But right now it's time for a dog walk.

Whenever I pick Bubba up and no one else is in the car who will call him out, he tells me tall tales the whole way home. Last night he told me lots of whoppers, but my favorite one was that when he started going to the Boys & Girls club, no one would talk to him until he competed in an epic rap battle.

It has also become a tradition for me to whisper the best tall tales of the night to Chris when he gets home and he guffaws into his pillow.

The boys went exploring and played video games while I starting making bread dough. Later, I watched a movie in my room while the boys had a Nerf gun war in the rest of the house and the animals hid behind me. Once the spirit of Rambo left, they went into Ant's room to watch Paul, then Dude, Where's My Car, then Paul again.

I finished up the bread late and I didn't let it rise long enough, but in the end result it didn't matter. Every time I left my room I swooned at the smell of fresh bread. It tasted awesome. I may try to make more today while I know what I did wrong. It's supposed to be cool today, so better to try today than when it's 95 outside. Besides, these loaves will be gone fast and I would like to try to freeze some.

Mmmmm, fresh baked bread!

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Almost finished

I love it when a puzzle is mostly done and I can see it like this in the light- just puzzle shapes and the outlines of missing pieces. This "pieces within pieces" one is especially neat.

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Neat!

Last night around bedtime, I sat down with Chris and started scrolling through Facebook on my fancy new phone and I came across this post from KRNV, a local news station:

"Brandon (Their meterologist) is saying the International Space Station is brighter now and visible during the evening. It looks as if it will be a great sight tonight. Grab the kids if they are still up. 10:26-10:30. Appearing in the NNW and fading in the ENE sky. It will be a bright white dot moving at about 17,000mph and over 200 miles above Earth. If you don't catch it tonight, we have attached viewing opportunities over the next several days."

I checked the time.  I read the post aloud to Chris.  He asked the time.  10:20.

He leapt off the couch and ran out the front door.  I got to the front door and he called back to me to grab the keys.  I called Ant, who came out in pajamas.  "Grab some shoes!"  The dogs followed us as we scrambled.

"Come on!" yelled Chris.

He asked why we were bringing the dogs along and both Ant and I told him the dogs were excited and wanted to go for a ride.  We piled into the car and Chris drove us out of the neighborhood.

"Time check!"

"10:24."

I've got a sweatshirt but I can't put it on because Riley is already in my lap.  We get out of the neighborhood and Chris fakes right, left, and straight while trying to figure out which direction is going to get us as far away from the lights as quickly as possible.  He chooses left and we cruise towards Red Rock.  I read the post aloud so Ant knows what on earth is going on.

"Time check!"

"10:25."

We're headed down Red Rock Road when Chris sees it and yells.  He pulls the Dodge into the gravel shoulder, hazards on, people out, dogs have to stay in the car.  We lean against the hood and watch this light- it looked more pinkish than white- haul ass across the sky.  It doesn't sound very fast to say that it crossed the sky in four minutes, but it was 200 miles up and moving at 17,000 mph.  That's about 283 miles per minute.  I have seen the International Space Station with my own eyes, or at least what I am told is the International Space Station.

When the pink light faded out of sight, we piled back in the car and drove back to the house, all excited over our mini adventure.

This timetable of future viewing opportunities is a pain in the ass to post, so check facebook or try to click here.

A yogi practices spiritual insight.

This morning a vet wanted to know when his narcotics were coming. I found the prescription and told him when they were sent out. He was surprised to learn that- he thought he'd be picking them up. Someone has to sign for that package, so he wanted to know when he needed to be at home. We get a daily email with tracking numbers, but I had no email for Monday or today. I gave him my best estimate and waited for acceptance of this information, but this guy was still marveling that someone marked "mail" instead of "pick up." Dude. There are people waiting. I'm sitting there wondering why he's still on the phone and suddenly my computer dings and there's today's email with tracking numbers and what do you know, he's on the list. Instantly, I get to answer my own question: THAT is why he was still on the phone.

My boss's husband died Friday morning. I know he was sick, but I don't know how much that helps.

"How sad," I said to my coworker- a nurse.

"Yes, well these things happen," John said. "Are you doing okay?"

He's in charge while my boss is gone, and yesterday he handed out info on the memorial service, which maybe two of us can go to because it's during work, and we must man the phones, but there was also a viewing. As soon as I saw it wasn't Monday I was relieved. I didn't have to think about it until late last night. I've been to one funeral, but never a viewing, and the only dead bodies I've seen were on TV. I presented my conundrum to Chris, who said he doesn't like going to those and I should go if I have a morbid fascination. Well, there was only one person who was going to give me the right answer, so I texted Mom. I got the response back early this morning, which was exactly what I expected to hear: Go. Wear something nice.

I thought about bringing nice pants to change into as I pulled them on. I got in the car feeling proud because it was too late to waffle or dodge- I was already dressed to go. At work, someone had posted the obituary, and I read about the man I was going to see. He fished, he was a father... and every year he competed in a sand castle competition. As the day wound down, I overheard some coworkers discussing the route and asked to join their caravan.

We arrived when the hearse did. We went in, signed the guest book, hugged our boss, met her daughter, and hovered near the back as the coffin was brought in. John, the nurse, was there, and was the only one of us who could socialize in a sane fashion.

Another of our nurses suggested we get in line and I positioned myself behind my mentor. I told her this was news for me; she said to pause and say a prayer for him. As we approached, I caught a scent that was sweet and unfamiliar and when I realized what it was I almost gave Melinda a flat tire. Then I turned to see.

He didn't look like his picture in the obituary, but that was small and black and white. He looked different than I pictured anyway. I paused and told him that I was going to ask to see his sand castles.

Awkwardness abounded as my group said their goodbyes and left the relatives behind. The only person sitting down was likely the father. He was a very old man with suspenders, a bald head and a little belly. He looked very sad and I wished I could get over my own discomfort to sit with him or say anything. Instead, I left with my group and outside I said I was glad to be with them. They agreed.

There were four of us, and John came by himself. I know two other nurses were coming, but I felt sad that more of us weren't there. Then I felt glad I went, awkwardness and all.

At home, Chris was busy and I went to lay down. He came in a while later and asked how it was.

"Messes with your head, doesn't it?"

He sat down and pulled me back into his arms and let me cry for all the sadness I saw. I said something about how I had never even met this guy, and that's when I realized that as much as that rocked me, I have no memories to connect me to him, no memories of his life. I don't know how I made it to 33 without seeing a dead body, but I imagine the buildup was bad enough without it being someone I love dearly.  Aha.  I don't want to say this was all for a reason, but maybe just that it has its reasons.  I'm sent right back to the idea that while sad things happen, and sadness has its place, opportunities and insights appear as if the universe is speaking to you.  Just like my phone call this morning, finding out why the vet was still on the phone.

And something else occurred to me tonight as I processed the things that nobody wants to process: a Yogi Berra quote. You know the one.

"You should always go to other people's funerals, otherwise, they won't come to yours."

I always found it funny and forgettable until tonight, when I got that those "other people" aren't the deceased ones, they are the ones who are left behind. Thanks for the always sound advice, Mom.

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Movie Blog

Fido

Last night as we were driving home, Ant told me he found Fido. He said it was one of his favorite zombie movies and that it was funnier than Shaun of the Dead. I said there was no way- no zombie movie could be funnier than Shaun of the Dead. He said ok, maybe not, but it's still pretty funny. It's a tall order for me to like a zombie movie, but ok. I was wary at first, but it was pretty funny. Somewhere along the line when I was wondering about people's fascination with zombies, I though it must be due to their escapability factor. As far as nonexistent creatures go, a werewolf or vampire would pretty much have to be unaware of your existence for you to escape. In the event of zombies, all you need is to be ambulatory and carry a blunt object and you have a good chance of survival. Fido was actually a pretty cute movie, showing how zombies might be mistakenly treated like pets after a zombie war. Completely silly, but cute and a nice love story.

Freaks & Geeks

Rachel informed me that I must watch this show, so I put it in my Blockbuster queue. It only took about 4 years to let it get to the top of the list. I think it's good timing now, even though Ant's still in middle school. He adores the show, especially the Joan Jett song in the opening credits. "I don't give a damn 'bout by bad reputation," Ant goes around singing. Of course, this show is about a group of kids in high school that are supposed to be the outcasts, but they all feel quite familiar. It's not just knowing someone similar in high school, it's feeling similar. They capture feelings I had forgotten about. I was just telling Ant about how weird it feels to be a teenager,to not feel like you're any different, then having a kid in your life and suddenly sounding like your mom. This is an interesting time to reflect on such things, because yesterday marked five years since Ant came to live with us. We had planned to celebrate, but Chris was not able to break loose from work. I decided to just spend the evening with Ant and we'll take him for ice cream today. Besides, he'd been at the ballpark with Chris, working in the sun all afternoon. All he'd eaten was oatmeal and fries, and the smell of the soldering smoke almost made him throw up. I figured ice cream might put him over the edge. I really wanted to celebrate yesterday, but I was certainly observing the occasion. I looked at his hands and how much he's grown. I tried not to let the attitude and self-righteousness of his age ruin the conversation. I tried to keep my own surliness at bay. I cleaned the kitchen while he snuck around the house, trying to surprise me. We drove to Walmart to get Chris a Father's Day card and other supplies. Our cart made a thumping noise, so he tried to make music in time to it and we giggled as I sped up and slowed down. He figured out that he could shock me as I drove the cart, and still found it amusing long after I did. He told me about his girlfriend.

So yeah, Freaks & Geeks. Bet you thought I forgot, huh? We've been watching the shows at different times and reporting back to each other. I am seeing myself in the daughter and the parents, which actually helps me with perspective. I am trying to remind myself lately that this is his life, after all, and my job should be to teach him how to keep himself safe and how to be kind without crushing his dreams or losing my mind in the process. That is a wobbly line, indeed. But watching this reminds me that it really isn't as bad as it looks- there are mistakes, but sometimes it's tough enough just to go to school every day.

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I am fabulous.

But I don’t WANT to come back from my break.

Everybody feels the need to spell their name for me.  This is rarely necessary, since I only need the first letter of the last name and last four digits of their SSN.  Working here is teaching me not to launch into a long, meandering tirade when I call a customer service number.  Now I try to briefly summarize what I want and ask them what they need from me.  And I try to remember their name.  And I try to be nice, no matter how annoyed I am.  I always ask Chris to talk to the cable company for me because I immediately want to wring their necks, but now I’m reluctantly realizing that no matter how long I’ve been yanked around, THIS person is likely new to the situation and might try to help me if I’m not a total asshole.  I’m always kind of thrilled when someone is all angry and wants to talk only to their doctor or a pharmacist when I can help them.  It’s a game to see if I can calm them down enough to find out what they need, then surprise them when I can actually help them.  Ha ha, see?  You think I’m just a lowly messenger, but I am SO much more than that!

But Jennyway, these damn spellers are making me crazy.  We could be halfway through the phone call by now, but here you are going: “My last name is Beelzebub. That’s B as in boy, EE, L as in longer conversation than necessary, Z as in zebra, E, B as in boy, U, B as in boy.”  Uh… thanks.  Now can I have your last 4?  Sometimes this is helpful, like when they say, “Hi, my last name is ?An a;I;sz n; ovds xdoid c, that’s Q...”  Other times this is not helpful, like when their name is Thompson.  Or Smith.  I had a guy spell Smith for me yesterday.  I like the people who say “Blue, like the color” or “French, like the European people.”

Good grief.  I just checked my total calls for the day and I am currently tied with my record, which I set on Monday.  118 calls.  Sheesh.  One more call to break my record.  Now I’m wishing the phone would ring.

Chris and Ant have been working very hard on the yard and the house.  It’s nice to come home and find them in the yard, struggling with sprinklers or plants.  They show off their hard work and I swoon appropriately.  We have an ant problem (lowercase this time) and it would be made a lot better if Chris could just put his damn dishes in the dishwasher.  He has been sealing up the cracks in the window that they keep coming through, but we MUST REMOVE THE TEMPTATION!!!  He seems to think it’s just part of kitchens and they aren’t really a problem.  That’s just because he doesn’t want to do his own damn dishes.

120 calls.  New record.

Exploding hearts sounds like a bad thing.

If I post too many pictures of my dogs, it's because my heart explodes with love when I'm around them. I can't help but feel that if your heart doesn't also explode when you see how adorable they are, well... you must not have one. I imagine this is why people's Facebooks are covered in baby pictures, but of course, no one finds those more precious than their own parents do. Except maybe their grandparents. I have a confession to make: When I post a picture, I can't stop looking at it. Why would I want to if it makes me so happy my heart explodes?

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