Thank GAWD For The Neighbor's Kid

The world just isn't what it used to be. As kids, we all used to leave the house on our bikes at 8 am, and not come home until dark for dinner. (We would stop at the 7-11 and eat Slim Jims and Slurpees for lunch, of course.) You knew all the kids on your street, and all their parents. And their parents knew you. The boy across the street's older sister was your babysitter. So-an-so's parents played cards with your parents. You ALL went to the same Elementary School, where your Mom was the Secretary. Your Dad would routinely pile all 17 neighborhood kids into his 1962 Chevy Camper pick-up, and take you all to the beach. No seatbelts, no car seats. So was life in Pensacola, Florida in the 1970's.

It's not like that today. We live in a neighborhood that has remained surprisingly steady over the past 5 years. There are a lot of kids in the neighborhood, and a fair number on our street. But the kids across the street choice to a different Elementary School. The kids 2 houses down go to Private School. The kids on the other side stay at the after-school program, and then have baseball/cheerleading etc. You can't let your kids ride their bikes for risk of bodily harm, because as a general rule motorists don't pay attention, and you risk your kids getting splattered all over the street. And no way can they leave the neighborhood - we have a 4-lane highway our front with no sidewalks on this side of the street. And don't even get me started on the potential kidnapper/child molester/scary bad people that probably are out there. It's enough to make you want to lock your kids inside the house and NEVER let them leave.

But that's not realisitic, is it?

The point is that although we know the kids that live near us, you never see packs of neighborhood kids running around and playing together. For the past 3 years, there has been a girl who lives across the street and 5 houses down from us. She's in the same grade as Karlin, at the same school. They were in chorus together for 2 years. They have Science Club together now. I tried to strike up a conversation with her Mom once, but was unsuccesssful. We see them occasioanlly walking their dog, but that's about it.

So imagine my surprise when the other day, the little girl turned up on my doorstep wanting to know if she could play with Karlin. This is H-U-G-E for a few reasons. First, because I don't think it's ever happened before. But second, because I am (as always) worried about my baby girl.

It's not that she doesn't have friends. She has a few. She functions well in a social setting (like Girl Scouts) when she has to. But given the choice, she prefers books to people. I have noticed lately when I peek into the lunchroom (I'm at the school all the time) that Karlin isn't usually talking to anyone. No friends wait on her as she packs up her lunch. The worries me to death, being the social creature that I am.

So a new little girl coming to the house to play? AWESOME! And we hung out with her Dad a bit at the neighborhood Halloween Festival, and let him know how much Karlin enjoyed her company. So the little girl asked if Karlin could come over today.

So this morning at 10:17, I watched my baby girl walk across the street and 5 houses down to her friend's house. We told her to be home by Noon, and she was dead on time. VERY responsible.

I'm just so excited for her. It seems so normal, so much more like what I grew up with. For just a few minutes I can pretend that maybe the world isn't as scary as it is.

But I'm still not letting her eat Slim Jims for lunch.

OK. I'm Better Today.

No really. I am. I still hate the diet, but I'm truckin on through. Maybe it's because I spent 4 hours today going through crap, putting crap away, throwing crap away, and giving crap away. Maybe it's because I got to doze on a giant alligator float in the pool for about an hour and a half. (Fall? What Fall? No Fall here...) Maybe it's because I got to help my daughter make a model of the hotel in "The Mouse and the Motorcycle."

(Side note here: I just LOVE school projects! I wish I could be a third grader again so I could do more school projects! Now before you all freak out, I should tell you that I don't do the work for her. I do all the cutting with the knives. I provide the materials she needs. And I give her a little guidance. It's important that she knows that she doesn't really have time to stain 150 Popsicle sticks and glue them to the bottom of the box to make wood flooring. "Hey! How 'bout we use scrapbook paper that looks like wood paneling?" For the life of me I can't remember why on Earth I didn't do MORE school projects when I was a kid. Now I'm forced to live vicariously through my kids, and occasionally decorate a classroom door or two.)

Anyway - the PMS/Dieting Demon has been shoved back into the box for the time being. My daughter doesn't have swine flu, I can see the playroom floor, the dog had a bath and doesn't smell, and husband is at a hockey game and the kids are asleep. All is nice and quiet in my world at the moment.

I would really like a nice glass of wine, though...

I Am A Prisoner In My Own Home

Let me tell you why I am a prisoner in my own home. It's the diet. The stupid, pain-in-the-ass, expensive diet that I hate. The stupid diet that my friend loves and has had so much success on. The stupid diet that I want to quit already, even though it's only been a week and a half. Is it the beer I miss? Bread? Cheese? Butter? Coffee? YES. But it's also because I feel like I can't even leave my own home. And if I stay home, the food comes here.

Have you ever thought how many social events in America revolve around food? Or have food as a major component? A friend emails you: "Lets' have lunch next week." Or your in-laws call and say "We'll pick up Chinese on the way over and we can all watch the game." Or you get "Let's have that meeting at so-and-so restaurant over dinner." It sucks. And I mean totally and completely sucks.

I can't go out to eat at a restaurant. I can't go to lunch. I have no desire to sit around and WATCH everyone else eating luscious Chinese food. I don't want to watch the game, because everyone else will be drinking ice cold beers and eating chips and queso. I go to the store, and what do I get? Hit in the face with the smell of fresh-baked break in from the bakery. I go for a walk/jog and what happens? My deep breaths inhale the scents of either the Italian Pasta place across the street, or the big fat burgers from the 5 Guys located behind my neighborhood. Go look on Facebook on a Saturday evening and see how many people are posting about FOOD. "Heading to the Seafood Festival - Yum!" "Getting food from our favorite take out!" "Grilling steaks for the game!"

This is miserable, and I mean want-to-break-into-tears-every-15-minutes miserable. The stupid shots aren't helping, and they won't give me the pills that are supposed to help because someone in the Healthcare System seems to think I'm about to have a heart attack. (But that's another story...a long one) I've lost 7.3 pounds, and most of you would probably be motivated by that. I'm not. What is 7.3 pounds to me? I don't look any different. My clothes don't fit any better. Not only do I not feel better, but I feel AWFUL. I don't have much energy to do anything. I can't even watch TV, because every commercial is about food. The doctor's office where I took my daughter today (swine flu negative, thank goodness) was next to an Outback Steakhouse. Talk about good smells.

And the bad news? It's not going to get any better. Not for months and months and months. There is quite literally no end in sight. I have more than 50 pounds to lose. 7.3 pounds is not even a dent in that. AND I still have to get through Halloween (no Resse's Peanut Butter Cups this year - my favorite), Thanksgiving (a pig-out festival if I've ever seen one), Christmas (pig-out round 2), and New Years. And think about all of the parties and events we all go to every year around Christmas time. I am never going to make it.

So where's the silver lining? There isn't one, and hubby doesn't seem to get that. Hubby who probably couldn't gain 5 pounds if I tied him to a chair and fed him Big Macs every 2 hours for a week. He says "You're healthier! You're making a major life change!" And I just want to beat him with something. None of that makes me feel better, not even a little.

Is it really worth it to "be healthier" and live longer if every stupid second you live you are miserable? And cranky? And irritated? And you start to hate your kids because they are eating ice cream and you can't have any?

I am pretty much about ready to quit. I hate this, and I don't really care if I'm fat. And who cares if I have a 12% higher chance of having a heart attack when 1 doctor thinks I already had one anyway? (back to that same long story) I can't even get drunk to escape my misery - no alcohol allowed. I can't sit on my lanai in the morning and drink a cup of coffee. I can't order pizza when I don't feel like cooking. I can't drink a beer and watch the football game. My whole life right now is a giant list of things I can't have and can't do.

And the Ice Cream Truck is cruising the neighborhood as I type this. GREAT. It's like the whole world is mocking me, I swear.

Rainy Days and Tuesdays Always Get Me Down

Rainy days and Tuesdays when I am sick, I mean. And rainy days and Tuesdays when I get sad, scary news. Rainy days and Tuesdays when I melt lipstick in an entire load of light-colored laundry. Rainy days and Tuesdays when I can't get the thingie to screw onto the thingie. Rainy days and Tuesdays when I'm sick, and I know that I am supposed to be with the girls all this weekend. Rainy days and Tuesdays when I have a F-U-L-L day tomorrow, and no time to be sick.

Then again - my "illness" is really not so bad when you look at the big picture. Not in comparison to someone who is fighting for her life - again. Not in comparison to her family who is scared with her and scared for her. Not in comparison to her kids who love and need her. I guess my stupid cold is really just that - stupid.

And I can always buy new clothes and lipstick. And life does not come to a standstill because I can't get a screw to work. And there will be other girl's weekends if I can't make this one. No matter how full tomorrow is, I can probably manage it. Especially since there's nothing on my to-do list like "chemo therapy" or "stem cell transplant."

Please everyone...or all 6 of you who read this. Keep WonderSis in your thoughts and prayers. And then take a look at your crappy day, and realize just how much crappier it could really be.

No Kids At Home - Day #2

Although I am doing a great job of filling almost all of my time with PTA stuff, not having kids around still takes some getting used to. Especially not having Chase - he's a real chatterbox, and it's weird not hearing him for more than 6 1/2 hours.

In my errand running today, I was having the following random thoughts:

* How sad is it that when I finally have 6 1/2 hours to myself, all I do is call people on my cell phone because I don't have anyone to talk to?

* Cool! Did you know they still sell "Whatchamacallit" candy bars?

* Lady: when your kids are screaming bloody murder for a half an hour and totally ruining the shopping experience for everyone else, DON'T BUY THEM STICKERS AT THE CHECKOUT!!!

* It's amazing to me how doing something that you are really good at makes you feel better about yourself.

* I did not go anywhere near the Coach store today.

* Sometimes it's really easy to open your mouth and eat your foot, even on Facebook.

* Is there some stupid reason why they can't launch the Space Shuttle at a normal hour?

* I will cheerfully beat the child that is teasing my baby on the bus.

* What's worse: getting a tatoo and then losing weight so it looks all wrinkly, or getting a tatoo and gaining weight so it looks all stretched out?

* Did you ever get the weird feeling that your old car is about to go? It's running fine, but something really subtle in the way it runs tells you that it's tired, and it's just about had enough. 111,000 miles in 8 years is a long way to go.

* I saw a TV show last night where a realtor said "all buyers want double ovens." Total bullshit. I don't want double ovens. I don't even want one oven. What I want is a phone for takeout, and paper plates.

* You ever seen that commercial where the guy finds a door in an alley, and he brings it home a sand it and paints it up real pretty? His lady friend (wife, girlfriend - who knows) walks in and says "what's this?" He says "It's a promise - that one day we'll have our own place." Bart says: "Obviously he's unemployed if he's hanging around alleys and has the time to refurbish a door in a day. Maybe they'd actually have a house if he spent that time getting a job." Then he said to me: "Do you want a door?" And I said "What's behind it - a trip to Mexico?"

* Actual conversation last night...part of Karlin's homework was to answer some questions about herself for her new teacher. One of them was "What do other people like best about you?" This really stumped her, so she came downstairs to discuss it with us. I said "I would think the thing people like most about me is how helpful I am." Karlin said "Daddy, what do you like best about Mommy?" He said "I'm sorry - I can't tell you that. It's a secret." So she turned to me and said "Mommy - what do you like best about Daddy?" Without hesitation I said "Easy - his wallett!" (which cracked him up, by the way...) It should be noted here that I did tell Karlin I was only kidding, and then gave her a legitimate answer to the question. I'm not totally irresponsible, you know.

* Some Florida State fan actually attempted to raz me about Tim Tebow & the Gators losing to Ole Miss by a point last season. Can you believe that crap? Did Florida State even play last season? Aren't they on some sort of suspension? Does the coach even know his own name anymore?

* This weekend is my 11th wedding anniversary. My husband got us a new washing machine, and then posted on Facebook "Happy Anniversary, baby - thanks for 11 years of laundry." Funny guy, eh?

* Soon I'm going to start writing down all the funny-ass stuff Chase says. He makes me laugh out loud at least once a day, but whenever I try to tell someone about what he said, I can never remember.

Later Gators! ;)

Places I've Worked That Are No More

In light of the recent sad news about The ZOO in Gulf Breeze closing, I started to think about all the places that I have worked that don't exist anymore. I can't say I'm entirely to blame, but it does seem strange that so many of these places are gone. The fact that most of them are in development-and-success stunted Northwest Florida might have something to do with it.

* Shoe City - Eastgate Plaza on 9th Ave. in Pensacola. My first job, and I spent all my money on shoes.
* Albertson's - 9th Avenue in Pensacola. I worked at the video counter. I believe it's now a Publix, if it's still open at all.
* The Scuba Shack in downtown Pensacola. I worked there for a week and a half, mainly cutting bait out on charter fishing boats. (I quit, for the record.) I don't know if they went out of business, or if Hurricane Ivan did that for them.
* Henry Animal Clinic on Creighton Road in Pensacola. Ole Doc Henry retired and sold the practice. What an easy job - most of the time I watched TV.
* Some weirdo retail shop in Cordova Mall in Pensacola. I worked there 1 Christmas. It was open for such a short time that I can't even remember what it was called. I bought a sweet Esprit dress with my discount, though....teal polka dots (it was the 80's - cut me some slack.)
* Phar-Mor. You guys remember Phar More that used to be out on Davis Highway in Pensacola? I worked at the video counter there and occasionally at the registers while in Grad School. It's gone now too.
* The Pensacola Ice Pilots - Pensacola, FL. Fun-ass job, long-hours, and meager pay. I hear a rumor that they're coming back, but I won't believe that until I see it.
* The ZOO and Botanical Gardens, Gulf Breeze, Florida. Best, most fun job I ever had. I got to do so many cool things, and loved working there even though high school kids at McDs were making more money than I was. Still in touch with some of the people I worked with - we all feel the same way about the place.

Subway on 9th Avenue and The United Way are still there (last time I checked.) I cleaned Beach Houses for 1 weekend - my gawd was THAT awful. Since then my "grown-up" jobs have all been out of town. The Gulf Coats Exploreum is still there in Mobile, and Zoo Atlanta is still kicking. I was an elf at Chick Fil A a few years back, and it seems to have survived. The pre-school where I subbed last year is also doing well.

As for The ZOO...I seriously don't think I'll ever have as much fun as I did chasing down escaped hippos, flying birds of prey, and carrying lemurs around school classrooms. If I had that job today, I would be a rock star with my kids.

Adios ZOO - thanks for the fun times. And remember to please keep your hands and arms inside the train at all times.

It's Hard To Be A Southerner From Florida

Below is an article I wrote with the intention of sending it to "Southern Living." But I chickened out. I still think it's pretty good, though, so I thought I'd stick it up here.



Having spent all but 4 years of my life in Florida, I feel that I am a bonafide, tried-and-true southerner. I was born and raised in Pensacola – home of the Blue Angels, the Bushwacker, and some of the best beaches and fried seafood known to mankind. I lived for a time in Orlando, and after a short stint in Georgia (another southern state, I might point out…), my family has settled in Tampa.

Now, being a native Floridian is a little bit of a rarity these days, and you’d be hard pressed to find a lot of native Pensacolians. (Those of us who are native Pensacolians probably either are related or know each other, or our parents graduated high school together, or our grandmas go to the same Baptist Church.) But being a native Floridian/Pensacolian, I have always felt like a true southerner. I love fried okra. My dad used to grow tomatoes and squash as big as your head in our backyard. I could swim in the Gulf surf before I could walk. I believe that oysters - in any form - are their own food group. I can spot a frozen shrimp from a mile away. I believe canoeing down some backwoods creek may be one of the finest pleasures in life, and I started doing it when I was 5. I was raised to know that you don’t schedule a wedding, a wake, a Baptism, or ANYTHING on the same day as Florida-Florida State or Auburn-Alabama football weekends. I know that the best BBQ comes from scary little shacks on dirt roads, sweet iced tea is a life necessity, and that butter beans should never be eaten out of a can. I know that every southern holiday meal has at least 2 “entrees” (usually ham and turkey), no fewer than 15 side dishes, and at least 8 desserts. I know that sitting out in a park square in 98 degree heat, getting eaten by mosquitoes, and listening to music from the gazebo is just something you do. I say “yes maam” and “yes sir” to this day, regardless of the age of the person I am speaking to. I pull over for funerals (a practice, I might add, that has just about gotten me run over here in Tampa.) I know that beer and Tylenol are always in the shopping cart when a hurricane is coming. I have stood on the top of Stone Mountain, eaten Key Lime Pie by sunset in Mallory Square, and danced down Bourbon Street at Mardi Gras. I know what a Moon Pie is. I was in a sorority in college, and married a fraternity boy – my high school sweetheart, actually. I love the sound of the Mourning Dove, the call of the Sandhill Crane, the mystery sounds of the Mockingbird, and the sound of an Osprey on the hunt. I love “the fair” – the rides, the deep-friend everything, the pig races. I still say “ya’ll” and “fixin”. I am a Southerner.

But the rest of the Southerners don’t really agree with me. See – being from Pensacola, the “rest” of Florida considers us a part of Alabama. Southern? Yes. A Floridian from the South? No. Those os us from Northwest Florida and Pensacola know we’re not a part of Alabama, but we think the rest of Florida isn’t southern, either. Except maybe Ocala and Micanopy, but nothing south of Orlando.

So what part of Florida is southern? Miami has too many New Yorkers. Tampa has too many Latinos. Tallahassee is only the south because the Governor says it is. (The Governor with no Southern accent.) Pensacola is too far west. Jacksonville is too close to Georgia. Naples and West Palm? Forget it – you won’t find any natives around there. Key West? Too many weirdos. Orlando? All tourists.

And that’s just what Floridians think! Don’t even get me started on what Alabama, Georgia, Mississippi, and Louisiana think. And outside of that? It still makes me giggle to see features on Maryland in Southern Living. And Texas? Texas is a land in and of itself…even Texans will tell you that.

So what is a good Southern girl to do? What else can I do…I’ll teach my kids to say “ya’ll”. I’ll learn how to make the best sweet iced tea. I’ll learn to make cornbread from scratch. I’ll teach my kids about Spanish Moss and Ponce de Leon. We’ll root for the Gators and eat BBQ and at least shop for squash and tomatoes. And – bless their baby hearts – we’ll go to the fair. (My daughter won the blue ribbon for being a Champion Pig Picker at the pig races at the Strawberry Festival just last year – honest!)