So Low

Thursday is Holy Thursday… Maundy Thursday if you will. In good Catholic fashion I will be in faithful attendance. Moreover, as has been my practice for the last few months, I will be up, singing with all I’ve got, with the “Festival” choir. Yep, me singing….a solo…yeah you got it right a solo.

I am a violinist, well that’s my musical background. Beginning in Fourth grade, I’d pick up my violin for my once a week lesson. I was a good student academically, but when it came to that instrument, well sometimes that lesson was the only workout those strings got.

 

Later, in high school, because of the nature of the Orchestra program, I played everyday, at school, in class…outside of class (and the weekly lesson) well I’d pick it up if the music was hard, but easy enough that I had a chance. 

So…music it’s something that I enjoy, but not something I am necessarily good at, and definitely not something that should be work.

Also as a youngster, I was a participant in the Parish Plays/Variety shows. In those I was a singer-as part of a chorus, or a group. But never on my own…

And so, my always supportive family has continued their never wavering support. But no one more than my mother. “What were you the only one who is going to be there?” Then I tell her the solo is in Spanish (yep guess how I got picked for that one) “Well no one will notice when [not if] you mess up.” Thanks Mom; love you too Mom.

So when Thursday night comes, you will find me a wreck of nerves…I won’t pass out, that’s not like me. But I could blow it, totally mess up the high D that’s on the upper limits of my range or just sing it “so low” you can’t hear me. Wish me luck. I’m gonna need it.

Growing “Up”

So the little, well she’s not so little anymore, sister move along her life path today. Wendy’s on her way to start the Correction Officer Academy. I think I heard my parents’ house sigh last night. Once it housed eight rambunctious children, now it’s down to four [shudder] teenagers. If the last four are teenagers…that means I’m old.

So the sister is off…and from the Corrections Academy she’ll probably be assigned somewhere downstate. The Big brother is out of town. The older of the younger brothers stayed in town, but we are on opposite sides of town.

It’s weird…

So Easter this year will be at our house. The school  district decided that “Spring” break can’t be tied to Easter, so the family can’t maintain the tradition of visiting the Grandparents. But that too was part of growing up. You get a job…all those trips to the Grandparents have to be reduced…and then you have to decide if you can take a vacation to a new place, go camping, hang out at home or get sick…and if you do any of those, can you still visit the Grandparents. It just seems that in out work focused country, the importance of family often takes the bump.

Another part of growing up is that the magic of the holidays vanishes…that’s so tragic. Heck even my big bad [though she does have the soft spot for babies] sister Wendy proposed adopting a kid for Christmas one year. All the gifts are signed Santa…and the teenagers maintain that cookies must still be left for “Santa” [although they end up eating the cookies themselves], but it’s just not the same…at all.

Easter is the same…especially not being at the Grandparents’. At the Grandparents’ we can kidnap small cousins who can weave that magic back into the holidays. But this year…all we have are the cats. And I don’t think they will tolerate bunny ears.

So Growing Up is overrated. Why didn’t I listen to the adults who said not to rush it—as if I could’ve stopped time. Summer vacation is a fantasy; days off for Easter are non-existent. Being a grown-up is no fun…can I be 8 again? I think that would be perfect. 

Yay for...poop?!

So I haven't posted in a bit. It's been busy. My sister leaves for the Corrections Academy this week, so we threw her a "Good Luck and Go Away" party. It was fun. Marc made Chili; Sarah and I made snickerdoodles. We had ice cream sundaes. The Sabres won...fun.

However, rewind a few days. Friday night, Sarah and I walk in the door from grocery shopping. Marc's cleaning up kitty puke. Great. Then he tells me Salem ate something--shocker. He always is eating something a cat shouldn't even want to eat. Salem seemed to be ok. He begged for food, climbed on the table...ate his dinner--and his snack. And, then, at 2:30 am, he heaved it all over our bed. All that dinner and snack. Gross! Bad...that means he still had a piece of that silicon cell phone cover in his belly (yep, that's what he ate).

We've been through this before. Many times, once it required surgery.  We feared that was the case this time and we weren't sure we could justify the expense a second time. This cat, well, he's Marc's baby. And just thinking about this was killing him.

So we get down to work to get this thing out of his system. Doctors we aren't. But we knew that he still needed fluids. So how to get a cat to drink? We've mastered this feat--tuna juice. Gross, disgusting. But even a sick cat will usually drink it. There wasn't much interest. There was another puking episode. And then lethargy, no grooming, hiding, no begging. Not good.

Marc decided that he needed to spoon feed the cat. We were out of tuna juice (Jasmine on the other hand was loving the actual tuna). He tried chicken broth that we stole from his mother. That mixed with wet cat food "goop" on a spoon...slowly the cat took it. We went to bed hoping to avoid another late night cleaning...

The next morning...no late night interruptions, and we scoured the house for any hidden puke-age. Nothing, yay? So we had a party to plan for...I had some screens to bring for repair. My two youngest siblings were over--the youngest was in the shower. I left the house...got about two blocks away. My phone rings..it's Marc....there is water pouring into the basement. Crap, crap, crap---so my mind is tallying up the assumed vet bill and a plumber...crap!

But I get home...the leak is not really a leak, but water on the bathroom floor dripping down to the basement. Not good, but no plumber needed. We know how to avoid THIS problem.

Then, I kicked a bottle cap...and Salem chased it. He played, there was life...and he started crying to me for food. I gave him tuna juice (I had gone to the grocery store)...he lapped it up and looked for more. I gave him a little tuna...he devoured it.  Throughout the day, he was gooming, playing, socializing, being mischievous. Yay! Our cat seemed to be coming around.

 

And then...

A momentous thing happened...

Salem pooped!

Yay!!!!

Happy Saint Patrick's Day

Didn't jog today. Didn't walk today. I was too busy eating cornbeef and cabbage...Sun was out, life is good. I'm taking a blogging break for today.


Hope ye had a find Saint Patty's day lasses and laddies. ;-)

Jogging...

So this spring warm up has me itching...to go jogging. I haven't gone jogging since high school. After two weeks, I could no longer walk up stairs because my knees were killing me and I switched to roller blades. Well, here we go again. This time I popped the Aleve before I put on the sneakers and then I headed out the door.

I recently read that the best warm up is a slower version of the exercise that you intend to do--and so I figured a brisp walk was slower than a jog. So I walked...then I jogged...for maybe 10, maybe 15 yards. Lungs were burning, legs were lead. Hell this is going to be harder than I thought., I could at least make 1/2 to 3/4 of a block in high school. Man am I out of shape! The younger sibs are bugging me to take them backpacking this summer. I am not going to lag behind like I did the last time...and so tomorrow, I will pop the Aleve, put on the shoes, gear up the MP3 player and try to trot 20 yard sprints. [I think I can, I think I can...]

"Springing" Ahead

Who ever thought that losing an hour was a good idea? The first thing I heard the morning DJ say was that the Monday following the Spring ahead had the highest number of accidents of any Monday in the year and that the three days following had a spike in heart attacks.

All I know is that last night, while my husband was snoring away, I was awake--wide awake. I almost got up and went to the other room so my tossing wouldn't wake him up (not like that's truly a concern anyway). I woke up multiple times once I finally fell asleep. And I woke up not ready for the day. Then it was grey and cloudy--not the energy boost I needed. At least it didn't rain...and the sun came out eventually.

But seriously, I wouldn't mind not gaining an hour come fall, if I didn't lose an hour come spring.

But I am looking forward to the sun being out once I'm home. I'm ready to rake my lawn. The grass is smushed and brown. It needs fluffing...and there are still leaves from my challenged tree (it still has leaves from the fall). I hate raking; yet I'm itching to get to it. Yay for Spring...soon...in a week.

Update

Since my last post, apparently I was feeling guilty. I feel the need to update--I unpacked a multitude of boxes. I have about four left upstairs, and a bunch of random items to find homes for. If I put things on my walls that takes care of about half of the homeless items. Unfortunately a number of the boxes just moved downstairs to be put away on the office bookshelves, which like their upstairs counterparts are covered with other things...the remainder of the boxes house computer parts, books, software...those may never be put away because I have no idea what to do with them; that is for husband dear to deal with. But you never know, there is a large group of people coming over this coming weekend...they may get put away after all. :-)

Venus vs. Mars

So this weekend, I intended to clean, to organize. We are still living with boxes from our move. Some of them just hold books that need to go onto shelves. But those shelves, unfortunately, have become the homes of other objects that have yet to be given true homes. So I have a mental list of things needed to be accomplished. And what did I do this weekend? Pretty much nothing. Saturday involved lounging--all day, until we left the house at 6 pm to go to the Boy Scout dinner where my brothers received some awards.



And today, well today I spent the day shopping. Not for me. Nothing so fun. I spent the day shopping for Wendy's Corrections Academy requirements. The staple adjectives on the list were, sweats (as in sweat pants, sweat shirt, etc.), grey and conservative. The academy dress is almost tailored for Wendy. The most exciting item was a suit jacket/blazer. Granted I did buy two more bar stools for us, and some new runners/place mats--oh and baby clothes for my newest cousin.



But did I clean? Nope. Did my husband clean? Nope. I just haven't been in cleaning mode. I've had AFS calls, Sabres games (that's required viewing) and a little of this and that going on. I just haven't cleaned. I do my best cleaning when Marc's not around. Honestly, who wants to clean while their partner is shooting zombies? Marc does clean. And when he gets to it, is often a better cleaner that me. He really scrubs, organizes, cleans. But as I've been discussing of late, guys seem to have a different clean threshold from women. I see a bad of cat hair rolling like tumbleweed and out comes the Dustbuster, the swiffer and the mop and bucket. I go for an all out floor scrubbing. Then I probably vacuum and dust. Maybe Marc'll get the dust buster. No cat hair=clean. And since I hit my clean threshold before Marc, the zombies continue to meet their demise... However when family/friend/company comes over...Marc the cleaning machine gears up. Sarah's coming next weekend (he doesn't clean for her, b/c she usually helps me clean), but she's helping me get ready for Wendy's Goodbye/Go Away party...party=company, company=Marc will be the clean machine...

Babies on the Brain

As I said am addicted to blogs, especially blogs about the antics and cuteness of small children. As a friend of mine says "[I] have babies on the brain." She says that to me as if it's a new thing. Being married, owning a house and all, in due time, as life permits, I may just have babies in my future. Truthfully, I think I was born with "babies on the brain." Anytime I get to hold, cuddle, care for--heck even change a diaper--I call it my "baby fix." Let me tell you, I do not have nearly enough baby fix time. I need to find myself a babysitting job. A few years back, my sister asked me if I was too old to babysit. My answer then and remains today "Hell no!"

Maybe someday when the cooing of infants or the pitter patter of toddlers fills my house, maybe then I will be "too old." I sincerely doubt it.

Blogging

Blogging....I've tried it and pretty much utilized it soley as an outlet for bad days at work. Hopefully those are mostly behind me. I fought to work with my last blog site and am trying this one as a fresh start and hopefully more personalized one.

What will I blog about? I have no clue...guess you better hope my life is more interesting that it seems. I love reading other people's blogs--mostly those involving children...but I have none of those. Hopefully someday you can read the lovely life of my prodegies, but as of today maybe you'll read about my flowers, my family, my job. I suspect there will be days in which I get on my soapbox about life and work and family....

But for today, I play with my blog, my layout and all the nuances that this new site offers me.