What a day! In laws are coming for a visit Monday (staying through Friday) which means we have to clean. And clean. And clean. I did the bathroom and some vacuuming and cleared off the horizontal surfaces in the family room. Does anybody else have a problem with horizontal surfaces being a place to put things down, instead of away? DH cleaned the carpets. Older son washed the walls in the hallway. And small son...well, he played on the computer so we could work.

Tomorrow, we have to finish the kitchen, breakfast room, the office, and small son's room, which is a nightmare. Day of rest, my foot.

Except for Christmas 1988 and a Homemaking meeting in 1999, I've not used a sewing machine since I was in 7th grade, back in 19(mumble). A friend has given me a sewing machine, and I'm determined to make curtains. But I started out mending some of my husband's pants.

WHY is this man so hard on pants? We bought him four new pair of pants in August of this year, and three of them have been ripped out. Two of the three are ripped out in places and in such a way that I will not be able to mend them with my rudimentary sewing skills, so my mother-in-law and I will have to spend precious teaching-curtain-sewing time mending pants instead. I mean, it's not as if the man is double jointed or does yoga.

But, I got three pair mended (two were older pair, not really suitable for work but fine for around the house) and now I know a bit about the tricks my sewing machine does.

One of the most rewarding things I've ever done was sing in front of a large audience.

When I lived in Lubbock, I tried out for the chorus of a musical put on by First United Methodist Church. They did Guys and Dolls; a great show. I was in the Mission Band, and had a great time marching while singing "Follow the Fold," and even more fun doing "Sit Down You're Rockin' the Boat."

That fall, I started singing with their twice-a-month choir at the early services, and wormed my way into the Music Minister's good graces. The next year, I tried out for a couple of parts in Oliver. I didn't get the part I wanted (the Widow) because...well, because. But I DID get a small solo in the "Who Will Buy?" number.

It was awesome. Me, unmiked, all by myself, singing for two shows in front of 1000 people.

That was when I knew I could do anything.

DH and I enjoy a friendly game of Scrabble. Tonight, he was making some really good words and scoring some excellent points. But then...

He played the word "state" off of a letter S. I stared at the board, then at my letters. Then I proceeded to play "snoozed," with the D at the end of the word "state." The Z was on a double letter. It was a triple word. And I got a 50 point bonus for using all my letters. 135 points for just one word!

I so rock...

My grandma was born on Christmas Eve. She is 94 now, and living in an assisted living center near my parent's house. She had a stroke two years ago, and can't live on her own, but she doesn't need to be in a nursing home, since she doesn't need any kind of medical care. She gets around just great, though she uses a walker for balance. She takes coumadin to prevent blood clots and she's humming along like a well-tuned machine. She's always been active and busy, but her successful longevity can be attributed almost entirely to good genes. Her father died at 95, and he did NOT take care of himself...rolled his own cigarettes right up to the end.

Grandma's stroke affected her speech centers, but over time she has recovered remarkably. She still has trouble expressing ideas, but if one is patient and gives her time, she is able to put together what she wants to say in a way that can be understood. I called her yesterday (a day late, ouch!) to wish her a happy birthday, and she was able to fill me in on all my cousin's comings and goings. When I later talked to my dad, and he was filling me in on this stuff, I told him grandma had already told me. He was surprised. "You were able to get all that from her?" I told him I had a lot of recent practice being patient with someone trying to express an idea.

When my family we would all get together for Christmas, we would always drink a toast at the start of the meal: "Health, wealth and happiness." And grandma would always add "Especially health." Even at 94, she's able to make the most of the life she has. To me, that's health, and she's got her wish.

I figured out what happened with the socks after I looked at them more closely, and counted them. 21 pairs of socks! There's no way I would have bought my little boy 21 pairs of socks. However...I would have bought him 9 pair, and 12 for my grandson. Which is exactly what happened.

I will, I think, go ahead and pack up the 12 pairs for my grandson and just ship them, unwrapped. Small son does NOT need 21 pairs of socks.

Time so flies when you're having fun...kind of.

Christmas has arrived, and the small boy was just delighted with his new bike and baseball glove. He got a huge set of wooden train tracks that have been the hit of the day. Santa took his socks out of the packages and wrapped them in various size bundles. He only got two packages of socks, but it seemed like every other present he opened was socks. We'll have to talk with Santa about his wrapping strategy next year, before he starts wrapping.

Older son got entertainment for Christmas: several movies, DVD's of old comedy shows, a classical music CD, and the requisite socks and underwear. Unlike small son, older son's gifts were mostly consolidated into a single box. (Santa must have had a different elf do older son's wrapping.) He had fewer presents to open, but he smiled from ear to ear when he opened the box with all the media inside. I'm hopeful that we will be able to watch "This Is Spinal Tap" together before the weekend is out.

The turkey is stuffed and baking. Pies are baked and covered. We had a big breakfast, and we'll have a big early supper.

I'm so glad we were able to stay home this year. Extended family is nice, but I like my own house and my own bed.

This is my first time buying a local Christmas tree. We bought the tree from a "choose and cut" place just a mile or so from our house. But the trees were so different! In Ohio, I was used to imported firs, pines, and spruces. One year, we cut a very large offshoot off a blue spruce growing in my back yard and it was not only gorgeous, it smelled great and lasted forever. The local trees here, though, are cypress. Not at all what I'm used to. This year, we got a Carolina Sapphire, which is a pretty blue-green. It was shaped kind of funny - sort of like an upside-down chili pepper. But I've gotten used to it, and once it was decorated, it was just fine.

Tomorrow, DH and I will go buy a digital camera for ourselves - using some of our own money and some of the money we got from my parents.

So much to write about, I have to pace myself. This is my story of why my husband is the perfect human being, and I am so not worthy of him.

We married old. He was 38 and never married; I was 37 and divorced. I had two children, and we decided before we married that we would have one more, after a year of figuring married life out.

One year and three months after we married, I was pregnant. It had been a long time (12 years) since I'd been pregnant, and I had forgotten how yucky the first trimester was. I was exhausted. I worked from home, but if I was able to put in 6 hours in front of the computer, I felt like I'd had a successful day. I couldn't do anything else. So he did everything else. He cooked. He did laundry. He washed all the dishes. He vacuumed. He did this after a 9+ hour workday for six to eight weeks, until I got some energy back.

The second trimester was great. I had energy, and we were both excited about the baby. But during the third trimester, I went a little nuts. I burst into tears if he even looked like he might be thinking about thinking about something critical (that's not a typo; read it slowly). Apparently, he decided that the most reasonable course of action in dealing with my demi-hysteria was to cater to my every whim.

I realized he was doing this when one night, at 12:30 a.m., I asked him to "put the dishwasher away." The dishwasher was a portable, not installed, and it needed to be connected to the faucet on the sink to wash the dishes. I meant for him to disconnect it and move it into place. He said, "Now?" I looked at him, puzzled, and said, "Yes, now," in a friendly way. He kind of rolled his eyes and proceeded to unload the dishes! I realized right then that I would have to be very careful, for the rest of my life, to not make unreasonable demands, because he would honor them. I stopped him, explained what I had meant, and hugged him extra long that night.

The only thing that has changed since I'm not pregnant is that instead of being endlessly patient with just me, he is endlessly patient with our little boy, too.

My husband says that the secret to a successful marriage is to marry a woman whose first husband was a real idiot. Then, even if you're just average, you look wonderful in comparison. But I think he's wonderful all by himself, even without the idiot to compare to.

Woo hoo! I got my grades! Two classes - two A's!

I so rock!

A frustrating morning, though little boy was very cooperative. I had work to do. I told him this up front. He was coughing quite badly for a while last night, and we didn't want to send him to school like that. But I didn't get any work done yesterday, and today wasn't going to be much better if he was being demanding.

I've played with him a little, but mostly I've been working. Now I'm stuck. I am about three-quarters of the way each through two of the three projects I want to get finished. But I can't move forward until people return my calls. And, may I bluster again, I'm not getting PAID for this? Very, very frustrating.

I got five resumes sent today - very good for me!

I spent about an hour or more helping older son write the essays for his application to Ohio State - due today if he wants merit-based financial aid (which he'll have to get if he's going to go there - its many thousands of dollars). I have very mixed feelings about him growing up. It's what our children do. We did it. But he's such an asset to our family. When you're old and fat and tired and have a four year-old, and energetic seventeen year-old brother is such a huge help! They wrestle and run and play...all the things I'm too sleepy and achy to do.

How frustrating! Garrison Keillor will be at the Saenger Theatre in New Orleans at the end of January, very nigh unto my birthday. I was going to buy tickets, but now it appears that I've waited too long, and while there are single seats available, there are not two seats together. It's not a cheap thing ($35-55 each), and I REALLY want to go with DH, then have dinner out someplace in the city that we can't afford. I'm more than a little irked by this.

To drown my sorrows, I think I'll apply for some jobs.

What a day. I sure am working hard for someone without a job. About two years ago I bid $500 for a piece of a GED scoring program that I have spent hundreds and hundreds of hours on in the last three years. I just want it working and behind me. It's not that the work isn't interesting (it is) but I don't WANT to do programming for free. Furthermore, the programming contributes not one tiny thing to the value of the product we provide our customers, which makes it even less enjoyable to do.

On the upside, we have a good relationship with the processor of the data I'm "massaging," and since they are a competitor, I think that says a lot for us.

The garage door broke today. DH could have spent several hours fixing it. Or, we could do what I did instead, which was call a professional. Thirty minutes and 80 dollars later, it was fixed, with a nice new brace that will (hopefully) keep the problem from recurring.

DH wants to redo our bedroom closet. It's a good size, but has a terrible configuration. He's a handy guy, and I'm sure he can do the work, but I want the design to be good. Are any of my friends out there closet closet designers?

Sometimes, all I have to write about is the dull stuff. But that's OK, really. I like having a low-key life. Drama is highly overrated.

I have the germ of an idea. I am thinking of writing a politics manifesto for posting on The Foyer, as a bridge and an amends.

Whereas, Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances, and;

Whereas, because our opinions differ, and our thoughts differ, we find that we feel we can express them among those we consider friends, and;

Whereas, some are capable of dispassionate and reasoned discourse about their political beliefs, and;

Whereas, conservatism and liberalism are different and sometimes competing political philosophies that have strengths and weaknesses which can be discussed, and;

Whereas, that doesn't mean they can be discussed politely always, especially if people's political beliefs are thoroughly integrated into their value systems, and;

Whereas, it's a Bad Thing when people who care about each other are divided by these philosophies, and;

Whereas, we don't want that kind of thing happening here in The Foyer:

Be It Resolved: The Foyer will no longer host political discussions, because we care about each other and want it to stay that way.

On another matter entirely, I've had some brief correspondence with the guy (referenced below) who I got really angry with over political stuff (name-calling). I think y'all know who I mean. It's got me thinking a bit about this online writing stuff. I tend to self-edit a bit anyway, because I want to respect the privacy of people who are important to me (I can't imagine writing anything about my husband here, he's a very private sort and wouldn't like it at all). But now, I've written something that I'm having second thoughts about, but there it is...out there for all to read.

There's a fellow named Ed who posts on the Folk of the Fringe who talks a lot about owning his behavior and not being ashamed of who he once was and what he once thought. I'm not so brave, I guess. I don't know if I like the idea of leaving my rants out there for all the world to see six months after I'm so OVER it. But they were there, and it was real, and if this isn't about being real, what's the point? Unless it's not about being real, but about the writing. I haven't figured that out yet.

If some of my posts from December suddenly disappear, y'all will know that I've reached a conclusion. Input gratefully accepted!

My paper turned out well. I feel like I did a good job. I may just put a copy out on the family web site and link to it so others may bask in its glory. Or not.

I also had my last final today! I nailed 9 of the 10 questions. The 10th was "Explain how a security agreement is perfected." Yeesh. I had a stack of notecards two inches think with individual questions and answers, and the words "security agreement" did not appear on any of them. I obviously missed something. And I only blew off class ONE DAY. Oh well. The test is 45% of my grade, the earlier test was 45%, and the paper is 10% (that is 100%, right?) So I think I got an "A." Grades will go out next week.

The paper I am writing is for my Legal Aspects of Business class. The topic is "Mutual Assent in a contract."

More progress. Just a page and a half to go. I've had more trouble trimming down my words than writing them. There's just so much to say! I could have gone on for three pages about the objective standard, all by itself. Just the concept of an offer would have taken up the entire paper. I hope I'm not causing myself problems by using such a broad topic.

I found a great web site with resources for future papers - A Research Guide. It has examples and rules from the MLA Writing Standards.

I'm taking a break to cook some teriyaki chicken. We'll have that with rice, veggies, and even a couple of egg rolls for dinner. Then it's back to work.

I made most excellent progress on my term paper yesterday. Just a couple more hours of work and I'll have a nice first draft done. I also set up blogspeak to allow comments here; I am mostly just posting this to see if it works.

Now, back to the grind...

Ann, how awful! I had no where near the kind of relationship with this person that you described and I am incredibly hurt as well. You have friends and we totally support you. (((HUGS)))

Today I had my heart broken. I have been participating for over a year in an online community of disgruntled Mormons. After a while, even disgruntled people get tired of talking about the disgruntling stuff and like to talk about other things. It makes us think we're multi-dimensional. In any case, a year is a long time in a community, and I had started to feel like many of these people were real friends.

Well, it turns out I was wrong, at least about one of them. When reading some political ideas with which he disagreed, he turned into a real asshole, spewing forth the sort of right-wing polemical crap that seems to characterize what passes for political discourse here in the U.S. - that is, that anybody who disagrees with the current policies of the Bush Administration is unpatriotic and unAmerican. And then they wrap themselves in the flag and sing Praise to the Man Who Communed with Jehovah...except they mean George, not Joe.

My interactions with people are about relationships, not ideas. I guess that makes me shallow, or an extrovert, or whatever. But I think the person who I had THOUGHT was a friend really wasn't. Else, he wouldn't have called me unAmerican and unpatriotic. See, a major failure of polemicists is that they forget that their insults are directed at humans with feelings. Not just at the abstract unknowns Janeane Garafalo or Michael Moore or Al Franken, but also at the woman who spent several hours reading and writing e-mails when the marriage was on the verge of tanking, and actually thought that meant the person on the other end was a friend.

Now I know better.

Over Thanksgiving, I went to see my daughter and her family in Sarasota. My daughter and I had a difficult relationship when she was a teen. She hated me, and blamed me for everything that was wrong in her life. I did screw up royally a couple of times, as in my choice of a first husband, etc., but overall I did the best I could with what I had and really didn't deserve her hate.

Over time, and her growing up, and me mellowing out a bit, and living apart for a couple of years, she grew to hate me less, and now we have a very good relationship. I give her advice, and she takes it or leaves it as she sees fit, and I understand and respect that.

What struck me most about her in this last visit is how much she's matured. My daughter, when she was young, didn't do things that were difficult. If she had a cough, she skipped school. If she was tired, she blew off whatever she had planned (like school). She was pretty lazy about school work, or any kind of work. Now that is living on her own, married, with a little boy, she is really stepping up to the plate. This is particularly apparent with her job. She is pregnant, and feeling pretty crappy most of the time. She throws up twice daily, is tired and has very little energy. She spends all day taking care of her little son, and then, five days a week, goes to a crummy job where she's on her feet for eight hours. She's stressed and fatigued. But they need the money, so even though she doesn't feel like it, she goes.

Just like a grownup.

The day before Thanksgiving, while waiting to leave for our trip to see the family in Florida, I got a phone call from my gynecologist's office. It was "Sheila," whoever that is, and she wanted to know if I'd gotten a message from her a few weeks ago. After some chit-chat back and forth about playing phone tag, she told me the reason for her call: an abnormal pap smear. She told me that they wanted to call in a prescription for me, and then re-do the pap smear after I'd used the Rx for four weeks, and that would probably take care of the problem - it usually did. She was obviously quite rushed (holiday weekend coming up, after all) and I was kind of stunned, so I didn't ask many questions and she didn't volunteer much data.

Since I was on my way out of town, so I put the issue out of my mind (I certainly wouldn't be dying of cervical cancer over a long weekend) and tried not to think about it again for a few days. It crept back to the top of mind occasionally, but mostly it was an OK weekend. I picked up my Rx on Sunday.

Sunday morning, I did some web searching on Abnormal Pap Smear on the WebMD site and got some good information. I also did some searching on my prescription, but had more luck with Google. It's a "Cervical Amino Acid Cream Kit." I thought I had everything mostly figured out until Sunday night, when I followed the very minimal package instructions for use of my Rx. Suddenly, I was very afraid. What was wrong with me? What was I using this for? What was its purpose? Could I still have sex? It was not a pleasant night. I didn't sleep well.

The next day, Monday, I called the doctor. The woman who answered the phone was very clear that my level of abnormal cell is the lowest level of abnormality; on a scale of 1-4, I was a 1. The purpose of the cream was to heal an inflamed cervix. The follow-up would probably be normal. And yes, I can have sex.

How I wish the first phone call had been more like the second. I would have been saved a lot of anxiety.

For my NOM/Foyer readers, if there are any, perhaps you will not be surprised that I had some thoughts that this was some form of punishment for my demi-apostasy.

This is the blog I want to use, with the "Nanna P" in the title. I hope that if I write interesting things, people will want to read it.