Mayberry

In the past 5 days my part of town has experienced:

One break-in attempted assault/robbery at knifepoint (guy ran when woman screamed)

One "make my day" shooting of an intruder by a homeowner (guy is in hospital)

One break-in robbery at knifepoint (2 guys)

One break-in rape at knifepoint

All of the intruders wore ski masks. The first break-in was at a house close enough to mine I could throw a rock twice and hit it. That same night my next-door neighbor had their basement window screen cut and removed, but no one entered their house.

Can I just tell you this is quite upsetting? I know more than one family in this area whose kids are all camping out on the parent's bedroom floor.

This is a nice town but I'm thinking people had better snap out of their Mayberry fantasy. Most of those crimes were not forced entry, the guy got in through unlocked doors and windows.

Welcome to Enron

This summer I spent some time with my parents. As I've mentioned, they've chosen me to be their "Executrix" when they pass into the great beyond. I accepted the task and not just for the frisky title. We had our official meeting to discuss all the details which was excruciatingly uncomfortable. My Dad is really secretive (is that spelled right? It looks like I'm saying he secretes which I won't even go into). My Dad is private, I'll say, and now he knows his jig is almost up. I mean, when you die, somebody (me) is going to learn everything about you and probably more. He even said, "Well, Honey, the good news is we don't have any debt." Do I want to know what the bad news is? No, I do not. You remember my parents? The Depression Babies who don't throw anything away? The ones with two basements filled with stuff? They do file things; they love to file. File, File, File. Files all over the damn house. Files in the bathroom, as God is my witness. More often than not, when I asked the location of items from my official Executrix checklist, the answer was, "In the basement". Remember that old horror movie with the tag line, "Don't look in the basement......"? Well, now I know why you don't want to look. The personal result of this incredibly morbid but practical meeting was a renewed interest in filing with the bonus of purchasing a new shredder! I read Suze Orman and she says you don't have to keep every little piece of paper. It's too late for my parents, but not for me! So, in the spirit of Enron, I am shredding everything in sight, or rather, everything that's 10 years old and stuffed in a random box because, "We might need it someday". We won't.

Truth is stranger than fiction

I come from a long line of over-reactors (reacters?) and embellishers. In many cases you can take what they (my ancestors) say, cut it in half and you're close to the truth. Because of this, I tend to downplay things and stick to the facts, however mundane. Sometimes I'd like to spice things up, add a few juicy details to make my stories more interesting, but, more often than not the truth makes the better story. Truth is stranger than fiction could be the title of my life story. In fact, I've just entitled my life. There you have it. Having prefaced this entry, I was grocery shopping last night with my 3 year old. Big mistake normally, but I had her fed and happy and we managed to get one of those carts with the Fred Flintstone car attached so we were in great shape. I was concentrating on labels because I am shopping for gluten-free food and I could hear my daughter saying something, but it doesn't seem urgent. I'm reading and thinking and then I understand what she is saying:

Daughter: That is a big butt!

Me: (hitting the deck, stage whisper) Honey, don't say that! (Look around at all the shoppers and smile sheepishly)

Daughter: Mommy, do you see that big butt?!

Me: Honey! (frantically pushing the cart from behind the yogurt man's inventory) Stop saying that!

Daughter: (now realizes Mommy is freaking out) Did you see the big butt? hahahahahahahahahahahahaha!

Me: (careening down an aisle with a cart that is literally hell on wheels, one wheel won't turn and one is making a god awful screeching sound) You have to stop saying that! (kneeling down) Honey, you could really hurt someone's feelings. (make sad face)

Daughter: (looks down, very sad) Oh, I sorry Mommy. (5 seconds pass) Mommy?

Me: (ready to forgive) What, Honey?

Daughter: That was a really big butt!

Too "JonBenet"

I hope and pray that John Mark Karr is really JonBenet's killer and not simply a nutjob obsessed with the case. His family has come forward to give alibis for him, but none have mentioned his pedophilia or tendency to live in a fantasy world. Although, last night I heard an interview with his brother in which he admitted he didn't know JMK was in Bangkok. My family goes through rough patches, but I think I'd know if one of them moved to Bangkok. I live in Colorado and did in 1996. I'm sure the media coverage around the country was intense, but I'm also sure it was the most intense right here where I live. The Ramsey's "Candy Cane" house became a tourist destination, it was so gross. Remember those candy canes that decorated their house? I was once offered some from a friend and refused them because it was "too JonBenet". A lot of things in life have taken on that distinction. I can't handle little girl pageants. I can't handle little girl models in magazines like W and Vogue. I remember an "art exhibit" in Boulder, possibly at CU, after the murder. The display was a group of blown-up photos of JonBenet in full pageant mode with a large sign reading, "Look: Daddy's Little Hooker". That made me sick. The very people trying to make a statement in her defense made her an icon for pedophiles. Let me say right now that I do not believe her parents had anything to do with her death. Sorry, my brain just won't go there. I cannot believe they could brutally kill their daughter and then fake the rest. It just doesn't register. For those people who see this kind of thing every day, I'm sorry, but I just can't wrap my brain around it. Having said that, I'll go back to my former comments about pageantry. Little girls love to play dress-up. Every girl should have a big box of princess dresses at home to play with. Putting girls in beauty pageants in full hair and makeup is just so grossly wrong. See my last post for my feelings about parents living through their kids. I believe Patsy Ramsey loved her daughter as completely as a mother could. I think she erred in putting her little girl out in the world the way she did. I think Patsy couldn't wrap her brain around how bad the world can be, either.

Shay Smith

I am so angry right now. It's that kind of white hot anger where I could barely drive my car. The thing I'm so mad about is all over talk radio and I would love to call and rant but I don't have the time to wait in a caller queue. Hopefully posting my feelings here will help me calm down.

A few weeks ago, here in Colorado, a little 2-year-old boy was reported missing. The story went that he fell out of the speed boat his dad was driving and couldn't be found. The dad went back to where he thought the boy fell out but only found his life jacket. Ever since, search and rescue has been looking in the lake for the boy, Shay. It's a particularly deep lake and divers have to use extra precaution and the whole thing is painstakingly slow and tedious. After weeks of searching, they still haven't found Shay's body. I've been glued to this story because from the beginning I thought something didn't sound right. What father doesn't notice their toddler fall out of the boat? Actually, what I really thought was, "What father takes their toddler on a boat and doesn't hold onto him?" Yeah, yeah he was in a lifejacket. I have a thing about people and boating: nobody is careful enough. The fact that the family has a boat is all about the dad and nothing to do with the kids. I was raised on a lake, literally on the shore of a big old lake in MT. My parents built an island instead of a dock. You had to know how to swim to get to the island. We never had any even kind of close calls with water in the 80-year history my family had that lake place. Life jackets were always worn in our boats, no matter how old or young the wearer. Life jackets that were the correct size for the wearer. Little kids were never allowed anyplace near the water unless attended by an engaged adult. I have to wonder how many baths this little boy took by himself with Dad watching football in another room. Arm's length is the rule. If your kids are in any water you are to be no further than arm's length from them. Well, the Dad's story has changed just a tad. There may have been alcohol involved and he may have been pulling the 25 pounder on a tube and they may have been going 30 MPH and the lifejacket may have been for a 40 pound child and he really wasn't sure when Shay fell off the tube because he and the other adult weren't paying attention and the 3-year-old on the boat was supposed to be watching Shay. Yes, Dad put the three-year old in the position of watching Shay. All-about-the-dad. The sheriff has reported that the Dad hasn't helped in the search and is, in fact still seen wakeboarding on the same lake while the rescuers are working to find his boy. I swear to God, why do people have kids if they aren't going to take care of them? This was an accident, but a really stupid one that could have been prevented so easily by following the most basic steps of safety. Hold hands in the parking lot. Cut food into little pieces. Make sure the kids are in the house before backing out of the garage. Toddlers don't ride behind boats their drunk dads are driving. They are charging the Dad with child abuse resulting in death and I am giving a standing ovation.

Denver Zoo

Wow, I have been a blogging fool lately. When it rains, it pours, I guess. Today we took our kids to the Denver Zoo. The weather was much cooler than it has been with partially cloudy skies and everything. I love Kathy Sabine and I want to have her job. (For non-Coloradoans, KS is a weather superbabe on TV.) After our marathon car trip last week a trip to Denver is no big whoop for anyone in this family. Anyway, the Zoo was nice. A lot of the animals were underwater, if possible. I don't mean the seals, I mean the hippos and polar bears. If they had a pool they were in it. The gorillas were fascinating, I could honestly watch them endlessly. The part that will stay with me forever was when we were standing at the elephant habitat and heard this little girl shriek,

"Look Mommy! Look, Look, Look! Can you see it? Can you see it?" (jumping and pointing.)

The whole crowd turns to follow her direction, but we don't see "it".

In frustration she finishes with,

"Can't you see it? That girl over there has a Razr phone!"

Crowd groans and silently promises to shut off their cable service and internet the second they get home.

Tales from home

As you know, I've just returned from visiting family in my home state. I am still processing all that a visit of this kind entails, this could take several entries. One thing that always bothers me about traveling with a large family is the unwillingness of those we are visiting (at their invitation and intense desire) to do any work whatsoever to accomplish a happy visit. For example, some family members who are single but live a couple of hours further from our destination spot refuse to travel to see us, insisting that we add the extra hours to our already 16 hour journey with 4 kids. Some will come only if we go in on their timeshare with them which is located in a different town and is not convenient. Plus, the thought of meshing these particular families sounds like one of the levels of hell. Some will join us only for meals and only if somebody else pays (I'm not kidding). My parents, however idiosyncratic they may be, were wonderful. They devoted themselves to us and the grandkids, I was really proud of them. They are getting old and are in pretty poor health and I'm sure they are still recovering from the couple of days we were there. Seriously, Mom has had her knees replaced 3 times and was picking up kids and bouncing them on her lap, all no-nos. True to form, though, the first words out of my Mom's mouth to me were, "What have you done to your hair?" This sends my daughters into fits of laughter to which my Mom responds, "Well, I didn't say I don't like it!" I just smirked and said, "I don't like your tone, Young Lady!"

Mohawk Boy

We're on our big trip and have covered a couple of states and over 1000 miles so far. We're in Montana, land that I love. Well, I love Bozeman where I went to college and lived for a while. We were there for the Sweet Pea Festival of Art. It's three days of fun each summer. I got to see lots of friends and sorority sisters, it was marvelous. From there we traveled on to Kalispell which is in the NW corner of MT, almost at the US border. It is so beautiful up there, you can't believe it. Flathead Lake is so big and amazing. I love the place. Now, you may have heard the story about Kalispell and the alligator? Yikes. The place is a little behind, but don't tell the people who live there. They have their dial-up and that's just good enough. I know, I'm from there, so I think the people are funny and quirky and NOT AT ALL like Deliverance. Plus, the people up there have this funny accent. For example, they pronounce Sunday like sun-dee. Sundee, Mondee, Tuesdee. But again, don't tell them. In Kalispell we spent some time with my folks who I've mentioned in blogs past. Speaking of quirky..... Well, my parents are an acquired taste, but good people. Quirky. My daughter asked about the first time I brought my then boyfriend (her Dad) home to meet them. I told her the tale of bringing him inside, making the introductions and running out in tears. Well, he loved them and me and here we are. Then my daughter said:

Okay, so you brought home Dad and the Mohawk Guy, anybody else?

Husband: ummm.... the Mohawk Guy? (See he knew about Mohawk Boy, but didn't know that he had ever been to my hometown with me. We don't talk about Mohawk Boy. We were having a rough patch in our relationship, say no more.)

Now I'm pointing out cute houses and trying to steer the conversation away from old bad boys and my daughter is laughing and peeing her pants in the back seat over the crisis going on in the front. It was good to see him get so riled up over Mohawk Boy. In fact, I think every marriage needs a good dose of Mohawk Boy just to liven things up.