Aunt Gropius Gets the Boot

I have such a cute nephew. Two of them actually. One of them is old enough to come away with me and the D-Man on daytime adventures. He's four.

On Monday school was out for President's Day and I had the day off of work as well, so I scheduled an adventure--D-Man, the nephew and I--off to the Lowry Park Zoo in Tampa. With pee pee breaks, it was about an hour and a half away, so not a bad little trip.

Naturally, every family in Southwest Florida that was not at the beach or Busch Gardens had the same zoo idea. So for a few hours we sneaked around other strollers, smart phone-laden teenagers trying to get pics, and hordes of families positioning for good views of the sluggish looking fauna.

I thought we had a pretty good time. We covered some serious ground enjoying everything from monkeys to tapirs to bizarre ibises to giraffes, and we pushed cute little Neph in the stroller the whole time so he didn't even have to get tired out.

As we were leaving, I said, "Neph, did you have a good time at the zoo?"

"No," he replied, very matter-of-factly.

I was planning on not feeding into the little trick. Being outsmarted by a 4 year old is not a good plan. So we loaded up into the car and I suggested a milkshake stop on the way home. Two strawberries and one chocolate. That would be a nice after-event pacifier for all of us, I thought.

About 15 minutes from the house, Neph started working himself up into a teary episode. "What the heck is going on here?" I thought.

I got him out of it a few times by making conversation, but as soon as he could remember his plan to be upset for extra love from mommy during the reuniting, he started the pouting again.

By the time we pulled in the driveway, he was in the middle of a full-on cry and went running up to the door like Big Bad Aunt Gropius had taken him along on a road trip from hell. 

Overtired, needing to poop, who knows... I know, he's only four. But I still felt lousy that a good day had to end like that for all three of us. Next time we'll make it a little shorter and a little closer to home. He's a sweet kid and we all love to spend time with him. But really, Neph, did you have to do that?

Updates: Biking, Apps, ADHD and Agitation

I hate it when bloggers are away for a while and they spend post upon post informing readers of why they have been absent. So I'll try not to do that.

I've missed reading your goings on and plan to get back to it soon.

I've been feeling stressed lately--that unpinpointable tinge of anxious space in the brain that causes tension and general discomfort. I have an idea what could be causing it but I need to step back into Gropius space. The agitation is most likely stemming from disturbances related to situations encompassing prolonged uncertainty. Is that sufficiently vague?

We all occupy a place in which little is certain but we have varying degrees of feeling in control. When that tilts to feeling out of control, anxiety can rear up like Beaucephalus. I realize it's all a continuum. And it's all a matter of perception. The truth is, we're largely at the mercy of circumstance and grace all of the time.

Aside from that, D-Man has endured an extended period of being grounded due to continued inappropriate antics. Therefore, he is physically and emotionally clinging to every bit of personal space we have at home. We enjoy bonding time, but constant ADHD in every crevice of one's life can inflame traces of unrest and take my level of (already) diminishing calm to new drought levels.

In brighter more materialistic news, I finally caved in and purchased an iPhone. I love it and am trying to explore all elements of its functionality before becoming addicted to it. Naturally, my favorite aspect is the Audubon of Florida birding application, allowing me to peruse color photos, vocalizations, ranges and descriptions of Florida birds while on the go. It even allows me to photograph and catalog my own pictures of each species, right where they belong.

We did bikes for Christmas this year. My new two wheeled explorations of the always lovely Robinson Preserve have been fantastic. And while I've been thrilled to see so many people there, I'm longing to reclaim quiet mornings there where I can enjoy it without having to run into what seems like hundreds of others---with dogs, kids, strollers and on bikes, roller blades, etc.

I continue to be overwhelmed with gratitude in the midst of so much suffering in the local and world wide spectrum. To have a meaningful job, to have a family, good health, sweet Flanders in senior stride, dependable friends....all of these things are incredible blessings. And they make my stress seem silly.

I'm hoping your year is off to a good start and I'm looking forward to catching up on your posts.

Christmas This Year

It's been a good couple of days...pretty good.

Parents came in on Thursday for a short visit. Together time at the house, followed by an Indian dinner at Dawaat (divine!) and a stroll through lights at the botanical gardens were a perfect combo.

Friday's Christmas Eve was leisurely, except for one daring expedition into the insane rush of traffic. After braving the roads for a couple of last minute things--Merlot and a bottle of Bailey's to go with the next morning's Christmas coffee--I knew home was the right place for me. I had also waited in Starbucks for 20 minutes only to find they omitted the peppermint from my peppermint mocha. When you're dumb enough to pay $4 for a freaking cup of coffee, you feel like even more of an idiot when you find out you didn't get what you really wanted.

Back at home in a cheerfully devious spirit, I concocted a fabulous family Christmas letter (mocking all Christmas letters sent with misspelled words, incorrect grammar, famously boring details, inappropriate financial information, bragging about kids and accomplishments, etc.). The intended audience was family and close friends. I think they enjoyed it.

Christmas was lovely. Husband and I decided on bikes for each other so we could have another choice in our recreational outdoor pursuits. I'm happy with that. Although I feel that Husband would secretly enjoy more fishing paraphernalia, I think we'll enjoy our time together on trails and quiet streets.

Watching Flanders unwrap presents has always been a riot for us. She so much enjoys running around ripping paper off of squeaking balls and plush Santas, and when the paper has been shredded, she comes back for more. Only this year, her toys must have been pretty crappy. They were destroyed in under an hour.

It was lovely up until this evening when I saw a notice that my next Verizon bill is over $400. Wait...four what?  I was sure there was a reasonable explanation for all this, like Verizon majorly messed something up.

Except Verizon didn't mess up. My 14 year old has apparently been ordering adult films after school in the hour he is alone before we get home. I'm talking 18 of them in the past 25 days.

If you laugh, I'll kill you. It's not funny. I'm not only so upset I can't even express myself, but I'm scared. What kind of house is this? Don't tell me it's normal.  It's not normal for my house. What's worse?  The lying about it? The bill? The fact that my kid is watching pornography--a LOT of it?

We're currently trying to see what parts of his opulent Christmas can be returned to the store to raise the money he needs to pay that little bill.  I'm truly disappointed and am wondering who this kid is living here.

Looking at the larger picture, with so many people in the world and even in our own community not knowing where that next meal will come from, I know it's all small potatoes. I'm grateful for what we have and don't forget that for a minute. Still, having your trust betrayed is a real bitch, especially when you're worried about someone you love growing into a responsible and successful young man.

It's not the kind of ending I was hoping for this Christmas Day, but I give thanks for the abundance we do have in our lives. There's a lot to appreciate.

The Story of Anus Christmas Cookies

Husband has quite the little bond going with Neighbor across the street. I'll admit, they are very good neighbors. It's a sweet family: mother, father, little girl, older boy. The father is Husband's bud. They have a beer together after work, spend countless hours doing God only knows what in the "man cave," and do great home improvements together to help one another out. I call him Larry's Biotch.

So Husband has been on a real cookie kick this year, making batches and batches of his mother's Christmas cookie recipe. He delivered them to Neighbor and family a few days ago. And then, after work, it all came out.

Biotch:  "My wife prepared a tray of cookies for me to take to work. They included the cookies you brought us, man."

Husband: "What? You gave my Christmas cookies away? You didn't eat them?"

Biotch: "Well we ate the peanut butter and chocolate chip ones. The other ones weren't...us."

Husband: "So wait, you don't eat Christmas cookies? You don't like them?"

Biotch: "Yeah, I liked the ones my mom made--especially the anus cookies."

Husband: "Wait...Did you just say you like anus cookies?'  [And again... ] You eat anus cookies?!"

Biotch: "Yeah. You know that stuff that tastes like licorice? What's so funny about that?"

Husband: "Oooohhhhh, you're talking about ANISE, not anus. Hmm Hmmm...You like Anus Cookies! You like Anus Cookies!"


Obviously, Husband's Biotch will never live this down. It's all over neighborhood. And all over my office. And all over everywhere. It's too good not to share. The Biotch's mom would probably be beside herself if she knew how her baking is being portrayed.

Wrapping, Not Rapping

D-Man has grown quite fond of rap. It seems to define a lot of his generation...which scares the daylights out of me, by the way.

But over the last week and into this one, he's been doing a lot of wrapping.

Earlier this school year, we enrolled D-Man in the Explorer's Program, a Manatee County's Sheriff's deal for kids in middle and high school. They're supposed to learn about what's involved in being an officer of the law. Since the D-Man has talked on and off for years about being a police officer, this seemed to be a perfect introduction for him.  [There are some aspects of the program I've been pretty disappointed in, but that's another story.]

As an opportunity for volunteerism (and of course to earn money for the organization), participating kids are wrapping Christmas gifts at the mall. D-Man has volunteered for quite a few shifts, and he likes it. Since we're not big on letting him just hang out at the mall unsupervised, this is a way we can both get what we want. He can stroll down to the food court and get lunch when it's slow, and we (presumably) have the assurance that he's not in a situation where either judgement or safety is compromised.

I like the stories of what he's been wrapping. D-Man seems to enjoy the variety of people and the gifts they've selected. As he describes it: "iPods, iPads, coats, even stuff from Victoria's Secret, crock pots, LOTS of bathrobes..."

His favorite gift was brought to the counter by a man who is planning to propose to his girlfriend on Christmas Day. D-Man said he stood there for so long trying to adjust the position of the ring in its box to make sure it was perfect. He checked in with D-Man for reassurance and D-Man told him he had a good feeling she was going to say yes.

Isn't that cute?  He's a charming kid. I delight in knowing that he put the final touches on a gift that will change two lives. Good grief...I hope she says yes.

You Really Want a Netbook

D-Man usually gets a "big" gift for Christmas--the one thing he really wants that can be a bit pricey--and a few little things to go with it. There isn't a big gift he's been asking for this year, and I have been struggling to think of something good.

Despite endless pestering, lecturing, punishments, etc., D-Man usually gets away with doing the bare minimum in school. Getting ready to enter high school next year, it's more than time for him to step up his game.

I've heard him say how much he hates computers. This would be a bad thing, especially if you are Gen Y or younger, and increasingly, "computer illiterate" greatly increases the chances that your hopes and dreams of doing more than digging ditches as an adult will get scattered.

So I thought: netbook.

MixedReflection's Mind:  "He will have his very own device to upload his photographs (possibly leading to an interest in capturing that perfect artistic image), to conduct research (for the next science project), to write e-mails (communicating with members of the family), to learn to type well (to make homework more bearable and to increase his skills), to have his own iTune control center (so he won't download all of that doodoo music on mine), to develop spreadsheets and documents in Google Docs, etc., etc.  In any case, he will become extremely computer literate but will be 'tricked' into becoming so!"

D-Man wasn't too into this idea. He was very anti-netbook.

I worked on it with him for a while and was eventually silenced by Husband who said, "If he doesn't want a netbook, why are you trying to convince him he does?"

So I told D-Man I was dropping it. "Okay, just tell me something you would like--OTHER than a remote controlled car. I'm not spending money on that."

Less than 5 minutes later, he said, "Yeah, you know, I really do want a netbook."

D-Man's Mind:  "I will have my very own device to upload [inappropriate] photographs, to conduct research (on girls I like at school), to IM peeps from the bus, to learn to type well (oh screw that!), to have my own iTune control center (so parents won't be able to censor my selections), start my own Facebook page, etc.

Obviously D-Man and I have very different ideas about this gift and what it might be used for.

I guess the funniest thing is that yesterday I suggested to him I was thinking the netbook might not be such a good idea after all.  His reaction?

"No!!! I want a netbook!"

Willie

Early this afternoon, D-Man and I went to Robinson Preserve to enjoy the 3.8 mile loop. It's such a beautiful trail. D-Man rides his bike and I do a power walk.

It's a well-traveled path, and many people bring their dogs. D-Man always pauses to ask if he can pet each dog, and most people are happy to stop for a meet and greet.

We were maybe half a mile from the parking lot on the return loop when we encountered an elderly woman who was walking a small long-haired dog that looked like it was a perfect match for her. Little dogs usually aren't my thing, but something about this guy told me he had quite a story behind him.

D-Man approached with his hand outstretched, inquiring if it was okay to say hello.

"Why yes," she said. "But he's shy."

"Someone who was very mean to him used to own him. I've had Willie for a couple of years now, and he's starting to trust again. "

Willie sniffed D-Man's hand and then ran back behind the woman, darting between her feet.

"I can't understand people who get dogs just to hurt them," she continued.

As we turned to continue down the trail, we heard the woman say, "Willie is my best friend."

Nearly 12 years ago, I found my Flanders on the street. She was living under an abandoned cottage near my office building. A large cut ran down her head, as if she had squeezed underneath a chain link fence trying to get out of a bad situation. I fed her for 3 weeks before she would come anywhere near me.

I hate to imagine how she began her life, but I feel like we were destined to find each other. She's one of the greatest parts of each day, always such a comfort to me.

Of course I thought of this blessing when I met Willie and his owner. They were destined to find each other, and this connection between human and animal is one that only some will understand.

The Cardinals From Hell

Every morning around 9 a.m., the firm tapping sound would begin, surfacing from the living room at my parents' house. They would hear it every 30 seconds or so and would round the corner to see a cardinal (and sometimes its mate) dive bombing the window, hitting it hard as hell, from the adjacent tree. This would continue on and off for about an hour or so every day.

A long-time Audubon person, I was soon on the receiving end of the call as Parents tried to figure out what was going on and what could be done.

It's not unusual for birds to fly into windows, either catching insects on the wing or not realizing the window is an impermeable surface separating the inside from the outside. But these strange cardinals do it over and over again...and then some. And they make it a daily exercise. Odd, to be sure.

Parents tried all the usual stuff like putting up a visual distraction on the window to be sure the birds knew it wasn't an extension of the vegetation. But this hasn't worked. Nothing has worked.

So to put it all into perspective, I'll tell you this started YEARS ago. Just to be sure we're on the same page, that's like 4 years ago.  Now, the birds aren't starting at 9 a.m., they're starting at 7 a.m. And they'll now return for an afternoon encore performance. It's crazy.

We're wondering: are these the same birds, or have they now passed the behavior onto their offspring?  Are the birds insane?  Are they seriously mentally challenged, taking the bird brain to a whole new level of minimalism? Are they trying to remove a parasite or something? Who knows. They're like bird masochists.

It's terrible to think about what they're doing to themselves. And if you're a human inside the house, listening to that sound over and over again is pretty killer too.

In their latest attempt to derail the bizarre avian activity, Parents mixed up a water/ Cayenne pepper concoction and put it all over the window and the tree. We'll see what that does...we'll just see... My hopes aren't too high. I'm betting that the cardinals from hell will prevail in their mystery quest.

Thankful for Dinosaurs

It's been a relaxing Thanksgiving. I've taken today to nap, continued my purging of books and clothes for Goodwill, and of course have thought a lot about what I'm grateful for.  That exercise is something I don't save for Thanksgiving. Every day, I always keeping in mind how fortunate I am for good health, a healthy family, work, a fascination for life, friends, a roof over my head and the satisfaction of knowing there are things I can do--however small--to make a positive difference.

Tonight at my sister-in-law's husband's parents' house (ah yes, a fun one, isn't it?), we went around the table and each talked about what we're thankful for. Friends, family and health were of course commonly spoken, and then we arrived at little Jack, who's three years old.

"Dinosaurs and race cars," Jack said.

Ah, I'm thankful to have a little guy in the mix. Simplicity is a good thing, never overrated.

Wishes for Miami

This weekend we're going down to Miami to visit Husband's mother. We really should get down there more often and everyone feels guilty that we don't.

My parents have never really been one for adventures either, but Husband's mother isn't game for leaving and exploring. That means we hang out in the house.  This comment isn't meant to be irreverent to her, it's just the way she is. Still, it makes me wish...for a different kind of Miami trip. There are some very cool things in Miami, and I would love the chance to see them.  How nice it would be to go off together to visit the botanical garden there, South Beach (which is full of great restaurants, shops and people watching, naturally), and so many cultural stops.

But I realize there's a fat chance of that happening.

Flanders will be patrolling the house and hopefully keeping a respectful distance from the new couch.

I'm looking forward to the view of the Everglades from US 41 on the way down. It's a beautiful journey across the state.

Not a Good Sort of Record

It's a fact: in my part of Bradentucky, an item put on the street corner has a shelf life of t-minus 5 minutes. Someone will come along and pick it up for re purposing, drive off, and you'll forget it was ever in your possession. And that's just the way you want it.

No one living on the street wants to be that exception to unspoken the 5 minute rule.

So let's just say I'm not too proud that we're on the verge of breaking a record for our street. Our Flanders-ized couch has been sitting out there for 3 days and it's getting really, really lonely.

If a calculation loving reader is planning to tell me how many times we've surpassed the 5 minute mark in the many 5 minute periods comprising the last 3 days, you're not doing my pride any favors.

Thanks a lot, you worthless trash collecting picker uppers! Now the City is going to have to call what husband refers to as "The Claw." How embarrassing.

Unusual Butt Calls

You're familiar with butt calls--you know, those unintended calls you make on the cell phone without knowing you've dialed. 

They usually occur when you're reaching for something in your purse and you call the last person you've been on the phone with...or when juggling a laptop, papers, cell phone, etc. while trying to close the car door....or when you're eating in the lunchroom at work and you accidentally called mom for like 7 minutes...

You can tell I speak from experience.

Anywho, I don't have the nerve to tell my sister-in-law that she butt called me throughout her labor on Thursday. Okay, it was only twice, but it was still funny. 

Sister-in-law was having a little baby boy and I received 2 butt calls during the process. Couldn't hear any pushing in agony, or anything you enjoy in all of the dramatic television births, but it was made me laugh nonetheless.

What Would You Do?

The fam has watched a couple versions of What Would You Do? It's a "candid camera" sort of show with actors in very public, well-traveled places who perform certain things like...

• Very obviously stealing a bike in a park by sawing through the lock/chain.
• Trying to take advantage of (and take home) a very inebriated young woman in a bar.
• Harassing an overweight woman and her daughter with a grocery cart full of unhealthy, sugary foods.

It's interesting to see who intervenes by directly confronting the offenders, who walks on and who stops to consider getting involved but turns away in the end. It's also interesting to see how reactions differ when the race of the actors or the age of the actors is changed.

As a pretty vocal and opinionated woman myself, I don't usually have a problem speaking my mind. People who are unfairly treated or who are at risk for being taken advantage of are naturally compelling.

But I'll admit that in certain situations, I'm more likely to call someone like the police or a store manager. I totally get it that I could end up in a really scary situation myself if I insert myself with a stranger who could easily be nuts or drugged out.

How do you react in these situations? Is it easier for you to speak up if others are there to support you? How far are you willing to go if it looks like your own safety could be in danger?

A Romantic Gift from Husband

When you've been married for a while, you take what you can get.

Yesterday, Husband came home with groceries (a gift in itself for him to do the shopping, which he often does--yay, Husband!) and a box.

Neighbor's mother was in the front yard across the street and said,"What's in that box, Larry?"

"It's a gift for my wife--a new Swiffer WetJet."

She replied, "What kind of shit is that, Larry, so she can work?"

Neighbor's mother, how I love thee.

(Husband is a good Husband for the record. We did need a new Swiffer. He's sitting here now testing it in our bedroom..."Boy this one doesn't squirt nearly as far as the old one used to."  ...Comedy: I take that where I can get it too.)

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.

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.

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.

Budding Bromance

When the photo book arrived made by sis-in-law, I almost peed in my pants it was so funny.  Outlining the chronicles of Husband and Brother on our summer trip to the North Carolina shore, it portrayed the newly dubbed "Bromance" with class and utmost accuracy.

We had never all spent a full week together in the same living quarters. Husband and Brother's Bromance took the word "together" to a whole new level. The two were hard to separate--the ping pong in the downstairs garage, the beers on the windy porch, the night fishing from the beach, the cow nose ray catching out in the intercoastal, the---okay you get it.

You know, I was thinking "Nice. A good long week with Husband and family. No distractions from the neighborhood boy clan, no calls from work, no man cave, no---Wait a minute! Where is Husband? Off with Brother again. Nice."

God only knew what they were doing. How many times can you go to the bait shop or go for ice in a single afternoon?

In ways, it was a little annoying.  But in more ways, I still can't believe how lucky and grateful I am to have a Brother and Husb who like to hang out together. That doesn't always happen. And when it doesn't, you're up shiter's creek when it's the season for some fam time. That's a shame when people live so far from each other and hardly have the chance to be together.

On the other hand, I can rest easy and delight in the fact that this Budding Bromance is good for the long haul. Thanks, Husb and Brother. Glad the in-law thing is still working. Makes me happier than you can know.

Aw, isn't that cute? Husband and Brother
"walking the line" at Fort Macon State Park

Fishing AGAIN? Agh!!!!!

So yes, I am totally glad that Husband and all the men in my family aren't obsessed with hookers or something; they're obsessed with fishing. Looking at it from that angle, it's cool.

Looking at it from the "if I could have married fishing, I would have" angle, also known as the "I would rather be fishing than doing anything else ever at any time" angle, it can be a little aggravating for those of us who don't frame our existence around it.  Basically, it goes like this:

Fishing is the central theme--goal--activity--conversation highlight of almost all family gatherings involving Husband, Brother, Father, D-man, In-law men.

If you end up doing something else on the weekend, there's always the underlying knowledge that it doesn't quite compare to any possible apex of intrigue that could result from the act of fishing.

Fishing tv shows--in which you actually watch other people float on boats, cast and occasionally reel in fish ON TELEVISION--is a frequent form of "entertainment" in my living room.

If any of them undertake a fishing trip and catch nothing, they come home quietly, pressed into silent annoyance that the Gods of the sea weren't listening. You're destined for an afternoon of Bad Mood Billy.

I feel like the lady in this commercial, and like her, I'm at the losing end of the proposition. Fishing will always win.

Pad Thai Karaoke

We finally found a good Thai restaurant near our house. It’s a small family-owned business with authentic and reliably good food. The service and atmosphere are friendly...and let’s just say "slightly unusual."


The waitress we inevitably secure during each visit is a young woman who is probably in her mid-twenties but who looks much younger. For whatever reason, she is insulting and daring with Husband in a playful way that could get her in to big trouble if the wrong person walked in who didn’t find it so funny.

She’s pleasant and accommodating but never cracks a smile. She teases him relentlessly about his baldness and his inability to handle “Thai hot,” asserting that trying to eat spicey foods is how Husband lost his hair. She enjoys bantering him by repeatedly egging him on with “you’re such a baby,” etc. Husband is a great sport about it and the whole thing has been entertaining.

Has been are the key words here. Last night we decided that it’s getting sort of old, and though we appreciate her “different” style, we both commented that we weren’t really in the mood for it.

On Saturday night, “entertainment” is provided. This usually consists of a member of the family in full dress dancing around, or in last night’s case, singing on a tiny stage using a karaoke machine.

Hmmm.

Upon walking in the door, we were immediately greeted by the singing woman, who was draped in a tight fitting, black two-piece ensemble with sequined fringes dangling about her. She stopped singing while still clutching the microphone and escorted us to the table, directly in front of the stage.

At this point, it felt a little awkward. We were the only two people sitting in that section and had a direct view of her performance. True, she had a lovely voice and the Thai songs were a nice touch. Her movements were a little tight and sort of Elaine Benes-like (Seinfeld). Between songs you could hear her platform shoes clunking across the wooden mini-stage as she selected a new ditty, and you could see the blue screen scrolling words. Do we clap? Do we stare at her to provide an audience? Do we look up approvingly every now and then?

Meanwhile, our waitress approached and immediately lit into Husband. She remembered our most recent visit, a mid-July birthday dinner for Husband with the larger family. (Husband is still a few years shy of 40 and looks his age.)

“So how does it feel to be 50?” she said.

Husband was ready. “I don’t know. How does it feel to be 12?” he retorted.

I think she got it. She made haste in taking our order.



Then things got weirder. The lovely entertainer singing traditional Thai songs started selecting tunes by artists one would never expect to hear in such an environment, like old school Carpenters and John Denver.

The apex of our experience occurred when we listened to the Pad Thai Karaoke rendition of “Take Me Home, Country Road.” I’ll leave it to your imagination. You can probably enjoy the “mounteeeen mama” and “West Virgineeeeee” aspects in your mind. (Please anonymous, jump in with your spelling corrections.)

We were relieved when the stage was left vacant. It’s not that we didn’t appreciate her. Again, her voice was lovely. The whole thing was just weird. And sometimes, you just want to eat.

Still, we would recommend the place any day. Love the food, love it when you can enjoy a family-owned and operated establishment, and love it that the unexpected awaits us.