I Ran Away for a Day

Okay, not so much ran away as "abdicated adult responsibilities for a day".  It was around my birthday.  My Mom passed away 2 years ago - 2 days before my birthday. So, I went out to visit the cemetery on the day after my birthday.  The cemetery is out in the mountains of Frederick County.  It's a lovely, beautiful spot.  I took a lunch with me, sat beside her tombstone and caught her up on all of the things that have been going on with me and the kids since the last time I was out there.

It was a gorgeous day!  When I was finished, I drove home the long way.  I stopped by a couple of orchards and picked up Apple Cider Donuts, and the absolute BEST peaches I've had since this time last year! 

When you drive home through the mountains of Maryland, you know you're going to have a great time!

Birthday cupcake!

View towards the mountains from the cemetery.

I stopped by the covered bridges on the way home.

Interview Madness

I've been on several interviews over the past few weeks.  You know, when you wonder what can go wrong?  It turns out quite a bit.....

Let's see what all has gone off the rails this week.  Remember, all of these interviews were panel interviews.

"Here's a computer.  You've got ten minutes to create and Excel spread sheet with all of these parameters."
 Here's the rub:  My computer screen is broadcast up onto the wall in the front of the room, and the computer I've been given is a state of the art Windows 10 machine.  The computer that I use at home and at work are both Windows XP machines.  I'm used to a much older version of Excel, and you could see it in my very clumsy attempts to figure out how to work the damn software and make the spread sheets as pretty as they wanted them to be.

"Given this bag of Legos, come up with 3 programs that you could do with a group of kindergarten children.  You have ten minutes."
Okay, so the bag had 20 Lego's, only one set of wheels, and 3 hinged pieces.  I asked if I had to have this EXACT bag of Lego's.  The answer was yes.  Yeah, I came up with 3 programs, my lessons were decent, but I usually have more than 10 minutes, and a library full of books at my fingertips in order to pull together a program.

As I was following the head of HR down the hallway, I brushed up against a table and the entire table - and everything on it - fell down.

"Tell me about your experiences working with electronic resource acquisitions."
As I worked my way through what I thought were my qualifications, the interviewer looks at me and says "So, no real qualifications, then."  As I stammered and attempted to expound upon what I had been doing, she rolled her eyes "That's not really what acquisitions is all about."  Funny, that's what I've been doing for the last couple of years, and my interviewer has never worked in any library. 

And finally, this weird - very weird - encounter from one interview.  I walked into the room, shook hands with the interviewer, and sat down.  She then proceeded to tell me about how hot her last office was - the average temperature in winter, and in summer.  And how she had to wear t-shirts and flip flops even in winter because it was so hot.  She then spoke at length about her current living arrangements, and then stood up, shook my hand, and escorted me back out the door.  No idea what the heck that was all about, but it was definitely right up there with the strangest interviews I have ever had.

I really don't enjoy interviewing for jobs.  I really hate getting out there and having to prove myself over and over again, but not really ever getting a job.  Searching for new jobs is difficult.  Very, very difficult.  It's time to move on to new challenges, but I really don't enjoy the interview process. 

I'd appreciate some positive thoughts sent my way during this very frustrating job search, if you can spare them!

Running With Librarians

About 10 years ago, I was a public librarian.  As a new public librarian, I was required to complete a series of workshops that, put together, comprised the Library Training Institute.  These wonderful classes taught us about teamwork, customer service, public outreach, and most important - how to find resources in a constantly changing resource environment.  (We didn't learn available resources as much as we learned how to find and evaluate reliable resources.)  While the nature of the Reference environment has changed over the last many years, the ability to find reliable resources quickly and easily is a skill that is desperately needed.

These classes were held in a hybrid environment.  Some classes were online.  Some were held over teleconference, and some were in person.  The in person classes were the biggest challenge.  While Maryland might seem like a small state, we have a lot of land - if you look all the way out through the Western Panhandle and down to the very Southern End of the state on the Eastern Shore.  There is a lot of diversity to Maryland's counties, but every public librarian must go through these classes in order to remain a public librarian.

For every in person class we held, I would venture out with the other new hires from our county library in search of the LOTD.  (Library of the Day)  One of us was in charge of driving out there, and the rest of us piled into the car and off we went on our latest adventure.

The worst adventure was the library in a county west of us.  I have a terrible sense of direction.  GPS navigation has made my life so much better - no more roaming aimlessly through shifty neighborhoods, hoping to find the road I'm looking for.  Ten years ago, I didn't have GPS.  I had a coworker who "thought she knew how to get there".

You'd think it would be easy to find this place.

I really should have printed out directions.

We were supposed to be there by 9, and we left our location before 8.   We made it out to there before 9, but we weren't able to find the library.  We looked and looked.  Another half hour passed, and we were in the shiftiest of shifty neighborhoods.  Over the screams of protest of my passengers, I stopped the car and asked a group of young men standing on the street corner how to get to the library.

After a moment of stunned silence, one of the young men told me to continue straight for 3 blocks, make a left, and the parking garage for the library was on the right - with the library across the street.  He then cautioned me to "lock your doors - this isn't a great neighborhood".

(I still wonder if they were shocked that we stopped to talk to them, or shocked that I assumed they would know where the library was.)

My most favorite adventure was at the Enoch Pratt Free Library's Central Branch in downtown Baltimore.  This elegant building was constructed in 1931.  Filled with high ceilings, large rooms, and bright corridors, this library is the showpiece of their library system, and the State Library Resource Center for the State of Maryland.  (I pulled my facts from their website, which you can find here: http://www.prattlibrary.org/history/)

Not only were we tucked away in one of the most beautiful rooms, we were allowed to explore the building at will during our lunch hour.  The lobby is phenomenal - with large study spaces, chairs, and a grand piano.  A large room was set aside for computers, and the children's area is phenomenally beautiful.  The architecture - the columns, is it Greco-Roman?  I don't know, but in many ways it reminds me of the architecture at the Met in New York City. 

The Central Library is located across the street from the Basilica.  (Which is another phenomenal piece of architecture!)  We went across the street and explored the Basilica on our afternoon break. 

Having learned our lesson with our first trip, we took the Baltimore Metro into town - which dropped us a few blocks away from the library.  Clear signage led us directly to the library front doors as we got off of the Metro.  I don't know that I'd want to walk that path late at night by myself, but during the day, I felt perfectly safe.  The Metro in and of itself is safe and well lit.  (It's just not as extensive as D.C.'s Metro.)

Why You Should Put Things Away at the Store

So, I was at one of those big box retailers over this past week - I don't want to mention it by name, but they sell everything.  Clothes, food, etc.

You know how people roam around these stores, decide they don't want something, and then just leave it wherever they happen to be?  Their train of thought is along the lines of "They pay people to put that back.  Why should I inconvenience myself by putting this back where it belongs?  It's a long walk, and I am lazy." 

There was a family browsing through the clothing with their daughter and son.  The family was looking at clothes for the daughter, and the son had roamed out of sight. 

I heard the mother say "I feel bad.  It seems like we're always buying clothes for her, but never for him."

"I'll go with him and pick out a couple of shirts" the Dad said.  "Where did he go?"  I saw him roam around the display table and I heard him shout "What the h%ll are you doing?"

Everyone in the store came to a dead standstill and looked over...  the mother scurried over to her husband and started screaming "Oh my God, Oh my God". 

One of the sales associates ran over, and I hear the Dad yelling "Do I look happy?"

The kid had roamed over to the other side of the table, found a container of car wax, opened it, and proceeded to smear it all over himself.   No lie, the kid was blue.

Dad ran off to the bathroom with the son, while Mom tried to pull herself together.  The helpful sales associate helped the Mom, and radioed to a manager who went into the bathroom to help the Dad.

I've got to give a lot of credit to the retail store.  They rose to the occasion and helped that family.  They didn't charge the family for the car wax, and the managers pulled in paper towels and liquid dish soap to try and get the wax off of the kid.  Of course, if someone hadn't just left the damn wax wherever the heck they felt like...  (I'll stop.)

You know, there was a part of me that was thinking that the Dad should have taken the kid out to the car and just rubbed him all over the outside of the car....

Canning Season

Growing up, we would head back to the farm once or twice during the summer.   Dad always made it a point to be around during hay season, and we always spent a week in late July or early August, helping out as the big summer crops starting coming in.

It's been well over 30 years, but I still vividly remember crouching in long rows, pulling green beans or some other vegetable, with the sweat trickling down the back of my neck and off of the end of my nose, and swatting at the biting flies as I went.

Up and down those rows we would go, harvesting the vegetable of the day before they went bad.  We had to get that summer bounty in fast!

There are no lazy summer days on a farm.  Granny had us out picking before the sun got high in the sky.  She'd send us out around 7 in the morning, armed with a sausage and egg sandwich and a glass of milk.  We were finished before 10 - and if we weren't, Granny made us come in because that was the "hot time" of the day.

I don't know why she pulled us inside, because that house ended up becoming hotter than a furnace before the day was out.

We'd come in out of the sun, sit on the porch, and begin prepping the food.  Things needed to be snapped, peeled, and cut.  Many of the veggies had to be blanched - dumped in boiling water, and then dumped in ice water, and then peeled so that they could be prepared for canning.

Once everything was prepped, things were stuffed into the jars.  And I do mean stuffed.  Granny and my Aunts didn't fool around with extra space in those jars.  They were jam packed.

Lids and Rings went on, and the pressure canners were pulled out and filled.  The farm house had a gas stove, with six burners.  They would have 4 canners going at a time. (And the house would get hotter and hotter and hotter.  They never ran the A/C when they were canning because they saw it as a lost cause and waste of energy.)

While the canners were building up steam, we would be cleaning the mess.  Once the first batch was done, the second batch went in.  We would clean up the first batch,  and they would start getting dinner ready.  Part of the nightly feast was whatever failed in the canner that day.  (If the lids didn't seal, the food was eaten that night.)

At the end of the week, we would come home with a car laden down with our portion of all of the jars of goodies that had been canned over the week.

My favorite of all the goodies we canned were the peaches.  Maybe because when we picked them, we were in the shade.  Maybe because we could eat the peaches straight off the tree when we picked them.  And maybe it was because when they were canned in simple syrup, and opened up several months later in the dead of winter, I was immediately transported back to the farmhouse kitchen, bubbling with good smells, laughter, and family.  But whatever the reason, the peaches have always been my favorite.

I was at the farmer's market, and guess what I found?  Bushels and bushels of peaches!
We came home with a bushel of peaches.  Okay, a couple of the peaches didn't actually make it home...  I don't can now - I have a glass stove top, and that is not recommended for pressure canning.  BUT - I did make some peach jelly.  And some peach crisp with gluten free oats.

And last night?

I made a simple syrup, and I poured it over some peaches that I had blanched, cut, and slightly heated up with the syrup.

As soon as I put that first bite in my mouth, I was instantly taken back to a farm house kitchen, full of good smells, laughter, and family.

Priceless memory.  All from a bushel of peaches.  

Doing the "Right" Thing

You know, you talk about doing the right thing, but have you ever really done it?  It's a lot harder than you think it's going to be, isn't it?

Last week, I had a friend who basically fell apart on us. 

Friday morning, I asked her if she, by any chance, wanted to go to lunch.

That's when things took an ugly turn, and she mentioned how she was a total loser as a friend, a hideous human being who didn't deserve to exist, and how everything she touched fell to dust.

She sent several of us good bye messages, and to remember the person that she used to be.

How do you react to that?  What do you say?

And then, she said she was going to just sit in her garage, turn the engine on, and end it all.

Okay, so if there were any questions after the first part, the second part summed it up, and we saw it as a call to action.

The question became, how to find her and get her the help she needed?

Friday was not a good day.  Nobody could find her.  We sent the police department over to her house, but they couldn't find her either.  She turned off her cell phone and left it at home, so no, nobody could use her GPS to track her down.

We finally found her on Saturday morning.  She claimed nothing was wrong.  I had to pull out her text messages and show them to the mental health professional who was with us.  Yeah, I really didn't want to do that, but I also didn't want to get a phone call at some later date from some unknown person - or worse, see it on the news - that she had killed herself.

More than likely, she's going to hate me for the rest of her life.  A friendship of 30 years, gone in a heart beat.

I had to do it, you know.  I had to.  I love her dearly, and she deserves to be mentally healthy.

While she was busy yelling at all of us Saturday, she did tell us that she's been "off the Paxil for 6 months", and that she was "managing the symptoms just fine."

Problem is, mental illness needs to be redefined.  It's not an illness.  Illness implies a condition that can be cured.  This is a chemical imbalance.  It's not a sign of weakness, and nobody should have to "manage" symptoms that are caused by your own body chemistry working against you. 

It's not a chronic health condition.  It's a chemical imbalance.  Problem is, these imbalances can have some pretty serious consequences for people - and those that they love - if they are not treated.

In the meantime, I'm living with the harsh words that only someone who's known you for 30 years can fling at you.  They hurt.  They hurt more than I wanted to let her know at the time.

You know, doing the "right" thing is sometimes one of the hardest things. 

It can really suck.

Trapped in a parking lot!

(originally published on my now defunct blog, A Mom's View, on 5/26/2011)

Seriously, I was trapped in the Wal-Mart for a couple of hours last week.  I had just dropped by the church and thought I would run inside to pick up a thank you card for one of the kids' coaches.  That was my big mistake of the day.

Just about the same time I pulled into the parking lot, the back-hoe that was digging in the parking lot of the bank hit a gas main.  The driver of the back hoe hit the ground running, fearful of a gas explosion.  Unfortunately, he forgot to turn the engine of his machine off.  Since the gas main was leaking, no one was allowed close to the back hoe to turn it off.  They had to wait for the fire department, in full protective gear to show. 

The police officers and construction workers onsite were shuffling all of the shoppers out of the lots and into the Wal-Mart (which was deemed to be safer) while they were waiting for the fire department.  Needless to say, traffic came to a screeching halt while ALL of the roads were closed down. 

I was enjoying watching people whiz around the Wal-Mart lot, looking for a way around traffic when I was told I had to go inside of the store where it was "safer".

I'm no genius, but somehow, I don't think that cruising around the Wal-Mart for an unknown period of time, armed with a credit card is a good idea. 

I live in a fairly small town, so I actually had a pretty nice time cruising around the Wal-Mart.  I ran into my daughter's retired 5th grade teacher and her father.  I ran into my aerobics teacher.  I ran into some friends I hadn't seen in a couple of months, and I found a couple of employees who are home from college for the summer, that had been in Boy Scouts with my boys.  The Subway did a lot of business as we all bought our breakfast, and pulled the tables into one great big table and had a huge gab-fest.  People would get up and move around the tables periodically as they finished one conversation and began another.  Dates for lunch were set, plans for barbecues were made, and pictures were proudly displayed.  It was probably the best, most productive, and fun two hours I've spent in quite some time!

Eventually, the fire department sounded the all clear, and opened traffic on the main roads again.

I picked up the Thank You card for the coaches and headed out on my way.

I'm not certain, but I think being trapped in the Wal-Mart for two hours, forcing me to slow down and talk with friends old and new was probably the best mistake I have ever made.  I need to make more mistakes like that!

Taking the Boys to Camp

Both of the boys are working at a Boy Scout camp.  From our house, it's a two hour drive up there and then a two hour drive back down.  Since one chooses not to drive, and the other one isn't old enough yet to drive on Boy Scout properties, I get to drive them.  You need to understand, the boys live outdoors in a canvas tent all summer.  They each have a cot, and they are up off of the ground on 4 old wooden pallets.  The flaps are open all summer long, and they each have mosquito netting over their beds, but all matter of creepy crawlies roam through their tents.

Anyway, yesterday I got set to take them back to camp.  We took our daughter off to Girl Scout Day Camp first.  As we pulled out of the parking lot, I had the windows rolled down and I saw something big fly into the back seat of the car.  I almost drove off the road as oldest child - a very calm, unexcitable 20 year old, screamed like a little girl over this big fat beetle, flying around the back of the car.  I pulled over while he tried to flick it out of the back seat, stretched across the car so it wouldn't get him.  Finally, the 17 year old got out of the car, opened the back door, and flicked the beetle out.

I should have taken that as a sign.

We headed up 95, pulled off our exit, and were within 5 miles of camp when the road was closed.  Detour, back down the way we'd come and then up route 1.  It took us 40 minutes to make that detour. 

I got the boys into camp and turned around to head out.

Herd of mini-goats standing in the road, refusing to move.  The owner eventually came out and moved them off the road.

Continue on, make the left turn onto the big road that leads back to highway 1, go 500 yards, and end up behind a line painting truck.  Spent the next 45 minutes behind that truck, traveling the 2 miles down the road to highway 1.

Go down highway 1, work my way over to 95, and traffic comes to a dead standstill.  2 lanes are closed for construction.

I finally made it home many more hours later than I had planned on.  I took an unscheduled detour through a Target because I needed to get out and stretch after sitting still for so long... and I still had an hour to go to get home. 

Argh!

This post originally appeared in my now defunct "Mom's View" blog.  I moved it to this blog at the request of my kids, who wanted to have all of the various posts that accompanied their high school years in one place.  I've matched the publication dates here to their original post date.  If you're reading these posts, I sincerely thank you for taking the time to go back through them all! 

A Day With Mr. Murphy

I went with the robotics team earlier this week to the kick-off of the Summer Reading Program at our local library. 

Mr. Murphy (of Murphy's Law) decided to spend the day with us.

We were supposed to show up at 9:30. 

So, 9:30 rolls around, and I'm sitting in front of the library with my daughter and a 150 pound robot in the back of the van. 

No kids.

9:40 rolls around, and one other member of the team shows up.  There's still no way the three of us are strong enough to lift the robot out of the van, so we begin calling kids and rousting them out of bed.  Two of them are on a cross country road trip with their dad.  Two others are enrolled at music camp for the week, and are unavailable, others are at work.. well, you get the idea.  We finally tracked down the four kids who said they'd be there.

10:00 all kids are present and accounted for.  Robot is in the library, and the little kids are coming in.

10:05 robot is working, picking up balls and shooting them.

10:10 robot stops working.  The kids, in a panic, attempt to find out why it's not working.

10:10-11:30, I and the two young ladies with me, explain to all who come to stop that they are watching engineering in action.  Just look at the way those engineers are looking for the problem.  See?  They are going through each and every possible problem and testing it to make certain that it works.

10:30 - a mother starts to argue with me that that's not what engineers do.  They solve problems!  They don't get their hands dirty!  A long discussion ensues with an older gentleman who is a retired Civil Engineer of 30 years experience, hanging out for the day with his grandchildren.  Mother ends up leaving in a snit, because "Engineers have clean jobs!  They don't take things apart!  They solve math problems!"

10:45, in desperation, we pull one of the smaller FTC robots out of the trunk of another car.  We bring it in and realize that NONE of the kids present know how to work one of the FTC bots. 

11:15 - we isolate the problem.  We need one specific tool and it will be fixed in a jiffy.  I have a van full of tools, but the tool we need is in the warehouse.  We don't have the key to the warehouse.  We track down the parent who does have the key to the warehouse.  He answers his phone, would love to help us, but at that particular moment, he's in San Diego, getting ready to go into a meeting.

11:30 - Summer Reading Kick Off Ends.  Oh, and we manage to fix the wiring without the missing tool, robot now runs fine.

What a wonderful example of the thrills of technology! 

This post originally appeared in my now defunct "Mom's View" blog.  I moved it to this blog at the request of my kids, who wanted to have all of the various posts that accompanied their high school years in one place.  I've matched the publication dates here to their original post date.  If you're reading these posts, I sincerely thank you for taking the time to go back through them all! 

The Neighbors

Since we've moved into this house, we've had a pretty nice neighbors.  We stay out of each other's business, but we look out for each other, and keep an eye on the house when no one is home.

Our left hand neighbor is a really nice guy.  He, like my husband, is the child of the original owners.  He's a single father of a daughter who is now grown and got married in the back yard last year.  I like him a lot, he's a character, and I love unusual characters.  He will sit in his boat in the back yard and drink beer while listening to his radio.  No, we're not on the water, he just likes to be on his boat.  I asked him why once, and he told me that he didn't want to drink and drive.  If he had a beer out on the water, he'd still have to drive the boat back to the shore, and then he'd have to drive it home.  It's the responsible choice he's making... but it does always make me smile on Saturday afternoons when I see him sitting in his boat, beer in hand, listening to an Orioles game.

Things changed and got a little odd over there this past year.

His parents, who have been divorced for 20 years moved back in together.  With HIM.  Yep, his little house is now home to his divorced parents. 

The house is literally not big enough for the both of them.  If one of them is inside, the other one is outside.  We came home a couple of weeks ago and saw the father outside, making up his bed for the night in the hammock, and heard him muttering under his breath while trying to tie up some mosquito netting over the hammock.

I've seen her outside in the early afternoons, listening to Sinatra and pulling weeds.  She usually has a big pitcher of Sun Tea brewing on the porch while she's working.  When she finishes pulling weeds, she sits outside watching birds and drinking iced tea.  If he comes outside for anything, she immediately stops what she's doing and heads back into the house.

We do hear the parents arguing about things.  We never hear what they're arguing about, but we can hear their voices coming from inside of the house, followed by the slam of a door.

Recently, I saw the son (who's a couple of years older than me) standing outside, under the trees next to our driveway.   He was drinking from a bottle.

"Is that only a beer?"  I asked him.

"Yep."  He looked at me oddly.  "What do you mean?"

"All I know, is that if my divorced parents had decided to move back in together with me, I'd need something stronger than a beer to see me through that event."

It was the first time I've seen him laugh in a couple of months.  He pointed to the treehouse in the back yard that he had built for his daughter.  "I've been thinking of moving out there for a while now".  He sighed.  "I still don't know how this happened.  We sent out the wedding invitations for my daughter, and the next thing I know, both of them have moved in with me.  My daughter says better me than her.  I've been thinking my only recourse might be to move in with her, and let Mom and Dad fight this battle out on their own."

He shook his head and walked back towards his house.

Last night, I noticed a light gleaming inside of the treehouse.  Not sure who took up residence, but it looks like they've moved in for a while.  I took a closer look this morning, and screens have been placed over the windows, and a screen door has been added.

This post originally appeared in my now defunct "Mom's View" blog.  I moved it to this blog at the request of my kids, who wanted to have all of the various posts that accompanied their high school years in one place.  I've matched the publication dates here to their original post date.  If you're reading these posts, I sincerely thank you for taking the time to go back through them all! 

Simple Rules for Being My Friend

I had an odd experience today.

I went with our high school robotics team to demonstrate our robot.  The place we went is a place where I used to work over 5 years ago.  I thought we had departed on good terms.  And I thought I was friends with many of the people there.  Several of those people are my facebook friends.

I want to clarify one thing.  This particular employer is one of our sponsors.  They donate time and money, and resources to our team, and they invited us to come in and share the robot, our trophies, and our pictures during their lunch hours, in their cafeteria.
So, I showed up with the kids and robot today and we set up our display and set to work, showing off the robot and talking to visitors about who we are, what we do, and how we go about doing this. 

I saw people that I recognized, and waved to them in passing.  I didn't speak to them.  I didn't interrupt their work.  All I did was the equivalent of a chin raise and a "sup" as they passed by.

They looked at me.  I KNOW they recognized me.  I saw the recognition in their faces.  And then, they hastily looked the other way.

I saw other people that I didn't know well, who I never thought of as friends who took the time to stop by, say hello, and ask how I was doing.  They talked to the kids about the robot.  They thanked me for coming out and followed up with an "It was so good to see you again!"

Strange.

I thought about it for a while.  Friendship requires a certain level of acknowledgement of the existence of the other person.  I understand that you may be working, but a head nod, a smile of recognition, or even a quick wave, just to say "HEY" is what is required to let the other sojourner in the world know that someone else out there knows you, recognizes you, and claims you as someone they know.

What I saw today baffled me.

It's odd, since many of them are my facebook friends, and I had posted on my page last night "We're going to be there tomorrow during lunch time!", and several of them had posted back "Great! Can't wait to see you and the robot." 

Now, the root issue here is that they are my facebook friends.  I have very strict guidelines on my facebook family.  I have my page locked down very, very tight.  If you are one of my facebook friends, you are either family or you are a friend who talks to me.  You are someone I'd go get a couple of beers at Chili's with some Friday night and shoot the breeze.  You acknowledge me, I acknowledge you, and we care about each other's lives and families. 

I don't have random friends on facebook.  I don't friend people just to up my friend count.  My facebook friends are my real life friends. 

This behavior bothered me more than I care to admit. 

I called one of the ladies involved tonight and said "Hey!  I missed seeing you today at lunch!"  (Even though I saw her walk by and avert her gaze as she walked past.)  "Oh, you know how it is", she replied "I'm just so busy I never even got down to the cafeteria.  I got a promotion, you know, and it keeps me hopping.  I really didn't know what busy was before.  Well, I've got to go now.  It was good talking to you.  We'll have to do this again sometime."

Long story short, I unfriended the parties involved on facebook.  Not to be mean, not to be spiteful. But because I realized a truth about our friendship.

You know what they say.  With a real friend, you can go years without seeing each other.  The first time you then get together, it's like nothing has changed.  You sit down and start talking as if it was yesterday. 

Friendship does take nurturing.  It does need to be watered with love and care. 

I'm off to go nurture a friendship now.

I believe I see a Chili's gathering in my very near future....

This post originally appeared in my now defunct "Mom's View" blog.  I moved it to this blog at the request of my kids, who wanted to have all of the various posts that accompanied their high school years in one place.  I've matched the publication dates here to their original post date.  If you're reading these posts, I sincerely thank you for taking the time to go back through them all! 

Taking the Cats to the Vet

I took the cats to the vet today.  It was a traumatic experience for everyone involved.

The cats like to go outside early in the morning, so I took the precaution of locking each of them into a separate room overnight with a bowl of food, a bowl, of water, and a litterbox.  I was hoping to get a stool sample from each of them overnight.  I should have known better...

A half hour before it was time to go to the vet, I tracked down the animal carriers and went after Luna (the more agreeable one) and put her in her box.  No fights with that little girl, she's always ready for an adventure.  I scoped out her litterbox, but she had made absolutely no deposits over night.

I went after Tiger next.  One huge catfight later, I had two bloody gashes on my hand and a cat that had buried himself under the middle of the bed.  I finally dislodged him from the bed, only to turn around and find that Luna had let herself out of her carrier and was firmly lodged in Tiger's carrier.

Actually, this turned out to be a very good thing!  Once Tiger saw Luna in his carrier, he immediately lunged from my arms, and started squabbling with Luna, until she left the carrier and he could get in.

I locked his carrier and attempted to get Luna into hers.  No sooner did I shut her door than she began prizing open the weak edge at the top.  Desperate, I found a length of blue ribbon and tied her cage together so she couldn't open it again.

5 short minutes later, we were in the waiting room at the vet's office.

When we were called back, the tech decided to go with Luna first.  (Remember, she's the agreeable one.)  She purred through her initial exam, preened herself, and generally had a great time.  When the tech told Luna "OK, I'm done with you, I need to see Tiger next", Luna hopped right off of the table, walked over to one of the chairs, and assumed her sphinx pose while watching Tiger.

It took both of us to dislodge Tiger from the carrier.  We had to turn it upside down to get him out.  He hissed, he fussed, and he made snarly noises the entire time the tech looked at him.

Then came the fun part:  The vet came in!

Remember, Luna is still sitting on the chair, purring away and swishing her tail.  She was enjoying the spectacle!

The vet felt Tiger's abdomen.  Tiger growled.  She checked his teeth.  He hissed.  She gave him his shots.  Tiger made snarly noises at her.  The minute she finshed and said "OK Tiger, I'm done with you, you can go now" he jumped down off of the table and ran into his carrier.

The vet looked at Luna and said "OK Luna - you're next!"  (I swear I am not making this up!)  Luna hopped off of the chair and sauntered over to the table.  The vet picked her up and put her on the table, attempting to feel Luna's abdomen.  Luna immediately rolled over onto her back, squiremed around, and got her head under the vet's hand.  The vet tried to check Luna's teeth.  Luna immediately rolled over onto her back, squirmed around, and put her back under the vet's hand.  While the vet was trying to keep Luna still long enough to give her the shots, she asked me "Did you manage to get a stool sample from her?"

"No", I answered.  "She hasn't done anything at all in the last 12 hours.  I had her locked in a room overnight with the litter box, and she didn't even pee."

It's like that was the cue that cat had been waiting for.  With an insane gleam in her green eyes, she let loose at both ends, giving the vet both kinds of samples.  Luna hopped down off the table and hopped back into her box. 

We all stood there, too stunned to speak for a few minutes.

"Well", said the tech, "At least we have our samples!"

Those cats!  I guess we know who's really in charge!

This post originally appeared in my now defunct "Mom's View" blog.  I moved it to this blog at the request of my kids, who wanted to have all of the various posts that accompanied their high school years in one place.  I've matched the publication dates here to their original post date.  If you're reading these posts, I sincerely thank you for taking the time to go back through them all! 

Eating Locally, Shopping Locally

My oldest child is home from college for his Spring Break.  It's been great having him home for a week.  Since his two siblings are still in school, he and I have been enjoying some quiet time together. 

Today, we went out to lunch.

We don't live in the city, but we don't live in the country, either.  We are the outer, outer suburbs- more rural than suburban.  Our county is 90% agricultural.  Once growing season starts, we have an abundance of local produce in the area.  But what about now?  It's March.  Our growing season hasn't started yet.

Well, oldest child's favorite restaurant is located about half an hour from our house.  It was started about 70 years ago, on the edge of the orchards and farms owned by this one family.  The restaurant has remained in the same family for 70 years.  Many of the waitresses have been working there for more than 30 years.  Up until she passed away 5 years ago, the matriarch of the family still made the pie crusts, by hand and from scratch, every morning.  She made her last pie crust two days before she passed away.

This restaurant is smack dab in the middle of farm country.  Like many of the restaurants in this part of the world, they don't advertise that they're "locally grown" and then raise the price.  They call it good business sense to buy food from local farmers and then use that in their restaurant.

I had a hamburger today.  A delicious, 100% pure beef hamburger.  That hamburger was born and raised within 10 miles of the restaurant.  It was slaughtered 10 miles down the road the other way at our butcher shop.  I once asked the owner of the butcher shop if he finished his beef on corn.  He laughed at me and told me "That's for them rich folks.  A farmer brings his cow in here, and it's ready to go.  We pay him for it.  I don't want my money sittin' out there in the feed lot gettin' fat.  I'm gonna have to pay for that feed it eats."  That's an refreshing twist on the meat industry!

My pickle was canned this past summer in the big barn just at the edge of the orchard.  The cucumbers it was made from were grown in the big fields behind the barn.  The applesauce was also canned in the barn.  The apples were picked in the orchard back in Sept. and Oct. while they were in season.  Gosh, that apple sauce was so very, very good.  No sugar added, and it tasted like sunshine.

My french fries were hand cut by the staff this morning.  The potatoes were grown five miles down the road last year.  Today, the mix was made from Yukon Gold and Red Russets.  OMG.  Those fries were to die for.  My son and I split a basket of fries that was bigger than my dinner plate.

The pie crusts were made from scratch, by hand this morning.  They were apple pies.. .made with apple pie filling that had been canned over the summer in the big barn on the edge of the orchard.

The service was amazing.  Friendly staff, they watched over us all like a pack of mother hens.  We were sitting at a table next to a Candidate who's running for the U.S. Senate.  He was eating lunch with his Grandma.  It was funny- the staff kept calling him Justin.  They've known him since he was a kid, and they think it's great that he's running for Senate, but he's still Justin.  He never made the rounds of the tables, didn't engage in any politicking, and didn't do any glad handing.  Instead, he was focused soley on his Grandma and answering her questions, telling stories, and joking.  We had one main waitress, but every waitress on staff took care of everyone.  It's just the nice thing to do.

I tell you, every time I go there, I feel like I've stepped back into the 1950's.  The service is from another era.  People take the time to listen.  They stop and treat one another like individual people.  I always run across friends while I'm there, and we'll end up table hopping after we pay our bills, talking to people we haven't seen in a while. 

It's amazing when I think about it.  Old fashioned service.  Locally grown food.  (All within a 100 mile radius.) And at a reasonable price.  ($12 for two people.)

I love supporting our locally owned businesses.  We never would have gotten that kind of service at one of the big chain restaurants down the street!

Have you helped your local businesses lately?

A Reprieve From Classwork

In January, I decided to return to school.  Five classes shy of finishing my Master's Degree, I was done with excuses.  I applied for readmission and continued my journey through the online world of classes.
I am working on my Master's Degree in Library Science, with the eventual hope of teaching in a School Media Center. 

The problem is that the school I am attending online is out of state.  So, once I finish this degree, I still won't be finished.  I will have to take the classes to be certified in my state, and complete my student teaching experience. 

It's funny.  I'm already a certified teacher, and I do substitute teach on a regular basis.  However, I get to take another round of the Praxis exams, and take even more method classes and student teach AGAIN....  There are times when I am just not sure it's worth the effort.

Classes are coming along.  This quarter, I'm taking a class about Academic Libraries.  What with the addition of e-Books, e-readers, and the rise of electronic databases, the library world is quickly changing.  We are seven weeks into this ten week class, and our professor had to change the reading list for this week because so much has changed since she wrote the syllabus in December. 

The learning commons at Wesley Seminary.
This is the view down to the second floor.

The best part of this class has been the visits to academic libraries in my region.  I recently visited  the library on the campus of Wesley Theological Seminary in Washington, D.C.  Oh my gosh, this library is downright beautiful.  Newly renovated, the first floor includes a beautiful learning commons and new study rooms.  Okay, I freely admit that I am a library geek.  I love to visit libraries.  I love the books, I love the musty smell, and I love the atmosphere.  This building took my breath away.  Big open spaces on the main floor, with multiple stations for laptops.  Chairs with arm tables for holding books were scattered throughout the first floor.  A lovely cafe off to the side, with a coffee pot, and tables for groups to sit and collaborate completed this serene picture. 

It almost... almost...almost.... made me want to pursue another degree, just so that I could go sit in that beautiful library.

Trapped in the Wal-Mart

Seriously, I was trapped in the Wal-Mart for a couple of hours yesterday.  I had just dropped by the church and thought I would run inside to pick up a thank you card for one of the kids' coaches.  That was my big mistake of the day.

Just about the same time I pulled into the parking lot, the back-hoe that was digging in the parking lot of the bank hit a gas main.  The driver of the back hoe hit the ground running, fearful of a gas explosion.  Unfortunately, he forgot to turn the engine of his machine off.  Since the gas main was leaking, no one was allowed close to the back hoe to turn it off.  They had to wait for the fire department, in full protective gear to show. 

The police officers and construction workers onsite were shuffling all of the shoppers out of the lots and into the Wal-Mart (which was deemed to be safer) while they were waiting for the fire department.  Needless to say, traffic came to a screeching halt while ALL of the roads were closed down. 

I was enjoying watching people whiz around the Wal-Mart lot, looking for a way around traffic when I was told I had to go inside of the store where it was "safer".

I'm no genius, but somehow, I don't think that cruising around the Wal-Mart for an unknown period of time, armed with a credit card is a good idea. 

I live in a fairly small town, so I actually had a pretty nice time cruising around the Wal-Mart.  I ran into my daughter's retired 5th grade teacher and her father.  I ran into my aerobics teacher.  I ran into some friends I hadn't seen in a couple of months, and I found a couple of summer employees who are home from college for the summer, that had been in Boy Scouts with my boys.  The Subway did a lot of business as we all bought our breakfast, and pulled the tables into one great big table and had a huge gab-fest.  People would get up and move around the tables periodically as they finished one conversation and began another.  Dates for lunch were set, plans for barbecues were made, and pictures were proudly displayed.  It was probably the best, most productive, and fun two hours I've spent in quite some time!

Eventually, the fire department sounded the all clear, and opened traffic on the main roads again.

I picked up the Thank You card for the coaches and headed out on my way.

I'm not certain, but I think being trapped in the Wal-Mart for two hours, forcing me to slow down and talk with friends old and new was probably the best mistake I have ever made.  I need to make more mistakes like that!