Cinderello at the ball

Homecoming 2006 is now but a fond memory, except for my aching feet from working the concession stand at the game last night. I'm sketchy on the dance details, as I was allowed in long enough only to snap a few random photos.

Here are Mike and Rosalee, looking (respectively) dashing and gorgeous:



Mike and his friend Mykel, striking a pose:



Mike, Ryan, and Mykel--international men of mystery:



It's good to have friends:



And here is our stalwart PTO president serving punch:



As tired as I am from the events of this past week, what I did was a drop in the bucket compared to the core few who are reponsible for making homecoming happen. Snaps for them!

After I got my pictures, Fred and I came home and cleaned up the kitchen and tried our best to stay awake until 12:30 when the dance would end and we would need to go pick up Mike and his friend Ryan, who had come down from Louisville to visit his Fort Knox friends. We were not always successful in staying awake:



As we were on our way back to the school at 12:25, we got a call on the cell phone from Mike, asking if they could go over to another friend's house to hang out "for just a little bit please, please, please." Sadly the answer was "no," as Fred and I were turning into pumpkins. I am still a pumpkin today and plan on remaining as such until at least Tuesday.

The end is near

Spirit Week culmimates today in School Colors Day. FKHS's colors are green and gold, but the freshmen are supposed to emphasize gold. Mike is sporting a gold face and gold sparkle hair underneath his inside-out Bailey's Irish Cream hat with an eagle patch superglued to the front of it:



He decorated one of Fred's old t-shirts with sparkle paint for the occasion. I was going to do the lettering for him, but I only got as far as the "FKHS" before we decided that puff paint is not the best medium for a girl with a tremor. So he took over from that point and did the rest himself:



I was amazed at his clear printing (handwriting has never been his strong suit) and suggested that perhaps his teachers would let him do all his assignments with puff paint on t-shirts.

In the next 16 hours, I have to: make munchies for my international coffee group and attend said coffee; hit Walmart for last-minute stuff for the band boosters; pick up Mike so that he can get his pants from the tailor and his date's corsage from the florist; make supper; get Mike to the band room and 20 liters of Sprite to the gym; work the concession stand at the game; get Mike home from the game and back to the dance; and then pick him up from the dance at 12:30.

Too bad we have to get up tomorrow to go to Louisville for a cross-country meet. The fun just never stops, does it?

ANSWER: "Pulled Jesus stickers off water bottles."

QUESTION: "So what did you do at school today?"

Apparently a local church had donated a whole lot of bottled water to the high school at some point in the recent past. The PTO wanted to use them for the homecoming dance tonight, but we were told by the administration that we couldn't unless we "neutralized" them. I guess they put the kids to work on this project.

I'm as big a fan of separation of church and state as the next person, but it strikes me as kind of silly. I mean, it's not like it's bottled holy water, right? Furthermore, taking this out to its logical conclusion, isn't there a risk of a Christian student protesting over being asked to deface Jesus stickers on school time?

It just seems to me like we're playing with fire here. Good thing we've got plenty of water.

It's a bird, it's a plane, it's . . . it's . . .

Captain Caaaaaaaaveman!



Sweet mother of all that is holy, will this week never end?

Close your eyes when you look at this

Well, you can't say that I didn't warn you. Gaze, if you must, at the plaid horror that is Tacky Day 2006:





Betcha wish you'd kept 'em closed, huh?

It's Retro Day

File this under Things I Never Expected to Do: getting up at 0600 to glue chest hair on my son. Today is Retro Day, and Mike was convinced that his very hairy hippie needed a bird's nest peeking out over the top of his low-buttoned shirt. (I didn't shrink the photos today--if you click on them, you can view the original, full-size files. The better to admire the chest hair!)





Peace out, man.

Again with the yellow ribbons

My invisible friend Deana, knowing how much I just love yellow ribbons, sent me this clip by the Asylum Street Spankers:



I love it! It puts me in mind of that classic John Prine tune, "Your Flag Decal Won't Get You into Heaven Anymore."

But your flag decal won't get you
Into Heaven any more.
They're already overcrowded
From your dirty little war.
Now Jesus don't like killin'
No matter what the reason's for,
And your flag decal won't get you
Into Heaven any more.

Should be lots of blog fodder this week

I need a weekend to recover from my weekend. Fred is in Hilton Head, and we had a ton of events to keep me busy. Annabelle had back-to-back sleepovers, and Mike played with the band at the football game on Friday (I worked the band booster concession stand) and a cross-country meet on Saturday. He and I spent all day yesterday getting him ready for this week--Spirit Week, which culminates in Homecoming on Friday night (followed by another cross-country meet on Saturday--the fun just never stops around here).

Each day of Spirit Week has a different theme, and the kids get to break dress code if they dress according to the theme. Mike and I hit Goodwill yesterday and came out with a huge trash bag of treasures. I haven't seen Mike this excited about dressing up since he was 4 and hung around the house most days in his Big Bird costume:



Today is Nerd Day, which pains me to even type. Maybe it's the bleeding heart liberal in me, but somehow a day dedicated to mocking those already marginalized by the hell that is high-school society seems cruel. He did throw together a really good costume though:



Bird to nerd in just 10 short years.

Are the lunatics running the asylum?

This was the scene at my vet's office yesterday morning when we dropped Ginger off to have her spayed:



I really hope they didn't let him do the surgery.

How I spent my fall break

Over the past 3 years, it has become a tradition for us to travel as a family to Charlottesville, VA, for the annual SJA conference. Fred has a week of meetings, I have half a week of meetings, and the kids have a week of living in the Residence Inn and pretending they are well-to-do orphans. This year we took 2 Gameboys, 2 DVD players, a Gamecube, a computer, a sack of books, a sack of rodents plus an anteater, a dog, and an electric guitar with us, all to keep the young ones amused. Fred said it feels like we are backsliding to the early years when they were babies and we had to travel with all the required baby paraphernalia.

Ginger proved to be a champion traveler. She made it through the entire week without once having an oops! on the hotel's carpet. Mike and Annabelle took her out every few hours throughout the day, and then Fred and I took over dog-walking duties in the evening. Her favorite thing was to go walk around the UVA track that was just behind the hotel. She always met an admirer or 2 and occasionally another puppy friend. Annabelle taught her how to drink out of the water fountain:



On Tuesday night, we had the traditional formal dinner at Darden Hall. The food was awesome, but my shoes were too tight. You can't tell it from this picture, but my feet were killing me:



On Wednesday afternoon, I took the kids with me for the UVA tour that had been arranged for the spouses. I'm afraid I embarrassed them though by insisting on taking their picture with Mr. Jefferson. I probably should have just stuck a couple rodents in his hand instead:



It might sound nuts that I choose fill up half my week with the voluntary spouses' program, but I always have a great time. It feels like homecoming or a class reunion, as I get the chance to catch up with friends who have come in from--literally--all over the world. Also, they feed us really well--mimosas and brunch on Monday, Panera's shipped in on Tuesday, and on Wednesday an amazing luncheon out at Keswick. What's not to like?

The classes themselves tend to be interesting and useful. In fact, one this year impressed me so much that I plan on dedicating an entire post to it. Remind me if it doesn't appear by the end of the week, OK?

One of the most fascinating things this year was listening to the leadership speak about current events. Our TJAG, MG Scott Black, won a special place in my heart 2 years ago when he kicked some ass and made things happen for Fred to be able to attend the Worldwide from Iraq. This year when he came to welcome the spouses, he spoke quite eloquently about how he finally "gets it." He has been, he said, in the position for years and years of being the military member who drives away from home, leaving his wife and kids on the doorstep. Sure it's sad to leave them behind, but it's exciting to know that you're going off to do what you've trained to do and maybe have a few adventures along the way. A couple months ago, however, their son deployed to Iraq and now, he said, having been in the position of being the loved one left behind to worry and wait, he really, truly "gets it."

On Tuesday, we joined the SJAs to listen to the keynote speaker, General Peter Schoomaker, Chief of Staff of the Army, give his speech. I didn't take notes at the time, because frankly I was expecting an hour of sunshine being pumped up my overalls, and I just wasn't in the mood. I'm kicking myself now though, because it was anything but that, and I wish I could remember it in better detail.

One quote that stands out quite well to me was: "How America fights matters." I remember it because he must have said it 3 or 4 times at least and because it seems so blatantly at odds with the position of our the-ends-justify-the-means Commander in Chief. Soldiers are in a tough position at times, needing to remain politically neutral and yet obligated to respect the chain of command. That balancing act gets even tougher and more important the higher up you go. So it was refreshing to hear Schoomaker speak frankly on the issue.

He also spoke at length against a draft, saying that it takes too long to stand up a conscription force. He and I part ways here; as he said himself, this is a "long war." (If I had a nickel for every time I heard the phrase "long war" last week, I would need to buy a second piggie bank. I don't think it will be long before it's capitalized and officially branded, the Long War replacing the Cold War. Hey, maybe we can even get corporate sponsorship, like the NASCAR races. How does the Pepsi Cola Long War sound to you?) Anyway, if it is indeed such a loooooong war, why not start drafting now to have reinforcements in place 5 years down the road? Might I propose we start with the membership of the College Republicans? But I digress . . .

Another thing that I thought was telling about General Schoomaker's address was when he asked how many in the audience had children serving in the military right now. Quite a few hands went up. Then he asked how many of us had parents who had served, and even more hands went up. He looked around the room and said something like, "Huh. You'd be surprised how different the response is when I address the political and business leadership." Score one for the general!

Long story short, it was an inspirational week and heaven knows I could use a little inspiration right about now. I remain deeply embittered over our political leadership and the Charlie Foxtrot that is the war (oops! I meant "the long war"). But the people I spent last week with are the kinds of people who make me deeply proud to be a part of their team.

Off to Charlottesville

I know I haven't been much of a blogger lately, and it's not like I even have a clean house or buff body to show for the time spent not blogging. Mostly I have a few indexes, a well-walked dog, and kids who have gotten here and there in a quasi-timely fashion. Not very blog-worthy, I'm afraid.

Tomorrow we're leaving for a week in Charlottesville, VA. Fred has a conference to attend, and there are meetings for me on several of those days. The kids are looking forward to relaxing in the hotel room with the Gamecube and computer (and dog--Ginger is going too), and I'm looking forward to seeing a lot of old friends. I'll try to be a better blogger once we're back home!

Do blondes really have more fun?

I don't know. You'll have to ask Annabelle. Yesterday we went to the beauty parlor, where she had the last remnants of blonde removed from her hair. Here she is a couple weeks ago (you can click on the picture to see it larger):



And here she is now:



So far she is loving her new hair!

And so it was written

I knew Annabelle had been lobbying for an Australian terrier for quite a while, but I didn't realize just how long it had been until I found this the other day while I was cleaning out my office. It's an essay that she wrote in fourth grade extolling the virtues of the Aussie:





(You can click on the pictures to make them bigger.)

EDITED TO ADD: Annabelle asked me why on earth I was blogging this. I said I thought it was kind of neat that she wrote an essay 2 years ago that came true this year. She replied, "I also wrote an essay about guinea pigs, you know." Nice try, kid.

A song from my sole(s)

I saw 'em on ebay.
Couldn't refuse.
Five days later I'm sportin'
My new used shoes!
(Oh, yeah)
Don't you laugh at
My new used shoes!
(Uh uh)
I can buy something else with what I saved on
My new used shoes:



Every time Annabelle wears her cool Josef Seibel shoes that we bought in Germany, I am overcome with a wave of envy. I wanted those shoes for me, for ME! And while I am thrilled that they fit her and that she loves them so, I just had to find some similar shoes for myself.

On a lark, I decided to check ebay, and lo and behold! there they were. The perfect shoes for me. An almost-new pair of Josef Seibel shoes that would have sold new for $125. I watched the auction obsessively for several days and put in my bid at the last possible minute. Fifteen dollars later (including shipping), they were mine!

Oh, how I love them. And I love that they fit into my ongoing quest to save millions of dollars by buying stuff on sale!

All the pretty little horses

We've been in Kentucky for over a year now, if you can believe it. Seems like only yesterday that we were saying goodbye to Germany. In that year, we have been to Missouri, to Virginia, to North Carolina (twice), to Florida (three times), to Tennessee, to Alabama, to Utah, and even back to Germany, but we really haven't seen much of Kentucky.

So when my friend Ivy emailed to say that she and her kids would be visiting family here, I thought it would be great if we could meet up at someplace distinctly Kentuckian. That is how we came to be at the Kentucky Horse Park in Lexington one Sunday last month.

Ivy and I met through our homeschooling support group in Hawaii back when Mike was a second grader. Mike and Ivy's son Will became huge buddies, and we all had fun exploring Oahu together. Here's a picture of the kids from our whale-watching fieldtrip:



What a difference 6 years makes--here's a picture of the boys at the horse park:



The horse park itself was quite impressive. We got to see Man O' War's grave:



The horse park is dedicated to making sure that nobody leaves without understanding just how gosh-darn VERSATILE the horse is. Why, even the versatility is versatile. Ah, the versatile horse. You know how if you say or hear the same word often enough it starts to sound like nonsense? And so it was with "versatile":



By the end of the day, we were hot and tired, and the kids enjoyed hamming it up on the wooden rocking horse in the museum gift shop:

All in all, it was a fantastic way to spend the day. I just hope it doesn't take another 6 years for us to get together with Ivy and Will again!

I've heard of a wolf in sheep's clothing . . .

. . . but this is ridiculous:



Annabelle and I bought a chicken costume for Ginger the other day, but it's too big (maybe next Halloween?). We tried it on the cat so that it wouldn't be a complete waste.

Oh, this is terrible! Have I nothing left to write about other than my cat and dog, punctuated with the occasional photograph of my feet? I still need to blog about our trips to Florida, and our trip to Alabama, and our visit to the Lexington Horse Park. I swear I will get to it soon.

But first I have to go walk the dog.

Cat with nerves (balls?) of steel

Remember the other day, how I said that I took Ginger for a walk down a nearby street and she got chased by a cat? Remember that? Today I decided to go down that same street again. I took the camera with me even though, I told myself, it is highly unlikely for a dog to get chased by a cat twice on the same street. Well, guess freakin' what!? It happened again.

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, THIS is the cat who chases my dog:



We were just walking along, minding our own business, sniffing the fire hydrants and chasing leaves (OK, that was mostly Ginger), and this cat actually crossed the street to confront us. Please note that the barking you hear in the background is NOT coming out of Ginger. There was a neighbor's dog enjoying the show from behind a fence, and I think what he's saying is dog-speak for, "Kick his ass, Ginger!"



Leave it to me to take a dog to a catfight.

My sister, she so funny!

Online readers of the Daytona Beach News-Journal were treated to a most unusual sight Monday morning. There in the space that is normally reserved for photos of hurricane paths or alligators being removed from somebody's backyard* were 2 pictures of my little sister:



The caption underneath said: "Jenny Boyd performs a comedy routine, joking about her childhood in Alabama, at the Deltona Art Center."

Jenny has been taking a comedy class in Deltona, and a reporter visited her class and did a whole story on it. The article begins:

In some ways it's like being in a regular class.

The students all want to sit in the back, and no one wants to be first.

But in this class dysfunction is welcomed and in fact encouraged. Homework is watching late night TV. But what else can one expect from a 10-week course on stand-up comedy.

Here's the part about Jenny:

Jenny Boyd of Orlando, the first person on stage during a recent Sunday class, riffed about accents she heard growing up in Alabama. At a party, kids ran around yelling about getting someone named Obber Dwyne.

"It was Obber Dwyne this, Obber Dwyne that."

Her parents cracked up later when she talked about the party. They told her the kid's name was Albert Dwayne.

*I got this from Jenny. See, I TOLD you she's funny! You should really ask her to tell you about a dog named Westaday.

Scenes from a couch

Housebreaking has been going surprisingly (to me anyway) well. Our 4-day accident-free streak just ended with a pee in the kitchen though while I was running for my shoes.

Due to her recent potty reliability, Ginger has been spending more time hanging out in the living room. This is either the laziest or the most tolerant cat on the planet:



The weather is mighty changeable around here. This picture was taken perhaps 5 minutes later:



Here is a closeup of Ginger looking dashing on the red couch:



She kind of blends in with the hardwood floors, but I thought it was cute how she passed out on her toy this morning:



I still need to blog our summer adventures in Florida and Alabama and our recent trip to Lexington to see the horses, but I have been consumed with all things puppy lately. Soon we will get back to our regularly sceduled programming. I promise!

Getting to know you

When we brought Ginger home, Eddie fixed us with an icy glare that signified his extreme distaste for the prospect of a furry sibling. He hung out in the dining room and watched the puppy chaos in the kitchen through the baby gate.

A couple of days later, Annabelle and I tried to get Ginger to settle down between us on the couch while we watched a movie. Eddie was hanging out on the back of the couch though, and Ginger was delighted to have an opportunity to give him a quick sniff. Eddie continued to look less than thrilled, but he didn't run away--whether that's due to extreme self-confidence or laziness, I don't know.

Last night, Eddie actually entered the Puppy Realm (formerly known as the kitchen). He perched high on the counter and looked down and generally drove Ginger nuts with excitement:



Yesterday I took Ginger for a walk down the street, and she actually got stalked by a cat! One of the neighbor's cats was out in the yard, and I expected her to run away when she saw Ginger. Instead, she approached us, engaged in a little sniffing punctuated with some hissing, and then FOLLOWED US DOWN THE STREET! Poor Ginger has no idea about cats who run away from dogs, given that the lump sum of her feline exposure is with these 2 obvious mutants.

Let's eat some cake!

I can't believe it, but my baby is turning 11 today! Let's have some cake and celebrate. As you can see from this picture, taken on Annabelle's second birthday, she gets her enthusiasm for chocolate from me:



Here is Annabelle's birth announcement:



I designed it myself, so I think it's pretty cool.

Playful puppy

We have bought a variety of toys for Ginger's amusement. She has little use for the smiling stuffed carrot but will occasionally engage in a rousing game of fetch with her rope bone. The biggest hit though has been this orange rubber . . . thing. Frankly it looks to me like something that should arrive at your house in a discreet brown paper wrapper, but she sure has fun with it:

Help, I'm being held hostage

So I'm sitting here, perched like a bird on our kitchen stepstool, aimlessly surfing the web on the laptop computer I keep in the kitchen. Ginger decides that the platform underneath the stepstool would be the perfect spot for a nap:



Now I'm trapped. If I get up to do something else, she'll wake up, and it's against my religion to wake a sleeping baby of ANY species. Perhaps somebody could please at least bring me a snack?

Weekend pupdate

Fred and I took Annabelle to Chattanooga yesterday to pick up Ginger. We very cleverly took the backroads down, thus turning a 5-hour drive into a 7-hour one. Oh, well, at least we know not to do that again!

Annabelle naturally was thrilled to death to finally meet the puppy:



Mike didn't go with us due to pre-existing social obligations, but he was very excited to finally meet her when we pulled in at 10:30 last night.

Poor Eddie appears to be distinctly unimpressed by the new family member:



Can't you just see what he's thinking?!

Puppy update in a minute, but first look at this!

I finished my Germany socks on the way to go pick up Ginger yesterday:



I would have finished them ages ago, but I had the dreaded Second-Sock Syndrome.

Expecting pitter patter of little feet

Yes, we have decided to add on to our family, and no, it's not what you're thinking. Meet Ginger, our new Australian terrier puppy:


We sat the kids down tonight to deliver the happy news, but we haven't told the cat yet. Poor furry guy has no idea what's in store for him.

We will be driving down to Chattanooga, Tennessee, on Saturday to pick Ginger up and bring her home. So those of you who were getting tired of cat pictures can now look forward to puppy pictures!

'Bout time!

The night we left to go to Germany, I tried to convince my sister that she should come hang out with us at the airport while we waited for our flight. "It'll be fun," I lied.

Jenny, however, said she had to go home after dinner and paint her toenails "in case I get married tomorrow." Sure, Jenny, sure.

But you know what? She did go and get married! She and Jeff just took themselves right down to the courthouse and tied the knot. I meant to blog it right away, but I didn't have a picture. I'm trying to get caught up now, so here's the happy couple:



I pointed out to Jeff that he's legally one of us now, and he was just so excited:



He fits in right nice, don't you think?

Jailhouse rock

I did a little time in jail today. You don't believe me? Well, it's true.

Turns out that there is a confinement facility right here on Fort Knox AND they serve T-bone steaks and shrimp for lunch for $3.75 on Fridays. Fred found out about it yesterday when he and some of his coworkers took a tour, so of course they made plans to return today for the food. I am nothing if not a cheap date, so I went along.

I was amazed by how many of our neighbors I ran into at lunch. Apparently the jail is the hot, happening, local lunch venue. They certainly served a full house!

The NCO who runs the show there is an amazing woman. She grabbed me in a warm hug when Fred introduced us, and she went through the crowd handing out hot dinner rolls from a basket. I don't think she could have shown greater hospitality had we been guests in her very own home.

The food itself was surprisingly good. I think I've discovered the secret to portion control though--plastic flatware. A plastic knife is just not a worthy opponent for a well-done steak. (Fred says it's especially hard to eat steak with a plastic spoon and plastic knife, as he apparently had to do on more than one occasion in Iraq. Support the troops--send forks!) I had no utensil problems, however, when it came to devouring the slice of Derby pie (yes, Derby pie! in prison!!) that I shared with Fred.

After we gorged ourselves, we gathered the office together for a group photo. I thought it would be funnier if we could put Fred BEHIND the bars, but that didn't work out:

Sh! Do you hear that?

It's silence. Absolute 100% pure silence. Today is the first day of school, Fred is back at work, and I am home alone. I'm trying to remember the last time I was alone, and I honestly can't. It must have been sometime in May.

We got back from Alabama Sunday night, and the kids and I spent yesterday frantically getting ready for school. They are actually quite excited about getting back into the swing of things, which is good. Makes mornings that much easier!

I took first-day-of school photos this morning, and thought it would be fun to have a little "then" and "now" comparison. Here is Mike, setting off for the first day of high school:



And here he is on the first day of 5-year-old pre-kindergarten:



Here is Annabelle this morning, looking forward to the first day of sixth grade:



And here she is on the first day of kindergarten in Hawaii:



I have to draw your attention to Annabelle's rockin' new shoes. They are Josef Seibels, which tend to be very pricey (yet oh so incredibly comfortable) here in the States. We found them on sale in Germany for 20 euros (about $25, including tax). They are part of my ongoing campaign to save Fred millions of dollars by buying stuff on sale:



Now I just have to figure out what to do with my alone time. The possibilities seem endless! I could work on my photos or catch up on my email or clean the house (yuck, not likely) or go to lunch or take a nap. Hmmmm . . . a nap . . .