Stolen Ladders, Fellini Kroger, and love

So, we had 3 beat up, pitiful aluminum ladders stolen from the front yard a few nights ago. It's upsetting to have something stolen, but also sad that someone would steal such pitiful ladders. Truly crappy old ladders that you had to be specifically trained by Mike to raise and lower. Whoever the jackasses were that stole these ladders must have REALLY needed some ladders. Bummer for us and them. This happened on a particularly rainy and freezing night....so I hope the jackasses use the ladders for good purposes. This is my inner Buddhist talking......

On the  morning that we discovered the ladders were gone, I had to go to Fellini Kroger. For those of you who don't live in North Knoxville, Fellini Kroger is a funky neighborhood grocery store. You never know what type of neighbor you might run into. There are college professors, tattoo artists, Love Tower residents, college students, docs and nurses from St. Mary's (I know there is a new name, but don't care), hipsters from Fourth and Gill. Customers can drive, walk, bicycle or take the bus to Fellini's. Late at night, sometimes there is a security guard who looks an awful lot like 'THE ROCK'  (aka Dwayne Johnson)....so I like to go late at night just in case.  If I thought 'THE ROCK' would frisk me, I might accidentally forget to pay for a candy bar or something.

Anyway, I was trudging thru the post holiday grocery shopping, buying the back to normal food staples - you know - nothing good (as most of you know, I am not the most excited about my role as family food fairy and master chef), feeling a bit sorry for myself due to the recent ladder theft and the freezing wind and drizzling rain for my chore time. I checked out, spending more than I wanted to. As I emptied my numerous bags into my car, a little elderly black woman was pushing her cart to the rusty Toyota parked next to me. I offered to help her unload her bags - there were only 2. One full of collard greens and the other potato chips. She also had a twelve pack of Big K cola - not sure what her menu might have been. However, she refused my offer. So I told her I would at least roll her cart back to the cart rack. Then this adorable little woman looked me right in the eye (really looked right at me) and said. " I love you. Now, you have a blessed day and a happy New Year, baby."  It was so sweet and totally unexpected. I smiled at her, thanked her and rolled her cart away. By the time, I walked back toward our cars, she was already in hers, waving and ready to leave. I waved back as she pulled out while she blew me a kiss with her gloved hand. I was happy the rest of the day in spite of the ladder issue and the miserable weather. She was just what I needed.

So to all my friends and neighbors, even the jackass blokes that stole our ladders....."

"I love you. Now, have a blessed day and a Happy New Year, Baby."

World Peace and Family Time

I am the mother to three people. I would say three children, but the truth is  they are young adults now. I have had the good fortune to have a wonderfully crazy and diverse extended family (a quirky combination of luck of the draw in my biological family, my failed first marriage and subsequent colorful second union with Mike, not to mention the decisions of other family members on choices of mates). I hope I have instilled in my people that all of their assorted parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins and siblings are 'keepers'.  You can love someone and not be able to live with them. You can want the best for someone that gets under your skin. You can wish PEACE for your irritating  brother or sister (or cousin or ....even your Mother).

Loving Kindness Meditation (Metta)

May all beings be safe and protected.
May all beings be peaceful and happy.
May all beings be healthy and strong.
May all beings know love and be at ease.

As the holidays approach, with parties and family celebrations, let's all try to remember that we are connected by blood and affection, by chance and intention, by accident and divine coincidence. As we exchange gifts, let's remember it is not about the stuff. It's about the LOVE.

RELAX. Enjoy your irritating family. Embrace the logistical nightmare of coordinating events, arrival times, dietary restrictions, and make sure you have plenty to drink (alcohol is optional, but I recommend it) and paper supplies. If you can't embrace your own family, then world peace is probably out of the question.

I am going to practice some loving kindness for all my loves and their loves.

Namaste.

Slow Comfortable Screw on the Wall

So, if you are reading this and you know me, you also know that my husband, Michael C. Horner, is predictably unpredictable. I have been recently riding his ass about his negativity and unrelenting criticism of my lack of enthusiam for making three meals a day for him (day after day after day). I am admittedly not a great cook, but I do make an effort to grocery shop, mix from scratch healthy waffle and pancake batter, make sandwiches on grainy bread and throw in a fruit or vegetable when I can. I kind of go thru my rotation of passable meals and then I do - I acknowledge without reservation - getting fucking tired of feeding this man.....so while his commentary may have some truth to it....we both need get over it.

This is where we have been for the last few weeks....in a marital stalemate about meals and attitudes and tone. Married people know EXACTLY what I am talking about. So, tonight I was late coming home and as I walked up to the back deck, I can see Mike in the kitchen. He is clearly talking to someone and is smiling and pleasant and happy. So I watch him, because this version of Mike has been absent from me (due to my enthusiam deficit). Anyway, I watch a few moments and decide to enter.

I am greeted with a kiss and asked about my day (NO ONE EVER WANTS TO KNOW ABOUT MY DAY)...so I am again pleasantly surprised. THEN I notice that Mike is wearing his socks and shoes AND his 'panties' (actually boxer briefs, but I prefer to call all underwear panties) and  a t-shirt. Mike is commonly seen (by anyone who has stopped by my house) in his panties....but he usually has taken his shoes off. Anyway, I stupidly ask him why he is wearing his shoes while being in his 'panties'....and he begins to dance a sultry dance in the kitchen in his underpants. NOTE: This entire scene is being witnessed by Simone, who is the last hope of us not ruining a kid with our poor parenting skills (we haven't messed Damek and Sadie up TOO badly - however, Simone has the potential to be the best one yet). The dance helps explain (and I am merely guessing here) that he is feels good about taking the recycling and trash to the curb in the panty getup, black socks and shoes. Why? Because it is COMFORTABLE......and THEN, Mike shares with me  that his attire is a shout out to the new Southern Comfort commercial (link provided).

Out of the blue - while jiggling and swaying around the kitchen sink, Mike announces that a Slow Comfortable Screw on the Wall is his ALL TIME FAVORITE DRINK (the drink involves Sloe Gin, Southern Comfort, orange juice...maybe something else). In my 31 year relationship with Mike (clearly I have not been paying attention), I have NEVER, not once, heard him order or make this drink. SO, once again, I am engaged, intrigued and entertained by the idiot I live with. He is a grown ass man, dancing in his panties (black socks, shoes) in the kitchen, declaring his fondness for an alcoholic drink (I am not even addressing the NAME of the drink) in front of the one kid we might not mar for life.

This whole episode delights me so much that I might just be inspired to rekindle my waning enthusiam for cooking. I am DEFINITELY buying some Southern Comfort. And, although I will not tell Mike - the confidence and positive attitude tonight was pretty hot....just like the guy in the ad... rocking it in your panties takes balls.

Relax You Are Going To Die

The Buddhists have a saying....Relax, you are going to die. It is a profound little ditty that sums "it" up quite nicely. Keep your shit together people, I am not suggesting that we all give up and commit mass suicide, just that maybe we need to spend a few minutes NOT FREAKING OUT and finding some pleasure in the present....while we are in fact not dead.

We are fast approaching the 10th anniversary of Mike's open heart surgery. On December 16, 2002, Mike had his Aortic Valve replaced. Thanks to a physical required for application for an Army ROTC scholarship, Mike's heart issue was discovered in the spring of 1983. Mike was 19 years old, an athlete, extremely fit and it was a shock to everyone. The Army turned him down, but eventually he found a way to serve.... a classroom warrier.

I can't really speak to the stress of knowing about his heart valve for Mike. He was aware, given his activity level and he knew he needed to watch for worsening symptoms (shortness of breath, extreme fatigue, light headedness). Overtime, migrains. Maybe from the stress...who knows. Later, he would complain that his extremities would get cold....and they would. ICE COLD! When he was sleeping, the whooshing sound of his heart was audible.

So when, at 38, his symptoms became acute, it was time to do the surgery.
And, HE DID NOT DIE... AND, neither did I - but it was terrifying. Damek was 12, Sadie, 9 and Simone, 5. 10 years have past. A lifetime. A day. A lifetime. The point is ....he is STILL going to die and so will I - just hopefully NOT TODAY.

At 48, I am quite sure not everyone 'gets' Mike and me. Let's just say, we drive each other crazy. I find him endearingly ridiculous. He finds me irritating. That said, I adore him. I do. He is predictably cranky and fussy. I do things 'willy nilly' - just to keep him on his toes. The small stuff of the day - ultimately none of it matters. It all matters.

I joke about trying to keep Mike alive, but something DID change when we were 10 years younger than we are now, considering that he might die. It is the knowing that today is what we have and trying to be PRESENT for the day. So if I am mad and swearing and yelling at Mike, I love him. If he is bitching about the cat litter or how much I paid for milk, he loves me. So we have learned to love and live with each other...and inspite of the look and sound of us, we are pretty relaxed knowing that ONE day we will both die.

"And, in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make." Lennon and McCartney.

November Blues

It is not a secret that I do not relish the 4 months of November, December, January, and February. Having just started November, I am trying to embrace the season. It kicks my ass every year. Thank goodness I live in the South, where the weather is usually better than many parts of the country. Having acknowledged that I have a problem, I would like to share a few things I hate about November....

The end of Daylight Savings Time....or 'Summer Time' as it is called in some parts of the world. Doubting that the time change advocates care what I think, but I actually do not care about saving energy. Don't tell Mike, he loves conservation and recycling and turning off lights everywhere he goes. I KNOW it costs more to heat my house than it does to cool it (thanks to my fancy Geothermal heat pump), but I am pretty sure that part of the increase in cost during the winter is due to the fact that we have the lights on for longer periods of time every day.  Obviously, the change in time is not SAVING me any money. I know once we adjust our clocks on Sunday that we are in the 'real time' but I like it the way it is NOW. I have a few more days!

Dismal fact! I lose my TAN. I look better with a tan. I draw the line at using tanning beds, but I love to sunbathe - as has been mentioned before. I did manage to lay out on my deck in mid October for about 3 hours (10/12 to be exact) in a last ditch effort to maintain my sun kissed tan, BUT even I will not lay out again until March. Without a tan, my skin turns pasty white requiring me to ACTUALLY pay close attention to my leg shaving regimen during the winter months....which is already really pissing me off. Just when I could benefit from NOT shaving, possibly gain some warmth from furry legs, I have to become more vigilant.

My feet hate the cold. Wearing socks and full coverage shoes is just awful! My feet actually SUFFER during the winter months by having to be enclosed in shoes. I try to be accepting and wear 'slids' or clogs and go sockless, but I am GIANT wuss. Once my feet get cold, I am not nice anymore. If my feet hurt even a little, I immediately contact my personal foot specialist orthopaedic surgeon. NOT THAT I WOULD EVER IN A MILLION YEARS UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCE ALLOW CHRIS TESTERMAN TO PERFORM SURGERY ON MY FEET. Every fall, I do, however, feel it necessary to have her SCARE THE SHIT OUT OF ME about wearing properly fitted shoes and threatening to give me an injection, blah blah blah......Chris is a fabulous doctor and better yet a tolerant friend who UNDERSTANDS my feet. I am wearing smartwool socks and Keen clogs as I type this....not sexy, but Testerman approved. So there is that.

Speaking of sexy, I lose my sex appeal...if you are one of my children...stop reading here. It is hard to maintain my well documented status as a vixen when I am wearing layers of super NOT sexy undergarments. I have a wide array of undershirts....wife beaters to high end high tech wools tanks. Not a one remotely sexy. Leggings and tights don't do much for my stocky legs - at least bare skin (when tan) has to possibility of sex appeal. Along the lines of having to shave...in the winter, my middle age facial hair becomes more visible. I have to step up my game managing my eyebrows and mustache issues.....IT IS A BIG DEAL and not very sexy.
The cold weather kills my sex life....WHY? cuddling in the cold should be good for the sex life you say....well maybe....but I don't really take my clothes off for the better part of 6 weeks in the DEAD of WINTER because it is COLD AS SHIT. IT IS NOT SEXY TIME. It is wear your moth eaten old cashmere sweaters to bed time with your wool long johns and smartwool socks.

Good things about November, Thanksgiving is a great holiday. I do love the family time and the food. So even though I have a lot of issues beginning in November, I am going to try not to let the November Blues get me down.

Chin up....but I better double check the chin hairs first :)!

....be a lot nicer....

Right now in the midst of an election year, I have friends on both sides of the political fence. I am not going to blog about my own particular thoughts about any of the candidates or issues...not because I don't care or  have opinions, but because I want to be my NICE self. In fact I want everyone TO BE A LOT NICER....

I think I may have mentioned that I have fabulous children. They are each individuals and each challenging from my maternal perspective. I was a bit apprehensive about my qualifications as a mom, so I was not a gal that had my kids TOO close together. I never had 2 in diapers or any of that nonsense. I had my babies ONE at a TIME (for my friends with twins and kids closer together - my respect for you is HUGE).

My first baby, Damek Maxey Izo is in EVERY possible way a drummer with his own beat. From the get go, I was overwhelmed both by the massive responsibility, total lack of sleep and the ensuing inability to function as if my life had not been totally ransacked by this little creature, but also by the complete and total devastating love affair that began for me the early morning he was born. I am not alone here - I have plenty of friends that know what I am talking about. Damek is 22 as the election approaches. This is the second presidential election that he will vote in. As family paintball fest is coming up, I am sure we will have some fun family political debates.

When Damek was 5, Mike was walking him to kindergarten. Mike had moved from California the summer before Damek started school. Sadie was not yet 2 years old. Anyway, Damek told Mike that if he (Mike) was going to be the dad around here, he (Mike) was going to have to be a lot NICER. Mike was 31 at the time. I had had 5 years to adjust to parenthood by then...Mike was just getting started. The point is Damek probably gave Mike the best advice given the challenges of his new role. Damek was just 5, folks, and could see that being a Dad was a difficult job. The stress of the new role and the unrelenting schedule could make anyone cranky....

I was thinking about this concept of BEING NICE as I watched the news. Yes, it is fun to make fun of the candidate you don't like. It is fun to debate the issues. What is the saying?....opinions are like assholes - everybody has one. Being President and Vice President are difficult jobs. I know a presidential election is important and the voting public has the right to know what the candidates stand for. I know that each candidate has a compelling personal story to tell and something unique to bring to the office. At the end of the day, I bet Romney brushes his teeth, puts his reading glasses on his nightstand, kisses Ann's forehead, and turns off the reading lamp - just like me. I bet Barack and Michelle have discussions about their kids - just like I do with Mike. Now, I fully understand MY day to day decisions do not influence MILLIONS OF LIVES. I completely get that if you are the leader of the FREE WORLD you can not always BE NICE. And that conflict arises when folks don't agree. However, we can all agree that these guys are HUMAN BEINGS - just like us. Their supporters are HUMAN BEINGS, too.....not to mention, your fellow Americans and neighbors. Be a lot nicer, people.

So, to all my friends out there on both sides of the fence, hang in there. We live in America, where we are allowed to discuss, bitch, make fun of, criticize and VOTE for our leaders. Let's all do this in the spirit of being NICER to each other even if we disagree. When the dust settles and the ballots are counted, the morning after the election on November 7th, we will know who will have one of the toughest jobs on the planet for the next four years. Who ever wins will  have plenty of staff to help them, plenty of advisors and be plenty stressed out. Just like Damek told Mike to be a lot nicer....WHO EVER WINS...could certainly benefit from that advice.

Soccer Season: A Day in the Life

As you know, I am by my own definition a happily married mother of three. I am blessed beyond my girlhood dreams. I have a full, active life but make NO MISTAKE I am HUMPING it most days like a storm trooper. We are down to ONE KID in the house.  I honestly do not know how we did it with 3 at home just a few short years ago. I am also in SOCCER SEASON…so this is a typical day.

My alarm goes off at 6 am. I hit the 10 minute snooze, lay in bed reminding myself how blessed I am ( I do my gratitude list while still in bed – because once I get up I am in POWER MOM mode). When the 6:10 am buzzer goes off, I am up. India, my sweet cat and I share the bathroom. India likes to drink water out of Mike’s sink….which Mike hates so I let her to this while I shower. I turn on the hot rollers and jump under the high water pressure. I am NOT saving any energy or water here, I am WAKING up and it requires serious water pressure. I dry off, blow dry my mane and hot roll away. I am a professional hot rolling queen. It is a modern miracle. I am not quite Farrah Fawcett, but I like my hair to have some fluff. While I am in my hot rollers, I trek down the hall to wake up Simone. When I turn on her light, she makes the sound of a small baby dinosaur….she does not actually move. I go back to the bathroom to put on my face. I can do most of this without my reading glasses – thank goodness! I dress for the day, determined mostly by what meetings I have at work or extracurricular activities I have (soccer and yoga). It is 6:30 am when I walk past Simone’s room again….she still has not moved….but she is now speaking English and promises she is awake and will be up. I turn on lights for Mike, he mentions in a LOVING tone that because of the OSHA noncompliant noise of my high watt blow dryer, he has NOT been asleep for the past 20 minutes. Not that he has been up making coffee or anything…..I go downstairs.

The morning routine is PERFECTION. I make coffee. Those of you who have had my coffee know that I am NOT MESSING AROUND. I drink STRONG FRENCH ROAST coffee. I do not want some half assed coffee. I want my coffee to mean business. I only drink 2 cups a day so it is a serious 2 cups.   I empty the dishwasher, make lunches for Simone and Mike (school lunches do not meet the healthy Massey Horner standards). I plug in the waffle iron or pancake griddle. I make my famous oatmeal whole wheat batter (a tweaked up version of Mike’s mother Pat’s recipe). I add stuff to it willy nilly….cinnamon, flaxseed, protein powder….just to keep Mike guessing about how I AM actually trying to kill him. I put out the vitamin supplements that we take – again, my ploy is to kill Mike so I make sure he takes a handful of vitamins to speed up his demise. I set the table, pour the juice and fry up some sausage (I know that full-fat sausage is not in vogue but I let Mike live a little before 8 am). Now, usually Mike strolls in to the kitchen, telling me how I need to get Simone’s act together and get her ass downstairs (like I have not been DOWNSTAIRS for the past 20 minutes doing EVERYTHING). So I go to the bottom of the stairwell, using my sweetest maternal voice and yell….GET YOUR ASS DOWNSTAIRS, Simone. It sets a fabulous tone for the morning.

We eat – not much conversation – usually some discussion of how I am attempting to ruin Pat’s perfect recipe by adding healthy stuff to it. A second favorite morning topic is pulp free vs. pulp orange juice…I cannot make everyone happy. Sometimes half and half is mentioned….my inability to purchase the right kind of half and half is legendary and does not have anything to do with the Kroger management at the Fellini Kroger wanting to mess with Mike as much as I do. I drink my coffee black so I don’t really care about this issue. Sometimes, there is a general discussion about dress code violations and cleavage. It is well known that I encourage my female teenage offspring to flaunt their breast development by wearing super inappropriate shirts. Don’t all mothers of teenage daughters do this? It is 7:20 am when Mike and Simone exit the house. I usually sit down with Ruby Jean Massey, the 17 year old tabby that understands me - which is why she gets to have my last name and not Mike’s. We watch a little TODAY show. Ruby loves Matt Lauer more than I do. I leave the house with my second cup of coffee by 7:50 am.

As HR Director with 9 different locations, I go to whichever location the day dictates. I love my job – I really do. We have about 500 employees and no 2 days are the same. Some days are quiet, but most days offer interesting situations. I often eat lunch at my desk, but I am not complaining…my co-workers are fun and after 14 years, many are close friends…so again, I am blessed. The docs I work for are wonderful. I have a lot of autonomy which is certainly helpful for my POWER MOM duties. I know I am supposed to say it is great to work where I do as the HR person…..but it IS true, I work for a great company.

One day a week, at lunch I teach a 45 minute yoga class. I drive, change into yoga attire, teach the class, and am reminded during the short savasana at the end of class (where everyone lays down for a moment), that NAPTIME should be part of EVERYONE’s mid-day routine. I change back into my ‘work attire’, go back to work and feel gratitude for my job, yoga, and that I can face any challenge the employees want to throw at me for the next few hours. However, I have not factored in what my family might need.

My family might need all kinds of stuff. My family might need an appointment with one of the orthopaedic docs….kids and sports….they might need someone (me) to pick up concession stand supplies for the night’s home game. They might need to someone (me) to swing (inconveniently) by our house to pick up a lone athletic bra (or shin pad or something, ANYTHING) that might be needed. They might need someone (me) to transfer money to someone’s bank account to avoid bank fees or overdraft charges. Any drama – call me. You name it, if you need it, I am the gal to call.

I make it to the soccer fields (we have at least 2 games a week during the regular season) usually right as the game begins. I am still in my work attire – which as I mentioned earlier, I try to plan ahead enough to be fairly comfortable….it is 6 pm and I have not been home so I have to plan for heat, cold, rain, etc. My hot rolled hair is still looking pretty fluffy….even on yoga teaching days. The game lasts over an hour and a half. They are all exciting. Depending on the location, I am either sitting on a super comfy bleacher seat, the grass, or standing for the entire match. I am psychic so I do actually know from across the field what Mike as head coach is thinking at all times J.  Thankfully, the parents don’t seem too upset with him most of the time. A future blog might be about being the coach’s wife….fun stuff!

Game over, we eat dinner out…we get home by 9 pm.

On Monday and Wednesday nights we don’t have soccer games, I teach an evening yoga class at 7pm. I get home from work about 5 pm  and make dinner,   I eat light – due to the yoga class. Mike and Simone will be home around 6:45 or 7pm and will eat what I have made. I leave to teach class before they even get home. I do yoga because it allows me to SLOW DOWN enough to do the rest of my life. I come home from yoga about 9 pm.

On either Soccer or yoga nights by  9 pm, Simone has homework so I am consulted about whether she should shower first or do homework first….she is presently in a cast with a fractured wrist so I recommend the homework first. I load the lunch Rubbermaid into the dishwasher, open the mail, scoop the cat litter, do the trash roundup and eventually change into my pajamas. Mike is reclined in his man cave (just for a moment – because he is EXHAUSTED). Mike also has to catch up on the episodes of Judge Judy or Pawn Stars. I start a load of laundry. I remind Simone to bathe. She lollygags and plans her outfit for the next day. Finally, she hits the shower while I put the clothes in the dryer. Mike mentions he needs me to help him send out a team email (I am the IT Director at our house) so I get him started. I scream at Simone to HURRY up. There may or not be profanity involved. It is 10:30pm. Simone needs her sleep. I am folding laundry when Simone is ready for me to tuck her in. I KNOW she is 15 years old and that is probably TOO OLD for tucking in, but she is my last kid. I have already experienced 2 of my children moving out and NO LONGER NEEDING me to tuck them in. I will tuck her in, even if I spend the first and last 30 to 45 minutes of everyday trying to get her to move her ass a little faster. I rub her back and say goodnight.

Mike makes his way upstairs to shower and change for bed. He asks me if I want to sit on the porch swing and have a beer (when the temps are cooler in November, he wants the beer in the hot tub), I feel like I might cry (remember when I get tired, I cry and at 10:45pm, I am officially tired), but I say YES. Why? Because I find Mike irresistible after 31 years and frankly I have not gotten a chance to REALLY look at him ALL DAY LONG. So we both grab beers, sit on the porch, talk about the day. I am reminded that he is every bit the boy I fell in love with. I am so grateful to be on the porch with this man. I am human and I am tired. I kiss him and go upstairs. I text or call Damek and Sadie, who no longer live at home. I love them. I want them to be careful. I remind them about something totally unimportant. I just want to connect to them and know they are okay.

Before my head hits the pillow, I yell to Mike, who is still up, to start the dishwasher and make sure Ruby, the cat, is in the house (at 17, she is too old for the out of doors at night and she is the only family member who likes me in the morning so I don’t want her pissed off by leaving her outside). I put in my pink earplugs and go to sleep. I have to do this again and my day starts at 6 am. I am the luckiest girl in the world.

They still like each other

Tomorrow is my parent's 54th anniversary. George and Faye Massey, married when they were both 18, on September 10, 1958. Truth be told, they practically eloped.  My Mom's parents knew they were getting married, but Dad's folks found out afterward. They were kind of rebels in love. If you know them, I think you might agree.

They grew up in Middle Tennessee, Lincoln County; Dad on the Massey Farm in Kelso...Mom grew up in town - Fayetteville. They went to the same high school. Dad played football, Mom was a homecoming queen and cheerleader. Classic American Apple Pie stuff. The first four years of their marriage, they lived in Knoxville where Dad got his undergraduate degree at UT. Mom worked on campus. By all accounts, they had a blast.

I wasn't born until 1964, so they had been married a while before starting a family. That said, I have had a front row seat to most of their marriage and can attest to the fact that they have it right.

Commitment - duh, right? 54 years! They have supported each other in many endeavors. My Dad's 21 year career in the Army - numerous moves. My Mom's sweat shirt business, that paid the bills while they transitioned from life in the military to life as civilians. They had 2 kids in college! None of us borrowed a penny to get our undergraduate degrees. Pretty impressive. I have 2 college kids myself now so NOW I get it. It sounds corny, but even as a little girl, I remember thinking about how much they depended on each other - both far from their families. George and Faye were a united front and both rock solid for me, my sister and brother.

Conflict. If you live with someone for 54 years, they are bound to get on your nerves. My parents didn't fight a lot, but ENOUGH. My Dad can blow up at tools, lawnmovers, cars, the last known location of his glasses, the newspaper, Mom's organization of the kitchen drawers, who has the keys to the house, who has the tickets to whatever event they are going to, what time family vacations begin....you get the picture. His bark is much worse than his bite - not that I plan to test my theory. Mom would listen to him and softly, in her quiet southern accent say, "You can kiss my ass, George Massey". More often than not, this would amuse him more than make him mad. You don't even want to see Mom get mad - I think I have avoided it since my teens. My point remains. They showed us that conflict is part of long term relationships. You can fight and stay together. You can agree to disagree.

Courage. My Dad served 2 tours of duty in Vietnam. I was too young to remember the first tour, but I was in second grade the second time he went. Dad sent letters at regular intervals to us. My Mom made scrap books of these and saved them for us - I still have them as well as the letters my second grade self sent to him. Mom never let on how hard it must have been for her with 3 little kids while he was gone. It was different than today (not to discount what troops and their families go thru in the present) - no internet, no cell phones. Lil G (as my kids call Mom - it's her gangster name, short for Little Granny) was a Rock. Dad did his duty, but Mom served as well. Courage - yeah, they've got it.

Attraction. Okay, I am going to go here....but the PG-13 version. My parents have never made any bones about being attracted to each other. Even though Mom only admits to having had sex 3 times (all 3 times resulting in a child), I can remember them always being into each other. My Dad has always bought Mom sexy underwear for her birthday and Christmas and given it to her in front of the WHOLE family. I have to say, she has some sexy stuff. One year, Mom got Dad some silky boxers as pay back for all the years of embarrassing moments. He did not mind at all. Countless times, I have caught my folks in an embrace, flirting with each other when they did not know I was watching.

Autonomy. Mom and Dad do tons of stuff together, but they do stuff on their own as well. Dad golfs and tinkers, Mom plays bridge, quilts, and sews. They work on projects together. Obviously, they have had many years to work out the kinks, but again it has been a good example for us. Most recently, both at 72, they built a deck at their new house together.

54 years. And, as Mom told a friend of mine at dinner one night, they still like each other. They have 3 kids...me, Suzanne, and George as well as 3 in-laws....Mike, Doug and Monica. They have 6 grandkids...Damek, 22, Sadie, 19, Simone, 15, Libby, 12, Haley, 9, and Max, 4.

Happy Anniversary, Mom and Dad. Your family adores you. Keep up the good work.

Bane of my existence - OR just my little sister?

Something or someone is "the bane of my existence" means that the person or thing is a constant irritant or source of misery....

47 years ago, my sister, Suzanne Maxey Massey, was born on what my parent's brilliantly designated 'NATIONAL PICNIC DAY', August 22, 1965. Explanation: I was born on Valentine's Day in 1964, 5 years later in 1969....little Georgie, my baby brother was born on Easter Sunday...so Mom and Dad made up National Picnic Day. National Picnic Day 1965 changed everything for me...and I was only 18 months old.

 I am the oldest kid, which folks who know me will tell you, is perfect for my personality. At 48, I still think if my siblings would do what I tell them, they would be a lot better off. This never really happened while we were growing up, doesn't happen now, but I still like to think I could help them out if they would just ask :). The sad part is they don't need my help - especially Suzanne.

Suzanne was always right behind me at every developmental milestone. I had 18 months on her and for awhile that worked for me. I did manage to stay one step ahead of her for years, but then when we became teenagers, she caught up. She was a super track star, running the mile relay and cross country. I eventually grew to love cross country, but did not actually believe in sweating until college. She was class president and very well thought of by her peers... while I was voted 'most eccentric'. (Note to my children - that does not mean 'most weird'). Needlesstosay, we are very different. I am naturally outgoing and (dare I say it) opinionated. Suzanne is ever the diplomat - unless you piss her off. - just ask Doug. She even thanks the cops who work at 5K road races...and will let someone pass her in the last 50 yards of the race. People say Suzanne is nicer than me....and I have to admit it is a little bit true.

Today, Suzanne, married to Doug, is a 'Big Dog'. She is the principal at an elementary school with 600 students. She manages a large staff, the PTA loves her, and she even has 3 grandkids (thanks to Doug's kids) that she gets to spoil. My kids know how to work her...Aunt Nan is a bit partial to my brats. I am grateful that they have her in case I lose my mind and they need a rational adult to talk to (Mike does not generally qualify as such if I have lost my mind - his is gone, too).

Suzanne's house is spotless, she is uber organized. Her car smells brand new and does not have any random sport bras or soccer cleats flying around in it. She always looks put together, even her under garments are pretty....mine are functional and boring. Her hair is a real style - she maintains it professionally. I cut my own bangs and sometimes don't wash my hair for 3 days in a row. She likes to shop - which I hate and my girls love....she lets them bitch about me, which I hate and they also love. She NEVER swears...well, sometimes, she says 'shit'....I have been known to swear on occasion (I taught most of Damek's friends to swear properly).

I could go on and on about all the things we have shared...bedrooms growing up, girlfriends - even now, vacations, heartbreaks, holidays, bottles of wine, parents...and even a brother. I totally take her for granted way too much. We have been team mates, roommates, enemies, and bridesmaids to one another. We share a million memories and the future.

Bane of my existence is probably a bit of much....Suzanne is my oldest dearest friend and knows all my flawed, limited, personality traits.

Happy National Picnic Day to my sweet sister! I love you!

Historical Neighborhood Living - My Daily Walk

I have lived in old houses most of my adult life....after a nomadic childhood living in post WWII military housing and the occasional 1970's split level or rancher with a carport....I find myself drawn in spite of above average intelligence to OLD houses. Presently, and for nearly 17 years now, I have lived in a 1906 Neoclassical Victorian. Prior to the 1018, I lived in an American Four Square on Luttrell, and a Bungalow on Armstrong. The family that Mike and I purchased 1018 from had owned this home for 40 years! SO, we got lucky. Another time - another post....the great adventure of old house renovation.

TODAY, however, I have just gone on my usual walk...using the wonderful sidewalks of Old North Knoxville and Fourth and Gill neighborhoods to walk thru history in Knoxville. I love these sidewalks and have spent literally a million hours pushing strollers and my baby jogger, jogging alone and with my kids and Mike up and down these lovely tree lined streets.

I am going to list some things I love about living here.

1. Having legit sidewalks - not the pretend ones that you see in the burbs....these sidewalks still provide legit paths for many folks living downtown that do not own cars or bicycles. In 2012, it is hard to imagine that there are actually people who do not own cars, but in my neighborhood (thanks to a rent subsidized apartment complex and a few shelters), I am reminded not everyone has a car. I am grateful that I do - but sometimes wish I did not need one for my daily life.

2. The number of churches in my neighborhood. I walked past 6 churches in less than a 3 mile walk....and all of these churches have been here for the better part of the last 100 years. In fact, one of them, Central United Methodist was my Granny Dot's girlhood church. Pretty cool to walk past it.

3. Speaking of Granny Dot, my Dad's mother, Dorothy Jensey Maxey Massey was raised on Morgan Street in Fourth and Gill. She was one of the first (if not the first) FEMALE cheerleaders at Knoxville High School. I NEVER walk past the corner where her house once stood without thinking about her. What an incredible gift to remember her so often, She has been gone for 19 years.

4. Knox High School is on the far end of Fourth and Gill...Knox County Schools still uses the building. We even have a savings account at the Knox County Federal Teachers Credit Union. They are so friendly there.

5. Street lights. I love them. I am always surprised that most suburban neighborhoods don't have street lights.

6. I adore front porches! I love walking by and seeing people on their porches, I love seeing the furniture on the porches. In both Fourth and Gill and Old North people use their porches as living spaces. I love to sit on my porch swing and watch the clouds roll by or a summer thunderstorm roll in.

7. I also get a kick out of the porches that serve as messy storage units for tenants  - not all my neighbors are decorators. Sometimes you can not tell if people are moving in or out or just ran out of enthusiam for  the unpacking. Some porches have the tools of the current renovation on them....it is fun to think what the owners are doing to the house.

8. What people do outside here. I saw several neighbors walking their dogs. I saw a young couple on their front lawn. She was cutting his hair while their dog lounged on their sidewalk. It was very sweet. They did not even notice me, they were so into each other and the haircut.

9. The Love Towers (the subsidized apartments) have a community garden. There is an older black woman who is always out in the evenings...she is always wearing a long sleeved shirt and long pants and a big straw hat, usually she is holding a garden hose, watering plants. AND she is always telling the other resident gardners what to do. I love this woman. Seriously, I have seen her out there for as long as I can remember them having a garden at the Love Towers.

10. I love Central Avenue.....Happy Hollow - the little area on Central Avenue that is home to a few new businesses...like Chop Shop hair salon, the Time Warp Tea Room (biker tea room?), the Tai Chi place, the Relix Theatre and Central Flats and Taps (my new favorite bar). I love Magpies, Central Books, and the Glowing Body yoga studio....KnoxTenn Rentals and the Tastee Freeze...and Three Rivers Market (the new Food Co-op) and the KenJo. I love these places. I even miss the Corner Lounge (now Central Books)...they had cheap beer, and interesting local live music...

One more...

I love that in my neighborhood, we have a Saint Tattoo, the famous Fellini's Kroger, Fulton High School, and St. Mary's Hospital (it will never be TennNova to me).

AND, my house. I love living here. I love that I raised my kids here. I love it. I do.

Happy last day of July 2012.

Why Women Can't Have It All

I heard the NPR interview and read the article in the Atlantic (worth the read even if you are not a tenured law professor working mom). And while I mostly agree with Ann-Marie Slaughter, my first thought was 'no shit".
http://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2012/07/why-women-still-can-8217-t-have-it-all/9020/


I am forever grateful to all the feminist who fought for women - and men, frankly, to have choices, but the article is only one person's experience (which she readily acknowledges) and much would have to change for anyone to have it all.

My generation of women grew up hearing that we could be anything we want....just as long as it was NOT 'just a full-time mother'. While I have worked most of the 22 years I have been a parent, I still get pissed when both men and women look down upon full-time stay at home parents. Having said this....several of these folks make the job look bad. They stay at home for the WRONG reasons. They don't necessarily take pride in the job. They do it half-assed and some even kind of apologize for it. Not everyone has the luxury of staying home to raise children and run a household full-time. Be proud and do your best, people.

One point the article does note is that it is CRITICAL that you pick the right partner. Again, no shit. No matter what you do professionally or not, the right life partner is key. Marriage and parenthood is hard enough - even harder is two people have different ideals about work/family balance. Be honest about wanting kids. Be honest about the lifestyle you want. Things happen that you can not control and you may have to ADJUST YOUR EXPECTATIONS! At 32, Mike moved to Tennessee, switch from law to teaching and has been a fantastic (don't tell him I said this) life partner. However, he was judged unfairly for deciding to change careers from law to teaching to better balance parenthood. Both male and female folks implied laziness (before really getting to know him) or lack of ambition as the real reason for his decision. Now, he has been teaching for 13 years, we have certainly let this go. But society needs to respect choices for both sexes and not label folks or project ideals of success onto others. In our lives, this was one of the best decisions we made as a couple.

To my younger, single girlfriends, I give this advice. If you want to have a family someday......There is simply nothing sexier or sweeter than a man willing to bathe his kids, read to them and get them to bed so that you can clean up the kitchen, do some laundry, take a shower and shave your legs ALONE. A man who will do all of those chores so that you can bathe kids, read to them and put them to bed is EVEN BETTER  - so that you can have a glass of wine with him once they are asleep. If he will take the screaming toddler to the parking lot at a swanky restaurant while you eat with the other adults in peace - SUPER SEXY. A man who will hire the babysitter (even if it is your own mother) so that you both can go have a beer to talk about a problem one of your kids is having - AWAY from the kid who is keeping both of you up at night worrying. HUGELY SEXY.

Here is the thing you want....A man who wants to be in YOUR business (and I am not talking dirty - but that applies as well), in your kids business and is truly engaged  and commented to the day to day is a KEEPER. KEEP him. Keep him because you CAN NOT have it all. BUT you can have a lot more if you have the right person in your corner while you do the most important job any parent does - raising the kids.

I am not a foreign policy writer, or a tenured law professor, but I think I would like Ann-Marie Slaughter.

Listening

Reading lots of blogs and articles and taking in tons of information, I thought I might use this to sort out my own thoughts after filtering the 'noise'; risking the possibility of adding to the volume. I think we make things complicated and hard. Relax. Slow the fuck down. I like the noise, choas, and energy of ideas. I just want to process a moment before I move on.

Packing for the beach division of labor

All my friends know my preferred vacation is the beach. Doesn't really matter which body of water is involved - I like the way salt water makes my hair and skin slightly sticky, having sand in unmentionable places, and wearing nothing but a bathing suit for days on end. (Sadie's friends think I am always wearing my bathing suit at home on the back deck....and frankly, I do wear swim suits as much as possible from March until October - one of the perks of living in the South). Anyway, we are leaving for a partial family (not all members are going) trip to the Sunset Beach, NC, for Memorial Day week and I find the division of labor in packing interesting. Below is the typical division of labor.

I am in charge of all the linens,  beach towels,  regular towels, toilet paper, soap, shampoo, suncreen, beach chairs, board games, audio books for the car trip, directions to destination as we, the Massey Horners (aka Mike) are very suspicious of GPS devices (and technology in general). The Russians are extremely alert when watching our family's activities so NO GPS for us.....not even a smart phone among us. But, not to worry, George Massey (my Dad who just happens to be a retired Army Infantry Officer has the maps as well - just in case I prove myself unqualified).

I am, also, responsible for making sure all family members are packed appropriately....I remind them to bring several swim suits, flip flops, shorts, t-shirts, a sundress or two if female, at least ONE decent shirt if male. I remind teenagers to bring their OWN Ipods, cameras, books to read (or kindles), so that they will not KILL each other in the car. Pillows from home are optional but recommended. Oh, yes, and UNDERWEAR! People, pack your panties! Your siblings do not want to loan you any while on vacation and it sucks to purchase these on the trip. If you are female and have breasts that warrant bras - that is on you as well. Breast are still breasts at the beach and while freedom is nice, so is support. You know who you are, ladies.

I am also in charge of food - while yes we do live in America where restaurants of literally every possible food are littered along side Roosevelt's highways - we Massey-Horner's are delicate and super healthy so we can not just eat anywhere. It is a big job.

I failed to mention that the day before ANY long drive to a beach destination, there is ALWAYS at least one vehicle that requires maintenance.....new tires, or oil changes, or new brakes...it always involves Mike dissappearing for the entire day to take care of this maintenance item (that we could not risk waiting to address even ONE MORE WEEK). It is URGENT and takes a minimum of 4 hours to resolve...no matter what. Happens every single time....because I do plan our beach trips around vehicular maintenance. Doesn't everyone? Today is NO exception. Mike is out shopping tires as I write this.

In addition to vehicle maintenance, Mike is in charge of water flotation things (surf boards, etc). We keep them in the garage - conveniently.

Before loading the car - in our case, the fleet of vehicles - I try to determine who should ride with who and which car to load what into. Mike pretends to have no opinion - it is COMPLETELY 100% up to me when, how and where. Right up until the moment I am ready to ACTUALLY load the cars. THEN Mike tells me I am crazy.

No. We do not need to load the car the night before we plan to leave at the ass crack of dawn. No. We do not want to go get all the vehicles gassed up for the drive. Of course not. That doesn't make any sense at all. Much better to wait until the wee morning hours, when no one is fully awake, no one has had sufficient amounts of coffee to think straight and when people might cry. Some people cry early in the morning. Sometimes. I know I do. Sometimes. Usually before a long car ride with the man I married for better or worse, but might not have if full disclosure about packing for beach trips had been discussed. On really good trips, we have been close to COPS episodes - but we have matured over the last few years and no longer fight in the yard.* This is where I would like to thank Damek for being able to understand Mike's logic about packing the cars. As the only male offspring, I think it might a gender thing. Since we can not load the car (presummably because not everyone is packed - which really means Mike is not packed yet - which means he has not been listening for the past month as I have been gathering all the items listed above and placing them in the mud room where literally he has to walk past them EVERY SINGLE DAY), we agree to go to bed early so we can get started early.

Early to me is 9 pm. By the time I have realized that we are not in fact loading the car, it is already 11:45 pm (in another 15 minutes, it could be crying time for me....because technically after mid night, it is early the next morning).

In marriage, it is common practice to share a bedroom with your spouse. Mike and I are common people. We share a room. SO because Mike has not packed, I can not go to bed just yet. Mike has to sort thru his wardrobe for shorts, t-shirts, one decent shirt, compression shorts (not totally sure why - might be similar to the bra issue for girls), regular underwear, running shoes, soccer shoes, shower shoes, dress sandels, hiking sandels, and socks....lots of socks. Then he has to pack his DOP kit. The packing goes on for about an hour and a half. My eyes are wet, but no real tears. As of this present moment, Mike has not packed one item for our trip  - we are scheduled to leave at 7 am.

Once I manage to fall asleep it feels like my alarm is going off. I get up, shower, make coffee, make breakfast (remember we don't eat on the road), wake everyone up....Mike sleeps. He HAS a really long drive ahead and needs another few minutes...45 minutes later he jumps in the shower. While Mike showers, I drag everything from the mudroom to the driveway. I make children get in the vehicles - except Damek - because he understands the male methodology of loading. THIS is about the time (let's say 6:45 am, because we actually all agreed to 7:15 am) that my parents pull up into the driveway and note that Mike is not outside yet and that the cars have not been loaded. BUT there is no tension. I would like to note that Mike looks spectacular - he could not look more attractive. I, however, usually look like I need a makeover - but then again I have been up for 2 hours, running around like a wild woman.

It takes about an hour to load the cars. There are lots of straps involved - mostly, the best I can tell, because Mike and Damek both like using all kinds of straps. 3 surf boards, 2 boogie boards, and George Massey, my Dad, is VERY impressed by all the straps - even though he is slightly irritated that we are behind schedule. My Mother has passed out all kinds of snacks to her grandchildren EVEN though the snacks do not meet healthy Massey Horner standards. So it's really good that everyone has had a lot of sugar before a 7 hour car ride. Everyone gets into a vehicle. Because we need gas, I call my folks using my stupid phone and tell them that we have to get gas for all the cars....Dad swears a military swear word (as opposed to a civilian one) and follows us to the cheapest gas station in Knox County (not the closest one to save time - we want to save 4 cents per gallon). We fill up. We get on the road.....the beach is just 7 short hours away - not counting stops.

I know this is only my side of the division of labor - but any friends who have gone with us know that this version is accurate and fair.

Keep us in your thoughts tomorrow. I will be in a bikini for the next 7 days!


* Footnote: dear friend, Russ Wise, gets credit for the COPS reference. He is also living the dream...married with kids, occasionally traveling with multi-generations of his family. He might have witnessed a historical COPS worthy fight of ours.