AP (Amy’s Press), Georgia – Yesterday, in what appears to be an individual incident during a round of golf, G (Amy’s brother) reportedly fell out of a moving golf cart while trying to retrieve his ball. While no accomplices to the crime have come forward, witnesses attest to the influence of G’s golf, I mean, drinking partner, Jim Beam, and a prankster co-worker. No injuries (other than his pride) were reported and G went on to enjoy a perfectly beautiful walk ruined by a game of golf. Experts remark on the uniqueness of the incident stating, “While it is not uncommon for G to royally embarrass himself while surrounded by witnesses, it is highly unusual for him to do so outside the presence of attractive women.” Pundits have cautioned the family, suggesting that necessary precautions be made for the aforementioned cruise, namely that seat belts be installed on all bar stools in the Disney ESPN sports bar. More embarrassing reports are sure to follow.

Last evening, I called my sister in Michigan. She was pulling out snow pants, winter jackets, gloves and boots for the kids to try on. “We’re getting snow tomorrow,” she said. With snow showers on the way, she was eager to get the coats sorted out and washed and to know what they needed to buy for the season. When I hung up the phone, I told LM, who thus far has been reluctant to jump on the “Let’s Move to Michigan” bandwagon, “Aunt Julie says they are getting snow tomorrow.”

He screamed. With joy. Jumped up and down and said, “Let’s move!! Let’s move!!”

For me, the move is all about saving a little green. For LM, it’s all about the white.

Joe is a forty-something divorced man with a Master’s degree, career in his field and an excellent relationship with his 12 year old son. He’s funny and clever, a baseball fanatic and easy to get along with. We’ve been friends for the past 5 years or so and through that time I have listened to the ebb and flow of Joe’s dating life. He has an ad on nearly every internet site and has dated several women throughout the past few years some with more optimism than others. When Joe is in a relationship, I don’t hear much from him. When he’s single again, he’ll shoot me an email to just say hello. Last night was such an email. His last relationship has ended and he’s back “on the prowl” as it would seem, but growing more and more anxious over the possibility of ever meeting the “right woman”. He wondered aloud to me whether there just wasn’t something terribly wrong with him that makes it impossible to find and keep a great woman. (And before you even think it, Joe and I are not well-suited for each other. We make great friends and that’s all. And I’m really happy with that.)

His sentiment is one I’ve heard before from other men who seem to me to be perfectly wonderful, normal, charming men who just happen to still be single. I wanted to perhaps address this feeling from the side of the single woman.

I speak to those men out there who are single, independent, charming, and full of humor and life. Attractive in their own right (we all are, aren’t we?), who have a head on their shoulders and a soft spot in their heart – I say to all of you, “there is nothing wrong with you.”

You are not single because of some personal defect or flaw. You are not alone in your life because of something you’ve done or didn’t do. You are not curling up in a king size bed by yourself because of your lack of hygiene or your abysmal housekeeping skills, you are not single for any of these reasons that you tell yourself on Saturday nights when you watch the world couple itself up and go off without you.

She is out there. She is next door, or down the street or around the world, but she is out there. She just isn’t ready for you yet. Maybe she’s just come out of a relationship that has left her scared or hopeless or fragile. Maybe she is focused on her career and not on her heart. Maybe her concentration is on her children and their needs and she hasn’t paused to look around to fill her own yet. She is out there, she just needs time. You are perfect for her. Just the way you are. She just needs time to be ready for all that you have to offer. She’s working on it. She’s learning from that last relationship so she doesn’t drag you down with unfinished business. She’s tidying up the baggage that she’s accumulated so it’s neater and tidier and left under the bed and not out in the open when she sets her eyes upon you. She won’t ever be perfect, but she’ll be a better partner if she can take this time to work these things out.

So when you’re sitting there alone at the bar, or when you’re out walking at dusk without a hand to hold, please know that she’s working on it. She’s trying to get it all together so that your relationship will be built on a solid, lasting foundation. This absence, this time apart has nothing to do with your inabilities. She will love you just the way you are. And one of these days, when you finally do come together at the same page at the same time, she will be ready for you to love her just the way she is, too. And she will be so touched that you waited for her to get it right. Believe me.

The cruise? I haven’t mentioned the cruise!? Holy cripes where have I been? Yes, there is a cruise. A Disney cruise. We leave in aa couple months for a week’s vacation. I can sum it up like this:

The perks: It’s basically an almost-all-expenses-paid vacation (Thanks, Dad and Judy!) in the Caribbean with options to parasail, kayak, swim, drink, play in the arcade, swim with dolphins or sting rays, go biking, hiking, walking, running, and even shuffleboard!! My whole family will be there including my stepbrother, his wife and three kids whom I haven’t seen in well, half a million years, so it will be joyful and fun and full of all kinds of hysterically embarrassing moments (mostly for my brother, he’s 26, single and the highlight of the cruise for him is the idea of bedding Cinderella).

The downside? Swimsuit. 24/7. Yeah, that says plenty right there. I’ve mentioned previously that I’m a redhead, right? (Read that: That I burn with the slightest hint of daylight hitting my sunlotioned slathered, beach robe covered body) And that I weigh somewhere around 4000 pounds right now (I’m a little worried about the boat being able to actually float once I board) and that all things considered my dream vacation would not include sun, sand or boats (but would certainly include my family – okay, that was a kiss up).

It’ll be a great time, the kids will have the most fun that they’ve had since, well, EVER. We will seize every single opportunity possible to embarrass my brother (which is difficult because he never takes himself too seriously) and we will hopefully survive the 1000 feet in the air parasailing nightmare, I mean adventure (!) that LM wants to do together.

I would be remiss, by the way, if I didn’t give a huge shout out to Wendy whose amazing photo blog and awesome advice helped me to pick out the best new digital camera for our family and just in time for the cruise! After doing enough research to be completely confused, we chose a Canon Powershot (the newest, latest, greatest) and you can all prepare yourselves to be inundated with nothing but photos once I finally figure out how to operate the doggone thing. But I assure you, it redefines ‘cool’. Thanks, Wendy!

I was struggling to find last night’s football game entertaining when Roethlisberger is the QB for my fantasy game and my defense (Dallas) had already given up a million and four points to the Eagles earlier in the day. Instead of focusing on the game (and feeling my blood pressure rise – I save that for all communication with DirectTV (still ongoing by the way)) I noticed two things that had little to nothing to do with football but kept me entertained for at least a short while, namely:
1. Why does Al Michaels insist on pronouncing ‘huge’ as ‘yuge’. There’s an ‘h’ there, Bucko. (He also pronounces ‘Houston’ as ‘Yuston’.)
2. Did NBC utilize its entire budget when bidding for the rights to broadcast Sunday Night Football, leaving them with no other alternative but to recycle the Olympic Theme Music for use on football? (Has anyone else noticed this?)

Since I only had two points, I didn’t really think that was worth blogging about. So I was going to blog about the things I learned while trying to complete my paperwork that will grant me “Secret” clearance from the government (which will allow me to continue working on the same exact reports that I’ve been working on at work for the past 10 months.) Here’s what I’ve learned:
1. I have no friends. Having to list a reference that can verify that I’ve lived at each listed residence for the past 5 years; list a reference who can verify you attended the college or university you claim to have attended and list 3 personal references that basically cover the past 7 years of my life without having already been listed elsewhere on the form and NONE of these references can be related to me….? Yeah, no friends. (For the few of you out there who agreed to help me out with this, my deepest and most sincere gratitude. I’ll pay you for your friendship later. Remember, don’t mention that one incident sophomore year, or that time we burnt down the neighbor’s house while I was living in the apartments, or….)
2. When you finally come to terms with the idea that you have no actual friends, in a last-ditch-effort to fill the one vacancy on the form that you cannot for the life of you fill otherwise, you will try to contact an ex boyfriend. Yes, you will. And you will try to word your email so that he might not misinterpret your request for his name, address and phone number to think you want to stalk him. And you will try to act remarkably disinterested in where he is or what he is doing, but not so disinterested that he won’t respond and give you this one last NECESSARY REFERENCE. Whew. Let’s hope the government doesn’t frown upon having a Canuck as an ex-boyfriend. (It’s okay, Dad, don’t panic about this one.)

But see? I still only had two points for that blog, too, and two points does not a good list make. I know. I am a professional list maker.

So, then I thought I could tell you about the dream I had last night. I was trying on wedding gowns with my mom. (pause here to note a couple of things: a) yes, weddings do seem to be cropping up in my dreams more than my comfort zone enjoys lately and b) my mom has been gone now for over a dozen years and 3) (if you were a fan of Mad About You, you should love my counting system) I had a tiny wedding the first time and my mom didn’t help me pick out that dress, either, but this was dreamland where NONE OF THIS WAS ODD). Let me continue. My mom had found a very elegant Mother of the Bride dress. It was a beige linen long straight skirt with long slits up each side. The top of each slit was adorned with some sort of pearl and ribbon accent that actually looked really awesome even though it sounds really cheesy. It came with a short, cropped, double breasted sort of jacket and looked simply amazing on my mom. (Mind you, this isn’t at all the sort of thing my mother would have ever worn.) Me? I was trying on some gypsy skirt made out of green crinoline that had some sort of green ribbon going around it in 3 or 4 wide circles. It was hideous and mostly see-through and all I kept thinking was, “This will never do – everyone can see my horrible legs!” Which is true, but a bit odd. The strangest thing, however was that in the dream I was not actually engaged, and while I don’t remember explaining it to anyone in my dream, I understand that I believed the proposal was imminent and that it made perfectly reasonable sense to shop for the dresses while I was visiting my mom instead of waiting for him to actually ask me first and THEN shop for the dresses later when I’d have to make special arrangements. No word on whether this wedding was also with Charlie the pastry boy from Iowa or not. But since we know that during the actual wedding (or the reception, that is) I wear a periwinkle blue dress, maybe this dream was a pre-quel?

But see? My wedding dream now has a sequel so that came in two parts, but without a third installment (yet) so that didn’t seem really worth mentioning.

I could mention how my neighbor (not the noisy one downstairs, the one who brings her daughter over each morning for me to take to the bus stop) showed up 15 minutes earlier than ever this morning and scared the crap out of me while I walked from my bathroom to the kitchen in my robe with my hair up in a towel (to get warm, wrinkle-free, clean clothes out of the dryer).

So all I’m left with is how I was so wrapped up in thinking about our excursion options for the Disney cruise (Do we parasail? Kayak? Snorkel? Swim with dolphins? Blow all our funds in the arcade with Bear? All the above? Ditch it all together? (just kidding, Dad!)) that after I took the neighbor kid to the bus stop this morning I drove nearly 10 miles towards work before remembering that LM WAS STILL IN THE CAR and should have been dropped off at school, oh, roughly , 9 ½ miles ago.

Yeah, I think it’s definitely a Monday.

I am so glad we had that little chat at 6am last Saturday morning regarding your television and conversational noise that had been keeping me awake since 2am. I appreciated your lack of respect and utter denial of the situation. I can see that you truly took my concerns to heart when you had that disagreement with your boyfriend the very next evening, you remember the one. It was where you screamed into the phone that he forgot you? And how dare he forget you? I can’t imagine how it would be possible to forget someone as mature and rational as you.

I had not intended to actually sleep last night when I curled up in bed so I was glad you provided me with hours and hours of entertainment. Better yet, if I had missed any of the obscenities and insults that you screamed during the fight last week, this was a fantastic opportunity for me to get caught up and review how you truly feel about your boyfriend. From what I can gather, he’s truly a catch! (And why wouldn’t I have already thought so, what with him making the “wife beater” a new fashion trend in our neighborhood!) I can only hope that someday I can find a man who makes me sob so hysterically, while slamming closet and bedroom doors, threatening to throw his stuff away, all during the wee hours of the morning. Sigh, if only I could be so lucky.

It was after staying up so late listening to your sorrowful drama that I was most grateful for your son’s alarm going off at 6am (just like last week!) I appreciate you leaving it on to beep and beep and beep for the next hour continuously so that despite my lack of sleep, I might be up and ready for work on time – early even! Thanks so much for that special consideration. It is extra meaningful to me coming from someone who apparently never goes to work, to know you were especially considerate of my need to rise early and get out there to earn a living. Truly a selfless gesture.

DN, I can only hope that this last fight does not signify the end of your relationship with Mr. Winner and these melodramatic evenings that I have begun to treasure. It is in these intimate moments, DN, that we truly get to know the private thoughts and desires of the hearts of those (living) closest to us. What a joy it has been to share this drama with you week after week. It’s better than any Desperate Housewives episode, that’s for certain! Please be sure to include me in any future tirades that you might have, whether they are in the bedroom or in the kitchen where I know you’ve perfected the art of slamming cabinet doors! My only disappointment in the matter is that LM has missed out on these most recent episodes and has not had the privilege of such entertainment at 3am as I have.

I wish you and Mr. Winner a quick and speedy reconciliation. I certainly hope that the reunion occurs right below my bedroom so I can witness the joys as well as sorrows of this sweet relationship.

Thanks again, for your continued, thoughtful consideration.

Best regards,

Eliza Jane

To keep balance in the universe and my pride in check, yesterday’s progress report from LM’s fifth grade teacher wasn’t so warm and fuzzy. “Lack of impulse control”, “Needs to put in more effort” and “Neatness” were just a few things listed that he needs to work on.

Sigh.

The meeting itself went well. What they teach in fifth grade is actually quite amusing in that “it doesn’t make any sense, but that’s how the state requirements read” sort of way. For example, the students are taught about HIV/AIDS. They learn what the acronym stands for, how it is acquired and ways they can avoid the risk. They suggest abstinence from “unprotected sex” and “illegal needle drug use”. Trouble is, at no point whatsoever do they define what “protected sex” might be, or exactly what would make one drug illegal and another not. Their complete definition of sex for the kids? “When the penis and the vaginal come together.” Seriously. That’s the definition.

Now, I realize, these kids are young, and you start explanations simply and build upon that foundation. But why teach AIDS and how to avoid it if they don’t understand what it means to protect themselves during sex? LM thought that all drugs were legal (Tylenol, cold medicine, etc. are ‘drugs’ to him) and he didn’t understand the “needle” reference at all. He thinks that to “do drugs” means to take six aspirin when the bottle says to take two. Oh Lucccyyyyy, you got some s’plainin to do!!!

And, right at the end of the meeting, when I was trying to ask the Supervisor of Curriculum when (or if) they discussed homosexuality with the kids, my ex decides to track me down and join the conversation. NICE. (As it turns out, they don’t discuss it. Maybe in high school, the one guy thought, but certainly it is never mentioned to elementary kids.)

After the meeting, I talked with LM’s dad about the Progress Report and then we started talking about half a dozen other issues and I mentioned that I’ve sent out more resumes to Michigan and that LM seems to be handling the idea okay, but with some understandable hesitation and he nearly freaks out saying that I didn’t tell him I’ve talked with LM about moving to Michigan. Um, yes I did. And we talk (again) about why I want to move and he seems to understand it, but not really. He has no desire to own a home and wouldn’t move himself from the line of fire without a shove – he’s just that passive of a guy.) So he continues to act as if there should be no reasonable explanation for why I would move our son to another state. None. Not everyone lives in a house, Amy. Lots of people live in condos. Lots of teenagers live in condos. It’s not a bad thing. Um, yeah. Well, in my life, if I can offer something better, I will.

I picked LM up from church youth group and came home and he wanted to know what the meeting was about. We talked for awhile and he was able to articulate to me very clearly what is unique about his situation with his dad. We talked about the lessons he’ll have in Health in the next month or so and how that might raise more questions for him, and decided his best option was to bring his questions home to Mom. We also talked about how his dad and I disagree on the subject (Biblically) and why that was really the main reason for our divorce. LM understood it all, handled it with grace and was able to start understanding the implications it has on his own life. (Mainly in terms of how much he does or does not want to share with his peers about his home situation.)

And then I watched “Lost”.

And then I went to bed, mentally exhausted.

It’s days like yesterday that make me wish even more that I could just go hang out at my sister’s with a tequila sunrise in hand and swing in the hammock with George.

You are envious. I know you are. You wish that you could attend the parent’s meeting tonight at the school. I know, I know, it’s not easy for you to suffer through the “Lost” premier knowing that I’m the lucky one who gets to go to the meeting where I’ll learn all about the Health Education curriculum they will be teaching my Little Man in fifth grade this year. I know, I am so fortunate.

It’s not enough that I just get to attend, either. Not to smear your faces in it or sound boastful but I not only get to attend the hour long meeting but I will be joined by my ex-husband. I know, life just isn’t fair, is it?

And not only is it such a pleasure to sit at school functions next to a man I am no longer married to, but it is exponentially more fun to sit next to a GAY ex-husband when the topic being discussed is SEX!! WOOHOOO!!! I am so lucky. Pinch me, I must be dreaming. And there you are, feeling so left out.

So, just to be fair, when Little Man begins this curriculum and has all the “birds and the bees” stuff spelled right out for him, and he comes home and starts asking the hard questions like, “But then why does Dad sleep with a man?” I will just send him to you for the answer. Just so you don’t feel left out, okay? Great. Now we both feel better.

Sigh. Anyone wanna be the Mom for this one? Please????

An envelope arrived in the mail yesterday from LM’s school. “To the Parents of” it read. While he washed up for dinner I opened and read the contents, then called him out “for a talk”.

“What’s that, Mom?”

“Your PSSA scores. Sit down.” (PSSA is the standardized testing they do in 3,4,and 5th grades in PA).

“Uh oh,” said LM.

“LM, in Reading Comprehension there were 35 questions. Do you know how many you actually got RIGHT?”

“Um, five?” worried LM.

“34. In Interpretation and Analysis of Fiction and NonFiction Text, out of 17 questions, do you know how many you actually got RIGHT?”

“Um….”

“15.”

“In the various areas of mathematics, out of 30 you correctly answered 27, out of 9, you got 9, out of 9, you got 8, out of 9, you got 8 and out of 9 you got 9.”

“Is this bad?” inquired LM.

“LM, on these tests in Reading, 1255-1468 is Proficient. 1469 and above is advanced.”

“What’s my score?” he asked with great trepidation.

“1823.”

LM starts to laugh.

“In math, 1246-1444 is Proficient, 1445 and above is Advanced.”

“What’s my math score?” he asked giggling.

“1717.”

“MOM!!! You had me so scared!!!”

(We both giggled and hugged and talked about how he’d better continue to be so smart and get a scholarship because I can’t afford really smart genius universities, I can only afford mediocre average colleges!!)

LM was dedicated in a church in Illinois when he was 18 months old. We moved to Pennsylvania when he was two and during the next two years, we never attended a church service as a family. When I moved out, LM and I attended a local Methodist church where children were to be seen and not heard. After buying our home, we started looking for a new church closer to home and visited various churches over the next couple of years, attending an inter-denominational church for the longest span during that time. Calvary was a huge church, one that had a separate service for children to attend during church (one of the reasons we finally left). Over the summer, LM attends church with both sets of Grandparents, enjoying the differences in contemporary services versus very traditional.

We have recently found a local church that we feel very much at home at and while I have been attending for a few months now, LM has only been attending for about a month (since his return home from the summer).

This morning, when LM joined me in the sanctuary for church after we both enjoyed our separate Sunday School classes, I leaned over to explain how this church practices the tradition of Communion. It wasn’t until the moment when LM said, “This’ll be a first” that I realized he’s NEVER participated in Communion. Having been attending a separate children’s service since he was old enough to acknowledge his belief in Christ, and not being baptized to participate at his grandparent’s more traditional church, LM has never been in a service where he is encouraged as a believer to participate. I quickly and quietly explained the process at our church and reiterated that in my beliefs, baptism is not a requirement of salvation (nor to participate in the Sacraments) but as declaration of your beliefs. I told him if he was comfortable with it, he was welcome to participate, but to really focus on the sermon and on the tradition of the Lord’s Table.

The guest Pastor did an incredible job of explaining the significance, the lessons, the requirements and the meaning. When we bowed our heads in prayer I was overwhelmed with what it feels like as a parent to witness my child expressing his faith in this manner.

As the bread was passed, LM leaned over and said, “I thought there was wine, too” and I explained that it will come next but that it’s usually just grape juice, representing the wine. He looked remarkably relieved at that and sat with focus and attention on the verses that were shared in between.

And it was there, in the pew this morning, sitting next to my 10 year old son, that we shared the Sacraments of Christ together for the first time.

I know his faith will be tested as he grows older and that his faith will evolve from a very innocent, untesting childlike belief into something entrenched (I pray!) through experience and testing but it is really something to watch my child grow in his walk with the Lord and to be excited about the services and lessons.

What a sweet moment we shared this morning.