Ladyrebecca’s Musings and Ramblings

The other day, we were at Lowe’s looking at garden sheds. We like to look at them and visualize a tiny house made out of them. This day, Israel and I had moved on to shed number two while Jael continued to play in shed number one. While discussing the advantages and disadvantages to a captain’s ladder versus minimized stairs, we heard a scream from shed number one. Jael being Jael, we figured she was simply having lots of fun and enjoying being as loud as she wanted to be. We stepped out of shed number two, ready to head into to the cool of the air conditioned store.

Great Black Wasp - Sphex pensylvanicus

Jael screamed again, this time as she ran out of the shed, crying. Two black hornet or wasp-like insects following her. Israel scooped her up and ran her about twenty feet away. We quickly examined Jael and found only three stings (I know, “only” three but it could have been so much worse). She had two on her leg and one on her arm. We had just finished our Italsian Sodas and had about two inches of crushed ice in the bottom of each cup. We pressed the ice against the stings as an associate from the Garden Center came over to see if we needed help. She offered their first aid kit, which contained a sting treatment. We took her up on her offer and headed inside.

Once inside, Israel carried Jael to the service counter where we applied some alcohol/lidocaine wipes to the stings and continued to ice them, with the aid of an ice pack. Jael’s sobs had decreased into simple sniffles and the swelling of the stings was going down. We were very glad of this as her grandfather was horribly allergic as a child and we were not sure as to Jael’s reaction to stings.

So, the good news, which was received painfully, is that Jael is no more allergic to wasp/hornet stings than the next person.

Oh, and Lowe’s, at least in D’Iberville, on that day, had great customer service. We actually had a number of employees ask if we needed help and they were very kind. Of course, I realize they were simply lawsuit-proofing themselves but I don’t care. A smile and a kind word are always appreciated.

So Israel and I had this big date planned but I had nothing to where. All right, truthfully, I just didn’t want to wear anything I had.

I have the bright idea that I’ll make something. I just got my sewing machine back from the repair shop. It was an old 1950’s Singer clone and had worked great for many years. A couple of months ago it had stopped working. I took it in, it worked fine for them so they cleaned it, replaced some worn parts and charged us over $80. So I started working on a shirt I had the pattern for. I planned on making a practice shirt out of some funky material I bought some time ago. I got it all cut out and started sewing Saturday morning. I finished half a seam when my machine jammed. Apparently, there was in fact something wrong with my machine.

I called Israel in tears. I had until Monday night to finish a shirt and a skirt and my machine just took a crap. He calmly told me to go buy a new machine. So I did a bit of research, found a machine that seemed to have good reviews and then tried to find somewhere in the area that sold them. No luck. The only place that carried them was Hancock Fabrics and they only carried Refurbished machines. I went to Hancock anyway and talked to one of the ladies there for quite a while about their machines and finally decided on a Bernina Bernette.

I brought it home and started working on my outfit. The new machine worked great. The next morning, I switched threads and started sewing. The thread tension was all wrong. I read the manual and adjusted the tension. No effect. I tried rethreading the top thread. No effect. I rethreaded the bobbin thread. No effect. I got online and “googled” “Bernette trouble shooting” and what do you know but I found lots of unhappy customers. I read review after review and question after question from people who were very unhappy with their Bernette. I was sick to my stomach and ready to cry. The fabric store didn’t open until 1 pm, it being Sunday, and the repair shop had proved it’s worthlessness already. That and they were so back logged on repairs I knew they’d not get it fixed that day.

So I sat back down and tried rethreading again. No luck. I rethreaded the bobbin and realized it didn’t look quite right. I rethreaded again and looked the same. I figured it must just be different than I was used to. I decided to try once more and very carefully rethreaded, trying to catch the thread in the place it seemed like it should go. Suddenly, the thread caught in a place it had not been catching and when I tried sewing, it worked great!!

I had been threading the bottom thread wrongly. What a relief! I resumed sewing like crazy and finished the shirt. I started on the skirt and had it all finished except the hem by Sunday night. Monday morning, Israel marked the hem for me, I hemmed it and I was good to go. YAY!!

So at the end of this all, I realize, my husband is amazing. I called him crying, and instead of asking what I wanted him to do about it, he told me to go buy a new one. We’d had issues with my sewing machine before and he knew it was time. He just calmly told me to go spend about $300 and not have this problem any more. He’s fricking amazing!!

Before…

After…

Yup. I cut my hair. I donated about 11 inches to Locks of Love, “…a public non-profit organization that provides hairpieces to financially disadvantaged children under age 18 suffering from long-term medical hair loss from any diagnosis.”

The remaining length, from three inches to five or six, was dropped on the floor to be swept away. I love the new cut. It’s so curly. I mean, I knew I had curly hair and I knew the weight of my hair kept the hair on top stretched straight. But I was still surprised. Israel asked, when he and Jael returned to pick me up, if I’d permed it or something. He just couldn’t believe how curly it all was.

So, there you go. No more super long hair for Becky…at least not for a couple of years. I have no current plans of growing it out though. I’m really enjoying not touching my comb (I’m just finger combing conditioner through it in the shower). I love the fun bounciness of it. It’s great. Oh, and it dries so much easier. My hair is no longer dragging in the bottom of the tub or across the floor when I’m bent over drying it.

Oh, and I finally found a place on the Gulf Coast that has good excellent customer service. I couldn’t find anyone in the Biloxi/Gulfport area who advertised a “curly hair specialist” so I looked in Mobile and found Fairhope Massage and Skin Care. Their website was absolutely phenomenal, especially for down here. They completely lived up to my expectations. When I walked in and said I had an 11 o’clock appointment, the receptionist looked at her computer and said, “Oh, are you Becky?” And my stylist walked over and introduced herself. She talked with me for a while, to figure out what I wanted to do. She double checked that I really wanted her to cut off ten inches for Locks of Love and then she did. She was very professional. I didn’t have to hear about her sordid life. She answered questions when I asked and asked questions when appropriate. She didn’t seem uncomfortable with silence.

I also had some waxing done. Before my esthetician began. she offered me a glass of wine, “to take the edge off.” While I was busy, Israel and Jael returned from their park adventures and were waiting in the lobby. One of the other staff members suggested they try an ice cream store down the road. Israel had to confess that I’d not returned his debit card (not purposely) and he had no cash. She opened the cash register, handed him ten bucks and said, “We’ll just put it on your bill when you leave.” They also offer a free three week touch up for wax jobs. That way they can see what kind of a maintenance schedule you should be on and, in my case, it’s three weeks longer that my wax will last. That’s customer service. That’s how you keep customers coming back again and again.

Oh, and after my haircut (sorry this is all out of order), Mindy, my stylist, put a bit of makeup on me. Not so much as to make me feel weird, as I don’t normally wear any, but just enough to make me feel incredibly beautiful as I walked out the door with my new and very different hair.

Everyone was very knowledgeable and a couple of the staff members who had watched me come in with loooong hair, came by to compliment me on my new ‘do.’ I left feeling so incredibly wonderful.

Yesterday, when we got the mail, I had a postcard from Mindy in my mailbox. She just said Thank you for donating to Locks of Love and she was glad to get to help me get a hair cut I liked. The post card was a picture of her. Again, that’s good customer service. That is how you get return customers.

There you are. If you are in the area, go to Fairhope Massage and Skin Care. They are amazing. I don’t know if their prices are normal, high or low compared to other spas but I felt I got what I’d paid for. I highly recommend them.

Jael and I with our friend Ameris Grey* and her sister, Elsie*, went to a Renaissance Faire last Saturday. I wore a hodge-podge of borrowed items. The only thing that was mine was my headpiece, which I’d crafted out of some wire, some beads and a yard of leftover wedding dress material.

It rained…a lot. The fair was supposed to open at nine. It started pouring rain at about eight and they pushed back the opening time to ten. By ten it had quit raining but was still incredibly wet. We crossed the field and had sopping wet shoes within steps. From that point on, our feet were soaked and were not dry until we got home, took of our shoes and socks and let them air out for an hour.

Anyway, despite the rain, we had a good time. We petted goats, one of which glared fiercely at Ameris. Then there were three who were very good at putting there horns in the fence, out of the fence, in the fence, out of the fence. Jael got to pet a pony. Notice how she looks like she’s in the process of drying off? Well, she is.

We watched as the belly dancers performed. Jael then wanted her shirt tucked up so she could belly dance, too. They are a troupe from Mobile, which is too bad because I would really like to find a group here in this area but have not been having much luck. But they were very good. I thoroughly enjoyed them and danced along with them a bit. Elsie bought us all hip scarves so we were very jingly. But then a man, one of the musicians from the group that played earlier, came up and started asking me all sorts of questions and what not. Is this my first Renn Fair? You have a beautiful outfit. Do you belly dance? You don’t? Oh, you should. I think you’d be really good at it.

Eventually I was able to “see” to Jael and was able to relocate to a spot not near him. Then the queen and king asked for a private dance from the dancers.

They danced, again, beautifully. The girl in red was very thin, so thin in fact that it was almost grotesque while at the same time fascinating to watch the muscles of her torso move under her skin. The other girls were thicker, more in keeping with the belly dancer image. All were wonderful. And, oh so, jingly. Their drummer was pretty amazing as well.

The court was beautifully dressed, except for the queen. I’m not really sure what happened with that. The queen, from what I hear, is supposed to be the most ornately dressed woman at the fair. This queen was probably the most plainly dressed woman there. And one of the thinnest. Renaissance fairs seem to be for thick girls. Which is cool for me but an interesting observation none the less. There just weren’t that many skinny girls. There were a couple of thin or slender girls but very few “skinny” ones.

You can see here how everyone is very richly dressed. Even Ameris has over dressed the queen and she’s not even an official part of the fair. Heck, I was dressed over the queen. The queen, by the way, is the woman in the court picture in the black dress with gold edging. She’s the thin blond in the middle.

So that was a little odd. That and she kept slipping out of character. I saw her boot a guy in the backside in a very unregal manner. Like I said, I’m not Renn Fair expert but it seemed odd even to me.

Jael got some fairy wings, though I’m sure if she wouldn’t have preferred a sword and a big horse.

There was a troop of dancers. They dressed like fairies…well, the girls did. The boys just wore regular clothes. Not really sure what was up with that. Maybe it was a last minute thing for the guys. But anyway, they did like Riverdance type dance. Lots of jumping foot work. It looked very cool. Unfortunately, it didn’t capture well on camera or video. But here’s a still nonetheless.

Oh, and we cannot forget the sword fighting. It was SCA again and was pretty good. What surprised me, and it shouldn’t have, was how quickly the battles were over. If you were hit in the legs, you dropped to your knees and fought from the knees. If you were hit in the arm, you dropped whatever weapon or shield was in that arm. If you were hit in the head, you were dead. I don’t think any match lasted longer than sixty seconds. And from what I’ve heard, a real fight doesn’t last much longer than that. Either someone’s going to win or they aren’t. There isn’t a whole lot of time spent dickering around about it.

Oh, and then the jousting. That was cool. Not as cool as I’d hoped but cool anyway. The “knights” threw spears into hay bales, snared rings with spears, and sliced through cabbages with swords. And then, finally, they charged at each other and attempted to skewer each other with lances. They actually broke some lances on each other but no one was unhorsed. My only real disappointment with the jousting was one of the horses. The black horse galloped. The gray cantered. There was such a difference in power that it felt like the knight on the gray wasn’t even trying. The black was fearsome and awesome. The gray, somewhat too pastoral. But it was neat anyway and I’m glad I got to see it.

Here’s a picture of someone that Ameris took. I’ve no idea who they are but their costumes are awesome so I’m including them.

And then here is a picture of Ameris and I. I am in the red and she in the blue. We are wearing the hip scarves Elcie bought. Ameris’s pouch, barely visable on her right hip…I made that the night before the fair. Good old leather coat I bought from the Goodwill ten years ago is still serving me well.

And finally, a picture of me in full Renn-ware.

We had an absolute riot and I’m very glad we went, even though my feet were so very wrinkly when I finally got my boots off. I’ve never seen feet so wrinkly. They were so water logged that the wrinkles hurt. YIKES!!

So, see you later.

Oh, and tomorrow or the next day, I’ve exciting pictures to show…and no, I’m not pregnant. But exciting none the less…at least to me.

*names have been changed since I’ve not asked for permission to throw their names around online.

B.K., one of Israel’s co-workers, brought over a wine last night that was amazing. Very light and sweet. It was a Moscato D’Asti by Umberto Fiore. It’s a white wine from Italy and it was absolutely the best wine I’ve had. Both Israel and I were very impressed.

On a not so impressed note, I bought a six pack of Captian Morgans Parrot Bay Sunset Surf Pineapple and Orange. It isn’t bad but it tasted like Kool-aid. Bicardi Silver Pomegranate Mojito is also an alcopop, and yet it manages to taste somewhat more adult, although not all drinkers share that feeling. The DrinkHacker does not share my high opinion of Pomegranate Mojito. So now I’m left with four of these and no one to drink them. I’m thinking I’ll save them for the next Mom’s Night In and maybe someone will drink them. We’ve only one friend who might think they are good but she doesn’t drink. Maybe I’ll have to just dump them and chalk it up as a learning experience.

There you go. One favorable review and one unfavorable review.

Coming tomorrow: Renn Faire Review and pictures. Yay!

Here are the promised picture from our evening at the Crawfish Festival 2008. Here is Jael on Israel’s shoulders…twice

We walked around for a bit before heading to the Ferris Wheel.

We took some pictures from the top of the Ferris wheel.

If you look carefully, you can see Alex. She is standing above on the right of the gray platform. She is wearing a black shirt and is looking up at us.

We went on the Tilt-A-Whirl next. Alex took this picture which shows Jael’s concerned face. Jael didn’t exactly enjoy that ride.

After that, we wanted Jael to have some fun so to the carousel we went.

Then to the cars and motorcycles.

This was an attraction we didn’t go into. It was a ride. I think it was supposed to be kind of a scare house. An Indiana Jones likeness was on the other side.

Then Israel, Alex, and Jael left me to go on all the crazy rides. Here’s a picture of the Fireball, which doesn’t really do it justice.

But you can imagine that big arm swinging like a pendulum, while the hand like portion on the bottom spins around and around. What a rush!!

And here’s a picture of the fair as the lights came on.

All in all, we had a great time. I’m glad we went and if we were here next year, we’d probably go again.

Upcoming: Renn Fair in Ocean Springs and Becky in a corset. Fun fun.

I just finished Lily Burana’s book, “Strip City,” which chronicles her cross country trip. Her cross country stripping trip. As she neared saying “I Do” with her very understanding fiance, she realized she’d not made peace with her stripping past.

She traveled to Dallas, L.A., Alaska, New Jersey, Las Vegas, and many other locales as she rediscovers the joys and pains of stripping. As she travels and dances in new places, some similar to the clubs she’d danced in previously and some vastly different, she revisits her start in the stripping industry. From the scuzzy Peepland to the posh Mitchell Brothers, her insights are revelatory.

As someone who’s never so much as seen the inside of a strip club or even an adult bookstore, the entire industry was a complete mystery to me. At times, while reading, the idea of stripping seemed glamorous and profitable and then a couple of pages later it would seem a horrible thing that held no appeal whatsoever.

Lily struggles with this paradox herself. She briefly entertains the idea of using her name as a respected writer to present the stripping industry as nothing more sinister than making a lot of money for providing an entertainment. She thinks of glossing over the darker side; the rule breaking; the exploitation of dancers; the obsession with body perfection. She woul dlike to claim she never felt objectified while stripping but honesty wins out. She shows it all, both on stage and on paper. This stark look at an industry most of us will never see the inside of is fun and informative. Many of my subconscious judgments have faded.

I’m fat. Fat and sexy. I used to just be fat, and then lately, I’ve realized that I can love my body just the way it is. I’m not a bad person because I’m fat. I’m just fat. I’m not lazy or ugly or undeserving of affection. The word “fat” carries so much negativity with it that a friend of mine will not say it in front of her sons. She doesn’t even want him to know what the word means. My daughter, on the other hand, will pat my butt and say, “I like your fat butt, Mommy.” To us, “fat” references the quantity of fat cells one has. It’s not a value judgment.

For so long, I thought I sucked. I had been told I was a dirty rotten sinner for so long, I came to believe it in a way I don’t think the church ever intended. I came to believe that without Jesus I was worthless. I believe that deep in my heart, I knew this was false and so I had to find some reason that I sucked so. I chose my weight. It must be my weight that made me suck. It became my excuse for everything. Why didn’t I have more friends? Because I was too fat to be outgoing. Why didn’t I have a better job? Because I was too fat - revealing to potential employers my innate laziness and lack of enthusiasm. Why didn’t I get the full ride scholarship to Bible college? Because they saw that I was fat and “knew” I lacked self discipline and self-control (which is a fruit of the Spirit, revealing also the immaturity of my faith).

At some point in the last three months, I’ve realized that I am a valuable person, regardless of my weight. I don’t have more friends because I don’t go want more friends. I have a few close friends and that’s the way I like it. I don’t need a bazillion friends. I need a half dozen close friends that I can call up and hang out with when I need companionship. I didn’t get the scholarship because I didn’t apply myself in school. I didn’t do anything above the bare minimum. I didn’t get a better job because I was doing nothing to better myself. I didn’t look good in pictures because I bought crappy clothes because, after all, I didn’t deserve anything better.

Since coming to believe that I am valuable, I’ve changed some things in my life. I’ve spent some money on clothes. I went jeans shopping. The pair that fit best happened to be on sale for twelve bucks but I’d have paid the full price of forty for them. I went to a consignment shop and bought some cute shirts, spending about thirty dollars on five shirts. (Notice I didn’t go to the Goodwill…because it sucks here.) I bought a sixty dollar swim suit. I spent a hundred bucks on underwear (bras and panties). I’m scheduling a “spa” day for me. The hair cut will cost about sixty dollars and the wax another sixty. But that’s okay…I am a woman and I should not hid in crappy clothes that wear out in six months. I don’t have to have a bad hair cut (or in my case, no hair cut whatsoever). I don’t have to have a fifteen dollar Wal-Mart swimsuit that I’m embarrassed to be seen in. I don’t have to wear a shirt that I’ve had for over seven years and is full of holes. I don’t have to wear jeans that fit badly. We have the money for me to dress like I respect myself and so I’m beginning to.

I no longer stress about working out. I still try to get to the gym a couple of times a week. I need to be active for my health. I’ve no problem with that but I don’t beat myself up about it. I feel no pressure to have “perfect” attendance at Curves. I don’t pay a lot of attention to what I eat. We try to buy healthy foods so there isn’t a lot of garbage to snack on but when there is, I simply try to partake moderately. By not focusing on my weight all the time, I’m not focused on food all the time and it doesn’t control me the way it once did. It’s like Israel and porn. The more he stresses about not looking at it, the more he’s thinking about it and the more he wants to look at it. If he just relaxes and doesn’t beat himself up when he does, than it’s not that big of a deal. It’s the same way with food. If I think about eating healthy all the time, than I’m thinking about food all the time and what I can’t have and then I just want to eat all the time. (Right now, I am seriously having some cravings, even though my stomach is full of lunch and iced tea and I am absolutely not hungry.)

I don’t worry about not looking like the women on TV and in magazines. A number of months ago, we watched Dove’s Evolution video, Pro-Age, and Onslaught videos, and my personal favorite, True colors.

After watching these, I realized that I had let the “industry” tell me what was beautiful. I’d been frustrated because I knew that my body would never look like “theirs” no matter how much fat I removed from it. I knew this but felt deep inside that maybe if I just did more sit-ups or regular cardio maybe I’d bring about a miracle. It was magic thinking and I’m done with it. I realized that I am who I am. I began to love my body. It’s amazing. When’s the last time you walked into a store and instead of criticizing the way the entry doors make your hips look fat, you focused on the feeling of your leg muscles as they move your body forward? Do you know that we can’t make robots walk? They’ve been working on it and working on it and are beginning to make head way but nothing beats the human body for walking. Feel each muscle as it contracts and relaxes. Feel your biceps. Lay flat on your back and move your arms above you, feeling the beauty as they move in the way you tell them to. It’s amazing.

Oh, and the average American woman is 5′4″ tall and 154 pounds. The average model is 5′11″ and 117 pounds. Most of us will never, ever, ever look like a model. They are freaks of nature. You wouldn’t judge a Chevy Aveo for not being a Lexus. Don’t judge your body for not being freakishly tall and thin. You are you. They aren’t comparing themselves to you. Don’t compare yourselves to them.

Okay, so as this happens, Israel’s friends start to notice and it’s very flattering. When he worked at Pizza Hut, I knew the guys wanted me for my cookies (as in chocolate chip cookies, not a euphemism for something else). This is something new. I find out that I am, in the current shape I am in right now, desirable to other men. This sounds so funny to say because I should have known it but when your world view is skewed it affects everything. Subconsciously, I believed that Israel found me beautiful out of duty. He loved my body because we were married. To find out that he desires me because I am desirable is amazing. It was revolutionized my life. I feel so alive and so powerful. I have power. I chose to use it for good but I have power. I am not helpless. It’s part of what has given our sex life such power of late. I could be sleeping with any number of other guys but I’m not. I’m giving something of great value to my husband every time I choose him. And vice versa. He’s giving me something great as well. We are mutually choosing to be with each other, not out of desperation or duty, but from free will.

This has also affected how I spend my time. Since realizing that because I was fat did not automatically make me lazy and undisciplined, I find I don’t have enough time in the day to do all the things I’d like. Unlike before, where I spent too much time watching TV and movies and playing stupid games on the computer, I now don’t have enough time because I’m reading books that teach me things and reveal things about the world at large. I’m writing more (obviously). I’m researching things that are important and/or fun. I’m learning German. I’m trying to learn to belly dance-which is a ton of fun. If I can find a class here and then one in Germany, I’m going to be so psyched! My house is cleaner because I’ve realized that being fat does not mean I’m dirty and slovenly. It’s not necessarily less cluttered because I’ve also realized that there are more important things in life than having a clean house. My quality of life is improved by a clean house. It is more improved by reading lots of books and listening to lots of different music. But I can clean the house in about thirty minutes now, instead of the two or three hours it used to take me. I am comfortable throwing things into the closet to deal with another day (probably the day we move) because it doesn’t mean I’m a fat, disgusting, slob. It just means I’ve more important things to do then stress about where that pile of knick-knacks should go.

I think what I’m trying to communicate is this: it doesn’t matter what your weight is. It matters what your state of mind is. Example: if, a year ago, someone had taken me out and bought me really expensive, well fitting clothes and given me a “make-over,” I would not have been transformed. I would not have been happy with the clothes. I would have still looked “fat” in my eyes and it would simply have reaffirmed what I dreaded to be true: even with expensive, great clothes, I was still ugly. Until I felt beautiful within my own skin, I would never feel beautiful on the outside.

I just finished “The Fat Girl’s Guide to Life” by Wendy Shanker. A lot of my mental changes have come about because of this fabulous book. If you receive this book from me for Christmas, do not be offended. Everyone, fat, thin, zitty, short, tall, curly haired, big-nosed, apple bottomed, bow legged, has something to learn from her insights. If you have something you feel insecure about, you can learn from this book. If you are completely satisfied with yourself, good for you. You still need this book. It will give you insight into the heads and hearts of those of us who are working on self contentment.

I made a fruit salad the other day. While cutting strawberries, I found a weird one…Yup. It’s weird.

We took Jael to get her hair cut today. First, I must rant about the stupidity of this place. I don’t just want to take her to Wal-Mart to get her hair cut. We’ve never cut her hair before and I’m a little nervous. We’d wanted to wait until she could make the decision to cut her hair herself but she’s started chewing on it and so the decision got made for her. I open up the phone book, thinking I’ll find a salon in the yellow pages who says something about specializing in children’s hair cuts or maybe that just has an ad I like.

Yeah…I thought wrong. Under ‘barbers’ there were 60 shops listed and three with ads. Under ‘haircutters & stylists’ there were 28 listings and no ads. Under ’spa’ there were some more listings but not once was there a professional ad or even an ad that seemed like a shop might like business. ARGH! So, faced with picking some shop at random, we decided to go ahead and go to Wal-Mart. At least if they screwed it up, there was some guarantee that they wouldn’t just laugh at us and kick us out of their store.

So, thinking there was a SmartStyle in the Wal-Mart northeast of us, I look them up in the white pages, wanting to call to see what kind of a wait we might have. None of the Wal-Mart’s listed a salon. We were sure there was one there so Israel got online and checked out Wal-Mart’s website to see if he could find one with a salon. None in the area. So I look up SmartStyle in the phone book and there it is: “SmartStyle-inside Wal-Mart…” and gives the address to the Wal-Mart Israel is looking at online that lists everything and it’s dog but not the salon. ARGH!!! (again)

We went and got her hair cut and it looks good. It’s not a magical hair cut that will never fall into her face while remaining feminine but it’s better than it was and is cute. Here are two before pics…

and two after pics…

Oh, and as I looked up the phone book stuff just now, I found all the missing adverts. They are listed under ‘beauty salons.’ Now, I looked under ’salon,’ ‘cosmotolgy,’ ‘haircutting,’ ‘barbers,’ etc, and not once was there a reference such as “look under beauty salon.” Nothing. ARGH!!!!!!!!

But we got her hair cut and that was cool. Then we went to a park and met a nice lady named Maria and her two and a half year old daughter. There was a large group of kids, from a school or day care or something there. Jael and some other girls had a bit of an altercation over proper bridge etiquette. Jael was bouncing on the bridge when a girl at least two years older tried to cross, slipped on her incredibly slippery shoes and then after slipping and sliding across the bridge and finally gaining the other side, yells at Jael, “You are the one that made me fall!” and then went away. Another little girl came and told Jael that she wasn’t supposed to jump on the bridge to which Jael responded, “Yes, I am.” The girl told Jael, quite forcefully, that she needed to get out of her way. Jael countered by telling the girl, again about two years older, equally forcefully that she needed to go around. Which the girl did. I was so proud of Jael for standing up for herself. I don’t want he to be a playground tyrant but I also don’t ever want to see her bow to someone else just because they are loud, obnoxious and afraid. Then Jael found two like-minded girls to play with and they had a riot.

After the park we went to the Mellow Mushroom for pizza. It was…amazing. There really isn’t any other words for it. We ordered a medium House Special, which, and I quote, “Originated when we first began, this Mellow Mushroom classic features Pepperoni, Sausage, Ground Beef, Onions, Green Peppers, Shrooms, Black Olives, Tomatoes, Bacon, Ham, and Extra Cheese.” It was phenomenal. I could have done with out the bacon but that’s simply because there were so many other toppings that the bacon was almost over kill. We ordered a medium and brought two slices home but I wish we’d ordered a large so we could have had a few more pieces to bring home. Okay, what I really wanted was to be able to eat another piece but still have enough pieces left to bring home to make me feel like I ate responsibly. *sigh*

The restaurant was almost perfect. There was fun music but not too loud. The decor was fun but not over powering. The smells, were of course, amazing. They served Coca-cola products and a huge selection of beers, domestic and imported. They had a number of beers that Israel has not tried. Since we were there for lunch, he didn’t try any today but maybe next time. The only complaint I have is the TV. There was a TV on each end of the restaurant and even though it was golf, I found myself being continually distracted. I hate TV in restaurants but oh, well. It was still worth it and we will definitely be visiting the Mellow Mushroom again.

After eating, we looked at the railroad behind the restaurant where one of the sidings appeared to be quite deserted. It was very light rail, very rusty - so rusty in fact that we had a very hard time finding a production date on it. After much searching and brushing away some dust, we found it. Laid in 1918. The oldest we’ve ever found. A train went by while we were looking and the engineer waved back at Jael. (In case you don’t know, Jael loves trains. Every time she hears a train, while in the apartment, she rushes to the door and asks to go down and watch it. We usually let her. She stands down on the curb, watches the train go by and then runs back upstairs to tell us about it. She’s wonderful.)

We headed home after that, Jael took a great nap, and Israel and I relaxed for about an hour and a half.

All in all, a great day.

Oh, and I’m reading “Jane Eyre” again. What a great book. I love it. It’s one of the few books I can read over and over. “Ender’s Game,” “The Captain of Castile,” and “The True Confessions of Charlotte Doyle” are some of the others. That may actually be a complete list of the books I can read over and over again.

Coming soon: “The Fat Girl’s Guide to Life”: a book review.

I’ve had serious writer’s block. Not really sure why but I’ve been feeling unmotivated in all areas of life so maybe it’s just a symptom of whatever else is going on (definitely the most likely scenario). So, in light of my block, I’m just going to run through the things that have happened in the last few days.

We had some friends over Sunday night. It was a ton of fun. One of the guys brought a bottle of white wine and a bottle of red. Both were hands down the best wines I’ve ever had.

Israel and I have been trying to find a wine we liked for a couple of years now but have not had any luck. I think we’ve finally gotten somewhere. Besides the wine, we had a riot. We told poop stories and laughed until we cried. Jael was wonderful. She allowed the adults to talk and would occasionally have interesting or funny things to add. She’s pretty much amazing.

We (all of us as Israel is working weekends right now) went over to a friend’s house for lunch on Tuesday and again, just had a riot. She has one daughter about a year younger than Jael but because neither Jael nor this little girl have not been peer stratified, they couldn’t care less about the age difference. They played beautifully together. Not tears, no yelling–well, not in anger at least. (For those of you that have met my daughter in person, you know that an afternoon with no yelling is an afternoon spent asleep.) I think we are going to get to be better friends with this gal and her husband. I’ve not met her husband but I think we are going to like him. So, as is usual, I think we are going to make some good friends six months before we leave a place. Don’t it figure?

Or, my friends leave me.

Tuesday night, I went out with some friends. Ana* is moving Sunday. She’s been a good friend, the one who introduced me to the mom’s group I’m a part of. Her son is my daughter’s best friend. They love each other. Jael doesn’t run up to hug other kids but she does this young boy. We were at the mall one day and Jael and Ana’s son are walking through the mall, holding hands, when we pass a jewelry store and they stop to look into the jewelry cases. It was a Kodak moment so of course no one had a camera ready. So, on top of me losing a good friend (okay, she’s only moving 12 hours away but that’s a long drive with a four year old), my daughter is losing her favorite friend.

Another mom from the mom’s group (actually the other administrator-we are loosing both of the ladies who started it so a time of readjustment is definitely on the horizon), is also moving but not until the end of the month. I’d just started to get to know her when we found out she was moving. I’m glad for her as the move is the result of a great job promotion for her husband but I’m going to miss her a lot.

Then we had a friend over last night and dropped the “we’re moving to Germany” bomb on her by accident. I was positive we’d told her we were leaving but I guess we didn’t. She was asking if we were going to go to the Renn Faire with her. I asked when it was, she said November and I said, nope, we’ll be in Germany by then. This was met by a blank stare. A sad blank stare. This sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach told me we had just pulled the rug out from under this friend. She’d just gone through a surprise break-up and had to move back in her disapproving parents. She incredibly smart and talented (her art is amazing). Basically, she doesn’t fit her in the Deep South. She belongs in a more enlightened place. Israel and I have been a breath of fresh air for her. She has many intelligent friends online but few she can get together with face to face. If the military hadn’t brought us here, we certainly wouldn’t have been the book store where we met. Every intelligent and/or truly enjoyable person I’ve met down here has not so much come here as been sent here or has had to come due to circumstances out of their control. Business, military, military contracting. That’s it. People who are from here (sans this friend) we don’t like. People who really like it here, we don’t like. People who don’t like it here but stay for family, we don’t like. People who are chomping at the bit to escape, we like.

We might have to get a larger house than we thought when we move to Germany. We already have one friend who is planning on coming for a six month stay (for a start; if we can, we’ll keep her in Germany much longer). We invited this other friend last night as well. She scoffed (it is about a thousand dollar ticket and that’s right now. Who knows what it’ll be in a year or so) at the idea but we planted it. After this next election, she might be a lot more motivated to emigrate. So anyway…that’s been the last few days.

*name changed for privacy–that and I’ve not asked permission to throw other people’s names and personal information around online. Seems like if they are actually my friends (as opposed to my apartment managers) I wouldn’t disrespect them that way.