And Dance, Dance, Dance All Night Long

Did you see the lights, as they fell all around you? Did you hear the music? A serenade from the stars. Wake up, wake up, wake up and look around you. We're lost in space and the time is our own. Whoooaaa whooooaaaa whooooo whooooaaaa....


I almost chickened out at the last minute and didn't go. By the time I got to the venue, Joe Cocker was singing his last song.

I meandered my way past the bikers and burnouts partying in the parking lot, feeling a little nervous to be seen being there alone. Once I got in the gate, I made a bee line for the nearest beer.

Coors, Coors Light, Miller Light, Tecate, or Pabst were my only choices. It was as if I heard angels singing when I saw Pabst, my little heart skipped a beat. You can't find PBR in OKC and it is my favorite beer of all time. When it was my turn, I laid down my $6.50 and said 'Pabst please!' The girl working it said they didn't have PBR this year, no one ever changed the sign from last year. False advertising, a mild buzz kill.

I settled for Tecate, and made my way to the stage.

It was dark, and the herbal aroma that filled the air made me smile. I was there. I was really there.

Music encapsulates memories like nothing else can. Steve Miller's music has always been about the first days of summer for me. I hear a song, and I'm 19 and sitting on the porch couch with my roommates. I hear another song, and I'm camping with my friends. I hear another song and I'm dancing barefoot in the grass.

When Steve Miller came out on stage, I didn't know him. He looked kinda like a realtor, or something. Really clean cut, Levi's and a button up short sleeved shirt. His band definitely had the holding-on-too-long-to-your-best-years look going for them though. Bleach blond mullets, and faded black jeans. They did not disappoint.

I got as close and centered as I could in the sea of diversity that makes up Steve Miller fans. The expected burnouts, the frat boys, the wanna be hippies, the 70 year old lady in a string bikini. As soon as he started playing his first song nothing else mattered. I couldn't believe he was opening with Swingtown, it was perfect.

I channeled my inner bohemian. I danced like a maniac. I sang along with every word of every song. I felt the music inside me, and felt alive and free. I danced, and danced, and danced, and danced. The wind was subtle and the breeze kept me cool.

He did all his songs, and encored with The Joker. My favorites were Serenade, Wild Mountain Honey, Dance Dance Dance, Swingtown, and of course Abracadabra.

I'm so glad I went, I was so sad when it was over. I wanted to push play and restart the CD. It was too perfect of a night to end so soon.

Playing Catch Up

First, let me say thanks for all the great defunkdifying tips. I do carry a little journal for words, but I've never considered a tape recorder. That's probably what the big time bloggers do.

I'm suddenly envisioning Dooce waxing baby and dog into a pencil thin recording device, which is tucked cleverly behind her ear so she won't miss a beat.

If I had a little recorder tucked behind my ear this past week, this is what you would have heard about. (I'm going to be brief, as I intend to expand on these topics in future posts)

I flew to Phoenix, to meet my long time blog friend Jenna. It was a great trip! She is the very definition of lovely, and I admire her so much. I love her even more now. I also met her whole family (and accidentally kissed one of her brothers). Her family is good people, and they welcomed me, and laughed with me. I was very sad to have to fly back home. I miss them already.


Jackson finished 3rd Grade with straight A's, and the second highest score on the state assessment test in his grade. I'm so proud, yet I have no idea where he gets his smarts, I'm amazed.

I had my birthday on the 19th. It was a great day, my friends and family spoiled me. As it turns out, the world didn't stop, and 32 doesn't feel as bad as I anticipated.

I cancelled my plans to go camping in Colorado. I did this weeks ago actually, even though the 'plan' was never really a go. There are some things I just won't do for mountains.

I lost my glasses on my lunch hour last Friday. They vanished as if they never existed. I had to pick out new frames at the end of the day when the doctor could squeeze me in. Choosing new frames is a harrowing experience, and I only had about 45 minutes, and a limited selection. It was an ordeal, and I had to spend serious cash on new frames that I don't love yet. I loved my old frames.

I bought my ticket to see Steve Miller. The show is tomorrow night. I'm going all by myself. I'm getting nervous, but still can't wait. It's going to be so much fun! I intend to take pictures with my phone, we'll see how it goes.

Now that I've given you some goodies to chew on, I hope you will stick around for the elaborations. If I can get around to telling them all, that is. Thanks for reading me, I love you for it.

ps. I love Jenna!

I'm Not in a Blog Funk

Wow, I can't believe it's been so long since I did this. Almost a whole week! Unbelievable.

I remember the good ol' days, when I could hammer out a new post everyday. Or, at least every other day. I wish I could still do that.

I want to write, and write, and write. I have ideas. I have cool posts spinning in my thoughts, but I am stumped for knowing where to begin.

I must remind myself that I'm not required to be poignant or profound, or even completely astute. I don't have to start at A, and stop at Z. I just need to go, the light is green.

I'm not in a blog funk. I'm not in a blog funk. I'm not in a blog funk.

I might be in a mild blog funk.

I must defunkdify.

How do I defunkdify?

Cool (in good way)

This morning Jackson begged me for a check for $15, he said he HAD to have $15 for school. He was unable to provide me any sort of documentation as proof of this need, but as soon as he said it was for a yearbook, I wrote the check.

In my day, yearbook day was a highlight of the school year. I looked forward to counting my pictures, and having all my friends sign it. Yearbooks were a huge deal to me.

I've been getting on to him lately... actually, a lot lately... for not taking care of his stuff. He ruined his two day old Heelys, by walking through a muddy creek. He got a new Pro-Tec helmet, and left it in the parking lot. He's not respecting his stuff, or the fact that I shell out big bucks to aide his cool.

He bought the yearbook today, and when he brought it home tonight, this is what it looked like.

I believe my first words were something like, 'I paid $15 for this?'

He looked at me, and said 'YUP!' with a huge smile on his face. I couldn't be upset. This was his first time to get to desecrate a yearbook, I have to give him props for going for it.

According to him (after yet another discussion on respecting things) he had to scribble on the kids faces who scribbled on his face in their books.

Points of note:

- Jackson's teacher is the greatest teacher in the world, and he looks about 18.

- There is a girl in his class named Piper.

- Evidently Hunter loves Piper.

- This boy likes to give props to his friends.

- He thinks he rocks. (and I can't argue that)

Stats On Age 4

Current stats on Noah:

- Age 4.4

- Love cars more than anything, specifically cars from the movie Cars.

- Second to cars, he loves his Granny more than anything.

- Can't wait to see his Dad again!

- Can count to 30, and trace all the letters of the alphabet.

- Super excited about starting PreK in the fall.

- Likes to play with PlayDoh, but not pull it out of the carpet.

- Calls every girl his girlfriend, including his teachers.

- Likes to sing, and loves to dance.

- Sings himself to sleep every night, he's been singing Jingle Bells since Christmas.

- Refuses to flush the toilet.

- Is addicted to granola bars, Sunbelt Chocolate Chip to be exact.

- Desperately wants to be exactly like his big brother, but doesn't want to be as mean.

- Favorite TV shows; SpongeBob, Avatar, and Americas Funniest Home Videos (because I laugh really loud).

- Won't drink anything but milk, water, and Capri Sun.

- Likes to sit on my lap, and sneak into bed with me.

- At bedtime, he wants his bear, his lava lamp turned on, and won't go to sleep without prayers, three hugs, and one more kiss.

- Will get up and go to the bathroom 45 minutes after I finish bedtime, so he can get put to bed one more time.

Stats On Age 8

Current stats on Jackson:

- About to graduate 3rd Grade. He's 8.

- He will still be 8 when he starts 4th Grade. His birthday is right on the cut off date, making him the youngest 3rd Grader in his school.

- He is in the Top 5 of the best readers in 3rd Grade, reading at high school level.

- Has been crowned a 'Math-magician' by his teacher. He is in 8th Grade math.

- Practicing for his first skateboarding competition in June, currently trying to land his Pop Shove It.

- Can shoot, and sometimes make a free-throw, and even a three-pointer. (not often)

- Gearing up for summer camp, for the second time.

- Picks his nose, and may or may not eat it.

- Likes to watch the guy on Animal Planet who eats the guts out of rotting carcasses.

- Makes a mean PB&J.

- Likes girls, but won't admit it. He gets love notes, and I cringe.

- Stood up to a bully today, without using fists, he was calm and he owned that punk... made me really proud.

- Likes for me to lay in his bed with him, and listen to him tell me everything.

- Likes me to play with his hair, and tell him about when he was a baby.


Tonight, he called himself a 'bottle baby'... he was being silly. I told him that he was never a bottle baby. He looked at me funny, and I elaborated. I told him that he never once drank out of a bottle, because I fed him for 11 months, until he figured out the sippy cup and dumped me.

He was still confused. I told him the he was breastfed. He said 'so, you have little cows inside your body?' I laughed and told him that he drank 'mothers milk.' He looked at me, his face twisted, and he said, 'that's the grossest thing I've ever heard!'

Take Me to the River

"If there is magic on this planet, it is contained in water,"

Loren Eisely

All I want to do is play in rivers. Or, big creeks. Also, lakes are great. But, mostly, it is a river that runs through me. I think about kayaking all day, everyday.

I learned to kayak in the Snake River, the part that winds through the Tetons. Not only did I kayak the Snake, I also rafted and tubed it often. I have paddled rivers in Wyoming, Idaho, and Colorado. I have even floated rivers in Oklahoma, and Texas too.

To see that written might lead you to believe that I've got mad skills, right? Well, I suppose I do know a bit about it, and I'm mildly experienced... but I've got crazier dreams.

See, I've been through Class IV rapids (Lunch Counter and Big Kahuna), but only with guides in rafts. Going solo in a kayak, through the really big ones, is something I have yet to do.

My bucket list kayaking goal is the Colorado River through the Grand Canyon. I would love to do a guided float through the Grand Canyon too, but I can't die until I've kayaked it.

I haven't had any paddle time in more than a year though, so to say that I'm rusty is probably being generous. I have a long way to go, and a lot to learn, but mostly I just need to rake in some serious water time.

Anybody know how I can squeeze that in, effective immediately?

Take me to a river, and throw me in, I'll ride it to the ocean.

A Bad Case of the Mundanes

Some Stuff, and Stuff

Yesterday, about five minutes before quitting time, a tornado formed over my office. I was looking out the window at the lake, the wind was blowing about 100 mph across it. Then, in an instant, the wind turned around and blew the opposite direction, and I could see it change, it was kinda crazy.

Tornado's are par for the course in Oklahoma, I actually enjoy them... minus the possible devastation, of course.

After work, I stopped at the store. A guy I used to work with was there, we chatted, he walked me to my truck. He told me how fantastic I look, then he grabbed me and kissed me, and it was a pretty great kiss... except for the fact that he has a fiance. I shewed him away, and that was that.

What is for certain about me, at this point in life, is that even though my dating life is all but non-existent, I'm not interested in settling. I would like to get kisses everyday, but, I only want the real stuff. So, I'm waiting for the real... no matter what. No settling.

I say that, but then realize that I have also spent the better portion of a year seriously crushing a guy who's not into me. How pathetic is that?

I'm re-reading 'He's Just Not That Into You', and wondering why I didn't absorb it the first times I read it.

Also, my sons think that the McDonald's American Idol Happy Meal toys are the coolest thing ever right now, and the sound of them makes me flip out in a violent, intolerant rage. I'm going to round up every last noise making toy in my house, borrow a steam roller, and pulverize them.

Last week they didn't show The Office, because of weather coverage. If that happens again tonight, I'm not going to be a happy girl.

I got a new cell phone. And I love it.

Happy Thursday.

A Batty Bird

What most people don't know about me, is that inside of me is a feisty, eccentric, sometimes senile, often batty, little old lady.

I promise, it has to be.

My little exclamations throughout the day are things that you only hear little old ladies say.

(if you aren't from the South, you might not have heard them though)


'Great day in the morning!'

'Goodnight nurse!'

'Mercy Myrtle!'

(all better than blurting out obscenities, I've learned)


Then there are times, like this morning in our monthly staff meeting, when I do something that only a wacky person would do... and I am batty bird.

While the Vice President (who is also one of my friends from high school) was speaking during the meeting, he looked at me. He was so poised, and professional, and on top of his game... I had to see if I could crack him.

There he was, briefing all sixty, or so, of us on the new product that he's developing... and what did I do when he looked at me?

I stuck my tongue out at him!

He didn't even flinch. (he's good)

I wasn't even sure he'd noticed. At the end of the day though, I went in his office, and he said 'what am I going to do with you?'

I laughed and laughed, but wasn't satisfied.

See the thing is, I have to get him back somehow. Last week, I had to come home early from work one day, because I was really sick to my stomach. The next day, we were talking about it, and he told me what he likes to read while he is sitting on the pot. I told him that I play Tetris while I'm going to the bathroom, and that I have for years. Toilet Tetris, as I call it. (Momo and Jenny named it that for me, after this Meme) Later that day, he spilled the tetris beans to the other guys in the office! I was mortified!!

Your girl Piper can be a batty bird sometimes, but it's always justifiable.

Singlemotherhood

This week I was privileged to be a part of a panel of Mom's who were interviewed for the series 'What Mom's Really Think...' at Discovering Dad. It was a week long series that touched on marriage, physical appearance, sex, pet peeves, and what Mom's think a good Dad is.

The other Mom's on the panel were Kimmylyn, Huckdoll, Mr. Lady, and Lori aka Mrs. Discovering Dad. Each of us Mom's are unique, we come from different backgrounds, and have had different life experiences. These women are smart, witty, and really did an outstanding job.

I was the only single Mom in the mix though, and quickly realized that my perspectives might not be relatable to everyone else. I was really happy to be involved, and I tried to be as honest and forthright as possible. However, I teetered on the brink of mild meltdowns on and off throughout the week because I felt really vulnerable, and exposed at times. I know that it was hard for me because there is still a part of me that feels ashamed of being a single Mom.

When I read the answers of the other Mom's, compared to mine, I felt like I stuck out like a sore thumb. Fortunately, I had a few friends this week who helped me gain some clarity on what it is that I actually do, and how much I have to be proud of.

As a single Mom, EVERYTHING is my responsibility. I'm responsible for it all, and don't have the luxury of anticipating, or expecting, help from anyone. I wake up in the morning to the starting gun, and it's nonstop. I have to get two boys together, along with myself, and get out the door on time. I have to drive all over town before I can even start my own long commute to work. I work hard all day, hoping that I don't get a call from school that one boy is sick, because if one is, then I have to leave work... I don't have a choice. It's my job that's on the line if my boys require their Mother during business hours. When I get home, I still don't get to rest. I have to cook, clean, do laundry, do homework, and try to squeeze nurturing in somehow. There is no soft place for me to fall at the end of the day. There is no other adult to bounce ideas off of, or to help me sort things out. I have to handle doctor appointments, and illnesses alone. I have to handle school issues and daycare issues, alone. I have to take care of bills, alone. These things are hard, and often stressful, but I have to do it, alone, day after day. I rarely get breaks, or time to myself.

Everything is a fine balance, and I don't always do a good job at it. My house is rarely ever really clean. Laundry rotates in and out of the chair in the living room. I'm late to pay bills sometimes. I forget to change the oil in my truck. I forget to buy milk. I forget to remember almost everything that's happening at my sons schools. I don't get to be in PTA, or be a homeroom Mom. I don't do fundraisers. I don't do play dates, I let noisy little boys fill my house so I can get a break from being entertaining.

I've learned that there is no point in complaining. Complaining doesn't change anything, it only makes things worse. I've learned that the only way I am going to be happy is to focus on the good things more than the hard things. I have to choose to see the bright side of everything in order to remain optimistic. I have to choose to be grateful in order to not be hardened by the hardships. I have to be fiercely independent, yet still keep space in my life for a man.

This Mothers Day won't bring me any gifts, or cards, or brunch at my favorite restaurant. My boys will still need me to take care of them, and might not remember to hug me or say 'thank you' for anything. In fact, they will most likely ask to be with their Dad at least five times that day... like every other day.

I'm trying hard to raise responsible men. I pray I will do a good job, and that they won't resent me for my numerous short comings. I hope that my best is good enough. I hope they will know that they are my world, and that my life didn't start and had no meaning before I became their Mother. I hope that they will see that everything I did was for them.

Of course they won't appreciate me until they become Dad's themselves. First, I'll have to deal with hard headed preteens, and rebellious teenagers, and try to maintain some sort of sanity.

If the flock of white hairs rapidly accumulating on my head is any indication, then I will be the white haired, forty-year-old Mom chaperoning the prom. And that's okay. I'll see my strikingly gorgeous sons in their tuxedos, and hopefully my white hair will be a crown of distinction, for a job well done.