These are two of the reasons why my insurance company decided to total the '02 Odyssey. The other one is napping.

Actually while that makes a lovely sentiment, the real reason is Kerry. In our little town we have an auto-body repair shop that has been owned and operated by the same gentleman since 1964. His grandchildren have taken swimming lessons with our kids at the city pool, and we've found ourselves more than once on the sidelines of the same soccer or baseball or football game.

After the collision last week, our van was towed to Kerry's where he began personally tearing it down to determine the extent and nature of the damage. Because the car still retains much of its value (thanks, Honda) the insurance company would rather repair it. But after getting into it, Kerry decided that too many major systems had received too much damage to ever be reliable once back on the road. Despite the fact that he has absolutely nothing to gain by recommending a "total loss", he has gone to bat with the company to convince them to "total" the vehicle, thus eliminating whatever he might have earned by way of the repairs. He told me that he's happily driven a lot of vehicles that were "totalled" in his day, but he wouldn't let anyone in his family drive this car if it were to be repaired. In fact, he said if the company won't total it, they're going to have to find some other shop to repair it, because he wants to be able to sleep at night.

We're just as happy, since it would have taken 6-8 weeks..., WEEKS people! to repair, during which time we'd be spending summer without a car. So now we're in the market for a new car. Any suggestions?

James Taylor explains it all.

Little by little, light after light, that's how it dies. They say you can never go home again, now that's no lie. ~J.T.


My sister-in-law: "She's out there in the garage. She took a fork with her."

Me: "I know. What's she doing?"

S-I-L: "I'm not sure, but I'm afraid she might be eating that watermelon afterall."

Me: "Oh dear God! Do you really think so?"

S-I-L: "You better go talk to her."


My mother isn't here anymore. Oh sure, physically she's still around -- all 245 pounds of her 5-foot, 3-inch self -- but mentally, she's gone. Funny how she can still function and perform all the activities of daily life and yet have no sense of reality as the rest of the world recognizes and defines it.


Me: "Mom, that melon is rotten. We've opened a fresh one inside. Please."

Mom: "It's perfectly sweet."

Me: "You can't do this. Look at what you're doing, Mom. Please. This is ridiculous and you're going to get sick."

Mom: "Leave me alone."



Which is, of course, the essence of the problem. She has been left alone.

When Dad died, her reality became far too painful and far too lonely to acknowledge. So she won't acknowledge it. Those of us who do are merely obstacles to be avoided in her quest for unreality. She's a remarkably strong woman who nearly always accomplishes her goals, and she is succeeding this time, too.

My brother: "What are we going to do?"

Me: "What are our options?"

My brother: "None that she's going to like."


Stuck a letter in the mail to my brother in jail, said 'It's a matter of time till you can do a little bit better time.' It does me good to believe, sometimes. ~J.T.

Update

Good News: the slammer from Monday turns out to have valid insurance;

Bad News: as you'd expect, the company is not accepting liability at this point.

***

Leaving tomorrow for Colorado. I shall be an unaccompanied mother. I'm trembling at the prospect of actually reading a book, listening to my MP3 player, and not even once having to wipe another human's nose or hindquarters, or in any way assume primary responsibility for anyone other than myself.

Of course, it comes at a price: I won't be able to kiss any little faces, or receive those big hugs in the morning. And yes, there is always the possibility that I'll be seated next to Obnoxious Guy, or Toxic Stinky, or Screaming Infant...but, did I mention I'll have my book and MP3 player?!

***

I haven't been on my bike for 7 days, and by the time I return it will have been 12. (Yes, if all y'all math geeks want to do the cipherin' you'll know how many days I'll be gone.) DTs starting now.....

***

Rehearsals for the November opening of Proof are continuing. In June. Which explains why the mocking laughter continues too. However, it is still not well received. *sigh*

Louis Armstrong's got nothing on me.

Growing wild on the banks of Swauk Creek, these little flowers just caught my eye. You can see the stones of the riverbed through the water behind the blossoms. And though I'm stiff and sore today after yesterday's "Fun with Traffic," I can't help but "think to myself....what a wonderful world."

Monday, Monday -- can't trust that day.

Headed to the gym as usual this a.m., but an unusual thing happened. I stopped at the red light and waited at an intersection I've driven through a million times each day for the last 8 years. When the light turned green, I proceeded forward only to be slammed by a car from my right. He was trying to "make the light" and managed to slice off the entire front end of my car. Apparently in some cultures, yellow means hit the accelerator from 50 yards back.

As the slammer didn't have valid insurance, it looks like I'll have to make a claim on mine, which will mean higher premiums for any number of years. And the bodyshop guy looking at my van just shook his head sadly and said, "Yeeah....she took a bit of a shot, din't she? She gohna take an awful lotta work if they dohn' total'er out." *sigh*

Still, neither the slammer nor I was seriously injured, and there was no one else in either vehicle. Stuff can be replaced, even if it's a royal pain in the ass to get it done. Hey! Look at me being all "glass half-full" and "oooh, see the pretty silver lining"...!

OK, so here's the hard truth: I'm pissed off that I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and even more that I didn't drive defensively and see him coming through the red in time to avoid being hit. That said, I truly AM relieved -- and thankful -- that I am still around to raise these kids; I'm not in a hospital or a wheelchair; and my mind is still as sound as it's ever been. (Let's save the snide comments and that discussion for another day, shall we...?!)

You gotta admit: it's a hella way to start the week, eh? Maybe I'll just go back to bed. Wake me up when the new car is paid for...!

Little native cutthroat trout -- yes, this was the smallest one we caught, and yes! the hook was barbless, and yes! we released each and every fish unharmed.

Mr. E changing flies.

Littlest Eclectic (LE) fascinated by the light on the water.

Mr. Eclectic with Little Girl Eclectic (LGE) and Little Boy Eclectic (LBE) entering the creek.

LGE concentrating on her casting -- gotta get it right, y'know.

LE hydrating up in preparation for our big Father's Day fishin' trip.

Gone fishin'

No, seriously..., I've gone fishing and I'll post photos tomorrow if I can be bothered to come back.



confidentially to my dad: Happy Father's Day! I miss you terribly, but I never really liked touring Indian Ruins. I know, I should have said so earlier, but... it's just that you got such a big kick out of them, I never had the heart to break it to you. Now, though, I'm telling you: I never really liked them at all. Just so you know.

Narcolepsy: building better friendships, one at a time.

You know it's a really good friend when: after driving 2 1/2 hours over mountain passes in order to spend some time with you -- and you fall asleep while chatting with her -- she hugs you and laughs the next day, and says, "I'm sooooooo gonna use this against you.....!"

Of rings and things.

Add to the list of reasons I admire my daughter:

After receiving virtually every award available yesterday to graduating 5th graders (yes...you heard me right, they actually graduate from 5th grade...), when I approached to congratulate her, she motioned me aside and asked if I would take all her trophies, ribbons, certificates and plaques home while she returned to her classroom because she didn't want to "...rub it in to any of my classmates because there are so many of these."

OK, I know I'm bragging here, but that's amazing to me! At her age somehow she has already internalized a truly humble and caring spirit, and I'm just stunned at the beauty of her soul.

To celebrate her accomplishments, Mr. Eclectic and I took her to Claire's and held her hands while her life-long dream came true: her ears were pierced with simple CZ stud earrings. This morning she awoke and padded into the masterbath to peer into the mirror. Her words: "Ohmigosh, Mom...they look so pretty!" My words: "Oh Honey, they don't even hold a candle to you."

The "I Am From..." (Would this be considered a 'meme'?)

Don't really know what a 'meme' is, and reeeeallly don't know how it's pronounced, but I suspect that what follows is a variation on that theme. I swiped it (with permission) from Susie, who swiped it from a chain of others who took the idea from Fred, which is as far back as I've tracked it. It got to me somehow, so I thought I'd give it a go.


I AM FROM

I am from a back porch swing, from Pre-Sun with PABA.

I am from a sprawling split-level ranch, the tan brick home smelling of fresh-baked bread.

I am from lamppost planters filled with petunias, enormous old ponderosas along the drive, and the weeping willow tree everyone else used as a landmark.

I am from presents on Christmas Eve, shouting in order to be heard at the dinner table, and Dennis and Bob and Dave.

I am from the musicians, the Big-Band keyboards, the mellow woodwinds, the startlingly clear trumpet, and the voice of an angel.

I am from "Anything worth doing is worth doing well" and "Yours is the only mind you can change."

I am from Saturday Sabbath, potlucks, vespers, organs, choirs and hymns.

I am from the rocky mountains, the Scots-Irish, from home-baked cherry pies and home-grown corn on-the-cob.

I am from Don, the star student who postponed college for true love; who earned honors in medical school even while sleeping only every-other night because he had to work to support a family; and from the Nebraska farm girl who loved him.

I am from collage-filled walls, portraits on every surface, Grampa's old coin collection in the bottom drawer. Each photographed smile shaped the three little faces I kiss goodnight. And though it's immodest of me to say it, I think they're beautiful.

I get by with a little help from my friends...

The nicest surprise awaited me when I checked my email this morning. From this day forward, I know how to answer anyone who might dare to suggest that blog friends aren't real friends: "You're full of sh*t." And this story is what I will give as illustration of my point.

If you've been reading over the past week, then you know I was frustrated in my attempts to publish the new-and-improved photo you now see as my "profile" image. Because I'm stubborn, I published the picture as a regular post anyway.

Fast-forward to this morning. Aaron had modified the photo to fit within Blogger's parameters, attached it along with instructions to ensure my success, and...well, really made my whole day! Why would anyone take that kind of time and concern over someone else's admittedly minor problem?

Friendship. That's why. We've never met, but I recognize friendship when I see it. Yesterday Susie posted a fascinating list of questions including how do blog communities form. I didn't know there were such things, but now I even know how they are formed, Susie. Just like in real life, people reach across the gaps between them and offer whatever it is they have to give. And wherever it finds you, it's one of the most satisfying aspects of life.

The littlest Eclectic with his "spaceball" helmet...on backwards, of course.

"dilemma: a situation requiring a choice between options that are equally unfavorable."

Such as: ~call a friend on her self-deception and risk her shooting the messenger, OR not call that friend on it and risk watching her invest ever deeper into a truly destructive relationship she seems hell-bent on pursuing.

Such as: ~attend a wallow-fest with family members and act miserable to make them happy, OR not attend and/or not act miserable and piss them off as an added enhancement to their situation.

Such as: ~clean the house, OR go to the gym for cardio. So. bored. with. both.

Such as: ~take the day off, or NOT take the day off? Hmmmm.... Oh right, that one's not really a dilemma, is it, since one of the options is distinctly FAVORABLE!

Looks like I'm taking the day off. Happy = me!! The actual dilemmas will have to wait...I'm busy doing the happy dance.

This is my favorite river. The reason I didn't post anything today is because I was at this river taking pictures. Well done, me!!

Wherein electronics are smarter and more complex than I...

Maybe you didn't guess that I figured out how to download photos from my DVC yesterday; nevermind that I received the little palmcorder for Christmas 2003...I am still quite pleased with myself for figuring it out. That would explain the photos, wouldn't it?! I'd write a longer post, but now I'm busy taking pictures. And I have a rehearsal tonight...I'll get back to you soon!

My friend PKL with my two "big kids." What's funny is that the boy had JUST gotten in trouble for trying to 'rabbit ear' his sister, so he jumped in front of her instead -- which cracks me up because, as you can see, she instantly reacted. Kids......

Sydney: She's hanging in there for the time being. I can't imagine what it's going to be like without her.

Odds and Ends

Remember I was telling you about Proof? The production date has been moved into the Fall sometime because the remodel on the theater won't be complete in time for a Summer show. In itself this is no tragedy, right? Maybe you can salvage those summer weekends, enjoy the time off and come back to it in 3 or 4 months all energized, right? WRONG. Our brilliant director (and he really is brilliant in some ways) has opted instead for a modified rehearsal schedule throughout the interim, keeping everything "fresh" for 4 whole months. I laughed out loud. AT him. In his presence. This was not well received....

I skipped my 5 a.m. appointment at the gym this morning because I was just too darn tired to get up. What is THAT??

We're leaving town for the weekend. I'll not be posting nor checking messages as I'm refusing to take the laptop. Certain clients are worse than spammers, demanding to know the status of their cases by the minute. Perhaps I should charge by the email instead of the hour... but I digress. We're going a few towns away to participate in the "Gap-to-Gap" relay race. Friends are participating as well and it promises to be a great weekend! Alcohol will be involved, but not until after the race. *sigh*

For the record, brando, I love John Mayer.

Have a good weekend, everyone.

The Surgeon General has determined that optimism can be hazardous to your health.

Before you go thinking that all we do in Eclecticland is eat out, let me assure you that we do other things as well.

Last night we stayed at our son's baseball game until the very, very end. Of course the game went long because the other team couldn't seem to shut our guys down -- it was a rout, a veritable baseball clinic. That's great. Except when the bottom of each inning lasts into eternity, then you never get to go home. Even when the ump mercifully called the game after only 6 innings, there was the coach's talk, the snack line, and the interminable goodbyes to hyped-up li'l teammates. So we opted to have a quick dinner out and then home to salvage what was left of bedtime.

At this point, the plot thickens.

In our little corner of the world, there is a restaurant I have avoided for all of 8 years because it has the appearance of a ramshackle dive. Also, it is an establishment specializing in teriyaki. Although I'm no particular fan of teriyaki, it might not be so bad... except that it's named after it's owner/chef: "Original Jay's." Now I ask you, would you be eager to eat at a hole-in-the-wall teriyaki place named after an anglo?? That's like eating at an Italian place named "Paddy's" or Tex-Mex cuisine called "Lotus Room" or something. But, because it was convenient to the baseball field, promised immediate service and reasonable prices, AND was likely to have vegetables available, we decided "Original Jay's" it is.

When we entered, the very young, very blonde, very immense hostess dislodged herself from behind the diner-style counter to inform us that they would be closing in a mere 40 minutes so we'd have to eat fast. Alarming, yes..., but we were in a hurry anyway, and hey, maybe her girth was an indicator that the food was very good. We ordered from pink vinyl menus (I only wish I were exaggerating) and settled in to wait. *cue music over the p.a. system.* Ever heard bluegrass music over a 'p.a. system'? Yeah, me neither until last night...eating teriyaki...with previously-frozen mixed vegetables...at Original Jay's.

Oh, dear mother of God.