Gabe came home from school yesterday sobbing that his head hurt and he wanted to throw up. (That’s the good thing about Gabe; you don’t usually have to guess about when he’s sick.) He was burning up, so I gave him some fever reducers. Coincidentally, I just happened to be on the phone with the intake scheduler for his endoscopy, which we were in the process of setting up for this morning. Their criteria is that the patient can’t have a fever over 101 within twelve hours of the procedure, so we banked on his illness following Sam’s route and canceled for now.

Of course, he woke up this morning feeling mostly fine. It’s possible he’s running a low-grade fever; the thermometer said he was okay, but he felt slightly warm to me and I don’t trust these digital thermometer readings very much. The bigger thing was that he was chatty, perky, and insistent that he was going to school to have fun. So he did, but I’m keeping close to the phone.

It seems like these kids are getting sick far more often this year, and I wonder whether it’s that they’re both at the same school now? At least when they were at two different places, my chances were better that only one would be exposed to whatever plague was sweeping the playground.

Speaking of illnesses, though on a far distant stage, I found out this week that a friend of mine, who attended my church and was a member of the local mothers’ club with me…I found out that her husband was diagnosed with ALS last year.

I can’t even imagine the storm that sweeps through a family in a situation such as this. They have two young children, and the life expectancy for her husband is now around two to five heartbreaking years. The thought of what they’ll all be facing is unfathomable.

I have no idea how many people read this blog; a while back, it just stopped being important to me to know. I know there are at least a few, though, and it would be a great gift if we could all help Kristin and Todd out with what they’re trying to do at this point. There’s a contest – just a “click and vote” thing – where they have the chance to win the funds to be able to build a handicapped-accessible house. With so much else that they’ll need to handle, this seems like a concrete way to help take a little of the load off their backs.

If you’re on Facebook, just click through here and cast a vote for them. It would mean a great deal.

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All the same, we’ve been here long enough that my ears start burning when national news mentions Wisconsin by name, and lately, my lobes have been in need of a fire extinguisher. The protests in Madison are continuing, and I’m really sort of grateful to be connected to people who are actually there in person, because if I was going by the news reports, I wouldn’t know whether folks are carrying torches and pitchforks or singing “Kum-Bah-Ya” in patchwork overalls. It turns out that the latter is closer to the truth, but since that doesn’t sell papers or ad spots, nobody wants to tell that story.

I suppose that I do have a dog in this fight, though it’s more of a beleaguered old Labrador than a rabid, mangy attack hound. (“You want me to bark? Well, okay, if you’re sure…”) I think that any government proposal, be it progressive or conservative, could benefit from wide review, and this one hasn’t gotten nearly the amount of review it needs, especially considering the huge changes it would entail. I also am a little gobsmacked over the notion that, rather than discuss and compromise, our governor would rather threaten use of the National Guard to quell protest.

I don’t often get political here. I don’t like conflict of any kind, and that’s what usually happens when politics are brought up. Maybe there’s a patchwork-wearing girl inside me. (Okay, that “maybe” should probably be a little less uncertain. Anybody want a daisy?) On the other hand, politics are heating up all around me, and there’s no escaping it; I’m hearing from all over, people wanting to hear what I have to say about it because I happen to make my home among the Cheeseheads. I don’t mind, because I do have those personal connections in Madison right now, and it’s good for people to hear more than what the news anchors care to spin. On the other hand, I feel pressured to froth one way or another, and I’m simply not the frothing type. I fret instead.

And it’s fret-worthy, don’t doubt. But as I sit here in my bleacher seat at this arena, one thing is certain…I’m finally starting to think Wisconsin is more than just “that place I live right now.” You don’t get these kind of stomach knots over a place to which you’re not personally connected beyond a superficial way. For better or for worse, I think I just became a Cheesehead.

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My summarization ended with him shouting, wide-eyed, that he did not want to read it. “I don’t want to think about that! What if that happened for real?!”

I battled mentally with myself, Eric and I significantly silent for a moment in the front seats of the car, before saying something along the lines of, “I would hope people would stop things before they reached that point.” That seemed a bit lame, so, remembering a previous talk, I said, “This is why we’re learning about citizenship in Scouts. It’s important to know your rights. You have to know them in order to hold onto them.”

We all talked some more, discussing specific Constitutional rights (some of which he knew, some of which he didn’t), and I left the talk feeling moderately okay; there’s still plenty to discuss, and I thought the door was open for him to explore and ask more questions. He was thoughtful, which seemed like a good sign.

And then we woke up to this. Looks like I get to do some more discussing today. Wish I wasn’t trying to deal with a bad head cold at the same time; these conversations are tricky enough when your brain isn’t fogged up with Nyquil.

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After the meal, the desserts are presented. The men of the church compete to create the best desserts; this year, there were fourteen different desserts vying for the prizes, as judged by area chefs and by a panel of church members and teens. Each of the tables bid on their favorite dessert (without having yet tried them), and the winning table gets their choice of dessert. After that, roaming is encouraged, so you can sample as many as you want.

It’s a fantastic event, and, as I said, very effective. This year, in the course of about three hours, they raised over $40,000. I stand amazed. (And very, very full. I ate very little of the delicious lunch, saving as much room as possible for dessert, and I regret nothing! ) Also, I’m quite pleased to say that some of that money came from us, as we WON our auction package! Finally, after three years of going, we won something! Hee! It was five nights of babysitting, along with a bunch of certificates for free ice cream at Georgie Porgie’s. Hurray!

It’s eight o’clock, and I’m still not remotely hungry for dinner. Worth it.

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Came home, got dressed, and went out on my Free Day! First I went to the bookstore, where I got, among a couple other books and a magazine, Tara Weaver’s book, The Butcher and the Vegetarian. It is phenomenal! I’m enjoying it so much! On the one hand, I’m not a vegetarian personally, but I do have leanings toward – oh, what’s the term they’re bandying about these days? Flexitarianism? So I’m enjoying both the detailed descriptions of the meat dishes she was learning to prepare as well as being able to sympathize with her conflicted feelings. The chapters on industrial farming and the treatment of food animals are particularly powerful.

Then I went to lunch and had Thai Chicken pizza. Well, I hadn’t started the book yet.

After that, I ran some errands and then went to coffee, where I plowed through a bunch of my book over several hours. By the time I looked up, it was dinner time! I went for sushi, because it’s been way too long. Had myself a nice little pile of sashimi, then walked around a little downtown before I realized that it was way to cold to look into windows of closed businesses. (It’s really pathetic down there these days.) Decided I needed one more indulgence before heading back home, so I went in search of dessert, which I found in a very crowded Olive Garden. Hey, I didn’t mind; I had my book! Got myself a piece of tiramisu and a glass of Pinot Noir, which I savored for a long while (by the time I got my table, the crowd had been dispersed, so I didn’t feel guilty), and then headed home and helped put the kids to bed.

Eric had been working all day, preparing for our Valentine’s Day meal! We’ve decided to do Valentine’s Day here, eating a late dinner after the boys are in bed. I put the menu decisions firmly into Eric’s creative hands, and I don’t expect to be disappointed that I did! He gave me a small taste of the coffee creme anglaise he made as part of the dessert, and…oh…

Happy Valentine’s Day, everybody!

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We watch for commercials, and so that Sam can sort of fit in at school when the other kids talk about having watched, and so that we can have an excuse to eat appetizer-type foods for dinner. Sadly, we seem to have no ability to estimate what our family will consume when it comes to this sort of food preparation, so we ended up with enough food to host a Superbowl party, only with no actual party taking place. The nachos were great, and there were two kinds of wings and hot dogs and cake and ice cream…sheesh. We should have put up a sign or something: “Come on in! Eat up!”

It was a great evening, right up until this commercial came on:

…and Gabe lost his mind in terror, screaming and sobbing and freaking the heck out. It was epic. We just about had him calmed down when this one started:

…and it had to be bedtime. My poor, poor, traumatized baby…

(He talked about it all morning, too, asking why they wanted to make him scared like that.)

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So, come out, come out, wherever you are. I’ll even give you a question to answer in a comment, to make it easier! Just something that’s been brewing in my head since I posted a group picture from my high school graduation, and a friend commented how we “thought we were so cool.” I honestly don’t remember feeling cool that day – or many days at all, back as a teenager. Now, looking at that picture, I think I probably was “cooler” than I felt, big hair and all. So, for your own consideration: when in your life was your own self-esteem highest?

If you don’t feel like answering that, say hi anyway. Hello!

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Click through to see them individually. Please excuse the utter exhaustion and no makeup. You’ll understand; it’s been one of those days weeks.

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(It’s aimed at Canadian kids, but if you select “other country,” it stays neutral in the message. Sam and Gabe loved this!)

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Okay, done? Now, tell me, especially those of you who have kids or spend a lot of time around them: what is that?
Note: There is a poll embedded within this post, please visit the site to participate in this post's poll.

Truthfully, I’d never even heard of a splash fountain before we moved here, but apparently they’re the perfect and popular solution for a community that doesn’t want to maintain and staff a public pool. No standing water means far less risk of drowning, so lifeguards aren’t needed. (EDIT: Apparently, this has changed (PDF file), and it’s now also part of the problem, though it wasn’t mentioned in the article above.) The first time we drove past our fountain in the summer and I saw hordes of kids cavorting in the spray, I was initially surprised (again, never having seen one before), but I quickly saw the appeal.

Apparently, though, the city somehow didn’t foresee it, and now they’re going to put a big chain-link fence around the thing to keep kids out. Now, won’t that be attractive? I get that it wasn’t designed to deal with treated water, but I don’t get how they didn’t anticipate the result of putting up something that is virtually indistinguishable from recreational splash pads around the country. It was obvious to children, at least, from the very beginning, when the son of Laurel Clark, for whom the fountain was named, dashed into the water at the dedication ceremony.

Perhaps it’s not feasible for the city to pay the cost to maintain the system as it deals with chemicals for which it wasn’t designed. It seems sort of gauche to have let it be used that way for five years, only to surround it with an ugly fence and tell the children, “Go pound pavement; no fun for you.” There are no public pools in town. We’ll be using the quarry a lot more in coming summers, but there’s a fee for that; other folks will use the lake or have nothing at all. Somehow, this doesn’t strike me as a great move toward keeping kids busy and out of trouble.

Boy, am I not looking forward to the whining when it gets hot again. I’m not just talking about my children, either.

Sam, at the fountain this summer

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PRO: Anthony Stuart Head! As a creepy, sexy legal assassin!
CON: Paris Hilton! Augh! (On the flip side, though, I didn’t even recognize her in the clips I saw until I was told that it was her.)

PRO: The Graverobber character makes me go weak in the knees. Guh.
CON: I sort of want to punch Luigi in his face.

PRO: I haven’t been able to stop singing Zydrate Anatomy (not safe viewing around most kids – careful! ) since seeing it the first time…and I keep going back to watch it more.
CON: It’s directed by the guy who did a bunch of the Saw movies, and it’s what you’d expect from that respect. In one of the trailers, I saw intestines being ripped from a man. That’s really, really not my usual cup of tea.

I think what I want to happen is for everybody else to go rushing out to see it and come back to tell me all about it. Maybe then I’ll think about seeing it myself, probably right in time for the DVD release. In the meantime, I’ll just keep singing the songs and torturing myself over it.

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Then we talked electoral college, exit polling, and about how you don’t just vote for a candidate because everybody says that they’re cool. He got embarrassed about that and about not being able to come up with any other immediate (and valid) reasons for his preference, but I reassured him that this is why seven-year-olds don’t have the vote. You’ll have time to learn, Son, and I have faith that by eighteen, you’ll be safe to be let loose upon the democratic process. (Dunno about Gabe, though. That jury’s still out.)

Sam’s having a sensitive health issue he’d probably rather I not discuss (not that he has any compunctions about bringing it up in mixed company himself…), so I’ve got to pick him up from school at recess to get him to the doctor. Hopefully, that won’t go poorly and will be minimally invasive; he does his best to cooperate, but I don’t like to test that too far, remembering the blood draw of several months ago, when he bolted from the room and had to be chased across the building.

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I did 13.14 miles. That’s just over a half-marathon. Still almost a mile shy of my longest run length pre-tendinitis, but respectable nonetheless, and I didn’t do those earlier long runs with a wind-filled stroller holding me back. I made sure to take some Sport Beans at about 5 miles and drink water throughout, and I felt pretty good…until the run was over, at which point I nearly fell over from cramps in the backs of my thighs and my bottom. I guess I was using those muscles to help push the stroller along. Ow.

Ran into many groups of election day volunteers, out canvassing neighborhoods to make sure people were voting. They were in yellow and looked pretty nonpartisan, which cheered me; they also appeared to mostly be older teens and young adults, which is always encouraging. They called out to me to ask if I’d voted, then cheered for me when I hollered back that I had. I did also encounter a group of what looked like young teenagers outside a school where there was voting; they were lounging around, looking lazy, until one of them suddenly yelled the name of a candidate at me. As it happened, it was the candidate for whom I voted, so I punched the air at him and they all hooted happily. Odd day, today, but nice. Well, except for the fact that Gabe has decided that he actually prefers the sound of the other candidate’s name, and every time I say my choice’s name, he starts growling and throwing tantrums.

Got my free coffee, too! You get yours?

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Read the rest of Flitting (431 words)

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I’d never heard of this guy. Have I been under a rock or something? (Wouldn’t be the first time.)

So, I was talking to Mom today on the phone, and I mentioned that every day lately, without fail, I get dog tired an hour after running. I go from energized and happy to “I need a nap now” in the space of minutes. What’s up with that? She suggested I was crashing from the endorphins fading. I agreed and said that it might be happening now because I’m running every day and have gotten myself thoroughly addicted to that endorphin rush. An interesting addiction to develop; withdrawal is no fun, but it’s easy enough to get another “hit.” (‘Spose I should find some other way to ease the crash, though; constantly running wherever I go doesn’t sound like the most healthy solution. Also, consuming a whole bunch of extra sugar, mindfully or otherwise, is another bad strategy. A chain of crashes is even less fun than one initial one.)

Erm…and then I sat here, nodding blandly at the screen for an embarrassing length of time, nothing else coming to mind, but without any motivation to move. Perhaps a nap really, truly is in order…if not on the slate of happy things that could possibly be arranged at present. Bah.

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Canines For A Cure Walk

August 13th, 2008, 7:00p-9:00p

Minooka Park, Picnic Area 3

Registration Fees: Before August 1st- $20.00/dog After August 1st (including day of)- $25.00/dog

The American Cancer Society Canines For A Cure Walk is a unique celebration of life in honor and in memory of those whose lives have been touched by cancer. The walk simulates the American Cancer Society Walk but is intended for dogs and their human friends. The dogs (leashes required) will walk for approximately 1 mile on the designated trail. All dogs, big or small, and their human friends who want to help fight cancer are encouraged to attend.

For more information contact: Jason Povlich at Jason.povlich@cancer.org or 262-523-5559

Sound like good fun for a great cause!

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Sort of inspired by Karen (another redheaded southeast Wisconsiner who did the Couch-to-5K thing and lost a bunch of weight – almost creepy that we haven’t met, come to think of it…), I was wondering whether I could do something proactive to raise more money for the Komen fund. I’m not afraid of the word “bribe.” Karen must have more willpower than I do, since baking dozens of cookies sounds like a good way to impact my finishing time even more than my dollar amount. I’d knit, but since it takes a lot longer for me to knit something than to bake, it’s probably not realistic to expect to be able to create something for each person who donates – especially since I optimistically hope to see a whole bunch of sources! Warm weather turns me off to knitting, anyway; it’s been weeks since I picked up needles.

Ideas rattling around in my head. Look back later for more details!

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The race isn’t until late September, but I’m taking pledges now. Spread the word! The Komen Race for the Cure is probably one of the most powerful things in which I’ve ever been blessed to be involved, and I’ve promised myself that I’ll be doing it every year for the foreseeable future.

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But drinking from plastic is Bad, apparently. The whole freaking world has been trying to tell me this for many months, and I suppose that I’ve been cramming my fingers into my ears and shrieking, “LA-LA-LA,” because paying attention would have meant that I needed to do something about it. Maya Angelou’s whole “We do better when we know better” spiel has been my mantra for ages, but somehow the selfish part of my brain likes to sneak in the teeny loophole “…so if I don’t want to have to do better, I better not learn better!” I promise, I try to shut down that sector, but it keeps opening new facilities and hiring new staff.

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Read the rest of Sigg-ah-Sigg-ah (284 words)

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I’m not even really afraid of snakes. Lightning-fast, aggressive snakes that can magically open doors with no hands, though – they might be another story.

So I’m reading For Women Only, by Shaunti Feldhahn, and I must say that if you’re in a relationship with a man, this is an eerily useful book.

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Read the rest of Again with the dream crap (323 words)

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Free Senseo pod coffee maker!

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My favorite part: “AND ANYWAY, ISN’T BLUETOOTH A @#$^ing PIRATE OR SOMETHING?”

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I love the announcer who just said, “If you put your nose up in the air just right, you can smell the sofa cushions all the way from Morgantown.” Just a slight exaggeration, that. I remember walking home from Mountaineer Stadium after beating Florida in the final game of our undefeated season my freshman year, and stuff was burning all over the place. So many flaming couches, lighting up the sky…

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(Go make your own!)

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Well, in the meantime, I had investigated buying them, since I had figured he would like them. They were purportedly for sale at the cool toy store downtown, but when I had called them then, they told me that they should be arriving at the store in a week. I called them last night after Sam reminded me…and was horrified to hear that they wouldn’t be getting them for Christmas. Something to do with customs (though how that applies to a New Jersey company shipping to Wisconsin is anybody’s guess). Ack! I ran through the list of stores on the Automoblox website and tried another one: no luck. A third: strike three.

I thought about ordering online, but it occurred to me that if these stores were having trouble getting them (and apparently I was only one of many people who have been calling over the past few weeks asking for these cars), maybe they wouldn’t be able to ship them to me in time, either. I called New Jersey. When I asked if they could get them to me by Christmas, they answered, “It depends on which car you want.”

Thank God, the three-pack of AutoMinis should be able to get here on time. It’s not the van Sam really wants, but the larger vehicles are much more expensive; had we stumbled upon these before we were almost completely finished shopping for him, we’d have been able to get him the bigger cars, but the whole point of the toy is to be able to switch around and interchange parts to create new cars; a single van isn’t going to be nearly as much fun. I probably will get the van and another couple of cars at another time, of course.

So let’s cross our fingers that that particular package doesn’t get held up in the mail. This is the first year that my boys have been dead sure about what Santa is definitely bringing them (Gabe’s big bear, Sam’s puzzle cars), and I’d hate to blow it so fast…

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I did the Christmas Carol Quiz over at Small Reflections! Turns out that only four of us have completed it, and it’s been up since November 28th, which is sort of sad, guys. Come on! I know I have some carol-singing readers who can figure the answers out. It took me about twenty minutes or so; go give it a shot!

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Dreama posted a snippet of a piece a couple of days ago, asking what it was, and I have been driving myself crazy trying to place it, which was made doubly difficult by the fact that something in my memory was insisting that the piece was not originally for solo piano, as it was being performed in the recording. I remembered playing it on the flute, but I couldn’t remember what it was. Eric couldn’t place it, either, but that didn’t surprise me, as he wasn’t ever a flutist.

A few minutes ago, on a hunch, I tried Googling for “melody search,” since I’ve used paper-bound versions of melody encyclopedia (side thought: “encyclopedia” is always in plural form; could such a thing as an “encyclopedium” exist? What would it be?) in the past. Bingo! Key in your melody and get possible answers! I got the answer to Dreama’s question in one try! (And I was right; hers was a keyboard reduction of a Bach flute sonata – Sonata No. 2 in E flat minor, the middle movement.)

Now I’m just having fun trying to stump it. With art music, it’s got a pretty good record, but its knowledge of popular and folk music is a bit spottier. Ought to try adding to the database, if that’s possible.

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