Ketchup

J. is a hoarder. You wouldn't know it to look at him - he appears perfectly normal on the outside. But inside, he is completely panic stricken about running out of condiments. I'm not talking the bottle of ketchup or mustard you have in your fridge. Oh no - I'm talking about the little packets of soy sauce, dipping sauces, taco sauces, etc. that you get when you eat fast food. [Which we don't very often, honest]. They are everywhere at times - I find little bins of them tucked into the dark recesses of the pantry. Fermenting. Aging. J. will not part with them. "They're hermetically sealed and perfectly good", he says as he removes a tub full from my clutches.

A well known fast-food restaurant serving tacos started bottling their sauce - and now, J. refills the taco sauce bottle from the little packets of sauce. I bought the bottled sauce at the request of the kids, who like their father, think ketchup is a vegetable. The fact they were asking for something other than ketchup prompted me to give in and buy the sauce. The first time J. refilled the taco sauce bottle from the packets, I just sort of rolled my eyes and thought 'the man has reached a new low in condiment hoarding'. But, you know, he just saved $2.69 by doing that. So now, I must confess - I refilled it the other day, too. From the packets. Shamelessly. I mean, it's the same stuff. Why pay for it? We now have a never-empty taco sauce bottle permanently in the fridge door.

I'll await the fast food police - I'm sure there's a law against this that we just don't know about.

Driving

In less than 2 weeks, B. turns 15. Around 7 months after that, he is old enough to drive with an adult in the car. It won't be me.

I am unclear how kids learn to drive these days. I learned on a beach - 18 miles of white sand. In a '64 Chevy pickup truck that had been converted into a beach buggy. Big tires, open engine. With a stick shift and built before there was 'power steering' or anything automatic. The thing was a tank. Getting it started (and keeping it started) was the first hurdle. Getting it out of the driveway (and still running) was the 2nd. Once you were in a forward gear and on the beach on harder sand, you were OK - for now. But you knew that you still had to turn it around at some point, shift gears at others...all of which had additional obstacles.

It was a big deal to be old enough to drive the buggy. It was a huge responsibility and mistakes had serious consequences. If you got stuck below the high tide line and couldn't get un-stuck before the tide came back in, you were screwed. And in BIG trouble with your parents. At the worst, you would get stuck and spend a good part of your day walking back mile after mile for help. Everyone with cabins on the beach watched out for each other - so people would come looking for you eventually. Or, someone on the way to a favorite fishing spot would come along and offer you a ride. You learned to make sure you had snacks and plenty of drinking water 'cuz a quick trip down the beach could turn into an all day event.

Learning to drive in a 'tank' on the beach taught me a lot of things that make me a good 'defensive' driver today. I learned to think ahead. Pay attention. Stay aware and focused and thought-full about the actions you were taking. Don't go in the soft sand above the tide line but don't go too close to the water or into 'sinking sand' near the edge. It was hard to drive. Hard to use a clutch, steer with no power steering. A lot to think about at once - so it made you be careful and THINK HARD and stay focused. When I finally did the required driver's ed classes and got my license, driving in the city in a 'regular' car was a breeze compared to my previous driving experiences.

B. has never been behind the wheel of anything. Well, OK, he had a 'car' he used to ride in when he was a baby and he LOVED THAT THING. But he doesn't know how to drive. And we're supposed to teach him. Who made that rule? This is a wonderful kid who's smart and fun - but he doesn't put the lid back on the toothpaste and frequently misses the toilet when he pees. How is he going to drive? Who decided that 15 and 7 months is the age he should drive?

People say 'there are driving schools'. Yeah, right. I'm going to turn my kid loose in a car with a complete stranger who makes a living teaching people to drive. I question that person's career choice. Really. Who would WANT THAT JOB? People who can't find any other job, that's who. And what if it's MY kid who ends up being involved in 'first fatality at ABC Driving School'. I won't risk it. No driving instructor's going to die of heart failure 'cuz of my kid. No,no,no - not going to happen.

So it will be me and J. that figure out how to teach him. In a parking lot on Sundays, to start. Get him used to the forward motion and control. Then try backing up w/ no cars around. We'll progress from there. I hope. I pray....I really do.

Thoughtful

I attended a retirement party recently where one of the speakers stated that the true measure of a person's contribution to the world is reflected in their children. This individual happened to have worked with the son of the retiree and said without a doubt, the son was one of the finest people he had ever worked with. He suggested the son should run for public office because 'more like him are needed'.

I am raising two sons and I hope we are doing an OK job. I have good indicators that we aren't/haven't messed them up too much, yet. There's still time, and who knows. But for the most part, they are both responsible, considerate, thoughtful and nice young men. They give us, their parents, some 'attitude' at times - but around other adults, they are nice boys. We get complimented on them a lot - pretty much everywhere we go. We've had waitresses say 'whatever you're doing, keep doing it 'cuz your boys are really well mannered and nice'. We have teachers and parents of the kids friends tell us that all the time. So I know we're doing something right. And some days, we have tangible proof that in spite of their 'teen-ness', they don't always behave like they are the only person on earth who matters.

Example: B. dislocated his knee at school on Friday. Slipped in mud that was on the sidewalk - his left knee cap moved to the other side of his leg. Ouch. Ambulance and paramedics transported him to the hospital where heavy drugs were administered so they could 'pop' the knee cap back where it belonged. One of the first coherent things Brooks said was to J. - 'Dad, you have to still take C. (B.'s best friend) and H. up to Bear Valley tomorrow for snowboarding - they've both been looking forward to it so much'. This was just shortly before B. rec'd the crushing news that his snowboard season was now officially over, before it had even begun. Saturday was to have been his first day on the slopes - but the knee injury has made his season debut a non-event. He will start months of physical therapy next week and we hope the outcome will be he'll be able to snowboard next season and walk without crutches in a month or so. AND, we hope that he doesn't need any surgery for tears (that are yet un-diagnosed and won't be until the PT people work with the knee for awhile - if they think it's not healing properly, they'll advise our Dr. who will order an MRI). It will be a long winter. He is trekking in Europe for 3 weeks this summer and going to Hawaii for two weeks right after school's out. This is a BIG summer...so he needs two good knees to be ready.

I'm proud of him. He's a really nice young man, and his brother is too. Now if we could only get them to rinse their dishes, put their dirty clothes in the hamper, clean their bathroom, etc., we'll be all set. Still a few years for that stuff to sink in.

Mondays

I hate them, OK? There, I've said it. They arrive after too few days off. They arrive when I'm ready to tackle all the 'house' stuff that lies before me - after two days of recouping from whatever my week held, I get my 'second wind'. Always sometime late Sunday afternoon. Always when 60 Minutes is only an hour or so away. Dinner, West Wing and then it's time to head to bed to get prepared for another week.

I love my job, as I've said in an earlier post. If I have to work (and I do), then I'm lucky to have a job I enjoy and don't dread going to. But truthfully, I don't want to work. I had 10 months off before I started at the college and I loved every single minute of it. Wasn't bored for a second. Kept busy. The days flew by - and none of them were filled with work. So I know I can be 'retired' as soon as our finances allow it and be perfectly happy.

Admittedly, J. should (and most likely will) retire first. He's older and has earned the right to have years of golf whenever he wants while I continue to work for our medical coverage and the paycheck. We will travel when I can take vacations. But we play the lottery every week and hope to win. And if we win, I'd go in to work, give 30 days notice and start cleaning out my desk. And that's a change 'cuz in my old corporate job, I would have resigned via postcard and told them they could keep the stuff in my desk.

Thank goodness next week is a 3 day weekend! I'll still have the 'oh, it's time to go back to work already' blues, but they will be on Monday evening in anticipation of Tuesday.

Off to bed for my eight hours. Goodnight and Happy Monday.

Hair

I grew up with short hair. My 'story' has always been that my mom, widowed with two teens and two young daughters decided to skip the entire morning hair rituals and keep my sister's and my hair short. VERY short. Pixie cuts, they called them way back when. I vaguely remember having longer, curly hair during 6th grade - but that didn't last long. My subsequent school pics return to the short 'pixie' style.

Besides the 6th grade and a brief rebellious fling in my freshman year of college (when my hair reached my shoulders), my hair has been very short. At one point, it was about 1/2 - 3/4 inch all over. Made for very easy mornings - completely wash and go. My stylists (there have been many over the years) were told 'play with it and product it all you want but when I do it, I just wash it and let it dry on the way to work'. No fuss, no muss.

I've wanted to grow it out. Tried a couple times. But going from really short hair to long hair requires a lot of very long in between stages - where it's too short to be long and too long to be short - and not a lot of styles work with hair somewhere between short and long. I'd deal with the 'medium' for a bit and then give up and cut it all off again. I look cute with short hair - I have a longish face, so a short hairstyle sort of balances that feature out.

But, I found a stylist a couple years ago and she's wonderful. AND, she loves long hair and she loves to try to help people have the hair they always dreamed of. So my hair is now long - past my shoulders, approaching the middle of my back, almost. There are still some 'layers' we are working on and we are discussing the bangs. But my hair is officially grown out and still growing.

So, for the first time in my life, I am shopping in the hair doo-dad aisle. Barrettes, clips, headbands, scrunchies. These are things I now cannot live without. And I'm forty-five years old, so this world of hair accessories is like a new Mecca for me. Currently, a trip to Long's (which has the best variety, I think) ranks right up there with browsing through Dooney & Bourke or Sephora. I can spend hours in the hair aisle - finding just the right clips for a work party; just the right casual look for putting my hair 'up' on the weekends when I don't want to have to blow it dry and curl it. Add to that the curlers, blow dryers, a variety of brushes & combs, a straightening iron, several curling irons, etc. that litter the bathroom. I work hard at this hair. It is very time consuming. Certainly not something I could have done when my kids were little and needed every little thing done for them. But now, I'm the mom of teens and they can get themselves up and dressed and out the door - so I have 'time' (supposedly) to foof my hair.

And as if letting it grow out and adding all the time it takes to make it look good in the morning, I now get it highlighted and colored. I went blonde. And I'm never going back to mousy, boring, icky brown. Even if it was a light-ish brown which could be persuaded to get blondish in the summer if I used enough lemon juice. I am blonde now - and I love it. Except the sexist jerk at work who daily says 'do blondes have more fun?', I love everything about being a blonde. It's shiny and sleek and pretty and not a bit 'mousy' or boring. It's me - the me at 45 who finally has the time and the $$ it takes to maintain long, blonde hair. And I'm worth it...

Next, I'm working on ways to put it 'up' that are slightly more than just pulling up the long sides and clipping them at the top of my head. French braiding, 'up-do's' -these are things I am willing to learn. And I'm quite sure these styles will in all likelihood require additional accessories. I couldn't be happier.

Decisions

J. and I spent the better part of the day with an attorney drafting our estate plan. We have wanted to and needed to do this for a LONG time - obviously. B. is almost 15 and H. is 12 1/2 so we have been blessed for all these years that we had only simple hand-written wills in place. No guardianship for the kids. No plan for the management of our assets. Until today. Soon, there will be all those things. And my brain is very tired tonight and I can't shut it off.

There are no easy decisions about these things. No guardian is the perfect guardian, no matter who it is. And although the kids are older, which I always thought would make it easier, it is actually in many ways harder. The kids will be incredibly disrupted should the decisions we've made have to be enacted. There is no other way to do it - and it will suck for them big time. And unlike when they're little and incredibly resilient and it would be hard but we would be 'those people' they remember but soon move on from (as little kids live so 'in the moment'), they are older now - and will know it is going to be hard and suck. So we made all the hard decisions and spelled out everything for our attorney to write up - and then drove home in a pouring rain storm praying more than EVER that NOTHING happens to either of us - but especially that NOTHING happens to both of us until the boys are both over 18. Then, while there will be many hard decisions for them to make should we both die, at least they are on their own with good people in place for financial management and advice. And the guardian and alternates and all those people will still be there for them and love them and care for them and help them. But they won't have to go LIVE with anyone in another state...and I really want them to stay here, but that won't be possible if we both die before they are 18. And the odds of that are small. And a part of me is thinking we could make the odds even smaller by never traveling together alone anywhere. Until they're 18, anyway.

We are doing the best we can...I hope. I don't have to worry about them financially, which is a blessing and so much of a relief. They will be financially blessed in many ways - and have money for education, health and 'maintenance' until they are in their late 20's, at which point the principal will be distributed a bit at a time into their 30's. They will be FINE. Better than fine.

So when B. hits 18 in 3 years, 3 weeks, followed by H. 28 months later, I will be so thrilled with those milestones having been reached, I will do an internal dance of joy. They will still be here with us at that point (please, God, please) and all these things I'm fretting and obsessing about this evening will be mute.

And I'm grateful they are at the moment ensconced in the game room enjoying
a(nother) new PS2 game (H. is spending his Christmas money to the benefit of B. - 'cuz B. already spent his yesterday on a new set of crash cymbals) and completely oblivious to the planning of their future we just completed. They are thrilled with Dominoe's for dinner. Dreading tomorrow's return to school...17 day vacations are great but the night before the 'return of reality' sucks!

Happy 2006.