I smell the rose in her hair

Just because SOPA is off the agenda in the House doesn't mean it's off the radar, and PIPA is still in committee in the Senate. These bills are about greed in the entertainment industry. There may be entertaining things on the internet, but the internet itself is so much more than entertainment.

because you can't, you won't, and you don't stop

I know, this post is long overdue. Most of you already know, but Emma is okay. Penelope, Dan and I just hung on for the ride, because what else can you do, really?

We waved goodbye to her as she was wheeled off to surgery, and then we waited. Too tired to knit, I tried to read a little. We were fine, really; just waiting, waiting, waiting. It wasn't until Dr. Z, the cardiologist, came out to talk to us, insistent that we find a room, that we got nervous.

During the surgery, while Dr. W was scooping out enough surrounding tissue to ensure that the membrane would not grow back, he created a small hole between the aorta and the left ventricle. He stitched it up but the stitching didn't hold when they restarted Emma's heart; the hole reopened. Dr. W put her back on bypass was patching the hole with Teflon as we spoke. The thing that Dr. Z was actually concerned about, though, was Emma's rhythm -- her heart was beating too slowly, and Dr. Z was worried that the heart's electrical system had been damaged by the surgery (this is called "heart block"). There was nothing to do for this but wait and see, while keeping her hooked up to an external pacemaker

They gave it about seven days before they concluded that her heart was not returning to a normal rhythm, so now Emma has an internal pacemaker.

That's the quick version. The long one?

After Dr. Z left us, I emailed, then called my mom (she and my dad were here to take care of Penelope while Emma was in Boston). She answered the phone and I said, "How scared do we need to be?" My mom, my wonderful mom, Nurse Grandma, told me "Honestly, not very," and Dan and I both started breathing again. We filtered everything through her; she translated it for us, then we told Dan's parents and put it up on Facebook.

That first night, I stayed in the parent room down the hall, and checked in on her a few times; knowing they would come and get me if something was wrong didn't make it any easier to sleep; I wanted desperately to be with her, but there's just not room enough for the patient, the parent, and the respirator. Necessarily, it's the parent that gets kicked out. She was hooked up to the external pacemaker, so she had several wires just sticking out of her chest and belly in unexpected places; an IV line in her right hand, as well as one in her neck, both of which were in use; two chest tubes in her belly to drain fluid from her chest cavity; the catheter (everyone's favorite!); the pulse-ox monitor; and the nasal tube. Even though she was doped up, she wanted to sit up. Dr. D, the anesthesiologist, was amazed (pleased, really) at how many times she tried to sit up on her own, even on the morphine. (That's not to say that the doctors and nurses were pleased, but to Dr. D it was confirmation that Emma had tolerated the anesthesia well.)

The next morning (June 16), Emma was extubated about two hours ahead of schedule (another good thing); the gastric tube was removed early that afternoon, and she began with Jello and Popsicles, in spite of the fact that what she really wanted was potato chips. She also watched a video message from Penelope and recorded a short response.

That night, the nurse and I had to change Emma's dressings several times; one of the leads to the external pacemaker was acting as an extra chest tube. Although this was ultimately okay (better out than in!), the dressings were completely soaked every 60 minutes or so.

I got almost no sleep; each dressing change took about an hour, because Emma had to be cleaned up and the bedding and hospital johnny had to be changed in addition to the dressing. The whole time, Emma was incredibly patient, but by the time each change was done, Emma and I were both wide awake and it took quite a while for us to settle back down and fall asleep. By the time we were asleep, it was nearly time for the dressing to be changed again. As it was, the nurse let it go a little longer than she would have during the day, but it was still grueling.

The next morning, they took her off the morphine (which made her very nauseated) and started her on Toradol with Tylenol as needed; her appetite picked up and she had some real food (chicken salad) for dinner. We also got the okay (from the PICU's head nurse) for Penelope to visit the following day. Seeing her sister was an enormous boon to Emma's spirits! Before I arrived with Penelope and my parents, Emma was de-lined: the catheter and arterial lines were removed, as were both chest tubes. The seepage around the one pacemaker lead was slowing down a bit.

Penelope visited again on Father's Day. A nurse caught sight of Emma's smile as Pen entered the room and declared Penelope "the only one who can make Emma smile!"

Later in the day, Emma had a visit with A, a social worker from the ChildLife program; A and her coworker, L, would keep us informed about how Emma is handling everything emotionally. So far, she is right where they would expect her to be.

The doctors have decided that she's definitely getting a pacemaker; at this point, it's a matter of getting on the OR schedule. From this point, I'll let my Facebook posts take over.

June 19, 8:50 pm: There's my Emma's infectious giggle! Thank you, Disney Channel's So Random!

June 20, 7:43 pm: Emma's pacemaker will go in on Tuesday . . . no, Wednesday . . . no, Tuesday. Okay, Tuesday afternoon officially.

June 21, 2:36 pm: . . . and we're baaaaaaaaaack! To Wednesday! We're perfectly willing to be bumped, however. Heart-transplant trumps still-kinda-working-heart. Emma was just relieved to be able to eat.

June 22, 9:31 am: Dr W's just been sent home to sleep. Emma had a bowl of Cheerios at 6:30 and is now on No Food or Water. She'll go in for her pacemaker this afternoon.

June 22, 9:42 am: The echo team is in, now. Still haven't had rounds come our way yet today. Gnomeo and Juliet is on . . . again!!! ;-) Aunt Reeb wonders (via comment field) if Emma has memorized it, yet, and Emma responds "Basically, almost the whole thing!"

June 22, 10:06 am: Rounds have been by, now; surgery will likely start between 12 and 2 this afternoon.

June 22, 2:12 pm: Bumped AGAIN! It's Transplant Week! Tufts has a kidney transplant inserting itself into the midst of the logjam created by yesterday's (okay, last night's!) heart transplant. The PA says Emma will definitely go tomorrow; they don't want her wait another day.

June 22, 4:26 pm: Dr W. is hoping to get her in as first case on Thursday. He spent half the afternoon skulking around, trying to snag an OR today to no avail.

June 22, 7:30 pm: We're officially on the schedule for 7:30 am Thursday! NPO (Again!) from midnight, tonight. Third time lucky?

June 23, 8:01 am: Dan called at 7:40 & Emma is in surgery!

June 23, 12:03 pm: Emma ROCKS!!! She was out & awake by 10:30. She's currently back in the PICU, resting and watching her dance recital DVD.

June 23, 2:02 pm: Emma has had some strawberries & some applesauce, & is currently FaceTiming w/ Penelope. Earlier, Dr. D was in & laughed at the fact that Emma was already sitting up & playing games on Webkinz.

June 23, 6:14 pm: According to Nurse K, Emma is amazing. Nurse K says she's going to tell all her cardiac patients now to "Be strong; be an Emma!"

June 24, 12:14 pm: When I got off the elevator this morning, Emma and Dan were in the hallway, waiting for me! The girl kicking butt and taking names? That's my daughter!!

June 24, 6:06 pm: Took a walk all the way down to the 1st floor gift shop with Emma & bought a few small things. Then we wandered over to Au Bon Pain & she ordered a tuna salad sandwich, chips, lemonade, & a chocolate chip cookie for dinner.

June 25, 11:48 am: Thank you, thank you, thank you, everyone who kept Emma and our whole family in their thoughts this past 10 days! Emma is home, the beagle has calmed down, and my twins are being normal, 8-year-old twins once again!

Yes, she has a medic-alert bracelet, now. The pacemaker is for life, and she's not allowed to do backbends or the Worm. Certain amusement-park rides are verboten, blows to the belly are cause for concern, and she will forever be the Pat-Down Princess in airports. I'm trying to help her find a response that she's comfortable using when strangers ask her about her scar (which is visible when she wears a v-neck shirt or a swimsuit). But she's been on her bike again since the beginning of August, and she's back in ballet/tap/jazz and Hip-Hop. She's thrown herself back into roller skating Fridays with gusto. We even had a Harry Potter Film Festival in July, because the girls wanted to see the movie in the theater with us! People who don't know what happened would never be able to guess.

be still my beating heart

People we see on a fairly regular basis, as well as most family members, already know that Emma has several congenital defects in her heart. To everyone else: Emma has several congenital defects in her heart. (Surprise!)

The worst of the defects, called Coarctation of the Aorta, was repaired when she was just 17 days old. Basically, it was a very narrow section of her aorta, and prevented adequate blood flow to her extremities. Since we were still brand-new parents wrestling with the reality of actually having two real crying, hungry, pooping, helpless babies, the whole thing was kind-of a blur. It wasn't until Emma was back in the PICU, puffed up on IV fluids and hooked up to every machine in the hospital (including the most expensive one and the one that goes "ping!") that we really felt scared.

Since infancy, Emma has had annual visits with a pediatric cardiologist to keep tabs on the next most serious defect, called Subaortic Stenosis. This defect is basically a membrane growing across the aortic valve, between the left ventricle and the valve itself. The membrane affects the bloodflow into her aorta; instead of flowing straight through the valve like it's supposed to, the blood swirls around and hits the valve itself. The effect of the blood hitting the valve day after day, heartbeat after heartbeat, eventually causes it to start leaking. In Emma's case, her aortic valve is also bicuspid instead of tricuspid. (For the record, Emma's fourth and final heart defect is a stenotic (narrow) mitral valve.)

This year, after reviewing her echocardiogram (ultrasound of her heart) Emma's cardiologist and surgeon agreed that the leak is starting to get worse. In the past year, it has gone from holding steady at "trivial" to deteriorating to "mild-to-moderate." In order to (we hope) slow or possibly halt the deterioration of her aortic valve, the doctors want to remove the membrane now, before the leak progresses to "severe."

Removing the membrane will require open-heart surgery. On my Emma.

This past Tuesday we met with her cardiologist again, had all her pre-op work done, and had a brief visit to the PICU at Tufts Floating Hospital for Children in Boston. Emma got to see a room similar to the one she'll be in, and was reassured to know that she'll have me either in-room with her or right down the hall (while she's still on a ventilator & sedated). She also got to meet her surgeon, Dr. Warner; he's the Chief of Cardiothoracic Surgery and the same surgeon who repaired her coarc eight years ago.

It's bizarre to consider the reproductive future of your eight-year-old daughter, but we want to keep Emma's factory-original parts in and working for as long as possible. If she ends up with a mechanical valve, it will complicate any future plans for pregnancy. Likewise, biologic valves come with their own risk of rejection. The longer Emma's own valve -- defective and misshapen though it may be -- can remain in her heart and working well, the more control Emma will have over her adult life.

Right now, we're trying to strike a balance between quarantining Emma completely (thus scaring the piss out of her) and maintaining the status-quo. Some of the things we would normally only be bugged about (like playing with a neighborhood kid whose nose is running like a soak-hose) are things we need to prohibit until after her surgery. We feel a little paranoid, but this is one of those times when paranoia is a good thing. According to the surgeon, once Emma is home, she can "resume normal activities" with the temporary exceptions of roughhousing and contact sports.

It's a good thing she's been considering taking a break from wrestling. See? It all works out!

let's take the car and save the fare

As of this afternoon, we are back to being a two-car family. We made it work with one car for just shy of eleven months, and could have gone a bit longer if our lives weren't about to hit a speed bump in the next few weeks. We'll need a second car for the upcoming drives in & out (and in & out, and in & out) of Boston next month. More on that another day.

After looking at and driving both the Toyota Prius and the Hyundai Elantra, we went with an Elantra. At this point, we just can't argue with the attractiveness of coming in nicely equipped but under 20K. Still, I really liked the Prius and we will be looking at the hybrid Highlander (or whatever it is by then) when it's time to replace the CX-9, even if it's just to drool on one for a little while.

One thing I have to explain is that we could not have made one car work nearly as easily if Dan had to commute every day; it was annoying enough with one car when he just worked in Burlington and didn't need to be in the office every single day.

This past fall, we arranged our schedule so that the girls' activities were mostly clustered around two days each week -- Thursdays and Saturdays. On Thursdays, karate ended at 5:45 (but in reality more like 5:55) and dance began at 6:00; on Saturdays, dance ran from 10:30 until noon, but Penelope's soccer game times varied from week to week. The Activities Dance got complicated a few times, but we never needed to call in a friend for a ride anywhere; usually, one parent-child team would simply sit around and wait.

The fact that we are relatively unscheduled homeschooling freaks was helpful, too: the additional stress of shlepping the girls to and from school every day (or fuming over that one carpool member who is never ready on time!) simply wasn't there. The girls still made it to most of their Fun Fridays, most of their rollerskating evenings, and a bunch of other stuff, as well. Plus, we had all of those speech and physical therapy appointments thrown in there this fall.

Would we do it again if we needed to? Without a doubt. Nobody ever complained (including me and Dan). We paid the CX-9 off two years early. Penelope and Emma got to observe (and sometimes help) Dan and I grapple with some pretty complex scheduling issues. We always managed to find a solution that got everyone where they needed to go.

Would we *want* to do it again? Honestly? I enjoyed it most of the time. We made a responsible decision that was difficult to live with at times, but we had a little extra time together several times a week and we came out of the whole adventure a little more confident in our ability to think outside the box.

Almost impercebtible . . .

So this evening, while Penelope & Emma were blowing out the candles on their birthday cake, Emma's hair caught on fire. Talk about surreal! I was manning the light switch & the beagle, Dan was on the living-room floor, across the coffee table from the girls. From my position, I could tell that Emma's hair was going to catch about an instant before it did. Instinctively, Emma looked at her dad, and carefully backed away from the candles just as Dan was telling her to carefully back away from the candles. Then Dan reached over and pinched the flame out.

Done. Over. Crisis averted. Both girls pulled their hair back and finished the candle-extinguishing ritual. Cake was had by all (including the beagle).

Granted, Emma needed a shampoo and deep-conditioning treatment, and will probably get a haircut on Sunday -- but once again, she has shown a natural instinct to not freak out when she is in the midst of a dangerous situation. The first happened a few years ago, when their a/c unit fell out of the window they were trying to open. Instead of trying to grab the unit & keep it in place, Emma actually leapt backwards, away from the window.

Not that Penelope is any less emergency-savvy -- after all, she did slice her pinky finger open (she was aiming for an apple core) -- but I'm not cataloging, here. Just sharing the amazement I always experience whenever my kids do something beyond their years. I shouldn't (be amazed), but I can't help it. I'm not sure I would have had the same instincts, at eight. I'm grateful that my daughters do.

it's up to you, yeah you

bwa-hahahahahahahaha!

Here I have all these knitting projects I want to do, and NaNoWriMo, and massive amounts of attic wallboard that still need to be mudded, and meals for Debbie & Barry I want to make . . . and I go and get my wrist broken.

Not just broken, mind, but spectacularly broken, borderline shattered.

I'm not terribly upset about the forced rearrangement of my to-do list -- at least I've gotten 98% of the critical knitting done, and I can do NaNo in longhand. I'm not even terribly upset about the injury itself. I get that accidents happen. I get that I would have been better off wearing wristguards with my rollerblades. I'm beyond grateful that I only broke my wrist, and my left one, at that.

What I'm most upset about is the behavior of the girl who caused my fall. I'm talking to you, Girl in the Blue Shirt. Yes, it was by accident that you fell, then slid into me from behind and knocked my legs out from under me. But as you got back to your feet, as your eyes met mine, and as you heard me say, "Ohhhhh, that's broken!" -- why did you feel the best thing to do was to just get up and skate away?

Shame on you for leaving me there on the floor, and shame on your parents for raising you to cover your own ass instead of attending to the person you've hurt. When my daughters were four, they had more integrity and compassion than you do as a teenager. They saw what you did, and it scared them. It was an accident, but you were still responsible, and you chose to shirk that responsibility. We were at the rink for a solid 5 minutes longer, getting everyone's skates off and shoes on. One man who saw the accident got me a bag of ice from the snack bar. You never came around to apologize or check on me. I don't care if you were scared -- you hurt someone and walked away.

everyday, everyday, everyday . . .

Now I've gone ahead and done it . . . signed up for NaNoWriMo 2010.

Those who've known me since high school will have no trouble remembering me with my open journal in my lap as I sat cross-legged in one of those clunky metal and "wood" chair-desks, head down, blissfully unaware of the activity around me, working on yet another poem. (What's that? Wendy, please solve for X? Wait, I'm in Algebra? I thought this was World History . . . )

Most of those who've met me since college will have no trouble scratching their heads, looking puzzled, and mumbling, "Huh?"

Yeah . . . I Used To Write, and I miss it like I'd miss breathing. I've been wanting to get back to writing for almost two decades, but in spite of how out-of-sorts I feel as a Former Writer, I kept letting everything else get in the way. I mean, I'm not avant-garde enough to be a poet, anymore. I don't have enough cool ideas to be a freelance writer. I don't have enough time to be a novelist. I don't think blogging counts. I don'tdon'tdon'tdon'tdon't . . . I don't want to miss that part of who I am, anymore.

Last year, I found out about NaNoWriMo over Thanksgiving weekend and I promised myself I would do it this year. Now that September 2010 has rolled around I *almost* passed on it because "I have too much knitting to do." (Seriously!! That's what I told myself!! Do you see how easy it is to cheat yourself and keep from doing something you love??? Learn from me, people. Learn from me.) Fortunately, a new friend pshawed my excuse and rather pointedly informed me that even if I don't complete the challenge (50,000 words in one month), I'll have written more than I would have otherwise. See, that just can't be argued with in any sort of logical fashion. There's nothing but truth in that statement. Even sitting here trying to come up with a sample argument for the sake of showing you how ludicrous it would sound makes my eyes get stuck in Glazed Over Mode. So, I did the only logical thing I could do -- I kept my promise, and signed up!

[singsong] I'm writing a novel! [/singsong] (Yeah, I know it's supposed to be <> but you try and get <> to show up as text if you're using them to write a pretend html code -- for a few minutes, it looks like everything will stick, but once your work autosaves, BOOM! the fake code only shows up in the html editor. I'm sure Dan could fix it, but I would rather leave this little rant in place, instead.)

Yes, 50,000 is a blasted short novel, but I don't have to stop at 50,000. I just have to get at least that far. My novel won't go (49,994) Susan smiled, reached towards Carl and (50,000)

In fact, I don't have either a Susan or a Carl. So there!

I'm excited and twitchy and I so want to get started, but the trick is that you're not allowed to begin actually writing until November 1st. Until then, I can fill my mind and my journal with all sorts of outlines, character sketches, background information, story arcs, and research. I can't start writing, yet. But in the meantime, I can get all that knitting done.

baby, you can drive my car

Wow. We've just made a decision (and acted upon it!) that I never would have expected from either of us a year or two ago. We've sold Dan's car and become a one-car family. Even though our plan is to only stay this way for about a year, I'm still pleased (though a little surprised) that we're doing it. We're both excited about it, though, and I know I'm looking forward to the adventure. I'm also glad for the opportunity to show the girls that there are creative ways to solve problems, and that even adults share!

The backstory is pretty simple: Dan's Audi has not had the track record we expected of an Audi. The year before the girls were born (so, 8 years ago), he sold his Single Guy Car, the Mitsubishi Eclipse, and bought a Audi A4. (I wanted him to get a car with four real seats, and he wanted a car that went Vroom.) The first few years were all well and good, except for the recall on the coil packs. Of course, in the interests of Audi's bottom line, owners could only get their coil packs replaced once they had actually failed. Ours were eventually replaced (twice!); we've also had issues with the timing belt and, most recently, the catalytic converters. See, the car has been failing to pass the state inspection for the past 2 months, after having the O2 sensors replaced. The computer just wouldn't reset, and eventually the Mass RMV Dude was able to clear out a few error messages and get the computer to reset . . . at which point the computer told us that the catalytic converters were blown. Frustrated, Dan took the car up to Audi for an official, manufacturer-provided diagnosis (over the phone, Audi claimed it was "probably just a sensor"). It turns out that in addition to the cats being blown (which is very possibly a result of the multiple coil pack failures), there are several other things wrong with the car . . . at least some of which may also be the result of the coil pack failures. (Can you say Domino Effect??) So we took it to a used-car dealer who looked it over and said he'd buy it (most likely to auction off).

In the meantime, though, we are officially a one-car household. We're squirreling away the proceeds from the Audi until Dan goes car-shopping next summer, and until then, we're going to get even better at scheduling. (Anyone who has seen my desk-blotter-size, color-coded family calendar knows that that is nearly impossible, but I'm sure I'll find a way.)

I love a good adventure!

the lamb lies down in my knitting bag

Well, we've moved into the new home, we're mostly unpacked, and we've worked it out with Mike to finish the attic starting late in January. We're also officially approved homeschoolers in Tyngsboro (a Massachusetts town that actually sends an approval letter!). The town does have a rather obnoxious, over-reaching form, but they backed down with just a politely worded letter (explaining why it would be an exercise in poor judgment for us to give them information to which they were not legally entitled) and a printout of AHEM's "Info for Superintendents" brochure. I'm thrilled with Tyngsboro's library, too; they have an excellent children's section -- I swear it's more comprehensive than Chelmsford's children's library, in spite of the cramped space.

Our neighborhood is a very young one, since all the homes are new construction. The girls have made several friends, and Dan & I definitely don't miss that sense of entitlement that had us constantly rolling our eyes. Just in time, too -- I'd have hated for my eyes to stick that way!

Most interesting of all is the fact that I've taken up knitting. I used to see people knitting and think to myself, "Oh, how quaint!" Now? I take my knitting projects everywhere, in the hopes that I get stuck with a long wait. I've made a few obligatory dishcloths, then moved on to a baby cap for my nephew-to-be. Now, I'm working on ponchos for the girls. So call me quaint, but I'm loving knitting!

Hotel Massachusetts

Well, 1 Prancing is no longer ours! I drove by yesterday with the girls, so they could wave goodbye and remind the house that we loved it and made lots of awesome memories there. I really hope the new owners made it to the block party -- it was a really fun way for us to meet the neighbors, our first year there.

We, however, are technically homeless (thank goodness for PO Boxes!). We found a moderately priced extended-stay hotel with 1 bedroom, a pull-out sofa, a little kitchenette, and free laundry. So far, we've been putting the girls to bed in the bedroom, so Dan & I can work on the usual Grownup Stuff in the evenings, and then switching them to the pullout when we are ready for bed. They really like sleeping on the pullout!

I've got activities all over the calendar, as well as the previously-scheduled trips to Wisconsin (Hooray for grandparents and state fairs!) and Disney World (Yay, Carolina Homeschoolers!) peppered in for good measure, so it's my steadfast hope that the girls (and we) do not go stir-crazy. Plus, Voyagers and first grade start after we get back from Disney World.

What can I dooooo? All I want is to be next to you!

It's been a hard week, with Dan in California on business and the girls down in Virginia with my parents so they're not bored out of their minds while I pack up the house. A few times this week, I've had to go pick up Masha's urn and hug it. Twice I thought the throw pillow in the center of the bed was her, snuggled up to me. It doesn't help, either, that the packing is going more slowly than I'd like it. Everything I pick up seems to be something that needs to be dismantled, wrapped in paper, encased in bubble-wrap or some combination of the above. I think I've finally gotten through most of that (except the dishes), so now it's on to the part where I can just fill boxes with clothing and toiletries and home-improvement stuff. I miss my husband, I miss my girls, and I miss my dog.

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes

So the girls had their first campout ever on Thursday night. They didn't just survive -- they had a blast! I guess we've officially entered the Land of Sleepovers. They've also made it clear that next summer, they want to go to more than one week of Girl Scout camp. They are full of all sorts of camp songs -- one or two of which I even remember from my own Girl Scout camp days. Hermy the Worm, however, is a new one. "Hermy, baby! WHAT HAPPENED!?""I ate my Mom."

Yesterday was pretty crazy-busy. Dan & I did a few more drive-bys (the real estate kind, people!), then zipped over to pick up the girls, get Emma changed into her hip-hop costume, and rushed over to the Chemlsford town common. She did her performance, we hung around for dinner, and then rushed off to Bear Hill Farm. At least, since we were 10 minutes late, we caught Anne in the fields, picking snap peas. Penny & Emma were thrilled to see her! Then off to do a few more drive-bys, while the girls ate ice cream (oh, the torture!). We did two more drive-bys today, and have one more tomorrow; then Monday we start looking. So much for 5-year plans, huh?

You Say it's Your Birthday . . .

Well, it's my birthday, too! (Okay, not mine, but . . .)

Yep, Penny and Emma are six today. Before they went to bed, they spent a fair amount of time ruckusing around in their room because, in Penny's words, "that way, we'll be tired and fall asleep so the night won't be as long." (You may think that the longest night of the year is December 21st, but it's actually February 3rd. Now you know.) They've also agreed to wake each other up in the morning. According to Emma, whichever one of them wakes up first will go over to the other girl and say, "Hey, [that girl's name], open presents!"

We've left their gifts for each other in the dining room, so they have something to tear into first thing. Oh, and there will be their big pink banner in the living room and two giant "6" balloons. The rest of the loot will have to wait until the evening. Oh, and dinner at the Moose Place (Bugaboo Creek) about which we've already said we'll be okay -- we promised to not die of embarassment -- if they want to have the staff come out with the giant moose puppet and a dessert and sing to them. Which, being 6, they want. So.

Happy birthday, Munchkins! Being your mom is the coolest, most perpetually satisfying thing I've ever done. I love you.

You can check out any time you like

It all started when we traded in our Subaru Outback and bought a new Mazda CX9. To their credit, the folks at our Mazda dealership have been amazingly patient through most of this as-yet-unfinished ordeal.

Apparently, when we paid the Subaru off, the bank never gave us the title. They sent us something that looked like a title (turns out it was an MA-1 Form, which masquerades quite convincingly as a real title). When we signed this impostor and left all Outback-related accoutrements with the Mazda dealer, the dealer had to call us back and inform us that we didn't give them the real title. I triple- and quadruple-checked our fire-safe box. Nope, no title. No problem, right? Simple oversight. I'll call the bank and they'll send it right out. Except for the part when the bank said they lost it.

Lost it? (So, I can lose my next twenty credit-card payments with no penalty, right?) We still have yet to get a satisfactory resolution with the bank on how they can lose the title for a car in which they had a vested interest. (Though, that's probably the point right there -- once we paid it off, they didn't give a crap, right? Not their problem anymore. Delete! Delete! cacklecackle)

Okay, annoying, but since the bank was able to provide a notarized letter stating that we did in fact pay the car off quite some time ago, we can call the California DMV and request a duplicate title. So, no problem.

Except for the part where the California FTB (Franchise Tax Board) claims that we owe seven years of back taxes on the car. Sooooo, we provide proof of registration in Massachusetts, effective seven years ago. Thank you, that will be 4 - 6 weeks for processing.

Six weeks later, we call the DMV. It seems that they've just moved our piece of paper from one desk to the other a few days earlier, and we will be called within the next 5 business days.

Six days later, we call the DMV. Our paperwork is being held up because the FTB says we owe back taxes on the car. (!?!?!?!?!?) So we call the FTB (again) and remind them about the paperwork we provided seven weeks earlier proving that we don't owe them the time of day, let alone any money.

It takes five additional days for this information to filter through the rat maze that is governmental bureaucracy and reach someone at the DMV. Great! Except for the part where nobody at the DMV seems to know what to do with this information (or, more precisely, how to hit the Print button).

Today, we get The Phone Call we're surprised we haven't received some time ago . . . Mazda really can't hang on to the Outback any longer without being able to sell it. We need to buy it back. Today.

i can't get no

I've been feeling oddly dissatisfied lately. By "lately," I mean in the past 6 weeks or so. I don't know if this dissatisfaction was triggered by the latest proposed budget override hoopla (in town), or if it just happened to begin during said hoopla. Probably the latter, but I can't completely rule out the former as an influencing factor.

I'm feeling as if I want to sell the house, buy a large but more rural plot somewhere, and build my dream home. I don't like all the walls, here. I don't like the division and seclusion and closeting away of everything and everyone. I don't like the wasted space, or the distance, or the idea of separate rooms for each activity. I want a wide-open area, very few (if any!) hallways, and a better flow of light. I want fewer rooms. Not necessarily less space, though if you plan a house properly, that can happen, too -- but less space between us.

I know it won't happen anytime soon -- there are many things currently in the way -- but I just wanted to go on record and say that I'm feeling restless, wasteful, disconnected . . . and I need to find a way to address that.