I just finally spoke to my son, Will, for the first time since Christmas! He's back in civilization in Germany with his wife and two girls, and he's planning a trip home to the states soon for a visit. What a relief from all the tension of knowing he was in danger.

And another piece of good news. The parent company of the company I work for said they couldn't institute the pay cuts that had been proposed. Now if we can just not have any layoffs, we'll be fine.

The company I work for has decided that they will not make their profit numbers for the end of the fiscal year (ending September 30) unless they cut salaries by 5% for June through September. The last time they did something like this, it was an "unpaid furlough". They took the money, but they gave us five days off. I could deal with that. This time they're just taking it. Of course, there's nothing to be done but wait it out.

A week ago Thursday afternoon I took a half day off from work and went to a meeting of The Guild. Back in the dark ages when this group started, it was the Woman's Guild. (Yes, the spelling is correct. I was censured for changing it on an Annual Report for our church). That was in the day when the man went out to work and woman stayed home and looked after the house and children. Having done a little of both, I think the man got the best deal. I'm not sure when it became just The Guild. It was sometime around when they realized that any woman who was of working age was working (because who can live on just one income?), and that the only people who came to meetings were retired women and their husbands or significant others who drove them. Since the alternative for the men who drove was to go down the street to Fishman's for a few brews, the men were welcomed into membership as well.

The purpose of this organization is to support the church, but they are independent of the church. They are responsible for two Rummage Sales and the Christmas Bazaar each year, great fund raisers. The Guild makes an annual pledge to the church, and they usually exceed it by special designated gifts. They make a great point of saying that every member of the church is a member of The Guild, which is how they get around the fact that most of them are too old to actually do the work of these fund-raising events, therefore pressing into service every able-bodied person who doesn't know how to say no to a little old lady asking for help. Since most of the male members of our congregation are former members of Scout Troop 979, you can understand where that help comes from.

To get back to the meeting I attended, just let me say that it was unique. To begin with, there was a potluck luncheon with enough food to feed half of the city of Chicago. I came in at the tail end of the "meeting" portion, just in time to hear one of the twins (74 years old, I believe) read a tribute to Mother (in honor of Mothers' Day, May 11). The tables were elegantly set with lace tablecloths and sparkling centerpieces designed by Ellen. After completely pigging out on chicken, lasagne, broccoli salad, several other kinds of salad, baked beans, several kinds of potato (you get the picture), not to mention the desserts, the "program" portion began.

The program was entitled "Thrift Shop Fashion Show". Ellen served as master of ceremonies, and she had also provided a blue and white balloon archway and white paper "runway" for the models. Ken was dressed up in a tux with a blue ruffled shirt, and he escorted all the models through the archway. With the exception of some wedding dresses that were family heirlooms, all of the clothes were purchased at thrift shops, resale shops or rummage sales. My sister-in-law Janis (one of the youngest people there) modeled a sequined, beaded jacket that I had gotten at a resale shop a while ago and lent to her for the occasion. Joanie wore her mother's wedding dress which had a train longer than twice her height and a veil even longer. Lucie modeled two outfits, and wore silver tap shoes with each one. It was really just a lot of old ladies acting silly, but it was great fun, and well worth taking an afternoon off for.

We had our first rehearsal for Strawberry Festival last night. The theme is "Back to Broadway" and the choir is singing medleys from The Sound of Music, Finian's Rainbow, and Oliver!, as well as individual songs, ending with Rick playing tuba in "Seventy-six Trombones". Solo numbers are yet to be determined, but Chuck and I may do the "Lida Rose/Dream of Now" duet from The Music Man.

Strawberry Festival has taken place in early June at my church for more years than anyone can remember. Tradition has it that there was to be an ice-cream social on the church lawn that had to be moved inside to Mayflower Hall when storm clouds gathered. To kill time while things were being set up, the choir entertained with a few impromptu secular numbers. And the rest, as they say, is history. The admission is free, and the cost of the strawberry sundaes, shortcakes, etc. is very reasonable. It's a pretty good deal for a Saturday evening. Details below:

Strawberry Festival
Theme: "Back to Broadway"

Saturday, June 7, 2003 7:30 p.m.

Congregational Church of Jefferson Park
5320 W. Giddings
Chicago, IL

For further information, call (773) 725-0121

Too Smart for His Own Good......

The enterprising young high school student who took over publishing The Echo from me has just had a visit from Consequences. He was having trouble in his computer class. Did he ask the teacher for help? No. He decided he could figure it out for himself if he could just analyze what he was doing. So he illegally loaded a program that would record keystrokes. Too late, he realized that he was getting the entire class's keystrokes, including passwords. Did he ask the teacher for help then? No. He decided he had to remove the program. Somehow in that process (don't ask me how because I'm not that geeky), he caused a virus in the system.

He'll find out this week just what the Consequences are, but they are likely to involve suspension and community service.

I went to Bev’s baby shower yesterday at Grace’s apartment. I sat between Ev and Murphy, a 20 year old Amazon green parrot that can bark like a dog and quack like a duck, among other sounds. Grace’s other two parrots, a 3-year old gray and another small one, were much quieter than Murphy.

After the obligatory “mad-lib” game, we got right to the business of Bev opening her presents. I think she's pretty well set to welcome her little girl into the world. After the presents and the cake, Bev said that she felt guilty for all the attention and getting so many nice things. She said she hadn’t done anything to deserve such generosity.

On the contrary, I think she has done something very special. Becoming a parent is an act, not only of love, but also of faith. Faith in the future, faith that everything is a miracle. Every gift that was showered on her was a celebration of that faith. In a crazy world, it allows us to realize that there is hope.

I threw away my Easter corsage today. It's been sitting there on the kitchen counter since the afternoon of April 20. It isn't that I haven't seen it there. I was well aware of it. I'm not really a slob who doesn't throw away garbage. But I must admit that the reason I didn't throw it away before was guilt.

Last year for Easter, Chuck got me a nice orchid corsage, and then forgot to give it to me. So this year, he gave it to me on the afternoon of Saturday, April 19, putting the ball squarely in my court, so to speak. Well, I didn't make a basket. As usual, it's enough for me to remember to put on clothes when I'm trying to get out the door in time to be at church enough before 7:30 a.m. to put on my choir robe. So, of course, I forgot about the lovely corsage Chuck had so thoughtfully gotten for me. Maybe I should tell him to put the flower money in the offering plate from now on. That would avoid Flower Guilt, anyway.

I've had pretty much of nothing to talk about lately. I'm really stuck in a rut of going to work, coming home, eating dinner, washing dishes, going to bed.......just to start the whole sequence again the next day. Today there has been a variation! Chuck decided he needed to use up some eggs and leftover ham, so he made omelets for breakfast. I'll have to make more of an effort to take notice of what's going on around me. I'll report back later.

In the meantime, if you want to know what the rest of the blogging world is talking about, pop on over to Metapop (link via Fred).

I had to stay late at work yesterday, but only until about quarter of six this time, rather than 10:00 p.m. like last month. We were able to have Lana, one of the programmers, run a certain utility early in the day, rather than waiting for it to be done automatically at 6:00 p.m., and that made all the difference.

First it was Dutch elm disease, then the Asian longhorned beetle. Yesterday Rich, my neighbor who is a marine biologist in charge of Lake Michigan, told me about the emerald ash borer. I hope they can get it under control before it does too much damage.

This brings to mind the apricot tree we had in our backyard in Texas. It died, and I didn't know why. My neighbor there informed me that it was "fruit borers" and I could have saved the tree if I had sprayed it. Who knew? Certainly not me.

How to Get Fired We got a new temp in our department this week. Here are the things the old one did to get herself canned:

1. Walked around talking to people instead of sitting at her desk doing her work
2. Had long phone conversations with her friends instead of doing her work (and her cube was right next to the boss's office)
3. Fell asleep at her desk instead of doing her work
4. Ignored verbal warnings from the boss and continued the above substitutes for work

She kept saying she wanted to be hired full time, but sabatoged any chance of that even if there were not a hiring freeze on. She's young. I hope she learns.

I just spoke to my daughter-in-law, Donna, in Germany. She doesn't have an exact date yet for when Will is getting back there to the family, but thinks it may be around the beginning of May. She said that he was among the first group of Army personnel to go into the Baghdad Airport after the Marines had secured it. She said that it was a lot more than he was ready for and he is changing his plans to make the Army his career. She thinks he's still in Iraq, but may be moved back to Kuwait by mid-week. Very good news.

HOORAY! We finally heard from Will. It was just a short e-mail saying he is fine and will be home (back in Germany) soon, but it was so wonderful to have that much communication from him. What a wonderful Easter present!

I just got back from my annual mammogram. My mammogram technician is a 10-year breast cancer survivor, and has found her mission in life. She wanted to make absolutely sure of getting an accurate picture, which means LOTS of compression. This is the most painful one I remember having, but I suppose it's like birthdays. If one considers the alternative, one never complains about them. After the x-ray, I treated myself to a Belgian waffle smothered in strawberries, bananas and whipped cream at Tre Kroner

It was another beautiful, warm day today. A little too warm where I work, since the air conditioning was not functioning. We sweated in the still air in our little gray cubicles. Finally, our "facilities engineer" found us some fans to move some of the air, and the people from the Human Resource department passed out popsicles. I got a sky-blue one.

Chuck and Ben are off this week from work and school, respectively, and they spent the afternoon at the "friendly confines" of Wrigley Field watching the Cubs win. They got to see Sammy Sosa hit another home run, and I've already forgotten what else Chuck told me, but anyway they had a great time. They arrived home about the same time I came home from work, and I waved to them when I saw them getting off the bus at the end of our block. Public transportation is the best way to go. No parking worries, and you can't get much more convenient than having the bus stop three doors away.

We set a record here in Chicago today. The temperature got up to 85 degrees F. The previous record for this date of 83 or 84 was set in 1941. It's very low humidity today, too, which is unusual for this area, so close to Lake Michigan. It's a day that draws people outside like a magnet. I took a walk with a friend of mine at lunchtime, someone who doesn't usually enjoy walking, but we went much further than originally planned. I hope we have a few more days like this. It somehow doesn't seem like exercise when it's so pleasant.

The down side is my seasonal allergies. I was out of Claritin, so I had the itchy eyes, sneezes, etc. when I came back in. I went to WalMart after work and got my "fix". I wonder how it mixes with wine? Well, I guess I'll find out.

When I got in the car yesterday, I heard a song on WFMT that I recognized. I hadn’t heard it announced, and I had to dig back in my memory a bit to remember why I knew it. It was one of Franz Schubert’s “Songs Without Words” , but this particular one I remember from an arrangement that had words.

I was a member of Polyhymnia, a women’s chorus at Elmhurst College in 1969. Polyhymnia ("Poly") was named for one of the nine muses, and the chorus performed all their music from memory, most of it a cappella. It was Mrs. Viola Repp’s last year as our director before retirement, and we were preparing music for our last concert under her direction.

When we first started rehearsing “To Music” by Franz Schubert, everyone hated it. We couldn’t get a sense of how it was supposed to sound, and it seemed like nothing but a cacophony of strange, unrelated notes. We were on the point of rebellion regarding this piece, but Mrs. Repp would not be swayed. “This is my last year and my last concert, and you will sing this piece.”

There was nothing to do but dig in and learn it. Each section leader scheduled extra (required) sectional rehearsals outside of the regular five-day-a-week rehearsal time. As we mastered the notes, the dynamics began to fall into place and give the song shape. By the time we really had it, the piece had become one of our favorites.

Thou lovely art, how often in dark hours,
when life's tumult wraps me round,
have you kindled my heart to loving warmth,
transported me to a better world.

I got busted by the water police while at the Symphony last night. I had changed purses because my large black purse was big enough to accomodate a water bottle. Since I have a cold (feeling much better today, thanks), keeping my throat moist is absolutely necessary in order to avoid choking, coughing, and otherwise annoying other music lovers. I am normally very discreet about taking the occasional sip, and I never make any noise. However, during intermission we were standing up at our seats and Chuck was engaged in conversation with the gentleman seated behind us. As usual, I was just listening. I absent-mindedly took a swallow of water while standing up, facing backwards towards the lobby, in full view of Brünnhilde the Usher. She yelled "Ma'am!" twice before I realized that I was the object of her wrath. "Ma'am! You have to drink your bottled water out in the lobby!" I just said, "Sorry," and put the bottle back in my purse. I guess she didn't feel like making too much of an issue of it. Or maybe she didn't think she could manage the trek down to my row to drag me out.

We sit in the nosebleed seats, and one needs oxygen and climbing equipment in order to navigate the steep angle from the top row of the gallery down to Row E, where we sit. Which is why we stand at our seats during intermission rather than going out to the lobby. We've been sitting in these same seats since the 1996 season, and once we get there, the seats are just fine. I've finally gotten used to the sound of the orchestra being a bit behind the beat of the conductor. Light travels faster than sound, you know.

In September of last year, we did have the opportunity to hear the orchestra from a different perspective

Chuck carried some old doors that had been taking up space in the garage out to the front of the house for the garbage men to pick up yesterday. He claims that was my anniversary present. What a guy.

The Symphony was great. It's hard to bead Beethoven and Schumann. Even the modern piece they played in the beginning wasn't too bad.

It's been a really quick week. Finished our taxes on Friday evening, and my honesty in reporting Chuck's extra income resulted in us having to pay $40.00. Then after mailing them on Saturday, I got a statement from the life insurance company showing interest earned, which was not included. Too bad. I should have gotten that form at the end of January.

The Spaghetti Supper and Nickel Social was Saturday evening, and as usual ticket #1111 got lots of loot. No, it's not fixed. We buy a $100.00 package of 5-cent tickets every year, so we're bound to win something. One unusual thing was a "Quasar" pen, a ball point pen with a clear barrel that constantly changes colors as you write.

The rest of the week has been pretty typical. LCC rehearsal Monday, tap & jazz class Tuesday, Cabinet Meeting Wednesday, and tonight we go to the symphony. And I'm fighting a cold. Hopefully winning.

Today is our 32nd wedding anniversary. Chuck hasn't said anything about it yet.

Well, it's April. Time to do the taxes. I'm almost finished with the Federal, and at this point it looks like we'll get about $200.00 back. But I have to go back and put in an item of income I forgot about. Chuck gets a small monthly stipend from the church for directing the choir, and since he didn't get a 1099 for it, I forgot until he reminded me. Oh, yes, and I have to call the life insurance company today, because I didn't get a 1099-INT from them. I wonder if those two items are going to wipe out our refund?

It turned out I didn't have to make a decision, as it was made for me. I neither danced nor sang. I worked until 10:00 p.m. last night. George decided he wanted us to process another $200,000.00 in Journal Billing claims for the month of March, the last day of which was yesterday.

Today's big decision is whether to sing or dance tonight. My Tuesday night Tap & Jazz class has been moved to Monday night for this week only, the same night as Lutheran Choir of Chicago rehearsal. On the one hand, it's easier for me to learn to sing something than it is for me to learn a dance step. On the other hand, we can only have two absences from the rehearsals for this next concert, and I've already used up one the week I went to Martinique.

Wouldn't it be wonderful if all decisions were this inconsequential?

A nice young man from College Works Painting came by today to give us an estimate on the much-needed painting that needs to be done on the outside of the house. I had been considering getting aluminum soffit and fascia, but I really don't want to lose the scrollwork that gives our house character, so I'm going to go with painting it. He promised they would do a good job of the prep work, something that was lacking on the last paint job we had done. They will scrape, sand, and prime. And they will put on two coats of paint. Now all I have to do is figure out how to pay for it. Maybe I should do my taxes and see if I'm getting anything back this year.

Everything is relative. After spending several hours sorting, folding and hanging piles of clothing at the Rummage Sale yesterday, my own laundry doesn't seem like such an insurmountable task.

This is getting more and more expensive. The gas valve on the furnace is leaking and must be replaced, and also the circuit board. Well, the furnace is 17 years old and hasn't been looked at, as far as I know, in ten years, so I suppose it is due.

This reminds me of the skydiver joke. A guy jumps out of an airplane, and his chute won't open. As he's wondering what to do, he sees a guy coming up towards him. He yells, "Hey, do you know anything about parachutes?" The other guy yells, "No! Do you know anything about gas furnaces?"

Well, the guy was right on time, and already it's going to cost about $200.00 to replace some parts in the air conditioner. Oh, well, better to find out now than on the first 95 degree day.

It's a good thing I was home today, because Ziggy came by. Ziggy works for the company that replaced our driveway and sidewalks last year, and we had agreed last fall that he would do a small side job for us when he got a chance. He is Polish, and his English is very broken and hard to understand, so we communicate with a lot of gestures. He is very pleasant, though. He's going to start the job on Monday.

The dentist wasn't too bad yesterday. The whole process took about 20 minutes, most of which was spent waiting for the novacaine to take effect. In an effort to make sure I don't procrastinate for six years again, I made an appointment for September. Then I got to come home and try to eat take-out Chinese with one side of my face numb.

I'm taking a day off from work today, because the heating/air-conditioning guy is going to do a tune-up on our furnace and A/C, and then I might go and help Joanie with the Rummage Sale for awhile. This will be my first time doing that.

It looks like I'll be singing in the Good Friday service at Norwood Park Lutheran Church again this year. Their choir director called me the other night and said they were "buying sopranos". I didn't tell her I'd be glad to do it for free, because a little extra cash is always welcome.

Yesterday's mail brought Douglas's first issue of The Echo, our church newsletter. I had been publishing it for the last two years, and I'm really glad someone came forward to take it off my hands. Doug did a great job, and he seems to enjoy doing it.

I have a dentist appointment after work to take care of a cavity found two weeks ago at my first dental appointment in six years. I was really nervous after putting it off so long, and having to start with a new dentist. But he actually complimented me on the care I've been taking of my teeth without professional assistance. The cleaning wasn't so bad, but not nearly as much fun as when I used to get nitrous oxide. This guy is a real comedian. He said he was 28 years old. I said I didn't know how old he was, but he was older than 28. He said, "I have some very sharp instruments that I'm getting ready to put in your mouth. Now, how old do I look?"

I'm not sure a lot of people understand what war means. No, I haven't heard anything from my son. He is not in anyplace where he can communicate. In the unlikely event that he gets to a telephone, he wouldn't call me, he would call Donna, which is as it should be. If I haven't seen him on television or gotten a phone call to the contrary, I must assume he is ok. Certainly I must, for my own sanity.

Everybody is extremely nice to me. Loretta makes a point of coming to my desk every day to ask how I'm doing, and even George, Loretta's boss, checks up on me now and then. Last night at LCC rehearsal, Floyd told Lois about Will being over there somewhere, and Will was in our closing prayer.

I just spoke to Donna, my daughter-in-law, in Germany. She says she heard from Will about three weeks ago. She and the girls are doing fine. She impresses me with how level-headed she is. She doesn't turn on the television, which is just as well, because German television broadcast footage of our soldiers being shot in the head. She doesn't listen to what the other wives have to say. If she doesn't hear it from someone in uniform, she doesn't believe it. There are frequent meetings to keep the families informed, and she told me that if I hear anything that I think might have involved Will I should call and not worry about what time it is there, because the families would have already been told what happened and who it involved.

Friday night I ordered a service banner to display in our window to show that we have a loved one serving in the armed forces. We also ordered lapel pins. Chuck got the plain service flag pin, and I got the one that shows the American flag as well.

I had to work Saturday. It was a pretty boring thing to do on a beautiful Saturday, but all that time-and-a-half will be nice in my next paycheck.

Sunday was the Soup Luncheon at church after services. Someone please remind me to stick with the chicken soup next year and not put butter on the bread. I was miserable all afternoon. But at least I did get to take my first walk in the woods of the year. Jim and I went, and I took along the wide-angle binoculars he gave me for Christmas. They aren't as powerful as his, but I'm better able to actually spot what I want to look at. We saw a few cardinals and a song-sparrow.

Chuck made a great beef roast for dinner, and then we watched the Oscars. I was pleased that there were not a lot of political speeches and people seemed to confine their remarks to something like "let's pray for peace."

Back in October I mentioned that I got some bad news in a 3:00 a.m. phone call. My husband instructed me NOT to talk about it on the Internet, and I have complied. But now that prohibition has been lifted. My son Will has been in Kuwait since October, and we haven't heard from him since Christmas.

Oh, joy. I just sat through an hour of "harassment in the workplace" training. I really resent being required to be trained in courtesy and common sense.

I exercised amazing restraint at the Scout Auction yesterday. My portion of our bill was only 13.00-----10.00 for a set of very pretty etched wineglasses and 3.00 for a 50's style formica "boomerang" table for the basement. It's called that because of its shape.

Chuck was allowed to place the winning bid on the ceramic puma (see my description of the auction of a year ago for an explanation). This year it brought $510.00.

Well, it's official! I've been blogging for one year as of yesterday!

Someone at the Church Cabinet meeting last night asked if the newsletter could come out on a more regular basis. A legitimate question, I suppose, but it really upset me. First of all, publishing the newsletter isn't in the job description of the Church Clerk, and I never would have agreed to be Church Clerk if I had thought it were. I have, however, ended up doing the newsletter anyway for the last three years because our church secretary is computer-phobic. In most other churches I know of, it is the paid church secretary, not the volunteer Church Clerk who is responsible for publishing the newsletter.

In response to the question, I said that nobody had given me anything to put in the newsletter. Granted, there are lots of events coming up in the near future of which I am fully aware. But why should I have to compose all the articles in addition to putting the thing together? I said I was really ready to give the job up.

At that point one of the newer members of the church, a high school student who is really into computers, volunteered to take on the responsibility. What a load off my shoulders. I hope he meets with a little more cooperation than I have.

Boy, time sure flies. So, what have I been doing for the last week? Saturday, March 1 we hosted a "Christmas Party" for Lutheran Choir of Chicago. (Nobody had any time around Christmas, they finally settled on a date that was before the beginning of Lent, and when they needed a place to have it Chuck volunteered our house). The house was in pretty good shape, thanks to the FLYLady system that I've been using ever since Chuck made me fire the cleaning service. But it's still amazing how much time I can spend nit-picking to make it look just a little better. And really, by the time you get so many people in the house nobody notices anyway. It turned out to be a pretty good party, but not as many of the new people showed up as we had hoped.

Sunday, March 2 was the first day for our new minister at church. Of course there was an extended coffee hour that included extra snacks like chicken nuggets, mini egg-rolls, veggie tray, etc. It seems that eating is what our church does best. It is nice to have a permanent full-time minister again, after 2-1/2 years.

Things have been pretty uneventful at work, except for the error I found in our chargeback letters. Even after all the testing and checking they did before the new system was implemented, they missed the fact that the line on the chargeback letter that should read "Quantity not Satisfied" actually read "Quality not Satisfied". I e-mailed the pertinent people, and pointed out that while we may indeed have some quality issues, that is the responsibility of another department. That error was fixed the same day I pointed it out.

I've been working on the pictures from my vacation in Martinique, making a sort of scrapbook in Adobe PageMaker. Since I now have a digital camera and didn't have to worry about the cost of film and developing, I took a lot of pictures. And surprisingly, there aren't that many throw-aways. I'll eventually find a way to share some of them with my vast readership. I've been having trouble uploading them to my aol homepage, and I haven't gotten around to upgrading to the Blogger service that gives you space for that sort of thing.

As I mentioned before, Henry does the cooking. Actually, he is something of a gourmet cook. He is very much like Chuck in that the better the meal, the more dishes there are to wash later. After a wonderful meal of fresh tuna with a Creole sauce, Henry suggested that Jim and I could use the dishwasher for whatever dishes it would hold, rather than wash all of them by hand. He had used it last year, but not yet this year. We loaded the dishwasher, hand-washed what didn’t fit in it, and started it up. While we were having our after-dinner drink of St. James rum, the lights went out. We re-set the circuit breaker, and the lights went out again. We determined that the culprit was the dishwasher, so we un-loaded it and washed the dishes by hand.

The next morning Jim and I accompanied Henry on a trip to the produce market and the Carrefours Supermarket (like the Jewel-Osco here, but with wider aisles). Marty decided to stay home and work on her book, and while we were gone M. Andre, the landlord, paid a visit. Marty explained that the dishwasher was mort, and M .Andre decided that the best thing would be to let it finish its cycle. Since there were no lights on in the lower part of the house, turning the machine on didn’t trip the circuit breaker. So, the dishwasher was running, M. Andre left, and Marty went back upstairs to work.

When we returned from our shopping expedition, the entire first floor of the house was flooded. Marty, of course, had no idea this was happening, and was extremely apologetic. The four of us got to work with squeegees, brooms, and mops. Jim and Henry dragged the sopping area rug out of the livingroom and placed it over two benches to dry under the overhang of the patio.

It was a short-lived disaster. Once the water was pushed out of the house, Henry made a lovely plate of crudités (including avocado wedges and some shredded papaya---unripe papaya is used in salads), and after lunch we took off for the beach and more snorkeling

I was disappointed in the fruit at the supermarket today. The apples were soft, the pears were hard, and the bananas were green. It was such a contrast to Martinique, where one goes to the open-air market every day for perfectly ripe fresh produce. Henry does the cooking in his and Marty’s household, as Chuck does in ours. Every day while I was there he fixed a healthy breakfast consisting of a banana, a wedge of melon and pineapple, whole grain toast, and café au lait. Also at each person’s place was a four-ounce container of Dannon Natural, plain yogurt—no fruit. I can’t find those little containers anywhere here.

I spotted it first below a collapsed fish trap. I raised my head to see who was closest, and I got Marty’s attention. “Turtle!” I said, and pointed downward. She glided over to where I was and we both put our faces back down into the warm water and watched the sea turtle swim out from under the trap only to hide in a crevice beneath a rock.

This was my sixth snorkeling foray that week, and the second that day. I had heard from Jim how much Marty and Henry loved to snorkel, and I remembered with some trepidation my only attempt at it on the cruise we took in 2000. We were on an excursion from St. Thomas to Trunk Bay on St. John, a truly beautiful beach. I was ready to try snorkeling, I really was. But then there were all these cautions—“Don’t touch the yellow discolorations on the rocks…..once you’re out there, don’t stand up….”. And I was required to wear a flotation device which didn’t seem to want to inflate properly. I had my own snorkel and mask, but didn’t really know how to use them, and I paid to rent some ill-fitting fins, which I had trouble getting on my feet. I finally gave up and told my companions to go on. I stayed near the shore and just enjoyed splashing around in the water, wondering what I was missing. Well, now I know.

Marty is Jim’s sister, and she and her husband Henry live in southwest France. Jim and I visited them there in October of 2001 (don’t bother searching the archives for an account of the trip---this blog didn’t begin until March of 2002). In France they live in a 200 year old stone cottage heated only by a wood-burning stove, so in the winter they go to Martinique. Henry is a retired farmer from California, and Marty has a PHD in Sociology, but her real talent is for writing romance novels. She hasn’t been published yet, but I’m sure that once the first novel is published she’ll have no trouble selling whatever she submits. I have had the privilege of reading two of Marty’s manuscripts and a few chapters of the book she is working on now.

I was determined that I was not going to chicken out at snorkeling like I did on my first attempt. The three-bedroom gite that Marty and Henry rent every year has an above-ground swimming pool. The day we arrived, I had time to practice in the pool. Breathing with one’s face in the water is really an unnatural act, and it takes a little while to get used to. That practice session really helped, as did the planter’s punch Henry served, because the next day when we went snorkeling for real I was able to keep up with everyone else, and a whole new world was open for me to see.

It sure seems cold here after spending a week in Martinique where the temperature never drops below 65. And what's that white stuff on the ground here?

So, where, at my mature age, do these maternal feelings come from? Ben mentioned that his pants were torn and had some holes, and I immediately took him out and bought him a pair of shoes, two pair of jeans, and a pair of dress pants. Because he is an "almost" adult, he is now wondering how to pay me back out of his meager part-time paycheck. I told him not to worry. That's why he gives us a set amount each week, so when he needs something it won't be a hardship for us to provide it.

I really like having Ben here. I was sort of cheated out of enjoying the fruits of my labors with Will, since he decided at a very young age that he had to "get on with his life", so he dropped out of school, got a job, and lived on his own. By the time he realized he needed to be responsible in order to get along in the world, he was being responsible for someone else. That's ok. I'll get it back from him later. When I'm 95, I'll probably make his life hell. He'll never know where I am, because I'll forget to tell him I decided to go somewhere for the day. I won't answer my phone if I don't feel like talking to anybody and he'll think I've fallen and I can't get up. Of course, by that time I'll probably be having my great-grandchildren living with me.

Two Things That Weren't My Fault (entirely)

Sunday Chuck and I sang in a Lutheran Choir of Chicago concert in Crystal Lake, IL. It was a really good program which included some spirituals, some Baroque music and some more modern things. A good portion of the program was music we were familiar with, but there were a few new things. But of all the things we could worry about, our signature song, Beautiful Savior arranged by F. Melius Christiansen, was the last thing anyone would think could go wrong. But it did. Embarassingly so. I was afraid it was my fault, because this is my first concert singing first soprano instead of second. When I heard the pitch, I tried to find my beginning note and failed miserably. Unfortunately, so did the rest of the first sopranos. We were at a loss for almost the entire first page of the piece. This is a song we know well, and have done at almost every concert for the 55 plus years we have been in existance. After the concert, as we were changing out of our choir robes, our director asked all the first sopranos to raise their hands. I thought, we're in for it now. Then he said, "It wasn't your fault. We were given the wrong starting pitch."

The other thing was at work today. I'm still being trained for my job, and don't really know enough about it to recognize a wrong instruction. It's just lucky I had to ask a question about something, or Sheila would never have realized that what she told me originally was wrong. I spent the whole day going over and correcting work I had done on Friday. But I think I'll always remember which figure to use in this particular computation.

Well, my company, at least my part of the company, is up and running on the new system. It was pretty smooth, compared with some conversions I've been through. The major problem was that nobody could print anything at first on Monday morning, but that was sorted out by the afternoon. Other sections of the company are due to convert to this system in August. There will probably be a major reorganization then because instead of being several small companies dealing with the same customers separately, we will be one big happy family.

As a result of the conversion Frank was permanently laid off. His job became, as the British say, "redundant". His main duty had been to print and distribute large reports. With the new system, everyone will be doing their own reports at their own location. I'll miss him, even though I didn't usually have much contact with him. He was kind of a gloomy guy, and I used to tease him by calling him "Mr. Sunshine". Before she died, Frank's wife worked in the same beauty shop I go to, and Julie, my beauty operator, says that Pam taught her a lot of what she knows about doing hair. Frank will be ok, though. He still has money from a large settlement he got when Pam was hit by a car. She did recover from the injuries she received in that accident, but later succumbed to cancer.

Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. ----Albert Einstien

No matter how many times we watch it, the result will be the same.

I managed to get through the blood test without passing out from malnutrition. But I was beginning to wonder if I actually had any blood. The doctor stuck me in both hands, and was unsuccessful each time. I was too cold, and all my veins were constricted. He brought me a warm blanket and made me sit there wrapped up in it for about ten minutes, and he finally managed to get the blood out of my arm.

I guess it was worth it, though. Here are my numbers: Total Cholesterol: 183 (should be below 200); Triglycerides: 62 (should be below 150); HDL: 66 (should be more than 39); LDL: 105 (should be less than 130); Cholesterol/HDL Ratio: 2.8 (should be less than 4.4)

Gotta go for a blood test today, which means no coffee or food until after. I'm starving. How will I ever make it to 10:00 a.m.?

If winter is here, can spring be far behind?

I stayed home from work yesterday. I’m not sure what it was I ate Sunday evening that disagreed with me, chicken hot wings, shrimp, sloppy joes, chips ‘n’ dip, wheat thins and Price’s spread, or the combination of all of the above. Anyway, since my desk at work is about a mile away from the bathrooms, I deemed it prudent to stay home.

My enjoyment of Oprah, who was talking with the author of “What Should I Do With My Life?”, was interrupted by Peter Jennings and a Special Report. I got to listen to Mr. Blix give his report on the UN weapons inspections in Iraq. In general, I got the feeling there was less cooperation than there should have been, but Mr. Blix was tap-dancing around the issue a bit. I guess he didn’t want to be the one to say plainly that the Iraqis are lying and hiding weapons of mass destruction. One must think of one’s place in history.

Speaking of tap-dancing, I think I’ll skip dance class tonight. The weather report calls for rain, sleet, snow, and falling temperatures. It will be a good night to stay home and watch President Bush’s State of the Union Address.

Overheard last week: "Bob says he doesn't read the newspaper. I would be so embarassed to say that."

I knew it was none of my business, but I felt the need to defend myself, as well as Bob, so I turned around and said, "I don't read the paper, either."

Maybe that's not entirely accurate. I sometimes read selected parts of the Chicago Tribune. We used to have the paper delivered seven days a week, until I started to feel guilty about all those dead trees, not to mention my aching back from lifting the heavy bag of recycleable paper high enough to deposit it in the trash bin. I really wasn't reading the paper. I decided to compromise and take the paper three days a week: Wednesday (for the food ads and Good Eating section), Friday (for the movie and theatre listings in case I decide to do something fun on the weekend), and Sunday (for the Arts and Entertainment section, the Book section, the crossword puzzle in the Chicago Tribune Magazine, and just in case I have a truly lazy Sunday and have the leisure to browse other sections).

I'm sure I went way down in the estimation of the woman who made the comment, but I'll just have to live with my shame. To put it into perspective, the woman who said anyone who admitted to not reading the paper should be embarassed does not work and, as far as I know, is not part of any organizations outside of the church choir and The Guild, a group at the church that meets once a month and holds two rummage sales and a Holiday Bazaar each year. She lives with her daughter, who does the work of maintaining her home. She just may have the time to read the newspaper every day.

I work 40 hours per week, sing with Lutheran Choir of Chicago, take a Tap & Jazz class on Tuesday evenings, hold the position of Church Clerk, edit and publish the church newsletter, attend 10 Chicago Symphony concerts per season, perform in one play per year with Trinity Players, and keep the house clean and the laundry done. And, oh, yes.....I blog. Just what gives this woman the right to act so superior? And why does it even matter to me what she or anyone else thinks of me for admitting to not reading the paper? Well, it really doesn't matter, but it did give me something to write about.

Why do I blog? About a year ago I started getting interested in trying to do some creative writing. In hopes of becoming inspired, I started frequenting Soul Food Cafe where I learned about Blogger. One day when I was home from work waiting all day for a new water heater to be installed (with w-a-a-a-y-y-y too much time on my hands), I decided to go to Blogspot and create my own blog. While I can't say I've written any stories or very many poems in the last year, I have managed to post to my weblog on a regular basis. At least I'm writing something, even if it isn't very much. And I've learned a little about html and some other geeky things. And my children, who are now scattered to the four corners of the universe, are able to follow my antics in some semblance of "real time". I don't have a large readership, but there are a few folks who do stop by on a regular basis. Most of them are half a world away, but I'm beginning to feel as though I am a part of their lives, as they are a part of mine. I may have mentioned this before, but I will say again that this is the longest I have maintained a personal journal. That, in itself, is reason enough for me to continue.

I've always suspected that chocolate was necessary for life. Now it's been clinically proven. Chocolate is good for you.

He and I were born on the same day of the year, January 15, even if his day is being celebrated today. Live the Dream

I remember typewriters. Manual ones that required a good deal of pressure to get a clear letter from each strike. The kind that had a bell signaling five spaces from the right-hand margin and a large silver lever for the carriage return. That’s the kind of typewriter I practiced on when I was learning to type when I was 12 years old. I learned to type by taking a book out of the library and repeating, repeating, repeating the exercises. It really does work, just the way it says it will in the book. I’m not sure what my speed is right now, but it’s always been adequate for any job I’ve had.

I’ve been through white-out, electric typewriters with correction ribbon, word processors, and several generations of computers.

I’m just really thankful right now for my computer. I have a very important letter on which I have had to make some minor changes. It’s only a two page letter, but it’s pretty much solid words for most of it. I am so very happy to be able to have made these changes quickly and easily. I remember all too well the day when I would have had to re-type the entire thing.

I’m really happy to be finally sending this Letter of Call for our church’s new pastor.

Today was the church Annual Meeting, and I'm so glad it's over. I curled up in a ball for about an hour after I got home. It isn't that there was anything really controversial at the meeting. It was all pretty routine. I just hate being up in front of the entire congregation acting official, like I really know what I'm doing. I'm sure I'll be found out someday, but it hasn't happened in the last four years. Maybe everyone else is just as clueless as I am.

My A: drive has ceased to function, which sent me out to CompUSA yesterday to scout out the possibility of purchasing a new computer. When I came home, thoroughly confused, I went the the Compaq website and "built" my dream computer. Only $2,700.00. Of course, if I also get the full Adobe Publishing package that will boost it up by another thousand. If you're going to dream, dream big. I suppose I should take this little laptop back to the store and see if they can replace the A: drive. I'm sure it would be cheaper, but not nearly as much fun.

Scratch that about having to work tomorrow. Business is bad and overtime is a thing of the past. At least until the next crisis. I wonder what will happen when the new system goes up on 2/2?

Happy birthday to me! Today I'm 53. No HUGE fanfare today. Chuck put flowers on the altar at church on Sunday in honor of my birthday, and he got me (actually us) the complete DVD set of Sports Night, all two seasons, a show that fell victim to poor placement and low intelligence on the part of the viewing audience. When it was on, it was the only show I watched, as West Wing is the only one I watch now. I was constantly amazed by the witty banter, and wished I could think half that fast.

Chuck is preparing a delicious "surf 'n' turf" dinner, even as I write. My friend and lunch partner at work, Sue, gave me a lovely butterfly pin (I have more than a dozen), and we're going out to lunch tomorrow. My friend Dawn, another co-worker, will take me out to lunch next week. Hmmm---let's see how long I can stretch this out. Amazingly enough, we don't have any plans for the weekend (other than me working on Saturday and the Congregational Meeting after church on Sunday). I wonder if we could go out to dinner Saturday evening....

I had a dream last night that Will called and said, "Hi, Mom!" That's all. No further conversation. Was he just letting me know he's fine? I hope so. Will, if you get a chance to read this, leave a comment, please. Love you. Mom.

Yesterday in the mail I got a package containing a VHS of the movie Stray Dogs. A few years ago I was in Trinity Players' production of The Secret Garden, and the young man who played the role of Colin in that show is an aspiring actor. He was in a production of the stageplay Stray Dogs, and his mother bought the rights to the stageplay and decided to produce a film of it with Zach as the little boy in the story. I invested in the production at the lowest possible level, fully aware of the fact that I may never again see my principle, let alone any profits. I did, however, get screen credit as one of the investors.

If anyone is interested in this film, or in helping me at least break even on my investment, the film is available here.

Today was a very good day. Our church called a new minister at a congregational meeting today. We met him at a "meet and greet" party last night at Don & Cor's house. I think he'll be a good leader for our church.

After a very busy week, we were finally able to take down our (live) tree today, and guess what? I've been very faithful about watering it, and it hadn't dropped very many needles, and as were were un-decorating it, I noticed that some of the branches had NEW GROWTH!

Ben went to his first school dance this evening. It's the Homecoming Dance. Since the school doesn't have a football team, there was no need to hold Homecoming in the fall. I don't suppose there will be many alumni there, since it's a new school and there's only been one graduating class so far. He called about 11:00 pm to say he'd be later than he originally said, but he spoke to Chuck, and I don't know what time he said he'd be home. I really should go to bed. I'm sure he'll get home fine.

Now it's time to play catch-up.

Saturday was the church choir party at our house. We had Cheryl from our church cater it, and there were about 30 people there, I think. I always say I'll take a count at the next party, and then I never do. I'm glad the house was in decent shape, because I really didn't have time to clean. I was busy working on The Echo (church newsletter). I decided I wanted a color picture on the first page, so I was printing 225 copies when guests started arriving. I was printing them 25 at a time until I ran out of ink in the black cartridge at about number 175. So after everybody left I ran out to WalMart and bought one. I was able to drop the newsletter off in the church office on Sunday for Joanie to duplicate the rest of the pages, collate, and mail. I'm always so glad when that job is done.

Sunday I avoided a Ways & Means Committee budget meeting because I took Ben to Navy Pier to the Shakespeare Theater to see Julius Ceasar. (He needs to see some live plays for his drama class. Oh, the sacrifices I make! LOL). I had never seen that play performed, and I had never been in that theatre. The theatre is patterned after The Globe (what's that? asked my daughter. Oh the joys of a small town high school education), with three levels and a stage that comes out pretty far into the audience. They used modern costume for the play, and it translated very well. A few of the male characters (senators) were cast as women. I liked that. I guess people haven't changed much in all these years.

I spent Monday evening while Chuck was at a board meeting for LCC (he's Treasurer this year) writing the minutes from last year's Annual Meeting of the church. (How do you spell procrastinator?) The meeting this year will be on Jan. 19. Fortunately, I took pretty good notes at last year's meeting, because I brought my notebook computer with and just typed my little heart out during the meeting. Kept me out of trouble. I just had to sort of get the words into some sort of into shape that looked like minutes.

But, of course, I wasn't finished. I still had to do the Church Clerk's Report and re-type some handwritten reports other folks had given me, and do the minutes from the December Cabinet meeting, because we had a meeting to approve the budget on Wednesday. (I ended up going home at lunch to finish the minutes and copied them at work) Oh, and let's not forget about the hour I spent being a klutz at dance class on Tuesday evening. I can't believe this isn't still December. It sure feels like it. And there's more to come. I really MUST take down the Christmas decorations on Saturday in those few unscheduled minutes.

Oh, no! I just heard that Bob K., one of the programmers here at work broke his leg yesterday. Of course, I feel bad for him, but there seems to be a lot of concern here for the work he's involved in as well as for him personally. He is one of the key people in the "one system" project, a computer system conversion which is due to go live in about 20 working days. Someone said, "Well, we'll just have to hire a limo to pick him up and drive him to work."

In my opinion, no one person in an organization should be so important that they can't take time off for an emergency. That is why I feel that Loraine did a disservice to the church by being Church Clerk for 55 years, as well as organist, publisher of The Echo, budget developer, and so many other things. I took the Church Clerk job from her in 1999 a few months before her death, and other jobs that she did have been slowly finding their proper homes in various committees or boards, simply because I said no to doing those jobs, that according to the church constitution, that was not part of the Clerk's job. I also told the nominating committe that I would accept the job for this year and next, but then they would have to find someone else to do it. I hope that with the new minister we will have some real leadership.

I've been very busy lately, and it doesn't look like it'll let up for awhile. We picked Ben up from work Wednesday evening and went to Rick and Lynn's in Itasca for a New Year's party. Chuck made hot wings, and we also brought herring (a Norwegian custom -- eat herring at midnight on New Year's Eve for good luck in the coming year). I was a good girl and didn't have TOO much of the delicious fruit punch which had "just enough" rum in it.

I spent New Year's Day working on The Echo (church newsletter) and other church business. I mailed out a letter to the congregation informing them that Rev. Ralph Cook, the Pastoral Succession Committee's candidate will be preaching on Jan. 12, followed by a meeting to vote to call him as our full time minister. This has been such a long process.

Tonight I'll finish (hopefully) The Echo. I really wish we had a church secretary who was computer literate and who would do this as part of her (paid) job, which is the case in most other churches I know. I'm getting really tired of trying to do this for free and work full time, plus all my other activities. The Annual Meeting is fast approaching, too, and I'll have to get the minutes and reports ready.

Tomorrow morning I go to get my hair cut and highlighted, and tomorrow afternoon we're hosting the choir party at our house. I won't have time to do any heavy cleaning, so what they see is what they get. We'll make sure there's plenty of booze and nobody will care.

In case I don't get a chance to talk to you, HAPPY BIRTHDAY, WILL. How can my little baby boy be 25 already?

Ben is spending the night video-gaming at a friend's house (the name and number is posted on the front of the refrigerator under Chuck's favorite magnet - the one that says "Beer---it's not just for breakfast anymore"). Of course the mother in me made me ask if he remembered to take clean underwear. Old habits die hard.

I just finished reading Skipping Christmas by John Grisham. It's a quick read, and I recommend it to anyone in need of some refreshment this holiday season.

Even with all the changes going on (i.e. Diana, Rick and their kids moving to Arizona; Ben moving in with us; Will and Donna and their girls overseas--I've still only seen pictures of Heather), this has been a relatively stress-free Christmas. I started shopping very early and stuck to a sort of schedule of tasks so I didn't have too much to do at one time. There have been several years, however, when the idea of skipping the whole thing occured to me. Well, maybe not the whole thing.....

My birthday is coming up in January, and my drivers license was due to expire then. Last time I had to renew my license I was allowed to do it by mail, but this time I was required to do it in person. So I spent and hour at the DMV today. They said I was really lucky, that there were three times as many people there last week. (Who has time to go get a drivers license on the Saturday before Christmas?) It was actually pretty organized, and everyone there was courteous. It's nice to know that my vote for Jesse White was not misplaced. I agreed to be part of the organ donor program, a tribute to our former pastor who recently received a new kidney and a new lease on life. I had them put my real weight on this license. I hope someday to be able to revise it downward.

Chuck and I attended a wedding today. The bride was radiantly beautiful, not just from the bits of glitter in her hair and on her skin, but from the smile of someone who is deeply joyous and in love.

Congratulations, Bev and J.T.!

I have acheived the goal towards which I have been moving since the end of October. It was a very simple wish, really. I just didn't want to have anything I needed to buy or wrap on December 24. I've already told Chuck that any last minute presents he buys he will have to wrap himself. The house could use a little spiffing up here and there, but nothing major. I really appreciate the fact that my company gives us today as well as tomorrow off. After all the activity of recent weeks, I can use a truly relaxing day.

As always, we got a live tree, and it still needs a few finishing touches, a few more ornaments and some tinsel. Will used to go to the lot with Chuck to select our tree, but this year Ben had that honor. He chose a very nicely balanced balsam fir. My usual Tuesday evening dance class was on Monday this week, so we didn't have time to maintain our usual tradition of watching White Christmas while trimming the tree. Maybe we'll put it on later in the day when we hang the tinsel.

Monday evening I participated in Chicago's 27th "Do-It-Yourself Messiah", along with Chuck and Jim who were sitting in the bass section, I myself being a soprano. This took place at Chicago's Civic Opera House, which seats 3,500. Professional soloists perform the arias and solos. This year (and last) a countertenor did the alto solos. If you closed your eyes, you had no idea that it wasn't a woman singing. He also did "But Who May Abide" which is a baritone solo. Even though this was the ninth time I had done this (I have all the ticket folders pasted in my hardbound copy of the score) I still get a thrill to be part of such a large chorus. Yes, for those of you who aren't familiar with this, the audience sings all the choruses.

It’s been a non-stop week, typical for this time of year. Monday, Lutheran Choir of Chicago rehearsal; Tuesday, tap & jazz class (forgot my shoes), Wednesday, church Cabinet Meeting, Thursday, Symphony (Berlioz’s Requiem, with the full complement of the CSO Chorus – FANTASTIC!); Friday, LCC concert in Chicago; Saturday, after working for 5 hours early in the day, LCC concert in Evanston (my little solo went very well at both concerts, thank you very much); Sunday afternoon, I went to Floyd’s choral concert at Trinity; this evening (Monday), the big Do-It-Yourself Messiah at the Civic Opera House; tomorrow, I’m taking a vacation day.

Some reasons to celebrate for this past week:

Diana and the rest of the family made it safely to Arizona, in spite of the car breaking down in mid-journey and having to rent a car to finish the trip. They even have a mailing address now, so I was able to send their Christmas presents.

Ben took the DLAB and passed with a 98. He only needed a 95 to get the job of linguist that he wants in the Air Force. He’s a really smart guy.

I had fun singing the solo for the LCC concerts, and (in my opinion, at least) I did very well.

I have managed to print the mailing labels for my Christmas cards, and also return address labels that just happen to have the same picture as the special Christmas offering envelopes from my church. (Scanners are fun.)

I was extra klutzy at dance class tonight. I left the bag with my shoes in it at home right next to the door. Of course by the the time I got there it was too late to go back for them. It wasn't so bad for the jazz, but tap without tap shoes is very quiet, not to mention the difficulty of doing a "shuffle" in rubber-soled shoes.

I worked almost a full day on Saturday, something I haven't done in quite awhile. It looks like this may happen occasionally at this new desk. The extra cash will come in handy, especially at this time of the year (although, really, I'm almost done with the shopping), but I will have to rearrange my routines so I don't feel as though I've lost the whole weekend when I have to work a Saturday.

My new job is as a "Journal Billing Analyst". Some companies call this arrangement "rebates" and some call it "ship and debit". A company will buy product at list price and put it into their stock, but it may be earmarked for a particular job. Had they shipped the product directly to the job instead of into stock, they would have gotten a quoted price for that job. Eventually, when they ship it from their stock to the job, they submit the paperwork to us showing where they sold the product, and what their quoted price for that job should have been.

It is the job of the Journal Billing Analyst to make sure that the customer has actually purchased the product, compare the price at which they purchased it with the rebate they are asking, make sure there is a current quote in the system to cover it, make sure none of the product had already been returned for full credit, etc., etc., before issuing a final credit to the customer. A lot of this process is made easier by having a computer program in place that will make most of these comparisons. Of course, the data must be put into the system first. I will not be doing the data entry on a regular basis, although I have been doing some in the last few days, just to make sure I know how. So far the job doesn't seem too difficult, although I'm still at a very basic level and I don't have the whole picture yet. Parts of it just bore me to tears, specifically, manually checking pages and pages of other peoples' data input before releasing a credit. That was all I did the first day, and I thought, oh please just shoot me. But it got more interesting after that. Still, I guess I'll have to do a certain amount of that checking on a regular basis.

We did our first "parental" thing yesterday. We attended an open house at Ben's high school. Ben did a short skit and a recitation in German. It might seem like cheating for him to be taking German, but actually, when he came here at the age of 13, he hadn't been speaking German at home for a few years. I spoke with his teacher, and she said it was a good idea for him to keep it up. Later this week, Ben will take the DLAB for the Air Force. This is the test to see if he has the aptitude to be a linguist.

This will make buying a gift for me easier for everyone. Once I add something to it, that is.

The kids actually got on the road by about 9:30 a.m. yesterday morning. Somehow, I didn't think they'd be leaving at 5:00 a.m. as Rick said he was planning. They stopped for the night in Staunton, Illinois, a town not too far from St. Louis but on the Illinois side of the Mississippi. This was a wise move, as there was freezing rain in that area, and having lived there I can tell you that driving conditions can really be dangerous.

Diana called to tell me that Ben had forgotten his camera at the house, and I knew he still wanted to pick up a small tv he had left there, so I picked him up from work at 10:00 last night and I waited in the alley behind the empty house with my trunk open and blinkers on while he went in to get the tv. (He had already gotten his camera after school.) I felt like I was driving the getaway car for a robbery. Naturally, some car came up behind me while I was waiting, and I had to move. I was really irritated when I realized that it wasn't someone who lived on that block, but just someone who wanted to take a shortcut and avoid the main street. When I got to the end of the block I turned right and was immediately honked at by oncoming traffic on the side street, since I was going the wrong way down a one-way street. I ended up going quite a bit out of my way due to all the one-way streets in that area, but I finally got back to my station in the alley and Ben loaded his tv into the trunk.

So far so good. Ben rode his bike in the snow to our house after work and arrived here about 10:30 p.m. He's very polite and thankful for a place to stay. He has a half day of school today, and he plans on going to see Nemesis with some friends in the afternoon, but he actually asked permission. He asked what his chores would be and assured us he was more than willing to help out with anything we asked. After all he had to do taking care of the little ones at home, this is going to seem like a vacation to him. He set his alarm for 5:30 a.m., took his shower and was eating breakfast when I got up at 6:00. By the time I got out of the shower, he had already left. He's working until 10:00 again tonight. I have a feeling we won't be seeing a lot of him.

It's back to the real world again today. So what have I done this past week? Some Christmas shopping and wrapping, and got Ben's room ready. Most of what I cleared out of the closet in that room (two boxes and a large trash bag of clothing) is going to the church rummage sale. Much of it was as much as 15 years old, and it just made me feel bad to have it around. If I'm ever that size again, I will want new clothes anyway, to celebrate. Some stuff went in the garbage. Some is still sitting in my bedroom waiting to find a home. One thing I couldn't bear to give away was the nightgown and pegnoir set I wore on my wedding night. It's hot pink trimmed in cream colored lace. It has held up remarkably well for being almost 32 years old.

I managed to avoid doing ANY shopping yesterday on what is traditionaly the busiest shopping day of the year. We went to a memorial service in the morning for our friend Don's godmother's husband, a very quiet, white-haired gentleman, who has been looking quite frail for years. He finally succumbed to pneumonia last week. Don sang The Lord's Prayer as part of the service.

The rest of the day was spent killing dustbunnies, washing bedlinens, getting Ben's room ready. He brought his belongings over yesterday afternoon, but he won't begin sleeping here until Monday night. Wish me luck.

By the footprints in the snow I can tell we had some visitors from the Forest Preserve last night. Maybe the deer will come by again later and we can watch them from our newly enclosed back porch. We have the door to the porch open and the warm air from the house is heating it up quite nicely. Chuck is planning on deep-frying the turkey, and we'll eat about 3:00 p.m. Of course, EVERYONE will be here. The last gathering before the great move to Arizona.

A Gathering of Angels

I am convinced that Barbara's Kitchen is a place where angels gather. I have gone there several times when I was worried or concerned about something, and I have had a conversation with someone there who spoke to my concern. It happened again today. It is not lightly that I once again take on the responsibility for a teenager. Even though Ben is 18 years old, I will still have to go and pick up his report card from school. Chuck and I will be responsible for him until after he graduates from high school and enters the Air Force. (By the way, he scored very well on his written exam for the Air Force and passed his physical with flying colors. His departure for Basic Training is scheduled for July 28.) There was a woman at the restaurant today who overheard me talking about my situation. She told me how two friends of hers, twin girls, spent the last months of high school living in her home when their parents moved to Indiana. She said it was a wonderful experience, both for her having her friends there, but also for her parents.

Ben will need a place to do his homework when he moves in on Friday. I looked at desks at Office Depot, most of which are pretty expensive for what they are made of, and have to be assembled, too. I decided instead to get a 72 inch long utility table that I saw at Costco for only $45.00.

To the Man in the Parking Lot at Costco: It must have been a matter of life and death that you were in such a hurry you had to refuse my plea for assistance in getting the table into my car. Don't worry, I did finally manage to do it myself. I hope you have a happy Thanksgiving. May there always be someone there to help you when you need it.

I checked off several things on yesterday's "to do" list, but as usual I was too ambitious and must carry several over to today.

It looks like I may have the soprano solo in "Good King Wenceslas" at our December Lutheran Choir of Chicago concerts. Anyway, I sang it last night at rehearsal.

My company gives us the day after Thanksgiving off as well as the holiday itself, so since Sheila, the lead Journal Billing Analyst who is training me in my new duties, is taking the first three days of this week off as well, I decided to take M-W as vacation days. Not that I'll just be sitting around doing nothing, you understand. I have Christmas shopping to do, and I have to get the guest room ready for Ben, who will be moving in on Friday.

I really hope this move to Arizona works out for my daughter and her family.

Our church has been sponsoring a young man going through seminary for the last six years, and yesterday was his last, and toughest hurdle on the course to ordination. An Ecclesiastical Council was held at our church yesterday afternoon. Ministers and representatives of the laity from the entire Chicago Metropolitan Association (CMA) of the United Church of Christ were invited, and there were about 150 in attendance. David, the young man applying for ordination, gave a brief presentation, a sort of statement of his faith and his call to the ministry. Then he was submitted to an hour of questioning followed by a vote. Anyone at the meeting was allowed to ask a question, but only clergy with standing in the CMA and one lay person from each church were allowed to vote.

This should have been a formality. It should have been easy. David had been through seminary and had been thoroughly examined and accepted by the Church and Ministry Committee of the CMA. However, there were a few things which complicated yesterday’s proceedings. For one thing, David is not at this time being called to a full-time traditional parish ministry (he has been serving as a part-time co-pastor for a nearby church, but since he is not ordained he is unable to administer the sacraments). His main work is for Chicago’s Night Ministry. David drives the Night Ministry Bus around the streets of Chicago, ministering to the homeless, drug addicts, alcoholics, prostitutes, etc.

Another complication is that David is gay. In our denomination, this is not usually a problem. As long ago as 1985, our General Synod adopted a policy of being Open and Affirming, which proclaims that Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender (LGBT) persons are loved by God and that their gifts are an essential part of the community and ministry of Jesus Christ. However, one of the larger churches in the CMA is First Baptist Congregational Church, a huge all black congregation on the west side of Chicago, which was originally a Baptist church, but has chosen to join the United Church of Christ. These people hold the uninformed, Neanderthal view that such things are a matter of choice rather than genetic predisposition. As though a person simply chooses to be gay.

This church brought in about fifteen people, who spaced themselves strategically around the room, asking the most damaging questions they could think of. My very favorite was the one about how would David counsel a man just released from prison who has been repeatedly raped and “wants to get out of that life-style.” HE-LLO! It seems to me that the use of the term “rape” means that the man was not a willing participant. If a man who has been raped is automatically a homosexual, does that make a woman who has been raped a prostitute?

I’m happy to report that in spite of all this, David kept his cool and answered everything calmly and logically. Russ, our Scoutmaster asked him if he’d ever been afraid out on the streets. I imagine that standing up there took more courage than dodging bullets from a drive-by shooting. The vote was 44-3 to allow him to be ordained.

After much prayerful consideration, we have decided to invite our oldest grandson, Ben, to stay with us as he finishes his senior year of high school. Diana and Ben’s dad and the rest of the kids are moving out to Arizona at the end of this month. Ben is taking his physical for the Air Force on Wednesday, and if all goes well with that and his written tests, he will be sworn in under the Delayed Enlistment Program and will start his basic training after graduation. He is eighteen and technically an adult, and he was planning on trying to find a friend he could stay with, but not having any success. Since we will be in loco parentis for him anyway, we figure it will be easier to keep track of how he’s doing if he’s under our roof.

Ben is a very serious young man, very polite, and doing well in school. He doesn’t drive, so we won’t have any problems with auto insurance, and he says he may be able to get medical insurance through his part-time job at the Jewel supermarket. If not, we’ll just feed him vitamins, tell him to be extra careful when riding his bicycle, and hope for the best. He asked about rent, and we told him $20.00 a week and straight A’s in school.

This was something I certainly wasn’t planning on, but I guess I should always expect the unexpected. Ben might possibly have been able to stay with my sister-in-law Janis, except that Janis’s daughter Aubrey is leaving her boyfriend and coming back home to Janis’s house with her 18 month old girl Ariana. As I’ve said before, it’s always something……

Anyway, I have a very peaceful feeling that this is the right thing to do.

I used to believe that my heart was located in my butt. This was because when I was very little and would fall down my great-aunt, who was my primary care-giver, would set me back on my feet, pat my behind and say, "Bless your little heart." Sometimes when I fell I would cry that I had a broken heart.

Chuck’s last duty station before retiring from the Air Force was Chanute AFB, just outside of Rantoul, Illinois, about 15 miles north of Champaign, where the Chicago Bears are playing this season while Soldier Field is being rennovated. Chuck is a very outgoing, friendly guy, and between his work at the base hospital and his involvement in such things as the Base Exercise and Evaluation Team and the Top 4 group, consisting of members of the top four enlisted ranks, pretty much of everyone on base, from the General on down, knew him. As a matter of fact, Chuck and the General were on a first-name basis. The General called my husband “Chuck” and Chuck called the General “Sir”.

This fact was a constant sore point with our teenage daughter and pre-teen son, both of whom longed to establish their own identities. They couldn’t go anywhere or do anything without someone saying, “Oh, you’re MSgt. B.’s daughter (or son)." They could also be sure that nothing they did would ever remain a secret from their father.

Diana called the other day to relay the fact that the curse has followed her into adulthood. She and Rick took Rick’s oldest son Ben to see the local Air Force recruiter the other day. She related some of her experiences growing up as an Air Force brat, bemoaning the above-mentioned lack of identity. To which the recruiter replied, “Chuck B.! I know him! I recruit at the high school where he works!”

I finally moved to my new desk this morning. After lunch I'll start learning a few things about what I'm supposed to be doing. I think I'll buy myself some flowers for my desk on the way back to work.

Diana and Rick were visiting when I got home from work yesterday. They stopped by to give me my ticket for Harry Potter. They decided on a 7:00 p.m. showing Sunday, to be sure I could make it.

Floyd was at LCC rehearsal last night without his soft cast, finally! His instructions are to walk without a limp and with good posture for as long as possible each day without the brace.

It's unusual for me to receive three personal phone calls at work in one day. So today is unusual.

The first was from my husband, a progress report on the screen-porch project.

The second call came from my daughter, wanting to know if I wanted to accompany her, along with Rick, David and Becca, on Sunday to see the new Harry Potter movie. Like she had to ask. It's more a question of when. I have to be at church on Sunday afternoon to support our seminarian as he faces the firing squad, The Ecclesiastical Council. This is the last step before ordination for him. If, for some reason he is voted down, he will not be ordained. So if the movie is in the evening, no problem. Rick's knee is doing ok. It's really not even cracked. Just a "bone bruise." He's on limited duty, sorting the mail on his route, but not carrying it, which means they have even less money than usual.

The third call was my sister-in-law wanting to know if my son liked nuts in his chocolate chip cookies. Oops! Will, if you read this, act surprised when you get your "Care" package from Janis.

Today is a monument to Cheop’s Law. Nothing is ever done on time or within budget.

Although the rest of the civilized world has Veteran’s Day off, I don’t. I resisted the urge to take a vacation day today because I was scheduled, I thought, to move to my new desk and begin, finally, learning my new responsibilities. Of course, it’s not happening today. The person who was supposed to orchestrate the move just got back from vacation, so who knows when she will get it all together. I’ll just wait. No hurry. (Don’t tell anyone I have very little in the way of work to do until the move happens.)

Chuck’s assignment for the day, since he DOES have today off, was to get Plexiglas as winter screen replacements for four windows and the door on the screen porch. He had gotten it for three of the windows last year, and had what he thought was a good estimate of how much it was going to cost to complete the job. Naturally, he needs another $175.00 over that estimate, and the pieces of Plexiglas won’t be ready until Wednesday. Then he has to drill the screw holes and remove the brown paper before he can put them up. When it’s done, though, we just have to put a little electric heater out there and we’ll have a nice, hospitable smoking room for our winter parties. (No smoking in the house, please.)

I left work an hour early on Thursday so I could make sure the house was presentable for my visit from the Feds. Chuck was already home when I arrived. He had been on jury duty since the 28th, and they had wrapped up the case that day, finding for the defendant (again, since this was a re-trial--the first case was thrown out due to procedural errors.) It was a medical malpractice suit, and Chuck was very straightforward about revealing the fact that he had been and Air Force medic for 20 years, but they decided to keep him on the jury anyway. It turned out that he was very useful in interpreting a lot of the medical jargon.

The Feds (two agents--a man and a woman) spent about an hour talking to me, and I sang like a canary. Told them everything I knew. Which wasn't very much at all, unfortunately. They had an organizational chart with them, and there I was, right on the very bottom! I told them what my duties were, what I did on a daily basis, and answered their questions as best I could. But it's really hard to remember things from two or more years ago. Especially when it gets down to specific transactions. I suppose there's an advantage to being a cube drone, though. When it hits the fan, most of it falls on those above you.

I got an official envelope in my mailbox yesterday with just my name on it. Inside was a business card from an FBI agent with a note on the back of it to call him. He and another agent will be coming to my house after work to talk to me about Sabratek, the company I worked for before this one that went bankrupt and had its assets sold to Baxter. I had been interviewed on the phone awhile back by the SEC on the same subject. I guess they have now turned the investigation over to the FBI to see if criminal charges should be filed. So far, the big guys in that company have gotten fined in amounts that would be enormous to most people, but to them would be equivalent to a parking ticket.

Did I mention that I was really happy to see two people I knew when I went to vote? It's silly, I know, but I like the feeling of "See, I'm doing my civic duty."

There was a new thing this time. You put your ballot into a machine that tells you if you "over-voted" or "under-voted" which gives you a chance to try again. Most people under-vote because of all the judge retention things.

Today was election day, and I always go to the polls feeling less well informed than I really ought to be. I tend to vote against candidates I don't like, rather than really voting for candidates I like. But at least I vote. I voted against one candidate for State Governor because his entire campaign centered around getting rid of corruption. Being a life-long Chicagoan, I don't mind a little corruption as long as things get done. It sounded like his opponent had some ideas. Whether or not he can carry them out remains to be seen (if he wins, of course).

A week ago Sunday when I went downtown to the museum, I was walking along North Michigan Avenue before catching the 146 Museum Bus and I stepped off a curb I didn't realize was there and went sprawling. I had been looking ahead, and not at what was under my feet. I was walking onto a driveway with construction on the right of me. The far edge of the driveway had an incline for handicapped accessability, but the edge I stepped off of into oblivion didn't. A lady who was walking behind me, who lived in that building told me they were planning to fix it next month. I could tell I would have a nasty bruise, but I could also tell that my pride was hurt more than anything else, so I picked myself up and went on to the museum. Didn't even think it was worth mentioning here. The bruise has extended down my entire left leg, but it isn't swollen. Black stockings or slacks are the uniform of the day.

My son-in-law, however, managed to do basically the same thing last week and cracked his kneecap. He tripped over a piece of re-bar that was sticking out of a broken parking barrier at a convenience store where he stopped for a cup of coffee. He has an appointment today with an orthopedic doctor to see if they're going to recommend anything more than the immobilizer wrap, ice, and rest. Since Rick is a mail carrier, I'm not sure what this will do the the kids' plans for moving to Arizona at the end of this month. It's always something.

I'm thinking of upgrading to Blog*Spot Plus, because I'm getting tired of having so much trouble getting pictures onto aol. Any comments from Blog*Spot Plus users would be welcome.

The National Sales Meeting is being held at my workplace today, which means I wore a dress and I'll go home for lunch. Usually, when I dress up my boss asks me if I'm going to a funeral.

Today's church service combined Remembrance Sunday, where we remember those of our congregation who have passed away during the past year, and the dedication of the new cross on top of the church. The last hymn was "Beneath the Cross of Jesus," and the choir recessed all the way out of the building, followed by the congregation, to the front steps of the church, where a short dedication ceremony and prayer was held. The prayer consisted of saying the following alternate words to the hymn we had just sung:


Before the cross of Jesus
Our lives are judged today;
The meaning of our eager strife
Is tested by his Way.
Across our restless living
The light streams from His cross,
And by its clear, revealing beams
We measure gain and loss.

The hopes that lead us onward,
The fears that hold us back,
Our will to dare great things for God,
The courage that we lack,
The faith we keep in goodness,
Our love, as low or pure,
On all, the judgment of the cross
Falls steady, clear and sure.

Yet humbly, in our striving,
O God, we face its test.
We crave the power to do Thy will
With Him who did it best.
On us let now the healing
Of his great Spirit fall,
And make us brave and full of joy
To answer to His call. Amen.