Doors and Windows

OK, I officially cannot believe my good fortune to have my new job. I like it, it's even a little bit fun, and I think it's going to work out great in either the short or long term. It'll be long term unless I am hired for the dream job of my choice and/or the news on April 28 is not favorable. But regardless, I remain a lifetime subscriber to the belief that where God closes a door, he opens a window. It has happened many times in my life, and I've almost come to expect it. It's always the same: cruddy event occurs followed thereafter by something good, ranging from mildly positive to absolutely wonderful.

Aron and I were reading Tibetan Tales for Little Buddhas, a book we checked out from the library. One of the stories involves a little boy, to whom numerous seemingly bad events occur. But with each event, his father says, "Indeed it seems unfortunate that this has occurred, but who can say what is good fortune or bad?"

I LOVE that idea. Why label something from the outset? Why point your finger at it and say, "BAD!"? My dear friend Karen put it to me like this: there is a yes and no question to everything in the universe. It either is or it isn't, it either will or won't be. This is the way of things, and this will never be changed.

Last summer I failed the bar. I may very well fail it again. It's not outside the realm of possibility. And I might not. But life has to go on either way. And who can say that failing the bar the first time was bad fortune? I've been able to be with my sons; I have enjoyed the taxes and toil of motherhood in the trenches. And, I've had other opportunities I might not otherwise have had.

Door open, door closed. Yes, no. It is or it isn't.

Accepting this way of things is an incredible release. Are you stressing because something isn't going your way? I wonder, what is so wonderful about your way, and can't you imagine that things can proceed positively on a path other than the one you design or expect?

Not even you are constant. You are open or closed, depending on the moment. If all things are in flux, then perhaps the best plan of action to hold to your global intentions or ideals: to be kind, to be honest, to be hard-working, to be loving, to be respectful, to be an example to those who might learn from you.

This concept is similar to those I learned from my favorite professor, Dr. Michael J. Bugeja, while I was in journalism school. In fact, it's hard to pinpoint all the individual lessons I learned about ethics from Dr. B. At this point, his teachings have melded to my consciousness and are part of the way I approach life. Isn't that the way of a truly effective teacher?

But, back to my point. Accept that no matter what happens, or how it appears to negatively impact you, there might be chance that something good will come of it. So, who can tell if it is good fortune or bad? You can't. Just accept it. Be you. And move along.

Live ... From the Potty Room!

One of the great things about our home is that the master bathroom has a potty room -- you know, a room with a door and only a potty inside. AND, since I have a laptop computer and a wireless high speed internet connection, I can compute from anywhere, any time. So here I am, taking a few moments to myself.

Why I am I posting from the potty room, you ask, with a mix of amusement and horror? Allow me to regale you. One of the many benefits of my new job is free Starbucks coffee all day long. As much as you want. No lie. And while that may seem like a dream come true to some of you (as it does me, believe me), it is now reeking havoc with my digestive tract. I had so much gas in my small intestine yesterday that I looked five months pregnant.

Here's what I got when I went to Google and did a search for "Starbucks causes diarrhea." That about covers it.

Starbucks = hot and flavorful Roto Rooter for your colon.

Check back on me later. You might need to come pull me out.

Five on a scale of 0 to 10

I worked a full day today. Actually, I work a full day every day, but today I got paid for it. Seems like this job won't stink too badly. Most of the calls come from the elderly, which is going to be like heaven for me. I love senior citizens. I can't help it! My grandmothers were the light of my world when I was a kid, and I have a tendency to see them in every wrinkled face I encounter. We listened to some calls come in as part of our training today. One was so sweet: the gentleman said he wouldn't be available for a home visit from our company because at least twice a day because he goes to the nursing home to feed his wife. I almost reached through the phone to hug him. So, this gig ought to be alright for the short term.

BTW, the girl who was concerned about her drug test was at work today. And after talking to her a bit, I discovered she is a fairly nice person. And a bouncer. Who knew?

Success with the McJob hunting

Well, I am entering the ranks of the employed. But the temporary position, engaged in for the sole reason to bring in some extra dough, is completely underwhelming. I'm still praying for a job to fulfill my emotional, professional, and financial needs.

I'm just answering the phones after hours and a bit on the weekends for a local company. I hope I will be providing you with quality post after post about the people I work with and the people I'll be "helping" on the phone. I have signed a non-disclosure agreement, so I might have to get creative when I weave my tales, but I anticipate that the stories will be mostly true.

So without further ado, here's a story from my first day at work.

You have to take a drug test to be hired by this joint (heh, heh, so punny!), which is really new and different for me. I've never taken a drug test in my life. So, I'm thinking, heck, is one of these chicks going to watch me pee? I didn't even wear my nice underwear. But no, it's a swab you stick in your mouth, which absorbs saliva, and that looks a bit like a tiny tampon. Like a tampon for a hamster. The girl beside me, who has a tattoo on her neck of two Chinese characters (words), informs me she will gag. She can't stand anything in her mouth, she says. I think, well, eating must be a bit of a challenge. Instead of saying that, I ask what her tattoo means. Older Sister, she tells me. Cool.

Anyway, there is another woman there, coincidentally, also with a tattoo at the base of her neck.

Quick aside: I find tattoos compelling, but will never get one. Why? Here's my take on it. Imagine choosing one item of clothing today. Put it on, and never take it off again. Even if it goes out of style, even if fades. Even if you don't like it anymore. Even if you see lots of the same item on people everywhere you go. You will be wearing that item to every wedding, job interview and event for the rest of your life. If you lose 50 pounds, tough, you still have to wear it. If you gain 50 pounds, guess what! Still wearing it. Now imagine that item 70 years from now, when you are OLD. You're still wearing it, and it looks NOTHING like the first day you got it. But you'll even be wearing it in your casket.

I don't have anything against anyone with a tattoo -- how can I? Some of my BEST friends have them. But it's just not for me. That being said, again, I am fascinated by tattoos. A well-done tattoo is a piece of art.

Anyway, here we are in line to chew on our drug tests and this second lady starts asking lots of questions about the drug test. Does it change color if it senses drugs, like a pregnancy test? ("Oh, it's purple! You're expecting ... to not get this job!") How long does it take? Will we know in a few minutes? (Nine minutes, the manager answered.) Can I wait? I mean, I'm not worried or anything. I just want to wait. So, how does that thing work that you put it in? Huh, it just sticks in there. Is there anything that can throw it off?

Dude, she would not shut up. I'll let you know if she's at work on Monday.

I turned in my test and left. Not worried, unless caffeine is on the proscribed drug list. Then I guess I'm out of a job. And that would be truly unfortunate, given the rich treasure trove of fodder this job will likely provide for the blog!

Wow! It's a ... Super Wal-Mart.

Big news in Bittytown, folks. We've finally earned our very own Super Wal-Mart. It opened today. Nater and I went this morning to get a few things, then later the whole fam went back 'cause I need a haircut for an interview I have tomorrow (don't get excited, it's just a temporary position). Anyway Bittytown will now begin to buckle under the Wal-Mart Effect, a theory of mine based on sheer conjecture, some personal experience and a dash of conspiracy theory.

The Wal-Mart Effect

1. One Store to Rule them All. Wal-Mart does not create competition. It destroys it. This adds to the conglomeration of our world. Once all stores are Wal-Mart, then Wal-Mart OWNS us ALL.

2. Like a Moths to the Flame. Nothing draws the denizens of the suburban underbelly like a Super Wal-Mart on a Saturday night. The Wal-Mart gives the bored a way to stay out of trouble on the weekends. This may be the one redeeming contribution Wal-Mart makes to society.

3. How Y'all Doin'? Despite the fact that there are some darling cafes in Bittytown, there's no place better to have a pow-wow with a friend you haven't seen in a while than in front of the dairy case. In my way. 'Cause. I. Need. To. Get. Some. Milk. Excuse, me, please, yeah I just need to get in there and, Ma'am, could you MOVE? Arrrgh! Go talk in the parking lot!!!

4. These are not the droids you are looking for. Upon controlling your feeble mind with the Wal-Mart Force, you may find yourself not needing anything you can't buy at Wal-Mart. You can't remember why you ever shopped anywhere else. Move along.

5. Mmm! What's that smell? It's a mixture of rubber and plastic goods made in China. And the pungent odor of our Gross National Product going down the drain. Go ahead, indulge your need for cheap, foreign made goods! Your children don't need jobs.

When I think of more, I'll add 'em. But I'm sure I will be dispatched by a Wal-Mart SWAT team during the night for having uttered the above.

Now I gotta run because Garth Brooks is on an old Saturday Night Live rerun! How j'adore Garth Brooks!

Welcome to Earth, Baby Kien!

Please now ooh, aah and adore this luscious little angel baby morsel: Kien! He's the adorable offspring of Khang and Au Lang (dear friend of mine from law school). I mean, people, will you look at this child? His gorgeousness cannot be denied.

Come on down to Krazy Kurtie's

Bet you didn't know that my husband loves, loves, LOVES the Beastie Boys. Well, the are pretty schweet. Anyway, he 'bout fell off his chair when he found out they have an Indy film coming out this month. I bet we'll get a sitter and go see it.

Beware that the film title includes the F word so don't click on this link at work if your employer is crotchety about your surfing anything other than the Home Shopping Network. Or you're afraid Dubya will arrest you for some obscure violation of a federal law (by utilizing Patriot Act) that forbids you to view sites with wordy-dirties.

Why does the federal government make me feel like I am 9 years old? Ugh. It's too late to get into this now.

Moooovie Mood

After renting A History of Violence as part of my push to watch more independent films, I lost the respect of my husband as he laughed through the majority of the movie (a drama). Except the scene where the wife dresses up like a cheerleader; he was all ears and eyes on that one. Great. Like I need more stress trying to achieve the perfect wife/mother archetype.

Anyway, Kurt owes me big time because he made me watch Space is the Place, some truly strange film starring the jazz musician Sun Ra. It was something that I could easily have been forced to watch in college. I took a class in philosophy and the professor *made* us watch The Clockwork Orange. As in, we would fail the assignment if we didn't watch it. I was freaking traumatized. I am not certain I can fully express to you the level of my inexperience with nearly every adult situation or subject when I was 18 and had just started college. I mean really, I was practically raised cloistered in an abbey.

As a quick side note, always kind of thought that it's funny that overprotective parents are rabidly focused on what other people will do to their kid if they let her out of their sight, but don't stop to think what they are doing to her by not letting her out of the house. Oh, twisted pathology!

So back to Sun Ra. Dude's persona was that he was from Saturn and that he was on Earth using music to reach the black people of the Earth and to take them back to the Utopia that he had created. On Saturn. It was strange. And funny. But mostly strange. So Kurt owes me.

Summer visited on Saturday night and of course we had a swell time. She's like buttah. Then we watched Hustle & Flow, which was a very good Indy film about a Memphis pimp who wants to be a writer/musician/rapper. I'm so glad I didn't have to see people in the throes of sex acts and hos getting the slap down. I'm really burned out on violence and sex on TV and in the movies. I've truly seen enough, and I just won't be impressed by either of them. Maybe that's the result of being a mom, but I think it's because my sensibilities have evolved a bit. Too much blood or slap and tickle is often a hat trick to distract one from the work's overall lack of artistic worth. I declare myself to be above that stuff. Can I get a harrumph?

Say no to crack, among other plumbing faux pas

The installation crew, two of whom decided that working in the near buff was more conducive to success with our DIY project, triumphed last night with our pretty new faucet. Now the problem is that our sink is terribly pedestrian while our faucet is lovely.

I know, I'm never satisfied.

But I am satisfied with my spouse, who, upon conquering the sink has proven himself to be a winner. That's right, Kurt simply is one of those people who is good (ranging to great) at every stinking thing he does. Such and Eagle Scout. No really, he is. I would be jealous if I wasn't so proud (because I've secured some of that DNA for my offspring).

I think we are starting to see a trend between the siblings. Aron ripped off his clothes last night and Nate started tearing at his too, then they both started running (and/or toddling) everywhere. And screaming with delight. That's when you cast a knowing glance at your spouse and think, yeah, this is perfect.

Still crushing after all these years

EEK! X-Men III opens the weekend of our anniversary (Memorial Day weekend)!! And of course Patrick Stewart is back as Prof. X. This officially ends two days of unmitigated poopiness, to steal a noun from Aron's four-year-old dictionary.

Check, please.

OK, it's not even noon and this has been quite a crappy day. Or couple of days.

The crappiness started yesterday when I turned on the kitchen faucet and it sprayed water out the side about three feet into the air. Dominion Homes puts the cheapest $#*+ in the known universe in their houses. This faucet cost $90 (OK, not the cheapest, but fairly cheap) and it only lasted 3 1/2 years. The replacement part to correct it cost $32 plus shipping, so we just figured we'd replace it.

Yesterday was the shot clinic for kids at the County Health Dept. I have to take the kids to get their shots there, not at the doctor's office where it is more convenient, because our health insurance only reimburses for the value of vaccinations as offered by the county. So, our doctor charges $40 for a shot, but the county charges $10.

Anyway, I bathe the kids and get them ready. I get down there and I am informed that the clinic is in the evening today, not the morning. I almost deep fry the receptionist with my angry mommy laser vision.

So we have to go back in the evening. We get back at 5 p.m. or so, and after selling me on the flu vaccines for the boys, I am informed that Aron needs FOUR shots (for Kindergarten) and Nate will have THREE. Instantly I regret not making Kurt come with me.

Nate cried a bit then regained his composure (typical for babies). But for days I was telling Aron that the time he burned his finger on the pizza pan hurt ten times worse than the shots will hurt. Well, apparently I was lying. He jumped so bad when stuck that blood shot everywhere and we had to hold him down to get all the rest of the shots. "Mom, make me a deal," he sobbed. "Never take me there again!!!"

After a trip to Home Depot (for a new faucet) and Wal-Mart (for the toy I promised Aron for enduring the shots), we get home and I decide I want to color my hair. Since I have the hair of a woman 20 years older and apparently the face of a person ten years younger (I was carded in VA when I ordered a beer -- get REAL people), it was time to cover the gray. Well, as I have learned a MILLION times before, I never have success when I try to color my own hair. Inevitably it's always too something. Too blonde, too dark, too red. Well, this time it's too red. I'll just condition the heck out of it and hope for the best.

This morning I woke up with a headache from having bad dreams and grinding my teeth all night. And the cat has taken to sleeping ON my pillow, which causes me to want to evict him. Foot of the bed is OK. Cat @$$ in my face, NOT OK.

I made coffee. This is a big deal since I usually only have coffee on the weekend because I like the way a full pot tastes. A small pot is usually too strong or too weak. I put it in a travel mug. Aron and I were playing with his new Galactic Heroes that he got last night and Nate grabbed the mug and dumped it all over himself and the rug. It was already cooled, so he didn't burn himself, but I was yelling at him to STOP STOP STOP as I jumped over the arm of the couch and succeeded in, of course, not stopping him, but terrifying him.

After I cleaned that up, I needed to vacuum. I set some uneaten cat food on top of the TV and, yup, you guessed it, it fell down behind the TV. The instant I placed it there, I thought, this is not a good thing to do. This is very unstable and it will likely fall. Worst part: it was canned cat food. All over the rug and all over the wall, but thankfully not on the TV. Had to clean that up. Whatever I missed I'm sure the ants will get this Spring.

Aron is now watching Zathura for the millionth time since we got it, but we need to get bathed and dressed for school today -- it's picture day!!!

Well, that's it for now. If it gets any worse, I'll be sure to post later. If I have an ounce of energy left!!!

More VA Trip Pics

Woman, can you please give me a minute of peace to take a bath? Put the camera away, you stalkerazzi.

Heh heh, I'm just kidding.

Sir Aron of Bittytown.

Aron informed us that he intends to be a pilot when he grows up.

Aron and Nate visit with Miss K, the daughter of Peggy, one of my all-time best friends.

Nater Tot Turns One!!!

Nater's Spongebob cake. He says, "Spah."

Diggin' into the loot.

Feeling the effects of the cold that eventually leads to the double ear infection.

Happy Birthday to me? Why, I'm speechless.

Nate: OOOOH! Fire pretty! Mommy: [snag!]

OK, I've gamely smeared a bit of this on my face. Now wipe it off and put me down for my nap, please.

Selective hypocrisy at its finest

Noted in today's news that Isaac Hayes, voice of Chef on "South Park," is quitting because the show ridicules religion. Well, DUH.

Apparently he is a Scientologist, which motivated his decision.

First, let me say that because of my desire to have my varied belief system tolerated by others, I will refrain from being intolerant of Scientologists and their beliefs.

What really hacks me off is that the true Almighty, for some, is the freakin' dollar bill. Hayes has been gettin' PAID for years as the South Park creators lambasted every major Hollywood star and virtually every major organized religion. Recently South Park took Scientology (and Tom Cruise, among other Scientologists) to task, leading Hayes to quit because, according to his statement, "Religious beliefs are sacred to people and at all times should be respected and honored. As a civil-rights activist of the past 40 years, I cannot support a show that disrespects those beliefs and practices."

Oh, but you didn't have a problem cashing ten years' worth of paychecks which reimbursed you for making fun of other people's sacred beliefs. Whatever.

If he had given all the money he earned from South Park to a charitable organization (or otherwise renounced his participation with South Park in a meaningful, quantifiable way), I would give this guy the benefit of the doubt.

But his quitting now sends only one message: making fun of everyone else's beliefs is OK, but making fun of his are off limits. So obtuse is this point of view that I am infuriated to the point of eating some chocolate and going to bed.

Nothing hacks me off more than people (and there are so many of them!) who will ridicule/laugh at everyone else, but find themselves, and their belief system, so worthy, so righteous and so beyond reproach that in their minds the world is only black and white. Right and wrong. As in, WE are right. If you are not US, then you are wrong.

The world will not progress built on the narrow shoulders of narrow thinkers. Man, do I want more for my kids than that.

More martial arts flicks!

I love Kung Fu and martial arts movies. And I've loved Milla Jovovich since she was in The Fifth Element, a movie I have watched more times than I can admit without some embarassment.

Now, the best of both worlds reunite in the new flick Ultraviolet! I'll wait and get it from Netflix. Unfortunately the reviews report this flick kinda stinks, which is too bad, 'cause for my money, it doesn't get any better than when girls kick butt. But of course, on an intellectual level, I most certainly promote non-violent solutions to conflicts. Ahem.

Now taste the cold steel of my katana!

Our little Varmint

While we were down south, Blue Ridge University (the "Gnawing Varmints") offered Aron a full scholarship. I can't believe it. Apparently they see something in him, some unmistakable quality, that led them to believe he is Varmint material.

Must be the fork in his family tree.

I'm Appalachian Batman

We can't all live in Gotham, and heaven knows there's plenty of crimes around here that need a solvin'. Mostly loitering and cow tippin', but still, I'm on it.

Watch the master

"And this, trainees, is how we make the glazed doughnuts."

I'm not your trained monkey!

But I can eat 'nanas by myself now.
Please note, friends, that Nate is sitting in MY high chair. Like me, it too is more than 30 years old.

And no, my mother doesn't throw anything away. I found spices in the spice cabinet with a price tag of 55 cents. Since most spices today cost more than $3, you can imagine how long she's had them. I told her not to throw them away now, though. Just please, I begged, don't cook with them. I'm worried less about the diseases we might contract and more that they might be worth something on Ebay.

Back from the land of the technologically impaired

We are back! Thank the stars. If I had to dial up at 53 kbps for one more day I was going to hurl my laptop down the mountain.

Unfortunately those two weeks caused our teeth to revert to their natural state, what with the general lack of oral hygiene.

Freakin’ Hire Me!

In law school, author Kimm Walton came to talk to us about networking and how to get the job you want. She was incredibly funny and quite a dynamo. One of the steps you must take, she declared, is to tell everyone you know what you want to do. You never know where help may come from. So here goes.

I want to have a comfortable life where I can provide for my kids yet also see them grow up. I want to be there for them, not at the office 90 hours a week. I want them to trust me, and no kid is going to trust an adult unless that adult proves that he/she is going to be there for that kid. Without question, all the time.

I would be willing to engage in general legal practice (got to get that license first!), but I would also be interested in a non-traditional legal job: a job where having a license would support my job, but I wouldn’t necessarily be an active attorney. Writing? Journalism? PR? I can invision myself very happy with such a career.

I would LOVE to be a mediator (mediating legal disputes). I had the opportunity to do participate in Capital’s Mediation Clinic and I have never, EVER been so excited to do a job. The thrill of solving the disputes of people who are locked in battle ... it gives you so much hope that human beings can solve problems without litigation. Or war.

Sometime in the future, I think would like to be a political analyst. Since I worked on my friend Allison’s campaign for prosecutor a few years ago, I caught the politics bug and have some fairly strong intentions to go into politics in the future. I don’t want to run for office, though: just be the silent supporter, the thinker. Not James Carville, but the person who laughs at James Carville’s jokes then gets back to work. Maybe Allison will run for AG one of these days. Then, move over Hillary!

Anyway, I’m giving Kimm’s advice a try. Maybe it will work.

The Voyage Home

Yes, The Voyage Home is also a Star Trek movie. And, OK, yes, I AM a Star Trek fan. I proudly own up to it. And I will, to my grave, uphold that the following truth is self-evident: Jean Luc Picard is the sexiest fictional character ever created. I regularly dream about being one of the characters who is rescued from the cryogenic storage spacecraft, like in one of the episodes, from, I think, Season 2. He of course would proclaim me "unlike any woman I have ever met," and then ... what the heck? Why am I telling you this??!?!?!!

Anyway, my voyages home, as always, are incredibly revealing. I learn more about myself each time I am here. I see how things have changed, and I see how they remain stagnant. Not exactly a scientific comparison, but then I hold myself up to light and say, wow, you've come a long way [baby]. Husband, two kids and 30 pounds will do that to you. But it's not just that. I appreciate where I came from, but I am proud of where I am.

I can't really tell too much else; this is an online diary, of course. You're probably thinking that excuse doesn't hold much water since I told you about my thing for Captain Picard.

Suffice it to say all is well in VA, but I'm looking forward to our return to Bittytown.

I could get out and run faster than this!

Thanks to Niki, while in college I became addicted to movie quotes (and movies). The hed on this post is a nod to T2 Judgement Day, when the Terminator, John Connor and his mom are in this teeny little truck being chased by the liquid metal terminator in a huge semi tanker truck.

John: Step on it!
T (Ahhhhnold): Dis is de vehicle's top schpeed.
John: I could get out and run faster than this!

That's how I feel about this daggone dial-up connection. There are five high-speed internet connections in our neighborhood at home in Bittytown, not counting our own. Here in Virginia, no one on my mom's block has it for me to mooch off of, so I have to dial up. Ugh. It's killing me. I might as well send email by carrier pigeon. So while I am here, please don't send me any emails with huge attachments ... they will not download.

So far the trip has been "eh." We took Mr. Biggy to the Virginia Museum of Transportation on Tuesday, but all he wanted to do was play on the playground equipment. Coulda gone to the park for free. Today Mr. Pretty and I spent three hours in the ER because he didn't sleep a wink last night (so, me neither). Guess what? Infection in both ears.

But things are looking up. We get to go to a cool old 1960s Krispy Kreme on Friday and on Saturday, visit Peggy, one of my best friends from High School. [Peggy, I will call you back!]

No pictures yet, sorry. It would probably take a month to upload. I'll post them when we return from the land of the lost high-speed Internet connections.