Releasing Cheaters Into The Wild. Now That’s Tough Love!

The facts: I am a rule follower. My mother wears hearing aids. I like to listen to the BBC a few mornings a week to hear world news and opinion. Now, on with my story…

The other morning I was listening to the BBC when I heard the newscaster say, “Blah, blah, blah (some organization, from India maybe?) is planning on releasing cheaters into the wild.”

Cheaters?

Isn’t that a little harsh?

What will it be like…maybe a remote area, similar to a leper colony? Or will it be like that reality show “Survivor” and there will be cameras, a neutral host and episodes on trust and how to cheat a cheater?

Didn’t she say India? I never realized their justice system was so harsh. Is a cheater someone who cheats on a spelling test or on their taxes? Or is this for cheating spouses? They’ll banish them from society and make them live with their fellow cheaters. See how they like cheating then! Yep. That’ll teach ’em.

And then the newscaster spoke of “Chiner.”

Chiner? I’ve never heard of that country….

Oh, wait. China. And cheetahs. Releasing cheetahs into the wild.

Oops.

Nevermind.

 

Arizona Freedom Or I Guess That’s Why They Call It Our Dues

I’m not a lawyer. I don’t even play one on TV.

But to understand the mess in Arizona over their new immigration law?  You might need a law degree.

I’m not even a seasoned tourist when it comes to the west. I’ve visited southern California twice when my sister lived there. And I’ve been to New Mexico twice with my husband. But something I saw on one of those visits made quite the impression.

We landed in El Paso, TX. My husband had lived in southern New Mexico for a few years. We were visiting his old stomping grounds.

I looked out the window and saw little box structures, about double the size of a refrigerator box, dotting the landscape. Then I noticed two women and one man running toward the Interstate, having just crawled under a fence. One of the women stumbled. When she stood up I saw that she was visibly pregnant. Make that, hugely pregnant. She was having trouble gaining her footing.

“Stop!” I shouted to my husband, “That woman needs help!”

My husband kept driving. “Yeah. She’s probably in labor,” he said, nonchalantly. “They wait there on the other side of the fence until they go into labor. Then they cross here and have their baby in the United States so the kid can be a US citizen.”

“You mean, that’s Mexico?” I had no idea we were that close to the US/Mexico border. (Geography, apparently, is not my strong suit.)

The two sides of the fence couldn’t be more different. One side was developed, with cars and trucks whizzing by. Manicured lawns. Commerce-a-plenty. The other side? Open fields. Overgrown grass. Shacks-a-plenty.

When I saw all those inadequate dwellings, when I saw signs like these:

I was stunned into silence. I saw, up close and personal, that we have quite a problem on our hands. And this was 15 years ago.

Arizona is living the consequences of inadequate immigration control. Their tax dollars are stretched to the max funding health care, education and putting band aids on the strained justice system.   The Federation for American Immigration predicts that illegal immigrants cost the American taxpayer approximately $113 billion in one year.

$113 billion.

In one year.

I love it that Elton John shamed other musicians who are boycotting Arizona because of their hard stance on immigration. I agree with Sir Elton (but not necessarily his word choice). Some boycotts are noble. Some boycotts should stand. But musicians “forcing” Arizona to re-think their stance on illegal immigration?

Let’s walk a mile in Arizona’s shoes first before we judge. Better yet, let’s sit in the closest emergency room to the US/Mexico border. Or ride with a police car for a night. Or attend a budget meeting for the local school system.

The problem does not lie with the illegal immigrant. The problem lies in our immigration system.

And Arizona is trying to fix, just that.

A Mosque. A Cathedral. A Synagogue. Go Home To Find Your Peace.

Cathedrals by Jump, Little Children.

This is truly, one of the most beautiful songs ever. If you don’t read my post, please just listen to the music. Simply gorgeous.

“In the shadows of tall buildings
Of fallen angels on the ceilings
Oily feathers in bronze and concrete
Faded colors, pieces left incomplete” – I have always been in awe of great architecture, particularly when it comes to places of worship. There is just something about the time, effort, care and financial sacrifice needed to create a church or synagogue. Michelangelo, lying on his back for 4 years, to paint the Sistine Chapel. It took 418 years to complete the Angkor Wat temple in Cambodia. It boggles the mind.

And the beautiful examples out there.

We pass this mosque on our way to Michigan.

And while I didn’t attend regularly (I have issues with organized religion) I always found such comfort sitting in here, at St. John the Baptist Cathedral in Savannah. Where it was cool, quiet and peaceful. I would come when there wasn’t a service and just….sit.

I actually gasped walking into Notre Dame in Paris. The rose window is breath-taking.

Or this sweet, adobe church, San Albino Catholic Church in Mesilla, NM that we stumbled upon during our travels.

“In the cathedrals of New York and Rome
There is a feeling that you should just go home
And spend a lifetime finding out just where that is” – I am inspired when I see buildings such as these. I am touched in a quiet, personal and indescribable way when I pass through their doors. But deep inside your heart is where you find your peace. It’s where I find mine.

I don’t need to visit churches, mosques or synagogues to feel a greater presence.

I just enjoy the awe they inspire.

The Evolution Of A Blogger Or What Jane Will Write To Get Dessert

I have evolved.

Into what, I don’t know. But I know I’m different. I know that I possess more information than I ever thought I would about blogging. I also know that I know very little about the world of blogging.

My one year anniversary is coming up in August and I still feel like a newbie. But then, one of you visits my blog and you really are a newbie. Showing all the same, desperate signs I used to.

You know the signs. Commenting anywhere and everywhere. Plugging your blog, not knowing that your name is already linked. Singing the praises of a blogger you barely know. (Oh wait, that was just me.)

And then your traffic picks up a little. And you have a lot more comments. So, while you’re commenting everywhere and anywhere, just trying to keep up, the laundry falls behind and you start feeding your family more take-out. And you stop and say,

“THIS IS MADNESS!”

So you stop. You breathe. And you adjust.

You start writing 5 posts a week and not 6. And then wheedle it down to 4. You use the “extra” days of the week to catch up on comments or writing brilliant posts.

But it never seems enough.

And you start wondering…who am I? Why am I here? Do people really care about what I have to say? Why doesn’t SallyJo look at my blog anymore? What if I run out of ideas? What if I’ve plateaued? What does it mean to have more readers? Do I really need that validation? Can I have an ice cream sandwich? (Oh. Sorry. Just me again.)

Who am I? I am Jane. I speak my  mind. Sometimes it’s intelligent or insightful or indescribable (because I babble) but never insidious.

Why am I here? Because I saw a silly movie about a blogger and thought, Hey! I can do that! (And then started singing “I Can Do That” from A Chorus Line.)

Do people really care about what I have to say? Apparently. And you’re still here reading. I have to say, I’m a tad amazed that people still check in. That I haven’t gotten too stale, tired or boring. Thanks. I appreciate your stamina.

Why doesn’t SallyJo look at my blog anymore? I have to admit. This has me stumped. I don’t know why, but I miss SallyJo. (Names were changed to protect the neglectful.) I also have to admit, I don’t check in on her blog much anymore, either. It’s not a tit-for-tat kind of thing. I just wasn’t finding anything of interest. And my comments started to feel empty. But now, MillieSue? I miss her, too. And her blog is fantastic. She used to comment here all the time. I always have something to comment on her posts. But she’s stopped coming here, too. No matter how often I visit her. I just don’t get it.

What if I run out of ideas? Me? Run out of things to say? I’m actually laughing out loud here. Nope. Not Jane. Sure, I need a little nudge now and then and that’s where Google searches come in so handy. But let’s get real here. I might suffer a little slump but I’ll crawl right out of it.

What if I’ve plateaued? Now this, I do worry about. I may not run out of ideas but what if my writing never improves? Or, while I might have something to say, I never find a more creative way to say it? What if my 12 faithful readers are all I’ll ever have? Which leads me to…

 What does it mean to have more readers?  Do I need more people to feel guilty about not having the time to read their blog, too? Am I really like the Facebook fanatic that simply MUST have 10,000 friends? Isn’t it just more important to connect with someone, anyone…as in any one person out there? Yes. It is. But my emotional-10th grade-self still would love more readers.

Do I really need that validation? I suppose I do. That is where I have evolved. I enjoy writing. I enjoy engaging other readers. I enjoy being inspired and entertained by other bloggers. But I also enjoy the validation that comes with comments and emails, knowing that others hear what I have to say and are moved enough to say so. But quite honestly, I don’t like it that I have that need, no matter how small. So that is where I am evolving to. To a place where validation isn’t necessary. Wish me luck.

Can I have an ice cream sandwich? Yes, Jane. You have completed yet another post. You can have an ice cream sandwich.

Mmmmmmmm!

If It Can’t Go In The Dishwasher Or Washing Machine? I Don’t Want It!

Call me crazy but if it’s dry clean only? Pass.

If it can’t go in the dishwasher? Pass.

When I first became a mom, I was the Director of Development at a small private school. I worked with the movers and shakers and I had to dress the part. That meant suits, linen dresses, silk scarves.

After a set of sticky fingers and the first spit-up on my delicate clothes I came up with a new rule: No dry clean only clothes allowed in my closet or on my body. Ever. (Or at least until the kids are out of the house…which means when I’m 58 and who knows what will be fashionable then) Firm in my no-dry-clean rule, I thought I had it all covered.

Then today, I read an article online called 5 Things You Should Never Put in the Dishwasher. I was intrigued.

Wood – Seriously? The dishwasher is my friend. It sterilizes everything. Every. Little. Thing. My kid’s toys. Cups. Silverware. Including my wooden spoons. Of course I wouldn’t put my beautiful teak salad bowl in the dishwasher. Wait a minute. What teak salad bowl? Oh, that’s right. I have kids. I can’t afford a beautiful teak salad bowl. That bowl on the left? $124.99! For a salad bowl. My cheap all-purpose bowl will just have to do.

Knives – Apparently, knives in your dishwasher will get chipped and dull. Now, I know this. I just choose to ignore it. Who out there hand washes all of your knives? Raise your hands. Higher. I can’t see you. Oh, wait. There’s one knife washer, there in the back. With quite a few band aids on those fingers. See? You should be using the dishwasher like the rest of us.

Crystal/Hand Blown Glass – I purposely put the crystal from my first marriage in the dishwasher hoping something will happen to it. Apparently, having stuff from your first marriage in your second marriage is bad feng shui. But I can’t bear to toss out perfectly good crystal. So, I put it in the dishwasher. Darn it. Those suckers are here to stay.

Pots/Pans – Are you kidding me? The amount of pots and pans I can go through in a given day? And if the kids are “helping” me? My husband “helps,” too. As in, “cleaning” the kitchen when I cook. And his idea of  “cleaning” the kitchen is loading the dishwasher. (I’m using an awful lot of quotes in this paragraph. Sorry. But they’re totally necessary.) Everything that isn’t nailed down goes in the dishwasher. Including the pots and pans. And I’m not complaining or telling him any differently. If I did, then I’d have to wash pots and pans. By hand. All. By. Myself. After I put away the leftovers, wiped down the counter, stove, table and chairs, and swept the floor. Basically, cleaned (no quotes necessary) the kitchen. So, no. Thank you.

Gold Trim – ? ? ? Really? Gold? Real gold? Isn’t that for display only?

I’ll never forget when we bought our entertainment center and my husband was mortified that in one of the cute little cubby drawers I put wipes and about 5 disposable (clean, of course) diapers in there. It was hidden. And it was convenient. Quick change. No need to run upstairs. He thanked me after about a day.

You have kids, your life changes. Completely. In every aspect.

So, say no to dry-clean and hand-wash only. We need all the help we can get.

Because Famiversaries Are An Easy !!!

I’ve made it no secret I was married before. With a beautiful daughter to show for it. I am currently in (and staying in) my second marriage and let me tell you, twice is a charm.

Planning our outdoor wedding, me and my daughter in sun dresses and sandals, the lake in the background, was a family affair. Our siblings and parents all contributed something to make the day special. It was homey. It was casual. It was a very special day.

But my daughter was crushed. She thought she, too, was going on the honeymoon. She was almost 6 yrs. old and I hadn’t considered that she wouldn’t understand that the honeymoon was only for the bride and groom. She cried the day she figured it out. And my soon-to-be-husband became her knight in shining armor that day.

“Mommy and I will go on the first honeymoon right after the wedding. And then the weekend we get back we are taking you on a second honeymoon!”

She was overjoyed. We let her pick the destination. Chattanooga.  (Remember, she was about 6)  She wanted to see Rock City. (She was obsessed with rocks) She wanted to go to the aquarium. We stayed at the Chattanooga Choo-Choo Hotel. It was a fabulous long weekend with lots of laughter and fun.

The following year she was very excited about our (meaning all three of us) upcoming anniversary. “What are we going to do to celebrate?” she asked, eyes shining. So we did something special, just the three of us. We took a long weekend to the beach.

“We’ve now set a precedent,” I said to my husband.

He smiled, “I know. We have to. It’s our famiversary, after all.”

So, in July we celebrate our Famiversary. Sometimes with something big. Sometimes it’s just a small celebration. But it always involves the whole family.

Through the years we’ve added a few more children. But it remains the day we became a family. Our celebrations are still special. And this weekend we spent the day in Atlanta. First the Atlanta Botanical Gardens, then out for sushi.

A fabulous day. A fabulous family. A fabulous past 12 years.

Thank you, my knight in shining armor.

 A wizard, wolf and wabbit, playing around in the children’s garden.

 My daughter’s reflection in the reflecting pool.

 

Little brother’s feet were too tired so Big Sis to the rescue. (She was our photographer for the day. Why she always sends me her pics in black and white, I don’t know. She doesn’t like how she looks in color, I guess.)

 

My little leap day boy, hanging out with Mr. Frog.

Two little rabbits caught in Mr. McGregor’s Garden!

And he’s making me laugh. Again. And again. And yet, again. Must be why I’m still with him.

For more !!! (Intentional Happiness) visit Momalom or Bad Mommy Moments.

It’s Not The Apocalypse. It’s The Ballroom Blitz!

I am still agonizing over the apocalypse described in that silly book I finished over the weekend. I need a distraction and I need it bad(ly).

It has to be fun.

It has to be silly.

So enjoy, my top 10 silly songs of all time (well, for today, anyway – because apparently, that’s all we have.)

10. White and Nerdy by Weird Al Yankovic – A shout out to #1son! I still giggle over the time we first watched this video together as a family and cracked up at how much it sounded like my husband, their father.

9. Popmuzik by M – Reminds me of my summer in Germany. I think this was the only song I heard in Europe before all my friends in the States.

8. Turning Japanese by The Vapors – I’m sorry. I love what this song is about and how it gets played on the radio without a blink on an eye. (Ba-dum-bum)  I know, I’m all sophomoric that way.

7. Charlie Brown by The Coasters – A reallllll oldie but goodie.

6. Here It Goes Again by OK Go. – Come on. Admit it. You love that video, too. Makes me giggle every time.

5. These Boot Are Made For Walkin’ by Nancy Sinatra – Picture this. Me and my best friend, about 5 years old,  in our shiny white “Go-Go” boots, lip-syncing this for a talent show. Makes you smile, too, huh?

4. Amish Paradise by Weird Al Yankovic – Another nod to my boy. “I know I’m a million times more humble than thou art.”

3. The 59th Street Bridge Song (Feelin’ Groovy) by Simon & Garfunkel – Always makes me smile. Every. Single. Time.

2. Istanbul (Not Constantinople) by They Might Be Giants – “Why did Constantinople get the works? That’s nobody’s business but the Turks.” Silly at it’s finest.

And the number one silly song (for today, anyway)……

1. The Ballroom Blitz by Sweet – The video alone is a crack-up. The shiny, skin-tight suits. High collars all the way up to there. The hair. Oh, the hair. And Ballroom Blitz – sorta fits my apocalyptic mood lately. I just can’t not tap my toes, shimmy my shoulders and toss my head about whenever I hear this song. Too silly. Too fun. Enjoy!

When the Apocalypse Comes I Know Where to Run

I enjoy science fiction. Let me clarify. Really good, classic or soon-to-be classic science fiction. I’m talking H. G. Wells, Issac Asimov, Ray Bradbury kind of science fiction.

It all started with Madeleine L’Engle’s “A Wrinkle in Time.” And then it was short stories by Ray Bradbury and Shirley Jackson. Or “Dune” or “Stranger in a Strange Land.” Even “A Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.” I was hooked.

And I liked that while most of what I read seemed so very real, it wasn’t – really. After all, it was science fiction.

And then a friend lent me “One Second After” by William R. Forstchen. I knew, a chapter in, that I probably shouldn’t finish it. I knew it would be disturbing. I resented the scare tactic forward by Newt Gingrich and the “Not If It Will Happen But When Will It Happen” afterward by Captain Bill Sanders of the US Navy. I’m not convinced that this is a classic in the making. It’s an easy, straight forward read, sure. Yet there is not much depth to the writing style.  There are some (hopefully) typos.

But intriguing? Yes.

Captivating? Yes.

Like a nasty car wreck on the side of the road, I couldn’t NOT look. I finished it in two sittings. And when I finished? I was glad I hadn’t read it just before bedtime.

But almost seven hours after finishing it, I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t help wondering if, God forbid, my children or even I might experience something this horrific in my lifetime.

When I was in my teens, AIDS was being realized as more than just a “gay disease.” I remember talking to my dad and asking what was the point of bringing more children into such a depressing world. My father smiled and said, “In my day, it was polio. In yours, it’s AIDS. For your children, it will be something else. Life always finds a way to move on.”

So, upon finishing “One Second After” I think, OK. It was “War of the Worlds” back in the 50’s. Today, it is “One Second After.” For my children? Something else?

Apocalyptic thinking is not my style. I don’t have canned goods, bottled water and ammo in my basement. But this book has me thinking I should.

And then I shake some good sense back in my head.

I can not live a life based on fear. I can’t plot each day, imagining each horrible scenario that could be avoided and take the proper precautions.

But I wear a seatbelt. I have insurance. I take my vitamins.

What is reasonable preparation for the worst and what is going overboard?

Bomb shelters in the 50’s. Preparedness or overboard?

My brother-in-law with stock piles of water, canned goods and ammo in his basement? Is he prepared or just crazy?

Well, at least I know where to run should the apocalypse come.

Some Things I Will Never Understand

1. With good and food. Why don’t they rhyme? Gud fud or gewwwd fewwwd. They should rhyme, doggone it.  

2. A cap on the oil spill. They didn’t think of that, oh say, on April 21st?

3. Why hasn’t time travel been invented yet? It’s way past 1984. Heck, we’re almost ten years past the year 2001. C’mon people! Get a move on! Get it? Move on? (I crack myself up.)

4. Why is it that re-tracing my steps jogs my memory like nothing else. I’m not kidding. I can find anything, remember anything, solve half the world’s problems if I just take the time to re-trace my steps.

5. My teenage daughter. ‘Nuff said.

6. Apparently, after extensive research, scientists have concluded that the chicken came before the egg. Who decided this was a worthy project and who funded it?

7. With caller id – do I say, “Hello Joe!” or do I say, “Hello?” as if I don’t know Joe is calling? Seriously. This keeps me up at night.

8. I just don’t get it. I invent things all the time but when I finally Google it, to make sure I’m the first, someone has always beat me to the patent? Always. As in, every single time.

9. Twitter and asymmetrical haircuts. They still puzzle me. Still.

10.  How is it no one has seen the extreme similarities between Madonna and Lady Gaga? Oh. Yeah. Because of what my 13-year-old niece said: “Who is Madonna?” (Oh. Wait. Someone has noticed it. And the mash-up video below is fantastic!)

Jane’s Son Gets Into The !!! Act

“Mom!!! Can I use your camera?”

“Why do you need it?”

“I’m doing a project.”

“What kind of project?”

“Just a project…..”

Looks like my son wants to get into the !!! act…

Just a regular day at Jane’s house…

Little signs of creativity and fun left in every room…

Even in the bathroom!!!

Honestly! I didn’t stage this. This, my dear friends, is my life.

(You can get into the act, too!!! Just check out Momalom and Bad Mommy Moments for more info and inspiration!)