Sometimes Rejection is GOOD!

When is rejection a good thing? When you check your local court's website and read: "Your group is not needed. Your service is complete. You do not have to check back." Yippeeee!

As you may guess, I was on call for jury duty this week. I work as a legal secretary and would LOVE to serve on a jury, but my involvement with the system thus far has been the mind numbing experience of sitting all day long in the jury lounge. I think I've had jury duty about five times before; once in the federal court and the other times at the state court level. In each instance, I wasn't even sent to a courtroom as a potential juror. I left home today prepared with a little hand applique project, quilting magazines, and a book, but they'll stay in my car until I go home tonight. I think maybe I'll need to buy a lottery ticket on the way home--obviously luck is with me today!

The Wild Child

My Wild Child came home for the weekend, bringing her camera with her and asking me to download her photos. She lives in the Tahoe area and has enjoyed a wonderful winter of snowboarding. Although the snow hasn't been as heavy as they would have liked AND it arrived late this year, she was finally able to take advantage of one of the ski resorts and get her share of time in on the slopes. Unfortunately, last year she didn't have a snowboard, but I'll tell you a little bit about that later.

For her birthday in February, her boyfriend took her on a drive south to the Mono Lake area. They did some hiking and relaxed in pools fed by natural springs. I think she does pretty well with photography, particularly given the fact that she has a fairly inexpensive camera. We had given her the camera for Christmas; my husband had picked it up through his work in connection with a manufacturer's promotion. I'd love to see what she could go with a better camera, but I'm afraid she'd lose it. She's gone through two cell phones in the past year: the last one was lost somewhere in a snowbank and the one before that ended up at the bottom of Lake Tahoe. The photos below were taken on that trip. I won't share with you the photo of her topless in the natural springs. Or the one of her mooning the camera on a snow-covered slope. She says she thinks that one would make a good Christmas card. I just hope grandma's not on her Christmas list!

We've been keeping a close eye on this boyfriend, and so far, so good. He's about ten years older than she is, and although he's definitely the adventurous type, he seems to take good care of her and treats her well. Quite a change from the Boy From Hell who brought her to Tahoe in the first place. I think she started seeing him on the rebound from the boyfriend before that. I'll go back a little, so it makes some sense.

When she was a sophomore in high school, the Wild Child began seeing Justin. They spent most of their time together except when she was working as a waitress at an ice cream parlor and when Justin was working in his dad's motorcycle shop or off with his buddies, messing around with cars. The Wild Child is a very emotional being and their relationship was very tumultuous; she's not one to suffer in silence. Over the years, they broke up several times but always got back together again. Two weeks before my daughter's 21st birthday, Justin lost control of his motorcycle, hit a tree, and died. It was particularly traumatic for my daughter; they were broken up at the time, although she and the rest of us thought they would resolve their differences and resume the relationship eventually. Now that would never happen.

Within four or five months of Justin's death, the Wild Child met the Boy from Hell. Although this kid seemed very nice and respectful, over the course of time, we learned he was anything but. In November of that year, he and my daughter moved to Tahoe where he had grown up. We later learned that he had a problem with drugs and alcohol, although we--and she--didn't realize it at the time. My daughter has always been good about managing and saving her money, and when they moved to Tahoe, she bought a new-to-her 4WD SUV. She still needed a few things to set up housekeeping, but with our help and a few cast-offs, she was able to furnish a small, one-room cottage. She got a job waitressing at a nearby casino, and things were going fairly well. The BFH got a job at the same casino but lost the job after two weeks. Because he didn't have a car, he would use hers, driving her to and from work. Before long, there were several times when he failed to pick her up after work, and my daughter was forced to get a ride from a friend or walk home late, late at night. Eventually they began arguing, and one night, he stranded her at work again. When she got home, she found he had taken all of her things--TV, snowboard, cell phone, car, and anything else he could carry. Some of the things were sold by him--including her snowboard--and some she was able to recover. A month or so later, he persuaded her to take him back. I guess we're all gullible at some point in our lives, and this was her time. Within weeks, the same behavior occured again. This time, not only did he take her things, but he spun out in the snow, scraping her SUV over rocks and boulders and abandoning the car on the highway. By now, he was driving without a license, so he fled the scene. Then he called her at work and told her where she could find her car. The car had to be towed and was not driveable. Through an insurance snafu, it was uninsured as well. It took my daughter a year to save up the money necessary for the repairs and to put her life back in order, but I think she learned a valuable lesson. I know this boy has tried several times to convince her to take him back but she's not buying it. One of his most memorable attempts was when he told her his father had been decapitated in an automobile accident and he had inherited half his father's business and his house in the Santa Cruz area. The Wild Child was less than impressed and told him that money had nothing to do with why they weren't together. A few weeks later, the boy's father called, looking for his son--this is the guy who was presumably decapitated. Oh, did that provide endless material for jokes! The Wild Child has a wonderful wit and a dry delivery. And at least she can laugh about it now.

In any event, this BFH is now out of her life and she's moved on. Both she and her current boyfriend are hesitant to commit to any long term relationships; apparently he's also had his share of unfortunate experiences. But they seem good for each other for the time being.

It was nice to have the Wild Child at home. There were times over the last few years when I hoped she would move back, but she insisted on standing on her own two feet and rebuilding her life. For the past year, she's been talking about saving up money to travel around the country with her dog, Rocky, beginning sometime in 2009. This child is the one who turns my hair gray, but she's also the one who's doing the kind of things that I didn't have the courage to do back in the 70s when I was her age. Yes, she's wild and I worry about her, but I love her and admire many things about her too.

I still owe you all one more thing you didn't know about me, and that's coming soon--I didn't want you to think I had forgotten!

Survivor: Fiji

Yau Man Credo: "Love many, trust few, do wrong to none."

Yes, I watch Survivor. It's one of two reality shows I watch regularly; the other is The Amazing Race. My husband used to make fun of me for watching until he sat down and watched for the first time a couple years ago. Now he's a big fan too.

One of the appeals of the show for me is that I can watch it while quilting--there's no involved plot to follow. The other appeal is in watching the way humans interact in an isolated but competitive setting. Interestingly enough, one of the participants said something about the experience being similar to being out in the real world, working in a business setting: It's not always the smartest or strongest who get ahead. I admit I hadn't really thought of it in those terms.

If you didn't watch Survivor this season, you'll probably have little idea what I'm talking about, but if you did, perhaps you'll have an opinion or a comment. The huge upset/surprise for me this season was when Dreamz went back on his promise to give Yau-Man the immunity necklace, thereby eliminating Yau-Man from the game. When that happened, I was so angry I almost turned the TV off. Almost.

I've read a number of different opinions on this development, but as I see it, Dreamz did nothing more than shoot himself in the foot and prevent someone from winning who deserved to win. I can't imagine Dreamz would have thought he'd have a chance with the jury by going back on his word, so what was the point? Had he kept his word and given Yau immunity, he would have been a role model to others. Many of the more personable Survivors from the past, even if they didn't win the $1 million, go on to do fairly well through commercials, endorsements, or other business deals. Dreamz' decision to renege on his promise to Yau surely guaranteed that there wouldn't be anything offered to him along those lines in his future. So now he has a $60,000 truck and no credibility; and, if there's any fairness in this world, he'll be stuck paying the taxes on the truck. Couldn't happen to a nicer guy!

I've read a couple comments on different venues suggesting that the "contract" between Yau and Dreamz is enforceable in court. I think one of the things people forget is that the "contract" was not entered into in the U.S., so U.S. law would not apply, and Survivor may well have had their own rules covering such contingencies that the contestants agreed to ahead of time.

I've also read that since Survivor is a game, Dreamz was justified in doing whatever he had to do to win the money. Okay, granted that one of the elements of Survivor is to trick and manipulate people, but I've noticed that many of those who win do so because they are essentially as honorable as it's possible to be under the circumstances. When is it okay to cheat in a game, anyway? In my mind, there are times when it's acceptable to be less than honest in a game. One instance that comes to mind is when you know your opponent has made a mistake or overlooked something, and it's to your advantage to say nothing. To me, that's okay. Cheating is not okay. I certainly don't want to play cards with someone who's stacking the deck. I don't want to play Monopoly with someone who's pulling money out of the "bank" when I'm not watching. I don't think I can tell you exactly what I think of Dreamz without using a lot of words that aren't fit to print, but you can believe I'm thinking them in my head!

While I don't dislike Earl and think that out of the three remaining contestants, he was the best choice, I still can't help but think Yau Man should have been the one claiming the $1 million. I hope that life rewards him somehow for being one of the most likeable and honorable Survivor contestants in some time.

Mother's Day 2007

This Mother's Day is different than the others that have come before it. This Mother's Day is not just about me. This Mother's Day, it's been about my own mom more than myself.

In years past, my parents lived too far away to make visits on Mother's Day convenient or possible. Those of you who read my blog know my father passed away a few weeks ago, and I didn't want my mom to spend "her" day alone. Yesterday, I drove up to Oroville to pick her up and bring her home with me. My gift today from my husband was to take her back home, while I enjoy a little "me" time.

To tell you the truth, I was dreading the weekend. The loss of my father was too fresh. My brother and his wife were coming up yesterday to spend time with my mom. My kids were going to be in and out and would be here for brunch today. The plans and arrangements that needed to be made seemed somehow overwhelming, and I visualized the weekend as chaotic.

My mother and I have had a difficult relationship over the years. She's an alcoholic, and that has overshadowed all our lives. Looking back at some of the things she did, they now seem pretty funny. Like the time I brought a boyfriend home for Thanksgiving dinner and she served his turkey onto the plate that she couldn't hold steady, and it slid right off onto the floor. Then there were other things she did that were just downright odd. Like when she babysat our son. When I picked him up after work one evening, I found her feeding him sour cream--just plain sour cream from a spoon. The thing that affected me most, though, were the mean, hypercritical things she said to me as I was growing up and later when I was an adult. Being a mother myself, I don't understand how a mother could treat her child as she treated me, but I know the alcohol changed her in many ways. It's taken me many years to forgive her, but now I think I do.

As it turned out, the weekend was really wonderful. I enjoyed the drive with my mom, talking about this and that, including my dad, all the way home. My brother and his wife pulled up to the house just as we got home, and after visiting for awhile, the five of us--my husband included--went out to a late lunch at Mimi's, where the food was good and the company was enjoyable. While everyone else went back to our house, I took my mom to an art store where I bought her some supplies so she can get back into her sketching and painting--something she enjoyed when she was younger and is interested in doing again. I hope it will give her something to occupy her time and her mind now that she is alone. By the time we got home, my mom was tired out, but we all sat on the patio and talked for another hour or two before my brother and his wife got back on the road home. For the first time since my father passed away, my mom seems to have gotten a long and restful sleep.

This morning I fixed brunch, and my kids arrived. We all ate on the patio, where the weather was beautiful. My mom expressed an active interest in all that my children have been involved in, and they, in turn, were patient with her. It truly warmed my heart.

Now my mom is on her way home, and I hope she's taking with her wonderful memories of the Mother's Day weekend she spent with my family, as I have of her time with us. Sometime over the weekend, it occurred to me that she has almost become MY child. She's frail and needs assistance, although she still retains a certain inner strength that's helping her deal with the loss of her beloved husband.

My Mother's Day wish for all of you moms out there is that you love and nurture your children and show your mom how much you care for and love her. Enjoy "your" day, and always remember to treat those around you with the love they surround you with today. Moms are truly special beings!

Bridges and Overpasses and Freeway Interchanges, Oh My!

Before I tell you the sixth thing about me that you didn't know, I just wanted to reassure you all that yesterday's post was a complete and utter fabrication. It was a funny thing but after I posted, I received outraged telephone calls, letters, and e-mails. Social invitations were revoked. The truth of the matter is that I have never in my whole entire life ever passed gas. So you can all rest assured that I truly am the perfect being you all thought I was.

Okay, maybe I'm not quite perfect because I do have a peculiarity. A tiny little fear. Just a little niggling worry. Yep, I'm fibbing again--it's actually a huge terror. I'm really bothered (to put it mildly) about driving over bridges, BIG, tall overpasses, and some freeway interchanges. It's kind of a fear of heights in a way, except I can stand on the edge of something high up and not be bothered as long as there's some kind of barrier between me and a fall to my death. When I'm traveling over a bridge or some overpasses, I have a sensation that I'm not in control of the car and once it reaches the top, it will just take off like an airplane. Or the steering will fail and I'll plunge over the side. Or something.

It's really not reasonable, and I know that, but I can't talk myself out of it. I've wondered whether I'm anticipating a bridge or overpass ahead of time and getting myself worked up before hand, but there have been many times when I don't even think about it until I find myself in the middle of one and suddenly the panic sets in. I can even panic suddenly while driving across the same overpass I travel each day without a twinge of discomfort. And it seems the older I get, the worse it is--I never had this fear when I was young.

That photo at the top is the Coronado Bridge in San Diego. I was on it once, and my husband was driving. I had to keep my eyes closed the entire way. My family thinks it's funny; I think it's funny when I put laxatives in their food. Same result, pretty much.

Living in Sacramento isn't a great thing for someone who doesn't like bridges, since we're located at the confluence of two major rivers, the American and the Sacramento. Luckily (although many who live here feel otherwise), we don't have a whole lot of bridges across the rivers. There is one bridge on Interstate 80 that goes over the Sacramento River, and why they had to build that darn thing so high, like McDonald's golden arches, I have no idea. It's not like we get the Queen Mary passing under the dang thing!

I really thought I was alone in this weird fear, but I've seen several times recently where Judy has posted about the same fear, and many readers have commented that they share the feeling. Sometimes, it's just good to know you're not the only freak on the planet! Judy even takes people with her when she knows she has to travel over a particularly scary bridge. When I can, I take my husband. Today, I'm traveling up to Oroville to pick up my mom and bring her here for the Mother's Day weekend; my husband will stay home and do some things that need to get done around here. I have to cross a few bridges and overpasses, but none are too scary. I'll look forward to stopping in Marysville at Starbucks for my latte though--that's the half way point and I'll get a little rest from bridge-crossing!

Do any of you share this insanity? Leave me a comment if you do--misery loves company! And if you don't, do you want to come drive me around? Have a great Saturday and stay away from bridges!

And Another Thing . . .

Okay, brace yourself for the fifth thing you didn't know about me.

5. Garlic gives me gas.

Shhh! It's not something I tell just anyone! And I'm willing to bet that whoever came up with this 7 Things meme really didn't think she or he would elicit this kind of confession, but you're all my close, personal friends now, having gotten to know me so much better in reading about the first four things, so I feel I can be honest with you. And really, the only reason I bring this up today is because I made garlic bread last night, so it's something that's been on my mind a bit.

It seems the older I get, the harder it is to just enjoy a good meal without worrying about the consequences. Just a couple months ago . . . . well, it's kind of embarrassing, but since we're such good friends and all, I'll tell you if you promise not to tell anyone.

My husband and I had gone to bed for the night, and he was sound asleep, snoring away, while I was reading. I guess I had eaten something garlicky that night because I was having a little bit of a problem. Still, I didn't think my husband would notice in his sleep, but I was wrong. Suddenly the snoring stopped and he sat bolt upright in bed and asked, "What was that?" You have to understand that my husband has a bit of a preoccupation with the sound of gun fire, but that's another story. Suffice it to say, he's not a real sound sleeper; me, on the other hand, wouldn't wake up if someone broke into the house and fired a shot into my pillow. Anyway, I guess he was a little confused by the sudden loud noise. When he figured out what had woken him out of his snoring-punctuated sleep, he said something like, "Oh, jeez," and started laughing. Then I started laughing. Every time one of us would stop laughing and it would get quiet for a few seconds, the other would start right back up. Guys are good like that. If it had been the other way around, him waking me up, I would have been pissed!

And speaking of garlic and marriage and stuff like that, see that billboard in the background of the photo? Christopher Ranch? They grow and ship minced, chopped, and whole garlic all over the country from their ranch in Gilroy, California. The ranch is owned and run by father Don and son Bill. Every time I see those little jars in the produce section of the grocery store, I pound my head against the wall, rent my clothing, and lament the fact that I didn't happen to snag Bill when we were in high school together. Dang! I could have hooked up with a rich family! Okay, probably not. He was a popular jock who just happened to be cute, smart, and motivated too. Which is pretty much the opposite of my high school self in every way but the smart part. In any event, I'm sure with this gas thing I'm plagued with, I would have been kicked out of the family anyway. Something like that probably wouldn't make for good PR.

Kathleen's Doll Quilt

A little more eye candy, because I can't just keep boring you with my stories!

This is a pattern by Jo Morton for the Jo's Little Women Club that I finished last night while watching Survivor and Grey's Anatomy. I'm sure now that the TV season is coming to an end, my quilting will suffer. Or maybe not. With our satellite TV, I'll still have a gazillion shows to watch while I quilt. Maybe I'll find some good documentary type stuff and dazzle you all periodically with some of the important things I learn, like that one the other day about how the prostitutes in the old days would cover their beds with tarps to protect their quilts from damage by overly enthusiastic cowboys. Who says TV rots your brain? Don't you just love history?

Two Truths and a Lie

Have you ever played Two Truths and a Lie? My first experience with this game was when my husband and I were traveling through Oregon and made plans for dinner at the Table of Content restaurant located inside the Sylvia Beach Hotel, near Newport, Oregon. This is a wonderful place to stay and/or eat if you're in the mood for a quirky, charming experience. The restaurant serves a four-course, fixed price dinner, family-style, with tables usually seating 8 to 10 people. The owner, Goody Cable, started playing Two Truths and a Lie to entertain her guests and break the ice, so that strangers dining together began to interact. Each "player" starts out making three statements, two of which are true and one of which is a lie. It's up to the other diners to ask questions and determine which statements are true and which is not. Interesting stories are told, and you begin to learn a bit about the others at your table.

I next played it with my online quilting group a year or two ago. Our group is small, and over the years, we've gotten to know one another fairly well, so it was a little tough coming up with two truths and a lie that would stump them. A few people guessed correctly but most did not. My lie? I said that 20 years ago, I ran the California Marathon which runs through our city. Definitely a fib! Heck, I don't even run for a good fabric sale!

This Seven Things meme brought the game to mind, so I'll tell you my two truths as numbers three and four on my list of seven things.

3. I first met my husband in church.

This really stumped some of my friends who were amazed at the idea of me attending church. About the closest I get these days is watching Mysteries of the Bible on Sunday morning while I quilt. But at one time, I did attend church on a regular basis. My first husband Mike played guitar every chance he could, and one of the places he played was at Sunday morning folk mass. Much as I didn't enjoy dragging myself out of bed at the crack of dawn (8 a.m.) and getting dressed up for church (because you had to back then), I faithfully attended mass each Sunday and watched Mike play guitar with another musician, also named Mike. One day, I was introduced to the "other Mike's" family--a large, friendly Irish Catholic bunch consisting of a mom, dad, and their six offspring. The "other Mike" was the oldest; his slightly younger brother (11 months younger, an apparently common occurrence I've heard referred to as "Irish twins") eventually became my second husband, but I don't really remember him particularly. I probably wasn't fully awake yet--that's the way it is with anything that happens before noon in my little world. I know I met the family and he remembers meeting me, so odd as it seems, it's true!

4. I'm an award winning writer.

Okay, just a bit of backtracking. The point of Two Truths and a Lie is to tweek the truth just a bit so it become less believable--hence this particular "fact" about me. Yes, it's true. When I was in the third grade, I wrote an essay on fire prevention and won first place for our area. I received $25 in prize money (practically a fortune in those days, which I promptly blew on Barbie doll stuff) and I got to attend an award banquet with the school's principal. I've always enjoyed writing, and maybe that's because of my early brush with fame. (Oh, and did I mention there was a photo of me and write up in the newspaper?!)

So now you know a little more about me. Have I bored you to tears yet? I still have three more things to tell you about me, but those will wait until another day.

Stars Over the Pumpkin Patch

Just a little quilters' eye candy, as I promised the other day. This is called Stars Over the Pumpkin Patch. I shamelessly ripped off Linda Ballard's Stars Over St. Louis stars and Irish chain idea (after I took her class and made that quilt--you can order the pattern from her) and replaced the plain blocks with pieced pumpkins. I used the design as a mystery quilt for my online group; I think I'm probably the last one to finish! Happy quilting!

A Bit About Me

In reference to yesterday's post, although he saw past my thinly veiled scheme, my husband went along with my plan for him to cook dinner, but it wasn't anything fancy--grilled ham and cheese on grilled sandwich buns (leftover from Pioneer Woman's steak sandwiches that I made the other night) and a nice little pile of Tater Tots on the side. I don't mind that the meal wasn't a gourmet feast any more than I minded that the blueberry muffins on Saturday morning weren't served on pretty plates. As far as I'm concerned, it's just a nice little bonus whenever I don't have to cook but DO get to eat.

Someone expressed amazement at the thought of a man willingly cooking. My husband's actually a good sport and really doesn't mind cooking occasionally. In fact, he likes to bake--cookies, bread, and pies. After all, that's why I married him in the first place! Well, that and the little fact that I was pregnant at the time.

Connie tagged me with the Seven Things You Didn't Know About Me meme. I've thought about it a bit and decided that over the next few days, I'll reveal a few things about me. Some of it might be downright boring and some of it might be interesting.

So, number 1: I got married because I was pregnant.

My husband and I seem to be a remarkably fertile couple. I've gotten pregnant three times, all while using some type of birth control method. The first time I got pregnant, we had been dating for three or four months. After some deep thought and soul searching, for a number of reasons I decided to have an abortion. (That's fact number 2.) It was a hard decision to make and there have been times I've had regrets--who wouldn't?--but then had I not had an abortion, our son wouldn't have come along.

Yep, crazily fertile couple that we were, a few months later I got pregnant again--this time while on the pill. I swear I was taking the pill without fail because I sure didn't want to go through that ever again, but darn it, it still happened!

Let me give you a little bit of background here. When my husband was about eight years old, he was terribly ill with mumps and some other undiagnosed ailment; one night, he had a high fever and died. Totally stopped breathing, according to his father, saw that bright white light down the tunnel, according to him--all the stuff you've heard about. His father did whatever the early 60s version of CPR was, and my husband started breathing again. When I first heard the story, I thought it was kind of weird/cool/freaky. This man, I thought, must be destined to live for some purpose.

Okay, now flash forward to the second-pregnancy-despite-precautions time. Was this the hand of God? Destiny? Maybe our child would save the world. Become president of the US. Cure the common cold. Maybe having a child together was absolutely preordained.

One evening, a day or two after we learned I was pregnant yet again, while sitting on the bed, changing his socks after work, he asked, "So, do you want to get married?" There it was. Did I want to get married? No, I didn't want to get married. Not that way. I wanted romance and Prince Charming; I didn't want a guy who thought it was okay to propose with sweaty feet while changing clothes. So I said no. Eventually he persuaded me that I really did want to get married--to him even! We did and our son was born seven months later. He's 26 now, and although I've watched carefully with a mother's attentive eye, so far I haven't noticed any heroic character traits or the likelihood of impending scientific breakthroughs. He is growing into a person I really like and enjoy, though, and believe me, there were a couple times I had my doubts along the way. Like when he accidentally broke his sister's arm. Twice. Or when he stole tennis shoes for his high school girlfriend from Sports Authority. But I think he's outgrown all that now. Or gotten better at it, but we won't think about that.

My daughter came along three years and one day later. Again, we were using birth control. The really weird thing with her is that I knew--absolutely, positively KNEW--the moment I got pregnant, despite the fact that I told myself it wasn't possible. It was Mother's Day 1983 and my sister-in-law came over to pick up our son early and take him to grandma and grandpa's house. So really it was all her fault, as you can plainly see. How ironic is it to get pregnant on Mother's Day? And is it a coincidence that I also must have gotten pregnant with our son right around Mother's Day, since their birthdays are only a day (and three years) apart? No, so far my lovely daughter doesn't look like she'll be saving the world either, although she's big into tree hugging and wants to buy a truck she can convert to run on biofuel, so maybe she WILL end global warming or something. It's a nice thought anyway.

If it was our next child who was destined to save the world, then the world is surely doomed. After that Mother's Day 1983, my husband and I made a pact to stay as far away from each other as possible in May of each year. And although my husband will never be the typical Prince Charming type, he does cook dinner occasionally and bakes some darn fine cookies. Oh, and I found out his feet aren't really all that sweaty--I guess he was just nervous that night. As far as what his purpose here on Earth might be, maybe it's just to cook dinner for me when I'd rather quilt. That's good enough for me anyway!