May 19: Mean people suck

I need something to take my mind off the people who are mean for no reason except to be big fat meanies oh my buddha I hate them so much I get all stabby and twitchy-eyed and I just know my day is about to become a Lifetime movie because I’ve got a lighter and a lot of flammable liquids in my pantry.

That image is of someone yelling, sure, but it doesn’t even come close to how I feel. I feel more like this…

…y’know, crazy enough over this that it shows. (Except I don’t have a porn ‘stache.)

I know I shouldn’t let these meanie jackholes get to me, but I’m human and I can’t help it. I just don’t understand how people go through their lives leaving a path of destructive hurt and cruelty behind them. My guess is that some don’t even know they do it because it comes so naturally to them, and I think that’s super-sad. I also think/hope that karma will get them in the end. Unfortunately, karma doesn’t always follow my timing demands.

I’m not completely self-deluded; I can be mean. I can. I just usually need a good reason for it. Oh, who am I kidding? Sometimes totally innocent people are on the receiving end of my grouchiness. I apologize when I’ve done something wrong or insensitive or mean. though—but only if I truly feel it. In in the end, I hope everyone gets what they deserve. I like that you-get-what-you-give thing. But mostly, I try not to go out of my way to be a meanie.

I don’t like being lied to, especially when it’s done in a two-faced way. Can I trust you or can’t I? Just wondering that makes me think I probably shouldn’t trust you. And when these liars are people I associate with regularly, that makes trust a constant battle.

I also don’t like having someone pissed at me when I have no idea what I did to deserve it. If they think I should know why they’re pissed, then I feel like an idiot and wonder if I’m just as clueless as they are and then I start hating myself and questioning every behavior and personality trait I can identify and then I feel like I need one of these things:

Or this might be more appropriate:

The problem is that when I’ve presented my case to an unbiased ear, if that ear completely takes my side and blames everything on the meanies, I question the validity of that too. I mean, when my friends support me and say mean things about the mean people, I appreciate it but I know they’re doing it because they love me. But someone I PAY to listen to me? They don’t have to be biased. They have to be honest, right? And when they say, “those people are jackholes,” then I tend to think maybe things are more like I see them than I thought. Maybe I’m not so far off when I say some people are mean for no reason.

Then I wish I was this:

Ultimately, because all of this uncertainty and self-doubt magnifies the tiniest issue, it makes me hate being a girl at times.

But back to my venting…

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…please ‘scuse me while I get some of this frustration and anger OUT of me:

 

 

 

And to try to change it around, today I’ll work on remembering this:

"Holding on to anger and resentment is like drinking poison and expecting someone else to die."

And this is a good one too:

Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.

May 15: All the busy-ness

I’m more than a little bit surprised that I made it through this week in one piece. It got pretty crazy there for a while, with work and PTO thangs and fundraiser parties, oh my. Yesterday I spent most of the day relaxing and recuperating. I was so glad not to have a deadline for an entire day.

The weather was nice, so I decided to wash the winter filth off my car. Only in Oregon does a person need to clean MOSS off their car—I scrubbed with a toothbrush forEVER to get that gunk off. Sheesh. My Jetta is a happy car now, moss-free and ready to face spring.

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I came up with a semi-brilliant idea to get my kids to de-clutter their rooms a little bit at a time. Today I handed them each a grocery bag and said I’d give them a dollar if they’d fill it with stuff they no longer wanted. The rules were that I had to okay each item—no giving away family heirlooms or beloved items belonging to a sibling—and the bag had to be overflowing. Jack was done in five minutes; Katie took close to an hour. Now if I can get them to do that AT LEAST once a week, preferably more often, then we can lower our home’s junk level considerably. I did the same thing in my room, by the way. ‘Twas good.

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I broke a candleholder yesterday so I got the super glue out today to repair it. I was careful not to stick my fingers together, but I still got lots of it on my fingers and it’s driving me crazy. You really have to file that stuff off your skin, dontcha? Geez.

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For the past few weeks I’ve been hearing about Pinterest from Sherilee and some blogs I follow, and I think I’ve finally figgered it out. Imagine having a bulletin board with photos of stuff you like pinned all over it. Maybe you have a bunch of bulletin boards, each with a theme. Anywhere you go on the Internet, if you find something you like, you can “pin” it to one of your boards. Other people can re-pin your photos, they can comment on your pinned items, and you can follow other people’s boards to see what kinds of pin-worthy things they find. It’s cool to look at your boards after you’ve pinned a few things—they’re like little collections of parts of YOU. I like it very much. I made a board with photos of the plants and flowers we have in our yard; it may not be of much interest to anyone else, but I love seeing everything together like that. Pinterest is a whole big ton of fun!

You know two colors I’ve decided I do not like together? Grey and yellow. There’s a LOT of grey and yellow pinned on Pinterest boards, and it’s supposedly the new hot color combo, but I THINK IT IS HORRIBLE. I know, I’m probably the only person in the whole world who thinks this—it would seem so, anyway—but UGH.

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Thursday evening I had a Relay for Life fundraiser at my house—a Miche Bag party. I think it went well, but I don’t have final numbers yet because my party is still open. This means, of course, that if you wanted to order something but didn’t make it to the party, it’s not too late. Let me know soon, though, ok? These are the classic shells I got, BTW:

Thirty percent of the total party sales will be donated to our team. I’m grateful to all of you who bought bags and helped us raise more money to kick cancer’s ass! And to my mom, who purchased the base bag and Madelynn shell for me, THANK YOU!

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I got a new iPhone game that’s fun and addictive, at least for the short term: Doodle Fill. It’s free.

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One of the goodies I prepared for the fundraiser party was a last-minute decision based on something I saw on Pinterest. I made rainbow fruit skewers, served with a simple but yummy dip made of strawberry yogurt and Cool Whip.

Here are my thoughts:

• I used canned mandarin oranges for the orange color and they were less than ideal. I did it for time’s sake, but were I to do these again, I would either use fresh oranges/tangerines/clementines/whatever or cantaloupe. Canned mandarin oranges aren’t firm enough for skewers.
• These really need bigger cubes of pineapple. Next time.
• What is the flippin’ deal with kiwi fruit, anyway? They’re a pain in the ass to peel, and when you finally get all that whiskery skin off, they’re totally slimy and slippery. And they taste like grass! They may look pretty, but I think green grapes or honeydew would work just as well and taste a lot better. The kiwi is pretty, I’ll give it that.
• Bigger, fatter blueberries: required.
• The raspberries were perfect (though expensive) but watermelon or strawberries would also work. I wouldn’t do watermelon if I’ve used cantaloupe and honeydew—too melon-y!

I froze all the leftover fruit and dip and blended it up into a delicious smoothie the next morning. Nummers.

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BTW, the plates in the photo above? New. We were long overdue to replace our old, scratched up dishes and when I saw these at Pier 1 I just couldn’t resist. Here’s a better photo of the set:

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The weather has improved a bit lately, and even on the rainy days the temps are higher than they’ve been for a long while. Victor and I have been taking walks in the evenings; it’s lovely to be outside and enjoy springtime in Clackamas. We’ve tried to walk a mile or so every night. If we go without a dog or kid, it’s easy and even though it’s not all that leisurely, we still have a good time hangin’.

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We’ve gone through scrapbooks and photo albums a lot in the past couple weeks as we reminisce about our sweet Scout. I ran across this photo and I just have to share it. No, it has nothing to do with Scout and I don’t suddenly think my grandma’s the best thing ever, but she certainly does love Jack. This was taken in August 2006.

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On Friday, my author friend Lisa Schroeder spent the day at our school. She gave three presentations to portions of the student body, and the teachers selected a handful of students from each class to join her for one-on-one time during lunch. She signed tons of books the kids had ordered, and we had a drawing for signed copies of the promotional posters. It was so cute seeing the kids around her—some were completely star struck and speechless, and others couldn’t shut up. I’ve heard really good comments about her visit. I hope we can do more author visits in the future—I think they’re very inspiring to the kids.

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Friday night was our last family night at the school for the year. We did a game night and set up board games around the cafeteria and had kickball in the gym. The weather was gorgeous, and lots of kids spent the evening out on the playground. Popcorn, Italian sodas, candy, and rousing games of Scattergories? OH MY GOODNESS YES. It was such fun!

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Speaking of school, Jack said there are only 17 school days left. How did that happen?

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Another busy week ahead. Wish me luck.

May 9: Total misrepresentation

Katie is on the student newspaper staff this year. For the April issue, her assignment was to report on Rex Reader, an annual PTO-sponsored reading program. She thought it’d be a cinch because she’d interview the closest PTO officer (me) and be done with it. I find just a few problems with her reporting skills:

1. I was not aware I was being interviewed that time she plopped down on the floor by my desk and asked me two questions about Rex Reader and giggled at the dog during my answers.
2. In her very short article, she managed to make me sound like a complete moron.

See for yourself (I highlighted the “My mom is a dummy” paragraph for your pleasure):

This is slander or libel or somethin’ sinister I saw on Law & Order once. Pretty sure.

May 8: Sunday things

Happy Mother’s Day to all you moms out there, including mine. Pretty sure my mom’s better than all y’all’s, so… y’know… neeners.

I don’t have much to say. This week mostly sucked. I miss my Scout.

• School stuff was fun. We did a bunch of Teacher Appreciation things all week. We tried a new thing called Send Your Teacher Packin’, which let kids/parents purchase $1 raffle tickets to enter their favorite teacher into a drawing for a weekend getaway. We weren’t sure how it’d go since we’d never done anything like that before, but it was a huge success—we sold over 500 tickets, so the winner is going to get a nice little trip! I love how everyone pulled together on this activity—it ended up being a great way to show how just a little bit of effort from a lot of people can make something nice happen for a deserving teacher.
• We also ended our month-long reading program with a book giveaway. My favorite part of seeing all the kids come in to choose a free book was that it happened on Nerd Day of Spirit Week, and some of them were REALLY nerdy-lookin’. I think some kids had no idea how hilarious they were. There was even a first grader with Ed Grimley hair. It. Was. Awesome.
• On Thursday this next week I’m hosting a fundraiser for my Relay for Life team. Have you heard of Miche bags? They’re purses with changeable covers (“shells”) and some of them are really cute. They’re not crazy-overpriced either. Instead of getting hostess credit for having the party, the consultant will write a check to our team for 30% of the total sales. If you’re interested in ordering, let me know. If you can actually be at the party (whether you order or not), even better. Let me know!
• I dropped my phone the other day and it made that terrible cracking sound that made me want to cry. Instead, I turned my tears into an iPhone 4. I know what you’re thinking: FINALLY! I know what you’re also thinking: she turned tears into a phone? She is MAGIC. It’s true. The best part is now that I have a 4 my friends will stop mocking me. (I have not very nice friends when it comes to phones.)
• That should have been a good enough Mother’s Day gift, yes. But there was more: Vic is sending me to the Chelsea Handler show when she comes to Portland in June! Val and Cindi and I and I don’t know who else are going. I am totally gonna need a diaper for all the peeing of my pants I will undoubtedly be doing.
• OK, speaking of excessive laughing, this made me laugh way too hard. It’s so stupid and so funny.

Busy week ahead. I need to get myself psyched up for it. Buh-bye.

May 4: The terror of being a parent

How did you find out about Osama bin Laden’s death? I’ve read that a lot of people heard about it on some type of social media; I was one of them. I read something jokey about it on Twitter and went straight to the Associated Press app on my phone (which reported nothing yet), then flipped TV news channels until I found a station that had interrupted its regular programming.

Like many, I shared my initial reaction to the news on Facebook:

Here’s some expansion on those thoughts.

1. Obama’s speech writers deserve bonuses for their fine writing, in my opinion. This was one speech that will be quoted for years to come. Better yet was its delivery—I can’t emphasize enough how nice it is to have a president who can deliver a speech without making my ears bleed. I loved how he encouraged us to unite. Something else I appreciated was how, once he had pointed out that the attack was “at [his] direction,” he talked about the skilled intelligence professionals and the courage and capability of those who actually carried out the attack and did not continue to credit himself with the success of the capture. Which brings me to my next thought…
2. Them Navy SEALs are bad-ASS, yessir. I’m glad they’re on our side. While I am decidedly anti-war, I know it’s ridiculous to think we need no military forces at all. I support the people who have this distinct sense of duty to their country even if I don’t always support what they’re asked to do.
3. There have been conflicting reports since the initial announcement about whether Osama bin Laden used his wife as a human shield during the attack on his compound. We may never know exactly what happened. Still, a guy who hides out for 10+ years is not exactly the embodiment of bravery.
4. I don’t remember actually hootin’ and hollerin’, but I felt a flutter in my chest that I eventually identified as relief (or possibly heartburn). This coward was responsible for so much suffering.

But here’s the thing.

Jack came into the room while I was watching the news, and when he asked what happened, I told him “we” had finally found and killed Osama bin Laden. Jack asked who he was, and I said, “He’s the guy responsible for September 11. He’s the guy who got people to fly the planes into the buildings. He was a very angry, hateful man.”

Jack just looked at me. He stared like he was waiting for a punchline, because why would I be happy that someone died?

It’s a very hard thing to explain to a child. We teach them that killing people is wrong, and that death is a very sad thing (we’ve experienced it personally in our home this week). My kids’ generation has been raised knowing that the events of September 11, 2001 came about because some people hate our country. So are we telling them that there are exceptions to DO NOT KILL? That it’s okay to kill certain people? That it’s okay to rejoice in some deaths?

I feel odd even asking these rhetorical questions, because I fully admit that I support the death penalty. In fact, if it were up to me, people who torture and kill others would die for it, and in exactly the same way. This opinion does not come from watching too much Law & Order; I’ve felt this way for as long as I can remember. And I know that this view doesn’t fit with my pacifist, anti-war stance, nor does it go with most of my left-leaning political views. I struggle with this belief. I know it doesn’t make a lot of sense.

One could easily draw comparisons between killing bin Laden to bombing abortion clinics (which I believe is a bad thing to do) or murdering someone who is knowingly spreading HIV (which I also believe is bad). So, really, reacting to the death of Osama bin Laden with joy—with hootin’ and hollerin’—contradicts so much of what I have taught my children.

I have no idea what I’m supposed to tell them. This is where this job of being a parent is so flippin’ scary—there may not be one right answer, but what if what I teach them is wrong? Or the way they interpret it is wrong? Or when one of them (probably Jack) becomes a serial killer that it will be blamed on bad parenting? Oh, geez. Now I know that’s totally gonna happen. Shit.

I imagine that on Sunday evening other people had a similar response to mine, in that it changed as the news sunk in. Was this something to rejoice? People keep saying the war on terror is over now that bin Laden is dead, but is al-Qaeda really powerless without him? I am quite sure there are plenty of dangerous people who still hate our country and all we stand for. Whether bin Laden’s death changes anything, time will tell. I definitely have concerns about retaliation.

Mostly, though, I’m concerned with what we’re teaching our children as we react to this week’s news.

May 2: Bye-bye, Little Miss Scout

Today was a rough one. We had our sweet beagle girl put to sleep. Scout was 14 years old and in recent months had lost a lot of weight and energy. In the past week she stopped eating and drinking. It was time.

Indulge me, please, and let a proud dog momma share some Sweet Baby Girl Scout stories and pictures (hover over the pics for caption goodness).

Before heading out to choose our puppy from the litter, I read that it was best to choose one that came to us right away. That was supposed to mean it was friendly, even though I was a complete stranger. The ones who stuck too close to Mom were supposedly less outgoing. The six puppies were released from their pen and spread out all over the yard. The one that would be Scout came straight over to me, yanked on my shoelace, and ran off. We’d found our girl.

We brought her home to Bailey, Daryl & Sally’s two-year-old beagle we were dog-sitting for the weekend. Scout promptly tried to nurse her. For the next two days, poor Bailey had to run from the little nipper—Scout just wouldn’t give up. Bailey was EXTRA oh-so-happy to see Daryl & Sally pick her up after their trip.

We lived in Vic’s weird little house when we first had Scout, and she spent her days in the laundry room, which housed the water heater. Scout got bored, and puppy + boredom = no more insulation on the water heater. What a mess. When a realtor walked through the house with us to prepare for its sale, I assured her we would replace the insulation. She said, “Don’t worry, I’ll just tell buyers you had a puppy.” Hm. Easy. (Unfortunately, that didn’t work on the shredded carpet.)

We visited our house frequently as it was being built. Puppy Scout left “trademarks” at several stages of progress. Marking her territory?

Jay’s comment on my Facebook post today reminded me of this one: we had my office Christmas party at our new house when Scout was about seven months old. Some people (look at me, not naming names!) thought it was funny to get her worked up so she would beagle-bark. The Christmas tree lights were hooked up to The Clapper, and Scout’s bark was so sharp and loud, she made the tree lights go on and off, on and off, over and over.

When we’d visit Vic’s parents in Seattle, Daryl & Sally were occasionally there at the same time. Even when D&S weren’t there, Scout would make a beeline to their guest room looking for Bailey. Poor Bailey never really did learn to love Scout—they had such a weird start; who could blame Bailey?

Scout was great with kids; playful but patient and sweet. Here’s my favorite picture of her. Katie was a couple days old, and Scout was just learning that her place in the House of Manullang might have (TOTALLY) changed. She adjusted just fine.

We’ve got tons of pictures of the kids playing with Scout. I especially love these.

Grandma Mary was one of Scout’s favorite family members. If Grandma was sitting down, Scout was next to her. If Grandma was laying down, Scout was curled against her body and content to sleep for hours.

At Christmastime, Scout’s favorite place was under the tree. I don’t know if it was because it was warm or because she just wanted to be with us at all times. Year after year, this was where she could be found if the tree was up.

She was a smart dog, but her hide-and-seek skills lacked a certain something.

Scout was such a tender comfort to me while going through chemo—feeling awful became feeling not-so-hot when her warm body was cuddled up to me, sometimes for an entire day. She was a perfect companion and the best napper EVER.

And oh, she was such a pretty girl.

   

This photo, taken almost four years ago, shows Scout at her chubbiest. Looking at this now, and remembering how she was so scarily thin and bony when we cuddled her as she took her last breaths today, it’s hard to believe it’s the same dog. Her health had declined so much. I don’t think Victor or I wanted to admit it for a long time, and now we both feel terrible that we prolonged her suffering for our own selfishness. Honestly, though, it was only in the last few days that she really seemed to be having discomfort—she moved very little, wouldn’t eat or drink, had trouble getting up the stairs. She went downhill very quickly. But even yesterday, she walked around the house until she found me in my office and curled up under my chair. Scout was a social girl until the very end.

And this is how I’d like to remember our dear Little Miss Scout—silly, photogenic, sweet, gentle, funny, and adorable.

My sister’s Facebook status today was such a nice sentiment:

I once heard that our dogs have souls. And very often those souls are reborn into another dog - and we get them back. I so hope my little niece, Scout, comes back soon.

I love that idea so, so much.