The Moment of Reckoning

So far, I have eaten radishes plucked from my garden at the peak of readiness. I’ve sampled a few carrots and picked my first hot pepper. It was wonderfully hot. I have eaten so much fresh green lettuce that I can’t stand the sight of it anymore. I now grab full plants and pull them roughly from the ground. Then I sneak to the compost and throw them in. Die little suckers die! You are no longer welcome here.

I’m not sure what evil demon of nostalgia convinced me I needed a cornfield in my suburban backyard, but it’s doing well. The ears are just starting to fill out. Hopefully soon I’ll have some corn on the cob and corn stalks for Halloween decorations. It’s looking good.

The squash has finally decided to stop rotting on the vine and I should be cooking them up soon. I’m on my second harvest of broccoli, the cabbage is finally making heads, and three of the five potato buckets have been dumped out. This is all fine and good.

I made raspberry jam from the last of the raspberries and blackberry jam from the first of the blackberries. There are also four pints of plum sauce in my pantry. This makes me happy.

But those of you that know me best, and love me in spite of it, know that all of this is just a means of occupying myself until my true passion can be fulfilled. Yes, today is the day. The day of the fresh ripe tomato. I’m slightly overcome with emotion right now, but don’t fear. I found the corkscrew and I bought a bottle of Merlot with a chicken on it for the occasion. Life is good.

Lightly Powder Scented

I have this shirt. It’s a good shirt. It’s the most comfortable shirt ever made by man, or beast, or more likely machine. I’ve had it since I pregnant but I don’t remember with which child. So, it’s between 9 and 12 years old. It’s a size 2XL mens (100% cotton…pre-shrunk!) and I bought it because I thought I was so big it would be the only thing to fit me by the time I gave birth. Thankfully, I didn’t get that big.

It is more of smock than anything. The arms are so big that they hang down like wings. This is a handy feature. When it gets hot I flap them and make a cooling breeze. It’s a nice breeze with a light powder fresh scent, unless I forgot to put on my deodorant.

My shirt is supposed to be a light bluish-gray color but it has some white paint spatters from when I painted the trim and some green from when I painted something green. There is also a spaghetti sauce spot on the right breast area from spaghetti sauce. I feel this adds to the charm.

When I wear this shirt it is a form of creative expression. It speaks for me. It communicates an important message between me and MyHusband. He sees me in my shirt and he knows it’s saying, “Hey, why don’t you go and pretend your doing something important in the garage before your wife makes the next few hours of your life a living hell.” Non-verbal communication is important in a marriage.

My shirt has been there for me through hormonal outbursts, exhausted tirades, and dually evacuating stomach flues. It’s a true friend. I know this shirt so well it’s like I can wear it any time I want. You just don’t have many human friends like that.

Today I went to put it on. It was waiting for me in the bottom of my bottom drawer. I stripped down and pulled the comforting goodness over my head. I went to flap my wings when I heard a strange sound. A moan, maybe more of crackle. I examined it closely and everything appeared fine. Then I pulled gently on the shoulder seam. It moaned again. After a few minutes of stunned silence I realized the truth, my friend was dry rotting. I checked the Internet but there was no treatment. I made a few panicked calls to a clothing specialist (my mom) but the answers were all the same. There was nothing I could do but wait for the end.

It’s a sad, sad day around the ImPerceptible household, but don’t worry about me. I’m strong and I’ll be fine. Life will go on. It just won’t be as comfortable and it will no longer contain a lightly powder scented breeze. I’ll adjust.

Too Funny

Me: Are you going to drink your milk out of an elephants snotty nose?

Youngest: Hey, why not?  Yesterday I drank out of a monkeys tail.

Me: Oh. 

Keep a Hand on the Light Switch

When my oldest was about four her grandfather told her not to step on cracks because it would break her mothers back. A few days later we were walking and I noticed her stepping on a crack in the sidewalk and then looking at me. A few feet later she stepped on another one.

“Is your back OK mommy?” she asked.

“Are you trying to break my back?” I asked just a little peeved that my sweet baby was trying to break my back.

“No! I think granddad was kidding. Does your back hurt?”

I assured her I was fine and we walked on. “My little scientist,” I thought proudly even though I was a little concerned that she was willing to sacrifice my back for the sake of science. But that’s my oldest. I wouldn’t want her any other way.

I guess some things never change. She had a sleepover and I heard one of her friends say “Don’t do it you might die!” I went running in to see what the hell was going on. Apparently the legend of Bloody Mary was the topic of the night. She was planning to lock herself in the bathroom and try to summons Mary’s ghost.

“Why would you try something if you thought you could die?” I asked just a little bit peeved that my hormonal pre-teen was attempting something that she thought could end in death.

“Mom! I don’t think I’ll die. I’m proving it isn’t true.”

I choked back my laughter and gave them all a poorly prepared lecture about not doing stupid things. They finally decided that they would try to see the ghost but they would go in pairs, holding hands, with the hand of the safety person on the light switch. If they saw even a flicker of red light in the mirror they would turn on the light rendering Bloody Mary unable to harm them. I left them to their own and went back up front.

I know they’re going to do stupid things. Probably their fair share of dangerous things. Didn’t we all? But after they had finally gone to sleep I peeked in the door at the faces of little girls trying so hard to grow up and I couldn’t help but worry about them. I stood there a long time and one thought kept coming to mind. Please, please, little girls, look after each other and always keep a hand on that light switch.

I’m a Quitter

Hello. My name is ImPerceptible and I’m a quitter. Yep, you heard me. I’m a quitter. If you don’t believe me, I can prove it. Here’s a list.

Things I have quit:

1. Smoking – That was a nasty habit I wish I had never started.
2. Drinking until I puke – MyHusband is not an enabler. Spending the night with your face pressed against the toilet is a fast way to learn the meaning of moderation.
3. College – Three times.
4. My job – Several times.
5. Fishing – I don’t eat fish anymore and catch and release seems cruel.
6. Eating raisins and peanuts – I guess I haven’t quit this, I just haven’t done it in a long time. It’s the ultimate in salty sweet goodness.
7. Being too shy or embarrassed to ask for what I want in bed – Who knew men really like to know what you want. Even if Especially if it’s freaky.
8. Picking a fight with my husband and grabbing my pillow and blanket to go sleep on the couch just because I want him to come in there and tell me he loves me and doesn’t want to sleep without me.
9. Studying Karate and Judo – But I can still kick the hell out of something if I want to.
10. Caring what people think about me.
11. Not caring about what people think about me.
12. Cleaning my house with harsh chemicals
13. Being afraid of spiders

I’m sure there’s more. I’ll keep you posted. Any other quitters out there?

Confusion on the Catfish Hodge

Today I took the kids to Hurcamp park for one of their Concert in the Park days. I was happy to be going because I misread the schedule and I thought Catfish Hodge was going to be playing. I was looking forward to it and I even wore clean underwear.

As we were walking up I caught the distinct sound of Buffett, Jimmy Buffett. I have a tendency towards denial and I assured myself that they were playing a tape until the singer was ready to sing. We got a bag of cotton candy and some lemonade. After talking with a few friends we went and sat down. It was five o’clock somewhere. I talked with the girls for a bit and then a Volcano was about to explode, but we didn’t know where we wanted to go.

Slowly reality began to set in and when the singer began to sing a Kenny Chesney tune I began to cycle rapidly through the five stages of grief. Once I landed firmly on stage 5, acceptance, I asked the girls if they wanted to sing along. “No, not really” they told me. We hung around for a little bit then we walked down to Caroline Street for some ice cream.

There was a man in the ice cream shop and he had commitment issues. We waited as he sampled flavor after flavor of ice cream. It was starting to get on my nerves. Finally I got a chance to order.

“I want a single scoop of rum raisin.”

No sample! I’m wild and crazy like that. It was good.

As we walked back I cursed Jimmy Buffett. “My ice cream is a frozen rum concoction! He’s in my head. He’s in my head!” I scared the hell out of that dude on the Harley but the kids and I thought it was funny.

I want to make it clear that I’m not a Buffett hater but when you’re expecting this and you get a barefoot guy with a tambourine named Island Jimmy, who happens to be asking people to form a conga line, there is a large chance of disappointment. The worse part is I have no idea if the guy has his own music or if he just does Buffett/Chesney covers. He had a nice voice.

But we made the most of it and all in all we had a good day. Except for that guy on the Harley. I think he may have peed his pants.

I’m Getting Freakin Old!

I have now officially celebrated my most recent 29th birthday. I must have gotten the mourning over with beforehand because I had a nice day. I made a mix titled ‘I’m getting freakin’ old’ so I could play it over and over on my iPod and commiserate but it didn’t make me sad. It made me thankful that I’ve had so many good memories. I think that is proof that I am getting freakin’ old. There’s no other way to explain it. So here it is. My life in a small selection of song.

This is the first song I ever remember hearing. ‘Looking Out My Back Door’ My mom would play it, (on 8 track through speakers big enough to use as an end table) and we would sing it and dance around the kitchen. It’s the only song I have listened to in every stage of my life and one of the first songs I put on my iPod. This video makes me laugh. The couch, the hair, the posters. So many memories. I wonder if our parents realize how much they warped our minds in the 70’S.

My first record was ‘Snoopy Vs. The Red Baron’. My dad got it from a yard sale and gave it to me. I would play it over and over and shout out the lyrics while my dad pretended he was the Red Baron and I was Snoopy.

Those memories are delicate and come to me in small bits and pieces. Other songs come to mind but they don’t have any substance. Just flashes here and there. That holds true until ‘The Boss’ came on the scene. Born in the USA was released just before my Birthday in 1984 and I bought the cassette with my birthday money. I wore that tape out. I’m not completely sure why that album spoke to me back then, but it still speaks to me know. Except now I know ‘I’m on Fire’ isn’t a sex song. My mix wouldn’t be complete without one of his songs. For this ‘getting old’ mix I chose ‘Dancing in the Dark’

I was listening to ‘Groove Me’ when I got arrested. There were no charges filed against me because it isn’t illegal to drive around without a car full of drunk teenagers unless you’re not a teenager. I had listened to those MADD people. I was the designated driver! Good thing both the police and my parents had a sense of humor.

There were a bunch of songs from high school and college that remind me of new experiences and crazy carefree nights but none of those belong on this mix. They’re all about being young.

Getting married makes you old and the first time I heard this song ‘If I Had a Million Dollars’ it reminded me of my husband and all the silly things we discuss pretending they are the most important things in the world.

The first time I felt my oldest move, and I was sure it wasn’t gas, was when I was listening to ‘Mars, The Bringer of War’. She would squirm and kick when it got loud. Then I played it over and over because feeling her alive inside me was the most wonderful feeling I had ever had in my life. Afterwards I worried that I had scared her for life, pre-natally. What kind of mom plays her unborn child songs about war? For this mix I selected ‘Saturn, The Bringer of Old Age’.

The girls being babies brings to mind so many conflicting emotions. There were so many changes. Physical, emotional, social, you name it, it changed. Sleepless nights, no money, funerals, hurt feelings, and arguments come to mind. First smiles, birthday cakes, kissing little tiny toes, and Raffi also comes to mind. I’m not sure how I survived. I’m not sure how MyHusband’s and my relationship survived either. But it did. There are probably hundreds of songs that could work for this period of my life but I picked ‘She’s Becoming Gold’.

No one can spend a decade as a stay at home parent and not relate to these two songs at some point. ‘Fifth Wheel’ and ‘What About Everything’. To the best of knowledge neither songwriter is a stay-at home parent but I think that says something about the human heart.

And just as a reminder to not take myself too seriously I have to include this. ‘‘As Good as I Once Was’”

So, tell me about some of the songs that mean something to you!

Wednesday Night Temper Tantrums and Spring Cleaning

I spent most of Wednesday in a foul mood. Hurt hearts, the tears of loved ones, my upcoming birthday, and a bunch of other little stresses and disappointments left me feeling undone. By Wednesday evening I found myself listening to Pete Seeger, Leadbelly, and Bob Dylan. That is never a good mix.

I tried messing around with my blog but nothing was working right and it made me angry. I was tired of the mess of unorganized files strewn around my website. I was sick of wasting my time checking stats and feeds. I felt like I had enough to worry about without trying to keep up with all the people I try to keep up with on-line. So I deleted everything. My entire site was gone and it felt good. I was no longer ImPerceptible. I was extinct.

Then I deleted my FeedBurner account, my StatCounter, and MyBlogLog. It felt even better. Like an empty room. A clean slate. An end.

I woke up Thursday morning and scoffed at the blinking light on my laptop. Today there will be no ‘spank me’ or ‘see my rack’ searches. No dumb asses asking why their potato plant is growing tomatoes. Not one person will come by my site wondering if they should color their hair with cinaberry hair color. Instead of pondering the ignorance of the universe, I could put my time to good use. So, I downloaded some music, and for good measure a little porn. My attitude started to improve.

By Thursday afternoon I was feeling like myself again. I sat and ate a bowl of vegetarian chili and thought it would taste better with some bacon. It did. Then I started re-building my blog. The time I spent as a sys admin made back-ups an obsessive compulsive habit. That made it a lot easier to put everything back where it belonged. But I made some changes.

I removed my homeschool label and unpublished most of the posts. I won’t be writing about homeschooling anymore. I feel that term homeschooler has become a label that divides people, even homeschoolers. Public, private, home, unschooling, classic, christian, secular, blah, blah, blah. Just like everyone else, I’m a parent that is doing everything she can, the best she can, so her children can grow up healthy, happy, and ready to take on whatever the world throws at them. Fuck the labels. I’m not playing anymore.

No more stats. I no longer have a FeedBurner account or a StatCounter. Unless they want to discuss a post I don’t care who stops by. I don’t care why people stop by either. If you stop by here wanting to know what happens if you have ‘too much caffeine’ or ‘pictures of dogs that fuck people’, that’s your problem, and you won’t find the answers here. I did put the MyBlogLog widget in the sidebar. I like that because it helps people find other blogs that might interest them and I like having a face (or image) to put with the names.

So now my website is nice and organized (Except I still don’t have a front page). Kinda like a long overdue spring cleaning. I’m also messing around with some new programs. I had a lot of fun re-doing my blog. I’m not bragging, but I’ve had many blog templates.  I think this is the best I’ve ever had. I can change the graphic at the top but I’m leaving it for now. It’s for a little boy that finally decided to grace the world with his presence. Happy birthday little guy. Congratulations new Mommy and Daddy!

And that’s that. How was your week?

Her Heart Hurts

My sister-in-law called this morning to ask if I could watch my niece this evening. I told her sure. I love having my niece over. Then she told me why.

Their dog, Copper, was having problems walking and they took him to the vet. He has an aggressive form of bone cancer and there is no treatment for it. It broke my heart. They’ve had him for less than two years. He’s barely past being a puppy. It’s just doesn’t seem right.

The girls heard me talking to her on the phone and wanted to know what was wrong. I would have preferred to take a few minutes and think of the right thing to say, whatever that is, but they looked frightened so I told them. I didn’t want their imaginations going wild. They were very upset. They loved Copper and they were worried about my niece. They remembered Hotrod and that made them more upset.

They were worried that that my brothers other dog, his chickens, our dogs, or any of us might catch it. I explained it wasn’t contagious. They wanted to know what to do to make my niece feel better. They asked questions about life and death that left me feeling bruised and broken. I think I did OK.

My youngest decided she didn’t want to think about it anymore. She went down to play with our dogs and after a little while she came back up. She got an ice pack from the freezer and laid down on the couch.

“Did you get hurt?” I asked. She put the ice pack over her heart.

“No. My heart hurts for Copper. I thought this might make it feel better.”

Damn, I can deal with a lot of things but that was just too much. It’s a good thing I stocked up on tissues the last time they were on sale.

Pepper Plant - Digital Image