"Blockade Billy" by Stephen King is not for kids. Period.

It's a short story paired with "Mortality". It's bound in a small hardback volume. It has a sort of Rockwell-esque illustration on the cover. It has foul language, sex, violence, and more of those sorts of things. It is not for kids. Don't judge a book by its cover, folks. But do read this book if you like Stephen King and are over 18. I enjoyed the stories. Well, as much as I could without freaking out that my 12 year old nephew was also going to read the book. Don't worry, I called his mother and put the brakes on that. I know. I sucked all of the fun out of life for the kid, but he can read it when he's older.

Nerves

I'm trying not to be nervous about my little surgery tomorrow morning, but it's hard not to be. I know that doctors these days are such experts at what they do and I'm supposed to be able to go home tomorrow afternoon. They said it should only take about a week to recover. It's just that they are still going to cut open my body to remove something and then sew me back up. It's a little unnerving. I'm cool, though. I'll be fine.

It's a strange turn of events that makes me a little grateful for the technology that we have in this day and age. It's a little bit of looking on the bright side of things as well. Last year, I had a miscarriage. I had another one last month and that's when they found the cyst. Since there wasn't a cyst on my ovary last year when they took the ultrasound pictures at the hospital, it's a probability that I've developed this thing in the last year. It's fairly large. The doctor made a circle shape with his index finger and thumb but didn't close the circle. That's larger than a golf ball, if you ask me. Because I can't feel this thing (no nerve endings on the ovaries, don't you know) it could have continued to grow and become problematic. But because I was pregnant they did early ultrasounds and found it. It doesn't look malignant on the ultrasounds and I'm sure they'll take a look at it to make sure, but it could have been and I wouldn't have known.

I'll try to post later tomorrow or Thursday to let you all know how it went. In the meantime, my husband may tweet about it: http://twitter.com/indeeart.

Serendipity and salutations.

A Little List

My first year as a stay-home-mother/housewife has passed and I've felt a little lost lately. I used to be a professional working woman. I used to use problem solving skills and software programs to fill my day. Now, I struggle to figure out what, besides dino nuggets, we can have for lunch today. I sometimes feel like some helpless version of June Cleaver, but the Bizarro World version. You remember Bizarro World, right? I'm rough edged and not quite right? But waking up this morning and coming out of that little dream reminded me: I'm not helpless and I'm more well rounded than I tend to remember.

This list is mostly for my benefit, but maybe you will be able to take something from it. Maybe you didn't know me as well as you thought or maybe you'll make your own list. Some of the things in this list may seem elementary and simple, but you wouldn't believe how many people don't know how to do these things or just don't even try.

These things are just in the order that I've thought of them and no other particular sequence has been given to them (*OK, I went back and grouped a little bit*):

• I know how to check my tire pressure and put air in my tire.
  
• I know how to change a tire on my car. I may have trouble lifting a tire without killing whatever outfit I have on, but I can get it done.
• I know how to put snow chains/cables on my tires and which tires they go on.
  
• I know how to check my car's oil and refill it.
• I know that I don't need to have my air filter changed every time I go to Jiffy Lube, no matter what they tell me.
• I know how to use a level, screw driver, and hammer.
• I know how to find a wall stud.
• I know how to read directions/instructions.
• I know how to assemble furniture.
• I know how to put up a tent.
• I know how to build a proper fire.
• I know how to put out a fire.
• I know how to build an emergency outdoor shelter.
• I know how to tie that "rabbit goes around the tree and down the hole" knot. I don't know the name of it though.
• I know how to paddle a canoe.
  
• I know how to read a (paper and online) map.
• I know how to use a compass.
• I know how to read a topographical map.
  
• I know basic first aid and CPR.
• I know how to fix a leaky faucet.
• I know how to remove a shower head and (gasp) remove that stupid little water saving device. Forgive me, my eco-friends, I'll save water elsewhere. I don't believe it's really saving that much water if it takes twice as long to rinse shampoo out of my hair.
• I know how to repair a hole in a wall.
  
• I know how to wash my own dog.
• I know how to wash my own car.
• I know how to install a hard drive in a PC.
• I know how to connect peripherals (mouse, speakers, keyboard, lcd, monitor, etc.) to a computer.
• I know how to connect entertainment/electronic equipment. For example, the TV is hooked up to the DVR, DVD, VCR (yes, we still have one), CD player, and game console. All of these are routed so that I can turn on the amlifier and listen to anything we play in stereo (surround sound if we had more speakers set up.)
• I know how to balance a checkbook register.
• I know how to perform inventory and calculate cost.
• I know how to calculate change from a transaction without a calculator or cash register.
• I know how to cook rice. (Again, this is one of those things some people don't even try.)

Before you judge my pathetic little list, remember that I know more than this, but this is the stuff I forget about knowing. I'm not helpless and it makes me feel better knowing that.

Theme Thursday - Swing

One of my few memories of being a small child in Louisiana is of swinging. I must have been about four or five years old and at a day care. I remember an overcast sky against the silvery green of the trees with moss hanging from the bows. I remember swinging. My legs would pump and I would go higher and higher. I would call to Teacher to look at me. "See me, Teacher! Wee!" I called. Then, I remember a silly thing. I remember smiling so big that my eyes got sort of squinty. Then, I thought to do something that gave me such a thrill. I closed my eyes. What a huge rush that was for such a small child. I remember feeling so excited to be flying through the air behind the darkness of my eyelids.

It's an interesting exercise to try to put words to something I experienced as a child. An experience that, as a child, I didn't have words for. There wasn't a need for language then. There was just the moment and the sensations associated with pumping your legs while sitting on a piece of rubber hanging from chains hanging from a metal frame. That's a lesson for me to remember today, I think. Put the words away for a moment and just experience the sensation of now.

Stich after stich after stich after. . .

I've been crocheting for about two years. I've followed a couple of patterns, but I have also made up my own. Mostly, my projects have been an exploration of this craft and using the medium of yarn to make an art form. Crochet is an art and the act of crocheting is a craft. One of the things I'm learning is that mistakes happen. And most of the time, a mistake happened about two or more rows ago by the time I find it.

I've been working on my largest project yet. I'm making a wrap for my former boss, Sherrie. I've been working on it for a few weeks now. I work on it while watching the news. I carry it with me and get a few stitches in whenever I'm a passenger in the car. At swim lessons, I can get through a row and a half while the husband and kid are blowing bubbles and doing Tigger bounces.

I'm really enjoying the look and feel of this wrap and I think it will be beautiful when it's finished. I've put about four skeins (balls) of yarn into it and have had times where I've had to undo a row or two to fix a mistake I'd just noticed. I worked on it last night for a bit and boy, oh boy, if I didn't just find another mistake. In the second row. Holy cow, that's thousands of stitches back. I'd have to unravel almost four skeins of yarn and several weeks of work to fix it. I put the crochet needle down and stared at this pile of work in my lap.

I couldn't even imagine starting over. I just about cried with the thought of having to undo all of this work to make the wrap perfect. Then, I sat back and looked at it and realized that I must have missed another mistake somewhere else because this last row I was working on wouldn't end in the right place for the turning row. So, what to do? Unravel four skeins of yarn and start over? No. That would break my heart and I probably wouldn't be able to start over. All of that work for nothing? That made me sad. So, I made a decision instead. I decided to insert a mistake to make things work out.

I decided that imperfection is perfectly all right. If anyone who sees this garment on the wearer notices a couple of stitches that aren't perfectly spaced, then they would probably be standing too close to Sherrie in the first place. The mistakes in this wrap also prove that it was hand-made, by a beginner no doubt, but still hand-made.

I discovered an interesting chain of feelings while I processed all of this. The feelings of pride and achievement that come with investing your time and energy in a tangible product. A satisfaction that comes from engaging creative energy. The fear and doubt that the product may not be worthy of appreciation. The control of taking charge and making decisions. The best part, though, is that I feel empowered by the acceptance of imperfection.

I'm not finished yet, I need a few more inches of width and I really hope she'll like it when it is finished. But it looks great so far - if you don't look too closely. I'll post pictures later when it's done.


Update: The finished project is here.

Mother, oh Mother

Mother. That word is such a strange power. It is also very subjective.

I was thinking of different women that I've known; different mothers.

I knew a woman once who said she hitchhiked across Arizona with all of her small children in tow to escape an abusive husband. I admired her for her bravery.

One woman I knew gave up being around her kids to escape an abusive relationship also, but she wasn't able to take her children with her. She had to leave them with their dad and was given minimal supervision because he had better lawyers. She went on with life, but her joy was gone. I really feel sad for her.

Then there are women who think that their children owe them something for keeping them alive. They think that they should be the center of the universe and that no one is as important as they are. One woman I know in particular uses the fact that she gave birth as a tool to manipulate her children and gain attention. It saddens me and angers me at the same time.

Children are a gift. My child is my greatest gift. I would show appreciation for this gift by raising her right and caring for her until I can no longer do so. If you love something, cherish it and protect it. If you love someone, cherish them and protect them.

First Post!

On the other blog, BAHBrown.blogspost.com, I had some feedback that I probably let get to me too much. The blog started as a way to let people know what our family was up to. It was originally supposed to be on our own family website that Brad was designing but never finished. Then, when I started to stay home, I had the idea to use it to keep Brad informed on our day-to-day activities since he's missing out while he's at work. This evolved a little to where we put in some family email addresses so that they can get emails every time the blog is updated so they don't have to find the address each time. Well, back to the feedback. I was asked not to put in my "guilty things", whatever that means. Someone else commented that it was clear that I got frustrated but that was OK. In other words, and this is my opinion, "keep us up to date on the kid but keep your feelings out of it." Fine. I'll put my feelings here.

I don't feel like I'm allowed to express myself in any other forum, sometimes. Oh, sure, a private notebook that sits on my bedside table that goes woefully ignored. Because feelings are supposed to be private, right? Not right. Not OK. We all have feelings. Some of my favorite bloggers have shared theirs and it's helped me. Maybe I can help someone else. Or just help myself.

I get frustrated with parenting. I get frustrated being a parent. I get frustrated being a wife, daughter, sister. From what I can tell in conversations with other parents, I'm not alone. So let's talk about this. Let's help each other sort it out.

Well, here is my first post on my solo blog that isn't on MySpace or LiveJournal. Not that there is anything wrong with blogging there, but Blogger is sort of a one stop-shop for me.