(1) Line in the Sand (2) Let the Yappin begin

I seem to be in a bit of a blogging funk lately. As is always, it's never for lack of fodder; I wander around composing blogs in my head all day long. I think what stops me in my tracks is that I feel a need to really "say" something when I sit down. Funny, I peek at posts from 4-5 years ago. They are full of carefree rambling and chicken suits, and I rarely felt compelled to make a point. What happened?

Life has just become seriouser and seriouser in the last couple of years. I think that sometimes when we steel ourselves to weather hard times, we become worriers, grievers, carriers of burden. When the light begins to shine again we are timid about shaking that yoke off of our shoulders. If we're lucky, it hits us sooner rather than later that we can set that fucker down, and skip down the road for awhile, with our piggytails flying.

There I go again.

Ok, I'm drawing a line in the sand:

___________________________

I'm over here now, and I'm returning to my blogging roots: I'm going to get back to yappin at'cha, as if you'd pulled up a chair at my sidewalk cafe table.

I'm behind on my kid yappin! We had a great time when Brian was home on leave. It's always great when he's here, but I think it was extra good for all of us to have him home at this time. There have been some tough times for this one lately. There's been some petty internet mudslinging at him and this family that he can't defend from Iraq, and it was very very good for him to come home and see firsthand that everyone he cares about still supports and believes in him.

I was happy to have him home just so that he would know firsthand what I've been assuring him: Anyone that knows him and knows us, knows better.  Rise above it, end of story.

So, I'm proud of that kid. In his 15 days home, he made a lot of time for a lot of family when a lot of friends were tugging at his shirt to see him also.

This photo was taken at dinner the night before we took him back to O'Hare. It captures their relationship so honestly that it takes my breath away. In this one, she is showing him his baby picture—for approximately the 4th time, starting the story anew each time: "This is YOU!"

I've sat through plenty of young people rolling their eyes at Mom, and I'm always stupid-proud that Brian treats her with the respect that he does. He looks her in the eye and talks with her each time about the photo as if it's the first time he's seen it. He would never hurt her feelings. I guess it doesn't matter how old they get: when you witness them heeding values that you hoped to bring up in them, it always feels good.

Diane joined me to take him back to O'Hare. We were startled when we walked in to the airport and  a security guard whisked him to check his bag, opening up the line, while we stood in place. I am sure we had forlorn "this is it" looks on our faces, but the guard turned to us then, and said "are you with him? Get over there and get security passes."

They took our drivers' licenses and gave us VIP passes all the way to the gate!

There was one more line with about 100 people serpentining through it, before going through security. We followed Brian to the end, when we heard "SIR? Over here, sir." She held up the line and checked us through. It took a couple of minutes, and I stood behind him watching the responses of the people he was move in front of. I made eye contact with one lady almost to the front, and she smiled so knowingly to me that a tear rolled down my cheek before I had time to stop it.

Moving back to the boarding area, this gentlemen rushed his 2 sons over, and thanked Brian for his service. His 2 boys stepped up then and shook his hand and thanked him also. It's another hold-your-breath moment, from a parent's viewpoint. Whew.

We were blessed with a couple of extra hours with Brian before he flew off to Atlanta for the night. Putting your kid on a plane back to school or back to, say, his job at an army base in the United States is just different than putting your kid back on a plane to Iraq. It suuuuuucks.



Di and I took off and drowned our sorrows in the streets of Chicago before going home, and Brian...well...Brian went to Atlanta for one night, and took off traveling around the world the next day, landing in Kuwait, trying to get a flight out of Baghdad. He checked his bags and waited...for 7 DAYS for a plane. Sand storms in Kuwait, then in Baghdad kept them grounded, while more soldiers managed to arrive and fill the place up, and somehow grab seats on the next plane while he sat. Apparently they call your name...or not. And there's no complaining to the management.

He filled his time by moving from tent to tent sleeping where he knew people would stir and wake him up so as not to miss the next roll call, and by renting internet time at $5/hr, and hoping there would be someone online to chat with. I talked to him almost as much during his Kuwait time as I did while he was home.

This concludes today's yapping, but there will be plenty more. I have photos, videos, and stories aplenty to tell you.

Rest assured, it will all be pointless.

Impromptu Family Haiku: Soldier v. Mother

***This post is Rated R, and will earn my blog an adult rating, because there are some bad words in it.***

Brian is back in Iraq. Blessedly quiet for a soldier's mother, Brian's facebook updates reflect a bit of boredom. I am nothing, if not a problem solver, yes? He popped in on chat today, and I gave him an assignment: A Haiku. Subject of my choosing, he could assign one to me, and we'd get back to one another.

I underestimated our Haiku Prowess; we each returned in a matter of minutes, and re-assigned new topics. Here, for your reading pleasure, is our 30-minute Haiku Standoff

Topic to Lori: "Kitchen"

Beautiful kitchen
Although Clint did all the work
It's really all mine.

(heh heh, just kidding, baby)

Topic to Brian: Southern Comfort

What happened last night?
Southern comfort is my crutch.
I remember zip.

Topic to Lori: ["Interesting" neighbor from the past]

Threads of saliva
Connect top lip to bottom
My crazy neighbor

Topic to Brian: Blisters

My feet, so fucked up
These goddamn tan army boots
Blisters. Fuck my life.

Topic to Lori: [Female with boorish personality; it's not you]

You may not notice
There are others in the room
Shut the hell up, bitch

(Mean, but oh how we laughed.)

Topic to Brian: Kyle's puppies

2 tiny lions
Kyle's one and only true love
Bella and Butter

Topic to Lori: Painting

Put it off too long
Canvas, brush, paint, and my heart
Dreams must be fulfilled.

Topic to Brian: The stinkbug that recently crawled out of his Caesar salad at chow hall

What is this creature
Here, not to make me happy
No longer want lunch

Topic to Lori: Deer

Bambi and mama
Strolling by kitchen window
Yum yum! Venison!

Topic to Brian: Sand

This crunch in my mouth
This burning in my eyeballs
Wait up guys, can't see

I hope you've enjoyed this prolific installment of Impromptu Family Haiku. Brian and I took our leave with assignments for one another: my assigned topic is "wine," and  his is "commando."

Feel free to submit a haiku on either topic, or to support our troops by suggesting a topic.

Polar Plungers

Team TFT: Sue, Diane, Lori, Sarah, Dustin, Lizzy, Yvonne

We did it! Last Saturday, we joined about 400 other fun-loving individuals for the Polar Plunge fundraiser for Special Olympics. We ended up with 7 people on our team, and raised over $1000 for the cause, bringing along cash and checks to add to your online contributions. Thanks to everyone that sponsored us for the event.

It was a balmy 30 degrees on Saturday, and, unfortunately for us, especially those of us at the end of the jumping queue, breeeeezy. See all of these people? Yeah, we were so behind them in line that we could wander around and take their photos.

In all, we wandered around in shorts and tights for about 90  minutes before we were called to jump. Plenty of time to watch the freezing jumpers before us, to heighten our anxiety and fear, and to lose any shred of body heat we'd stored up for the occasion.

We were finally put "on deck" to jump before a team named "Ice, Ice Baby." We stood holding hands and shaking and giggling, and then I just remember us moving toward the water, and then we were screaming.
And screaming.

And screaming. I have to note here that jumping into ice water isn't really like jumping into cold water. You know, that "gahhhhh!" feeling when you jump into a cool pool on a hot day? You're freezing and then you acclimate and think the water's lovely! Come on in!


Yeah, it's nothing like that.

It's more like you're moving forward on dry land, and then you have a sudden sensation that you are made of concrete, and then you just lose your mind. Seriously. Sarah, upon seeing the photo above, asked me "what we were doing with our hands in the air?" I had no idea; when we got out, someone us complimented on the little dance we did. We did? We must have. And I haven't cleared with everyone on the team, but several of us don't remember getting out of the water at all. Hm. We must have.

Other than that? Well your feet are so cold that you can't bend your toes to walk, so you tromp up to the changing rooms like Frankenstein. You get into the changing room, which is just one big open room, and you strip down with all of the other naked stripper-downers. Everyone is in shock, and yet so delirious for any dry article of clothing that no one thinks anything about all of this nakedness with strangers. Were we just nude with 60 other nude women? We must have been.

(The changing rooms were gender assigned, people. Don't go signing up for next year just for the changing room experience.)

Anyway, on to your dry clothing that I hope you remembered to bring. You are so cold that a thin dry t-shirt feels like heaven. Once you manage to get the rest covered up, you declare yourself "not even cold!" Wow, That wasn't so bad! I'm not even cold! What a surprise! I thought this would be much worse! Let's do it again next year!

You hug your teammates goodbye, jump in the car, and drive back into town.

Well, that's how it happened with us. Di and I rode together, so we elatedly decided to celebrate the day with a nice bowl of hot soup, even though we were not even cold.

We arrived back in Champaign in 15 minutes, got out of the car....and discovered immediately that our core body temperatures had dropped enough that there was just nothing to warm us once we were back in the wind. Shivering commenced immediately, and I actually ran back to the car for a blanket, and we shared it under the table.

We ordered pho, which consists of a lot of hot, hot broth. It was just what the doctor ordered on the "heat you up" phase of the after-plunge. However, halfway through the soup, Diane and I both suddenly felt like this:

Exhauuuuusted. Team concensus was that everyone was either sleeping or very wishful for a nap Saturday afternoon. (Except for Dustin. He's 18. Enough said.)

Despite a bit of mild hypothermia, and a sleepy Saturday, WE HAD A BLAST at the Polar Plunge, and it was all for such a great cause. I was giddy and laughing all weekend remembering costumes and antics, and, quite honestly, feeling a bit of smug self-righteousness. Ha! I jumped into ice water! So there! (Who's jealous?)

We're already establishing next year's team, and have a few new jumpers. I can hardly wait; I want to compare the experience without the anxiety factor: I wonder if I'll remember more, or be more focused in the next jump, or if I'll just freeze my gourd again, and not remember a thing.

If you want to join our team next year, hit me up. If the idea of hypothermia isn't cranking you, consider this: You'll get a rockin' sweatshirt just for participating. A sweatshirt, people, a badge of crazy honor!

Special thanks to Di's Granddaughter, Kaylin, who at my request, painted up a costume for me, when I was too busy to.

Sign up sheet for next year...well, leave a comment, and I'll add your name to the team!

Hi, hi hi!

Heyhihowareyou?

I've been busy busy, Brian was home for 2 weeks, I dropped him off at the airport last Friday. Sunday I found out my new tenant (& friend) needs to move in to my place on Friday, and Monday was Mom's birthday, so I've had 3 days to pack up my house, and the storage isn't available until Monday, but the sheets are clean and the beds are made so she'll be ok and tomorrow I'm doing the polar plunge, and then maybe I can start blogging again.

Thankyouverymuch.

Freezin' for a Reason

February 27, 2010

Noon o'clock

Lake of the Woods, Mahomet, IL

I am plunging. WE are plunging, we have rallied around and actually managed to find 5 or 6 people that will constitute a TEAM of  people idiotic fun-loving enough to jump into cool water for a great cause: To raise money for The Special Olympics.

A view of the lake at the plunge 3 years ago.

We are plunging for Team Toys for Troops!

Here are our members, so far:

Give it up for Lizzie! Her mother, Debbie, is marrying my cousin Mike this summer, so that makes Lizzie my....cousin too, as far as I'm concerned. (Pirate not included)

Let's hear a round of applause for Sarah Westhoff! Her hubby, Fred, works with Clint. Fred and Clint are not participating in the Polar Plunge. They say it's because they have to work that day. Right. That's why. We believe them.

 

A Standing O, please, for Sue Klefstad. This photo was taken about 2 weeks ago, just after Sue's last chemotherapy treatment, for breast cancer. After a tough year for this always-smiling co-worker of mine, her oncologist has given her the go-ahead to go jump in a lake. She was told "You can do any stupid thing you want to!" Isn't that wonderful?

Put your hands together for Brian's brother, the one and only Dustin Jolley! Dustin was the first one to raise his hand and volunteer to be my teammate on this one—I KNEW  he'd do it! Unfortunately, there may be a bit of a scheduling conflict with his basketball team...

The one that's not me is Michelle.

...so their stepmom, Michelle Jolley, has volunteered to jump for him if he doesn't make it. That is above and beyond a mother's duties, isn't it? I think she's crazy.

And last but not least, Moi. Here I am this weekend, showing off a refrigerator that we'll want to crawl into to get warm after we're done jumping:

 

50-degrees warmer than the waterrrrrr

What am I forgetting? Oh, yes. We need your monies! We each need to come up with at least $75 worth of donations to jump! Easy-Peasy.

Click here to go to our pledge page, pick a name and send $5 or $10 our way, won't you?

If YOU will click there, then WE will do this:

And together, we'll make THIS happen:

 Capisce?

Thank you. I love you.

The more the merrier: Feel free to hit the "Join a Team" button and sign yourself up with Toys for Troops on the 27th.

Surprise!

I was talking to my kiddo on the phone earlier this week, yammering on about a possible fundraiser for Toys for Troops, and wondering when he'd be home on leave—it would be nice if I could throw an event while he's here to represent. "I can't say," he told me. He can't say? What does that mean, he can't say? He doesn't know? or Oh! "They" are listening in, and he's not allowed to tell me such top secret information? En-way are you oming-cay ome-hay, ian-Bray?

Lord, he finally gave up and said "I was going to surprise you at work. I'll be there on Friday." But he arrived earlier. Some nice lady in the airport loaned him her telephone on Wednesday, and I got the call:  "I'm in Atlanta, I'll be home tonight."

I've written here before I had so many distractions when he deployed, and we were all so numb with grief  at the time, that we all just kind of bucked up and accepted that he was going. I've had near-daily contact with him, via the internet and telephone, which is a far cry from his first deployment. Still, when he said "I'm in Atlanta," the fact that he is home from freakin' Iraq bowled me over. Somehow, it was as if it was the first I'd heard of it. It took the wind out of me at the same time that I could instantly breath easier for his being home. What's a girl to do but hang up the phone and have a good cry right at her desk? Get it all out, honey, it will be better....

NOW!

 

He chose the meetin' up place. You can't get THIS in Iraq:

Papa Del's.

Clint and I met Brian's brother (Dustin), sister (Emily), and "other mom" (Michelle)  there, and his friend Chad delivered him to us. Brian gave me a hug and promptly poked me in the ribs, making me jump 3 feet into the air—some things never change. We chowed down on pizza and listened to his Iraq stories, many of which seemed to have a toilet theme of some sort or another, and had us laughing our heads off.

After dinner, I stole his jump drive and sent him off with his friends. Here's a few from the archives, from the last 4 months.

The first is a photo of hundreds of thousands of people on a pilgrammage to Karbala. They shared the highway for 3 days. U.S. presence isn't entirely accepted; some threw their sandals at them, and a few spit on their vehicles. Brian kind of cracked me up when he told me how mad it makes him. He wants to get out of the truck and say "Hey! Grow up! I don't want to be here either!"

I dream of a war that could end by taking both sides by their arms, making them face one another and saying "Just grow up!"

Brian, watching for incoming flip-flops.

My butt is bigger than a camel butt. I gotta get back to the gym.

In the last 2 weeks I've had 2 soldiers home from Iraq tell me how valuable developing a relationship with the children can be. They want beanies and goodies, and will inform our guys where the bombs are in hopes of a treat. "Mister, mister, boom-boom!!"

Luckily for Brian, there have been very few during his deployment this time around. U.S. military are trying to put an Iraqi face on their presence, and are escorted by Iraqi military and police on their missions. Some of what he tells me is nerve-wracking to--Moms everywhere. Security is a bit looser, civilians weave their own cars in and out of their convoys in traffic, with no means of checking their vehicles or requiring permission. Gah, that kind of freaks me out; don't think about it, just don't think about it, Lori. Breathe, Lori.

We have 15 days to rejoice and hold him tight and take too many pictures and drive him crazy with hugs and kisses before we send him back.

Oh, and I already fixed him spaghetti.

You want some?

Been busy...

I have been busy-busy, but I haven't forgotten you. 2010 is going to bring about a lot of changes in my life, and I have a window of "luxury" here in which I can determine if my future can possibly involve what I want to do, or if it will rotate more around what I have to do. I talked with Clint, and—you're going to love him for this—he advised me to try doing what I want to do.

I stewed on that for awhile. We are living in a state of construction, and while we have living space, our "spare" spaces are still full of storage and construction equipment. WHERE am I going to do what I want to do? I went back to Clint, because you know how much men like to talk. "Darling," I said, "can I haul all of that stuff out of that one little room, and can I have it all for myself? Like...tomorrow?"

I wasn't really thinking tomorrow, but Clint surprised me 2 days later, on my birthday, asking me to trudge up the stairs in the dark for a surprise:

This room was FULL of storage and construction tools just 24 hours before this was taken.

A little trip to the Salvation army cleared out this corner...

A few holes in these 100-year old walls had to be patched...

A fresh coat of paint, a good vacuuming and a thick coat of lemon oil on those floors...

A couple of carloads of supplies from the city casa, including 1 or 2  3 or 5 paintings I started ages ago, but never finished....

A workspace, a cozy chair, small TV, some internet, and it's time for this girl to start putting her money where her mouth is. It's a cozy little room, it's all mine, and I lurrrrrrve it.

Clint is infinitely amused that we've been working on restoring this place for almost 2 years, and the first room that's finished is one he'd put absolutely no thought into, and, before he met me, would never imagined its final purpose. I love that, when we just don't know how lovely something will be, in our future.

If you need me, I'll be at the easel.

Oh, hai.

Is this my longest blogging hiatus ever?

There's a lot going on here...a lot of exciting stuff, thoughtful stuff, fun stuff, and busy stuff. I'm composing breathtaking blog posts in my mind while I tend to it all, but when I finally sit down on any given evening, I'm too braindead to even know where I am.

Don't go away yet! I still have encyclopedias full of fascinating blog fodder drivel.

My foot hurts, for instance. My boss, who is not a doctor at all, nor does he play one on TV, diagnosed bursitis. I wisely got a second opinion: The Internet indicates that Dr. Boss is probably right, OR I have plantar fasciitis. I've decided to treat myself for Bursitis, since I can't pronounce fasciitis. (Quite honestly, I'm not sure about plantar, either. Is it plan-TAR, or just planter, like planter?)

I can't know. In the meantime, I've prescribed lots of Advil for inflammation, $8 orthotics from Walmart, and permission to cuss up a blue streak when my @#$%# foot #$%@ hurts. Look at it:

 #$%@#$%

Are you riveted? Tip of the iceberg, babies. I'll get back here ASAP to fill you in on other, just-as-exciting goings on.

I'll try not to keep you waiting.  Ta!

Photo Dump Day: ID No. 2010-1

Time to catch up, a lot going on here at Casa de Gnightgirl. Here's some news and random photos dating back to September.

I closed my last post by declaring that I was going to take 2010 by storm. Well, The first storm of 2010 set me straight on Friday morning. 1/4 mile from home I scooted over to let a big honkin' truck by, and ended up in this ditch:

It doesn't look very ditchy in this photo, but the right tires are in the ditch, and the left tires are spinning on ice. And spinning and spinning and spinning. I had to call Clint about 3 minutes after I left the house. Here he comes now, my knight in shining armor John Deere:

Toot, toot.

* * * * * 

Months and months ago I bought this transparent locket from Artfire.com. I was convinced I could find hundreds of tiny doo-dads to put in it, and thus personalize every outfit, if I had this.

But no, I could never think of a thing, when it came down to it. So I wore it out on New Year's Eve in St. Louis, declaring that I'd take home one souvenir from every establishment of the weekend, in my necklace. Here it was after 3 days:

There's a label from Schlafly's brewery, the logo off the menu from The Broadway Oyster Bar, a logo from the calendar at TJ's Wings (where we rang in the new year), the word "Malt" off of a bottle of vinegar from Five Brothers Burger place, and the tip of a skinny little candle from a birthday surprise on Friday night. I am now in love with the necklace.

* * * * *

Diane and I went out for Vietnamese food on Monday, for my birthday. Saigon in Savoy is now under new management, and the food is to die for. I had Pho, which was perfect on a subzero evening. We started out, though, with a Vietnamese shrimp salad. "Mild," I told our waitress, looking out for Diane, who's not big on spicy food.

Mild my a**, this salad almost burned our faces off. I'm a hot-pepper girl, but I was miserable after the first bite of this stuff, delicious as it was. Here's a flattering photo of Diane trying to regain composure as she snacks her way through her "mild" salad.

The waitress insisted she'd given us the mild salad, but methinks there was a mixup. She was a great waitress, nonetheless, and we had a wonderful time at dinner. I can hardly wait to go back for more Pho.

* * * * * 

I recently updated my facebook status with the observation that I could be in the Guinness Book of World Records for "The Person Having Misplaced The Most Lipbalms in A Lifetime." Clint's daughter and mother got right on that for Christmas, and I am now set for life in the lip balm department:

Last Wednesday night, I was all bundled up, standing in the kitchen talking to Clint while I slathered on that cinnamon one in the middle. It took me a minute of Clint's laughing to realized that the balm I'd selected actually had a tint, and I'd spread it all over my face. I almost went out with red clown lips! How embarrassing would that have been? Of course, after a few pints, I was compelled to re-enact my near glamour faux-pas for everyone at the table. It's not embarrassing if you meant to do it.

Here are some pheasants in a field south of our house. Who doesn't think it's more fun to call them peasants?

Here's a fun sign I spotted at Oktober Fest in St. Louis:

-

This was a very popular booth. Go figure.

Also at Oktoberfest, the most interesting incense...uh....flavors. I'm not sure if I really want to know what a Booty Call smells like. Butt Naked could be iffy, too.

These were taken over Labor Day weekend, a month before Brian deployed. He brought his new gear along to show us, and let me have a spin in his new vest.

This vest weighs 100 million pounds, which is supposedly lighter than the vest he had to wear on his first tour. The great thing about this one is that it has a rip-cord, and, when pulled, the vest instantly falls off into several pieces. This was designed to let soldiers escape their armor instantly, and thus more easily maneuver out of burning vehicles. How comforting.

* * * * * 

Here's Minx. When you tell her to get off of the island, she'll hop down and sit in the chair. Isn't that cute?

Also cute is that I swear to God, the cat can say "Ma-ma." It's usually in the morning when the alarm goes off, or when she rushes to meet us when we get home from work: "Ma-ma! Ma-ma!" She calls Clint Ma-ma too; give her a break, she's just a little kitty.

Most frustrating, though, is that I can't get her to do it on command, and no one but Clint or myself has witnessed our brilliant talking cat. No amount of prompting or petting or mewling back at her will get her to perform for me, and I'm sure people have stopped coming to my house for having to sit through my efforts...again. I WILL get a video of her cute self, this year, and who will be laughing then, huh?

And a sneak preview of the next blog post: The best birthday present ever:

All mine.

I have been giddy for a week. Tune in next time!