Countdown

There are at least 10 pairs of shoes on the living room floor. Clothes all over the floor of her room. Various things in various parts of the house -- waiting to be packed. Finally, this morning, she seems to be understanding that packing is inevitable.

And I'm getting an empty feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Top 10 Reasons NOT to Vote the McCain-Palin Ticket

(With advanced apologies to any Republican-leaning voters who might stumble onto this entry - don't read it if it irks you). All 10 of these reasons have to do with Sarah Palin, the most dangerous threat to women's rights, government leadership, environmental sanity and sound sex education in decades:

10. She has only been a governor of the most remote state in the nation for two years.

9. She worked for her kids' school PTA, became a City Councilor, then a mayor, then a governor and now a vice presidential nominee in 14 years. Translate: she hasn't served in any of these positions for many years.

8. She believes in abstinence-only sex education in an American culture that glamorizes sexual activity among kids as young as 15 who, under the current cultural and media climate, aren't hearing the "abstinence-only" argument.

7. She questions whether global warming is actually occurring.

6. She is open to creationism being taught in public schools, even while the U.S. Constitution separates church and state.

5. She calls herself a champion against earmarked funds - but has profited substantially from Congressional earmarks as mayor and as governor in her home state. She actually hired a lobbyist as mayor who was used specifically to go after earmarked funds for her city.

4. She opposes abortion, even in cases of rape and incest.

3. She approves the shooting of wolves in Alaska by people firing guns from airplanes.

2. She likens herself to a pit bull.

And the No. 1 reason not to vote the McCain-Palen ticket:

1. If McCain dies in office, she will become president of the United States.

(Of course, it is true that there is another half to this ticket. I simply don't agree with McCain's plans or policies and I don't want another president who likes the word "fight" and "war" so much. There are other reasons for my personal disdain for McCain, but the strikes against Sarah Palin are so strong and so fear-inducing that they take precedence here).

Whoof!

"Animal welfare organizations are panting with excitement following reports that Leona Helmsley, the New York property and hotel magnate who died last year, stipulated that almost her entire estate, worth at least $5bn (£2.5bn), must go to the dogs." -- New York Times, July 2, 2008.

$5 billion is much more than Leona's little dog Trouble was bequeathed. And it is MUCH MORE than the two grandchildren -- cut out of her will and then awarded a tiny sum by a judge -- got. This is WONDERFUL NEWS!!!!

Buddy has been itching for a new crushed velvet doggie bed, a special doggie cart and, of course, a gold-gilded doggie dish. Thanks to the Queen of Mean, he will finally get his wish. (As you can see, he has shared his measly little bed with the cat for far too long!) I am putting in his special request to the lawyers as soon as possible!

Little Girl Grows Up

Well, after much planning, hemming and hawing, stressing and finally a whole lot of smiling, Meghan attended her high school senior prom last night. She went stag -- and found that a whole lot of girlfriends did the same. And she had a wonderful time. It's a tradition for all the seniors to head down to Lynch Park in Beverly for pictures before the prom (which was held at the Cambridge Hyatt this year), and Meghan posed with tons of friends (and a few guys who insisted on being in photos with her -- which delighted Howard and I). I'm just putting a few of her and us up on the blog. She told me bleary-eyed this morning, when she came back home that she had a fantastic time both at the prom and at an after-party, which lasted until 7 a.m. God. What a week.

On Tuesday night, she and a friend did a reading from Martha Graham on being a dancer at the Baccalaureate ceremony. On Wednesday, she received a $500 scholarship at awards night. Then Thursday - the prom. On Saturday, sibling #3 (to whom I am forever grateful) will be driving down with the boy and the matriarch (again, did I saw I am forever grateful) so they can be here for graduation on Sunday afternoon. Hopefully, she will survive hearing the story of how Aunt Evelyn wants to come up this summer for the 234th time in the car on the way down. Just nod and say "uh huh...". A lot.

I am ... Wait, WHAT am I???

I'm weird. I'm old. I laugh too loud. I'm completely wrong about this, that or the other thing. Just in case you didn't know.

High school graduation time is a very stressful time. And I'm not the one graduating. There are all these damn dates to keep track of, all these end of the year things, all these checks to write for God knows what. Including the perennial Senior Class Up All Night party, which I swear we paid for way back in the fall. And there isn't one comprehensive bit of information about any of this.

Here's where we're at ... at present. Meghan finished up classes last Friday and took her sole final (in Honors Physics, for God's sake) yesterday. So she is officially done with high school. This after a week of dressing up like a nerd, Audrey Hepburn and in a toga. That last one was something - did you know there are directions for making a toga on YouTube?

Anyway, she's done. All but the Baccalaureate, Scholarship Night, Senior breakfast, Senior lunch, graduation rehearsal, mock car crash attendance, distribution of yearbooks and caps and gowns, and ... oh yes ... graduation. She graduates on Sunday, June 8, at 2 p.m. And no, Beverly High School does not issue graduation announcements. So I am reduced to letting grandparents know by phone and you people by blog. How lame is that?

I've tried to entice the matriarch to come down for this momentous ceremony, which at the moment doesn't seem likely. Howard's parents are coming with Pam and Frank, probably, and we'll have a casual dinner after the ceremony before Megs has to leave for this "up all night" party.

Which brings me to the topic of my blog. The graduation party. I suggest having a big one after graduation. Meghan nixes every single Saturday and Sunday through the month of June until the last weekend. Why? Because she has to go to seven graduation parties already scheduled at other people's houses. (And this would be because she hemmed and hawed earlier when I tried to schedule something). When I express just a bit of frustration over not being able to throw her a graduation party -- at least for her friends -- she tells me Howard and I are weird and she wouldn't want us at a party with her friends. OKKKKKKKK... So we'll just provide the food, say hello and watch a baseball game while they take over the house.

(Mind you, I've been told by several of Meghan and Anna's friends that we are cool, hip parents -- just not to Meghan and Anna). ... It's OK. I'm over it.

We are having a graduation party for adults and any high schoolers Meghan wants to invite on Saturday, June 28, in the mid afternoon. And you two and your families are both invited (actually, so is mom and so, probably, are other siblings). There is no pressure for you to be there, but if you can make it, I would love it. If not, no worries.

Watch my blog over the next week and I'll try to post some choice photos of things like "the prom". ;) And please God just let me get through the next 9 days.

Dude...

We now have an official Drexel University sticker on our car. Spent Friday night and Saturday in Philly for Accepted Students Weekend. Meghan and I had been to several of the "sessions" when we first visited last year so this time we did a little exploring on our own. One stop was an old (seriously, oooolllldddd) dorm building with suites in it (apparently suites are not difficult for freshmen to get at Drexel).

Meghan dragged me in there, even though I protested that we wouldn't get past the front desk. But we did. Some very cute freshman boy spotted us and offered to give us a tour of the building. Very entertaining. Especially when he opened the door to his suite. Dishes piled mile high in the sink, DISGUSTING bathroom, six guys in the living room playing a video game, and one very shocked young man who came around the corner, took one look at me and slowly dropped his jaw to the floor.

I look like a mother. It's really annoying. At that point, I started apologizing all over the place and backing out of the room, but the cute freshman boy who offered us the tour insisted that he wanted us to see the suite.

Then this surfer dude type guy opens the bedroom door, wearing sunglasses. He looks at me, looks at Meghan. Looks some more. And says, "Are you guys here for Accepted Students Day?" Meghan, always the cheerful little girl, chirps, "Yes!" And he responds - and I'm directly quoting here (but you can imagine the surfer dude drawl that accompanied this) – "Dude, you should totally come here next year. It's AWESOME. I was down on this place when I first got here but I stuck it out. It's a great school, man."

I had to BITE my tongue not to laugh. Totally made the weekend, dudettes.

At the end of the day, Meghan took part in a master dance class - an audition to try to score a little more scholarship money and to meet the director of the dance program. She did really well; the director called her back out at one point to do a routine again, which is usually a very good sign. So we'll see. We met a lot of girls minoring in dance and their parents. It was really pretty fun. We also met the director of her major - Arts & Entertainment Management - and learned a lot about what that will entail.

Anna, meantime, had a delightful time at the freshman semi, with the "no I'm NOT dating him; we're just friends" sophomore who presented her with a corsage of tiny white roses. Even Howard texted me in Philadelphia that he was "a cutie." Can you even imagine Howard saying anyone is a "cutie"? Weird!

In one week, we'll all be on our way to Grand Cayman for a spring break vacation - probably the last one all together for awhile. I'm excited about this one - it's a British island, so everything is just that much more upscale and ... British. :)
Cheerio!

It's Opening Day, Baby!

Hail the Mighty 2008 Boston Red Sox season. 2,000 people were waiting in line for tickets this morning. Unfortunately, this photo, captured on my way to work, doesn't do that any justice at all. But what the heck -- happy opening day!

Date # ?????

Meghan and I fly down to Philly this Friday for Accepted Students Day at Drexel and that dance class audition that could lead to more scholarship money (long shot, but worth it to meet the head of the program).

Howard will be minding the fort with daughter #2, who is attending the all-important Freshman Semi-formal on Friday night. Last weekend, she and I went out to get her a dress and purchased this nice little chocolate brown number with a handkerchief hem. She looks good in dark brown.

Now... Anna has been through six boyfriends since the 8th grade, by my count. She dates them for a week or two and then casually announces that said boy-of-the-week and she have decided they'd much rather continue being good friends.

This, I find intriguing.

So, naturally I'm curious about this semi-formal. Is she going with a date? "NO!!! Moooommmmmmm!..." OK. She's going to a girlfriend's house so several girls can all get dressed up together and their mom will give them all a ride to the semi. Hmm... what girls? Who will be at this house?
"Tara, Kelsea, Megan, Kara, our friend John Grady... umm..."
"John Grady. Who is John Grady?
"Oh, he's a sophomore. He's just a good friend."
"Got a picture of this sophomore on Facebook by any chance?
"Sure, here he is." This guy looks like a slightly rougher version of Saun Cassidy (remember, from TV's The Hardy Boys?) In short, he's pretty cute. Every guy she dates is getting cuter and cuter.

Dates? Did I just say DATES? As in the verb? Well, yes, I did. THAT's because later I find out that she actually does have a date for this Semi, and John Grady is it. So... she has arranged to have him come to this girlfriend's house (because, my sleuthing daughter #1 tells me, all the other girls are bringing dates so Anna decided to ask John Grady to go with her as a friend). At least we THINK it's as a friend.

What irks me about this is that she won't tell ME this. What am I? Chopped liver? I'm not the one with the gossip gene (Seriously, Meghan has that one covered). So I wouldn't have known this. I wouldn't have done what I'm now going to do, which is encourage Anna to have someone take photographs at this girlfriend's house of her with the "group" of people she's going to the Semi with. Girls, boys, and John Grady - boyfriend of the week #7.

Jesus. I never had this many dates when I was in high school.

Mad Dragon Records

Mad Dragon Records is the name of Drexel University's recording label. It's just a cool name.

So I think the final decision regarding college for Meghan will be Drexel. She's gotten into UMass, Hofstra, Ithaca, Drexel and American now. Hofstra and American are both offering guaranteed slots in the Spring of 2009, not this fall. Meg was actually only interested in looking at American further if she got in. But on further investigation, she found that the Arts & Entertainment Management program is a graduate program. So Drexel (with the scholarship, the exact programs she wants, and the wholly acceptable position of being in a city) is probably going to win out. Go dragons!

We have to go to Drexel, she and I, on April 11-12 for Accepted Students Day and an end-of-day dance audition (more like a master class where the head of the dance department watches students for ability and offers small scholarships to them if they'll commit to performing in the university's dance ensemble). We figure, what the heck - it's definitely worth a shot. She has improved in dance phenomenally this year.

Anna, on the flip side, will be attending the all-important Freshman Semi April 11, so How' gets to stay home. No date, as yet. She's only been through three one-week boyfriends this year. She'll probably go stag with a group of girlfriends. Oy, the next three years with AJ will be interesting - and entertaining. :)

Lament of the Week: Scholarship Applications

File this under "Did you know... ?"

Did you know there are college scholarships available for people who are left-handed? For tall people, short people or fat people? People with brown eyes, blue eyes or green eyes? You hear about all this and you urge your graduating senior to get on the stick and apply for some of this free money. ... Yeah. Right.

And then the list of local scholarships finally emerges. You check off each potential scholarship your kid could get. And instantly, as if it never went away, you're back in the application landfill. Mountains of applications with deadlines and multiple forms and essays to write. Just when you thought all the college application forms were over and done with.

I'm not overly optimistic about any of this stuff. Meg goes to a big high school with a big graduating class. The local scholarships will get eaten up pretty quickly. Never mind the chances of securing one of those generic scholarships for people with brown eyes... But we will fill out some more forms just for the sheer unadulterated fund of it.

In Support of Silda

All this week, the females in my office have been asking, 'What the heck is WRONG with these women who stand by their man no matter what?!' The reference, of course, is to Silda Wall Spitzer, wife of "Eliot MESS Spitzer" the now ex-governor of New York.

I was one of these women questioning Silda's sanity and decorum this week. Heck, I had serious issues with Hillary Clinton during Monica-gate. Kick the president in the groin, take your daughter and the dog, leave the White House and be done with it - that was my motto. I was really mad. Mad that she stayed with him. Mad that she kept quiet on this front.

Today, I think the country needs people like Silda and Hillary in leadership positions. These women are a hell of a lot more mature than many, many men. The fact that Silda stood by her man while he apologized for being a louse and then stepped down from being governor says more about class, grace, quiet intelligence and maturity than anything. I'm sure she is absolutely ripped apart by the whole thing, but she refused to outwardly break down. The fact that she isn't, herself, addressing it publicly makes me want to hurl my fist in the air triumphantly. Truly, it is none of our business how she handles it; she's not the guilty party; she's not the public official and if she ends up deciding to stick by her husband - that's her prerogative, not the media's.

Anyway, I'm reminded today that both Silda and Hillary are extremely smart human beings in their own right - even if they are married to foolish men. And I'm passing along the link to this fantastic column by Ellen Goodman for your reading pleasure: http://www.bellinghamherald.com/302/story/350613.html

Puck.

Here's a dilemma for you: soup that is too salty. Howard and I increasingly find ourselves eating dinners together while our daughters are either a.) out on the town; b.) working an evening shift of babysitting of busing tables; or c.) away on a school-sponsored trip.

Tonight, for example, Meghan is in Boston competing in the state DECA tournament (business/marketing competition for high school students; she and a friend have created a marketing plan for a wrap sandwich business in downtown Beverly). Anyway, she's holed up in the Copley Marriott until Saturday at this competition. Anna, meanwhile, is performing at the opening night show of Funny Girl (the high school's musical this year). She's got more of a background role but has enjoyed herself immensely, with the glaring exception of having to wear stage makeup (you can imagine...). We're seeing the Friday and Saturday night performances (when hopefully all the kinks will have been ironed out and she's "accustomed" to the makeup situation).

Anyway, this leaves sibling #2 and husband to fend for themselves in the kitchen, which we rather like to do. Howard made a seafood chowder with perch that would have been delectable if not for one fatal flaw: chicken broth packaged under the Wolfgang Puck name. It was way too salty. Inedible-y salty. The chowder suffered because of it and, though we each had a bowl, we ended up having to toss the rest.

So I did a little research - since, as you know, there is that legend out there that says raw potato can soak the salt out of a too salty soup. Turns out it's all just legend and myth. A Google search yields several postings that debunk this whole potato theory and go on to say that the only way to correct a too salty soup is to add more non-salty items. Thing is, it was the chicken broth that was too salty to begin with; it wasn't anything we added or didn't add.

I feel the need to send Mr. Puck a note of dissatisfaction.

Need a Winter Distraction? Here's a Lindsay-Paris Cat Fight Update

Oh my goodness!
Lindsay Lohan and Paris Hilton reportedly had a huge cat-fight at a pre-Grammy party this past Saturday. Both were hoping that music producer Timbaland (whoever the heck that is), who has worked with the likes of Justin Timberlake, Nelly Furtado, etc., would help revive their music careers.

WHAT music careers...?

Reportedly, when Paris arrived at said soiree, Lindsay pointed at her and said "What the (expletive) is that (expletive) doing here? I didn't know she was on the list." Paris reportedly responded by spewing a slew of profanities.

Now, because daughter #1 was home with the flu last week, I had the opportunity to see an episode of Ellen, which featured a guest appearance by Paris, before I left the house to go to work. (This is because when you have the flu, there is nothing quite like holing up on the couch with a cup of tea and a good dose of Ellen, and that is what daughter #1 was doing).

Anyway, can I just say that Paris Hilton is the most vapid woman I think I have ever encountered? Can she possibly BE that dumb? Or is she just acting that way because it gets her SOME kind of media attention? Seriously. The woman admits to having 17 dogs because she couldn't bear to give their puppies away. Ie., she never had her dogs neutered. That sent Ellen into a tizzy, let me tell you.

And it's not even the lack of common pet sense that gets me. It's her entire demeanor. She looks as if she tilts her head a certain way on purpose because she has decided it results in the camera getting her best angle. Vapid ... and vain. Lately, I think her new hairstyle makes her look like a young Martha Stewart on a diet. Seriously. Just think how many people would maybe admire her if she showed even a morsel of the intelligence Martha has. (And I'm not being nice to Martha here... I'm just sayin'.)

Cleavage: Nature or Nurture?

While we're on the subject of cleavage, we have a question. Well, Meghan specifically has a question. Do hours of dancing lead to less cleavage? She is concerned that the weight she has lost from hours of dancing (and better nutrition, I might add) have resulted in the shrinkage of her cleavage-creating body parts. So at her request, I am posing the question to a.) older sibling who danced a lot during her teens and b.) younger sibling who teaches an Honors Health class (but who is really a lousy Scrabble player... I'm just sayin').

Daughter No. 2, by the way, remains thin as a rail despite eating hordes of junk food in a sitting (a box of Chips Ahoy, Cheeze-its and popcorn, most recently). And yet she may have more cleavage than her older sister. Although... nah, I just took another look. Maybe it's genetic.

In the meantime, I'll need to check out this buxom Italian tart of a chef on the Cooking channel. I was not aware of her until reading the most recent comments to my blog. "Molto bene!"

Cleavage, Cos' and Heath Ledger ...

I have decided to move away from a bright pink blog. One needs calmer, gentler colors when one is living in one's mid-40s. Did you know that women over 40 are not supposed to show their cleavage? Tell THAT to ... well, to someone in their mid-40s who shows their cleavage. I certainly don't. I have no cleavage to show. ;)

Last week, I interviewed Bill Cosby and a nationally known psychiatrist, Dr. Alvin Poussaint (who has been an adviser to Cosby for years) on their book "Come on People: On the Path from Victims to Victors." Great interview. It had to be done over the phone -- for some reason, my "top ten" list (a la super sib #1) would have to include the fact that I've interviewed some pretty cool people over the phone (Schilling, Kapler, JK Rowling, Cosby, Big Bird, Warren Rudman -- ok, that last one was a serious interview crapshoot...). Who cares if it's not in person? The coolest part is actually being able to say I talked to these people on the phone. It's kind of like Lily Tomlin, without the snorting, chortling and "one ringy-dingy..."

But let's move on. Can we discuss the whole Heath Ledger thing here? What on earth did this guy die of? Heart attack? Mary Kate Olson attack? Drug overdose? Suicide? Or is it really that he gets so stressed out about his work and personal life that he took sleeping pills to try to sleep and he ends up taking too many. I've been scouring my usual sources of salacious information on this one and I'm getting zip. The whole thing is incredibly sad. I've never seen so many people gasp in shock over a celebrity's death. And I've never been more annoyed about any kind of vague link to Mary Kate Olson.

Ciao for now. The teenagers are in a cat fight upstairs. And it isn't over cleavage.

Oh My!!!!

I must say, I do like a round of old-fashioned "pissed off"-ness every now and then. Great way to unload some stress. Sib #6 and her husband's comments about Christmas evoked strong responses from you both.

It's nothing new though, really. Apparently Sib 6 has always felt like an outcast among us. BUT, perhaps now the matriarch is finally tired of hearing it. I got the story from Mom after walking into her house the day after Christmas to say goodbye and hearing Andy on the phone basically saying "What do you MEAN you felt like an outsider? There were 18 people in that house last night! What the heck do you WANT?!" I asked mom a couple of days afterward during a phone call to find out what it was all about. That's how I found out Andy was talking to Sib 6.

But, again, I've heard this before. I think she had the same "lament" last year and she has a habit of trying to sugar-coat it with things like, "I try so hard but I don't know what to say and they don't really talk to me..." The thing that got me about this particular year is that Sean told Sib 6 he was OBSERVING us and had decided we had nothing in common with them. Mom was a little miffed by that too and went on and on about how he can monopolize you in a conversation that isn't interesting and interferes with you doing things that obviously need to be done (like when Sib 1 asked her husband to take care of something Christmas night and Sean had trapped him in some inane conversation and Don literally couldn't get away).

Here's my two cents on this:
1. She never offers to help with the dinner or the clean up afterward. NEVER. She just stands there or sits in the other room while Mom or I or you guys are clearing or cleaning.
2. Instead of joining us in a group, she sits on the livingroom couch with said husband and stares at all of us. How socially dysfunctional is that?
3. Kim is right. We all were watching her kid. And what really galled me was that Don could not come to the dinner table Christmas night because he was looking for the wild child's sippy cup.

What the hell was DON looking for the sippy cup?! And Missy and Sean knew this was happening and just sat there at the table. I actually went wild with mom over the phone on this and she agreed. She had seen it too.

Whatever. The matriarch says that Missy called a day later and never brought up the subject again. But someday, just someday I hope she brings it up with ME. Remember the bed from Mom's apartment and that whole incident? Jesus!

Oh my. That was decidedly stress relieving. What else can I unload on you guys... ;)

Slice, dice and other fall out...

Darlings, behold the citrus juicer and avocado slicer 2007! These are must-have items for an obsessive chef husband. Without prompting on my part, he has deemed it necessary to photograph his culinary handiwork with some of his newest Christmas-present kitchen aids (thanks in no small part to super sibling #1). Shouts of joy resonated from the kitchen this past weekend as he tried out these new gadgets. Suffice to say, he is one happy little cook.

On a related holiday note... I hear through the grapevine that sibling #6 and husband were feeling neglected once again over Christmas. In fact, said husband told his wife he was OBSERVING the rest of us and had decided he and sib #6 have nothing in common with us. THAT's interesting... Perhaps the 100-year-old Scotch did it. Even though I made a point of asking the non-drinkers if they'd like to try a sip. Apparently, sib #6 mentioned feeling like an outsider to the matriarch and the matriarch (and Andy, too, apparently) gave her an ear full about how ridiculous she was being. Which, I must say, is a mild bit of vindication for us all.

Happiest of New Years. Love from me.