Homage to Dr. Suess

I vividly remember being curled up on the top bunk reading our well worn copy of The Cat in the Hat. It was a book that I could read early on and one that made me feel like a 'big girl' because it was longer than most books in my collection. What kid doesn't like Dr. Seuss? You feel like you are singing a song when you read his books out loud, and his illustrations put a smile on the most sour of faces.

I grew as did my love and respect for Theodore Geisel. His books send poignant messages, teach life long lessons, and challenge us to look inside ourselves for what we may not want to see. What a guy!! Any man that builds a house that looks down on the institution of learning that once rejected him from their ranks is top notch in my book. Him and I share the same passive-aggressive, grudge-holding personality trait.

In honor of Dr. Seuss' birthday last week, I thought I would turn one of the most Seuss-like members of my life (my crazy, stinky, large, and constantly shedding black lab, Boomer) into a homage of sorts. I am sure that Dr. Suess would object, but he's dead...so here goes.



My Stinky Friend
By Weasel

Florida is humid.
Florida is hot.
Florida, a place for a dog,
I think not.

I sit here with Boomer.
We sit here we two.
And I lean over and smell
something terrible. Whew!

I think it smells rotten
like moss on a log.
But, alas the smell is
my itchy black dog.

I say, "Here! Here!
Please come near!
There is something all gross
inside of your ear."

And, yes!
There it is, inside of his ear.
Something black, something growing
something dark that I fear.

I try to go at it.
To clean it all out.
But the grossness just grows,
and I shout and I pout.

I take Boomer in to the doc for a peek.
She tells me it should clear up in a week.
But it grows even bigger and even more runny,
so I take him in for a little more money.

The doc says,
"This is well out of my league.
You must call dog dermatology!"

"What!" I say, "What!"
I have never seen such a thing.
She says, "Why it's simple.
Just give them a ring."

So, I gave them a ring.
A ring and a prayer
for a doctor that
may charge something fair.

Well.....

The specialist fixed it!
He banished the smell!
How much did it cost me?
I never will tell.


Postscript: I can't wait to take the goons to see the movie "Horton Hears a Who."

Congrats babe!

This weekend my better half ran in the local 15K. He continues to amaze me. He makes a grand declaration that he is going to do something and damn it if he doesn't do it...usually in an above average fashion. He has always been athletic and a bit of a runner, but he has never participated in a run of this magnitude. He did great finishing in the top 20 percent beating out all the costumed runners to include the gladiator, the fireman wearing a tank, and the Disney Princesses. I think that he is now officially hooked, and plans on running in an upcoming St. Patty's Day 10K. He has a determination and follow through that I only dream of achieving.

My achievement: I actually got myself there with the two goons in time to snap of few pictures of Forrest Gump running across the finish line. I have to face the fact that my achievements and goals are in some ways less complicated and more mundane...but just as admirable...right???

Babe, I am so proud of you! You have come a long way since being hit by the car while running through Five Points jamming out to The Dead on your headphones. Now when you run you get coupons and cool tee shirts instead of a jay-walking ticket. I love you!

A visit from the grandparents

My parents flew here last week to spend some vacation time down here with the boys. The wonderful thing about my parents is that when they come, they always melt so well into the family routine...and, believe it or not, pitch in and help out where ever needed.

It seems like both my boys have been sick for weeks, so the added help was very appreciated. My husband has been working crazy hours at the hospital (probably the cause of my kids' bouts of sickness), and has had little energy to help out at home. So, my parents could not have timed their visit any better. Let's not forget the fact that my parents are a 'hoot'.

I am blessed to have both of my parents alive, well, and still married, and I am so thankful that both of my boys will have many memories of my parents to treasure always. Just in case they forget I wanted to summarize the week here:

Tuesday: Cole spent most of morning at the window waiting for grandparents to arrive. Hard to say if he was more excited for the arrival of said grandparents or the rental car in which they arrived. (PS: It was a Chevy!)
Park with Grandma and a friend. Cole spent rest of the day trying to figure out what his special treat from Target would be (from Grandma and Pop-pop). This involved hoodwinking my mother to pace up and down every frickin aisle in Target only to come to the conclusion that he wanted an old Tom and Jerry video. Who would have thought? Jack spent day climbing on Pop-pop.
Wednesday: Zoo visit. All of us spent a good deal of time on the train ride at the park, and at the kids' play zones. The adults spent an equal amount of time trying to get kids to notice the quite impressive display of animals only to be shrugged at by said kids and asked to ride the carousel. Jack used Pop-pop as human jungle gym.
Thursday: School day. Pop-pop went with mommy to pick up Cole. Grandma went to Little Gym with Cole to watch her grandson's gymnastics abilities. Dinner at club.
Friday: School day. Home for grocery store play with Pop-pop and to play in grandparents rental car. Jack used Pop-pop as human jungle gym.
Saturday: Park with Grandma and a visit to McDonald's. Adults hired babysitter for the night and enjoyed an evening of great food out. It was heaven.
Sunday: Recovered from evening out. Puzzles, Wheel of Fortune, and rental car climbing for Cole. Jack climbed on Pop-pop. Adults watched Oscars. Pop-pop won the pool.
Monday: Park with friends in the morning. Jack climbed on Pop-pop,
Tuesday: Back to Target. Fun outside in rental car. Cole tries to help Pop-pop with washing the car, but is more interested in climbing in the car. Jack hangs out with Grandma (or Nana) on the floor to practice his yoga moves. Played new Wheel of Fortune game from Grandma. Early to bed.
Wednesday: Grandparents have to go back home for much needed rest from their vacation.

To my ancestors, I give thanks.

Yesterday, we rounded up the whole crew and headed to church. We hadn't been since Christmas, and both my husband and I were feeling some guilt that we had let time get away from us. I ventured out in my Sunday best with my typical trepidations and usual 'church heartburn'.

You see, I have some pretty out there religious views. Maybe they are not as bizarre as I think, but let's just say I don't sit around with many other people and discuss my views on spirituality, worship, religion, and reincarnation. Yes! I said reincarnation.

My 'church heartburn' evolves from a complex web of Catholic guilt. My mother is from a strict Roman Catholic background and my father is a Southern Baptist. From the beginning, I was born into a clash of beliefs. Please don't misunderstand. My parents are huge proponents of spiritual self actualization. My father vowed to raise his children in the Catholic faith just to be allowed to wed my mother in the church, and to this he held true. My mother also deserves accolades as she introduced us into the Catholic church, but left it up to us, once we came of a certain age, to worship as our heart saw fit.

I love the Catholic religion for it's ritual and unity. My grandmother, a woman I aspire to be like, was a faithful and devoted Catholic. My husband was a dutiful altar boy and is now a potential Knight of Columbus(the only chink in his armor being he married me.)

Alas, being a social feminist, I have a hard time coping with the patriarchal approach of the Catholic church. None of this is a big deal when I am at home praying to my deceased ancestors (like my friends the Buddhists), or directly to my God (who looks a helluva lot like the Virgin Mary in my mind's eye...you know that whole Earth Mother thingy), but when I sit in church all of my heart's comforts give me a bit of heartburn. Remember, this blog is written by the world's biggest worrier, and a mother.

Anyway, my heartburn dissolved as soon as we entered the worship space. The church was incredible. The people were diverse and welcoming. The music was inspiring. The priest was thoughtful, intelligent, well spoken, and devoted to his parish. I loved it. The entire homily was about listening to the whispers of your own heart which I immediately took as a "get out of purgatory free card" to worship as I see fit. To top it all off, both of the boys were on their best behavior. It was my idea of a small slice of heaven.

So, I spent the car ride home praying to my deceased grandparents and ancestors. I thanked them for the renewal in spirit, for the gentle reminder of the importance of family worship, and I prayed once again for them to help mend the rift between their children that has grown since their passing.

Well, miracles do happen. My overly prideful uncle had called and left a message for my mother the night before, and my stubborn mother actually returned the call promptly on Sunday evening. I am not sure what will come of the phone calls, but it is a start. This humble grand-daughter bows and give thanks to her watchful ancestors.