FlipSide:Starting March 26th, 2001

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A journal of the trials, tribulations, and triumphs in the life of a woman in the 21st century.

Last Updated : Sunday, April 01, 2001 10:56:33 PM -0500

Monday, March 26, 2001

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First of all today, here are some pictures from the party we went to on Saturday. Rhiannon is mugging for the camera with Geordan. She is the youngest Jones (and believe it or not, by this time, the only kid awake besides my two. Man, were they sugared up.

Her sisters, T'Shael and Paige were partied out by this time.

Kinda like John. He is just delighted I decided to post this picture. That is he "Leave me alone, Woman" look. (No edits. None. Nope. Not gonna do it. She's still got superglue. Must... Pry... Fingers... From... Keyboard... Oh, dear. I'm gonna pay... -- jd <ducks>).

And Jack, he's just punch drunk. Notice the red punch mustache. If you look close at the first picture, the girls have one too.

Today was the first day of swimming lessons. Rhiannon has been taking them since she was about 4. But this was Jack's first lesson. Jack did very well, the kid has no fear. He also seems to have some natural buoyancy, the kid doesn't sink, at least while he is being helped to back float. Late in the lesson they were trying to coax the ''Pike'', as they have been dubbed (hmmm. . . named after fish with teeth), to jump. Jack needed no coaxing, he damn near landed on the teacher. As she said to me later, ''he is taking to swimming naturally''. No kiddin', God go with you, lady. Hope you have hospitalization insurance.

Rhiannon has advanced to the point she is doing the crawl (okay, so it is kinda a cross between the crawl and a paddle, but hey, she's not sinking) across the pool.

I discovered something frightening today. I really like country music. Now, you have to understand, in high school and college, I was a fan of bands like Prince and the Revolution, Dead or Alive, Oingo Boingo, Rod Stewart, John Waite. You get the picture. Anyway, the past few years, I have not cared much for the rock music on the radio. There have been some exceptions, the most notable of which, lately, has been Creed. Lately, I have really started to enjoy current music again, but I have not been listening to rock stations, other than 80's stations. What I have been listening to is country music. Now this may not sound like a problem to you, but you have to understand, I spent a good deal of my youth and young adulthood making fun of country music. Growing up in rural Iowa, country music was everywhere. I can remember sitting in the bar with my Dad as a kid [okay, first of all, a family friend owned the bar and second, it was a small town, kids were always in and out of the bars with their folks] hearing Charlie Pride crooning ''Behind Closed Doors''. Frankly, the song still give me shivers and will echo in my head much like ''It's A Small World''. Even as recently as 1993, I was home for a wedding and was making fun of the Garth Brooks music everyone was dancing to.

Somewhere along the line, however, rock music quit speaking to me. It all seemed to be about, well, teen angst. Frankly, I am in my 30's, I am done with the angst stuff and am worried about more grown up things, like making car payments and tuition. While John was out of work this last fall, he started watching GAC [Great American Country], a country video station. Music videos are a great thing to put on as background when you are doing other things, but VH1 and MTV never play videos anymore [or at least they don't seem to] so he tuned in to GAC. He greatly enjoyed a lot of the music and started playing it when we were around. Now we are the owners of Dixie Chicks, Sara Evans, and Phil Vassar CDs. My daughter prefers country music to rock. Her favorite artist isn't Britney Spears or The Backstreet Boys, but Jessica Andrews and her hit, ''Who I Am''. How did this happen? The only explanation I can think of is that country music speaks to where I am in my life, struggling to pay the bills and raise a family, looking back on my youth with fondness and some chagrin. Man, if this ever gets out to some of my high school and college friends, I am never going to hear the end of it.

Tuesday, March 27th, 2001

After doing really well most of last week with my WW plan, I am having trouble getting back on plan after the weekend. With eating out alot over the weekend, I still felt I made fairly good choices most of the time. However, Monday rolled around. I started off fine, then at some point during the day, I can even tell you it was late morning or early afternoon, I started feeling not-so-good about myself. When that happens, I don't eat very well. And, of course, when I splurge, I perpetuate that not-so-good feeling. It is a self-defeating cycle and I need to work my way out of it. I keep telling myself I only have 20 pounds to go, I can do this, but, sometimes that doesn't help when there are peanut butter cups (or a oatmeal chocolate chip cookie) nearby. Heck, it didn't even help last night when there was KFC Extra Crispy chicken nearby, and frankly, that isn't one of my most favorite foods in the world. But I ate it anyway. Oh well, things are going a little better today. I will be a little over in points, but at least I am tracking everything.

Strange scenes I have seen today. My four-year-old son picking up his toys [granted a noteworthy event in and of itself] naked. As Indigo Montoya would say, ''let me explain, no there is too much, let me sum up.'' Before supper, while still fully clothed, Jack decided he needed his favorite toy. I am not sure that he knew what toy that was exactly, except that it was at the bottom of the toy box. I told him he would have to pick up all the toys after supper. After supper, he decided he wanted a bath. I said fine, until I saw the living room. At that point, I told him to pick up his toys. He had only removed his shirt, so topless, he started picking up his toys while I went to run his bathwater. When I came out to see how he was doing, he was buck naked. Sans clothes, wavin' it in the wind, hangin' loose, however you slice it, my son was only wearing what God gave him, and a baseball cap. Of course, I shouldn't be surprised, this is the same kid who, a week or so ago, chose to put his underwear on his head. I blame his father for this, when the children were babies, he would put their pants on their heads while he was dressing them. Obviously, this has caused some psychological damage that is just manifesting itself now.

Other strange things I have seen lately. The president of our company is of eastern European Jewish extraction. It is fairly obvious, not only by looking at him, but by his last name, Benanav. Pretty clear, huh? Not so to the U.S. government. When Jay got his passport renewed a year or so ago, some genius in the passport office mistook the abbreviation for Israel [IS] for Ireland [IR] in the ''country of origin'' field. So Jay was issued a passport listing him as Irish. [Jay O'Benanav, perhaps?] Anyway, when he showed this error to the passport office, they refused to fix it, saying they could only fix it if he purchased a new passport. Jay decided he could live with being an Irish Jew for the 10 year term of his passport.

And, of course, the strangest thing I have seen lately, lovely sunny late March days, with the temperatures no higher than 32 degrees. Not only strange, but appalling. It is almost April, for God's sake. Enough of winter already.

Short post today, I have been fighting a headache all day, so I am going to call it quits. Good night.

Wednesday, March 28, 2001

First, a funny.

Imagine the conversation The Creator might have with St. Francis about this:

"Frank, you know all about gardens and nature. What in the world is going on down there in the 'States'? What happened to the dandelions, violets, thistle and stuff I started eons ago? I had a perfect, no-maintenance garden plan. Those plants grow in any type of soil, withstand drought and multiply with abandon. The nectar from the long-lasting blossoms attracted butterflies, honey bees and flocks of songbirds. I expected to see a vast garden of colors by now. But all I see are these green rectangles."

"It's the tribes that settled there, Lord. The Suburbanites. They started calling your flowers 'weeds' and went to great extent to kill them and replace them with grass."

"Grass? But it's so boring. It's not colorful. It doesn't attract butterflies, birds and bees, only grubs and sod worms. It's temperamental with temperatures. Do these Suburbanites really want all that grass growing there?"

"Apparently so, Lord. They go to great pains to grow it and keep it green. They begin each spring by fertilizing grass and poisoning any other plant that crops up in the lawn."

"The spring rains and cool weather probably make grass grow really fast. That must make the Suburbanites happy."

"Apparently not, Lord. As soon as it grows a little, they cut it -- sometimes twice a week."

"They cut it? Do they then bale it like hay?"

"Not exactly, Lord. Most of them rake it up and put it in bags."

"They bag it? Why? Is it a cash crop? Do they sell it?"

"No, sir. Just the opposite. They pay to throw it away."

"Now let me get this straight. They fertilize grass so it will grow. And when it does grow, they cut it off and pay to throw it away?"

"Yes, sir."

"These Suburbanites must be relieved in the summer when we cut back on the rain and turn up the heat. That surely slows the growth and saves them a lot of work."

"You aren't going to believe this, Lord. When the grass stops growing so fast, they drag out hoses and pay more money to water it so they can continue to mow it and pay to get rid of it."

"What nonsense! At least they kept some of the trees. That was a sheer stroke of genius, if I do say so myself. The trees grow leaves in the spring to provide beauty and shade in the summer. In the autumn they fall to the ground and form a natural blanket to keep moisture in the soil and protect the trees and bushes. Plus, as they rot, the leaves form compost to enhance the soil. It's a natural circle of life."

"You better sit down, Lord. The Suburbanites have drawn a new circle. As soon as the leaves fall, they rake them into great piles and have them hauled away."

"No! What do they do to protect the shrub and tree roots in the winter and keep the soil moist and loose?"

"After throwing away your leaves, they go out and buy something they call 'mulch'. They haul it home and spread it around in place of the leaves."

"And where do they get this mulch?"

"They cut down trees and grind them up."

"Enough! I don't want to think about this anymore. Saint Catherine, you're in charge of the arts. What movie have you scheduled for us tonight?"

"Dumb and Dumber, Lord. It's a real stupid movie about..."

"Never mind. I think I just heard the whole story."

Now, I include this funny for 2 reasons. (1) I though it was a pretty cute joke and (2) it nicely illustrates a continuing disagreement I have with John. Currently, we live in a 2 bedroom apartment, so all outdoor issues are taken care of by the building management. An arrangement that bothers me not, especially when we get 6 inches of snow (and I sincerely hope we are done with THAT little joy this winter. Unfortunately, though, there is snow in the weekend forecast. We can always hope that that forecast is as accurate as the rest of them and it will be 50 degrees and sunny instead, but I digress.)

Anyway, we plan on buying a house in the not-too-distant future (12 months or so, we hope). When it comes to yards, John and I have a fundamental disagreement. I like a colorful lawn, full of dandelions, clover, and whatever other types of wildflowers may come in and chose to grow there. I grew up in rural Iowa and anyone that lived outside of the city limits had enough sense to see that fighting a losing battle with what amounts to pretty flowers was a pointless waste of time. You just let them grow and enjoyed them.

John, on the other hand, comes from stubborn German stock. (Sorry, Prussian and Silesian stock.) He will triumph over the pesky "weeds" and have a lawn that is nothing but green, even if he has to pull each weed out, one by one, by it's roots, with his teeth, 'cause damn it, he will out-stubborn the grass. Does he take any time to appreciate how lovely the yellow dandelions look in the sea of green? Or how the purple of the clover adds visual stimulation and interest to the lawn. No, lawn should be GREEN damn it.

Now, right now this discussion is academic. The building, I believe, treats the lawn with chemicals to make sure nothing but grass grows there. I have told John we will NOT be putting pesticides on our lawn. We have children and we have pets and I really don't want to find out 10 years from now that our daughter can't have children because her uterus had to be removed due to exposure to ChemLawn. Anyway, the compromise he proposes is that the front lawn is "his" and will be only grass, and I can have the sides and back of the house for my more colorful yard. Fine, but he gets no chemicals. If he wants no dandelions, he can go out there and pull them himself. As for me, I will be sprinkling wildflower seed in the back while he is digging up the "weeds".

On another note, I am rather proud of myself today. I didn't do so well on program yesterday, although I could have done a whole lot worse, but today, I just put it behind me and went right back on program. In fact, I even went to my Wednesday aerobics class, which I haven't done in a couple weeks. And boy, did my abdominal muscles let me know that I hadn't done sit-ups in a while and they were not happy. They were like, "listen bitch, you are going to want to sit up in bed tomorrow morning and we are NOT going to cooperate!" I always feel so much more energized after a workout, I should go more often than I do.

Now, I had thought book burnings had gone out with lynchings and stonings. Apparently not. On MSNBC today, I found a story about a Pentecostal church in Pennsylvania that held a "good old fashioned book burning" last Sunday. Now, I have always felt we are teetering on the bring of an Orwellian society when we start censoring ideas. The pastor of the church said that it is the "same old devil with a new face". Apparently, to him, Satan looks an awful lot like Harry Potter. Now, I have read parts of the Harry Potter books, my daughter loves them. She even reads them in her Catholic school. I don't see anything satanic in them. They are fantasy. My 7 year old doesn't expect to be able to fly. Heck, even my 4 year old knows they aren't real. The pastor further stated that the book burning was inspired by the New Testament. Now, like any good Catholic, I have read my Bible, and I don't recall it saying anywhere that you should destroy ideas you don't agree with. I get very upset with people who call anything "evil" they feel threatened by or don't agree with. Frankly, I think God is probably happy that some kids are reading Harry Potter rather than playing "Tomb Raider" or some other equally violent video game. Now, I am all for parents monitoring what their children read, watch, listen to, etc. If you disagree with something that you see your child reading, watch, whatever, TALK TO THEM. Use it as an opportunity to teach your child your moral code and ethics. All burning the book teaches them is how to start fires. And, honestly, I think what are society needs is a less "burning" and a little more talking.

Thursday, March 29, 2001

There are so many sickening things in the news today, I just don't know where to start. First, Timothy McVeigh has finally confessed to blowing up the Oklahoma City Federal Building. In a book that will be published before the end of the month by 2 reports, he calls the 19 dead children "collateral damage". He does say that if he had realized a daycare was in the building he had chosen as a target, it "may have given him pause" and he "may have chosen a different target". His reason for killing hundreds of innocent people? He was seeking revenge on the Federal Government for the siege at Waco and the shooting death of the wife and child of a man who was in a stand-off with Federal Marshals at Ruby Ridge. I just don't understand his justification. All I can say is there is a special place in Hell for Mr. McVeigh and he will soon be dispatched there. Normally, I am not a proponent of the death penalty, for me our justice system sends too many innocent people to prison for me to be comfortable with putting someone to death. But someone like Timothy McVeigh, well, frankly, I think I'd pull the switch myself. I remember watching the evening news that night, feeding my then 18 month old daughter, tears running down my face. Rhiannon kept looking from me to the TV screen, trying to figure out what was going on. The next day, she screamed and cried when I left her at daycare. She had tapped into my anxieties and was terrified to be left. I talked to many parents in the next few days who had the same problem. Timothy McVeigh not only murdered 19 children and hundreds of adults, he robbed my daughter of her feeling of security. He robbed me of my belief in the basic goodness of human nature. I don't think I will ever feel my children are completely safe anywhere again.

Then, in an article that is even more disturbing to me on some levels, I read about a group of "Christians" (and I use that term EXTREMELY LOOSELY in this case, as you will soon see) who had their children taken from them in Georgia because they were held by the arms and legs while SEVERAL adults whipped and beat them. It gets better, 14 year old girls were forced into marriage so they would not become a burden to their families. Their justification for their conduct? They were following the teachings of the Bible. You know, spare the rod, spoil the child? 41 children were taken from their parents. The judge offered to return some of the children to their parents, if the parents would agree to no longer beat them or force them to marry at 14. The parents refused. Outside the courthouse, the "minister" of this church was holding a prayer service with his congregation, praying that God would return their children. He assured his members that God would return their children to them. Personally, I am sure that it was divine intervention that delivered those children from what their parents laughingly referred to as "care" and into foster homes. How can these people sleep at night. Now, don't get me wrong, I am not one of those people who believes you should never spank you children. Mine have been spanked, sometimes it is the only way to get Jack's attention. But these people were turning this into a party, for God's sake. That's not discipline, that's sadism. Sadism and child molestation, and they call themselves "Christians". People like that make you hesitate to admit you're a member of any form of religion.

Have to leave work early today to take the kids to the doctor for their annual physical. Then, the grocery store run. It is amazing how leaving work early, even for something as mundane as my errands today, perks you right up. And I like my job.

Friday, March 30, 2001

As much as I hate being awakened in the middle of the night, there is something warm and wonderful in having your child come in and snuggle with you in the middle of the night. It is nice to know that no matter how big they have gotten, when they have a bad dream, or just awaken disoriented in the middle of the night, the first thought that occurs is that they want their mommy. One night not too long ago, I ended up with both my 7 year old daughter and my 4 year old son in my bed at different times during the night. Rhiannon took herself back to bed at some point and didn't even remember coming in the next morning. Jack never takes himself back, I have to carry him. I may not have slept really well that night, but I had a warm cozy feeling all the next day. Jack, being 4, has reached the age where he is not so cuddly anymore. He is a "big boy" and wants to do everything himself. So it is kinda nice to have him come to my bed in the middle of the night for comfort. He still needs his mommy. Although it is amazing how much space one small child can take up in a king size bed. If I put them in the middle, as I often do, between John and child, I get maybe 3 feet square to sleep, if I am lucky.

I went and worked out again today, I am such a good girl. We ate at Roadhouse Grill last night, yummy. I was sensible and had the grilled chicken sandwich and salad. Then, of course, we all split the Chocolate Brownie sundae. It was a dinner plate filled with Butterfinger ice cream, brownie, chocolate and caramel sauce, and whipped cream. Oh my God, some third world countries don't consume that many calories in a month! So, I guess the good and the bad kinda worked themselves out. Oh well, you gotta live.

Tonight is Carbone's cheese pizza. (Carbone's runs a Lenten Special, a large cheese pizza for $5.99. Mmmmmm...) Being Catholic and it is Lent, it is again a "no-meat day" (John absolutely HATES Fridays in Lent.) I think I will do fine, ordering a salad before the meal can help sometimes. Last year we went to Carbone's every Friday during Lent. When we went for the first time this year, the waitress recognized us and wanted to know where we ate the rest of the year!

However, I am having a not so good body image day. You ever have a day when you look in the mirror and say "I'm fat and I look bad"? I know I have not changed substantially in my looks since yesterday and the day before when I was perfectly happy with the way I looked, but today, I feel fat. You know, men don't get that idea. John just looks at me funny when I say I am having a "fat" day. He doesn't understand that I KNOW I am not any bigger today than I was yesterday, I just FEEL bigger. It is kinda one of those things you just have to work through.

Well, I have a ton of things to accomplish at work today. I plan to leave at 4 pm so we can eat, get some movies before all the good ones are rented (I am hoping for The Titans with Denzel Washington and Cameron Crowe's Almost Famous, but we will see what is in), and drop off some girl scout paperwork. Ta ta!

(As I put this together for her, she got half - Remember The Titans. Looks like I've got another one to get on the list -- jd.)

Saturday, March 31, 2001

It started out as a lovely, lazy Saturday. I didn't even make it out of my bedroom [at least for longer than 5 minutes] until after 11am. After doing a little cleaning [actually, after I stood over my children and had them pick up the living room. Why is it my children need me to point out to them the toys and garbage at their feet before it occurs to them that THAT is what they are supposed to be cleaning up. It is the thing I hate the most about being the mom. Being the overseer.] Anyway, we finally left to run our errands around 2pm. First, we had to get the kids Easter clothes. I found a lovely flowered dress with a lace petticoat and I found a matching white hat with a lavender ribbon with pink and lavender flowers. It looks very nice together. John found a $9 double-breasted suit for Jack. It is a little large, a size 6-7 while Jack wears a 4 currently. But for $9, you really couldn't go wrong. However, that still doesn't get Jack an Easter outfit. Guess we will have to look when we are in Iowa.

We were looking around to find Italian turkey sausage. They didn't have it at the regular grocery store, so we ended up at Byerlys, which is a gourmet type grocery. How do I know it is gourmet? Well, aside from the prices, your first give away is that the aisles in the store are carpeted. However, if you are trying to find ingredients that are a little out of the ordinary, Bylery's is the place to go. They also have a wonderful restaurant. Well, we were looking for the turkey sausage for a new dish I was going to try from my Cooking Light magazine, Baked Penne with Cheese, Sausage, and Garlic [aka Dracula's Revenge]. However, it was around supper time already, and you could smell the wonderful aromas emanating from the attached restaurant. They also have a great salad bar, and desserts. Oh my, they have a 7 layer chocolate cake, made with my favorite, whipped cream icing, that is, well, with all due respect to my husband, better than sex. Anyway, we decide to punt when it came to supper and use the sausage tomorrow night and eat at Byerly's [I really had to twist John's arm, let me tell you, I think it took me all of3 seconds to convince him. In fact, he was afraid I wasn't going to try to twist his arm, so he decided to not even play hard to get.]

While we were eating our desserts [John and I splitting a piece of 7 layer cake and the kids having "worms and dirt", a concoction of Oreo cookie crumbs, chocolate pudding and gummi worms], Rhiannon was talking about her favorite boy, Alex. As if this wasn't enough to make her father's stomach turn, she was discussing the fact that she and Alex play a lot of games together at school. Teasingly I asked her if they played "spin the bottle". To which questions she replied in the negative, but with a great deal of knowledge about the game. I am not positive, but I believe John passed 7 layer cake through his nose. I thought you could only do that with liquids. However, my husband managed to prove me wrong about that.

My husband seems to be traumatized by the fact that someday, our daughter will date. In fact, he refers to Alex and her previous object of her affection, Colin, as '"dead man walking". I have the cutest picture of Rhiannon and Colin from preschool, holding hands. It looks like a prom picture. But I digress. Whenever Rhiannon brings up a boy she likes, John starts to hyperventilate. When she was three, she got caught kissing the 6 year old son of a friend of ours behind a chair. Next time John saw the young man, he hoisted him up by his overalls and threatened him if he ever placed his lips on those of our daughter again. If he doesn't mellow, I think Rhiannon is going to have some real problems getting dates. When Rhiannon was younger, I used to torment him with the fact that someday, his daughter would have sex. I can't even begin to describe his reaction. The closest approximation I can come up with would be a conniption fit. I suspect my father was no happier to think of these things in connection with me, but by the time I was in high school, he was in a nursing home, so I don't think he did too much thinking about it. Then again, maybe that is what put him there! Somehow, men seem very, well, threatened isn't the right word, but I can't think of a better one, by the idea of their daughters having relationships with boys. Rhiannon asked me tonight if it was jealousy. I said maybe a little, but mostly, your daddy is afraid you will be hurt and there is nothing he can do to prevent that.

Maybe that is it, I just don't know. I know I don't have those kind of fears when it comes to my children dating. I think it just shows the differences in relationships between mothers and their children and fathers and their children. Especially fathers and daughters. Anyone who thinks that fathers are not necessary to a child's well being are not living in the real world. My father and I had our issues, but I knew that, no matter what, my father was behind me. My father always told me that I could be anything I wanted to be and that he was proud of me. Although in many ways I was always closer to my mother, my daddy was the first man in my life and taught me a lot about integrity and the way a MAN should treat a woman. In many ways, John is like my father. Rhiannon could do far worse than to marry a man like her dad.

We watched Remember the Titans with Denzel Washington last night. It was a really good movie. Rhiannon kept asking me why the white people didn't want the black kids at the same school as the white kids. I really didn't have a good answer for her, as I didn't live through that either. I grew up in eastern Iowa, where, granted there are not a lot of black people, but the ones that were there were treated the same as whites. I think the movie made her think a lot about the way people can treat one another for no reason other than ignorance, fear, and outward appearances. I must admit I was very proud of her. Now, Bravo is running Cry Freedom, about the relationship between South African freedom fighter Steven Biko and a white South African journalist. She was asking me many of the same questions about why would people do this to each other. The only answers I have for her is that sometimes people do really mean things to each other when they feel threatened for some reason.

Well, enough of this for tonight. I still need to get the kids to bed, turn the clocks ahead [God I hate switching to Daylight Savings Time, I always feel robbed.], and take a bath. Tomorrow is another busy day, Children's Liturgy at church, clean, and some packing for going on vacation next weekend, and maybe even company for dinner, so I had better go.

Toodles!

Sunday, April 1, 2001

Will miracles ever cease? I saw the sun today (at least I think that big yellow ball in the sky was the sun, it's been so long, my memory could be faulty). And it was WARM. I traded in my parka for John's leather coat (he never wears it, why shouldn't I wear it?) The temperature was almost 50!!!

Got moving relatively early today, at least compared to Saturday, and did Children's Liturgy at church. I don't know if it was the weather or what, but those kids were loud and restless and, frankly, obnoxious. Normally, I can just separate a couple of the trouble- makers and everything settles down. Not this time, and this time MY DAUGHTER had to jump into the act. Not only was she talking out of turn, she was flirting with some boy from her class (I wonder if her Mr. Wonderful knows of her flirtatious tendencies?) and even talked back in front of the whole class. Needless to say, I was unhappy with my eldest. I'll say one thing for the kid, though, once she realizes mom is UNHAPPY, she bends over backwards to suck up. Aaah, that skill will serve her well some day.

After Mass, we made a quick stop at the dollar store for buck a pair sunglasses for my children who would lose their, ahem, heads if they weren't attached securely. Then we went home, had some lunch, did a little cleaning (okay, the kids and I cleaned, Daddy putzed on the computer. A fact for which he was reprimanded. He wasn't terribly contrite, though, I am afraid), then we headed to the YMCA. It has been about 6 weeks since we made it there on a weekend. the kids loved it. John and I got to work out in peace while they were in the kids' gym, then we all hit the pool. Jack spent most of his time jumping into the pool, Rhiannon paddled around and occasionally reminded us of why she still needs swimming lessons (by swallowing large amounts of chlorinated water), while Mom and Dad considered the romantic possibilities of having a hot tub with some privacy (I hope I didn't sent too many of you running from the keyboard screaming "my eyes, my eyes", those mental images can be ugly, I think John is still traumatized by the times (yes I did mean for that to be plural) he has seen my mother naked. She is used to living alone and making dashes from the bathroom to her room with towels too small to cover anything but . . . well, I think I have digressed back into TMI territory again.)

Anyway, got home around five and finally made the "Dracula's Revenge" Pasta. It was good, but I think I could do some messing around with spices to make it really great. For dessert, we had chocolate sundae cake. YUM and it was light too (only 2 points a slice for you WW members out there). Then I watched The Story of Us with Bruce Willis and Michelle Pfeiffer. I really enjoyed it. I had been told by others that have seen it that you would see parts of your marriage in it, but frankly, I really didn't. John and I communicate way better than the characters in the movie (even before we had dueling websites). But, it still was a really good movie. The music was by Eric Clapton, so the music was really good too. And it had a happy ending, which, for me, is a prerequisite for a movie. If I am going to spend 2 hours investing myself in these characters, I don't need bad things to happen. That happens enough in real life. I am looking for some escapism here, please. For that reason, City of Angels really pissed me off. What ticked me off more is the fact that John called the ending 15 minutes into the movie and kept repeating it over and over and over throughout the movie.

Well, it is getting late and I have a very busy week ahead trying to get ready to go on vacation to my mother's in Iowa next weekend. I hate it though, when my mind is tired, but my body still has some energy left. I have to figure out what to do with that energy. I wonder if John has any ideas?

Ta for now!

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Copyright © 2001 Ann Dominik. All rights reserved. Complaints about the technical details of this page can be directed to the abused geek who takes care of it for me, and is grossly underpaid for what he does, he thinks. No reproduction without written permission. The opinions and content of this site are my own, and not the responsibility of this site's host, my employer, my pets, my parents or anyone else you may care to blame. Please respect my opinions and I will do the same for you. I may on occasion publish e-mail to me; if you do not wish your mail to be published, please write CONFIDENTIAL or DO NOT PUBLISH at the top of the e-mail. If you would prefer to remain anonymous, please note that as well. If you're incapable of reasoned civilized discourse but feel compelled to correspond with me, I'll be happy to filter your mail out after a few choice comments regarding your ancestors, upbringing, and the likelihood of your family tree not