Do You Realize?

The journey of a life. (For Eldest...)

Today I'm on a journey.  I'm on a physical, six hour journey to what right now seems to be the end of the earth. I'm on an emotional, seventeen-years-in-the-making journey to what right now seems to be an impossible acceptance. I'm driving Eldest, my firstborn, my magical girl, to college.

What will happen when we get there?

Will I choke? Will it be upon words that I haven't said, out of pride, or on words that I have said, in anger?

Will I cry? Will they be tears of relief, knowing that she possesses the heart of a warrior, or will they be tears of despair, knowing that she also possesses the heart of a little girl?

Will I die? Will my heart implode, folding upon itself from the weight of her leaving, or will it explode like so much dynamite with the joy of vicarious freedom?

I have known, or should have known, for seventeen years that this day would come. How selfish of me now to feel that I am being cheated out of one last year with her. Heaven (if there is such a Place) knows that I have all-to-easily and glibly voiced my desire for this day to hurry up. How silly of me now to wish it away.

But I am. And I do. Because this journey is not mine alone, nor the accompanying feelings. This is a journey that has been made since time immemorial. These are feelings that a multitude of mothers have endured since time began.

Time alone will tell what will happen today. I suspect that, yes, I will choke, and I will cry, and a part of me might die. But another part of me, a part of which I am exceedingly proud, will start to live today.

For those who were wondering...

...Shaun & Stan's memberships were denied, Tori & Dean went on a mini-vacation, SuperCr3w pwned, The Amazing Race is almost here... and Opcon-A Opthalmic eyedrops, when used too liberally in a single eye, can cause one of your pupils to dilate, sending you into a frenzied inventory of your current brain function and motor skills, paranoid that you are suffering a brain aneurysm.

But, luckily, you aren't.

And neither am I.

And that was a totally hypothetical situation.

Maybe...

Sore Sports

Today I was planning to write a post about my first bicycle ride in a year or more. I rode ten miles yesterday, three of them with 27 pounds of groceries. (I now feel as if I've had repeated rough sex with a bull elephant seal.)

However, I was reading the sports news this morning, and started wondering about how Mark Spitz reacted when Michael Phelps broke his single-Olympic record of seven gold medals; Phelps made Olympic history last night, winning his eighth, with the help of three teammates. When I read this article, I decided to change my post. It's still about soreness and sports, just in different terms.

Apparently, Mark Spitz is sore that the International Olympic Committee did not invite him to watch Michael break his record, nor hang Phelps's medals around his neck. Perhaps they did this because, in 2004, when Phelps first attempted to break his record, he was invited, and he made such a big deal about not getting any face time on television, they thought the better of a second invitation. Perhaps they did this because, even in his prime, he was an ass, disliked by his teammates for his detachedness and propensity for playing mind games. Perhaps they did it because Mark Spitz is always determined to make things all about Mark Spitz, and this day should have been (and was, thanks to Spitz's absence) about Michael Phelps.

This woman, Debbie Schlussel, has nothing but glowing praise to lavish upon Mark Spitz; she seems to think he must shit rose petals and purple unicorn dust. She demands from one commenter, who points out that she spoke with a former Olympic alternate who greatly disliked Mark Spitz, to know names, NAMES of people who actually knew Mark Spitz and felt this way, because SURELY no one who knew Mark Spitz could think that he doesn't shit rose petals and purple unicorn dust, yo.

Well, let's see. I'll venture that his former Olympic teammate, Steve Genter, felt that way. Genter, even after suffering a partially collapsed lung and surgery to repair it less than a week prior, and broken stitches in the first leg of the race in question, Genter was leading with 25 meters to go. Spitz only beat him, bleeding wound and all, to the gold medal by less than two meters. Afterward, Genter angrily revealed that Spitz had spent the time before the race trying to convince him not to compete; Debbie Schlussel would no doubt say it was concern, but Genter, knowing Mark Spitz, felt it was more of an attempt to psych him out, knowing Genter was Spitz's main competition.

Spitz also wants the world to know that he probably could have taken eight medals, too, if they'd only had the 50 meter freestyle, as they do now. AND he wants the world to know that Michael Phelps will probably break his record because they are so much alike.

Not on your life, Mark Spitzer. Michael Phelps is loved by his teammates and the world can see his humility and love for the sport, not just someone who is in it for himself and all the fame he can wring out of it. Bottom line: Yes, it would have been nice to have a supportive, humble, quiet Mark Spitz at Beijing when Phelps broke his record. However, knowing Spitz's propensity for self-aggrandizing when he should be there just to bear witness to Olympic history in the making, I'm supportive of the IOC's decision not to bend over backwards to make sure he was specifically singled out and invited. If he wanted to be there for the love of the sport and to support Phelps, he should have called Phelps or his people and asked for tickets, but not on anyone's dime but his own. And don't expect a camera to lovingly caress your face every time you open your mouth.

There are so many more issues I have with the Phelps naysayers that I can't even address them here and stay on-topic. I will, however, say that to minimize Phelps's success based on the argument that increased technology (better suits, pools, strokes, etc.) made it all possible is ridiculous. Perhaps these people missed the part about Phelps being a physiological anomaly perfectly suited to swimming. The man is a phenomenal athlete, and it's time to give him his due.

Photo Hunt Saturday--Colorful

This week's theme is: Colorful. And since I love colorful photographs, I have a few to share this week.

This colorful anthias is a fascinating little fish. The female to male ratio in a "cloud" of anthias can be as high as 36 to 1. All anthias start life as a female; when the harem's male dies, the highest ranking female changes sex and becomes the new male.

This colorful shot was taken one night in Austin, Texas, when fireworks started up as we were just walking down the street. I haven't eaten at Jo's yet, but it's been packed every morning we've ever driven past.

And, finally, I couldn't resist including this one, even though the composition is not great. I saw this super colorful Cow Parade cow when I was visiting RedMolly in Portland, Oregon, last summer. I love cows. I love Cow Parade cows. If I could have stuffed him in my trunk, I would have.

Edited to add: I always visit the sites of those who have visited me each week. If I do not leave a comment, it is because I can't for whatever reason; most often it is because the comments on your site have been set up to accept only Google bloggers or OpenID. I will reply to those people here at my blog. If I haven't replied here, I have done so at your blog! Thanks!

Discourteous...

...people drive me batshit crazy! I'm on a "discourtesy sucks" tear right now. My neighbors, they have no common courtesy. Drives me nuts.

On Monday, we're supposed to receive a package from UPS from Amazon. Said package never comes. On Tuesday, I spend forty minutes of my day waiting in the Guantanamo-Bay-prison-cell-sized UPS office while they look quizzically at the computer at the "Delivered" status and digging through the warehouse and trying to reach the driver. They finally reach the driver, who proceeds to say, "Well, I know I delivered something to 1274 Whispering Pines (neighbors who are rarely home), but I didn't have anything for 1270 (us, who were home all day Monday). Ummmm, you know what Brown can do for me? Don't be hiring fucking dyslexics for drivers; that job requires reading skills to deliver my shit! So I go next door, and... SURPRISE! The neighbors aren't home. Later that night I trudge over there again, and the neighbor hands over my package. My package that is properly addressed, and my package that has my name and telephone number emblazoned on the address label. Might this inconsiderate boob of a neighbor have taken 30 seconds to pitch my package on the correct doorstep or even give me a jingle to tell me to come get my own fucking package?

Also on Monday, I notice a strange red truck parked on the curb next to our house. It's a framing contractor, and we're not having any work done. Our neighbors (different unthinking neighbor), however, are, and there's another truck in front of their house. There was plenty of room for this framing contractor to park in front of the correct house, but he'd rather park next to a random stranger's house, one who doesn't want his creepy ass parking there!

Last night, we return from errands in Plano to find our across-the-street neighbors having a party, with two party-goers parked in front of our house, one of them blocking one end of our driveway! AAAAAARRRGH!

Now, I understand that since our house sits on a corner, it has more parking real estate available than others. And I understand that since we have a circular driveway, we could theoretically use the other end of the driveway. But part of what we paid for this house no doubt was the "corner lot" distinction. And why should I be required to back out of our driveway with one car to let the other car out, just so that some idiotic boob can park wherever he wants? And, maybe it's just me, but if I need to have someone park in front of a neighbor's house, I'm going to go knock on their door & ask them or at least give them a heads-up and give them the opportunity to say, "Fine, but please don't block my motherfucking driveway! Thank you for asking!"

</rant>

Crime & Punishment (and forgiveness, too, please)

Just a few months after we moved from Georgia to Texas, Texas was in the national news as a young Dallas area policeman was fatally shot by one (or more) of a group of seven convicts escaped from prison.

The Texas Seven subdued and bound/gagged10-15 various prison personnel & other uninvolved inmates, stealing weapons, credit cards, and identification. They then proceeded to rob a Radio Shack and an Oshman's Sporting Goods store in Irving, Texas. Aubrey Hawkins was the officer who received the call, and he was shot (eleven times) and killed before the Texas Seven moved on; they also ran over Officer Hawkins as they drove away (whether it was intentional or not is not clear). They ended up in Colorado, where one of the gang committed suicide as officers closed in on them. All of the remaining six are now on Death Row.

Yesterday, I saw this article on the CNN.com website. Michael Rodriguez, one of the Texas Seven, has worked for a year to convince the system that he is competent to drop his appeals and volunteer to be executed. That execution is set to happen this week. In his first and last interview with the press, he was reflective and remorseful for his involvement with the Texas Seven, the death of Officer Hawkins (whom Rodriguez did NOT shoot, but was hiding in a display of sleeping bags when the shots were fired), and his original crime of arranging the death of his first wife.

A few quotes from the article:

• "I have a lot of people here telling me how unfair the system is. At some point in our lives, you have to have some sort of accountability. I can't see how people in my situation deny that."
• "And he said he wants the family of his former wife, Theresa, and the relatives the slain police officer "to know how truly sorry I am and I am willing to pay.""
• "I think it's a fair sentence. I need to pay back. I can't pay back monetarily. This is the way.""

Lori Hawkins, Aubrey's widow, says that Rodriguez's apologies are "a little too late."

I'm sorry, but this infuriates me. Here you have a convicted felon who is ready to take responsibility for his actions (which did not include actually injuring Hawkins), who shows remorse for both of his crimes, who is actually offering an apology that most victim's families never receive unless it is accompanied by a parole request, and all Lori Hawkins can do is summarily reject it? In my opinion, she was just offered the best possible option given what has happened. Granted, having her husband still alive is the best option, but, unfortunately, that is not possible at this point in time. But this man is not the one who pulled the trigger!

Did Michael Rodriguez commit some terrible crimes, including having his first wife killed? Yes, and he was already serving a life sentence for that crime. Does he deserve to be punished? Yes. Yes, he does. In the case of the Texas Seven, did he make some grave errors in judgment? Yes. But this man just happened to go along with a stupid illegal plan and was in the wrong place at the wrong time when another man shot and killed this police officer. And he has volunteered to have his life be taken first in order to make amends.

I know that I will never know how I would react in Lori Hawkins's situation. And perhaps there are circumstances I don't know about. I'd like to think, however, that I could offer my forgiveness to a man who didn't even kill my husband but is willing to volunteer to be executed for it.

Photo Hunt Saturday--Three-In-One!

Since I've had so much on my proverbial plate lately, I haven't played in the Photo Hunt in two weeks. But, since they were such great themes, I decided to add them into today's.

Two weeks ago, the theme was: What IS that?!?! This, my friend, is a frog. But not just any frog. This frog is as dead as dead gets. I thought my husband was pulling my leg about it being dead. He just walked outside the other day and this guy was simply sitting on the driveway. Dead. He looks like he just hopped over from Madame Tussaud's, doesn't he? Pretty freaking amazing.

Last week's theme was: Hanging. I love the way the water droplets are hanging from the flowers in this shot. It was taken in Portland, Oregon, in July 2007.

This week's theme is: Cloud(s). The shot was taken from my car on the way home one night, also in July 2007. We thought these clouds were quite remarkable.

Happy Hunting to all and to all a fantabulous weekend!

Edited to add: Why the hell can't all blogging services just get along? I've tried to comment on FOUR different Photo Hunters' blogs, and I can't. I don't know what an OpenID is, I don't have the time or patience to find out, I don't remember my Blogger addy, I don't have the time or patience to email all the junk to find out, I just want to leave a few nice words! AAAAAARRRRRRRGH!

More Green Reviews: Water Conservation Stuff, Part 1

Those of you who spend any time here probably remember that we've recently been having some renovations done to our upstairs. I had reached the point at which I refused to walk barefoot on our carpets, which I was afraid harbored MRSA or possibly a hantavirus (even though I've never seen a rodent upstairs... that's why they're called irrational phobias, people). We'd also been sharing one shower (the five of us) off and on for two three years because we were too  lazy  indecisive  overwhelmed with daily crazy  busy with other things to repair the master shower's multitude of leaky problems. And so, we ripped up the carpet, tore out both showers and bathtubs and toilets and realeased West Nile Virus and black mold spores and replaced it all with new shit (and shitters). Kohler's brand-spanking-new Persuade toilets with Dual-Flush technology, to be precise. These were purchased, along with their also-brand-spanking-new Forte 1.75 gpm handheld shower heads, as part of our attempt to reduce our water usage a little (since we're kind of stuck with that damned money-and-water-sucking pool for now). Oh, and I got a new energy-and-water-efficient washer and dryer, since our old ones were older than our youngest teenager and were randomly and unpredictably leaving holes and rust spots in our clothing and using approximately 300 gallons of water per washload. Even so, we found someone at hubby's work who took them off our hands, so they didn't go to the landfill.

With all of this water conserving doody in our house, I reckon that damned cement pond in our backyard is now truly justified, right?  </sarcasm>

The toilets and showers we had in the upstairs bathrooms were water hogs. In the second bath upstairs, the one we had to share for a couple of a few years, the water diverter on the faucet didn't fully function, and so water poured from both the shower head and the faucet for the duration of one's shower. This would have been ideal if we'd had a small leprechaun needing to bathe each time we stepped in the shower or a sailor bailing water out of the tub as if we were a sinking ship. Alas, we had neither, and so we wasted copious amounts of water in the shower. For a good while, I kept a 3-gallon bucket under the faucet to catch water & then used it to mop floors or water gardens. Unfortunately, I was the only one who would remember to use it, and I already take the shortest showers in the household (except for Youngest, who simply doesn't shower more than once a week, brave water conservationist that he is). As for the toilets, I don't know how to tell how many gallons they used per flush, but if I had to guess, it would be in the neighborhood of thirty-four. Seriously, after seeing these new ones, it seems quite ridiculous.

Since I've blathered on incessantly and not ever gotten to the point here, and this post is already exceeding my pissant-sized attention span, I will cover each of our new water-savvy appliances separately, in separate posts, on separate days.

Dual-flush toilets, it seems, are nothing new in Australia and Europe, where they seem to understand the whole conservation issue a little more intuitively than we wasteful Americans. Here, stateside, however, dual-flush toilets are still "new-fangled." There are two flush options: 1.6 gallons for sizable solids, and 0.8 gallons for liquid or smaller loads. (Or, for those who prefer more directive, one button for pee and one button for poop.) The toilet looks differently, mounts differently, and flushes differently than traditional toilets. I most love that there are no screws and caps on the base around which boy piss accumulates and requires toothbrush scrubbing to clean. It's amazing.

One would think that, given the tiny amount of water in the bowl, that there would be more clogs or would be harder to keep clean than other toilets. I was skeptical myself. However, we've tested both flushing options multiple times by now, and I haven't had any complaints. Apparently, the flushing mechanism for this type of toilet lends itself to less clogs than traditional American toilets.

As a related aside, here's an interesting fact that I found on several plumbing websites. Because of the differences in plumbing technologies in various countries, a European or Asian toilet often has a brush next to it as a matter of course, to take care of "skid marks," which Europeans and Asians find normal and acceptable, but which we North Americans find disgusting. However, North American toilets often have a plunger next to it, which Europeans and Asians find distasteful. When I think about it in those terms, I most definitely would rather take care of a skid mark or two than a toilet boiling over with shit and toilet paper, yo.

Some people have mentioned that the bowls are harder to keep clean, but... how can I put this delicately... this one must be designed by geniuses who conducted many embarrassing experiments based on anatomy, because somehow, even though there are only about three teaspoonfuls of water in the bowl, the poop seems to be attracted to it like a tranny to a shoe sale. When flushed, the water pressure has almost always been enough to wash away any stuck bits. And, if you have to flush a second time, it still doesn't waste as much water as a typical American 3.5 gallon flush. (Admittedly, we haven't gone to eat all-you-can-eat Chinese or the local greaseburgers-with-a-side-of-greasefries joint in a while, so I might change my review a little then.)

Stay tuned for my review of LG's Tromm Steamwasher and matching dryer, as well as Kohler's brand-spanking-new Forte 1.75 gpm handheld shower heads.

Manic Monday--Residential Treatment

As I mentioned the other day, we are now shopping around for a residential treatment facility for Youngest. For the uninitiated, residential treatment facilities are part hospital, part boarding school for those who, for whatever reason, find it impossible to live at home, usually for six months to a year. Some of these are for drug & alcohol rehabilitation, some are for trouble-making youth, some are for patients with mood or personality disorders, and some treat all of the above.

The problem with residential treatment is that it is expensive. So expensive, in fact, that I've read reports from parents taking a second mortgage on their homes. Also, more and more parents who don't have the money have had to rely on a very tricky method of getting help for their child. These parents have to wait for their underage child to do something illegal, something dangerous enough for a judge to mandate residential treatment, but, hopefully, not dangerous enough to hurt themselves or someone else. Sounds fun, huh?

I've located residential treatment facilities online. I've only been brave enough to call one so far. Their estimate was... are you ready... $400 to $475 per day, depending upon the individual situation. Yes, you read that right. Per motherfluffing day! Six months in this place would cost almost the same as four years' college tuition. We would have to live in a cardboard box or I would have to start selling my body on a street corner for that sort of money! Okay, so I might not even be able to bring that sort of cash any more; maybe I could sell a kidney on the black market instead. Needless to say, we're still looking.

I've also discovered that residential treatment facilities employ an astounding array of techniques. Some use equine therapy, some have each child take care of a golden retriever of their own. Some use behavior modification, some employ something called Positive Peer Culture to exact change. I've even found one where the incentive for personal changes is aviation lessons! How the hell are we supposed to navigate this landscape of options? Pick one that sounds like fun, because I'm totally digging the flight lessons thing? Their websites all generously invite us to visit their campus, but by the time we did that, we could have paid for, like, a whole week at the first place we called.

It's often said that money can't buy happiness. I guess we are supposed to believe it can buy sanity instead. At $400 a day, though, I'm not buying it.

News

Youngest's psychiatrist told us yesterday that she believes that very few of the meds he is on are having any effect whatsoever. He's still cycling, regardless of the lithium, and a lot of his behaviors now are behavioral in nature. Residential treatment is next.

So that's where I've been... dealing with daily chaos and crazy. Don't give up on me. I'm like the Terminator.