Bear Lives Here

April 28, 2005 | Category: Mother to the First Power

A pounding on my front door this morning.

Finally, I staggered to open it. Somewhat dressed. 8:49AM and I got to bed at maybe 2:30AM. There was a neighbor lady, from up the block. The one from that historical house that hosts piano brunch benefits for local politicians.

She was looking harried. "Does Bear live here?" she asked.

I blinked.

"Bear. With the red hair. He lives here?"

I blinked again into the sun. After a long moment, the starter on my brain finally caught and my mouth begin moving. Slowly. "Yes."

"Well," she snapped, impatient. "I have my Grandson with me. All Day. Can Bear come to play at my house?."

"Uh, he goes to Montessori in the mornings. I pick him up at 11:30." I don't know why I am having this conversation. Her Caddy is idling over the oily spot in my driveway. In the front seat is a boy, I can barely make out his brown hair.

I vaguely remember my son referring to someone named Caillou. Of course, I thought it a fanciful story.

But no, "His name is Kyle," she tells me. Her gray hair is sensibly cut, her lipstick is perfect, her skin unmade-up. For a minute, I see my grandmother standing there. No-nonsense Yankee woman, cutting to the chase.

For 4 years, we've lived in Pleasantville. Her house is on the way up to the park, about a block away. For 4 years, she has waved back as we walked past. First with the baby carriage, then the stroller, then wagon, then bike. My son growing up before her eyes, as we've walked past. And now, he is a person. A boy to be sought. He is no longer my son. I am now Bear's mother.

"I'm Elizabeth," I say. Trying to find my manners.

"I know," she retorts. She looks frustrated. Her grandson is 10 years old, recently moved in with his dad to her house. I learn this later. My Bear is only 4, but he plays well with children of all ages.

"I will send him by, around 1," I tell her. "With his babysitter," I add.

An expression of barely controlled asperity, she nods. She marches to the white Caddy and opens the door to get in. I can hear her telling Kyle that Bear will be by at 1, and he smiles at me.

I smile back.

At 4:30PM, Bear comes racing home with Elia after his playdate. Grinning, laughing. A big kid has played with him for ages. Transformers. Lego's. Elia tells me how genteel and welcoming Kyle's grandmother was to them, how relieved to have a playmate for her grandson.

"I told him," Bear says between long slurps of juice. "I said, you can come to my house anytime. Just ring my doorbell and if I'm home then I will come out and play. That's ok, right?' he asks.

I kiss his sweaty forehead and smile. I remember years of doorbells from my childhood, of boys shouting for my brother. Of pick-up games and flashlight tag.

I look at my son, and realize that the future has already started.

Bear lives here.

Powerless

| Category:

Pray for the children.

Children will hurt themselves. They will cut themselves, starve themselves, fail everything they should be attempting. They will bait their parents, their teachers, their peers.

It is all they can do to try and get what they want or need. Children have so little influence over their own existence. What they wear, eat, or do is often dictated by the big people all around them.

They know they are powerless in so many ways - and the love/hate relationship they have with dependancy will dictate so much of their attitudes towards the world as they grow.

I've seen it in Bear. Not yet equipped enough to explain what he needs or feels, he will act out. He will signal with behavior that something is wrong.

Frustrated to communicate what hurts. Frustrated to make it better.

I'll watch as he withdraws into himself. Climbs up into his lofted bed and seeks the stash of pacifiers he keeps by his pillow and clutches them in little chubby hands. Laying across the mattress on his back, thumping his feet against the wall, sorting it out in his mind.

Sometimes, that's enough and he comes out of his room in a better place. Other times, he waits for one of us, his treasured adults, to come in after him and help him give voice to what is inside.

His big blue eyes will reflect the vulnerability and confusion inside of him. It's as though, each time, he is realizing that Briton Fisherman's prayer - "O God, thy sea is so great, and my boat is so small."

We coax him back into the bubble we have created for him. We look up at the plastic planets hanging from the ceiling of his room. At the fish in the fishtank swimming happily. We listen to what hurts, what scares, what angers and we find a way to put the bad thing in a box. Then we decorate the box or beat up the box or sink it.

He'll feel stronger again. Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy and all his illusions carefully back in place.

This is our job.

To make sure that Bear is convinced that there are no monsters under the bed that we won't vanquish for him. That he inhabits a world he believes is safe - in which his parents are towering superheroes, his independence sacrosanct, and his voice always heard. Even when he is forced to speak with actions because he does not yet know the words.

Like the tulips he plucked from our carefully planted garden and presented to me with flourish, to tell me last weekend that he loves me like he loves pretty flowers.

Like the other night, after working for 11 straight hours on a conference call that was a marathon of frustration. I crawled up into bed with Bear and snuggled him as he was starting to drift off. I hadn't connected with him all day. We giggled and whispered about nothing at all.

Then he smelled my breath. My stinky otter breath. He turned and said that he just remembered that he hadn't brushed his teeth yet. Bear happily slid (like this bed) down to the floor, turned and looked up at my tired face. "Mommy, do you want me to bring you your toothbrush?" (This was more than a *hint*.)

"No," I smiled. "I can do it for myself, thank you.”

"So can I!" he announced happily. Then he marched off to do just that.

He was excited to be “big enough” to brush his own teeth.

This.

This imoment, and millions of other like it, are the reason why tragedies like Beslan rip at our souls.

There exists a blood obligation, as parents and as humans, to protect the children.

Because these are the ones who can’t protect themselves.

And then I realized that although it sickens me, I am not surprised that 400 children in Sweden are starving themselves to death in a living comas.

Their passivity is the tool they have and they are wielding it in desperation.

They have no other way to face or change the world that has failed them. They are powerless to make themselves safe.

Because outside their own small bodies, they are powerless.

Even to demand a safe place to live.

So powerless.

Except against themselves.

Letters to my Bookkeeper

April 26, 2005 | Category: In My Life

There are two women who keep the Good Ship Corporate Mommy afloat.

Elia, Bear's babysitter, who treasures my son as though he was her own flesh and blood. And Monica, my bookkeeper, who keeps my finances untangled, bills paid, and allots me a decent weekly allowance.

I love these women. I need these women. I am constantly amazed that they choose to work with me, because me? I am a pain in the ass to work for.

No. Really.

This is how I informed Monica that I was going to be about $1000 over budget this week, out of the blue -

Monica -

1) My computer is dying. It's is making a noise right now that is scaring the cat. I need a new computer ASAP - like, this week. My company-issued laptop will limp me through but the hard drives on this baby are what I need. The noise just got louder. A jet is landing in my office. Yikes!

2) Our lawnmower is dead. I can hire a service (which would be nice because we're both lazy when it comes to lawn maintenance) or we can spend $$ on a new mower - we have a couple of weeks to decide, after that we'll need to put a bright orange antennae on Bear's head when he goes out to play (so we'll know where to find him)

Are we having fun yet?

Never Again

April 22, 2005 | Category: On The Job

We have a new travel agency that we're using and they booked me on a teeny-tiny baby jet for my ride home. 90 minutes on a swirling, rising, dropping, teacup ride from hell. I'm still nauseaus.

But I'm home.

The Morning Routine. Or not.

April 18, 2005 | Category: Mother to the First Power

Because CD had an early meeting, I took Bear to preschool today. Because I haven't done the morning routine with Bear regularly in over six months when I do have to get him up and to school, we run into all kinds of pitfalls.

1. The Battle Of the Trophy.

Bear won a trophy at his Tae Kwan Do competition on Friday Night and he wanted to take it to school. It's his first-ever trophy, it's as tall as he is, and even though they gave one to every competitor under a certain age you can bet that Bear thinks that HIS trophy is unique in all the world. I had to physically restrain my little prince from sneaking it off the shelf about eleventy million times.

2. The Fashion Disaster.

Bear has grown out of all his clothes.

Normally, I would have gone to my favorite bi-annual swap meet by now and stocked up. This is the first one I have missed since he was born. The consequence was a tearful choice.

There was an old (you know, from last winter) pair of pants that now stop at his shins ("My favorite!") and cut off blood circulation to his waist when snapped up. Or the new "Church" pants that haven't been hemmed up yet and had to be rolled up so many times that it looked like his ankles were wearing flotation devices.

We went with the flotation slacks. With a green t-shirt and grey socks. And sandals (because his sneakers are still wet from "washing the car" yesterday). To sum up: He was dressed in the very latest refugee attire.

3. Breakfast of Champions.

Bear wanted nothing to do with food. Sat down and began crying at the thought of Cheerio's. Told me that Cheerio's would make him vomit. Told me Cheerio's would poison him and turn him into a Transformer. A BAD Transformer.

4. Cleanliness was next to Impossible.

Bear brushed his teeth well enough but then refused to wash his face North of his nose. We wrestled in the bathroom for several long minutes and I am not ashamed to admit - ALL that boy's parts were CLEAN when we emerged.

However, we were both wet. So I found another clashing t-shirt.

5. Pack Rat.

Bear then insisted on packing for the 20 minute drive. He gathered up books. He grabbed about 15 thousand toys and began loading them into his arms. I drew the line at one. He drew the line at four. We settled on two.

6. He'll have the half-caf soy latte with cinnamon.

I bought him a "Purpleberry" muffin at the Dunkie's Drive-Thru (For those of you from somewhere west or south of Boston - that's Dunkin Donuts). And an iced coffee for me. About 5 minutes later, a choking Bear asked me to pass him his juice. Juice? Oh, crap. Yes, I sent my child to school with a stomach full of sugar, fruit, and carbs - all laced with caffeine.

We talked about what it was like when I grew up. He was fascinated to hear that his Nana would get up and make his "Duncle" and I breakfast - every.single.morning. AND pack lunch for us. He began listing all kinds of food to see if his Nana had made that: bacon, sausage, pancakes, fruit juices. All while eating a commercially made muffin.

7. Disco Lives!

When we finally pulled up at his school, he and I were singing "I will survive" by Gloria Gaynor (Bear knows all the words) at the top of our lungs.

I pushed the remote on the side door and the parent helping unload the kids this morning jumped back as a cacophany of noise and stuff came spilling out - music, muffin parts, toys, napkins. My son was covered in crumbs and grinning.

To sum up; my son arrived at school this morning in the disguise of a caffienated, sugar-high preschooler dressed like a refugee and singing disco.

8. Be Very Nice to the Crazy Lady.

The parent stuck her head in back the van and I turned down the music with a snap of my wrist.

"Your husband out of town again?" she asked.

"No, just an early meeting. He'll be driving Bear the rest of the week," I replied.

She just BARELY stopped herself from saying "Good." I could see it in her eyes.

I pulled away with a squeal of tires and an uncontrollable laugh. And turned Gloria back on. Loud.

You made me love you...

April 16, 2005 | Category:

As I mentioned, last Monday I finally met other People Who Blog. In fact, I met other Munivians. This will go down as a historic moment for me because I've been a SnoozeButton fan since my New-To-Blogging-Let-MeMake-An-Ass-Of-Myself days (oh, wait, I 'm still IN those days...)

You want to know more? Here's Jim's version of meeting me (and Clancy): No, HERE.

I can shut up now

April 14, 2005 | Category:

These days, I spend hours reminding myself to embrace patience and kindness. Life is a long slow pull of the band-aid. Over and over again I count to 10 to keep myself in check. In 4 languages. Backward.

I must be silent. I must endure. I must listen and thoughtfully respond.

Even with the IDIOT empire-builder who has been left in charge while the real directors are on vacation or something. So he is making me fly to MiddleofNowhere next week ...why? BECAUSE HE CAN. Because I didn't want the dang job and he so desperately, needfully does.

And back at home, where I can't unclench my teeth long enough to have a civil conversation. Where I am baited but not heard. Where I am expected to know how to fix everything, but I don't.

I think back on Job, on how he endured trial after trial. And I know, I'm no Job. I hurt, and I'm angry, and I want a life that doesn't make me nauseated to live.

This evening, I listened while my son talked on my cell phone to my mom. My mom has a tooth ache, and is facing a root canal. My son heard this and carefully explained to her that she shouldn't be sad. Her tooth was going to wiggle and be a little owie but then it would fall out. And that would be called a baby tooth. Then she should put it under the pillow and the Tooth Fairy would bring a present. And it would all turn out OK.

I pulled over into a parking spot for a moment, to wipe my face. How much I wish there was a tooth fairy for life.

Running in Place

April 13, 2005 | Category: In My Life

The new project that I whittled down to a very manageable thing spawned a BIG thing.

You see, it would have been fine if we'd had a Data Center in (insert fictional town name), so I could transfer everything there. But we don't, so I went looking for a Data Center I could use. Things being what thet are, of course, life won't be that easy. Instead I am now tasked with building a Data Center in (insert fictional town name).

*grumble*

At least it won't mean a whole lot of travel.

*sigh*

Meanwhile, Bear is clinging to his daddy like a baby monkey. My heart melts with how happy he is to have CD home - as though they were apart for months, not days.

And Me?

I don't know how to describe it.

I feel like a wind-up toy that has been wound too hard. Ask Jim and Clancy. I met those two amazing guys on Monday night downtown (my first real-life blogger meetings!) and they were so nice, funny, good company. And me? I was running in place, brittle, caffeinated.

I'm hiding from the decisions in my life. But things CAN'T stay like this. I feel like Hamlet, dithering and wrenching like a drama queen. "Alas! Poor Corporate Mommy! I knew her, Horatio. And she was a pain in the ass!"

(Psst, Clancy - welcome! There are some links for you in the extended entry)

Continue reading "Running in Place"

He's Home

April 11, 2005 | Category: In My Life

CD's home, and Bear slept through the night last night in his OWN bed without waking up crying once. What a relief.

Me? I was up too late and now I'm tired for the same reason. CD's home, and I didn't have the bed to myself anymore. For some reason that meant I stayed up until almost 3AM, until I was too tired not to finally crawl into my side of the bed.

Chun Fung

April 08, 2005 | Category: Mother to the First Power

Continue reading "Chun Fung"

24 More Hours

| Category: Family, It's a Trip

Since CD started his new job in November, he has been flown to Texas 3 times to meet up with the national team for training. Yeah, for a job he is already grossly overqualified to do, but let's not start on that subject OK?

When I travel, I have a self-imposed rule that I never plan to be away from my son more that 3 nights. I will usually fly out on a Monday morning and come back on Thursday afternoon.

Meanwhile, CD's boss decided that the entire team should stay over Friday night so he can host them all to a party on Saturday. Unpaid time, mind you.

I can not imagine the scenario where I would demand this OR agree to it. HOW is this boss guy was so insensitive to the burden he's putting on all these guys and so unclear about professional boundaries?

Did he just land on this planet? The deal is that you go out on Wednesday or Thursday night so your team can be home with their families Friday.

But not this guy. Nope.

Bear hasn't seen his Daddy since Monday morning and for whatever reason missed their usual lunchtime conversation the first 3 days of the week. Today, Bear went into an emotional freefall. He refused to talk with CD at lunch. Then demanded to call him hours later, just to break out in tears when CD came on the line.

He found a picture of CD and has been carrying it around today in his pocket. When it was nap time, he brought over all his stuff from his bed to mine. We crawled into bed together, him clutching my hair. His blue eyes staring into mine and welling up. Finally he collapsed into hysterics, wailing for his Daddy and asking if CD was ever coming home. I rocked him until he fell asleep in my arms.

CD just called to tell me that he and the team, at loose ends tonight, are going out to a bar. It took all the patience of an adult not to slam down the phone in frustration.

I've just got to get my son through 24 more hours.

Never get involved in a land war in Asia

April 07, 2005 | Category: Mother to the First Power

I've spent these days in a fugue. Also? In a fug. To see me right now is to disavow any knowledge of me. I look like my mug shot (*cough*).

I've had strange medication dreams. Dreams of living in the woods, off the beaten path. Dreams of living vegetarian and cooking with kale that talks back. Dreams of spiders that wake me, crying. And Dreams of gentle hands, touching, consoling.

I wake up sweaty, in time to drive Bear to or from something. His little hand touches my forehead, rosebud lips pursed. "You're still hot," he sighs. His coppery hair seems blonder, the forsythia and cherry trees are blooming, he brought me bright branches in a pint glass full of water. Proud, concerned.

My heart breaks in love for him.

Wednesday, Bear was pleased that the candidate we voted for the day before had won. He demanded that we drive to the election office so we could get a lawn sign (yes, after the election) and I was too weak to fight him, so off we went.

We walked in, and Bear shook the candidate's hand. Asked politely for the sign.

The candidate had a staffer bring us a couple of signs. "Maybe in a few years you'll be voting for me," the candidate informed Bear expansively.

"I already voted for you."

The candidate looked a little nervous at the thought of a 4 year old voting for just a second and then realized Bear meant that he'd helped ME vote and nodded.

Bear talked to him for a minute about meeting the candidate at the last block party (yes, that my son remembered this from last August was a surprise to me, too) and from the town council meeting we'd attended. The candidate listened and smiled broadly, impressed.

I was feeling woozy so I told my boy that it was time to go home. Bear carefully picked up the two lawn signs (so big for such little arms). The Candidate stood there smirking at his staff, exceedingly pleased with his little supporter.

Bear didn't like that. "You won," he told the candidate. "But the guy who losed was not a bad man and maybe next time I'll vote for him."

The guy was gobsmacked. His staff burst out in laughter.

And sick as I was, even I giggled a bit. OK, OK, I snorted.

Maybe it was the drugs, maybe it is the bone-deep knowledge that all parents have - that our kid is unique and amazing. But what kept going through my head was a corruption of that famous Princess Bride quote:

"You fell victim to one of the classic blunders! The first is never get involved in a land war in Asia. The second, only slightly less well known, is this: Never, ever assume you've got the Bear in your pocket. He may only be 4 years old, but he's definitely his own man."

Dumbass

April 06, 2005 | Category: In My Life

Well, I'm officially a dumbass. Having shirts and hats made up to say so.

Talk about slipping my mind. It took ALL YOUR COMMENTS PLUS TWO people calling and suggesting to me that ya'know, maybe I was sick and, ya'know, maybe it was a a flare. Seriously. It's shocking that I am an official walking and talking adult, y'all. I'm even a licensed mom.

So I scraped my brains off the floor and realized, I'm going to have to crawl into bed with a bottle of Tylenol (preferrably tanned and singing like Il Divo). I'm going to have to stretch and rest and eat (yuck) kale and spinich. I'm going to have to suit up and beat this thing or else the nice men with steroids will have their way with me and then life will seriously suck for a while.

They think I'm going to be there tomorrow and I just realized that I am going to have to cancel out on this trip.

For the first time since I was diagnosed, some 9 years ago, I am going to have to take an actual Lupus-caused sick day.

On the one hand, don't think I am not bloodying my knees in thanksgiving above that I have been so immensely blessed to have such a disease and still go on to live this amazing life - including a miracle child.

On the other hand, this milestone sucks.

But I'll pony up. After all, the world has scattered shimmering rainbows over my life and I'd be a fool to complain that some of them faded too fast.

P.S. Yes. I did. It's Number 38.

What.Ever.

April 05, 2005 | Category: In My Life

There's something wrong with me.

I woke up Sunday with a high fever and sweaty. CD got concerned and drugged me up. Next thing I knew it was like 10 hours later.

Since then I have been suffering under a malaise that I can not explain. My throat is sore, I'm hot and... crunchy inside.

Perhaps more importantly, I am disaffected. I have been plowing through my work at this slow pace but it is the best I can do. I am easily distracted and tired.

CD is in Texas for work until Saturday night. The sun is out and a breeze is coming in the open windows. Bear has a tummy ache and is watching cartoons and sipping juice.

I should go and get his babysitter. I should pack and hem up my pants. I should finish doing my self-evaluation for my review. I should take a shower, and do all that grooming that needs doing before a big corporate meeting. I should synch all my files over to the laptop. I should... I should....

But all I want to do is sit down and stare at the wall, my son curled up by my side.

In 7 hours, we are supposed to be on the road. I have no idea how I am going to make that happen.

One of the team members just instant messaged me with a list of things he would like me to do before I arrive tomorrow morning. I mumbled to myself as I read it "what. ever." and responded to him that we could discuss it when I got there. Which is so unlike me (hey, I push back with the best of them but hey, I'm usually nice about it.) I stunned us both, I think.

Something is wrong. I hope it passes soon.

'Cuz it's on the way

April 04, 2005 | Category:

My father is/was infamous for the plane tickets he would buy for us.

Back in the days when redeeming Frequent Flier points demanded an advanced degree in Chaos Theory, he would always manage to get us from PointA to PointB but there would sure be stops along the way.

I could just imagine him on the phone with one of the airline reps back in high school when he would get me a ticket so I could be shipped off to Florida to spend Spring Break with his folks.

"How many points do I need to spend for a direct flight? 25Billion? Mmmhmm. Ok, what have you got for less points? One stop in Philly? And that's only 10Billion points? Right, can you do a little better? Ok, a stop in NYCity, then on to Detroit, then she sleeps in the lounge in Butte, and finally arrives in Florida at 6AM the next day? And that's HOW many points? 9.5Billion? I'll TAKE IT!"

He once gave my brother a ticket from Seattle to Chicago that stopped not once but TWICE - the second time in Dallas. (You got to figure with kids this dumb, we probably deserved what we got, trip-wise.)

(Did I mention that, unfortunately, my brother fell asleep along the way? He woke up at the trip terminus in Minneapolis dazed and confused with a flight attendant asking him if he knew what day it was. But that's a whole 'nother story.)

Up until I was in my late 20's, all my flights were either purchased by the Church or my Dad, and I suck at geography anyway. So imagine my surprise to discover one day that Atlanta is NOT on the way to everywhere.

I think I actually called and woke my father up with the information. The way he'd been routing me all those years, I figured there was no way he already knew this.

You'd have thought that this would be genetic and that I could get away with a whole lot of fudge on our trips with my son. Heck, no. Turns out he is smarter than your average Bear.

This morning, after preschool, we were discussing our trip tomorrow. We're going to drive to Indianapolis and spend the night with friends and then I'm going to leave him there while I drive to my meetings in B.F.E., heading back to him the very next day.

"I can stay here, with my niñera," he informed me.

"No, this is a better idea."

He looked at me doubtfully and demanded I show him on the map where Indianapolis is and where I would be. So he climbed in my lap and we mapquested the whole trip (see how I made up a whole new verb there?).

Turns out that I was right, but I maturely refrained from doing a touchdown dance.

He sighed and agreed that the friend's house IS, indeed, A) on the way and B) much closer to my meetings than our house is. He further decided (praise the Lord) that he would be happier sleeping there because it would minimize our time and distance apart.

Negotiations with my preschooler completed, he ran outside to try and convince his niñera that she should come along for the ride. Don't place bets one way or the other, folks.

I know one thing for absolute SURE: my son ain't NEVER spending the night sleeping on his luggage in Butte.

Bits 'n Bobs, an April Fool's Pop-Up Post

April 01, 2005 | Category:

Well, Jay got me , but good.

Back in the land where I didn't even realize it WAS April Fool's Day, (cuz I am old and unfun. Be warned) it is Bear's last day on Spring Break and I intended to take the day off and make the most of it. But my inbox is going to fall over if I do. And wipe out, maybe, Cincinatti. (Would anyone miss it?)

[Now! In Stereovision! The inbox that ATE Cincinatti! It will make you laugh, it will make you cry!]

Frell me but I am punchy.

So between juggling Bear and work (and doing neither well) I can't think of a single decent Fool's joke to play. Not a one. Festive, festive... hmmm. How about a pop-up entry?

Ready?

Go.

Once upon a time, Princess Helen had a birthday! YAY Helen!!!! The princess has been, quite literally, a light in my life. When things were especially dark, she sent me an antique candle-holder to brighten the way.

This light is now at the center of our dining table. This weekend, it shared the honor with Bear's Eggs until the ham took center stage.

But only after our homemade Egg Hunt. Which was to make up for us missing the town one the weekend before in favor of the marathon shopping trip. And it was all good, because by Easter morning, the crocuses were finally up!

[Memo to whoever has been kissing Mother Nature's fanny to get the great weather lately: Good Job! If you need reinforcements, give me a call.]

This warm sunshine (and spring break from school) has had my son be-freckling himself outside everyday. There's been no sign yet of the junior McBullies that harassed him last Sunday. My sword-wielding Bear has been enjoying the park and keeping an eye out.

He comes running home with his Nunera on his heels, shouting the status report; "Mommy! I didn't see the bullies today and I looked very hard! As soon as I see them I am going to tell them to leave me alone and shout for Elia! OK?"

Meanwhile, I am officially 100% in my new assignment. I have been chipping away quietly at the travel requirements, and may not even have to spend much time in St Louis at all. (Shhhh...)

At the same time, it is review/raise season and it is amazing how liberating it is this year for me to just repeat Bill Murray's deeply wise rallying cry: "It just doesn't matter!" After 4 years of trying to be chief cook, homemaker, primary caretaker, and prima-wanna-executive... I finally reached the point where I drew a line and decided which side I was on. Go ahead, call me "satisfactory". I will waltz to that tune with a smile on my face.

Speaking of smiles, can we talk for a moment about the new member of Stargate, Ben Browder? *pant pant*. (Was that good for you, too?)

As far as CD and I, well, I can't say much about that. But the prayers and good thoughts have sustained me in some very dark hours. It is amazing how much the goodwill of others can make the difference between the darkness and the light.

Have a great weekend, y'all!