In transition

Charlie you let me down! Where were you this afternoon? I got the kids in bed so I could enjoy the broadcast and what did I get for my trouble? Clark Howard. Now, don’t get me wrong, he’s not the end of the world, but it just wasn’t the same.

In all actuality, I hope you are OK.

I’m also not the only one frustrated in my house. Mr. Mark has just started to crawl, but he isn’t doing it as well as he’d like. I tell him to cut himself some slack, but he’s not listening.

It’s almost noon EST and soon my favorite college professor will be broadcasting his radio show, which is available via the web at WTMA. His show consists of all things nerdly and some politics to boot!
He made quite an impression on me, ten years ago, and I was thrilled to find his show when I moved home.

If you ever have a chance, give him a listen, you just might learn something.

Our neighbors moved away this morning; they will be missed. I hope the next people to buy the house can put up with us, have a penchant for microbrews, and enjoy sharing reviews of local restaurants. Unlikely, but I can hope, can’t I? We had them over for dinner, last night.

I found my idea for the main course at the grocery store, in the overpriced take it home and cook it section: salmon filets rolled in a spiral around crab stuffing. Try it, if you ever get the chance. It’s one of those meals that looks as though they were a lot of work. Recipe to follow.

I haven’t had more than a single beer or cocktail in forever. I only had three in the course of several hours, but you couldn’t convince my head of that. Ick

Crab Cakes or Stuffing (I call them Crabby Patties and Sir Thousand Hands loves them)
1 lb cleaned crabmeat
1 sleeve ritz crackers (crushed, mutilated, pulverized)
1/4 cup mayo
1/4 cup minced onion
1/4 cup minced bell pepper
dash worcestshire
1/2 tsp dry mustard
2 egg whites (you can use 1 whole egg if you wish, I use the yolks for something else, in this case)
salt, pepper, garlic to taste (I like to add some Old Bay)

Mix well. For crabcakes, form into patties and place in the fridge to set. Pan fry in olive oil or brush with olive oil and bake)

For the salmon spirals: remove skin from the two salmon filets salmon ~ 1lb total and top with crab mixture. Roll the salmon into a spiral and cut in half. You should end up with two spirals, about the size of large cupcakes. Place the cut side down on a parchment paper lined baking sheet. I put them in the fridge, to set. Place in a 375 degree oven and bake for 8 – 10 minutes. While the fish is baking, blend 1 egg yolk with ~ 5tbsp mayo. Brush this mixture all over the fish and stuffing and return it to the oven, bake until golden. (About 5-7 more minutes)

Sprinkle with parsley for color, if desired, and serve with lemon wedges. Any steamed vegetable is a great accompaniment, as are cheese grits. If you’re too snobbish for those, polenta will do.

I don’t watch television; I heard about this interview secondhand and had to watch the interview on the web.Good Morning America: The Mommy Wars

I don’t know why I let this annoy me. I really shouldn’t, but it has been eating at me. Perhaps I’m feeling defensive about my own choice to stay home. I’m irritated with Linda Hirshman for perpetuating division between women. Our current lifestyles do enough to interefere with female bonding (for lack of a better word). Hirshman stated to the effect that she isn’t judging, she’s basing her opinion on Western World History. What about the rest of history? What about how women used to come together in support for life’s hardships and joys? Ms. Hirshman, did you happen to see any evidence about how close-knit families used to be? How they helped with childrearing and when someone became ill? We now hire out for those services. It’s great for the economy, but how is it for our souls?

I chose to come home. Lying in a hospital bed for a week certainly put a whole lot of perspective on the value of my child. I could have gone back to work. I could be successful with my former employer, but I’d be working restaurant hours and exposing myself to many temptations that are not suited to raising a stable family.

As far as the happiness level that Hirshman continually referred to, there is more to childhood than a “happiness level.” There are moral and spiritual foundations to be built. I am of the opinion that they aren’t easily instilled on weekends and holidays. Does anyone remember the spike in syphilis the CDC found in Conyers, GA? Just in case a refresher is needed The Lost Children of Rockdale County. These parties were happening in households where both parents were at work. They weren’t happening late at night, these occured during those crucial afterschool hours.

Women who stay home are not ruining the feminist movement. We are not opting out. I firmly believe in equal pay for equal work, just like I would believe it for any person, regardless of their circumstance. However, I do not believe in ‘equal pay’ for unequal work. Women do make sacrifices when they take time out for their families. It is that, a sacrifice, their paychecks or career tracks will suffer, but that is a choice that is made when the decision to have children is chosen. A man who periodically took breaks from the corporate ladder would find the same closed doors. I believe women have worked hard to give us these choices and I appreciate them. I am forever indebted to those who came before me, for having had the ability to attain a formal education and for having had the choice to establish a career. If something were to happen, if my comfortable bubble were to burst, I would have to return to the workforce and I would probably have to retrain, but we have planned for that scenario. I am content with my “mindless routines” and “repetitous job.” I knew it going in.

My shallow side has been fighting with me for this entire entry. These comments have no merit, they just make me feel better. To the lady at the end of the interview who says to the effect that her daughter wants to share a desk and work at your magazine: Lady, listen to what you are saying, it may make you happy to hear, but it breaks my heart, she is saying she MISSES her mom and can’t wait until she can spend all day with you. Ms. Hirshman, you may be well educated, but you are a lousy elocutionist. You sound as though the marbles that fell out of your head are rolling around your mouth. Finally, Ms. Hirshman, I’m no fashion diva or beauty queen, but, bless your heart, get a decent haircut.

The other day I mentioned that politics are ever so much more interesting than soap operas.

Daytime TV, poor mental scores link

But the findings do point to some association between TV choices and intellectual function, and could prove useful in evaluating older people for cognitive decline, according lead investigator Dr Joshua Fogel of Brooklyn College of the City University of New York.

For example, compared with women who preferred to watch news programs, those who favoured soaps were more than seven times more likely to show signs of impairment on one of the tests, while talk show fans were more than 13 times more likely to demonstrate impairment.

We live somewhat out in the sticks, with very poor tv reception. Every once in a while I think about shelling out a few bucks for basic cable. I don’t think it will be a temptation any longer.

Well, I hope the woman who chose to reproduce with this guy is proud.

Man’s Toddler Son Wanders Into Strip Club

Just a few comments: A three-four year old is a pre-schooler not a toddler. This clarification does NOT make anything any better, I just hate misleading terms. I feel guilty if I have to run in and pay for gas and the rugrats are sleeping.
I just love the charge “encouraging a minor child to be in need of supervision.” I wish I could start passing out tickets for that.

I’m a political geek. I usually have wtma 1250am on in the background so I can keep tabs on things. Well, that is when I’m not being forced to listen to The Wiggles. I must mention that my two year old picked up “dammit” from a spot by Radio Free Rocky D. How do you explain that one to Grandma?

Moving on. . . I was perusing Donna Darlin’s Blog over on myspace (aka Emo Teen Hell and found an entry that took me back to highschool.

I was a nerd. No, really, I was (am). I never really had to worry about sharing my seat, it wasn’t in high demand. Three quarters of my bus lived by the fairgrounds, some were from Tall Pines and a couple were from Caromi Village (just the name conjures up the smell) This never made much sense to me, it was the potpouri of Stratford’s bus routes. I remember sitting there doing my homework, minding my own business; I heard and felt a soft thud. I glanced over at what appeared to be a dead squirrel. I poked the mysterious object with a pencil and realized it was someone’s weave. Thankfully, its owner appeared to reclaim it, as I was rendered speechless. She carried it away, clutching it like a trophy. I’ve never been able to get that image out of my mind.

this news article. . .
Child Bride

This morning I sit in front of the computer with tears streaming down my face. I just don’t understand. It’s not ignorance and it’s not a cultural misunderstanding. The people responsible lack even the most basic spark of human compassion.

I am so excited to finally be optimistic about getting back to what should be our schedule. Aidan is doing so well; he’s just a different kid. He’s constantly saying, “Mama! Hear those noises?” He hears the trains again. I thought he’d grown out of getting excited everytime a train went by. No, he had just been unable to hear them.
Friday we joined a group of moms out at CawCaw Interpretive Center, a state park. Aidan had a great time running around with the other kids. The weather was perfect; there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. If it weren’t for the yellow tinge to everything, it looked more like October than March. I’m not sure what the black pots in the picture were for, to me they look like mosquito breeding vats. Yum-o

Today, I’m going to be brave and hit the library after the gym. I just may be a glutton for punishment.

We live in a somewhat pretentious neighborhood, qualified by the fact that it is rural South Carolina and really there is only a certain attainable level of pretension. We have small children and do our own yardwork. Unfortunately, at times these things can be mutually exclusive. I was quite pregnant, last summer. Wait, that doesn’t paint a very accurate picture; let me try again. There are times when God takes a magnifying glass and places it between the sun and the earth. That magnified beam of sunlight focuses on my corner of the world from June through September. Typically, I revel in summer, it is my absolute glory. However, when I’m seven, eight, and nine months pregnant it loses its luster. I did not plan on doing it twice, it just happened that way.

Needless to say, the yard was neglected, last year.

March is weed season, the gass is still dormant, but the weeds grow like wildfire. Well, they do in my yard. Our yard isn’t huge, but as I do laps with the lawnmower I feel it stretching and mocking me. Last week, I became disgusted with the condition of our lawn. Well, lawn is probably not accurate as that connotates the actual existence of grass. I enjoy mowing the yard; it is the perfect excuse to be left alone. I’ve been doing some research and think the mulching mower we’ve used for the past couple of years has probably been making our weed problem worse. So, I borrowed our neighbor’s rear bagger. I will miss them; they are moving to Delaware. I hadn’t cut more than one hundred square feet when it died.

As I can’t mow the lawn during the day when Tim is at work, the yard weighed heavily on me, all week long. The weeds got taller. I quit taking Sir Thousand hands outside because I could only monitor his whereabouts by the rustling of the weeds. Cars on blocks sprouted, worn out tires and old appliances appeared. I took to wearing dark sunglasses and avoided eye contact with the neighbors.

Finally, Saturday dawned; I anticipated the drying of the dew. I waited until a reasonable hour and called my neighbor to borrow the lawnmower. They are trying to sell their home, so they were thrilled I was finally going to take care of the mess. About halfway through the baby was hungry, so Tim agreed to finish. He made maybe two laps around the yard before it died on him.

So, the yard had a few more hours with which to tease me. Tim came home with a lawnmower and now I feel positively spoiled. I am so stoked, this one has power drive. I hope this will be the last time we are the the disgrace of the neighborhood.