I Really Don't Get It

"Today's decree," Justice Antonin Scalia fumes, "says that my Ruler, and the Ruler of 320 million Americans coast-to-coast, is a majority of the nine lawyers on the Supreme Court. The opinion in these cases is the furthest extension in fact... This practice of constitutional revision by an unelected committee of nine, always accompanied (as it is today) by extravagant praise of liberty, robs the People of the most important liberty they asserted in the Declaration of Independence and won in the Revolution of 1776: the freedom to govern themselves." Chief Justice John Roberts agreed, noting with poignancy, "If you are among the many Americans -- of whatever sexual orientation! -- who favor expanding same-sex marriage, by all means celebrate today's decision. Celebrate the achievement of a desired goal. Celebrate the opportunity for a new expression of commitment to a partner. Celebrate the availability of new benefits. But do not celebrate the Constitution. It had nothing to do with it."

And I don't understand how this is an issue of civil rights.  I see it as a straightforward redefinition of a centuries-old partnership in order to be included in the benefits reaped therein.  What is the next term to be redefined - oh wait!  That happened Thursday when the Justices decided "state" can mean "State and Federal Government."

Apology Tour - Rellim Style

I woke up Quinn Saturday morning at 11:30, then called him again every five minutes until about noon.  I needed his help with something outside.  Finally, finally, he emerged from his room and came outside and began shouting about how rude it was to wake up a growing teenager and how unprepared I was to have not scheduled this favor with him the day before.

Mr. Rellim and I loaded him and his big mouth into the car and ran the errand.  Then Quinn was escorted around the neighborhood by his father to make a personal apology to each person he frightened with his rude and disrespectful outburst toward his mother.  I love that man I married.

Time for a Nap

Need a reality TV show?  You should have followed my mom, Rachel and me the last two days on our St. Louis outing.  Mom napped while sitting up straight a few times and I wondered how she could be sleepy enough to manage such snooze snippets, then I shared a room with her and Rachel for a couple nights.  When the air conditioner wasn't loudly blowing icy air at my head, it was making a "Grrrr-Chunk!" sound to turn on or off.  When Mom started snoring, Rachel would shout, "Grandma!  You're snoring!" - or just whistle loudly in the direction of her bed.  When Mom wasn't snoring, I poked her to make sure she was still breathing.  When Rachel and I were both asleep, Mom would comment loudly about how hot it was, or how cold it was, or how loud the air conditioner was or ponder why she couldn't get to sleep.

When Mom and I tried to watch a movie, Rachel insisted that she needed the TV off to get to sleep.  When we reluctantly turned off the show, Rachel promptly got out of bed, turned on a light and started eating Doritos.  When I turned the TV back on, Mom quickly fell asleep and started snoring, which somehow interfered with Rachel's snacking and texting (now that she had given up on trying to sleep).  When Rachel decided to sit in the hotel hallway in her PJs to get away from such annoying roommates, Mom woke up to the sounds of "drunk underage baseball players coming down the hall*+" and went out in her PJs to convince Rachel to come back in the room. 

I'm home now and starting a late lunch for Quinn, who just finished taking his ACT.  Then, time for a nap!

*I have no idea how someone can intuitively know what drunk underage baseball players sound like.
+I imagine I will be regaled with a story some day. 

Happy Birthday, Ginny!

Mike's mom celebrated her 70th birthday this spring with all her grandkids in attendance.  That's eleven so far (with one still "cooking").

Does Anyone Keep Gloves in the Glove Box Anymore?

I had a feeling that answering the following question was not going to be the end of the conversation that Saturday evening at 9:53 p.m. . . .

"Uh, Mom?  I can't find that proof of insurance thing.  I thought it was in the glove box, but it's not."

Grandma Phoebe

I had a vivid picture in my mind of two people running to embrace one another.  It was a black and white 1940s sort of scene.  Five minutes later we received a call telling us that Mike's Grandma Phoebe had passed just a few minutes earlier.  She would have been 97 years old in August.  I smile when I remember her because she was a good woman - an optimistic lady - who lived a good, long life.

Nobody's gonna smile when they think of me trying to sing a well-known hymn (When We Meet Again) at her funeral.  Mostly at funerals I just try to breath.  At Grandma Phoebe's I tried to sing, but made it about four bars before my voice broke.  Rachel walked up to sing with me, so I tried taking the alto part since the high notes were not working so well.  "Actually," Rachel told me, "the alto notes weren't working so well for you either."  I guess I'll just stick to breathing at the next funeral. 

Here she is on the occasion of her 95th birthday with her son, Terry.

Sunday Evening Ramblings

1.  "The problem with society is that we keep giving woman what they think they want (referring to careers outside of the home)," mused the younger Mr. Relim.  Perhaps I let him watch a little too much Dick VanDyke Show.  Or perhaps he's right.  He just needs to clear that plan with his wife when the time comes.

2.   We might need to call the repairman.  The garage refrigerator is not working properly.  Since Rachel came home from college, the appliance keeps making the vodka evaporate.

3.  I wonder how my life would be different if my Third grade teacher (circa 1978) hadn't asked me to revise my statement about what I wanted to do when I grew up.  Initially I had written, "When I grow up I want to be a mom."  I remember her telling me that wasn't an acceptable answer.  She told me that I had to be something.  I was a sharp student, but I struggled with her request and finally settled on "teacher."  She thought that was something.  But I really wanted to be a mom.

4.  I wonder how my life would be different if I had completed the application to work toward my Ph.D.  I remember calling a friend who was getting his Ph.D. while working full time and commuting 50 miles each way for evening classes.  I asked him, "Do you think I could do it?"  He said, "Yes, I think you could do it, but that's not the question I think you should be asking.  You should be asking, 'Will it be worth giving up all that time with my family?'"  And that was some wise advice.