Last night I dreamt I was shopping for bacon.  The thickest, leanest, pinkest, prettiest bacon I'd ever seen.  Just dreaming about it made my tastebuds sit up and beg.  I knew - just knew - looking at it that it would cook up to that perfect crisp tender state that makes a mouth want to cry with pleasure. 

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Tucker had a rough week at school, punctuated by some spectacular high notes.  He came home on Wednesday and said that he wanted to write a report just for fun.  He got on the laptop and googled - my BABY was GOOGLING!  I'm so proud.  So anyway, he googled e-coli and wrote a report.  Yes, it included the list of symptoms he mysteriously experiences whenever he doesn't want to do something. 

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Michael had a field trip today to the Rio Grande.  I asked him about it. 

He said, "I was hot.  I was sweating.  I think I was even stinking."

I said, "But did you learn anything?"

He said, "Yeah, when you go to see the Rio Grande you get hot, you sweat, and you stink."

"Oh, yeah, and we were supposed to look at water creatures that you had to have a microscope to see.  Mine was a water boatman.  One of my classmates had an angel shrimp and that was silly because you could clearly see that without any kind of instrument.  You know, I really shouldn't be expected to remember everything.  I was hot and sweating at the time."

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It was warm today.  Not yesterday.  Yesterday it was so cold I was glad I hadn't shaved my legs. 

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Living with my phone has become an exercise in tolerance.  It calls random people in my address book with no provocation.  It's just lying on my desk and will suddenly light up and start dialing.  It refuses to show my text messages except when it's in the mood.  When I start to reply to a text message, it will decide that I'm done and "send" halfway through what I meant to say.  The only time it works properly is when I have three people all calling with stressful news at the same time, I can toggle back and forth with no problem whatsoever.  I'd trade it in but I think this experience is good practice for being all Zen like and composed in the face of the teenaged years.  So far, it's looking like a better option would be to anesthetize me with lots of chocolate and whiskey.

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Tis the season for sandals and so far, my pedicure is pitiful.  There are rules about these things, you know?

So my sisters, PLEASE, raise your big toes and repeat after me ...   
  
  
The Open Toed Shoe Pledge
 As a member of the Cute Girl Sisterhood, I pledge to follow the Rules when wearing sandals and other open-toe shoes: 
 
I promise to always wear sandals that fit. My toes will not hang over and touch the ground, nor will my heels spill over the backs. And the sides and tops of my feet will not pudge out between the straps. 
 
I will go polish-free or vow to keep the polish fresh, intact and chip-free.  I will not cheat and just touch up my big toe. 
 
I will shave the hairs off my big toe. 
 
I won't wear pantyhose even if my misinformed girlfriend, coworker, mother, sister tells me the toe seam really will stay under my toes if I tuck it there. 
 
I will not live in corn denial; rather I will lean on my good friend Dr. Scholl's if my feet need him. 
 
I will take my toe ring off toward the end of the day if my toes swell and begin to look like Vienna sausages. 
 
I will be brutally honest with my girlfriend/sister/coworker when she asks me if her feet are too ugly to wear sandals. Someone has to tell her that her toes are as long as my fingers and no sandal makes creepy feet look good. 
 
I will promise to go to my local nail salon at least once per season and have a real pedicure (they are about $15 or 20 and worth EVERY penny). 

I will promise to throw away any white/off-white sandals that show signs of wear... nothing is tackier than dirty white sandals. 

Well, so I've had a few moments this week of thinking about what's fair and what's unfair in life.  It would be very easy to interpret my present circumstances as "unfair" and allow myself to be caught up in resentment. 

I know that if I were in the same circumstances I'm in now, only four years ago, I'd have had no problem being approved for a loan to get that house I was drooling over.  Well, even today being approved wasn't the problem, my problem was that I'm too aware of my budget to take on a payment I couldn't afford.  Is it unfair that the payment on that house is out of my reach?  Nope.  It is what it is. 

I'll go back to making my deposits, watching the MLS, and biding my time.  Prices may drop, or they may not.  Eventually, if I keep making regular deposits, I'll have enough money put aside to get a house that will meet all our needs.  I'm not unhappy.

The New Earth discussion on Monday evening was all about "who are you?"  One of the fundamental questions of life.  It's one that I had superficially answered years ago, I said that I'm the sum of my experiences. 

Tolle has challenged me to rethink that.  He says that there is something real beneath our experience, beneath our thoughts, beneath the roles we play, beneath all the things that we usually proffer in answer to the question, "who are you?"

I've been thinking back to Psychology 101 and some of the things I learned then about personality.  I'm reminded of a story and a study.  Story first because it's more fun. 

A wealthy man and his wife became parents to twins.  Although they appeared to be identical, they were polar opposites in personality.  One little fellow was always morose, and the other was always exuberant.  So the father approached a famous psychologist and asked how they could be balanced out a little.

The psychologist said, "For the morose little boy, go out and buy the most wonderful, beautiful magical toys available.  Put them in a room.  Before he goes into that room tell him that the way he feels when he sees what is inside waiting for him is the worst he will feel all year.  For the exuberant little fellow, fill a room with manure, and tell him that when he sees what is inside his room the way he feels will be the best that he feels all year."

A week later the father called and told the psychologist he was an idiot.  The morose little boy went into his room and the parents waited for an hour before they went in to check on what they presumed would be a very happy little boy.  When they opened the door, he was sitting just inside, staring at the toys, not playing with anything.  They asked him what was wrong, and he said, "The toys are all beautiful, but you know some of them were touched by other people and have germs, some are delicate and would break, some I'd have to learn to play with.  I just can't enjoy these things."

The parents were disappointed but though well, at least with the other little boy this will have had to make a difference.  When they opened his door, they heard shouts of glee.  He was cheerfully tossing the manure in the air and having a grand old time.  They asked him what on earth he was doing and he responded, "You can't fool me!  Where there's poop there's a pony!"

***** we now interrupt this blog for a Tucker Story ******

Tucker:  "Mom, if we shave my cat, I'll bet he would look just like the carpet, only wrinkled."

***** we now return you to your regularly scheduled blog as it is in progress ******

A number of studies have been done about the factors that influence people's sense of overall happiness or wellbeing.  In some of these studies researchers interviewed a number of people who had significant life events either very good or very bad.  In all cases, immediately after the event: diagnosis of cancer, death of a parent, winning the lottery, or the achievement of a major life goal, the person was significantly more unhappy or happy than usual.  A year later, the persons reported that their overall happiness was about the same as what it was before the "life-changing" event. 

All this suggests two things, first of all how you choose to think and respond to your circumstances is more important than your circumstances.  People faced with the same circumstances and experiences do not become more alike in their personality than they were before they experienced it (you are more than your experiences), and there is something underneath just as Tolle says. 

In The New Earth, Tolle uses a lot of New Age or Spiritual language that has turned some people off.  Some people have responded with suspicion and attempted to discern exactly what his beliefs are so they could judge whether his message is true. I've run across my share of posts here on Xanga vehemently disagreeing with Tolle and Oprah. 

 - okay that was a sarcastic look of shock. 

What's fair?  Is it fair to reject the message because you don't like the messenger?  Is it fair to reject the messenger because you don't like the message?  Is it fair to take a few snippets out of context and judge the whole without reading it?  Maybe it all is what it is. 

I'm making it a point to be gentle with anyone who is revealing the depth of his or her pain-body with harsh and unkind words.  I don't think that Tolle or Oprah would be benefitted if I attempted to defend them.  I'm free to avoid that drama and just be happy. 

I hope you are being happy today. 

Thank you for all your kindness and prayers as we've gone through the ups and downs of working through our housing hopes and disappointments.  I have to say that I was beyond discouraged yesterday when I got done with the mortgage conversation.  I was left with the impression that unless I had $60,000 to bring to the table I might as well go back to looking at 2 br condos.

Today, I spoke with my realtor, and she gently suggested that it would be good for me to speak with a different mortgage lender, so I did.  He did my application on the phone, pullled my credit and emailed me a letter within 20 minutes.  He offered me suggestions for how I can get into something right now and what I'd need to get into a more ideal home within six months. 

I told him about the issues that were disqualifying me from various programs and yet none of that showed up when he pulled my credit from all three bureaus, so I don't know what the previous underwriter was looking at.  But he saw what I had expected.   

I'm still out of the running for the "perfect" house.  At least for today.  Maybe in six months the buyer will have lowered the price to fit what I think is more in line with the market.  Maybe it will sell next week.  But one way or the other, I feel that I now have solid information and a plan. 

All, is better. 

I get paid next week, I'll be depositing another 2 square feet into the account and making due in the meantime.

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Michael has his social skills group tonight so Tucker and I will have a "date".    I expect it will be a cheap date because he's kind of a chicken nuggets kid. 

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We have to do a term report.  (And yes, I know only one of the boys has this for his assignment, but you might as well say "we" because something this big involves everyone.)  The topic is "The Bataan Death March".  As I was growing up, I had the opportunity to meet and hear the story of a man who survived that horrific event and even more horrific conditions in the camp that followed and then the sinking of the "hell ship" on which prisoners were being transported to be used as slave labor. 

I'm doing all the reading and then presenting the boys with the edited version and it's still hard for us.  Reading all this gives me an even greater respect for Cletis.  One thing he says he learned during his captivity was the value of hope.  Prisoners who kept hope in something, anything, survived.  The prisoners who gave up their hope literally perished.  That's a lesson that has stood us well this week and one that I want the boys to remember.

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I haven't been around to visit your sites for a couple of days as I've been pretty well consumed with this house business.  But I think I should be back on track tomorrow.  I'll catch up with you then. 

Met with the mortgage person.  Every one of the conditions that would have made it possible for us to get the house fell though.  The payments came it at $200 a month more than my most oprimistic budget could afford. 

So I had to have the conversation with the boys where I tell them I'm really sorry. 

Man that sucked.

THEY were really cool.  *I* cried.  They put their arms around me.  Tucker said, "Well, you'd rather have us, than have a house, even if it has a really cool secret closet, and you'll still have us, Mom."

Thank you for all the prayer and support.  I hate to think how badly it would have gone without that.  It looks like I go back to depositing square feet into that account and maybe in a year or so I can try again. 

There will be photos, I promise.  I have an appointment with the realtor on Tuesday at 4:00 and I'll take the camera.  In the meantime, let me tell you that the boys and I noticed an "Open House" sign on the way home from church, so we swung in to look at the house.  This house is so perfect for us it's scary.  The floorplan is exceptional.

To top everything off, there are built in cabinets in the room that the boys would share, and they conceal a second walk-in closet.  It's the coolest thing I've ever seen. 

Tucker is so in love with this house, he was saying, "Momma, Can I help?  I'll put in everything I've saved from my allowance."

I really want this house for that boy.  (Well, for both of them).  As I'm typing this, I'm about to cry.  I know I'm close.  I don't know if I'm close enough.  The only way I can afford the payments (and even then it will be a stretch) is if the seller comes down by $15,000 and agrees to pay the closing costs.  It's not unheard of.  Other homes in this area are selling for what I can pay.  It's just that this house is about perfect and that scares me.  I hate wanting something this badly.  The potential for disappointment is ... well, let's just pray that we get favor.   

There are some issues with the house, I'm thinking they are fixable, but I'll be asking for an inspection to give me the long and short of those issues.  Still, it just LOOKS like it should be the Verrette's Villa 

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My brother has come up with a good one: "David's postulate of politics - the effectiveness of any given law is inversely proportional to the sound-bite usability of its name"

He's telling me that he plans to blog about it.  We'll see. 

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Spent the afternoon out at Miss Eva's house cutting the fabric for the next quilting project.  Recently one of our quilting group met an attorney who works in the family court and deals with foster children in some capacity.  She mentioned that some of her kids are arriving in court with the coolest bags and matching quilts.  Oh, yeah, we're psyched.  It's good to know that we are doing a good thing. 

Here is Miss Eva spreading out fabric for me to cut.  In the foreground is a finished and folded quilt with footballs on it.  Both of the footballs and the lizards that I cut this afternoon were donated by Cool Mary.  When she asked me, I couldn't remember if the footballs had been donated or not, but there they are, so next week, I'll take my camera and try to get some photos of us with finished projects so you can see what it is we do. 

Have I mentioned that I love Miss Eva.  While we were working today, we talked about Faulkner's "The Sound and the Fury".  Before she agreed to become a mentor, she put two things on her list of "hopes" - make her mentee someone who likes to sew/craft, and someone who reads.  And she got me.  Poor woman.  Sometimes you should be careful what you pray for. 

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I think you'll be entirely safe praying for a favorable outcome on the house negotiation. 

If you've been reading my site for a while, you know that I want to buy a house.  I have been obsessively saving my money, and watching the MLS several times a week.  I take note of how much houses are going for per square foot, how long they are on the market, and whether they are in the school district I need for the boys.

I think I've found my house. 

The one I'm looking at is pretty ideal on paper.  We'll have to agree on price and that makes me a little nervous because I'll be asking them to come down a fairly significant amount off their asking price, BUT they are also asking about $10 per square foot more than houses are selling for in this area, so I'm hoping that their realtor has appraised them of this and that they are expecting to negotiate.

The reason this house is ideal?  Two Master Bedrooms.  The one upstairs, (which the boys would share) is a huge 13x17 space with hardwood floors a master bath, walkin closet and built in bookshelves.  At the top of the stairs they also have an open loft area for living space.  So as time marches on, and Michael needs more than a child-sized bedroom, he will have his own suite upstairs. 

Downstairs I have a secon Master Bedroom that's 13x15 and a third bedroom for an office.  The downstairs living space is not as large as it might be, but that's okay.  I don't need a huge living room.  It does have a lovely kiva fireplace. 

I'm meeting with the mortgage person on Monday to sign the application and disclosures and get my letter.  I'm meeting with the realtor on Tuesday in anticipation of making an offer.  There are a couple things I'm concerned about, so on Tuedsay I'm also arranging for a preliminary inspection with a full inspection to be performed later. 

I'm nervous.  Very nervous.    If you're a praying person, please pray for me.  I need wisdom to make a good decision for my family.  I need the favor of the sellers that they will meet my price.  I need the favor of the lenders for good terms and conditions.  On the plus side, I have approximately 9% to put down on the home which is hugely more than the average first time buyer, I have a solid credit score, and I have no circumstances that are pushing me to do this immediately.  So I have a strength position and considering the number of homes on the market, it's fair to say that they need me more than I need them. 

I do wish I had just a little more money, but I think that even if I had the full 20% downpayment, I'd still be wishing for a little more.  That's just me. 

I'll be around later, but for now, I'm going to drive past the house again and maybe take some pictures. 

This is a 76 minute video.  Not everyone will make time for it, and that's okay,  I'm telling you up front so you'll know that you need to have enough time to watch it through to the end.  This is the Last Lecture of Randy Pausch, a computer science professor at Carnegie Mellon who has done amazing things with virtual reality. 

This 47 year old was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer last year, and at the time told that he had 3-6 months to live.  He's still fighting that fight as of today.  He took the opportunity to give this one last lecture to sum up his life and work and pass on what he believes to be important to his students, friends, and family. 

If you knew you only had a few months left to live ... what would you say? 

I'll tell you something I got from watching this.  My dreams have been too small.

On Tuesday night, the boys and I watched Becoming Jane about the life of Jane Austen.  This morning Tucker said, "I didn't know you could say so many negative things about men without using bad words."  (A warning, the entire rest of this blog contains spoiler after spoiler, so if you're still on the Netflix waiting list for this one, you might want to just skip down and leave me love in the comments but read it after you've seen the film.)

All through the film, we see Jane pursued by two men.  One man is a rascal who parties hard, blows off his junior lawyer duties, and gets himself banished to the country as a punishment.  The other is kind, sensitive, wealthy, and has a self-effacing wit.  She "falls in love with" the rascal. 

In actuality, she pays no attention to the nice guy, is willing to believe the worst of him based on no evidence and ridicules him behind his back.  The rascal she makes excuses for, believes the best of despite the evidence, and waxes poetic about him in front of everyone. 

It doesn't end well if the ending requires her to be happily with the one she loves.  She spends her life as the sadder but wiser spinster and writes some of the greatest novels of English literature, so there are compensations even though she didn't get what she wanted. 

(The film also takes a few liberties with the historical account and gives the doomed pair a tear-jerking scene a la Casa Blanca ... "Where you're going, I can't follow, what you have to do I can't be part of ... the judge would set himself against you because of me and you would be dragged down, your potential destroyed, and all those depending on you would be lost ... But don't you love me?  ... of course I do, and I must say it with a smile else I won't believe the irony and all will be lost ..."  It was a lovely bit of role reversal with Jane taking the part of Rick and making the decision for everybody.)

She gets to claim the position of power, and they go off to nobly suffer for a greater good than the happiness of three little people who don't amount to a hill of beans.

But the facts of this story and these three lives could have been much happier (and far less dramatic) with a bit of common sense and a little less conviction that rapturous transports of  emotion constituted "the real thing".  In their first meeting Jane is reading an ode to her sister and her sister's newly acquired fiance which is so boring that the young man can scarcely stay awake.

Jane then is challenged to prove herself and her intellect to the young man.  He is challenged to seduce this innocent to acknowledge the value of "passion" in the form of the erotic.  And the stage is set, the choice is made at a cricket game when the very nice Wisley performs poorly so Jane takes the field and triumphs for the home team.  From that point, there's no turning back as Jane and LeFroy pursue each other whole-heartedly choosing time after time and day after day to ignore everything except their own attraction for each other. 

Did they "fall in love" at first sight?  No.  Not even close.  He barely even noticed her apart from the fact that her reading disrupted what might otherwise have been a prime opportunity for a nap.  She would never have given him the time of day had she not overheard him making a disparaging remark about her work and felt that sting to her literary pride.

And all this brings me to the question of whether we choose love or love chooses us. 

Having made some rather bad choices and some good ones I feel qualified to answer that we choose love.  We have a romantic notion of "one" who is right for us, but the fact of the matter is that out of 6 billion people, there are probably at least 5 or 6 persons with whom we can be blissfully happy.  And the probability of finding one of those people is increased when we apply a bit of reason to the situation. 

That's why for all the jokes and the failures, the eHarmony formula works for so many people.  There are factors which make us more or less compatible with everyone we meet.  When we choose to be open, vulnerable, kind, interested, and accepting we can find points of agreement with almost anyone.  When we choose to reciprocate the interest of another person we become more attractive to that person.  When we choose to direct our social energies and good humor toward someone who shares our values, our aspirations, and our pleasures the odds of a lasting soul-bond increase exponentially. 

I'm a little miffed that Jane Austen ignored the quiet geek in the corner in the favor of the ostentatious rascal on the dance floor.  I think that her poor choice, far from being a romantic inevitability was nothing more than the mistake of a young woman who ignored the advice of family and friends cheating three people out of what might have been.  But I'm partial to quiet geeks.      

There was an interesting discussion of this question between WickedGlee and his lady love yesterday with comments from readers adding their own opinion to the subject.  What do you think?  Do you choose love?  Or does love choose you?

Its pretty quiet around here these days.  Not because the kids have gone back to school but because my head is a lot quieter and I have fewer things stressing me.   That's not to say that I don't have stressors.  But I'm enlightened about them.

Last week someone broke into my car.  Popped open the trunk somehow, stole my emergency roadside travel kit that my brother gave me for Christmas, and broke the latch so my trunk doesn't close anymore.  I tell you, it's enough to make me wish I didn't lock things because at least then people wouldn't have to destroy my property in the process of stealing from me. 

The post office continues to refuse to deliver packages.  I've had to make two trips down there in the past week and I got a third notice that there's another package that I'll have to go pick up.  The thing about that is that I really don't have time to do this during the day, I'm working!  (Can't you tell?)  In fact, if I weren't pretty sure that the package they are holding contains chocolate, I'd be tempted to say forget it. 

SO you can see, being all enlightened and spiritual doesn't mean that the world suddenly starts going my way, but it has meant that I'm not longer going the way of the world.  I'm forgiving, calm, and pretty well saintly about the whole thing.  It's really hard to be humble about all this acceptance and feeling present and ... well, I'll admit it.  I feel superior.  Okay, there I've said it. 

Oh, not superior to other people.  That's a non-issue, we're all people here.  I feel superior to the person I was before.  Going all the way back until I was a child, because I think I was more superior back then, but I didn't know it. 

Tucker is a superior specimen.  Michael is too, but he's a little quieter, more humble about it. 

Tucker was singing and dancing over the weekend to music from Shrek or the Chipmunks or something.  Anyway he was singing "Funkytown" only when he got to the "Talk about it, talk about it, talk about it, talk about it ..." part, he sang, "Taco belly, taco belly, taco belly ..." 

I got tickled and he responded, "I don't know why you're laughing at THAT, Mom, it's not like *I* made it up."  Of course, that made me laugh harder. 

Because Tucker is superior, he didn't get upset with me, he just shook his head in that way that kids of of letting you know that you are the cross they bear but they are willing to put up with you as long as you keep the goodies coming. 

Doo doo doo, won't you take me to ... Funkytown.   Doo doo doo won't you take me to ... Funkytown. 

Who knew that enlightenment could be so much fun?

So I had this conversation with Tucker, just checking:

Mom: What do you think I'd do if you told me that you had commited a crime, you were being fined $500 and if you didn't pay it you'd go to jail?

Tucker: You'd tell me I'd better have $500 in my wallet.

Mom: What if you didn't have $500

Tucker: I think I'd be in jail.

Mom: I'd send you letters.

Tucker: Yeah and they would all say, "You've embarrassed the family hope you're having fun in prison, I'll kill you when you get out, Love Mom."

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I had my head in the refrigerator tonight and Tucker asked, "What are you doing?"

"I'm looking for something to make for dinner, I'm thinking either spaghetti and meatballs or maybe pizza and wings."

"Spaghetti, Spaghetti, Spaghetti, Spaghetti, Spaghetti, Spaghetti, Spaghetti, Spaghetti, Spaghetti, Spaghetti, Spaghetti, Spaghetti, Spaghetti, Spaghetti, Spaghetti, Spaghetti, Spaghetti, Spaghetti!"

Michael stuck his head out of his room and said, "Tucker what are you doing?"

Tucker:  "I'm voting, like you're supposed to, as many times as they will let you."

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Michael was on tv last night.  The local station (KOB) did a report on the challenges of growing up autistic and sent a reporter to film the social skills group that Michael participates in on Tuesdays.  They showed the film last night at 10.  It was fun to see him there with the other kids learning how to have a real conversation. 

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I'm having fun over at the other site, I'm trying to post 30 poems in 30 days in honor of this being National Poetry Month.  So if you're interested in poetry, I'd love to have you visit me HERE.  If you're not interested in poetry, well, that's why I post so little of the stuff here.  I know it's an aquired taste.

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Tonight is Week 6 of the New Earth class with Oprah.  What fun!  I'll try to write a real blog tomorrow.