Game on, Latchkey Man!

Mmmmmm. I'm feeling hungry for some Everglade stew. How 'bout you OU fans? Maybe some alligator sausage or barbecued gator tail? Oh, I know - FRIIIIIIIED ALLEY-GATOR.


Check out the Gen X blogger who thinks Florida is going to marinate the Sooners in gator picante during the 2009 National College Football Championship. Leave him a nice little comment for me, OK?

Seriously, this is one hot football game. January 8 in Miami can't get here fast enough. (I wonder if the writer I swiped that line from is going to sue me for plagiarism?

And, just imagine this. I've written nearly 400 blog posts and this is going to be my husband's all-time favorite.

***

While we're on the subject, I'm going to go ahead and admit that alligators scare the absolute bejeebers out of me. They have a couple at the Oklahoma City Zoo, and honestly, I run across the bridge they're under every. single. time. Can I get an amen?

But, if you really want to be scared, imagine being run over by the Sooner Schooner. Seriously. Getting run over by a wagon is like a really big deal. It was the leading cause of death among pioneers.

This is what it will look like on Thursday when OU "wagon-wheels" over the gators. Crunch. Crunch.

Tennessee Jubliee

There is really nothing quite like it: the winding road that leads to my sister's house in Tennessee. It curves sharp to the right and then sharp to the left two dozen or more times for seven slow-going miles. On our recent New Year's trip, we passed dozens of rural houses with expansive porches situated in deep little valleys and surrounded by fields of cattle or horses. Every time we passed a house with smoke pouring from a little chimney we all sang in unison, "Ohhhhhhhh, looooooook!"

My sister Faith with her hubby Greg and Sully.

Eventually, we reached the town where my sis has lived for the last 20 years. I will never forget the day she left Oklahoma City. I was still college, I wasn't married and I didn't have any children. I wanted to save her that day from everything that was taking her away from me, but I was hardly in a position to save myself should I have needed it.

She was 10 years younger than I am now, and as it turns out, she didn't need saving. A jubilee awaited her. I miss you, Lin.

Happy New Year!

The January masthead features pictures from our visit with my sister's family.

Astonished

Captain Drew Jensen

1979-2007

Photo from the blog Army of Dude.

Today, while rocking Sully to sleep, I prayed I would become more fully mother; that I would seize the next few years of early childhood and adolescence and joyfully wrap myself in the painfully perpetual tasks of mothering: sorting laundry, washing laundry, drying laundry, folding laundry, putting laundry away.

I know this time is going to pass. I know it because of that mother I spoke to on the phone when I was working as the spokesperson for the airport. She was a Blue Star mom and had already lost one son in Iraq and was trying to get through the deployment of another. I’m sure at one point during her journey of motherhood she was saturated in piles of dirty laundry and the mindless task of wiping little-boy pee off the toilet.

On any given day, Sully will wait until the last possible second to pee, and then run wild through the house toward the bathroom holding his pee-pee. There is quite possibly nothing in this world more astonishing and amusing to a 41-year-old woman than seeing a three-year-old boy running in tighty-whiteys. I had no idea they made butts that small. As he runs, I shout a series of phrases that for nearly 38 years were no part of my vernacular.

“Aim your pee-pee into the toilet! Keep your eye on the stream! Don’t forget to shake it off!”

“OK,” he sings.

Sully is my peacemaker. He’s always up. He appears each evening bearing gifts for everyone – his favorite blanket, a teddy bear. He calls this “a birthday party.” If someone raises their voice in frustration or anger he says, “Don’t shout. This is our family.” That is what I always tell him when he and his siblings have a rousing.

Sully hates to take naps. He kicks and screams, but eventually surrenders. I love holding his warm body as he rests in my arms.

Occasionally, like today, he farts while I rock him.

“Did you hear that?” he asks.

I pretend I did not.

“My body is making noises,” he says.

Once he is asleep, I rock him for a few minutes longer. Hard as I try to avoid torturing myself, I remind myself that he is going to be all grown up one day. Thinking of that Blue Star mother I pray, “Please God, don’t ever let this boy see combat.” Then I pick Sully up and I put him in bed and I stroke his cherubic face, dirty with crumbs and bearing a trace of dried mucous above his lip.

“You don’t wipe your children’s faces often enough,” my inner critic judges. “Good mothers always have children with clean faces.”

I lean way down into Sully’s crib and whisper, “I love you.” He gives me my Friday miracle: “I love you,” he says, his eyes closed, his voice a hair below a whisper.

I walk out of his room astonished that any mother anywhere would ever have to bury her son.
I hope all the sons – and daughters - will come home from Iraq soon.

On Veteran’s Day, Latchkey Man linked to a blog post at Army of Dude. Here is an excerpt from that post:

"...My entire being is seared by the tragedy and triumph of war, an invisible mark I wear at every waking moment. My life will be spent trying to sort out what happened out there in the desert, but today is a reflection on the men I served with, both living and dead. It's to pay respect to the uniform that millions of Americans have worn and will wear. When I'm in class and I inevitably begin to space out, I'll be thinking of Chevy and Jesse, their lives gone too soon. I'll be thinking of playing craps on the floor and poker on the table. I'll remember a time when stepping ankle deep into septic waste was barely the worst part of a day, and that first sip of cold water was always the best."

Couplings

Photo Courtesy Pepboys.com

Growing up, my father was always repairing something that was broken. More often than not, it was some bombed-out used car. Seriously, my father spent most of my childhood under the hood of a car trying to get it running again.

Once, he was under a jacked-up car and the jack collapsed and the car fell on him. I remember yelling for help. My mom came out and lifted the car off of him. Wild times.

My dad always had rough hands sporting numerous small cuts. I always asked him how he got the little pink fleshy nicks and he always said he didn't know. "I bleed like a stuck hog," he often said. I miss my dad.

A couple weeks ago, after two years of dealing with dryer lint all over my basement, I finally set out to put an end to the problem. I discovered it was the absence of a $2.50 coupling. I must have heard my father say the word "coupling" 1,000 times while I was growing, and I couldn't have been more disinterested. I really wish I'd paid better attention because I could have saved myself a lot of cleaning over the last two years.

Mostly, I wish my dad was around so he could have put that darn coupling on for me. As I pulled the thick twisted wire apart to situate it on this silver tube thing that attaches to the dryer it snapped back and took a little chunk right out of my thumb. Now, I have a pink fleshy nick just like the ones my dad always had.

Thanks, dad, for all those times you slithered under a car and spent the entire day on your back trying to get it running again. I forgive you for all the times you got mad at me for not holding the flashlight still enough while you tried to fix some strange thing - a solenoid or manifold - alternator or carburetor. I was bored and daydreaming about playing with my dolls or calling my friends or watching TV. I wanted to be anywhere, but holding that flashlight steady.

***

My father convinced me if I didn't go to college and get a degree, I might as well go jump off a cliff because I'd be a worthless sack of crap without an education and my life would not be worth living. I realize now that he pressed me from the inside out with the fear of disappointing him, because something was pressing him from the outside in -- the fear that I would relive the disappointments he had endured. He knew that college was my ticket out, and I took that ticket, and in 20 years, I've never been stranded. If only he could know, now, that what kept me from being marooned in blizzard conditions was nothing I learned in college, but rather, the Faith that was his own.

random thought #2

Is it just me or is it in fact a complete and utter irony that the most self-righteous people we have the unfortunate occasion of meeting are more often than not the most blessed among us?

I don't get it.

Today, while reading comments on a blog post, I came across a comment from a woman who went off-roading about how everyone needs to stop whining about the mortgage crisis (including people losing their homes) because, after all, she had a great childhood, and her parents laid for her the perfect foundation, and she spent five years saving for her house, and now she lives in a McCastle and stays home with her kids, and her husband makes $100,000 a year.

Chock this up as another person with whom I probably wouldn't want to have coffee.

***

One time, I heard a Greek and Hebrew scholar address a crowd of 2,000 people. He told everyone to take a good look around and find someone we knew going through the hardest of times. He then said, "This is the person you want to be close to, because the greater the fire one walks through the greater the faith he or she has."

Best Blue Plate Special Ever: Generation X Memoirs and More

This is by far, the best Blue Plate Special post I have ever delivered. There is currently so much compelling Generation X content on blogs. The tenor continues to build. Included below are links to two cutting Generation X memoirs. Don't miss them.

The ideas put forth in these posts as well as in the following spattering of news stories range from bitter soup to bittersweet chocolate shavings. Extending the restaurant metaphor way too far, the steaks in this post cut rare and well-done. There is nothing bland here. The flavors run the gamut of Banquet TV Dinners -- watery mashed potatoes swimming in margarine, tempting the Gen X psyche -- driving us all toward the private rebellion of pop rock candy. They told us it would make our stomachs explode, and we ate it anyway.

***
Instead of saving the best for last, I'm leading with one of my favorites: Popcorn in My Bra's review of Cobain Unseen, a book she calls more than a biography of his life, but rather, a biography of his artwork.

I have never really cared for Cobain or his music, but this review made me feel very connected to Cobain. It sounds so corny, but I finally get his Gen-X-brother-in-arms status. I was very captivated by the part of this review that talks about childhood artwork posted all around his bedroom. Big hat tip to this Generation X Blogger, Jennifer from Wisconsin.

***
The National Review reports that President-elect Barack Obama's early years were straight out of Gen X. (Abandoned by his father, and for a time, by his mother; experimentation with drugs and drifting, etc.)

I'm a little late posting this, but on December 23, Suzanne Kart encouraged Generation Xers to embrace their inner Griswold. I really think she has a point! Check it out. She also has a blog post about Gen X and office parties. And, she links to a blogger I've never heard of before - Punk Rock HR.

***
Josh and Josh have linked to a Generation X memoir by the novelist and essayist Kirsten Major, whose work has appeared in the New York Times. This memoir is very touching. You must read this. It's one second shy of 18 minutes long, so bookmark it now and make time for it later. Here are a few memorable quotes/points:

"Our generation was so small, we closed down schools..." *** "...Latchkey kids who let ourselves into the door of adulthood without anyone noticing..." *** "We lived as if after a disaster..." *** "Because your parents are divorced you will never..." *** "When I was 39, I broke down and cried on a monthly basis..." *** "...My generation...economic failures..." *** "I don't feel I make a lot of sense outside of my milieu..." *** "...deeply resent generations before or after us..." *** "Why do you seem so young..." *** "It probably doesn't matter."

She writes about college graduates busing tables, fixing old bikes and being school bus drivers, as well as getting 39.5 hour week jobs that provided no benefits.

She calls Generation X the first "non-believers."

***
The Web site, Babble has a long Generation X memoir/feature, Trouble at Home: Did Generation X's nesting mania spark the economic meltdown? I was immediately put off by this title, but as I read page after page (it's another one that will take you several minutes to read), I came to understand the writer, Susan Gregory Thomas, and her intelligent position. When she writes about the "utterly white light experience of holding a newborn," I was pretty hooked and followed her to the end, where looks in the mirror during a slacker party and makes a paradigm shift.

This is really well written, and I like the photos scattered within the article.

***

According to Ad Week, Generation X watches less TV than Boomers and Silents.

***
According to New Zealand's Fran O'Sullivan, Gen Y and Gen X women lack the survival skills characteristic of Silents, etc.. I really get weary of the limited definition of hardship. Gen Y and Gen X women face their own hardships, even if they don't involve standing in soup lines. I also don't think Gen Y and Gen X women are focused on "having it all." O'Sullivan really needs to do her research. For starters, Gen X is absolutely focused on the simple pleasures, and actually has more in common with Silents than Boomers.

***
According to one executive, Gen Y will move up through the ranks faster than Gen X did based on the fact there aren't enough Gen Xers to replace Boomers in the workplace when they retire.

***
Maybe it's just my imagination, but I could swear the Louisville Courier-Journal covers quite a bit of Generation X issues given its location and space. Impressive. This review of the new movie, Revolutionary Road, starring Winslet and DiCaprio, mentions Gen X wariness in regard to the romantic view of the 50s. The writer quotes Rick Perlstein, an historian wary of generational warfare who nevertheless recognizes that Boomers and Xers view history quite differently from one another.

***
According to the U.S. Department of Labor, the need for insurance agents will increase giving Gen X and Gen Y an opportunity to pursue the profession.

***
Pay attention to this one, because it is a little OUT THERE. A group of Swedish executives have created, Bible Illuminated, which features pop iconography including pictures of Angelina Jolie. Huh? Somewhere, someone in Sweden thinks this will appeal to members of Gen X, and for the most part, I think they are right. (By the way, this is reported by Jessica Gelt of the Los Angeles Times.)

Listen to what Jason Illian of GodTube says about it: "I think this generation is trying to have a real connection with God, and that's been lost somewhere along the way. And if they can connect through videos or graphics or music or whatever it is that makes a relationship with Christ more alive, then that's a good thing to have."

***
I have not had time to listen to this entire four-minute video (source is the New York Times), but the title is compelling: Darfur's Generation X. The subject matter is young men in refugee camps in Darfur coming of age and becoming a political force.

I like it when Generation X is used to describe a demographic and not simply used to define a group of people based on their cultural ideas or experience. (Lisa Chamberlain did the latter in Slackanomics.)

***
Here is a blogger, Celtic Knot some of you might want to link to because he admits to a strong dislike of Boomers. I haven't had time to read his blog yet, but I liked quite a few things he wrote in his "quickie bio." Let me know what you think!

***
This next blogger writes a brief memoir about the Big Wheel. More importantly, she is a mother of six, has a baby on the way, and lives in Denver. I might have just found my Colorado Generation X blogger. I love her writing style, and in some ways, she reminds me of another favorite blogger, Betty Duffy from Indiana. (Click on the category "Loss.")

***
The writer of the blog, Dude, Where Am I? features "the musings of a grown-up Generation Xer on life, family and parenthood." She has some great posts and her current play list is fantastic.

***

And, finally, a blog that is a few months in the making. Begun in August, the title is Generation X Life Support. See what you think! I wish I knew where this blogger lived. Same goes for Loren Christie of Dude Where Am I?

Christmas Dolly Evokes Nightmares in Toddler

Last night, Santa came to our house. He left a dolly for Bridgy. This dolly closes her eyes and says "momma" and "wahhhhh." She also giggles, and she came with a little-bitty doggy that barks. And, the dolly and the doggy send Bridgy running screaming out of the room. They completely terrorize her.

And, this is how my Christmas has been.

So far.

But.

Juliette got a set of 25 different colored glittery eye shadows and 15 different lip balms featuring flavors like Dr. Pepper, Dots, Junior Mints and popcorn, so it's all good.

And, oh yeah, Mary had a baby. And, his name was Jesus. And, now Robert has a pair of L.L. Bean flannel-lined, over-priced jeans, and Sully has a train set, and I have a very cool hand-knitted scarf and hat from my ma. And Bridgette's running screaming from her toys.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all, a good night!

(And, to my Jewish friends in the blogging community, Happy Hanukkah!)

Recycyling Christmas Part 1

In an effort to be more frugal this year, I used paper I had from last year.

I decorated Sully's presents with feathers and pompoms I've had forever.

He was very excited to see these on the dining room table this morning!

Inside one of these boxes is a package of "reba cakes," also known as Little Debbie Zebra Cakes. They're Sully's favorite.

Recycling Christmas Part 2

For Bridgy's packages I used pink paper I bought at a garage sale a few years ago.

I picked up a big sack of ribbons at the rockin' roll garage sale I went to a few weeks ago for 50 cents. I made that carnation thing out of old pink tissue paper.

This ribbon is recycled, too - from a gift we received last year from someone.

Recycling Christmas Part 3

I decorated the area above the mantel in Juliette's room with old Christmas cards and

very old garland I picked up at a thrift store years ago.

I have used this paper the last three years.

Whatever is left this year is going away because I am sooooo tired of it.

This package has more of the ribbon from the garage sale.

GMA's Chris Cuomo Is On My List!

Ohhhhhh, he made me cry so bad yesterday with this story about one man's amazing gift to his co-worker.

Did I mention I also hate news stories that make me cry?

I *hate* tear jerkers

Hotel Rwanda? I'm game. But, do not - DO NOT - make me sit through a tear jerker. The only reason I got through the last major tear jerker was because there was someone in the theater bawling so hard it was actually providing some comic relief.

The movie that made me cry harder than any other - I'm talking bent over in the car bawling all the way home like a big, fat baby - was Wild Hearts Can't Be Broken starring Gabriell Anwar. The year was 1991. I was 23, and I totally could not handle that girl going blind.

The last movie that made me cry was Click with Adam Sandler. We were on family vacation and I totally thought I was going to see a comedy and I ended up with mascara smears.

What movie made you cry?