Author: wrekehavoc

guilty pleasure monday: amie (pure prairie league)

guilty pleasure monday: amie (pure prairie league)

this may come as a wild surprise to you, gentle readers: i do not care for country music. sure, there are a few country classics i have grown fond of over the years: patsy cline’s voice, so soothingly painful; some western stuff from buck owens; that sort of thing.  but as what passes for country these days sounds like soft rock that has been perverted into some sort of populist nashville pap (ladies and gentleman, my proof: shania twain. i rest my case, your honor), my love of country generally is limited to rockabilly elements or generally countrified rock. in other words, i like the allman brothers and even graham parsons if i’m in a certain mood, and that’s probably about as country as i generally get.

slide guitars, duane allman aside, make me cringe.

(full disclosure of just how much of a super-colossal hypocrite i really am: i am related to a woman who writes songs for a number of country artists and who was nominated for a grammy (among other major awards) as the co-author of faith hill’s hit this kiss. i haven’t seen robin lerner since 1985; and she probably doesn’t remember me from adam. but she made a huge impression on me, even then.  i only wish i could have gotten to know her better, as we both write. ah well. so yes, i’m a hypocrite when i tell you that, while i don’t care much for modern country, i will always cheer on anything my cousin writes cos she’s the granddaughter of the amazing woman for whom julian is named.)

anyway, enough of the walk through my family tree. it will probably come as a HUGE surprise that i adore the song amie by pure prairie league.

(did you just do a spit-take of your coffee all over your keyboard? so sorry. go wipe it up. i’ll wait.)

…tapping foot…

okay now. all better.

is it because my oldest friend in the world is named amy? is it because of the adorable little gee-tar solo with which i always try to sing along while performing a mean air guitar? (trust me, you don’t want to be around when i try it. neither do my kids.) is it because i am a complete sucker for songs that follow a basic chord progression (A, G, D)? who the hell knows. i mean, i am stumped here: completely and unalterably. the words don’t move me. but the music does.

i now feel like expressing love for john denver next. please, please, stop me before this happens. friends shouldn’t let friends gush about the late, great bard of the colorado rockies.

i've returned

i've returned

and thousands yawned, i’m sure.

but part two of the salvage-the-doomed-disney-vacation-debacle is a little happier than part one is. mostly.

we decided to go downee oshun hon. (translated for those of you who can’t talk like a baltimoron, we went to ocean city, md.) we had only been to ocean city once before, in a post-baby-birth haze that took us to a giant hotel with an ice skating rink (sans zamboni) inside of it. i don’t remember a lot of it (jools was maybe four months old, so my eyes didn’t exactly yet follow motion at this stage) beyond taking BC on the lumpy ice rink and attempting a beach moment while jools was stashed in a little baby tent. the rest is a blur.

what the hell, we figured. let’s give it another try.

BS put it best: ocean city is like atlantic city before the casinos (and with less poverty and presumably less governmental corruption, i would add.)  the boardwalk is small.  the clientele is not exactly the most upwardly-mobile. the restaurants are overpriced, mostly continental food joints where you have to wait upwards of an hour to get yer damn dinner (and when you get it, like i did one night, you wonder whether the lettuce in your $9.99 salad was vintage 2007.)

still, we had our moments. we played a ton of mini golf. we swam in the indoor/outdoor pool. (jools especially loved the sandy hot tub, which i avoided like the plague.) and, of course, we hit the beach.

ah, the beach.

since most maryland kids are back in school, the beach was not terribly crowded, though there were plenty of new yorkers and new jerseyans, driving like maniacs along coastal highway. all the while, i was scratching my head: there are beaches far closer, and possibly nicer, than ocean city: why the hell are these people driving several hours to come here?

but we had fun. the tides created a massive shelf on the beach, which was a little bizarre and which caused me to slightly injure my formerly operated-on knee. we jumped in the waves. we played in the sand. we got to see the sandcastle jesus (at night, his stigmata lights up, prompting BC to yell his hands are on fire!!!!!) we did all that beachy stuff, plus BS got to chase a little redneck toddler off our blanket when we found him rummaging through our stuff while his mama, his grandma, and a man (who i assume was his baby-daddy) casually watched.

truth be told, we are beach snobs, more used to the more upscale, laid-back, outer banks of duck, nc. when BC suggested we eat at a thai restaurant, BS and i laughed: the most exotic cuisine we could find in ocean city was either mexican or chinese. (this, of course, does not include the zillion and one pizza restaurants, which i suppose counts for italian.) in duck and the surrounding areas, there are caribbean restaurants, there are upscale restaurants, there’s something for everyone with a remotely worldly palate.

not in ocean city, hon.

one night, we went to what we thought might be a fairly nice restaurant. only, too bad for us: most of the people on vacation in ocean city went there, too. we were to wait an hour in the sandy playground area. only, once again, too bad for us: jools became a little too restless and was throwing sand. we left in a huff, which is how we ended up at that $9.99 salad wiltfest.

one thought we had: at least they don’t have brew thrus in ocean city. we couldn’t imagine the mayhem that would cause, considering the classy level of folks we mostly encountered.

ah well. we were away. and we were together. and we were in once piece.

and that’s what matters, hon.

nothin’ is planned on the sea or the sand.

punky's dilemma

punky's dilemma

school is about to start, and i’m wrestling with my kids’ lunchtime situations, both from a nutritional and an environmental perspective. you can experience my angst on this topic over at the green parent, where i’m guest blogging today. go check it out and share your solutions, people.

i sure need them.

and to those of you who’ve gotten here via the awesome green parent blog, welcome. i promise not to curse in this post.

after that, all bets are off. (if you read back at my ongoing, so-called vacation from h-e-double-toothpicks, you may understand why.)

guilty pleasure monday: the tears of a clown (smokey robinson and the miracles)

guilty pleasure monday: the tears of a clown (smokey robinson and the miracles)

[cue old commercial i couldn’t find on youtube:]

but dad, it’s SMOKEY!

velvety smokey robinson has been around since the dinosaurs played records for the cavemen. seriously, the man has had the midas touch for a thousand years. to list all of his hits would take up this page and then some. and i love a bunch of them, though i’m not as keen on his stuff from the 1980s on; but it’s hard to dislike that voice: you see, when smokey sings, i hear violins.

but i like to wallow like the next girl, so tears of a clown holds a special place in my heart. stevie wonder wrote the instrumental track and gave it to smokey as a christmas present (can you imagine the exchange? merry christmas, man. here’s a hit song.) smokey apparently thought it all sounded circus-like and wrote about the tears of a clown. hell, i’d be willing to bet it is the only hit song to ever namecheck pagliacci. who knows — it could have made opera lovers out of motown fans for all i know.

can you imagine if this had been covered by someone from the stax roster? it would have been slower, sadder, grittier. i don’t know of any stax covers (though i absolutely adore the english beat’s version, peppy rasta ska that it is) but as it’s a motown song, it’s the happiest sad song there is!

and when someone’s broken up with you, i guess it’s better to wallow to something with a good beat. gets you on your feet again.

when the going gets tough

when the going gets tough

(hell yeah, i’m quoting billy ocean. whatcha gonna do about it?)

so part one of salvage the vacation quest was a bit of a bust. we took a drive to york, pa, stopping in towson, md along the way to hit the rainforest cafe for dinner. (i have finally come to terms with rainforest, if only because this is now the closest one, so i am not constantly hearing pullllease mama, can we go to rainforest??? pullllllease???) it was kids eat for $1.99 night — whee! there was a guy making balloon animals, and in general, it was a nice meal until jools felt like he was going to throw up. oh, the joys of hanging out in a restaurant bathroom, waiting for your son to blow chunks. which, i would note, he never did. he was simply tired. i want to go to sleep, he announced. so off we went. in total, that trip took a harrowing six hours, which includes rush hour in both washington AND baltimore plus one hour at dinner.

full day one we drove to hersheypark (losing I-83 temporarily somewhere around harrisburg, but getting back on track eventually.) i love hersheypark. it’s everything six flags is not: clean, friendly, full of helpful employees. there’s even a kosher restaurant there. i’m not kosher, but it was a revelation to me that someone would actually put something like that there. it also probably accounted for the several busloads of orthodox members of my tribe who were there on the sweltering day, girls dressed in long denim skirts and long sleeved shirts.

oh, and there’s chocolate. so it isn’t fancy chocolate — i was raised on hershey’s milk chocolate, and to me, it tastes like my childhood. we hit chocolate world twice, as they were giving out new hershey bliss bars as you exited. of course, when you ride something like that with a smartass like me, well, the bliss is all mine. first, we read about how childless milton hershey started a school for orphan boys, a noble pursuit which still runs today, though i believe it is for girls, too, now. but i looked at BS and said, how nice, he opened a school for boys. but what about the girls? what were they going to do in life? then, of course, you learn about the chocolate. and here i go, spoiling all the fun: i bet it isn’t free trade chocolate, is it? so is hershey doing anything to not exploit people in developing nations?

yeah, i’m fun like that.

anyway, the park was pretty crowded and it was pretty hot. we did get on some rides, most notably jools’ first time on a real roller coaster (both the comet and the sidewinder), so we did have fun. but it was impossible again to hit the waterpark, and, as i said before, the lines were a bit insane. and by the time we got to eat dinner, it was after 8pm, BS’s brand new cell phone’s touch screen was shattered by his time on the comet rollercoaster, and people were pretty exhausted. we drove back to york in the dark on fumes, a tired, cranky crew.

day two. dutch wonderland. DW is a lot of fun for kids under the age of about 7. it, too, is pretty clean and friendly, just like hershey. it also has a kosher restaurant, just like hershey. (in fact, BC asked whether there was a corporate relationship between the two parks. she’s smart like that.) it was also pretty crowded and pretty hot. BS, being exhausted from the previous day and pretty stressed from the fact that we almost got killed on I-83 that morning while merging (no exaggeration this time, i’m afraid), basically became ill. he sat out in the car for a little while, while the kids and i explored the park some more. unfortunately for me, the only place without a long line for lunch was…the kosher mart. but too bad for me: i was wearing my mini purse, which i pack with only the barest of necessities, especially since BS has other stuff in his wallet. only, too bad for me: BS was in the car, trying to revive his stomach. all i had was $20 in my pocket and an Amex. they don’t take Amex, and $20 didn’t cover lunch. little by little, i was telling the very , very sweet person at the kosher mart to remove this item or that item until i hit $17.

then i sat my kids down at the bird-poop-covered table to eat. and i cried. i was tired, i was hungry, i had a sore throat, and i really just wanted to leave.

eventually, BS returned to the park, and the kids and we went on a few gentle rides before leaving. we were going to dinner at the house of my best friend from grad school, Kip, when we hit first a major accident on Route 30 (read: the only road between here and there), then a lane closure. by the time we were near our hotel, BS told me to drop him off and i could take the kids to Kip’s. which i did. he was really looking green around the gills, so i knew better than to press my luck.

we had a great time at Kip’s — this was probably way more my speed for the day — eating dinner and letting the kids run around in their massive yard. she had found a DVD game of Family Feud at a yard sale for $1, which we played twice. (Kip, btw, is a master of finding finds at yard sales, etc.) and we returned at 10 pm, only to find that the electronic lock on our room had been changed. fortunately, BS woke up and let us in.

there’s so much more fun to report, like our miserable ride back yesterday (which included an entire bottle of nestle quik spilled all over the inside of the car), but i’ll spare you. suffice to say that by the time we got home, we had shell-shocked kids, a mom on the brink of tears, and a dad on the brink of reenacting a scene from the Exorcist.

i know today’s going to be better.

all mixed up

all mixed up

i was supposed to be on an amtrak train today, heading south to orlando, destination: disney. instead, i am home. amtrak cancelled my train due to a storm called faye that never turned into a hurricane.

it’s all mixed up.

first, amtrak never actually contacted us to tell us. if i hadn’t been a person who follows everything on the web, i would actually be travelling to lorton right now, getting ready to board a train on a track to nowhere. then, when we called amtrak the first time, they told us that they were canceling both legs of our train trip. if i wanted my return trip, i would need to rebook — at a higher price. at that point in time, we were contemplating driving down and taking the train back, so to say we were pissed about that would be the understatement of the century. i wrote a nastygram to amtrak. to their credit, an agent called me last night at 10:30 p.m. to tell me that they’d hang on to my return trip if i let them know by 4 p.m. wednesday.

in reality, we are not in the right mind to drive two days for our trip. i think there’s a certain level of mental prep that one does for such an experience, and we were simply not there. and, as the next train down with available seating doesn’t leave until monday, this dog wasn’t huntin’.

meanwhile, The Mouse doesn’t care that i have no way of coming to disney; they want $200 cancellation fee, thank-you-very-much. unless there is a hurricane warning declared, disney is open and expects your ass on the monorail.

oh. and there’s the little matter of two children who were completely pumped for their trip to disneyworld. they have been trying to be little troopers, especially since we told them we’re going to reschedule this trip if it’s the last thing we do; but jeez louise, this situation continues to go from dumb to dumber. only one or two highlights, as there were actually so many from which to choose:

a) when we call to officially cancel the amtrak train, an extremely nasty, sharp-tongued ticket agent informed BS that he was getting $400 back. uh, come again? those tix cost WAY more than $400. he asked her why, and she began yelling a barrage of nastiness at him. (she should thank her lucky stars that i was not on the phone. at that point, i was in no mood for anyone messing with me, my family, or anybody.) when BS asked for a supervisor, she clearly put on her colleague. nevermind; the colleague was nice and even honored the old price for the rescheduled trip.

b) when rescheduling disney, the confirmation came back — with DIFFERENT DATES AT THE WRONG HOTEL. he got on the phone, and something apparently had gone kerflooey. someone went into the database and fixed things; we’re waiting for the emailed confirmation to show that things have been put right.

there’s so much more i could write, but suffice to say, i am extremely disappointed with Amtrak and Disney. i am shocked at how we’ve been treated. things better be better the next time or else i guess our days of patronizing either enterprise are limited.

lessons learned:

  • sometimes travel insurance (which we had) is completely irrelevant
  • never travel to florida in august
  • we are actually capable of making lemonade out of lemons

re: the last bit: we will make our own fun. just closer to home. i’ll keep blogging; i’ll just be a little sporadic, as my buddy maren likes to say. see, i have these three other people here, and i think i’m supposed to pay attention to them. so talk amongst yourselves. i’ll still give a guilty pleasure monday next week; how could i not? and maybe i’ll type another thing or two.

but in short: i need a break from all this vacation crap.

mother

mother

today is my mom’s birthday. she is 29 39 old enough to know that she can’t be at an age that is younger than i am. but she is often a lot more light-hearted and younger acting than i will ever be.

i’ve learned a ton about being a parent from my mother. letting kids get messy. listening to your kids and trusting them. loving your kids no matter what. realizations like the fact that it isn’t the quantity of time you spend together; it is the quality.

i’ve also learned that there are moments in life where you need to suck it up and smile in front of your children. my mother battled — and beat — breast cancer twice, both times while i was a teenager. and even though she was probably in plenty of physical and mental pain, she kept it together, at least when i was around, because she knew i probably couldn’t handle her falling apart, too. now, of course, i would have a different perspective and a lot more empathy; but at age 15, the prospect of your world falling apart is just too much to bear. it’s all about you when you’re a kid.

and that’s why, when i became seriously ill, i tried my very best to keep it together in front of my kids. i don’t know that i always did; and there are times now when i get all teary-eyed thinking about the prospect that i might not always be there for my kids. but then, i stop, and i think about what my mom would do, and i take a deep breath. tears sometimes still leak stealthily out, but mostly, i keep it together. because my children need to think that nothing’s going to change their world. and i’ll do everything in my power to make that so.

i’m proud to say that my mom has been a breast cancer survivor for 28 years on one side and 25 years on the other, and she’s still a colossal pain in my ass. and i wouldn’t want it any other way.

happy birthday to one of the two best parents in the entire parent universe. i know you’re always in my corner, no matter what. i love you, mom.

guilty pleasure monday: knock on wood (eddie floyd)

guilty pleasure monday: knock on wood (eddie floyd)

today is our old cat dum-dum’s birthday. he would be about, oh, i dunno, 40 at this point. we had to give him away because my beloved politically-incorrect brother, larry, was allergic to him. he went to a great home, probably with people who would let him roam outside. (we often joke with my mother — is today your birthday? her birthday is tomorrow, but for years, we have teased her about celebrating dum-dum’s birthday instead of her’s.) he was one lucky-ass cat.

which brings us to today’s guilty pleasure — and one of my all-time favorite songs. in fact, if there is one song that pretty much sums up my lot in life, it’s this one:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B-Qmza3KpoU

i was first introduced to this song when it was disco-fied by amii stewart in the 1970s:

oh how i loved that song — and still do (in spite of the fact that i have no earthly idea why amii stewart is trailing colors in this video, like a late-to-the-party acid flashback.) i loved it secretly, though, as i wasn’t allowed to love disco lest i be disowned by my oldest brother, BTD. (he literally told me that if i bought the saturday night fever album, i would be out of the family.) it wasn’t cool to like disco, so being 12 or 13, i of course complied like the lemming i was.

but i had heard it was a cover song, so i had to hear the original. and did i ever! the memphis horns i love so well jumped out at me, as well as steve cropper’s guitar. and floyd , the ever-industrious writer and performer at stax, pushes the song over the top with his somewhat raspy voice. i cannot imagine anyone else, now, singing this song, though it has been covered hundreds of times by everyone from legions of american idol contestants to david bowie (the latter being just strange, sounding like something the saturday night live band would play. bowie isn’t known for having a great deal of range in his voice. and it shows.)

i am a lucky person. i have a fantastic family. i have friends i cherish. i have health insurance, which keeps me annoying the rest of the world for years to come. i continue to live a forest gump-like life, where i land in historic situations without knowing it until years later. oh, and i win concert tickets an awful lot. so this song speaks to me. it always has. it always will.

you bet your ass i knock on wood.

stop using sex as a weapon

stop using sex as a weapon

from the abominable files:

a woman who tried to be the third person to successfully bring forward a sexual harassment case in russia has been denied. the rationale from the judge is unbelievable:

If we had no sexual harassment we would have no children, the judge ruled.

apparently, it was okay that the 22 year old woman’s 47 year old boss demanded sex from his female employees. there was even ample proof in this case for his guilt. but no matter. he was doing his part for the declining russian birthrate.

i’m just quoting the telegraph uk for the rest of this; i can’t even bear to write it myself:

According to a recent survey, 100 per cent of female professionals said they had been subjected to sexual harassment by their bosses, 32 per cent said they had had intercourse with them at least once and another seven per cent claimed to have been raped.

Eighty per cent of those who participated in the survey said they did not believe it possible to win promotion without engaging in sexual relations with their male superiors.

Women also report that it is common to be browbeaten into sex during job interviews, while female students regularly complain that university professors trade high marks for sexual favours.

Only two women have won sexual harassment cases since the collapse of the Soviet Union, one in 1993 and the other in 1997.

Human rights activists say that Russian women remain second-class citizens and are subjected to some of the highest levels of domestic abuse in the world.

if you’ve ever been subjected to sexual harassment, you know how intimidating, how soul-crunching it can feel. when i was young, there was an upper-level employee at my large organization who made me feel small. he would constantly put his arm around me and act in ways which made me, a 27 year old woman at the start of her career, feel very uncomfortable. i didn’t want to say anything because i was afraid. i would cringe, i would feel sick, but i would say nothing. i would simply try to stay out of his path as much as possible.

years later, after i left the organization, i told my mentor — who happens to be male — about it. i thought he was about to go postal and punch the lights out of the other guy, even though the other guy was fairly high-level. (my mentor has always been a guy driven by the rules; knowing the rules, he always taught his underlings, can help you be effective and help you move ahead. in short, he knew this was a broach of the rules, and he was pissed.) i hope he didn’t, though i often wonder: if i had said something during that time, would it have helped some other poor girl who would end up in that man’s path? i often feel guilty about staying silent all those years.

there are a lot of people who don’t want to think sexual harassment is real, even in this country. they often like to jump down your throat and act like you’ve asked for it somehow. but i humbly suggest that for all the tarty people out there who slither their way to the top, there are mostly the rest of us people who are just trying to get through the day doing the best job we can do. and it’s one thing when you’ve normal obstacles in your way. it’s a whole other thing when that obstacle is a powerful predator.

at least we have some protections here in the U.S. i cannot imagine what it must be like when the state sanctions this sort of treatment toward women. for 100 percent of the women polled to answer that they’ve been sexually harassed: that is simply inacceptable.

and all i can think of today is that poor woman who brought the suit. all i can imagine are the repercussions. she’ll probably never work in her town again. she’ll probably have to leave and hope she can find another job in another place where her name is not known.

and as she leaves, she’ll have to endure that hurtful, self-righteous, leering sneer.

that's entertainment

that's entertainment

BC has been at a trip camp for the past week. fortunately, she is having a much better time at this camp than at the last one. she has made a friend or two, and what is there not to like when every day, you hit a waterpark or a zoo or some other venue of fun? (next summer, i want a summer camp for grownups.) but i suspect making a friend has made all the difference with miss thang, who is quite the social chick.

that’s why i was struck by something she said yesterday as i picked her up. mama, she said, so-and-so has an mp3 player like mine.

she brought an mp3 player to camp? i asked.

oh mama, everyone on the bus has mp3 players or nintendos, game boys, cell phones. that sort of thing.

time for the maternal head scratch. aren’t people supposed to actually talk to each other on the bus? interact?

we do talk, mama.

yeah. the social ones. or the ones like mine, whose mama doesn’t allow her to bring any electronics to camp. mean, mean mama.

what is up with people these days? why do our children have to be entertained every. single. blessed. second. of. the. day? i mean, i understand if you’re going on a four-hour drive listening to books on tape or watching DVDs. but a hop across town? a bus ride at camp?

not to mention the fact that my kids would probably lose the few expensive electronics they possess if i let them take them anywhere.

but i digress. per usual.

it reminds me of the time when we were on our first (and last) carnival cruise. the award-winning children’s program had two full hours of kids playing on gameboys. even girlfriend, who was about seven at the time, knew that was lame.

don’t get me wrong. we have our serious couch potato tendencies around here. we are all computer addicts. we probably watch too much television. we all could do with more exercise. but i ensure there are times in my kids’ lives when they are bored. bored, bored, bored. because you know what? life can be boring. and that’s okay. take a boring moment and figure out how to handle it. play? read? clean? run? call a friend? so many options.

plenty which don’t require batteries.

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