Happy May Eve!

Today was another glove and mitten day at work.  Global warming feels more like global wierding.

Today is Jean's birthday and she must be growing up because I haven't seen her since early this morning. She very wisely decided to craft her own birthday fun and not leave the merry-making planning to her unreliable friends.  She invited the people she wanted to spend the day with to play Ultimate Frisbee in the park, then went on from there to various entertainments including attending her first R rated movie legally.  This may be the aspect of turning 17 that she was anticipating most because the theaters in Bfield have been checking ID's and turning under-age kids away.  Kill Bill 2 was her first legal dose of movie mayhem.  Where she is now is anybody's guess, if anybody was guessing.  I'm sitting here with her dad, her brothers, and a cake that looked a lot better some hours ago.

Which makes it seem that I'm irritated, which I'm not.  I'm glad she's paddling her own natal day canoe and having the day she'll want to look back on for the next year.  Parker is coping with his sister's late homecoming by inviting our neighbor Brian to spend the night.  Mr. Simple is snoozing, figuring he'll see the Birthday Girl tomorrow, and Mac and I are taking turns ejecting each other from the computer.  I'm the official Teenager Status Checker and will be staying up to make sure she comes in safe and sober.

Of course we naturally remember birthdays from the past on a day like this.  Parties with flocks of little girls around our dining room table, young teens feeling very grown up at restaurants, the Secret Garden party, pajama parties that didn't quiet down until sunrise the next morning.  The party memory that makes us laugh the most was from the year when I really pulled out the cake decorating stops and topped her cake with sparklers.  Seven year olds around the table were most impressed, but their feelings changed when we discovered that sparklers lit en masse leave ashes on ice cream cake.  My intrepid Jean didn't care.  For her, the excitement was worth a little grit along the way.

Remembering even further back, I remember that I was shocked to learn I had given birth to a girl.  I loved being a mother to my two boys and was sure I'd be mothering a third.  I Knew I'd be a terrible mother to a girl.  All that pink Barbie prissy stuff I had no patience for.  So poor Jean had a somewhat skeptical mom who dressed her in light blue and red and white, and anything but pink or purple.  I shouldn't have worried.  She did the pink Barbie stuff, but didn't have much patience for it either.  She climbed, ran, danced, swam, tumbled, skated, rode horseback, and dove, she drove her aunts to distraction with worry that she'd kill herself.  It always seemed to me that she knew just what she was doing and that she was always testing her limits.  Bungee jumping, whitewater canoeing, and soon travelling far away from her family, she's still testing her limits.  She's just the daughter I always needed.

Happy Birthday, Little Jean. 

It's Monday morning, just after 7:30.  I'm meeting a friend for coffee in an hour, so forgive my posting a weather observation.  I do this from time to time, always wondering why I feel the need to document my environmental status.  But it's Monday morning, just after 7:30 and coffee is an hour away.

This morning at 7 o'clock I HAD TO SCRAPE ICE OFF OF MY WINDSHIELD!

It is May 3rd, for heaven's sake.

There might be more to say later, but for now I can't get past that scrapey cold start.

So you've just about forgiven me for the lame start to the day (ice scraping etc.).  I should have gone back out to scrape something else, but instead I visited american individual who referred to an entry by Bitter Beauty.  And that entry goes a little something like this:

I want everyone who reads this to ask me 3 questions, no more no less. Ask me anything you want and I will answer it. Then, I want you to go to your journal, copy and paste this allowing your friends (including myself) to ask you anything..

OH!  This struck fear in my heart! I'm usually quite protective of my turf (ask my fingerless husband who once went into my purse without permission) but then the Bitter One referred to people who came and left without commenting as having no "sense of comment."  Well, I could hardly let that go without proving myself, could I?

So here it is.

News updates:

Call from my Kentucky Derby party attending cutthroat competitive sister--the edible hat won first prize out of field of about a dozen  boring inedible flower decked hats.  After recieving the $300 prize, she allowed the gathered party guests to ignore the host and hostesses' catered goodies and they ate the hat!  The promised picture is still "on its way."

Mrs. A the Immoveable Force has indeed found a way to have Jean play the Bach Partita at a recital on the same day as the compulsory AFS orientation.  Now we have to figure out how to get the violin there.  It requires more coddling than a colicky baby and is probably much more appealing to thieves.

The birthday Ultimate Frisbee/Movie Marathon was a great success, with the result that the birthday cake had to wait until 10PM the next night to be wished upon, de-illuminated, and consumed. 

 A second highlight of the day was Jean's winning a $100 prize in a German Language Competition, and our surviving the most boring presentation program I've been to since last year's.  The prize money is being added to her Italian Fun Fund.   Sehr gut, nicht war?

That's about it for the stories I was following.  Good night.

Nimble fingered though I may be, occasionally I slip up when logging on.  And when I slip up, I occasionally am led to consider changing my name to the moniker 20six is telling me is not my current name.  Tonight I had more trouble than usual, and I'm considering two possiblilities.  Each suggests a change of job and as spring is slow to come to the wide open spaces of the playground, I think I'm ready for a change.

The first name I'm often referred to by this site is

"Dimplelsie". 

Which suggests a career in movies that could bring joy into people's careworn lives.  That is pretty appealing.

The second name popped up for the first time tonight.  It takes a little more getting used to.  That name is

"Wimplelsie".

This persona offers travel benefits, without the inconveniences one experiences when flying on commercial vehicles, uniforms provided, and a space in the express lane to heaven.

Shall I trade in the Simple life for something more glamorous or virtuous?  It's a hard one to call.

Hello?  Hello? Anyone out there?  I could use some help here.

I just got a call from AFS with Jean's host family information.  She's been envisioning this lovely Mediterranean experience this coming summer.  You know, warm water, sunny beaches, quaint seaside towns.  Lovely sunny Italy.

Her host father's name is Bruno.

She's going to be so far north in Italy that she won't even be peeking out from the rim of the boot.

Her German will probably come in handy.

She'll be climbing mountains, not lounging on a beach in a bikini.

I don't think she'll need all that spending money she was planning to bring for shopping.

Will someone out there come right over to my house and tell her she'll be just up the road from Berlinghetto in Travag1iato?  Please? 

Or better yet, tell me wonderful stories about the wonderland that is Travaglioto. Even better than that, tell her, OK?  I'll just hide until it's over.

I actually think she'll be fine with this.  She did want a summer adventure away from her family and friends.  She won't be scooping and smooshing ice cream in Bfield with all of the other ice cream scooper/smooshers.  She knew this wasn't a tour, but rather a homestay type of thing.  She even liked the wilderness canoe trip and our Vacation of Overcoming Disaster.  Yeah, she'll be fine about this.

Bruno doesn't sound too Italian though, does he?