No Backsies

When I was growing up, all us kids had a 'No Backsies' rule. No backsies was just that - if you gave or traded something, you couldn't get it back no matter what, and if you got something, you hung onto it until you were ready to part with it. No backsies was a very convenient rule to live by, mostly because it gave us a way to get rid of unwanted stuff, with no threat of it returning to us unasked for. No backsies was almost as convenient as the 'Do Over'. The Do Over was invoked when you messed something up and needed another shot at it to get it right. It was particularly useful in stick ball or jump rope or other street sports. The bad thing about the Do Over, though, is that it doesn't have as much of a place in the grown up world. For example...Yelling "Do Over" when pulled by the traffic police does not have any impact on the size of the speeding ticket you get. In fact, doing so might cause the officer to invoke the 'No Backsies' rule with the driver's license you handed over to them. Another time the Do Over rule is never useful is when parenting children. If you have foolishly said in the hearing of children how obnoxious Aunt Jane is, or that Sue really should not be wearing shorts with that skin issue she has...the children will never honor the Do Over. They will not let you live it down and will in fact, share your outspoken thoughts with anyone and everyone sufficient to cause maximum embarrassment and shame. Then of course, when you voice the ultimate Do Over threat to them - "I brought you into this world and I can take you out of it", they smugly reply "No Backsies".

Boot Tale

So, despite the fact that I don't have a lot of them anymore, I really love shoes and boots. It's a woman thing, I think, that I share with most of my girlfriends. I recently was reminded about how far my obsession with shoes and boots used to go (used to...hah!) when reminiscing with a school chum whom I traveled to Europe with. We went to Paris and London - it was a trip entrenched with cultural activities designed to bore even the most avid historian or anglophile. And, while I remember the Eiffel Tower (yes, I really did take that photograph), Notre Dame cathedral, Buckingham Palace and all the other landmarks which are required tourist viewing, what I remember most, with eyes that glisten with the delight of my memory, was the BOOTS. Yes. The boots. THE boots. THE MOST AMAZING BOOTS I HAD EVER SEEN AND THEREFORE HAD TO POSSESS! They were in a small, out of the way shop in the heart of Chelsea - a shop that catered to rockers and mods as only London did back in those days. They were soft black lambskin leather, with four inch stiletto heels, toes so pointy I could use them as a dibbler to plant tulip bulbs with, and they went up to THERE! Oh, they were the most fabulous boots I had ever seen...I bought them, of course, even though it took all the money I had, plus some loans from my fellow travelers. As a result, for the last three days of my European vacation I drank only water and ate the inevitably stale 'biscuits' the British were so fond of serving along with meals, that my travel companions kindly left for me on the table. When I arrived back in the States, noticeably thinner, I strutted with pride across the airport terminal in my beautiful new boots. It was a GREAT trip!

Shark Tales

So, the fishing hasn't been so good where I live lately. Maybe the excruciatingly cold winter took it's toll on the bass and trout populations, or maybe I am just a really poor fisherman, but I can't seem to catch ANYTHING these days! In the very middle of the summer, things slow down, but by now I should be stocking my freezer for those days when I am just too lazy to go on the river. Last week, I thought my luck was changing - I had a nice hit; I let the fish really take it's time with the shrimp I had on the line, and when I was pretty sure I was good to go, I reeled in...only to find a bonnet head shark swimming alongside my line, trying to get the rest of the shrimp off of the hook! The fish are definitely getting smarter.

Growing Pains

In less than a week, my son goes back to school...it is the unofficial end of summer for him. For me on the other hand, summer is just beginning to get in the swing. And, while I adore my child and love spending days with him doing not much of anything, I feel I will love and adore him even more when he is back in school. This is because sometime over the past summer, he has become a teenager, and as a result he no longer knows I am the funnest, coolest Mom on the planet. He has forgotten that I am the woman who once spent a week mastering the ability to make fart sounds with a blade of grass simply to amuse him. He has overlooked the fact that I once spent days walking around Disney simply to locate the exact right 'STRING SPINNER WITH ELECTRIC LIGHT' so that he could bring it home, take it apart and reconstruct it into a sophisticated high speed cat toy that whipped all the cats, even old Boo-Boo, into a frenzy. He has also forgotten that I allowed, even ENCOURAGED him to make 'Jello' balloons. And that I applauded and supported his efforts to construct endless types of shooting devices that have shot raw potatoes, straight pins and a host of other stuff in between. He has forgotten that I have actively participated in the planning and construction of numerous kites, whose sole purpose was for us to set fire to them while they were aloft. The six-foot wide parachute I constructed for a GI Joe that got stuck up in a tree about 100 feet in the air (don't ask how we got it up that high) which housed numerous generations of squirrels until it finally fell out of the tree last Spring, has been forgotten. He has lost interest in me. I have become simply ... his parent. Beyond being a supplier of food, I hold no promise of anything interesting for the boy. I am worried that our future together is toast, unless I somehow gain the ability to beat him at his favorite XBox game, or learn how to ride a motorcycle, or do something so completely unique that he can't help but say 'Oh wow, that's cool, Mom'. Until then, I will pump him full of nutritious sustenance and stand at the ready for the day when he may need my help in finishing that paper clock we started building a few month's ago...

Let's Get Physical

In my effort to become more physically fit and improve the overall quality of my life, I began an intense exercise program some months ago. So, I go to a gym lots of days a week and pound and mold and try to subdue my middle-aged body into some sort of healthful condition. Over the past months, I am glad to report that there are definite positive changes to my body. I still don't quite have "Buns of Steel", but no longer do I have "Buns of Sponge".