ImPerceptibility

Archive for January, 2010

When the girls were little I use to have fun scanning the playground.  I would try to guess which child each of my children would make friends with before it was time to go. I’d see the little boy crouched down looking at tadpoles in a puddle and know, that once my oldest felt comfortable, she would be over there exploring, discussing, and investigating. She likes the smart kids with the gentle smiles and curious eyes. My youngest was a different story. I’d look around the playground and find the most harried looking mom. The kid she was exasperated with would be the one youngest ended up playing with. Running, screaming, jumping, and mild mischief. That’s her game, but only if they were nice. She didn’t play with the mean kids – and she would tell them that as well. She had a big sister to watch her back if necessary.

I sometimes wonder what my future son-in-laws will be like. Will the types of people they choose to hang out with now predict their future friends, lovers, and spouses? Will my oldest settle down with intelligent man with a gentle heart and curious mind? Will my youngest be traveling the globe with a grinning bad boy who has a heart of gold? I’m not sure it matters but I like to think about these things sometimes.

My first boyfriend was a bad boy. Leather jacket, wild hair, fist ready to fly at the slightest provocation, bad boy. But he, and just about every boyfriend after him, treated me like I was the most wonderful thing that ever walked the earth. I never thought I deserved their adoration but that didn’t stop them from giving it to me. If I hadn’t had so much fun with them I might feel bad about all the worry and grief I caused my parents with my choices in boyfriends. I’ll never forget the look on my Dad’s face the day one of them called me from the juvenile detention center!

When it was all said and done, I ended up marrying a smart guy with a bad boy grin. He has a gentle loving heart and a great sense of adventure. When I think about it, he’s just like the boys I used to play with on the playground. I guess my girls will find the person that’s right for them. I don’t have any worries that they’ll find the right person and live a happy life together. I just worry about the steps they’ll take before they get there. I have a slight anxious feeling when I realize the time for finding out if I predicted correctly is just a few short years away. And if the bad boys showing off on their skateboards for my oldest are any indication, the next few years are going to be quite interesting.

December 20, 2006
Telling You About Singing
Dear Reader,

Hope you are doing well. I had a small problem with a bunion, but it’s getting better now. I won’t bore you with the details even though you are a good person to ask. Today I am going to tell you about singing.

Singing is a good thing. Most people feel better when they express themselves with a song. I like to sing in the shower. It sounds good in there. I can’t fault anyone for singing when they are feeling like singing. I think it’s probably healthy. What I can fault you for is singing when you know durn well you can’t sing worth a damn. Well, I won’t even fault you for that unless you are doing it where other people can hear you.

I want you to know that no one in their right mind wants to hear you howling out Silent Night at the top of your lungs if you sound like a dog in heat. It’s what they call noise pollution and that is a serious problem in this world. I am asking you people to please stop doing it and make the world a better place.

I understand that some people don’t know they sing badly. Here are a few tips so that you can figure it out:

If dogs start howling when you sing you need to stop. Dog howl for reason and one of them is when they hear bad singing.

If you are singing and parents grab their kids and start moving slowly away from you, you’re a bad singer. They don’t want you infecting their kids with bad taste. I can’t say I blame them.

If everyone in the congregation except for Milly, the mostly deaf girl, puts their hymn books in front of their face and starts shaking when you sing, it isn’t because they were moved by the spirit. They are trying not to laugh in church. That’s bad manners.

When no one makes eye contact while you are singing, you are bad. Just face the facts. No one wants to look at something like that.

If I run out of my house and give you a cup of cocoa before you’ve finished your carol, it isn’t because I didn’t want you to get cold. Even though I told you that, it was really because I couldn’t take anymore of your singing. Jesus Pete, get the hint already!

So, now you know. If any of these things apply to you, please stop polluting the world with noise and try to enjoy the season. I hope that was helpful to you. I wouldn’t be anything if I wasn’t helpful. Have a great day and don’t forget to help with the fight against noise pollution. It gets really bad this time of year with all the drinking. We all need to do our part. I’ll be back next week to tell you about gluttony. That is when you eat too much.

Sincerely,
Miss Brandie

I took that long walk today. The one that starts out on a wide gravel road then it gets smaller and smaller. It becomes nothing more than a space between trees. Dark and foreboding full of imagined snakes and real spiders, vine covered trees, and shadows. All the things that books and movie use to foreshadow doom. I was scared to walk there without you but it didn’t stop me.

I came to the train tracks, then a tunnel entrance covered with years worth of weeds. Honey suckle, poison ivy, and morning glories. Many years ago we decided it might be a metaphor for life. God, we were trashed that day! The vines were dormant and leafless for the winter but I knew they would be back in a few months and I knew I wouldn’t have the courage to cross them when they blossomed. I stood there until I felt I would loose my nerve, then I made myself continue on.

I pushed through brush, ducked under branches and crawled over fallen trees. My walk was coming to an end and each step was just a little slower than the last. Just past the sharp turn. I just had to make it past there.

I closed my eyes and stepped into the clearing. When I opened them it was like I remembered – but different. It wasn’t quite the same. I scanned the large gaping holes where men had gouged the gravel and sand from the earth. When they had taken everything they wanted they left it unattended, ugly and broken, alone to fend for itself. We loved that ugly place. We loved it because it was ours. No one else ever went there.

All these years later and the wounds were starting to heal. Grass and trees have grown. Sharp edges were softer. The water a little less stagnant. The light was filtered by the trees and the harshness was giving way to a aged softness. I wondered for a minute if it was a metaphor for life and I wasn’t even trashed.

No one but you and me would know why I went there. Most days I think we are the only ones that would even understand. Maybe the only people that would even care. I stayed for a long time but the time I spent didn’t make up for the time I had been away. When it was time for me to go I left behind my tears, markings from a paint stick, and a mostly full bottle of strawberry wine.

The walk back was shorter than I’d though it would be.

I was watching some old home movies of the girls from when they were little. I had to giggle at all the times they said, “Look, Mommy” or “Mommy, see, I can…” I’m not sure I appreciated it enough at the time, but some times you just have to get through the day. I guess that’s one of the reasons we make movies, take pictures, and write blogs. That way you can appreciate to your hearts content at a more convenient time.

I stopped a few videos at the smile. You know the one. The wild eyed, excited, I never did that before and I am so proud of myself now smile. It’s the perfect picture. There is nothing else on this earth that even comes close to filling me with more joy. That smile makes everything worthwhile.

Last night at the basketball game Oldest got a rebound and made an awesome basket. The most awesome basket of her short basketball career. I clapped and cheered and waited for the smile. I watches as she turned her head, not to look and make sure I was watching, but to see the cheers of her coach and teammates. Then she ran back down the court and continued to play. She never even looked my way.

I suppose that’s okay. She’s growing up and doesn’t need Mommy to validate her accomplishments. There’s a whole world of people out there that will support her and cheer for her, and that is a good thing. But damn it, I wanted that smile. That smile was there because of all the previous smiles I had helped her achieve. From her first steps, to the first game of catch, to helping her find just the right pair of court shoes. That smile was mine and I felt cheated even though I tried not to feel that way. I did my best to hide it.

After the game was done I walked over to give her shoes and sweatpants. I smiled extra big when I told her that she had played a good game. She told me with all the confidence (arrogance) of a 12yo that it was in fact an excellent game. She talked excitedly about some of the key plays of the game. She mentioned her awesome shot and I gave her a big hug. She smiled really big when I told her she was getting good and looking a lot more confident on the court. Then we went home.

After she got a quick shower, I went to tell her goodnight. She had come down from her post game high and was all sleepy eyed and ready to dream. I kissed her on the forehead and when I was walking out she asked me, “Did you see that basket, Mom? Did you see how I did that?”

I nodded an told her of course I did. She giggled and told me of course I had. She said it like it was completely and totally expected that I was rooting for her. There was no doubt in her mind. Then she rolled over and went to sleep and I went back out to watch some more old movies.

I smiled at the baby smiles on the screen and found contentment in knowing that they know I’m always rooting for them, even when they are too busy living their own lives to acknowledge it. I hope they live the rest of their lives knowing I’m their biggest fan even when they’re sprawled out at half court because they just tripped over their own feet. But I also hope I get more of those smiles, just for me. I’m selfish like that and that is just the way it is.

December 13, 2006
Telling You About Lying
Dear Reader,

Hello. It’s nice to see you back. I’m sure you noticed the purple in my hair has faded a bit. Mike, the hair stylist, says no need to worry. I used the temporary hair color and it will wash out in a few days. BINGO turned out fine. Apparently quite a few people decided to try the hair color by the cabbage and we had a good laugh about it. I even made a new purple-haired friend. It’s good to have something in common. That helps promote a friendship. Too bad it had to be a hair color tragedy. But never mind that. Today I am going to tell you about lying.

Lying is bad. We all know you shouldn’t lie to your Mom. Someone needs to tell that to my no good son, the one that lies to his mother. I mean, if you can’t just tell your mom your going to be too busy with that new tart of yours to spend some time with your family on Christmas, what good are you? Making up lies about being busy and needing to make money to pay your child support is stupid. Everyone knows you got plenty of money for your child support. It’s all those alimony payments each month that are killing you.

For awhile, I thought that boy was turning Mormon. Every time I turned around he was getting married. They call that serial monogamy. What it really should be called is he don’t how to keep a woman. He thinks I don’t know that he is going skiing at one of those resorts. Well, I know. I hope he doesn’t break a leg.

So, lying is bad. Just don’t do it. When you lie too much everyone thinks you are morally corrupted. And they would be right. I’m not talking about lying about Martha’s bean salad being good. Everyone knows you’re just being nice about that. Just try not to tell any big lies. Don’t lie to your wife about where you’re going because she will find out. Don’t lie to your kids about what happened to the dog. That’s just wrong. Also, don’t lie to yourself. You know what is right and wrong. Trust the voice inside and be honest with yourself. Things usually work out better that way. That’s a simple fact.

I know that sometimes you have to lie. It’s just how it is. You don’t get to be married as long as I have without a few well placed lies. I told Mr. Brandie a lie last night. I told him he was the sexiest man I know. It was a little lie because I don’t actually KNOW Keith Urban. I sure do like watching him sing on the Country Music Channel though. That Nicole Kidman got herself a good deal in that man! It’s also OK to tell your wife that she looks great even when she doesn’t. It’s called being kind. Being kind is what makes this world a little easier to live in. Life is hard. You should always try and make things better for the people you love. It will give you a great deal of personal satisfaction. Just don’t lie about anything big and you’ll be fine. Big lies lead to big trouble. Remember that.

Thank you for stopping by. I am always thrilled to have you here. It’s good of you to keep an old lady company. Don’t forget to shut the door on the way out. It’s raining and I ain’t in no mood to be mopping up the floor today. Come see me again next Wednesday. I’ll be telling you about something.

Sincerely,
Miss Brandie

I think I’m busier now than I was during the holidays. I’m fine with that. I’ve been having fun. Here’s a quick preview of what I’ve been up to and what’s to come.

I’ve been working on plans for something really cool that I’m doing in July. I’ll have a post about that in the next few days. The post involves Dan and his fat ass. At least the draft does. We’ll see how the final turns out.

I decided to re-do my youngest’s entire school plan. We’ve kept the same Math (Calvert) and Spelling (Sequential Spelling) because she enjoys both of those but I’ve ditched the reading, science, and history. She’s okay with them but she’s more of a hands-on project type of learner and what I was using was becoming more of a chore than a fun learning experience. So instead of breaking everything up into subjects I’m working on projects that incorporate all the subjects into fun hands on projects. We’ll see how they go and I’ll post some if they turn out as awesome as I think they will. If you’re curious, I’ll tell you that the first project includes making a guitar out of a K’nex box. But that’s all I’m saying until I see how everything turns out!

Our family has five birthdays in three weeks. It’s a busy birthday month. Happy Birthday everyone. Bring on the cake.

I organized my office. Not the whole office, just the messiest parts. I made notebooks for all my favorite projects. They’re complete with label and everything. MyHusband bought a new shelf and left it sitting in the hall so I took it, put it together, and it is now my shelf in my office. Snooze you loose. It looks all fancy in there now. I still have to move the cat box to work at my desk but it works for me.

I’ve been learning about Type 1 diabetes. My neighbors daughter, my daughters’ good friend was diagnosed in October and since I love her and she’s over here a lot I thought I should know more about it. She spent the night here a few weeks ago and it was so hard to help her with her insulin and try to stay calm and upbeat especially when I saw all the bruises on her legs from the injections. I managed even though I sat on the couch and cried after they went to bed. Since then I have been trying recipes for low-carb after school snacks and sugar free/low sugar baking. It’s a little harder since she’s a vegetarian and a growing/constantly hungry kid but I’m getting a few good recipes together.

And that is what I’ve been up to so far in 2010. What about you?

December 8, 2006
Telling you About Purple Hair
Dear Reader,

Well I was supposed to see you next Wednesday but something happened that I think I should tell you about while it’s still fresh in my mind. I went and turned my hair purple. No, not on purpose. It was a mistake.

My hairdresser, Mike, the gay guy, usually does my hair on Fridays. He’s a good boy. I feel bad for his mom on account of him not giving her any grandkids but he’s a real good boy and takes care of his momma. She can’t complain about that. Not one bit.

So I was saying, every Friday I go and get my hair done. Once a month I go and get it colored as well. It costs me $40 for the cut-n-color special. That’s what they call it. You get your hair cut and colored. They throw in a fee styling as well. My problem was, I spent too much money on fancy pancake syrup and didn’t have enough for the color part. Mike offered to do it anyway. He said I could pay him next time. I told him no. If I can’t afford to pay you then I can’t afford to get it done. Plain and simple. I don’t like to put myself in debt. It isn’t wise when you’re my age. I could kick the bucket tomorrow and poor Mike would never get his money. He wouldn’t ask Mr. Brandie for it because he’s such a polite young man. He wouldn’t want to interrupt the mourning process with business.

I decided I’d do it myself. They had discount hair coloring at the Bottom Dollar for just 3 bucks. I had three bucks so I decided what the heck, I’ll do it. I read most of the direction and started to color my hair. Oh boy, that stuff did smell bad, but it was in a bin beside the cabbage in the store. I figured that was the problem. They call that cross contamination. It can happen. They should have put some baking soda in between the bins. So I wasn’t too worried. I got it all in my hair and set the timer on the stove to 15 minutes, like it told me to do.

I was so excited dancing around the house in my underwear and a towel singing that old hair color commercial. You know the one; ‘I washed that gray right out of my hair’. That was a good commercial and they should bring it back. I was having so much fun. Then the timer went off and I washed the gray out. The only problem was I washed the gray into purple. It’s not one of those purple tints like the artsy people talk about. It was purple. Just plain purple. So now I got to go to BINGO looking like a floozy. I just don’t know what to do. It’s really not a good thing.

I sure do appreciate you stopping by to hear my story. You are good people to listen to my problems. Remember to take care of yourself and don’t use the hair color by the cabbage at Bottom Dollar. Unless you want to be looking like a purple haired floozy. Then you can go right ahead and do it. I’ll be back Wednesday to tell you about something else. I don’t know what because my head is itching me like the devil and I can’t think straight.

Sincerely,
Miss Brandie

I haven’t talked much about the H word in the last year or so. There’s a very good reason for it. I was sick and tired of all the crap. I was tired of the labeling. I was tired of feeling the need to explain or defend my choices. I didn’t want to offend anyone or make them feel I thought less of them because they chose a different path. I was also having a hard time finding a way to talk about something that was so much a part of who I am and what I believe without it sounding either self righteous or contrite. So I removed my old posts and chose to ignore a very large part of who I am and what I believe. It was a mistake. I think my dwindling posts and general lack of enthusiasm for my blog attests to that.

It doesn’t matter if I want the label, and stereotypes, and judgments, or not. I am a homeschooler. I was a homeschooler before I even knew the word homeschooler and I can’t imaging myself in any other role. I truly believe that knowledge and education is not the responsibility of the local school board. It is your responsibility to educate yourself, as you see fit, by whatever means you have available. It is a parents responsibility to ensure their children have the skills to seek out and effectively utilize those means, for their own self-chosen goals. So, I’m putting my homeschool category back on my site and I will be adding to it when and if I have something to post. If you have a problem with that, I’ll find a nice place for you in between the mail order brides and the Viagra ads in my spam queue. Have a nice day.