Trendy? I think not

Good morning! What a nice Friday...cold...clear...sunny....perfect February weather.

How are things? Wellll.....



Yesterday, after a great lunch with Red, Nana, Ice, and Tiger Mom, I stopped at the consignment shop to sell a few items.




 I have never consigned anything before, so this was a new phenomenon for me. Usually, I give away my clothes to the needy and leave it at that, but with the Southern Belle's beautiful clothes, dad and I had this great (or not so great) idea to consign them and give the funds to a charity in the Southern Belle's name.....and so, this great idea consisted of packing 8 large boxes, shipping them, carrying them to the car, and driving to a consignment shop.

After finding parking which is impossible, not having a quarter for the parking meter, dragging the boxes to the shop, pushing them to the back of the shop. and waiting while the staff rummaged through these exquisite clothes, I was told that none of them were appropriate for the shop.

Huh? These are amazing and beautiful. I don't understand.

"Sorry, they are not trendy enough for us."

Trendy? Trendy? What is trendy? Should I have brought see-through tee shirts that stop at the navel rather than a cashmere jacket? Did they want ripped and torn jeans rather than a two-piece classic Talbots suit?
Really? OK, where should I go?



The quick witted clerk suggested that I drive around the corner to the vintage shop.....OK, finding a parking spot close to the store was yet another challenge. Without any quarters for the parking meter, I took a chance and ran to the vintage store.

Out of breath and praying that I do not get a parking ticket, I uttered: "I have 8 boxes of great clothes.....beautiful....you see, I want to sell them and give the money to charity......"



Another quick witted clerk looked at me and said: "unless the clothes are older than 1979, we do not want them, but you can try to shop on the corner by the freeway."

Running back to the car and not being able to see out the windows since the boxes were so big, I prayed that I would pull out of the parking space without hitting a bus and causing a chain reaction....mission accomplished....



On to the third shop next to the freeway.....

Out of breath and excited that I found the right place.....I whispered: "I have 8 boxes of great clothes.....beautiful....you see, I want to sell them and give the money to charity......"

Another quick witted clerk looked at me and said: "Bring all of the boxes in and carry them to the back of the store. We will look through them."

Really? Can't you come to my car and peek into the boxes? I don't think that I have enough energy left to carry the big boxes to the back of the store. Please?

"No, we have to measure and weight them."

Sheesh.....once again, pulling the boxes out of the car, dragging them through the parking lot to the front of the store, and pulling them to the back of the store, it took 30 seconds for the clerk to tell me that the clothes were too old for the store.

Too old? These clothes are newer than mine! Does that mean that I wear vintage? nope, my threads are newer than 1979. Ok, what does this mean?

 No one wants to have beautiful clothes made 5 years ago that are in great shape, rarely worn, and of high quality and taste? What do they want?

Dragging the boxes and jamming them back into the car, I hit my stash of weight watchers chocolate turtles that are located in the glove compartment. Not one, I needed two...four points added to my daily allotment of points. It was worth it.

Driving home slowly since I still could not see out of the windows, I knew that it was time to crack open the box of wine....until.....yes...until.....

I walked into the mud room, said hello to the pups in the crates...took a deep breath....and saw her....yes, there was my sweet little pup coated with poo. The crate.....covered with poo......her paws.....poo.....the blanket in the crate...poo....once I pulled her out, she made a dash for the door with the poo on her paws and left little poo marks shaped like paws on the floor....grabbing her, I then was covered with poo....yes, the poo hit the fan.....

Not wanting to embellish any further on poo, let's just say, the rest of the afternoon was spent on my knees cleaning the dog, crate, and little poo paws  on the floor. I will give you all a tip: if the poo hardens, it is tougher to get off the floor and dog. So, handle things efficiently and as fast as possible. Otherwise, your work is doubled.

Enough about me.....and clothes....and poo.....Although, I made an executive decision. Rather than consign the clothes, I will give them to a charity that provides nice clothes for women who do not have the finances to buy interview clothes.

The big kid and I had several short conversations yesterday. it seems that all of the guys are tired of the Czar's rants...even his favorites. My advice remains consistent.

Do not partake in coach bashing.

Keep your head down. Do not make eye contact.

Stay positive.

He is a means to an end.

If he says 'jump', you say 'how high?'

Focus on your mind, body, and spirit.

Watch your Jeremy Lin video as  you eat your Chinese food on Thursday night. Say your prayers....focus....be positive...no one can beat you.....

And now, we will discover how the mental game as well as his preparation works tonight during the scrimmage. Next week is the first pitch in North Carolina. Go team!

Peace!

Any minute

Hello~! I am sitting in Starbucks waiting for Tink to finish work. Why am I waiting? Long story...it has something to do with Christmas, a boyfriend, presents, and a mother who cannot say 'no'. 'nuff said.



How is the big guy's homecoming? Well, he got home on Thursday and since then, I have seen him for a total of 9 minutes. He is elusive and either in his bedroom or out somewhere.....On my brief sighting, he looked tall, muscular, and hungry. Aside from that, nothing to report....except.....

I sent him to acupuncture yesterday with Mr. Zen. He felt better, but not 100%. Hey, it is not a miracle needle. Shifting energy takes time. Although we were laughing when he told me that he was 'spooned' by Mr. Zen. What is spoon? It seems that the spoon is ceramic and Mr. Z used to to move his energy around. Apparently, it hurt....alot....so, he is not a spoon fan. The crick in the neck is better as is the pinched nerve.

All he has to do is see Yoda on Tuesday and Dr. G later and he will have made his homecoming rounds.

On the way home from school, he had his second flat tire in less than a week. Can anyone say: "Wow! I got two radial tires for Christmas!! Oh boy!"




Yep, he got the tires and will probably get slippers or something cozy like that.

What the heck? Really? Two blown out tires in less than a week. What the UD^)E%$$^ is he doing with his wheels? His grandmother drove that Cadillac to church and back. It had new tires and was detailed before he left. Now he has more new tires and a stern warning that this had better be it. No more tires. He is going to walk or hitch hike if he blows any more tires out. He is lucky that he was not hurt.



what else is going on? Hmnmmm.....well, cookie fest VI and soup fest II are tomorrow afternoon. Dad and the big guy are leaving the state to avoid the party. It seems that thousands of cookies are not enough to keep them around the house. Whatever. More cookies for me....and me....and me....

Yesterday, I took BP Grandmom and Grandpop to the mall. First, I borrowed a wheel chair from work. Sheesh....it was a good move, 'cause BP Grandpop is really slow with the rehab after his broken hip. I would still be waiting for him to make it across the parking lot if it wasn't for that chair. But let me tell ya, I had flashbacks as I wheeled him around the mall. It was not so long ago that I wheeled the kids in a double stroller. Now I wheel Grandpop, who will be more mobile soon.

It just seemed odd as I had the flashbacks of babies then Pop...then toddlers....then Pop...then little kids who ran away from me.....then Pop.....He helped me to pick out a gift for my godson. This kid is tough since he is 17. Yep, every 17 year old wants cash.....but I wanted to give him a gift too.

My godson is a quiet, incredibly handsome young man. He rarely talks. During the summer, I asked him when he got his braces off thinking that it was recent. His response was 'last year.' OK, look dude, you are going to have to speak and smile at me more so that I know what is going on with your teeth and life. Sheesh!

And so, I have to shut down because Tink will be here any minute.....any minute...any minute....

Peace!

A clear violation

Hi! It's Sunday morning and I thought no one would be up as I ventured out with the pups in my lumber jacket robe and grey and white flannel pjs. Much to my dismay, the roofers were at the neighbors house hanging the new gutters. Yep, I have yet another show for people that I do not know. I am going to have to charge admission. As time goes on, I care less and less, which could be an indication that I need a net thrown over my head.

How is the big kid? Well, I don't know. He has gone underground and has not called since I asked him about tuition, the parking tickets, and his rent.  When he does not want to do something that he is supposed to do, he hides from us. Yep, he can hide but we find him....after all, he still uses the American Express card, so I know if he is eating and driving around campus.



I do know that he is swimming this month as part of his training. At first, he thought that it was a great idea until he tried to make it across the pool once. Then the arms and lungs began to burn and he decided that it was stupid. Since he has no power, the trainer continued to torture them as they swam 25+ laps. I wonder how he did not drown. Did someone throw a life preserver into the water to save the guys? I believe that pitchers are not aquatic. Without gills, they run the risk of going down.
Actually, I wish that I could have witnessed this exercise. I definitely would have laughed.

The semester is starting to wind down, so it will be interesting to hear how he is doing besides to yoga and 100 in history. After all, the Czar has violated a federal law FERPA and has kept any of the players' grade point averages under 3.0 on the white board. That's right. The players' private academic records are transcribed where anyone can see them with their names right next to the averages. As a professional academic and parent, this is a huge miscarriage of justice. The Czar is not only bullying them but humiliating them too. let's consider baseball as a job. OK, not only are they spending 40+ hours training and playing ball with nationwide travel but they are also full time students with full time academic loads. They play ball, go to class, lift weights, practice, go to study hall, study, write papers, take tests, eat and sleep. That is their life. Therefore, with a schedule like that, something suffers. For some it is school; whereas for others, it is baseball.



The big kid did something incredibly intelligent. he took a photo of the white board and ha sent it to his father. In other words, the Czar could be immediately fired for this violation and the kid has an ace card to use if he needs it. Hopefully, he will not, but just in case, he can and will use it.

"nuff said...the pups need some attention.

Peace!

An Albino deer, two puppies, and one crazy lady

Wow~! I cannot believe that I have not posted in two weeks. Thanks Wildcat for encouraging me to get back to writing. Honestly, I have not had time. In my spare time, I try to sleep. That's it.

What has been going on? Wellll...fade to black....

As you know, we adopted two puppies in July. They are young, excitable, and still not house broken. Dad has been known to let them out of their crates and not take them outside. To thank him profusely for the freedom, they proceed to find unique places to empty their bladders. if that is not enough, they will squat and ....well, you know what happens next.

They know about their powder room on the outside of the house but still do not have total control so they let it go....Diapers....I am thinking...diapers.....probably for me as my head explodes and I lose all control of my body parts. According to every book and website that I have read, if a puppy pees or poos in the house, it is the owner's  fault. Yep, that would be me.



Dad insisted on having the carpets cleaned. I thought that it was a foolish request since the pups were....well....the pups.

 



Yet, I acquiesced and guess what? I need them cleaned again.....sigh......I still love my puppies and so happy that they are in our lives. We have to be patient and persistent. This morning I took them outside and boom....they go crazy! It seems out little albino fawn was in the backyard. What the albino deer does not realize is that this is the pups turf...no trespassing....so they took off to scare away the deer...all four pounds of them. I took chase in my lumber jack red bathrobe, ripped Sperrys and Boscov gray and white flannel pajamas with two prayers....one...that I catch the dogs before they met up with the deer and second....that no one in the neighborhood is looking outside at me as I run in my robe with the glasses on.....ripped sperrys untied and hair sticking up from the short night's sleep. And then it hit me....I don't care. What if they see this crazed woman, inappropriately dressed chasing two yapping dogs and an albino deer.




Really...after reporting it to the rest of the neighbors for a good laugh, it will be forgotten....or will it? Will I be the crazy lady with the lumber jack robe and messy hair running after her dogs? probably......

How is everything else? Hmmm......Well.....Bullpen Grandpop had a spill in the driveway ten days ago and shattered his hip. He has fallen before yet has only ripped his pants. This time, it was much more serious and he needed an ambulance trip to the ER where he was admitted, had to be cleared for surgery, rods and pins surgically in place....and released to a care facility near the house. It has been another ride as BP Grandmom spent nights and days with him. Thankfully, my brother Uncle F, took a shift and stayed one night as Grandmom finally got a good night's sleep. You see, Grandpop gets a little confused in the hospital and needs constant support. His confusion is usually sweet as he has to get ready for church or prepare the kitchen for breakfast. He needs assurance that he is in the hospital, will be out soon, and can go to church upon discharge.

Anyway, his head has cleared in the care facility and Grandmom has returned home to bed. Now everyone is happy and getting some well deserved rest. Get well, Pop-sicle! You  will be dancing in no time!

On to the Big Kid....where to start? Well, with my workload and Pop's issues, I have not been a terrific parent listening to a  son complain. He was home over the weekend, but I missed him since I had to help dad in the south with some estate issues. However, he is plugging along and called me yesterday that he earned his second 100 on a test in his college career! Now, for you incredibly intelligent genius types who yawn when you got a 100 in a test, this is huge for him and us. Yes, this deserves a cake or 100! I am glad that he was able to experience such a high. No, the 100 was not in his yoga class but in history...that's right....history....you memorize facts....then answer the questions about wars and presidents....

Back to yoga...if he doesn't score an "A" in that class, then I will have to find him.....stick my index finger in his face and make some noise. Anything lower than an "A" in yoga is un-acceptable!

He is still costing us money. How? Well.....

I got a bill from the university borough. It seems that the 25 cent parking meter was ignored as well as subsequent bills....my bill for 25 cents is $84.50. Yep.....that's right.....84 dollars....let me at him!

Then....we got another one....then there is a bill from the old landlord for $200+ to fix the bathroom mirror....shall I go on? No? feeling queasy? I am going to have to find my Pez dispenser with valium before the he finishes school.

Baseball! Yes baseball....I have been incredibly preoccupied so I have very few stories, but the team had to sign a document saying that if they were injured, they had to go to the university doctors. This is probably due to my kid who ignores them and comes home. Although, he has been justified since they almost ended his baseball career. With that said, if they are caught, they will be cut....

So, why does this matter? Are you ready?

Last week, he drove home. Not to see me, but to see Yoda. It seems Yoda is the only one who can reassure him that he is alright. It is a sweet relationship as Yoda approaches 80 and is considered the Big Kid's best friend and confidant....nonetheless, he stopped to see Yoda who was seeing other patients.




Yoda introduced him to his mentees as the lefty who plays up north.....Yoda then cleared him for play. As the big kid left the complex, he called and said that if any of the other guys talk to his coaches, he will be cut. I asked him how this could possibly happen but he remained paranoid....justifiably so....in fact....

On Monday, the trainer stopped him and asked him why he saw Yoda over the weekend! That's right. They all knew that he sought Yoda out on Saturday. He replied that he was home visiting Pop-sicle and saw Yoda's car at the complex, so he stopped in to say hello. Inside, he was nervous as )*%* as the trainer got angrier....."What's wrong with your shoulder? Why didn't you come to us?" Blah, blah, blah?

How did they find out? Is there a homing mechanism in his car? Does the KGB follow him home? No one knew except us....and Yoda's mentees who attended a conference, saw the university guys, and mentioned that they had seen him! Yep, word got out...it was leaked like Snowden's Wikis....the kid broke policy and was now in trouble.

Dad suggested to the worried lefty that he be angry and that they had no right questioning him about his whereabouts over the weekend when he returned home. It was a violation of his privacy and yes...a HIPAA violation.....with that said, it seems to have died down.

OK, I have written enough, right Wildcat? I promise not to be offline again for so long. Today, I would love to return to a normal schedule, get to the gym, make some soup, and see Pop as he takes his new hip for a spin. He's a tough ole dude....yep, that's my pop.....and mom...after all, she is the fuel in his gas tank.....

Time to run.....or actually, I am too tired to run....how about if I limp along......later!

Peace!

Resignation

Good rainy morning! I am here at the home office thinking about my latest hair-brained decision. What decision, you may ask?

Well, my decision has been to resign as Bullpen Mom. That's right. I am giving my notice effective last week. Today, the big guy will get the letter as a legal document giving up my position as his beloved momma.

Huh? What happened?

Well, if you are a regular reader, you know about his decision making, inability to think past his next fast ball, and the lack of attention to details. Ok, I have these issues too (except for the fast ball), but when he threw me under the bus with the landlord, I knew that it was time to take drastic action.

Here is the story.....fade to black.....

As you know, he is terrible when it comes to doing things that he does not want to do.....internship....getting the sofa and things out of the old apartment.....talking to the landlord about the aforesaid sofa and belongings.....paying parking tickets...finishing applications for scholarships and aid....and so on and so on and so on....

When I received the notice from the old landlord that I would be taken to the magistrate with a lien slapped onto me, he did not take ownership but said: "I'm screwed." You're screwed? I was the one who co-signed, because I thought that if he is mature enough to live on his own, he would be mature enough to take on details.

Nope...I was wrong.

When he called this week and was angry because the landlord would not budge, he threw the lien-ball back in my court.

"Uh, no, Dude; this one is on you. Fix it."

At that point, he cussed....and said: "If you are going to yell at me, I am going to hang up. I'll talk to you when you calm down." Click.

Honest to Pete. I never raised my voice or got angry. All I said was "You own this, fix it."

That was the last that I heard from him. And so, what does a momma do?

I suppose if she really loved her child, she would back off and let the chips fall with each decision that he makes. Dad will fix the lien, but he is on his own until he learns how to speak kindly and with respect to his ma, and take ownership of his mistakes.

And so, with a heavy heart, I will send the letter of resignation to be rescinded with an apology and a vow of transparency. That's it.

Until then, I will devote my motherly time to over-mothering Tink and the pups...yep....a little culinary therapy.....oh yeah, I can catch up at work too.

Lastly, I want to be clear....this is a boy that I love more than life itself. He is the frosting on my cake....




but tough times require tough decisions....with the apathy toward the lien, I had to make a decision that would have a lasting impact on him. Do I have the money to bail him out? Of course! Will I? Nope...I am not his mother any more....

Taking a break.....perhaps I will go fishing.....

By the way, he hit 92 in front of the scouts...can any one say "Bazinga!?"

Peace!

No more advice

Good morning! Rain....rain...rain...there is nothing more yukky than two soaking wet dogs and their owner walking around the backyard  trying to find just the right spot to piddle and poo.....you see...with the rain, the scents are changed, so this throws the puppies into a quandary...let's see....here? Nope.....let's try over here...nope....just not right...It's like Goldilocks...."Ahh, this is just right...." Once they are in the house and dried off, it is time to walk them again...and again...and again....It's fun! NOT!






How is the big lefty? Sheesh....ups...downs....downs...ups...

In the morning, he called to complain about their two work outs/day plus bullpen sessions. "I can't throw with my legs in such condition after lifting."



Here was my suggestion which is sneaky and probably not the best motherly advice...."Get together with the pitchers and blow your bullpens. In other words, throw like %$#*%^ and tell the pitching coach that your legs are shot after such rigorous and unnecessary work outs."



Sounds like a plan, right? Uh, wrong. I forgot that he does not listen to me so he rejected my advice and threw anyway. When he called dad last night, he shared that he had a great bullpen session.



Hmmm...nice, I think....

OK, why am I perturbed that he threw well? Actually, I am glad that he threw like a champion. I am just a bit peeved that he calls to complain and I continue to forget that he does not want advice, he wants to vent. When I made this observation, he agreed. The young man does not want my advice, he wants me to close my mouth and listen.

Dang, that is really hard to do. After all, aren't I supposed to have all of the answers? I have been doing this mom-thing for a while and have some experience. Often, I can see through the bull and figure out the solution. But I believe that my boy is now telling me that he is finished with mom-training and can handle it on his own. Fine. You got it.....I will try to remember to listen. he has had his basic training and has been promoted through the ranks. He is ready to be launched.

All I have to do is etch this new paradigm in my mind and stop forgetting that the kids are no longer kids, they are young adults. I would feel pretty old about this except, the talker in the seat next to me on the plane after telling me his life story thought that I had little kids and not kids in their 20's. Perhaps, he needs to get his vision checked....ooops....I forgot...no more advice unless someone specifically asks me.

This is going to be tough. Gotta go...our tennis team has district championships today and I am scheduled to play with the Beast. More about the playoffs latre.

peace!

Good morning! I am back and at the computer trying to catch up on a multitude of projects. Pop was laid to rest next to his beloved bride of 63 years. They have known each other for 70 years, so this was no surprise after her death. With that said, they are reunited, can see, hear, walk, and are whole again. Amen!

On to family biz....yep, it just gets nuttier and nuttier. Why?
Well, the big guy came back to the house the other night after he was almost arrested for trespassing. Actually, he was trespassing and got a pass from the police. Yet, he did it. What happened?



Well, as you know, he is NOT allowed to perform his training per the Czar, as the Pitching doctor instructed him. Therefore, in the dark of night, he finds a school wall and throws his weighted balls for 30 minutes of so. if you think about it, unless the wall is in the back yard, anywhere else he goes, he is actually trespassing. Thus, he had a conversation with the cops, sat in the back of a police car, and given a warning. Boy, was he lucky. As I say to the kids, I will support you any way that I can, but will not provide bail for anything. That is the line.



Would I have bailed him out of the pokey? For trespassing? Hmmm...tough call. I am pretty sure that dad would have done it. He understands the kid's drive to perfect his game, even if it means breaking the law. Me? not so much. Perhaps, he can find a wall sometime during the day so that he does not look like a felon at night.



I can see my next class reunion. You know how they go....everyone gathers after years and years and begin to brag...biggest bank account, car, flatest stomach, most unnoticeable plastic surgery, kids who are either the president of the US, law review, or governor of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts.

What do I say? I don't have the biggest back account (maybe the littlest), the car is dented and has lots of damage from the hail storm and is 6 years old, my stomach is far from flat (it is more of a rounded globe with South America in the center), no plastic surgery, no collagen, no designer clothes, Keds sneakers, a son who is a felon. I guess I would be the talk of the reunion. So, I think that I will bow out.

Actually, I have attended two reunions since high school. One at 5 years and the other was the 25th reunion....  Both times, the girls looked amazing while the guys needed the collagen and a total make over. Who cares what they drove? Sheesh...what happened to our high school football heroes? Oh yeah, they could drink beer at home rather than sneaking it from their parents' refrigerator in the garage and downing it in the back woods.

With that said, we are home from the funeral and the pups seemed to have missed us. Although their training hit a snag as the dog walker cared for them but did not train them. So, we start over again as the little boy has created 'piddle pools' in the house. Yes, I am doing my best keeping my eye on them, but they are close to the ground and have created these lovely circles of pee by my foot....then they smile at me and say: "See Big Momma, I can go potty...just like you tell us." Yeah, kids, I do tell you to 'go potty...' but you are supposed to know the difference between a rug and grass. These two are headed for remediation.....special education.....private tutoring......

I now know why people thought that I was crazy for adopting both of them. But I could not separate the twins. No way. So, I am taking it on the chin and looking to eventually purchase carpet and perhaps....a new pair of shoes....yep, ole Houdini (the boy) himself has confused the Sperry topsider with the grass. The little girl, Trouble, has not done this yet. She seems like an "A" student whereas Houdini...oye! He is in need of lots of attention.....



Ok, time for me to do some work. The house needs it and the students are sending out a search party looking for me.

Peace!