Second Blooming

Best Laid Plans

Anybody who's been hanging out around here for any length of time knows that I love me a good list. I'm the Queen of Bullet Points. I enjoy using bullet points for the following reasons...

• They help organize my addled brain.
• They help organize my addled brain.
• They help organize my addled brain.

When I'm planning for a holiday event, oh, say...Thanksgiving, I make copious lists using copious amounts of bullet points, and sometimes...an ordered list. I enjoy using an ordered list for the following reasons...

1. It helps me remember the order...
2. in which I should organize...
3. my addled brain. 

So since next week is Thanksgiving, and Jimmy's Aunt Grace is coming to stay with us for 9 (9! 9! Did I mention 9?!) days starting on Monday, I have filled an entire legal pad with lists made with my favorite good pen. Lists such as...

Things to do before Grace arrives

• Clean porch.
• Steam clean carpets.
• Hang curtains in Jude's bathroom.
• Haul all the Halloween crap back up into the attic.
• Haul all the Thanksgiving crap down out of the attic.
• Hang all the pictures back up in the kitchen. [Did I mention that I repainted the kitchen during my blogging hiatus? No? Ah, another post.]

And...

Thursday Timeline

1. Make giblet broth.
2. Make chocolate pie.
3. Make sweet potatoes.
4. Roast turkey.
5. Whip cream for pie.
6. Make gravy.
7. Heat  stuffing.
8. Heat mashed potatoes.
9. Put together salad.
10. Carve turkey.
11. Put together Brussels sprouts.
12. Rolls! [Rolls gets an exclamation point because I always forget to put them in the oven!]

Many, many things to do. Very, very organized. But then...

Sinus infection. Sigh.

• Misery
• Z-Pacs
• Prednisone
• nasal spray
• DayQuil
• NyQuil
• Vitamin C
• steam, steam, steam
• Bed rest.

So every day I've been lying in bed staring at my lists, unable to check one single thing off them. Bummer, man. 

An interesting side effect of all this wasted time is that I have...

• Spent a little too much time shopping on the internet. We now own... 1. a new 6 foot folding table which I'm setting up in the corner of the dining room to use as a buffet (smart!). 2. a new non-lumpy mattress pad for Grace to sleep on. 3. a new dishwasher that actually washes dishes! Hurray pre-Black Friday sales!
• Fussed and obsessed over the Thanksgiving menu far too much. I mean, I have changed this damned menu so many times it's ridiculous. 

Here is the menu as of today...

• Turkey. Dry brined with this recipe HERE. Which I used last year to excellent results.
• Gravy. Oh man, Mama's Good Gravy.
• Cornbread Stuffing. With sage sausage and cranberries and pecans.
• Brown Butter Mashed Potatoes.
• Sweet Potatoes with Bourbon and Maple. Because...bourbon.
• Shaved Brussels Sprouts with Pecans and Parmesan.
• Fresh Goat Cheese and Radicchio Salad with Figs. 
• Mama's Chocolate Cream Pie.
• Apple Pie.

When you look at this list, you will see the areas over which I may have had too much time to think. Like...pretty much all the side dishes are little outside the box. A little...chefy. No green bean casserole. But I don't care, they're getting their turkey and stuffing. They can give the Brussels sprouts and radicchio a try. This is a deviation for me, I am usually of the firm belief that nobody wants anything healthy or green for Thanksgiving. Just carbs and fat. But we'll see. It's something new.

You will also notice that I don't have any kind of appetizer on the menu. I have, over the past week, had about 45 different appetizers on this list, but I keep changing my mind. Nothing sounds good. Here are my issues with the Thanksgiving appetizer...

• I want something for people to nibble on, but don't want it to be too heavy so they fill up.
• Jimmy always wants something seafood because he's a seafood freak, but nobody but Jimmy and Lynn want to eat it. It's a constant argument.
• It needs to be something that I can make completely ahead of time - the last thing I need is more last minute work. I need a dip or something I can make the day before and just stick out, no complicated canapes that need to be put together right at the same time I need to be making that good gravy.

Does anybody have any ideas? Seriously, I need help here. A favorite Thanksgiving appetizer that is a real crowd pleaser?

So here I am, staring at my lists and hacking up phlegm when I should be hauling crap in and out of the attic. 

Rosa's here today (see previous post for explanation of this new member of the Second Blooming family), thank the good Lord. She took one look at me, wheezing and moaning and said in her kindest voice (and again, please forgive me if the voice of Rosa is a bit like Consuela on Family Guy)...

ROSA

Oh, you seeeek?

GRETCHEN

(sadly sick)

Yes.

ROSA

You cook turkeys?

GRETCHEN

Yes, everybody's coming here.

ROSA

How much peoples?

GRETCHEN

Thirteen, counting the kids.

ROSA

Is too much peoples! You cook too many food! Is too 

much work!

Don't you just love Rosa? She understands everything.

So how are your Thanksgiving plans coming along? Leave me a comment if you...

• Have an excellent Thanksgiving appetizer idea/recipe to share.
• Feel sorry for me and want to tell me how sorry you are for me.
• Want to come over and steam clean my carpets.
• Want to share your own sad story and don't have a Rosa to sympathize with you.

And check out other Thanksgiving doings over at the Spin Cycle at Lemon Drop Pie!

 

 

 

 

 

Eeeeeek!

I pulled the microwave away from the wall to clean behind it and there it was.

Poop. Tiny poop. Two little drops of teeny tiny poop. On my kitchen counter.

EEEEEEEEEEK! 

Okay. I am not a fearful person. I'm really not. Well, heights. And bridges. But really, I'm not too bad. However...I go into a full body "Eeeeeew" clench when I am around anything...rodent. Just freaks me out. Hair standing up on the back of the neck kind of thing. So this tiny poop discovery did not make me happy. I decided to ignore it.

But later that night...I walked into the kitchen to get a glass of water before I went to sleep, and whooooooooooooosh", a tiny furry thing shot across the kitchen counter and down into a hole behind the sink.

I screamed. One of those really painfully girly high-pitched screams. Jimmy and Jude were both asleep already, and neither woke up. This was, in itself, disturbing. I mean, what if I had been attacked by a burglar or had fallen and couldn't get up? But anyway... I ran to Google and typed in "how to get rid of mice".

I then pictured Stuart Little. And Ralph S. Mouse. Sweet little anthropomorphic mice who have sweet little non-disgusting adventures. I added "humanely", then hit Enter. Ah! Peppermint oil. Apparently, mice hate it. I could do that. No need to mention the whole rodent infestation thing to Jimmy or Jude. I would rid our home of the sweet little tiny mouse all on my own using peppermint oil. Despite trying to cutify the rodent by deciding to call him Little Stinker, I spent the entire night staring at the ceiling, imaging scratching noises and tiny poop in my bed. 

The next day I ran to Whole Foods and purchased a bottle of peppermint oil which I used to wipe down the entire kitchen. I then proceeded to stuff the hole behind the sink with peppermint soaked cotton balls and seal it with a plastic strip. Done. Don't you mess with Mama, Little Stinker.

But later that night...

About ten minutes after Jude went to bed, he showed up in the living room.

JUDE

Uh, Mom?

GRETCHEN

Yes?

JUDE

Something odd.

GRETCHEN

Yes?

JUDE

I think I just saw a little mouse in my room.

GRETCHEN

(EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEKKKKKKKK!)

A mouse? No, I'm sure you must have been dreaming.

JUDE

I don't know. He was standing on my backpack looking at me.

GRETCHEN

(EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEKKKKKKK!)

Really? I don't know, honey. We've never had mice. I'll check it 

out tomorrow. Go to sleep.

Damn you, Little Stinker. You are not allowed in a room with my sleeping child!

So the next day, I searched Jude's room. Sure enough, there were two more tiny poops behind the books on his lowest bookshelf, and two more behind his bed, next to the HOLE in the wall by his electric socket. Damn.

I called my friend Scott, who knows how to do things. He assured me that mice were very common in our area, told me an amusing story about a mouse infestation in his own house, then suggested that I putty over the hole in Jude's room, then cover the putty with tape. I got to work. First I wiped everything in his room with peppermint oil, then pulled out my putty and sealed up that hole. Take THAT, Little Stinker!

By now, friends had started commenting on our homes minty freshness. Yes, clean and fresh, and certainly not RODENT INFESTED. 

Two days went by. I felt successful. Then the next morning...

I pulled the microwave away from the wall to clean behind it and there I found...okay, this was weird. Two tiny plaster statues of poop. Yes, plaster mouse poop. Little Stinker had tried to eat through the plaster I'd sealed the hole with, then digested the plaster and pooped it out! On my kitchen counter!

But how had he gotten in this time? I did more detective work and discovered a little pile of sawdust in the corner. That Little Stinker had gone under the house, up the tile backsplash in the kitchen, and tunneled down behind the cabinet! Clearly, Little Stinker was highly evolved.

Okay, you f&$%#ing Little Stinker. That is it! Humane/schmumane. It was time to call...the professionals. I dialed up Western Exterminators because my friend Julie said they got rid of the horrible RAT infestation at their house (I mean, rat? Much less cute than mouse.), plus they have the best logo in town...

The next day, Johnny Mouseman showed up at my door. Okay, that's not really his name, but that's what I call him. I know this is crazy, but I swear to God, he looks...like a mouse. You know how in Cinderella the Fairy Godmother turned the little mice into coachmen, and they still sort of looked like mice? Like this guy...

That's Johnny. Little buck teeth, big eyes, pale eyelashes. Freaky, man.

Anyway, Johnny investigated. Yes, he confirmed, you have mice. Not rats, but mice. He can tell this by examining the scat. Whew. I told him of my peppermint oil use, and mentioned the word "humane". He hesitated, then asked "But you do want me to take care of it, right?"

Ah! I see. Johnny was like Paulie Walnuts "taking care" of some guy for Tony Soprano. 

I thought of Stuart Little. I thought of poop under my child's bed. 

"Do what you gotta do," I answered in a serious tone.

Johnny put out traps. Lots of traps. I was told to check them daily, and Johnny would return every other day to check on the mouse situation.

Days went by.

On the day of Johnny's second return visit, it just happened to be the day Rosa, the housekeeper, comes and brings me joy. (Have I failed to mention the arrival of Rosa in my world? Ah, another post!) When Johnny arrived, he started to walk around checking on traps, when Rosa suddenly chimed in...

ROSA

(please forgive my attempt at her accent)

Oh. I find mouse. He dead.

GRETCHEN

What? You found a dead mouse?!!!!!

ROSA

He dead.

GRETCHEN

(doing a goofy, eeeeeek, there's a mouse dance)

Well...what did you do with it.

ROSA

I pick him up and throw him in trash. He dead.

Clearly, Rosa is a far braver woman than I.

Johnny Mouseman dug through the trash while I continued my freaked out, hopping from leg to leg, eeeeeeek dance. Until he found the aforementioned mouse.

Little Stinker had been taken care of.

It's been two weeks since the murder of the mouse. I realize that it's naive to believe that Little Stinker was a lone mouse, living all  by himself under our house like Ralph S. Mouse. It seems more likely that he had a large extended family somewhere under there, pooping and chewing and doing all sorts of disgusting rodenty things. But so far so good. 

I still have my bottle of peppermint oil at the ready. But I think it's time to bring in a family member who is less squeamish than I am. Our very own Paulie Walnuts. I think it's time...for a cat.

 

I Am Job

That's Job. With a long "o". Like the guy from the bible with all the troubles. Not a job. With a short"o". Like something you do for money. Though a job with a short "o" is involved. And I might be being slightly melodramatic. My trials and suffering over the last few days aren't actually biblical in proportion. Nobody is sick or dying, nobody's wife turned into salt. No wait...that was Lot. Now I'm getting my old testament analogies confused. Suffice it to say that the last few days have been a series of trials and tribulations. But I might just be whining.

The week started out pretty good. After a lovely Easter, we decided to take a two day car trip up the California coast to Cambria, a sweet little coastal town with an amazing coastline. We chose to take Jude's friend A.J. along with us, both so Jude would have more fun and so we would have more fun not having to entertain the 11-year old. 

Then...Jimmy's back went out. This happens periodically. He'll bend wrong or twist wrong and BAM, he's flat on his back with an icepack for a week. It's sad.

But that was workable. I could drive the boys myself. Just the three of us. I figured they'd hang out on the beach and try to make friends with sea lions, and I could do a little work on the computer.

Here's where the job with a short "o" comes in. I have this once-a-year job line producing a health fair. Glamorous, I know. Basically, I organize and assign and communicate with about 100 volunteers and 40 exhibitors. It's mostly a lot of emailing. Like...really a LOT of emailing. During this last week, I was getting upwards of 30 emails a day about this stuff. And the event was just a few days later, on Saturday. But I didn't think it would be a problem. The motel had wi-fi, and I could just hang out at night after the boys had gone to sleep and do my endless emailing.

So we drove the what the hotel said would be a three hour drive, which I assumed would be more like a four hour drive, but turned out to be like a five hour drive. Because it rained. It never rains in Southern California. Seriously, we're in the worst drought in history. So the rain is a good thing, but damn it, not when I'm driving two whining tweens on a road trip by myself. 

I feel that at this point I should point out an interesting new social phenomenon. Since the dawn of the automobile,  "Are we there yet???" has been the bane of every car tripping parent's existence. But now, with the dawn of GPS, they no longer ask "Are we there yet?". They look it up on their phones, then say things like "Dude! It's still twooooooooo more hours!" I can't decide if this is a good thing or a bad thing. But I digress...

We got to Moonstone Beach in Cambria and it's lovely. Really. 

And after I got the boys interested in nature...

...I went back to the motel to bang out a little work and damn if their wi-fi wasn't out. Well, not completely out. I could perch on the edge of the bed and lean out the window and get a bit. But it kept cutting out right in the middle of sending emails. After a while, I finally took my computer and wandered around the parking lot and found one spot where the connection was strong, then parked the car in that spot and managed to get some stuff done. But not much. So...I was concerned about the amount of work I had to do when I got home. This becomes more important as this rather long story goes on.

We had fun. Really. We toured Hearst Castle, which I highly recommend.

The boys were hearteningly interested in the history and architecture.

We watched a sunset.

Which the boys deemed "cool". Which is about as much excitement about nature as a tweenage boy can come up with. 

We looked at molting elephant seals.

Which was better than mating elephant seals, which apparently we would have seen if we'd arrived two weeks early. So that's a good thing.

And then we started the drive home. Which the motel said would be a three hour drive, but I figured would be more like a four hour drive and turned out to be...brace yourself...a seven hour drive. With the whiny tweens. This horror was caused by five things...

1. Traffic sucks.

2. Whiny tweens insist on stopping at every In-N-Out on the way.

3. I had to stop and make a phone call. Not just any phone call, but a ONE HOUR business conference call for the job with a short "o". I'd known about this call when I planned the trip, but had figured that I could take it while Jimmy was driving. But alas... So after loading the boys up with In-N-Out and plugging them into their electronic devices, I pulled off the highway into a small town, parked under a tree next to a cow pasture, fired up a personal hotspot on my phone, connected my computer and made my call. 

4. After finishing the call, I decided to use my GPS to get back to the freeway, and it took me FIFTEEN miles in the wrong direction before instructing me to "turn left" and then "turn left" which was essentially a U-turn and then it led me back to where I needed to be. So...about thirty minutes of wandering aimlessly on a small country road.

5. Traffic sucks.

By the time we dropped A.J. off and got home it was 8:00 pm. Oh my. 

Kindly, Jimmy had managed to order take out for us for dinner. However, in a very Jimmylike move, he had ordered me what he wanted for dinner, linguini with clam sauce, which I wasn't in the mood for at all, but I ate anyway, because it wasn't from In-N-Out.

I then tried to bang out some more emails, but was so tired that I kind of collapsed.

I woke up the next morning...with food poisoning. Clam sauce food poisoning. I know. You just went into a full body "ewwww" clench. I spent the entire day Friday communing with the toilet. Oh dear God.

But I had SO MUCH WORK I had to do, that I sat there on the floor of the bathroom with my computer next to me...sending emails to volunteers. Many, many emails. And drawing a diagram of the exhibitor table layout. Please feel sorry for me.

During all this, Jude was preparing to leave for a Boy Scout campout. He managed to pack himself (I say this but truly I don't have a clue what he put in that bag. It looked a little empty to me. I doubt very much that he had underwear. Or a toothbrush. Whatever.) A kind scout dad picked him up and whisked him off to his camp.

About three hours later, I got a panicked phone call from Jude. Somehow, I had failed to print out and send with him the medical release form he had to have in order to be allowed to stay at Boy Scout camp. That's right, without these forms...he had to GO HOME. Which meant I would have to drive to pick him up - three hours each way. Because I had by now stopped vomiting, but Jimmy's back was still so twisted that he couldn't sit in a car. I started to cry. Luckily...the wonderful scout dad who was with Jude talked the powers that be into allowing me to scan the medical form and email it to the director. But of course...I had failed to even fill out the medical form, much less have a doctor sign it. But after a hysterical thirty minutes spent filling in the lengthy form and having it signed by Dr. Gretchen's Left Hand, the boy was saved from leaving camp, and I was saved the drive.

I continued emailing, then went to sleep.

Saturday morning, I woke up at 6:30 am, took a shower, ate some saltines and drank water (the only sustenance I'd had for 24 hours, and started packing up the car for my big event for the job with a short "o". I could do it. I was weak and shaky, but I could do it. I am, after all, from hearty farm stock, people who traveled across America in a covered wagon. I could deal with car trips, and tweens, and lack of wi-fi, and traffic, and vomiting, and failed medical forms. 

I reached down and picked up a box of donated snacks I was hauling to my health fair and BANG. My back. Electric pain up and around my back. I dropped the box and froze. 

NO! NO! NO! I actually, really truly threw my arms up to heaven in a dramatic gesture and shouted (seriously, I fear my neighbors heard me) "NO GOD! I DO. NOT. HAVE. TIME. FOR. THIS!" Which was my version of a Job (with a long "o") moment. I took a deep breath, dragged that damned box to the car, drove to my event, and spent the next eight hours working my ass off.

The event went very well.

Is anybody still here? Because this is the longest damned post I have every written. "Helloooo?"

I went home after my event and collapsed. In bed. Icing my back and drinking Gatorade. And wine.

So...how was your week?

 

 

Spin Cycle: Thinking About Bette Davis

I've been thinking about Bette Davis lately. More specifically, I've been thinking about this quote...

 

 

I think Miss Davis had it right. It's not easy, man. This aging thing is tough stuff.

I've always looked younger than my age. I'll never forget one time when I was at the fertility doctor and I was lying back with my feet up in the stirrups and from down there between my legs my doctor said "You have a very youthful uterus." Which I took as a tremendous compliment. But it was exactly what I had expected. I was very youthful all over.

But no more.

I don't really mind the whole looking older thing. I really don't. I'd rather look like myself than like one of those women who have mutilated themselves with surgery trying to look younger. They make me sad. There was a great interview with Frances McDormand in the NY Times recently about aging. She said that looking good should be a boast about experiences accrued and insights acquired, a triumphant signal “that you are someone who, beneath that white hair, has a card catalog of valuable information.” She makes me happy.

But the other aspects of growing old are a drag. The other day, Jude teased me about saying "a drag". He informed me that only people my age and older say "a drag". I told him that having your child tease you about saying "a drag" was a drag. But I digress...

Menopause is an awful thing. Really, truly awful. I ran into an old friend at an audition the other day and she said "I always used to say that God was a woman. But there's no way in hell that a woman invented menopause, so I think I was wrong." It's really hell. I have decided that the reason God created menopause was a "propagation of the species" thing. The older you are, the less energy you have to care and feed the children, so for the good of the species, the mothering thing needs to be handed off to younger women. So God created menopause so that, between the sweating and the belly fat, no man would ever want to have sex with the old broads again, and would move on to the younger cavewomen. I believe this to be true.

My body is betraying me. I get so tired. I've been exercising like mad lately, which makes me feel great right afterward, but by 8:00 pm I just crash - can't keep my eyes open. The idea of going out after 8 at night fills me with dread. I just want my bed and my Netflix. The other night I didn't go to my choir rehearsal because I had gotten up that morning at 6 am to meet the film crew that was filming our front yard, and then had taken a "Slow Burn" class at the Y, and by 6 pm, I was so, so, so tired that I just got into bed. The idea of getting into the car and driving anywhere was just beyond me. I was asleep before Jude.

I keep thinking "I may be older, but at least I'm wiser." But that's bull because my brain is like a stinking sieve. I forget everything. The other day, I had the following thought process...

Okay. Jude has a half-day at school today, which means I need to pick him up at noon. So I should go to the 9:30 spin class at the YMCA. Then I can be home by 10:30ish and can shower and change. Then I can be over to the church by noon to meet the guy about the bingo equipment. Perfect!

Hmm. Have you noticed the problem here? If not, reread it quickly. That's right, I scheduled a meeting at the church at the same time I was supposed to pick my child up at school. And I really, truly didn't notice this discrepancy. I was operating under the misconception that everything was going perfectly. Until about 12:20, when my kid started sending me ornery texts - "WHERE ARE YOU!!!!!!!". By the time I got over to the school, I was 47 minutes late, which Jude is still complaining about. And saddest of all, I LIED to him about why I was late! I told him I got stuck at this meeting at the church which ran late. I just couldn't admit to him that I had just totally derped. That's a word Jude invented - derp. It means exactly what it sounds like it should mean. And I do it all the time.

If it's this bad now, and I'm only 53, what's it going to be like at 83? Will my brain have melted into a gelatinous goo? Will my middle-aged spread have widened into an old-aged sprawl? Will I end up like Mommy's friend Cathy who talks endlessly about her gas?

I am determined not to let any of this happen because I am NOT a SISSY, though it's hard to keep this in mind when you're having a hot flash. So to encourage myself, I will leave you with a couple more words of wisdom from Bette Davis...

"The key to life is accepting challenges. Once someone stops doing this, he's dead."

and if that doesn't work...

"There comes a time in every woman's life when the only thing that helps is a glass of champagne."

 __________________________________

 

Go see Ginny Marie and her other Free Choice spinners!

 

Perspective

Oh man, it has just been one of those weeks. Nothing really bad has happened. No big tragedies or unconquerable crises. I have no excuse for my ennui.

I've just been feeling constantly overwhelmed with responsibility. All I want to do is write and go to the gym and be alone. But everybody wants something out of me. And by everybody I mean my husband and child. They keep making me do responsible mom stuff like cleaning the house and providing food for them and driving them where they need to be. Damn it. I keep trying to be selfish, and they just won't let me.

I'm tired, damn it. Do y'all get like this? Is it a mother thing? This overwhelming feeling that everybody and everything is just dragging you down? Like you just want to go off by yourself and live in a cabin in the woods for a week? A cabin in the woods with wifi and Netflix?

So that's how I've been feeling. And then as a capper to the week...

Saturday night, Jude had a friend over for a sleepover. I fed them dinner, made a bed for them in the living room in front of the tv, took a nice hot bath with a glass of wine, and got into bed with Jimmy to watch a spooky movie while the boys hung out doing tweeny things. I soon fell asleep.

About 11:00, I was awakened by a strange shlooping sound, followed by Jimmy saying "Oh no, kid! You okay?"

Jude's little friend had somehow vomited all over our house. Okay, that might be a minor exaggeration, but really, mmmm...not so much. He had tried to run into the bathroom, but hadn't made it, and had proceeded to vomit all over the hallway outside out bedroom and the bathroom. He then walked throoooooough the vomit and into the bathroom, thus spreading vomit all over the bathroom. And himself.

In order for me to get out of our bedroom and help this child, my choices were...1. walk through the vomit in my bare feet or 2...okay, there was no second choice.

So I waded through another person's child's vomit, then ministered to this poor vomiting child. Then I had to wade back through the vomit and do this weird thing wherein I stood my vomit-covered bare feet on a dirty towel and shuffled into the kitchen without tracking vomit everywhere, so I could wash my feet in the sink and then find cleaning supplies to clean up the puddle of vomit.

It was while I was in the kitchen that the vomiting child decided to walk back through the puddle of vomit so he could lie down on the bed I had made for them in the living room. I managed to stop him and strip his feet of his vomit-soaked socks before he had covered the rest of the house in vomity footprints. I swear, I was spraying this kids feet with Windex.

I then, after calling the poor sick boy's poor mother, who was trying very hard to enjoy a night out at a party, proceeded to spend the next 45 minutes cleaning up about a gallon of vomit. I swear to God, it was like The Exorcist or something. It was everywhere - the floor, the walls, the rug. I went through an entire roll of paper towels. I did Pinesol, Lysol - all the 'sols. I then moved on to the bleach. I guess I went a little crazy with the cleaning products.

Finally, after the poor guy's mom got there and took him home, and I felt that the vomit removal was complete, and I scrubbed myself into the bathtub, stripped off my vomit-ridden nightgown, and collapsed. When I was finally able to go to bed at about 12:30, I was completely unable to sleep - I kept having these weird vomit dreams. Oh dear God.

And where were Jimmy and Jude during the vomit-a-thon? Hiding. Jude was hiding in his room, ignoring his poor sick friend, and Jimmy was in the bed with...I swear to God...the covers over his head.

I woke up this morning feeling SO overwhelmed and exhausted. Was there anybody else who needed me to take care of them? Because I just didn't think I could, I didn't think I had it in me.

Then I read this blog by my friend Elizabeth about a particularly difficult time she's having with her special needs daughter, and I just smacked myself in the head."Oh good Lord, Gretchen, get over it! Pull your head out of your butt and get over it! Your family is healthy. Nothing in your life is insurmountable. Vomit is easily cleaned. Yes, your people need you, but you wouldn't want it any other way, so stop whining."

And Jimmy was so grateful and ashamed that I cleaned up all that vomit while he hid, that he gave me a nice foot massage.

So...how was your week?

Spin Cycle: Secret

A few weeks ago, when Ginny Marie and I were scrambling for Spin Cycle ideas...er...I mean brainstorming our collective inspiration for all of you...I wrote out a list of Spin Cycle ideas and sent them to Ginny. Since then, we've been using the ideas on the list. I say this not to take credit for the ideas, but to take the blame. All this week, I have been stumped by "Secrets". I mean, it was my stinking idea in the first place, but...I got nothing. Nada. Nil. Goose egg. Zilch.

Today, I finally forced myself to think. What is it that I'm hiding? What is it that I'm keeping to myself, afraid to share it with all of you? What do I need to get off my chest? And finally, I realized what it was.

I need to take a blogging break.

Whew, I said it. What a relief.

I mean, I have been doing a lousy job here - absent, random, uninspired. And I've been a DREADFUL reader, just sad.

I'm not talking a long, forever and ever break. But a little mini-break. And not from all blogging, just from the Spin Cycle. I don't want to lose my BlogHer sponsorship, so I'll need to do a bit of posting. But I need to step back from the responsibility of needing to post on set days and times, and I need to spend that time finishing up the book I'm writing.

Therefore I hereby grant Ginny Marie temporary full ownership of the Spin Cycle. I've told her that I'll be gone 6 months. That makes it until...hmm...math...March of 2015. I am absolutely confident that I am leaving it and you in MOST excellent hands. Please show her the support and enthusiasm that she so completely deserves.

Well now I feel a little sad. But mostly I feel relieved. I hate keeping secrets!

Now go visit Ginny Marie and give her your support! And check out the other Spin Cycle Secrets contributors while you're at it! Wish me luck!

 

 

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Spin Cycle: If I Were Queen of the World

Greetings and salutations to my beloved subjects.

As the new Queen of the World, I hereby enact the following changes...

Since everyone will no doubt want to emulate their new monarch, belly fat and upper arm waddle are henceforth the new erogenous zones. Firm, skinny types will be looked down upon with pity.

All monies currently being used to fund medical research in the area of erectile dysfunction will now be put to use to bring an end to the sufferings of menopause. In the future, the women who govern the Catholic Church will decide to canonize Queen Gretchen for the miracle she created in making this happen. In artistic renderings of Saint Gretchen, she will be depicted glowing from a now curable hot flash.

The following words and phrases are hereby banned from the English language...

• Anyways. This is NOT a word.
• Awesometastic. Nor is this.
• Yes way.
• Shout out.
• The 411.
• Cray cray.
• My bad.
• Oh snap!

All convicted child molesters, rapists, drug dealers, terrorists, and loud-mouthed political pundits will be rounded up and put on an island somewhere. I hope they enjoy each others company. Any properties left behind by said criminals will be confiscated and used to house the homeless.

Public spitting is expressly forbidden. No one wants to see this kind of thing. Please make use of a handkerchief. Miscreants will be punished with heavy fines and/or prison, depending on the offensiveness of the spit.

All public signage must be properly spelled. There is simply no excuse for misspelled signs. No leniency to people utilizing a language which is not their mother tongue, spell check is free to all. Be mindful that ones business will be more successful if one doesn't come off as an ignorant boob. All misspelled signage will be removed and business owners will be fined.

All public rudeness is hereby abolished. Those caught doing such distasteful things as cutting in line, shoving, name calling or making rude gestures will be punished with heavy fines and/or prison sentences, depending on the offensiveness of the rudeness.

The entire world will be power washed twice a year.  Areas with an overabundance of water will share their resources with areas which suffer from drought. Like Los Angeles. Just think how happy we will all be when the world is shiny and clean and fresh-smelling. This undertaking will be funded by monies collected from fines for spitting and rudeness and misspelling.

I trust you will be pleased with the new changes and they will make for a more pleasant and attractive world.

I also decree that you must visit Ginny Marie, as well as each of our other Spin Cycle participants who are sharing what they would do if they were the Queen of the World. Which of course, they are not.

We have spoken.

__________________________________

 

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Camp Mama 2014 Weeks Eight and Nine: Sigh...

Sigh...

I'm afraid I have been strangely silent during these last two weeks of Camp Mama when we were on our annual trip to New York. Usually I have a plethora of crazy but charming stories about my wacky in-laws - I know that all of you want to know what's up with Mommy. But this year I just didn't have much to say. I mean, we did lots of fun activities, and had some meaningful family time. But overall? The trip was extremely stressful and disappointing and...not fun. And why was it stressful and disappointing and...not fun? It was because of Mommy. There, I said it.

Mommy has just not been herself. Or actually, she has been herself times 200. You all know how much I adore my precious 85-year old mother-in-law. And I've told many stories about her neuroses and "Mommyisms". But over the last year, her fears and phobias have grown and amplified and festered to the point that it's incredibly difficult to be around her. And I'm very worried for her well-being and that of those around her.

I've mentioned before that Mommy fell down about a year ago. She was incredibly lucky that it didn't cause any physical injuries - no broken bones, no concussion. But the mental damage was huge - she's become so afraid of falling and embarrassing herself again, that she has become agoraphobic. She's afraid to go anywhere or do anything. And what's more, she doesn't have a moment of peace (nor does anyone around her) if anybody ELSE goes anywhere or does anything. She's only okay if everyone is home doing nothing. Which doesn't make for much of a vacation. Especially if you are 11.

She's terrible to Pop and poor Aunt Grace, who is so worried about her that she spends most of her time on Long Island helping, but is constantly yelled at and criticized. And Mommy is so irrational and illogical about her fears that you can't argue with her. First she will complain and moan about how nobody wants to do anything with her and she never goes anywhere - she actually, seriously said "I guess nobody loves me anymore!". But then when we would try (and try and try and try) to get her to come with us someplace or take her somewhere or do something all together, she would refuse, and come up with the most ridiculous excuses. "No, no, I have to...make the eggplant." "But Mommy, we're not eating the eggplant for two more days.Why don't we take you to the beach, it will be fun." "No, no, I can't." And then her voice would start to rise to a shrill level and pretty soon she was shouting things like "Nobody understands what it's like for me!" and her constant mantra "Nobody listens to meeeee!!!" Which is true, because so much of what she says is irrational.

You have to understand that is is NOT LIKE MOMMY! She's always been the MOST loving and embracing woman in the world, and the BEST mother-in-law ever. Her neuroses have been...cute and charming. So this is all very worrisome.

We tried. We really did. I cooked and cleaned for her as much as possible. We cut down on the number of activities we did and stayed home with her. But she didn't make it easy. One day we were home and a bored-out-of-his-mind Jude asked if we could please go and do something. When I suggested that he go in and spend some time with Grandma, he turned to me and said, not in a snotty way, just being honest, "What should I do with her? Just follow her around and watch her clean?" And that kind of summed it up. He could spend time with Grandpa - watch a baseball game on tv, watch one of Pop's old movies ("That Alan Ladd was some actor, kid."), or go for a ride to the "candy store" to buy the Lotto tickets. But what could he do with Grandma? She doesn't do anything.

So this made for a sad trip. But we did manage to have some fun times. Namely...

We managed to get Mommy out of the house a few times for dinners.

Aunt Grace, Niki and a very glamorous Mommy out for her birthday dinner.

Picture of us on the same evening. We clean up pretty well.

Jude, Mommy and Cousin Matthew at Hoy Ming for Chinese food.

Cousin love!

We had a great day kayaking at our friends Bob and Beverly's house on Oak Island...

Actually, Bob, Jude and I kayaked. Jimmy sat on the deck and worried about bugs.

And we always, always have a great time with our friends who live up the street - Ray, Jenny and Mia.

Friends and Sushi

Jude and I drove with them into Brooklyn to Coney Island...

Cyclone - best roller coaster on the planet.

Ray, Jenny, and me after we dumped the kids and went to Ruby's for beer.

And we loved that we just happened to be in town for the birth of Jude's newest cousin, Benjamin, and were able to make his bris...

Jude and Benjamin, who looks pretty relaxed despite having just gone through a traumatic experience.

It's interesting, when I talk to Mommy on the phone across the country, she's very different. I don't know if it's that the safety of distance keeps her from fretting about us too much or if she just puts on a sunny disposition for the phone. I was talking to her on the phone today, and she started sounding bad again - that weird tremor came into her voice. And we had a pretty frank and open conversation. I told her that I was worried about her, and actually used the word "agoraphobic" and she...agreed with me! I'm hoping she talks about all of this with her doctor soon, she said she would.

I would appreciate it if all of you would keep her in your thoughts and prayers. She's too wonderful of a human being to spend her golden years in a panic.

I did find one thing that made her VERY happy...

Yes, this is already in a frame and on the wall of Mommy's den!

This is, of course, right where Mommy wants Jude all the time. By her side.

 

Spin Cycle: Top 8 Favorite Things About Vacation Thus Far

We are on Long Island visiting Mommy and Pop! Already much excitement! Yes, I realize that it is traditional to do a Top 10 list but we've only been here 3 days so 8's all I could come up with.

#8: Virgin America -

We always fly either American or Jet Blue, but I decided to give Virgin America a try because everybody keep telling about it and guess what? It was great. New plane. Extra leg room. Television in every seat. I'm recommending it.

#7: Highest 24-Hour Rainfall in New York State History -

This is not a "favorite" because it was a good thing, in fact it was a disaster. It's a "favorite" because it proves my point that EVERY time we visit the in-laws there is a major crisis. We landed on Tuesday at about 7:45 pm, and over Tuesday night, Long Island was flooded. Mommy and Pop fared well, but many of their friends had flooded basements. We're talking sinkholes and entire towns with four feet of water. Crazy! And the craziest thing of all is that we all completely slept through it! I got up and decided to go to the Dunkin Donuts for a coffee (Mommy only keeps the dreaded decaf in her house) and discovered chaos all around us!

#6: Jude Sets Aunt Grace Straight on Politics -

Our dear, beloved Aunt Grace is perfect in every way except for her obsessive right-wing leanings. Jude was sitting with her and Grandma and Grandpa watching Fox News and Grace was going on and on blaming Obama for everything from the Ukraine to Israel to Iraq to immigration to health care to the death of Robin Williams (okay, maybe not that one) and Jude proceeded to give them all a civics lesson on the system of checks and balances and the three branches of our government set up in the Constitution and how therefore no president would be blamed entirely for any US policy. I have to say, he was not at all rude, nor did he play politics (he criticized Jimmy equally for blaming George Bush for everything). They all stared at him with their mouths dropped, impressed. Hilarious.

#5: The Atlantic Ocean -

For the first time ever, Jimmy, Jude and I hit the beach on the East Coast as a family!

California boy on a Long Island beach with his friend Mia.

#4: Look Who Has Outgrown Mommy! -

#3: Jude and Pop Have Precious Moment -

During the aforementioned flood, the trunk of Pop's brand spanking new car (yes, the man is 85 and just bought a new car) filled with water. I mean to the brim. After much hysteria, and talk about calling the dealership Pop confessed to me that it just maaaaaay have been his fault and he maaaaay have left it a bit...open. But DON'T TELL MOMMY or she will crucify him! So I spent about an hour bailing and drying his trunk. After which, we had to leave the trunk open to air out, and Pop didn't want to just leave it out there like that, so he climbed inside and listened to his CDs. Jude decided to join him. So sweet. The two of them sat out there listening to Sinatra and Streisand and had a "talk about life" according to Jude. I have no idea what they talked about, but it was deep and meaningful. They also discussed modern music, and Pop was terribly impressed by Jude's insight. Loved.

#2: Mommy Gets Her Hands on Jude For the First Time This Year -

We walked in the door and within 30 seconds, this had happened...

Crazy loving!

#1: The Artificial Suntan Disaster -

Yesterday, when we were all at the beach, Jimmy sat down next to me in his swim trunks. "Hmm...that's odd," I thought. I leaned forward and inspected his legs/feet more closely. His lower legs appeared to be made of some sort of strange lizard skin, and all along his feet were weird streaks of brownish ick. "What the hell?" I said. Embarrassed, Jimmy hid his legs and squirmed. "What did you do to yourself?" I asked. Well...turns out, before we left LA, doofy Jimmy decided that due to his recent hospital stay, he was too white, and needed a bit of tanning. So he went to the drug store and bought some of that fake tan stuff. However, he is a poor direction follower, and so seems to have applied it EXTREMELY POORLY, and it looks like this...

Can you see the lines up and down his legs?

He seems to have tried to spray it on his chest, but it all pooled inside his belly button so he has this weird brown hole in the  middle of his belly.

I have been laughing ever since! I can't stop giggling. It's just so, so Jimmy! Only he would do this silly thing to himself. It's the funniest thing I've seen in ages. Thank you Jimmy for this silliness!!

So that's my summer vacation so far. More soon...

_____________________________________

Check out Ginny Marie and our other Summer Vacation spinners!

 

 

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Camp Mama 2014 Week Six: Chicle

Several years ago, my best friend Sharon's dad, Henry, retired, and immediately started driving his wife, Sylvia, crazy. Sylvia, who is Mexican-American, came up with a nickname for him - Chicle - because he was like a piece of bubble gum stuck to her shoe - she couldn't get rid of him.

Yep, Chicle. That's Jimmy since he's been stuck home convalescing after his long hospital stay. He's home all day. Every day. This is what Jimmy does to fill his days of late...

• Complains.
• Watches daytime television.
• Tells me what to do.

Um...yep, that's about it.

FADE IN:

Jimmy sits on the sofa with his laptop on his lap. He stares at the screen, confused, then lets out a moan.

JIMMY

Aaaaagh! You gotta come here and look at this! I was trying

to send Joey one of those Facebook secret message things, and

now I think I've got it where everybody can see it.

Gretchen begrudgingly looks over his shoulder, then sighs.

GRETCHEN

Yes, you have posted the message on Joey's wall for all

to see, not in a private message that only Joey can see.

JIMMY

You GOTTA show me how to do that private message thing!

GRETCHEN

Jimmy, I have shown you how to do that private

message thing four hundred and eighty-seven thousand

times.

JUDE

(eavesdropping from other room)

That's an exaggeration, Mom!

JIMMY

(frustrated)

Well show me again, okay? Is that too much to ask?

Gretchen shows Jimmy how to send a private Facebook message. ONE minute goes by.

JIMMY

Aaaagh! Did I do it again? I think I did it again! You gotta

show me how to do that again!

GRETCHEN

Four hundred and eighty-seven thousand and two times.

JUDE

(from other room)

That's another exaggeration, Mom!

Gretchen sighs and walks away. Jimmy continues to stare, confused at the computer. Jude continues to be a tween.

                                                                                                                                             FADE OUT.

FADE IN:

Gretchen is in the kitchen doing dishes. Jimmy enters, all hyped up.

JIMMY

I was just watching that Dr. Oz show. We gotta get Jude to

eat more vegetables!

GRETCHEN

Really???! I never thought of that! What a startling scientific

discovery that Dr. Oz has made! I can't believe that I never

before knew that Jude should eat more vegetables! I'll get

right on that!

JUDE

(from calling out from other room)

That's sarcasm, Mom, isn't it?

Gretchen continues to do dishes. Jimmy continues to talk about the need for vegetables. Jude continues to be a tween.

                                                                                                                   FADE OUT.

FADE IN:

Gretchen walks into the living room and finds it in complete chaos. Jimmy is in the office pulling everything out of the closet. He has already emptied every drawer and pulled all the furniture out of the office into the living room. She stares, stunned. Jude is "helping" move boxes around, clearly not enjoying himself.

JIMMY

I've decided to clean out the office and rearrange all

the furniture. Jude's helping.

Jude gives Gretchen a sad, pleading look. Gretchen stares a beat longer, then heads to the kitchen to locate a hot poker with which to gouge her eyes out.

Jimmy continues to take the office apart but not put it back together. Gretchen continues to bang her head against a wall. Jude continues to be a tween.

                                                                                                                   FADE OUT.

FADE IN:

Gretchen finds Jude in his room. She speaks to him in a hushed but desperate tone.

GRETCHEN

You've got to help me. You've got to get Daddy out of this

house. He's making me crazy.

JUDE

But I'm right in the middle...

GRETCHEN

Get him to take you somewhere. I don't care where. Ask

him to take you to Larchmont to walk around.

JUDE

But I don't want to...

GRETCHEN

Tell him that a nice easy walk on Larchmont would be

 good for him to get his strength back. Maybe he will buy

you a Frappuccino or something.

JUDE

I don't know...I'm kind of...

GRETCHEN

I'll give you money.

JUDE

How much?

A compromise is reached. Gretchen continues to be driven crazy. Jimmy continues to be chicle. Jude continues to be a tween.

                                                                                                                        FADE OUT.