Muffacino

The Gym Girls - collectively - not just mine, can talk me into just about anything.  They work hard.  They are young, innovative, fresh.  And - they love it when I bake.  Ok, it is a bit of an ego-boost to have pre-teens and teens LIKE something created by an adult.  If you have one, or are around them, or remember what they are like, you will realize that they are a tough audience.  Not easily impressed.

So when they compliment me  (:-), then start pouring out all the endless possibilities that their young minds can dream up; well, I do my best to make it happen.  Last week it was cookies and cream muffins.  Vanilla muffins, crunched up Oreo cookies, sweetened cream cheese filling.  They debated the pros and cons of the filling, but over all a hit.  For the record, I started making muffins for the car-pool girls when they needed healthy snacks on the way to gym, and my daughter had gone primarily vegetarian.  These muffins were packed with calories and tons of soy, nut and dairy based proteins crammed into the crevices.  Banana is the favorite, with pumpkin cream cheese (a seasonal item) running a close second.

There is nothing remotely healthy about the latest trend in muffining.  They are eliminated from cupcake status merely by the lack of frosting.  But they LOVE them. And I make them.  maybe they love ME.  In my delusional attempt to stay within the favor of the adolescents in my life - I am driven by taste, texture and their creative palates.  The Mufficino has been floating around in the coversation for weeks.  Coffee (yes with caffeine - dare I tell their parents?), chocolate, swirls of creamy vanilla.  MochaMufficino.

Last night was the attempt.  Today the judgment.  
Vanilla muffin batter (heavy on the sugar, I use a particularly fluffy recipe), divided into thirds,  instant coffee in one, baker's cocoa in another, equal parts in the muffin cups, swirl with a skewer - bake to perfection.  Sweet, Sweet Success.  They DO love me.  

 

Atlas Shrugged

Not the book by Ayn Rand (excellent book, but for titling purposes, I like the imagery it conjures).
The weight of the world is temporarily lifted from the hero's shoulders.  As the Earth tumbles, crashing and bouncing to the ground, mayhem ensues.

Even what elevates the common good is often not good for anyone right away.  Things that benefit one person, is often not good for anyone.  There is always the mess to clean up.  Right now, after a grueling process, things are temporarily settled with my ex.  The DOR lawyer warned me that I was "rolling over," and allowing myself to be taken advantage of.  Perhaps true - but 3 years of "fighting the good fight" has left me deeply in debt, emotionally bruised, and unable to truly go on with my life.  The bad news is - it is never truly over.  The problem with "temporary" orders is that either party can decide to challenge it any time.  Guess who won't be jumping back into court voluntarily any time soon?  Who wants to make a bet on how soon I get drug into court again?

Florida's information dissemination and book keeping has a serious lag.  I have apparently been getting child support for three months.  No one bothered to tell me.  Kind of a boon.  It is not much support, and has been reduced even further as of yesterday, but after 10 month of nothing (OK, 7 months of nothing, 3 months of secret hidden support that I did not know about), it is nice to -  well - buy the kidlet her school shoes.

Never in a million years could I work in family law.  What kind of monster watches a man break down, while looking at him with little more than contempt?  Oh yeah - ME.  I surprise myself that I care so little.  Your grave - you dug it, have a nice rest.  Family law workers deal with people in their worst possible manifestations.  I am probably a mild monster compared to what they get.  Yet, I cannot bring myself to be at all sympathetic.  I am grateful that I have enough character to not take PLEASURE in his misery.  I do not have insight into the secret laws of Karma - but this turn of events is no surprise to me, and I am pretty confident that I am not screwing up my status in the eyes of god by not rescuing him.  Not that I could rescue him.  Seriously I am but a small portion of the storm he has created.  I have released him from the early issues that started this mess - but it was those very issues that made me unable to feel any empathy now. 

I have hope that yesterday's result will release me from the constant harassment that I have come to expect.  And, I have every intention of enjoying everyday ahead of me.  I am grateful for the amazing family, amazing friends, and fabulous support around me.  And oh - yeah, very, very happy to have a job!

Learning

I spent the weekend at a continuing ed course. (and I tried to make the font bigger, but blogspot rebelled today). Gruelling schedule, left at 5:00am to head for the east coast, made it to the 8:00am course in the freezing little board room on nothing but coffee and a donut (not my usual fare); ate chips, cookies, chocolate kisses, cokes and coffee all day while trying to stay awake. Spent a truly fun and relaxing evening with an old school friend and his lovely family. Back to learning on Sunday. Long drive home.

The first 8 hours was anatomy and physiology of a system I am largely unfamiliar with (vestibular - you know the little loopy things in the inner ear that make the world spin after you get off the roller coaster). A tiny little bit of test and treat at the end of the first day. Sunday morning full of review of stuff I didn't get in the first place, followed by test and treatment of some of the most common vestibular disorders - which for the record, are not the most common causes of dizziness. I was lucky enough to be the guinea pig for the instructor the last half of Sunday. Honestly, I do not know how others stayed awake. I am a kinesthetic learner - I have everything from Sunday afternoon SOLID. Saturday might as well have not happened, except for the sleep deprivation and upset stomach.

I have not been to a continuing ed course in a long time. Over the past 7 years I have mostly done CE's in my areas of expertise, and often I know as much as the instructor, except for a few new, key points, or if it is mostly new, I have a very solid base in the anatomy of whatever we are discussing. This was way different for me. I won't use much of it, I did not get enough "hands-on" to feel confident with my skills.

The things I learned most had nothing to do with the course. I have gotten less sociable, and less pushy. I rarely speak in class, and only ask questions as points of clarification. In college, and for many years I was "that guy," questioning instructors, wanting deeper, fuller knowledge on every subject, bringing in my life experiences to "enrich" the class. Saturday I ate lunch alone. I have probably never done that. I ended up making some good connections, exchanging email addresses with a couple of students, but usually at courses, I am little miss social - I want to get to know everyone, make contacts, etc. Maybe because I no longer own my own business, I am not driven to make connections? Maybe because I was exhausted and didn't really want to be there?

I also see instructors as being significantly more human that I remember them being. I don't expect them to know everything, just respect that they know more than I do. If I am tired of sitting there, they HAVE to be tired of getting yawned at. So I have lightened up. Less drama. kind of nice

And hey - if your marbles are loose - I can fix that now.

Rolling, Rolling, Rolling.

Lots to write.  But its just life stuff.  no funny, poignant stories.  no deep insides into the thoughts of man. little accomplishments.  Good things.
Gym girl is back to full practice.
no pain, no injuries.
I am NOT smarter than a 6th grader.  6th grade geography is hard.  Way harder than I remember.
my child is as freakishly ocd an anal as i. 
i want to be ee cummings when I grow up.
i can live with capitals for emphasis.
not sure how to function without puncuation
perhaps i do not really want to grow up.
EGADS
what if i am a grown up?
what has the world come to?
prejudice in the privacy of your own home is prejudice none the less.
I have reached the point that I can understand another's humor and be offended by it anyway.
I also realize that I can be offended without being judgemental towards those that offend.
Damn -
I am growing up.

Chivalry

Wednesdays I drive the gym car pool.  My kid doesn't have gym, but we drive right by on the way home, and Wednesday is one of my early days.  


So I'm at out office dropping off paperwork, a little distracted, because I don't want to be late getting the girls.  I gather my metal clipboard with storage area (a.k.a The Brain) and throw it in my bag, then I grab the little file box where the week's papers live, and squeeze it in the bag.  Then I put it all in the back, hop into the car, and pull out onto Fowler avenue.  Click, Woosh.


The back opens.  In my rear view mirror, I see my lonely little bag with my file box and clipboard peaking out, sitting on the asphalt.  Pull over, hop out, start running.  The light at 56th street changes, and cars are heading toward my bag.  The first 5 cars stop, and go around, the panic lessens slightly when. . . . . .  A huge SUV, black, menacing, jaws wide open, teeth gnashing rolls over the bag, tires straddled, nothing is hit - but the back draft starts to scatter objects.  And   IT   IS   ON!  Cars rushing, things flying, I know the next large car will break open the file and protected patient information will be scattered all over Fowler avenue.  


And a passerby, wearing a dark mask and flowing cape steps into traffic and STOPs them all.  Thank you, dark stranger.  He helps me gather my things, quickly, wordlessly.  (OK - he might NOT have been wearing a cape, but he deserves one).  I actually thought he was going to get killed.  It is not like he hesitated, or signaled anyone to stop until he was in the street.

Chivalry is not dead.  But it has gotten stupid.


I am not ungrateful.  I am just glad that my knight did not die. I really prefer having to replace all of my stuff to holding someone's mangled body while I thank them for a kindly deed gone askew.  The good note is that the only casualty was my clip board which I promptly replaced.  My sphygmomometer is a little wanky, but seems to continue to be accurate when the needle doesn't stick, no patient information was scattered in the wind, and I made it to school in time to pick up the girls.









 

Worst Mom Ever!

Gym Girl has to scratch bars this week-end.  I don't think either one of us were anticipating this, and frankly without the support of her coaches, I would have caved.

She is fine.  No pain.  John, the amazing, wonderful, physical therapist I took her to see for a second opinion, agreed with my plan, explained to her the dangers of starting back early, put her on a stabilization program.  And she is fine.  No pain.  Yesterday, I got to her gym ahead of her, taped her arm, talked to her coaches, and went through the formality of getting her up on the bar.  Hang.  Pull over.  Drop. Swing. No Pain.  Check the arm for displacement.  CLUNK.  Not click; CLUNK.  Put on grips.  Kip. Swing. Check shoulder.  Clunk. One last time.  Clear hip.  Tap swings.  Have coach feel it also.  Clunk. Grind.  Crap!

As I'm starting to realize it is NOT a good idea, she is very excited that she has no pain.  Thank god for her coach!  He suggested that she scratch bars.  Totally unacceptable to the Wild Child.  I gave her the alternative to not compete at all.  Not happy about that, either, but scratching bars is a slightly better option.  Her coach totally took the fall.  He told her it is a COACHING decision, not one that her mom gets to make. Of course, if it was not for me, none of her coaches would have known she got hurt.  It is ALL MY FAULT. I watched a little of her practice.  She is strong.  I haven't watched her in a long time.  She looks great.  And she is barely talking to me.

Nothing like the icy coldness of pre-teen angst.  Antartica could not be colder.

On Another note - Wild Child Pics has a facebook page.  Be a Fan!

 

Laborious Day

Wild Child is at her Dad's for the weekend.  I miss her.  He usually gives her up on the Saturday night when he has her, but apparently he hurt is back, and is not going out.  Good that he is spending extended time with her, he hasn't seen her in a couple of weeks, but I miss her.

  And I have been madly making executive decisions on her business.  Bad mommy.  But, she's not here, and we all know how OCD I can get.  To be fair, she and I have discussed all the decisions I have made, but details (which prints for which products) we only glossed over.  The web is pretty fluid.  If she hates it, we can change it.  Oh - link, link - if anyone actually reads this, you will want to see the changes:   www.WildChildPics.com  Click on "products."  I love the web.  Cafe press lets you put your images on a variety of products, as they only print to order, the artist gets a commission, so we don't have to buy stock and wonder what sells.  It only allows 1 image per product (meaning if we have a "Carnage" coffee mug, we cannot offer another mug of the same size with a different image). Of course, if it takes off and she starts selling lots of stuff, then an upgrade to a not-free store will allow us to do that .  Baby Steps.

I also made purses this weekend.  They suck.  The red one is crooked and lop-sided, and I feel like I stole it from Santa. The white one is much better, less crooked, has potential; besides, they were just prototypes for the real plan.  The Darling Man has discovered ways to print on  canvas, as large as 11x17.  So, if we were to have him print some of photogirl's colorful, patterned pictures (I am particulary thinking of one with kapok blossoms) we could potentially sell photoprint purses.  OOh.  Compulsive, I mentioned Compulsive, right?  
Then of course there was dog-bathing, and walking, watching really bad movies.  Busy weekend.  Today is the girl's birthday.  We will probably have a houseful of people here when she gets home.  Beer-Butt chicken, caesar salad, baked spaghetti, birthday cake, key lime pie if I get to the store early enough.  An end to an era - she really is a pre-teen at 12.