An Oily Grief

For those of us that have live in society it is a given: no matter the steps you take, you can be reaping what your neighbor sows. If that neighbor finds it to be financially practical to run a shooting range in his yard, no matter the steps taken for safety you may be playing in the yard with your family and end-up shot. The same can (and is) being said for oil drilling.

Please do not get me wrong, I am not going to moan about oil drilling. As with the neighbor running a shooting-parlor in his yard, it is a financial decision made by that neighbor. The neighbor never intended to harm himself or others, and I know this is the case with the oil steadily heading my way. What interests me is the attitude of grief that has fallen over most everyone I run into. Grief in its various stages and accompanied by various coping mechanisms is evident everywhere the talk turns to our Gulf.

There are the speechless head-shakers. These folks have no words for the sorrows they face and the tragedy that grows daily. They merely give a slow shake, and try valiantly to change the topic.

The deniers. These poor people cling desperately to the hope that this tragedy won't reach them and to the relatively-low numbers of reported deaths. Completely ignoring the fact that the majority of causalities are well below the surface and wouldn't ever wash to shore.

The angry warriors. These folks are pissed. At everyone. They rant about oversight and oil companies. Sarcastic and biting comments are made about the situation at large and a certain oil company in particular.

The we can fix-it people. "If we just head-out and do "xyz" we can save the ecosystem." "There needs to be a better plan," they reason. Or, worse yet, they pin their hopes on the fact that it will not spread and while the destruction is devastating it can be contained.

Nowhere is there a person without some level of grief or fear that the oil will wash its way upon our beaches. If not by natural tides, then surely by the next hurricane. I, personally am a "hope for the best prepare for the worst" kind of person.  There is always hope. So, I will be heading to the beach with my kids today - as soon as I check my hurricane insurance to see if it covers oil-laden flood water.

Grass is Greener

Way back when Hubby and I ran neighborhoods with the abandon and surety that comes with youth and knowing you are invincible we had a running joke about grass as in lawns, jeez Remember life was a bit simpler then. We actually went outside to skateboard. 

The ramp being conveniently located a few miles from my house meant that we all spent a lot of time walking through neighborhoods.  Since we weren't informed enough to talk politics at the ripe old age of 15 and we spent many, many hours cruising the town we would talk about anything. Front lawns were right there. They are diverse some with nice thick grass, while others are weed infested and sport bald patches. There was a house somewhere with green, lush grass that called to me. I proclaimed that the grass looked soft and my feet were tired. We had a seat near a curb and the grass was in fact luxuriously soft and thick. I'm sure I hammed it up a bit then we moved on. But, the tradition had begun. When boredom hit, or a walk brought us through new neighborhoods, we would rate the lawns with me running ahead to touch the grass for the feel-it test.

Fast forward too many years to count and we live in Sunnyville. The grass here is what Northerners would attack with hands or weed killer. It is infested with bugs of every size and shape. Not where you want to lie back and look up at the sky. But our children seem to have the need for "soft grass" embedded in their genes. 

So, every time we hit the north-of-fire-ants line they feel a need to just lie in the grass. This was exactly what happened while we were visiting the Statue of Liberty. The grass there wasn't even up to my teen standards, but we made do.

Wordless Wednesday

I guess they do clean-up pretty well.

Italian Feast

An Italian family can overwhelm on the best of days. Put said family at a celebration and you better be prepared for overwhelming noise, public displays of affection, and unbridled joy.

At the end of our long road trip, we found ourselves smack in the middle of just such chaos. It was the evening of the "rehearsal dinner." As this was an occasion to be celebrated, a smallish Italian restaurant was chosen and fully half was being used to house the intimate dinner for seventy. Coming from quiet Sunnyville, it always takes the kids a bit of time to acclimate. Boy sat quietly next to his dad taking in the conversations & giving hugs to family - groom and bride included. Youngest began the evening in a relatively subdued manner as well. Sitting and waiting to see what would happen next. As could be expected from children who sport more Italian and Irish in their blood than anything else, it didn't take too long for them to acclimate.

Total acclimation was achieved when Boy watched his Uncle eat a pepper. After taking a bite, Uncle had been offering the pleasurable sensation of burning tongue to anyone who might want to have a go. No takers. Until Boy announced, "I'll eat it for $20." Come now, is it in the male gene somewhere that eating unpleasant things should come with bets? 

Uncle took the bet, threw a pepper on the table and before anyone could so much as utter "WAIT!" Boy had popped the fire-veggie into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. This act was swiftly followed by the downing of 2 water glasses, 1 Coke, and 1 glass of milk ordered especially for him. Copious amounts of bread were taken in at the time as well. When I returned to the table from a bit of mingling you didn't honestly think I would have allowed this to occur if I had been there did you? Boy was looking a bit green. Hubby filled me in, as he ushered Boy out for some fresh air hoping against hope that the vomiting would wait until they were out of doors

Though Boy was unable to eat dinner that night, he had $20 in his pocket and what's more, he was quickly becoming news around the feast. Family friends on seeing the pallor of Boy and in the spirit of good-humored ribbing, proclaimed $20 to be far too little for his achievement. As Boy told his story, received his hugs, and reveled in the laughter, this "too little" recurring theme seemed clear. Boy, who understands a good thing when he hears it, agreed whole-heartedly. Sure enough, as he was telling his tale around the room, his $20 bill, was taken in exchange for a $50. Did I mention my kids acclimate fast?

The Road Trip

Let me begin by saying all rest areas are not created equally. Some states offer the luxury rest stop: ample, shaded, picnicking grounds for the weary traveler. Bathrooms that never cause you to wonder who sat here before. Maps and welcome centers that give the cramped wanderer an excuse to stretch sore legs.

However, none of that will matter if the words, "Mom, I have to go potty," aren't spoken until you are 100 ft from the rest area traveling at 80mph in the far left lane. Yup, on those occasions you will often be forced to hit the gas station. Not an ideal choice. So, if you find yourself hitting the road this summer with a vehicle full of kids and a destination in mind I offer some tips:

1. Pay attention to rest area markers - some states offer a rest area every 30-40 miles. These states are the all-time best. When a rest area is missed you have an idea of how much longer you will need to sing along with VeggieTales to keep full bladders distracted until you can stop.

~ In the event you are traveling through a rest area-deprived state, go to the biggest truck stop you see. There are gadgets and gizmo's in there you had probably never imagined. And the bathrooms here tend to be clean.

2. Since duct taping small bickering mouths shut is frowned upon in virtually every state through which you are bound to travel, having MP3 players and portable DVD's is incredibly helpful. If you are blessed enough that your player doesn't blow a fuse and works for you - the most argument you will hear is what movie to play next and whose turn it is to pick it.

~ But if it does blow a fuse, the truck stop is bound to have replacements.

3. If you will be traveling to the Northeast bring lots of money for tolls. Culture shock is a definite possibility for those that live in a relatively free-travel area. Take a deep breath and be sure to enjoy the bridges - because they will cost you an amount equivalent to viewing a blockbuster movie on opening night. At some points, you may wonder when they will be asking for your first born. We were spared this experience, but we didn't travel too far into the area. It seems a definite possibility.

4. Eventually you are bound to reach your destination. If traveling with small children I strongly suggest some down-time when you arrive. They are bound to be babbling, wiggling maniacs for a bit - not the first impression you want to impose on friends or relatives you don't see regularly. 

~ A quick visit to a park or any area they can run and play will give them a chance to burn-off energy and make them acceptable company. They will be less likely to hang from the chandeliers or start a wrestling competition in the home of those nearest and dearest.

Happy Travels!

hiatus

Living through the end of a school year can be a difficult thing. Students are antsy. There are a million things to be done. Kids want to play outside later and as a result have to roused more fully before they are able to open sleep bleary eyes to begin their days.
There are end-of-the-year performances, plays, and certificate ceremonies. Schedules are off and dinner is often served when bed time routines should be happening. Chaos in the best of times.
This year that chaos was compounded by a wonderful obligation. The seashore family was heading to the big apple for a wedding. A very exciting prospect, especially for Youngest as she was selected by her Godfather for the role of flower girl #2. There was packing to be done, car to be packed, sub plans to make, and arrangements for Oldest, who couldn't attend due to finals, to sort through and double check. Eventually we got everything sorted and organized enough to leave Sunnyville behind for a  long weekend. A trip and a time full of stories and observations.
So, while I may have taken a month-long hiatus, it is now officially summer and I am back! Look for a few articles about the trip that while they may not offer full bellied laughs, are sure to be good for an appreciative "hmmm!" Or maybe even a chuckle or two! See you tomorrow!

Crabs and Comfort

It was one of the coveted picnic locations. A covered picnic table, a view of the lagoon and canal, and a short jaunt from the beach. For the day, it would serve as base camp.

Moments after the gear was dumped onto tables and benches, the kids + Hubby made a beeline for the lagoon. Youngest was immediately distraught by the amount of life that could be found under her feet. At each of Boy's new discoveries: Horse Conchs, misc feeder fish her unease increased. But the topper was the discovery of various crabs. The lagoon is a virtual crab nursery. At this not-so-rare and amazing discovery Boy set out to catch every one he could nab or lure. Youngest refused to place even a piggy within striking distance of pinchers she imagined were awaiting her first misstep. Soon cousins were on-hand to aid in crab catching. Buckets filled with water and misc. crabs decorated our base. Taking pity on his sister, Boy offered her a bucket of Conchs (think big sea snail) which she enjoyed enormously. 

There was much fun to be had by all. Adults were able to visit while enjoying the escapades of the youngsters. Trips were made to the beach where everyone swam and kids only buried one another in sand sarcophagi (no adult volunteered - having learned the discomfort of sand trapped in suits long ago) There was kayaking, and the enjoyment of the company of others. A day of sun and fun sure to lead to an early bedtime.

Back home after all wildlife had been returned to its sanctuary, the kids were cleaned and nestled into bed.
About an hour after final good-nights were given, a slow steady creak announced the opening of Youngest's door. Bleary-eyed and unfocused she stumbled into the living room.
me: "What are you doing up honey."
youngest: "I can't sleep."
me: thinking *obviously* "Why not?"
youngest: "I'm uncomfortable with crabs."

yup, that would do it, I thought. However, have no fear; Youngest didn't then nor has she at any time actually have crabs. She merely was considering crabs and how they could come out of the water, grow to the size of the minivan, and destroy her family. Bless her innocent little heart. and curse her bad mommy's potty brain that made the leap and had to bite her lip to keep from giggling.

Now, it's Friday! Yippee! So, you know what to do: click this link and head over to DadBlogs to read some great stories by moms and dads who probably don't have their thoughts in the gutter.