E-mail Exchange Too Funny Not To Share ...

I apologize to my Facebook friends as I've already posted the really funny part of this on there, but I have been unable to stop laughing for about half an hour now ... and that kind of humor doesn't happen all that often, so I had to share.


My ex-husband is not able to drive himself anymore, so it  makes the visitation situation a little complicated.  Getting him to commit to a day, time, and place in writing is a new challenge, and he is evidently reluctant to do that.


He made a vague reference to brunch this Sunday, but I don't think a time window of less than eight in the morning until two in the afternoon is too much to ask for.  Anyway, my desire to be able to plan out Belle and Addie's weekend led to this exchange that is truly too absurd to be made up.


E-mail from Me:
Hi Pythagorus,


Just checking to see if you have a time/place in mind for Sunday yet.  Please let me know when you do.


Thanks,
:-) Katie


E-mail response from Pythagorus:
Hi:


Name of the Restaurant in City of Restaurant at 9 am EST.


Pythagorus


E-mail I considered responding with (but ultimately decided not to ... like I keep saying, that high road's a tough trek sometimes ...):
Hi Pythagorus,


So I'll see you at 6:00 a.m. PDT, 8:00 p.m. ITC (in case I take a jaunt to Bangkok), 4:00 p.m. EAT (or Somalia), 5:30 p.m. AFT (perhaps Afghanistan), 7:00 a.m. CST (Nicaragua), or 3:00 pm CEST (Paris).


Bye--uh, Sawatdi...uh, Nabad gelyo...uh, De kuday pa aman...uh, Adiós...uh, Au revoir,
:-) Katie


I guess it shows how ridiculous this whole situation has gotten ... but at least I'm laughing and not crying now :-)


And I'm glad I, at least, was able to keep my immaturity in check (well, mostly ... I'm getting it out here), because this isn't about Pythagorus and it isn't about me ... it's about Belle.


I wish that he could see that ...

Free-Form or Pre-Formed: A Great Guest Post :-)

**Note: This is a "guest blogger" post from the amazing, talented, and thought-provoking Eric "Bubba" Alder of Bubba's Place, a writer of poetry and prose, thinker, and all around interesting person.  If you're interested in guest blogging here, send me an e-mail :-) <3 KL*


                                         Free-Form or Pre-Formed?

When it comes to writing poetry, I’m on the fence when it comes to using forms.

In general, I like to let my ideas flow freely.  I let the ideas and words dictate whether or not there will be an inherent form to the piece I’m writing.  And often my writing just falls into place in my head, so whatever arrangement it takes on is fine by me.  (That’s probably why I write so much prose)

But sometimes my ideas are just a vague notion, or even a single phrase that pops into my head, and the rest of it remains buried just beyond my reach.  That’s when forms can come in handy.  Needing to ‘fill in the blanks’ of a poetry form requires me to stretch my mind a little, to dig up more words or phrases in order to finish things.

But is either method superior to the other?  There are some bloggers who are fanatical about forms, trying as many as possible.  There are even folks who carve their words into shape-poems that create a visual picture.  Others get really slick and create new forms of their own.  On the flip side, I’ve seen people who write nothing but prose, eschewing any ‘form’ as restrictive and limiting.

What do you think?  How do you prefer to write your poetry?

Friday Fragments: The Weekly Catch-Up

Thank you once again, Mrs. 4444, for giving me the opportunity to do a fragmentary post catching up on the things that have gone on this week.  If you're a blogger and don't "frag", definitely consider it.  Visit Half-Past Kissin' Time to link up.

****

I got to see both of my nephews on Sunday, which is a rarity.

My brother lives about an hour away, but he just recently moved into a new house and has been busy with that, plus he and his girlfriend work all week, so weekends are pretty much their only time together.  They brought Pete down for a day at the beach, though, and it was as always great to see them.

My sister and brother-in-law spent some time at their cabin in Maine last week, and they stopped in on their way back to Maryland.  It was wonderful to see them all, especially my nephew Eddie.  They only stopped in for a minute because they had to get the rental car back, but Eddie and Belle had a great time playing together.

****

I was so proud of my girls this week!

Belle has been desperately wanting to have a lemonade stand, and we've been putting her off.  After attending day camp at the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (SPCA) last week (she wants to be either a vet, a scientist, or a lion tamer when she grows up), though, Belle decided that she wanted to donate the proceeds of a lemonade stand to the SPCA.  

It was hard to say no to that ...

And I was very proud of Addie, who joined right in to help her sister out.

It's comforting to know that your kids really do get the moral lessons you try to teach them ...

****

Since my ex-husband fell into the toilet of alcoholism and irresponsibility, this week has been a tough one, considering that August 4 was the day we got married.  I still try to focus on the positives, but sometimes it's really difficult.

This is especially true when he gets it into his head to call and make me feel badly about how little he gets to see Belle (as though this is my fault), and I want to scream at him, "You're trying to make this about YOU, you SOB, and it's not about you at all ... it's about Belle and what's best for her.  Well, at least it should be!"

I was as polite as I could possibly be, and I asked that future correspondence of this nature be done through e-mail.

That stupid high road is a tough climb sometimes ...

****

Addie started marching band rehearsals this week.  When she left, there was a severe thunderstorm warning, and she had to drive through one heck of a storm.  

Although Addie doesn't mind thunderstorms (in fact, she actually enjoys them, something she certainly didn't get from me), she is still a very cautious driver.  

I was really impressed that she drove slowly and calmly.  I would have pulled into a gas station, hid in the bathroom, and cried until it was over.  

****

Belle learned to swim!

You might think that, growing up on the ocean, my kids would be strong swimmers ... but they're not.  

They have water awareness and know how to go underwater and to respect the tides and such, but actual swimming isn't something that inherently comes with ocean water.

Anyway, Belle was invited to a birthday party at a local outdoor pool.  As soon as she saw the water slides (and the lines of kids going down them), she asked me to teach her to swim (the water slides empty into 12-foot-deep water, and you have to swim a fair amount to get to the ladder or even the side of the pool)

She asked me to teach her how to swim and, after about half an hour, I felt she was a good enough swimmer to try the water slides.  She was a superstar!

Belle's the one flying off the blue slide here.

****

Summer school ended yesterday.  While I always enjoy teaching summer school, it is exhausting beyond words.  

I have three days to enjoy the summer, then I have a conference all next week, a two-day conference the week after that, and Addie and I are going up to UVM to visit the campus as soon as I get back from that one.  

What summer ;-)?

****

The summer of the dentist continues ...

Both girls went to the dentist this week, Addie to get an old filling replaced and Belle to get a cavity filled.  

Addie hates the dentist (well, not the dentist personally, just the idea of dentists in general), but Belle as always viewed it as an adventure ... and a chance to show off her truly unique personality ;-)

****

I've done a lot of reflecting this week, particularly about focusing on the positives.  When you have blessings like this, how can you not?

Honoring a Marriage That is Over

Nine years ago today, I got married.  I took marriage very seriously, and I certainly never intended for it to ever end.  As a child of divorce myself, it was vitally important to me that I make the commitment of marriage only if I was 100% sure.

Obviously, things didn't work out the way I'd intended.

Mental illness and alcoholism brought on by stress and long-suppressed memories changed the man that I married--and he was a good man--into an unrecognizable monster.

There are two people in every marriage, and there are two people that contribute to the destruction of one.  I have a boatload of faults, and I do not pretend to have been the perfect wife.  I wish that my ex-husband could have communicated his concerns to me before reaching for the bottle.  I wish that with all my heart, because we had a really good marriage for a very long time.

I will never be sorry that I was married to Pythagorus.  Ever. (And we had an extremely unpleasant phone conversation last night that falls under "bullying" and "verbal assault" as defined by my school and by pretty much anyone with a clear mind, so these words carry greater weight today, as far as I'm concerned, than they would have yesterday at this time)

The most obvious reason that I don't regret my marriage is obviously Belle, a magical, funny, beautiful, intelligent miracle of a child.

But there is a lot more.

The man I married had a wonderful sense of humor.  We spent hours laughing together, sharing stories from our days, discussing current events that crossed into bizarre territory, and finding entertainment everywhere we went.

He was unfailingly kind.  He would give the shirt off his back to a stranger, and I completely mean that.  I watched him, over the course of our marriage, offer assistance to human beings of every age and walk of life, and he did it without expecting anything in return.  I can't remember him ever raising his voice--much less his hand--to me for the lion's share of the years we dated and were married.

Pythagorus was a master at finding random adventures.  We would get into the car and just drive, talking the whole time, and ending up in many different and unexpected locations.  It's a rare person that can find excitement in the seemingly mundane, and Pythagorus was a genius at this.

Pythagorus unquestionably made me a better person.  I was at a very low point in my life when I met him, and his positive attitude and appreciation for things like sunsets on a mountain or flying a kite on a windy day dissipated the bitter, cynical attitude I had adopted toward life.  Many of the good parts of who I am today are because of the love, support, and patience that Pythagorus gave to me.

I do not trust easily, and there were things I never told Pythagorus about my past (in retrospect, I'm relieved, because he's turned into the kind of jerk that would find a way to use some of these things against me), but I did fully believe in him and completely trusted that he would always be there for me just as I intended to always be there for him.

My husband, for all intents and purposes, died several years ago.  It's only recently that I've fully realized that, and I still grieve for him.  I loved him very much, and I still miss him.

However, the man with Pythagorus' face today, the bitter and cynical and mistrustful liar that has taken over his body, is not that man.

Which makes it even worse.

When somebody that you love passes away, the pain is enormous.  Death is the ultimate closure, in a way, because you have to forge ahead with life and figure out a way to live without a loved one.  You can look back fondly, can visit a cemetery, can appreciate the difference someone made in your life and honor that person through words and deeds.

I lost my stepdad and my grandfather, both great men in terms of their families and of the larger world, within a few years of each other.  I loved them both very much, and I miss them every day.  Their legacies live on, though, through memories and stories shared at family events and, yes, through those of us they left behind.      

It is impossible to honor the Pythagorus that exists today.  There is nothing--not one single thing--noble or fine about him.

The fact that he was once a great man makes the cruelty of not being able to honor who he used to be even more difficult.  The face I once loved is still in the world, spitting out lies, bullying, manipulating, endangering the lives of other people, and thriving on mind games.

It makes it difficult to even mourn the man who was my husband, and that just breaks my heart.

But I can still honor our marriage, and so that is what I do today.   

Kids Can Be Fun ... In Hindsight

**Note: This is my first "guest blogger" post, and I'm thrilled that the honor is going to Martin Willoughby of From Sand to Glass.  If you're interested in guest blogging here, send me an e-mail :-)  Thank you, Martin, and I hope you all enjoy his stuff as much as I do!  <3 KL*


My kids are a joy, for everyone else.  Their amusing antics have brought many a smile to people, but had me pulling my hair out and sent me prematurely grey.

At the age of four years old, my darling eldest decided that he could take himself off to the toilet whilst we were in church, my wife having already taken our other child out to breastfeed him.  Reluctantly I allowed him, but five minutes later there was a call from the back of the church.  'Dad I can't wipe my bum properly.'  Everyone turned round to see who was calling out and there he stood, trousers round his ankles and trailing a roll of toilet paper behind him.  All eyes then focused on me.

When he was five, I was in the kitchen preparing dinner when I heard a loud bang from the front room as if something had exploded.  I had taken two steps towards the front room, knowing that my darling was in there, when he rushed into the kitchen saying, 'It wasn't me who cut the wire and there was no flame.'  I ran into the front room to find the aerator in the fishtank had stopped working and two fish were floating on the water on their side.

Two years later the whole family was at a church picnic, and as we had the head of the church in Britain there too, everyone had turned up for a change.  On summer days such as this, we had a picnic after the service and when we did so, my little darling would walk over to the duck pond to see his favourite bird, a duck with a red splodge on its bill that looked like congealed blood.  This time he took his little brother with him, stopped at the edge of the pond and looked round as there were no birds there.  They walked around the pond, back to where they started, then marched up to me.  He asked, very loudly, 'where's the bloody duck dad?'  Guess who everyone looked at?

By the time he'd turned fifteen, I had a large bald spot, a receeding hairline and not a trace of my original dark brown colouring anywhere on my head.  We were at McDonalds.  Myself, a friend, her two daughters, all three of my boys and a couple of friends.  After eating, the eldest girl announced that she and every other kid should go outside and have some fun.  When no one wanted to go with her, she went outside anyway and started to knock on the window and encouraged everyone else to go outside and join her.  She's a blonde.  My, now rather large, darling boy pointed at her and said 'Look.  She's so blonde she can't find the door'.  Friends and family laughed.  Elsewhere heads turned and stared....at him.  At that moment I knew I was free.

In the intervening years I've found a great way to silence him and his teenage brothers in public.  One that gives a slightly malevolent pleasure and allows me to make up for the embarrassment of the past.  If they start to get out of line or rude I remind them how they were created...loudly.  Now, the mere threat of mentioning that they started their lives being squirted out of my penis is enough to get them to behave.

Kids can be fun, in hindsight.

p.s.  I have many more true stories of my child, and other children, but one of the above is false.  Can you guess which one?

Anyone Want to Be a Guest Blogger? Read for Details ...

I've noticed a lot of "guest blogging" going on lately, and I figured I'd try out the idea.

Somehow, my blog has accumulated over 200 followers (thank you all so much <3), which is pretty exciting.  What I was thinking would be even more exciting is for an occasional guest post, which will allow me to participate in discussions that don't originate with me.

I started this blog to share my thoughts on the world and on the philosophy that exists in everyday life.  It's become more (my aspiring writing career, motherhood and other details of my personal life, and the field of education are all directions I hadn't planned on going in but somehow have), but that's still my underlying goal.

If you'd like to write a guest post on a topic that generates thought and discussion, please let me know.  I'm not picky about specifics beyond getting people to think and talk about the different directions capable of moving by the human brain.

Send me an e-mail with "Guest Blogger" in the subject line or leave a comment here with questions or queries (heh heh ;-)), and let's get this thing cracking.

I look forward to hearing from you ... and to moving this blog forward in new and interesting directions.

<3 KL

30 Day Music Challenge: A Song That Makes Me Fall Asleep

I know a lot of people that fall asleep to music.  I do not fall into this category; rather, music has a tendency to wake me up, to make me think.  Therefore, I'm once again kind of failing at The 30 Day Music Challenge.

That being said, there's a category of music that relaxes me, that reminds me of my childhood, and that's probably the closest I come to meeting this criteria.

My dad is very proud of his Irish heritage (yeah, I know none of you are surprised that I'm Irish ... the quick temper, the beer, the love of all things potatoes, and so on), and Irish folk music was a staple of my childhood soundtrack as a result.

His favorite "band" was The Clancy Brothers and Tommy Makem, and that passion transferred directly to me.  This song is my favorite from a live concert performed by Liam Clancy and Tommy Makem.

Totally love it!