BY THE SKIN OF HIS TOES

I still haven’t pulled the plug on the TV. But everyday I ponder the idea. Well, maybe not everyday...but at least on the days when I can’t tear myself away from shows like "I Didn’t Know I was Pregnant." Just when I think I’ve encountered (and maybe secretly enjoyed) the stupidest show ever made...I find an even stupider one. Like "Battle of the Wedding Designers." I was literally transfixed by that one.

Then there’s Wimbledon. I haven’t watched it for the last 12 years, and I have to say I’ve missed it. That line judge in the skirt, all those white-only tennis outfits, the lovely English accent of the announcer...could there be anything more entertaining? Okay, maybe. But still...I do love it. And I think...what if we’d never turned the TV back on and I’d never known anything about Isner and his 112 aces and his poor little skinless toes after that 11-hour match. And then I know that our TV is here to stay...for better or worse...

Speaking of for better or worse...I’m still working on that wedding series. It’s coming along nicely, but still needs tweaking.

Meanwhile, I have a family update...

Emily: Finally got her car to take to school. Specifically, a sweet Jeep Liberty. And the hail damage is barely noticeable...if you stand far enough away. But that’s why it was in our price range. And she chose it over a granny-car with no hail damage. She’s no dummy. I still remember shopping for her first vehicle...in the dark...behind a friend’s house at night. He had a line-up of ancient battered trucks for sale...and she chose the one that had doors that opened and shut.

Rachel: Babysitting for 4 little girls this summer. I get text messages throughout the day like this one... "Zoe fell and is bleeding from her mouth. Should I try to get the blood stains out of her blanket?" That’s not unnerving in the least.

David: Went to the pool today and blistered his back. He’s obviously still a little boy who needs his mommy to put sunblock on him. But I was at a continuing legal education class learning about why lawyers get disbarred...so I had no time for him.

Dave: Fixed the glass in my front door today...which was mysteriously broken when my rowdy family was here. No one fessed up which is typical for this family. It's like Sally’s ping-pong table...which everyone still maintains was broken by...well...no one actually. EVERYONE was innocent.

Me: I have finally discovered the beauty of tight-fitting clothes. I used to think if I wore big baggy tent-like things, people would assume I was skinny underneath. One day I realized that people aren't that stupid. So I started wearing things that fit me better...and realized the real advantage of tight-fitting clothes...which is that they need no ironing. Because they’re stretched out over the bulk.

Before I close, I would like to mention that today is my brother Bill's 49th birthday. Nine years ago today, on Bill's 40th birthday, my father died after a year-long battle with cancer. I will never forget how matter-of-fact Bill was about the situation. He said several times how Dad's death made the day more special. After all, Dad was headed for heaven, and we couldn't very well wish him back to this earth. I don't think Bill reads my blog, but I still want to go on record as saying...as little brothers go, he's probably one of the world's top two...or so.

I had a hamburger happy meal for lunch because I was on my way to that aforementioned class and had no time to fix myself a big fancy lunch.

THIS IS NOT THAT POST

My family gathered this past weekend in H-, O- for my nephew’s wedding. Once again I find myself writing in the style of Victor (Hugo) who used that "first initial with a hyphen" technique any time he didn’t want to identify a specific place. We’re like twins...Victor and I.

But anyway, I think I’m the official WEDDING BLOGGER. Although I noticed I wasn’t mentioned in the program, but that was probably just an oversight. Because I am NOT self-appointed...like one of the wedding MUSICIANS might have been. Seriously, the bride herself asked me to blog...and so I shall. But this is not that post. Just as Rome wasn’t built in a day...so my wedding posts (I anticipate a series of 7) will take some time to create. I’m still toying with the title for one thing. Here are a few I’ve considered:

The Wedding of Ben and Courtney...Characters Welcome

Anatomy of a Perfect Wedding (note the medical reference...)

and my personal favorite,

Ben and Courtney’s Wedding...aka SweatFest 2010.

But today I just want to get an update out...on the more mundane aspects of our lives. So here goes...

Emily: Still working 8 to 5...and still trying to get us to feel sorry for her but not really succeeding. Except for this morning when she tried to leave the house at 7 a.m. because she read the clock wrong. Like father, like daughter.

Rachel: Making slight improvements as my personal trainer...until two nights ago when she wanted me to join her for "hard-body yoga". The Warrior stance was nice...but Downward Dog? I don’t think so.

David: Out of baseball slump which is good, but forced us to go with him to practice parallel parking last night which is bad. More like brutal.

Dave: Had heyday at Sam’s today...basically, he’s never met a bulk food he didn’t like.

Me: Lady at my office asked me how to spell berserk yesterday and I got it right on the first try. I’m pretty sure I have the spelling gene, which I’ve heard has nothing to do with intelligence...but I don’t believe it.

I had tuna and Wheat Thins again for lunch. Really, this combination can’t be beat.

HOPE SPRINGS ETERNAL

I am hopelessly in love with MAIL. You know, the kind that is hand-delivered by a real, live uniformed postal worker. I’m sure this love affair started back when I was a wee lass receiving sweet letters on occasion from my grandparents. I know we’ve gone over this before, but it bears mentioning again, that I didn’t get a lot of special attention growing up. Not only was I was one of five kids, but I was the dreaded middle child. Sally got attention because she was the oldest child, Bill got attention because he was the first son, and Paul got attention (and everything he wanted) because he was the baby of the family. That left me and Susan to fend for ourselves for the most part. Okay fine...that’s not strictly true...except for maybe the part about Paul. But I have a point here.

The point is, during my somewhat deprived childhood, nothing made me feel more loved than finding an envelope in the mailbox with my name printed neatly on the front. This love affair with mail continued while I was away at college, thanks to lovely, newsy handwritten letters which arrived on a regular basis, mostly from my mother. So okay, I guess those letters indicate that maybe I did get some special attention, but let’s not get side-tracked here. The point is I remember the excitement I felt just spying an envelope or two through the glass door of my college mailbox.

The bottom line to this whole sordid tale is that even today, I practically skip to the mailbox to get my mail. I mean I know the chances of me getting a handwritten letter are slim to none these days, but that whole mystery thing is still there. What if that rebate from Alltel shows up today? What if Citibank decides to offer me 1.99% financing AND waive those pesky balance transfer fees? Or what if a reclusive millionaire decides to send me a big check just for being me? You never know what awesomeness the mail will bring.

And the good news is my mail has not let me down of late. Every other day I get a funny or sweet thank you note from one of the kids in Emily’s class. I liked the last one which came from a boy and was short and sweet..."Thanks so much for the gift card. I hope my parents let me spend it some time soon!"

But this brings me to the bad news. I can’t bring myself to throw some of this graduation stuff away. Oh, I can probably toss the thank you cards...but what about those great graduation announcements...from this year and last...okay, and from the year before. My attachment to any old sweet thing I’ve ever received in the mail is one of the reasons we had to dig that basement under the house...because I needed someplace to store my boxes and boxes of old letters and cards. I’m sorry, but while I have breath within me, I have to save my mail. Although I did go through the boxes at some point and bravely discarded every mail piece from anyone I didn’t remember. I’m not a hoarder, after all. And I hereby give my kids full permission to toss those boxes of old letters wholesale into the dumpster immediately following my funeral. Don't feel guilty for not reading them...like I did when we went through my parents' stuff.

I’ve made myself the same lunch for three days running now. Because I just discovered how incredibly delicious tuna is with Wheat Thins. I used to always eat my tuna with saltines...but now I’m enlightened.

SUMMER OF THE FRUIT CUP

Several remnants of the graduation still linger about my house...the main one being the giant Happy Graduation banner in the living room. I’m toying with leaving it up until Rachel graduates...because it would be one less thing on my "to do" list next year. My sister Sally, operating on the same principle, sometimes leaves her Christmas tree up year-round. And no one seems to mind. Also, if I take the banner down now and store it somewhere, there’s a pretty decent chance I won’t ever find it again. So it’s probably best that I leave it where it is.

Also thanks to the graduation, I have some of those yummy fruit cups in my freezer. They aren’t actually leftover from the graduation, of course. After all, I believe it was my mother that once said this family is like one of those swarms of grasshoppers who sweep in, devour everything in sight, then sweep out leaving nothing but stubble behind. So the actual graduation fruit cups are long gone. But since I bought way too many of the ingredients for them, we’ve had to keep making them. And that’s a good thing because lately when David asks if we have anything in the house to eat, I just say, "How about a fruit cup?"

Speaking of David, he’s made the painful discovery that his lazy, hazy days of summer are a thing of the past. In general, he hits the ground running (or more like trudging) at 6:30 a.m. with weights, and falls into bed sometime after 11 p.m. when we get home from his baseball games. In between those activities, he squeezes in basketball and football workouts, driver’s ed class, and some score keeping for the rec. So naturally, he spends his intermittent free time lying on the couch in a literal stupor. And since he’s so worn out, there’s a good chance he’s drooling on my couch pillows. But I haven’t complained.

And speaking of baseball, sure enough, since I wrote about David’s surprise baseball skills, he has been in a miniature slump. Last night, his hitting was off and he missed a couple of throws to first base that were catchable. But the real downer of the game occurred earlier when Emily and I first arrived at the ball park. That's when a ferocious gust of wind caught and bent our car door so badly that we were unable to shut it. So Emily held it shut while I went for help. Fortunately we were in the town where our friend Steve lives, and he used a block of wood to bend something in the door mechanism and soon the door was shutting just fine. So I'm wondering if the jinx I put on David's baseball skills is somehow bleeding through to all our baseball related activities. If so, the second half of this baseball season could be a long one.

Emily has Fridays off, so she made nachos for lunch and brought them to my office and ate with me. I will miss this when she is gone.

LAKE HAIR

I’m happy to report I have this Veronica Lake thing going on with my hair today. At least on one side. The other side has that "just got OUT of the lake" thing going on. Fortunately, I have a lot of optimists in my life who will see me as looking half-good, rather than half-bad. I just have to remember which way to turn my head if anyone decides to take a picture of me.

And while we’re on the subject of me, I feel compelled to tell you that my hives are back. They now hang around all day, every day...which is new and interesting. At least to me. This morning I counted 17 hives on just one leg, and then I began to feel stressed so I stopped counting. Because some people (including a few medical types) tell me stress could be the cause of my condition. Of course I don’t believe them...because I am far too well-adjusted for that...but it probably doesn’t hurt to avoid stress anyway.

So why don’t I go to the doctor you ask? Sadly, my allergist told me flat out that he has no answers for me. My guess is he’s spending too much time designing violin bows (which he does on the side) and not enough time studying his "causes of hives" books. So at this point, I am basically just waiting until my nephew Ben finishes med school in 2012 to see if he can come up with a real diagnosis.

Meanwhile I am taking mega-doses of antihistamine, which brings me to the reason I even brought up this subject in the first place. Please know that I am NOT trying to invoke your sympathy here, or even get you to bring me a home-cooked meal, even though that would be nice. I’m merely trying to explain why my posts lately may be less than riveting. Because basically I’m sleep-walking through my life. But come 2012, you can expect greater things.

And a weather report...temp was a steamy 107 at last look...winds gusting to 32 mph. And we have two baseball games to attend and you know what that means. Yep. The Veronica Lake side will soon be joining the "other lake" side. But it's a sacrifice I'm willing to make. I'm just that kind of mother.

Finally, I'm embarrassed to admit I took the kids back to the Chinese restaurant for lunch. I'm so weak.

JINX, SCHMINX

I hate to keep ragging on my personal trainer, but she is definitely slacking on the job. For one thing, our last session was one whole week ago, and then we mainly just stretched while watching "In the Land of Women." (I don’t care for the movie itself, but I think Adam Brody is funny...and I especially like the scene where the grandma sheepishly informs her grandson (played by Adam) that the toilet "might be" stopped up.) Now she (my personal trainer) has gone off to Girls’ State, but before she left she informed me I could continue my training without her. Funny, eh? It’s not that I mind stretching a bit while watching bad movies, but then she had the nerve to mention that I could also burn calories by performing ORDINARY HOUSEHOLD CHORES while she’s gone. She can be a real comedienne at times. And it’s becoming clear to me that personal training may not be her thing.

I hesitate to write this next thing...for fear of jinxing something. I profess not to believe in jinxes or any kind of "luck"...but what if I’m wrong? Anyway, the point is that David has somehow, some way, developed some real baseball skills. He’s catching fly balls on the dive, consistently getting hits, and racking up the RBIs. I know it’s not flattering to the boy, but I have to admit that everyone is a bit shocked by this turn of events. Even David.

Early yesterday morning, I was awakened by some serious thunder and lightning and the next thing I knew, the bells (or chimes) at the church two doors down started pealing (or chiming). This has happened several times since we've lived near the church. I don't know if lightning actually strikes the tower, or if the bells just feel a need to join God's display. Either way, I pretty much love it. There's something about hearing church bells chiming out an old hymn (especially at 5:42 a.m.) that actually makes me smile. I'm pretty sure I wouldn't enjoy it EVERY night, but on an occasional basis, it's refreshing.

I had nachos (grandmother style) for lunch and I made them myself.

CONEHEADS

Anytime we’re in the car headed anywhere, Dave suggests we stop by McDonald’s for ice cream cones…mainly because he heard or read somewhere that they are low fat. We humor him because he doesn’t ask a lot of us…and because sometimes we want a cone too. We made a stop there earlier this week and were greeted by our current favorite McDonald’s employee, James*. James is a classmate of my kids so we harass him on a regular basis and he harasses us right back, so it’s all good. But this is why I stress to my kids that when you live in a town as small as ours, you MUST be kind to everyone you meet, because you never know who might be flipping your burger at some point and making that crucial decision of whether or not to spit on it.

So we tell James we want two vanilla and three twist cones, and that’s when he shocks us all but telling us they are OUT of cones. He offers us ice cream in cups, but we are not amused. Instead, we heckle him for a bit (WHAT? NO CONES?? ARE YOU MAD???). And when we’re through with that, we drive across the street to Sonic, where we order those ridiculously tiny junior candy sundaes.

But Dave is dejected and orders nothing…because Sonic has no low-fat ice cream choices. But then he has a bright idea. He buys an empty cone from Sonic (50 cents) and then heads back over to McDonald’s…where he tells James he has obtained a cone and would like to buy ice cream to fill it. James is easily amused so he takes our money at the First Window and tells us to give the cone to the Second Window lady. She is amused also, but would only give Dave his ice cream in a cup. So he had to spoon it into his cone himself.

I haven't had lunch yet today, but last night I went to a cookout and had a hotdog, exceptionally good potato salad and salsa, two pieces of cake, and a s'more. My personal trainer saw my plate and didn't say a word. So I may have to fire her.

*Name changed to protect the innocent.

THE LUKE TEST

My nephew Luke was a tad squeamish in his younger days…at least when it came to “girl talk.” Anytime the conversation drifted towards women’s cycles or anything remotely related thereto, he would immediately cover his ears with his hands and repeat, “I’m not listening, I’m not listening, I’m not listening.” He’s a bit better these days, now that he’s married and has watched his wife give birth to two children. But I remember the younger Luke when I write this blog....out of respect for my handful of male readers. As I ponder whether or not to mention certain topics, I ask myself, “Would the younger Luke have to cover his eyes while reading this, and repeat, I’m not reading, I’m not reading”? And if the answer is yes, then I leave it out. Hence the dearth of talk about my hormonal ups and downs.

That being said, I still feel I would be remiss not to recount what occurred this past weekend. In short, the dam finally broke, and I spent about 24 hours teetering between being teary-eyed and crying uncontrollably. Was it because of Memorial Day? Was I so conscious of the incredible sacrifices made for my freedom, that I naturally broke down? I wish I was that sensitive and unselfish. But since I’m not, I had to look for another cause. At first I blamed it on my son for once again preferring to spend the night with his friends, when he could have stayed home with me. But while that irritated me, it wouldn't normally cause me to break down. Later, I decided it was those graduation-moment-tears that never came when I thought they would. Perhaps my body had saved them up for the Memorial Day weekend, as a nice surprise for me.

Then at some point during the deluge, my bewildered husband wondered aloud if there might a hormonal cause…but I wasn’t buying that simple explanation. I figured I was surely more complex than that. But later that day, due to a certain "arrival", I determined that he was probably right, and felt immediately better by the way. Later, when I announced the verdict to my family, they all sighed with relief. Because it really is true that when momma ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.

I apologize for breaking my blog silence with such a topic…but I felt you should know where I’m at these days.

I haven’t had lunch yet today. But for lunch earlier this week I had a divine crab salad along with other leftovers from the wedding of my boss’s son. All I could think about while eating was how I couldn’t wait to blog about having something besides fast food for lunch. And then I didn’t get it done.