JCH 1st day of school, 5th Grade

Posted on September 11, 2006 by Meleah

I can not go without recognizing what day today is, however, I do not want to write anything on or about 9/11. There are a ton of smart
funny and sad blogs today… I know it was the saddest and scariest day in history that I was alive to witness. That being said…

JCH 1st day of school, 5th Grade:

Phone rings at work 2:35pm… it’s my boy, JCH…

(This is all the information I was able to obtain from an antsy child who is having his first year, without after-care. The first year, when he gets home from school, can go play with his friends, instead of being in a gym, from 2pm when school let out until 5:30-6pm depending on traffic, when I was able to get to the school to pick him up.)

Jch-Hi! Mommy, can I go ride my bike?

Me-Hey hey, slow down, how was the first day of school?
Jch-Good, good…

Me-Did you get to see Miss G.?
JCH- Yeah, I was like her messenger, like, 4 times, but, can I go ride my bike?

Me- Was she happy to see you
Jch- Duh!
Me- Gee, Sorry….

Me- So, what was your new teacher like?
Jch- Well, let’s just say that she is very experienced, Seriously mom, can I go ride my bike?

Me- In a minuet…how was the bus ride home, everything went okay? You knew where to go? You weren’t nervous.
Jch- No, it was easy, no more after care is cool.

Me- Did Poppa-Sye get you from the bus, or did he wait for you at the house?
Jch- He waited at the house like Grandma told him to.

Me- Do you have any of the same kids in your class as last year?
Jch- Yes Mom, (irritated) but I want to go outside and ride my bike now!
(This from the kid who refused to learn how to ride a bike until he was 8)

Jch-Mom, who invented school anyway?
Me- A really smart person who wanted other people to be smart
(Clearly I have run out of creative answers when I don’t know the real one)

Jch- Uh, can we talk about this later, Can I go ride my bike…?

Me- (pause) OKAY, go, go… ride your bike, we’ll talk tonight
Jch-Yeah Mommy, and, YOU! have homework… Bye!

Nice talking to you too…

Later that day, when I finally got home…I did have homework, about 17 forms, waivers and rule agreements to read and sign (they sure try to get people to join that P.T.A.).

Over dinner JCH was more forthcoming with information, he had a good first day, he likes the teacher and there are a few kids in his class that he had be-friended last year. All in all a sucessful day.

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The Night before the 1st day of School

Posted on September 10, 2006 by Meleah

REWIND to 2005 – Last year’s 1st day of school, 4th grade:

Last year, my son switched from the 1st, 2nd and 3rd grade school to the 4th, 5th & 6th grade school. My son had a very rough time in 1st,2nd and 3rd grade… He was not looking forward to switching schools at all. JCH had been picked on for the first three years of school, complete with the nicknames “disgustin’-justin” or “one-eye” because he had a droopy left eye lid. He had poor social skills, lacked confidence, there were pressing family issues, he worried more than most children at age 5 and came home most days crying about how all the kids hated him.

JCH was different than the other kids, he knew it, they saw it, and as a result JCH developed somewhat of an anger management issue. JCH was different because we had a rough go of things for quite sometime (see book) mea culpa, mea culpa. (No, that’s not the title)

In any event, he was NOT looking forward to changing schools, while he was MISERABLE at the old school; he always knew what would happen. There were no surprises. He did not know what 4th grade , or a new school, would bring. Neither did I.

But for the grace of GOD AND mom & dad, the summer before 4th grade, my son started Frog bridge day camp. Now I don’t know what it was about that camp, or how things came to pass, or if it had anything to do with us being reunited as a family once again, but, JCH developed a certain unmistakable confidence that summer.

That fall, when school started, he didn’t expect to make friends, he wasn’t going to try to impress anyone. He expected to return to the same old negative attitudes. I was concerned, my son would have to endure another school year turned off to education, because of the way he was treated by the other kids.

Then, it came, the 1st day of fourth grade…He came home HAPPY. He had this teacher Miss G. Miss G. was special, and JCH took a liking to her from day ONE.

The first day of class, Miss G., asked everyone in class to introduce themselves and then use one word that best described their personality. Other kids used the words athletic, happy and talented yet with no specifics’ given as to what talent they had. Then it was JCH’s turn to answer. He looked Miss G. square in the eye and he responded to the question with this… “Well not to brag, but I am intelligent.” Miss G. took note of this comment. Miss G. took the opportunity to let JCH know she had heard and respected his answer, when another teacher came into the room to introduce herself to the class as the speech teacher, Miss R.

Miss R asked Miss G., “So, what kind of a class do you have this year?”

Miss G. said, “Well, I am pleased to say, we have some happy and some athletic kids and there is even one intelligent boy (Miss G. looked right at JCH and winked when she responded to Miss R.)

It was at that moment, my son decided to trust her. When JCH came home that day all he could do was talk about Miss G. She knew that he was smart, she was pretty and …she was so nice mommy.

And, she was. She was amazing. She listened to him, she saw my son the way I see my son. She took special interest in him, she gave him every chance, every opportunity to succeed and he lapped up every shot he was given. She encouraged student council, which he won. She had him involved in “banana splits” a group setting where children raised in different family settings could work together to resolve divorce, moving, single parent or other living conditions. Miss G. went as far as re-arranging a classroom assignment to include JCH’s favorite band THE BEATLES as part of a learning exercise. Miss G. made him a Beatles / John Lennon CD. She paid attention to him. She listened to him. She laughed at his jokes. Miss G. brought in home cooked apple pie when JCH had a phase where he repeated a quote from his favorite cartoon show BILLY and MANDY ” I like pie, I like pie”….she made him a PIE, and served it in class. It was his best year ever socially. He was sad at the end of the year, Miss G. and he had covered much ground, academically, emotionally, and socially. He loved her for what she had given him, he was incredibly aware of the difference she had made in his life as was I.

PRESENT TIME: 2006, The Night before the 1st day of school- 5th grade:

Shopping done, backpack packed, dinner and dishes done, clothes picked out for the 1st day, settled in on the sofa to take in a Simpson Marathon, phone rings…Guess who called…Miss G., calling to talk to JCH.

Miss G. wanted to know how his summer was, what teacher did he have this year, will he stop by her class to see him in the morning, she will put in a good word to his new teacher about him, will he be running for student council again this year, how much she missed him… 30 minutes they were on the phone chat-chitting (Dane Cook version of the word). JCH’s face lit-up as he spoke to her. My heart was filled with a security, knowing that this woman would still be as involved in his life as much as she could this school year as she was last year. When they were done talking, my son looked excited for the first time to go back to school. After all Miss G. was there. I spoke with her on the phone and she re-assured me that she would also stay in touch with me this school year as well about JCH. If I need anything, to call her, stop by her class room on parent-teacher night this year and say hello. In her eight years of teaching, my son was her favorite student.

What Miss G. did for us last year alone, would have been enough. I can NOT get over the fact that she called tonight. I am blown away by her dedication and passion for my son to have a happy and successful new school year. She is one of those teachers that come along once in a life time. She came at the exact right moment my son needed a teacher just like her. Miss G. truly changed my son’s educational course in life. I am blessed, she was there last year, and I am blessed she will be there this year to watch over and love my son. Miss G. “gets him” she knows what he has been though, she see’s all the potential in him, she protects his spirit and for that I can not be more grateful.

Here’s to another year… 5th grade… we’ll see you in the morning!!

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525,600 Minutes

Posted on September 10, 2006 by Meleah

My 10 year old son invited me to watch a movie with him, a rarity these days. With the leg hair growing in thicker and fuller, the hair on his head, which IS NOT TO BE CUT and hair growing in other places, other wise know as the “itching balls,” he’s not big on hanging out with me.

I have already been yelled at this weekend, by my mother, and JCH himself, I AM NOT to walk him to the bus stop this year. I can be outside and watch him from afar, but I am NOT to go to the bus stop, or wait with him. I was kicked-off, duty, literally, when I was not allowed to tie his new shoes, while we were back to school shopping…shoe size 7(wtf!) his feet are now bigger then mine. Also, I was not allowed to pick out a shirt, or help button anything, because I was embarrassing him. As my mother ordered me to follow the commands, my son said, “Oh, Thank! You! Grandma!” Yep! It’s the beginning of the end…

Later that day while JCH was first trying out the new sneaker/roller-skates – heely’s, as he has never skated with or on anything, my mother and I were shamed by my grandfather for laughing and pointing at JCH’s flailing arms and out of control body. The only time I was allowed to talk to JCH was when he was bleeding from the skinned knee. (That will teach him to ignore his mommy!)

Needless to say I was THRILLED when he said, “Mommy, come watch the movie
RENT with me. A moment , a minute, I will rememeber forever.

FORGET REGRET, OR LIFE IS YOURS TO MISS.

Thank you to my mommy for all the back-to-school clothes and for dealing with ME through those years, my teenage years and my hellish-twenties…

Posted in Life | 1 Comment

Heelys

Posted on September 10, 2006 by Meleah

Heelys
Originally uploaded by meleahbella30.

YELLOW STICKER SAYS:
By Peeling this sticker, you agree to waive the right to sue Heeling Sports Limited and their owners, officers, directors, employees and/or representatives for any injury, death, property damage, or incidental or consequential damages arising from the use of this product. You also agree to assume and accept all risk of serious bodily injury arising from the use of this product. This agreement is intended to provide a comprehensive release of liability, but it is not intended to assert any claims or defenses prohibited by law.

Hmm…Does that mean, IF I leave the yellow sticker ON the shoe, and my child gets injured, I can SUE? They may want to re-think the opening sentance over at Heelys Corporate headquaters.

If I had a Video Camera, or even a Digital camera, this would have been a kick-ass-blog…
1st, BIG HUGE CLOSE UP ON THE YELLOW HEELY WARNING STICKER.
2nd, JCH actually TRYING to SKATE for the 1st time….

Posted in Family | 1 Comment

Labor Day Weekend, NH Trip

Posted on September 6, 2006 by Meleah

LABOR DAY WEEKEND SEPT 1st-4th 2006

Began on Thursday night when I dropped my son off at his fathers’ house for the long weekend and I spent that night packing for the BIG trip…

Wondering what to pack, what to wear for the drive up and back other than pajamas? (I normally travel in PJ’s, but I decided on a new all black sweat suit instead) A quick shopping spree was necessary, spending money I don’t have, stopping at a few stores, for toothpaste other bathroom essentials and finally back home to do the laundry for all the clothes I was bringing.

Would it be cold? Would it be rainy? Where would we go out? What was appropriate attire for New Hampshire anyway? To solve that quandary, I packed half of my closet and another suitcase just for bathroom supplies. (I once had shampoo explode in my suitcase wrecking an entire trip, so I always pack 2 bags now…one for clothes, one for toiletries.)

I couldn’t even sleep Thursday night because I was too excited to finally see my high school big sister, LESLIE whom, I have know since I was 12 and have not seen since I was 18 years old!!!

Friday morning, while rushing around making sure everything in my house was secure to leave: windows closed-check, lights off-check, doors locked-check, bags in hand-check,

I left my office at 11:30am and headed out for a much needed road trip. The drive up was easy; thankfully, I did not hit the brick walls of traffic everyone warned me about. Windows were down, music played, hot coffee sipped, cigarettes were smoked, and directions were perfectly placed on the center console… thank you map quest (I am not a cool person with a navigation or GPS system; I am a poor person who drives a Hyundai.)

I have weird and specific road trip rules, one of which is NO STOPS permitted. Gas up and pit-stop prior to getting in my car, because unless we are in dire need of gas (the “you need gas” light indicator has to be on for a good 10 miles) there will be no stopping to eat, to stretch, or to pee.

The scenery became increasingly beautiful as I drove closer to my destination; of course anything is prettier than the industrial plant filled NJTPK I drive on everyday. However, I had no idea how ugly New Jersey really is when compared to other states main highway arteries. (I have been on a zillion road trips across county several times and back, but I don’t think I noticed things like beauty when I was busy being a run-away, at least I don’t remember things being beautiful back then.)

Now, I don’t know if it was because I was dressed like a Ninja, if it was luck, or the sheer excitement that cleared the path, but I made it to New Hampshire before 5pm, without even speeding!

When I arrived, I didn’t get to give the half hour arrival hug I intended, the rules above caused a major bladder back up that needed immediate attention, or that hug would have came with an unusual and un-welcomed little extra!

Once I was in the house, relieved and the bags were in from the car, I hugged the two of them, causing time to rewind 14 years, because it was as if no time had passed even though we had been separated for so long.

I took a tour of the house THEY built. It was an old barn some 300 years old which they converted into a home. Magnificent, the hard wood floors, the windows were surrounded in hand carved trim made by JB himself and a kitchen designed to Leslies specifications. Each room was painted a different color that accented each other. The stair case was my favorite. Hand carved pieces of wood, each different than the next. They were amazing. Like a work of art. (I REALLY WISH I HAD BROUGHT MY CAMERA BECAUSE I CAN NOT EXPLAIN THESE STAIRS AND A PICTURE IS NEEDED RIGHT HERE).

After I settled down, Leslie, John and I, decided to go out to the infamous local “cheers type” bar, called RICKS. Everyone knew everyone, and everyone knew I was coming up to visit. Luckily, I over-packed and had the perfect outfit for such an outing! I was introduced and greeted by Leslie and John’s friends, who were incredibly receptive to my arrival.

There was Paula, a nurse who makes the most fantastic pornographic white chocolate lollipops in her free time. (She gave me few lollipops for keepsakes.) There was Roger, a big-time gun fan, a true Brit, with the best accent that I mimicked all night, and his wife who’s name I forget (OOPS….sorry!) There was chatty Carrie (and her husband who’s name I also forget…OOPS sorry!) whom I found rather entertaining. If Carrie didn’t talk a fast as she did, I think more people would HEAR how funny she is. She is hard to hear, easy to listen to, hard to hear. Being from New Jersey I found it easy to keep up with her quick pace and HEAR her. She had some of the most fantastic stories about growing up in Boston in the 80’s complete with aqua-net hairspray that was applied so much it turned her jet black hair white with a thick film on the frizzed out 80 bangs-do. She also apprised me of the time she hit puberty, got boobs, and realized she was ripped off when it was only a nipple that never matured any further! I wish I had a pen and paper, when talking with Carrie, because I would have LOVED to be able to quote her verbatim right now. There was the BARTENDER Craig, 24 years old, Kick-Boxing champion, smarty, that corrected my grammar and speech any time I spoke while he was within ear shot of my conversation! There was Jerry the ever-so-aging bachelor who’s one true girlfriend, wife and love of his life: CORVETTE (as in the car) who was the NICEST person to talk to. Jerry = Witty and Charming. There was Jill, a woman who was by all accounts not welcomed / liked by her friends these days as she has turned into some wench no one can stand and subsequently I was not introduced to her. There were the most adorable waitresses, Kimmie, is the one I remember best, because she is a blusher and turned red at most of the jokes that were told at our table. It was such a fun night. So much fun in fact, we were so loud, that we got a few people flagged…. (ooops….sorry!!)

Friday night we got home at god-knows what time, when Leslie, the ever-so-gracious host, wanted to set up my sleeping quarters. She had this aero-bed inflatable mattress that went up on a frame as to keep me from lying on the floor. Which was great, comfortable and would have accommodated me, but for the fact it had a slow leak.

Now, I am not a pet-person. I am not anti-pet, but, I am scared of dogs. I was bitten by a tiny poodle when I was 5 years old and have been terrified of dogs (even a puggle) ever since. Leslie and John have pets, 2 cats and not one, but TWO, Rotweilers. Two of the most well behaved and obedient dogs to walk the face of the earth. Which did not console me as the mattress deflated and I would now have to take one of the sofa’s in the living room, which belonged to the dogs! I would have been scared if the dog was a beagle, but it was a Rotweiler x 2!!!

The entire night I laid still and stiff as a board while both dogs watched me. One (Harley, the boy dog) slept on the next sofa next to me. I was in the spot on the sofa that belonged to the other dog (Sugar, the girl) and she let me know just how annoyed she was all night long. Sugar decided if I was going to sleep in her spot, she would keep me up all night! She was digging into the carpet with her nails making scratching noises, coming close to me and smelling me, circling around me and low whimpering. I would not move for two reasons: One, I was afraid that she would bite me, Two, I was afraid Sugar would re-stake her claim to the sofa! When it was finally light outside, I forced myself to make it to the bathroom and decided to stay in the dining room on the de-flatted mattress.

Saturday morning came early with pets that needed to be fed and walked and chocolate raspberry coffee brewed, as I wiped the sleep out of my eyes. Leslie made breakfast burritos while I got ready for the plans we made the night before at the bar with Rodger and Jerry. We were going to the SHOOTING RANGE. City (me), was about to meet Country (New Hampshire).

I have never touched a gun, saw a gun, or held a gun, in my life. I was a virgin for the first time at something! We finished getting ready and headed over to Rodger’s (the Brit with the great accent) house. Since you can’t have a weapon in England and you don’t even need as license in New Hampshire to buy a gun, Rodger has been fascinated ever since. He has become quite the marks man! Rodger has even taken special classes in tactical training, sniper stuff….So, who better to show a virgin how to hold, load, and shoot a gun!

When we got to Rodgers house, we were taken downstairs to the GUN ROOM. It’s a special room in the house, with key pad entry, climate controlled, locked cabinets and huge amounts of ammunition. I was suddenly nervous. All the shit talking I had done the night before in my mock country accent was now reduced to, “Umm, I dunno if I can do this…Umm, this is kinda, scary… Umm, wait… Umm…” (Nice sentence) I was reassured that everything would be fine, I would have people to help me, I would not be left alone to my own devices to pull a Dick Cheney.

Rodger took out 6 or 7 different guns. Most were shot guns or rifles (I have no idea about the difference between a rifle and a shotgun) there was a 16 gauge something a 20 gauge something, a long one, a big huge one, and my favorite, the MACHINE GUN assault weapon. (AK something or other).

Then, Rodger drew a diagram of the TRAP range where were we going to shoot orange colored flying clay objects. He explained the angle in degrees as to the way the pigeons would come out of the trap house, how to aim and gave me a lecture on gun etiquette, of which, I did not hear a single word because I was eyeballing the size of the bullets that were laid out on the table.

Soon after the verbal lesson, it was my time, my turn to learn hands-on, picking up the gun and trying to hold it. Guns are HEAVY and require a great deal of strength from your non-dominant arm to control the weapon. I have not used my left arm for anything other than holding a cigarette, trying to lift what felt like a 100lbs gun was nearly impossible at first. It took 20 minuets of me picking it up, having to put it down, shaking out the numbness in my hands, loosening up my shoulders just to hold the damn thing. (Of course, as soon as I was given the lightweight semi-automatic machine gun to hold, I had NO problems, I would have been able to run holding that…figures only I can go country urban style) Then, it took another 20 minuets until I could hold the gun still without dipping the nose to the floor and able to load a single bullet.

THIS is the one I HELD:

Alas, we were not going to a firing range for target practice, nor, would I be like
Jodie Foster in the movie Silence of the Lambs (One day, I really do want to do that, shoot the shit out of a hanging paper man with a 9mm, I do think every woman should know how to fire a gun.)

No, we were going to the shooting range, in the woods, outside, with people who shoot for sport weekly. Right…….. I would look really nice standing in a group of 5 (4 being men with good aim and then me) while the galley of looker-on-er-s is behind me wondering if I will ever hit any of the bright orange 25 flying targets I had a chance to. No way. No how. No thank you.

But, I was in too deep now; I had to go for it. We saddled up in the cars and drove on over. I padded my right shoulder with washcloths so the recoil wouldn’t leave a bruise on my right boob (which was very expensive and thank fully insured). Scared, nervous, and praying in my own head that it would rain any second, John came up with a great idea. Practice shooting BEFORE actually going up on a block in front of people on the TRAP range! Yeah, that I could do!

We arrived at the range with the soothing sounds of bullets echoing and ripping through pottery, causing me to reflex JUMP every time I heard the sound. I lit a cigarette and puffed hard. Rodger singed us (Leslie and me) in as guests to the gun club, and told us to suit up. Eye protection is required, so I wore the glasses Rodger gave me that were so big
Nicole Richie would have been jealous, and plastic ear muffs.

I was still hesitant, but I proceeded, through the wooden barrier, and through the car wash looking plastic doorway into the training shooting range (separate from the TRAP range). Rodger announced to everyone there that I was a first-timer and to disregard and or ignore me, hopefully I would not be a bother to those actually shooting AT some target.

After five minuets of summing courage, Rodger stood behind me, help me load the bullet into the chamber, let me cock the gun, lift the gun, aim the gun, and …..FIRE……

BOOOOOOM, it was LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUD, and HAAAAAAAAARD!!!

The recoil was so hard I almost, almost, almost FLEW back, while thinking, “Oh, that’s why Rodger kept telling me to lean forward…..”

I started laughing, squealing like a kid, I did it, I did it, I did it. People looked at me like I had just escaped an institute and they had the guns in hand that would easily persuade me back to said locked up facility. I immediately shut the fuck up and placed the HEAVY gun down.

Whew! A few breaths, a few shots off by Leslie, a former gun champion back in her southern days, and I wanted to do it again, and again and again.

I have to admit, it was one of the FUNEST things I have ever done. I would definitely do that again, however, I would much rather do the, Jodi Foster FBI agent HAND GUN shooting, after all I would never go hunting, but knowing how to use a hand gun would be handy in the event someone broke into my house.

After a few more shots, Rodger agreed that I would never be able to AIM at anything because my arms (much like the rest of me) were too short to reach and hold a gun of this length the right way. I couldn’t square off in my stance and aim either, due to large DD breasts that get in the way of everything, including a golf swing.

I was relieved of TRAP shooting. I would not have to stand in front of people and make a fucking asshole out of myself… Even if I did do it, even if by some miracle I did HIT a target, my reaction would have been that of a dizzy young teenager who just kissed her first boyfriend, and the audience I was in front of would not have found that behavior “cute”.

After Leslie and I watched the boys shoot a few rounds, she and I left them at the range while we went for a drive back to home to get ready for dinner and alone time to talk.

That night we had steak, corn on the cob, regular salad and potato salad a real country home cooked meal (fabulous)! I don’t know if it was the rainy weather that was heading in, the fact that I had NO sleep the night before, the adrenaline rush of shooting guns wearing off, or what it was, but I was exhausted Saturday night. All I wanted to do was stay in, maybe take in a funny movie. So, that’s just what we did.

You MUST see this movie, if you haven’t already, especially if you have ever worked in an office….OFFICE SPACE… I need to buy a RED Swingline stapler and then my life will be complete!!

After the movies, laughs, pop-corn, conversation and butts, it was bed time. This time we set up a different air mattress, UPSTAIRS, in the office, away from the dogs. The result was a much better night’s sleep!

Sunday the rain came and it was time for me to leave in order to beat the traffic, thus allowing me to have Monday at home to unpack, do laundry and spend time with my son, before having to return to work Tuesday.

I had a wonderful time, not enough time to be with such beloved friends of mine.

I will end this post with my hat off to New Hampshire…

Indoor smoking!!
Cigarettes are $3.75 a PAC / $30.00 a carton
There are no helmet laws
You do not have to insure your vehicle
There is no sales tax on anything
NH is BEAUTIFUL
Pumping your own gas
Selling Alcohol in the SAME store as eggs
No Income Tax

Posted in Friends | 9 Comments

Advice from a High School Friend

Posted on September 5, 2006 by Meleah

I was cleaning out my old emails, and found this HYSTERICAL story from a highschool girlfriend of mine, had to post:

Hello all! The b*tch is back in the states after a fabulous three week
vacation in Bali. Had a wonderful, relaxing time and wanted to share a few
‘nugs’ of wisdom I gained along the way:

1. Chances are the first time you vacation abroad in 14 years will be the
exact moment that malaysian militant jihadists decide to blow up the island
you’re staying on. I perfer to call this ‘Mo Gi luck.’

2. Just because the converter plug you bought allows you to plug in your
curling iron does NOT mean it converts the electrical current down to 110
watts. (Zoray, I apologize for the smoldering electrical plastic mess I
left in the trash can outside my room.)

3. Monkeys are smart and mean. When entering monkey forest, do not look
directly at monkeys – glance at them from the side. Do not smile at monkeys
– they see this as a sign of agression. Monkeys like shiney sparkley
objects such as cameras and sunglasses, and will use complex strategy based
maneuvers to secure said objects from unsuspecting tourists – especially
when said tourists are looking directly at them and smiling. It is
perfectly ok to wimp out and just drive by monkey forest rather than
entering their domain if you’re unable to remember the above info like me.

4. If looking for a splashy way to “off one’s self,” may I suggest ‘Death
by Monkey Forest.’ This involves a carmen miranda headdress, a josephine
baker skirt, a shiny sparkley metalic dress and a lot of direct staring and
smiling. See point 3 if unclear on this.

5. NEVER gamble or bet with Gede’s uncle jack. You just cannot possibly
win – luck of the irish or not.

6. Always remember to put sunscreen on your feet. I cannot stress this
enough.

7. 5 year old girls named Putu have much better taste in music that 90% of
the americans I’ve run into.

8. Besides boyfriend’s sisters, Aussies make the best drinking buddies.
Canadians are pretty cool too. Avoid Danes at all costs. They cannot hold
their liquer and inevitably go annoyingly ‘viking’ by nights end.

9. Go to Kintamanti! It’s the best river fish you’ll ever have at Volcano
Breeze Cafe and there are ZERO mosquitos up there…

10. No joke, jetlag really IS worse going east to west.

So, if in Bali, definately hit Ubud. And if in Ubud, for a good time call
Zoray, Gede and baby Cempaka. It was an amazing island made made all the
more amazing by truly amazing hosts.

Posted in Humor | Leave a comment

JCH / KING ARTHUR

Posted on August 29, 2006 by Meleah

I have been a single mother since the day my son was born, so, after the $4,000.00 spent on the 8 week camp session “Ridiculous” ended, back on August 18th, and there is no more money to pay a sitter, I have had the pleasure of bringing my 10 year old son in to work with me for the last two weeks, with one more week to go before school starts. While it has been fun bringing my son to work with me, the morning commute is filled with Billy Joel tunes -JCH new favorite, outside of the Beatles… and conversations about what was so funny on the previous nights television viewing…. nothing beats how great TODAY has been.

Side bar: Why school is starting on September 11th, a day I think should be a national day of observance, reflection, mourning, complete with work, bank and school closings, nonetheless, that’s the day my sons school is opening…and another topic for another time.

My son, JCH was given an over the summer project before starting the 5th grade! WOW…5th grade! The assignment is to read a book, and write a letter to the main character of the book. Since JCH is in my office, what better time FOR HIM to start and even complete this project.

The book he chose was: KING ARTHUR, by Rosalind Kerven

To my surprise, without pestering or even reminding my son, he went ahead and completed the project all on his own. As happy as that made me, when I came back to my desk, I saw this:

Dear Mom, I brought you a bun, and please read my report:

The report: I can NOT resist the temptation, urge, and need to BLOG the letter/report my son wrote:

Dear King Arthur,
I have to say that I am impressed with almost everything you have ever done! One of the most impressive things you’ve done was getting the sword out of that marble and iron. When you said that you wanted a different sword, I didn’t think that you were thinking clearly, until, it turns out, that the other sword was ‘EXCALIBUR!’ Since it was a magical sword and you couldn’t die with it and its magic scabbard, I think you made the right choice.

It’s too bad about your wife Guinevere. I understand that you loved her copper hair and eyes, not only that, but you remember when she told those three knights to help that woman and her heart? It’s terrible that she cheated on you, with Sir Lancelot, but, it was Morgan Lefeys fault.

How dare her, I mean, sure she (Morgan Lefey) is your half sister, but she threw away your scabbard, almost killed you with a cloak of fire, and Mordred, her accomplice ( he was the guy who nearly killed you). By the way, when Mordred told you to attack Sir Lancelot, I wouldn’t have done that.

Getting back to the queen Guinevere, while BURNING her is the appropriate thing to do, you should have kept a better eye on Lancelot!

I hope you and Merlin wake from your rests soon.

JCH. Age 10

Posted in Family | 6 Comments

ADDICTED

Posted on August 27, 2006 by Meleah

The first step in getting the HELP you need is ADMITTING that you have a problem.

I have given this a lot of thought, I have wrestled with this decision and I am finally ready to come clean to my family, my friends, and even my boss. I have a problem.

I don’t answer phone calls from family and friends anymore and I don’t answer emails AT HOME because I am too busy getting my fix.

I AM ADDICTED…….. to BLOGGING. There I admitted it.

I am hooked, I can’t stop, everything I hear, do, think, see, becomes an unfinished blog in my head… Sometimes I write, just to fucking write. I love it, even if it doesn’t make sense half of the time! I can’t stop!

I never even knew what a BLOG was until a few months ago when the male BF told me about them, and with all the help of my high school big sister and writer, editor, creator of Smoke rings and Coffee Stains, among many other things / blogs ( FYI she is AMAZING). She has helped me design and create my BLOG world and she has given me a new addiction!!!

I have an addictive personality to begin with. I do too much of everything, good or bad for me…maybe I need HELP… (This is for you, “O”)

Step One: I admit, I am powerless over blogging and my life has become unmanageable because I blog too much.

Step Two: I have to believe a power greater than me (like my key board breaking or a thunderstorm with a blackout) can restore me to sanity, and stop the urges to write incessantly. Or, at least force me to take a break!

Step Three: I am supposed to make a decision to turn my will over to a power greater than me…

Step Four: I am supposed to make a fearless and moral inventory of myself… (Check the LIST on the side of this blog…isn’t that an inventory!)

Step Five: Admit to myself and other human beings the exact nature of our wrongs… (Isn’t that what blogging is? At least THIS blog, I announce to the world all of the stupid things that I say and that I do every day!)

Step Six: Become entirely ready to have g-d remove these defects of character (But, then I wouldn’t have anything to BLOG about!)

Step Seven: Humbly ask HIM to remove our shortcomings (g-d please give me a billion dollars, a nice house, a new car, a wonderful husband and to stay young looking and too thin, longer than humanly possible)

Step Eight: make a list of people we have harmed and be willing to make amends to them all… see HERE

Step Nine: Make direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others …. Lets SKIP that one!!

Step Ten: Continue to take moral and personal inventory (um, every day I update my blog, which brings me back to my addiction….)

Step Eleven: Sought through prayer & mediation to improve our contact with g-d (medication works really well too)

Step Twelve: carry this message to other people suffering, and practice these principals in all our affairs …( DOOD …get a BLOG of your OWN!!)

Posted in Humor | Leave a comment

JCH

Posted on August 24, 2006 by Meleah

Let’s think for a minuet about the fact that I have a molar in my pants pocket… a molar… as in a tooth. Why is a human molar in my pants pocket as I sit at work and wondered what the fuck was poking my leg?

Even though I did remember to be the tooth fairy (at 3am in a dreamy fog state of mind wherein I mistook a 10 dollar bill for a One dollar bill) when the said tooth was free from child gums. But, I did not remember to put the tooth in the disgusting case where all the other fallen teeth are. It’s my son’s tooth, and it is one of the last baby teeth to fall out as he reaches his pre-pubescence.

Maybe I forgot to put the tooth with the other ones, subconsciously…as it is the last of his baby teeth to fall out, and I am hanging on to that tooth, like I am trying to hang on to him still being my baby.

I recently read another blog
AMALAH

Which took me back to those very same days I had, and I miss those days.

At first, when my son lost this tooth, I was all depressed. I was boo hoo-ing over my son growing up. I couldn’t stop myself from thinking soon he’ll drive a car; then, he will go off to college (which reminded me how broke I am and set me off into a sidebar money tailspin). Then, he will find a woman (who I will heavily investigate, back ground and credit checks, criminal and DMV records will be pulled on any and everyone that my son gets involved with) and finally, he will be the last man to leave me…

After more than an hour in my own head imagining my sons graduation, wedding, children f his own, and how hard letting him go would be, I stopped myself with a quick…..UM, get a grip! He’s 10!

But, I have to face it…he is changing / maturing, and, I have to roll with it. As much as it displeases me that he is finding it more fun to be with friends than it is to be with his mommy and how he would rather be in his room playing video games then baking cookies with me. There is nothing I can do about it. Except write about it!

It started off slowly…my son’s pulling away from the “mommy apron.” It began with no more hugs for no reason, not needing or wanting me to kiss a boo-boo to make it better, and before I knew it, things graduated quickly… to no more hand holding in public, not even to cross the street.

I knew this would happen one day, and I knew my days were numbered when I could ware the same shoe size as him, but it was and it still is hard for me to transition from the center of his universe to less significant place.

I know this is a natural process, but its hard letting my baby grow up! While I have the time before my angel takes flight, I do intended to smother him as much as possible, or at least, as much as he will allow me to!

I am dreading the teenage years, which are all too soon ahead of me, but hopefully, just like me, I hope he comes back to his mom when he gets older and has a family of his own.

But today, I wish I was superman with the power to spin the earth back in time to when he was all mine and asleep in my arms.

©Meleah Rebeccah

Posted in Family | 2 Comments

DUH!

Posted on August 22, 2006 by Meleah

Ever write something and realize it is a bunch of shit after you read it the next day? Yeah, that’s what I have discovered recently…

I have decided I am done with this self pity, self serving, whinny, little cry baby bullshit!

It is time to bring on the sarcasm, let loose, and free myself of this ridiculous momentum I haven’t been able to shake for weeks!

If I can’t laugh at myself, no one else will laugh either, and who wants to read about how miserable someone is…. NO ONE!

So, I am taking a new approach, after playing a game of hide and seek, I found my sense of humor, apparently it’s been hiding under my desk all along!

Posted in Writing | Leave a comment