Bang! Bang!

Bang, bang! You shot me down! Bang, bang, I hit the ground....

Last night we were watching Mitt's acceptance speech with Riku. He is very aware that I am not a Republican fan. I think, perhaps, that my insistence that Tea Party people are bullying prats might have given me away. Anyway....

I thought the speech was ludicrous and kept saying so. I thought the opening tape before he came out to accept the presidency was a beautiful sham.  C'mon...Mitt, no one REALLY thinks that your grandparents were Mexican immigrants. Anyway....

After the speech, Bing, who had been rather quiet, turned to me and said, "I know this is going to kill you, Maria, but I am seriously considering voting Republican this time. I just...I think Obama is not doing his job well and...."

Well, I interrupted her. I tried not to shriek since we do have a guest. And smart Liv quickly engaged him in a playful game of tag to divert his attention.

I glowered at Bing.

Finally said, "I've never slept with a Republican and I never will."

She sighed.

"Maria, Will McAvoy is a Republican and you said you'd gladly sleep with him."

I glared at her more fiercely.

"Will McAvoy is a fictional character!"

She sighed. I sighed. Agreed to talk about this over the weekend when Riku has gone.

But...I vow to be open minded.

It's what a good Democrat would do.

Why online translators don't really work

This is what Riku tried to say to us: "I am happy to meet you. Please allow me to do chores or heavy lifting for you. "

This is what it came out as: I am happy to touch you. Please remove my leg.

This is what I tried to say to him: "Please shut off the lights and close the blinds when you leave today. It is going to be hot outside."

This is what it came out as: Please shoot all fires and bind yourself when leaves fall."

We saved them up and when Riku's Japanese translator came to check up on him yesterday, we showed them to her. We all had a good laugh. And this is just some of the mayhem.

Last night, Riku prepared a traditional Japanese meal for us. J Yankee, I am hoping that you can correct me if I am wrong, but I believe it was called O-sechi-ryouri. It consisted of five different foods in five different box dishes. It was delicious and made our whole house smell divine.

Tonight is Liv's first soccer game and we will all be in attendance and then on to a "cowboy steak house" for dinner.

We all love Riku very much. He referred to our home as a mansion and filmed every single room and all of us. He brought incredible gifts: a miniature doll house complete with books with Japanese written on pages, two fans that were handpainted by his mother, three "Samurai" head scarves and two bottles of sake with traditional wooden cups.

Riku tells us that Americans "live very large." And he is astounded at the amount of sugar in everything. I told him that this is why Americans are so fat and he laughed heartily.

I am learning Japanese and he is learning English. He is much faster than I am, but tells us that Liv has a good ear for his language.

One problem: nearly all of his clothes need to be ironed, so we lugged the old iron out of storage.

But, wow....that is the ONLY drawback.

He is a beautiful, warm hearted man with the most lovely eyes I have ever seen. We took him to the gym with us and Jack, a gay trainer there, told us that he "is to die for."

He IS wonderful.

Why I already love this guy

E-mail from our Japanese guest. We pick him up this afternoon.

Dear Bing-san and Maria-san,

Thank you so very very much for allowing me to stay in your home. I worry that I will make trouble for you with my bad English.  Bing-san, I am sorry for your backpain. I will be most glad to do any power work for you. Thank you for sending list of activities to pick my wish from. I think  all sound well. I enjoy attending a church service although I am not a religulius. I also enjoy trips to Target and sailing. I enjoy American food very much, especially humburgers, pizza and hot dogs. I have heard that your city has the best stake in the world and I am joyful to try it as well. I coach soccer and am glad to go to your daughter's soccer game. I am interst to see how American differs from mine.

I will bring ingredinets to make you a special dinner. I may need to use your American market to purchase cabbage and pork if you would be kind enough to take me. And I would also very much enjoy going to the grocery store with you. You inquire if it too ordinary. I say no. It exactly what I looking forward to seeing. Your ordinary is extraordinary.

I very glad to be your friend and will try not to make trouble with my bad English.

Your friend,

Riku.


Ok. I already LOVE this guy. And for someone who worries about making trouble for us with his bad English, he is doing just fine. I could never, in a million years, write such an eloquent note in Japanese.

We've downloaded English to Japanese translations on all of our i-pads and vice versa, so we should be able to try to communicate a little bit. Bing tells me that he probably speaks and understands English very well, that when she was in Japan, people often told her that their English was poor when it was more than satisfactory. So...this may be interesting.

Frankly, I will be glad when this week is over and have already made Bing swear NOT to offer us up again.

But, I already love this guy, don't you?

Cleaning for the maids.

I may have mentioned that Bing offered us up as hostesses to a Japanese student for one week, starting on Saturday.

I wish I were a more giving person...but my first thought was....

WHAT THE FUCK?

Not because I dislike Japanese people, but because I dislike company of any kind. Bing is the sort of person who thinks that entertaining people who don't speak English is fun. She sees it as an educational opportunity for all of us, but especially Liv.

She thought that I was insane when I told her that I wanted us to get our home cleaned before he came.

"He's here to see how Americans live, honey," she said, patiently. "I don't think we need to change up our life."

I flatly told her that either the house was professionally cleaned top to bottom or he was not going to be staying in our guest room. She shook her head, bewildered...but agreed.

Mainly to shut me up.

Because I DO NOT think that this will be a fun week. I think that I am already a very busy woman and now I will just add more stress to my already packed plate. That's what I think. And we are very clear, in fact...CRYSTAL CLEAR about the fact that she will NEVER volunteer us to do this again without checking with me first.

We received our first e-mail from Riku, our soon to be guest. In it, he apologized profusely for insulting us by not speaking much English. Part of the e-mail was supposed to be devoted to him telling us what he would like to experience in his stay. During the day, an envoy from the University group that sponsored Riku and his cohorts will take them on various day trips to the zoo, some gardens and a few schools. We have him all day on Saturday and Sunday and then the weeknights.

This is what he would like to experience:

1) Dining at an American Cowboy steakhouse.

Easy. We have steakhouses coming out of our ears here on the prairie.

2) A tour of a gym.

As luck would have it, Bing and I have recently joined a gym.

3) A soccer game.

As long as he doesn't mind junior high girl's soccer, we are good to go as Liv has been practicing with her team for several weeks now and their first game is next week, when he will be visiting.

4) Walgreens.

We live fairly close to a Walgreens, but I honestly don't understand the glamor of this. Maybe it is a cultural thing. Anyone Japanese want to help me out here?

and last but not least

5) A sports store like Cabelas, Canfields, or Sheels.

We can do that too. The last thing that I bought at Canfields was a military messenger bag that I use occasionally as a purse. But, again...I simply don't get the pull.

So, today was the day we had arranged for a professional cleaning company to clean our home. Because I am just paranoid, I took the morning off so that I could be here to let them in and sort of point out what we're picky about (a clean shower, although, to be honest, it is really more Bing's thing than Liv's or mine) and what we aren't picky about (emptying wastebaskets)....

Someone had stopped over last week to give us an estimate and I had liked her very much, mostly because she kept telling me how tidy and clean our home was ("Most homes I see are much more messy. Yours is very tidy!") and how lovely our home was ("I just adore that you have kept the historical beauty intact in your home! Your fireplaces are so...vintage!") and how nice our yard was. Actually, I half expected her to say that they would clean it for free...

But, no dice. She gave us an estimate of 175 bucks and then I sneakily showed her a 25$ off coupon that Bing had found on the internet. She was gracious, but gave me a small look. A look that said, "You aren't fooling me by saying that oh..you just remembered that you have a coupon!"

At any rate, I spent the morning tidying up after Bing left to take Liv to school and go on to her job. I even had taken Socks to the groomer last weekend so that he would not offend with any unfresh dog odor.

I heard the doorbell and opened it to two Hispanic women who looked to be about 14. Keep in mind that I am old and even my rheumatologist looks like a college kid to me and I know for a fact that he is 40. I welcomed the women in and they smiled shyly as they lugged heavy vacuums and a box of cleansers.

I made some small talk but noticed right away that all they seemed to say was "okay" and would nod vigorously up and down while they said, "Yes!"

They didn't speak English.

Oh, well. I handed them the check, banished Socks to the basement and then tried to tell them with hand gestures that he could be let out when they were finished and to please shut all the blinds and curtains before they left. They nodded vigorously and said, "Yes!"

And then I left to go to work.

At 4:30, Bing called me.

"You are in for a beautiful treat!" she said. "The house looks fantastic."

And it did.

Except that Socks had spent the day in the basement and was not happy about it (it's not that bad...there is a rec room down there with a comfy couch, he's just a brat sometimes) and yes, every blind and curtain in the house was wide open.

But...hey...no complaints. My house was shining clean and spotless.

And those women probably make minimum wage.

Bing is enjoying herself telling all the neighbors that I spent the morning cleaning before the maids came.

So what?

I just...didn't want them to think that we were pigs. Which we can be sometimes.

And now my house is ready for Riku.

Any ideas on how to entertain him? We already have an application on our ipads to translate Japanese into English and vice versa?

Some help please?

One day, these days will seem idyllic

I was standing in my dining room today, looking out the window into the back yard. A lovely, soft, badly needed rain had been trickling down all morning and now, in the late afternoon, the sun was shining through the windows, making the whole dining room look almost burnished with light.

I'm not often standing in my dining room at 3:45 in the afternoon. 3:45 is a busy time, even when you aren't at work. When Liv was little, 3:45 would be about the time she would just be waking up from her afternoon nap, I'd be rushing around trying to finish up this and that. Folding towels. Thinking about dinner. Not often did I lollygag around my dining room, noting the sunlight spilling through the panes.

A pity.

Because it is such a pretty part of the day. But, then...they are all sort of pretty, you know?

One day, I will be an old woman. With luck. My hands will be liver spotted and my hair white. My skin will be creped all around my neck and elbows, wrists, ankles. I will move slowly, painfully. I have a suspicion that I will outlive Bing. I don't know why, I just do. Probably because the one you think will go first, never does. I'm the one with the poor health, the shoe box in the kitchen drawer full of pills for my ills. So, yes...she will most likely go first.

We talk about spending our retirement in New Orleans. I wonder if that will happen? Maybe. Maybe not. We could easily end up right here where we started, in this big old Victorian lace house.

And one day, I will be old and alone. I won't have appts all day long, won't feel rushed. I won't be so exhausted at night that I fall asleep almost as soon as my head hits the pillow.

I will stand in the dining room often and smile, looking at the sun spilling down through the window panes like shimmer. I will look around and think to myself Why didn't I watch more closely when Livvy was learning to walk, when she toddled all over the house, careening around like a knackered out drunkard.  Why didn't I notice how her hair caught any light near her as she bent over over homework at the dining room table, pausing from time to time to take a sip of papaya juice, a bite of a brownie? Why didn't I stop and look around at Bing while she strummed her guitar, playfully hitting the beginning chords of "Ventura Highway" and smiling up at me, her heart in her eyes?

All these moments that are just flying by me every day. Every single day. Liv and me baking a cake for her father because his plane gets in tonight and he will visit for a few days, take her to her birthday concert of Mumford and Sons. Bing walking by, carrying groceries, stopping to plant a kiss on my head.

Why didn't I listen to the house settling for the night and mentally bathe myself in the true peace of three happy humans and one canine under one roof, slipping into their dreams?

Why didn't I think about how nice lemon oil smells on all the furniture as I dust? Instead, I hurry through the chore, already mentally checking it off my list and moving on to the next one: the dishwasher isn't going to empty itself, is it?

As I stood in my dining room in that moment, it was as if I could see the future. A future without Bing's voice sliding around my ears. A future with a fully grown daughter living in a different city, married and rushing through her own career, her own children, her own life and still calling me every day to make sure that I am okay. Probably having private talks alone in bed with her spouse at night trying to figure out how to get me to move into assisted living.

I can just hear her.

"Mother doesn't want to leave her house, but god...she is like a marble in a shoe box in that huge place. Socks is buried in the back yard and she says she can't leave him there alone. The home health nurse that looks in on her says that she is getting forgetful, that she came one day and Mother was all dressed in one of her old Chanel suits, saying that she was late for work and who stole her car? But, she is so blasted stubborn! She says that she'll leave her home when she dies. Well, one of these days, she is going to fall right down that staircase and break a hip and that will be the beginning of the end. And you should see the stuff that was in the basement when we came for Christmas last year.  Bing's old guitar and piano, all those instruments that should be given to some school or something...but she won't let them go. She said that she FEELS Bing when she sits at the piano. And then she started crying, missing her like she died yesterday instead of ten years ago. God, I have so much to do and I worry about her so much! I wish she would just listen to me. Listen to reason!"

And her spouse will hug her tightly and kiss her hair and tell her that tomorrow is a new day, to let it go for now. Let's just go to sleep, baby.

One day I will be old. And all this beauty around me that I see each and every day will haunt me. I will close my eyes and see Liv's first slobbery smile. Remember the night that she was teething and fussed and fussed until I finally knocked her out with a too high dose of baby Tylenol just so we could both sleep. I will remember Bing catching my eye across the dinner table and telling me that she needed to check my car tonight, check under that hood...and both of us looking down and smiling as Liv cluelessly ate her paprika chicken. I will remember the time that Socks accidentally ran into the fireplace grate and then was so embarrassed that he sat under the dining room table until Liv went under there with him and laid down next to him. And then Bing and I did too. And we all looked at each other and laughed and told Socks just to chill, that we ALL do dumb things.

One day, I will think to myself, "I used to have that blog! I wonder what happened to all those people. I'm so glad that Liv has it. So she never will doubt how much I loved her, how hard I tried to to do the right thing by her, be a good parent."

One day, I will be old.

For now, I am going to go throw Sock's ball for him, kiss my daughter and go find Bing and when only she can see, pull up my shirt and flash my breasts at her and watch her eyes go wide and then hear her laugh and shake her head.

And then we'll go pick up Tinton at the airport and come home and sit in the back yard and listen to the cicadas sing their end of summer songs while we watch the fireflies dance all over the lilac bushes.

And I will take in every moment and breathe of it deeply.

First love

I miss my garden. It was the place where Liv and I talked best. We would go out and weed together in the evenings and then, afterward, lay down in the grass, dusk turning to darkness, and talk.

But, recently as I sat outside reading a very badly written, but somehow engaging book (how the HELL do I explain Fifty Shades of Grey.....so badly written but I keep turning the pages), Liv came out and plopped down next to me, trying to look nonchalant.

Nice try, small fry. Something was bothering her. I'd been seeing it in her body language since I came home from work.  But, I was slowly learning that with teenagers, you don't just sit down and ask them what the problem is. As the wicked witch of the west always said, "these things must be handled delicately...."

So, I waited. Works every time.

Liv fiddled with her iced tea, gave Socks a good belly rub and a brush and then looked up carefully casual.

"Mother?"

Another thing I am slowly getting used to. I used to be Mama. Now, I am usually Mother.

I put down my book.

"Yes?"

"How old were you when you started being interested in boys or girls, like...not in a friend way, but a...more grown up way?"

oh

I thought about this and then told her that I was a very late bloomer, probably about 16.

She nodded. "I think maybe I am a late bloomer too, or I always thought I was...but...well, you know...lately..."

This waiting shit sucks.

I smiled. Waited.

"Something kind of weird is happening," she finally muttered.

Well, now. That got my full and undivided attention. WEIRD?

"Weird how?" I asked, keeping my voice neutral and without squeak.

Liv sighed.

"You know Miles? Molly's brother?"

I did know Miles. He is Liv's friend Molly's older brother. Going to be a sophomore this year, I recalled. Goes to a Catholic boys school. He and Liv share a love of sixties rock icons and he loves to draw and paint. She has a drawing of his of Janis Joplin, another of Jim Morrison hanging in her room.

Miles looks like a young Andrew Garfield if he had jet black hair. Kind of scrawny. Good looking kid. Very polite. I've only met him a few times when I've gone to pick up Liv at their home after school and when he's been with a crowd of Liv's friends at the house.  Molly comes from one of those big Irish Catholic families, with a mother who stays at home and always looks harried, but is very, very nice and a father who works in insurance. Their house is just blocks away from ours and Miles sometimes comes over to shoot hoops with Liv in our back yard. Not often, but sometimes. She has actually helped him with his math homework before as I take it that he isn't much of a scholar. He is a great artist, though, his drawings are spot on. He likes to take photos too and he took the current picture of Liv that sits on my bedside table. She is sitting with Socks, one arm slung around his neck and the sun is hitting her hair just right so that she looks framed in it, her jack-o-lantern smile broad and pleased.

I like him.....but don't know him all that well. He seems nice enough. Polite. A very genuine smile.

I told Liv that I did know Miles, wasn't he the one who did the drawings in her room? She said yes.

"Well, I dunno. I just..."

She didn't finish the sentence, but ducked her head, furiously blushing, hands covering her cheeks.

I paused and then asked her if she liked him, emphasizing the word. When she looked up, she actually looked as if she was in pain.

I frowned a little, now worried.

I wanted to forcefully pull the words out of her mouth. TALK TO ME.

Instead, I shrugged and picked up my book.

She responded quickly.

"I don't know how I feel, Mama. (YES! MAMA!) We've been talking a lot lately and shooting baskets and when Molly's family went out for ice cream that night and they came and picked me up?"

I nodded.

Just last week.

"Well, Miles and I talked the whole night, just to each other. And when Molly's Dad dropped me off home, he said that he wanted to continue our discussion we were having about Chinese gymnasts and he and I sat outside on the porch, remember?"

I nodded slowly. I sort of remembered, but it was blurry. Did they make popcorn? Yes. They came in and made popcorn and then went back outside and when he left, Liv took Sock's leash and walked him part way home. I hadn't thought anything about it.

"Ok. So, I'm WAY too young to even think about having a boyfriend, right?"

I agreed with her loudly and with way too much enthusiasm. YES, she is WAY TOO YOUNG.

"Well, when he texts me lately, I get this little flip in my stomach. Kind of like I am happy and kind of like I might puke. And we've been texting a lot. Just talking about his favorite artists, ones who inspire him and about movies and books. He's educated me a lot about Catholicism. He's like you, steeped in it his whole childhood and also like you, he says that he thinks that it has a lot of flaws and that he might leave the church when he is old enough to make those decisions. We think 18 is old enough. Anyway.  So, I went to Molly's today with Lei and Aaron. We all ended up playing Trivial Pursuit, and Miles and her older sister joined us. Miles and I were on opposite teams because we are both ruthless and okay...the best at it, so we can't be on the same team. Anyway..."

She stopped and I realized that she had tears in her eyes.

Fuck. I leaned over and gave her a hug.

I kept my voice completely calm, nodding as if we were talking about something mundane. But I was listening so hard that it hurt. Told her to go on.

"So...I was leaving and he handed me this cd. Told me that he'd made a music tape for me of songs that he thought I might like. He told me to specifically listen to the first one. So I did...."

I couldn't help it, I sort of yelped out the word "and?"

She handed me a cd. On it, it said For Liv from Miles. With a little winky face. ; )

I held out my hand for her cd player. She handed it to me, watched me closely.

It was this:



I listened, gave Liv one ear bud. We listened.

Oh. Well. Now.

When it was over. I shut it off and handed it all back to her. Asked her if the other songs are sort of soupy too. She said not really.

"Liv, honey," I started gently. "Honey, you are only 13 and just starting 8th grade. FAR too young to have a boyfriend...."

Before I could finish, she blurted out, "I KNOW! I KNOW! That's why I am so upset. A part of me was sort of excited, but another part of me, a bigger part, wanted to...I don't know...cry or go hold Coco (her teddy bear since she was tiny whom she still sleeps with every. single. night.) I'm so confused! What should I do?"

I held up a hand. Asked her to give me a few secs to think. She did.

Finally, I just said exactly what I thought, without weighing the odds of me messing this up.

I told her that it was perfectly normal, it was fine to have a crush on a boy and to be excited when he took an interest. But. She is also young, only 13. I don't think she needs to be dating or (and I shuddered inside, I admit it) going with a boy. Liv nodded briskly.

"That's what I think too, mother (ok..back to mother), that while I think he's a really interesting boy, that I'm just not ready to think of him....that way.

She leaned into me and I held her.

"Honey, you're a smart girl. I like the way your brain works. What are you going to say to Miles?" I asked her, curious.

"I'm going to tell him just that. That I like him a lot, and oh, mother...I DO really, really like him. And even like him a little bit like that, just not quite there yet. I think he'll understand. He has a very logical way of looking at life. I'm not sure what is going on with him, to be honest."

I thought to myself that what is going on is HORMONES, but kept it to myself. Not this talk. Not tonight.

Liv went inside soon after and when I went in to say goodnight to her, she was in bed reading. She said that she'd called Miles and they'd discussed things and he stressed that he is pretty much on the same page that she is, but that yes, he thinks she is very special and he likes her so very much.

I am sort of in awe of her. I could NEVER have had that sort of discussion with a boy at her age.

She went on to say that they had decided to meet with some other neighborhood kids at a nearby park tomorrow and play Frisbee. That his mother had more zucchini to share with us and he'd ride his bike over with Molly tomorrow and bring it over before the park.

I handed her a cd. Told her that I thought that THIS one described her much better. She was reaching for her ear buds when I walked out.

It was this:



Later that night, in bed, Bing and I talked it over. Bing told me that she thinks that Liv has her head on straight for now but that in a year, maybe two...she will want to start exploring the more adult kind of interest in boys (or girls, hard to tell this early but I am thinking she may be heterosexual) and that we want to make sure that Liv has access to birth control, etc.

I tried to put my head there but couldn't. Not yet. She is only 13! I don't want her even thinking about birth control for at least FIVE years, later if possible.

Bing smiled. "She's her mother's daughter," she said, nuzzling me. "A fairy woman. And I don't mean gay. I mean...she's gonna have suitors, mark my word."

I rolled my eyes, although in the dark, she couldn't see. Nice to be so loved, though. Yes. But, I was never much of a love magnet. I don't think I really even understood how to love anyone else properly until I was forty something. Late bloomer. That's me. When I was in college and really started seriously dating, I was fine and pretty adept at the physical aspect of intimacy. It was the emotional part that eluded me. I just couldn't find that particular connection until Bing guided me through it.

The next day, when Tinton (Liv's father) called me at work to discuss his visit to our city to take Liv to see Mumford and Sons, I told him about Miles. He groaned.

"GOD, Maria. No. I can't even think of our baby as having a big smelly boy interested in her. I don't even know him and I want to punch his face. Wasn't it just yesterday that she used to have to listen to that Sesame Street tape every freakin' time you took her anywhere in the car?"

We laughed, ruefully, though. Ruefully.

It's coming. It's coming. But, not yet. The moat is still in place. I want to keep it there for a bit longer.

I just don't know what is normal, what isn't. I truly was a very late bloomer. Bing said that she started developing crushes at Liv's age. Tinton said that he remembered actually having a girlfriend in 5th grade. When I asked him what they did, he said, "Hell if I know. I just know that one day on the play ground at school, it was arranged and she let me kiss her on the side of her mouth just once. I remember liking it very much, but liking tinkering with watches and taking things apart more. I think it was just a phase. I don't remember having a REAL girlfriend until high school."

So....my question is...how about you? When did you start having those feelings? And when did you have your first real boyfriend or girlfriend?

Do you think I handled it well? Badly? Sorta kinda all right?

What would YOU have done?

Opinions?





  

True life texts from airline hell

I got up at the butt crack of dawn to take Bing to the airport today. She is off to D.C. for a seminar. Her flight was to leave at 7:30, so she wanted to be there at 6:30, meaning we had to leave the house by 6:00. A.M dudes. A fuckin' M. I decided to just take the morning off so that I could come home and clean before our new maid service comes. Because, yes...that is just how I roll.

At any rate, I dropped her off at 6:30, we did the kiss goodbye, have a safe flight dance and off she went. I got home and my cell phone made that Bing noise (to the tune of Ventura Highway...Liv's ring is Rainbow Connection....Tinton's is Sharp Dressed Man and Harriet's is Smells Like Teen Spirit)....

This was our text conversation, verbatim.

Bing: On plane; delayed take off; radar not working

Maria: Karma, baby. Whatever did you do THIS time?

Bing: Lacked patience with first time adult flyer holding up scan line. She was carrying a ton of luggage, plus blanket, rosary and bible. She told everyone about her belly ring.

Maria: Those holy rollers. They all have that hidden freak thing that comes out in belly rings and Jesus tatts.

Bing: She also had a Mickey Mouse rainbow pin. Must have gone to gay day at Disney World.

Maria: Ask her if she has Bieber fever. I bet she does. I dare you. Double dog. Triple dog.

B: LOL. Goin to take a nap now. I love you. ZZZZZZZ

M: Sleep tight. Love u right bk.

B: ;)

M: Hey, now no fornicating with pierced, gay, bible thumping Disneyites in airplane bathrooms!

A few moments pass. A new text.

B: Still sitting. Attendant woke me up to see if I was going to Bozeman, Montana. Wrong seat. Lady in front of me now getting off the plane. We appear to all be missing our connecting flights. Montana lady can't be scheduled if she stays on this plane.

M:  :( But, hey...wouldn't it be kinda fun to go to Bozeman, Montana? I bet they have girls who can rope and shit....

B: Pilot telling us maintenance is working on fixing radar. No news.

M: That sucks a big one. Sorry. Wow. We coulda slept in...

B: I KNOW! Goin back to sleep.

M: It's all the belly ringer's fault. I say she needs to go sleep with the fishes. Wait. Forget it. This is the prairie. Drought stricken and all that. I say just rise up and toss her off. She is plain bad luck. Sleep well. Hope it gets better.

B: I love you, more later...

A few more moments pass. Another text.

B: Not goin to believe this, babe. Another lady in front of me just started crying. She needs to go to Seattle. Flight attendant just told her that this plane goes to Seattle AFTER Chicago. Whew. How could she be such a DUMB ASS? She's not putting it together that no one is getting off this plane alive. Good thing she has her Kindle! She can get lost in her reading.

M: Time for her to sleep with the fishes with the belly ring lesbo. Wait. No. That's unkind. Wipe her tears and offer her a lolly.

B: They are now taking her off the plane, she is hysterically crying, clutching her Kindle. Good hell. I am looking around for Ashton Kutcher to be punking some D list celebrity.

M: Why are they taking her off? For crying? Or did she have a nail file in her purse or something?

B: I think they are going to make her walk to Seattle. Serves her right. Bawl baby.

M: What you need is a blog, honey.

B: Actually, I think she is a genius. It's her master plan to cut in front of the rest of us when we have to de-plane to stand in the "get new ticket here" line. U r going to use this on your blog, aren't you?

M: Are you kidding? YES! This is blog fodder extraordinaire!

B: Would have been halfway to Chicago by now......

M: Tell the flight attendant that you have a bad back and need to lay down in the cockpit. Maybe they'll let you leave too. Did you bring your Lyrica? Take one and this will all seem like a surreal dream.

The house phone rings. I pick it up. Bing.

B: Hey, we are de-planing. Radar can't be fixed. I'll keep you in the loop. Talk later, love you. Bye.

M: Ok...bye.

Five minutes later, the phone rings. Bing.

Bing: They found a new flight for me but it doesn't leave until 4:30. Can you come get me? I'll get a friend to take me to the airport this afternoon, I know you have a 12:30 appt.

I sigh, but agree to get her.

Flying sure is fun these days, huh? Any funny or strange airline/flight stories to tell? Do share!

Time for me to learn about you.

I just read an article that stated that you can know just about everything you need to know about a person if you know seven things:

1) Their favorite movie.
2) Their favorite television program.
3) A song that makes them cry.
4) Their favorite dinner.
5) What their place was in their family. (Eldest, youngest, middle, etc.
6) Their favorite alcoholic drink. (or if they don't drink...favorite non)
7) Where they would like to retire.

So...I'll share if you will:

1) Out of Africa
2) It changes, but as of right now: The Newsroom
3) Moon River
4) Typical Thanksgiving fare: turkey, mashers and gravy, rolls, that green bean casserole and pumpkin pie.
5) I am the third daughter of four.
6) I don't drink much anymore, but I like a good gin and tonic.
7) If I had my druthers and didn't have to take Bing into consideration....I'd pick Maine. Since I take her into consideration, I pick New Orleans.

So, what does this say about me? Not really sure.

Ok....YOUR TURN. Let's get to know each other.

I double dog dare you.

More raunchiness

I think I have shared my office bathroom woes on this blog more than once.  Well, let's add one more.

Today, I went into the shared floor bathroom to pee before my 10:00 appt. There was another person in the very end stall, but since there are 8 stalls, I could keep my distance. So, I am sitting peeing when I hear the other person's cell phone go off. It is answered by my stall mate. She sounds as if she might be 17.

Stall mate: Hi there, stud.

I'm guessing it is her boyfriend, or her one night stand. Or maybe she has a very butch girlfriend.

I roll my eyes. She continues in a voice that must belong to a woman wearing daisy dukes and a halter top.

Stall mate: I'm just sitting here thinking about what a hot little romper you were this morning. (Oh, for fuck sakes....does she really have to call him a ROMPER? Now, I feel like puking.) You wore me out, stud. You wore the daylights out of me. Now I feel like I've been ridden hard and put away.....(she pauses for dramatic effect)...wet.

She knows how to talk to this guy. I am picturing someone who looks like a young Rob Lowe in Brat Pack mode.

Some giggling. I feel as if I should get up and leave but I don't really want to harsh her mellow by flushing. So, I sit.

Stall mate: I sure do love you! Oh, yes. Now, stop being such a silly willy. (Oh, good hell.) Who's the man? Who's my man? That's right, stud. You ARE MY MAN. All mine. I bet Marsha can't show you fun like I can, huh?

Uh oh. Another woman. The plot thickens. There is a long pause.

Stall mate: Still there? Sugar? Hon?

Uh oh. Big red flag.

Stall mate: Well, I wasn't dragging her into everything. I just. GOD. She sat there staring at us at all night like some demented stalker. I think she's a skank. Don't you?

More silence.

Finally, she laughs this fakey laugh. The kind of laugh that a desperate woman lets out when she knows she is losing and needs to pretend not to give a flying fuck when she is probably going to start bawling as soon as she hangs up the phone. Sounds like she put out and now he won't dis his ex with her.  Pissing her off royally.

Time to flush. Seriously. I don't want to have to hand her a paper towel when she comes out of the stall bawling with her too heavy eyeliner and mascara dripping down her cakey face.

I wash my hands and head out.

I meet another woman going in the door as I am leaving. I smile.

Her turn to eavesdrop.

I wonder how it ended. Anyone care to venture a guess?

Breakfast for dinner, Irish recipes.......you asked for it!

So many people asked for my Irish soda bread recipe....so I decided to share what Liv calls "Irish breakfast for dinner." I often make this when it's my turn to cook. Warning: this is not low calorie.

MY MOTHER'S IRISH SODA BREAD RECIPE

4-4 1/2 cups of flour
2 Tablespoons sugar
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking soda
4 tablespoons of good Irish butter (regular butter is fine)
1 cup raisins
1 egg, lightly beaten
1 3/4 cups buttermilk

Preheat oven to 425. Whisk together 4 cups of the flour, sugar, salt, and baking soda. Using fingers, work butter into flour mixture until it resembles coarse meal, add raisins.

Make a well in center of flour mixture. Add beaten egg and buttermilk to well and mix with a wooden spoon until dough is too stiff to stir. Dust hands with a little flour, then gently knead dough in the bowl just long enough to form a rough ball. Transfer dough to a lightly floured surface and shape into a round loaf. Work it just enough that the flour is just moistened, dough barely comes together. If you over knead bread, it will be chewy.

Transfer dough to a large, lightly greased cast iron skillet. (You can use a baking sheet if you don't have cast iron, but it won't taste quite as good....)

Using a serrated knife, score top of dough about an inch and a half deep in an X shape. (My mother called this making a cross to ask for Mary our Queen's blessing...but it's really to help heat get to center...)

Transfer to oven, bake until bottom sounds hollow when tapped (about 40 minutes...)

Remove pan; let it sit for 10 minutes. Remove to rack to cool.



BEST OATMEAL EVER

2 cups water
2 cups whole milk
1 cup of Irish steel cut oats
1 pinch of salt

TOPPING
1/2 cup apple juice
1/2 cup golden raisins
1/2 cup heavy cream
1 teaspoon brown sugar
1/8 teaspoon cinnamon

In a medium saucepan, bring water and milk to a boil. Stir in oats and salt and cook a few minutes to thicken. Reduce heat. Simmer for 30 minutes stirring occasionally.

Meanwhile, in a small saucepan bring apple juice to boil. Add raisins. Cook a few minutes to help them plump. In a mixing bowl, combine heavy cream, brown sugar and cinnamon. Whip until stiff. Keep chilled.

Remove oatmeal. Serve piping hot. Sprinkle plumped raisins on top of oatmeal and spoon a dollop of brown sugar cinnamon whipped cream. Serve with Irish soda bread.


PERFECT DRINK TO GO WITH THIS

3 ounces of blood orange juice
3 ounces of raspberry seltzer

So, don't ever say I can't cook if I want to. I can...but most of my recipes are hand me downs from my mother who insisted that all 4 of her daughters learn to cook at least one good breakfast, one good lunch, one good dinner, a perfect dessert and a company drink.

So...she somehow hammered it into me.

Enjoy!

every season has a food....

I. am. stuffed. What a delicious summer dinner! We grilled chicken breasts, red and green peppers and corn on the cob (or as we call them on the prairie: roastin' ears) and added a can of baked beans at the end. Summer is all about veggies.

We decided to skip the movie today so that I could do some canning and freezing. My garden is just....gone. The heat and drought mixed with high humidity this summer just seared everything. My tomatoes were odd. Some came out just fine (we ate them in a delicious salad mixed with cold mozzarella cheese and lots of cracked pepper, with oil and vinegar drizzle) but others looked healthy on the outside but were dull pink and pulpy on the inside. My peppers were the same: some okay, others looked like mutants. My crop of sugar snap peas and pole beans were wimpy. Even my early summer vegetables of lettuce, carrots and radishes were paltry. It was just so god awful hot and still not finished. It is supposed to be back in the high 90's tomorrow.

So, Liv and I picked bushels and bushels last night and brought it all in, almost a month early. We spent the day making pickles, canning tomatoes (these will taste unbelievably good splashed over pasta on cold January nights),okra, and beans. We froze all of our pea crop about a month ago. There are seed potatoes in our basement dirt cellar, almost two bushels. We have our onions stuffed into their big mesh bags. The cellar crawl space has a hard dirt floor and it smells wonderful. On cold winter days, I will send Liv down to grab some potatoes and onions for dinner and she will come back upstairs with them tucked into her tee shirt. We froze the rest of the zucchini and Bing kept several out to bake zucchini bread this week to hand out to neighbors. Our strawberries didn't yield much this year, we have about two pints of jam, that's it.

The only vegetables still in the ground are my parsnips, which aren't quite ready and they actually prefer a frost or two to give them a bit of snap to their taste. There are lots of pumpkins and squash left, those like to wait too. A few of my heirloom tomato vines are still putting out flowers, so we will see if they amount to anything.

Harriet has an apple tree in her back yard. In the fall, we will spend a day climbing her tree and harvesting apples for pies, cobblers and just for munching. She also has several blackberry bushes and every year, she and I trade. I give her strawberry jam for her blackberry jam.

We're all set now. And it feels so....weird. Generally, Liv is in school when we harvest the garden and I let her out for a day to stay home and help me. Then...in late September, early October...we officially put the garden to bed for the winter.

It is still summer and I'm done. Everything just feels out of sync this year. We had no real winter and now...a scorching hot summer and no end yet in sight.

But there is still much to be thankful for. We bought our corn on the cob (roastin' ears!) from the farmer's market and it was sweet and delicious. Corn in August in Nebraska is just the best. We've been watching for Colorado peaches at the supermarket and they finally showed up. We couldn't resist and tucked into them on the drive home. The three of us had juice running down on our chins all during the ride home.

Food is one of the greatest gifts. In the winter, we eat from what is canned and frozen from the summer.  It doesn't taste fresh, but it's nothing to sneeze at either. It sustains us and there is usually just enough to reach the spring. And then spring comes and the early vegetables spring up in the garden. There is the early lettuce, tiny baby carrots, snappy radishes and early spring peas. That first salad of spring made from our own garden is the best. The early tomatoes are sliced with mozzarella, baked in the oven or drizzled with oil and they are spectacular on the tongue. We eat so many tomatoes in our home that by late August, we all have sores in our mouths from the acid in those juicy tomatoes. Liv often goes out in the summertime and picks a pepper or tomato to just bite into while she reads or listens to music.

Autumn is a time for the introduction of warmer foods. We come in from raking leaves to a crock pot filled with spicy chili. I come home from work to find a beef stew simmering on the stove. Or homemade potato soup. Tomato soup (made from our tomatoes!) and grilled cheese sandwiches with the cheese piping hot and dripping. Bing makes homemade pizza with our green peppers sprawled across the melted cheese and sausage chunks.

Every season has a comfort food. For me it is:

WINTER: A plump rump roast that simmers in a low oven all afternoon, sliced potatoes and onions added in the last hour of cooking. A whole chicken basted with beer, with a large onion stuffed inside of it. Herbs dotting the crispy skin. Shepherd's pie. Chicken pot pie. A steamy cheese quiche. Sometimes we have breakfast for dinner in the winter: blueberry pancakes and crisp bacon. A side of scrambled eggs. Baked apples. Any sort of pie, hot with vanilla ice cream ala mode.When someone is sick, chicken noodle soup. Bing likes to make her own, but frankly...I like Campbells the best. So does Liv. A creamy pan of mac and cheese.

SPRING: Nothing tastes better than that first spring salad. Crisp lettuce mixed in with tomatoes, sliced onions, dressed up in Italian dressing or our favorite. Add a crusty loaf of Italian bread and a bowl full of red raspberries. Heaven. That first glass of iced tea with a lemon slice floating in it. Fresh strawberries just picked from the patch, sprinkled with powdered sugar or mixed into whipped cream and angel food cake.

SUMMER: Summertime is full of fresh vegetables. We pick whatever is ready from the garden and eat that with cold things. Sliced apples, grapes and peaches in a bowl with a sweet glaze over them. Icy glasses of lemonade or limeade. Gazpacho. Russian cold beet soup. Vichyssoise. And our meats, if we have them, are mostly grilled: turkey burgers, juicy steaks, chicken breast, hot dogs with crispy blackish skins and those succulent insides of....well, who really knows? They are just so good. And what tastes better than a root beer float on a hot summer night?

AUTUMN: Fall is back-to-soup time. Or stew. We get the crock pot out again or our big pot that sits perfectly on the back burner of the stove. We have chili, beef stew, homemade chicken gumbo,  sticky ribs. We have Irish soda or sourdough bread for dipping. Hot fudge sundaes. Enchiladas and tacos. Bean soup with lots of ham. That first bite of a granny smith apple. CRUNCH!

What are your comfort foods? Do you have foods that are seasonal?

What are foods that have meaning in your family or have been handed down?

Let's all talk about FOOD.

Sometimes you just have to ride

It's been a long, hard, good-bad week and now I am knee deep in what looks to be a crazy busy weekend.

But, as my Da used to say, "Sometimes you just have to ride, sugar. Sometimes you just have to be that dog in the car that just enjoys the ride he gets."

And I do. I'm trying.

Last week, I said goodbye to my workmates, Piper and Julie, and welcomed my new partners, Jin and Fawn. I didn't plan on crying when I said goodbye to Julie, but we both broke into tears as we hugged goodbye. She was the one who recruited me away from the hospital four years ago. And it's been a gas, gas, gas. Piper and I said goodbye more sedately. She is a very proper, very undemonstrative woman and our goodbye reflected that. I had a lump in my throat, though. She is recovering from cancer and so far, so good. I just...have a bad feeling that she is not long for this world. Can't put my finger on it, though. Just a feeling, a gut feeling. With Julie, it's different. She left to move to Mexico with her new husband on last Wednesday and she was smiling, beaming as she carried that last box out. But our goodbyes were hard. We promised to stay in touch. Maybe we will. We've seen each other almost every weekday for the last 4 years, have laughed so hard together that we both started hiccuping. And couldn't stop. Which just made us laugh all the more. We also cried together more than once. When that little child didn't survive after his mother's boyfriend threw acid on his face. We had seen her boyfriend's barely concealed rage, seen her ineptitude in protecting her child and alerted health and human services. But they played nice at the home visit and they didn't remove the child. He died and Julie and I sat together in my office, holding hands, tears streaming down our faces, remembering how he had asked me if I could take him home please.

Julie and I spent many, many days counseling at girl's clubs, helping groups of girls in court appointed therapy. 13 year old girls who dressed like street hookers. 14 year old girls who slept out in sheds in their backyards to avoid the creepy touches of their crack addicted mother's boyfriends. 12-15 year old girls who we took to the ballet, Shakespeare in the Park, to get library cards.  Girls who stole our pens, our hair clippees, our hearts. Girls who were too old for the courts to help and too young for the police to notice unless they became runaways. Girls who started out all sly and smart assed and then slowly, slowly ended up whispering that they they loved us. Smart big professionals making good money. Helpers in society. I learned not to counsel them to call the police (nothing would happen) but told them to just try to hold on, to work to avoid danger, to dig deep inside themselves to find that place of strength to endure until they could escape...not to a life on the street or the arms of that 46 year old pimp who told them he would buy them all the Taylor Swift cds they wanted...but to college, to apply for grants, to find a way to climb up and out instead of down and stuck. My story of being disowned by my mother and clawing my way up seemed almost unbelievably easy compared to their hell, but I told them over and over again that if you never look down, you will never fall too hard. To just keep centered on that dream of getting OUT.

I've already seen that Jin and I may be able to forge a good friendship. Fawn? Not sure. She is a true career climber and I think that when she realizes that this job is hard on the heart, she may bolt. We'll see. I've been surprised before.  She is just so....very...blonde. And so very....perky.

And I wonder how they see me, a 50 something woman who is too sardonic and a little jaded. Will they like me?

The home front has been difficult too. Bing is to leave for one last seminar next week. Going to Washington D.C. to meet with other Fulbright scholars. Her back was improving, but she woke up early last week and could barely put weight on her left leg. Her back ached awfully and she couldn't feel her left foot at all. Numb. She went to the doctor and the MRI showed nothing more than what she already has, so her doctor suggested that she try a medicine called Lyrica.

I adore Lyrica. I can't take it because it fucked up my rheumatoid arthritis meds, but the two weeks before that happened and I was on it? I was in paradise. No back pain. No arthritis pain AT ALL. And I slept like a baby, never waking up from the time I laid my head down until the alarm went off in the morning. When my knees and wrists began swelling up like water balloons and I had to go off Lyrica, I wanted to cry. I think I did cry a little.

So when Bing told me that her doctor put her on Lyrica to help with her pain, I was so happy for her. Told her that she was going to LOVE being on this.

Well, she hasn't loved it. For one thing, it knocks her out at night. I mean...LOOPS her out like crazy. She woke up in the middle of the night a few times, whispered that she had to pee but was too tired to get out of the bed. When I jokingly whispered back that she better get up because I wasn't going to get her a bedpan, I realized that she had already fallen back in a deep sleep. When she awakened in the morning, she lurched around like a drunkard, eyes bleary, stumbling with fatigue. She said the pain never really went away, the meds just sort of knocked her out so hard that she didn't give much of a fuck. She is going to stick with Lyrica for another few days, but is disappointed that it wasn't the miracle drug that I promised her it was.

I see her worrying about even going to Washington, D.C., let alone India in January, see her worries that she will no longer be able to travel the world the way that she dreamed she would.

But, she is improving this weekend, I think. We went to the Dollar Store today and like always, came out with three huge bags of incredible deals and it cost like...twenty bucks. Well,now. Good times. Good times. We went out to lunch at a new Chinese place and it is now our favorite. We watched Michael Phelps perform some miracles in the pool and that runner from South Africa (blade runner) stun a stadium with his bravery and sheer endurance and refusal to hear the word NO.

Last night, we made the kind of love that two people achieve when you know each each others bodies like the back of your own hand. The gentle dipping and weaving, stroking and simmering until the heat exploded and boiled over and we fell back glistening with the other ones sweat. And then the best part: the holding each other and talking until our tongues were tired and our eyes drooping shut.

I spent the morning gardening with Liv by my side. There has been a brief reprieve in the broiling hot weather, the high was only in the low 80's today instead of our usual triple digits. We watered and yanked weeds and talked about her dreams of being a famous mathematician or scientist or Olympic swimmer or math teacher or set designer or roadie for a band. We sprayed each other with the hose and laughed and shrieked and dodged. Poor old Socks decided to come join the fun and then pouted like a four year old when we gently sprayed him with the hose and he felt like we had taken his dignity away. (He is a scottie terrier and his self esteem is always an issue....) We came back in the house after toweling Socks and each other off to find that Bing had made some peanut butter brownies for us.

Since Liv attends a parochial school, there is no need to shop for clothes. She wears her uniform. But, we went through her catalogs and ordered a few Autumn clothes. Tomorrow,we will head to Goodwill and as always, I will be stunned at all the incredible clothes that she finds. I guess when you are 5'6 1/2 and thin as a rail, the pickings are pretty decent. She talked me into shopping at Anthropologie tomorrow too. This means that I will pay a small fortune for something like a tee shirt with fringe. But, she asks for so little.

Tomorrow, we are also going to see this:



Really looking forward to that. And then coming home to grill chicken breasts, peppers and corn on the cob. Evenings on Sunday are perfect for television. True Blood followed by Breaking Bad. We will tape The Newsroom and watch that on Monday. We've also ordered last season's Dexter and that should be coming soon.

Life is life, you know? Some days you feel as if all is okay and things will be fine. Other days you feel as if things are sort of slipping through the cracks and you are a bit panicky, but...oh well. You put one foot in front of the other. You wear that dark blue dress with the white polka dots that makes you feel really really confident. And you go on until the walk you are faking becomes the walk you are walking.

And the funny thing? In ten years, you will look back at the simple things you are doing today and think to yourself that IT WAS SO FUN. I look back on Liv's toddlerhood and it seems as if it was so idyllic, so incredible. But when I was living it, I remember whole days of feeling scared, worried about money, worried about that cough she had that would not go away. And I would put on that chambray shirt that I loved and read a really good book and I would go on. And it would get better.

Life does that. You move mountains. You jump over small puddles. You stand on your own and it feels so good. You buy a hamburger and what the hell....you supersize it. You smile because your kid needs to feel secure even if you don't. Sometimes you sit in the back yard watching her chase fireflies and the beauty of it all seems almost unbearable. Other times, you sit in the back yard watching her chase fireflies and you don't really even see her because you are trying to figure out how you are going to pay for that new transmission that your car needs.

Being present in your own life helps.

Sometimes you wake up and it's hard to walk on your left leg.

Sometimes you can't wait to read that book.

Sometimes you blow out those candles on your birthday cake and you remember how you were so high at your birthday last year and so alone and no one even made you a cake.

Sometimes you order your daughter a new dress from Pink Ice and a new pair of leggings from Delias and some Chucks and you can hardly believe that she has turned into this sort of person who really cares about what she wears. She no longer wears those lime green corduroy overalls for five days straight because she loves how soft they are. And of course, she likes that lavender tee shirt too and wears it with the overalls and clashes like hell.

And then she decides to wear her rain boots all day long.

So, truthfully? She's the same person but now has good taste in clothes. Enough good taste that when she plunders your closet for something to wear, she jokingly tells you that you dress like one of those movies in the 40's about a woman who comes into Humphrey Bogart's detective office and asks him to trail her husband who she thinks is cheating on her.

And then when she sees your face, she carefully smiles and says, "I love it that you are so...vintage!"

So, she borrows that leather belt of yours and wears it over a long tee shirt that is now a dress.

Sometimes you try to imagine how you will manage when she goes to college but it hurts too much to go there, so you force yourself to think of something else. Like the electric and water bill that will be sky high because of this awful summer drought and heat.

And sometimes you just have to ride.

Yes?

Liv is a teenager...

ARGH!

Yesterday, we celebrated Liv's 13th birthday. It was a happy time for her. Tinton is here to celebrate and will stay until his flight leaves to go back to Turkey tomorrow. We celebrated with her favorite cake, angel food with lemon icing.

Went out to dinner at her favorite sushi place.

Came home and she opened her gifts. Bing and I gave her two books: Pure by Julianna Baggott and D-Branes by Clifford V Johnson (string theory, way over my head) and a dress that she has had her eye on all summer: this one. Tinton gave her new binoculars and tickets to see Mumford and Sons with him when they come to a city near us in a few weeks. So, she was thrilled. Not only will she get to see him in less than one month's time, but it will still be before school starts and he's promised to stay for an entire week and hang out with her. And she will be spending Thanksgiving with him in Colorado, so lots of time with him in the future.

I kept gazing at her, trying not to go all soupy on her. I still cannot believe that she is 13. How the hell did THAT happen? Tinton and I sat out on the sun porch later that night and he reminded me that she is a very young 13. She doesn't seem overly caught up in boys (or girls) yet. She loves dressing up, but so far...seems to have little interest in dressing up to be noticed. She wears no make up and rolls her eyes at her friends who seem obsessed with it.

I think we have her for a while longer before she joins the teen set. But, time is fleeting. I know I sound like an old fogey when I say this but honest to hey zeus, it seems like just yesterday that she was learning to walk, rising up on her tippy toes and taking those first tentative steps. She still sleeps with her teddy bear from babyhood. Still asks us to take her out for ice cream cones on hot evenings.

She doesn't sit in my lap anymore, but frankly....that would just be odd since she is already six inches taller than I am. She DOES still get in bed with me some nights and brings whatever book she is reading and cuddles in with me to read for a while.

I haven't brushed her hair or braided it for her in over a year. She does it herself and prefers it. The other day, I brought laundry in her bedroom and she was wildly dancing around her room to some music by a boy band. When she caught sight of me, she didn't stop but laughed and made me dance with her.

She can no longer traipse around in my shoes, pretending to be "a lady." Her feet are a size 9. Mine are a size 7. She hasn't said so, but I think she has no desire to wear any of my clothes. Ever.

Not that they'd fit since she is so much taller.

She doesn't ask me to bake cakes or cookies with her anymore. She calls a friend to come over and bake together.

This is all necessary and right.

But thirteen is a hard year for me to celebrate. I am the parent of a TEENAGER.

Good hell.

Before I know it, she will be asking me to give her driving lessons. Or she'll dye her hair pink. Or threaten to get a tattoo.

Soon she will have pierced ears. I told her that she had to wait until she was 13 to pierce her ears. She reminded me at breakfast this morning that we needed to drive to the mall this weekend to get her ears pierced. I swallowed hard, nearly choked on my coffee but gave her the thumbs up sign.

Right now, as I write this blog post, she is in her room listening to music and playing Angry Birds.

If she comes out wearing lipstick, I may throw up.

One day at a time. One day at a time.

Yes?