No tricks, just treats

It's always interesting when Halloween falls on a week day. It sort of gives people free license, for one day, to dress however they want.

There were a few people who dressed up. Not me. I just have a T-shirt that says: The Witch is in. Basically, it says what some people think all year! That's the joys of being a manager. Or being a wife. Jim has asked me on occasion if I am taking the Honda into town -- or my broom. That Jim's a funny one!

Anyway, I wasn't in the mood to dress up and be cute. (As natural as it seems, it does take some effort some days.) I was surprised, though, when Carter said he didn't want to dress up. The whole Pink Floyd pink hair thing was just for the school fall festival, he said.

Fortunately, my friend Becky called the other night and invited us over to trick-or-treat with them. Then Carter got into the spirit. He donned his #80 Carter jersey and a Minnesota Vikings helmet and was ready to scare the world! (Probably more than their current defensive line is scaring anyone these days.)

Thankfully, Becky lives in a nice neighborhood so no mean-spirited folks asked: "What are you dressed up as? A loser?" We also didn't have to contend with the darkness this year since we haven't changed the clocks back yet. That was a treat.

The main thing is we all had fun ... and Carter managed to snag just enough peanut butter cups to keep mama happy.

Lost in cyberspace

You'd think we had massive layoffs announced at work yesterday the way people were cleaning their desks. Nothing so drastic -- but dramatic nonetheless in some people's eyes. Thanks to a cable-cutting accident 2 towns away, we were stuck without phone, e-mail or Internet for more than half the day. How does one survive?

The joke was that if a little town like Iola is electronically disconnected from the world, would anybody notice?

I had a little backlog of things to type in so that kept me busy and it was good to cross that off my "to do" list. Most people, though, used the time to clean off their desks -- also on my list!

After seeing productivity skyrocket, I don't doubt the reports and surveys that indicate e-mail and the Internet are time-wasters at work! While I didn't enjoy the inconvenience, I certainly welcomed the break from distractions.

I was mostly upset that my blog and e-mails about Antiques Roadshow were lost in cyberspace until it was too late. That's OK. I caught a glimpse of my dad's head on last night's show and that was it. Now if only I had Tivo and I could play it back for you!

Yep, once in awhile I enjoy my electronic fix! Thankfully, today we are back to normal -- emailing each other rather than walking to a desk and actually talking and, of course, blogging during work hours!

Antiques Roadshow

I know better than to call my parents between 7 and 8 on Monday nights. They're always parked in front of the television watching Antiques Roadshow -- wondering if their many possessions are trash or treasure.

Tonight and the next three Mondays especially they'll be glued to the set, trying to catch a glimpse of themselves or their lovely daughter. These are the "Milwaukee episodes," filmed last summer (July 2006), when LeRoy, Marlys and I trekked down there for the filming. It was quite an adventure.

First of all, I don't normally watch the show, but since I oversee a few antiques publications at work, I was able to finagle some tickets. Mom and Dad were beyond thrilled! They were anxious to see what a few of their possessions were worth, and I was curious to get the behind-the-scenes look at how the show comes together.

Since we were limited to two items each -- and I don't have any antiques -- I took some glass items Mom wanted appraised. Mom had two glass items, too, and Dad had an veterans convention ribbon and I think a watch (or maybe more of Mom's glass. Can you tell my mom collects glassware?).

We weren't handpicked for any rarities or one-on-one TV interviews, but it's possible we will be seen lurking in the background -- hopefully looking interested and intelligent and not picking our noses.

So tune in to PBS tonight at 7 p.m. If you miss it, I think it replays at 6 p.m. Sunday. Check your local listings.

Trust me, if I spot us (and no, I don't remember what we were wearing), I will let the world know. Unless I look too fat or I was having a bad hair day ... Still better than watching the stinkin' Packers game on the other channel!

The right to be wrong

I didn't wake up with a hangover the morning after Dad's party -- the strongest drink served was hot coffee -- but my stomach hurts a bit. Yes, there were healthy servings of humble pie with generous sides of crow to be eaten at the 80th birthday extravaganza. It was tough to swallow, but honestly, I am OK with it.

Yes, Dad, I am putting in writing for all the world to see that we (some of us kids anyway) were wrong. It was wrong of us to be so resistant -- and vocally so -- to some of the "large" plans. It was wrong of us to be petty about paying for it or "working" it. It was wrong of us to second-guess your crowd estimates, too.

Yes, we were wrong but this one occasion where I am thrilled to be in error. It was great to see a large gathering of people who care about Dad and have been touched by his friendship at some point in their lives. I stood in the food line with a man who was a neighbor to Dad's family back in the 1930s and went to grade school with him. That was impressive.

What also was impressive was looking at a long line of people waiting to eat and to greet Dad. Dad told us over breakfast this morning that he didn't sleep well last night. He couldn't get that vision of the long line out of his head. "I just can't get over that! That was something!"

I remarked it was better that they were in a long line to view him alive and in person rather than a viewing line at a funeral parlor. He and Mom agreed. It's great Dad was able to celebrate his life with his family and friends while he was among the living. I'd say everyone had a good time -- even us party planners.

Of course, one special brother-in-law already pointed out we have only 5 years before our mother's 80th birthday and it better be bigger and better! Sigh... We might as well just put humble pie on the menu right away.

Make a difference

Saturday is Make a Difference Day -- a day that gets to the heart of volunteerism. A day of doing good.

In our area there will be groups available to rake yards for the elderly or home-bound and several events like "Soups for Hoops" that require canned-good donations to participate.

I think it's a great way to teach kids the importance of doing for others. And it's a good reminder for adults to shed our selfishness and think about someone else for a change. Make a difference in their lives if, when, where we can.

What will I be doing? Well, I will be joining many of the readers of this blog to make a difference in our dad's life. We will be unselfish and loving when we give him the best darn 80th birthday party a stubborn ol' Scandivanian could want! And we'll enjoy every minute of it! Doesn't it feel good to do for others?

Seriously, get out and do something or just make a call to tell someone you care. There are lots of ways to help Make a Difference. And we can do them every day.

Hakuna Matata

We are counting down the hours now to see the Broadway musical, The Lion King. Tomorrow night, after picking up my sister Rayna (the lion queen) at the airport in Minneapolis, we'll head to the Orpheum Theatre.

We've heard from friends who saw it this summer that it is phenomenal. Incredible costumes and choreography.

Carter has seen a few stage productions through school field trips so he thinks this will be pretty cool -- though he says he's too old to be into The Lion King. He doesn't recall how many times he watched the movie as a "young" boy, singing "Hakuna Matata" around the house!

Last night, to get us in the mood and refresh our memories about the story and songs, we all watched the DVD together. Now we can't wait!

There is no school today or tomorrow so I am home with Carter. This morning I showed him the Web site for The Lion King tour (http://disney.go.com/theatre/thelionking/tour/) so he could get a sneak peek at some of the costumes. They're gorgeous! Right now, this boy who is "too old" for a kid story, is out in the living room watching the DVD again.

I have this sneaking suspicion he's going to enjoy himself Friday night! I think we'll all enjoy being kids at heart. Hakuna Matata!

The Power of Pink

October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month so every Wednesday we have been encouraged to wear pink at work to boost awareness. As much as I am not a girly girl, I have come to like wearing the color. It's fun. Makes me feel alive!

Behold the power of pink!

I've mentioned before that Carter has this fondness for pink, too. He's always boasting that he's tough enough to wear pink. But I honestly don't know if he likes the color because it's bright and shocking or because it draws attention to him. After witnessing the pink boy in action tonight, I think I know what it is.

It was the Fall Festival tonight at Grant Elementary School. This event takes the place of Halloween parties in the classrooms. Since it's no longer P.C. have these types of parties, they have to create events around the same time period. Kids are encouraged to dress up in Halloween costumes though.

The past two years, Carter has been some sort of Grim Reaper type guy resembling a character from the movie "Scream," which neither Carter nor I have seen. This year, though, he decided to be a little bolder, yet quite simplistic. He just wanted to wear one of his Pink Floyd T-shirts and color his hair pink.

I told him kids his age probably wouldn't understand it, but the teachers would. And that was the case. The adults said "cool" and the kids just liked his pink and orange hair. That was enough for them. And it was certainly enough for one girl to latch on to Carter for much of the time we were there, too! I won't name names but it's the same girl who the day before Carter was just talking about and said, "Remember XXX, the girl who kissed me twice and I sometimes hate?" Yep, that was her.

Behold the power of pink!

Not only was Carter's costume "bolder," he was, too. He basically told me in a nice way to "get lost" so he could just hang out with his friends a little while. I asked what I was supposed to do and he said I could go eat or something. I did go into the cafeteria and thankfully ran into some neighbor moms. Otherwise I would have felt "lost" being banned to the corner of the gymnasium to sit and watch my son grow up (and independent) before my eyes.

Behold the power of pink!

(I'm not sure I always like it.)

Carter 101

Since my blog ended on such a somber note yesterday, I thought I'd treat you to a blog full of Carterisms from the past two days that will hopefully lift those corners of your mouth again.

On Sunday while we were watching the Vikings get beat up in Dallas, there was a screen shot of the players with big tackles. The heading was "Purple People Eaters." Carter asked why and I explained that there used to be a song a long, long time ago about the Purple People Eater and these Cowboys are like that monster -- eating up some purple Vikings.

Oh, he says, and stars singing: "It was a one-eyed, one-horned, flyin' purple people eater. One-eyed, one-horned, flyin' purple people eater."

I said, "Wow, I didn't know you knew that song. That's an old one." He just rolls his eyes and says, "Mom, I know some things from the '80s!"

Ouch.

Carter's Wal-Mart cart sabbatical has officially come to an end. If you recall, Carter has had a history of diligently returning stray carts to the cart corrals in the parking lot because he considers it his civic duty. A few months ago he claimed that was coming to an end because it was time for other people to learn their responsibility.

Last night, when we got out to the parking lot, he could not resist the call of 7 errant carts near our car. He lets out an exasperated sigh and says, "Man, don't people care about their carts?!" He proceeded to put 4 away and left 3 of them because "Someone's going to have to learn to take care of those."

This morning over breakfast I was looking at the cover of Carter's student planner and noticed he already has littered it with stickers and writings like "Fourth Grade Rules." I thought I better open it up to be sure he had his name somewhere inside in case he loses it.

On the opening page, he has his contact information, followed by his teacher's name, then below that it says, "In case of an emergency contact" then "Phone number" then "Relationship." I think he thought all of this information must apply to his teacher because he left the first two lines blank but under "Relationship," he wrote "Excellent!"

And just so you don't think he's the world's perfect child, when we were set to go out the door, I noticed pen marks on his white T-shirt and told him to change.

"Is the school party tonight?" he asked. I said, "No, why?" He says, "Then why do I need a clean shirt on?"

Oh boy. At least he doesn't question the clean underwear principle!

The lucky ones

When I flipped over my Sisters calendar today, I saw it was a reminder once again to let those you love know about it every day because you never know when it may be your last chance to tell them.

The quote: "Dear Lord, please help me to remember to take the time to bestow the kisses today that I want loved ones to remember tomorrow."

I do bestow kisses on Jim and Carter every day. In my house, we do not part ways without a kiss and an "I love you." When I saw the quote though, I thought, I hope my parents and siblings know I love them despite our many recent healthy debates over Dad's birthday party (which thankfully is only 5 days away). I figure they must know I care. I practically announce once a week: Hey Internet world, I love my dysfunctional family! Kiss, kiss, hug, hug.

Seriously, I don’t know what I would do without them. And I do mean that seriously. It wasn't only the calendar quote that got to me today. Something tragic happened to someone at work that I can't stop thinking about.

I was typing something at my desk when we heard it. You know how once in awhile someone will laugh really loud at a joke and people will hear it many cubicles away. Well we heard this sudden vocal sound and I wasn't sure what it was. Then it continued and the 5 of us sitting there looked at each other and one person said, "That's not laughing."

We suddenly realize it is loud crying, almost screaming. We sit bolted to our chairs in the handcuffs of social etiquette while mouthing to each other: "Who is it?" "What's going on?" There seems to be this eery silence in that corner of the building as if every section of cubicles is doing the same thing.

We finally recognize who it is but sit helpless as we continue to hear her wails of shock and grief as she yells to someone on the phone, "Oh my god! They're both gone!" We hear someone trying to comfort her. We know she's lost someone. We all hold our hands to our chest because we ache for her loss and our hands shake as we think about how we would react to such a phone call.

The details, we learned later, were that her parents turned their heat on for the first time last night, went to bed and never woke up. They were overcome with carbon monoxide poisoning and died.

Hours later, her vocal pain is so vivid in my mind, I still feel sick to my stomach. Somewhat numb. I think about getting that phone call. I told Jim on the way home that if I was the one who got that news today about him or Carter I would have been screaming ... if my heart would have lasted another beat. I think it would hurt so much it would just stop.

Last weekend, as always, we ended our sisters weekend with a group hug. Who cares if we had our cantankerous moments? We are all here. None of us is dying of cancer or some disease. We all love each other. Do you know how lucky we are?

Yes. And I thank God that for today, we are the lucky ones.

On the Road(kill) again ...

We've heard the expression, “Don’t beat a dead horse.” I wonder if that applies to possums and coons and other such varmints.

Yesterday, I joined the ranks of the Roadkill Club –- if one exists.

My husband will tell you I have this innate ability to kill small animals. I can just be driving along and a squirrel will be along the side of the road and I'll call out, "Move, squirrel!" Without fail, it moves under my tire instead of in the direction of the ditch. Birds are the same way. It's like no one is coming for miles and they pick the moment I am cresting the hill to swoop down for a piece of carcass on the road. Thump! Stupid birds.

Yesterday I was up around 5 a.m. because I had to head up to the Rhinelander area for a conference. I had to pick someone up in town first. When I was gassing up and getting my coffee, I noticed the only other folks up at that hour were truck drivers and duck hunters. I hope those hunters were as successful as I was in the "kill" department.

We were driving along on the 4-lane stretch of Highway 54. I am in the left lane. It is still very dark out. Suddenly there is this huge animal lying in the road. I didn't even have time to brake and I couldn't have swerved because there were vehicles to my right. So I just had to go over it, but it was a gigantic "bump" my car did not enjoy.

I'm guessing some big ol' semi killed it and was able to go over it since their undercarriage is much higher off the ground than mine. When I got to my destination, I looked over the Honda's front end. I saw that there was some minor damage on the car. Some rubber thing is hanging from the front and some plastic part is broken and some paint is scraped off. I took it to the car wash this morning to get rid of any blood and guts and hair. Hungry yet?

I'm still at a loss as to what it was. It was too dark-colored to be a deer. But it just seemed too big to be a possum or a raccoon or a skunk. I mean those animals wouldn't cause such damage, would they?

When I called Jim about it and he asked what kind of animal it was, all I could say was, "It was a dead one."

So while I didn't beat a dead horse, I certainly beat a dead something. I wonder if it will still be there when we drive to work tomorrow ... or if it will be one of those roadkill pancakes we often see. Now is anyone hungry for lunch?

I solemnly swear ...

Here's a good one from the news today: Regular swearing at work can help boost team spirit among staff, allowing them to express better their feelings as well as develop social relationships, according to a study by researchers.

Really!? Hot damn! That's good to know. Though I'm pretty sure this doesn't mean cussing in a name-calling sense ("Nice job, Dumbass."). More like, sharing frustration over a project or deadline ("If we have to do one more gosh-darn revenue-generating project this month, I'm gonna flipping quit.") You know how misery loves company! Plus, the occasional cuss can be a stress reliever.

When we had a company golf outing this summer, some of my co-workers were shocked to hear me exclaim, "Oh fudge me!" when I'd make a bad shot. And I did say "fudge." For me, that was the shocking part -- that I could just say "fudge" and not something else. I was proud of that accomplishment.

I do release the occasional cuss word at work. How can I not? I have an often stressful job PLUS I try my darndest not to swear at home so Carter doesn't think his mama is a trailer-trash potty mouth. Not sure I've succeeded there.

When I was getting mail the other day and saw an envelope from the junior high, I let out an "Oh --" but closed my mouth before I could expel the expletive. Carter says, "What Mom? Just say it. I'm used to it." Well that's just fine and stinkin' dandy.

Perhaps I better warn my co-workers that I may be dropping more f-bombs and such. Apparently I am not doing it enough at work if there is still so much leftover for home!

All-nighter?

My brain is fried tonight. Remember how I said I was a "lifelong student"? It's not so easy to learn new things -- well, i should say "relearn" things.

I was helping Carter study for a science test for about 90 minutes this evening. Go ahead, ask me anything about the parts of a tree and photosynthesis! I am ready for this test!

I hope Carter is ready, too. It was actually fun for me to help him study and I told him so. I explained how much I loved school (read: Geek!) and how it was fun studying for tests because I would cram all these "clues" and "word plays" into my head so I'd remember things.

For example, an easy way to remember what coniferous tree is is to think of it as cone-iferous ... it produces cones and has needles instead of leaves. You get the picture.

When I tucked him in, I told Carter to try not to think about it so he can get some sleep, but can I do the same? I'm a little hyped up! I'll probably be going through that tree trunk, layer by layer in my dreams!

Maybe that will help me sleep -- counting tree rings instead of sheep ...

Mirror, mirror on the wall ...

Consider for a moment the typical woman. She likes to laugh, likes to talk (sometimes loudly), and is prone to the occasional mood swing and/or hormonal spike. Multiply that times 7 and you have my sisters weekend.

And not that that's necessarily a bad thing. Most of the time we were enjoying each other's company and our special time together. We had our moments, though. And I can thank (unfairly) Mom for those.

It's probably natural that each year I see more signs we are morphing into our mother. The good news is that she is a clever, witty and creative woman with a sense of humor. The bad news is she can't say anything good about herself, she can't throw anything out (including old arguments) and feels responsible for the world's happiness, continually apologizing for things beyond her control.

As much as we try to fight it, we are becoming just like that. Why are we saying we're sorry the fall colors weren't the best or that the restaurant is too cold when clearly these things are out of our control?

Do you know why it irks me so to hear this? Because I am the same way. When I hear my sisters say these things, I know those same words have come out of my mouth before, too. I know I've apologized for food taking too long at a restaurant or for an unanticipated detour on a trip. Now I see why it annoys my husband so much!

Each year, we have a pillow that is passed along to a sister who acts most like our mother. It says: "Mirror, mirror on the wall, I've become my mother after all." My twin had it last year so she gets to be the sole judge and jury in determining who gets it next. She decided she'd wait, though, and mail it to the "winner" so she wouldn't have to face their wrath firsthand.

Frankly, it could be any of us. And frankly, there are worse things. We could have all had PMS this weekend. Then I'd have to refer you back to my blog about cat fights!

Walk on the WILD side

Despite what our significant others may think we do on our annual Wild Women's Weekend, it's really, truly and honestly not that wild. We don't do anything outrageous by today's reality TV or "Girls Gone Wild" standards. But we did do something a little spontaneous this weekend. And for us, that's "wild."

This year, our sisters weekend was in Norwalk -- a little village in the heart of Amish hill country in southwestern Wisconsin. Beautiful area with a ton of hills (even one classified a mountain!), valleys and many twisty-turny roads.

On Friday night, we dined at a little cafe on Main Street. While we were waiting for our food, one of my sisters noticed a flier for a village park fund-raising event -- a 5K fun run and walk to take place the next morning. Since we all have been trying to walk and exercise a little more in the past few months, it wasn't surprising that more than one sister responded: "We should do this!" From there, the wild idea was born.

Despite staying up late playing games, talking and laughing, an "alarm" was sounded at 6:45 a.m. to get up and get ready to walk! I was tired, my head was stuffed and it felt like I was coming down with something. I wanted to roll over and go back to sleep. My sister Rayna said, "C'mon, Robyn. This will give you something to blog about!" Was that really my motivation? Doubt it. But I did roll out of bed and join the "team."

We all dressed in our matching Wild Women's Weekend sweatshirts and headed into town. I still hadn't decided if I was going to run it or walk it. I hadn't been running or walking in two weeks. When I saw the small crowd for this first-time event, I decided what the heck, I'll run it. Was I nuts? Probably.

The race was run partially on the Elroy-Sparta Bicycle Trail, then veered off to and through a farm. To get to the farm, we had to run up what the folks in Norwalk call a knoll, but what I call a stinkin' big hill! Just like the Little Engine That Could, I trekked up the knoll and was slowed to a walk before I crested it, but I made it!

I finished strong because I had this motivation to beat this one girl who was a bit cocky and condescending to my sisters before the race. "Are you ready to lose?" she said before the race. "I probably have 2,000 miles on you." On behalf of my sisters, I was determined to finish ahead of her and I did. Petty, yes, but when I was as out of shape as I was, I grabbed ahold of anything to keep me going! My time was much slower than my summer 5K but I was more excited to see my sisters all make it to the finish line later.

Despite aches, pains and coughs at sunrise, they all crossed in less than an hour's time! Hurray for all of us! Good thing they gave us T-shirts or some people would never believe us. We were practically celebrities. Even the local newspaper took a picture of us. So somewhere in the pages of the County Line Newspaper we will be famous!

What will we do next year? Will we all run one? Or will our adventure include trying new foods with "scary" veggies like onions or mushrooms? You never know when the Hedberg girls decide to take a walk on the wild side!

Lost in translation

You've heard the old "He said, she said" argument, right? Where the woman may ask, "How do I look?" and the man replies, "Fine." But she hears, "Fine? He just said 'fine' and not 'great' so I must look fat!"

There's also the situations where we hear different lyrics to songs than the next person. I remember a song in the '70s or early '80s that had some line about "if I wanted you to save my life." My mother heard it and said, "If I wanted you to shave my legs?! What kind of music is that?!"

Carter hears Mommy and Daddy say things sometimes that get lost in translation. Last night Jim and Carter took me out to eat to say goodbye before my sister weekend. When we were done eating and walking out, we were grabbing toothpicks and Jim heard the song on the music system and said, "H-mmm. It's Melanie."

I don't know who Melanie is. Some country singer. But that's not what Carter heard. He opened his toothpick and stuck it in his mouth and said, "Dad's right. These are melon-y." (I personally didn't taste the difference!)

Probably his most memorable "lost in translation" moment was when he was much younger. I don't know what he did or said, but we told him he was funny. He said, "Like Larry?" And we're thinking, Larry who? Is that an imaginary friend or what? So we ask him, "Like Larry?" And he replies, "Yeah, funny how Larry is."

How Larry is. How Larry is? Oh, that's how-larry-is. Hilarious!

That is hilarious, isn't it?

Well I'm hitting the road to meet the Wild Women so you won't hear from me for a few days. I can guarantee there will be a few "hilarious" moments ... some I might even be able to tell you about!

Opening act

It may sound like an oxymoron, but despite my lack of self-esteem, I don't mind being in the spotlight once in awhile. I especially have no qualms about doing a "performance" for my family. There's really no way to embarrass myself.

I should probably clarify "performance." Each year for our sisters weekend my twin and I do an "opening act" to kick things off. Usually we're doing actions and singing along to a song. One year, we even wrote the songs. We have a lot of fun with this.

The clincher is that although we email each other about it for a few weeks leading up to the performance, we don't actually get a run-through until we get there. So we're pretty much winging it and hoping for the best. We have not disappointed our fans yet. Of course, as Raylene pointed out the other day, "They have nothing to compare us to so they have to like it!" True.

We're excited about what we're doing this weekend -- yes it's already Wild Women's Weekend (WWW IX) this weekend. I can't go into details because it's top secret (one of those surprises I enjoy). Last night I was getting my wild "costume" together. I danced through the kitchen and dining room to show the guys.

Jim rolls his eyes and Carter says, "I'm worried about you, Mom."

Then I head back to the bedroom to change into normal clothes and I hear him tell Jim, "Dad, I sure hope you have a wife you can keep under control."

I guess even though I wouldn't embarrass myself, I see the potential of making Jim and Carter groan. Good thing our WWW rule is: No Boys Allowed!

Can you hear me now?

Remember when we were kids and we played "Telephone"? We'd talk into a tin can or plastic cup attached to another one by a long string. No surprise we couldn't get the message across.

Today's phones have come a long, long way. They don't even have to be plugged in! They fit in our pockets, take pictures, get email, play music and do just about everything but make me a cup of cappuccino (I can't wait for that one to come out!).

I'm not as bad as my parents, who still have a rotary phone. I do have a cell phone through work -- a Blackberry actually, which does the phone thing along with email and Internet -- but Jim and I do not have a personal cell phone. His reasoning: "I don't need one. I'm not that important." In other words, anyone who needs to get ahold of him can wait until he gets home -- even if he's out of town a week.

I can understand some of his reasoning. It is annoying to see people talking on their phones all the time (especially while driving!). What does everyone have to talk about that it can't wait?!

I admit I do like having a mobile phone in case of an emergency -- especially in the winter. Other than that, I really only use mine for a few work calls and once in awhile to call home before leaving town to see if I need to pick something up. I prefer, though, to talk on our "land line" because the signal is always clear. Well, until yesterday anyway.

For some reason our phones quit working (no dial tone), which was weird because we get a package deal with our cable service and our cable and Internet worked fine. So I log on to the company Web site, send a "Help Me!" email about our dead phones.

When I get the response email, it says: "Thank you for notifying us about your phone problem. To talk to a service rep, please call XXX and select option 2."

I'm supposed to CALL to tell someone my phone isn't working?!! If my phone was working, I wouldn't have to call! I guess it is assumed that everyone in America has a cell phone. Good thing I do have one for emergencies after all.

And it wasn't so bad enjoying a quiet Sunday afternoon at home. I wish it would have happened last Sunday instead when I was getting calls from the gloating Packers fans! That's OK. They were pretty quiet this week!

Cat fight

My famous last words may have to be "All's well that ends well." Because despite the end of my blog late yesterday, the Sylvester's Great Escape episode has not come to a conclusion yet.

We noticed throughout the day and evening that she wasn't her usual playful self yet. She still was basically finding new spots on our bedroom floor to nap. Although I didn't personally see her move, I knew she was getting around -- she just hadn't ventured up on any of her window perches (i.e. Jim's dresser) like she normally does.

When Jim got home from Las Vegas around 1 a.m., kitty had gone missing again. We finally found her deep in his closet, but she didn't come out to greet him -- which was unusual, too. Later, she came by the bed and Jim lifted her up. She let out a loud meow and eventually jumped off the bed -- but with a slow, deliberate motion.

Jim said he wondered if she was hurt. I had felt along her legs earlier and she didn't hiss or howl, so I figured she was OK. This morning, after seeing her walk gingerly down the hall, we decided we better get her to the vet. Jim took her in while I got Carter to his soccer game.

Turns out, Sylvester got into a cat fight during her wild night out. She has the bite mark to prove it. She was also running a bit of a temp, too. So she got a shot of penicillin and some pain killers and has to be on antibiotics for 7 days. They shaved her beautiful long hair around the bite so we can keep an eye on the injury. If it looks bad on Monday, we'll have to take her in again. Poor kitty.

At least that explains why she didn't want to come out from under the deck. One, she was in pain. And two, she might have been afraid of that mysterious ol' stray cat struttin' around, ready for Round 2.

Good thing cats have 9 lives!

Surprise!

The funny thing about surprises is, well, they take you by surprise -- and that's not always a good thing. What I've learned in the last 24 hours is that I love giving surprises (when they work) but I don't necessary relish being taken by surprise.

For about two weeks now I've had a surprise in the works for Carter. I knew my sister Renell was going to be staying at the Kalahari Indoor Waterpark Resort and Convention Center in Wisconsin Dells for work. It's not that far of a drive from our house so we decided we'd get together for dinner and then do the waterpark thing. (Jim, Carter and I had stayed there last fall and Carter had a blast.) Her visit was timed well, too, because Carter didn't have school today.

Initially, Carter wasn't even going to know about anything. I was going to get home early, meet him at the bus stop and drive to the Dells and not tell him anything. But the babysitter let it slip that we were going there. She said she didn't know it was supposed to be a secret and, to her credit, she just said we were meeting my sister there.

So there was still room for the surprise element. I had our swimming stuff packed in the trunk before Carter got off the bus. We drove to the Dells, had dinner with Renell and her friend Bill and then headed out to the parking lot. People were talking about the water park. Carter mentioned how we should have brought our suits. Oh well, I said. I told him we had to get his school picture out of the car for Renell, then I popped open the trunk and had him look in there.

When he saw our swimming stuff, he just cheered! "Oh, I love you, Mom!" Boy, I didn't grow tired of hearing that all night. He did have a blast (again) and couldn't get over the surprise.

That was the good one. The bad one happened this morning.

We hadn't seen our cat this morning and realized we didn't see her last night when we came home. Usually she sleeps in our bed, even when Jim is gone, so I suddenly got alarmed. Carter and I looked everywhere inside the house with no luck. Could she have gotten out? One other time she got out of the house when she pushed through a screen.

I checked the windows and sure enough, one of the living room screens had been pushed out, which meant she'd been on the loose "in the wilds" overnight. Carter and I looked in the back yard near that window and eventually found her under our enclosed front deck -- exactly where she ended up last time.

There is only one place to get in and out and that is where we broke the lattice that time. After much friendly coaxing and not-so-friendly squirting with the water bottle, she wasn't going anywhere. I was getting a little miffed but, as any cat owner knows, Sylvester didn't care. She just a laid her pretty white belly down in the dirt.

I knew the only way to get her out was to go after her. I had to remove a big section of lattice and told Carter he'd have to go for it -- he could fit through the hole better. Well he didn't want nothing to do with that. So I got grubby sweats on and gloves and crawled halfway through. At this point, I remembered this is where the snakes slept in the summer. I think my heart may have stopped beating but I was still able to gasp, "C'mon, kitty, get out!"

She finally ran past me and out and I am yelling at Carter to grab her and get her into the house. He's yelling for me to help him and I'm yelling back, "I can't, I'm practically stuck!" Well I did have to inch my way back out and I can't do that quickly when the chest gets in the way. Cut me some slack!

Carter got our girl in the house and in the bathroom as we'd planned and he comes out crying something fierce. I couldn't understand what he was saying. I thought the cat died or was severely injured or something critical. Finally, I realized he was saying, "She hissed at me." Knock on wood, she hasn't done that before. It was startling for Carter and he was saying, "I don't like this." And I said, "Well, it's not over yet. We've got to give her a bath!" (Now I know where the term "hissy fit" originated.)

I guess all's well that ends well. Two unexpected events. Make that: Two water adventures. One hysterical, the other hiss-terical. Gotta love surprises!

Hump Day

I've had some doubts I was going to get through this week with my sanity intact -- let alone over the hump. Thankfully, I could cash in some of my "lovin's" with Carter tonight, because I needed it. Please allow me to vent ... just briefly ...

My friend Jana called it. She said this week is turning into a train wreck for me. My computer was DOA on Monday morning and I was without one for a day, then spent yesterday and today gradually getting all the bits and pieces of information back. Just in time for me to work a half day tomorrow and take Friday off. It better be one helluva productive morning!

On my way home from work, I learned that the deadlines for three extra projects are being pushed up so my teams will not have much time to pull them together! That won't be fun. Then I get home and see a letter from the junior high.

You may wonder why I don't blog much about my teenage stepsons. Well, they're teenagers and they have computers. I may be safe from Carter reading this -- for awhile yet -- but the big boys are quite capable of finding me in the blogosphere if they got wind of this writing hobby of mine. Therefore, I try to watch what I say so I don't cause them undue embarrassment. But when it's due, it's due.

The letter from the school was in regards to the 9th-grader who has been missing school (lots) and assignments already -- and school has only been in session a month. This is the same child who took summer school after failing much of 8th grade and is now re-taking several 8th-grade classes this semester. The boy and his mother promised they'd give it a better effort. But it's obvious he is definitely not starting off on the right foot.

The letter was basically a warning that he better pull his head out of you know where or there'd be consequences. Jim's gone this week for work so I had to absorb this information myself. I didn't do too well. I had a little "rage fit" around the house, yelling at appliances, etc., pretending they were somebody's mother. It didn't do a darn bit of good but it felt good to release it!

Carter came into the house from a bike ride. He asked why I was crying. I told him I was concerned about Clay and how the school year was starting. Though he's young, Carter is well aware of the struggles we've had because Clay lived with us for part of last school year and the one before. I said, "You know how much we love Clay and want him to do well. I'm just upset because it's not going like Daddy and I hoped."

Just a few minutes ago I went to check on Carter reading in his room. I walk in there and he is laying on the floor, wearing these large, funky tear-drop sunglasses while he's reading. He looked like one of those cool TV cops or something. I just burst out laughing. What are you doing? "Mom, I just put them on when I heard you coming." I got down on the floor and kissed him and said, "Thanks. I really needed that laugh." He nodded and said, "I thought so."

Oh, happy Hump Day.

Bookworms

Besides the obvious charm and good looks, Carter and I have something else in common: We both like to read.

Oh, I'm a bookworm from way back. I can't remember a time when I wasn't curled up with a good story. Could I have been as young as Carter when I was snatching up every Judy Blume book and sprinting through the Laura Ingalls Wilder saga? I'm not sure, but I know I was young.

Why do I like to read? There's a couple reasons. When I was growing up, it was a good option when I was tired of watching the black-and-white TV (or grounded from it) or sick of playing with my twin (imagine!). I loved to escape to the stories and live within them while I was reading.

I've always had this affection for the English language. I love to learn new words and see how they play out at the hands of different writers. It's no surprise "words is my business" in real life. I still love to lose myself in the stories -- most kinds -- and I read about 1-2 books a week. It keeps my mind sharp (no comment), and keeps this dream of writing a book top of mind. Many times when I close the book after that last page, I say, "I can do this!" and I will!

Carter surprised me yesterday. He had his head stuck in a book from the moment we got home until after supper time. He said he and his classmates each have a goal of reading 400 minutes per month. Carter did 100 minutes yesterday alone and wants to see how far he can take it.

I thought, wow, this is great. The kid loves to read. Then I see this little note from the teacher that each child who reads 400 minutes gets a free personal-size pizza at Pizza Hut. You know, that's OK. If it can get children to open a book and seek a new adventure, then I'm all for it.

When I called Carter on his game, he insisted he does love to read. He just wants to be sure their class reads the most minutes so they get a pizza party in December. Go for it, Carter!

I don't consider The Adventures of Captain Underpants in the same league with Little House in the Big Woods. But who am I to judge? They might say that about my book some day!

True colors

I've heard it said you can learn a lot about somebody by placing them in two situations: sitting in a traffic jam and untangling Christmas lights. I could add "family meeting" to that list, too.

That's when the true colors come out. I'm not taking anybody else's inventory. What I learned was a thing or two about myself this weekend.

First of all, I am a peacemaker. As one of the babies in the family, I hate to see discord and strained relationships. I try to bring peace to the situation but, admittedly, I am very impatient. (Yes, my well of patience and tolerance has run dry again!) I want a resolution and I want to move on. Let's not go back and forth over the same ground. That tires a person out -- just ask Carter, who covers the whole soccer field instead of staying in his zone!

Secondly, I was reminded I am a delicate flower. For someone who used to be in the LeRoy Hedberg Slave Labor Corps, I've gone soft. Yes, I used to haul wood and mow the grass and all that. But I was young. Do you know how much a cord of wood is? How about 3 3/4 cords? I'll tell how much. It's a stinkin' lot! It's about 420 armloads up and down the basement stairs. Surprisingly, my legs don't ache but my back certainly does. I'll let you know how my left arm is doing -- once the feeling comes back! All props to you physical labor types. I am going to have to stick with being a desk-job princess.

Lastly (well probably not lastly forever), I learned I am the anti-Betty. As in just the opposite of Betty Crocker or Becky Home-Ecy. I helped my mother make lunch on Saturday. She was making meatballs (real ones) while I peeled potatoes. Yes, I've peeled potatoes before and boiled them but on Saturday (insert dramatic pause), I made mashed potatoes for the first time in my life. In my house, potatoes come out of a box or they're baked (that's preferred) and gravy comes out of a jar. I wisely left the gravy-making to Mom. M-m-m that was a good lunch! Even the mashed potatoes were good. (No lumps, I swear!)

As I watched Jim and Carter clean their plates, I realized they have been cheated by having a such a "modern woman" in the house. Of course, if every meal was that good, it would no longer be a treat! And those two have their idea of a treat. Last week when I was gone one night, they went to a burger joint to get a half pound of fries then stopped at KFC for a bucket of chicken. As Carter put it: "We're eating like kings!"

I just couldn't deny them that pleasure.