that she thinks our hedges are sloppy. Like my clothes.

I can't tell you how tempted I am to take her up on her offer. Just lead her to the garage and point at the trimmers and tell her to have at it. Tell her that I will leave her a cup of water on the bench on the front porch. I never do this, of course. But, I would love to call her bluff just once.

MIL: (looking at Liv) Well, look at you. You are sure getting tall. Maria, do you think you should take her to the doctor? She is way too tall for her age. Maybe she has that giant gene or something....

She says this in front of Liv.

I shake my head no. Tell her that Liv is perfect as is.

MIL: So, what are your plans for Thanksgiving? Why don't you come over to my house this year with the rest of the kids.

It is July. And she knows that we always go to my sister's house for Thanksgiving. She just likes to put me on the spot. And she would NEVER pull this shit with Bing around, it is only when she is gone.

I tell her that it is way too early to be thinking about Thanksgiving.

MIL: Nonsense. It is right around the corner. But, I know how loosey goosey you kids are. Never make plans too far in the future. You know that Muslim president of ours is going to make our country go into a worse depression than the one I lived through in the 1930's. I hope you two are saving your pennies. But, I suppose not. You are like those grasshoppers who goof around in the summer while the ants work.

Where the fuck does she GET these ideas? Bing is the tightest penny pincher I know. And I am a good saver too. But, she always acts as though we are running around taking cruises and blowing our money on fast women and cars.

I tell her that she knows that we always spend Thanksgiving with my sister.

MIL: (sighing sadly, pretending to blink back tears) Well, I won't live forever....

No, but this conversation will....

So...THAT is why I didn't want to let her in when I saw her at the doorbell.

Now, she has moved to open our screen door and pound on the door. Like we are deaf. She pounds and pounds.

I go back and sit in the kitchen, resolving to eat my Cocoa Puffs before they get soggy. The knocking finally stops and I breathe a sigh of relief.

Until I hear the back gate squeak.

Socks begins to bark. He barked a few times at the doorbell, but when he realized that I wasn't going to answer it, he settled down to ignore it too. But...the back yard gate? Well, that is TRESPASSING in his mind. He begins barking loudly.

I carefully pick up my bowl from the breakfast nook where there is a window and move to the kitchen. I peek out of the kitchen window and nearly drop the bowl when I see her head go right past the window. She climbs up the back steps and begins hammering on the back door. The breakfast nook's window looks directly out at her and I am SO glad that I remembered to pick up my bowl. Otherwise, I would have been caught. I gingerly set the bowl in the sink and slide down to the floor where she won't be able to see me even if she looks in the window.

Socks is distracted and quiets down, crawling into my lap.

It is quiet finally, so I get up stealthily and then shrink back down when I see her standing with her hands cupped against the window PEEKING in.

I wait. And wait.

Finally I peek again and she is gone. I tip toe to the window and look out again. She is in my garden, helping herself to my tomatoes.

Which is fine. I have more than enough.

After a half hour, she finally figures that I am not home and not coming home soon and she leaves.

I need to grow a spine, ya know?

I mean, wouldn't the grown up thing to do would be to answer the door, tell her that no, she can't come in. I am tired.

But, I can't. I just can't.

So, I hide like a child instead.

After a half hour passes, the phone rings. I check caller id. It is MIL.

MIL: Hi, Maria. I stopped by to bring you some summer squash from my garden. I left it for you on your back steps. I took a few of your tomatoes. You have so many, I figured you wouldn't miss a few and I thought that I would make myself a tomato sandwich for dinner. I can't eat big meals anymore. My stomach doesn't do well. Your garden is looking pretty decent. Did you hire someone to weed and such? Well, okay. I am going to go make myself that sandwich. Call me if you want to. When does Bing come home? Do you need me to pick her up at the airport? Don't make her take a cab, okay? I know that you are tired a lot, but cabs cost too much money and you might need that money to buy Liv new shoes for school. Do you want me to take Liv out shopping for school clothes? Let me know. Enjoy the squash, dear. I love you! Bye for now.

She hangs up. I wait. 10 seconds. 20. The phone rings again as it always does. I don't even check the caller id.

MIL: Oh! I forgot. Walgreens has toilet paper on sale. Do you want me to go pick some up for you? Let me know. Are you there, Maria? I guess not. Okay. Bye.

I have already made my bff, Harriet promise me that if I ever start acting like that around Liv that she will shoot me.

She has promised me that she will. Twice.

So..what is YOUR MIL like? If you have one. If you don't, be sure and check yours out before you get with anyone. Because she will be an um...interesting story in your life to come.

Unless you are like my other friend, Cozette, who loves her MIL and SHOPS with her and lets her buy clothes for her. The last article of clothing my MIL bought for me was a pink sweater with shoulder pads and velveteen butterflies sewn into it.

So...any good stories?