Local News

Just heard this story on NPR's Morning Edition. I drive right by this preschool every morning. It's the district between the one we live in and the ones I work in.

--End--

YAYYYY!

Just got the best news. I walked into school today (my afternoon job) and the principal stopped me. Please pardon the screenplay format two posts in a row.

She: I was going to call you. We're having a Science Fair at 1pm today, so we won't really need you for computer classes. But, you can see the fair and then leave early if you have somewhere else you need to be.

Me: Um...OK. [realization hits] Wait! This is perfect! My kids' Primary Grades Chorus Concert is this afternoon. I'd already told them I wouldn't be able to make it. Oh, this is perfect! Thank you!

Anyway....YAYYY!!!!!!

--End--

Gospel According to Matthew

(Dugan)

He: We had water in Sunday School today. It was real water and we drank some, but I got some on my sleeve.

Me: Hmmm...water, eh?

He: Yeah, 'cause there was this lady and she used to be not-so-nice, but now she's nice. And she was getting water and Jesus said, "You can have some of my water." And He gave her a drink and she was never thirsty ever again. And she went and told everybody.

Me: Wow...Jesus had some pretty good water, huh?

He: Yeah, and it wasn't even real water. It was love. And she got some real water and she got the pretend Jesus-water, too. But we had real water in Sunday School.

--End--

Photo Update Bonanza!

Let's see...January and February involved

Sasha's First Birthday


The Pinewood Derby


A Weekend in the Poconos

--End--

ps. Click on them to pop over to Picasa and read captions, see bigger images.

pps. Just got an email from our Cubmaster about this article in the local paper. Check out the picture for my two munchkins and their hand-made walking sticks.

Sad Day at School

The father of one of my students died in a car accident last night. It's a very small community and a very small school and we're all shaken by it.

Extra-hug your kids tonight.

--End--

Proud of Myself

I skied for the first time¹ this past Friday. Woo, me!

I know ... growing up in the Snow Belt, having access to a free place to stay in the Poconos for the past 20 years ... why haven't I skied before?

Lord knows I've wanted to. In middle school, all the cool kids hung out at Mount Pleasant² schussing and swooshing and snow-bunnying themselves all over each other. I didn't know how to ski and missed out on so much social life, apparently. You wouldn't think it would matter, but it did. Middle school is insane like that.

And then later when I was with Joe and we'd bustle off to the Poconos whenever we wanted to³ I still didn't ski. Partly I feared looking like a complete loser in front of my boyfriend/fiancé/new husband, partly we just plain couldn't afford it. Lift passes, rentals, etc. sure add up fast.

Well, this weekend we went for it. We spent all day Friday skiing all over Jack Frost Resort up in the Poconos. I had my stubby child-like skis⁴ on, my ski poles at the ready. In my red Land's End squall jacket and grossly-oversized black bib snowpants I did not in any way resemble a snow bunny. But, I was out there. I made my pizza slice and "carried my food tray" and slowly got the hang of it.

First Run — was going OK, keeping my balance beautifully and even managing to steer a tiny bit when I saw Emily wipe out. The Mother Bear in me took over and I attempted to maneuver to her rescue. When this clearly wasn't working, I took a deliberate dive in order to stop somewhat near her and give her a hand. It was ugly. (my fall, that is. She was re-skied and back down the hill in no time.) I took awhile getting back up and got down the hill in short order, snowplowing valiantly coming to a complete stop about 20 yards from the lift line, so great was my fear of having too much velocity at the end. I then awkwardly waddled my way over to the line. My best friend's 9-year old daughter rode with me on the lift to show me how to do it.

Second Run — Started out really trying to concentrate on the wedge and turning with the whole upper body. Wanted to do nice wide zig-zags all the way down the hill. Fell. Three times. Once quite badly, involving skis flying off and hand throbbing and head bonking. Almost cried because the three-year olds were just whizzing down the hill and I was struggling just to get it together. And Joe had assured me, having done both, that I'd have no problem with this, as going down even small hills on cross-country skis was "way harder." (Emily was basically ignoring all instruction whatsoever and just whizzed down the hill, her 44-lb frame light enough that just plain friction slowed her neatly to a stop right before the lift line. Matthew was struggling just to stay upright for more than 30 seconds at a time. Joe was having Zero Fun dealing with Matthew. Dana and Julia whizzed down the hill and even went down the longer Blue Square level, while calling out to me helpful hints like, "Pizza! Pizza!" and "Tray! Tray!".)

After That — Eventually caught on to something right. I zigged and zagged slooo-o-owly down each hill, managing to steer around fallen skiers and even timed the slowing and stopping at the bottom of the hill closer and closer each time. Started to feel the weight on the lower leg and even to turn my skis together without maintaining the pizza slice down every run. Keep in mind this was all on the Green Circle hills. The ones with names like Snowflake and Powder Puff and Frosty. By the afternoon, we put Matthew into a group lesson so Joe could actually ski a bit. Emily continued to whisk straight down the hills paying no heed to any technique.

Finally — my last two runs of the day were down the Blue Square level hill, Ridge Run. There were a couple of nice collect-your-breath spots partway down the hill, which I took full advantage of before proceeding down the steeper portions of the run.⁵ I was so proud of myself and despite teasing her about it, really appreciated Dana's rooting me on the whole way down both times. Her atta-girls really helped.

And I didn't even wake up completely sore and exhausted the next day. Slightly stiff through my back, some tender knuckles and a ski-shaped bruise on one thigh from the afore-mentioned Bad Fall. Nothing major.

I'm looking forward to going again. I'd like to go without the kids so I could just concentrate on my body and what it's doing and not having to look around the monitor their potential broken bones. (by the way, I don't have any pictures of any of us in skis, as I left the camera in the house...whoops!)

--End--

¹ Downhill, that is. I've cross-countried plenty of times. Used to own my own skis, in fact.
² Later known as Mountain View. Closed in 1992.
³ Clearly this was Before Kids and certainly Before Dog
⁴ The Rental Ski Choosing Guy literally said, "People will laugh at you, but you'll have an easier time controlling these."
⁵ To be fair, I did fall down once on the second run, but it was deliberate and gentle. I had too much speed for my liking coming into the almost-level section and foreseeing a massive catastrophe on the upcoming curve, I elected to make a controlled fall (which wasn't a wipe-out, honest!) instead.

Love to the Hundredth Power

Happy Valentine's Day!

And ... here at Stow Creek, anyway* ... Happy 100th Day of School!

--End--

* My kids' hundredth day was back on Monday due to the vagaries of different district calendars.

Monday, Monday

Actually went to be on time last night and woke up more or less on time. What a WONDERFUL feeling that is. To wake up actually rested.

Of course, awake is not the same as out of bed. It was a brisk* 12° outside this morning. Even our nordic-type doggie didn't want to be out there for very long. (I checked the temps in the Poconos, where we'll be this coming weekend. A balmy 0° with a windchill of -20°**. Wooo!)

Had such a fun weekend. Friday night we hung out at home and Seth came over (which hardly ever happens anymore, as he now lives in Chicago). We did our usual Geek Night of watching torrented Torchwood and recorded Stargate:Atlantis.

Saturday we spent all day at the Belleplain State Park cabin with the Cub Scouts, intending to spend the night***. We hiked, learned knot tying (I led that workshop), cooked indoors and out, played soccer. It was a fun and tiring day. That night we decided to bug out after dinner and went to the Fantinis house for pinochle and snacks.

Sunday we had no real plans. We all woke up late and lounged around. It was a quite cold and very windy day. We finally came up with "Let's take the kids bowling." But the local lanes had leagues all day. Then we came up with, "Let's call Seth and see if he wants to bring his girls over to play with the kids." But kind of thought he might rather just hang with the girls, himself. Karma stepped in. Joe had just gotten into the shower when Seth popped in and asked, "Hey ... I'm taking the girls bowling, wanna come along?" So we went to some lanes a bit further away and had a ball. Everyone wins in Bumper Bowling! I perfected the ricochet strike.

And, if you've never played Rubberneckers with a carful of folks, I highly recommend you give it a try.

Last night was definitely the highlight of the weekend, however. We stopped by the local Five Below and bought a bunch of movie-theatre style candy boxes ($1 each!), made some popcorn, got into our jammies and ... watched Star Wars. It was the kids' first time, and they were enthralled. Even Joe and I got chills at the opening "20th Century Fox" fanfare/drumroll bit. It's just always going to be such a great movie. And, it's amazing despite never having seen it before how the kids knew most of the characters. "ooooh, that's Darth Vader!" Their favorite character was R2-D2 (although they really liked the jawas, too).

Well, back to work. Time to teach touch-typing to seventh graders.

--End--

* Understatement!
** Going to use the ° as often as possible in the post. I mean, why look up the html code for a character and only use it once?

*** We were supposed to be there Friday night, too, but it had way too clearly been a long exhausting week for all of us.

Political Stuff

I'm in the running to be a Cumberland County representative to the national NEA convention in DC this summer. I'm excited about it, but not really in a rah-rah pro-union kind of way, really. In a Presidential Election year, we're sure to get the candidates. The teachers aren't a union you blow off. Not that we're the Teamsters or United Auto Workers, or anything, but ... don't mess with us. ;)

And...Chris...remember spoentaneously deciding to go to that Clinton-Gore rally in '92? Mom and Dad were out and we kind of said, "Hey did you hear about that thing?" "Yeah, wanna go?" "Um, yeah, I kinda do." So we did.

The Secret Service making folks get down off the roof of the Bob Evans. How late the bus was and then they pulled into the blasted sounds of Fleetwood Mac? You even held me up at one point (I know!) so I could see over the throng. Then after the speeches, we noticed the VIP section was becoming less-rigidly monitored and we bopped right up to the rope line.

I remember shaking hands with both the Clintons and with Al Gore, but I don't think I got Tipper. I remember people kept trying to get Gore to autograph his book, but that the Secret Service wouldn't let anybody hand him anything.

And once, working in a Philly high-rise, we legal secretaries all looked down twelve stories or so to see first-term President Clinton glad-handing pedestrians as his motorcade cruised slowly along behind him. And I've seen a few motorcades zwooosh by in DC in their insanely-fast but ridiculously orderly sort of way.

I always have thought it would be awesomely amazing to be an actual Party Convention Delegate. I looked it up today, but I think the NJ deadline for applying was back in November or December. The site was a bit unclear. I emailed them anyway, but I'm pretty sure that ship has sailed. I'll just have to sit up-front at the NEA things.

--End--

Most American Activity

And also...if anyone's still undecided.... there's this.

--End--

Teacher Insight

Billy, when you grow up, you're either going to be governor or get in a lot of trouble. It all depends on whether you learn when to talk and when to keep quiet.

--Sixth-grade teacher Kathleen Schaer to Bill Clinton, as recounted in My Life

--End--

Sticker Shock!

Been working our various paperwork through TurboTax in anticipation of filing our taxes.

For those unfamiliar with TurboTax, let me clarify a key point. As you work through the questions, a running tally in the corner lets you know how much your refund (in bright cheerful green text) or taxed due (in menacing deep scarlet) will be. Throughout the past few weeks, our refund has been hovering at around $2,000. Although it's varied plus or minus a coupla hundred bucks or so, it's always been there, staring me in the face.

Until this afternoon.

Joe brought home his W-2, and I rushed downstairs to enter it, eager to e-file our taxes and get our two grand.

What is it they say about counting one's chickens?

Apparently our various deductions (like mortgage and student loan interest) and our combined income increases (I'm now working .7 time not .5 time on the teacher salary scale.) have affected our tax situation more than I'd anticipated.

We now owe roughly $1,200, give or take a couple more pieces of data still outstanding.

Bummer. Guess we had the money all along throughout the year, rather than loaning it, interest-free, to George Bush. But still, I always did like me some tax refund.

TurboTax should hold your result in secret until you're all done and click "SHOW ME THE MONEY!" Then you aren't building up for something you're not really entitled to, yet.

--End--

Seeking Donations

All right, just about anyone who knows me already knows I'll be hitting them up (if I haven't already) for monetary donations in support of my repeat-walking the Breast Cancer 3-Day this October.

What you may or may not know is that I'm currently seeking actual donated items/gift certificates/gift baskets/autographed loot/etc. for use in a silent auction at the big Beef & Beer dinner my team is hosting in late April.

The Philadelphia Eagles donated a 75th Anniversary of the Eagles Donovan McNabb autographed football (wooo!) and that inspired me to randomly e-mail celebrities in search of donations. I was giddy with power! In any case, Bobby Flay's people and the Charm City Cakes people both declined.

So, if you know anyone famous. Or know anyone who might know anyone famous. Or know anyone...ad infinitum...please pass the word.

Or, if you just happen to want to put together something for us to silent auction, it would be most appreciated. I'm really hoping to get a local car dealer to give us a one-year car lease or something. Or to get a big TV. Looking for something big-ticket to catch people's attention.

Thoughts?

--End--

Whooosh, the Weekend's Over

Some weekends go by faster than others. This one flew by. It was OK, though, I guess. We did a lot of good stuff.

Saturday morning we sort of chilled out a bit. I distributed cookies for two Saturday cookie booths around the area the night before. So I just had to get one more booth set up and checked out on Saturday morning. Then I got my own cases of cookies together and headed to the mall. We had a very cushy (and successful) cookie booth at Boscov's. Indoor cookie sales! Yeah! We sold 111 boxes of cookies in two hours. Wooo!

After the booth, I came home and recounted all the cookies and money I received from the morning's cookie booths. And from our own cookie booth. It took me a couple of hours to get everything tallied up and finished. Then the fourth of Saturday's booths check in. Another half an hour to tally up that one. Then a couple of moms came over to pick up cookies for Sunday cookie booths.

So, all told ... Saturday was pretty much swept up in dealing with cookies. Oh, and I made a giant pot of bean soup. Yum!

Sunday I just wasn't in the mood to go to church. I know that's a terrible thing to do. But, Saturday was so busy and I felt like we had to do a bunch of stuff and that I just didn't want to yank a few hours out of my morning right off the bat. Not a good plan, I know, but ...well. It's done now.

So, I went to Home Depot and got supplies for a Cub Scout project. Dropped the dog off to be groomed. Bought some new hiking shoes. $15. Yay! I bought some stuff at the Five-Below store. They had the coolest bin of novelty type socks for only a dollar. ("Can't go wrong for a dollar," as Jim Kiley used to say.) I bought way too many pairs. But fun socks are a treat I have trouble resisting.

Groceries at BJs (I avoided the food sample lady. Whew!). Then back to pick up the dog. I had fun watching her get all brushed out and combed. She was SUCH a good doggy. I was so proud to have the best-behaved dog in the joint.

Back home and we vegged awhile before our friends came over at 4. We went with them to a fundraising dinner, leaving all the kids with a sitter. Back to our house for pinochle. (Yeah, we live the high-life, I tell ya. We're pinochle fiends.)

In other news, Joe and I are quite hooked on 30 Rock lately. With the dearth of non-reality programming since the writers went on strike, we've been downloading other shows we never really watched the first time around. We have all the past episodes of 30 Rock and have just finished the first season. The show is brilliant. We regularly laugh out loud and skip back to re-watch bits. Who knew Alec Baldwin was capable of such comedic timing. And Tina Fey is just amazing. I'd love to have lunch with her. Except she already just about makes me pee, just watching her. I can't imagine how funny she is in person.

Actually got up at 6 this morning with no alarm clock mishaps or bad dreams. Even worked out before I headed to school. So far, the week is good.

--End--

Subconscious Stress

I started working full-time again yesterday for the first time in a couple of years. It was a bit nerve-wracking, but really overall I wasn't feeling too bonkers over it.

Or was I?

The Friday-morning alarm was set for 6a.m., an hour earlier than our rising time for the past three or more years. Whenever this happens, I go through the inevitable multiple wake-ups through the night.

"Was that the alarm?"

"Did I miss it?"

Or the ever-popular wake with a startle reflex, "Whaaa???" "Rrrrgghhhhhmpppphhh" (That second one was Joe's response.)

I was kind of prepared for this. It always happens to me when I know I have to get up extra-early from something important. I have a hard time falling asleep the night prior, and then I anxiously reawaken multiple times hoping I haven't screwed up.

Yeah, I have issues.

But this time I had an added bonus -- multiple-and-various-nightmares-and-not-quite-nightmares-but-still-awfully-
disturbing-dreams. And, just because I know you all have been waiting with bated breath for an opportunity to psychoanalyze me a la Freud or Jung, here are the abstracts.

Emily Death by Truck -- So I'm in my house, and for some reason I have this sort of prescient vision. I am indoors, but can clear-as-a-bell "see" what's happening outside as well. I'm not looking through a window. Anyhoo, various neighborhood children are running amuck in the yard and front ditch, which is flowing nicely after a recent rain. Emily, for some reason, is playing in the ditch on the opposite side of the dirt road (which has in reality been paved since 1991, but was dirt the whole time I lived at home). In my dream-mind, I see her clearly. And I dream-mind holler at her to "Get out of the ditch! Get back in the yard!" She immediately begins to climb out of the ditch and starts up onto the road. When I dream-mind-see a beat-up pickup truck heading down the hill. It's veering around and is quite unsteady and heading for my kid. I dream-mind scream at her, "Get down! Emily, get back down! Duck!!!" And just as the truck careens right at her...

I wake up. Breathing heavily. Joe wakes up, too, and I insist he go check on Emily to make sure she's breathing. I'm too terrified to move. She's fine of course. I slip back to sleep eventually and wind up with ...

Marvel X-Men Wanna-Be -- I'm some sort of mutant in the Marvel X-Men universe. I'm at Professor Xavier's school and everything. But apparently my mutation isn't quite useful and powerful enough to qualify me for impending X-Men-dom. I no longer remember what that ability was, but it was something along the lines of being able to smell really well, like 100-times a bloodhound. Or maybe it was something having to do with really remembering song lyrics. In any case, I kept bugging the actual X-Men and professors with unlikely scenarios in which my "powers" would be useful, if not indispensable.

I think I just sort of woke up with a "Wha?" and tossed around a bit before winding up in the next dream.

Saved from Gunpoint by the UPS Man -- Joe and I are coming home* one day. No children. Not sure if they're away, or this is meant to be pre-kids. We pull into the driveway in front of the house and start to go up the porch steps. A van pulls in behind us kind of diagonally, more than blocking the driveway behind the car. Some cliche' A-team style hillybilly-type Redneck hoodlums get out of the van (I think there were four of them.), and wave guns at us. They gun-gesture us to separate. Now I'm up on the porch with a guy, there are a couple of guys on the ground. And another guy has Joe over to the side. They're preparing to do their worst to me, while Joe watches helplessly, when a UPS truck pulls in. The guns are stowed quickly with muttered orders not to give anything away. So, the UPS guy comes up to us, a bit suspicious, but it's clear he's not sure what to do. Nothing built-up to any seriously about-to-die moment, but I did wake up while everyone sort of nervously dithered about and the gun guys got clearly more freaked.

Almost done ... only a couple more. I promise these all occurred between four and six a.m. yesterday.

Rude Awakening -- I wake up in my dream to the smell of breakfast cooking and voices downstairs.** Joe wakes up beside me (again with him in my dream, when I swear he's never in my dreams unless one of us is out of town). We head downstairs in our pajamas (which are generally pajama bottoms and a T-shirt for me, fleece pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt for Joe). Joe sees his brother. "John!" he calls, thrilled. They pound-the-back-man-hug. Then I see Joe's mom and his Aunt Rona sitting and talking. (I think Aunt Rona has set foot in my house in the 14+ years I've had my own household exactly once. She's not the type of person I'd want seeing me (or my house) in early-morning disarray. And then I come down and see my mom and dad (who live 8+ hours away and wouldn't really just pop in), in the kitchen making breakfast. Joe is completely nonplussed and greets everyone. I stand on the steps more than kind of horrified.

The alarm goes off at this point, and I'm so exhausted and wrung out, I do something I never do. Hit the snooze button and collapse briefly back to sleep.

The Birds -- Hitchcock references aside, I don't really have a bird fear. I find giant flocks of anything wheeling around in the sky absolutely fascinating in a fluid dynamics sort of way. My drive to work regularly passes feeding flocks of snow geese numbering in the many thousands. Astonishing numbers of rather-large birds. They're gorgeous. Back to the dream ... Joe (again!) and I are driving in a pickup truck and I sort of dream-muse that I could be in the same truck that earlier there-but-for-the-grace-of-waking-with-a-start ran down my first-born. We're driving down a dirt/gravel road when we see a bunch of birds ahead. They're sitting on and around the road and flying about a bit, trying to settle or something. The birds are definitely agitated a bit and not just feeding peacefully. They're everywhere and Joe is swerving a bit trying to avoid them. A few hit the windshield or are run under the truck. It's pretty scary and icky. All we can see are feathers and beaks and they're everywhere. At first they're snow geese, but then I dream-remember that snow geese don't live in Northwestern Pennsylvania*** and they instantly become seagulls. Hundreds and hundreds of seagulls. And we can't see and we're swerving, and I know there's a hill coming up and we're picking up speed, and the truck catches briefly in the looser gravel at the side of the road, by the ditch. And at this point I just know we're in the truck that's about to hit Emily.

And, I wake up.

By this point, I just get up and get ready for work. I'm shaken, and both mentally and physically wiped out. It was a horrible night (morning).

Work went well, though. I was supposed to be given a tour of the new school and getting to know the lay of the land, and I wound up teaching two classes cold. And I did fine. And I'm really not scared. Or stressed out. Really.

And during the commute home I saw a wheeling pair of bald eagles. They do live around here, but it's still a rare and beautiful sight.

--End--

* If by "my house" you mean my parents' house. In my dreams, I rarely, if ever, dream about the here-and-now. Joe is VERY seldom in my dreams unless we're apart by miles and miles. I don't dream about this house I live in. When I have a dreamland-house, it's my parents' house, where I grew up. Fly that one up the flagpole and see what happens, wanna-be shrinks!

** My parents house is a ranch, so no "downstairs." But, this still wasn't my actual house. I don't know whose house I commandeered for this dream setting. I don't recognize it. But it had a wrought iron stair rail, so there you go.

***Which is where my parents live. So, I guess it really is the same truck as before. I dream run-over my own child. Freud would be giving me a whole chapter in Die Traumdeutung at this point.

Flight of the Hamsters

Tip of the Hamster Wheel to Adrienne.

Shockingly adorable and addictive game. Makes me really wish my dad read my blog. He'd love this.

--End--

Williamsburg Pictures

I've uploaded these in a couple of ways .... the really brief Highlights Album and the I-Can't-Believe-I-Ate-the-Whole-Thing version. The Highlights are also Slide-showing here for your convenience. There are quite a few good shots in the big album, too. So stop on by for more Dugan family Christmas getaway to Virginia's Historic Triangle goodness.



--End--

Livin' in a Rock-n-Roll Fantasy*

Tip 'o the Fendercaster to Josette for this one (Go now and read her blog. A lot. Very funny and smart lady she is. And her post on this meme is too much.).

OK, I must have been just about the only young kid who never really fantasized about starting a rock band. Probably 'cause I didn't really know anyone who even had a guitar. Or drums. Or could sing.

But I've always enjoyed bits about rock bands. Like Spinal Tap. Or Walken needing "more cowbell." Or wondering what it would be like to be interviewed by Terry Gross on Fresh Air after the release of my comeback album.

If you've wondered, too ... then this is the meme for you. Three steps.

First, click here. The first article title is the name of your band.
Second, click here. The last four words of the last quote are the name of your album.
Finally, click here. The third picture is your album cover.

So, to the world ... I present ...

L'Ultima Burba and our debut album Better Class of Enemy

Which was so successful that I decided to ditch those other arthouse losers so I could go bigtime with my new group and fitting awesome album...

999 presents Triumph in Every Adversity

Finally, after years off the radar (Terry Gross, if you're reading this, perk up and pay attention), I'll go acoustic, change my name and head out on the road with my comeback offering.

George Hunt, It Got Even Stronger

--End--

* Apologies to The Kinks for even vaguely associating them with this.

My Brother Used to Make Me Cry

... but, not in the way you might think.

I mean, sure Chris spent a certain portion of our childhood trying to torture me in those particular ways only a sibling can. He knew all my weak spots. He knew he could nail me to the wall with a comment about my weight, lack of a boyfriend, my nose (God, I hated my nose!). And he definitely knew how to make me cry.

And I gave it right back. I was downright cruel more than once.

My mom's philosophy on sibling dynamics was rather laissez-faire. (I don't really know dad's philosophy. He generally left that sort of thing to mom.) More than once I remember her telling me that I'd better treat Chris well, or I'd really get it once he "was bigger than [I]." She pretty much let me dig my own eventual grave through torturing him, figuring I'd get mine when he eventually hit a growth spurt.

Unfortunately for him (and for me ... and more so, for us), that didn't really happen until way, way too late. Through the flukeyness of genetics, Chris didn't hit his adult height until quite late. By then I was in college. We were both much, much too old to really haul off and clobber one another. And, even more than that ... we were really much too distant to really care so much what the other of us was doing. We had too little contact with each other to get all that worked up. We had our own worlds and they didn't revolve around our parents' yard or living room anymore.

But, back to the childhood part of this story.

Mom would pretty much let us haul off and clobber each other, even when it was very clear that I had reach and weight on Chris. I used to pound him (when I could catch him. Chris was, and I'm sure still is, way faster than I.). He used to fill me with such animal rage that I would just want to beat on him.

I have a very distinct recollection of what I think is the very last time I ever physically fought my brother. I don't know how old we were precisely, but I remember it was warm and sunny. Lots of light was coming in through the big front picture window. I was on top of Chris, holding him down on the floor and just shaking him and pinning him down. It was horrible. I'm appalled now. Must be twenty-five or so years later. I'm disgusted. I don't remember what I was mad about. But I was filled with rage. Then something inside me shifted. I remember exactly what went through my head. It was like a clear voice in the chaos of my emotion.

"This is my brother. I love him. What am I doing? How could I be doing this? What kind of horrible person does this?"

I burst into tears and ran to my room. I sobbed for a long time, I think. I remember still sitting in there when the sky was getting dark. I remember I'd had those sorts of gut reactions before, "What am I doing? I don't actually hate him." But nothing to this degree. I don't think I ever really laid a hand on him again.

We're not exactly bosom buddies now. I don't think either of us would necessarily call the other one up all that often just to talk. But, we have a better understanding, I think. We keep up with each others' lives through our blogs, and we do talk on the phone every now and then. I love my brother and I know he loves me, too. We've worked all that out.

But, does a child inherit the sins of a parent?

Matthew tried to sell out Emily tonight. He'd been punished for something and tried to get Emily in trouble, too. I don't think she'd done what he'd said. He just didn't want to suffer alone. And she heard the whole thing. She heard him working to convince me to punish her. It broke my heart.

I've always tried to raise the two of them to be a team, to be unified even if that unity is "against" Joe and I. Someday they won't have us anymore, but I want to make sure they have each other. Against the world, if necessary. It's working, mostly. They're way closer than Chris and I were at the same ages.

But when they face off against each other, or really deliberately try to hurt each other -- emotionally or physically -- it takes me right back to that moment on the living room floor in the sunshine. And my heart hurts.

--End--

Tag, I'm It

Well, Adrienne tagged me, so here goes.

Go back through your archives and post the links to your five favorite blog posts that you've written. But there is a catch:

• Link 1 must be about family.
• Link 2 must be about friends.
• Link 3 must be about yourself, who you are... what you're all about.
• Link 4 must be about something you love.
• Link 5 can be about anything you choose.

Post your five links and then tag five other people. At least TWO of the people you tag must be newer acquaintances so that you get to know each other better.

My family. I still think of the pictures I took that day and smile, just thinking about them.
My friends. While, not much actually about friends, themselves. This is all about planning an event to hang with friends. I just love to have folks over here to the house for food and hanging out.
Me, me, me (ME!) I just can't resist redirecting back to this goofy cartoon.
What I love. Is naming my husband the thing I love too cliché? Well, then take this one. I just love Christmas Tree Day.
Anything and everything.

Tagging Chris, Kristin, Lisa. I don't really know who else ever reads my blog or blogs themselves. How sad is that? I need some stinkin' readership. ;)

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