I was visiting with my grandmother, and we were watching "Chopped", a game show on the food network that she likes. They were cooking with char, and she asked me a two-word question: "What's that?"
Now, this, I actually already knew. During Lent this year, I had purchased whatever fish happened to be cheapest. At our local grocery store, that included char. I told her that it tasted very good. It was pink, like salmon, but that it tasted more like trout.
Then came the three-word question: "Can fish cross-breed?" This time, I had no idea. I told Granner that I would go down to the grocery store, and see if they still had Char in stock. They did not. They did have swai, which I purchased and cooked for her. She asked me to use my research skills and find out, for our discussion tomorrow, if fish could cross-breed.
(Posting the answer here will not spoil the surprise in any way, since Granner doesn't use the internet.)
So, swai is also known as the Iridescent Shark, although it is actually a catfish that lives in the rivers of Southeast Asia. Char, also called Arctic Char, is found in freshwater northern lakes, including Loch Ness. It is a memeber of the family Salmonidae, which includes whitefish, salmon, and trout. I felt rather proud of my unofficial, uneducated comment that it was "between a salmon and a trout", after I found out that, yeah, it pretty much is.
So although Char is considered its own fish, the answer is a surprising yes: breeds within the same species are capable of cross-breeding. The reason that we don't see much cross-breeding in the wild is because the offspring don't always survive. Even when they do, they would almost always be so outnumbered by the "normal" fish that they aren't often discovered. If, for example, a whitefish and a trout cross-breed, and 20 of the eggs survive and grow to adulthood, in a lake system with hundreds of purebred whitefish and purebred trout, chances are slim that one of these 20 is caught by a fisherman who doesn't just call it a trout.
In aquariums, fish within the same species will often interbreed. The result is goldfish with a remarkable range of colorings.
One traveler of the information highway put it this way: "If you want to know if two fish can inter-breed, look at the Latin name of each. If the first word in the Latin name is the same, then cross-breeding is possible." Surprisingly, Wikipedia notes that Swai, the "Iridescent Shark", may not actually be a separate species of catfish, but may, in fact, be a sub-species, the result of cross-breeding from two different types of catfish.
So, I have an answer for my grandmother, and I have learned something new today. Fish can cross-breed, but it is not extremely common.
Tuesday, May 24, 2016
Wednesday, May 18, 2016
How would you rate your pain?
"On a scale of one to ten, with ten being the worst pain you've ever experienced, how would you rate your pain?"
No, I haven't been in the hospital lately, but I recall thinking how unscientific, how unlike me, to rate my current pain based on previous pain. I would quip, "I've had three children, so no pain could be as bad as that." Even if I were in the midst of a blinding migraine, or suffering from a painfully infected tooth, nothing could be above a "nine". And scientifically, if I were counting each childbirth separately, then 8, 9, and 10 would all be claimed. But, like most mothers, I have literally forgotten the physical pain of childbirth.
What I haven't forgotten is that time in 8th grade shop class, when I knicked off the tip of one finger with a router. I still feel phantom pain in that fingertip when bad weather is coming in, or when I clip my nails. There's no real way to describe it. It's a "needling" sensation. As I was in shock, and only remember coming to in the nurse's office, I don't exactly remember the pain itself. However, the whole time it was healing, it throbbed, and I could feel my pulse in that fingertip.
I've also had two bad tooth infections in my life. One was in college; I got thrown from the back of a mule (the horses were all taken) and landed on my face. Two days later, I had an abscess so bad that I literally woke up blind, with both eyes swollen shut from the infection, and I had to feel my way to my phone to call my parents and come get me. By the time my mom got there, the swelling had gone down enough that I wasn't completely blind. The dentist was only able to do part of the emergency root canal, and I had to return to college for a few days before going back for the rest. In the meantime, I sat in class sucking on ice chips to numb my teeth.
I also had a wisdom tooth come in while pregnant, and no dentist wanted to give me anesthesia, so after a week or so of pain I finally got in to see a dental surgeon who would do the deed. I wasn't even thinking about that one.
The second infection that I was thinking of came a few years later. I had a bad cavity - that root canal in college had killed all the nerves in my teeth, so I didn't feel the pain from the cavity. But when it got so bad that the jaggedness of the tooth cut my tongue, that hurt. The dentist pulled the tooth, but I got dry socket. I didn't smoke. I didn't drink with a straw. I don't know how it happened. It just did. That hurt.
So, thinking about pain, I've got to admire the "smiley face" pain scale in the pediatrician's office. It's at least moderately more scientific, more quantifiable, to say, "It's not a six unless you're grimacing. It's not a ten unless you're crying." So I thought I'd list some of the painful things I've experienced, and where I would rate them, on a scale of one to ten...
1. Phantom pain in missing fingertip
2. Purell in a papercut
3. Deep cut on my hand
4. Falling on ice and landing hard
5. Waking up with a leg cramp while pregnant
6. Waiting on a dentist to pull my wisdom tooth while pregnant
7. The worst migraine I ever had
8. Giving Birth
9. Waiting on a two-part root canal in college
10. Dry rot
I know some of you might disagree with my rankings, but part of the positioning, for me anyway, is how long the pain lasted, combined with how intense it was.
I'm curious to know about your painful experiences. Where do they fall on a 1-10 scale? What's the most painful moment you've ever had? The least painful moment that still qualifies as "pain"?
No, I haven't been in the hospital lately, but I recall thinking how unscientific, how unlike me, to rate my current pain based on previous pain. I would quip, "I've had three children, so no pain could be as bad as that." Even if I were in the midst of a blinding migraine, or suffering from a painfully infected tooth, nothing could be above a "nine". And scientifically, if I were counting each childbirth separately, then 8, 9, and 10 would all be claimed. But, like most mothers, I have literally forgotten the physical pain of childbirth.
What I haven't forgotten is that time in 8th grade shop class, when I knicked off the tip of one finger with a router. I still feel phantom pain in that fingertip when bad weather is coming in, or when I clip my nails. There's no real way to describe it. It's a "needling" sensation. As I was in shock, and only remember coming to in the nurse's office, I don't exactly remember the pain itself. However, the whole time it was healing, it throbbed, and I could feel my pulse in that fingertip.
I've also had two bad tooth infections in my life. One was in college; I got thrown from the back of a mule (the horses were all taken) and landed on my face. Two days later, I had an abscess so bad that I literally woke up blind, with both eyes swollen shut from the infection, and I had to feel my way to my phone to call my parents and come get me. By the time my mom got there, the swelling had gone down enough that I wasn't completely blind. The dentist was only able to do part of the emergency root canal, and I had to return to college for a few days before going back for the rest. In the meantime, I sat in class sucking on ice chips to numb my teeth.
I also had a wisdom tooth come in while pregnant, and no dentist wanted to give me anesthesia, so after a week or so of pain I finally got in to see a dental surgeon who would do the deed. I wasn't even thinking about that one.
The second infection that I was thinking of came a few years later. I had a bad cavity - that root canal in college had killed all the nerves in my teeth, so I didn't feel the pain from the cavity. But when it got so bad that the jaggedness of the tooth cut my tongue, that hurt. The dentist pulled the tooth, but I got dry socket. I didn't smoke. I didn't drink with a straw. I don't know how it happened. It just did. That hurt.
So, thinking about pain, I've got to admire the "smiley face" pain scale in the pediatrician's office. It's at least moderately more scientific, more quantifiable, to say, "It's not a six unless you're grimacing. It's not a ten unless you're crying." So I thought I'd list some of the painful things I've experienced, and where I would rate them, on a scale of one to ten...
1. Phantom pain in missing fingertip
2. Purell in a papercut
3. Deep cut on my hand
4. Falling on ice and landing hard
5. Waking up with a leg cramp while pregnant
6. Waiting on a dentist to pull my wisdom tooth while pregnant
7. The worst migraine I ever had
8. Giving Birth
9. Waiting on a two-part root canal in college
10. Dry rot
I know some of you might disagree with my rankings, but part of the positioning, for me anyway, is how long the pain lasted, combined with how intense it was.
I'm curious to know about your painful experiences. Where do they fall on a 1-10 scale? What's the most painful moment you've ever had? The least painful moment that still qualifies as "pain"?
Sunday, May 15, 2016
Yet another writing project
So my kids have said some unusual things over the course of their lives. Most of the time, the things that they say are adorable. When I share said "adorable" quotes with family and friends on social media, I invariably get the same comment. "I hope you're writing these down."
Honestly, not often. However, I could work on this as yet another writing project. See, the usual advice is "write every day." However, I'm not always in the mood to write every day. I had trouble explaining this to my sister, who is a physical artist. She teaches high school art, and has no trouble creating something every day. I don't want to insult her, but it seems to me that it's impossible to just "crank out" something of quality, a piece of my soul, unless I feel the muse.
It makes me question my decision to attempt professional writing.
Writing as release, however... That I can do.
So now I have a lot of different projects, each one with a different "mood". I finished my first sci-fi novel last October, edited until February, and sent it off to DAW. They rejected it, which leaves me with "Plan B": Send out query letters to agents in the hopes of getting signed. So project #1 is that. Some of the best advice that I've found about query letters is that a typical letter is the writer's resume, so include any awards that you've won, or any other works that have previously been published. If this is your first novel, say so, but also add that you are working on another. And make it so. Therefore, project #2 is my second novel. I intended to work on magazine articles and newspaper articles. If either of these were published, then I would not only have something to add to my resume; I would have the money earned from these published works. However, my first magazine article was a flop; I did three weeks of research only to find out that Slate had already published a thorough article on this same topic. Their article was a five-part series, very well written. I gave up and lost 3 weeks with the valuable lesson that my first research should be to see if such an article already exists. Project #3, magazine or newspaper articles, got left by the wayside. Project #4 is somewhat "top secret" at the moment... but I am excited about it. And when I'm excited, I write. Project #5 is to gather all those sayings that my kids had, that I had posted to social media, and to put them together into some sort of digital scrapbook. Not a story, per se. Just a string of one-liners. #5 might also be the kind of thing that I spend 3 weeks on and then let it fall, but #1, #2, and #4... those projects have my passion right now. They will either be published within five years, or I'll eat my hat.
Well, not really. That's hyperbole, dear. But that's my only goal for now. Even if it's "self-publication". Even if I have to pay someone to publish my work. It will be done. Because I won't just let these novels languish in my computer drive. They will see the light of day. And that is not exaggeration.
See, I had "weekly writing goals" on my other blog, but I only counted words on the new novel. It was frustrating to see that it was taking me so long to meet my self-imposed goals. Well, no more! I'm done counting. My new goal is simply to write every day. Even if it's just a silly blog post where I write about writing.
And just for the record, I'm no longer writing with the goal of becoming a career novelist. I will stop comparing myself to Rowling (who was also a single mother who wrote in her spare time, and took ten years to finish her magnum opus) or King (who was quoted as saying that he writes 2000 words a day). I may become internationally famous someday, but it will likely be a happy accident, and not by design and hard work.
Because I am writing for passion.
I am writing because I must.
This is my release. This is how I find my truth.
Honestly, not often. However, I could work on this as yet another writing project. See, the usual advice is "write every day." However, I'm not always in the mood to write every day. I had trouble explaining this to my sister, who is a physical artist. She teaches high school art, and has no trouble creating something every day. I don't want to insult her, but it seems to me that it's impossible to just "crank out" something of quality, a piece of my soul, unless I feel the muse.
It makes me question my decision to attempt professional writing.
Writing as release, however... That I can do.
So now I have a lot of different projects, each one with a different "mood". I finished my first sci-fi novel last October, edited until February, and sent it off to DAW. They rejected it, which leaves me with "Plan B": Send out query letters to agents in the hopes of getting signed. So project #1 is that. Some of the best advice that I've found about query letters is that a typical letter is the writer's resume, so include any awards that you've won, or any other works that have previously been published. If this is your first novel, say so, but also add that you are working on another. And make it so. Therefore, project #2 is my second novel. I intended to work on magazine articles and newspaper articles. If either of these were published, then I would not only have something to add to my resume; I would have the money earned from these published works. However, my first magazine article was a flop; I did three weeks of research only to find out that Slate had already published a thorough article on this same topic. Their article was a five-part series, very well written. I gave up and lost 3 weeks with the valuable lesson that my first research should be to see if such an article already exists. Project #3, magazine or newspaper articles, got left by the wayside. Project #4 is somewhat "top secret" at the moment... but I am excited about it. And when I'm excited, I write. Project #5 is to gather all those sayings that my kids had, that I had posted to social media, and to put them together into some sort of digital scrapbook. Not a story, per se. Just a string of one-liners. #5 might also be the kind of thing that I spend 3 weeks on and then let it fall, but #1, #2, and #4... those projects have my passion right now. They will either be published within five years, or I'll eat my hat.
Well, not really. That's hyperbole, dear. But that's my only goal for now. Even if it's "self-publication". Even if I have to pay someone to publish my work. It will be done. Because I won't just let these novels languish in my computer drive. They will see the light of day. And that is not exaggeration.
See, I had "weekly writing goals" on my other blog, but I only counted words on the new novel. It was frustrating to see that it was taking me so long to meet my self-imposed goals. Well, no more! I'm done counting. My new goal is simply to write every day. Even if it's just a silly blog post where I write about writing.
And just for the record, I'm no longer writing with the goal of becoming a career novelist. I will stop comparing myself to Rowling (who was also a single mother who wrote in her spare time, and took ten years to finish her magnum opus) or King (who was quoted as saying that he writes 2000 words a day). I may become internationally famous someday, but it will likely be a happy accident, and not by design and hard work.
Because I am writing for passion.
I am writing because I must.
This is my release. This is how I find my truth.
Thursday, May 12, 2016
The beginning and the end
I was reading a mystery book recently from the public library. The book was in good condition; it looked maybe ten years old. It was just a mystery that I picked up so that I would have something to read on my breaks at work. In it, the main character was on vacation, and had taken along his camera. Everything was so picturesque, and he wanted to take photos of everything, but he felt like he had to save a few. He didn't want to use up all his photos in one day. What? I asked myself. When was this published? I flipped to the front of the book. 1992. 24 years ago. It can't be that old. I can't be that old. I remember 1992. I don't have to Google it. I remember Perot being a major contender. I remember that floral dress with the poofy sleeves that made me feel like Anne of Avonlea. I remember Zach teasing me that I looked "like someone's living room couch". I remember VHS tapes and cassette tapes and making a mixed tape for vacation, but my dad playing the radio in the Bronco, even though we had a tape deck, and even though the same top 40 songs were on every station. I remember The Babysitter's Club and My Teacher is an Alien. I remember 1992. It can't have been 24 years ago. It just can't. But it was. And before I read more of that mystery book, I started thinking about my camera. The camera that I had in 1992.
Do you remember the time before digital pics? When you could only take so many pictures, so they had to be good ones? Do you remember the disappointment of paying $6-10, and those were 1992 dollars mind you, only to find out that sometimes the flash didn't go off, and all you took was shadow? Do you remember the thrill of taking a really good picture, and getting to show all of your friends?
I have a plastic bin full of photos in the attic, but I haven't added to it in nearly a decade. I've made scrapbooks with the best ones, and those are just the rejects. Some are bad photos, like the one I took of all of my nieces and nephews with my own kids at the last time we were all together and happy. I had the kids line up against a picturesque sunset, and all that came out was the sunset and their silhouettes. But still, I didn't want to throw it away. It was the last time that we were all together, and happy. Some of the photos in that bin are painful memories. Many are the duplicate shots of my wedding photos that the photographer gave to me as part of our package. We got 2 prints of each photo, plus negatives. Some are vacation photos with my now ex-husband. I've been divorced 8 years now, and most of my physical photos were taken in my married days, or before. There are pictures from elementary school, when I got my first Kodak camera as a Christmas gift. There are pics from high school, when my friends and I went to a Jewel concert where Rusted Root was the opening act. Thanks to my awesome older sister, I knew who Rusted Root was.
Don't get me wrong. There are times when I am grateful for modern convenience. When my kid has questions and it's easier to show them a You-tube video than to try to explain who Prince was... When my kid is doing a report on endangered species and I want a list from 2016, not 2006 or 1996... But sometimes, I don't WANT to Google the answer. Sometimes, I WANT to look through photo albums. Sometimes, I wish we didn't have all of these "modern conveniences." I don't want to only look through photos when someone dies, and we have to make "the pamphlet".
I haven't been to a class reunion since my 5-year. 2014 should have been 15 for me, and I don't even think we had one. I know I didn't get an invite in the mail. But maybe nobody sent any out. Why bother, when everyone's online? I know who's got teenagers and who's got infants. I know who's got elementary school kids. I know who's still in my small town and who's moved to the city. And if I don't know, I can Google you and find out.
A good friend of mine has valiantly resisted joining FB. Last year, she went to Cancun. She visited me at Christmas and showed me her vacation pictures (true, they were on her phone, but still...) We spent over an hour catching up, before she went to visit a few other folks. She also visited me at Thanksgiving.
I got a temp job a month ago. It's over now - don't cry for me, Argentina - that's what "temp" means. I didn't post about it online. I told random friends that I bumped into at the school or the store, some members of the school staff (since I wouldn't be picking the kids up until 5, and they needed to go to the after-school program), and, of course, family. The temp job had a computer at the desk, and no wi-fi in the building. I was allowed to use the computer for email and Google, to look up things that I needed to know, but I was not allowed to use it for social media. That's okay. And, because of my busy home life, I didn't check my social media very much when I got home. I kept up with my online games of Scrabble, or as it's known in the modern world, "Words With Friends". For one month, I posted very little. I ran into another "Facebook recluse" in a local bar. It was someone who had created an account, literally posted twice, and then stopped logging in. I'm sure if he remembers the password that he used six years ago, his notification icon would be through the roof, and it would be 85% "Happy Birthday" messages from people who didn't seem to notice that he didn't use his page anymore. 14% would be Candy Crush and Farmville invites. Or maybe it would be the other way around, since we tend to be selfish creatures wanting to score points in some virtual game by inviting more friends.
True, social media can be useful. I know people who read the local news blog religiously - and others who scorn it. Part of my recent temp job was to scan editions of our local newspaper. I hadn't actually read the newspaper in years. I didn't know that it had a new editor, if you can call her "new" since she's been editing the paper for three years. It actually reads very well, and I recommend it. The old paper was full of errors, and since it only published once a week, and gossip ran rampant in this small town, most people knew everybody's business before the paper came out. Still, the paper I remembered had national editorials, and quality writing was hard to come by when I was in high school. Now, I can log into Good Reads and see what the internet recommends for someone of my tastes, or survey for suggestions on my Facebook page. The last great book I read was at the suggestion of an old college friend, someone I've stayed connected to through social media. If he hadn't recommended it, I don't know if I would have read it.
I tell myself that I need FB and other social media to keep track of my babysitters, if nothing else. (I have a special needs child who needs qualified babysitters, not the 14-year-old who lives down the street. Not even the 16-year-old who lives down the street. If you're not a parent - and I mean a real parent - if you don't "get it", then you don't get to care for my kids. I have very few people that I trust with my kids. One of them lives two towns over, and I will drive 25 minutes to take my kids to her house on a day that my regular sitter is not available.) But now I'm unemployed, if only technically - between temp jobs again, which doesn't make me truly "unemployed". It makes me a full-time mother without a second job.
I guess what I'm leading up to is, I'm considering leaving FB. I didn't want to make an announcement on FB, since I don't want to be viewed as a "drama queen". I also didn't want to leave it completely, since it makes me wonder if I'll ever see those people again.
The classmate who moved to New York City, who has a little boy now, no more than 2 years old...
The high school friend who moved before graduation, who is now pregnant with her first child...
The college friends who were there for me during the best and worst years of my life...
The friends from my old job, where I worked for nearly nine years before I left in 2015...
My ex-husband's relatives, some of whom send Christmas cards, but some of whom I only see once every few years...
Part of me wants to plan a family reunion, but I don't even know who to invite. How much time would it take? Where is everybody living? Which branch of the family tree should be the basis for this? And do I have the stamina to take on this project? I'm a single mom with 3 kids. Yesterday was the science fair; tomorrow is the Special Olympics. My youngest has a big project due on Monday and my oldest is gearing up for his class trip. My daughter got invited to two birthday parties on the same day, and I'm trying to plan for summer vacation but I don't want to make too many plans in case things change. Life is speeding up, and there's just not enough time.
Whoa. Breathe. Calm. Yes, it's true. Life moves pretty fast sometimes. And in the words of Ferris Buller, if you don't slow down once in a while, you just might miss it.
So look through your photos. Get some of those digital ones developed and make an album. Call up an old friend.
This is Frasier Crane, signing off.
Do you remember the time before digital pics? When you could only take so many pictures, so they had to be good ones? Do you remember the disappointment of paying $6-10, and those were 1992 dollars mind you, only to find out that sometimes the flash didn't go off, and all you took was shadow? Do you remember the thrill of taking a really good picture, and getting to show all of your friends?
I have a plastic bin full of photos in the attic, but I haven't added to it in nearly a decade. I've made scrapbooks with the best ones, and those are just the rejects. Some are bad photos, like the one I took of all of my nieces and nephews with my own kids at the last time we were all together and happy. I had the kids line up against a picturesque sunset, and all that came out was the sunset and their silhouettes. But still, I didn't want to throw it away. It was the last time that we were all together, and happy. Some of the photos in that bin are painful memories. Many are the duplicate shots of my wedding photos that the photographer gave to me as part of our package. We got 2 prints of each photo, plus negatives. Some are vacation photos with my now ex-husband. I've been divorced 8 years now, and most of my physical photos were taken in my married days, or before. There are pictures from elementary school, when I got my first Kodak camera as a Christmas gift. There are pics from high school, when my friends and I went to a Jewel concert where Rusted Root was the opening act. Thanks to my awesome older sister, I knew who Rusted Root was.
Don't get me wrong. There are times when I am grateful for modern convenience. When my kid has questions and it's easier to show them a You-tube video than to try to explain who Prince was... When my kid is doing a report on endangered species and I want a list from 2016, not 2006 or 1996... But sometimes, I don't WANT to Google the answer. Sometimes, I WANT to look through photo albums. Sometimes, I wish we didn't have all of these "modern conveniences." I don't want to only look through photos when someone dies, and we have to make "the pamphlet".
I haven't been to a class reunion since my 5-year. 2014 should have been 15 for me, and I don't even think we had one. I know I didn't get an invite in the mail. But maybe nobody sent any out. Why bother, when everyone's online? I know who's got teenagers and who's got infants. I know who's got elementary school kids. I know who's still in my small town and who's moved to the city. And if I don't know, I can Google you and find out.
A good friend of mine has valiantly resisted joining FB. Last year, she went to Cancun. She visited me at Christmas and showed me her vacation pictures (true, they were on her phone, but still...) We spent over an hour catching up, before she went to visit a few other folks. She also visited me at Thanksgiving.
I got a temp job a month ago. It's over now - don't cry for me, Argentina - that's what "temp" means. I didn't post about it online. I told random friends that I bumped into at the school or the store, some members of the school staff (since I wouldn't be picking the kids up until 5, and they needed to go to the after-school program), and, of course, family. The temp job had a computer at the desk, and no wi-fi in the building. I was allowed to use the computer for email and Google, to look up things that I needed to know, but I was not allowed to use it for social media. That's okay. And, because of my busy home life, I didn't check my social media very much when I got home. I kept up with my online games of Scrabble, or as it's known in the modern world, "Words With Friends". For one month, I posted very little. I ran into another "Facebook recluse" in a local bar. It was someone who had created an account, literally posted twice, and then stopped logging in. I'm sure if he remembers the password that he used six years ago, his notification icon would be through the roof, and it would be 85% "Happy Birthday" messages from people who didn't seem to notice that he didn't use his page anymore. 14% would be Candy Crush and Farmville invites. Or maybe it would be the other way around, since we tend to be selfish creatures wanting to score points in some virtual game by inviting more friends.
True, social media can be useful. I know people who read the local news blog religiously - and others who scorn it. Part of my recent temp job was to scan editions of our local newspaper. I hadn't actually read the newspaper in years. I didn't know that it had a new editor, if you can call her "new" since she's been editing the paper for three years. It actually reads very well, and I recommend it. The old paper was full of errors, and since it only published once a week, and gossip ran rampant in this small town, most people knew everybody's business before the paper came out. Still, the paper I remembered had national editorials, and quality writing was hard to come by when I was in high school. Now, I can log into Good Reads and see what the internet recommends for someone of my tastes, or survey for suggestions on my Facebook page. The last great book I read was at the suggestion of an old college friend, someone I've stayed connected to through social media. If he hadn't recommended it, I don't know if I would have read it.
I tell myself that I need FB and other social media to keep track of my babysitters, if nothing else. (I have a special needs child who needs qualified babysitters, not the 14-year-old who lives down the street. Not even the 16-year-old who lives down the street. If you're not a parent - and I mean a real parent - if you don't "get it", then you don't get to care for my kids. I have very few people that I trust with my kids. One of them lives two towns over, and I will drive 25 minutes to take my kids to her house on a day that my regular sitter is not available.) But now I'm unemployed, if only technically - between temp jobs again, which doesn't make me truly "unemployed". It makes me a full-time mother without a second job.
I guess what I'm leading up to is, I'm considering leaving FB. I didn't want to make an announcement on FB, since I don't want to be viewed as a "drama queen". I also didn't want to leave it completely, since it makes me wonder if I'll ever see those people again.
The classmate who moved to New York City, who has a little boy now, no more than 2 years old...
The high school friend who moved before graduation, who is now pregnant with her first child...
The college friends who were there for me during the best and worst years of my life...
The friends from my old job, where I worked for nearly nine years before I left in 2015...
My ex-husband's relatives, some of whom send Christmas cards, but some of whom I only see once every few years...
Part of me wants to plan a family reunion, but I don't even know who to invite. How much time would it take? Where is everybody living? Which branch of the family tree should be the basis for this? And do I have the stamina to take on this project? I'm a single mom with 3 kids. Yesterday was the science fair; tomorrow is the Special Olympics. My youngest has a big project due on Monday and my oldest is gearing up for his class trip. My daughter got invited to two birthday parties on the same day, and I'm trying to plan for summer vacation but I don't want to make too many plans in case things change. Life is speeding up, and there's just not enough time.
Whoa. Breathe. Calm. Yes, it's true. Life moves pretty fast sometimes. And in the words of Ferris Buller, if you don't slow down once in a while, you just might miss it.
So look through your photos. Get some of those digital ones developed and make an album. Call up an old friend.
This is Frasier Crane, signing off.
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