Rose Rocks in their Natural Habitat

Saturday was such a beautiful day we just had to get outside. So B and I loaded up the boys and drove up to Lake Stanley Draper in south OKC to go rose rock hunting. B collected a bunch of them up there a couple of weeks ago, and I admitted that I'd never seen rose rocks "in the wild," even though I'm an Okie native. So, we went up.

The weather was perfect. Warm sun, cool breeze, bright and crisp and sunny. The roads into the lake bottom were closed because of the recent rains, so we had to park and walk in: about a mile and a half or two miles, according to B. I have no sense of distance whatsoever. It was a good long walk. But pleasant. The boys were scampering back and forth with their eyes open: finding bugs, a tiny red toad, clams and clam shells. The wind was coming in off the lake and really bringing the waves in. The water level is really low, so there were wide stretches of red Oklahoma dirt down by the water, and wide swaths of exposed rose rocks. Hundreds of them. Thousands! I picked up a bag full, but soon stopped because there were just so many. I was astonished! I've never seen them au naturel before, and I always thought of them as being quite rare, but there were places where the waterline was completely covered in them! It was very cool.

We knocked around out there for a couple of hours, turning over rocks to look for crawdads, skipping rocks. There were patches of dried up dead reeds that made a wonderful musical tink tonk noise in breaking as you walked through them. So we spent some time wading through patches of reeds, swinging our legs and making music.

The way back was long, however. We were all tired. My back was hurting, the boys were whining about how far it was. But fortunately we were able to turn the whining into a sort of game about how we were all going to die. I'd hold Grayson up and say "Don't give up! You've got to keep moving! I'm not going to leave you out here! You can do it!" And he would laugh ... and whine some more.

It was a beautiful, perfect Fall Saturday. We haven't had as many of those as we usually do this year. There has been so much rain! But this one was perfect.

Sunday, unfortunately, Grayson came down with a stuffy nose and lay around all day feeling crappy. I let him veg out in front of the TV while I embarked upon the task of reorganizing cabinets. When I moved in I put things away, but of course didn't really know how I was going to need to use the space, and not everything was even unpacked. So now that we've been here a few months, I realize what our storage needs are and needed to move some things around so I didn't end up with a bunch of junk cabinets.

Well, what started out as a project to clear out one cabinet to make room for craft supplies became a day-long odyssey where each new cabinet led to another, until I ended up reorganizing the hall closet, the armoire, the side board and the drawers in all the living room tables before I was done. At least now I know where to put stuff, though.

Grayson's home sick again today. Not really sick, though. Just snuffy. I'm guessing it's allergies. But that means I'm home, too. I am NOT starting another organization project, however. Just don't think I'm up to that again. Think I'll sit on my butt and read a book, instead.

The To Do List

Today is the one year anniversary of the day I moved out of the house. I keep running into these anniversaries: the date that would have been my 11th wedding anniversary, the anniversary of the day G told me he no longer loved me. The date I moved out. In January the divorce will have been final for a year, but frankly, I don't even know what that date is. By then it didn't matter. I don't suppose any of it matters now. I just keep hoping that the next anniversary will mark the official date on which it all becomes part of "the past" and I will stop stumbling over it. I'm continually dismayed at how much the past still drags at my future.

Lately the big stumbling block is financial. I just keep re-learning the hard way that I am in much reduced circumstances. I have a lot of leftover debt from the marriage, plus I pay a car payment and a divorce lawyer, and am trying to hack down the credit card debt I racked up after I moved... twice ... this year. I keep hearing all the dire financial news and sometimes I wake up in a cold sweat at 5 a.m. certain that I'm going to end up bankrupt or homeless.

Speaking of home insecurity... the owner of the house I am renting is going through bankruptcy. After the first month's rent was paid, I got a thick packet from a law firm informing me that the property was "in receivership" and I should make future checks payable to the firm, not the owner. So I did for the second month. Then I got a note that the owner was filing bankruptcy and was again in charge of handling the rent... for whatever reason.... so for the fourth month I sent my check back to him. Then last week I got another thick packet from the lawyer telling me that the property had been released from the bankruptcy and was back in receivership and I should pay them, not the owner. It's been a zoo. I frankly didn't even know what "receivership" is!

So I looked it up:

"In a typical Receivership, the Superior Court appoints a Receiver to act as an agent of the court to liquidate the assets of a Corporation, Partnership, Limited Liability Company or Limited Liability Partnership. Once the assets are liquidated, creditors are paid from the sale proceeds."

This would seem to indicate that it's just a matter of time before my house gets sold to pay the creditors off.

I wish I could just buy the thing myself, but I'm so upside down on my debt to income ratio that no lender in their right mind would grant me a mortgage, especially in the current financial climate. Plus I have no down payment. So if the thing sells, I'm back out there looking for a place to live.

This is not good, but it does remind me that things could be worse. I recognize that the fix I'm in is at least partly of my own making. G didn't rack up all that debt by himself, after all. But being on my own sure makes it a harder hole to get out of. Note to the younger generation: don't live beyond your means. It could really come back to bite you on the butt.

I heard on NPR yesterday how many college are now offering courses in basic household finance: how to read an earnings statement, the difference between a 401k and a 403b. What a flexible spending account is, etc. What a concept. Not me! I come from the Credit Card "Charge It" generation. And I have been a verrry hard Old Dog to teach. Looks like I'm entering the school of Tough Love, however. No Way Out But Through. My new mantra.

So, no more on that depressing subject. Lets talk about something else.

Lets talk about Leadership Norman.

I haven't had a chance to say much about it, but I was accepted to take part in an annual program put on by the Norman Chamber of Commerce called Leadership Norman. Thirty people are chosen to participate in six months of sessions that will teach us all the inner workings of the community, with an aim of making us better, more informed and engaged "leaders." It has been a wonderful experience.

We began with an evening mixer in which we had dinner and everyone had an opportunity to introduce ourselves and give some information about who we are. The emcee was the owner of a local office supply business turned educators supply turned toystore who is a mainstay of the Norman scene since God was a boy. He had clearly dug up the dirt on each of us and would ask questions showing that he had some real information about our past experiences and histories. He brought up my old acting career, for example. Anyway, that was fun. Then we met for a session on the Myers-Briggs personality profile, (I can't remember what I am, I'll have to look it up). Then we had a full day on the Ropes Course at OU, which was fantastic. Terrifying, but fantastic. It really made an impression on all of us and brought the group together. Then last night we had a session introducing us to a wide range of non-profits in Norman. We met representatives from each of them one-on-one, and later we will prioritize our top three and be placed as an "intern" on their Board of Directors for three months.

Last night a group of us met before the general meeting for happy hour at the restaurant of one of our members. We have two restaurant owners in our ranks, so there's always a place to go for drinks! I'm hoping to make some close new friends over the next few months. That's one of the main things on my To Do list since the move to Norman. Make Friends. It gets harder and harder to do when you're a grown up, but Leadership Norman should provide just the avenue.

And speaking of my To Do list, there are several things on it that bear mentioning here. Financial solvency is one, naturally. But also Making friends. Engaging my community. Reinvigorating my work. Taking care of my health, and feeding my soul. I need to get out and find things that are meaningful to me. I guess I was so encapsulated in my little family when I was married that I now find myself sort of cut off from the world. I'm not sure what I do for fun. Someone asked me that recently and I just looked at them, blinking, for a moment. Crickets chirping. I don't know what I do for fun. I know what I do, but I couldn't really call it fun.

So one of my missions now is to identify what it is that I do for fun. Develop a hobby, cultivate interests, explore and experiment. There are lots of possibilities out there.

I'm trying to find one of them for this weekend. What can I do with Grayson that is free, entertaining, and does not involve television? I'll keep you posted.

From the Tourism Conference.

I'm in Tulsa for the annual Governor's Conference on Tourism. This is the fabulous and exotic view from my window at the Renaissance Conference Center. I call it "Target parking lot with Oklahoma skyline."




I'm kind of missing my kid. He spent Thursday through Sunday with his dad, then G dropped him off with my folks where he will remain until Tuesday afternoon. So it's been almost five days since I saw him. Probably he's not missing me much at all. He got to play with his best friend in OKC, yesterday. And today his Papa's taking him to Scouts, so there's plenty to do.

He tells me he feels equally at home both at our house and at his Dad's place. I'm grateful for that. I noticed, though, on a poster he made as an assignment for school... where it asked him to draw a picture of his family, it was just the two of us. At the beginning of the school year, when he filled out a little booklet about himself, the family he drew was the three of us: G., (recognizable in his green shirt), Grayson in the middle (in glasses), and me (wearing red). Maybe he feels he has two families now.

Yesterday was something of a big day. G dropped off Grayson with my folks, marking the first time he has seen or spoken to either of them in a year. My mom was the only one present. My dad is just not ready to take that step. The new tattoo on his ankle is still healing where he had G's initials tattooed over last week. (My dad had all of our initials tatooed onto his ankle several years ago. Last week he had a sailboat tattooed over it, and fresh initials tattooed onto the opposite ankle: just mine, Grayson's and my mom's. Kind of makes me glad I never etched G's name into my skin.)

Anyway, they both said it was cordial, if awkward. It's another step toward getting On With our lives, I suppose.

Now, in other news: Mambo is now able to eat large crickets. This is great because large crickets are only 1 cent more than small crickets, but he eats 50% fewer, saving me a lot of cash. I have not yet had success in breeding my own crickets, however. The cricket farm seems to be doing okay as far as keeping the adult crickets alive, but I'm not seeing much in the way of eggs. I may have to tweak my techniquesw. Play a little Barry White for them or something... I dunno. I wish they'd get on with it.

On Cricket Husbandry

I am starting a cricket farm. Yes. A cricket farm. Mambo is eating me out of house and home, and I am obliged to find a way to pay for his cricket habit. Either I need to get a second job, or raise the little suckers myself. So, cricket farming it is.

Here's what you need to farm crickets: a big plastic tub, a dish of dirt, some wet cotton balls, some raw veggies, and a heating pad. Oh, and a bunch of crickets.

The crickets and all their stuff go into the big tub (into the lid of which you have drilled holes so they get some air). The heating pad goes on top to keep them nice and mosty toasty. The dirt is for laying eggs in. You put it all together and listen to the chirping and wait. Hopefully in another week or two I'll have little crickets. In the meantime, I have a nice evening chorus in my living room. It's like camping.

If someone had suggested to me a few months ago that I would be raising crickets in my living room, well.... But here I am. Raising crickets. Or trying to. So far, no baby crickets. But the adults are not dying. They're chirping. They seem content. They stink, but they seem happy enough. I feed them bearded dragon pellets and chopped veggies. I wait for them to lay eggs.

I do not care for crickets. I don't mind their chirping. And I don't mind handling the little ones. There are a lot of escapees from Mambo's little cricket holding-pen that I find myself chasing down on a daily basis. But the big adults kind of creep me out. Their little legs are so.... grippy and ... crawly. I just don't care for them. But I'm raising them, so I can feed their children to my dragon. Sort of like Athens and Crete. Perhaps I should build Mambo a labyrinth and demand a regular tribute of 24 youths from my cricket subjects.

Except actually, I'm pretty much going to feed ALL the baby crickets to my dragon, so...

Maybe I should just drop the metaphor. It makes me feel kind of creepy.

How Sweet My Boy Is

I don't generally spend a lot of time gushing about how wonderful my kid is. BUT. I'd like to gush a bit about how wonderful my kid is.

First, he has taken all the major changes and upheavals in his life over this past year with remarkable aplomb. I've had no discipline problems, no choosing sides, no machinations to try to get G and I back together, no resistance to B... none of the classic kid problems associated with divorce... to say nothing of a subsequent move and new school.

Second, he is a sweet, polite, gentle creature, with a heart of purest gold. I am grateful every day for his sunny disposition, his eagerness to please, his flexibility. He's not a whiner, he is grateful for everything he receives, and he always gives people the benefit of the doubt.

By God, my kid refills toilet paper rolls. I'm not kidding. Half the adult male population doesn't refill TP rolls. But my little boy does. He looks in the cabinet, finds a new roll, replaces the old one, and throws the empty tube in the trash. Without ever having been prompted. This I count as a minor miracle in and of itself.

Over the past week, I've had two experiences with him in the morning when i drop him off for school. We always arrive with less than a minute to spare before the bell rings at 7:55 and he's counted as tardy. Typically we pull up and I say "7:54, run for the door!" and he hops out, blows me a kiss, and takes off running. A week ago, though, he blew me a kiss and I blew one to him too, as he was turning to leave. He stopped, turned back toward me, and quickly reached out and "caught" my kiss in his hand. Then, grinning, he ran for class.

Then on Monday when I dropped him off, the car windows were all covered with dew. After he got out and closed the door, he stopped and drew a heart on the passenger side window for me, then he put his face in it, smiled at me, and went to school.

Love that little boy.