Thank You, Mrs. Jackson

President Andrew Jackson built a beautiful home in Nashville, Tennessee.  I was partial to his wife's addition to the property - Rachel's Garden.

Fist Bump

Why travel to Greece, when you can explore a full-size replica of the Parthenon right here in the USA?  And raise your hand if you've ever had the privilege of fist-bumping a gargoyle?

Hello, I'm Johnny Cash

Just a snapshot from the Johnny Cash museum today. It reminded Mr. Rellim of a near- incident at the World Pork Expo in June.  I'll have to get more details...

America

My husband loves me so much that he took me to see Dinesh D'souza on our wedding anniversary.  Romantic, huh?

  And now I have a new (signed) book to read:

To top off the day, we spent time with friends we haven't seen in years.

Happy Anniversary, Mr. Rellim!

The Pink Box

"Where is the pink box?" asked my four-year-old niece, Evelyn.

"I don't know what you're talking about," replied my sister.  "Tell me more."

"I got it for a present from Quinn and Rachel's house," explained Evelyn.

"You'll have to describe it to me," insisted her mother.

"Well," said Evelyn, "he is tall and has brown hair and lives at Aunt Marcie's house."

"I know who Quinn is," laughed my sister.

Still, the Dog

Quinn perforated his ear drum a few days ago while diving at the local pool.  It was the first time he had dove (dived?)  been diving in a few years.  The visit to the ENT was the first in eight years and we started an antibiotic ear drop and began the waiting game.  (Heal, ear!  Heal!)  His hearing is only mildly affected, but he still complains he can't hear me - unless I'm calling him to eat.

While talking about the protocol for keeping water out of his ear, Quinn leaned back on his bed and made dramatic sweeping gestures while lamenting, "Why is my life so cursed - bad ears, asthma, face scar, allergies?  My life is so sad!"

"How is your life so sad?" I asked.

Quinn quickly replied, "Do you see a dog sleeping here at the foot of my bed?"

The boy really wants a dog.

Dumb Ways to Die

I turned on the garbage disposal and swished my hand around the sink to push the little food bits into the hole.  While doing so, my forearm hit a metal spatula resting precariously on the side of the sink.  It fell into the garbage disposal handle-first, then quickly shot out and stabbed me near the top of my diaphragm. 

No blood was spilled, but I now have a healthy fear of the minor appliance and try to keep the area around the sink clear of sharps.

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.

String Theory

Mike bought six-ounce, bacon-wrapped beef fillets for Mother's Day.  (Yum)  Half-way through eating his steak, Quinn asked, "Why is there string around this half of my steak?"

"Boy," said, Mr. Rellim, "there was string around your entire steak.  You just ate it."

After lunch, Quinn got up from the table to eat a big bowl of ice cream.  Fancy food is  lost on teenage boys.  It's quantity over quality all day long.

Hello, Blogdom

It's been a while, but it's not because I haven't been thinking about you.  It's because the stories that amaze, confuse and annoy me about my family are likely to be read by them, and unless I can spin it in a humorous fashion, they are best not written.

I'm considering enacting a rule about how many times a styrofoam cup from the gas station can be re-used.  Also, should a mother allow her son to receive an unexcused "tardy" when he consistently oversleeps for Monday morning dual-credit Trigonometry class?  And what to do about the adult-ling daughter who will be living at home this summer?  These topics and more as the school year ends.

In closing, a funny thing happened with a Kindergarten student the other day:  He was looking at a picture of a sword with a handle shaped like a cross and said, "Look!  It's a "T" for Jesus!"

Speechie Fun

Playing a card game with a couple of Second Grade boys, I asked, "Who has magenta?"

One of them quickly answered, "I have dementia!"

Texting Fun

We got home Friday night and were in bed before Quinn got home from work.  When he pulled in the driveway, he texted me, "I'm home."  He didn't know we were home because our cars were in the garage.

Thinking quickly, Mr. Rellim grabbed my phone and texted, "Your dad is hiding in the house."

Quinn replied, "No he's not!  I know you are still out."

We listened while stifling giggles as Quinn slowly moved through the house with his flashlight, checking for his dad.

Then Mr. Rellim crept out of bed and into Quinn's room.

As Quinn entered his dark room, the shouts and screams made tears run down my face.  I think I was laughing, but I can't be for sure.

Who says fun can't be free?  Of course, we aren't paying for the therapy yet.

Ocho Bing Bang!

This is how Mr. Rellim answered the telephone last night as the automated calls rang in to alert us to today's school closings.  Though decidedly not politically correct, it gave me a laugh bigger than emptying a barrel full of monkeys into a kid's birthday party.

And speaking of monkeys - I just found a small green McLean County rabies vaccination tag in my load of towels this morning.  We don't have pets.  And we don't live in that county.  Rachel drives through that county between here and college, however.  Oh, man . . . do I even want to ask?  Because lately I'm allowed only one (maybe two) questions per day before I'm accused of trying to run (or alternately, ruin) her life.  And I've already blown one of my questions today asking, "Don't you think you should wear socks outside in this weather?"

If this weather continues to blow, we might have another round of automated calls tonight from the schools.  Any suggestions for how the phone should be answered?

An Interesting Problem to Have

My friend's mother-in-law just sold some property.  She lamented, "Where am I going to put all that money?"  Quinn is experiencing a similar conundrum.