Friday, December 07, 2007

All I want for Christmas ...

“In the end we are all separate: our stories, no matter how similar, come to a fork and diverge. We are drawn to each other because of our similarities, but it is our differences we must learn to respect.”

Is that quote good or what??

I like it because it blows holes in the old "opposites attract" theory, which never felt right to me. I don't think they attract - they annoy. I so dislike crinkling my brow and squinting my eyes a bit while someone pointificates exactly the opposite position I have taken - or I am thinking, for that matter. I mean, I try to be polite and manipulate my expression to one of feigned listening rather than complete dismay at their stupidity.

I know, I am bad that way. I nod in polite agreement while calling them bad names in my head. My husband calls it judgementalism. I think he thinks I am bad in a lot of ways. His brow is full of crinkled lines.

He said all he wants for Christmas is a clean bedroom. I knew I shouldn't have asked if he wanted anything special. I'd rather go buy something for him. It would be so much easier.

We were talking around the Thanksgiving table about what we would like for Christmas. So many good people said with a settled contentment that they don't want anything this year. They have everything they need. They are grateful. Happy. Nothing needed under the ole tree.

Crinkled brow.

Well I want things! I told them all so. I want an iphone, a tivo, a new fancy remote control. (My list is on Amazon, by the way!) I'd take a couple dvds of old shows like, Here Comes the Brides and The Big Valley. I think I have my favorite colognes on there - and the upgrade for my Mac...

Everyone was staring at me with squinted eyes - so I threw in, World Peace (I do want that! I think it is after the iphone!)

And so we come to that fork, the diverengence of paths. When the yes, yes, yes suddenly turns to now-wait-a-minute-here. Crinkled brows and squinted eyes. And tears. Life is so big, so full. It's unsettling to find that one who we have journeyed with on a similar path went a different direction at the last fork in the road.

And then they are gone. And in our hearts we wish them well. And we will one day forget the pain and remember only the good, the laughter, the hopes and the dreams - and hope our paths will one day cross again.

It's a crazy life, isn't it? In the midst of the insanity - the diverging paths, the end of friendships, gas prices, parents dying, the hopelessly ongoing war, Larry Craig, the droning of political debates, dead cell phone batteries, the constant closing of businesses, diabetes, the loss of thousands of homes - all my husband truly wants is a clean bedroom!! Is that asking too much??

Oh, and I want an iphone!!!

Tuesday, October 30, 2007

Williamson earns heavyweight title

I bet someone $1000 that Williamson was going to win this election. Well, I almost did. I remember standing there looking at this guy who was absolutely convinced that Walling was going to trounce Williamson. I was mystified by his confidence - he's too old for that kind of pie in the sky optimism. Then I thought twice about shaking on the bet. I mean, what if I was wrong? David would kill me for a $1000 mistake on top of the $1100 mistake I had last week when I backed into my neighbor's car. The truth is, I just don't get this community - I don't trust their decision making skills.

Not that I was all that hep on Walling. Don't get me wrong, I voted for the guy and I urged others to vote for him also. Anyone would be better than Williamson at this critical time in our city. Yes, Walling was propped up by the good old boys, but this time around, I think the good old boys have the best plan. I think the positive steps occurring in this community are the steps taken by that enclosed system of those that have, and who are white, and have a fair degree of intelligence. Walling's Rhodes Scholarship fits in well. His experience on various governmental support teams at least provides some insight into government operations. And his youthful optimism - it could provide the necessary fuel for Flint's recovery.

But it became clear in the live debate a week ago that Dayne doesn't understand Flint. While Williamson bumbled his way up and around the questions, he captured the voting appeal of the average citizen, the automotive workers who have provided sweat labor for endless hours to provide for their families. Many of them don't have a degree; some, like their now two-term leader, never graduated from high school. What could a Rhodes Scholar do for them? They don't care that he has a vision for an educational center for downtown Flint. The only economics they care about is their own - and I don't blame them. Too many in this community can't even afford to feed their families, they are loosing their homes in historic numbers - and Walling is talking of his vision to turn Flint's downtown around.

He didn't connect.

Williamson did. He told viewers that at least he paved their streets. He took credit for other pavement projects as well even though they were completed by the state and federal government.

The Journal reported that Williamson and Walling lobbed barbs at one another during the debate. I have to tell you, I didn't see a single barb and I was watching for them! It was another way that Walling failed to capture the necessary votes to win. This town is gritty. It likes a good fight. Walling had 60 minutes of opportunity after opportunity to tell the city what most of us already know - Williamson lies. He had the facts. He should have used that forum to unload the truth while completely destroying the credibility of the 72-year-old babbling about farms and marriages - and streets and highways and bridges. If Walling would have given even a little push, the audience would have seen just how unbalanced and truly frightening Williamson can be.

Finally, I have to say, Walling also missed an outstanding opportunity to use the ads featuring Woodrow Stanley against Williamson. Those running his campaign should have recognized that the images truly reflected the mindset of the Williamson camp. A simple switch-a-roo of the photos with Williamson on top puppeting his tax-paid criminal friends at City Hall, not to mention Conroy and Larry Ford as well as the unbelievable number of clergy who came out in support. Oh, yes, puppeting indeed.

Instead, Walling's team stayed the course. No fight. No punch. No hit. No win.

Flint likes a fight. And I am afraid Williamson just earned his belt as a heavyweight.

I so wish I would have shook on that $1000 bet!

Wednesday, August 15, 2007

A gentle quietening of African Americans in Flint?

I'm getting old. Admittedly, I sometimes wonder if my hearing is getting a little bad as I find myself asking more and more people to repeat what they just said. I have even done so two and three times, depending upon the registration of their voice. After that many times, I felt so uncomfortable asking once more that I gave up, smiled, and pretended like I heard them. I usually nod my head affirmingly just to look a little more convincing... Whatever it was they were trying to communicate didn't get through. I left the conversation hearing only myself.

Frankly, I fear the same types of "conversations" are going to happen more and more between whites and African Americans in Flint. We are losing far too many African American voices that speak loud enough for white folk to hear them.

My heart sank when I learned that Fran Cleaves had died. I worked with Fran on various projects in the past, and while we were not friends, I had the utmost respect for her. Every time I saw her, regardless of the situation, she was strong, she was smiling, she was honest. When I saw her in the stands at Mateen's games, I saw the same - anyone watching - even from afar - could see those qualities about her. I never had to listen closely to Fran Cleaves. She spoke loudly enough for all of us to hear - and we were better for it.

I feel the same way about losing Pam Loving, I must say. While she has not died, she has suffered a personal and professional death that will undoubtedly have an impact on this community. Pam, too, is a strong woman with a legacy of activism starting with her father. She once spoke loudly in this community. Many people listened to her, both black and white... Now it seems that even her friends have trouble hearing her.

Flint is in trouble, people. I fear as the African American voices grow more quiet, white people will grow more weary of not being able to hear exactly what is being said - we will feel foolish asking to have it repeated one more time - and we will smile, nod our heads in affirmation, and walk away, having heard only ourselves.

For the first time since the city adopted a strong mayor form of government, both mayoral nominees are white. This majority black city seems to be losing its voice.

Some claim the votes in the primary election were split among four black candidates. Yes, that is troubling, however, to me there is a real lack of African American leadership in a city in desperate need of voices like Fran Cleaves and Pam Loving. I'll go one step further and suggest that since the recall of Mayor Woodrow Stanley in 2002, no other black leader has boldly stepped in to ensure that African Americans were at the table, making policy decisions, being counted as important to the decision-making process. Don't get me wrong, there have been a few who have been loud -- but more loud than useful. There have been some who have been quiet -- and yes, they have made quiet progress, but quiet don't cut it in Flint politics. Quiet leaders don't force loud issues that demand courage and respect and equality.

It isn't rocket science - race remains a powerful force in this community - sheer numbers indicate it is a powerful force in Flint's voting booths. The Journal reported more than 55 percent of the vote in predominantly black precincts went to one of the four black candidates on the ballot. And 88 percent of the votes in predominantly white neighborhoods went to one of the three white candidates. Predominantly black precincts accounted for almost 50 percent of the votes cast Tuesday. Votes from predominantly white precincts accounted for 41 percent. The other 9 percent came from racially mixed precincts.

Something is being communicated loud and clear - are we listening?

I was 30 when I met Woodrow Stanley for the first time for an interview for a local magazine; 31 when he appointed me to his cabinet. For 10 years, I was granted an opportunity to not only observe our racial problem, that I quickly learned was far greater than I ever felt, but also experience life in two Flints (borrowing the imagery from John Edwards). Working closely with Woodrow Stanley granted me access to discussions, if not situations, where I as a white person would have never been invited if it were not for him. Not that I fault the restrictions. On the contrary, now I understand all too well why the problem remains today, nearly 50 years since the Civil Rights upheaval of the '60s.

Many times I listened as Woodrow Stanley described the need for African American leaders today to live above the standard of white leaders, how the scrutiny and expectations of black leaders was far more intense, that there are those people in this city and country who will stop at nothing to remove an African American from a position of power. He said all that before he was recalled, likely many times as the local FBI wiretapped his phone and installed video cameras in his office to find something that simply was not there.

I heard one African American executive recently say, "We just sit and wait our turn."

My guess is, in the months and years to come, fewer and fewer African Americans will be given their turn. I fear that the quietening of African American voices through death of one kind or another will lead to a deafening silence.

May God help us all...

Wednesday, August 08, 2007

Michael Moore & Me

I talked with Michael Moore once. He called the office, hoping to speak with the Mayor. As the Director of Communications for the City, I often fielded his calls when he wasn't available.

Lucky me.

Or so I was feeling as the receptionist put the call through. I was aware Michael was likely recording the call. Just what would he do with the tape???

This, of course, took place in the wake of Roger & Me, a movie that made all of us left in Flint feel a great deal of shame - like orphans, I suppose - like our wealthy parents had decided to quit providing us our necessary food and shelter, and embarrassed that some of our family members didn't know how to act in front of a camera.

Now, having grown up a little, some of us can look at bit more objectively at the movie and understand it was the parental abandonment of General Motors that Michael was filming about.

What do we do when the kids are left to their own accord?

But I was still bitter when Michael called the office that morning, having fielded so many calls, letters and questions from people who wondered if the show actually portrayed the community correctly. Back then, I said NO!, always adding that there are so many wonderful parts of the community - and so many wonderful family members who actually present themselves quite well whether it be on camera or not. Today, I say yes and no, especially as I see us in Flint repeatedly miss the point to so many issues. The show portrays a painful truth. When I was being honest, even then, I couldn't deny it.

But I still didn't want to talk to Michael Moore on the phone.

Sure enough, Michael was the guest on a radio show and he did inform me up front that I was live and on the air. He asked to talk to the Mayor. I explained that he was away at a conference, but offered to take a message for him. He then asked about the Mayor's efforts to improve the community. While I don't remember the exact phraseology, I do remember explaining to him that I - that we - simply wanted to be a part of a solution.

A couple people told me they heard me that morning - and that I didn't sound like a complete jackass.

I feel differently about Michael now, not because I made it through the phone call, mind you. Fahrenheit 911 was a powerful show. And I was among the few of my friends and family that found myself cheering at his "acceptance" speech at the Academy Awards.

As I read and heard of Davison voting against recognizing Michael, despite his Emmys and Academy Award, I once again became ashamed of my community. They voted to not recognize the achievements of Michael Moore when so many in the country - including myself - believed he was something of a hero. He alone was bold enough to take on the government and share with America very important truths about the war, about our country and its leadership.

I was pleased to be be able to work with his wife, Kathleen Glynn, when she was a guest of the Women in Education at Mott Community College last year. I spoke with her several times to arrange for her appearance. Surprisingly, she said it was the first time she had ever been invited to speak anywhere in the Flint area, despite being an Academy Award-winning producer and a voting member for the prestigious Academy Awards. We were pleased when we packed out the facility the day of her appearance, so many well wishers and fans she likely never knew she had in this city. She kept wonderfully humble as she described her success and the challenges that came with it. She and Michael have truly been partners in every endeavor.

Last night, I saw their latest effort, Sicko.

And again I feel shame.

As I walked out with my friends, I struggled with what I could do to make a difference, to improve not just health care offerings in this country, but also the human interactions to prove that I care about others as least as much as I care about myself. At the same time, I wondered how quickly I could move my family to Canada or France or Cuba, where there seemed to be a humanity Americans have lost, excepting the brief moments following a crisis. It's not just about health care and it is all about health care. It's not just about bad leadership and it is all about bad leadership. It's not just about money and it is all about money.

This I know - America needs to change. I want to be a part of the solution. I want you to help me be a part of the solution. If you haven't seen Sicko, I urge you to see it. If you have seen it, please do not let it's impact upon your heart and spirit fade. There is so much to distract us. There are many who want to distract us. Let's do something to show we care, to prove we care. I still believe we can be the change we all so desperately need in this country, in this community.

Tonight, I join many other Americans and applaud the man I once dreaded speaking to on the phone. If only I had another chance ...

I wish I could thank him in a more meaningful way...

Tuesday, August 07, 2007

Flint's Mayoral candidates need to push a little

I got a random call the other day at the office, someone touting the skills of Dayne Walling, one of seven folks running for Mayor. No question about it, Walling has been out there. I have received numerous mailings, emails (I have no idea how he got THAT!), phone calls - my street is lined with Walling signs. I learned early on, however, that signs don't necessarily mean a thing in an election. People agree to let a candidate put up a sign simply because they don't like saying no to someone standing at their door.

So the caller asks if I have any questions or concerns for Mr. Walling on the eve of the primary... Well, as a matter of fact I do... I told Walling's volunteer that I really wanted to see him come out AGAINST Williamson, the current Mayor, who appears to have this election wrapped up based upon the lack of questions being asked publicly about so many of his actions and activities.

I suppose that is why I read the Journal's account of the forum held this week. The headline caught my eye: Mayor, foes trade barbs at forum.

First, I am shocked that Williamson appeared. He doesn't usually. Makes me wonder if he isn't feeling some heat despite the relative calm. Secondly, I knew the account would be good. He can't help himself. A few pokes and he explodes and doesn't care who hears the tirade...

Why aren't the other candidates using that? They have to do so little. A little push and he does the rest...

The Journal's account didn't disappoint me - How shocking that it turned into a shouting match!! After a few short minutes, the incumbent yelled at one audience member to "shut up while I'm talking."

Later, her reportedly told the audience, "I feel like I need to apologize for you. It's too bad you have to be so small."

Then he left the building.

And people like this guy??

I feel stuck in this rendition of the Emperor has No Clothes. The newspaper doesn't trumpet the ongoing faults of this guy - so different from the constant attacks against the former Mayor, made up as they were. It's rare to see or hear a negative piece about him. In fact, it seems nary a week goes by when I hear of another someone who extols his virtues! WHAT?? Why oh why do I seem surprised?

He has the ear of the average citizen I'm afraid. They like that he paves streets and ignores laws. They think shiny new garbage trucks are better than fulfilling campaign promises of jobs with his own firm, cutting funding for social service agencies, refusals of partnering with other organizations. What ever happened to his sports center or the idea of starting a business using city employees?

Recently, my husband and kids went to Williamson's recycling center on Grand Traverse, or so they thought. The sign outside said it was his recycling center - and they had a trunk full of newspapers to unload. When they asked the woman attendant if they should just leave the stacks in the semi-trailer, she said sure, but added they were really going to the landfill. Mr. Williamson doesn't actually recycle them.

What??

She then offered a $10 bill if they left the newspapers and asked them not to tell anyone.

They didn't take the money. They took them to CBC Recycling on Saginaw Street. But I am quite sure that many people have taken the money whether it be at the recycling center or elsewhere. And they love Don Williamson for the way that he is cleaning up this city.

Following the forum the other night, one resident commented, "The people in the back kind of got going, but maybe (Williamson) shouldn't have told them what he did because, as the mayor, that doesn't present a very good look for himself."

Whoever wins the primary needs to capitalize on that. Be it Walling, or Bryant or Weighill, they need to realize that they are running AGAINST Don Williamson -- and he's not in the habit of making himself look good.

Friday, July 27, 2007

So digging up bodies for sex is legal??

This stuff just irritates me... I mean, come on!!

The Associated Press is reporting that THREE men dug up a young woman's corpse to have sex with it after seeing her obituary photo!!!

You've got to be kidding me!!

And, get this, the trio cannot be charged with attempted sexual assault because Wisconsin has no law against necrophilia!

The story reads, "A judge was correct to dismiss the charges against twin brothers Nicholas and Alexander Grunke and Dustin Radke, all 21, because lawmakers never intended to criminalize sex with a corpse, the District 4 Court of Appeals said in a 3-0 ruling."

Soooo - people can dig up bodies and have sex with them in Wisconsin?? Can they do that in Michigan??

Apparently, the graverobbers went to a cemetery to remove the body of a 20-year-old female who had been killed the week before in a motorcycle crash. The men had seen an obituary with her photo and wanted to dig up her body to have sexual intercourse.

I suppose they didn't care the condition of the motorcycle crash victim!!

The men used shovels to reach her grave. They abandoned their plan and were eventually arrested after a vehicle drove into the cemetery and reported suspicious behavior, authorities said.

And I thought the dude having sex with the pool filter was bad!!!

The men were charged with attempted third-degree sexual assault and misdemeanor attempted theft charges. But Grant County Circuit Judge George Curry dismissed the sexual assault charges in September, saying no Wisconsin law addressed necrophilia. Prosecutors appealed his ruling.

The appeals court said the law was ambiguous but the most reasonable interpretation was that it does not ban necrophilia. Instead, the court said, the law was meant to make sure prosecutors could bring sexual assault charges in rape-murder cases in which the victim ends up dead.

So the graverobbers are out and prowling around cemeteries, right?? I mean, it's not against the law!!!

What about copy cat crimes???

I am so glad my Grandmother does not yet have a headstone!!!

Thursday, July 26, 2007

How very random...

I've frequently been accused of being "random" by the younger generation that usually follows me around. They say it so derisively: "Ahh, THAT'S raannndom!"

It usually isn't. It's simply that they have missed half the conversation - their fault for not listening -- or could even be my fault for not verbalizing the ongoing conversation in my head. It's personal! I'm not going to tell everybody!

The following thoughts, however, ARE random.

Is the summer half empty or half full?? I kept thinking it was almost over until one of the short ones who often hitch a ride with me said she is so glad that we are only half way through. Yesss. The thought brings greater comfort...

Only to be whoosed away by the report this week that "dry runs" for terror strikes are being held at airports across the country. My thought: Terror begins when the uniformed dudes rifle through my suitcases looking for a bomb. If I am a suspect, what about the would-be passenger behind me who looks a little whacked on something besides Red Bull. I don't want to judge, but ...

And another thing. I find the only place I pray anymore is in a plane, flying above the clouds. For some reason it always hits me, I just might be the only one on the plane who would utter a prayer. Think He hears me better when I am in the heavens??

Anyway, I can't help but wonder who gains more from the "increased traffic" regarding terrorism. Seems like a win-win for ALL interested parties... Did they really report that a block of cheese was thought to be a bomb??

I don't know whether to be afraid - very afraid - or more cynical - very cynical. Seems like everything is a suspected tool for terrorism - or cause of cancer.

What about stress?? I think we should find ways to eliminate stress in this world. Less stress, less stressed out people who want to commit an act of terrorism just to even the score.

Some schools have raised tuition by $7000 this year!! Is anyone looking at the unemployment stats these days?? What about the debt??

And why isn't anyone talking about economic recovery anymore?? Hey, I live in Flint! Throw us a bone!

The stocks tumble again. Why do right-wingers not consider "investing" in stocks gambling? I continue to "invest" in education with my scratch offs! Thank you Grandma that I continue to win on that initial investment the day of your funeral!!

I wish I would have known Pat Tillman. His story is one of the most moving I have ever heard.

I HATE this war... When oh when will it ever end?

Yes, the politics of hope! That is what I want!!

Is Rove really being subpoeanaed?? For real?? I can't even read the article for fear it may be another inaccurate headline...

God bless, Tammy Faye. If you haven't seen it, rent it: The Eyes of Tammy Faye. It will make you miss her -- I'm not kidding. She was one of a kind and a true inspiration...

I'm so glad the summer is only half way through!!

Sunday, July 08, 2007

There will never be another like her...


There are no words that come close in describing the loss I feel with the passing of my Grandma. To describe it as a hole in my heart seems so small, so inadequate. She was always there. Now she is not.

Fredia Mulcahy was the greatest grandma in all the world...

Thank you for your prayers and warm thoughts during these dark days...



Fredia M. Mulcahy

MULCAHY, Fredia M. - Of Flint, age 87, died Sunday, July 1, 2007 at McLaren Regional Medical Center. Funeral service will be held at 11AM Thursday, July 5, 2007 at the Swartz Funeral Home, 1225 West Hill Road, Pastor Jim Vogel officiating. Burial in Crestwood Cemetery. In lieu of flowers, contributions may be made to South Baptist Church General Fund. Visitation 11AM-4PM Wednesday at the funeral home. Fredia was born in Clare County, Michigan on September 1, 1919, the daughter of Adam and LaVinia Reger. She was an active member of South Baptist Church. Mrs. Mulcahy was employed by General Motors for 21 years, retiring from Fisher Body II Truck & Bus in 1971. Surviving are children, Sam and wife Mary Ann; daughter-in-law, Janet Owens; Edward and wife Betty Mulcahy, Dennis Mulcahy, Philip and wife Nina Mulcahy, Phyllis and husband Darrell Glazier; 14 grandchildren; 27 great-grand-children; sister, Mary and husband Cliff Trotter; many nieces and nephews. She was preceded in death by her first husband, Lyle Owens, in 1963; second husband, Philip Mulcahy, in 2000; son, Tom Owens, in 2003; 4 sisters and 8 brothers.

Friday, June 15, 2007

No break(s) on this runaway summer!

I had my excuse all prepared, knowing that my doctor was certain to end my travels. Yes, I drove myself to the follow-up appointment, despite the pain in my right foot and the huge cumbersome boot desensitizing the ordinary pressure necessary to move forward without a jolt - not to mention breaking! In the good old days, they broke with their left foot AND worked the clutch!!

I was certain the check-in nurse would ask how I arrived after watching me wobble in. I simply avoided eye contact. The doc checked the foot, announced my cholesterol had dropped (ye-ha!), and then sent me on my way to get it re-rayed! Didn't she wonder how I would get there??? I hobbled out, holding my excuse very close at hand, knowing the question was imminent. I set next appointment, paid the bill, grabbed the crutches ... nadda. Nope. Despite my best efforts, no one cared that I drove to and from the doctor's office that day, let alone to and from the kids' school!

BUT if anyone would have asked, I would have told them I had a cab out front. It certainly wasn't a lie!

You cannot imagine what it is like driving the Frownie Cab on a daily basis, my husband's idea of fun and surprises! What better way to adorn a bright yellow Aztec than to add checkerboard and lettering officially designating my role as cabbie for the kids in need of being all over this town for various activities. When I opened the door to the garage and discovered it, I screamed - loudly. How in the world could I drive that thing? It was bad enough driving it without the checkerboard announcement on the side of the car!

The kids, strangely, loved it. They didn't mind having everyone see them coming and going. Their friends think it is cool. In fact, one of the kids at the school begs her mom every day to park next to the Frownie Cab. I truly do not understand why...

So one day, David takes the car to get a tire fixed (he rarely drives it - in fact, once after spending the day driving it, he came home and asked if we should remove the lettering. He felt uncomfortable having everyone staring at him, I guess. There is no way we could change a thing and still drive the car. We would look so weak, don't you agree??) Come to find out, the repairman's daughter had been on a search for a yellow cab for prom. (Of course, none can be found in Flint!) She is REALLY into yellow cabs. Her dress is cabbie yellow with a checkerboard shawl, the dad goes on to say. Her date has a yellow shirt, yellow socks with his black tux.

But no cab.

Well, you can probably see where this is going. David offers up his services for prom, complete with this cabbie hat and fake cabbie suit. In Flint, the proms are like the Academy Awards complete with limos, caddies and that year, a yellow cab. (I got the pictures to prove it!!)

That's one of the good stories - and while I have more, the number of other stories is higher, including just the sheer fortitude one needs to keep driving while everyone cranes their necks around and stares as we drive by. It took me months to stop wondering why everyone was staring at us. I kept thinking there must be something wrong with the car, a seat belt dragging on the ground, the kids making faces at other drivers as they passed, grafitti? Why in the world was everyone looking at us??

Now I just smile - like I'm nuts.
Sometimes the kids wave...

Once, we were driving the back roads of Jackson. Dirt roads lined with gorgeous trees, hardly room for another car, but we rarely saw one so it didn't matter. A truck full of toothless guys suddenly appear. Yup, at the next stop sign, they slide up next to us, motion to roll down the window. I'm thinking, oh no. I've seen this episode on COPS. I smile and turn my head back to the road.

BEEEP! I look over, trying not to give off that scent of fear. The toothless driver motions to roll down the window. So, because I forgot what the woman did wrong on that COPS episode, I rolled it down part way. All the guys then squeeze their heads to their open window to listen. What's it gonna be, I'm thinking. Hope the kids don't learn another evil of the world...

Where's the racetrack, the driver belches out.

The what-did-he-say?? Excuse me, I respond, raising my fake dumb blonde eyebrows necessary in a moment like this. Racetrack, he says, with all his friends nodding in approval. Where is the race track?

HOW IN THE HECK AM I SUPPOSE TO KNOW WHERE THE RACE TRACK IS?? DO I LOOK LIKE AN INFORMATION DESK?? I'M NOT EVEN FROM HERE!!!

Then it occurs to me, this truck load of drunken guys think I am a cab - OF COURSE THEY DO!! (Thank you, David!)

So, I laugh, and politely smile because I think they might have a gun rack.

I am sorry. I don't know where the race track is. I am not really a cab. You see, my husband thought it would be funny if -

They interrupt.

Sure, sure. Lady, where is the race track??

I assure you, drunk guys, I am not a cab for anyone other than my precious children in back. See them (kids roll down your windows!). They smile and wave. I smile and wave and then proceed to slowly pull away hoping they don't ram us from behind.

It truly is amazing how often we are stopped for directions. On a near daily basis, someone asks us if we are a real cab. Not too long ago, I was sitting at a stop light over by Genesee County Mental Health and I noticed an old man in an even older suit hobbling toward our car. Hey, under normal circumstances, I am observant, but become especially so while driving any more. (I keep thinking someone is going to rob me with this thing!!) Out of the corner of my eye, I see him reach for the back door on the passenger side. Needless to say, I put the pedal to the metal and ran the red!

At Horton's drive thru the other day, the attendant asked how many vehicles we have in our fleet.

Fleet, I wondered? This person must know David and his thirst for cars (see - I forget I am driving it!!). She must of seen my puzzled face because then she said, I see your cabs all over town.

OHHHHHHH - DUHHHHHHH! I smile.

Just this one, you see, my huband thought it would be funny -

Your kidding, she said interrupting the explanation. You are not a cab? There is only this one?

Yes, just me, driving my kids to and fro. Smile.

You are all over this city, she said. (Tell me about it, I think.)

Anyway, on the eve of trading in the cab for a new car (note husband's thirst above!), I decided I could make the cab work for me for a change - came up with my excuse for the doc, the nurse, the xray tech - anyone who might try and bar me from driving due to my impaired right foot. It didn't happen. No one cares that I can barely move my foot to push the gas pedal or step on the brake. SO I DIDN'T GET TO USE MY LINE!!!!!

Can't I get a break??

(BTW, xrays came back, no breaky for my footy either! Just a bad sprain and a fracture scar from previous trauma!)

For the record, I'm not letting my husband near my next car!! I hate surprises!!

Saturday, June 09, 2007

No foot ball here!

Ouch! My foot hurts! Broke it on Thursday, rushing to get the kids. Missed a step and down I went. I felt like one of those dudes on Scarred - have you seen it? I watched one episode where a guy thought it would be cool to ski downhill backwards - and I think he did a backwards flip - on purpose! He landed like I did on Thursday 'cept both his ankles were broke! He screamed - and it echoed - through the snowcapped mountains. I hated that show, though I felt a bit of a kindred spirit with the skiier that afternoon.

And so I sit - actually, lay prone most of the day, keeping my leg raised above my heart. When the kids are here, Isi is vigilant about bringing cold ice packs. David, poor guy, needs a vacation keeping up with my demands. I really hate being this way -

Especially when there is nothing on tv except Paris and whether on not she deserves to be in or out. My friend keeps telling me she feels sorry for her - I haven't yet decided. While it interesting to me to see her crying in the back of the squad car, it feels more peculiar than interesting. Then, of course, hearing of her "medical condition" or emotional condition or mental condition - I just keep thinking there is more to the story.

Of course, there must be more to the story on Paris anyway. After all, there has to be more. I've watched Simple Life more times than I care to admit. I have seen her and Nicole "tough it out" before and after their breakup. It was the breakup that truly left me puzzled, especially after watching Nicole tell of her addiction to heroin while doing Simple Life. She was clear when she was clean that she could no longer hang with her BFF.

They are friends, again, of course. And Nicole continues to cause great speculation about her return to drugs.

My brother suggests reading a book rather than listening to the drivel. I wish I felt like picking one up!

My foot hurts. Did I mention that??

Monday, April 30, 2007

Facts of life

This sex stuff is unbelievable. I don't understand why men are willing to lose everything for a "massage" with a sexual fantasy service.

The Blotter

Not that Randy Tobias is the only fool in the lineup. It's a long list, including the guy I watched one night on Cops who was receiving "a massage" from a pool! There he was, on camera, stuck in the throes of lust ... with a pool!

And I hate to say this, I really do, but we thought Bill Clinton was bad. But not really. I'm not sure anyone really thought that Bill Clinton was that bad. Certainly not Newt, who at the time had his own thing going, come to find out. I think most men didn't blame Clinton despite what they might have said to their wives or in front of their church friends. And most women didn't really blame Monica. We think she got a little kooky in the end, but given the chance to tryst with the most powerful man in the world... It is an age-old tale.

I think most people think that this stuff happens all the time. Especially with the politicos. They are like rock stars tripping on the aphrodisiac of power. Women are drawn to them, trippin' on their own Delilah fantasy. What could be better than having power over the most powerful?

What gets me, however, is the lies about it all. Randy Tobias calling for abstinence, while trafficing on a sexually moral road. Ted Haggard preaching against homosexuality -- pushing for legislation -- while relaxing with "a massage" from a male prostitute. Why do they always seem so smug?

I am reminded this morning of a verse that I have come to believe as a truth, simply because I have seen it proven time and time again. "God resists the proud and gives grace to the humble."

I'm looking for humble.

I'll listen to humble.

It's the pridefulness we can all do without.

Thursday, April 26, 2007

25 Avril 2007

Another installment I thought you might want to read...

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

Today was my last day in France. We had success at work, with positive feedback on our work from the customers. I have an action item, from discussion, to follow up within a few weeks of getting home.

I am a little sad to leave France behind. Every morning it is customary to say a bright “Bonjour” to everyone you see. I’m coming to understand, though, that “Bonjour” is more than just the French version of our word “hello.” It’s a respect of people thing. It’s an acknowledgement of the presence of the individual, and the wishing of them to have a good day (Bon = good, jour = day). If you look them in the eye when you say it (most people do), it really packs a punch. It is so warm and welcoming, to me. I feel like it may even heal the common cold. Best way: deliver it from the gut, with French gusto….Tres bien!

What a contrast! In the states many people don’t bother to look up or even grunt when another person enters their presence.

One more thing about “Bonjour:” once you’ve said it, DON’T say it again to that person the rest of the day. To do so seems to imply you might not have cared much in the first place. If all this seems like a big responsibility, it is. But—what’s more important than taking a moment to acknowledge people? Think of the richness of relationship of your best friend, or the laughs you’re shared with a really funny person….how about the time a deeply kind word brought warmth and comfort to your soul, perhaps during a time you ached from one of life’s hurts? Did that matter to you? If people matter to you, today (and every day) is a good time to express it.

One reason this is all being put into writing is to remind myself that I must come back. Though it’s a lot of effort, time and $$ to get here, there is NOTHING LIKE it, being in a country where they speak French, and have all their interesting French ways.

I think I was meant to be born French, but got dropped off by the Stork in the wrong country?? Actually, Grandpa Glen’s great-grandfather was born near the border of France and Germany, in the 1800’s. They emigrated to Canada and later generations to the US. So we have French blood in us?

A couple more things about French sites before I forget: Walking through the city of Metz is like opening a big storybook, with ornate gold leaf on the cover, and as your eyes fall on the inside, colors that brighten, the moment you look at them. We used a French Curve in drafting class (engineering school) and now I know why the French get credit for the graceful curves: the streets, the inset paver stone patterns inset in the streets, and the disposable plastic lunch trays. And of course the cars but you’ve already had to read about that.

Somehow, I’ve got to come back to Metz (pronounced “mess” J ), and when I do, I’ve got to see the inside of the cathedral. My room, #333, had a nice view of it, but now my appetite is whetted.

-----------------------------------------------

After I left Florange (France), it was 40 minutes to a new country: Luxembourg. Luxembourg is a big name but a very small country; a principality, I understand. About the size of Chicago? I was hoping they’d stop us at the border and I’d get the thrill of “crossing the border,” complete with passport stamp, but no, it’s part of the European Union, so apparently whoever is OK with France is OK to be in Luxembourg.

Luxembourg has a King and Queen; I saw their pictures in the lobby of the hotel. I asked the girl at the counter whether or not he did a good job. I wonder what exactly he does? In the picture, he was holding a sword, but it didn’t look like it had gotten much use--No disrespect intended.

There have been many questions from Delphi comrades as to how I’m going to get from my hotel (next to the airport) to Bascharage (city 17 miles away where Delphi Tech Center is located). Their concern is appreciated. The two most common offered ideas offered have been:

renting a car
calling a taxi.

Either one costs about €100 (100 Euros, or about $135.00), and neither seems like an interesting way to get there. It’s the inefficiency of those ideas I don’t like. What a ridiculously large sum of money, simply to get a short bit of transportation. I mean, how incredibly helpless are we here, people?

My idea: I spotted a BUS STOP outside my hotel, which apparently I can ride for about €3 each way, with a bus change in the city center. I think I’ll try it. I’ll be able to tell you when I get home whether this was such a smart idea. J There is no certain time I have to be at the Delphi building tomorrow so if I get a little turned around, hey, I’ll get to see more of the area??

“Things we deeply feel” is what I’d like to write more about, but with the long hours I’ve been working all week, the lack of sleep, overeating, lack of exercise, missing my family, and uncertainly of staying in a strange land, it has me feeling a little out of place and wiped out.

I’m thankful for some focus that recently came from my bible, informing me that we are “strangers and aliens” anyhow, in this life, passing through, and to live now with God, closely, letting him tenderly lead us, while looking for that next, better land. So maybe this travel is good training for that. Truly, that reference about being a “stranger” is helping me find my place in this world anyhow. It helps a person rest from the work of trying to “fit in” or be “acceptable.” The point is that achieving business success, looking a certain way, or expressing yourself a certain way is an irrelevant distraction from the life we are meant to lead: with a deep acceptance of ourselves and then other people.

Thanks for listening,
Goodnight, or as we say in France, Bon nuit,
Love always,
David

PS I am sending you this note from the Delphi building, after riding the bus successfully this morning. :)

Monday, April 23, 2007

Parlez-vous Francais?

Not sure what the subject line says, but the content of this entry may be of interest. It is actually an email that David sent to me and the kids (I took out MOST of the mushy stuff!) Call it a guest entry. As much as I keep suggesting, he doesn't create his own blog - and he should. I'll let him borrow mine for now...

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

I absolutely can't believe what I am experiencing. I left Paris behind this afternoon and now am in the small town of Metz. Look it up! Find it on a map, or on Mapquest. The hotel's address is Cetre Saint Jacques, Metz FR 5700.

The night sky is beautiful, clear with stars and moon.

France is all about beauty and creativity: the architecture (buildings), the flowers, the people, the styles, the food. And the language is like poetry, the beautiful way it rolls out of the mouths of the people.

I want to show you Paris and also a smaller French town, like this Metz that I'm in. The streets are all cobblestone, winding, with TALL 3-story storefronts all along. And most stores only sell 1 type of thing: knives. Or CDs. Or sandwiches. Or jewelry.

NO STRAIGHT LINES, the streets are curvy, the paver stones are curvy the bridges are curvy…..it's like a big cartoon.

And the cars-----------HA! You wouldn't believe all the funny (goofy!) French cars. Renault Twingo, Citroen (my favorite is the C6), Smart car (2 seater, very upright, shorter than a mini Cooper). Very quirky and interesting (creative) styling, like cartoons. And most of the cars are small over here, because the streets are narrow and parking is difficult (congested). But they drive FAST, like shot out of a cannon.

I am on the 3rd (top) floor of the Nootel Metz Centre hotel, looking out over a mall/courtyard that is vacant and almost silent. Except for the bells that chime every 15 minutes, from the HUGE GORGEOUS HISTORIC cathedral, lit up with beautiful lights, and I am looking STRAIGHT OUT MY WINDOW at it. Picture Tim & Diane's beautiful church, x2. It is a cathedral, that almost seems to compare to Notre Dame and Sacre Coeur (which I went in yesterday and today; the 2 most famous and beautiful Catholic cathedrals in Paris). I paid the extra today and took the EXTREMLY NARROW, spiral staircase up to the top of Sacre Coeur. AMAZING.

And I've done something I rarely do: took LOTS of pictures. So I can't wait to get home and show you the whole show. Susie: you've got to help me find the right French background music for the slideshow.

I even saw Moulin Rouge today, during the day, from the outside. Wow, quite a bit goes on over there.

The saw the famous Mona Lisa wow(!) at the Louvre. They would not let me borrow it. The Arc de Triumphe, of course the Eiffel Tower (at day AND at night), flooded with glorious golden light and flashing (for 5 minutes every half hour) with hundreds of strobe lights, from top to bottom.

We've been "on the go" so much that I fall into bed exhausted every night. It is about 9:15 pm here (I'm writing this to save, then send tomorrow when I can hook up to internet), and I'm lucky to have lasted till 10. Oh here goes the cathedral bells again. Now bonging 10:00

The only thing that's missing you 3. We must come here one day, when you kids have had some time to take some French in school. To be able to communicate (I am getting the very basic hello, thank you, and a few other things, but not much else. Bummer!) It takes time to study and master, but it's worth it.

I am SO blessed to get to experience this.

Tomorrow I must "hunker down" and get to work for Delphi, at our Florange plant. This is, of course, the reason they paid to send me over here.

With all my love and fondness,
David (Daddy)

Wednesday, April 11, 2007

Another distinction for Flint!

ABC12.com: National walking magazine names Flint No. 1 walking city

I'm hoping my doctor misses today's paper! I keep asking for diet "support." She constantly suggests an alternative to a pill that I can pop and avert the rumbly in the tumbly. "Walk," she says, without missing a beat with that ice-cold stethescope.

Walk, I balked! How can I walk?? I have two kids that need my constant attention. "Take them with you," she keeps listening as I breathe in, then out. "I have a son," I said with feigned exasperation. "If I take him, I will have to constantly stop to pull him from the trees!"

Come to find out, there are lots of people walking in Flint - and I thought it was just in my neighborhood! Do you know that I once heard two women walking down the street at 3:30 am, talking as if it were mid-day?

I could probably do that if I could drag myself out of bed!!!

Apparently, a national magazine called "Walk!" lists Flint as the nation's best city for walkers. The story is on the abc12 website, per my little brother in Seattle! Ha, it's not the first time he told me what was happening in Flint!

One walker was quoted as saying that people don't really understand that Flint is safe, at least in the downtown area. The walker-talker is right. Our downtown is safe - with lots of construction going on, building dreams for a better tomorrow. A walking tour would prove to be of interest if we could just get the burbinites to let go of their fears. We are so much our own worst enemies, fueling a myth more rooted in racism than the actual crime stats.

I use to think Flint natives were unique in their perspectives of our city - that is until I met a man who moved from Toronto to work in Flint. I was amazed since I have spent lots of money going the opposite direction on the Queen's Highway. Who in their right mind would leave Toronto for Flint?? He did, and he talked like it was the best move he ever made. In fact, most of the imports in this town speak very highly of our community and all the resources we have in a fairly compact environment.

I think the imports probably walk - they likely walk right past "those people" who are still afraid of driving in the city limits, let alone stopping at a stop sign.

So how did Flint make the list? Nominations came from "Walk!" magazine readers. Some of the areas of consideration: Walking clubs, athletic shoe stores that understand the mind and body of the walker, and available walking and hiking trails.

I bet my doctor has a subscription to "Walk!" I'm looking for it the next time I am sitting in her waiting room!

Saturday, April 07, 2007

Update, of sorts

Couple things...

I am at the Fat Club on Wednesday, going through the shame of standing on the scale and hearing how successful (or unsuccessful!) I have been at warding off temptation. Psychologically, I usually go feeling defeated anyway since I pal around with a brown-nosing, life-timing, star-pupil, 39-pounds-lighter-in-a-month Fat Clubber. How can I compete with THAT!? Last week, I KNEW I was at least 10 pounds lighter for all the no's I delivered to the food devil. One point four pounds, is how they delivered my fate, as if that compares to 10 - as if the .4 is even worth noting! I thought of the star-pupil. The women recording the weight tried encouraging me. "Hey, it's a loss. You didn't gain!"

This week I felt more prepared. I jumped up on the scale and heard that I had once again missed that 10 pound reduction - by seven point six pounds!! For those of you who are doing the math, it's a loss of 2.4. Ok, so it's not 10 (the brown-noser lost 7!), but it is better than last week. I felt the encouragement this week was somewhat more genuine from the skinnier chick behind the counter. Not bad, I guess, it all adds up...

I go home, enter my weight online - wait - I enter it again. WHAT!!!!!? She did the math wrong!!! I only lost 1.4!!!! I tried and tried different combinations to reach her 2.4 - nothing worked! I felt defeated, dejected - and fat. I hate the Fat Club!

But I LOVE our new puppy! Samwise Hollister aka Snoop Dog is a cute little cockapoo, though he truly reminds me of Odie because he seems like that kind of partner for Kit-Kat. She's so wise and maternal as he dances crazily around her, nipping on her tail. She gently head-butted him last night to try and guide him on the right path. How cute is that!?

Signed, Fatty

Tuesday, March 27, 2007

Tony Snow and the Edwardes

Having watched two family members die of cancer within the past year, the news of Tony Snow and Elizabeth Edwards has touched me. I have found myself thinking of them many times over the last couple days, especially Tony Snow after hearing that his cancer has returned and has spread to his liver. When he was appointed press secretary to Bush in 2006, I thought he was nuts, not because he was taking a thankless job for a sure-to-be rough ride at the close of a Presidency, but because he had just survived a bout with cancer with radiation, chemotherapy and a portion of his colon surgically removed. After such a sobering brush with mortality, I wondered why would he even think of jumping into such a raging political fire? Had he not reconsidered his life and how he could live each day with unshackled purpose, unfettered to the nonsense and the political gamemanship? I can't help but wonder what Tony Snow is thinking now, if these truly short days have been lived as he dreamed, as a press secretary always on call, whose allegiance must go so far beyond the day-to-day routine.

I watched quietly as Elizabeth Edwards spoke oh-so-bravely of her continued support of her husband, who with her input, decided to continue his campaign for President. Her cancer has spread to her bone with several hot spots flaring in her hip if not elsewhere. And yet, she too decides to keep going, to keep playing the game, to spend what could be her last days speaking on behalf of her husband who just might be the first widowed President to take office. She closed her comments by saying "she chooses to be inspired."

Am I inspired?

In the darkness of our own personal journey with such aggressive cancers as these, it seemed many decisions were created with a similar hope, to continue living despite the likelihood of a soon-to-be dying reality. There were days when we struggled to simply live a normal day, free from a deadly diagnosis. We would try and forget that the days were likely numbered. We rationalized, analysed and trivialized every symptom and hope. We questioned and reasoned aloud that decisions seemed based in a denial, a truth just beyond our reach, rather than with facts none of us wanted to truly live.

The truth we clutched and embraced with our hearts, however, is that all of us wanted more, not of the busy-ness and meaningless conversations, but of the personal truths as can only be conveyed by our souls.

My hope for Tony Snow and Elizabeth Edwards is that they share the personal truths of their very souls in the spotlight they now command. My hope is that they grip the hearts of the American people with unabashed honesty and bravery of vulnerbility. Each can speak to our hearts now like no other public figure or politician. Their honesty could create a more lasting and meaningful legacy than their continued allegiance to a system in need of great repair regardless of which party they might support.

I will look for those moments of sobering reality when Tony Snow quits playing the game according to someone else's rules, when Elizabeth Edwards tells this country why it is so God-awful important to elect her husband for the Presidency. I will look for what is said in quieter moments of recovery, after they have reviewed their days and determined what is of real value in this life.

My heart is with them and their families in these weeks and months to come.

Tuesday, March 06, 2007

Sara-bye,bye

I'm feeling a bit JRish. Remember when he was shot and the next season he was simply dreaming?

I feel like the last few days were like that - a dream, a fleeting vision of merriment and joy. Not that life in Flint is all bad, mind you (Don Williamson said things are getting better, after all). But, Sarasota! Bradenton! Where fort art thou?

Ok - so the real story is my husband and Angela planned the whole trip, not that I figured that out any sooner than you did if you read my last entry. Yes, the manager and all her minions did come to our table at Applebee's and tell us we were the 100,000 customer, earning us a four-day trip to Bradenton WITH the plane leaving Detroit in less than six hours! What I learned later was David has been spending too much time watching "The Jamie Kennedy Experience." He created the coupon and slipped into the eatery a bit early to set the scene for Birthday Boy and me. (Birthday Boy aka David Stephenson, Angela's husband!) We always try to outdo one another in celebrating birthdays. Birthday Boy and I Punk my husband and Angela in honor of their years; they put us on television with a trip to the Sunshine State. I think we win whichever way you slice it!

Words do not do this episode justice. Not only did we eat at places of distinction and honor, but we stuffed ourselves like royalty with fresh fish, salads and unusual liquid refreshment. Whether we had blue cheese stuffed olives with our martinis or fire and ice chilled shrimp, no one left the table without appreciation for the cooks!

Strangely, the number of people we saw from Flint helped foster my feeling that all was a dream. From our arrival on Thursday night when we met with a whole group of folks who were down there to golf (IS it even spring break???), to family members who just happened to be there as well. I kept scratching my head wondering why everyone chose this week to visit the sun! And to all be in the same place?? Go figure!

So I am reading, Meet the Beatles, a great history of the fab four. I just finished the chapter on John Lennon being an artist who actually attended art school (who knew??!) Well, what is happening at St. Armand's Circle in Sarasota? None other than John's art exhibit, put on by Yoko Ono. We left the two in the Columbia and headed for the exhibit (Birthday Boy likes Lennon!) After mild discussions that border on insane, we decide to forego our plan to purchase the $6000 print and share it between our two houses. I was strongly tempted to pick up the "Watching the Wheels" lyrics handwritten by John - I think my favorite song of his right now. Nay, I ran from the temptation - and purchased a pair of knock off Crocs instead. A bit more affordable - Birthday Boy does NOT want to share them!

And we shopped some more as tourists do.
And we Segwayed through the historic district. Segwho, you say? The Segway is a two-wheeled platform that balances your body per your own movement. Lean forward, you move forward - tip back, backwards you go. Angela said no at first, then weakened, said no, weakened, no. The diliberations continued until she made it past the initial shakeup getting on. In fact, she said she watched that I couldn't do it any better and thought she wasn't so stupid afterall. Thanks. She's such a pal. And we tooled around the Botanical Gardens, saw the Doll Family houses (of circus lore), wheeled past the bay, through the city and spent much of the time taunting Angela who still wasn't sure she would make it through the tour balancing on the two wheels. In truth, I did run into her once (or was it twice?). She nearly fell. I laughed. So did Birthday Boy. Birthday Boy was a bad boy on the Segway - the teacher kept telling him to behave!! I don't think he heard her.

All of us heard the bells, however, the last bell tower in Sarasota. I told Angela that I had read that the bells were designed to ring in honor of Ringling (the whole town commemorates the circus family Ringlings!!). Listen, I told her, ring-ling, ring-ling. Just like shown on Polar Express, she heard it! Yes, she exclaimed, I hear it. (I swear, I could even see her head bouncing to the syllables!!) She then quickly told the tour guide that her friend had read this amazing fact about the bells. He told her they changed the ring to honor the new Chinese restaurant - Ling-ring, ling-ring. She tried telling him I was telling the truth - that I had read it on the Internet. Please don't tell her any different... Let's just keep this between me and you...

And, well, there is so much to tell of this dream... Suffice it to say, Birthday Boy and I won the shell finding contest as the sun slowly slipped into the bay.

And, we had the most fun ... at least in this dream anyway.

Friday, March 02, 2007

3.1.07 4:36 pm

Happy March! You’ll never guess where we are right now. Go ahead – guess…

Okay, I’ll tell you: Detroit Metro, waiting for a flight to Florida! Who knew?? I sure didn’t!

So Angela calls me yesterday and asks if I would meet her for lunch. I didn’t think much of it at the time even though she RARELY does such invites. So she calls today just to make sure I would be there. Yup! I’ll be there. I may be late … but.

So I walk into Applebees, craining my neck to find Angela. Nope, don’t see her, but look, there’s David waving across the restaurant with a goofy grin on his face. I better go say hi, right? I get a little closer and notice he is sitting with Angela’s husband! I thought, David is copying me again! He knew I was coming and wanted to beat me to the punch. Brother!

So he invites me to sit down. No, I try and beg off. (I hate to crash a party!) Then he insists, “Sit!” Ok, I’ll just wait for Angela…

In she comes, blustery and confused. She uttered something about her friend dropping her off. What? Dropped you off? We are at the restaurant! Who was going to take her back?? I guess I will have a little longer lunch hour today.

Then, David pulls a drink from behind the ketchup holder – wa la! I thought it probably has a fly in it! Angela was still muttering something about her friend having to go get her kids – nope, she changed mid-sentence, she was just kidding. Kidding? About what part?? She tries to explain …

I become so thoroughly confused when suddenly it occurs to me that this might have been set up in advance – OH MY GOSH! THEY ARE GOING TO DO A BRITNEY ON ME!!! “Is this an intervention,” I ask???

THEN, from around the corner every single staff member comes to our table – OH – they are going to sing Happy Birthday to David Stevenson – his birthday is tomorrow! OH, it all makes sense now! This is a birthday party!!

But wait, no, the manager has a paper in her hand claiming that someone at the table is the 100,000 customer at the Applebee’s and has won a trip for four to Florida!

WHAT THE HECK!??? WHAT IN THE WORLD IS GOING ON???

The catch? The flight leaves tonight at 5:30!!! WHAT???

The paper showed a trip for four to Florida…

SOOOOOOO, here we are… Florida bound…

Monday, February 26, 2007

Illness

Colt is laying in the floor of the bathroom with his pillow and blankets. He's been sick since yesterday about 5 pm when he went to bed with very little cajoling. We knew he was sick on that fact alone. He woke up around 4 am and hasn't returned to his bed since. Poor thing. Through it all, we have heard various comments from the cold floor of the bathroom. Once, he was talking to himself saying, "Don't throw up, Colton. Don't throw up." Around 10 am, he began screaming for food, as if we had him locked down in some cold, dark dungeon. When I explained that his stomach could not tolerate the food, he accused me of starving him. I really just sat there in disbelief.

I'm a bad Mom because I decided I would let him find out the hard way. I gave him some water, like a good jail guard would. I explained that he must drink it slowly because it is like his stomach is angry. It does not want anything in it for awhile. Of course, within a few minutes, he was sick again ... and apologizing to his angry stomach, "I'm sorry, stomach. I'm sorry." When David prayed over him, Colt suddenly turned very Pentecostal with "yes, Lord" responses to every thought uttered. If you could see the serious furrowed look on his face ... His Pentecostalism slips in at times like these. I remember another time when he was laying in his sick cell, begging God to "take me from my misery." He's never quiet. Every heave and hoe comes with a deliberate cry for help, "Please, someone comfort me!"

Parenting is hard. I've spent the last 24 hours wanting to scream from my own cell - and that was before Colt was sick. There is so much I do not know how to do, how to train, how to ingrain in their hearts and souls. I watch, I listen. I talk and explain. I just want them to be happy. When they are not, I want to clang my tin cup against the bars of my cell. It feels so hopeless after I feel like I have done so much.

My mother laughs at me. She feels some vengeful sense of God getting even. I wish she wouldn't. I'd rather have her help. David is mystified, claiming he doesn't care if they like him or, in essence, if they are happy. He thinks our job is beyond that. I told him if that is the case, I wished HE would get the brunt of their unhappiness then. I tried to explain that, in fact, he SHOULD get the brunt of it because he is the mean one in the house. Unfortunately, they never seem unhappy when he is around.

He looked at me the way I looked at Colt this morning when he accused me of starving him (NOT that I am like Colton!!).

I'm now thinking I'll go shave my head and get a tattoo. That will teach 'em all!

Sunday, February 18, 2007

On my mind...

Anna Nicole - I think Howard adored Anna. From the earliest days, I saw it in the way he looked at her, the way he catered to her. And I believe she loved him in a way she loved no one else, not even Zsa Zsa's Prince! He made her feel safe, protected. He proved his loyalty to her time and again. More so than anyone else. In the end, she remained with him - not her Mom, her long line of old boyfriends, her assistant Kimmie. I hope Howard gets the kid, not that I think he is necessarily the biological father. I do think he will make the best Daddy. He knew and loved Anna more than the rest of them. I think he will cater to Danilynne Hope the way he catered to Anna, regardless of the money involved.

War plans - yes, it's always on my mind. I read last night that the original plans called for a mere 5,000 troops remaining in Iraq by Dec. 2006. Oops, another miscalculation in a long line of them. For the record, we are up to 3135 American troops dead and 23,530 injured. Another 62,296 Iraqis are dead in Iraq, with British sources reporting more than 100,000 civilians. At what gain?

A little post Valentine fun - I set up my friend on an online dating service, went through the grueling 45 minute personality profile questionnaire, thinking she would be entertained at best. She isn't. In fact, she hardly answers the phone any more. I keep calling her with updates and inquires from Allen, Marc and Phil. She just lets me leave another exasperated message.

Britney shaved her head! I just read the salon is going to auction off the shorn locks. It's hard to even comment on this one.

Still cold here, very cold - 18 degrees seems balmy compared to the below zeros we have been experiencing. I opened the door the other day and was almost pushed back by the frigid blast! I loved it! What could be more exhilerating? What could serve as a better reminder of how very little control we have in this life? We can't change the weather! (Well, not immediately anyway, Global Warmers!)

Until next time...