A wee battle won

Here's my favorite flower of the summer.  It was shriveled up and half-dead only weeks ago, but somehow, it found it's way back to life.  While the pots have been torn out and stacked neatly in the shed, this guy is happily struggling in the ground.  For some reason, I didn't have the nerve to yank this one--I'm not sure why.

I'm glad I waited.

Sometimes there is the whisper of what's to come, you know?  You may see a struggle and you urge it on, encourage it to succeed.  Whether it's a goatie with crooked legs or a flower who actually has a will to live--sometimes you just gotta hope for the best.

Well, I do anyway.

Even if it is a marigold with it's legs firmly planted in the mulch. Go Marigold!

Watch and learn, Grasshopper...

Oh, that Grace is so smart.  She sat like this for the longest time, just watching a little bee doing his thing at the coneflowers.  Unlike Hobbes, she is smart enough to keep her paws--and her nose--far away from it. 

Hobbes was out in the yard stalking that bee's friends--well, until he gets the zap to his nose.  He has a very slow learning curve in comparison.  sigh.

Chillin' Master

I guess I could tell you that he is surveying the back 40 and protecting his yard--but in reality, he's just chilling.  Too hot to run after bumblebees and butterflies, Hobbes plops himself down in the brown stuff formerly known as grass and sits....and sits......and............ sits.

My orange stripey ottoman has mastered the fine art of relaxation. And sometimes, he calls for his assistant to help him:

Happy Weekend, pallies! Take a hint from the master and be sure to make time for chillin' and relaxin'. 

Pass the nose-plugs

While my dream Olympic curling career pauses for the summer months, I have to admit to having a hankering for competing as a swimmer. Well....synchronized swimmer that is.

Just imagine me and some of those whack-jobs from the Golden Acres Rec Center swimming pool doing this:



And no, I won't be watching the summer Olympics. Not an Olympic fan, I'm afraid. Well, maybe I would if they would show some of the more obscure sports on the coverage and not cram gymnastics and track and field down our throats. I hate the assumption that because I'm a girl that I automatically like ice skating and gymnastics--I don't. Not one stinkin' bit.

So, while the rest of the world is camped out in front of the tube oohing and ahhing over prepubescent "women" on balance beams , I'll be embracing the senior set and working on my routine in the deep end of the pool--or the deck.  Whichever works.

Guess Who's 50??!

Hint: NOT me. Whew!

Guess who's also got a half day at work to meet up with his brother and some friends in a White Sox's private suite for the game??

Yeah, that's not me either. Bummer on that one.

It's a shame Joe is so darn old today, when I'm soooo young. You know--child bride, robbin' the cradle, and all that stuff.  Hee! Hee! 

Here's wishing my favorite guy a very Happy Birthday!  Love ya, Joe.

It's Backyard Warfare...

Okay, after walking out to find 5 more snails decimated, I grabbed my hammer and started installing the electric fence.  Okay Mr. Opossum or Mr. Raccoon--whoever the heck you are--the escargot party is over.

Well....unless it rains, and then I turn it off so I don't electrocute my frogs who like to hop around in the wet grass.  So....if its a hot, dry night.....be prepared for a little "shocking" surprise, stinkers.

And in true Lin fashion, I sang this song the entire time I was fishing wire through those teeny tiny holes....



You can't see it...It's Electric!
You just gotta feel it.....It's Electric!

Heh. Heh.



And before you send me hate mail--it's low voltage made especially for small animals. It won't kill them....just make 'em think twice about coming over.

Hell Week (aka - band camp)

Em's final year (and mine too) of Marching Band begins today.  I seriously get misty-eyed just thinking about it--not about Em graduating, but about our marching band years ending.  It has been the best thing my kids have belonged in and the most fun--for them as well as Joe and I.  It's gonna be a tough season.  Can we please put things in slo-mo for a bit?

Band camp is this week--in 100+ degrees.  While band camp already makes for some hot, tired and crabby teens, I think this might push them over the edge. 

The key to surviving as a parent is NOT to ask "How was band today, honey?"--lest you get your head ripped off.  I've learned to have a cool shower and a warm meal ready, with no questions until they re-group.  And yes, I pass that survival skill onto all new parents in the program.  No one should have to learn that one the hard way.

Band camp is hardest for the freshmen.  They don't understand the whole show, how it looks and when they will ever get it to that point.  They can't imagine full run-throughs, contests, winning awards for their performances and actually having fun through all of this hard work.  It's tough to keep them motivated and encouraged to do yet another run-through when it feels like you aren't getting anywhere. 

It's when those uniforms finally come out that it makes sense to them.  I love to watch their eyes light up when they finally get it.  I'm gonna really miss that.

And being that this is Em's senior year, I am NOT pushing equipment out onto the field. Nope. No way. Uh huh.  Don't even ask. 

We'll see how long that lasts.

Hobo Frogs

The thing about frogs is that you can never figure them out.

I've got a great little pond, yet my taddies grow up, mature, and then hop away--thinking life is better somewhere else.  While I hope that they make it to the creek two blocks away, I'm thinking most of these guys end up as Flat Stanleys or dinner for a very hungry somebody else.  But they go....anyway. Sigh.  You can't tell them nuthin'.

And while I'm patiently enduring a quiet pond while the new taddies slowly mature into full-grown bullfrogs, I still miss the deep bullfrog call of the days or yore.  I tell you, there is no sound like that of the bullfrogs singing you to sleep.  Well, that's IF you can open your windows every once in a while.

So, while those are sad surprises, I had a happy surprise this week--a hobo frog decided to make our wee waters his home.  Whether or not this is permanent or he's just passin' through, who knows? Who cares?  He's here now, greets me each morning with a green frog smile, sings me a sweet frog song each night and sits on my lily pads for that very cool yeah-frogs-really-do-sit-on-lily-pads ambiance.  And that makes me happy.

Hobo frog?  No, not really a species, but my term for wayward frogs who appear out of nowhere at my pond.  Like their human equivalent,  these hungry travelers pack up their kerchief, stick it on the end of a stick, and head for the road.  Or wet grass.  And they don't really carry sticks because that would make hopping sort of difficult.  But you know a Hobo Frog because they just sort of have that wanderlust look in their eye.

Anywho,

Our new frog friend is a Green Frog--a wee guy, but a lovely singer.  Hers (yeah, I think she's a girl) is a quick, twangy-like sound--but still lovely to hear while you are dreaming.  It's good to know that she's happy enough here to sing.

But will she leave?  Who knows?

That's the thing about frogs...you can never figure them out.

Dinner with the P's

These are the conversations that ensure that your child will move out of your house someday:

Joe: Col, what movie did you see today?

Col:  Spiderman, 3D.

Joe: Oh, wasn't that in 3D?

Col: (rolls his eyes) Yeah, hence the 3D in the title.

Me:  I don't get 3D.  It makes me wanna throw-up.

Col: (quietly says) It's cool.

Joe: Do you hafta wear those stupid 3D glasses? (He says with his mouth full.  Joe does that a lot--talks with his mouth full. Even though his mother taught him better.)

Col/Me: YEA, Joe/Dad!

Me: How else would you get that 3D effect?

Joe: Well....I dunno! I'm just asking.

Col: It was pretty good, but I really want to see that new Batman movie. I hear that's really cool..

Joe: What's it called? Batman returns or somethin?

Col:  Yeah, something like that.

Joe: This may be a dumb question...

Me: Oh, god. Here we go...

Joe:  Where's he returning from?  I mean, did he get kicked out of Gotham City or something?  

Me:  No, he went on vacation, Joe. Really, Joe??! Why do you have to know where he's returning from?

(And while all of this is going on, Colin looks like he would rather be redneck fishing in a lake full of alligators)

Joe: Well....I dunno!  I'm just asking.

Col:  It has NOTHING to do with "returning."  It's the "Dark Knight Rises."  (He's totally disgusted with us at this point)

Me:  Oh. Well, that's very different than "returning."  Where's he rising from?  The dead? His bed? Did he just wake up to something exciting going on?

Joe:  Now that is a stupid question...

Me:  I knew that.  I just figured I'd beat you to the punch. You totally knew that was gonna be YOUR next question.

Joe:  Yeah, you're kinda right.

To which I look at him and say:

Me:  Jeezus, Joe.  We sound like we are 800 years old.

He just nods in agreement. 

Colin, well, he's long gone from the dinner table.  Apparently he doesn't like chatting with us over dinner.  I don't know why.

Little miracles

I love little miracles.

You know,

tadpoles that suddenly sprout arms outta nowhere,

a good soaking rain after a too-long drought,

hundreds of baby fish hatching off the bottom of a lily pad,

snails with algae on their shells that make them look all fuzzy and silly,

and

flowers that continue to bloom even though I have a feeling they'd rather wither and die.


And if you weren't really looking,
I mean, really trying,
you'd miss all of this stuff.

I think that's what I love most about them--
in spite of their size or their impact on the world around them,
they just are.

And that makes me smile.

Semi-Wordless Wednesday

Does anyone else thinks it's weird that I have a plastic pterodactyl to protect my yard?

Nah, me neither.

Girlfriend has got it going on!

You gotta love Grace--even though she is 15 years old, she is still walking the fence.....

and going over!

I don't know why it's so lovely over the fence, but apparently, it is.  Fortunately, those neighbors actually like the cats and accept their "visits" warmly.

Here's Hobbes chillin' at their fire pit.  Ugh.

Grace never ceases to amaze me.  Seriously, she's 15! And she's still 

climbing over the fence to spite us all. Criminy.

She is my inspiration. She makes me laugh at her old age--

proving that age has nothing on fun....or adventures.

Monday mash-up

I love weekends. There really should be more of them...or at the very least, make them longer so we have more time for fun AND getting the have-tos completed. Criminy, I can't believe it is Monday already. Ugh.

Saturday found us with friends at a fun bar in the city.  The place features dueling pianos and a talented group of musicians who played everything under the sun--that includes instruments AND songs.  Yeah, my throat hurt the next day from all the singing. And laughing.

With a small break in the heat wave, I dragged Joe out for a walk the other day.  With the earth all shriveled up like a raisin, I stepped off the sidewalk onto the grass and rolled my ankle. And while that hurt, my pride was probably  more damaged as I now sport a lovely giant boo-boo on my right knee.  I look like an 8-year old again--well, only my knee does.  And that is just around the boo-boo. The rest of me is old....and hurty.

I went to feed the fish the other morning and found that someone stopped by the pond for a little escargot.  And while I have a cabillion snails in that pond, I still felt bad for the 4 or 5 that we lost.  We are back to having the fish-line fence around the pond again, and if that doesn't work, I have a spanking-new electric fence to install.  I am prepared to battle those damn raccoons if they dare to come back--although I found an opossum under the bird feeder the other night and I think he is the guilty party.  The fish-line fence seems to be working.....or he knows I've got a secret Plan B that's gonna "discourage" his little fishing exhibitions for awhile.

Band camp rehearsals starts this week.  It's the final marching band season for Emma--well....and us too.  I imagine it's going to be an emotional marching season for us all--and I don't want it to end.  The 5th Annual Band Parent Bonfire has been scheduled and I have a feeling this last one is gonna be a doozy.  If you remember, this was the result of last year's party:

Yeah, those bonfires are rarely pretty.  But they are fun.

It is only a month before Emma's senior year begins and Colin goes back to school.  Ugh.  I just need all of this to slow down.....a lot.

Gimme a "W" ......

Go WEEKEND!  

Yea!

This weekend is probably the only weekend this summer we don't have to be somewhere.  I'm gonna sleep late, hang out in my yard (even if I fry to a little crisp) and just relax.  I might even finish that darn book I've been reading.

Or not.

I like options.  And this weekend is chock full of them.

My Rioting Youth

Last night marked the 33rd anniversary of the one time I was a hooligan. Yes, my mother would be proud--I never made the evening news again after me and thousands of my friends rioted at Comiskey Park just that one time all those years ago...

otherwise known as "Disco Demolition":




While I'm proud of that moment in my history, I do have to admit to just going to the game because it cost .98 cents (to coincide with the station's number on the dial--98) and a disco record to get in. What a deal that was to a Sox fan back in the day! Seriously--I wasn't a Steve Dahl listener at the time--I went for the double-header.

Yes, I ran out on the field with the rest of the knuckleheads, but intelligence prevailed and we went back to our seats after a short time.  And then proceeded to boo the idiots on the field who caused the second game to be cancelled. 


Shhhhhh. But don't tell my kids.  I wear this event of my "wild" youth proudly....and never let them forget that I was there.

Closet Friends

Em and I had a long talk about friendship today--which is never easy when you have your feelings hurt.  I think trying to figure out just who exactly is your friend is much easier when the waters are still.  But the time was at hand and she needed a pep talk, so we spent some time sorting it all out.

While I was trying to figure out a way to make her see that those who hurt her aren't her friends (and haven't been for a very long time), I was trying to come up with an analogy for her to understand.  I used the river of life example, where friends come and go, and life goes on--but I don't think she got it. Or I didn't explain it right--which is probably the case.

So, later, I was thinking of a better way to explain my theory on friends and I came up with this one:

Friends are sorta like a closet of clothes:

• There are some that fit like a glove. Then there are those you have to work to get yourself into. There are a few in there that are a bit loose and you sort of have to cinch them with a belt to keep them up.  Sometimes it's worth the effort, sometimes not. 
• There are clothes that you should have gotten rid of years ago, but memories make you hang onto them--remembering the good times you had with them.
• There are seasonal clothes--the ones you only drag out for certain times of the year. In that category are special occasion clothes too--holiday clothes, wedding clothes, party clothes, camping clothes, etc.  Sometimes these are the clothes that are tried and true--no matter that you have let them sit in the back of the closet the rest of the year. But some of these are just there because you need them only a few times a year.
• There are old clothes and new clothes. There are clothes with tags still on them, as you haven't quite figured out if you like them or not yet.  
• There are warm clothes and cold clothes.  There are clothes with holes from wear and tear, but you still like them.  Some are comfy and easy to wear, while still others are sort of itchy and scratchy.  
• If you are like me, you have some clothes that are missing buttons or they have frayed edges on the sleeves or legs--but you keep those clothes because you love them just the way they are.
•  And if you are married, you have to sometimes share that closet--his clothes and your clothes mix and share the space--sometimes crowding each other and wrinkling some things.  But it is a give and take, and you just sort of get used to those wrinkles because you realize it isn't something big to fight about.

Just for the record--I don't have a big closet. And the clothes I have are sorted through regularly and I only keep the things I really, really like and wear often.  

Why do I think I am just going to confuse the kid even more?  Sigh.

Semi-Wordless Wednesday

Raise your hand if you remember these!

What happened to all the fuzzy yellow caterpillars of my childhood?

Did they go the way of my youth?

sigh.

Summer Sounds.....Weirdville style

I did the unimaginable on Saturday....

I turned off the air conditioning and went outside to enjoy the yard. 

Yep, I know...very brave of me, eh?

I dusted off the chair cushions and dragged them out of the shed. 

I put out the patio lanterns and lit some candles....

and then I sat....

and enjoyed the yard. 

 

Well, it started out lovely enough....

until Yip Yap came outside.

Ugh.

It's the summer of college tours

Heading into her senior year of high school, Emma is doing what every other senior is doing--checking out prospective colleges. Which means Joe and I are doing a lot of driving around and gulping at the ever-increasing price of college.  We are also getting a lot of free t-shirts and brochures.  And sometimes, if we are lucky, we get a free lunch.  Those are my favorite tours.

Finding the right college for your child is like trying to buy shoes.  Oh, they all look spiffy in the ads--they are all shiny and nice, and the people wearing them are all smiling.  But it is hard to know if the shoes are for you until you go to see them....and try them on.  So, that's what we are doing nearly every week (or weekend)--trying on colleges. 

After going on a few of these tours, you sort of know in the first hour if this is the place for you.  And if the welcome speech isn't enough, you know immediately upon walking the campus.  But the problem is, there is no graceful way of escaping the welcome session or the tour---you are sort of stuck in the group, smiling and acting like you are somewhat interested in this building or that one. 

We were on one tour Saturday, when 15 minutes into the tour, I knew it was not what Em was looking for.  And that's when the giggles started.

There must be a requirement for each tour to have one obnoxious parent or student (who knows everything--just ask them) in your group.  And when we spot that knucklehead, we just sort of look at each other and say "Ya know what I'm doing?"  And we smile, knowing that we are mentally punching the fool that is taking over the tour with their own agenda. It's the only way to cope--to keep our sense of humor.

We had a girl in our group that raised her hand for everything--Who knows all the Jesuit schools in the U.S?  Who is involved in sports? clubs? band?  Who does community service? Breastfeeds orphans on Saturdays?  Who loves school more than life itself? 

Oh, I wanted to snap that arm off by the time we opened the door to start the tour. Ugh.

While "Betsy" entertained us all with her list of schools she has visited, what her major was gonna be and how smart she was, Emma and I had the giggles about the extraordinary amount of seagulls that swarmed this campus.  At one point, we were more concerned for our eyeballs not getting pecked out than we were about which dorms didn't have air conditioning--which, by the way, was a LOT for an expensive school.

Fortunately, this was one of those tours that ended with a lovely buffet lunch and we weren't attacked by seagulls or well-meaning tour guides and we could eat in peace.  But as we sat down to eat, a boy at our table said "Did anybody else notice all the  seagulls here?"

Yeah. Yeah we did. 

And no, these shoes didn't fit.

I'm done complaining about the heat. Seriously.

This makes me laugh--out loud--every single time I see it:



Happy Weekend, pallies! Hope you find something to laugh about too!

I'll never complain about being cold again....ever

I've sorta noticed that temperatures, in extreme, tend to make folks a little cranky. Mostly me--but I've noticed that everyone around me is also a tad snippy.  I mean, we are melting here, folks. Who can be nice when we've spent the entire winter in the house....and now we are spending the entire summer inside too?

Sheesh, I'm crabby.

I have officially given up on the yard.  Any plant that is dead/dying/thinking about dying is now being yanked out by its sad little neck.  Pots are being emptied and holes are being filled.  I am officially done with spending time and money on watering that isn't helping.  If you aren't at least trying to look good, then off with your head. 

I'm at the no tolerance point.

Hobbes, on the other hand (paw?) is fighting Summer all the way.  He wants to go outside and sit under the hostas--in spite of the hell-like temperatures.  He isn't allowed out until late afternoon, when he can go out there without spontaneously combusting--but we still give him some outside time.  Like me, he can't stand another minute in the house.

But it doesn't mean that he likes it.  Homeboy is nearly as crabby as me.....but I'm still winning.

Scenes from a holiday

I feel as if I'm moving in slow motion. Between this blessed heat, crazy work schedule, college visits, and fun with friends, I just feel exhausted.  I think the heat is making me sluggish--I don't want to do a darn thing other than nap. Are you feeling the same way or is it me?

We spent the 4th camped out in a friend's pool.  And when I say camped out in the pool--that is what we did--we spent the entire day IN the pool.  I think the last time I did that, I was probably 9 years old. 

Oh, we had a few minutes out to eat and grab another beer, but that wasn't very often.  Em got out to model her holiday finest:

See what I mean? We literally stood in the pool the entire day.  It was too hot to do anything else. I got out to take some photos and refill empty drink cups. 

There wasn't even a breeze to stir the air.....or the deely-boppers:

You know it's hot when I get my hair wet.  NOT that I had any choice in the matter....my "do" is gratis a losing water gun battle between myself, John, and Steve.

Yeah, guess who lost? Well, I only "lost" because my hair is wet--I never gave up on fighting back. You can't--not with this group.

Joe kept saying it was his "Best 4th EVER!" all the way home, but I think some of that was his sunburn and beer talking.  But how can you miss with great friends, delicious food, a refreshing pool, and Joe's v-neck man-sweater and Betty's outdoor potty?

I'm still laughing today....although the hair looks a ton better. 

It's the 4th already?

Criminy. Summer is escaping us, isn't it? 

I'm just hoping it cools off a bit so we can actually go outside and enjoy it.

Happy 4th of July to all you Independence celebrators!

Stick with me, kid....

When you camp with me, you gotta know that there isn't a whole lot of suffering going on.  Oh sure, you still have to walk to the bathroom and the showers, but I'm all about comfort otherwise.  In fact, I take a lot of grief for all of the crap we drag with us on a camping trip.

This is our "Chateau Le'Kautz"--it's the mega tent on the right.  It supposedly sleeps 9, but that's the tent-maker's code for "it will be great for 3, maybe 4 of you."  We don't believe in crowding in--folks tend to get a little snappy when camping as it is.

Add in some comfy cots, over-sized sleeping bags, a welcome mat for the outside and another on the inside (to keep out dirt), a lantern for light and you've got yourself some comfy quarters.  (Note the hotel-like folded back bedding inside the tent. That's my signature camping move, people.)

Then there's the dining hall (a.k.a. screen room), complete with red/white checkered tablecloth, camp stove, real honest-to-goodness plates and silverware, and my personal favorite--the drip coffee maker.  Yeah, it's really not all that rustic, folks. 

So, while you think you can't do "camping," you really can....but you have to want to.  And you have to be willing to haul everything from your everyday life in your car.   It's exhausting, but it's worth it.

Well, except that walking to the potty part.


On another note,  I'd like to wish Col a very Happy Birthday today. It's hard to believe it was 20 years ago....

And yes, I'm still unpacking and doing laundry....

Believe it or not, I am a tent camper.  And while I don't like all the work it entails, I do love to go off camping in my not-so-wee tent to get away from the stresses and busy that is our lives.   Camping was on my list of  "Things I wanna do this Summer,"  and so we did--we made a reservation, called some friends, packed my tent (and my family)....and off we went.

One of the perks of blogging is that you find the most interesting people and find out cool stuff about them....like one of them just happens to own THE sweetest private campground EVER.  Thanks to Karen (Will Oaks Studio) telling us about the campground that she runs, we contacted her early summer and made plans to visit her and the Will Oaks Campground.

It was HEAVEN. Pure heaven.

We had a quiet lake as our view and our entertainment for the weekend.   It was peaceful, chock full of frogs (who sang me to sleep each night), and clear and cool for swimming.

We didn't even notice if it was hot, because we were chilling in this lake the entire weekend.  And no, the fish did not nibble on my bum. 

There is just something about "swimming to the platform," you know?  It was all so "retro" for us, who grew up on lake swimming.  And while we thought the girls would be squeamish about swimming with fish--they weren't.  The lake is crystal clear and sooooo inviting.  You couldn't get us out of the water.

Well....until it was dinner time.

Colin, Joe, and Audrey were hooked on fishing.  It's "catch and release", which is great for those of us not-so-brave folks who don't want to have to clean fish..... AND for the fish, who don't want to be caught.

And then there's the company.  Good friends, Pete (Bill) and Judy, along with their family, joined us.  We are old camping buddies from waaaayyyyy back when.  We laughed our hineys off this weekend--especially when Joe had a little too much medicine and called Pete "Bill".   We still don't know what that was all about--he's an idiot. Joe, I mean--not Bill.

I have an adorable photo of Karen and I, but she's one of those private people who loves to share her jewelry (LOVELY!!) and her campground, but not her pretty face. I so loved meeting her--and she gave us all such an incredible weekend--so we all have great memories of Karen, Dakota (her dog), and her family's place...along with some quality family time.

And if you are a camper, you will know that I am still unpacking the car and doing laundry.   Yeah, that is the un-fun part of sleeping under the stars. Ugh.