This has been a great week!

Yesterday, The Husband and I went to see John Lithgow perform a reading at the library. He was charming, gracious and just plain wonderful. He did book signings after and I had a copy of one of  his books inscribed for my Goddess Nieces and told him, "You know, if this acting thing doesn't work out, you should be a teacher." He smiled and said if he hadn't been in the arts, that's what he would  have done. Just a delightful, positive, creative soul.

After hanging out with my new artist acquaintance, I had a serious case of creative space lust. I used to have my work area on a desk I built from two old cabinets and a door and it worked well for me. I had space for all my supplies and the computer, but as the kids got older, they needed the computer, so I moved to the dining room table. It's worked okay as a work space, but it's a mess, because I keep thinking because it's the dining room, I have to keep it looking nice for company. Then I realized we hardly ever have company, and just use the table once a year at Christmas. So I'm in the process of completely making it my space. It will probably look strange, but I'll be able to spread out  more. I have to take down the existing light fixture, as I keep bonking my head on it, but I'll learn how to take down a light fixture.

Can't wait to make new messes!

I tried two new things today. One not so good, the other, really good.

I bought a Groupon several weeks ago for 10 classes at a gym for $40. Four bucks a class is a great deal, right? Only if you are already a triathlete. Before I went, I contacted the owner, stating I needed a class for old, fat people. He suggested the boot camp class. Took me nearly a month to muster the courage to go and I wish I'd used the pass for yoga instead. Seriously, why are there no BEGINNING fitness classes, only classes for semi-professionals?

The second thing was to visit the local school district's vo-tech facility's bake sale. They offer culinary classes for high school students and every Friday afternoon, have a bake sale of what they've made. Gorgeous pastries and breads.

I'll use the rest of the class passes for  yoga and think about pastry while I'm doing it.

Had a great day yesterday!

Several weeks ago, I contacted the woman who is creating a new artspace in my town, asking if she needed any volunteers. She did, so I met with her and helped her set up a filing system and got started on getting her paperwork in one place, and she offered me a paying job!

She's an incredible artist and has many projects going on and needs someone to sort out her portfolio, photos, etc. She's also writing a book about a family member and needs me to sort out her research, notes, etc.

It will be part-time, as  needed, but this is one of those opportunities that I can't turn down. Since I'm a research and family history junkie, this is tailor-made for me. And I think it fell in my lap because I don't see this lay off as a tragedy, but opportunity.

And that, dear reader, is the power of optimism.

Unemployment, Week One

So I made it through my first week of unemployment, and am still in great spirits. I have gotten so much accomplished that I feel like I've done more in the past week than the past two years. I've finished up so many projects around the house, applied for jobs and actually cooked.
 

The Big One, The Husband and I went to the KC Improv Fest on Saturday, in which a friend was performing. Colin Hanks, son of Tom, also performed and it was scary how much he looked and sounded like his dad. They even had the same haircut. 
 
The Husband has been so supportive, and even suggested I go back to school for my MLS, which I've wanted to do for about 15 years. He said to me on Day Three how glad he was to have his wife back. That shows how toxic my work situation was.
 
And I figured out how to put space between paragraphs in Blogger. For some reason it stopped. Now I just have to figure out how to get the text consistent. 

Unemployment, Day 2

Second day of unemployment, and still feeling euphoric. I plan on taking the next few days to catch up on stuff I’ve put off since 1998, then blitz out applications and resumes. I feel like I’ve been hustling and scrambling to take care of my kids and house for the last 14 years. I think I’m entitled to a week off. So today was even more productive: • Did laundry in the middle of the week • COOKED dinner for the second time in a row (baked ziti, and The Little one liked it) • Painted a frame for The Big One’s room • Watched two episodes of Doctor Who • Cleaned out all the dead flora in the flower beds that were burned up in the summer drought. I didn’t even know it was possible for hostas to die. I have about 6 of my 40 plants left • Crocheted this little guy

• Watched the next president of the United States blow it out of the water Tomorrow looks to be even better!

Czarina Obviousa on Unemployment

So I got "let go" from my job two days ago. I would like to say, I'm embarrassed, depressed, panicked,anxious and desperate. I am none of these. I think the best word to describe how I feel is ecstatic. I hated my job. It was for a law firm owned by Idiot Boss, his idiot brother, Massenbill, and Idiot Boss' wife, Airhead. Idiot Owner has the worst adult ADD I've ever seen in my life, and the three years I worked there was a happiness-suck. The only real saving grace was my co-worker, Kathy with a K, and the two Cool Associates. However, one of the Cool Associates was also let go about a year and a half ago, so that sucked even more happiness out of me. Plus, there was literally NO WORK for me to do. Seriously, I was three months ahead on everything I'm supposed to do, so for the last year have been researching my family tree to look busy. Idiot Boss is so clueless with his own business it took him a year and a half to figure that out. I am feeling so optimistic about this, and it's very out of character for me. I think having dealt with The Ex and his unemployment record, I got the tools I need to get by. Plus, this time, I have The Husband who is really a partner, rather than an opponent. I have no idea what I'm going to do. I'm not sure I want to go back to an office job. Too much sitting around, too much office politics, and no creative thinking allowed. I'm hoping to get on part time somewhere, maybe at a bookstore, or a business I LIKE and go from there. I went to paralegal school so I could learn marketable skills, so I could support my girls, and I accomplished that. Even in this economy, admin jobs are two a penny. And my first day of unemployment was more productive than the last two years at my job: Had lunch with Cool Associate Bought paint and repainted holes in my living room Picked up The Little One from school Mopped kitchen COOKED dinner (gumbo from scratch) Detailed vacuum cleaner which yielded a bag and a half of vacuum cleaner jetsam and flotsam Cleaned out one of the many rat piles of paperwork that are scattered throughout the house Finished painting and attaching hardware to a table I'm repurposing for the upstairs TV Watched three episodes of Torchwood Crocheted two feet for the Andipose amigurumi I'm making for a young friend who just went to college Painted two piggy banks for a friend Applied for two jobs And that's just the first day.

Czarina Obviosa on Procrastination

So The Little One asks if I’ll take her to Target, so she can get something for her iTouch. “Sure, honey, I’ll take you. Just as soon as your room is clean.” Note this is around 9:00 AM on a Sunday. She was in her room most of the day, with me sticking my head in, “How’s it going? Are you about finished?” “Almost” was her answer every time. We had to leave for a couple of hours in the afternoon and when we came back, she went back into her room, and I assumed she was cleaning it. At 7:40 PM, she comes into my room. “I’m ready to go to Target now.” I explain to her that Target closes at 8:00 PM on a Sunday night and, the “Sherlock” season finale starts in 10 minutes. She got all huffy and mad at me, and I said it really shouldn’t take a person almost 9 hours to clean one room. I’ve been doing a lot of “your actions have consequences” with her a lot lately. I was cleaning her room a couple of weeks ago, and found her order form for a yearbook under her bed. The form that was supposed to be turned in in December. Five months ago. I told her, “I guess you won’t be getting a yearbook this year, because I never got this form. FIVE MONTHS AGO.” She’s been doing this a lot with other events. Last Monday at 6:10 PM, she announced she wanted to go to the school skating party. The party that started at 6:00 PM on Monday. The only reason I acquiesced on that one was because she found her own ride to and from the skating rink and paid for it with her own money. She’s been forgetting a lot of things like this lately. Part of my slacker mom philosophy is to not continually check up on “Do you have any paperwork from school, scouts, band, etc. that I need to see?” so that they will take responsibility for it on their own and if they miss out on something, it falls to them to sort it out. This has worked pretty well so far. A few missed events will cure them of that. However, I remember her older sister, who is almost anally responsible, did the same thing at about the same age. I have a theory that because their bodies are going through all these hormonal changes, energy and blood flow is diverted from the brain. Hopefully I can just wait it out and when the hormones have run their course, her memory will come back.

Czarina Obviousa on Perspective

Today marks seventeen years since the Murrah Building, and 168 innocents in Oklahoma City were destroyed by domestic terrorist Timothy McVeigh and others. It also is the 19th anniversary of the ATF invasion of the Branch Davidian compound near Waco, Texas.

Whenever this date rolls around, being the egotistical being that I am, I remember these events at they personally applied to me.

On February 28, 1983, my cousin Blair and I were driving from Austin to our homes in Dallas. We’d made a weekend trip to visit my cousin JL to make plans for a wedding shower JL was throwing the following month for who is now known as The Ex and I. It was raining and the traffic on I-35 heading north came to a standstill near Salado, Texas. We exited and decided to get out in town, because Salado is one of those cute little towns with cute shopping, etc.

While we were in one of the cute little stores, one of the proprietors was watching TV on a little black and white portable. We asked if he knew what was going on with the traffic, and he said there was some kind of religious cult near Waco that was being invaded by the FBI.

Not the answer we expected.

So we waited it out, had lunch, did some more shopping, and headed back to Dallas after a few hours.

Thus began the 51 day media circus surrounding the event.

At that time, I was working at the JCPenney in Lewisville, Texas as a visual merchandiser. The VM workshop was just past a bank of TV displays and every day, they were tuned to the pasture outside the compound. It really became a non-story after a month or so.

Until April 19, 1993.

The Ex and I got married on April 17, 1993. Two days after the wedding, we were at the Dillard’s in North Park Mall in Dallas, redeeming gift certificates and exchanging wedding presents. We watched the compound burn down in the electronics department’s TV displays.

Hindsight being 20/20, I should have taken the timing of this event as a cosmic warning about my marriage.

When the Murrah Building came down, there was so much confusion at the very beginning. I have two very close friends who live in OKC, and immediately called them, but they had no more information than I, but they were both safe.

Of course later the entire world would know all the detail of this tragedy.

I’m sure I’m not the only person who links these events, but it does give me an annual reminder that I really have a good life. And, like Maxwell’s Silver Hammer, it can all come crashing down in an instant.

Czarina Obviousa on Life Changing Moments

A few years ago, when The Ex was giving me so much grief, I was crying to my neighbor across the street. She told me, “One of these days I’m going to see you running and screaming naked up the hill and I’m going to tell my husband, ‘Yup, he did it. Layne’s finally lost her mind.’”

I have since called that moment when you realize something isn’t working and you have to make a change a “running up the hill, screaming and naked” moment.

I experienced one such moment this morning when a client called and wanted me to walk him through his settings on his email window so he could read his email better. I do not work in IT. I am a paralegal. If you are a young, college-educated person who has held a job anytime within the last ten years, you should know how to set your email preferences. You should also the difference between a Word file and a PDF.

I think I need to run screaming naked up the hill to look for a new job.

Czarina Obviousa on World Travel

Three years ago, The Big One and I were fortunate enough to take a school trip to Washington D.C. This year, we were fortunate in that we took a trip to London with her school’s marching band.

This was a trip we had been planning since she joined the band in the fifth grade. The marching band takes this trip every three years and marches in the London New Year’s Day Parade. When I was single, it was truly a dream that both of us would be able to take this trip, due to finances, but married or single, I was determined to make it happen.

The trip was worth every penny.

There were about 140 of us on the trip, students and chaperones. That is an almost overwhelming number of people to move across an ocean, but everything was planned so well, that it was amazingly smooth. I had three girls in my group, including The Big One, and we had plenty of free time to explore London on our own.

We’d made plans as a group to see certain attractions, such as the London Eye (if you ever go on this, use the Fast Pass option so you don’t spend more time waiting in line than on the actual Eye), Platform 9 ¾ (Which is nowhere near the actual Platform. It’s outside of the station, across the street from McDonald’s) British Museum, Parliament, Big Ben, etc., but I think we got more out of just walking around and seeing where the city took us. We walked at least 6 miles a day, and discovered things like Goodenough College and St. Mungo’s.

We had structured tours on the coach (it’s “coach,” not “bus” over there) with our tour guide, Darling Nikki. Nikki was smart as a whip and even though I’m sure she repeats the same information over and over again, was enthusiastic about her presentations and answered everyone’s questions. I have to give a shout out to The Big One’s Euro History teacher, because at least one kid knew the answer to every question Nikki asked.

Our first coach tour with Nikki was a general sweep of the London high points. We cruised by the Royal Albert Hall, Grosvenor Square, St. Paul’s Cathedral, Parliament, No. 10 Downing Street, Buckingham Palace, Harrod’s, the American Embassy, Piccadilly Circus, the West End and ended up with a tour of the Tower of London.

The Tower was nothing like I thought. I knew it had been a prison and where the Crown Jewels were displayed, but I expected it to be more prison-like. There was a great display in the White Tower of arms and armor. We whizzed by the Crown Jewels on the people-mover so quickly, I hardly got a look at them, but was later told they were replicas anyway. We toured the dungeon and got some great photos of the Tower Bridge.

After our tour, we were free to explore on our own and got our first experience with the London Underground. We did pretty well, but did hit some hiccups getting back to the hotel because several of the lines were closed. We eventually found Platform 9 ¾, after some assistance from the very helpful transportation worker. We found ourselves on Carnaby Street and Soho and ended up in the M & M store. The M & M store is pretty much a huge tourist trap, and I was extremely disappointed they did not carry raspberry chocolate almond M & Ms.

The next day we got back on the coach and headed north to Windsor Castle. Again, we were treated to a history lesson from Nikki, and I still can’t believe she can keep all those kings and queens straight. We were able to tour some of the inside of the castle and I think everyone’s favorite was the princesses’ dollhouse. Even in December, the grounds were beautiful and think they must be truly spectacular in the summer.

When we returned to London, my little group had our time on the London Eye. I am a total tightwad about touristy things, but this was totally worth it. After that, we walked over to the National Gallery. We had a short time there, but I think we all got to see the high points.

That evening, The Big One and I saw a performance of Phantom of the Opera at Her Majesty’s Theatre. I’ve seen Phantom twice before and while I enjoyed those performances, it’s not one of my favorite shows, but because this was in a small theater or maybe because I was watching it with The Big One and it’s her favorite show, but this performance was amazing. We were close enough to see details and some of the behind the scenes work. The marching band’s halftime show this year was music from Phantom, so it made the event even more special.

The next day we headed north again to Stonehenge and Bath. Any photos or images I’ve ever seen of Stonehenge do not even begin to do it justice. It was everything I imagined it to be.

We drove from Stonehenge to Bath, and most on our coach fell asleep. The Big One and I may have been the only exceptions because we didn’t want to miss a minute.
We toured the baths at Bath and the town. I insisted the girls tour the Assembly Rooms, even though apparently The Big One and I were the only ones who’d read anything by Jane Austen. I got chills, thinking that JANE AUSTEN HAD ACTUALLY BEEN IN THESE ROOMS. And the fifth grade boy in my got the giggles because the Jane Austen Center is on Gay Street in Queen’s Square. Also, apparently, there was a pizza baker at the birth of Baby Jesus.

The whole city was beautiful, even on a drizzly day and unlike London, felt like a real English town, not just a business metropolis.

That evening, we met up with my old friend, English Boyfriend. We dated for about ten minutes in college, and he lives about 2 hours north of London. I hadn’t seen him in 26 years, and I learned it’s nearly impossible to find anything to wear that makes one look 26 years younger. He took us to Covent Gardens and met us the next morning at 221b Baker Street. That afternoon, the girls and I toured the British Museum, the Charles Dickens House, the Globe Theatre, the Tate Gallery and walked over the Millennium Bridge.

Our last full day was the New Year’s Day parade. The kids all got on a coach to go to the parade start site, and I sneaked off to get a few photos of Abbey Road. It started to rain about an hour before the band passed me at the end of the parade route, but I saw nothing but smiles on all the kids.

I’m so grateful we had this opportunity. I’ve dreamed of going to England since I was a kid, and am so glad I got to experience it with The Big One. She even actually wanted to hang with me on the coaches and tours rather than the other girls, so we really got to spend a lot of time together.

Here’s what I learned:
• No matter how old they are, you have to tell kids things over and over again. While taking a photo of No. 10 Downing Street, I had the follow conversation. FOUR TIMES. “What are you taking a picture of?” “No. 10 Downing Street” “What’s that?” “It’s where the Prime Minister lives.” REPEAT FOUR TIMES.
• No matter how old they are, kids are still going to get away from you.
• Even though Tourguide Nikki was cute, blonde, skinny and brilliant, she had bad teeth, so that English stereotype may hold true.
• Avoid Asian tour groups at all costs. Another stereotype, I know, but in our experience, it was absolutely true.
• Even if I walk 10 miles a day and eat nothing but sandwiches, I will not lose weight.
• It is possible for me to sleep sitting up on an airplane if I take enough Ambien.
• My 10th grade daughter will probably be fine in the world on her own.
• Van Gogh’s Sunflowers is much smaller than I thought. But it seems larger than life in person.
• The car-payment boots I bought were totally worth it.

And for the first time in my life, my mom was wrong about something. Wearing jeans in England will not make me look like a tourist because EVERY DAMN PERSON IN LONDON IS A JEANS-WEARING-TOURIST.

Czarina Obviousa on American Economics

I am probably not going out on a limb if I state that like most Americans, I’m somewhat confused about the Occupy Wall Street protest. I know I’m supposed to be supportive, but not sure why. I think I finally got a handle on it though. Hear me out:

I work for a company that is representing a group of workers who want to be paid by their employer for all the time they spend performing work for their employer. The employer is a giant American corporation. One so large, that I’m pretty sure that every household in America has purchased their products at one time or another. We are representing workers in just one location. The workers are asking to be paid for an amount of time per day that probably adds up to less than ten minutes.

Corporate America may argue that ten minutes per day per worker, adds up over time and would cost the company untold profit. But here’s the thing: this case has been going on for almost four years. The company has spent far more on its attorney’s fees and expenses that it ever would have if they had simply paid their employees fairly to begin with. I’m not a math wizard, but I do know that an employee making $15 an hour, is far less than an attorney billing at $425 an hour, plus expenses. Add that up over four years, and see who comes out ahead.

The bottom line is, the company is not interested in what is doing what is right for its employees, or even its customers. As long as it shows the stockholders and board of directors that it has their best interests at heart, they are doing their job.

I feel this is also why the economy is failing and unemployment is so high. Corporate America is more interested in profits rather than keeping jobs in America, so most manufacturing is now done overseas where labor is cheap.

If given the choice, most Americans would buy a t-shirt at Wal-Mart that was manufactured in China for $4.99, than buy the same t-shirt manufactured in the US, at a locally owned store for $19.99. It becomes a vicious circle, because without jobs to have money to buy the t-shirt in the first place, there is little choice on what t-shirt to buy and where to buy it. Therefore, Corporate America has dictated where Americans shop and what they purchase.

So now I understand the basic principle of the protest. I hope this has been helpful, and please fly with us again.

Czarina Obviousa on Whirled Peas

The Little One and I were watching the morning news, and she made this comment:

"War is stupid. They should just play Rock, Paper, Scissors. That's what Coach makes us do."

She is spot on.

Czarina Obviousa on Telepathy

The Big One and I were at a used bookstore the other day while visiting my parents, and went our separate ways to browse. I went looking in the DVD section for a couple of Alan Rickman titles I cannot seem to find on DVD anywhere and came up empty. She finds me and is all excited. “Mom, does Grandmother still have a VHS player? Look what I found!”

She’s got an old VHS copy of one of the movies I was just looking for, “Truly, Madly, Deeply.”

What was so weird, is that this was not a popular film, it came out twenty years ago, and she and I had never discussed it. I’ve seen it several times and it breaks my heart every time I watch it. I have no idea how she found out about it, but had downloaded “The Sun Ain’t Gonna Shine Anymore,” which was on the soundtrack. Alan Rickman and Juliet Stevenson sing is as a duet. The Big One thought it was a song from WW2 and I had to set her straight.

My mom did have a VHS player. In fact, she does not own a DVD player and still insists she needs to hook up the VHS player to her new HD television so she can record her shows because she refuses to get a DVR box from the cable company and still hard wires her cable TV into the wall, but that’s another blog entry. The Big One watched it, and I kept popping my head in to see how she liked it, because it’s such a sad movie, and I wasn’t in the mood for it. She did like it, and now I have a mission to find it on DVD for her Christmas stocking.

Just another affirmation that I’m raising her right.

Czarina Obviousa on Noise Pollution

So The Big One and I were getting gas the other day, when the car next to us starts up, and starts blasting music. At. Full. Volume.

I got back in the car and said, “You know I really wanted to say to that guy, ‘Hey, when you do that, people aren’t thinking, ‘Man, that guy’s cool.’ What they are thinking is, ‘Man, that guy’s a jackhole.’”

The Big One said, “Yeah. The only time it would be cool if he were blasting showtunes.”

My work is done.

Czarina Obivosa’s Open Letter to Fellow Dog Walkers

Dear Fellow Dog Walkers:

Like you, I enjoy walking my dog, especially in the public park near my house. However, let’s review a few common courtesies.

• This particular park is not an off-leash park. Let me repeat: NOT AN OFF-LEASH PARK. I do not care that your dog is so obedient and well behaved that you feel a leash is not necessary when you take your constitutional. So when your tiny dog charges at my 65-pound-plus dog who responds by barking and picking up your dog in her jaws, do not scream at me to control my dog. Your dog is getting the ass whooping it deserves.

• Please pick up your dog’s poo. If you do not have or have run out of poo bags, which happens to even the most conscientious dog owners, please move the poo away from the walking path, either with a stick or your shoe. Your fellow dog owners do not want to look at your dog’s poo.

• Please do not allow your dog to poo on the sidewalk or walking path. Again, please remove it either with a bag especially designed for picking up poo, or said shoe and/or stick. I personally do not enjoy stepping in your dog’s by-products, and am certain other patrons of park feel the same way.

• If you have small children, please do not allow them to go running up to dogs they do not know, with arms flailing and screaming at the top of their lungs. My own dog loves children and responds to this by lying down, but I have witnessed other dogs who do not share this affinity for what they may perceive as being attacked by howler monkeys. And if the dog responds by nipping at your child, it is not the dog owner’s fault. Perhaps you should consider a leash for your child.

• My dog absolutely hates small dogs, especially female dogs. She is a rescue dog, so I have no idea what her history is regarding this. I am also aware you have no way of knowing this. So when I see you coming toward me with your small dog, please do not take it as an affront to you personally when I turn and walk the other way. Please do not encourage them to be “friends,” unless you wish to have my dog eat your dog for breakfast. I am not being rude. I am just trying to avoid a doggie homicide.

If we all can follow the above, we will all have a pleasant dog walking experience. Thank you for your support.

Czarina Obviousa on Office Manners

Just a few basics for those who are completely without any manners or boundaries:

• Put your cell phone on silent. Seriously. No one else in the office wants to hear your ringtone. Over and over. And over. And when you do take a personal call, please go in your office or in the hall, so it’s not broadcast everywhere. And when we hear your personal business, please don’t accuse us of eavesdropping.

• Personal hygiene is done at home. Period paragraph. This includes clipping your fingernails at your desk or cleaning your ears in the break room.

• Please do not take shared office items, such as the newspaper, with you on your visits to the restroom. The rest of the office does not want to read your poopy paper.

• Please wash your own dishes. The maid and your mother are out sick this week.

• When the paper towel roll dispenser is empty, please replace. And no, it doesn’t count when you place the new paper towel roll next to the paper towel roll dispenser. If you are unclear on how the paper towel roll dispenser is operated, please ask a four year old.

• When your lunch explodes in the microwave, please clean it up. Do not keep re-microwaving it until it resembles cheese barnacles.

• There is no coffee fairy. When the coffee pot is empty, please make another pot. If you are not trained on how to make coffee, please ask the aforementioned four year old.

• When you are finished with your lunch, brunch, snack, coffee break, etc. please wipe down the mess you left on the counter and/or shared table. Again, the maid and your mother are out sick this week.

• Please take home dirty lunch containers. Do not place them in the refrigerator. This is not a science lab.

• When you are printing 587 pages on the shared printer, please replenish the paper supply for the next person. Again, the four year old can help you with this one.

You know what? How about you start looking for another job and we’ll just hire the four year old.

Czarina Obviousa on Karma

Two weeks ago, I was first in line at the stoplight. It turned green, but as I moved forward, the jackhole in the left turn only lane on the opposite side decided that the red light did not apply to him and turned left, just as the guy next to me and I started through the intersection. I held my breath, because it looked like the guy next to me would plow right into this entitled ass, and hit the brakes. The car behind me then hit me.

We both pulled over and the first thing she says to me is, “Why did you stop?”

Not “Are you okay?” or “I’m sorry.” Nope. She tried to shift the blame right out of the gate.

She then looks at my car. I drive a 1994 Toyota Corolla wagon with 206,000 miles. It’s dead sexy. She asks, “Well, what did I do?” I looked at her with a straight face and said, “You rear-ended me.”

Please try to keep up, lady-in-the-the-big-SUV-who-rear-ended-me.

“No,” she sniffs, “I mean there’s already a lot of damage here, what is mine?”

OK, I admit there was one pretty good dent in the bumper where a young woman backed into me in the Target parking lot in Austin, Texas, four years ago. The girls and I were on our first vacation that didn’t involve going to my parents’ and I got lost looking for my cousin’s house. It was really hot, it was the end of the day, and we were all cranky. I told the girl if she gave me directions to my cousin’s, we’d be even-steven. I figured it was good karma.

So the bumper wasn’t in that great of shape to begin with.

However, she did scratch it up pretty bad, plus put dents in around the hatch door, around the tag. And she messed up my “Republicans for Voldemort” bumper sticker pretty good. I was more upset about losing that. It’s probably worth more than the car.

I handed her my card and got her insurance info. I think when she saw I worked in a law office, she came down off her high horse a little.

I went home all mad. Not because of the car, but because of her attitude. She really gave off a bad first impression, because she was so judgmental of my car.

I cooled off and decided that I’d just get the undercarriage checked to make sure it was safe for driving. If there was damage, I’d give her insurance company a call. So imagine my surprise when two days later, I got a call from her insurance company, stating that she’d accepted the blame and they requested I meet one of their appraisers.

Never underestimate the power of a law office business card.

I got the estimate, and as I’d guessed, it’s a total insurance loss. I can still drive it, so I really don’t care about the damage. I was planning on giving it to The Big One when she started driving anyway.

I felt a little funny at first, accepting the check from her insurance company. But I figure, since she’s the one who did the right thing and called her insurance company and not me, and was the one at actual fault, I’d let go of that feeling. I’m stashing it in the band trip fund for The Big One and I.

Karma’s way of paying me back.

I’m a big fan and follower of freerangekids.com. The author, Lenore Skenazy, campaigns to educate parents on the real and perceived risks to children. I appreciate the research she presents and it has helped me to be less fearful in raising my own girls.

The Little One’s school is probably one of the few in the country that actually encourages its students to walk, rather than have them dropped off by an adult. The school is situated in a neighborhood, off of any busy street, and the traffic congestion can get pretty bad. The school promotes an “All Walk” day once a month and we usually participate. We live about a half mile from the school, which is doable every day, but we’re lazy and sleep the extra fifteen minutes, so I usually take her on my way to work. However, every morning I see lot of kids walking to school. Many are alone or with siblings and no parents. No one seems to think this is dangerous or unusual.

Last Friday was All Walk day, and we got up early enough to walk. I know she’ll be fine if she walks alone, but the dog needed a walk and so did I, so I went with her. We got about two blocks from the school and heard a crash across the street. We looked over, and there was a little guy who had fallen off his scooter. We went over to check on him. He was crying, had a cut on his neck and was holding his arm like it hurt. I introduced myself and The Little One, asked him his name and who was his teacher. It turned out he had the same second grade teacher as The Little One had had. I picked up his scooter and told him we’d walk with him the rest of the way. The Little One stayed with him and chatted with him about Mrs. Second Grade Teacher. When we got to school, I walked him into the nurse’s office and told the school secretary he was in Mrs. Second Grade Teacher’s class. She commented it was nice I brought him in and I told her I couldn’t just leave him crying on the sidewalk.

After school, I asked The Little One if she’d seen the little boy at all during the day. She said she had gone by Mrs. Second Grade Teacher’s classroom to check on him and he was fine.

This incident illustrates that the Free Range Kids idea really works. Little Guy’s mother had enough faith that her kid was capable of getting himself to school. She also had enough faith that if something happened to him, it would be taken care of. Not only was there someone around when he needed it, there was someone who checked up on him.

The boogey man’s not really out there as much as we think. We just need to relearn how to treat each other like neighbors.

Baby Steps

The other night was the two-year anniversary of The Husband's and my first date. He planned to take me out to dinner, so he brought home pizza and Krispy Kreme doughnuts for the girls for dinner.

I let The Little One know that The Husband had brought Krispy Kreme for her and she smiled big. Then she said, "I have to go give The Stepfather a hug...I mean I have to go give The Almost Feral Cat a hug...I mean I have to have The Almost Feral cat give The Stepfather a hug."

We're getting there.

Czarina Obviousa on Bedtime

Last night, after watching another stellar Masterpiece Classic, I got up to let the dog out, and was blasted by Guns N Roses Knock, Knock, Knocking on Heaven's Door. So loud, I thought it was a live band.

Being that it was 9:45 on a Sunday night, my curiosity was immediately aroused.

WTF???????!!!!!!!!!

After poking my head out the back door and not seeing anything over the privacy fences, I went upstairs. The Big One and The Little One, who had already gone to bed, were stumbling around, "Mommy, what's that noise?" I went in my bedroom, and The Husband was out cold and had not heard a thing.

So I went out the front door to look for the source. Keep in mind I was wearing the Capri tights I'd worn to the gym earlier, a baggy t-shirt, no bra, no make-up, red Crocs over my footie slippers, and Mickey Mouse fleece robe with a broken zipper.

Two doors down, I could see from the street that the occupants were having a party on their back patio. Did I mention it had snowed for about six hours that day and the temperature was right around the freezing mark?

I didn't want to be a total jackhole and call the police, but it really was obnoxiously LOUD. And on a Sunday night. And it was dark and everything.

Guns N Roses stopped Knock, Knock, Knocking on Heaven's Door, so I thought the music would stop and started walking back home. Apparently, Guns N Roses had an encore. I went back upstairs and both girls were all, "Mommy, we can't sleep, it's too loud."

I decided not to be a jackhole and involve the authorities. Instead, I went in the backyard and yelled "HEY! I'ts a SCHOOL NIGHT!!!"

And the music stopped.

Czarina Obviousa does not mess around with bedtime.