Just so we're clear ...

Yeah, I know, it's been a while. Sorry about that. John Lennon said that life is what happens while you're busy making other plans, and I've found that to be quite accurate.

What follows is a rant of the first order. It may or may not be coherent. It will likely contain profanity. If that isn't what you're after, then ta-ta, no hard feelings, seeya later. This is, after all, MY blog, and while you're welcome to visit me and peruse and all, it isn't promised that I'll give a rat's ass what you or anyone else thinks about what I scribble here.

Still here? Okay, then. Get in, sit down, shut up, and hold on.

I have a friend who hasn't always been my friend. She lives nearby, and her children are friends with my children. When she first moved into her house, we didn't get along AT ALL, and the fault for that lies with both of us. I've apologized, and she's apologized, and we've accepted each other's apologies, and life's gone on in a lovely way.

Lately, however (and by "lately" I mean in the last two to three months), she's not been the friend to me that I thought she was, and definitely not the friend that I try to be. I don't have a lot of mantras, but "A Friend Loves At All Times" is one of them. I chant that one so often that my children already know when it's going to come out of my mouth and fling it at me first in rather a pre-emptive sort of way. I've said it to this friend a hundred times just this summer, and she's chanted it back to me as well. The big difference? Only one of us has been living it lately, and I'll let you guess which it is.

Why is it that I say things in confidence and she feels the need to rent a fucking billboard and advise the world at large and in general? Why is it that she encourages me to confide when she's only going to runtelldat far and wide, without the burden of context or correctness? Where does she get off doing this to me?

Better yet ... why do I allow it to happen?

Ooh looka there, that's a fun question, isn't it? "Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing, end them." (Thank you, G. Smith, room D204, NEHS! All this time, I'd thought having to memorize that stupid soliloquy would never do me any good bar having to regurgitate it for a grade. I stand corrected.)

Yep, I can CHOOSE what happens next. I am not powerless. I can decide to allow her to continue running over me like I was a possum and she a semi. I can decide to deliver only short, clipped responses to her attempts to open some sort of dialogue. I can decide to remain friends with her, alter our friendship, or cut it off altogether (although I have the feeling that'd be an off-cutting rather along the Hydra lines, if you take my meaning). I can decide to abandon her and her manipulative, backstabbing ways. I can decide to forgive and/or forget.

First, though, I must decide what exactly it is that I mean by "a friend loves at all times". This will require introspection and pondering that I may or may not be prepared for just this instant. To be truthful, I am well and truly pissed off at her right now, and what I find most sad in this situation is that she wouldn't understand why no matter how I tried to explain it.

Yesterday, my child requested and received permission to go to the mall with this friend's daughter (we'll call her Suzie for now) and another darling of that age (let's call her Jane). While at the mall, they met up with some other friends, Suzie and Jane decided it would be fun to ditch everyone else and trot off to another shop, and so they did. When my daughter and the others went into the shop where Suzie and Jane were, Suzie and Jane ignored them all and fucked off somewhere else yet again. They later sent my child a text saying they were leaving, and proceeded to leave without her. YES, THEY LEFT MY DAUGHTER AT THE MALL.

All ended well, of course, because my child knows how to think for herself and doesn't get caught up in the lemming groupthink to which teenagers are so prone, but that doesn't keep me from getting royally cheesed. I got a text from Suzie's mom "just to let you know" that my child "decided" to stay at the mall. (Um, NO, your little bitch decided to be evil and wicked and mean and nasty.) I responded that I'd take care of it, and then got accused of not being myself, of being awful. What the blue bloody fuck kind of world does this need to be for that to be true? You may know, but I do not.

Right ... in keeping with the title of this post, I'll make a statement that will provide clarity to any who think they require it. This is true right this very minute, and may or may not remain so over time. Nobody puts Baby in a corner, and nobody gets to tack me down to anything when I've made up my mind otherwise.

You want to act like my friend? Fine. However, I can tell that an act is all it is, and I will respond accordingly. You don't get the best of me until such time as I decide you have earned it, and after the shit you've pulled, that may be ten minutes after never. When you figure out that making snide remarks behind my back, telling tales, spreading rumors, and stirring shit just for shit's own sake are not the way to be a true friend who loves at all times, let me know, and I'll reconsider. Believing your child is one thing ... being an active party to bullshit is something else entirely. For now, you've chosen an alternate path, and I can't stop it, so I'll just sit back and let you take it wherever it leads you. I reserve the right to point and laugh whenever the situation calls for such, and if I choose to applaud the cosmos when circumstances arrange themselves against you, you have no recourse but to go stare in your mirror to find someone to blame. I've poured out my soul and my substance to you, thinking you'd care, only to find that it's all for your perverse amusement. Forgive me for taking so long to figure out what an evil cunt you are ... it's my Pollyanna gene that leads me to want to believe better. The best part is that you'll never bother apologizing for disappointing me, because you'll never believe that anything was ever your fault.

In the meantime, go fuck yourself.

Howdy.

"... and so you're back from outer space ... "

Eh, I haven't really been in outer space, although it does sound kinda fun. I've just been doing ten tons of other stuff. Sorry ...

I'm still selling houses and doing loans for houses. It's great fun. If you're joining the program already in progress, I've been your friendly mortgage goddess since January 1994; I sat the state real estate licensing exam (and passed the first time, yay) in October 2006 ... and *poof* ... what had been a career became a lifestyle.

To catch you up a bit more, the children are now 14, 9, and 9 ... it's fascinating how daily changes go past unnoticed, but cumulatively speaking, there's a world of difference. I am, quite frankly, totally in love with my children. It's a really nice feeling.

I'm gettin' older too, as the Stevie Nicks song goes, and the stupid blood pressure meds have me running out of steam way faster than I'm used to, which sucks. Tomorrow we'll find out what revelations the blood has for me, and what ongoing mess I'm going to get to handle. Yippee.

Just now, I ain't feelin' it, and that has to change before my 5:30 appointment. So ... it's off to curl up in front of the TV with Kendall and do nothing but recharge for a short while. Good to see ya ... we'll meet up again soon.

Miss me?

Okay, so I've been busy. Sorry ... but here I am again, and I'm going to go back to my rants.

Soon. I promise.

You've been warned. : )

When It's All About Mom

So today is Mother's Day ... according to Wikipedia, we Americans thugged the idea off the Brits (something we've been doing for AGES, starting with the colors of our flag) and then changed the date from the fourth Sunday of Lent to the second Sunday of May. (Pretty decent idea, that - how are you going to treat your mom during a period of denial?)

Mark and the darlings were most happy to do whatever I wanted to do, which is ever so rare. I responded first with a blatant misuse of that "anything you want today" - I slept till nearly 1:00, which isn't something that happens unless I'm quite ill!

After the snooze-fest, we went to LaserQuest, where it was free for moms (but not till after 1:00 ... so, you see, that lie-in wasn't TOTALLY me being slothful, it was really saving my family from crushing boredom ... just another example of selfless mom-ness). In our family, I came second to Mark, but I'd never been there before, so I felt pretty good about it! It was kind of frustrating at the beginning, but once I got the hang of it (and found a neat sniper spot on an upper level), it wasn't so bad. Don't get me wrong, now; I won't be paying to go, most likely, but it was okay and everyone enjoyed it.

Having fired and been fired upon, we went to Josette's Pets for my Official Mother's Day Gift. I can't tell you about it yet because I haven't introduced you to that aspect of life, but I will do that soon. Promise.

The Official Mother's Day Gift required fairly immediate stashing back at the hacienda. Once we'd finished that, though, we buzzed Nana and demanded that she and Charlie meet us at Abuelo's for dinner. Nana hemmed and hawed a bit, but once I reminded her that, as firstborn, it was I that qualified her as a mom in the first place, she shut up about my kid brother having rung to say they'd be over "later" and agreed to meet us there at 7:00 as we'd pulled strings with our friend Scott The Manager to get a table booked for 7 people at that hour on one of the busiest days of the year. Dinner was delicious and delightful, of course (and I got a free T-shirt marking the occasion, w00t).

The best bit is that I get to do all this again in a few weeks when Mark's mum is here! YAY!

Shameless Plugs and Siren's Songs

Let's begin with the shameless plug, shall we? : )

Since Kendall was three, she's been taking ballet. She loves it, and she's perfectly built for it. We live at the far north edge of town but drive into the near-downtown area to go to one certain studio for classes with one certain lady. Miss Shannon is truly talented, an absolute creative genius with patience like you wouldn't believe. I have to tell you how lucky I feel that she didn't shake the Oklahoma dust from her Capezios and take off for New York! There are at least three other studios that are much closer to our house, but they don't have Miss Shannon. She takes students as young as two (in ballet) and she's got classes in all the best disciplines: ballet, tap, jazz, flamenco, hip-hop, and (of course) belly dancing.

Have a look! Everything Goes Dance and Drama

Last night was picture-taking time for Kendall's class. We knew from last year that we wouldn't be allowed to take pictures while the guy who charges for pictures was taking pictures, so I got some beforehand ... here's our favorite:

While we were waiting for it to be our class's turn, the usual bunch of parents wandered across the street to the cute little convenience store to buy Powerball tickets and scratch-offs (yeah, it's to benefit education ... AS IF ... we all aim to be rich! -ha-). Upon stepping outside, we could see some lovely cumulonimbus clouds directly to the south of us, which typically means that somebody's in for a storm. (Better that they're straight south of you, though, since those storms usually move southwest to northeast, so they aren't likely to hit you.) Pretty soon we could smell rain, and the wind got a little weird (which is saying not much and a whole lot all at the same time, because Oklahoma is a darned windy place ... you just have to know what the wind means when it does any given thing).

Well, you know me, don't you? Not only do I have the weather-widget on my desktop, I've recently put The Weather Channel's storm alert system onto the cell phone (because believe it or not, my fat posterior is NOT always in front of this machine). Sure enough, the phone bleeped that I had a message, and it was from TWCAlerts, telling me that there was a severe thunderstorm warning for Oklahoma City. Yep, it looked like at least the southern two-thirds and the eastern half was getting a fair drenching at that moment, so hey, good on ya, glad to know this thing works.

Then the sirens went off. ARGH.

Thank you, John Harder ... friends, this man is married to a woman who loves tornadoes the way I do (which is to say NOT AT ALL) ... he did not complain one iota when he was sent across the street to check the TV at the convenience store and report back as to what was happening. (He did tease me ever so slightly about alleviating the stress of the moment by firing up a cigarette, though, so I guess I'll have to TP his house sometime soon. Sorry, John.) The guy went on these fact-finding errands not just once but several times (because later the sirens went off again, and we had to be sure that a tornado wasn't going to drop right on our heads out of the tiny little cirrus clouds that were straight up in the sky above us).

Let's draw a long story short, shall we? We got done with our bit of picture-taking, then hopped into Thumper The Big Blue Truck to go get something to eat on the way home. Usually, the brats want to go someplace like Olive Garden or Red Robin or Mimi's Cafe. Last night, though, I asked them if they wanted to go "out" or if they wanted to get something to take home, and sit and watch the storms, and the meal-in-a-bag from a place where you don't get out of the car was the unanimous winner.

Of course, that wasn't the end of it. There was another funky storm that blew through later, but it was just a nice tame little squall line with wind gusts up over 70 miles per hour and hail the size of golf balls. No big! : )~

A Nothing Day

At last, a day that is beautiful and sunshiny! Yes, there are clouds in the sky, but they are of the white fluffy cotton-candy sort, the ones that you can lie down on your back and watch float by for hours. (Okay, with a 45-mph wind, they're whipping by more than floating, but you get the idea.)

I have lots of work today. There are seven refinance transactions that I have to close this month (two down, five remaining), and a couple of purchases too, so I can't be outside enjoying the nice weather. Drat.

Hope you're having a nice Nothing Day too ... or at least a productive one.

Once More, With Feeling

Oh, the shelter, the fun little claustrophobia-inducing shelter.

We had the shelter installed in our garage in 2004, just after Memorial Day. For the last four years, we've only opened it to either go down and clean it out in anticipation of the storm season or to show it to someone else.

This year, we hadn't yet "opened" the shelter at all when the sirens sounded for the first time (see post of 5 March), and then it happened again in the middle of the bloody night at the end of the month (see post of 31 March).

Now it's getting fooking well OLD.

Last night, not far past 11, I was in bed trying to sleep (sound familiar?) when I decided to check the weather one last time. (Boy, was that stupid; I won't be in a hurry to do that again.) Hey looka here, it's Mike Morgan doing the Safe Spot Shuffle, and of course I am entranced. There's the beginning of a hook echo, and it's got a downdraft and an inflow and (new for 2008!) a hail core, whatever that is. Ooh, it's at the far western edge of northern Oklahoma County! Ooh, it's churning over NW 122 and Council! Ooh, it's headed east north east! Ooh, it's going to drop over Mercy, Gaillardia, the Kilpatrick Turnpike, Lake Hefner Parkway, Quail Springs Mall! Ooh!

Bloody hell, I grumble.

I get out of bed and put on my clothes and shoes and turn off the alarm and get the garage door opener and turn on the mini-TV, tuned to the weather, out in the shelter.

I go back in the house and issue terse little monosyllabic answers to my husband's questions and take another look at the TV and gather up the important stuff and go wake the elder daughter and grab the flashlights and put new batteries in one of them and go out to look at the sky and go back in and go re-wake the elder daughter and go upstairs to get the twins.

Panic! Loathing! Fear! These are the things issuing from my children. The oldest one isn't freaking out openly, but I can see it in her eyes, along with something new: weariness. It isn't that she's weary because it's the middle of the bloody night; rather, she's sick of being hustled out of some lovely dream during a sound sleep in her warm bed to be shrieked and jerked into the shelter, usually getting wet like a drowned rat in the process. I think she's the only one who notices the sirens aren't sounding, but she does me the colossal favor of not mentioning it.

The twins, on the other hand, are very nearly beside themselves. It's gotten so that Kieran doesn't want to go up to bed if it's raining outside, and Kendall is only too happy to follow big brother's lead in this. Together they gather up the cuties and put them in a big carryall bag next to their bedroom door, and each of them puts clothes at the end of the bed in case Mumma comes steaming up the stairs shouting to get up.

I've always lived in Oklahoma, and I've always loved it here ... EXCEPT for the tornadic storms. When I win that damn lottery, I'm going to build a house that is 100% "safe room" material, and then it won't matter about the forking sirens!!