Weekend Observations

In no particular order.

I am blessed beyond reason with wonderful friendships. Old ones, new ones - they're all making my heart a very full place these days. A big 'Thank you!' to the Universe for 'em all.

I love watching my boy play baseball. Nathan had a great game on Saturday. During one at-bat he was down to his last pitch (they get 6). He fouled off 4 pitches to stay alive (including one that bounced before it got to the plate), then got a hit and made it to first (scoring a run later in the inning). Later, playing second base, he caught a line drive and made an out. He was SO proud of himself and it made me unspeakably happy to watch him savor his sucess.

There is a downside to not watching local news. While I know the name and party affiliation of Seattle's mayor (Greg Nickels, D), the picture of him I've had in my mind was that of Columbus' former mayor (Greg Lashutka, R). This became clear to me when I met Mayor Nickels yesterday and realized that I wouldn't have known him if he had knocked on my front door to borrow sugar. For someone who considers herself fairly politically aware, it was quite embarrassing and I'm thankful a least that I didn't ask him what he did for a living.

I like U2 again. Not that I ever particularly disliked them, but now I'm back in the midst of the U2 love.

Baseball games postponed due to snow annoy me. A lot. But less so when they happen in Detroit than they would were they to happen in Seattle.

At 5, Sophie has apparently entered pre-adolescence And if it's any indication of what the full-blown thing will look like, we are TOAST. This weekend, my girl bounced between content, loving pixie and pissed-off, fire-breathing, hellchild. Luckily, cuddling and chocolate worked pretty well to coax her back from the dark side. She's obviously her mother's daughter, in that respect.

I look damn good in turquoise and lime green flower print shirts. Who wouldda thunk it?

Ow. Weeding on a nice day is a good thing. Kneeling to do said weeding is a good thing. Bending over to weed... not so good, and will result in an incredibly sore lower back. Note to self: you are not as young as you once were and you need to take proper care of your body. You don't ever want to deal with the consequences of non-compliance again. Ever.

Dancing is a freakin' lot of fun even if my groove thing is out of shape. I need more dancing. Come on, Seattle - who's with me?

Music and Mortality

I was wasting a bit of time tonight, browsing in the Apple music store. You know - typing in the names of artists I like to see what's available, have they done anything new, stuff like that. On the Natalie Merchant page, my eye was drawn to the box containing iMixes... song mixes created and published by Apple music store customers.

I knew when I saw it what it would be, and still I clicked on it: Mom's Final Mix. Created for someone's mom who died awaiting a liver transplant. It hit me in the gut, still lingers with me. And it got me thinking... I wonder what music my kids will remember me by?

Certainly there will be some Moxy Früvous in the mix. Hopefully something from their "Finally Back From Fucking Hiatus Tour '24." Beyond that, it's hard to tell. If luck and fate go my way, there's a lot of music between then and now, new artists to discover, new styles, new songs to make up my own words to (and to embarrass the kids by whilst singing them). And while right now their tastes in music are heavily influenced by mine and Stephen's, I really look forward to the time when the tables are turned and the kids bring new stuff to us.

Though I do have to admit - I had my first old fogey tantrum a few weeks ago. At Seattle Center's Center House, there's a stage that on the weekends always has some performance or another going on. This particular Sunday, there were several groups of kids coming on and dancing - all different styles and routines. Some of it was enjoyable, neat costumes, nicely choreographed. But way too much of it was blonde white teenaged girls dressed in black hoodies and track pants, trying to look all cool and hip-hoppy. Really they just looked silly and their routines were boring and unimaginative.

"You call that dancing? What is that crap?" I was overheard to say, not bothering to hide my disgust. Yep. It's the old "You kids and your music... now back in my day..." cliche. Eek. But honestly. I have nothing against newfangled music and dancing as long as it's GOOD.

Please please PLEASE may my kids know the difference.

A Memeing I Will Go!

Passed on to me by fellow NFJ Lora.

You're stuck inside Fahrenheit 451, which book do you want to be?
Man. This is a tough one. Can I be a series? Of course I can! There's no book meme police to stop me... ha! I'll take the Harry Potter septology, assuming we can avoid that dystopian world for at least long enough to allow J.K. Rowling to complete the final book It might not be high art, but it's a damn good story I'd want to preserve for future generations.

Have you ever had a crush on a fictional character?
Of course! Certainly too many to count. The one that pops to mind right now is Ranger from Janet Evanovich's Stephanie Plum mystery series. Yum-my. Oh, and Mona from Tales of the City.

The last book you bought is:
It was three, and I bought them after browsing for a lovely hour at Half-Price Books on date night with my husband. (Yes. Dinner and a bookstore. That is why I love him so. Well, that and he takes the kids to baseball practice when it's cold and rainy so I don't have to. What's not to love?)

• The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd
  
• Notes of a Baseball Dreamer by Robert Mayer, and
  
• The Measure of a Mountain by Bruce Barcott.
  

The last book you read:
Notes of a Baseball Dreamer by Robert Mayer. Chicken soup for a baseball lover's soul. (Damn. Can you believe that there actually IS a Chicken Soup for the Baseball Fan's Soul? Pernicious series, that.) It made me laugh and cry and rejoice at my luck that I was born a baseball fan.

What are you currently reading?
Game Time: A Baseball Companion by baseball writer Roger Angell. It's a collection of essays written over the last 40 years plus some new ones. Good stuff.

Five books you would take to a deserted island:
Only Five?!?!? EEK! Okay, I'll answer, but my list will probably change tomorrow.

• Ulysses by James Joyce. I badly want to read it, start to finish, some Bloomsday. It almost happened once, in college, but we fizzled out around 11pm. If I were away from all distractions it would be my golden opportunity. Yes I said yes I will Yes.
  
• Mama Day by Gloria Naylor. Because it's one of my favourite books of all time. Family, love, magic... oooh. I think I need to re-read it right NOW.
  
• Shoeless Joe by W.P. Kinsella. Because I would sorely miss baseball, and this is one of the best baseball books of all time.
  
• The Collected poems of Robert Frost. Depending on how long I was stranded on said island, I could not only memorize his poetry, but also set it all to music in different genres... Folky Frost, Gangsta Frost, Classical Frost, Jazzy Frost... what possibilities!
  
• Bird By Bird by Anne Lamott. Because, even on a deserted island, I'm sure that KFKD (K-Fucked) would be playing in my head and it would be great to have her there to remind me to turn it off.
  

Who are you going to pass this stick to (3 persons) and why:
Anastasia because she's the first person I thought of and I loves her, Stephanie because she likes lists and this is a listy kind of thing, and Terrilyn because I'd love to hear what she's reading.

Tale of the Tooth

Nathan lost his first tooth on Sunday and I am now an unwilling captive of his gap-toothed smile and oh-so-slight sibilance. I'm not sure what it is, but I'm unable to stay mad or say no when he flashes the grin my way. The worst part is that he knows it - senses my weakness like blood in the water - and uses his advantage mercilessly.

Both of his bottom teeth have been loose for awhile, but not the hanging-by-a thread, twisty-in-the-socket kind of loose. Just wiggly with no indication that it would be any less than a few weeks or a few months even before the tooth fairy would come a-knockin.

So what changed? Well, in one of those increasingly common moments where the boy ignored my "do-as-I-say-not-as-I-do" mantra, he decided to try to remove a paper wristband with his teeth. (Strangely enough, I was doing the same thing with his sister's wristband in a different room at the time.) One of the loose teeth decided it wasn't up for the fight and out it popped. A bit of blood but no pain - and one VERY excited and frustratingly cute boy smiling at me as I emerged from the bathroom with a paper towel to staunch the flow.

The tooth fairy obligingly took the itty bitty thing and left a shiny Sacajawea dollar in the pocket of his tooth prince pillow. She was kind enough to leave the tooth for me as a memento of the occasion.

Now Nathan is ready to be free of #2 and begged me to tie a string to the other loose one to yank it out. I assured him that it's too soon... the string trick only works when the tooth is ready.

"Okay, mom. That's what my friends at YMCA said too."

Ah, I see. I'm the second opinion now. I nod and smile, and watch the milestones pass so quickly that I don't dare blink.

What's The Buzz?

I've done a lot of massage this week - more than in quite a while - and it's been very good. The more I do the more confidence I have in my touch, in trusting my intuition as I zero in on trouble spots on which to work.

Imagine my suprise and delight when, while working on a client yesterday, I started to feel a buzzing in my fingers as I sank down for some deep frictions along her spine. I've always envied those bodyworkers who are able to tune in physically, not just intuitively, to the body's vibrations, and who can identify areas of imbalance by registering a physical sensation of movement or heat. So my immediate thought was It's happening! My hands are opening!

A second later, the true source of the buzzing became evident and I chuckled at myself. My client had fallen asleep and was snoring gently... so quietly at first that I couldn't hear her, but could feel the vibration through her back as I pressed in, much as you might feel a cat purr before you hear it.

Although I will cop to slight disappointment that there's a non-woowoo explanation for my experience, I don't feel too badly... a sleeping client is to a massage therapist as compliments are to a chef.

Girlie Turns 5

Happy birthday wishes for Ms. Thang, born 5 years ago today! I know that all parents say this, but it really is hard to believe that the time has flown by so quickly. From babe in arms to independent ballet-dancin', t-ball-hittin', GameGirl-playin', brother-chasin', kitty-lovin', chocolate cake-eatin', Kindergarten-bound big girl.

I count my blessings every single day.

A Pope By Any Other Name

I have to admit that I'm bummin' about the Pope today.

Now, stop, I'm serious. I'll be the first to admit that the Roman Catholic Church and I have absolutely nothing in common and in fact I loathe and actively fight against many of its tenets; all the same, the impending death of the only Pope I can remember is making me very sad.

I actually remember when Pope John Paul II was elected after the death of John Paul I whose tenure lasted only 33 days. I was 9 and I remember that my grandmothers (both Catholic though neither practicing) were fans of the youngish Holy Father. That he was Polish, and of Lithuanian descent on his mother's side, made it even that much cooler.

Seeing photos of him today as a young man floored me - I had forgotten how vibrant and charismatic he was. The years and his illness took such a toll that it's been difficult to look at him for a long time now. Twenty-six years from there to here. So much has changed.

Sometime soon, perhaps today or tomorrow, John Paul II will once again be called, three times, by his birth name: Karol Józef Wojtyla. When he doesn't answer, an era will end and yet another link to my childhood will be gone.

I wish him peace on his journey.