Family Fusion

First Day of 2012

2012-01-01T17:23:00.000-05:00

I lived in Florida a long time, and I never went into the water in January. Now that I live in New Orleans, my children talked me into going into the Gulf of Mexico at Pensacola Beach on January first. I'm not talking wading--we got all the way wet. I can't decide if I am proud or slightly embarrassed that we were such tourists.

2011-10-03T22:56:00.000-04:00

Here's the Friday night Blue Plate Special at the Mississippi Border Cafe, Bar and Package Store. All you can eat Blue Crabs for $5 a person. Starts at 5 p.m. You can bet I leave early on Fridays. Fo shure...

2011-10-03T22:52:00.000-04:00

My girls taking a nap, in between painting the rooms last month. We've been working pretty hard.

Fishing Camp - Canoe Camp

2011-10-03T22:06:00.004-04:00

These are maps of the area our camp is in. We are right off of Bayou Philip, just a quick paddle from Bayou La Croix. A good hour of paddling from the Jordon River.

Oh Puh-LEASE! can we get a little closer?

2011-04-30T09:25:00.002-04:00

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So it begins

2011-03-11T19:08:00.000-05:00

I got this text from our sitter, nanny, friend (whatever term you prefer to use) last night as we snuck out for coffee and beignets.

Finwe just yelled to Inwe, "Oh, damn! You're in first place!" And, I yelled in from the laundry room, "Finwe?" And, he said, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say 'damn'."

My only reply was that he is such a boy. I did glower at the husband. I'm sure he learned it from him. The text I got back from T turned that mean look into the squint of a laugh.

Thank god I was in a different room so he didn't see me laugh.

Mardi Gras World

2011-02-26T15:23:00.000-05:00

Took the mother-in-law to dinner

2011-02-22T11:29:00.003-05:00

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Help is right in the wine aisles

2010-12-14T21:10:00.001-05:00

I took my mother to the grocery store today. She has a habit of looking at everything, because New Orleans must have wildly different produce. Right?

Where I shop, wine displays dot the edge of the fruit section so that you naturally wander into the expanded wine section. In essence, my mom is a vintner's dream. She buys based on bottles and labels and reads each review posted by the shelf. The woman knows how to shop.

Contrast that with me. I shop to get just what I need. I don't read labels. I buy what is on my list. I get in and out in as little time as possible.

This is my excuse for not realizing that dear, laundry-queen, mom wasn't with me as I continued to gather the items on my list. I emerged from the rice aisle with what had to be a puzzled expression. A stock boy asked me if I needed help finding something.

"Yes," I replied. "My mother."

"Can't help you there, but we lose a lot of people in the liquor section."

She wasn't too far from there. I found her looking at pinot grigio.

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Dauphin Island 2010

2010-11-27T15:30:00.001-05:00

we biked from that end to this end

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Dauphin Island 2010

2010-11-27T15:28:00.001-05:00

peepers, creepers...

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Dauphin Island 2010

2010-11-27T15:23:00.001-05:00

Ahoy there!

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Dauphin Island 2010

2010-11-27T15:19:00.001-05:00

One of these things...

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Dauphin Isalnd 2010

2010-11-25T12:04:00.001-05:00

Good beach walk, Zzzz...

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Dauphin Island 2010

2010-11-24T15:51:00.001-05:00

Shadow chaser

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Dauphin Island 2010

2010-11-24T15:50:00.001-05:00

We are so in trouble...

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Dauphin Island 2010

2010-11-24T15:49:00.001-05:00

Fish tank bounty

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Dauphin Island 2010

2010-11-24T15:48:00.001-05:00

blue rays

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Dauphin Island

2010-11-24T15:12:00.001-05:00

Luminescent limulus

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Dauphin Island 2010

2010-11-24T10:58:00.001-05:00

dogs down for the night

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Dauphin Island

2010-11-24T10:57:00.001-05:00

sea urchins

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Dauphin Island 2010

2010-11-24T10:56:00.002-05:00

Blue ray

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Sting Ray by the beach

2010-11-23T22:54:00.001-05:00

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Charleston 2

2010-11-11T10:32:00.001-05:00

Fort Sumter on fire

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Charleston 3

2010-11-11T10:31:00.001-05:00

Hugenot Church. The only one in the US. The only place they couldn't be persecuted by other religions.

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Charleston 4

2010-11-11T10:29:00.001-05:00

Spooky church and graveyard

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Charleston 5

2010-11-11T10:28:00.001-05:00

Number 1 with parrot cannon

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Vampyre Innkeeper

2010-11-11T10:23:00.001-05:00

our next door neighbor

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Charleston 8

2010-11-11T10:21:00.001-05:00

The long walk...

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Charleston 7

2010-11-11T10:19:00.001-05:00

Going to Ft Sumter

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Charleston 8

2010-11-11T10:16:00.003-05:00

little celtic girl

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Future Job Prospects

2010-11-10T21:52:00.000-05:00

I hired a sitter tonight so that my son didn't have to hang out at the fields for his sister's soccer practice. As we were cleaning his room before the sitter arrived, he asked me a question.

"Mom, are there boy babysitters?"

"Good question. I don't know." I couldn't just stop there. "Most people think girls are more caring than boys, so I don't know that moms would hire a boy."

"A boy might let me get away with more and do more stuff."

"Which is why a mom might not want a boy in charge."

"But, the little boys would like it."

"True."

"Then, I think I'm going to have to be a babysitter when I get older."

"I bet you'll be good at it."

Later, I told the story to my neighbor who has sons that are my age. One of her sons babysat as a job. She said he was very popular. I think my boy is on to something.

Spooky Church

2010-11-10T17:12:00.001-05:00

Round Church of Charleston

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You know you're a tourist when...

2010-11-10T12:43:00.001-05:00

Bubba Gump Beer

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Charleston 4

2010-11-10T11:11:00.001-05:00

Ft Sumter

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Charleston

2010-11-10T11:04:00.001-05:00

Number 1 makes a friend

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Charleston 2

2010-11-10T11:03:00.003-05:00

Clyde

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Charleston 1

2010-11-10T11:02:00.001-05:00

Number 1

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Let's Call the Whole Thing Off

2010-11-04T18:25:00.000-04:00

What do you call Exhibit A?

According to my seven-year-old, I use the wrong terminology for her school supplies.

I get pencil, paper, homework, and school bag correct every day. She informed me of that this afternoon in a voice that children reserve for their parents when they believe the parent is a dunderhead. (She may not even know the meaning of dunderhead, but that's what she's thinking.)

What do you call Exhibit B?

What I am an idiot about (She wouldn't use that word at all. It's like cussing.) are the items in Exhibit A and Exhibit B. I confuse her daily when I say, "Go get your notebook." She brings me the wrong one, according to me.

"Uff," she huffs, as her shoulders slump better than a preteen trying to hide her growing chest. "I think you means BINDER." Add an eyeroll, and you are visualizing my middle child.

My eldest doesn't do this to me. She looks at me with her big, chocolate colored eyes and brushes off my bad terminology. "Oh, I'll get the other one, Mom. No big deal. It's OK."

Who the heck knows what my son will say. He doesn't have the highly organized system that my daughters' school uses to keep the girls on track with school work. I think they will leave school with a better idea of how to sort their assignments and how to take notes better than I ever accomplished. I could have been at least number five in my graduating class if I had their system. Alas, I had to settle for six. How embarrassing for them.

Anyway, back to the Exhibits. What do you call them?

Ursa's pacifier - a peanut butter jar

2010-10-19T20:30:00.001-04:00

Our dogs live to lick the insides of a used up peanut butter jar. For days after we give them one I'll pretend it's time to take it away. They'll grab it and run to the othe end of the house, even though all it has left to lick is PVCs.

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Is any body out there?

2010-10-18T22:29:00.005-04:00

At times, usually after reading a good science fiction book I wonder if we are alone in the universe. But then I kick myself. The answer is known. We don't have to wonder. It's been calculated using a formula called the Drake equation. Click HERE and go to the video at the end to understand what I'm talking about. Three years before I was born, a man name Frank Drake figured it out using Boolean logic. The current best estimate is that there are 50,000 other life sustaining planets in our galaxy with conditions suitable for the evolution of intelligent life forms.

Sarabeth

2010-10-15T15:16:00.001-04:00

The first of the lemons from our tree are ready. I am also using FXCamera for my Droid camera to simplify the photos. This is the toy camera feature. It also has fisheye and a Warhol function.

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Birthday party at chuck e cheese

2010-10-10T15:15:00.001-04:00

Enough said!

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This is my favorite picture on the web

2010-10-03T22:31:00.003-04:00

Reminds me of bath time at our house!

You can see this image and plenty of others here: http://lifeofjalo.com/2010/09/03/

Halloween House , after dark

2010-10-03T22:00:00.002-04:00

The skeletal nun in the second floor window is named Nathasha. The talking skeletal butler in the window by the door is named Barron. The peepers in the third floor dormer are Larry, Mo and Curly. The giant pink glowing spider in the middle of the webbed yard is Aragog and the one on the porch is Henrietta (and all the little glowing ones are their countless offspring). There is a moaning, flying phantom over the door who's eyes glow red and gets aggrivated when people walk up the steps.

I'm thinking we've got a sitcom going here, sort of like the the Adams family.

Dead bunny in the middle of the road

2010-10-03T13:58:00.001-04:00

found on our bike ride this morning

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In and out of San Fran in 36 hours

2010-10-03T13:56:00.001-04:00

I am knackered, but it was worth it

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When a rescue feels like a fail

2010-09-30T14:28:00.000-04:00

Ursa, the oldest of our dogs.

My son and I rescued a young dog today. We found her due to the barking of our two white shepherd mixes. I suspected a cat taunted them from my neighbor's yard. Instead, I found a brown flop-eared mutt staring out from under my neighbor's house. Knowing that the neighbor is ill and not currently home, I brought the dog some water and food.

That's when I discovered that the poor dog had three things around its neck--all of them too tight. Although I tend to have magic with dogs, what lured the pup from her safe haven was the voice of my son. She wiggled with delight at each sound he made. He fed her as I took hold of the worn jump rope some uncaring person had tied around its neck. She followed us to our yard. She pranced.

I held back tears.

I know that inviting another dog into this house is a bad idea. A change is coming, and I may be responsible for way more than the six mammals that need my caring. Yet, oh, how this dog, small as she was, would have love the three children.

Instead of keeping her, I removed the collars and loaded her with my son into the van. Bringing her to the SPCA, where we adopted our youngest dog, caused my heart to ache. Yes, they will help the sores on her neck and back to heal, but if she's not adopted . . .

Maybe we saved her from starvation and cruel treatment by whoever had her before. Why do I still feel like crying?

Dear Lucky Agent Contest for Paranormal Romance and Urban Fantasy

2010-09-22T10:42:00.000-04:00

I'm entering because I just completed a story. Why don't you try?

Check it out at Guide to Literary Agents.

Wrestling

2010-09-20T15:53:00.000-04:00

Years ago, when the ultrasound technician pointed out the boy parts on my third child, I worried. I had two girls. I had a sister. Sure, I roamed the neighborhood as a kid with the boys that lived nearby, but I didn't really know how to deal with them. They were so rough and boneheaded. (Hi, neighborhood boys! I'm sure I had annoying tendencies back then, too. No hard feelings. Some of you were almost normal.)

How would I deal with a boy? He'd get really dirty. He'd want to fight. He wouldn't read early. He'd be . . . . A BOY!

I figured it out as time progressed, but this Sunday showed me just how different my daughters can be from my son. He made a new friend and wrestled (as in Greco-Roman style) for half an hour. My daughters at that age found a friend and drew pictures in the dirt or concocted an elaborate story that they acted in front of the parents.

Is that normal for boys to say, "Hey, my name is Max," begin chasing the other boy, and then ending with a grapple in the grass?

Let me just end by saying that as I watched the boys roll towards the sideline of the soccer game they were supposed to be watching, I had a thought. "Holy sh!t, I have A BOY!"

Halloween starts early at our house

2010-09-19T00:37:00.003-04:00

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Three Cheers to Computer Geeks

2010-09-18T17:25:00.000-04:00

In 2006, I bought an external hard drive because our elderly computer couldn't handle all the photos. Some time later, the thing went kaput. It traveled with us to New Orleans, but I feared the data was lost. Photos of the dogs and kids and flowers and whatever else stuck on the hard drive.

Last week, the B, N, and space bar stopped working on the laptop. Guess what you can't do without a space bar? Write anything, ecauseifyoudoeverywordtoucheseachothermakigitimpossilydifficulttoeditlater. (I omitted the Bs and Ns in order for you to get the full effect.)

The guys at Uptown Computer came to the rescue by installing a scavenenged keyboard. They were also able to remove the casing from the hard drive and retrieve the data.

Pictures! It's like reliving parts of our life again, when we lived on an acre and grew flowers, fruit, and too much grass. When we had a super old, grouchy dog constantly bothered by a young, hyperactive canine companion. When one kid still used a high chair and had legs so chubby that we had to take extra care to clean his folds.

Ah, memories.

Computer Addict!

2010-09-12T23:00:00.001-04:00

This is what it looks like when you make our little boy get off the computer!

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Pooped out by the Mississippi

2010-09-12T22:20:00.001-04:00

My oldest and I biked from the garden district to the Fly and then she wilted on me and we had to call in Mama Bear to the rescue. While we were waiting a big guy fishing on the banks gave me an ice cold beer and her a bottle of water and we talked about how great this city is. I tell you, it is the best place on earth.

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XXL Shirt

2010-09-12T22:18:00.001-04:00

This is what children do at football games.

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Lions, Tigers and Alligators?

2010-09-12T22:15:00.001-04:00

Number two is facing down a clutch of baby gators at the Audobon Zoo

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No. Two has started soccer

2010-09-12T22:06:00.002-04:00

Took her to her first soccer practice today. My gangly, leggy "I'm not made for walking" daughter was the fastest girl on the field. I was speechless. She was more like a gazelle than a cheetah, but still, I think she has potential.

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Because One is Not Enough

2010-09-12T22:05:00.000-04:00

My husband, known on Blogger as Ex Utero, will be blogging on the site. We've also given it a new name: Family Fusion. I'm pretty sure we will discuss children, but there will be tangents.

A warning: he can be odd.

Carry on.

She Loves Crawfish

2010-09-12T21:56:00.001-04:00

This is from a crawfish boil at the Kenwoods last Spring where we learned that our number two has a thing for mudbuds.

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Ida is Turtle Surfing

2010-09-12T21:49:00.002-04:00

This is a plush turtle that our oldest won at the Audobon zoo.

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Was ist das, Kinder?

2010-08-30T21:48:00.000-04:00

My youngest entered a garden of children last week. Seriously.

It was created by the German born Friedrich Froebel (1782-1852), famous Educationalist. Kindergarten in Froebel’s vision meant both ‘a garden for children’, where children meet with environment and also ‘a garden of children’, where they play together and express themselves in a smaller garden world by means of play with their age group. He believed that "children are like tiny flowers; they are varied and need care, but each is beautiful alone and glorious when seen in the community of peers." (From German Culture)

See? I wasn't kidding.

There's one tiny problem.

He's not overjoyed to walk in the classroom each day. He hasn't the connection with any of the children. None of them attended his preschool. If a young child can have a best friend, my son's attends a private school just a few blocks away, but that doesn't help him leave me in the morning.

I'll give you a snippet of our conversation this morning.

"Can you just sign me out of Kindergarten?"

"No. I can't. Give it some more time. It's only been a week."

"But, I don't like what I am learning in class."

"What are you learning that you don't like?" (An aside, I once made this complaint at his age to my parents regarding Sunday school. I never had to return. The lesson had to have been horrible.)

"We're learning to be kind, and I don't want to be kind to [Middle Sister]."

I had no good retort to that, although I should have been witty enough to say something. I grunted. Please give me a slight break in the repartee since I had been awake for an hour more than anyone in the house making lunches. No, I will not make them the night before. The food gets soggy and blech. Not going to do it. Wouldn't be kind to the adorable child who wants me to sign him out of Kindergarten.

And, no, I will not sign him out of Kindergarten. If I did that, my mother would have to come live with me to be his homeschool teacher, and that is another can of worms.

Let's not go there.

In Which Food Becomes the Focus of Family

2010-08-18T09:36:00.000-04:00

Once, I was a person who ate without worry. A small blip in college changed me for a bit, but soon I decided that the idea of conforming to a number wouldn't work for me. I played soccer, football, basketball, danced, and exercised nearly daily. That number on the scale that a dance team said I couldn't be and be a part of their group? I gave it a big nasty gesture. I am not a number.

Of course, age catches up with everyone, and my moment came when I failed the glucose tolerance test during my first pregnancy. In an instant, food scared me. I questioned every morsel I put in my mouth. That attitude didn't change afterwards as I dealt with a morphed body. Through the next two pregnancies, food lost its role as master. I'd beaten whatever caused the gestational diabetes. Maybe I relaxed just a smidge.

Tension about food struck again after my father died of a heart attack. I inherited some cooking equipment from my mother. Just call me food cop. That continued until we moved to New Orleans. If there is one thing that NOLA can do to you is knock you off your carefully constructed diet with its food. Even with the Siren's call of a shrimp po-boy just blocks away, my husband met a physician who is a chef. We've used his website (royal we, I do all the cooking) to restructure how we cook and eat at home. Great, right?

Holy mother of sausage, no!

The husband ran into some trouble with a particular coronary artery this week. It's repaired (in an astonishing time frame, too). He's headed home. Thoughts of food swarm my brain. I'm now steward of his heart, too. I'm polishing my cooking equipment.

And, getting out the whip to keep him exercising, too.

Are You Full of It or Serious?

2010-07-08T15:34:00.000-04:00

On a day where there should be too many people on the beach to be comfortable, it is empty. Only a few have made the decision to brave the tar balls and the possibly, but maybe not really, the government can't say one way or the other, contaminated water. At the place above, called Casino Beach by the locals, you can walk on the sand up to a point without having to tiptoe through the tar. Perhaps some of the people tracked a few bits of oil back through spots that haven't seen enough tide to be contaminated by the oil still gushing from the site of the Deepwater Horizon accident. There are signs warning against spreading the tar around. Signs are only so effective.

Like the one at the fishing pier that says in bold, all caps lettering NO SHARK FISHING. If you hook a shark, cut it loose. The man with a five foot black tip shark on his hook clearly flunked reading in school. He received a hefty fine.

Further east down Santa Rosa Island, I wished for more signs, maybe even photos of how the sand once appeared. A couple sat on the beach but had no idea that surrounding them were fingernail sized blobs of tar. We repeated our words and even picked up a few just to show them that we were serious.

At that same parking area, not too far from a swanky resort, we wondered at the rake like paths littered with those icky black dots that stick and stay stuck.

My first impression was that someone groomed the beach for the 4th of July visitors (all 100 of them, when it is normally thousands) without checking for tar before doing so. My friend and I searched for someone involved in the clean up to ask if they knew that someone was spreading the tar way beyond the current tide line.

We found a man, obviously a superintendent, who introduced himself, gave us some of his history, and comfortably answered our questions. That raked stuff? That's after they've cleaned. That's the top layer of what is ten layers deep. "We've cleaned mats as big as this here jeep," he offered. I believed most of what he said. He had the look of a battle-weary veteran who doesn't need to embellish his stories.

Yet, based on what I learned about another source of information, I couldn't help but be skeptical. What person hasn't inflated their story to seem more important? I've always read or heard a story with a big dose of skepticism, and I have to keep doing that, particularly in regards to this oil. I wish more people would employ that. Heck, I should have been more careful about believing at least one person. So, live and learn, and don't tell me you are serious. It's the one statement that will make me think you aren't.

Can you hear what I hear? Please see what I have seen.

2010-07-04T00:53:00.001-04:00

I'm in my hometown of Pensacola, Florida for the holiday weekend. Usually, I would be taking my children to the beach. Of course, I won't do that, because there are tar balls on the shores of Pensacola Beach and dispersed oil on top of and floating under the water of the Gulf of Mexico. (Yes, under the water.) I took a tour with a friend who lives here to see it for myself. If you are just relying on the reporters when it comes to what is on the beach, you aren't getting the whole story. To see pictures of the western end of Santa Rosa Island, take a gander at a page on Facebook. Damn Oil has the photos of a resident who visits the beach regularly. We'll update it regularly.

But, that isn't why I am writing. I need to share what I heard. Words, honest ones, spoken between concerned people.

My friend and I parked at the second stop in sun that broiled the skin at 9:30am. As we approached the edge of the clean up area, at least a hundred workers either scoured the sands or rested under the canopies. If you didn't know any better, your first impression would be that two-thirds of the men and women weren't doing what BP has contracted them to do. Except, they were. We met their superintendent who explained how many hours of training each worker had, which are recognized by their shirt colors. Due to safety reasons (that heat and humidity), the cleaning team can only work for 20 minutes each hour. While the superintendent didn't expressly say, the teams are organized into three shifts. There aren't any minutes in the hour that someone isn't working. Plus, they are all residents of the Gulf Coast. These are people who needed jobs. As our new friend told us, it's a bittersweet boon to the area.

That wasn't the first time I heard that. The second time happened in a bar. As I caught up with high school friends, another person joined us, also from our high school. He stood out to me the moment I asked him what he was doing these days. "Working for BP," he answered. As the saying goes, I was all ears.

What he said is difficult to write. Not about the clean up. That, at least when it comes to the daily influx of tar balls, is progressing. I happened to mention the wobbling cap that currently is gathering some of the crude. BP Worker exclaimed, "There's nothing holding it on there. And, there's damage beneath the sea floor."

We worried over the amount fouling the Gulf. A friend asked if the reservoir would eventually run out. He answered with what I expect is closely guarded information. "With that flow rate, we could be looking at ten years of it going if we don't get it stopped."

"But," I had to counter that statement with something positive, "the first relief well is getting closer, and that's been used before to stop this kind of leak."

He paused, looked at me, and said, "It has?"

"Yes. The well in Australia and the Ixtoc one way back when we were kids." (Quick link for outside verification of said facts: Precedence article in Miami Herald)

"They did? I didn't know that's how they stopped it." He has focused on the clean up and those logistics. He's got some tunnel vision that only deals with this well. I instantly forgave his ignorance on that point.

He continued by using the bar table, about 22 inches in diameter, as an example of the pipe through which the oil is flowing. Think of it as a vacuum, he suggested. He said that two pipes of an 8 inch diameter aren't going to do much good with such a strong vacuum.

My heart skipped a beat, and whatever hope I had for seeing the sea life return floated away with the smoke sucked into the ventilation system. "We've killed the Gulf is what you're saying."

"There's no we about it." Interpret that as you will. I am simply saddened even more.

I don't want your silver lining

2010-06-23T23:24:00.000-04:00

Really, BP? A "Blogs from the Gulf" section on your website? Who reads this stuff before you allow it to be published? Did anyone notice that the "reporter" (uh, hired by you to say fluffy, happy things) never says anything about the ugly mass of crude fouling the fragile vegetation that makes up those pretty wetlands or of the oil they are meant to find that has escaped from their notice. (Hint: The oil is in the northern Gulf of Mexico on the shores of Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, and Florida.)

I'm filled with the wonderment of what's happening below our chopper only moments after it lifts off from an airport in Houma, La.

You think we should be inspired? Please excuse us residents of the Gulf of Mexico who are watching our world go from paradise to hell. We're angry, sad, and bitter. I thank those that do real cleanup, but there are far too few. Don't try to inspire me with feel good blog posts, even if you put in sort of negative comments you hear. Pay those PR people to put on a hazmat suit and clean. That will be my inspiration--a clean Gulf with turtles, fish, shrimp, oysters, dolphins, rays, sharks, sargasso, and the many other species that call it home. Move me with turquoise waters and white sand untainted by the blobs of oil.

I'm not the only one who feels this way. From the Times-Picayune as posted on NOLA.com:

Blue said some of the 20 blog posts, which began May 10, use florid prose that clashes with the gravity of what has become the worst environmental disaster in U.S. history.

I get seeing the beauty in something ugly (watch the scene in Patriot Games where the residents of a terrorist training camp are assassinated), but for godsakes, don't write about it for a company while the rest of us cry at the photos posted by non-BP reporters.

I want hard data. Tell me that today you collected X gallons, that Y number of birds were rescued, that Z teams were active in cleaning the marshes. That informs me more than flowery prose. In other words, shut up and clean.

Talk Dirty To Me

2010-06-17T00:58:00.000-04:00

Today, I took my children to a book tour for Junie B. Jones books. She's a kid with bad grammar, like most children of the ages of 5 & 6; she lacks social skills and subtleties, but who doesn't at that age; and, she uses words like dumb, stupid, meanie boy, and maybe even retarded. I don't know about the last one as I haven't read all of the books, but it's a possibility. She's got some serious learning to do.

Why did I take my kids there? Why do I let my six year old read these books? She finds them funny. She understands that Junie B. does and says things that she shouldn't. That's hilarious to her.I find some of it funny, but just as many times I inwardly groan. I went to Jeff Dunham's show last Friday and sat through his entire Achmed the Dead Terrorist bit without laughing once. My sister and cousin couldn't stop laughing. Humor is subjective. Maybe you, as a parent, don't find Junie B. or those Captain Underpants books funny. I bet your kid does.

That's not the point or the question I want to ask. Does foul language turn you off from a story? It doesn't to my kids, and they think that the "S-word" is stupid. (Aren't a good mommy? Don't answer that.) We talk about how they should act. I live in New Orleans. We have to discuss daily what is appropriate behavior for them versus the "s-word" stuff they hear on the streets. I don't expect them to live in a bubble. Hell, you can't live in a bubble in NOLA. I'd like to see you try.

Do you toss a book because it has language that bothers you? Would you stop reading or listening to an oil boom expert discuss how the boom laid along the Gulf Coast is all done wrong because about every fourth word is the F-bomb? (These links to the text and the video aren't safe for work or for children's ears.)It would be a shame if you couldn't get past the language, because you'd miss important information.

I'd like a return to civility, but a person can be uncivil without uttering a single curse. I don't blame language for all of incivility. I blame attitudes of superiority and way a person words a sentence. Normal words become epithets when sneered. I'd rather you call me what you are thinking instead of imbuing a word with a new meaning. How dare I be liberal, as if that were a new sort of evil.

I accept that others disagree with me and would like to have Junie B. books used for the junk shot. Yet, I want to know what you think, and I promise not to call you names.

Social Media Rots My Fingers

2010-06-15T23:02:00.000-04:00

I have become a creature of two writing styles. The first allows me to construct plots and twists while having my heroes confront their dark moments. I have long thoughts, ones that reach into the future and deep into a character's mind. I'm not sharing those now, because I hope I am that much closer to publishing. My novel writing skills have improved. Even I can tell that, although I have outside confirmation from my critique group.

The second style of writing is reduced to 140 characters on Twitter or to 420 characters on Facebook. I can be short (maybe witty?), but I have a difficult time being in the middle of the writing spectrum. This is why I neglect the blog.

My new goal is one post a week. I can do that, surely. I will attempt to make it about something other than the gushing oil in the Gulf of Mexico. That subject dominates most everyone's thoughts on the Gulf coast. It's more than a worry over loss of revenue. These places are facing the loss of everything they have known.We are saddened that this could have been prevented if done without shortcuts. We are also angry.

Letters to my son, Day 7

2010-06-13T23:47:00.002-04:00

In November 2009, we took a trip to Provence. We left our son with my mother and family, because we thought he wouldn't do so well in France. These are my letters to him.

We woke to rain in this normally dry region. We had meant to hike, but as none of us wanted to get wet, we opted to get treats from a boulangerie (bakery) in Les Sablettes, the village closest to us. After that we drove on a really twisty road through some villages with tiny streets to get back to a village we had visited before. We liked the shops there and knew they would be open. On the way we got to see a windmill, one of the older ones, but we didn't get photos because we couldn't get close to it. There must have been a way. Your dad decided not to try very hard because the rental car has some noisy brakes, which can mean that they won't last very long

After the hilltop village, we drove some more to Bandol, a seaside town. The girls took off their shoes and socks and walked on the beach and dipped one toe into the water. Tres froid, they declared. Way too cold. Our host told us that when it is sunny, people do go swimming at this time of year. I can't imagine doing that, though. Those must be some tough people to swim in that water.

In Bandol, we saw some more boats, big ones, small ones, wooden ones with old fashioned sails, and large two masted sail boats. There was even a boat that has a clear bell in the middle between two hulls so that whoever rides in it can see underneath them. They can see in the water. It wasn't for hire, but I can bet that we would have done it.

The rain did stop, so we could wander the streets and look here and there in the two places we visited. In the hilltop village we saw so many cats. They lounged in the shops, on the walls, and lurked in every corner. There were also dogs. Some walked with their people on leashes, but there were just as many waiting outside the shop of their people. I remember a black lab, covered in mud, who wanted to snuggle with the girls; then another black dog that wanted to get petted, but was prevented by another dog; that last dog was a yellow Lab who couldn't get enough of us. When we would stop petting her, she would push her way between someone's legs to get more attention. As we left the village, she followed us! As we got outside the walls of the town, she went elsewhere. We worried that she wouldn't leave us alone.

Tomorrow is our last day. We'll stay close to this house. There is still a cathedral on a mountain we would like to reach. We have to hike to it, which is why we didn't do it today. There is also a fort just north of us that we might visit. We'll have to have everything packed tomorrow because we leave very early for our first of three plane flights home. Sunday will be a very long day with lots of sitting. While we want to get back to New Orleans, we aren't looking forward to the travel involved. I wish we could just push a button that would take us home.

I love you.

Love,

Mommy

Letters to my Son, Day 6

2010-01-11T19:56:00.002-05:00

Dear Son,

It's Thanksgiving where you are. Here in France it is just another Thursday. We didn't even have turkey or a big meal. We went to a fancy seaside town called St. Tropez that was really famous many years ago. Now, there are still lots of boats in the harbour, but the place isn't as well liked as it used to be. We did see some large yachts that came from America, London, South Africa, and other places. One was called Don't Touch.

After wandering around the streets of St. Tropez, we ate lunch outside because it wasn't very cold. Your dad and I ate mussels, which are like clams. You eat the inside, not the shell. The girls were a little bit more adventurous, but not a lot. They are lucky that the French like fried potatoes, too.

St. Tropez is more of a summer town, so the places there were closed. Only a few shops opened their doors. Larien really wanted to get something because Inwe got a watch in Aix yesterday. We ended up buying her some coloring books and a set of markers at a grocery store, called a marche here. That certainly wasn't exciting, but she liked it anyway.

I'm ready to be home and not because Provence isn't interesting. I miss you. I miss the dogs. I miss being able to completely understand other people when they talk. My brain hurts from reading French and telling your dad and sisters what it means. Hearing French and then turning it into something I understand in my head is bothersome as well. I wish I understood and spoke the language better.

When I see you on Monday, I am going to hug you for a long time and kiss your cheeks, your forehead, the top of your head, your belly, your neck and then do it all over again. Be a great boy for the family, Son. You and your dad will have your adventure in Walt Disney World in February. And, maybe in the next two years we'll take another trip to Europe. You'll be old enough to come with us then. We think Scotland would be a good choice. Your sisters want your dad to wear a kilt, which is kind of like a skirt for a man. Would you wear one?

I love you, Jack.

Love,

Mommy

Can I remember all that?

2010-01-01T12:45:00.005-05:00

I've read a few "What I did in the past decade" posts lately. I wondered if I could remember what I have done since we rang in the year 2000. The answer? Not very well, but I will try.

2000-Spent half the year in North Carolina and the other half in Virginia. What I remember most is our neighbors walking over with a six pack of good beer and treats for the dogs. That set the bar for a great friendship with the MaddJones family. We also found the Super Old Golden Retriever of Indeterminate Age that year. We thought we would give her one good year of life.

2001-Traveled to Miami to see a bowl game, missed a flight because of the lure of the Keys, and got to spend time with friends because of it. A good way to start the year despite our team losing the game. Phill and I traveled like students with backpacks through parts of England, Wales, and Dublin for ten days, complete with a few pub crawls and closing out one pub. Pregnant with my first child, I watched as 9/11 changed the world into which my children would enter. However ugly the world, seeing your baby for the first time is beautiful.

2002-From the bliss of a newborn to the shock of having a husband diagnosed with a cavernoma followed by all the problems resulting in neurosurgery to remove that growth. I thought life would never be the same. While it isn't, the reality became easier that I expected. This year, I lost all focus on me because Phill and my first born needed all the attention. What a revelation eight years later. That was the year I lost me.

2003-Normality means welcoming in a second child and beginning to write the dream that invaded my head.

2004-Considering moving to Arkansas and deciding against it. The death of Kodiak. Phill gave me the seemingly impossible description of the next dog we would get: a rescue puppy, female, and a mix of white German shepherd and yellow Lab. Two months after Kodi died, I found that dog. We adopted her in December. The White Dragon. A great dog.

2005-With the coming of our third child, we left our two girls with my parents so we could tour the parts of Florida we knew well. On that trip, I read the first of 20 novels that chronicle the life of Jack Aubrey and Stephen Maturin by Patrick O'Brian. My son could only have one of those names. The birth of the boy. Man on man to zone parenting. What a change. What a life. How rich and frustrating all at the same time.

2006- I will never remember any thing else about this year except the phone call my mother made to tell me of my father's death. More than half that year and a good portion of the next I grieved. My life changed that day. It will never be the same.

2007-Too much happened this year. Continuing grief. A possible change of jobs meant travel to New Orleans with so many people asking us why we would even consider such a place. Yet, this place feels like home. Setting my feet here, eating here, meeting people on that interview trip had me knowing that I wanted to be in the Crescent City. Is moving tough on children? Yes. My eldest spent her 6th birthday with strangers in her new school. The look in her eyes when she realized that I wouldn't be staying with her traveled directly to the soft spot in every parent. We worried over her, but her younger sister had a harder time adjusting.

2008-Carnival, or Mardi Gras, changed everything for my children. They got it as we met neighbors, young and old, fancy and scruffy, sweet and grumpy. The world of New Orleans opened for them, and the beads, toys, and doubloons tossed into their hands helped usher them into their new lives. Yes! they cried. Yes, we like this place, this street, this school, these neighbors, this city. OK, Mom and Dad, we get it now. Maybe other things happened this year, but their understanding is what I will remember.

2009-We traveled as a family and as individuals this year to places near and far. Disney with three children and one fabulous sister began our year, and we ended with four of our five going to Provence. In between, we changed jobs, accepted too many volunteer positions, and began a renewed sense of health and fitness.

I have no pithy closing, because nothing changes on New Year's Day. It's a day with no special meaning. Our earth keeps turning. Our star keeps burning. We are here until we are not.

Letters to My Son, Day 5

2009-12-18T09:36:00.002-05:00

Dear Son,

I am very tired this evening. We still woke up pretty late. After we ate breakfast , we drove the back roads to Aix en Provence to meet our host for lunch. The big highways in France are called autoroutes, and you have to pay tolls every 40 km or so. Well, maybe not that much, but some of the toll booths (gare de peage) seem very close to each other. It gets expensive traveling on the autoroutes, which was why we chose to take the swerving, turning, roads that go through small villages. We enjoyed the scenery of mountain cliffs, grape arbors and olive trees, but I didn't like that this way took longer. You know how I don't like to be late.

We got to Aix in plenty of time, but we got turned around in the city because the roads don't go in a straight line. After a few phone calls to our host, we met him and his friend Genevieve (said in French as John ve ev). They showed us the house where his family used to live which is now a fancy restaurant with a beautiful room inside. I would have liked to see more, but we were all hungry.

After lunch, our host walked us around the city to interesting places. A hotel in Aix isn't a place where people rent a room for a night or two; it was a house (although a large one) where a family lived. They showed us lots of hotels and some lovely fountains. There is even a fountain that is all green because of the moss that grows on it.

We passed a shop that sold calissons, a cookie kind of thing that is particular to Aix. They are OK. Half of us like them.

After a while, our host left us to walk around on our own. We took the girls to the Cours Mirabeau, which is a tree-lined street that is very beautiful. At the end of the street were some small carnival rides and a bungee-jumping/trampoline place. Your sisters got to bounce very high. Poor Inwe got her finger stuck in a clip and stopped early since that hurt so badly. She needed a band-aid, too.

There are almost too many places to see and things to do in Aix. We might have to return so that we can see some of the museums. Your dad and I will have to talk about that.

We ended the evening with some french fries, called pommes frites, sodas, and crepes (these are really thin pancakes filled with stuff). Daddy and I got ham in ours. The girls got sugary, sweet ones.

I don't know why I am so tired. It must be that we talked and walked so much today. Our host's friend didn't speak very much English, so we tried our tiny bit of French. That makes my brain work quite a bit.

Tomorrow, we will go to a sea-side town called St. Tropez and stop at other places on the way back. Your sisters probably want there to be another carnival or carousel to be in these towns.

I know you will have a good time with all of the family. Eat some turkey and try a bit of everything. Your sisters ate fish yesterday.

I love you,

Mommy

Letters to My Son, Day 4

2009-12-03T15:38:00.002-05:00

Bon Jour, Mon Fils!

That means, Hello, my son.

Today we got on a boat that took us across the bay to Toulon. We saw big ships that belong to the French Navy. Larien even noticed that one of the boats looked like the small ones you play with in the bath. There were some small waves that had us bouncing a bit. Inwe didn't like that.

Once in Toulon, we went to the market, which is a long street only open to people on foot. No cars drive down the way so that people can look and buy the vegetables and fruit on display. We bought some olives grown in this region as well as some dark purple figs with really red insides. Those were very yummy and made us remember the figs we used to eat from the bushes in our yard in Virginia. As Larien ate a fig, her tooth fell out that has been wiggly for a long time. She was quite happy with that.

The wind, called Le Mistral, blew hard today. We were cold, so we bought some scarves to protect our necks. We also noticed that people wear a lot of black here and boots. None of us wear boots unless it is raining. Your sisters also bought some fabric to make pillows for Grandma M. We'll let you help put in the stuffing. She will like those presents. We got something for Aunt L in Toulon as well. We are still searching for the best gift for Mom Mom. If you have any suggestions, we will take them. Maybe some perfume? Or scented sachets for her panty drawer?

Tomorrow we will go to Aix (said like ex) to meet a friend for lunch. It is known as one of the most beautiful places in all of France. We look forward to getting there and having someone who speaks French help us order food.

We miss you. One day we will take you somewhere in Europe so you can see how different things are here. The cars and trucks are much smaller because the streets are small. Sometimes you have to go in reverse to find a place where two cars can pass each other. Plus, instead of traffic lights, there are circles to keep the traffic moving. That has been fun, too.

We love you. Take care of Mom Mom and have a great time with Aunt J and Uncle L. Give Aunt L a big hug and kiss, OK? She will like that.

Love,

Mommy

Letters to My Son, Day 3

2009-11-30T09:18:00.002-05:00

Dear Jack,

I enjoyed talking to you this afternoon. I have missed seeing your cheery face.

Did I tell you yesterday about the dog that stayed beside us? She had stolen someone's bread and tried to get some food from us. If I could get the picture off of the camera, I would show you the red dog.

Today, at the palace we saw a cat (le chat in French) strolling through the place. I think it lived there. That palace was built 700 years ago.

We also went on a bridge near the palace. Your eldest sister had learned a song from your music teacher that was about that particular bridge. She was happy to know it and to sing it as she walked along the part that still reached into the Rhone river. Part of it got washed away in a flood many years ago.

The drive to the palace was long, and your sisters fell asleep as we drove through the mountains back to the coast. That nap kept them awake past the normal bed time. Our sleep is all messed up here because while the clock may say that it is midnight, our brains still think it is dinner time in New Orleans.

We plan to walk along the beach tomorrow and to hike in the forest near the beach. We will go to a port town to eat seafood for dinner tomorrow. We keep wanting to have French food, but we get tired and grab some bread, butter, and cheese. It is everywhere here, and it is so very good. You would like it, too.

I love you. Keep having a great time at your grandmother's house. Give the poodle a pet so he knows that he is loved.

Love,

Mommy

Letters to my son, day 2

2009-11-28T12:18:00.003-05:00

We took a trip, leaving my son in the able hands of my mother. These are my emails to him.

Dear Son,

We keep waking up pretty late (well, your sisters do), so we decided to stay near the house today. Near us is a path along a rocky beach to a tall mountain. We got the girls to hike it with us until Larien couldn't go any further. That's when we turned around.

The walk was really pretty though. There aren't many trees. The high winds keep them from growing too high. The bushes that grow are very fragrant (that means they smell nice). The water of the sea is such a lovely, clear blue. The beaches, though, aren't as nice as those near Mom Mom. Too many rocks.

We also picked up glass that had been rolled by the sea so that it is smooth. Most of it was green, but we got some clear pieces a a few yellow and brown pieces. We had a picnic on a jetty, too.

This evening we ate a restaurant. I had to order because no one there spoke English. I did okay until I had to tell the lady how I wanted my steak cooked. I didn't know how to say medium. A nice man who had some English helped out.

We will try again to take the boat ride to Toulon tomorrow. I will email one of your aunts to tell you how it went.

I love you. Daddy loves you. At least one sister misses you. I don't know about the other. She did gather some acorns for you.

Love,

Mommy

Letters to my son, day 1

2009-11-27T14:43:00.002-05:00

Dear Son,

We didn't go on a boat ride today. We discovered that your sisters had lice in their hair, probably picked up on the first flight. Maybe Mom Mom has checked you by now. I hope you don't have any. Because of the lice, I brushed and combed your sisters' heads for hours. And I am not fooling around about the time. After lunch we went to to towns that have been around since the 1600s. That's 400 years old. Well, gosh, maybe longer. I don't remember the date as I was so happy to not be nit picking. Both of the towns are high atop hills. In the towns are lots of olive trees. In fact, there are lots of olive trees and grape vines around here.

On the way home, we decided to go through some towns on the coast instead of the big highway that you have to pay to drive on. We did fine until one of the roads we wanted to take was blocked. The detour wasn't marked well, so your dad and I got lost. We ended up on a hilltop road where there was only room for one car at a time. With some patience, we made it back to the house where we had dinner.

I heard you liked the Ice Age movie. That's great.

I love you, Son.

Love,

Mommy

Really? In NOVEMBER?

2009-11-08T09:49:00.003-05:00

If the forecasts are correct, New Orleans will only get a grazing, but my mother in Pensacola looks to get a full-on hit. Someone needs to tell this hurricane that it is November, and while still in hurricane season, it shouldn't be doing this. OKAY? Futz out now. Fizzle. Vamooose, please.

I have another reason to ask this. I deal with a daily hurricane Ida, also known as my newest dog (Whose name really is Ida). She's learned how to open the dog food container. She seeks out lost socks so she can eat them. She routinely wakens us at 5:15am. OMG, the barks. And, let's not forget that she gets into trash cans. The picture below is how she greeted us a few days ago, with the top stuck on her neck.

3 November 2009

2009-11-03T19:42:00.000-05:00

A visit to Red Bluff Farm on the north shore with the Kindergarten class.

This is my middle daughter saying, "I got to feed the calf milk six times."

These piglets goosed me as I was watching a Brown Swiss get milked.

Some of the teachers kissed the piglets. This was her reaction.

The kids got to pick radishes, too. I put them in a salad this evening.

31 October 2009

2009-11-01T12:47:00.002-05:00

A western diva, a hippie, and Venom (but he says he is the good black Spiderman).

19 October 2009

2009-10-19T21:57:00.000-04:00

This is the people dog according to the people at Camp BowWow, where the dogs will be when we go to France in November.

18 October 2009

2009-10-18T21:54:00.000-04:00

One day he is going to give his sister hell over how she dressed him.

17 October 2009

2009-10-17T20:23:00.000-04:00

Apparently, the Teletubbie Dipsy likes football.

16 October 2009

2009-10-16T22:05:00.001-04:00

The completed duck costume on the day of the performance of NUTS. What do you think? Two feather dusters, one plain white T, one long sleeved T, one hat, and one flexible folder.

Wait! The tail!

15 October 2009

2009-10-15T22:18:00.001-04:00

On Thursdays, my eldest has art class. This means that the middle girl and the boy get me all to themselves. They decided to race cars and test gravity by putting the track in different configurations. I caught four photos in a row and attempted to make a movie with them.

14 October 2009

2009-10-14T16:45:00.000-04:00

Bleak with a drop of sadness.

13 October 2009

2009-10-14T16:44:00.000-04:00

A jack o'lantern seems appropriate foe the 13th day of October.

12 October 2009

2009-10-12T22:32:00.000-04:00

A really great investment in toys for us has been Lego blocks. We still have the large, Duplo kind we bought for our first child. After seven years and three children later, they are still in use. Our plan is to pack them off to friends who have children younger than us.

In the past year, we've bought a few sets of the regular Legos and others have given us the kits for Star Wars and Indiana Jones. We dutifully constructed all of the kits. These models lasted an approximate 36 hours before becoming victim to my children's imaginations. My eldest built a rover that roams the red planet, Mars. My son has built so many different cars, ambulances, airplanes, and rockets that I have lost track. My middle girl prefers to make houses.

11 October 2009

2009-10-11T23:12:00.000-04:00

My eldest is Mrs. Duck in the second grade play. Today we worked on the costume. We foraged at a store, gathering a plain white hat, an orange flexible folder, three white feathered dusters, a plain white t-shirt, and a woman's long-sleeved mustard shirt. We made the hat first, affixing eyes, the bill, and the feathers on the top. My daughter insisted on a bow so that she wouldn't be mistaken for being a boy duck. The picture is our end product.

After demolishing the dusters, we used more feathers to decorate the white t-shirt. I know I made it, but we did a good job with a hot glue gun (what can't you do with some hot glue when you need to make a costume?). For the legs, we used fusable tape to glue the sleeves of the mustard-colored shirt to the legs. We searched the store for leggings of that color, but we failed. Therefore, we did the best we could.

We used the rest of the flexible orange folder to make shoe covers so she'll have webbed feet.

I'll show a photo on the day of her dress rehearsal. We definitely had fun with all the feather fluff flying.

10 October 2009

2009-10-10T12:35:00.000-04:00

A question to ponder: When I buy a large canister of raisins, my children barely touch them. When I buy the small boxes, my children eat them as if dried grapes were the best food they have ever tasted. Why?

9 October 2009

2009-10-09T17:35:00.000-04:00

All the kids had the day off, which we filled with a haircut for the boy and play time at an updated local park. After lunch, one of the kids found a container of water balloons. (Who gave us that? Really. I need to know so I can give you a gift in kind.) After I had filled and tied so many balloons that my fingers were red and raw and after three balloons had exploded on my lap, I attempted to get a photo of the girls getting showered by a balloon hitting the tree. Here's what I captured.

8 October 2009

2009-10-08T15:43:00.000-04:00

We have a third floor guest room that is currently painted a dark beige, from the shelves to the ceiling, and to the lights. It makes this room a cave, and I want to fix that. I put some paint samples on the wall. The warm scones color would be for the main room. The parrot's feather would be for the bathroom section. It brightens it up considerably with just those few spots done. Now to do the main work.

7 October 2009

2009-10-07T20:52:00.001-04:00

Last night, she lost her first tooth. Quite a milestone for a six-year-old given that her sister lost her first tooth at the age of five.

She lives! It lives!

2009-10-07T20:23:00.000-04:00

This past year, I was swallowed by Facebook. Well, not really. My time certainly ran down the drain that is social networking. I cannot promise much writing, but I will post one photo a day. This began when I joined in September 0f 2008 the Envisage 365 project. I began the project for the second year and realized that I had many reasons not to continue. Let's say that some things are better left unsaid and unpictured.

The collage above are the photos for September. I'll post the photos for October singularly. I'll catch up to the 7th day.

6 October 2009

2009-10-06T20:48:00.000-04:00

Get ready for lots of photos of Idaho, who had a bath to remove the blush and lipstick. We still have Ursa. Most people recognize me now as the lady with two white dogs. I'm getting a reputation around the neighborhood.

5 October 2009

2009-10-05T20:45:00.000-04:00

A bleak day caused by stomach flu.

4 October 2009

2009-10-04T20:41:00.000-04:00

Sometimes dinner needs to be a sharing plate and an indoor picnic.

3 October 2009

2009-10-03T20:35:00.000-04:00

One of two birthday parties she attended. The first was at Build-A-Bear.

2 October 2009

2009-10-02T20:32:00.000-04:00

A night at the amusement park at City Park.

1 October 2009

2009-10-01T20:27:00.001-04:00

She has a name, but her nickname is Goat. She eats or tries everything, including lipstick and blush.

30 September 2009

2009-09-30T20:24:00.000-04:00

We decorate our iron fence with that polyester fiber that can look like cobwebs.

Balancing the Canine

2009-05-06T19:21:00.003-04:00

Tonight, we had an incident at our house that is a first--White Dragon bit someone.

I'd ordered pizza as one kid had a recital, I had a parent dinner to attend, the husband had a late afternoon meeting that concerned important matters, and the other two kids had an appointment with the babysitter. Sometimes pizza delivery is the best plan for an evening like this.

My eldest, 7, saw the pizza guy through out cut glass door. She opened the door. White Dragon, barking and ready to bolt out the door, stood beside her. Before I could get the word STOP from my mouth, the girl opened the door. The STOP managed its way to White Dragon's ears, but not before she gave a good nip to the posterior of the pizza guy.

At least White Dragon respects my authority enough that she dropped to the ground at my command, although her hackles remained aloft. I ordered her into the house. She followed them.

I paid the pizza man, apologized, and told him to call me if he was hurt. He wasn't. She didn't bite with aggression. I know that as I saw it happen.

This incident angered me for many reasons, the first being that my daughter should not have opened the door without my permission. The second reason I am needed a calming bath is that my dog bit someone. I expected it with The Brute. He had issues. This one, this dog that lets children lay on her and barely moves when a crowd of children come near her? I'm hot, and I'm still shaking.

On one hand, I live in a city that isn't a utopia. I don't mind that people are afraid of my dog. Yet, I have to do something about her behavior. White Dragon cannot charge people in my yard. I will need to use the Dog Whisperer's tactics with her.

I suspect my husband will disagree with me. I will stand firm on this. I am the one here most of the time. I am the one that invites repairmen into the house. I am the one that wants to get packages and mail without fear of the dog attacking the deliverers.

I'm not at ease with taking out the small aggression White Dragon possesses. I like a dog with spunk. I'm going to do it. I will train her out of this barking at visitors and at dogs passing by the fence.

Let's just add this to the other lists of goals that Sarabeth has to reach. Crikey! Why do I do this to myself?