I'm Doing it Again

I'm participating in National Blog Posting Month, NaBloPoMo, once again. This means I'll be posting everyday in the month of November. There's no theme for this month, you just have to be diligent and consistent in getting something up for 30 days in a row.

Why? I guess I have been slacking lately on the blog, mostly because too much is going in my brain that might get me into some trouble if I chronicled it online. (You never know about the distinguished reader who knows who you are and is waiting to get some shite' on you.)

I figure that a challenge is always good as a motivator for me. I don't like to cave in, so this should get me moving again.

If you're thinking, "Hmm...I'll check you later...like in December," that's okay. But I'd love for you to come along. I'll try to make most posts short enough to take no more than a couple of minutes. (Suuure Gropius, short?) And I'll try to make the posts interesting enough so that it doesn't appear I'm trying to suck your time away only so I can fulfill the NaBloPoMo demands.

I'm not expecting to move any thought-mountains with the November posts, though I do have some heavy concerns that I'd love to get your perspective on. And of course, you can be sure to find a few--just a few-- Posts of the Pointless Kind so I can make it. 

Hey--thanks for reading.  Hope your Halloween is safe, wild in any way you'd like it to be, and full of those 2-3 types of candies of which you're most fond.

A Strange and Unpleasant Morning at School

I awoke in the middle of the night really, really pissed. After trying to get in touch with D-Man's science teacher through phone and e-mail for well over a week about a very pressing problem, on Tuesday morning I resorted to calling the vice principal. He assured me he would take care of it, yet alas, as of Wednesday evening, I had heard nothing.

So during what has now become now my standard 1:00 a.m. wake up call with Flanders, I started stewing to the point that I just couldn't get back to sleep.

I showed up at the school this morning at 8:15 a.m. and vowed to wait in the office until VP arrived. And wait I did.

After over an hour (oh yes, it's been a fine week for Gropius), Husband and I were becoming increasingly agitated.  A semi-comic relief entered the office area, and it was just so bizarre at the time...but now, of course I'm feeling the terror of what she actually described. Terror for the animal that is.
 
So picture it. We're sitting there, arms crossed in frustration, watching the scene...

• Lingering students who, for whatever reason, weren't in class
• Non-English speaking parents struggling to converse with the receptionist about a bus stop at a seemingly non-existent address
• A grandmother storming in with her grandson who had been bullied on the bus
• A half dressed mother enrolling her student in school

"Middle school in 2010," I thought. "Jesus, is this a school...for real?"

Now that you have the scene in your mind, enter stage right a very overweight woman wearing a sundress and lots of bling on the fingers. She's carrying a dog that is dressed in a baby's onesie. Um okay, now we have dogs in the school? (And keep in mind, I am a dog lover, but really, at school?)  She sits down beside Larry and allows the dog to start running around the office. No one seems to care.

And then it gets weirder. She begins to tell us--along with everyone else within a 300 ft. radius who isn't consumed with the other disturbing issues going on--about how she really "don't know nothing about no dogs." ...How her former dog was "just like this one," but "I stepped on it in the middle of the night and caused trauma to its head" and "after I paid $2,000 in vet bills they had to put it to sleep anyway."

"So I just up and got a new one. $2,000 this one cost me too. Mmmm hmmm," she continued.

She got up and left, came back in with the dog 5 or 10 minutes later and left again. I have no freaking idea what she was even doing in the office. It was like a scene from Candid Camera, except no one came in to surprise us with the big joke.

I wish this had an interesting ending, but that's all she wrote for my storytelling skills tonight. I'm absolutely exhausted. And wondering if I'm still in the after 1 a.m. realm...maybe this day never happened.

Yes--I wish. But today was only a day, and there are much worse things going for others. Perspective: I try.

Oh Baby, You are Sooo Dramatic! ...Including Online

The Drama Queens in life can keep you talking or keep you laughing...but in the end, frankly, I just find they keep you exhausted. It takes a lot of energy to listen, respond and figure out how to avoid the total infiltration of their movie scripts into your being. They've been loud soldiers in the physical world, and now they've permeated the digital one.

Some people are experts at stirring up controversy, implying ill-intentions with every move from "the enemy," and basically verbalizing every dividing thought to enter their minds--thoughts which can do little to improve the silence. (In making that statement I realize how much I could tone the heck down and listen to my own dialogue--inward and outward--to make sure that my own comments actually improve the silence!  Point taken.)

I enjoyed a panel discussion on Ethics in the Media on Monday, and I found that one of the exceptional issues raised was about the proliferation of commentary that is cleverly posed as fact. Unfortunately, this sort of "news" mixed with opinion from self-made journalists has been propagated famously by semi-news media (fairly, on the far right and left) and by our buddies, bloggers from all corners.

With most bloggers, the opinionated nature of their posts is obvious, and I love them. I love reading and responding to the diversity of opinions. The line is crossed when the "news" bloggers aren't providing truth. That's why I don't read news blogs. (Okay, for the most part I don't. I'll confess, I love a good liberal news blog.)

I am a fan of this age of self-publishing. It sounds silly to frame it this way, but it puts the power back in the hands of the people. Information isn't something you can control anymore, clearly. In less than one sentence and one click, your thought is out there for the masses. It's not just up to the old man on the evening news.

The danger comes in the Drama Queens that disguise themselves as Hard Reporters. When dialogue disguised as truth is nothing more than your very passionate feelings, sheesh, that's scary. It's fine when you know it's opinion; otherwise, we're consumers of crap. That much was well covered during the panel discussion. Glad it was put out there for the audience to digest with lunch. For the most part, we all have the same concern: what can you trust? Who can you trust?

What are your thoughts on the Drama Queens of the world? And fact vs. opinion?

It's the Little Things That Keep Me Amused

When life is rushed and things don't always go exactly as you would like them to, finding humor in the little things keeps me dangling on the thread of sanity, instead of hanging myself by it. Take these minor intrigues of the week:

• Husband and I hit rock bottom after having a good but tiring activity-filled Saturday. We actually ended the day by watching a show called The Vanilla Ice Project, a documentary about Vanilla Ice's house renovations. Where the hell have I been? Vanilla Ice is a general contractor now? Holy crap, the last thing I heard, he was selling rhyme by the gram.

• Owner of the Buena Vista Inn in New Smyrna Beach actually called sister-in-law and told her she was hiring a lawyer---because we posted our terrible experience with them on Trip Advisor. Oh that's just about too much. O-okay!  You can barely write an e-mail and now you're going to take down the entire freaking Internet because a customer you treated badly provided a user review? Keep that comedy coming.

• We finally had a date night, went to Daawat--a lovely Indian restaurant in the artists' district of Sarasota, and that's all she wrote. We were both so tired, we went home afterward and I was asleep within 5 minutes. Is that sad or funny? I don't know. One glass of red wine, and I'm out folks.

• While we're on "funny or sad," here's one for you: I realized that we're spending over $150 per month for hypoallergenic dog food as we're doing our best to help Flanders with her skin issues. It's not working. The thing is, I don't have the guts to pull her from it. "What if it's just about to start working?" I ask myself. Guess I have no choice but to find the funny, even if my wallet isn't getting the joke.

• The Rangers beat the Yankees. Funny...and awesome.

Songs that Get Stuck in An Annoying Loop In Your Head

1. The theme song from the Golden Girls, "Thank You for Being a Friend." Don't ask how this made the re-entry into the Gropius brain.
2. I've Gotta Feelin' (Black Eyed Peas). Okay I LOVE that song, but not when the same lyrics circulate for hours in a hopeless nonverbal thought-ball.
3. That piano ditty from The Peanuts.  Annoying. So annoying.
4. You're the One That I Love, from Grease of course. Another fun song, except when it won't disappear.
5. Baby Come Back, making a new appearance into pop culture, courtesy of the Swiffer commercials that run every five seconds. The only other words I know are "You can blame it all on me."  It's implanted firmly in a mental broken record for days after I hear it.
6. The theme songs from Law and Order (da-da da da daaaaa) & The Apprentice (that Money, Money, Money, Moooo-oooney song).  Oh help.
7. The chicken dance song. No, I don't have it on my iPod. They play it at baseball games. And it makes me want to dive in a stream of silence. Or into a really loud noise to drown it out forever. Or jump off a bridge.
8. "I am sitting in the morning at the diner on the corner... Du du du-du  Du du du-du  Du du du-du du-du du-du..."  Did you know there's actually a ring tone to Tom's Diner you can purchase?  Om....I would literally go insane if that was the ring tone on my phone, a co-worker's phone, Husband's phone, or any phone I was in range of.
9. More than Words. Remember that band called Extreme? More than Words was probably their most well-known song, and guess what...it drives me up the freaking wall. I don't think it's sweet--it's annoying. I'm still hearing it today, years after it first hit the air waves. Someone make it stop.
10. I hate to rat on Cat Stevens. He's a good boy who has done so much to promote peace in the world, and not only through his music. He crafted some pretty good songs. Except in their own way, they can get a little repetitious and bothersome--like Peace Train and Wild World.  It takes some serious mental work to remove them from my head. The limited lyrics I know continue that same revolution of "baby baby it's a wild world..."

So many sounds...silence is a good one sometimes.

A Changing Doctor's Office

I often consider how absurd it is for me to have the luxury of health insurance and accessibility of medical care and to hate--dread--going to the doctor's office so much. It really is terrible of me.

A good friend I reconnected with this weekend was telling me that she's working in a doctor's office while she's going back to school. Working at the reception area, she is often at the receiving end of complaints from people who are sick, exhausted, frustrated and angry about their loss of mobility, fear over their condition and the whole mix of emotion that comes when you're not well.

True to the fashion she wears each day of life, she sees it as her duty not just to check in the patients as assigned, but to give them a warm and genuine smile, to make conversation to put them at ease, and to embrace them as if she truly cares about the whole person standing there--not just getting them to sign the requisite clipboard necessary for admittance.  So quickly, the same people who came in with rigidity, apprehension, tension and fear start to relax and feel that everything just might be okay.

From one or two simple acts stemming from her caring, she transforms what most people dread into something they can deal with. It separates the factory feel of the clinical setting to a nurturing atmosphere that is the prelude to healing. 

I realized through this conversation that half of my "doctor's office dread" comes from the straight-faced, empty method of meet and greet in most of the practices where I've been seen. You're going in for something deeply personal to you--your body, right?  And most of the time, it's more about the insurance card, the almighty clip board and of course the tons of medical pamphlets that have colorful diagrams of your intestines and heart and reproductive organs. Good GRIEF, would it kill them to put up a freaking happy painting or something?

I'm so proud of my friend. We talked about her feelings that this job is a step down, since she used to have a position with much greater responsibility. But I feel that she's there for a reason. Not just to lift the atmosphere of the place, but to really make a difference in the lives of people who need it. And let's face it, we all need more positivity.

I never underestimate the power of someone's kindness. And when you're sick, facing serious illness, or walking into the uncertainty of what is unknown and scary, a friendly face is more precious than anything I can imagine.  She sets a great example. And we can follow it wherever we work, shop, eat or play.

Brave People

The evening was as beautiful as the day was.  The hints of fall and the large half moon surrounded kids running on the lawn, grown-ups carrying their red, gold or silver balloons and music coming from various corners of the park.

This was my first year participating in the Light the Night Walk, an annual event of the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. It was humbling to be in the company of so many brave people: survivors of blood cancers, those who have lost loved ones to blood cancers, those who are battling blood cancers today, and their families, their friends, their co-workers.

Beyond all the losses of life, time spent in hospital rooms, missed days of work and adjustments to uncertain outcome was a pervasive sense of happiness, of togetherness. No, the walk wasn't sad, but it was celebratory.  For those touched by cancer in whatever way--there is a rawness that opens the lens of reality. It brings a heightened awareness of small pleasures, of the importance of seeing each moment through with as much joy as you can muster.

The crowd this evening was all about life.  Our team walked for Ingrid, and it's true that she was an example of living to the fullest. She lived bravely, faced her untimely illness bravely and died bravely.  The last time I saw her in her hospital room, Ingrid looked at me and said, "This is it, Susie."  It disarmed me completely. She was facing "it" squarely and with the kind of resolute truth and courage that only the bravest person possesses.

Going forward, I've tried to remember that you have to be brave to live life to its fullest. In one way or another, we'll all meet our own day, and when we do, wouldn't it be fine to say we did all we could, all we wanted? 

Yes, you have to be brave to live. I give thanks to all those who face such adversity and set a lesson for the rest of us. Is it not better to stop hiding in the nooks and crannies of life and open up to the lovey opportunities before us? There's no one else to do it.

Thank you to those who donated to Team Ingrid. Special love to Ruth and her amazing parents, who must surely be together again.

A Pretty Telling E-Mail

Sometimes e-mail is a terrible way to communicate. You can't be too sure of someone's tone, and interpretation is wide open.

Other times, it's a sure fire way to really understand who you're dealing with. Take this e-mail, a response from Buena Vista Inn owners after receiving a note from sister-in-law about the really bad experience with them over the weekend.

Need I say more?

Aside from this interesting stab at business grammar, it's pretty fascinating to see that she insists that my in-laws never stayed there.  This e-mail will be a gem when they dispute the credit card charges.  If they didn't stay, what's that charge to Buena Vista Inn doing on their cards? Hmmm...I'd love to see the answer to that one.

I'd rather not get involved in these sorts of things, but when people--especially paying customers--are treated so badly, it's unjust not to let others know about it. Talk about unethical business practices!

Let's see: deny a complaint by saying there was no stay at the Inn AND charge their credit cards for the stay?  Not sure you can have it both ways.

Buena Vista Inn A Day Keeps the New Smyrna Tourists Away

New Smyrna Beach is a great little town on the east coast of Florida with beautiful beaches and parks, boutique stores and restaurants and a charming downtown area.

But if the town is interested in dismissing visitors with money in their pockets, Tactic 1 would be to send 'em to Buena Vista Inn. I can't recall meeting anyone in the service industry as rude, crude and socially unacceptable as Owner.

My in-laws booked two rooms there during our weekend celebrating Niece's first birthday. After they spent one night, the moldy smell was a little too much. While cancellation policies are understandable to prevent lost income, it would have been the Kosher thing to let them out of the second night, given the reason. 

If it's just not possible to do that, fine. I repeat, that's fine. But the attitude and carrying on copped by the owner were almost comical. Almost.

She smugly lectured us about how many people were pounding down the doors to book a room for the weekend, and how she had to turn them down because all rooms were taken. "You're asking me to take money out of my own pocket so you can put money in your pocket. Do you know what this does to me?"  she went on.

Taking it a step further, as Owner was charging each credit card for the full amount, allowing one person to sign for all, she three times mentioned how much we had "changed her day."

"Well, this just never happens. In the last 11 years I've only had 3 people request a cancellation of their reservation. This has just changed my entire day."

Oh, I'm so sure.

Finally, after hearing it for the third time, I said, "In what way has this changed your day? You're still charging them the same as you would have if they didn't make this request...You're not losing a dime."

Owner: "Well, it must be so nice not to have any stress in your life."
Gropius: "Oh I have plenty of stress in my life. I just choose to deal with it in a different way."
Owner: "Well aren't you special?"

At this point, things went downhill. Names were exchanged. Owner said that she would only share where one member of our party could obtain a nebulizer for her son if "the other girls are controlled and are made not to say things about me all over town since I'm held in such high esteem."

Right.  It would seem that this situation has repeated itself many times. With that, I was pretty sure that blogging would be a well-deserved reward for the behavior.

After getting to my parents' house, we called the inn innocently to ask if rooms were available.  Oh yes, there were three. I checked out Trip Advisor, and we weren't the first to call out Owners for rudeness.

Bottom line: It's her right to be excessively rude and dishonest to customers. And it's my right to share the experience. You never know what's going on in someone's life. I don't know what her life is like behind the attitude. Nor does she know what her customers might have on their shoulders. It's hard to guess about anyone, so being a nice human being usually works out just fine.

Once in a Lifetime

Ah, the first birthday of the most gorgeous little girl in the world.

How fitting--a dainty pink cake.

"Um...I'm not really sure what I'm supposed to do with this.
It's...staring at me."

"Oh. Oh I see. This tastes kind of...mmmmm....So THIS is Publix buttercreme.
Seems like I just grasp it with my hands and..."

"...smear it all over. And then sit back in a sugar coma."

"So what happens now?"

Here's the final damage. She did a good job, eh?

I love my little niece. Birthday cake: she totally gets it now.

Rodents of Unusual Size...And Chicken Eaters

We recently found out that our neighbor's urban chickens were being taken one by one by an opossum roaming the vicinity.

Being a lover of nature and wildlife, I normally don't make a point of convincing people that any member of the Kingdom is grotesque. But quite frankly, the image of a filthy opossum lumbering along with that giant coffee stained tooth mouth grabbing a chicken through its wire enclosure it isn't too pleasant. It must not be a quick sort of death.

The Virginia opossum (Didelphus virginiana) is actually our only marsupial here in the wilds of Florida (and the only marsupial in North America).  (Australia's leaving us in the dust on that count.)

I love the description on the University of Florida IFAS website:

"Opossums have a scaly, rat-like, prehensile tail they use with their opposable thumbs to grasp small branches and other objects. Opossums also have more teeth (50) than any other North American mammal."

Mmmm....delicious. And let me tell you about those teeth. When I was in college, I volunteered at a wildlife rescue center. So many of our patients were litters of opossums that were left on their own when a mother was killed by a passing car. People would find the little guys wandering about and bring them in. At first they were cute, all huddled together in their cage, staring at me as I replenished the food and water dishes. But as they grew, they became less patient with my caring antics and started flashing a mouth full of yellow teeth at me, hissing. Gross.

On several occasions, the infamous yellow lab I grew up with, Jerome, bravely assaulted and killed a ballsy opossum who had dared to enter the driveway. That is, we thought he killed it. Father even shoveled it off the driveway, but we returned shortly afterward to find that it had revived from its "play dead" charade to plunder a different lawn.

Flanders has done the same here, and it was a shock to her confidence when she realized she was taken for a fool.

They may be gross, but opossums are clearly formidable. You could easily convince me that the Rodents of Unusual Size in the Princess Bride were inspired by this cutie pie of the animal world. Ah yes, just imagine an opossum that large. I'd hate to think of it. Not everyone has a Westly roaming around every corner to save her--especially those poor Bradentucky chickens.

Becoming My Grandmother

I'll never forget the fateful trip to Greenville, North Carolina for my parents' high school reunion.

I was in elementary school, probably in 6th grade, and that would have placed my brother in 3rd grade. I had been dying to see Dirty Dancing of course. With my parents gone for the evening, it was the perfect opportunity for Grandmother to take us to the movies. The two hours we would spend together with Patrick Swayze and Jennifer Grey would form the basis for a lifetime of hilarity.

Not believing the "dirty" dancing scenes of Dirty Dancing proved to be the tip of the proverbial iceberg. After that, there were other things to worry about, like sex. The line my grandmother uttered loud enough for everyone in three rows to hear has lived on in stories ever since...

(Say in deep Southern accent) "If there is one more suggestive scene, we are leaving this theater!"

I remember silence on the way home. The next day was filled just as much with talk of who was fat, who never married, etc. as it was filled with Grandmother uttering her disbelief at the inappropriateness of Dirty Dancing. Grandmother wasn't the type to keep bringing something up, but you could tell it continued to bother her.

Fast forward 23 years, and I am becoming my Grandmother.

I literally cannot believe the crap in movies "these days." (Ah yes, another Grandmother phrase.) And it's nothing that enhances the plot. The rampant violence, sex, disgusting language (not used a few times for emphasis, but in literally every other line) are unbearable.  Most of it is senseless--there's literally no reason for it.

We took the D-Man (now 14) with us to see a PG-13 film recently, and among other things I would have chosen not to expose D-Man to, I counted at least 5 references to oral sex in the language. Everyone laughed, and while that may be okay for adult humor, is that something you want to hear your 14 year old laughing at?! I was completely embarrassed and in the spirit of Grandmother almost stood up and shouted, "If there is one more reference to oral sex, we are leaving this theatre!"

I felt like a terrible parent for not checking out the movie more thoroughly before going.  It's not that I'm living in a freaking box. But I am ultra-sensitive to the fact that what is portrayed on television and in movies is perceived as "the norm" and "acceptable" by young audiences. That's how behavior is modeled, and of course, it's what's cool.

He needs to know all about sex, drugs, alcohol, and to a greater extent, he'll be making decisions about those things on a regular basis. But seeing them treated so irreverently in movies doesn't contribute to the cause.

D-Man wants to go to a PG-13 movie with his friend today, and of course I'm thinking "Today's PG-13 is like way beyond what would have been in the last decade's rated R. What the heck is in this film?" 

I just found a website called Parent Previews, and although I'm not interested in someone else's judgement on what's appropriate and what's not, each movie review lists explicit details about each occurrence of violence, sex, reference to sex and language. I love it because it gives me the chance to make the call--not who is rating movies.

If you have a teen or tween at home, it's a great resource. Even if you want to see if you should waste your money on a movie full of crap just for the heck of it (not because it's part of a compelling story), you should check it out too. http://www.parentpreviews.com/

Sadly, I may have never seen Dirty Dancing if Al Gore was quicker to invent the Internet and spread it around virally back in the late '80's. Grandmother would be writing those reviews herself. I'd hate to see her face if she saw what our middle school audiences were exposed to now.