January 31, 2007

The other shoe dropped

I survived.

A while back I spent a little too much money on my home remodel project and found myself unable to meet my tax obligation at the end of the year. I tried very hard to get caught up, but the real estate market took a dive, which means I was getting much less business than in the past. Last week I got a letter from Uncle Sam saying time was running out and they wanted to take my house. As you know from a previous post, I succeeded in finding a lender who agreed to help me refinance my home. Uncle Sam will be paid off tomorrow.

Big siiiiiiiiiiigh of relief here! Mahalo for all of your kind thoughts when you knew I was facing a problem.

Thirty-six years

I remember being terrified. Not of the pain so much, though that certainly frightened me. The terror, though, came from my feelings of total inadequacy. I wasn’t old enough to do this. I wasn’t mature enough to know where to start. What if I didn’t love it enough? What if I didn’t know how to meet its needs? What if I dropped it? I was so unprepared. We didn’t have parenting classes in those days. I knew how to change diapers and prepare bottles. I had done enough babysitting to know I could handle bathing and dressing and cuddling, but this? This was so much more. This responsibility was so awesomely huge, so much bigger than my clumsy skills could handle.

Sonograms and scans were not the norm at that time. I didn’t know the gender of the child I carried. Everyone in the family had an opinion. I wanted a girl. I didn’t want a little image of me. I wasn’t looking for a pretty little doll to dress up in frilly clothes, or a daughter with whom I could one day share makeup and wardrobe. I wasn’t biased towards girls or against boys. My feelings rested on something much more fundamental. A girl would be easier to raise without a father to help. What did I know of little boys? I didn’t know how they felt or what they wanted or needed or thought. Yes, a girl would definitely be better. I had some experience with being a girl.

Then I met you. What I had thougth I wanted was forgotten. I knew that this was perfection. This was what was supposed to be. This was as right as anything has ever been from the beginning of time. This was the part of me that I had never known was missing. My beautiful and amazing son.

There are gaps in my memories of my own life. Time periods that I just don’t recall in any detail. But I remember your teachers and your friends, and what places they filled in your life. I remember which ones you genuinely cared for and which ones you merely tolerated. I remember the few years of Cub Scouts and the many of Little League. Zoom and Speed Racer and The Fonz. The years that rushed by too quickly and that one that was so terribly slow. The coaches and friends and Brother Rowden and Alan who stepped in for those things that a boy needs a man to share. Woven through it all, the love of sports. The endless statistics, the rosters, the jersey numbers, the trading cards. Of course it was a sports biography that finally convinced you that reading was something more than an assignment to be completed by Monday. My favorite portrait is still the one above. You sit relaxed, confident, groomed and neatly dressed, LSU laces clearly visible in your shoes. The epitome of you-ness.

The miles between us now seem so vast and cause an ache in my heart. But the ache is a small thing because I know that gap is easily bridged. It is heavily outweighed by my pride in the man you have become and the joy I have in knowing that you’ve built a happy life for yourself. I love the boldness you’ve shown in making your own way and choosing your own path. I’ve forgiven the girl who broke your heart and I hope that you have, too. Grudges are too heavy and ugly a burden. I love the “best friend” woman who now shares so much of your life. I’m touched that you worry about me being way over here alone. Those are choices we’ve both made, so don’t allow yourself to regret them. I love the card, inscribed in your hand, reminding me that I will always be your first Valentine. You are mine, my son, because I never really knew what love was until the day that I met you. The day I knew I would never drop you. I think we’ve managed it all pretty well.

Happy Birthday, my son. I wish you love and happiness and fullness of life.

January 30, 2007

Breaking news!

I have my own domain! It will take me a while to get things up and running, but look for an announcement soon with my new address. It probably won’t be pretty at first, but then, this one was never very special to look at either. I do have plans for a custom template a little ways down the road, but I need to learn a little more before I tackle that. Bogging, to me, has always been more about content than look anyway. With the new domain I’ll be able to add some more blogs focused on specific subjects, like the book blog I’ve been dreaming of for months now. Sassymonkey will be so pleased when I’m finally able to do the book meme she tagged me for sometime around Thanksgiving, lol! EDIT! I just checked and it’a a poetry meme! Ai, ai, ai!

I’m not sure how this will work, but I’m pretty sure that I’ll be able to leave something here so you can find me when I move. That’s for another day, though. Baby steps! Which reminds me: I’ve been studying an html primer for kids. Just my speed!

Average American?

It’s late. I’m fatigued but not sleepy. That silliness that comes at such times is overtaking me.

You Are 80% “Average American”

You are average because you support affirmative action.You are not average since you live more than three miles away from McDonalds.

How “Average American” Are You?

How perfect is it that the shoes are slippers (local name for rubber sandals, flip flops - whatever you call them where you are,) but that they are also all American. But seriously, the fact that I’m about five miles from McDonald’s makes me below average? I don’t do fast food. That’s what removes me from the norm. :0D

January 29, 2007

Hokulea

I would not have thought it possible to post anything on this site that combines the beauty and wonders of Hawaii with matters relelvant to my working life. Well, except silly anecdotes like my gecko-in-the-bra story. Today I feel privileged to share with you some news about a man-made wonder and how my industry came to her aid.

Hokulea has been called the pride of Hawaii. She is a double-hulled Polynesian voyaging canoe, built and navigated in the ancient ways. Her path is calculated by the stars; no modern navigational aids are used. Her accomodations are rudimentary; there are no luxurious cabins, no breakfast buffets and no bathroom facilities to speak of. Hokulea has traveled throughout the Pacific since 1974. Her story provides proof to the old oral traditions, handed down through many generations, of Hawaii being settled by Polynesians traveling in great canoes. Thor Heyerdahl proved in 1947 that such journeys were possible when he sailed Kon Tiki from Peru to Raroia atoll. Holulea continues to fill in the blanks in Polynesian history. She is currently out to sea. You can stay abreast of her progress via the Polynesian Voyaging Society weblog. Do go to there and look around. You can spend hours viewing photos, reading the crew’s logs and tracking Hokulea’s progress. Her journey is being used as an educational experience for school kids throughtout Hawaii, but in truth, almost every man, woman and child in the state is following along in facination. She is at the top of our headline news almost daily. I guess the broadcasters are wise enough to know that all of our hearts are with her.

So what does this have to do with my work? Well, way back in the ’80s I took my first pest control licensing exam, and I have had the privilege of renewing about every four years since then. When I’ve transferred, first from Louisiana to California and later to Hawaii, I had to take the exams in my new home state. I’ve always worried to the point of making myself physically ill in the days leading up to exams. In California and Hawaii the test is mostly fill-in-the-blank and multiple choice, with a lot of math to keep me on my toes. In Louisiana, where I was first licensed, a good portion of the test was in the form of questions to be answered with essays. Having worked myself up into a frenzy in the days preceding that first exam, I was relieved to find that most of the answers rolled smoothly off of my pen. Then I got to the last question and drew a total blank. You see, while it is necessary for me to understand all of the available remedies for a given pest control problem, I have never carried the separate license required for fumigation. I know the basics, but the question posed a problem I’d never even heard of, much less performed corrections for. After excusing myself to upchuck my breakfast into a toilet, I returned to my seat and felt my doom descend upon me. The essay required that I describe every aspect of how one would fumigate a boat in water. Treatment materials to be used, procedures to be followed, safety equipment needed, precautions to be exercised … everything. After much time spent in fruitless thought, an answer came to me. “To fumigate a boat in water, I would call the Department of Agriculture (licensing agency) and request that they provide advice and direct supervision.” This was not, of course, the answer that was sought. It was, however, deemed appropriate in the end, with a few points subtracted for lack of detail. I should have rememberd that fumigant gasses, being lighter than air, will not penetrate water. No contamination can occur. The proper procedure requires that tarps be affixed to the structure (a ship or boat) to contain the gas, and that they extended into the water. Well, duh! Of course it does.

I got my most recent online edition of Pest Control Magazine today. Memories of that horrible first exam came flooding back when I saw that it featured an article entitled Historic Hawaiian Ship Rescued By Fumigation With Vikane. I was disappointed that I somehow had not known that Hokulea had had a drywood termite infestation (for what other ship could it be?) I would have known how to handle the problem, having had about twenty-five years to correct my past ignorance. Irrelevant, of course, since I still choose not to be involved in fumigations, but, by golly, why had no one shared this worthy news with me? Anyway, while the article makes me proud of my industry, it didn’t actually relate all that well to my exam dilemma. Those wimps waited until she was in drydock to fumigate Hokulea. HA! If they’d only called me first …

Still, it gave me a springboard to tell you a story that combines two of my passions, so I guess it’s all good.

January 28, 2007

Keeping your pets safe

A couple of months ago one of my dogs ate a whole bottle of antacid tablets. We love our pets and try so hard to take good care of them, but stupid things happen. Today I was surfing around and landed on the ASPCA site, which I remember visiting when I was trying to find out if Tums are poison to dogs. The first thing I found today was an article about how dangerous potpourri can be. Who knew? Who thinks about these things? I’ve got little pots of the dried stuff sitting in every room in the house. I have several of the little potpourrri burners that are mentioned in the article and I use them frequently. I need to patrol my house yet again and make sure I’m not putting the furkids in danger.

As I was reading about how dangerous it is to make my house smell nice I noticed what appeared to be a flash game. I was killing time while waiting for the laundry to finish & I’m all about games, so of course I checked it out after I finished reading. I wouldn’t exactly call it a game, but it’s a very nice flash presentation about dangerous or poisonous substances that many of us have in our homes. Look for the little pup image above while you’re still on the potpourri page & take a tour of your home.

Oh, and one more thing while you’re there. You’ll see a donation icon. You’re an animal lover right? Worthy cause? You bet. You know what to do!

Memorial bracelets

My high school years were a time of great turmoil. The war in Viet Nam was raging. We underclassmen watched as, one by one, the older boys who graduated went away to do their military training and then ship out to Viet Nam. When I was a junior and senior I belonged to a fraternity/sorority circle that partied together every weekend. The parties ended as, one-by-one, the boys went away. Most waited to graduate. A few were eager to serve their country and dropped out of school so they could enlist as soon as they were eligible. We were so very fortunate in that all of our particular group returned relatively intact. Still, the losses were high as several of my friends lost fathers, brothers and cousins.

I was pregnant when I graduated. I had met a wonderful man with the bluest eyes and a mysterious charisma about him. When I told him I was pregnant, he disappeared from my life. He came back a few months later, apologizing, saying that he had been overcome by panic at the thought of having a baby. He loved me, wanted to spend his life with me and our child. We happily set about the business of arranging to be married. A few days before the big event, he vanished again. We did eventually marry, but the same pattern repeated yet again. I was incredibly naive at such a young age. I know now that his problems are all too common among Viet Nam Vets. He enlisted and went over prouldly to do his duty. That terrible war left him and so many others with deep emotional scars that made it impossible to live a “normal” civilian life.

My entire generation was devastated by the Viet Nam War. We will never forget. So many fallen, so many maimed, so many still missing to this day. That is why I’ve chosen a name from Memorial Bracelets and ordered my own bracelet to wear as reminder that so many were lost and so many are still unaccounted for. The name I have chosen is SGT JOHN H. BAILEY, USMC, from Alabama, who died in Viet Nam on May 1, 1967. His body was never recovered to be returned to his loved ones. After I get my bracelet I will update you on whether I’ve been able to learn anything else about Sgt. Bailey, on why I chose him, and on the reaction people (including myself) have to the bracelet and his memory. I hope you’ll go to MemorialBracelets.com and consider choosing one for yourself. I thank them for making this opportunity availabe to all who know that we must never forget those who have served so honorably. You can make your own selection based on whatever criteria are foremost in your mind.

The bracelets memorialize victims of the wars that have affected you, including the current War on Terrorism. You may choose a victim of the attacks of 9/11 if that is the event that resonates most deeply for you. Let the person you select be a symbol to you, and to all who see your bracelet, that we all are indebted to so many who have paid the ultimate price for us.

Do check back with me in a few weeks to see my update.

Update - 2/20/07: I’ve only had my bracelet for about a week. I’ve had two reactions. A young woman who was checking my groceries asked if it was one of those “bracelets for a cause,” because she’d never seen one like it. I explained to her that the cause was to honor the memory of a young man who gave his life for all of us in Viet Nam. Her eyes glazed over. I guess the younger generation considers that ancient history, best forgotten once final history exams are over.

The other reaction was more intriguing. My dearest friend waxed eloqent about what “Our War” did to our generation. Her experience was much like mine, watching all of the young men go away, fearful for each of them, watching in horror the reception they received when they returned, more horrified still at the emotional anguish that ovewhelmed so many of them. She also gave me her perspective on the role that fate played. One of her dearest friends in those days was a young man who went over as a med-evac copter pilot when he was nineteen. He would have seen the full horror of that war as he hauled out mangled bodies, listened to the screams, tired his best to comfort and save each one … and watched so many die, despite his best efforts. Yet he returned, not only uninjured, but apparently emotionally intact. He is now a professional med-evac copter pilot for a private company, thoughtful, intelligent, compassionate, living a full life with a family he loves. His story continues.

My Marine, Sgt. John H. Bailey, died at nineteen when the helicopter that was evacuating him crashed. His life story ends there. Fate had played her hand in his life. Click that last link on his name to learn more.

January 27, 2007

Postie Carnival!

The Posties Carnival will publish on Monday, January 29th at my friend Marcus’s blog, My thoughts. To submit your blog go to Blog Carnival and get yourself registered. There’s still time to post your blog if you hurry.

Remember that this carnival is only open to posties - that’s the folks who get paid to blog about the things they love at PayPerPost. If you’re not a postie and you’d like to join the fun (and make some bucks while you’re at it!) go jiggle the PPP affiliate icon over there at the top of my sidebar & it’ll take you where it all happens. If you have questions about how it all works, you can post them here or send me an email & I’ll fill you in.

A success story!

I rarely watch the news or read the newspaper just lately. There’s so much bad news that I prefer to catch the headline or lead itmes and just let it go. Much too depressing. Give me some feel-good news & I’ll be your fan forever. Here’s a good news story that’s so great it seems like you ought to look it up on snopes.com, but I think you’ll agree with me that it’s a real success story.

We all know how tough life can be for college students on a budget. The fortunate ones are able to scrape up financing for all of their needs. Some can’t afford university housing or rent, like the young man I’m thinking of. He also couldn’t afford a college meal plan and his diet consisted mainly of ramen noodles while he spent his nights sleeping in the library. His time there was not wasted though. Having exhausted himself searching for his needed textbooks across campus and all around town, he decided to use his adversity to help solve all of these problems. Working from the university library, he set up Walamu.com- The World’s Largest College Classifieds Network, Student’s can log in to list or find the books required for their classes, to search for housing or even to find a hot party for the weekend. I don’t know if he’s making a living off of his network, but I certainly hope he is. Such creative entrepreneurship deserves that kind of recompense. Check out Walamu.com for your college needs. They’ll ship your books for free and, hey, if you hurry you might even get a free tee shirt!

Posties rock!

The more I hang around PPP, the more wonderful people I find to enrich my life. Here’s some of my new friends.

Homeschoolzoo is in the spotlight today. She’s an Arkansas woman and jill-of-all-trades, who grows much of the food her family consumes, preserving it herself. She’s currently growing herbs and dehydrating what she can’t use fresh. She bakes bread, and grinds her own wheat for it! And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. This Christian home-schooling mom also crochets, sews and does crafts. We’re not talking the sloppy little projects that I frequently start and abandon. Take a look at her Painted Glass. I’m telling you, this lady is a pro at all she does. I can’t pick one of her blogs to send you to, so here are several: Homeschool Zoo was the first of her blogs that I read and has a great family bio on the opening page. In Zoo Talk she talks about “God, life, job, politics, opinions, cooking, journal, and more.” Plain Book of Homeschooling focuses on Christian Homeschooling, and Homeschool Zoo Annex offers more homeschooling advice plus some great bargain-shopping tips. Check her out at any of her sites, but be forewarnd: you’ll be there a long, long time. Wonderful links on evey page will suck you into a marathon session at your computer!

My friend blm03 has just started a new blog to replace her old one. Go visit her at My Thoughts, Ideas and Ramblings. She’s going through a stressful time right now, so show her a little love while you’re there.

Scorpy is another of my postie friends. She and I have a place in our hearts for pit bulls and we’ve talked together a few times about them. Go see her at Marisa’s Danelion Patch, and see what she has to say about legal intervention in the parent/child realtionship, too.

Tess Jones has recently been thinking about the way her relationship with her dad has changed over the years. Go on over to Musings from Me to see what else is on her mind. Her recent thoughts about bathrooms stirred up some memories for me.

Amy Jo hangs out at Bellclapper’s Garden. She’s crowing and happy these days because she’s gotten her own domain! Since I’m bracing for the same move, I’ll have to pick her brains about how to do that. She’s got one of those funny blogs that won’t let you link to specific entries, but they’re all good, so go get to know her. Make sure you read Where I’m From. I’m sure there’s a story about each of the places she’s from, but I kind of like not knowing what all of them are, because her phrasing makes my imagination soar!