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Sunday, April 29, 2007

Monkeewrench - 04/29/2007

Just finished another book: Monkeewrench by P.J. Tracy (who are in fact two people, under one moniker). What a great thriller.

After all the heavy, depressing stuff I have read lately, it was great to read a book that was fun and fast-paced. It was a murder/mystery/thriller. The characters were well-written. You don't find out everything about them from the start. You get bits and pieces of them as you read, which makes you want to read more. I did not read it in a row but I think it took me less than 12 hours to read, over the course of 3 non-concurrent days. There's a serial killer, re-enacting scenes from a video game about a serial killer. The cops and the team from the video game company, Monkeewrench, are all trying to figure out who it is before the next murder takes place. But the Monkeewrench team are more than meets the eye. What is up with this group? Why are they so tight-knit? What's going on here?

You're going to have to read the book to find out.

Wednesday, April 25, 2007

Isabel's Map - 04/25/2007

Our little girl loves puzzles. My husband loves maps. What better gift for Isabel than the US Map Puzzle her grandparents got her.

The first video is grainy. It was too big for YouTube so I had to compress it. Then....the batteries died. I ran upstairs for new batteries and came back down to catch her finishing up the puzzle. The second video is clearer. She's blowing raspberries, by the way. Enjoy!

Monday, April 23, 2007

Entropy (or why my lunchtime story is better than yours) 04/23/2007

I went to lunch with David and Isabel today at a fast food joint. We sat down facing the soda machines (self-service). I see something happening and I pay attention.


A thin Hispanic (looks like Puerto Rican) guy in his 20's was filling up water cups with soda. The manager came out and told him that he asked for water cups, and that those cups were for water only. If he wants sodas they are $1.39 each. She takes the cups away from him and throws them away. I sort-of snicker to myself. Then I see BIG fat Puerto Rican man (20's as well) come over to the table right next to me, where a young 20-ish woman pushing a stroller with a toddler has just sat down. She has a 5 year old with her as well. BIG fat man says, and I quote, and in front of me & Isabel and David: "What a F-ing C*nt. Did you see that B**ch? I'd have thrown the F-ing drinks all up on her." The young woman proceeds to agree with him saying stuff like "BullS&*T" and "b**ch." They get caught STEALING, but the manager is a C**t & a Bit**??


Young guy comes to the table with ANOTHER big guy, and what looks like a late 40-50ish year old lady - possibly the mother to some of these people and the grandmother to these little kids. Grandma says "What a F-ing B..." and they proceed to go off again cursing.

The five year old is right next to me. We're sharing a LONG bench booth thingy. The 5 year old says "Sh*t. I wanted Coke!" OMG, you guys. I did not finish my salad. I made the excuse "David we have to go, I have to get back to work" and left.

I was SO mad. THESE are the kinds of people that give Puerto Ricans a bad name. I was so embarrassed to be sitting next to them, knowing that I am Puerto Rican, and these people are a prime example of why we are looked down upon in Central Florida. Call me the 'white sister' all you want, that is NOT acceptable behavior! WHEN did this ever become o.k.? It is NOT. It is never ok to speak like this...especially in public....ESPECIALLY in front of your children/grandchildren.

Like a co-worker said when I told her the story: Trash is trash. White, black, tan, yellow, purple. Trash is trash.

How was YOUR lunch today?

Thursday, April 19, 2007

The Grapes of Wrath - 04/19/2007

I finished book # 3 of one of my "Top 100 Books to Read..." lists. You would be surprised how many there are. It's all subjective, those lists, so everyone has one. This list was by Penguin, as in Penguin Books the publishing company.


The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck.

If you have not read this book, what are you waiting for? Is it because it was written before you were born? (1939) Does its name scare you, as it did me, into imagining it would be about all sorts of odd things, as I did? Well don't let your preconceived notions fool you. It's a terrific novel. It is a great piece of literature that won Mr. Steinbeck a well-deserved Pulitzer Prize, and eventually, with his other contributions to literature, earned him a Nobel Prize.


What can I say about the Joads that has not already been said in the past sixty-odd years? How could I have missed knowing them earlier? I read this story, with its "country speech" and "country ways" and wanted to take them all in. I wanted to comfort them all. I didn't know what I would find at the Joads when we first meet Tom going home. Who is this Tom Joad Jr. and why was he in jail? He must have had a HORRIBLE life to end up there, he must have. Then you meet the 'fambly.' You live with the 'fambly.' You see proud Pa try so hard to be the head of the home during the Dust Bowl migration. This family, who for generations upon generations, upon generations lived off their land. The land wasn't a piece of property, it was family. It fed them, it housed them. They raised a crop to sell, so they can pay off the loans they took when times were tough before. When the rains stopped coming, and the payments to the bank stopped being made, the 'banks' came and told all these people to leave. Imagine someone coming to tell you that the land you have lived on all your life, the land of your fathers and grandfathers belonged to the banks and you had to leave right now. Imagine the dread. All your life spent in the same place, with the same neighbors, the same strong values; "Yes Sir! Yes Ma'am!" No talking back, everyone knew their place. And then the dust came, and took away everything you knew.

The Joads sell everything they own, load up a beat-up truck with the necessities (food, water, mattresses, clothes, pots, pans) and head towards the promised land of California. Along with 500,000 other displaced people. All looking for land to work; it's all they know. You get land, you work it, it's yours. They had no idea what life outside of Oklahoma was really going to be like.

There's Ma, trying so hard to keep the family strong. She's the backbone. She eventually takes charge, which, back on their farm, was unheard of. Times were changing.

Ma & Pa, 6 kids, Grandma & Grandpa, Uncle John, the Preacher Casey, and Connie, the husband of one of Ma's daughters. Thirteen people in one truck.

I wanted to bring them home, let them eat, give them a hot bath, tell them it'll be ok. I wanted to simultaneously smack the heck out of Rose of Sharon (Rosasharn) and comfort her in the end; tell her she really did do good in God's eyes at that very last paragraph. I saw Ruthie grow in those 7 or 8 months into someone I did not like. She was mean, she was vindictive, she was 7. I saw humanity at its worse. Things like this really did happen in the early 1930's, after the Great Depression and the Dust Bowl. These "Okies" were treated with contempt. They were kicked off their lands, treated like animals, paid meager wages or in some cases, they were paid with a loaf of bread for 16 hours of work, and it's disgusting. How would you fare? What would you be willing to do to feed your starving family?

It's a terrific book. I wish I knew how Noah fared. I wish I knew what happened to that spineless Connie. Is Tom ok? Did he take up the cause that Casey so tragically and instantaneously had taken from him? I imagine so. I imagine Tom forcing these cities who spurned them, who burned them out, who arrested them, to have to accept them; 500,000 strong. If not directly, then inspiring others to go on and on. The packing plants who throw away food, while these people sit outside the gates dying. The orange growers who sprayed kerosene on the overstock of oranges rather than give them away for free. The food thrown in rivers, with armed guards making sure no one took the food. Pigs slaughtered because they could not sell them, and hungry people staring, not understanding that there's a profit to be made.

"And they stand still and watch the potatoes float by, listening to the screaming pigs being killed in a ditch and covered with quicklime, watch the mountains of oranges slop down to a putrefying ooze; and in the eyes of the people there is a failure; and in the eyes of the hungry there is a growing wrath. In the souls of the people the grapes of wrath are filling and growing heavy, growing heavy for the vintage."

Sunday, April 15, 2007

Revelations - 04/15/2007

We're trying to find a church we can attend. We've really slacked on that aspect, mostly because of our schedules and David's late nights. We were going to go last week, but we felt rather lame going to a new church for the first time on Easter Sunday. We didn't want to be those people that go on Easter Sunday, Christmas Eve and ...that's all I can think of.


We went to a church of my choosing, about a mile from the house. We missed the 9:00 a.m. service and so went to the 11:00 a.m. one. It POURED. Buckets. We're all dolled up. David's in a nice shirt and tie, I'm in a new shirt and cute red skirt (Anne Taylor) and heels. Isabel's in a cute red & white dress. Jake has new jeans, a nice shirt. As we arrive, I notice what everyone else is wearing; shorts, flip flops, jeans and tank tops. I was a little aghast.


I grew up Pentecostal. Yes, that's right. Pentecostal. We worshiped and we worshiped loudly. We sang, we moved to the music, we yelled "Amen Brother!" a lot. It was fun. My church was a small one; about 300 strong. Half the church was the pastor's own family. I felt like part of a family. We dressed appropriately. We were allowed to wear pants and cut our hair (much to the contrary of the popular belief that Pentecostals always wear skirts and never cut their hair. The Pastor's wife had a very short cut hair. Shorter than a bob). We could wear jeans, shorts whatever....just NOT to church. Church was a place where you respected and revered the Lord. Dressing like you're going to the club, or just came back from the beach was not acceptable. Yes, I know the Lord is happy that you are just there to worship. He is. Your clothes do not matter. But after a while of church going, you should want to dress nice for church. That's my opinion anyway.


Now, I go to bigger churches, for instance, Northland. Wonderful church...but so darned big, they have satellite feeds to various cities. We went a few times, but I felt like cattle. I felt absolutely no connection there. You had to join "groups" to get to know people. As much as I would love that, I have two kids and a husband who works screwy hours. We stopped going to Northland.
This church today was also non-denominational like Northland. I cannot go to a church where everything is calm and quiet. I can't. I go to visit churches where they have psalm books and the members don't even have to open them, because they sing the same 20-30 ones over and over. Solemn, quiet, soprano. I can't do solemn and quiet. I need to REJOICE LOUDLY. David, on the other hand, is used to the calm & quiet churches. Therein lies our dilemma. The churches I want to go to are too loud for him; his choices put me to sleep.


We walked into the church in the pouring rain. Looks like a converted warehouse. Isabel went to the daycare center (nicely decorated and equipped) without a peep. She loved it and they did not have to call us out to get her at all, which is a first. We got a program and sat all the way in the back (expecting someone to get us to come pick up Isabel.) A man in a green striped polo, jeans and a headset wrapped around his ear, came up to greet us. His name was David.....and he was the pastor. In jeans and a polo.


Once he left, my David said "I have never seen that before. A Pastor wearing jeans and a polo to preach." My David then proceeded to take off his tie, and place it in my purse.


The music was AWESOME. There's this acoustic guitar player who needs to have a record deal already. He was great. The sermon was good. I was not bored, I followed what he said. Jake even paid attention and said he liked it. We left to a bright, windy afternoon, with Isabel very content.


I told David we could try a few more churches to see if anything "clicks." He gets to pick next week. We'll see where he chooses and if it's a fit.

Monday, April 9, 2007

Through the Looking Glass - 04/09/2007

There's a Game going around the 'net. I don't really know what it is called. I renamed it "Me in One Word" when I forwarded to a few friends. You ask people to describe you in one word and only one. They don't need to reply to anyone else, just you. And they can be completely honest.

Here are the words that were used to describe me:

Contained
Aggressive
Super-Mom
Cool
Precise
Organized
Creative
Crafty

I love that I am both contained AND aggressive. Funny thing is, the two people who said that are from two different circle of friends. The "contained" commentator knows me from one arena of my life and sees me as too quiet and calm. I hold too much inside. The "aggressive" commentator knows me from a different grouping, where in that group, I am the aggressive one. Funny, huh?

My "creative, organized, cool, crafty" friends all know the things I do (and send them from time to time). To them, I am all those things. "Super-Mom?" Sometimes. Sometimes I want to crawl in a dark little cave and hide from them. Ask David, he knows. :)

"Precise." I like that. I think I am that too.

All in all, I liked the list

Power Play - 04/09/2007

My son brought home a progress report with some bad grades back in mid-January. We were upset, and he was no longer allowed to play video games until he brought those grades up. He was good about it, too. That and I hid the game he loved the most.
I kept in touch with the one teacher with the bad grade. (The other was P.E. P.E.??? Seriously??) We e-mailed, she would tell me about extra credit, etc., etc. and I would make him do it.


He got his report card last week.....and made honor roll.

See? He wasn't really exerting himself until I took something away. How sad it that? I can't be there at school when he is not dressing out to P.E. or when he does his homework and then forgets to turn it it. *sigh* Parenting stinks.

Good job Jacob on your honor role. You did me proud.

Wednesday, April 4, 2007

Him - 04/04/2007

Sorry I have not posted in a bit. I have something to blog about, but I sort-of kind-of want to wait until I do. I want to see if anything changes before I post the blog. My husband is sad (at something else, not me) and I am mad that he is sad. Me mad is not fun, so I want to behave and see if I am overreacting. The protective rabid dog in me wants to act all mean, but I must breathe and take his lead. He is one calm, passive dude. Maybe that's why we are so good together. We balance. I am super-hyper-emotional-loud and he is calm-cool-almost-too-calm quiet man. We make each other even.


AND CAN SOMEONE PLEASE HELP ME POTTY TRAIN THIS GIRL!! SHE JUST PEED ON THE FLOOR! Gah! Not even a "Pee pee" or "potty" just peed on the floor and continued playing. She's 3. Dude! GAHHHHH.