Today has been totally weird. There are some commercials on TV where the characters have things hanging over their heads. In one commercial, it's a fast-food logo. In another, it's a dark cloud. I guess today I had fog.
It started well enough. I have made a commitment to have my morning coffee on the porch in the mornings, instead of in front of the computer looking at the news. The goal is to set the tone of the day with nature instead of .. well, the computer and news. This morning was very very foggy and everything seemed ethereal. Well, can things seem ethereal? I guess they either are, or they aren't. To seem ethereal, somehow that seems to be an oxymoron. Or maybe redundant.
But I digress. Had a lovely morning drinking coffee and watching the fog.
We are "redo-ing" Little One's room. Out with the twin beds, back in with her old iron bed. Right now, no beds are in there, as we are in the process of removing the carpet. Today I spent about two hours pulling staples out of the hardwood floor with a long pair of pliers. Got the blisters to prove it.
When the mail arrived I learned of the suicide of a member of our church. I won't go into the "who" or the "how" or the "how I learned," it's not important. It happened several weeks ago and, living in the fog as I do, I had no idea this had happened.
My heart is heavy for the man who felt he had no choices left. I cannot imagine the sadness he felt.
My heart is heavy for the person who found him.
My heart is heavy for his family.
DH and I are shaken by the whole event -- we feel, well, shaken, is all I can say. I am still processing this. The day started with the fog, and in one sense, that's how it ends tonight as well.
Thursday, April 20
Tuesday, April 4
This is One Amazing Child
Little One had to research her name and develop a corresponding coat of arms for her AG English class. Her paper is copied below; I don't have a copy of the coat of arms. When I get it, I will post it. I thought the paper was dear-- I will save this in her scrapbook. Here it is:
Traci Niquole (Nick-ole) Leak
My name is Traci Niquole (Nick-ole) Leak. My mom named me this because she had a friend named Traci and a friend whose last name was Leak. Niquole (I have no clue where she got the spelling), has nothing and nobody that I’m named after.
Traci means, ‘Brave’ or ‘Valor,’ and it comes from the English language. Niquole as Nicole means, ’victory of the people,’ and comes from the Greek language. Leak means, ‘to escape.’ It came from Middle English and probably came from early Dutch before that.
On my coat of arms, I drew a griffin for bravery. I drew this because my name means bravery and I thought that it would relate very nicely. I chose the crescent (top right), which means victory, because of my middle name. Also on my coat of arms, I drew a dolphin. The dolphin stands for my love of swimming and love of dolphins. Last, I drew bubbles because they are colorful and are very pretty and I love them.
Through all my life of bravery and victory and escapes, I have been known to learn quickly and have fun, doing almost everything I do.
Traci Niquole (Nick-ole) Leak
My name is Traci Niquole (Nick-ole) Leak. My mom named me this because she had a friend named Traci and a friend whose last name was Leak. Niquole (I have no clue where she got the spelling), has nothing and nobody that I’m named after.
Traci means, ‘Brave’ or ‘Valor,’ and it comes from the English language. Niquole as Nicole means, ’victory of the people,’ and comes from the Greek language. Leak means, ‘to escape.’ It came from Middle English and probably came from early Dutch before that.
On my coat of arms, I drew a griffin for bravery. I drew this because my name means bravery and I thought that it would relate very nicely. I chose the crescent (top right), which means victory, because of my middle name. Also on my coat of arms, I drew a dolphin. The dolphin stands for my love of swimming and love of dolphins. Last, I drew bubbles because they are colorful and are very pretty and I love them.
Through all my life of bravery and victory and escapes, I have been known to learn quickly and have fun, doing almost everything I do.
Sunday, April 2
The Auction
Yesterday at 5:30 I sent the following email to my DS1:
Well. son, I have to leave in half an hour for this thing. We have worked our little hearts out and I truly hope it is a success. All the neighbors gathered at the shop at 10:30 this morning and just started working. No one stood around and said, "what do I do?" -- everyone just found something and started. We got home at about 4pm.
We've got great food, beer, wine, champagne, and sodas + water, most of it donated. Our little DJ is awesome. We've got lights and seating and fun games, cool doorprizes and great auction items.
We had very good coverage in the paper yesterday: www.salisburypost.com .In the search window, type in Maggie Blackwell and find it in there.
We planned for 120 guests and so far, we have 105 registered. So many have said they will pay at the door that we are afraid we will have to turn some away. The Fire Marshal certified the building at 145.
I just told (DH) that if this fails, it's MY failure. It was my idea, my implementation, and my decisions.
So, I am taking a deep breath and going to do my makeup. Cross your fingers for us.
Love,
Mom
Now it's the next day. I would have to say it was a ..... success.
I never quite understood the meaning of a "grass roots" effort, but if anything was, this was it. We just decided to do this thing. We blocked out afternoons and went to area businesses and said, "We're building a park and need to raise $32,000. Can you donate anything to our auction?" They gave. and gave.
We had an article in our neighborhood newsletter, asking for new, unused items, or antique items, but not second-hand general items. The neighbors gave. and gave. We had 5 trips to auction: one to North Myrtle Beach, two to Ocean Isle (a week trip and a long weekend) , one to Hilton Head, and one to the mountains. An antique armoire. 3 bikes. gift certificates to every restaurant in town. Haircuts, color, pedicures, manicures, waxing, tanning, personal training, and massage. Games. Big cardboard standup thingies of Star Wars and Nascar. Art. Art lessons. Music lessons. The final item of the night was a scrapbook of the elementary school here in the neighborhood that has long closed. It included school photos of children, letters from people who went there in the early 20's, attendance awards, news articles, all collected over the years. The local folks who had gone to this school, primed themselves to bid on this book.
The team gathered at the shop at 6pm to be sure we were ready. The DJ, bless her heart, had set up in the morning. She was ready. The caterer was ready. The bartenders, two college girls who needed community service hours for school, were ready. Our auctioneer was ready. And we? We were ready.
At 7 folks started coming in. At 8 they were still coming in. From 8 to 9 or 9:30 the place was packed. The food was great. Our loveliest neighbors greeted the guests at the door with a flute of champagne. The music was wonderful. Understanding that the group would be mostly 35 to 50, our little 17-year-old had loaded her IPOD with a zillion tunes including jazz, Cajun, Beatles, Van Morrison, a little reggae, and one or two rap songs. She hooked that tiny thing up to these awesome speakers that had a mike attached for us as we auctioned and gave door prizes. The caterer brought 2 servers in their white coats and they filled and refilled the food. The room was dim, illuminated only by tiny white Christmas lights and the various antique wall sconces in the room.
Our invitation had said anything goes on clothing, from jeans and sneakers to top hat and tails. Well, folks took that to heart. Tuxes. Bermuda shorts and sandals. Beautiful evening gowns. Jeans and Chucks. Plaid shirts.
As is always the case with our neighborhood, we had a great variety of ages represented. Our youngest guests were somewhere in their 20's. Our oldest were, I'd say, 75 or so. And there were lots of us in between.
At 8 the music stopped and we began the auction. I gave door prizes and our auctioneer called the auction for 30 minutes or so. When she needed a break, she called me over and I gave more door prizes. We alternated in this fashion till shortly after 10, when the last item sold.
The faithfuls stayed long after the guests had gone home. The money gal rang up our total. The helpers danced and drank and laughed. We were happy and tired and had never once had lost our focus that we are building a park for our children.
As for me, I was too excited and anxious and busy to see if people were truly having a good time, if it were a really good party. In retrospect, everyone ate a lot and drank a lot and talked a lot and laughed a lot. The place looked great and we did not run out of beer or wine. At the end, all the faithfuls recapped the events of the evening and agreed it was a great "do."
I had been hoping for about $3,000 net to go directly to the park. After repaying the expenses of putting the thing on, our take is a little over $6,000.
It didn't stop there. Today at church, one of our church members approached DH with a check in his hand. "I grew up in Fulton Heights," he said. "I am so proud of what you folks are doing over there -- I want you to have this." It was a check for $500.
Well. son, I have to leave in half an hour for this thing. We have worked our little hearts out and I truly hope it is a success. All the neighbors gathered at the shop at 10:30 this morning and just started working. No one stood around and said, "what do I do?" -- everyone just found something and started. We got home at about 4pm.
We've got great food, beer, wine, champagne, and sodas + water, most of it donated. Our little DJ is awesome. We've got lights and seating and fun games, cool doorprizes and great auction items.
We had very good coverage in the paper yesterday: www.salisburypost.com .In the search window, type in Maggie Blackwell and find it in there.
We planned for 120 guests and so far, we have 105 registered. So many have said they will pay at the door that we are afraid we will have to turn some away. The Fire Marshal certified the building at 145.
I just told (DH) that if this fails, it's MY failure. It was my idea, my implementation, and my decisions.
So, I am taking a deep breath and going to do my makeup. Cross your fingers for us.
Love,
Mom
Now it's the next day. I would have to say it was a ..... success.
I never quite understood the meaning of a "grass roots" effort, but if anything was, this was it. We just decided to do this thing. We blocked out afternoons and went to area businesses and said, "We're building a park and need to raise $32,000. Can you donate anything to our auction?" They gave. and gave.
We had an article in our neighborhood newsletter, asking for new, unused items, or antique items, but not second-hand general items. The neighbors gave. and gave. We had 5 trips to auction: one to North Myrtle Beach, two to Ocean Isle (a week trip and a long weekend) , one to Hilton Head, and one to the mountains. An antique armoire. 3 bikes. gift certificates to every restaurant in town. Haircuts, color, pedicures, manicures, waxing, tanning, personal training, and massage. Games. Big cardboard standup thingies of Star Wars and Nascar. Art. Art lessons. Music lessons. The final item of the night was a scrapbook of the elementary school here in the neighborhood that has long closed. It included school photos of children, letters from people who went there in the early 20's, attendance awards, news articles, all collected over the years. The local folks who had gone to this school, primed themselves to bid on this book.
The team gathered at the shop at 6pm to be sure we were ready. The DJ, bless her heart, had set up in the morning. She was ready. The caterer was ready. The bartenders, two college girls who needed community service hours for school, were ready. Our auctioneer was ready. And we? We were ready.
At 7 folks started coming in. At 8 they were still coming in. From 8 to 9 or 9:30 the place was packed. The food was great. Our loveliest neighbors greeted the guests at the door with a flute of champagne. The music was wonderful. Understanding that the group would be mostly 35 to 50, our little 17-year-old had loaded her IPOD with a zillion tunes including jazz, Cajun, Beatles, Van Morrison, a little reggae, and one or two rap songs. She hooked that tiny thing up to these awesome speakers that had a mike attached for us as we auctioned and gave door prizes. The caterer brought 2 servers in their white coats and they filled and refilled the food. The room was dim, illuminated only by tiny white Christmas lights and the various antique wall sconces in the room.
Our invitation had said anything goes on clothing, from jeans and sneakers to top hat and tails. Well, folks took that to heart. Tuxes. Bermuda shorts and sandals. Beautiful evening gowns. Jeans and Chucks. Plaid shirts.
As is always the case with our neighborhood, we had a great variety of ages represented. Our youngest guests were somewhere in their 20's. Our oldest were, I'd say, 75 or so. And there were lots of us in between.
At 8 the music stopped and we began the auction. I gave door prizes and our auctioneer called the auction for 30 minutes or so. When she needed a break, she called me over and I gave more door prizes. We alternated in this fashion till shortly after 10, when the last item sold.
The faithfuls stayed long after the guests had gone home. The money gal rang up our total. The helpers danced and drank and laughed. We were happy and tired and had never once had lost our focus that we are building a park for our children.
As for me, I was too excited and anxious and busy to see if people were truly having a good time, if it were a really good party. In retrospect, everyone ate a lot and drank a lot and talked a lot and laughed a lot. The place looked great and we did not run out of beer or wine. At the end, all the faithfuls recapped the events of the evening and agreed it was a great "do."
I had been hoping for about $3,000 net to go directly to the park. After repaying the expenses of putting the thing on, our take is a little over $6,000.
It didn't stop there. Today at church, one of our church members approached DH with a check in his hand. "I grew up in Fulton Heights," he said. "I am so proud of what you folks are doing over there -- I want you to have this." It was a check for $500.
Monday, March 27
Walking One Block
It occurred to me this morning how very lovely it is to walk a simple block in our neighborhood.
There is no school today, which sort of nixed our Girls' Coffee Out. Every Monday the three of us meet at local coffeehouse and drink coffee and gab and laugh for an hour or two. Because there was no school, one of us was at home with her two girls, so we went to her house instead. Her home is only a block away so I allowed Little One to stay at home "alone." DH was upstairs sleeping in the guest room, which he always does when he's on night shift. So she was not really home alone -- it just felt like it. I took my cell phone and of course we recited the liturgy before I left -- don't go to the door, tell any callers I "can't come to the phone right now" etc, etc. She has been wanting to stay home alone and this was a great first run.
So I stepped out of the house. Crabapple blooms floated in the air. The sun shone in a brilliantine sky. The air is crispy but not really cold, and the birds of course are singing like madmen. What a great day to walk for coffee with your gf's..
A couple of doors down the street was a young mom, loading her new dog into the car. We talked about the new dog. She apologized for cutting down their tree -- if anyone asks, it really was rotten. See the hole in the middle? I assured her no one would ask. Are you coming the the party? Yes, I'm coming with a girlfriend. Can we save money and come as a couple? Sure, I replied, and ventured on.
Next door to her is an elderly couple. The husband is very ill with bone cancer and the wife is struggling to cope. I get the idea he has always been the real strength in the family. Their paper was out in the yard so I carried it to the doorstep and put it there.
After their house was the house of the Barking Dogs. Went to the fence and schmoozed with them. They quickly turned into happy, tail-wagging dogs who just want love like the rest of us.
Two doors after that is the house with an Awesome Gardner. Her candytuft is already blooming -- how'd she do that? Next was the Hansel and Gretel house that is up for sale soon. It's always been one of my favorite houses. Finally, I was at gf's house. Through the picket gate and up to the screen door with the red ribbon in the door. Lovely start to the day!
There is no school today, which sort of nixed our Girls' Coffee Out. Every Monday the three of us meet at local coffeehouse and drink coffee and gab and laugh for an hour or two. Because there was no school, one of us was at home with her two girls, so we went to her house instead. Her home is only a block away so I allowed Little One to stay at home "alone." DH was upstairs sleeping in the guest room, which he always does when he's on night shift. So she was not really home alone -- it just felt like it. I took my cell phone and of course we recited the liturgy before I left -- don't go to the door, tell any callers I "can't come to the phone right now" etc, etc. She has been wanting to stay home alone and this was a great first run.
So I stepped out of the house. Crabapple blooms floated in the air. The sun shone in a brilliantine sky. The air is crispy but not really cold, and the birds of course are singing like madmen. What a great day to walk for coffee with your gf's..
A couple of doors down the street was a young mom, loading her new dog into the car. We talked about the new dog. She apologized for cutting down their tree -- if anyone asks, it really was rotten. See the hole in the middle? I assured her no one would ask. Are you coming the the party? Yes, I'm coming with a girlfriend. Can we save money and come as a couple? Sure, I replied, and ventured on.
Next door to her is an elderly couple. The husband is very ill with bone cancer and the wife is struggling to cope. I get the idea he has always been the real strength in the family. Their paper was out in the yard so I carried it to the doorstep and put it there.
After their house was the house of the Barking Dogs. Went to the fence and schmoozed with them. They quickly turned into happy, tail-wagging dogs who just want love like the rest of us.
Two doors after that is the house with an Awesome Gardner. Her candytuft is already blooming -- how'd she do that? Next was the Hansel and Gretel house that is up for sale soon. It's always been one of my favorite houses. Finally, I was at gf's house. Through the picket gate and up to the screen door with the red ribbon in the door. Lovely start to the day!
Friday, March 24
Had to Laugh
I've been working hard this week to get the temporary ABC license for the neighborhood auction / party. I had been working with a guy named Cameron in Raleigh at the ABC Board, a sweetheart who clearly understands this ol' broad has never done this before and is definitely not having a party that will present a problem to the local authorities.
Monday night, I was online checking the requirements one more time when I noticed a footnote to the effect that ABC applications are due 15 days before the event. Erk. Rewind. At that point, the event was a mere 12 days away. Their office was closed so the only logical thing I could do was to stay wide awake all night until I could call first thing Tuesday morning. Laughing, Cameron said no, I did not have to have it in 15 days in advance -- I had until the Thursday just prior to the event. I insisted that I would get the thing fed-ex'ed on Wednesday -- I needed my sleep.
So I hustled it on Tuesday to get all the components together to send off. Here is what I had to get:
Monday night, I was online checking the requirements one more time when I noticed a footnote to the effect that ABC applications are due 15 days before the event. Erk. Rewind. At that point, the event was a mere 12 days away. Their office was closed so the only logical thing I could do was to stay wide awake all night until I could call first thing Tuesday morning. Laughing, Cameron said no, I did not have to have it in 15 days in advance -- I had until the Thursday just prior to the event. I insisted that I would get the thing fed-ex'ed on Wednesday -- I needed my sleep.
So I hustled it on Tuesday to get all the components together to send off. Here is what I had to get:
- Neighborhood bylaws
- List of neighborhood board members
- {these show we're a legitimate homeowners' association, even though we are not 501(c)3}
- Letter from owner of bldg saying we have permission to have the party there
- Occupancy certificate from fire marshal
- Letter with raised seal from courthouse affirming I have a clear criminal record
- My signature with notary affirming I am >21 and otherwise comply with their requirements
- Diagram of the building showing all exits and where the bar will be
- Letter explaining the purpose of the fundraising event
- ~I also included a copy of the park plans to show it really does exist
- Signature of policeman saying they have no issues with our having a party w/alcohol at this location
On Wednesday I gladly took this 1/2 inch package to Office Depot, made copies in case it got lost, and sent it next-day-air to the ABC Board in Raleigh. Whew. Sigh of relief.
Yesterday, I got up early and made supper for DS1 and his wife & baby. They recently moved from NYC to Nearby Large City and I had not made it over there to see the house, help unpack, hold baby, or anything. Both their cell phones direct me to Voice Mail, have for a week now, and I am feeling rather excluded. So I prepared a supper for them and drove the hour to their house.
While I was on the road, my cell phone rang. It was the lady at ABC Board who reviews these applications. "Maggie," she said, "I got your package..."
"Good, good!!" I replied. Yelling into speakerphone as we are not supposed to talk on cell phones anymore, I think. Can't find the "new law" online but it is rumored to be in effect.
"Everything seems to be in order..." she said.
"Great! That's what I wanted to hear!" I yelled.
"...Except for the $50 money order to pay for your license..."
doh. Silence on my end. Followed by hysterical, maniacal, laughter.
"Well, thank you for letting me know. And thank you for not calling me a big, fat, dummy. I'll send it first thing tomorrow."
So. It's almost 9 now. Going to the bank, then to Office Depot....again.
Sunday, March 19
Spring
It's spring and the town is in full bloom. Our own daffodils are faded but the pansies are in full riot. Our crabapple tree is blooming and our cherry tree as well. When the wind blows, it looks like it's snowing as the petals swirl. The birds are singing their fool heads off and our little white dog wants to go outside and just roll around in the moist grass.
Our home is littered with gifts for the Charity Auction we are having on 01. April (No Foolin!) and paperwork for various neighborhood ventures: grant proposals to complete, gift certificates to fill out for the auction, invitations to be sent, the all-important ABC one-time license to complete and drive to Charlotte, and notes, minutes, and newspaper articles regarding the Doc-in-a-box down the street.
Thankfully I completed yet another task that has been looming over my head for a couple of weeks. I have the honor of being a judge for the Home Schoolers' Creative Writing contest every year. I believe this is my 7th year of judging. We had 49 entries this year, down a little from last year when I believe we had 70-something. The ages range from K to 10th grade this year and in complexity they range from a couplet about My Pet to a 7-page (typed) story about Other Worlds. I read over each one, check the age of the child who wrote it (no names are indicated but ages / grades are) and try to determine the value on a scale of 1 to 10 for each piece. I do not know any other information, for example, of any handicaps a child might have, or anything about else that might help me make a better evaluation. I pretty much judge them from my gut and experience as to how well a 6 yr old ought to be able to write, as opposed to how well this particular one did. I make it a personal practice not to judge anyone less than a 5, and if a piece really needs help, I try to make some comment as to how it could be better, with an extremely delicate touch. For example, a poem about the colorful crocodile went 'way off the subject and ended with 'my neighbor's fat dad.' I offered a comment that I really wanted to read more about the crocodile. It's not a science and my main goal is to encourage the children who really try and to avoid scarring anyone for life. One story was so good I made a note to the child that s/he should submit it to a certain type of magazine. It really was that good.
So, with all the insanity in the neighborhood, I am really glad I took 3.5 hours and got this finished up. It's one less thing over my head.
Our home is littered with gifts for the Charity Auction we are having on 01. April (No Foolin!) and paperwork for various neighborhood ventures: grant proposals to complete, gift certificates to fill out for the auction, invitations to be sent, the all-important ABC one-time license to complete and drive to Charlotte, and notes, minutes, and newspaper articles regarding the Doc-in-a-box down the street.
Thankfully I completed yet another task that has been looming over my head for a couple of weeks. I have the honor of being a judge for the Home Schoolers' Creative Writing contest every year. I believe this is my 7th year of judging. We had 49 entries this year, down a little from last year when I believe we had 70-something. The ages range from K to 10th grade this year and in complexity they range from a couplet about My Pet to a 7-page (typed) story about Other Worlds. I read over each one, check the age of the child who wrote it (no names are indicated but ages / grades are) and try to determine the value on a scale of 1 to 10 for each piece. I do not know any other information, for example, of any handicaps a child might have, or anything about else that might help me make a better evaluation. I pretty much judge them from my gut and experience as to how well a 6 yr old ought to be able to write, as opposed to how well this particular one did. I make it a personal practice not to judge anyone less than a 5, and if a piece really needs help, I try to make some comment as to how it could be better, with an extremely delicate touch. For example, a poem about the colorful crocodile went 'way off the subject and ended with 'my neighbor's fat dad.' I offered a comment that I really wanted to read more about the crocodile. It's not a science and my main goal is to encourage the children who really try and to avoid scarring anyone for life. One story was so good I made a note to the child that s/he should submit it to a certain type of magazine. It really was that good.
So, with all the insanity in the neighborhood, I am really glad I took 3.5 hours and got this finished up. It's one less thing over my head.
Tuesday, March 14
too much, TOO much, TOO MUCH
Had a meeting last week and as we headed home, the CEO of the company said, "This is my 4th meeting this week. Hope I still have a wife when I get home..."
I thought to myself, "Only 4 meetings and he's a CEO. I've had 7 and I don't even have a job."
The school board has redistricted our neighborhood so that our kids will attend their 3rd school in as many years, next year.
We are fighting to retain the Residential zoning at a site owned by the nearby Doc-in-a-Box.
Auction. (ABC License, donations, tax papers, event insurance, capacity license, invitations, caterer, gift certificates.)
Park. (Pavers, forms at printer, sponsorships, benches, clearing, clean up for Egg Hunt, plan gardens.)
Grants. (Last one due end of month, but it's a whopper.)
Centennial Celebration (Find a breakdown stage, musicians, printing, artist for commissioned poster, permits, trolley sponsors.)
5k Run. (Find a sponsor. Figure out a way to have buffs rather than Tshirts. Plan route. Get permits. Obtain clock and equipment. Advertise.)
Fortunately, I am not involved in the school redistricting thing. It does not affect Little One; she goes to an out-of-district school and heads to middle school next year, anyway. The moms in the neighborhood have organized this one and are running with it.
All the other stuff is about too much.
I thought to myself, "Only 4 meetings and he's a CEO. I've had 7 and I don't even have a job."
The school board has redistricted our neighborhood so that our kids will attend their 3rd school in as many years, next year.
We are fighting to retain the Residential zoning at a site owned by the nearby Doc-in-a-Box.
Auction. (ABC License, donations, tax papers, event insurance, capacity license, invitations, caterer, gift certificates.)
Park. (Pavers, forms at printer, sponsorships, benches, clearing, clean up for Egg Hunt, plan gardens.)
Grants. (Last one due end of month, but it's a whopper.)
Centennial Celebration (Find a breakdown stage, musicians, printing, artist for commissioned poster, permits, trolley sponsors.)
5k Run. (Find a sponsor. Figure out a way to have buffs rather than Tshirts. Plan route. Get permits. Obtain clock and equipment. Advertise.)
Fortunately, I am not involved in the school redistricting thing. It does not affect Little One; she goes to an out-of-district school and heads to middle school next year, anyway. The moms in the neighborhood have organized this one and are running with it.
All the other stuff is about too much.
Wednesday, March 8
Good News
Last night, I got the BEST news in a long, long while. DS1 and his wife and baby girl are MOVING to nearby Largetown, USA.........Yea!!
DIL1 is expecting another baby; although they don't know how long they will live down here, it is likely the new little one will be born here. The town is only 30-40 minutes away. Their children will KNOW ME!! I can see them!!
As SOON as we finished on the phone, I called DH at work, (seldom call at work) to tell him. We laughed til we cried. It was totally out of the blue, we did not have a hint that the kids were thinking of moving to the state.
Yea!
DIL1 is expecting another baby; although they don't know how long they will live down here, it is likely the new little one will be born here. The town is only 30-40 minutes away. Their children will KNOW ME!! I can see them!!
As SOON as we finished on the phone, I called DH at work, (seldom call at work) to tell him. We laughed til we cried. It was totally out of the blue, we did not have a hint that the kids were thinking of moving to the state.
Yea!
Tuesday, March 7
Trying to be Wise
Last night I met with the owners of the doc-in-a-box down the street; VP also attended. They currently have a 20,000 sf building on one lot and own 2 adjacent lots. Their vision is for a total of 55,000 sf medical park focusing on musculoskeletal medicine. A hospital in Charlotte has just filed a proposal with the State to locate a same-day-surgery facility in this Smalltown, in a bldg on this campus, leased from the doc-in-a-box ppl.
Our neighborhood has a long and bitter history with this business. Some of the primaries at the business hate our neighborhood. Some of our neighbors hate the business.
I see my accountability as protecting the fringes of the neighborhood from encroachment; and preserving the R8 (single family residential) zoning that was won by the blood, sweat and tears of our neighbors who founded our neighborhood association almost 20 yrs ago. Without that zoning overlay, there's no way we'd be on the National Register today; no way our property values would be where they are today; no way we would've even found the neighborhood an attractive place to buy a house. I have to preserve that overlay to preserve the life of the neighborhood.
One of the three parcels owned by the d-i-a-box folks is currently R8. It used to be a farmhouse built in 1900. The diab folks bought it, did not maintain it, and when it fell into ruin, demolished it on Christmas Day in 2004. Now they want to rezone it to LOI, which is the zoning their other 2 properties have.
The hospital in Charlotte who applied for the bid to develop the same-day-surgery are in competition with the local hospital. The folks at the local hospital say, "we serve indigents and no-pays and the profit from the same-day-surgery will supplant the large writeoffs we have to make for them..." They say, "if we get the bid, the money goes back into the local community; if the other hosp gets it, it does not."
All this is true.
The doc-in-a-box folks say, "We pay property taxes. The local hosp does not." They say, "Forty-seven percent of the ppl in Smalltown, USA go out of town for their surgery. They do not trust the local hosp. We are looking to capture some of those folks at this facility run by the out of town hosp."
All this is true.
The State determines who wins the bid. We have the opportunity in 2 weeks to appear at a State hearing and voice our opinions. We have the opportunity to influence the State decision. To what degree our appearance matters, I am not sure. I am sure that if we don't go, we don't influence it at all.
I was talking with a gf the other day about our political aspirations. I confessed to her that one of my biggest flaws is my open-mindedness. Today I am really wrestling with that.
As I wrote above, I do know that my commitments are to protect the neighborhood from commercialism, and to preserve the R8 zoning, and I will do so. Meanwhile, I'm aware that our neighborhood may not be totally fair to the guys down the street.
Our neighborhood has a long and bitter history with this business. Some of the primaries at the business hate our neighborhood. Some of our neighbors hate the business.
I see my accountability as protecting the fringes of the neighborhood from encroachment; and preserving the R8 (single family residential) zoning that was won by the blood, sweat and tears of our neighbors who founded our neighborhood association almost 20 yrs ago. Without that zoning overlay, there's no way we'd be on the National Register today; no way our property values would be where they are today; no way we would've even found the neighborhood an attractive place to buy a house. I have to preserve that overlay to preserve the life of the neighborhood.
One of the three parcels owned by the d-i-a-box folks is currently R8. It used to be a farmhouse built in 1900. The diab folks bought it, did not maintain it, and when it fell into ruin, demolished it on Christmas Day in 2004. Now they want to rezone it to LOI, which is the zoning their other 2 properties have.
The hospital in Charlotte who applied for the bid to develop the same-day-surgery are in competition with the local hospital. The folks at the local hospital say, "we serve indigents and no-pays and the profit from the same-day-surgery will supplant the large writeoffs we have to make for them..." They say, "if we get the bid, the money goes back into the local community; if the other hosp gets it, it does not."
All this is true.
The doc-in-a-box folks say, "We pay property taxes. The local hosp does not." They say, "Forty-seven percent of the ppl in Smalltown, USA go out of town for their surgery. They do not trust the local hosp. We are looking to capture some of those folks at this facility run by the out of town hosp."
All this is true.
The State determines who wins the bid. We have the opportunity in 2 weeks to appear at a State hearing and voice our opinions. We have the opportunity to influence the State decision. To what degree our appearance matters, I am not sure. I am sure that if we don't go, we don't influence it at all.
I was talking with a gf the other day about our political aspirations. I confessed to her that one of my biggest flaws is my open-mindedness. Today I am really wrestling with that.
As I wrote above, I do know that my commitments are to protect the neighborhood from commercialism, and to preserve the R8 zoning, and I will do so. Meanwhile, I'm aware that our neighborhood may not be totally fair to the guys down the street.
Sunday, March 5
Swimming through the Tweenage Years
Little One at ten is an absolute joy. She is experimenting with Who she is -- and "who" is capitalized for a reason. One day she establishes that she is a true tom-boy. She daringly rides her trail bike down the sledding hill and back up again, hooping and hollering. The next day she is drawing Anime' -style girls with one-shouldered tops and mini-skirts. She will pick up snakes at a moment's notice yet screams across the room from a spider.
As I drive her to school in the mornings, she tells me her favorite subjects. They vary from day to day. I hate social studies. Social studies is my favorite subject. The PE teacher is so mean. Tomorrow's the PE teacher's birthday; will you make her a cake? Living with a tweenager is a lot like living with a schizophrenic. (I think.)
Her enthusiasm for swimming has grown gradually over the months since she began. She has begun practicing even on the days that she has piano and other commitments, going from 2 days a week to 4. She rarely complains anymore -- in fact, rarely mentions it at all, which I have taken as a good sign.
The final meet of the short-course season was this weekend. It's like a regional meet and the teams all vie for the most points as a team. It's the culmination of a long, hard season. The meet was held in a beautiful facility where the pool is 50 meters long; they have a motorized catwalk that can be moved to divide the pool into 2 separate bodies of water.
Her times yesterday were not her best times; she is still afraid to flip-turn and that tends to slow her down. I made a huge mistake in writing her events on her arm yesterday, and wrote "50 fly" for her 100-yard butterfly. After 2 laps, she stopped, and the judges leaned down and said, "It's a 100!" So off she went for 2 more laps, but by that time, she had already fallen way behind. Nana would be the one crying up in the stands. Not often a child's failure is clearly your own fault. In writing. She generously laughed and hugged me when she returned to the stands. I ruminated for hours.
Today was a better day. Her times all improved. She was DQ'ed on her 100-back due to a faulty flip turn (that's why she is afraid to do 'em, folks! They're hard!) but her times overall were outstanding. On her 50-fly, she had had no recorded time on the books, and today, just missed her B time by a half-second. Came in first in her heat.
Emotionally, it was rougher sailing. Her stomach hurt. She asked, "Do I have to swim next year?" Twice, up in the line area behind the blocks, she cried and asked me to come hold her.
Knowing how her opinion of social studies (and language and math) have gone up and down in hours' time, I chose to stay neutral on whether she swims next year. "We'll see..." I replied. Inside, I was thinking, "Please change your mind...please change your mind..." The teammates and swim parents championed her butterfly so well that she seemed to take some of the praise to heart, and began to hold her head up again. Maybe by tomorrow, she will truly love swimming. We can only hope..
As I drive her to school in the mornings, she tells me her favorite subjects. They vary from day to day. I hate social studies. Social studies is my favorite subject. The PE teacher is so mean. Tomorrow's the PE teacher's birthday; will you make her a cake? Living with a tweenager is a lot like living with a schizophrenic. (I think.)
Her enthusiasm for swimming has grown gradually over the months since she began. She has begun practicing even on the days that she has piano and other commitments, going from 2 days a week to 4. She rarely complains anymore -- in fact, rarely mentions it at all, which I have taken as a good sign.
The final meet of the short-course season was this weekend. It's like a regional meet and the teams all vie for the most points as a team. It's the culmination of a long, hard season. The meet was held in a beautiful facility where the pool is 50 meters long; they have a motorized catwalk that can be moved to divide the pool into 2 separate bodies of water.
Her times yesterday were not her best times; she is still afraid to flip-turn and that tends to slow her down. I made a huge mistake in writing her events on her arm yesterday, and wrote "50 fly" for her 100-yard butterfly. After 2 laps, she stopped, and the judges leaned down and said, "It's a 100!" So off she went for 2 more laps, but by that time, she had already fallen way behind. Nana would be the one crying up in the stands. Not often a child's failure is clearly your own fault. In writing. She generously laughed and hugged me when she returned to the stands. I ruminated for hours.
Today was a better day. Her times all improved. She was DQ'ed on her 100-back due to a faulty flip turn (that's why she is afraid to do 'em, folks! They're hard!) but her times overall were outstanding. On her 50-fly, she had had no recorded time on the books, and today, just missed her B time by a half-second. Came in first in her heat.
Emotionally, it was rougher sailing. Her stomach hurt. She asked, "Do I have to swim next year?" Twice, up in the line area behind the blocks, she cried and asked me to come hold her.
Knowing how her opinion of social studies (and language and math) have gone up and down in hours' time, I chose to stay neutral on whether she swims next year. "We'll see..." I replied. Inside, I was thinking, "Please change your mind...please change your mind..." The teammates and swim parents championed her butterfly so well that she seemed to take some of the praise to heart, and began to hold her head up again. Maybe by tomorrow, she will truly love swimming. We can only hope..
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