Why not?

It isn't her fault that she doesn't spell this right. It sounds like it should be spelled with an "h." In fact, I wouldn't be against her writing a proposal that we do add the "h," to Wyoming. Think of it:  WHYOMING. Why not? In fact, as my husband says, if they had spelled Whyoming that way, it would be logical to name the capital Whynot.

Fortunately, my husband caught the error and before my daughter went off to take her geography test, he reminded her not to put in the "h." Aside from that erroneous h, my daughter had this nailed. States & their capitals -- Mrs. Sua from St. Joes would be impressed with my daughter. Mrs. Sua gave me an "F" on that test in the 6th grade. Hey, I got Hawaii & its capital. 

When my daughter came home, Hubby asked how she thought the test went. She said that she think she did awesome. Then he asked if she put the "h" into Wyoming. She stopped in her tracks. Oh bummer, she said, at least I'll get a 3 (instead of the 4, equivalent of an A+). 

So on Friday she came home totally thrilled. 

"Daddy, you're WRONG!!! Whyoming does have an H! My teacher didn't mark it wrong!" 

When he showed her that indeed, Wyoming doesn't have an "h," she made him promise not to let her teacher know. She wants to preserve her 4. 

Wile te onorable ting to do is let er teacer know of te mistake, I tink instead, I'll just sacrifice some H's out of words to make up for te extra one my daugter put into er state test. 

Isn't it ironic, doncha think?

There is an irony to life that has been bugging me the way a scab you pick at all day does. Not really painful, but not comfortable either, and you just fuss with it without ever meaning to. It strikes me that the people who dislike something so much, that they dedicate their energies to it's banishment or management, end up faced with the thing they hate the most constantly. For example, I imagine that fitness buffs hate sloth and fat. But if they pursue this as a career path, they end up working with overweight and heavy people. And granted, they'll likely transform these people into fitter and healthier versions of themselves, but there will always be another heavy person to take their place.

But what has been on my mind lately are the people who fight for sexually abused children.

A couple of years ago, I remember watching an Oprah (Must have been when I just had one of my 3 kids. Really the only time I ever watched her show with regularity. What else can you do when you're breastfeeding a kid on the couch?) which was focused on child pornography. There were 3 people they were interviewing about their work, which was, of course, facing budget cutbacks. There were two women who spent their days watching child pornography (the phrase kiddie porn makes something heinous seem less horrifying so I don't use it) building cases against the alleged offenders. The one guy was the detective who had to slog through the case files and arrest the perpetrators.

What struck me about the three of them was that there was a world weariness around their eyes. That they all looked at things that turned their stomachs and that they knew they had to do it because otherwise there would be no way to bring justice down upon the perpetrators. Theirs were the eyes that watched when the children were being violated. Their eyes were the ones that recognized the suffering. It was their witness that could testify against the rapists for the voiceless children. The male detective said that there were nights that he had to tear himself away from his desk because each one of those files sitting on its top represented one more child who was going to endure a living hell. One more waste of breath violating another innocent life. And it weighed down his soul to know that the next day, more files would be added to the stack. More children, more perpetrators. More.

I think what has brought this to the forefront for me is the latest scandal at Penn State. I've tried to avoid hearing about it but it is even on NPR. So I turn the station and it is all over the morning talk shows.  But that's the deal, isn't it. While the whole pedophilia thing upsets me and makes me want to call down some serious smiting from the heavens, it is so beyond my understanding that I cannot let it into my psyche. I cannot look at it square in the face. I cannot believe the reality of it because it shakes my basic understanding of what it is to be a person. I know it exists, but I cannot pay attention because to me, it feels like breathing in asbestos -- it is destined to grow cancer on my soul.

I think that is why there is inaction on the part of other adults faced with the ugly truth of some kid being violated by an adult. There is a desire, unthinkable and unforgivable, to wish it away. That if the accusations would just disappear, then there would be a return to normalcy. The world view that adults protect and nurture children would not be replaced by the world view that somebody you know is abusing, molesting, and raping children. I think this is why so many adults err on the side of complicity. You would hope that the first adult a child approaches would be the hero. Likely, it is the only adult that the child will have had the courage to approach. And if that person cannot get past the inertia of not wanting their world view to change, then that child's freedom is likely lost.

I think this is what happened in the Penn State case. I think that the coaches couldn't believe that this was happening. Despite being confronted with the actual act of rape witnessed by another person, inaction prevailed. That one of their coaches, a guy they've hung out with, been friends with, discussed strategy with, had been a voice of reason and a good sounding board for them, could ever be the kind of person that raped children. The children who were victimized were already from troubled homes. These kids were already voiceless in their own lives, and this predator took advantage of the groundwork laid by other adults.

I don't have much insight to offer here. Just making the observation. If not for those investigators, those detectives who are willing to look the ugly of our society full in the face, those kids would remain voiceless. They don't wear capes, nor can they fly. They're not trumpeted or given keys to the city. But what they have devoted their lives to, they pay the price. What they do is no less than heroic.

Annual birthday celebration

Sharon, Julia & I have our birthdays within 2 weeks of each other. When we figured this out, we instituted yearly birthday outings without husbands or kids. This was after we had a disastrous year of having 3 individual birthday celebrations. There was too much cake and just... well, it got really bad by the time we got to Julia's birthday. Just felt like watching the same movie over and over and over again. Like when I was a kid and looked forward to watching The Wizard of Oz. You only got to see it on television once a year and it was an event. If you missed it, you'd have to wait until the next year. Then came VHS & Betamax and all of a sudden watching the WoO wasn't as exciting. I got a copy from my Aunty Pris one year and I haven't watched it since. So having 3 birthday parties with the same circle of friends all within the same 2 week period... You see how bad had gotten.

We went to the Harbour Public House (yeah, with the extra "u" because the people who founded it were from England) along with all the adults on the island. At least it felt that way. We showed up relatively early, at 5:45 PM, and still the place was packed. I think the senior citizens who show up to meals at 3 PM for the blue plate special have a good idea. Plenty of parking and you don't have to wait for a seat. I suppose that is just around the corner for the 3 of us. I had my first pint of mangoweizen. You know the Hawaii in me can't pass up a mango anything. Same goes for coconut. Or lychee. But it just tasted like beer to me. 

We are such old moms. Even though the kids were safe at home, of course our conversation turned to living with teen aged boys and tween girls. I'm the only one with a kindergartener anymore. Those girls are so close to the finish line. Damn. I guess you can take the moms away from the kids but still, our worlds revolve around them. I wonder if I'll have anything to talk with these broads about when their young ones end up graduating. Who am I kidding, of course I will. They're my girls!

So anyway, we decided to try to find some karaoke someplace. It's my birthday celebration and despite neither of these two chicks being filipinas, I was going to make them come with me. They had promised to be a good audience while I sang. Neither of them wanted to sing with me. It's okay. So long as they'll go with me, I'm good.  

We tried the Mexican Cantina first. When we entered the establishment, we doubled the number of women in the packed bar. No karaoke. They were watching some game on tv. I don't know what kind. There was green field underneath men running around with numbers on their backs. Who knows? Anyhow, we turned around and left. Even though we're old broads, we remember those bar survival skills we learned in our twenties. 

I knew another bar had karaoke on Thursday nights but this was Friday. I knew our chances were slim. We drove by and saw a similar television situation in there:  astroturf, men with numbers, etc. We wandered down to see our friends at BIBBQ. The closed sign was up but maybe it would be a better time than having another drink while people interested in watching men run around on a field made noise to interrupt our conversation. 

I was still jonesing to karaoke with my friends. But it was looking like there was to be no karaoke. I was trying to convince Greg from the BBQ to give me a little Louis Armstrong -- he obliged with just a couple of bars. I suggested, I Get Ideas, one of my fave Satchmo songs. I sang a little of it and while Greg didn't know it, I sparked the interest of a 6 year old girl whose family was just leaving the restaurant. She tugged my sleeve and asked if I knew the words to Jingle Bell Rock?

Do I know the words to Jingle Bell Rock? I'm kind of awesome when it comes to Christmas Song lyrics. I may obsess on them a little. For the past few years, I've made it a point to choose a Christmas song that the family will concentrate on singing for the season. In the past we've done Joy to the World and O Holy Night. How do you think I've managed to learn Adeste Fideles or Ave Maria? That's right, hard work, determination, and a fanatical devotion to the pope... actually, no, but a kind of razor sharp focus on expanding my carol file capacity. 

So this little girl and I belted out Jingle Bell Rock at the top of our lungs! She and her 9 year old sister sang a Halloween song. The 9 year old sang an original composition which was surprisingly great. Seriously great. (damn, I should have gotten her name. She'll be famous someday.) Then the little one said she was going to sing Gaga. Joy! She didn't know the name of the song but the second she started with, "rama-ooh-lala..." I jumped right in. She was astonished that I knew the lyrics since all she knew was the rama/lala parts. These girls were just darling. The older girl invited us to see her school's art show where she would be performing. Too cool. 

After they left, my big girls and I found a booth and started chatting. My friends officially cut me off from drinking. They thought I had too much with 2 beers. Seriously. With the wonders of my smartphone and YouTube, I was able to get in some pseudo-karaoke. I sang Alanis Morissette's You Oughta Know (the non-radio version) and for contrast, Adele's Someone Like You. Truth is that Alanis' attitude about the break-up "did you forget about me, Mr. Duplicity?" seems much more empowering than Adele's whiny "Don't forget me, I beg..." However, Adele's song is way easier to sing. That middle bit of Alanis's song is tongue-twisty. At that point my friends were fading fast and we headed home before the clock struck 10 PM. Damn, we're getting old. 

An aside, one of the karaoke versions of You Oughta Know on YouTube has the most fabulous mondegreen in it:  "It's not fair / to deny me / the cross-eyed bear that you gave to me..." 

Cross-eyed bears make me smile. 

Girl Scout camping without girls

This weekend was the first ever Peninsula Girl Scout leader retreat. I'm not 100% sure what I want to say about this past weekend other than the very non descriptive:  It was AWESOME!!! We had representatives from all over the peninsula including vampire/werewolf country:  Forks, WA. I'm thinking I need to make a dig to the SU's from Bremerton and Poulsbo because they missed out on a fabulous weekend. We talked a lot about the girls, commiserated about challenges, things we had learned, but mostly just got together and had a freaking blast.


Our contingent ended up getting there a little later than we should have. Turns out it is hard to find the camp in the dark. It is in the middle of BFE, I mean, the Tahuya National forest. The sign for the dirt road turn off for the camp is about the size of notebook paper. Anyhow, when we did finally get our gear put in the cabin and get downstairs to meet the rest of the people, I have to admit, I was a little intimidated. That didn't last very long, mind you. But still, I was a little nervous. The whole point of the weekend was for leaders from all over to get to know each other. 


I walked into that room and I thought they all were a bunch of old friends -- they all must have come from the same area. I had to fight that urge to sit by myself or find a table that had enough seats for my contingent to sit together. Instead, I went to a table already in the middle of something -- unwrapping the hershey kisses on the table so they could make a foil ball to see if they could make the trash can from across the room. (It made sense then. What can I say?) Anyhow, I got right in the middle of this and I was welcomed instantly. Cool, right? Turns out that these ladies weren't all from the same service unit. Turns out a lot of them had just met the hour before. But how cool is that?


The next day we could attend discussions, do crafts (which were pretty darned cool -- batik & decoupage -- not at the same time but I suppose you could) or whatever we wanted. I took a hike around the lake after we attended a morning discussion about resources in our local communities. Later that afternoon we had a great discussion about the new Girl Scouting program. Yes, has changed once again and it is really really cool. Change is good. Stagnation is bad. Stagnation = irrelevance. It's that simple.


The food was fabulous. (Honestly, when do you get creme brûlée while camping?)There were flushing toilets, showers & electricity but my data connection was spotty at best. (I know, lame to use a cell phone during a camp out but how else was I going to check my Facebook?)


And while we were on our weekend high, our group decided to host next year's event. This was an event pulled together just since this past June and already the bar is set crazy high. But since we have a year to put it together, hopefully it won't be too bad. 


Just don't know how to top creme brûlée.

Death ettiqette

Was talking to a girl friend of mine today and we realized that we are at that age when our elders are headed for the exit. There just seems to always be somebody in our circle of acquaintances or friends that has suffered a major loss of some kind.

She knows somebody whose father just died. Here's the problem:  she doesn't know this person very well. She is an acquaintance. You know the kind of person you recognize, but rarely get past the "how are you/fine thanks, and you/ fine/good seeing you, bye/bye," cycle of conversation. Should she acknowledge the deep and profound loss that this person has experienced, or should she just remain in her usual cycle? Would it be considered rude not to offer condolences?

To answer her question, I told her that I didn't think she should offer her sympathies. Here's why.

When my father died, it was the first major loss I had suffered as an adult. It was catastrophic. I barely could make it out of the house. In hindsight, I probably could have sought medical care and probably had dealt with the loss better. But despite the lack of medical intervention, I did have my better days. I did what people had done for millennia, sucked it up, put on my big girl pants, and went out into the world to do what needed to be done. Those early days of grief were probably the hardest. But I'd have to go to the store and get groceries like everybody else.

Anyone who lives on an island knows that no matter how big the population is, you start to recognize everybody. You also come to love the times of the day that most people don't frequent the grocery store so your 30 minute shopping doesn't include an impromptu conversation. Stack a few of those up and you're in there for over an hour.

So I was shopping, actually doing pretty well. Hadn't cried yet that day and was well entrenched in picking the right tomatoes or whatever, when I had one of those friendly acquaintances say hello. And so I got into my cycle of how are you/fine, thanks/and you... when she went off the script and said, "Oh, I heard that your father died. I'm sorry for your loss."

w  t  f

I was instantly plunged back into my despair, tears welling up into my eyes, and this woman, this woman I barely knew, walked away with her shopping cart as I was left to pull myself together again.

So I told my friend that if it were me, I wouldn't say anything. Not unless I was willing to put my arms around this nearly perfect stranger and try to truly act out the words, "I'm sorry for your loss." Those words aren't like the little niceties that we throw away with little regard. Truly empathizing, truly being sorry that they are going through this grief, simply should cost. That's why we bring tubs of potato salad, tuna casserole, potted flowers, and more importantly, hugs and presence. Because that is what being truly sorry for another's loss means.

Maybe I'm wrong, but I know that I didn't want that woman to leave her script.

Nerd moment of the day

What: Hubby & I watching an interview with Peter Dinklage talking about the Lannisters:

They're evil, they're corrupt? I don't know... Nobody's black and white. There's no villans and heros. Everybody has faults... The Lannisters have that as well.

Me:  Not Cersei. She's pure villan. There's nothing good about her.

Him:  She loves her kids.

Me:  Yeah, so did Vader. But he still destroyed a planet.


So, how's my nerd cred now?

Sleeping under the stars; it's not for the weak

Ever since we first laid eyes on Dabob Bay, I've fantasized about sleeping under the stars there. Think of it. Eagles soar over these waters. Sea otters hunt and play here. Oysters willingly offer themselves up for your feasting. Deer wander fearlessly. In a word:  idyllic.

So it was with great anticipation that my family set off to take on this new challenge.

What we pictured in our heads:

Camp fire to keep us warm through the night.
Soft forgiving sand to lie upon.
Moon and stars brilliant in the sky.
Sounds of the water lapping up on the beach.
Soothing sounds of crickets, hoots of owls, perhaps even frogs as they lulled us to sleep.
Good dog keeping watch.
Teaching the kids the constellations with the help of our iPad.
Telling ghost stories (not too scary) and singing the kids to sleep.


What really happened:

Fire dead before we even fell asleep, so out of the sleeping bag to restart the blaze.
Sand is hard and cold. And filled with pokey things. It also slants quite a bit so you're always a little off kilter when you're lying down.
The sounds of the water were actually pretty soothing so that was okay.
The sounds of Lord-knows-what-animal sniffing around the campsite was not quite so soothing. Hubby's convinced that something sniffed his head. But the Chupacabra did not eat any of us. Not even the dog.
Speaking of the dog, she was balled up at my feet in my sleeping bag keeping watch of nothing. She remained serious about her job as family protector because she woke up and barked/growled a couple of times during the night. She never left her spot at the foot of my sleeping bag however. She did leave me to try to fall asleep again. Great.
iPad had no signal out on the beach. Not like I expected to have any bars out there, but you'd think it could at least get something.
Mosquitoes. ugh.
At least the kids slept.

So maybe it wasn't idyllic. But we did learn a couple of things. Bring a good rake and prep your sand before dark. Stack up extra wood so that when the dog does wake you, you can just reach over and feed the fire.  Study constellations in a book first so you don't look like an idiot to the kids. The iPad was not reliable. Borrow a couple of bigger dogs because the little one only kept my feet warm. A big dog would have been nice to cuddle.

Waking up to everything covered in a little bit of dew was kind of cool. Well, cold. But seeing the otters playing just off shore first thing in the morning was pretty darned awesome.