Persephone

We have a new addition to the family. Here's Persephone. She is a rescue kitten adopted at 4 months old. Here she's 5 months old and very naughty. She appropriated the grocery bag when I got home from shopping. The vet reports that she may be a tabby/Bengal mix. The photo's were taken by Morgan.

Persephone was sick with a cold in the first few days after we brought her home. Thankfully, Pandora didn't get it. We took the kitten to the vet. right away and kept her separated from Pandora until she was well. The vet said that some kittens can get sick as a result of stress when the environment change.

As you can see, she is ruling the house now. Triton and Pandora are fascinated with her. Unfortunately they are also pretty banged-up. The adult pets are quite gentle with the kitten, but she plays rough. We've trimmed her nails repeatedly, but the other two have a number of nicks and scratches. Group pictures are pretty much impossible. They won't sit still long enough!

Return to Normal -- Maybe

After weeks fighting an upper respiratory infection, I seem to be getting better. I'm on another round of antibiotics, and the doctor has added Singular to fight off the cough I've developed. Hopefully, I'll be completely over this soon.

While I was down for the count, my family ran wild. Those three hooligans were living in the most appalling conditions. It makes a frat house look like a page out of Southern Living. The floors hadn't been swept or vacuumed, the bathrooms weren't cleaned, and the laundry situation was bad enough that I had to start a triage program.

There are four laundry baskets lined up outside the laundry room door like patients in the ER waiting room. .... clean underwear, socks, and towels; then machine washables, and finally .. if ever... hand washing. I finished off two loads yesterday and was just plain tired. I'd promised myself some time to catch up on e-mail and blogs, but I could hear the call of the washing .......................................

"Underwear, would you step this way please?" I ask. The other laundry all glares at me.

"I know Towels and Washcloths, it's been a long wait. You will be the next basket called." This pushy bunch whine that I'll be sorry when I want a shower. But hey, we all know that underwear trumps towels. "If I'm desperate I'll USE THE GUEST TOWELS" ..... Ahhhhh. That shuts those two up for awhile. Down the line another basket starts to whine.

"I'm very sorry Dishtowels, but you will have to wait for a separate wash. No, I can not squeeze you in with the underwear. We have health code standards." Dishtowel points to the mile long line of dirty laundry and smirks.

We're off to Math class for Morgan. Billy and I are doing the grocery run while we're out. I won't tell you the rude remarks coming from the pantry and refrigerator. It's best not to encourage them.

Welcome Home Endeavour

What a great flight! Even with the early return, they accomplished all of their mission objectives. The classroom in space was wonderful.

Still Here

Well, we have evacuation plans in place, but it looks like we may not have to use them. The forecast for this hurricane have it going into Mexico. From the news this morning, it will hopefully going into a scarcely populated area. Even though hurricane season starts in early summer, the next 4-8 weeks are the worst of it. We have better plans in place now and hope we won't have to use them.

Next Week's Plans

There's a hurricane heading for the gulf. We've made arrangements to stay in Austin, not far from Henri and Suzanne. We will also be pretty close to Dr. S. The place takes pets and has 2 rooms. We will all have our cell phones with us and will check our e-mail.

For e-friends not having to deal with stuff like this, the hurricane evacuation planning takes several days. When the city attempted an evacuation prior to Hurricane Rita, a number of people were injured and a few were killed in the process. The people closer to the coast and withing the storm surge zone have to leave earliest. If this particular storm remains at a cat. 4 or grows to a 5 that will be us. The problem is compounded by the flooding in the city from a tropical storm last week.

Tomorrow we will clear everything out of the yard, put up a few of our storm shutters in strategic locations, and pack. We'll leave after rush hour Monday morning. All the predications seem to indicate we are safe. But, we won't make any decision until after the storm is in the gulf. The next month or two could be pretty hectic with this sort of thing. Hopefully we won't actually have to go this time. If we do though, it will be a good practice.

Arthritis As a Full Time Job

I've lost almost a month because of illness. I've been taking methotrexate since the spring and dealing with side effects. However, I was starting to see a little bit of improvement and thought it might be worth it. Not so much now. Two rounds of antibiotics, decongestants, antihistamines, an inhaler, and two kinds of nasal spray and I'm just starting to get better.

I've stopped the arthritis medication all together. Sadly, I realized it was working as the joints have started causing trouble again. I'm taking InFeD injections for the anemia and the hematologist seems to think my immune system will improve when this is fixed. This is all so disappointing. Right now, being able to breathe seems a whole lot more important than being able to move.

So, there are weeks of summer that just didn't happen. One of the big reasons I've had for getting better has been to have fun with the kids and Bill. Here it is and my finger joints were vastly improved, writs, and feet too. But, I spent the time in bed instead of doing summer fun stuff. Now, there's a tropical depression in the Gulf and a Cat. 3 hurricane coming just behind it. Seems like that puts and end to summer. Discouraging.

What Was It Like When You Were A Kid -- Presidents Part 1

My kids ask us this all the time. I can't remember wanting to hear so much about my parent's childhoods, but this stuff fascinates my kids. When we were in Dallas, Bill wanted to take them to the site where the president was murdered. I really didn't want to go, but he thought it was important for them to understand it as part of their history studies. Surprisingly, the kids didn't get as much out of it as we did. We'd both been there before as visitors always ask to go. We cringe inside because this was so not a tourist thing to us, but we will take them. Anyway it's been a long time since anyone has asked.

We were there on a quiet morning and had the area mostly to ourselves. We were able to walk around, cross the street, walk up and down the length of the route and think about what we had lived through. I couldn't really make my kids see how close to home this hit us. Removed so far by time, this holds no real fear or sorrow in their hearts.

My own reaction surprised me. As I stood there I got angry for the very first time. When it all happened, we were terrified and then deeply grieved. Now I looked at the window out of which a gun had been pointed, saw the quite street that had been filled with neighbors that day, and really registered the wrong done to us all.

We also learned something new about the book depository. There is a historical marker which explains the history of the building itself. The depository was a municipal building constructed in 1901. This means it was built by someone in my family.

Our grandmother's family were all stone masons. They worked every turn of the century municipal project in the city, because they were the best. I don't know which ones would have worked on this building because there were dozens of them; great-grandfather, great-uncles, cousins, etc. I know most of their work, because they would point out the buildings and talk about what they had done. My great-grandfather loved to just drive around the city pointing to the family's work. He said they were "built to last."

Why didn't I know about this very famous building? I'm guessing they wouldn't have wanted to talk about it, wouldn't have wanted any of us to be reminded of it. But I stood there and read the plaque and knew for the first time. This made me so angry at the evil of the thing done here that I shook.

Another Texas historical marker down in the park area explained that this was the original site of the first settlement in Dallas. I didn't know that either. The park had been there long before the terrible events in 1963, but I never thought to ask why. So, school kids don't go there to picnic and learn about the history of the city. Families don't sit on the benches. Old men don't feed the birds. There was once a reflecting pool. It's been drained and stands as an empty white hole. It would have reflected the surrounding buildings and who wants that? Instead of park goers, there are conspiracy freaks prowling around with ghoulish glee, crawling across our childhood. A man approached with a lurid color photo showing the whole ugly thing, silently screaming its horror. The young wife crawling across the back of the car, the young leader gone. I asked the man why the hell he thought I would need his picture to know what happened in my own home. He retreated quickly, and my kids just looked at me wondering why I was so upset. They'd seen similar photographs their whole lives. Why so angry?

The kids were more interested in hearing about the family's work building the zoo, the red bricked streets in the historical parts of town and the university. They are fascinated by the mansions with their wealthy owners. All built to last.

I wanted to write about Lady Bird Johnson today but found I couldn't without thinking through this other thing first. I'll write about that sweet lady tomorrow.

Hating Dallas and Other Pastimes

One thing that unites most of the state of Texas is our hatred of the city of Dallas. All the major cities have a gentle rivalry. We compete over which city has the best food or music, which has the best rodeo, or even where the real cowboys belong. But almost everyone will agree that whatever good there is in any city, Dallas is not it. The only time the city starts to have virtues in our eyes is if we add non-Texas cities into the mix.

Our very short trip to Dallas and back has resulted in some very interesting discussion about the city to our north. My favorite encounter has to be the one Bill had with our friend and physician during his physical. Bill told the doctor he had just come back from taking Morgan and I to see the Police in Dallas. Our doctor became very upset.

"Why did Donna and Morgan have to see the police?" he asked. " Why the Dallas police of all things? Why did you have business in Dallas in the first place?" he wanted to know. " I would think you folks would know to stay away from Dallas. Was Donna hurt, or Morgan? Why wasn't I called before you all went off to Dallas of all places?????"

OK, so here are the two great things about that conversation. One, my doctor didn't have a clue that there's a band called The Police. Two, even when Bill explained it to him, he still thought it didn't justify a trip to Dallas. I also have to admire the nerdly complete lack of concern that he hadn't heard of one of the biggest bands from his young adulthood. (He owns a ranch in Round Top not far from Willie Nelson. I'm guessing he would sure know who that is.)

Another interesting conversation was with the very nice lady who is my usual cashier at Kroger. Bill and I stopped at the grocery store to pick up snacks for the drive. It was mostly junk food, and the cashier teased me a bit about it. When I told her we were driving up to Dallas, she completely stopped ringing up my order. Then she looked me right in the eye and with steely determination declared "I HATE DALLAS," while jabbing her finger in the air for emphasis.

I was so appalled that she might think that I was from Dallas that I quickly explained that I was from Ft. Worth and equally hated Dallas. She relaxed somewhat and nodded knowing that the people of Ft. Worth hated Dallas even more than it was despised by the good people of Houston. Like our doctor, she also stated flatly that we were wrong to go there. When I told her we were going to see The Police, and she answered that we should have stuck to seeing them in Houston. "Nothing good comes out of Dallas," she warned me ominously.

By the time we got home everyone had at least one, "This is why I hate Dallas," story. Even my very mild mannered and soft-spoken husband found himself in a hot dispute with one of the natives. Morgan and I, ironically, had a run-in with a traffic cop on our way to the concert. He had made some confusing hand directions and got really mad when we misunderstood him. We both apologized but he continued to yell as we stood on the curb in the rain.

I finally told him, "We're from Houston."

It worked exactly as I thought. He said he should have known that was what was wrong with us. Then, he looked me in the eye and snorted, "I ... Hate .... Houston!"

Sometimes life's funny that way.

(P.S. The photo above is from the Ft. Worth livestock show. At least twice a year they take some cattle through the city streets. I love it. Guess where I think the really cowboys live?)

Police Reunion Tour Dallas and Houston

After I've gone on about these concerts for weeks, we've finally done it. We saw the Police in both Dallas and Houston last week. The rest of the family is glad it's over and hoping we'll stop singing old Police songs every chance we get. Morgan and I definitely got a bit obsessive about the idea of getting to attend two concerts in the same week, but I think we're now bigger fans than ever. The concert in Houston on Friday was fantastic. We loved the Dallas concert Tuesday, but there were some pretty big problems. Most of the things we noted had been cleaned up on Friday, and we saw the band perform as they should. These are three gifted and experienced musicians who should be held to a very high standard. Friday, they began to approach that level of quality.

Here are a few of our observations.

Stewart Copeland is an amazing percussionist. We never really got it before we saw him live. This guy is so focused and dedicated, the perfect rock and roll drummer. He never overwhelmed the trio, as I thought he might and showed a mastery of timing and precision in the Houston concert that is unrivaled in my experience.

Andy Summers is a fine guitarist, but some of the problems we heard in the Dallas concert were, we think, a result of his rushing the beat and taking off on his own. He had some rather fine solos in which he performed magnificently in both concerts. , and his Houston performance was much tighter. I think, in part, this was because Stewart stayed very focused no matter what might be going on with the guitar, so Andy couldn't take them off. Andy had some amusing interactions with Sting and Stewart in both concerts.

Sting was energetic and in good voice at both concerts. However, we both thought he was much better in Houston. After seeing him so many times, we've concluded he is always better if he's been off the night before. When he's performing night after night, he falls into an kind of economy of working that is no doubt necessary. Having a chance to rest, he will inevitably come back with more strength the next night.

He danced and interacted with the other two band members on Friday in a way that gave them more of a feel of a band than just three guys playing together. We sat close enough to see a few interesting things on Friday as well. Sting broke a string toward the end of the evening. Morgan was quite impressed in how he adjusted and continued to play. We both winced too, knowing how much it hurts to get hit by a guitar string. When they came back for the first encore, Sting had put on a jacket. We thought he may have been hurt. Cuts from a string hurt like hell. Then Andy went to the final song on the first encore early and again we wondered if it might be because of an injury, but they came back strong for Next to You, the final song. On the way off the stage, Sting thumbed his nose at Andy. I don't know if it was because of the confusion at the end of the first encore or something else entirely. I've never seen Sting work so hard. In fact, it's the first time I've seen the effort really show on him physically. By the end of each concert, I thought the three of them had gone as far as they could go. The last song was one of the best, but the strain on their faces was clear.

I've read some reviews which complained of the ticket cost. It wasn't cheap, but it wasn't more than we are accustomed to spending on an important concert. We might very easily pay the same price to see the Houston Grand Opera or the Ballet. I guess the value question is really up to the individual. Tonight, all four of us are going down to Galveston to see the tribute band, Killer Queen. These tickets are only $15 and we can just go home if it's not any good. They are supposed to be one of the best, but I'm not sure how easy it will be to watch someone else look and sound like Freddie for any of us. Over the years, I've sort of trained myself to forget that he's gone when I listen to their music. Morgan was put out over the Queen with Paul Rogers tour for much the same reason. So, we'll see.

Morgan's Music

When I was expecting my daughter I read an article suggesting that pregnant mothers sing to their babies. That way the baby would hear and recognize comforting sounds after she was born. I loved the idea and found about 12 songs I thought would be perfect. The Yellow Rose of Texas was on the list, but I also pulled out sheet music and shopped for more so that I could play the piano for her as well. I sang for her any time I was alone for most of the pregnancy. The advice turned out to be very helpful as she had colic and need the comfort of music and moving.

I sang her our baby songs but soon needed more. We started singing every song I'd ever known and some we made up. Before she could walk, we started playing piano together. Once she was able to get up to the piano on her own, she started to work out little bits of scales and simple melodies like "Twinkle, Twinkle..." This picture isn't very good, but I had the chance to take it one day while she was busy playing and didn't know I had the camera. In it she's two years old.

I didn't know she was unusual until she started kindergarten. Her teacher asked about her "music studies" in our first parent/teacher conference. Bill and I didn't know what the woman was talking about. She kept insisting Morgan was receiving music/piano lessons and we both said no. Finally, I described the kinds of fun things we did at home thinking there must be lots of kids who did the same things. Her teacher had a certification in music and felt Morgan was very gifted. I was so proud of her, but still thought her interests weren't all that unusual until our son was born and I got to know a child with other interests and passions.

We talk about our Scottish heritage often in our family. These people were highlanders. All hard working, serious, courageous, and pious, the Scots define us. But the other Celts, our Irish ancestors, have given us magic. This is my father's family, full of music, stories, art, dance. Full of what they'd call Blarney. They are all musicians in one form or another. (My dad had a rock and roll band during the 50-60's) They all play piano and sing. Many of them play several instruments and can't get together without eventually dropping everything to make music. These people share the stories of fairy rings and superstitions, stories of dancing girls with red hair and green eyes. These other Celts that gave us music are part of what makes Morgan so very wonderful.

Here's a picture from Tuesday night. We went to Dallas to see the Police reunion concert. The highlight of the night for me was Morgan's company. She sang and danced, laughed and cheered, clapped and stomped her way through the concert as if she were made to be wrapped in music. She made insightful comments on the performance, noted things she thought could be improved, and made friends with the row of librarians sitting behind us exchanging e-mails with one when it became clear they had many common interests. We are beginning to know the woman our daughter will become and are delighted by her. She is kind and generous, funny and smart, and magical. We're going back tonight for the Houston concert. She says she thinks this one will be even better because we will be at home. I'll write more after the concert.

(PS The black hair in this picture is from a bottle. She decided to dress up for the concert and wanted to change her hair too. She looks great, but I walked right by her in the crowd without recognizing her on Tuesday night!)

The Jedi Carry No Spare Change

On occasion, teaching my own children gives me delightful glimpses of their thoughts and character. One of our favorite parts of learning together is having the time for real conversation. So here's a fun one from last week.

We were engrosed in a fairly deep, or so I thought, conversation about freeing oneself from the past to make one's own future. Since we are also total nerds, the philosophical merged naturally with the geekly and landed in discussion of Anakin Skywalker's decent from Jedi Knight to the Sith Lord. Yes, we really did have a very deep discussion of past and future running alongside our opinions of how Anikin Skywalker's life went so terribly wrong.

My son, sometime into the discussion, became quite solemn. He listened carefully to Morgan's insights and even looked up a few facts in one of our many "Guides to Star Wars." Suddenly he held up his hand to silence all further conversation. He sat-up straight, and told us both, very seriously, "I know exactly why Anikin turned into Darth Vader."

"Why?" we asked. I waited eagerly to hear what he had to say. He looked into my eyes and, with a gesture of his hand looking very much like Obi Wan, he said, "A Jedi carries no spare change." Morgan and I nodded along, quite impressed. Yes, a Jedi must free him/herself from worldly concerns, from the past, from personal attachments. We were very excited at the metaphor of "spare change" and thought it well represented all of the entanglements which destroyed the young man. We talked of the man's fears and how these were used against him and how we too have the experience of being limited by fear. At the end I was delighted, feeling very satisfied with the youngest child's progress. I found his ability to appropriate images from a modern repackaging of the heroic tragedy and use them meaningfully was quite impressive.

Then I shared the wonderful story with my spouse. He stopped me saying, "I've heard his idea about Anakin before. " I prattled on awhile more and he said, "Yes, yes, I know he's concerned that the Jedi didn't have any extra emergency money."

"What??? He didn't mean that the Jedi needed more money. He was speaking metaphorically. The "change" was a representation of how our past can drag us down. You just don't understand, husband. My boy's a genius; nerdly as we all are, but a genius." (I glared some at that point and gave him the teacher stink-eye."

"Ask him," was his arrogant reply. I did.

The boy's not a philosopher blending modern and ancient mythology into a metaphor for our own lives. The boy's a capitalist. He really did mean the Jedi should go about with more money. In that way, Anakin could have bought his mother out of slavery. She wouldn't have died. He wouldn't have descended into that whole "fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to the dark side" thing because he could have bought himself out of the problem. My son. Not a good Scots for nothing.

Happy Father's Day weekend. There will be large amounts of beef in our celebration, but otherwise I'm not sure. I'm up to the full, horrible, deadly dose of methltrexate now and will likely be in the fetal position on the bathroom floor for about 48 hours, but I did find a cool gift. Hopefully wondrous combination of cool gifts and food will compensate for my lack of visible signs of life.

Gratuitous Sting Trivia: This time two weeks from now, we will be seeing The Police in concert for the second time that week. Morgan and I are totally obsessed. My new favorite Police number is Next to You from Outlandos d'Amore. I wouldn't have tolerated this song in my teens, but Morgan has had her way with me and I'm more and more open to the loud boy rock star stuff.

Girl Drama

We canceled all of our premium cable channels several years ago. We had HBO and there was some serious sex and violence. I found out on late night that they show some serious porn. I have an adolescent boy and don't want him getting the wrong idea from the porn. So much of it is female exploitation that we just don't want him getting into this mind-set.

But, we got HDTV in February and upgraded our cable service. We went with Showtime because they had the new series on the Tutors. (Yes we are geeks, get over it.) We found some other wonderful stuff too. There's a police procedural "Dexter" with the most amazing twist. I won't give it away, but it is so worth it. Then I started watching "The L Word," and got completely addicted. They are showing season four, and I watched it all in two days. Then Bill got the earlier seasons from Blockbuster for me. I've just finished season two, and boy did I have the wrong idea about some of these characters. Those women are so not in the same place now where they were in the first two season. TV just never takes the time and effort to do this kind of character development. Bill won't watch it with me because it's a "chick show, " and I can't let the kids watch it with me. Even so, I'm a huge fan-girl now. Even though I enjoyed the show, I pretty much figured all the huge drama was strictly "tv magic."

Here's what I found in the last week. There are straight women out there with crap going on that makes the stuff on "The L Word" look like a women's Bible study group by comparison. There's such a generation gap between me and all the females under 30. Way back in the olden days, when one of us was having a problem we all got together drank ourselves sick, told evil stories about every man we'd ever known, and went home to kick our husband's ass just for good measure. Evidently now, we vent our frustration and disappointment on each other. WTF? We're supposed to gather as sisters, drink, eat ice cream, and trash every man that ever lived. If we're feeling really low, we play the blues. But, the men are the enemy, and we hurt them hard.

I've never been on the receiving end of the "hell hath no fury" stuff before. When I got home, I shook my husband's hand and thanked him for 32 years of taking my crap. I don't know how they do it: PMS, we kick their ass; bad day at work, we kick their ass; we're worried because the dog is sick, we kick their ass. Holy crap! The man has lived with this s*%t for 32 years. I don't even want to think about what happens when two women in a committed relationship need to vent on someone. Oy!

Gratuitous Sting Trivia: This is a cross post as I left it as a comment on Isorski's Musings, but here goes.

I heard about the unplugged work (for the Police reunion) too and am totally excited I've often wondered why Sing never went there. He could so kick Clapton's ass in that venue. At his first solo concert, here in Houston, his first encore piece was "Message in a Bottle." He came out in total darkness, then bamm, he's standing there, alone, stripped down to nothing but a pair of black pants and black army boots, with an acoustic guitar and a single spotlight. (Yes ladies, I said stripped down to nothing but his britches.) I was totally blown away. There has never been a rock star, in my experience, perform with that level of virtuosity. I was more impressed by that single song than by the entirety of Plácido Domingo's performance as Othello.

New Setlist from Isorski:
Set List:
--Message in a Bottle
--Synchronicity II
--Spirits In The Material World
--Voices Inside My Head/When the World is Running Down
--Don't Stand So Close to Me
--Driven to Tears
--Walking on the Moon
--Truth Hits Everybody
--Every Little Thing She Does is Magic
--Wrapped Around Your Finger
--The Bed's Too Big Without You
--Murder By Numbers
--Dee Doo Doo Doo Dee Da Da Da
--Invisible Sun
--Walking In Your Footsteps
--Can't Stand Losing You/Regatta De Blanc
--Roxanne

encore one:
--King of Pain
--So Lonely

encore two:
--Every Breath You Take
--Next To You

More Sting Than You'd Every Want, The Joys of Arthritis, Atlantis Launch and Hubble

For the one or two e-friends who actually care, go Isorski's Musings for a great review of the Police tour and an updated setlist. It was cool to hear from a real-live musician about the concert. Morgan continues to master the guitar bits for all the songs on the setlist and even Billy has started singing. He's growing into a lovely tenor. All the Irish side of the family are musicians, but my poor geekly rocket scientist husband is tone deaf. It's a thrill to be back to living in a house with real musicians. I got out my clarinet Thursday night, and Morgan and I jammed on guitar, piano, flute and clarinet until about 3 in the morning. We are so psyched. Those of you who visit me for other stuff, hang in there. It will all be over at the end of June.

I'm on my second week of methotrexate. I've stopped the oral iron, but I'm still sick as a dog. I'm so praying it's not the methotrexate. I got an anti-emetic from the hematologist that's doing the iron injections. It's helped some, and he's got other treatment options since he's primarily in oncology. Maybe I just need some time for the damage done by the oral Fe to heal? There's an option to get the methotrexate by infusion, so I could try that if the oral med. is the cause of all the nausea. So far, the only thing that's made a dent in the pain is the prednisone and narcotic pain medication. Neither is a long-term solution.

Please take a moment today to pray for the Atlantis crew, the beautiful vehicle, and the success of our mission to further the construction of the International Space Station.
To the left, the crew of STS-117 pose for their official portrait. From left: Expedition 15/16 Flight Engineer Clayton C. Anderson, mission specialists James Reilly II, Steven Swanson, Commander Frederick Sturckow, Pilot Lee Archambault and mission specialists Patrick Forrester and John D. Olivas. (Image credit: NASA) These good people are our neighbors and coworkers willingly putting themselves in harms way to serve their country and further the progress of science. This is a scary launch for me because of the hail damage done to the external tank. NASA believes this has been resolved, but we are in uncharted territory. We didn't have the luxury of swapping out the ET because of the damage done at Stennis Space Center during Katrina.

I'm afraid that the rollback of this launch has pretty much doomed the possibility of a Shuttle service flight to the Hubble before her orbit begins to decay. For so many of us, she's a dear friend and represents a lifelong dream. We hate the idea that she will meet her end breaking up on entry. She deserves better. NASA hasn't made any kind of announcement canceling the service flight, but we have a very limited time frame to complete the station assembly, and a delay in any launch means we will have to establish priorities. To the right, "Pillars of Creation" columns of cool interstellar hydrogen which will be the incubators of a new star systems. Released in 1995, this is a Hubble image of the "Eagle Nebula."

Police Reunion Set List

Like the good fan-girl, I've been stalking Police sites for a setlist. So here's the one from their premiere show! There are a few sunrises and disappointments, but it could certainly change by next month. The reviewers report that the set was 2 hours long and was absolutely flawless. Three seasoned musicians revisiting a body of work from their youth, sounds like the makings of a great concert.

The Setlist:

Message in A Bottle
Synchronicity II
Don’t Stand So Close To Me
Voices Inside My Head/When the World Is Running Down, You Make the Best of What’s Still Around
Spirits in the Material World
Driven to Tears
Walking on the Moon
Truth Hits Everybody
Wrapped around Your Finger
The Bed’s Too Big Without You
Murder By Numbers
De Do Do Do De Da Da Da
Invisible Sun
Walking in Your Footsteps
Can’t Stand Losing You
Roxanne
————-
King Of Pain
So Lonely
Every Breath You Take
————-
Next To You

Misc. Stuff

I haven't been blogging much lately. I think the whole thing with having to delete my old blog and having my mom still find my home address has freaked me out. But, we've had loads of fun times and great things happen. So, I'm going to try to get back to focusing on those things and not let the intrusions into my privacy change my life so much. Here goes...

We've been able to swim some. It's still not quite warm enough for every day, but it will be soon. I'm trying to figure out what I'm going to do for daily exercise when I can't walk or swim. There's a Curves about 3 blocks from our house, but from the description it sounds like too much stress on for my joints.

I've got a brand new rheumatologist and finally a plausible diagnosis. She thinks I have, among other things, psoriatic arthritis. I started a once a week dose of methotrexate last week. Today, I'm up to the full dose! I've felt much better in the last week, but she also prescribed prednisone. so it's hard to know if that's the reason for the improvement or not. I've gained five pounds in the last week. It's almost certainly the prednisone. I've stopped it today and hopefully my weight will go back down soon. The rheumatologist has threatened to take it away from me all together if I gain weight. Five pounds or not, I'm so grateful to have a doctor who will listen to me and not just follow along with what the others have done in the past. She says the new medication has a good chance of working too! I do have to find some way to get my anemia under control. I'm going back to the hematologist to see if he will do the infusions again. I've been taking iron supplements for a week, but I won't last much longer.

We went to see the new Pirates movie over the long weekend and liked it very much. It was a little too long for me. I had to get up and walk around a few times, but I loved the Johnny Depp/Keith Richards scenes. It was great fun. Later we went out to eat at one of our favorite restaurants. We sat on the water and watched all the sea birds come and go. Great fun for a post Pirates dinner! This was our postponed anniversary dinner. For several reasons, the 15th just didn't work, so we did all our celebrating over Bill's four day vacation. Everyone has been going around the house saying Arrrr, avast, seadog, bilge rat, ....... Very much fun.

Suggestions?

A few months ago, most of you know, I had to shut down my old blog. I'd never worried very much about privacy because the kinds of stuff I post are too boring for anyone to care. Knitting a new pair of socks or seeing a new movie are not likely to generate outside interest from creepy strangers. What I didn't factor in was it might make it very easy for creepy relatives to find me.

On my old blog, I talked a few times about being an adult survivor of child abuse. As far as those things go, my situation wasn't as bad as many. I wasn't ever sexually molested and the outlandish stuff like kids being starved, locked in cages, etc. didn't happen either. But my house was full of violence. My parents were violent toward each other and my mom was terribly violent towards me. She is mentally ill and used me as a place to vent her rage for years. I was beaten, stabbed, choked, bitten, smothered with a pillow, cut, pushed down in the bathtub in an attempt to drown me, had guns pointed at my head, etc. This went on right up until the day I married Bill.

So why am I blogging about this now?

When we moved home, I didn't give my parents our new address. We made sure all of our phone numbers were unlisted too, and I felt kind of safe. My parents were able to get Bill's number at work, but there's a limit to the trouble they can cause from that. He's on a federal facility and the laws about how things are done there are very clear. Even crazy, I don't think my mom wants to mess with the feds. I know for sure they could never get any information about where we live from Bill's work.

Then, last night, a Mother's Day card arrived in the mail. It was from my parents. How did they get my address? Every few months, I search online phone books, etc. to make sure we don't show up. Even though they know we are in Houston, it's a city of more than four million people. So, how did they find us? I'm so freaked out about this. My son goes out to play in the cul-de-sac every afternoon with his friends. They could just drive right up. I guess that an unlisted phone number doesn't keep people from being able to find an address, but how? I'm also totally freaked out by them sending a Mother's Day card too. Of all the things to send, why would they send their daughter a Mother's Day card? It said something about my kids being their "little angels." The last time I let them near my kids, my mom beat M. with a coat hanger. We called the police, and it was a whole horrible thing. Now my kids are their angels?????

I don't want to over-react or scare my kids, but I feel so weird about this. Any of you with stalker suggestions?

A Very Blessed 31 Years

When I was a girl, getting married the day after I graduated high school seemed foolish to most everyone who knew Bill and I. We caused something of a scandal and almost everyone thought I was pregnant. Since we didn't have our first child until 14 years later, I assume most were reassured that ours was not a "shot-gun" wedding. In addition to our youth, many of our friends and family were scandalized by the fact that Bill and I our cousins. Our parents were appalled. An uncle declared we would most certainly have terribly deformed, idiot children, and my brothers-in-law were completely freaked out that their brother was going to marry one of their most annoying girl cousins. Bill had a semester left for his BS and I hadn't started college. Our educations were also declared to be ruined by getting married. We put ourselves through school, earning masters degrees and post-graduate certifications.

Today, our 31sth anniversary, I think we take some perverse delight in having proven everyone so very wrong. In fact, we know few couples who have shared so many happy years with one another. Since today is a work/school day, we will save our big celebration for Saturday. We're going to see Shrek 3 and eat at Bill's favorite restaurant. Perhaps not so romantic to some, but a celebration well suited to us. The pool is beautiful, and weather permitting, we will have dinner outside and swim tonight.

Happy Anniversary Sweetie!

Summer Stuff

We've officially opened a swimming pool and are back to having a joint-friendly exercise for me. I've had to be careful of which stroke I used because of my sholders and neck. Still, I'm moving and that feels good.

We have 7 weeks to go till our Police/Sting fest. I broke down and admitted to my bff (who lives in Austin) that we were going to be spending the last week in June following the band. She's always given me a hard time about my major rock star crush. When I told her, she laughed and said, "You think I didn't know what you'd be doing? I'd already crossed that off as a week for us to meet." Do people ever really grow up? M. says she'll be taking me in my wheelchair to see Sting perform in his. Maybe?

We've made the perfect plan for our 50th birthdays in 2008. Suzanne's family and ours are all going to Disneyland. B's birthday is on Sept. 9, Suzanne's is on the 10th, and mine the 19th. Before we both had kids, we did big vacations every September to celebrate all the birthdays. Since then, our kids were either too little, in school, I was teaching, etc. and we gave up our tradition. But for year 50, we are going to bring it back for good. We've all been to Disney World, but B's the only one of us to have gone to Disneyland. We're doing a car trip with a stop at the Grand Canyon for the kids then on to California. For some reason she also thinks spending our 50th birthday in Disneyland is hilarious. She says she doesn't plan to get old, and I have to remind her she'll always be 9 days older than me! Oh, and I'm sure Suzanne would want you to all know were aren't actually as old as Disneyland itself. We're a full four years younger.

I haven't done any Sting facts in ages so here's my proposed set list for the concerts. I've been looking everywhere to find the real one, but no luck. Plus, it's almost certainly going to change after the first few concerts.

Play These Please!
Bring on the Night
Next to You
Hole in my life
Walking on the Moon
The Bed's too Big Without You
Can't Stand Losing You
Synchronisity II
Walking in Your Footsteps
Roxanne
Don't Stand So Close to Me
Voices Inside My Head
De Do Do Do, De Da Da Da
Spirits in a Material World
Every Little Thing She Does
Invisible Sun
Demolition Man
Rehumanize Yourself
King of Pain
Wrapped Around Your Finger
Murder by Numbers
Message In a Bottle
Every Breath You Take

Fear, PTSD, and the Dentist

About two weeks ago there was a hostage, murder, and suicide at my husband's work.

I got a call from B. at about 11:00 that morning. He started out with, "I know you are going to get news very soon from someone and thought you would want to find out from me......" My heart started beating so fast I couldn't think. He went on to tell me the whole center was locked-down, and there was at least one gunman on site. No one had been able to learn what the armed man wanted, shots had been heard, and there were at least two people missing.

The lock-down was about 5 hours long. We got conflicting information from B's office, the local/national news, and the center public affairs office. The Virginia Tech. incident was running through my head along with all the safety training I had been given. B, on the other hand, was calm and almost casual about the whole thing. I worried he would take unnecessary risks, and I kept calling him back with instruction on what I wanted him to do, making sure he was still there, etc. I most likely scared the crap out of my kids as I started calling all of our friends to make sure they were safe too.

The following Monday, when B. went back to work, I couldn't stop crying. I finally called the doctor and went in because I was a wreck and didn't want my malfunctions to spill all over my kids any more than it already had. She tells me I have post traumatic stress disorder. During the day of the incident I broke my bite-guard and shattered two molars. I've spent most of the time since then at the endodontist and/or dentist repairing the damage I did from the stress. Both of them told me their offices were full of similar patients.

I feel like such an ass. Suzanne's baby sister was in the building, had to run for her life, knew the hostage, murder victim, and murder/suicide person. She's back to work in the same building and has been so amazingly brave. She found out the murder had no family in the area and even went to his funeral to make sure he had someone. But Suzanne, big sister and my best friend, reacted the same way I did. What we saw on the TV was not what we were trained to do. She also started calling friends in their offices or on their cells to remind them of center processes. Everyone we talked to on-site said they were doing exactly what they were supposed to, but it looked very different on the news. Suzanne's mom is the early stages of Alzheimer's and had to be shielded from the news until D. was able to get there hours later.

B. never believes anything bad will happen and was very calm throughout. On the other hand, both of my kids have had horrible nightmares and even the 17 year old has had to come and get me to lie down with her after bad dreams. Our 12 year old slept next to his father 2 nights holding on for dear life. I can't help but think my reaction had to have made their situation much worse. I'm just not built to sit, watch, and wait. I've always been at work when danger was near in a big way. I had things to take care of, people to protect, procedures to follow. When did I stop being the calm and capable leader and turn into a trembling Victorian female with a fit of the "vapors?"

I finally had a chance to see my wonderful friend, Carol, today. She was on a mission trip to Honduras while this was all happening. I made poor B. call over to her husband's office and make sure they were following center protocols. Poor B. He wasn't happy to have to make that call. Even though Carol and I are very close, both of our spouses are pretty much of the nonverbal engineer variety and don't make "Hi, I'm just checking on you...." type phone calls to anyone.

All of this stuff happened shortly before I quit my job and really made me impatient with anyone disreputable. But, I also lost my temper with my dishonest employer and can't help but think that was part of my whole over reaction to the events of the previous week. I'm still trying to collect myself. Seeing my girlfriends face-to-face has been a big part of getting back to normal. The kids and I have talked through things. The doctor had great advice for talking with them. My total dental disaster has finally calmed down after two root canals and a new bite guard. B. still seems so sure he was never in any danger. It makes me mad that he's so laid back. Is he trustworthy to act carefully if he's in danger? I also keep thinking of what the world is going to be like when my kids are my age. Raging murders, terrorists, child abusers have me all feeling very pessimistic today.

I'll try to find something more positive to write about soon.

Disappointment

I wrote some about my tutoring job and then got so busy with work that I couldn't post at all. Sadly I had to quit the job two weeks ago. I was having a great time with my students, but the company I was working for was not honest. It's sad, because; I had to leave my students with no warning or explanation. Once I realized what was going on all I could do is quit. The teachers aren't allowed to talk with parents, so no one is likely to ever know their kids aren't getting the help they promised. If you ever decide your children need tutoring, make sure that you hire a professional educator and are allowed to speak directly to the teacher concerning your child's progress and needs. Parents are paying thousands of dollars to essentially have their child sit for hours filling out worksheets.

On the good side, my kids are glad I'm not working, and it's finally warm enough to swim. It's been great to use the pool and have a great time with the kids and the poodle.