Zebulon

Zebulon Montgomery Pike. American Hero. At least, he's one of the choices Pinky had for an American Hero, a 5th grade rite of passage in our school district. I am soooo glad this project is nearly over. Outlines, note cards, note pages, more notes, bibliographies, rough drafts, essays, biopoems, oral presentations...aaaghhh! I can't take it any more! He handed in everything today, and tomorrow is his presentation. I read in the list of requirements a sentence that clearly said "You may dress as your hero for your oral presentation." Now, when I see the phrase "you may..." I think optional. Pinky agreed it was optional, and things have been pretty hectic around here, with me working long days and weekends since Jan 1, for quarter and year end reporting deadlines. Also trying to put together the banquet which will send Pinky from cub scouts to boy scouts, and putting together something called an Arrow of Light for that, etc. So i had pretty much decided it was a no on the Hero costume, and Pinky was okay with that, he said some other kids were not dressing up either. Then I was talking to a fellow mom-friend, who pointed out that while yes, indeed it was optional, it was also worth 10 of the 100 points. WTF? How is that optional? So, yes, we scrambled to put something together this weekend. Mr. Pike is credited with discovering Pikes Peak, so he was a mountain man, great explorer of the West. We managed to throw together some very un-1807-ish clothing into something sort of passable. Hopefully he won't be too embarassed tomorrow. Surely some of the other kids will have last-minute costumes too? I mean come on, we spent $2.00 on package of boot shoelaces to tie his pouch on, that's it. I know someone else spent $25 on a clearance (clearance? yikes!) Halloween costume for theirs. Hope the grades are not positively correlated with the amount of money mom or dad was willing to spend. So, here he is, in all his glory. I'm still not convinced he was a hero, some suspicious and unresolved accusations involving Spanish spies, and he took his men on expeditions ill-prepared for the elements they faced, but oh well. He was a braver and more adventurous soul than me, so I guess I shouldn''t criticize.

Can't I just enjoy it?

I went to see The Blind Side on Friday, with a friend, her son, and my two sons. Pinky really wanted to see this movie. I was not opposed to going. I had heard Sandra Bullock put in a good performance, and hey, I think she is, or at least was, to velo-dude what Johnny Depp is to me (oops, I probably wasn't supposed to say that). Well, I was not prepared for the flood of tears that came from me, throughout the entire movie. I should have been, because I have always been a sucker for a tearjerker, and I am a natural at crying. In public. But this was ridiculous. Luckily my friend joined me for a few of those tears. Pinky said he felt like crying several times, but "held it in". Curly was quiet through most of the movie, no small feat there for someone who normally cannot keep the mouth shut. So it was one of those movies. A good cry. A feel-gooder. Except that I'm not supposed to like this movie. It's not supposed to make me feel good. True story though it is, I am supposed to be disgusted by the paternalism, the rich-white-family-saves-poor-African-American cliche, etc. So I feel guilty liking it, and that has weighed on my mind most of the weekend. It takes the feel-good out of the feel-gooder.

I go to the movie theater so rarely, really. Why can't I just enjoy it when I do go?

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Anyone know why the blogs I follow don't update over on my sidebar? I think laggin posed this question a while back as well. It irritates me. Little things like that do. The bigger things in life? I just go into denial on those.

exam hangover

I have that bad hangover taste in my mouth. Not alcohol-induced. More like...poor-preparation-for-an-important-job-related-exam-induced. I don't know why I am having so much trouble focusing on study time at this point in my life, but it's pretty bad. I made it through graduate school 15 years ago, so what's the big deal? Two little things called Pinky and Curly, I guess. Plus a little laziness added in. I did hammer away for the past few weeks, but just like last time, seems to have been too little too late. Somehow I am going to have to break out of this cycle and get down to business next time around. I have 2 months until results come out, during which I will teach myself an undergraduate-level business course (totally different topic), take mini-exam at the end of the year, and then see in early January whether I need to restudy the same material from this last big exam, or whether I get to move on to the next one. Realistically, I don't stand a chance in hell of passing, based on the number of items with which I had difficulty. But, I know my routine. As the next 2 months progress, I will start to get glimmers of hope that somehow I pulled it off (everyone else did just as bad, my random guesses on the multiple choice beat all odds and were all correct, etc). Then the day results come out, I will be thinking I have half a chance, until I scroll through that list, searching for my id number, and alas, it will not be there. Shot down again. I will fight off tears, as this will be on a weekday, mid afternoon, and I will be at work. Oh, the beauty of this twisted semi-annual drill. (and the new twist to this will be that it will be early January, right in the thick of year-end reporting which is way bigger deal with my new position, so I will not be able to walk out the door and start drowning my sorrows).

Ugh.

But, that is it for my self-pitying/self-loathing, on this site, for now. Time to enjoy the little things again, and maybe blog about a few of the good ones.

Floor!

Wow, I finally have a brand new bamboo floor covering the nasty stained pressboard in my living-dining room L. I love it! I don't know whether it was the reverse psychology (jb, take note!!) or just general disgust with the looming project that prompted velodude to get it done, but he did a fine job. You can check out velodude's pics here if you so desire.

That's all for now. Headed to PA soon for the burial of my dad's cremains. This will be a much better memorial service, more of a life celebration with the raw pain having subsided.

mouths o' babes

What would you think if a 7 year old charmer came up to you at the end of a little vacation and said... "my dad left marks on the sheets every night in the hotel, and now we can't go back there." I beg of you, if that ever happens to you, don't judge too quickly. You see, if dad crashes the bike and gets pretty deep road rash on both hips, chances are, his wounds are going to ooze a bit on the sheets. It's not pretty, but at least it's not some of the bodily functions that Curly's statement could have implied. Luckily, he said it to my friend T, who happens to be married to my friend S, another bike racin' fool who has I'm sure oozed on his sheets at some point. And why he decided that we couldn't go back, I don't know.

What would you think if you asked a 10 year old why he decided to be a vegetarian, and he said "because I think it's wrong to eat God's creatures". Again, I beg of you, don't judge too quickly. Don't assume the parents are members of the religious right, who have been indoctrinating their son for the past 10 years. It is possible that the parents are not very religious, only attend church occasionally, and usually forget to say grace before dinner. Although, if that is the case, chances are said parents will burst out in uncomfortable laughter when they hear 10-year old's religious response for the first time, especially if it's at the pediatrician's office and they don't really know the pediatrician well at all. Also, don't assume that said 10-year old has found religion on his own. He may have just come up with what he thinks is a "good answer", for whatever reason, to explain why he is doing something that he himself doesn't really understand.

Gateway to the Midwest

I love the city of St. Louis. I know, it's not exactly an exotic destination. There are no beaches, no mountains, no big city excitement of a Chicago or NY. But I love it just the same. We have gone there every Labor Day for the past four years, of course to attend bike races, but also because it's a fun place to take the kids. I'm trying to do one new thing with them every year that we go, in addition to all of the racing action. Friday night is a party atmosphere with a night race around a beauty of a neighborhood, big old brownstone-types and a gorgeous park in the middle, Lafayette Square. Residents set up garden parties with wine and cheese to watch the races. I drank sangria, mmm. Velo-dude raced while there was still daylight, so we got to watch the drama of the night races as a family. Saturday am was a bummer, velo-dude crashed hard in his race and was pretty beat up for the rest of the weekend, but we still took the kids swimming at the hotel later, did a little shopping, had a great dinner, made the best of it. Sunday velo-dude decided not to race, so no hurries. Had a great leisurely breakfast, went to the zoo, and showed up for the last half of the race day to cheer friends on. Race action was on The Hill, charming Italian neighborhood and again, the neighborhood gets into it. Kids tried Thai food for the first time that night...it went about as well as I expected. Won't be trying that again for a few months (years?), so I'll have to continue to get my Thai fixes with work lunches. Monday was my favorite...downtown St. Louis was bustling. After some hem-haw about racing (more below on that), velo-dude did it, raced strong, finished upright, so a success. Then I took the boys to the arch, went to the top, checked out the museum below, and back to the race venue. By this time the excitement was beginning to brew for Stage 1 of the Tour of Missouri. Okay, I admit it, I get a little starstruck at this. We were able to watch 3 circuits of the 10-circuit race, before deciding we had to get the boys home at a decent time for school the next day. And we'll see the final stage this Sunday, what more could a girl ask for? See, much of the time, I gripe, whine, and poke fun of all the bike racing geekiness that is my husband, but deep down, I have a little of the geek in me as well.

The hem-haw, of which I unwittingly played a role...Sunday night, velo-dude was discussing whether he should try to race Monday. He was reluctant, because he is sporting a very deep knee wound from the crash, and really did not want to go down and damage it more (what with 'cross season looming and all). So, when we see his friend about an hour before the race, J asks why he's not gonna do it, and he hem-haws with an answer, so to facilitate the conversation, I jump in with "he's afraid he's going to do more damage to his knee". Helpful, right? WRONG! WRONG! WRONG! As we walked away from J, he said that if his other friend M wasn't going to take his number and race, he would use it himself, especially after I called him "chicken". . . Huh? Did I miss something? I honestly had to retrace my steps to that unfortunate word choice, "afraid". I could have easily said "he doesn't want to do more damage to his knee", and I think it would have been fine, but the minute I said "afraid", the testosterone kicked in. Yes, he raced alright. I'm going to have to remember this trick; should be able to use some reverse psychology to my advantage the next time I want something. Perhaps I should suggest that the bamboo floor project frightens him? That he is too chicken to open the boxes of flooring that have sat in my dining room for 4+ months? That the nasty stained pressboard floor that proudly shows its ugly face every day in my living/dining rooms is braver than he? Hmm, I'll have to work on it.

In the meantime, have I mentioned that I love St. Louis? And, yes, bike racing?