In transition

Without Googling, can you tell me the common theme between these three books.

The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd

Devil On My Heels by Joyce McDonald

and
Tobacco Sticks by William Eliott Hazelgrove

Interestingly enough, I picked them at random from the library within the last two weeks. I did not read the blurbs as I had the kids and had to rely on the “grab and hope” method. Each of the book focuses on segregation. So far, my favorite has been The Secret Life of Bees, but I have yet to finish the third and it is compelling in its own way. I would like to note that I had avoided TSLofB because I had read the author’s other book The Mermaid Chair and found it insipid. I guess that and many other reasons are why I am not a critic.

Well, if I can find the right marketing guru.

I found a way to lose ten pounds in approximately four days.* I guess it is a given that it would not be marketed as a painfree method of weightloss. I suppose I could use the ‘effortless’ angle, as I did not try anything. I could also say, “Eat all you want!” as I certainly did not want anything.

Perhaps I’m just giddy with my first taste of caffeine, but the only slogans coming to mind are distasteful references to dysentery. As in, “Try The Third World’s Best Kept Dietary Secret!”

At any rate, it’s good to be back on my feet.

*I am well aware that I did not need to lose those ten pounds. I will welcome them back, as long as they promise to spread evenly and not argue with me about chocolate or coffee consumption.

I guess I asked for it. I ended up taking the weekend off. Saturday was partly intentional, but I came down with a stomach bug* in the afternoon.
I spent the rest of the day on the couch or in bed leaving the kid wrangling to Tim. Today has already shown much improvement; I can hold down water.

I’ve received an illustration of what I normally do in a day, becuase it hasn’t been done and it shows.

The house is a wreck, but it’s going to slide. It will be a day of cereal, frozen pizza, and whatever I can toss together for dinner. Days like today are when I miss having cable. Movies and naps are the only thing on the agenda and if my stepdaughter dares complain about being bored, well, she’ll learn a lot about the art of housekeeping.

*Stomach bug is such a mild term.

Margo and I have been way overdue for some kid free time. We packed up our cameras and headed for the SCPG walk down King St. We met at the statue in Marion Square at 7am.

I learned a lot from the more experienced members about composition and just generally enjoyed the heck out of myself.

Here are some shots, I’ll be putting the edited versions at http://cantalyssa.deviantart.com.

Admire or despise him, this is a fantastic quote.

http://www.sltrib.com/opinion/ci_4186925

Says Gates: “We need to put the power to prevent HIV in the hands of women. This is true whether the woman is a faithful married mother of small children or a sex worker trying to scrape out a living in a slum. No matter where she lives or what she does, a woman should never need her partner’s permission to save her own life.”

A couple of weeks ago I began having nightmares. No, the bogeyman was not hiding in my closet. For the most part I would be performing normal tasks and step outside. I would look at a blue summer sky and see jet trails, hundreds of jet trails. Only, in my dream, they were not from planes. In my dream they were left by missiles and I was helpless. Death rained down from a crystalline blue sky.

I do not believe my dreams are prophetic, I do not think the end of the world has arrived. I do think I have paid too much attention to things far beyond my control. So, for just a little while I am tuning out. I am concentrating on what I can do*. For a week or two I’ll be listening to books on CD when I clean the house. (Currently The Secret Life of Bees) I think I will tend to my own garden for a little while. A little introspection never hurt anyone.

*Obviously not simple plumbing.

As I posted, yesterday, I spent a long time trying to fix the (insert expletive of your choice here) toilet. It was well over an hour, not including clean up.

My husband came home from work and had it fixed in under a minute. I watched what he did. There was no difference in technique. I know I should be grateful that he fixed it so easily, “That’s so great, thank you,” and I was, outwardly.

However, deep inside I was shrieking in frustration, “That’s not fair! I did the exact same thing, for twenty minutes. Then, I found that nasty drain snake, researched how to use it, and fought and wrestled with that putrid thing. You waltz in here plunge twice and ta-daa it works? You couldn’t at least pretend to struggle with it?”

Someday I want to be the household hero.

There are days when home ownership bites the big one; those are the days the toilet is clogged and there is no manager or super to call.

So,I’ve done everything I know to do and it’s still clogged. I even watched a video and attempted to snake it. I’ve since showered, scrubbed, and showered some more. I’m still skeeved. I have the feeling that one of the boys may have played a part and it’s just going to have to wait until Tim gets home.

I really do not want to have to call Rotorooter.

Eew.

I called up the stairs, “Hey, what are you doing?”
“Just playing.”
“You have a choice, entertain the boys for twenty minutes or help clean.”

The wise child chose entertaining the boys. I met her at the bottom of the stairs to hand off the baby. She came traipsing down wrapped in two striped beach towels and a cape made from a pillow sham.

I refrained from comment.

She calls from the playroom, “Of course I’m weird, it’s in my genes!”

I still have this fear of the “grown up.” I don’t know if it will ever go away. This fear doesn’t seem to apply to issues concerning ethics or morals. No, it is only about the little transgressions.

Friday, Margo and I took the little ones to Gagdonalds.* My two year old can be a little unnerved by the giant habitrail. So, I kicked off my shoes and climbed on in.** Once I got over the hair and general stickiness, I had fun teaching him how to climb to reach the slide. The lady in charge of sweeping the play area caught me coming down the slide and I received a nasty look. Immediately I switched into child mode and was ready to put my shoes on and go home. Is this just some neurotic weirdness of my own creation? Do these feelings fade, or are they ingrained? I never want to lose a sense of fun, but I would not mind if the nagging “You’re going to get in soooo much trouble” voice took a hike.

*As soon as it is no longer four hundred degrees in the shade, we will consider a change of venue. As it stands, we’ve been trying to get out of the house more.

**Yes, it’s just as disgusting as one would assume. I disinfect the children as soon as we get home. Still, we had a nasty stomach bug rip through our house over the weekend.