Dog spelled backward

I woke up yesterday morning with an extra person in my bed - my daughter. She's twelve now, and hasn't climbed into my bed in years, so I asked her what was going on. She explained that she had thrown up in her bed a few hours before. (*She also told me that afterward, she slept the rest of the night in her bathtub.)

The night before, we had a strange bit of behavior from "her" dog, Biscuit.

For background, our dogs stay downstairs in our house. We used to have a baby gate on the stairs to keep them from venturing upstairs (because they had occasional accidents up there), but have removed the gate and they stay down.

**For more background, Biscuit, now seven, is a sensitive dog, especially to weather. She gets very nervous when it rains, and generally hides in my closet during storms or even hard rain. Sometimes, however, she sneaks upstairs and hides under my son's bed during bad weather.

So, Sunday night, Biscuit kept going upstairs. Instead of hiding, however, she kept going upstairs, then halfway down the stairs, then back up, then down, and so on. She finally laid down in my daughter's room, still agitated.

My daughter has a day bed with a trundle, and she uses the trundle as an auxiliary night table, piling books, purse, and other items on it.

When I went upstairs to check out the situation, and to tuck in the kids, the girl and I decided that Biscuit was up there to stay, so we removed the books and other items from the trundle so that Biscuit could sleep there.

The dog stayed up there a few minutes, then came downstairs.

A few hours later, my daughter had thrown up all over both beds. As she correctly noted later in the day, if Biscuit hadn't been acting so strange, she would have thrown up on her homework, her school books, her beloved Harry Potter books, her purse, and more.

She concluded that it was a great stroke of luck. I, however, remembered that dog spelled backward is God. And I thanked Biscuit for taking such good care of her girl.


*Yes, in her amazingly rational adolescent, fever-addled brain, my daughter figured that, even with an extra bed upstairs and a perfectly comfortable sofa downstairs, the best place for her to sleep was the bathtub. Because it was near a toilet. She went to the spare bedroom and got pillows and bedding and removed all the shampoo, soap, and other containers from the tub, and made a little bed there. The best I can figure is that she was running a high fever and was completely out of it. Because that's one of the most bizarre things she's ever done.

**We got a surprise snow event later that night, waking up to 3+ inches of snow that were not predicted, but I don't think this was why Biscuit was so agitated.

New adventures await

Merry Christmas!

We're celebrating the holiday with my husband's family, and all has gone very well. No drama, no strife. And everyone seems to like their gifts, which makes things even better.

My mother-in-law found a fantastic book for me, and I'm looking forward to embarking on a creative journey. The book's exercises are intended to last a month or a year, and I'm opting for the year option.

I will use this space to share my progress, and I'd love to have some of you join me. It's certainly a good time for me to embrace such a project. Definitely a good time.

Unemployed holidays

If you'd asked me a year ago, long-term unemployment was definitely not on my list of concerns for 2009. I felt very secure in my job and even was making plans to make myself qualified for further promotions.

And then life happened.

My kids have gotten fairly well adjusted about our family's decreased income, with fewer and fewer requests for new games, dinners out, anything that costs more than a little.

Which brings us to the holidays. Over the past few years, we've tried to reduce, to minimize the whole present thing. Part of it is economic, part of it is philosophical, part of it is just a desire to reduce in general. And part of it is the simple fact that tween kids don't need new toys. Their "play" consists of computer games, football, faceb00k, and video games. And with video games being so easy to rent, we hear fewer and fewer requests to purchase them.

So I have the strangest dilemma on my hands. My kids haven't asked for anything for Christmas, and I don't know what to get them!

Does that mean I don't get them anything?

And yes, I'll freely admit that this post was very much inspired by the book I read yesterday: No Impact Man: The Adventures of a Guilty Liberal Who Attempts to Save the Planet, and the Discoveries He Makes About Himself and Our Way of Life in the Process. It shook me up. A lot. No, I don't expect my family will go off the grid anytime soon, but even if we did a quarter of what his family did, we would be making some major changes.

Hmmmm.

Baby's first rap show

Yesterday was day one of the Memphis Heritage and Music Festival, and we ventured over there twice. Early afternoon, the festival was just getting started, and we watched some Chinese martial artistry, a cooking demonstration, and genuinely enjoyed a DJ mixing some fantastic techno music. But the sun was high, and we were getting warmer than we wanted to be. Since swine flu daughter was still not 100%, we left, but the we planned to return for the headliners playing in the evening.

As the appointed hour approached, the girl was clearly going nowhere. She was tired and not very interested in live music. The boy, however, was still game, so he and I headed out, finding a decent parking space (not as good as our space earlier, but still not bad). We ran into an old friend of mine from college, who also had been one of the boy's preschool teachers, and she was planning to head over to the same stage we were, to see Al Kapone. He and I both like rap music, and the show was fantastic. Great energy, great band.

I will admit, though, that seeing this show with my son was strange. See, when I'm in the audience, I tend to move up to the front of the crowd, and I get a workout, because I like to dance. My boy, however, does not like to get in the front of anything, so we stayed off to the side, still close to the stage, but not as close as I would have liked.

He and I also have different opinions about volume. At a show like this, I am in the "turn it up to eleven" school of thought. But my sweet boy turns the volume down whenever he can.

All this added up to an early departure, before the set was done. The boy claimed tiredness, but I think he was a bit overwhelmed by the noise and the crowd. Turns out he made a very good decision, though, because we saw lightning as we drove home, and a big thunderstorm began a few minutes later. Since we didn't have an umbrella, our parking space would have been horrible if we'd left later.

As it was, we had a great time, and I think Al Kapone has a new lifelong fan. We might have to go back today....


*****I am well aware that I have completely failed at my September NaBloPoMo effort. I'm not being graded, at least not as far as I know, so I'm okay with it. It's hard to blog when swine flu girl totally hogs the computer to play Sims. Just saying.

Reinvention

My son started fifth grade at a new school this month. He knew a couple of kids at the school, so the transition was easier than it could have been. He is, however, my sensitive child. While I won't call him shy, I do acknowledge that he takes longer than his very outgoing sister to jump into social situations.

Which is why I was stunned when, while watching the elementary boys practicing football in the park across from our house, he told me he'd like to join that football team.

But I shouldn't really be surprised. This is the same boy who decided to take hip-hop dance as his afterschool activity in third grade. So what if he was the only boy in the class? So what if he was the only white kid in the class? He wanted to dance, and he did!

Perhaps the football is a way to fit in. Perhaps he's simply looking for something physical to do.

****************************

I colored my hair a lot this summer. I used temporary pink for streaks. I did highlights. I bleached the whole thing as pale as it would go, then switched to medium brown. (Yes, I know I'm lucky that I still have any hair at this point.) I bought "new to me" clothes at Goodwill, since staying home does not require the same wardrobe choices as did working at the hospital.

I also started choosing books at the library based on nothing but titles that seemed interesting. As a result, I've read everything written by a few novelists (I tend to get obsessive once I find an author I like, especially mystery writers) and learned a lot about herb gardening. I learned that butter and coffee were much more expensive in Memphis during the Civil War than they are now (and that's not even changing the value of dollars throughout the years).

I've settled into a routine of sorts, since the kids started school. I get up early to get them to school, then bring my coffee to the computer and apply for jobs, read my feed reader, then write. With my new job writing at Examiner.com, I try to find out if anything new is going on downtown, or if I need to revise and publish one of my drafts. Once I'm done with that, I do housework, maybe start dinner, depending on what we're having, then read or run errands. We're selling some stuff on eBay, so the post office is a frequent stop, as is the library, and, of course, the grocery store. Then pick up the kids, homework, dinner, and whatever activities are planned for the evening (football, music, etc.)

Maybe one of the things that was missing from my former job was a routine. Every day was an exercise in crisis management - who had called out sick? who was in the weeds? where was the drama? what food would not be at the correct temperature when it was time to serve it? - and I function much better with a routine. Having learned that about myself, I can make better decisions about which jobs to take, or even which promotions to decline.

Vehicular

I want one of these MADSEN Cargo Bikes a lot.

We're looking at replacing our well-loved and well-worn minivan soon, and the replacement vehicle will be smaller and more efficient. I was thinking about the new car yesterday, when Craig and I were running errands in the minivan. A Smartcar drove by, and I was a little envious, because it would have been just right for what we were doing (returning library books, picking up a bag of sand and a few plants). A few minutes later, a person on a Vespa also caught my eye, because other than the sand, all our items would have fit in a scooter's cargo area, too.

But the cargo bike? Genius. Especially for those of us who love to bike to the farmers' market but then buy too much and have smushed produce from overpacking the backpack.

So click that there link up top and let's all try to win me a bike, okay?

My plans, let me share them with you

After a few busy weekends, the family calendar has very little ink this weekend. Which is a good thing - I don't strive to fill up every extra moment. The kids started school on Monday, and that's cut into their down time (as well as totally destroying their preferred sleep schedule, which resembles the sleep patterns of teens more and more). Seeing as I'm the self-appointed creator of the pajama day, down time is something I encourage.

But not this weekend. At least not tomorrow.

My feed reader brings me news of local events, and this one I'm not missing. Mainly because it can be done as a family, and it can be done however we choose.

As a lover of Memphis, this is an opportunity to create a visual love letter to my chosen hometown. It's also an opportunity to encourage the kids to look at their city with a different eye. To examine what they see.

I'll share pictures once we've got them. We can't start until 12:01. I'm making a list of what I want to photograph. Keep your fingers crossed that we see a bunch of Elvis impersonators.

Opening Ceremonies, or the moment I know I'm raising my children right

I'm a dork. I admit it. Every four years (well, now every two), I anticipate the opening ceremonies of the Olympics. I watch, I get teary-eyed, it's great.

Nobody in my family shares my enthusiasm (even the dogs look at me crazy), but at least Craig is tolerant (especially because he can watch a DVD on the laptop).

The ceremony last night was conveniently timed to begin right before we had dinner (taco salads, in true international spirit), so I paused the program (thank you, TIVO!) and made the kids watch with me. They were interested, sort of, for the first few minutes. At least anytime there were flashing lights or explosions.

My darling daughter, the model of refinement and elegance, made a cultural observation:

"If Memphis hosted the Olympics, we'd ghetto it up real good!"

And her brother, with impeccable timing and wit, added:

"It would be the Ghett-Olympics!"

Boys will be boys?

Yesterday evening, I had dinner with my group of au pairs. We meet once a month - an opportunity for me to make sure they're all okay, and an opportunity for them to all be in the same place at the same time - and they usually go out afterward as a group.

These young women have a unique perspective about children, since they are full-time (for the most part) caregivers for children ranging in age from toddler to teenager. They entered the program with more childcare experience than many first-time parents have had. Individual au pairs have different motivations for joining the program (lack of jobs in their home country, a desire to improve their English, a desire to study in America, or, yes, the desire to marry an American), but they definitely all learn at least one thing while they're here: kids are a lot of work. Sort of like the show "The Baby Borrowers" but in a much more real-world setting.

When we get together, we talk about their lives - how they're getting along with host families, if they're experiencing homesickness, how school is going - but they often move the conversation to my life. Most of my au pairs have met my family at least once or twice (the kids have joined me for more than one monthly meeting), and they ask about the kids. I try to share one or two interesting stories and leave it at that.

Yesterday, my son became the topic of conversation quite unintentionally. We'd been talking about kids' movies, and one woman mentioned "Prince Caspian," which she'd loved (I did too). I told her about Alex's response to the movie, and the whole group was really intrigued.

See, Alex isn't one of those boys who loves violent movies and games. He's a gentle kid. His taste in video games is dominated by games that emphasize interpersonal relationships, especially the Sims games. He hasn't shown much interest in fighting games, and when he plays with friends, he's not the kid who instigates games based around violence.

And when we saw "Prince Caspian," he was weary of the battle scenes long before the movie was over. I remember sitting next to him and seeing him begin to squirm and look uncomfortable with what was going on onscreen.

Weeks later, just to drive the point home, all four of us saw the new American Girl movie about my daughter's favorite fictional character, Kit Kittredge. The movie was smart, interesting, and didn't include violence (although it definitely did include difficult subject matter, based as it was in the Great Depression). We knew Susie would love it, but we were pleased to hear Alex's review: "It was the best movie I've ever seen!"

He starts his week at summer camp today. It's his third year at this camp, and he thrives there, with the guitar and campfires and cooperative play. It's a gentle place, and it's good for his gentle spirit.


Since we've been in our house for three years now, I've started to get a little restless with some of the design choices we made. The children's bedrooms are the most recent focus of my dissatisfaction. We helped Susie's room grow up a little bit by swapping out her old, white furniture with the furniture we've been using in our bedroom (which was in my grandmother's bedroom since the middle of the last century). Making those changes for her, however, just pushed the point home that Alex's room was in need of even more drastic changes.

I consulted with him to see what he wanted for his room. When we originally moved into the house, he was really fascinated by maps, so we had chosen fabrics that emphasized geography.

This time, he wants a Hollywood theme. We have some decorations that we use for our annual Oscar party; those will work well in his room. And I have ideas for the window treatments that will emulate the curtains around a movie screen.

This weekend, Craig and I took a spin through a few different stores, looking for items that might work in Alex's room. A quick glance through the aisles of children's furnishings at Target showed us that the world of retail still thinks there are only a few things that boys need: sports, cowboys, and camoflauge. (And the "girl" side of the aisle was no better, with its emphasis on pink and flowers - none of which I eschew, but it seems awfully limiting.)

I had the same frustration when I was buying clothes for my children when they were little. Boys' clothes had the same motifs as the bedding: bugs and sports. Items for girls were decidedly pretty, with precious florals or ladybugs, and predominately pink. (And those were the ones without Disney or other characters.)

Raising a child who doesn't quite fit within the culturally-dictated norms is interesting. It takes creativity. And I wouldn't trade it for anything.


edited to add: I found the most fantastic curtains at IKEA a few weeks later...they're red velvet! I bought four panels, two of which I'll turn into valances, thus leaving two panels to curtain his windows, and the valances to bridge the wallspace between, thereby creating a "movie screen" between the two windows. He was THRILLED when he saw them. Now I just need to get to sewing and finding adequate curtain rods.

The experiment, continued

Or, more truthfully, discontinued.

Due to circumstances well beyond my control, we gave up on the non-driving experiment. Maybe I'm a wimp, but I couldn't figure out how to help my boss move out of his apartment without cranking up the minivan. And I couldn't figure out how to purchase food and liquor for his going-away party without driving.

So yes, we drove during not-driving-week. About 4 miles in all. Which still isn't bad, but it means the experiment failed this time.

But I don't think this failure proves terribly much. How often, in a person's lifetime, does one's manager develop serious visa problems and have to leave the country with 20 days' notice? I'm thinking it's a once in a lifetime thing. (And I'm not going to say much about it except that I hate it and I've cried more about this situation than I've cried over any work situation in the last nine years. He's fantastic and I adore his wife and I'm going to miss them horribly and I have some anxiety about what's going to happen next at work.)


New topic.

The kids are back from their week in northwest Arkansas, and I must say, they're a lot of fun. I can't honestly say that I miss them all that much when they're gone (mainly because we keep ourselves busy and don't have much opportunity to miss them), but I love it when they're home. The girl and I spent much of yesterday afternoon and evening cuddling on the couch, after she emerged from email land and got sucked into the movie I was halfway watching (I was halfway sleeping). We were both tired, and I think she was needing some Mom time.

A few years ago, I wouldn't have let her watch "First Knight," because it deals with the Arthur/Guinevere/Lancelot story, which is a bit, well, adult with the whole forbidden love thing. But I also clearly remember being about her age and wishing with all my heart that my parents would let me see "Excalibur" when it came out in the theater. (They considered my request seriously, even went to see the movie, and then denied my appeals. I saw it years later and "Meh", but I saw their point.) But "First Knight" is PG-13, and the love story part was quite tame, and the battle gore didn't bother her in the Narnia movies, so I decided it wasn't inappropriate.

What was funny was how she fell into watching the movie. She had come into the living room to tell me that the phone was for me, but then she sat down just because she wasn't doing anything else. At first she just glanced at the screen, but then I caught her getting interested. And then she was so interested that she asked me to pause the movie when she went to the kitchen for a snack. We talked about what was going on (she's never seen "Camelot" but has seen "The Sword and the Stone" so she was a little familiar with the story) and we both predicted when things were about to go sour.

And then it was over, but we found the second half of "Talladega Nights," which the kids and I think is hilarious but Craig thinks is incredibly stupid. By this time, Alex had joined us and watched it with us (although he was heartily disappointed that the dinner table scene, particularly the "spider monkey" line, had already taken place).

Watching my children watch movies gives me a great view inside their minds. I can tell a lot by what makes them laugh in comedies or what gets their attention in adventure movies. Alex doesn't enjoy battle scenes (and, as a result, didn't much love "Prince Caspian") but loves goofy comedy (and has become a fan of Nick at Night sitcom reruns). The girl is starting to "get" adult humor, and watching her laugh at off-color jokes makes the jokes much funnier to me. The laugh is different. It's like she knows that she "shouldn't" be laughing, but she can't help it.

They're home for a week, then it's off to Michigan for three weeks. I know Craig and I will enjoy the change of pace that occurs when we're child-free, but I also know we'll be happy to have them return. The laughter most of all.

Grace

I like to tell people that I have the best job at the hospital. Where other folks spend their working days placing IVs in children, giving parents bad news, rushing grant applications, spending endless hours in labs doing important research, or making difficult decisions about the future of our institution, I get to hang out in the most fun part of the hospital, making coffee for everyone who needs a cup.

Part of the fun is getting to know a cross-section of our hospital...mostly staff, but also visitors and families. I've gotten to know exactly how seven-year-old "Keith" likes his hot chocolate, how a prominent scientist likes his latte, and which coffee blends are favored by post doc researchers.

And then there are the moments that really knock my socks off. There's a parent who comes by our store nearly every day. "Janey" orders the same coffee every time: four cappuccinos, along with four pastries. (Usually she gives me free reign to select the pastries.) This order costs a bit more than $20. Four or five days a week. Yes, that's about $100 per week. Did I mention who the coffee and snacks are for? No? They're for the nurses who are taking care of her daughter.

This woman, about my age, never shows the strain of being in the hospital with a sick child. She is very, very beautiful and her smile lights up the room. She's cheerful and funny, and obviously generous.

And if she were none of those things, given the difficulty of her current situation....1000 miles away from home, with her husband and other daughter just as far away...I wouldn't blame her a bit. If she were cranky or distracted or tearful, I wouldn't be at all surprised.

But she's meeting this challenge with grace and graciousness and gratitude, and I look forward to her daily visit. That visit reminds me that I work in an amazing place, full of amazing people, and that we have so many opportunties, every day, to do good, to make new friends, to make a difference in someone's life.

I'm trying to rise to the challenge. If Janey can be that great with so many obstacles, I can be that great too. My life is pretty easy: my kids are healthy and smart, my husband is great, I have a good job. My list of complaints and worries is short. But the opportunities I have to do better - to be kinder, more generous, more helpful, more inspiring - are ample.

Amazing what a person can learn while making coffee.

Absentee = nothing to write

I'm peeking out from my hole of work and church responsibilities to tell you, all eight of my readers, that I'm still alive.

The recent major changes at work have led to me working ten-hour days for the past three weeks. It sounds much worse than it is, to be honest. I've come to the conclusion that I've got the best job at the entire hospital, and my new staff is fantastic.

The best part about that statement? Is that I hand-picked each of them. So their success is evidence that I'm cut out for this management position (which I am, but confirmation is always nice).

In futher job secuity news, our daily and weekly sales are climbing every week, and this week looks to be much bigger than the past two, which were the two best weeks of 2008. Given that sales are generally higher in cold weather, this is pretty great.

But yes, I also have a family. A really fantastic family, actually. And they continue to be fantastic. The school year is winding down, which means concerts, programs, and the dreaded TCAP tests. My kids were blessed with the "performs well on standardized tests" genes, so this is not as stressful for us as for other families.

I owe the internet a post about my wonderful son and his wonderful birthday party. And I'll write it soon, but not yet. I was at work before 7 and left after 5:30. Am tired.

Day off

Since I worked this weekend, I was off today.

My dad left at lunchtime today to return home; he'd been here since Saturday afternoon, having driven here with the kids to return them to us, as well as to assemble the headboard he'd built for us.

After enjoying breakfast and a trip to the river (yes, it's high, but no, I don't think my neighborhood, or any other neighborhood nearby, will be flooded), my dad left in his car.

I spent much of the next few hours cleaning up my bedroom. The new headboard includes bookshelves, so I shelved books (books, I might add, that have been sitting in my room in boxes for many months) and straightened up and changed sheets and dusted and vacuumed. And then, yes, I basked in the cleanness of the room.

This headboard is pretty awesome. I designed it months ago for my dad to build (he's cool like that), and the finished product is actually more impressive than I expected. And the assembly is great in that it easily comes apart into the two bookshelf units (which are a foot deep and a foot wide and six feet tall, quite easily transported via Prius), the fabric-covered board and the top board, which are (obviously) flat. So it can move without being a monster to move.

Oh, and yes, it has built-in lights. Because that's how I roll.

And yes, I know it would be totally mean to tell you how awesome it is and not to post pictures, so here you go. Please to enjoy.

St. Patrick's Day

Instead of the typical "drink enough green beer to think you are actually IN Ireland" approach to St. Pat's, my family did something truly unique today.

We participated in (or at least witnessed) the creation of a new world record.

And even updated a Wikipedia entry.

Growing

My children are, by all signs, in the midst of a growth spurt. Normally, they take turns with the growing. My son will almost catch up to his sister's still-superior height, then she'll shoot up, physically proving that she is the big sister and he's the little brother.

We, the parents, are given a bit of warning when the growth spurts are beginning. The child, who normally has a, well, normal appetite, suddenly is starving. Like, tapeworm starving. And sleeps more than normal. A week or two later, pants are outgrown (which, for girls, is okay...long pants can turn into capris until they get tight).

The boy is taller than he was the last time he saw his grandparents, about six weeks ago. And the girl won't. stop. eating. The boy, usually an early riser, has been the last to awaken for the past few days. The girl, who is currently sleeping about a meter from me, looks much more like "woman" than "baby", even in sleep. Which, I suppose, is fitting, since she's chronologically closer to womanhood than infancy.

It's a roller coaster so much more amazing than any we'll ride tomorrow.

If you're local

Pick up the most recent issue of the Memphis Flyer. There's this awesome family on the cover. I think I recognize the house. (Their website should update Thursday; the last issue is still on the site right now.)

In all seriousness, I'm very, very pleased with the picture and the article. I was in a pretty flippant mood when we were interviewed for the story, so I was a little worried that she didn't have much good material, but I shouldn't have worried.

Plus, it's further evidence that my neighborhood is truly awesome.

November 24

It has been called to my attention that I didn't discuss my brother's wedding to his hot girlfriend in full detail here. (I did post pictures, however, and if a picture is worth a thousand words, I've got well over 100,000 words!)

And now I've missed the boat, it seems. Because the wedding has become a minor internet sensation, with mentions here and here and here.

But I may have something to add. This is my only brother we're talking about, and it was a stunningly happy occasion. Happy for all the right reasons (true love, she's the yin to his yang, etc.), but also because I know what happened before the big day. Before they met (and after). I know how much crap he withstood before this wonderful woman came into his (and my family's) life.

Seeing the two of them holding hands and promising to be together forever was powerful. Seeing the support of their friends - friends who, by the way, were immensely welcoming and friendly when I met some of them in July - made my heart very happy. My brother is a good guy, a kind person, a really good uncle, and he has surrounded himself with a group of people deserving of his awesomeness.



And his new bride is a big part of that. She lived in Chicago before he did, and I presume that many of his friends started out as her friends. That she had these people in her life is a credit to her character, which had already impressed me when I first met her last Christmas.



The strength of their relationship (and the wedding plans, and each of them) was tested a few months ago, when her mother finally succumbed to the cancer that had been present for years. (I don't know all the details of her mother's illness, so please understand if I don't fill in the blanks very well.) When things got really dire, my brother appeared at the hospital, ready to have a chaplain-officiated ceremony there in the hospital room so that his fiancee's mother could see her daughter get married. (Hopefully he'll fact-check me in the comments, because I don't exactly remember what happened at that point.)

And the wedding went on, despite the recent loss of her mother.

And it was beautiful.





I have only a casual understanding of Steampunk, while my brother and his wife have at least a strong affinity for the aesthetic that accompanies it (again, my ignorance keeps me from going into satisfying detail). I know (from the Wiki article) that it has roots in scifi/fantasy literature, but everything I've found regarding fashion points to neo-Victorianism. Since my kids were in the wedding party, I knew what the bridesmaids were wearing. And I struggled to figure out what to wear, seeking help from the internet, and from a real-life friend who started out as an internet friend. (And I wound up not being neo-Victorian but going with the gray color scheme. Because sister of the groom is not one of those flashy roles in a wedding. Leave the bride to be flashy.)



But here's the part that I want to tell you. The ceremony? Was amazing. My parents, definitely not steampunks in any way, enjoyed it. The "minister" did his job quite well, straddling the line between stand-up comedy and reverence perfectly. He paid tribute to my parents' and Siouxzi's parents' long marriages. He drew everyone in attendance into the power of these two people's love for each other. Yes, I got teary. Maybe I even cried a little.



The reception was delightful (in the same space as the ceremony, quickly transformed by the wedding party and a few close friends), with music from their high school years (think New Order, Information Society), and plentiful food and drink. The cupcakes my mother made were topped with some pirate figurines, and the cakes were decorated with gears made from fondant.




My children adore their Aunt Siouxzi and Uncle Alan. They were so proud to be part of the wedding.



I'm so happy to welcome her into our family. I hope they continue the romance and keep making each other happy, because each of them deserves just that.

I'm dreaming of a....

So, Christmas.

Here's the thing. There are things about the holiday season that I love, truly love. The music, the food, the family togetherness, the marvelous television specials, receiving cards from friends and family who are far away. Heck, I even love the Christmas card letters.

But something's been gnawing at me, and last night it all bubbled to the surface.

It's the present thing. It's out of control, people. Kids in TV land, you're being duped!

We're being sold on this idea that the only way to show people that you care about them is by running out to the mall or, even more, the big box retailer that treats human beings like cattle, and spend as much of your hard-earned money as possible. Preferably with plastic. The kind that, at best, overdraws your checking account. At worst, puts you in some really amazing debt.

How did this happen to us? How did we get the idea that if you love somebody, you need to buy them a bunch of mass-produced crap that probably has lead paint in it. And, if you're extra lucky, it was made by some kids in a third world country who work eighteen-hour shifts for pennies a day! Awesome! Because that's the spirit of Christmas/Hannukah/Kwaanza, right?

I saw something on the news the other day that gave me hope. This guy is spreading a new gospel. True, he's not likely to be taken seriously. But what if we all listened?

Would it ruin our holidays to skip (or at least greatly reduce) the gifts?

How much is too much?

How much do you really need?

Where is it going to go?

Who gets hurt because of this gift?

And while I was considering these questions, one of my favorite bloggers wrote about a great campaign in the U.K. One that really, in my mind, fits the bill.

So, if you're reading this and you were going to buy me a gift, don't. There are a lot of fantastic charities out there who need it more than I do. I have plenty of stuff. More than I'll ever need, really. And if you need charitable suggestions, I've made a great shopping list for you.

Heifer International
OxFam
St. Jude Children's Research Hospital
The Unitarian Universalist Service Committee
Planned Parenthood
YWCA
Boys & Girls Club

And there are so many more who need help.

I won't begrudge you the tax deduction, either.

Tomorrow? How to approach the kids and sell them on the idea.

My new favorite family picture

Not much to say when you've got this to show.

Edited to add: more pictures here.

Wedding day!

We're back in the hotel, recovering from my brother's wedding. The kids did a great job in their respective roles as bubble girl and ring boy. It's always gratifying to hear people go on and on about how cute, well-behaved, awesome, superior, etc., my children are. Just shows that they inherited some pretty amazing DNA.

Aside from the obvious awesomeness that today's festivities embodied, we also partook of some traditional Chicago pizza. Now we all have horrible breath, from the fresh garlic and cheese pizza that my sweet son selected.

I'm too tired to upload pictures tonight. Can't promise they'll be done tomorrow, but they should be done in the next few days.

Congratulations, brother and hot blonde girlfriend, er, wife. I'm so glad you found each other. And you both looked hot today.