six short weeks more

My niece, Sammi, and her mother came out to visit us yesterday. It was sunny and wonderful, so a visit to the Peirce* Island swimming pool was in order. This facility is truly awesome. Built in 1945, the pool is 100 yards long. Can you imagine swimming the length of a football field? At its widest part, it's 33 yards across. At the shallow end, it's 14" deep, and it very slowly tapers to a modest 6' at the other end. The picture at left shows the pool and its location on the narrow strip of island.

During the free swim time, there were about 10 lanes set up in the deep end for laps, and the remaining space was in four big sections. There were nine lifeguards alternately walking the deck, sitting high on umbrella-covered chairs, or blowing whistles to instruct those who dared roughhouse. There was also a good number of swimmers, swimmer-hanger-ons, and sun worshippers.

Grounded without appropriate swimwear, I relaxed in a would-be Adirondack chair (it was plastic, and therefore, not genuine) between a small stand of trees which shaded me nicely and the pool's edge where I could watch Sammi demonstrate her swimming techniques and show off some amazing contortions (she can make her toes touch her ears, just to give you an idea). It was fun to watch and listen to the crowd, and just soak up the general summertime glee that was thick in the air.

The pool is only open until the end of August. So I don't miss out on the fun this year, I'm now tending to my swimwear issue, and will definitely go back soon. And Sammi has volunteered to come back anytime. I'll have to take her up on that offer.

* Really. It's spelled "Peirce." It goes against every grain of my spelling-bee brain to write it that way, but what can I do? And yes, the street on the satellite map picture of the pool is spelled incorrectly! It should be "Peirce!"

soaring

This little goofball is my nephew, Dan. The photo is one of about a thousand that my family compiled for a digital picture frame for my parents at Christmas. So I don't know when this particular photo was taken, though I'm guessing it was somewhere around 1995. Well, today, Dan (much taller and only slightly less goofy) was honored at a ceremony where the honor of Eagle Scout was bestowed upon him.

He's been a Scout for about 12 years and -- having voiced his desire at age 10 to become an Eagle Scout -- spent a noteworthy amount of time and effort in scouting activities. For his project, he built a bocce court at a local park for the town's Recreation Department (the same one formerly headed by his grandfather, who also served as his Eagle Scout mentor).

Dan keeps plenty busy in addition to his scouting. He's been a gourmet and able chef since a very early age. When he was 12 years old and came to Connecticut to spend a week with us, he came prepared to manage our meals. He brought a couple of his favorite recipes, and we spent some time going through my cookbooks to come up with ideas for more.

One of our first expeditions was to the grocery store where this pre-teen wunderkind convinced me to buy saffron -- a spice so expensive, you buy it not by the ounce but by the gram. By the end of the week, we'd enjoyed dishes like Banana French Toast and Thai Fish, and he'd hand-written his own cookbook for us. Oh, and we did also fit in some fun kid visit things like the zoo, the aquarium, the children's museum, and 4th of July fireworks.

Dan just recently celebrated his high school graduation, and will be going to college in the mountains far away from home to study forestry. We'll miss him, but his new vocation might well land him back in New Hampshire where there are plenty of trees to be found.

Congratulations, congratulations, and congratulations, Dan. We're triply proud of you!

community and family

I have loved Extreme Makeover: Home Edition from the first episode. I admit, it was my obsession with Trading Spaces that brought me to it in the first place. That said, I've been hooked ever since (and not just because Ty Pennington regularly unbuttons or removes his shirt!). Tonight's episode featured the Voisine family in New Hampshire, and so I was vested a bit more for a couple reasons.

First, Granite State pride! Second, a family who lives next door to my brother was nominated and was one of the final few families to be considered. Third, my niece, Caitlin, was one of the blue-shirted volunteers who helped with the project last fall.

In addition to watching the show itself, the local ABC affiliate created a one hour special called "Extreme Makeover: New Hampshire Builds a Dream." It highlighted the community angle, and was very interesting to watch. The actual EM:HE show was two hours long. All in all, it was wonderful to watch and left me needing only one thing (c'mon, click the link!).

On another note, I visited my parents earlier today. A long-time friend of theirs had mailed them some stuff she uncovered while organizing a few decades of recreation-related memorabilia. In addition to three pictures of my parents from 1974 (nice tie, Dad!), there was an editorial from my hometown newspaper. It is dated July 25, 1963. This may bore you to tears, but I am fascinated. So I shall transcribe.

"Man With a Challenge" by Dan A. O'Connell (Editor)

Gerald Cox, 29, earnest and affable, college-trained in the new but necessary skill of Recreation Director, arrived this week to take charge of our town's recreational needs on a full-time basis. It would be the understatement of the year to say merely that the job offers a tremendous challenge. The new Director undoubtedly knows all the basic theories, concepts, and techniques of this pioneer science. He has the advantage of practical experience in the field and has compiled an impressive record of accomplishment in other places. His future here looks good, but unless the people of this community are prepared to pitch in and help, the young man and his program are certain to come a-cropper.

Ours is a progressive town, aware of tremendous change in the making, and conscious of a need to adjust with the times to survive their impact. This awareness and consciousness has been evident for several years. Almost everyone agreed that "something should be done," but nothing ever was, mainly because no one seemed to know exactly what, when, where or how. The problem came to a head this year when people woke up to the fact that so-called juvenile delinquency spawns on adult neglect and community callousness. As a result, the annual Town Meeting in March faced up to the problem, created a Recreation Commission and authorized the employment of a qualified, full-time Recreation Director.

Although the Town Meeting action was unanimous, it should not be assumed that everyone in town has "seen the light" or goes along with the proposition, regardless of the recorded unanimity. Beneath the facade of Twentieth Century trappings and adornment, the town remains an old-fashioned New England community, fiercely and ruggedly individualistic, with inherent distrust of governmental intrusions of its early American way of life. Considerable "selling" of the need to bend with the times, when survival is of the essence, remains to be done. Young Mr. Cox has been given the ball and will be expected to streak down the field to a series of impressive touchdowns. He is on his own and will be required to make the runs without a protective wall of interference. We who wish him well can only shout encouragement from the sidelines and try to set in proper perspective the comment of curbstone quarter-backs.

It would be doing the young man no favor at this stage of the game to promise him clear sailing ahead and no hidden shoals to wreck his programs and shatter his dreams. The plain fact of the matter is that Directed Recreation Programs and Supervised Facilities have long been considered new-fangled hokum by many good citizens who persist in living in the past and refuse to believe that the wide open spaces of youth no longer exist, or are rapidly disappearing under the impact of expanding "metropolitanism." They belong to generations which have accepted and enjoyed the pleasures of modern living without considering the price that youngsters and generations unborn will have to pay. It is only human nature to assume that the whole world revolves about one's own axis. The selfishness is instinctive and unwitting.

There is a great deal of misunderstanding and misconception about the business of Directed Recreation, a terrible inclination to dismiss it as "coddling" or boondoggling" or "time-passing." Nothing could be farther from the truth! A dynamic and intelligent program of directed and supervised recreation for all ages is not a luxury or a convenience, but a civic necessity. There is much more to Gerald Cox's new job than supervising youthful athletics, encouraging arts and crafts, or baby-sitting while children play. He will be responsible for seeing that tragic mistakes do not recur in the future. Our generation is harassed by the spectacle of youngsters playing in the streets because a callous older generation has taken away their pasture playgrounds to turn a fast buck. Civilization is cursed by teen-agers loafing on street-corners because society gives them nowhere else to go and nothing else to do.

Young Mr. Cox has a man-sized job staring him in the face, and a good place to start is at the beginning. He should take immediate steps to prevent a bad situation from coming immeasurably worse by having a heart-to-heart talk with the Planning and Zoning authorities. It is not enough that new real estate sub-divisions be required to provide adequate road, water, and sewerage facilities: there should be sufficient land set aside for playground areas to keep the kids off the street in an age of increasing transport speed. Next, he should try to conserve and improve and expand the playground and park area still extant in our town. They certainly do not inspire civic pride at the present time. He cannot insist, but he should suggest that the uncommitted sector of the Alexander Estate be preserved, as the good Doctor wished, for recreation, not speculation.

But, enough of telling young Mr. Cox what he should do. Even more important than a good idea in a typical New England town is the psychology of convincing people to go along. The people of this town are not Hicks and Yokels, but highly intelligent and surprisingly well read, far more so than their city slicker cousins. They resent being fast-talked, high pressured, or peddled a bill of goods. They are set in their ways, but not obstinate, and like Abraham Lincoln, will do the right as God gives them to see the right. Don't try to talk above them, or at them, but to them, man-to-man. Do this, Mr. Cox, and you'll do okay! Do otherwise, and you're a dead duck!

Many bright young brains, in the course of history, have come to town with the idea of re-making it in their own image, only to fall on their faces, and crawl away into oblivion. Many of them had good ideas, but the wrong approach. We are New Englanders and New Hampshiremen; we don't want to be made over; we relish ourselves the way God made us! All we ask of Mr. Cox or anyone is to help make us better and help us better utilize the facilities and natural wealth with which Divine Providence has endowed us. If Mr. Cox dedicates himself exclusively to doing his job well, he can certainly count on the cooperation and support of the vast majority of our townspeople. Nice to have you aboard, "Gerry"... and Good Luck!

Post-script.

My Dad was the town's Parks and Recreation Director for 28 years until his retirement. In that time, he created, implemented, and oversaw countless recreational and athletic programs, led the conversion of an old school into a community center, built a permanent staff of full-time, part-time, and volunteer recreation staff, and lobbied long and hard (and usually successfully) to save and create parks. It was he who protected the Alexander Estate mentioned in this article. That land is the ski hill I mentioned last week. My Dad rocks.

sticking to plan is hard

I wanted to blog every day. Sometimes, life conspires against goals. This week has been like that. So, no real entry for me again (does it still count as meeting the goal if I phone it in some days?). Here is a picture of my nephew, Ryan. I was hoping he would be a guest blogger today, but this mouse's plans went awry. Maybe some other day. I had it all planned out in my mind. I'd have him interview me. He'd decide what questions to ask and type each one into the web editor. I'd type in my answer, and let him pick which pictures to add. Maybe this weekend.

first day

I'm not in the New Year's spirit. Is that possible? I mean, how is it possible? Really, what about the idea of New Year is there not to like?

It's not that I dislike it. It's just that I have other things on my mind this time around. Never one to participate in the festivities, it's not like I missed out this year because I didn't attend a party. I never do.

I worked until 10:30pm (don't get me wrong, I'm glad that they let us out two hours early). When I got home, I watched half an hour of the weak programming on one television network, and half an hour of commercials interspersed with nanosecond appearances by Dick Clark, Ryan Seacrest, a few of Disney's and American Idol's latest stars, and about a million of their closest friends in Times Square.

My husband and I kissed at midnight. That was the best part. And now it's another day, pretty much like all other days, except I didn't have to work today. Ted did -- up before the freakin' crack of dawn to open the store, and there for nine hours. It snowed. Again. Did I mention that we just survived the snowiest December in New Hampshire history? I still have all the same chores on my 'to do' list. I still have all the same worries. I still don't know what to do about my chores and worries. This year, the type of blind optimism that even the grumpiest people embrace (at least temporarily) has eluded me. And I'm not typically one of the grumpiest.

So, why am I here? Why bother blogging on the holiday when I'm so clearly not drinking the Kool-Aid this year? Two reasons. I'd like to try and be a bit more conscientious about writing, and that includes blogging. That said, I am tempted to put sanguinary blue on ice and start an anonymous blog, but that's a story for another day. And I want to share the always well-timed and beautifully phrased wisdom of Verlyn Klinkenborg. From his "The Rural Life" column in the New York Times.

New Year’s Eve
By Verlyn Klinkenborg

At midnight tonight, the horses on this farm will age a year. That is the custom — every horse has the same birthday, Jan. 1. Like all things calendrical, this is a human convention. When it comes to equine conventions, I know enough to notice some of the simpler forms of precedence: who goes first through a gate, who gets to the grain feeder ahead of the others. But I can report that the horses make no fuss about their common birthday or the coming of the new year. Tonight, like any other, they will be standing, dozing on their feet, ears tipping back and forth at the slightest of sounds.

There is something deeply gratifying about joining the horses in their pasture a few minutes before the clock strikes 12 on New Year’s Eve. What makes the night exceptional, in their eyes and mine, is my presence among them, not the lapsing of an old year.

It’s worth standing out in the snow just to savor the anticlimax of midnight, just to acknowledge that out of the tens of millions of species on this planet, only one bothers to celebrate not the passing of time, but the way it has chosen to mark the passing of time. I remember the resolutions I made when I was younger. I find myself thinking that one way to describe nature is a realm where resolutions have no meaning.

It’s not that time isn’t passing or that the night doesn’t show it. The stars are wheeling around Polaris, and the sugar maples that frame the pasture are laying down another cellular increment in their annual rings. The geese stir in the poultry yard. A hemlock sheds its snow. No two nights are ever the same.

I always wonder what it would be like to belong to a species — just for a while — that isn’t so busy indexing its life, that lives wholly within the single long strand of its being. I will never have even an idea of what that’s like.

I know because when I stand among the horses tonight, I will feel a change once midnight has come. Some need will have vanished, and I will walk back to the house — lights burning, smoke coming from the wood stove — as if something had been
accomplished, some episode closed.

I love that this article puts the hype into perspective. At least, it somewhat justifies my lack of enthusiasm for the revelry. It also gives me an excuse to include a picture of my niece, Courtney. Not that I need an excuse. I feel certain she wished Willie a happy horse birthday and carrot-filled new year.

storius interruptus

OK, so I only got out one chapter of my story, and already I'm changing subjects! Actually, I've starting writing chapter two, but I just haven't had the time to finish. I could finish it now, but a few shiny objects flickered, and my attention has been caught! Is it because I already dread the drudgery of writing what will undoubtedly be a gazillion chapter explanation of what's new in our lives and what got us to this point? Perhaps. Is it mere instinctual behavior to be more interested in something new (and shiny) than something middle-aged and simmering? Hmm. Maybe it's just a complete lack of mental structure. Whatever. My eye is now on the shiny ball.

So, first. One! If you weren't already aware, it's only



Yes, that's right! Christmas! As you know, I'm a year 'round Christmas shopper. I'm nearly done, and I have my list ready to finish shopping (yes, that's right, finish) this weekend. Then, Monday is a holiday from my primary job (which will be detailed in an upcoming chapter of the original, derailed story), and so I'm spending the day putting together the "stockings" for the kids and wrapping all the rest. It will probably take me 14 hours. No, I'll be lucky if it only takes me 14 hours. OK, so I probably won't finish wrapping on Monday, but I'm going to make a hell of a dent. I'm imposing myself on Rina, her family, and her house as my Christmas Central location this year. A decision she's likely regret by Columbus Day lunchtime.

Two! Dearingest, darlingest niece, Caitlin, has posted a unique meme on her MySpace in which I feel compelled to engage. It's music-based (natch), so of course I'm in. Here goes:

IF YOUR LIFE WAS A MOVIE, WHAT WOULD THE SOUNDTRACK BE?

So, here's how it works:

1. Open your music library
2. Put it on shuffle
3. Press play
4. For every question, type the song that's playing
5. When you go to a new question, press the next button
6. Don't lie and try to pretend your cool

Opening Credits: "Isolation" by Snow Patrol

Waking Up: "Screen" by Brad

First Day At School: "The Wind" by Cat Stevens

Falling In Love: "How Far to Queensland" by Vitamin Z

Fight Song: "Legs" by ZZ Top

Breaking Up: "Blueberry Pies" by Prefab Sprout

Prom: "Peer Gynt Suite" by Edvard Grieg

Life: "Can't Nobody Do Me Like Jesus" by Olabelle

Mental Breakdown: "Frosty the Snowman" by Dan Tyminski

Driving: "Gentle Hum" by The Finn Brothers

Flashback: "Star" by Belly

Getting Back Together: "Cerca de Mi" by Raul Midon and Louie Bega

Wedding: "Hands Clean" by Alanis Morrisette

Birth of Child: "Eastern Bloc" by Thomas Dolby

Final Battle: "Killer" by Seal

Death Scene: "Call Me When You Get This" by Corinne Bailey Rae

Funeral Song: "Dreamin'" by Amos Lee

End Credits: "Runnin'/Brazilian Rhyme" by Earth Wind & Fire

OK, that was totally weird. As much as I want to go into the details of how some songs completely suited their role ("Blueberry Pies") and others completely didn't (Grieg at the prom!), I'm now officially too tired to do so. That situation has also led me to this point:

Three! I don't remember what else I was going to put in here tonight. Um, I mean, this morning. Oh well! I have to go to bed. It's almost time for Ted to wake up and get to work. I may or may not get some blogging in this weekend. I doubt it. Shopping, wrapping, etc. to do. And we're going out to dinner for our anniversary. And there's other stuff to do. Yeah, I'll blog again sometime in 2009 -- the year my nephew, Andrew, is getting married. Hey, Four! Andrew and Peg are engaged! He was funny. He called me and said gloomily, "Hi Aunt Kelly. I just wanted to let you know that things changed over the weekend, and Peg is no longer my girlfriend." But I was on to him. ;-)

All right. Sleep!

Song: "The Pretender" by Foo Fighters
Book: What's a book? What's reading? Am I even literate anymore?
Other: "Scattered" is one of my favorite adjectives when referencing current brain status.

we are elves: we dance

I have requested -- nay, demanded -- that all of my nieces and nephews perform this task. The first four are in, and I must post them here. In a pre-emptive attempt to avoid their potential claims that I'm embarrassing them on the internet, I'm posting my own final product first. See? It's all in good fun!

OK, so here's Aunt Kelly's elf dance.

Now, here's Andrew's.

And here's Caitlin's.

Here's Dan's.

Here's Sammi's.

Is it worthwhile to note that the college students were the first to reply? I wonder if they have some spare time on their hands. ::wink:: The second phase of elves include Dan, who is a high school junior, and Sammi, who is in 8th grade. Now Josh, Megan, Ariel, Courtney, and Ryan must all comply with my demand! *UPDATED - Don't you guys realize that I'm still in possession of your gifts? Bend to my will and elf thyself! Or I shall be forced to keep the goodies for myself! Or use the worst possible photo I have of you and make your elf myself!

Sadie is intrigued by the on-screen dancing (to the right). She watches the monitor closely as I view Sammi in full elf regalia.

This little blog of mine (I'm a-gonna' let it shine? just kidding) has a few regular readers. Hi Regular Readers, and thanks so much for visiting regularly! And there are a few passersby who happen across sanguinary blue by hitting the "next blog" button, going to Connecticut Weblogs or Forty Faces, or coming from a blog that links to mine. Hi Passersby, thanks for taking the time to peruse. And then there are the searchers who end up reading one of my silly little posts when they've entered keywords into one of a zillion engines. Hi All!

To this wonderful melting pot assemblage of an audience, I'd like to request that you, too, make your own dancing elf. It's easy! And it's fun! And when you're done, please post the URL in the comments section of this entry. Christmas is all about sharing.

Thanks to Whitney at USA Today's Pop Candy for blogging about The Elfamorphosis. Otherwise, we never would have had so much fun becoming elves!

Happy Holidays!

"Christmas Don't Be Late" by Powder (a kick-butt cover of the Chipmunks' song, which was simply called "The Chipmunk Song")

Originally posted 12/6/2006 at 11:53PM
Second posting 12/8/06 at 6:17AM
Third positing 12/9/06 at 11:45AM

the calendar flips

And my To Do list gets longer. This weekend will be busy. No football, which frees up some time. We're going to dinner with Sam & Donna. Otherwise, I'm just going to try and muster up the same freakish level of energy I had a few weekends ago and get stuff done.

Tomorrow is Cait's 19th birthday. And next Friday is Meg's 18th. It's all whirling by! In honor of both birthdays, here are a couple pictures from a recent family visit. Interesting that both are the same hold-the-camera-out-in-front-of-your-face kinds of pictures. And note the trend in eye wear.

Uncle Ted and Cait

Aunt Kelly and Meg

saturday stuff, part vi (final)

Shall tomorrow's entries all be titled "Sunday Stuff?" Shall I blog at all tomorrow? Only time will tell.

I managed to maintain my energy level all day long. I don't know from whence it came -- especially considering I started at 5:30am. I made astonishing progress on my to-do list. Ted assisted with the final stretch of the stocking assembly line. Thanks, Honey! All 12 of the kids' stockings are done, and bonus, so are most of their presents. I even made progress on non-kids gifts.

Yee-haw, it's only November 11th, and we're nearly done with all of our Christmas preparation! The stash will sit quietly, happily, steeping in good cheer, until we pack everything up in large storage containers and drive North for the holiday. I love Christmas!

Speaking of today's date, it's also my brother's 50th birthday and Veterans' Day. When I was growing up, the running joke in our family was that Gerry thought school was closed because it was his birthday. He's still climbing ice walls, camping in the desert, geocaching, and eagerly seeking out new things to learn. He's the youngest half-centenarian I know. Happy birthday, Gere!

Veterans' Day makes me think about a whole bunch of things. First is for the people who are future veterans -- the ones out there today. A woman from my office was called up last summer, and is in Iraq now. A group of us are putting together a care package for her and her troops. Travel-sized shampoo bottles, pocket-sized tissue packs, bug spray. Merry Christmas, eh? Then I think about the veterans from conflicts past, the sacrifices they made, and the memorials in the park of my home town.

The New York Times had a feature today where they showcased the designs of several artists who each proposed a new way honor veterans. Most of them were interesting. There was a large window in the shape of the United States. A "USA OK" t-shirt. The official American uniform (Levi's jeans, white t-shirt, Rayban sunglasses, and optional Chuck Taylor sneakers).

I found this one of the buttons (above) particularly striking. In fact, it makes me cry. It makes me think of my friend, Hildi, and my nephew's graduation where several of his classmates stood up to be recognized before leaving to join the armed services.

And so now I need to talk about something else. Speaking of my nephew (the same, Andrew, who helped me earlier today), niece Caitlin also provided vital information to assist with my massive music project. They are two smart cookies! I haven't uploaded any more songs since the last time I mentioned song count in an earlier entry, but would like to note that I uploaded a total of 1001 songs today. Isn't that a great number? And I was worried that I'd be averaging 32.5 songs per day. Peeshaw!

One last note, then I must go. Despite my never-ending energy flow, my throat is starting to get sore -- a sign that my body's tired, even if I don't feel it. It was only a matter of time before I caught the gunk that my poor husband's been battling all week.

When talking about size acceptance, I'm usually venting my frustration as the world tries to cram a bunch of wrong-headed information down everyone's throats and claim that it's only because they care about our health. This is a load of hooey for a zillion reasons, although the big, simple one is this: not everyone who is fat is unhealthy, in the same way that not everyone who is thin is healthy. Obviously, it's more complicated than that (which is also one of the zillion reasons), but let's just go with this one.

One of my favorite television shows (House) recently centered an episode on the mysterious health travails of George Hagel -- a 600 pound man. Upon watching the show, I am extremely satisfied by it. That happens so rarely when it comes to fat in entertainment that I feel it warrants mention.

The crux of the issue is that George knows with equal certainty that he is both fat and free of the elevated health hazards (glucose, cholesterol, blood pressure, etc.) that are so routinely associated with it. The doctors' tests repeatedly prove that, but in an effort to understand the cause of his recent unexplained coma, they continue down the fat path.

George refuses.

He demands that their tests include any possible cause other than his weight. Still they persist, to the point where House is trying to force him to drink the sugar solution for a glucose tolerance test. It is only then, when George flails his arms to fight the onslaught of liquid and House grabs his hand to force him, that House realizes from George's clubbed fingers that he has lung cancer. A sad story of inoperable illness that will lead to the character's demise. When told, George says, "I never smoked." The episode is title "Que Sera Sera."

There were plenty of fat jokes, insults, and assumptions flying around during the show (insults are a staple of the series, so this is right in line with the norm). And they couldn't resist the emphasis on his eating habits (a gourmet chef with an industrial size refrigerator in his kitchen). But what differentiates it from all the other shows/movies that include fat in the plot line is that those assumptions are called into question and ultimately debunked. George is intelligent, informed, well-spoken, and rational. And his illness is not caused by his weight. His frustration was palpable, and his fight to convince people hit extremely close to home for me.

The whole show was a cleansing breath of fresh air. I can only hope that enough people who saw the show got the right message out of it. It saddens me a bit to know that there were undoubtedly many viewers who saw it without actually getting the points that I got.

Big, fat (and I mean that in a really good way) kudos to the Fox network, and the writers and producers who created this (and every) episode of House.

"Kiss on My List" by Daryl Hall and John Oates.

~~~
Santa painting by Richard Lithgow.

saturday stuff, part iii

Progress continues. An IM conversation with nephew, Andrew, taught me a simple answer to an iTunes challenge that has vexed me in my upload process. Thanks, Andrew! Laundry is nearly done, the bed stripped and re-made, Christmas presents relocated from one hiding spot to another (to prevent a curious husband from happening across something he shouldn't see before December 25th), trash emptied, and the song count up to 5313.

I must now head to a project that will keep me in another room (i.e. away from both iTunes and Blogger) for a little while. But I'm determined to finish putting together the kids' stockings this weekend! And so I must away.

But before I go, the song that's playing right now on shuffle (which I'll list below) connects nicely with an activity and a quote from this past week. On Tuesday, we all headed to the polls for mid-term elections. I indeed voted (see sticker payment for civic responsibility, above). Shortly thereafter, I heard a quote from W.C. Fields that made me chuckle. It is "I never vote for anybody. I always vote against." Sad, but true. Never one to stick to party lines, even I was astonished by the fact that I voted for candidates from four different political parties. Craziness.

"Election Day" by Lyle Lovett

the playlist

We spent the weekend with family to celebrate three birthdays (father, husband, and brother) which fall within five days of each other. Ted also brought me to a magic place to get me my anniversary gift to replace my original 40 GB which recently decided it didn't want to cooperate anymore. Thank you, honey! I set it up tonight, and am almost so excited to test it out in its car and office settings, that I might take a midnight drive to work. Then again, maybe not.

Anyway, it was fun to have much of the family together for chatting and barbecue (nephew Dan quite adeptly manned the grill) and our family's famous Cox Chocolate Cake with Peanut Butter Frosting. I'll upload current pictures later this week. Well, hopefully. Take everything I say with a grain of salt, as I still haven't finished the Seattle & Alaska trip installments (see here and here)!

In the interim, here is the list of songs originally compiled for Caitlin's correspondence book. I got so carried away, it ended up being a 4-CD set, which I also burned and sent in similar goodies boxes to nephews Andrew and Josh. Spreading music love everywhere I go. I'm digging on this list. Here goes:

Hockey Monkey
James Kochalka Superstar

Steady As She Goes
The Raconteurs

Exeter, Rhode Island
Jennifer O'Connor

Holla!
G. Love

Alright
Supergrass

Sewn
The Feeling

The King Is Half-Undressed
Jellyfish

David
Nellie McKay

Change The World
Nellie McKay

Mary Shut the Garden Door
Donald Fagen

I Don't Feel So Well
Vienna Teng

Chicago
Sufjan Stevens

Push Th' Little Daisies
Ween

Nemo
Umphrey's McGee

Put Your Records On (Acoustic)
Corinne Bailey Rae

A World That Passed Me By
Chris Difford

Everybody But You
Dave Barnes ****

**** This is the song that I'd mentioned earlier. It should be a HUGE pop hit. I predicted it on August 24th. Let's see if the rest of the world comes around to it. By the way, poor video quality, but a good way to convey the song in this medium. ****

Don't Wake Me
Toby Lightman

The Mess
Fivespeed

Sails
Megan Slankard

Until You Came Along
Golden Smog

I Can't Get Behind That
William Shatner featuring Henry Rollins

Liar
Rollins Band

The Diary of Jane
Breaking Benjamin

Why Me?
Planet P Project

Nobody Not Really
Alicia Keys

Keep On Hoping
Raul Midon & Jason Mraz

Chasing Strange
Lizz Wright

Heaven or Las Vegas
Cocteau Twins

Black Swan
Thom Yorke

Elvis Is Everywhere
Mojo Nixon

Connecticut's For F***ing
Jesus H Christ and The Four Hornsmen of the Apocalypse

_Title Unknown
_Artist Unknown

Barely Breathing
Duncan Sheik

The Reluctant Deity
Fernando

Get Up
Amel Larrieux

For a Change
Chris Difford

James River Blues
Old Crow Medicine Show

Thinking About You
Fred Eaglesmith

Greyhound
Dave Barnes

Here (In Your Arms)
Hellogoodbye

Watch Your Step
Anita Baker

River
Madeleine Peyroux f/k.d. lang

Through Glass
Stone Sour

Blue Caravan
Vienna Teng

Burning In the Sun
Blue Merle

Love Me Like You
The Magic Numbers

All These People
Harry Connick, Jr. f/Kim Burrell

Tears, Tears, & More Tears
Elvis Costello & Allen Toussaint

I'm Gonna Love You Anyway
Buckwheat Zydeco

Pontchartrain
Vienna Teng

La Vie en Rose
Edith Piaf

Call Me When You're Sober
Evanescence

Fighting For Your Life
David Mead

All Fired Up
The Brand New Heavies

The Word
Prince

'Bout a Thang
Tonéx

Half My Height
Sunday Runners

Mama's Room
Under the Influence of Giants

One Last Time
Frog Holler

Seether
Veruca Salt

Paperback Bible
Lambchop

The Incredits
Michael Giacchino

I tried to focus mostly on new music, but couldn't resist the occasional flashback. The "Title Unknown" by "Artist Unknown" is a song in my iTunes library that had its data scrambled during a bad synchronization. Because I love new music and seek it out all the time from various sources, I don't always know the artists' names until I've had a good chance to listen to and absorb them into my psyche. I came to really love this song after it scrambled, and so I have no idea who it is. It doesn't help that the song is not sung in English. So, I've thrown down a challenge to Andrew, Caitlin, and Josh that if they can find the information for me, I'll reward them warmly (I think I said I'd give 'em a buck!).

Enough chattering tonight. Maybe I'll be better about posting this week. Maybe I'll finally catch up on vacation stories. Maybe.

there she goes

It's time for Aunt Kelly to mist again. Tomorrow, Caitlin heads to college. I've just started my round of the correspondence book we've been circulating since February 24, 2003. She writes a letter, I write a letter, she writes a letter, etc.

We usually make a CD for each other. Her most recent contained Ben Lee, Cross Canadian Ragweed, Justin Timberlake, AFI, Switchfoot, Dashboard Confessional, Fort Minor, DecembeRadio, The New Amsterdams, simple plan, Dierks Bentley, Something Corporate, and the ultra-catchy "Getcha Head in the Game" from High School Musical. Very eclectic. I'm so proud.

I've been collecting songs for a while to create the CDs (yes, plural) to go with my turn of the book. There's one song in particular that is just the most amazingly catchy pop song I've heard in a long time. I won't mention it here (don't want to ruin the surprise in case Ms. Cait wanders over to the blog while unpacking her dorm room), but I'll post again once the package is sent. This song is too good not to share with the world..

I don't have any good insight to share here. Just the continued disbelief that the young ones in my life are reaching, approaching, and eyeing adulthood rapidfire.

By the way, in the photo above, notice Caitlin's early adoption of the "hook 'em horns" hand gesture, best used for rock concerts and sporting events. Also, the little arm flung over Caitlin's shoulder is that of Andrew, who starts his sophomore year of college next week, too.

::sniff, sniff::

not-so-little girls

For all the time I've spent on windows and rocks, it's been a while since we've been able to visit some of our favorite small people and their parents. Luckily, in the last two weeks, we've been able to do some catching up.


Our friend, Alia (formerly known as Lulu but much more mature now) is seen here in ladylike repose with a sporty summer dress and sandals, balloon, and powdered sugar ring around her mouth. Alia-Lu is 5 and 3/4 years old, thankyouverymuch, and looking a bit devilish here, don't you think?

Miss Paige is 6 and a 1/2 years old and was found swimming in a new bikini, against the whirlpool created by her Dad. She also demonstrated her vastly improved diving technique (almost getting her head underwater on point of entry). This is what happens when she's asked NOT to pose.

Then there's Alli-baba. Miss Allison is Pay-Pay's little sister (I love that nickname), and she can still be aged in months (21 of them). Napping when we arrived, she had to be slowly reintroduced to Auntie Kelly and Uncle Ted. It's been months since we've seen her, so it was kind of like starting all over again. Here's Step 1: being shy (with Mommy and bink).

Here's Step 2 (after about 20 minutes): friendly (with cracker and foot).

And mere moments later, we arrived at Step 3: outgoing (with Pay-Pay).

These two are a double-whammy kick in the pants. If I were smarter and had my new computer, I might actually be able to upload video (which I've never done) and link it here to show off the song-and-dance they put on for us with their Dad. Paige is quite good at replicating the choreography. Allison is just a riot of wiggling and jumping and crashing into pillows, kind of in step with the music.

I have a few other not-so-little girls to highlight, but photo uploading woes prevent me from continuing tonight. Another time.

By the way, I am supposed to receive returned via FedEx on Monday the 24th, the "new" computer I bought a year ago that has never worked correctly. Admittedly, after the last battle in October, I put the whole thing -- wrapped completely in its original box -- in the garage and let it sit while concentrating my life on the Forum. Now that that event is behind me, I finally decided to take the cause back up. So, there may be a continuation to the emachines story here this week (in addition to fixed pictures, new pictures, maybe some video, maybe another vacation installment... hey, wait, I don't have time to do all that!). Toodles.

the quiet niece

Sure, to people who really know her well, Megan can be pretty boisterous. But compared to the truly noisy people in the family (and there are plenty of us), she's downright silent.

When she was little, she was a fashionista. She even helped her mother coordinate outfits right down to the accessories, coats, and make-up. One Christmas, in an effort to reel in out-of-control gift-giving, the family decided to draw names so only one person would buy for each kid. I got Megan. I think she was five years old that Christmas. The fun part about this method was that I got to spend my entire "kid budget" on one kid! It was an easy decision: I bought Megan a miniature wardrobe. She was little. Fred Meyer and Target had inexpensive clothes that were cute and colorful. It was a blast.

Ah, but that was 12 long years ago. For today is Megan's 17th birthday. A junior in high school, contacts replacing glasses, braces removed, a boyfriend, a job, and a driver's license (alternately in and out of her possession), a plan to become a high school social studies teacher. The girl who became my second-oldest niece and first goddaughter is growing up. (Can you hear the sniffing again? Pass me a tissue!) Her wardrobe now consists of demin and fleece, which is almost universally the teenager's uniform. She may be just the tiniest bit less helpful to her fashion-challenged Mom.

Happy birthday, Meg! And please let me take a picture of the front of your head sometime before you graduate from high school!

where were you 6,576 days ago?

I was a senior in college. It was very cold that day. I attended classes, deejayed a shift of alternative music at WSJB-FM (ah, the joy of college radio), had a 2-hour shift at my work study job, watched Oprah. In the evening, as part of a music appreciation class, I "rented" one of the College's 15-passenger vans and took about ten other students to the symphony. Most of the participant were underclassmen. I don't know why I remember that detail.

Anyway, it was snowing by the time we left campus for Portland. The symphony was wonderful, although they did one piece by Shostakovitz that I found nearly impossible to listen to. The dissonance was terrible! If his intent in composing the piece was to make the listener feel on edge, he succeeded. Later, I wrote an article for the school newspaper called "Cacophony at the Symphony." I was a clever one, I was.

When the show was over, we headed out to the van, now covered in several inches of snow. I drove very slowly back to campus, dropped everyone off at their respective residence halls, returned the van, and walked back to my townhouse. When I got to my room, there was a message on the door for me to call my parents.

Knowing that my sister-in-law had gone into labor the day before (poor thing), I had a hunch what this message was all about. The phone in our townhouse was being used (one phone for 24 girls), so I ran to the next townhouse over. It was the boys' townhouse, and they rarely used their phone. I called home and received the news that my new niece had arrived! Her name was Caitlin Elizabeth.

I've become one of those middle-aged ladies who always says things like, "my, where has the time gone?" and "I can't believe it's been 18 years." You know what? I don't care! I am middle-aged. And I really don't believe it's been 18 years.

Happy birthday, Cait! You've brought joy and laughter and light into my life ever since that cold snowy night in 1987.

raw

By the time this Friday is over, my niece, Caitlin, will have attended the wakes of three friends -- all teenagers, killed in two separate car accidents.

Katelyn was a neighbor of Caitlin's family, already graduated from high school. She was hit head-on by a drunk driver. Katelyn loved kids and worked two jobs that allowed her to be around them, at a Babies 'R Us store and a mall carousel. She also excelled in art. She was 19 years old.

Carl was driving his 1994 Ford Probe when the car slid out of control and hit a tree. He died instantly. Carl loved to play the guitar, and he was into extreme sports, skateboarding, snowboarding, and snow and water tubing. This is his senior portrait. He was 17 years old.

Steve was riding in Carl's car. He suffered massive injuries and underwent two surgeries before dying three days later. Steve was an avid wrestler and Eagle Scout. He and his twin brother, Sam, built trails and bridges in a conservation area for hikers and snowshoers to use. His sister, Jess, is one of Caitlin's close friends. This is also his senior portrait. He was also 17 years old.

As if losing one friend isn't bad enough. Three in one week? I fear becoming melodramatic or overly pedantic. So I have nothing else to say except, 'rest in peace.'

~~~

Real post time 1:15am

photos return

In hopes of getting my new computer up and running in July, I uninstalled numerous applications and such from my "old" computer, including my photo software. Now that it's October, and I'm still struggling to get the new computer functional, I've decided to reinstall a few things on the old one. My photo capability has returned.

And now for the slide show!

First, Caitlin on the first day of release for the new Harry Potter book. As you can see, she was excited at the prospect of greeting the postal carrier (who was mildly frightened but didn't run away) in full wizard regalia. Somehow, the little black-rimmed HP glasses were lost, and I never knew that wizards went barefoot, but otherwise her ensemble was nearly color coordinated with the book's jacket. Note Caitlin's high regard for the rest of the mail.

That same day, she introduced us to the newest member of their animal clan, Roxy. A beautiful and amazingly loud bird, Roxy is actually just being fostered by Cait's family until the shelter can find a good home for her. She looks sweet enough here, but shortly after this photo was taken, she climbed up Ted's arm and proceeded to attack his head! Needless to say, we have no more pictures of Roxy.

Despite being in New Hampshire several times this summer, we have remarkably few pictures. We'll do our best to rectify that situation in the time between now and the New Year. Meanwhile, we managed to visit our friends, Allison and Paige a few weeks back. Allison was amazed by Paige's swing ability, including her energetic dismounts (of which, no photos are posted here because the speed was so great, Paige was merely a blur).

Then there are the cats. You know, I don't think I'm a crazy cat lady, but with four running around, all indications to the contrary. There's Milo. Eldest male and ever reliable, Milo spends nearly equal amounts of time with Sadie, Schmoo, and Woodle, alternately bathing their heads, pushing them off their sleeping spot, or chasing them. Such a good big brother. Sadie tries to maintain the integrity of her personal space, although it's often just not possible. She has, therefore, mastered the art of not hissing or growling when any cat other than Milo (who she loves) comes within 10 feet of her. This is major progress for Sadie!

Schmoo is still glad simply to be inside, even though it's been four years since we rescued her. She tolerates everything from everyone and just purrs and sleeps and acts cute. And Woodle is completely integrated into the fold now. He still loves to play (he's way more energetic than Milo, Sadie and Schmoo ever were). The difference is now his playmates understand that he's playing. All in all, a happy cat home.

Now, Picasa isn't letting me put in four individual pictures, so I guess I'll have to settle for one picture with all four cats in it. This is a first-of-its-kind! Unfortunately, it's not the best quality in the world, but it will have to suffice for now.

Oh poop, now it's not even letting me put in one more picture. I'll try again later.

the race to adulthood

Once again referring to the list I created when I decided to stop blathering on about the complexities of my life, I'm back to write about one of the topics -- the speed at which my nieces and nephews are growing up.

I'm one of those people who scratches her head wondering how it's possible to be this close to 40 years of age, when I honestly -- genuinely -- don't feel a day over 23. I still listen to brand-spanking-new alternative and indie music. I just bought a car that is not only desirable to teenagers and college students, but is actually marketed to them (and I tricked it out with a $1200 stereo, including a kick-ass subwoofer). I like change. In fact, I not only embrace change, I create it on a regular basis.

Sure, there are hints that I'm not so young any more. Silver hairs ('grey' is such a dull word), creaky bones (rheumatoid arthritis caused by chronic EBV), seven moves in three states (Maine, Washington, and Connecticut), a few newly acquired food intolerances (what could possibly be wrong with eating blueberries?). But I don't feel like a full-fledged grown-up. Maybe it's because I'm not a mother.

That's a story for another day.

So, my nieces and nephews (nine of them, ranging in age from almost-8 to just-turned-19) have been a central part of my life since the first one, Andrew, was born in 1986. They are a big part of the reason I moved back to New England after my 8½ year stint in Seattle (and one of the very few things that could convince me to leave a place I love as much as I love Seattle). I adore them. And if any of them are reading this, don't get a big head about it, you! ;-)

Christmas shopping is a year-long process for me. If I see something that one of the kids will like (in addition to my nine, there are five other kids we buy for), I pick it up and put it into a big plastic container for safe-keeping. The first container is usually full by about June: this year, it was January (my Hawaii trip netted many gifts). By August, Costco (a treasure to any Christmas shopper) begins carrying great gift-type items, and the real shopping begins. As of today, we have five 40-quart storage containers brimming with presents, with a few too-large items stacked on top. Each year, I create an Excel workbook with four pages (family and friends, kids' stockings, work, and pets) to track spending and understand what's left to be bought. I know. It's a sickness.

So, how does all this relate to my nieces' and nephews' race toward adulthood? There are so many great little kid toys that I love, but very few of my kids are little enough to enjoy these types of toys anymore. Thankfully, the three youngest of my non-related kid friends are 5, 4, and 1, so I can still indulge in Playskool and Lego. But for my own rapidly-maturing kid kin, primary colored plastic and gigantic soft fuzzy are out.

Still. There's some great stuff in the containers this year. The content for the stockings is definitely the best yet (although last year's unique Australian contents [coins and candies] were pretty cool). The reality is that gifts for a teenager can be just as innovative and fun as those for toddler.

OK, enough on this topic. Will I continue to reference this list? I veered off course for a bit to address serious topics like hurricanes and frustrating ones like my sucky-ass emachines computer. Perhaps, I can actually pull myself back on track. Or maybe it's just dumb luck.

~~~
Real post time 1:47am. And despite the late hour, there is a party going on next door with very loud mariachi music and a crowd of people singing very loudly (and off-key) to it.

summer weekends

Some pictures from this past 4th of July weekend and my family's reunion the weekend before it.


Dad (channeling Gerry Garcia, center) with Grammy Cormier, Uncle Jim, and Josh at reunion


Family volleyball game


Dan (foreground) with Aunt Kaye, Chris, and Cathy at the reunion


Courtney and her horse game

On the way back from the reunion, I stopped to visit Allison and her Mom, while her sister, Paige, and her Dad were at a Yankees game.


Allison and her Mommy

The 4th of July weekend, Ted and I both went back to see them and enjoy a beautiful, sunny, and not-too-humid Sunday afternoon.


Allison is stylin'


Paige winks

As you might be able to guess, Paige loves to pose for the camera. She also loves to take pictures. If I put all the combined photos here, it would be a very long slide show!


Paige poses


Paige pajama poses

Meanwhile, a couple states away, our little friend, Alia, has been on vacation with her parents, grandparents, and aunt and uncle this week.


Alia's cool driving the boat


Alia punches the ball

And finally, a couple pictures from today, so Woodle's real Mommy (who also happens to be Alia's Mommy) can see how he's doing.


Woodle sees something he likes on a bookcase... check out that tail!


On the bookcase, casing Mike Wazowski

By the way, a couple hours later -- after hearing a loud crash -- I discovered that Woodle had apparently returned to this location to pull Mike Wazowski down off the bookcase.


Woodle rests on his favorite blanket after a busy day

Enough pictures for now. Funny how I go a whole week without posting anything and even put a comment to that effect on last night, and then I come in 24 hours later and load up on photos! This blogging thing is weird, man. Goodnight!