amazing segue from Baltimore to Omaha

My days in Baltimore were spent among Ivy League people, the type who discuss the intricacies of Middle Eastern politics and America's foreign policy with good humor and intelligence.  The sort who spend more time reading more books and articles than watching reality television.  It was a real shot in the arm for me because most people where I live don't know Assad from Gilani.  I think I could easily become a city girl, in the right kind of city--I dig the old architecture, the history, the rich culture and funky neighborhood restaurants.

One of the things my writer pals are big into is research.  Lauren is extensively researching Romanian history and the one of America's earliest psychiatrists, a man who revolutionized treatment of the mentally ill.  Mariana has read up on Wilfred Owen, the great WWI poet.  Nina is submerged in the Boxer Rebellion.  And M.K. meticulously examines English life and criminal behavior.

M.K.'s attention to detail is part of what makes The Green Remains a pleasure to read.  (The title and cover are green!  But that's not the only reason why I loved this book.)  From the foliage in bloom outside Clarendon Hall to the police procedure that follows the discovery of a body (washed up on the shore of Lake Windermere), The Green Remains rings true.  No fine point misses M.K.'s eye, and if it somehow does, her fine crew of editors (including yours truly) picks it up.





(Need another review convincing you to read this book?  Click here!)

I'm a fan of a great murder mystery, but it's even better if while reading I feel like I'm on tour in a fresh location.  The Green Remains is just like a vacation to England's Lake District.  For any Anglophile, this is a must-read.

I'm giving away an autographed copy to one lucky name drawn out of my comment box.  This contest is open all week--all you have to do is leave a comment, each comment through the weekend is a chance to win.

And speaking of winners, Mr. D was in Omaha while I went to Baltimore.  I marinated in the company of writer types while he soaked up all the glory of the College World Series.  He came home all revved up about new strategies and drills and baseballbaseballbaseball.  Mr. D loves reliving his college baseball days and this is his new favorite, incidentally starring an Ivy League baseball team:



Spill it, reader. What green thing makes you happy?

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all the news that's fit to print

The last bits of snow will melt today and it felt like spring last night when I stepped outside. I don't recall ever having such a dry winter. Perhaps this will help ease the flooding in our woods.
Speaking of our woods, because of a highway project way over in Green Bay, about 60 acres of wetlands will be re-created in the farm field adjacent to our property. I can hardly wait--the wildlife will be wonderful! There is some speculation that it will create more flooding, but I don't see how--the field had drain tile and pumps forcing acres of water to flow to the creek behind our house. If you remove the drain tile and pumps, the water won't flow to the creek at the same speed and actually seep into this low-lying area the way God and nature intended. Now, this doesn't mean I fully approve of "wetland mitigation" projects, but I'm happy to benefit from some state money over in my end of Wisconsin.
On the wildlife front, I watched a small flock of turkeys this morning out of my back window while doing yoga. At first glance they looked like stumps or small trees, but they began moving. With the right rubber boots, it's a glorious time to tromp around out there.
In the dojo we've got a new assignment: create an original form. I confess to being kind of geeked out by this. I have my song selection narrowed down and I'm going to do a bo staff/open hand combo. It has to be 2 minutes minimum, but I figure with the light show and pyrotechnics mine will go closer to 4. KIDDING! Though it is tempting to incorporate as many elements as possible to distract from myself. I've been watching You Tube videos of bo staff forms and taught myself a couple nifty new tricks.
I also rolled my damn ankle again last night while sparring AND took a blasting kick to my face. Fortunately my face mask blocked most of the impact, but my chin is still tender--like a zit about to pop. I think a bit of make up will cover up the redness all right.
Book sales continue to be steady and yesterday I got to look at the press release from UWSP. They're kicking off an alumni book club and Whipped, Not Beaten is their first read. Among the events, a "Meet the Author" at the University book store. I haven't had so many excuses to dress up since I was interviewing for jobs after college!
Last night Mr. T told me I didn't need to tuck him in anymore. My role is reduced to opening his door and saying "good night." This means poor Mr. G gets doted on more than ever with hugs and cuddling and stories. Somewhere in the middle Mr. B takes a hug or two. Sunrise, sunset...
Speaking of sunrises, the days are lengthening and we have a little peek of sunshine by 7:00 now. The longer days boost my spirits.
I'm halfway through The Heart is a Lonely Hunter and it's making me melancholy. I need to find something else to temper it--but what?
Spill it, reader. What happy/funny/light reading can you recommend?

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just your average morning

I got everybody fed and was hustling kids out the door today when I discovered that Mr. B and Mr. G didn't brush their teeth. Back upstairs--you're not going to be that stinky kid with the funky breath that nobody wants to sit next to in class. Mr. G scrubbed enough to give me a breath of minty freshness and scooted down the driveway to catch his bus. Mr. B frittered--couldn't find something he wanted to bring in for show and share. I started bellering at him to Move it or you'll miss your bus! That kid is SUCH a procrastinator AND a perfectionist, resulting in a total standstill most of the time. Finally I got him out the door and had begun tidying up the laundry room after them when I heard a voice on the driveway. There's Mr. B talking to the damn dog.

MR. B! You're going to miss your bus! MOVE IT!!!

I stood and watched him head down the driveway, started a load of wash, started the dishwasher and returned to the front porch to see him walking towards the end of the drive for the bus to pick him up. That kid!

Back inside I did a half hour of yoga, during my stretching Mr. D came home. We chatted over coffee, discussing some baseball, our children, a question I had about our bank account and whether I should use a credit card for bonus points or stick with a debit card. NPR told us there will be high winds all day, so I fretted about Mr. T's soccer game coming up. The phone rang--my sister who is out of town--I'm supposed to take care of her cat. Oh yeah, Mr. D says, Your sister called Tuesday--you're supposed to take care of her cat.

It's like that a lot around here, I can't even get irritated (although God knows if I forgot a message like that for HIM, I'd get a long, long lecture). I sort out how I'm going to juggle Mr. T's soccer game and an obligation to finish interviews for the karate school's monthly newsletters, something I conveniently scheduled at the same time as Mr. T's game. Plus one of the kids I'm supposed to interview is in the hospital right now, so there's THAT.

I refresh my mug of coffee and grab rags, a bottle of vinegar-water and my radio. My plan is to wash all the upstairs windows while listening to the rest of Morning Edition. I get Mr. T's room done and head into the other bedroom where I get two windows done, pop out a screen and climb onto the roof to chuck baseballs out of the gutters, and then flush the upstairs toilet because HolyMotherofGodcan'tyouidiotsflushafteryoupooptotallygrossingmeout. I consider the weird smell that seems to happen only in carpeted rooms in our house, but they're incidentally also the rooms where the ducts lead to. Monday the furnace people will be over, I'll rule out the smell from the ducts before scheduling the carpets to get cleaned. SMELLS! Oy.

Back in the other bedroom I move the bed to do the last window. I turn around to grab my bottle of vinegar water and rag and



OH

HOLY

CRAP!





There's somebody behind the bedroom door.











A person.












I didn't even know was in my HOUSE.






A small-ish blonde person in a light blue polo shirt and khaki pants.











Crouched on the carpet is Mr. B!






I shriek. He bursts into tears. I begin laughing hysterically.

Yep, he missed his bus. Yep, he's terrified that I'll chew his ass and punish him. Yep, he's been cowering in hiding for the past HOUR AND A HALF, terrified!

Buddy! I pull him onto my lap--didn't you think I'd notice you were missing when I serve lunch in the cafeteria later? Didn't you think I'd be so worried? Oh my goodness! Yes, I'm mad that you missed the bus, but you should have told me right away! Now you've missed half your morning and spent all that time terrified. It's better to own up to your mistakes right away so you can start fixing them.

After drying his tears, we got him off to school. Somehow I think we won't struggle with getting to the bus stop on time for a while now. I drove home, finished the window, tidied up the Legos all over the living room floor, answered the door (propane delivery) and it started to rain. Deciding that I don't want to work outside in the rain, I fire up the computer and find an email from the soccer coach--the game is canceled due to high winds in the forecast.

Seriously, even on an average day, life's been good to me so far.

Even though it still freaks me out that an extra person can be lurking around in my house without me having a clue.

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always duckie

I realize Blane was supposed to be the hero of the movie, but he never did anything. He was plain, like cardboard. Boring. Straight. I suspect Andie only liked him because he was suave and rich. Every time I watched Pretty in Pink (and the number of times I watched it probably reached triple digits) I'd think Andie! You fool! It's Duckie! Just look at him!



I've always preferred my men a little desperate, dramatic and quirky. I kept it secret all these years, but for me it was always Duckie.

Team Duckie. Who's with me?

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for cha cha

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