Friday Fragments #1: Giving it a Try

I'm a huge fan of Mrs. 4444's blog, Half-Past Kissin' Time. One of her regular tidbits is Friday Fragments, which is basically a collection of stuff collected over the past week. I figured I'd give it a try ...

Addie and her best friend tried to make coffee cupcakes from a Tumblr recipe a few weeks ago. The results were disastrous because they used coffee grounds instead of liquid coffee. They went for the redo this week, and they were the best cupcakes I've ever had. They got really into decorating them, too :-)

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Burger King has come out with something called a "Bacon Cheddar Ranch Tendercrisp".  Addie has been salivating ever since, and we had a recent lunch date to indulge in one.

When we went to BK, however, it was like a Saturday Night Live skit.  The cashier was named Phyllis, and her co-workers sounded like crows when they bellowed her name.  Nothing she did made any sense ... like, she would run off to stock lids in the middle of cashiering ... and then someone would squawk, "Phyllis!"

It was ridiculously funny.
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I've been reading a young adult medieval fantasy series geared to boys for the past week.  One of my students recommended John Flanagan's Ranger's Apprentice series, not exactly my usual cup of tea in terms of literature selection, and I haven't been able to stop.  I've slowed down, though, because I'm on the last one ... and I don't want it to end!












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I changed my Facebook status to "single".  I had just left the relationship status part empty, and now it's officially single.  I mean, I've been single for a long time (a long, long time), but I think maybe this means I'm ready to start looking.  Like, in earnest ... not just bemoaning how difficult dating is when you're in your thirties (because, let's face it ... dating is hard at any age).
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Belle started summer camp this week.  She went part-time last year; she was at camp while I was teaching summer school, but I got to spend afternoons and weekends with her.  This year, she wanted to go full-time ... and I miss her terribly.  When I get home from summer school, she's still at camp for several hours, and I'm kind of at a loss.  She loves it, though, which makes it worthwhile.  I suppose ;-)
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Addie sent me this grocery list via Facebook. 

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I'm glad that summer school is only Monday through Thursday (and only three hours).  It is exhausting! 
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My roof is being reshingled.  When I went to go to bed after the first day, it was covered with debris (that's what comes from having your bedroom be the attic of a barn, I guess).  The roofers are decent guys, and the fact that they sing along with the radio (loudly)is especially entertaining.
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I have been having some really strange, extremely vivid dreams this week.  It's odd, because if you can't tell from this list, it's been a pretty dull week.  Maybe that's even why ... I don't know, the whole concept of dreaming is just fascinating to me.

In fact, I wish I was organized enough to keep a dream notebook.  The dream I had last night was like a mystery movie, and I bet I would have had the makings of a new novel if I'd written it down right away.  Now, I can't really remember the details of it at all.  

The Prevalence of IM Language: Convenience or Another Sign of Laziness?

I take a lot of heat--a lot of heat--for using punctuation in text messages, Facebook and Twitter updates, and even e-mail. I've come to terms with the fact that commas and semi-colons are never going to be a part of "text talk", though, although I suspect I personally will always use them.

No, the thing that really drives me bananas is stuff like using "u" for "you". Would it really kill you to type an extra two letters? Would it change the course of your life trajectory to press two more keys?

What kind of message does it send (pun not intended, but it made me laugh so I'm leaving it) if you don't value the person you're sending a text to enough to write out a three-letter word?

When I received a text last night reading, "how r u", I did not respond. I just couldn't. It would have been a rant, and that's not nice.

I mean, texting back, "I am annoyed by people too lazy to use capital letters and question marks and to spell out the word 'you'. How are you?" would have been overkill.

I do get the concept of convenience, by the way. Abbreviations are one thing; why would someone take the time to write out et cetera when etc. is a universally accepted abbreviation? Oh, and I use "LOL" all the time, despite Addie telling me that it's become an overused and even outdated expression.

My other pet peeves, just to totally prove how strange I am, involve spelling the abbreviated term of affection honey as "hun", using apostrophes to make words plural, and when people scratch their toenails against their heels (it makes a noise like fingernails on a chalkboard ... *shiver*).

Okay, here's the thing. I'm an English teacher. Of course I'm going to be annoyed by a lack of correct grammar. It's kind of an occupational hazard (although grammar is by no means my specialty as an educator).

When I remove the English teacher anal-retention, though, I'm still left with a feeling of frustration based on the laziness that permeates much of our society. There is a disturbing tendency to find the path of least resistance and follow it, to search out the easiest shortcuts instead of giving life your all.

Okay, take the apostrophe thing, perhaps especially annoying to me since it's one of the few absolute consistencies in the English language.

If you have a singular noun that doesn't end in "s" and you want to show possession, you add 's. The cat's toy. The shoe's lace. The idiot's cell phone. If a singular noun ends in "s", you add an apostrophe after the "s". The glass' contents. Jess' sister. A bus' wheels.

When a plural noun ends in "s", you add an apostrophe after the "s" to show possession. The three sisters' bedroom was messy. The two dogs' water bowl was empty. And if a plural noun does not end in "s", you add 's to show possession. The children's playground. The mice's cages.

Apostrophes are not used to make a word plural--when I see "the lady's are really nice" or "I bought seven book's yesterday", I get very annoyed. While the rules for making a word plural are pretty complicated at times, one thing for sure is that adding an 's is not the way to do it ... yet this happens all the time.

Take the word "tornado", for example. If I want to make it plural, I have to look up in a dictionary whether it would be tornados or tornadoes ... but I know for a fact that it's not tornado's, which is the way many people would spell it.

I'll stop going on about grammar now (if you're still reading this, thank you ;-)).

I guess what frustrates me is the societal laziness exemplified by IM language. It might seem like a small thing, but it's one piece of a much larger problem.

So many people are settling for mediocrity; the concept of self-motivation has narrowed to the point where it's hard to encourage others to put 100% into anything they do ... or, even more frightening, to push yourself toward some sort of excellence when "good enough" is ... well, good enough.

Does the Golden Rule Mean Nothing?

I am in kind of a funk at the moment, a definite change from my usual Pollyanna-like existence.

I've been noticing a lot, both in my personal life and in the world around me, that people have a tendency to treat others like crap. It's starting to really get to me, to be perfectly honest with you.

I've gotten to the point as a person, however, where I can look at what is annoying me about other people and ask if I am part of the problem or part of the solution. In other words, is what pissing me off about other people something that I do myself, making me an unintentional hypocrite?

I broke this down to the so-called "Golden Rule"--in other words, treat other people the way you would like to be treated.

If everyone lived this way, if each person on the planet made a conscious effort to extend to others the courtesies that they themselves expect, the world would be a far more pleasant place.

So I asked myself, "How do you treat people?"

In general, I think that I do offer everybody kindness, respect, humor, a willingness to work hard, a ready smile, and a helping hand. At least, that is my perception.

That being said, I am also aware that I am not one to forgive and forget. If a person burns me enough times (and in many cases, there has been an awful lot of burning that's gone on before I finally gave up ... I'm kind of a sucker), I will eventually lose any sort of respect or regard for that person.

But does that change the way I treat them?

Yes and no.

I cannot think of the last time I did something malicious to someone, an action intended purely to cause pain, discomfort, or humiliation. It's just not in my nature, I don't think.

But in terms of going out on a limb for someone that's hurt me or someone close to me or even someone I've never met? As far as I'm concerned, the bridge is broken. I would never initiate the burning of a bridge, wouldn't fan its flames or instigate destruction of any sort, but I've been forced--through observing and witnessing and screaming in agony from hurt and betrayal--to accept that walking away (literally when possible and metaphorically when it's not) is sometimes the only thing you can do.

And that makes me immeasurably sad.

I guess the bottom line is that I do not understand human nature. There seems to be a common need to use the misfortune of others to make yourself feel better, even if you're not the one to instigate said misfortune.

Is it because focusing on the tragedies and tribulations of others allows you to put your own pain and shortcomings and weaknesses and fears into some kind of perspective? I think so.

I love hearing gossip, for instance. Celebrity gossip, workplace gossip, the drama that goes on among my students, and so on ... I enjoy hearing about it. I like to know the dirt. However, I do not myself gossip; I'm not one who'll call up a hundred people and say, "Oh my God, you know what I just heard about Joe Jones?"

I guess I'm rambling, but writing makes me feel better even if I don't come to any sort of conclusion that's going to make a difference in the great scheme of things.

I'd love to know your thoughts on this one, though.

Do you treat other people the way you'd like to be treated? Do you think the concept of everybody taking on this challenge would make the world a better place?

And is that even possible?

Casey Anthony, the Judicial System, and Me

While I am completely disgusted by the verdict in the Casey Anthony trial, I am not surprised. The fact that this young woman lied repeatedly, made up lies to support her lies, and then lied about many of the said lies speaks to her character.

I have no doubt that she was responsible for the death of her young daughter, and I know that she will one day have to answer to a higher power.

It's just that the American judicial system wasn't it.

Some are outraged by the not-guilty verdict, speaking out vehemently against jurors and posting Facebook chains in remembrance of little Caylee. It's kind of a knee-jerk thing, and I can completely relate to that--my most recent status update is, "Karma's a birch ... hopefully Casey Anthony (and others who don't follow the golden rule) will get that memo. Soon!" (the autocorrect on my Droid is kind of a pain sometimes).

Others are looking at it more objectively, suggesting that the prosecution should have gone for a lesser charge or citing the so-called "CSI Effect" (namely, that jurors expect indisputable physical evidence in order to convict, since that's how it happens on television).

Me, I'm just resigned to the weaknesses in a system that allows this sort of thing to happen.

My distrust in the legal world probably comes in part from the fact that my father is a lawyer and I spent much of my childhood hearing courtroom stories, and I'm sure the fictional trial in Harper Lee's To Kill a Mockingbird plays a role as well, but the real reason is more personal.

It's ironic that the verdict of the Casey Anthony trial has coincided with my ex-husband's most recent trip down Alcohol Alley, but perhaps that's not a bad thing.

I have a lot of really good friends and a wonderful family. I know that I am loved, and I feel incredibly blessed for all that I have. The support I've received from legions of people during the whole divorce debacle has kept my belief in the basic goodness of human beings from faltering.

I am very aware of the degree of detail I go into in terms of my personal life on this blog. On Facebook, however, I don't hold much back.

Anyone who is my friend on Facebook has been a party to the roller coaster ride that has accompanied my unwilling journey aboard Pythagorus' alcoholic antics, most recently a night during the last week in June.

Facebook statuses from that night include, "Driving my ex-husband to his house (two hours) from the hospital. The wine fumes are killing me (sorry, there has to be SOME levity ...)", "I could not make up my f***ing life ...", and "I am home. Should anyone need me, I'll be up all night writing an exam."

For years now, I've been advised to "move on", to leave him alone, to not help him when he asks for it, to ignore him and forget him and otherwise extend a metaphorical middle finger rather than an olive branch.

But I can't.

It has nothing to do with Pythagorus.

Anyone who knows me in real life is aware that I would do anything in my power to help another person, that you couldn't ask me to do something that I wouldn't do, that I would willingly sacrifice my happiness, my safety, my health, and my sanity if it would behoove another person, even a complete stranger. (And I don't say this because I think I'm great, by the way ... honestly, this is probably my fatal flaw)

The truth is this. If I'd just ingested two gallons of water and Pythagorus was on fire in front of me, I'd cross the road and pee across the street. With a smile on my face.

There is not another person on earth I could say that about. A lot of people have hurt me, some of them very badly, but I would help them nonetheless. See, I don't matter all that much to me.

But my children? They are my life, the sunshine of my universe, and Pythagorus has hurt both of them repeatedly and continuously for years now.

And unless he drops dead, I am powerless to keep him from hurting Belle each and every day. (Where he's not Addie's biological father, she doesn't have to deal with him directly anymore--you could say the damage has been done--except she is incredibly close to her little sister and she feels Belle's pain)

Which brings me back to the American judicial system.

As Belle's father, Pythagorus has the legal right to see her.

It doesn't matter if he blows off his nightly phone call for a week and she becomes physically ill with worry.

It doesn't matter if he is arrested for DWI multiple times within a one month period.

It doesn't matter if he is completely tanked when he calls or visits with her.

It doesn't matter if he loses any job he manages to get.

It doesn't matter that he has to hold some kind of record for the number of times one person has entered a hospital emergency room with a blood alcohol level over .40 (and, no, that's not a typo).

As her father, he has the legal right to see her. Period.

And because Belle is my heart and soul, I do everything I can to make the whole situation easier for her.

I'm civil, even pleasant, to Pythagorus on the phone (I talk to him first to find out whether or not he's drunk, since there's a lot of processing that I have to do with Belle when he's not in his right mind).

I supervise their visits because Belle does not trust many people, and Pythagorus has to "approve" of who'll be doing the supervising (trust me, I'd love to let my mother or my sister do the supervising ... it's not like I enjoy it).

I lied and gave him a job reference under my maiden name so he could obtain employment.

I speak positively about Pythagorus to Belle. He was, for example, an incredible father when she was a baby. She was an early riser (4:30 a.m. was pretty standard), and he would let me sleep in on weekend mornings, taking her to Wal-Mart to look at the fish and to parks and stuff.

She hears plenty of good things about him, and it comes from me. Furthermore, I make sure that Addie understands that she is never to bash Pythagorus to Belle; it's unfair and pointless, and besides, Belle's not stupid--she sees what he is.

The fact that Belle has any regard whatsoever for her father is because I have gone way above and beyond what any sane person would expect to maintain it. Even while Pythagorus sabotages Belle's love for him over and over again, I have for years done everything in my power to keep it alive.

Because of the judicial system.

On June 21st, Pythagorus called me on the home phone and asked me to come pick him up at the hospital that's ten minutes away from my house. He was drunk as a skunk and I had to write a final exam to give the next morning, but I drove him home. When we got to his father's house, I reinjured my back trying to get him out of the car, and his father finally had to call his cousin to get him out.

When Belle and I called him a few nights later, he was completely trashed on the phone and made plans to go to Chuck E. Cheese the next day. Belle was very excited, of course, and of course we didn't end up going to Chuck E. Cheese the next day. I was, of course, the one who had to process that whole disappointment with Belle.

He called me a few nights after that, once again gracing the emergency room of a nearby hospital with a staggeringly high blood alcohol level, and once again wanting me to pick him up and drive him home. I told him that I didn't have anyone to watch Belle and that I couldn't let her see him like that. He, of course, did not take that news kindly and screamed some pretty awful things at me. Yes, because I didn't want his daughter to see him so intoxicated that it took three people to drag him out of a car.

My mother freaked out on me for trying to help him after this latest episode. My doctor, who I had to see once again for my re-hurt back, told me I had to stop enabling him. My friends and family think I should just tell him to go to hell and have said as much.

I did have an epiphany of sorts after Belle's last visit with him (it lasted less than an hour, and he spent much of the time in the bathroom, no doubt vomiting up the vestiges of cheap wine), though. When I asked him why his father had driven him to Chuck E. Cheese, he finally admitted that he'd obtained another DWI.

Later that afternoon, I decided to Google his name and DWI, just to see if his DWI had been the 21st of June or the next week (the time I refused to pick him up because of having Belle with me). Imagine my surprise to learn that his DWI was the first week in June. The first week!

I knew for a fact that he'd driven after that date (Belle and I met him for a short lunch on Fathers Day, and he drove himself), and putting that knowledge with the two subsequent drunken ER phone calls makes my blood run cold. He could easily have killed someone (and it probably wouldn't have been himself--drunks seem to possess a warped kind of luck) driving in that condition, and I can only imagine what Belle would go through if she had to live her life knowing that her pathetic drunken loser of a father had killed a minivan full of children or whatever.

That was when I decided that I'm done.

But, you see, I really can't be done. Because of--you guessed it--the judicial system in America.

Try this on for size. Pythagorus goes to jail. Finds God. Goes to an inpatient rehab center for several months. Obtains employment. Wants to up the ante in terms of his visitation with Belle.

I am not convinced that the legal system wouldn't say, "Sure, he's gone through treatment, he's her father and he has the right to see her, let's give it a try." Despite the fact that he's gone through extensive inpatient treatment (including a memorable four month long stint) as well as outpatient, partial inpatient, AA, and so on before and it clearly didn't work, the judicial system doesn't deal in potential worst case scenarios.

Which leads me back to Casey Anthony.

Could she have killed her daughter? Of course. I don't think that anyone in the world would argue that the possibility (heck, even the probability) is there.

But because there wasn't a sense of reasonable surety on the part of her jury, Casey Anthony will soon be a free woman.

Could my ex-husband conceivably be legally permitted to have Belle in a car that he's driving someday? Well, sure ... because we can't infringe on his rights based on a 'could be', namely that his extensive history of drinking and driving and otherwise emotionally torturing his child doesn't prove with reasonable surety that he would do so again.

Americans are afforded a great many freedoms, not the least of which is the presumption of innocence. While this isn't inherently a bad thing, I believe that it's why Casey Anthony was found not guilty of killing her daughter ...

And it reminds me of the gut-wrenching fears I have regarding my own daughter's safety.

Sunday Stealing: The Nameless Fourth of July Meme

And now it's time once again for Sunday Stealing, which has somehow become a staple under the "highlight of the week" category for me. Good thing, because I'm having kind of a rough week ...

1. Last movie you saw in a theater?
Oh my gosh, I think it was Hop. That's completely unacceptable, since it wasn't even a good movie. Anybody want to go to the movies ;-)? Well, I'm seeing Harry Potter 7-II in another week and a half, so that'll be some redemption, anyway.

2. What book are you reading?
One of my students encouraged me to read his favorite book series, The Ranger's Apprentice by John Flanagan. In general, I always read books that students recommend, but young adult literature is not my favorite, so I've struggled a bit with that this year.

Well, this kid is awesome, and I think it really hurt his feelings that I was dragging my feet, so I finally brought the first two books home on a weekend a couple of weeks before school ended and plowed through them. They were really good.

He brought in the next two, and I finished them pretty quickly.

This young man was then faced with something of a dilemma. You see, he's pretty familiar with my desk, my lack of organization, and so on.

He finally said, "Ms. Loud, I'm considering lending you the next books in the series to read over the summer, but I have to know. Do you lose books?"

I laughed. "Nope. I sometimes spill pizza on them and fold over the pages instead of using bookmarks and occasionally fall asleep and drool on them, but I never lose books."

I'm on the eighth book right now, with two more to go :-)

3. Favorite board game?
Either Trivial Pursuit (I'm a fountain of useless information) or Scattergories (because I always win :-)).

4. Favorite magazine?
People. I have an unhealthy obsession with celebrity gossip.

5. Favorite smells?
The ocean, apple pie cooking, and lilacs.

6. Favorite sounds?
My seven-year-old daughter's sweet little voice, especially when unexpected (and inappropriate) things come out of it accidentally and just sound so funny that you have to bite back the laughter while you're dishing out the discipline.

To wit, Addie, Belle, and I were cleaning the living room (like, deep cleaning ... removing all furniture, bleaching baseboards and such. Hard core), and Addie decided to alphabetize the DVDs. Why? I have no idea. But anyway, she did, and she talked her sister into helping her. I went to Subway to get lunch while they spread out stacks of movies all over the room. When I got back, the following conversation transpired.

Addie: I just realized that I am missing five--five--of my Harry Potter movies!
Belle: (mumbling so I won't hear what she's saying and taking on a bratty tone as she prepares to antagonize her sister) That means you only have two left.
Addie: You're a dick!
Me: (to Belle, since I had no idea what had brought forth such a reaction from the usually mild-mannered Addie) What did you say?
Belle: Oh, she said, 'You're a dick!'

Oh my gosh, it was so hard not to laugh ...

7. Worst feeling in the world?
Getting a phone call from a drunk Pythagorus asking for me to come get him and drive him home (a two hour drive), reinjuring my back when trying to drag him out of the car, then having him call a couple of days later and act like nothing happened. He has fallen off the wagon three times in the past two weeks. In fact, I think his wagon has totally derailed. Belle is a mess, I am just sick and tired of the whole situation, and I want to scream.

8. What is the first thing you think of when you wake up?
Where is my phone? Yes, I sleep with my phone. No, I don't think it's healthy. And no, it's not dirty ... it's because I sleep deeply and my phone is also my alarm clock. And when I get the occasional text at midnight, I like to be able to hear it.

9. Favorite fast food place?
This is horrible, but I'm kind of a fan of McDonald's french fries. I also used to really enjoy the Baconator from Wendy's before my pancreas decided to go nuclear every time I eat something with that much fat in it.

10. What’s under your bed?
A bunch of boxes belonging to my mother. When you live in the attic of your mother's barn, you have to work around boxes of stuff belonging to her. It makes for an interesting storage situation ... and that's all I have to say about that.

11. Finish this statement. “If I had lot of money I’d….?
Buy a house of my own (not a mansion or anything, just a real house), set up trust funds for Addie and Belle for after they graduate from college, give a sizable amount to my mother, my father, my sister, and my brother, and donate the rest to a good charity. And yes, I'm serious.

12. Do you sleep with a stuffed animal?
Nope. I believe I already mentioned that I sleep with my phone. What's more fun than an object that states, "DROID" at all hours?

13. Storms – cool or scary?
Scary!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! In fact, storms are probably my biggest fear :-(

14. Favorite drink?
Captain and Coke ... or apple juice if we're talking non-alcoholic.

15. Finish this statement, “If I had the time I would….”?
Organize my stuff instead of adding to the mass of crap in my rented storage unit each time the attic barn starts to really overflow.

16. If you had to dye your hair another color, what would be your choice?
I'd probably go for green or pink or something really crazy. Otherwise, what would be the point of dyeing my hair ;-)?

17. Favorite place to relax?
The beach.

18. Name all the different cities/towns you’ve lived in?
Dover, Portsmouth, Plymouth, North Hampton. All in New Hampshire. Man, am I boring ;-)

19. Favorite sports to watch?
On TV, baseball or football. In person, hockey.

20. Would you like to be born as yourself again?
Only if I could give myself a number of caveats first.

And I guess that's all she wrote.  One quick request ... if y'all could send happy thoughts to the amazing Bud Weiser of WTIT, Sunday Stealer extraordinaire, who had surgery on Friday, I'd much appreciate it, and I'm sure he would, too.

Motorcycle Musings

There are a lot of motorcycles in my neck of the woods at this time of year.

First, there is Motorcycle Weekend (also known as "Bike Week") in Laconia. I attended this festivity once when I was going to college up north and was much prettier, thinner, and of course younger. One of my friends that I was with swears that there's a topless picture of me in a collage-style calendar made from that year. (There's a whole shirt-lifting thing that is sort of like Mardi Gras beads but not really ...)

Anyway, I also live in a beach town, and riding along the coast seems to be a favorite route for bikers. I don't blame them--I love to both walk and drive the same road. It's so pretty ...

It seems like there have been a lot of motorcycle accidents this year. It's funny, according to the news there were actually fewer Bike Week incidents, but maybe I'm just paying better attention, I don't know.

I've been on a motorcycle, of course. Once was with my old friend, Andy, who had a knack for exploiting what I refer to as my self-destructive streak. Yeah, I almost fell off ... no helmet ... dumb.

The other was with the father of an ex-boyfriend, a wonderful man (the father, not the ex-boyfriend) who wanted to show me why he enjoyed riding his bike so much. He insisted that I wear a helmet, and it was a really neat experience. It's definitely a unique way to view the countryside, and I must say that I enjoyed it.

As a bumper sticker I recently saw on a motorcycle states, "I completely understand why my dog rides with his head out the window."

Which brings me to the crux of my concern, I suppose.

There is probably a 3:1 ratio, based on my own informal observations through two hours spent in a car each day of the workweek, of motorcyclists who don't wear helmets to those who do.

I feel two ways about this.

First, I suppose that if you're going to be riding a motorcycle, there's an inherent risk involved. Wearing a helmet is not going to protect you from getting a broken neck or back, from losing a leg or landing hard on a sharp piece of machinery and being impaled (we writers have vivid imaginations ;-)). Furthermore, it kind of defeats the purpose of riding a motorcycle, of feeling the breeze in your hair and being just a little bit closer to nature than cars allow, if you're going to stick a helmet on.

However, head injuries are the most common cause of motorcycle fatalities, and helmets are an obvious safety measure that can lower that number. Also, on a purely practical level, I suspect you'd eat a lot of bugs if you weren't wearing a helmet ...

I don't wear a helmet when I ski or ride a bicycle (although my kids do). I don't even wear my seat belt half the time, a habit I'm trying to get better about.

However, I have long had kind of a hang-up about helmetless motorcyclists, and it hit me while riding with my mother to drop off my nephew this afternoon (we had him for the day because my brother and his family were having a yard sale) why this bothers me so much.

It's funny how I never realized this, that an event that shook my subconscious so strongly wasn't something that I connected until today with my disinterest in getting on a motorcycle ever again.

The brain is an amazing thing ...

I took a couple of summer courses at UNH shortly after transferring there from Plymouth State, English electives that ended up being two of my favorite college classes ever (one was "Studies in American Poetry" and the other was "Anger in Literature"). The night before the last class, one of my professors was killed in a motorcycle accident. He was not wearing a helmet, and it was evidently pretty hard for him to be identified, if you get what I'm saying.

So, yeah, every time I see someone on a motorcycle without a helmet, I cringe a bit. I guess it's just not something I will ever understand.

The Next Chapter in the "My Child is Going to be a Model" Saga

Believe it or not, I had never been to New York City before this week's trip to take the next step in Belle's modeling/acting career. It was pretty amazing to see places and buildings I'd experienced prior only in books, magazines, television, movies, and so on.

I had to go into my classroom Monday morning to finish cleaning up. I wasn't able to do my usual trick of just stuffing everything into closets and file cabinets because I'm moving classrooms (not sure if I've mentioned here that I'm going to be teaching high school again next year ... no more middle school, yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!), so the extra time was necessary.

Anyway, when I got home, my mother and Belle were ready to rock, and the cooler was packed with sandwiches and snacks.

It took us over five hours to reach our hotel. It wasn't a bad drive, other than getting stuck in traffic in Connecticut for what fell like hours. Eventually, however, we could see the George Washington Bridge, and somehow my mother drove into downtown Manhattan without getting lost once.

We were on the forty-fourth floor of the hotel, and the elevator was pretty intense. Its walls were covered with murals of the hotel's amenities and local sights, and it moved so quickly that my ears popped.

Once we reached the room, Belle and I went straight to the window to look down. It was quite a view.

Belle sat at the window munching on goldfish while my mother and I unpacked and organized and such. She kept calling out what she was seeing, including a giant DirecTV blimp and, most entertaining of all, "I think there's a taxi convention going on here!" That kid cracks me up!

We decided to go for a walk and eventually found ourselves at Central Park. Along the way, we got some postcards and a t-shirt for Addie (who'd stayed home with the dogs because she had rehearsal), and I bought a knock-off Gucci purse.

My mother is a very well-traveled woman, but she had never been to Central Park before. I think she was more giddily excited about this particular landmark than Belle or I, which was quite amusing.

When we got back to the hotel, we went to the club member lounge (my mother is a gold preferred something-or-other for the chain) for cocktails and hors d'oeuvre. Belle ran to a row of chairs looking out huge windows at the city, and I couldn't get over how enthralled she was.

After we finished our drinks, the three of us went for a walk and finally stopped for dinner (and very incredibly yummy cheesecake) at Lindy's.

When we got back to the hotel, I read Belle her story and we all fell asleep pretty quickly after that. The next morning, we found that the club member lounge had a Starbucks Keurig kind of thing, which I was thrilled about (my mother not so much ... she thinks drinking Starbucks is pretentious), and of course juice and bagels and fruit and such.

Preparing Belle for her meeting was quite a procedure, especially since she was in rare form.

Eventually, however, she was clean and her hair had been blow-dried, but then we were left with a conundrum. When my mother had gone to get Belle new shoes the day before, she'd found an adorable striped dress with a ladybug on it. Her impulse buy left us trying to decide whether to go with the original choice or the new one, and we were all getting a bit stressed out about it.

The solution? Facebook. I posted pics of both dresses and begged my Facebook friends for feedback asap.

The original dress won the straw poll, so Belle was decked out in fishies when the doorman hailed a taxi for us.

Riding in a New York City cab is an experience I will never forget. I also suspect it's not one I'll repeat any time soon. In fact, eventually I pretty much had to close my eyes or I was going to have a heart attack.

We were half an hour early for our appointment, but we went in anyway. Belle was making faces and being in general the ham that she is while we were waiting.

And then, once we were called in, my little girl that views every part of life a great adventure, the child who never stops talking (I've seriously considered duct tape at times), the kid who puts on "shows" on a daily basis and wowed professional photographers from L.A. with her poise and personality just a few months ago, froze.

It's like Belle took a shy pill or something ... I've never seen her like that before. She was, like, a wallflower. She wouldn't make eye contact with the agent, she whispered monosyllabic responses, and she chewed on her fingernails.

The agent told us she was beautiful, but she was hesitant to sign her because Belle was so timid. If you know Belle, the notion of her being timid has to have you laughing. Anyway, she gave us her card and said she'll be in touch.

So it was not exactly a raging success in terms of furthering the career, but it was a learning experience.

We are in contact with other agents, so now that we know how this sort of meeting will progress, we can prepare Belle (she still wants to continue with this ... I was kind of hoping this would turn her off, but no such luck). We hadn't made a big deal about this meeting being important or reviewed her monologues or anything, so I think we'll be better prepared when we return to the great city.

We unanimously agreed to walk back to the hotel instead of going the taxi route, and Belle immediately reverted to form. She started chattering non-stop, skipping down sidewalks, and in general being beautiful, vivacious, funny, adorable.

Oh, and photogenic, as evidenced by her Times Square run-in with Mickey Mouse.

So, in a nutshell, this particular trip to NYC was more educational than anything else. We'll be going back soon, and I think Belle will be much better prepared. We'll also be staying longer, plus Addie will be with us so Belle won't be stressed about missing her sister.

I had a blast, though ... and so did my little princess, which is of course the most important thing.