The Meaning Behind the Music

Green Day wasn't always my favorite band. When their "Dookie" album came out in 1994, I thought "Longview" and "Basketcase" were fun songs but nothing earth-shatteringly amazing to me. I was a newlywed then, and pregnant with our first child, so rock and roll wasn't a big part of my life then. It wasn't long till I was mostly listening to "Barney" in the car, along with "Donald Duck" and other children's CD's. I know the 90's had some great bands and tunes, but I was, for the most part, oblivious.

Five years later, Jennifer was born, and the children's music played on. And on. And on. Everything I listened to and watched for at least a decade was rated G. Whatever the kids wanted, I obliged. It never really occurred to me to listen to rock music, although when I was pregnant with the kids, I always put earphones to my belly and pumped in Pearl Jam, Van Halen, Mozart and Beethoven to expose them early. I do remember hearing, "Longview" once with the kids in the car, and my "mommy arm" over-extended faster than a lightning flash to grab the volume control to turn down the "bad" words.

Things changed slowly when Ian started kindergarten. Suddenly I had only one child at home, and often, Jennifer fell asleep in her car seat to various "Disney Princess" tunes. I mostly listened to the Jewish-motherly advice of Dr. Laura, as her show seemed to resonate with my own values at the time. Flash-forward to 2005, with a now-10 year-old and 6-year old, who had grown annoyed with "baby" music. I was sooo thankful, because to this day, Tim and I STILL know all the words to the "I Love You" song sung by the purple dinosaur himself.
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It was during this period of my mommy-hood that for the first time, I had two kids in school full-time. I was lost at first, didn't know WHAT to do with myself all day. It's funny how when your kids are babies, you fantasize about this over and over during those awful all-nighters, the sick days, the long bouts of crying (the babies' as well). The last person I wanted to listen to was Dr. Laura--this was MY time and kid-friendly shows were off-limits! I was lucky I didn't have to work--my wonderful husband Tim worked so I could stay home with the kids. Here was my reward for 10 years with no day off---weekdays to myself, from 8 am to 3 pm.  What was my role now? Who was I without children clinging to me all day long? My life revolved primarily around them. I volunteered at their school, and I was there as much as they were. I was probably a little frumpy, and I know I wasn't into running then. I think I'd pretty much put myself on the back burner, as many moms do. But I relished uninterrupted hot showers, the occasional lunch or Starbucks with a friend, along with the laundry and housecleaning and grocery shopping.  No one knocked on my bathroom door yelling, "MOMMY!!" It was phenomenally freeing.

Not having children in the car for a few hours a day was like serendipity. I could listen to all the bad words I wanted to! Yay! I didn't have to explain myself, I didn't have to talk to anyone. I could just sing along to whatever station I wanted to listen to. No mommy guilt. It felt weird. It felt good. It was during this time that I was driving alone, probably running mommy errands, when a song came on that made me stop and pay attention. The haunting guitar chords and sexy-voiced male lead beckoned to me. I had goosebumps.  My heart was pounding as if I'd had a religious experience.  Much like love-at-first-sight. "My shadow's the only one that walks beside me, my shallow heart's the only thing that's beating, sometimes I wish someone out there will find me, till then I walk alone...." I had tingles.. When the song ended, I gripped the steering wheel, praying the DJ would say the name of the song and band. Sure enough, he did. It was "Boulevard of Broken Dreams" by, yes, Green Day. I felt a little ashamed I didn't recognize the band, but hey, 10 years of "Barney" and "Mickey Mouse" convoluted my musical perspective.

I had to have the album, "American Idiot". I immediately drove to Best Buy and bought two copies, a CD for me and one for Tim, so he could listen to it driving back and forth to work.  Somehow, it spoke to us. I listened to it beginning to end, straight through, never stopping.  I listened intently to each song, one after another, the way a mother listens to her new baby breathe--you're so mesmerized you can't pull yourself away. "Wake Me When September Ends" gave me more goosebumps and I KNEW it was going to be a huge hit post-9/11.  Song after song, somehow, it spoke to me. "Jesus of Suburbia" was mind-blowing. Sometimes it takes a little kick in the behind to jolt us out of our stupor, even if it's a happy stupor. I didn't realize something was missing from my life, but the song slapped me in the face and woke up something inside of me.

The most fun part of my transformation was that it was happening to Tim, too.

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I don't remember how it happened, but before I knew it, Tim and I had tattoos. We started dressing differently. We felt younger, we looked younger, and we felt more in love than ever. I bought Tim an electric guitar for Father's Day, as I'd remembered he was in a band in high school. He relished it, and I encouraged him to join a band to "blow off steam" from the stress of his job. I started walking, then running, and I dropped 20 pounds I didn't realize I'd gained. I got a new hairstylist and cut and colored my hair shades of purple and pink. We felt alive and happy, and thankfully, our kids loved the changes in us. I was still the devoted mom, and Tim the busy executive, but something exciting was happening.

Tim got us 11th row seats to see Green Day when they came to Fresno. We've been to a hundred concerts, but this one was like none other. To see Billie Joe Armstrong and his two best friends, in the flesh, for over 3 hours, I felt like I'd been baptized.  It was a magical night, one I'll never forget. (Tim even got us Meet-and-Greet backstage passes, but Billie Joe didn't show; the drummer Tre Cool did but we couldn't get near him. Damn!) We weren't alone in our passion for this record album. It has sold 14 million copies world-wide, and subsequently won nearly 25 awards, ranging from best album, to best singles ("American Idiot", "Boulevard of Broken Dreams", "When September Ends"), to best rock band. Clearly, the Oakland-based trio touched a nerve in our collective consciousness.

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The lead singer of Tim's band couldn't make it to practice one night, and the bass player asked me to sit in for him since I knew all the songs. Without the pressure of being an actual band member, I hammed it up and belted out the songs as if it were Karaoke night at the local tavern. The band was so impressed with me, we actually formed a new band with me as lead singer! And for the next year and a half, we performed many times in local clubs and even recorded a demo CD.  Every performance was an opportunity to honor my hero's music. How lucky was I to be singing Green Day's music?! It was always thrilling to stand up there and cover their songs. In all, we sing about 20, and Tim's always working on more.

                                                             

Never having been to a Broadway play, and never having been to New York City, I really didn't know what to expect from "American Idiot" the play. My wonderful husband of nearly 17 years surprised me with 3rd row orchestra seats as my 50th birthday present! I screamed even louder when he told me Billie Joe was in it as the character, "St. Jimmy".  To say I was excited would be an extreme understatement.

The St. James Theatre on Broadway is a beautiful theater, with balcony seating and deep plush plum seats; much like you'd expect. One huge difference was the crowd. Many were young people, dressed in skinny jeans and studded belts and multi-colored hair and piercings. Many were your average middle-aged Mom and Brad. It was a packed house.

From where we were sitting, it turned out that Billie Joe spent much of his time onstage literally 15 feet away. He was so close, but I couldn't take a picture of him! (NOT allowed. I got yelled at for taking pictures of the theater before the curtain even went up. I didn't want to chance getting thrown out.....or did I? It was a hard decision...) He looked like Beetlejuice, his long hair gelled standing straight up. He had on his famous black jeans and studded belt and chains; a black T-shirt with a white suitcoat with black hanky in the front pocket. He was thin and good-looking, and belted out the songs while acting out the role of St. Jimmy, a kind of devil-on-your-shoulder character to the lead role of Johnny played by John Gallagher, Jr., an amazing talent who sang lead to most of the Green Day album with as much snark and snarl and tenderness as Billie did on the album. The whole cast sang along to various songs; it was a collaborative effort of dancing and singing the album straight through, just as I had listened to it that very day I brought it home with me from Best Buy. Tim and I were blown away.

Watching the actors and listening to the words of the songs I know so well, I was aware that I was learning what "American Idiot" meant to my hero, Billie Joe Armstrong. Those were words he'd written, music he'd written, painstakingly and lovingly created by that five-foot-nine man standing right there. The chords and melodies and words that cried out to me were his, and the play was basically his heart, outside of his body. "American Idiot" is a complicated story of a young man who is trying to find himself amidst the chaos of 9/11 and the war in Iraq. He uses drugs to numb the pain. He falls in love; she gives him an ultimatum. He sees his best friends go off to war, one loses his leg. He tries to conform, but where is the meaning in it all? The play exposes not only Billie Joe's contempt for our governments' reaction to 9/11 but our own.

As the character Johnny stumbles and finds his way, I realize that we all have our own journey of self-discovery. We all have our own story to tell. We all were once idealistic teenagers, and some of us conformed and became good citizens, while suppressing our rage at the same time for the establishment. Many of us are lucky to have found a balance between being wicked and being good, and being happy.
We can't just sit around and party forever--sooner or later we all have to grow up and be functional members of society. The people we hang around with help us achieve our goals or get in the way; we all have tough choices to make.

Green Day took their record and in transforming it into a play, it became a better version of itself. Just like the album did for me. Thank you, Billie Joe, and thank you my dear Timmy. I will be forever grateful.

Dr. Laura Goes Off the Deep End With Marriage Charade Advice

Talk Radio has always been a love-hate thing with me. I go through phases where I get fixated on a particular talk-show host and listen, listen, listen, every time I get in the car. Then I'll hear something on their show that will get me SO disgusted I stop listening and go back to channel-switching again. I just heard something on Dr. Laura's show that angered me SO much I am done with her. Forever. Well, OK, until I get sick of someone else's show and decide to go back and listen to her again.

If you've never heard of Dr. Laura or her radio show, let me sum her up in one word---ZEALOUS. She is extremely opinionated and is pro-life, anti-feminist, and does not believe in divorce (and she's not even Catholic).  She's a big believer that divorce is bad for kids, but this really crosses the line.

So this guy calls in today, says he's been married for 16 years, the last eight with the knowledge that his wife cheats on him regularly. They made a deal when he first found out about her infidelity 8 years ago that they'd stay together for the sake of their son, then 8 years old. They'd "co-parent", so he wouldn't have to be the child of a divorce. This got a huge round of "atta-boys" from Dr. Laura.

The man was calling because although this arrangement has "worked well", the son is now 13 and asking a lot of questions. He presented Dad with his suspicions that Mom is cheating on him, to which Dad lied and answered with some sort of gibberish about, "well, things aren't always as they seem", yadda yadda yadda. I guess Mom has a boyfriend she met on the Internet, and has regular trips across the country to go see him. Dad's question for Dr. Laura is, do you think I should encourage her to stay another 5 years till the son is 18 so they can finally divorce then? YES, she answers, all-too-quickly. They PRAY she will play along. As I'm panting with rage, I can hear Dad nodding his head, feeling very smug, as he tells the listening audience,  "to all you out there listening, I wouldn't have chosen any other solution." He's Dad the Martyr, out to save his son from........what exactly?????

I'm floored. I know Dr. Laura's a kook but that's why she's fun to listen to. Occasionally I agree with her, but give me a break here!!! Dr. Laura applauds all this in the name of marriage???? Let me get the facts straight. Dad can't stand Mom. She's been sleeping with other men (dangerous men too, Dad says). They have put on a charade for 8 years to their son that they are happily married?? Where's the affection?? What are they teaching their son?? He's obviously not stupid here. He already gets that something's amiss. I can't imagine what dinnertime in their household is like. The man sounds like he's about to go "postal" at any minute, he's got so much pent-up anger at his wife.

Tim and I are always cuddling on the couch, he kisses me hello after he comes home from work, we go out on dates every now and then. We are best friends. We share parenting duties with laughter, affeciton, and love. Our kids see that we have a REAL marriage, not a hostile "pretend" marriage like this guy and his "wife".  Does Dr. Laura really think that living an honest life separately is really soooo bad for this 13 year old boy that the parents have to put on a charade in front of him? Come on!! I'm insulted for this boy. Seriously. He is figuring it out and will have no respect for either of his parents as the truth WILL come out.

I really really really don't get how this could be in any way good for the son. He's learning #1) His parents are liars and cannot be trusted. #2) Marriage is about martyring yourself. It is not the union of two people who've joined together to love, trust and honor one another. Where's the friendship? Where's the affection? Is there any laughter in this household? What a joke. (pun not intended)

We all know divorce is hard on kids. We all know that no one marries thinking they'll get divorced. But sometimes it's in EVERYONE'S best interest to do so.  If they divorced, both Mom and Dad could live a more honest life, heal from the pain they've inflicted on one another, and maybe find new spouses that would enhance their son's life as well. I know lots of step-moms and step-dads that are every bit as loving and caring as the biological parent, some more so. How can this not be considered an option?

This son would benefit from not being lied to, as if HE's the one who's crazy, seeing things as they really are and being told it's not true. Then finding out later, that he was right all along. The son will also be free of being manipulated by the two people he trusts most--his parents. If the father really loves his son, he'll tell him the truth, and teach him that a man deserves to be loved and treated with respect and dignity. Why would anyone put up with the nonsense this "wife" is doing to this family? How dare the husband/Dad inflict such dishonesty on the sacred home of this child? I'm furious. Absolutely blood-boiling mad. But the worst part is---Dr. Laura is applauding it!!

Dr. Laura has said in the past that the best gift a husband can give his children is simply, love their mother. This is not love. This is pathetic.

Readers? What do YOU think?

Contempt or Comfort? It's All in the Eye of the Beholder

"Familiarity Breeds Contempt", goes the old saying, and certainly I can agree it sometimes rings true. I know that before we moved all the way from Reedley,  California to Hartland, Wisconsin, I was sick and tired of driving down a particular road called Manning. Manning was the main artery that connected little Reedley to big-city Fresno and beyond. It was 12 miles down Manning to get to the freeway. It was another 15 miles via freeway to get to Target, the mall, decent restaurants, and nightlife. You can imagine how many times we went down that 12-mile stretch over the course of the 8 years we lived there. 

Additionally, to get to our kids' elementary school, we had to drive down Manning. About 2 miles. Not far, but a quick calculation of the back-and-forth from home to school multiplied by eight years and yes, you have contempt.  I loved that their school was so close, but there was really only one way to get there, and yes, it involved Manning. 

When our son got to high school, Manning became a street that was basically a skip-and-a-jump over to get to the street it was actually on. It was such a nice diversion! And of course, having one kid in elementary and the other in high school, there was a new back-and-forth routine, picking one kid up and driving to get the other kid at the new school location.

I remember the day we left Reedley, we were so sad, recalling all the things we were going to miss. Our friends---numero uno. Our beloved house. Tied for numero uno. Our favorite breakfast spot--Main Street Cafe. The donut shop, "Donuts to Go", cute little downtown Reedley, the annual Christmas and pet parades. The things we were going to miss were so numerous. To break the sadness and tension, I said to my family as we drove out of town, "I am NOT going to miss driving down Manning! If I ever drive down Manning again I'll stab myself!!" and we all laughed in agreement. Yet when we visited over Christmas, we drove once again down that bedeviled street. It was wistful, not contemptuous. 

We have been in Wisconsin now for five months and two days, and we have yet to feel the "contempt" that too much familiarity breeds. We have our morning routines down, but we see new things every trip. Just this morning my son noticed all the icicles hanging from everyone's roof eves. We commented that people in Wisconsin don't hang Christmas icicle lights because----they have REAL ICICLES!!!  My husband has learned several new ways to get around our little town, so that too breaks the monotony. We have eaten out quite a few times, but nothing has stuck in our craw as a favorite yet like our Main Street Cafe did, or Jon's Bear Club, or The Pub, or Valentino's. Nope. We are trying though, you gotta give us that. There is a pizza place that we've been to twice, and we like it. Maybe eventually it'll replace our Valentino's but you can't force that sort of warm fuzzy no matter how hard you want to feel it. It something that just happens, like a mad crush that comes out of nowhere, or a favorite song. When you feel it, you just know it's right.

We do feel an affinity for our gym---we go often enough to feel comfortable but for Tim and me, we still don't know a soul here. It's really a strange and lonely feeling to never see a familiar face wherever you go. When we were back visiting Reedley over Christmas, I'd barely gotten out of my car to go to CVS when I heard, "LAUREN!!!!!!" I bumped into people I knew everywhere. (Most of whom were confused as to where I'd been the last 5 months they hadn't seen me). You know, acquaintances but not friends who get used to your mug in their daily lives, and you get used to theirs. You don't know their names, but you probably know their kids' names. You sat side-by-side at endless Little League games, and school fundraisers. That's what I miss the most having moved 1500 miles away. The friendly wave when you drive by, and boasting about your kids' grade point average to someone who knows how hard your kid really worked for it, because they've known them since they were knee-high to a grasshopper.

I know it wasn't always like this. When my husband's job moved us to Reedley in 2002, we didn't know a soul then either. I think I pouted then too,  but I'd dug my heels in and got involved in the kids' school. I volunteered in their classrooms, and started the chess club. I was there almost as much as the kids were! I've been a lucky stay-at-home mom for more than 14 years now, so I was able to do all that. I even became a substitute teacher! I was a friendly, reliable, semi-permanent fixture at their elementary school.

Well, Jenni's a middle-schooler now, and Ian's a high school sophomore, so the days of helping in their classrooms is long over. I'm glad I did it then, but how do I make friends now? How do I stay involved now? It's much more difficult, and the first semester has ended and I still don't know anyone here. My kids are doing great---they have settled in and adapted amazingly well. I'm so happy for them.

So, what about me? I'm the new person, the one with the funny accent (hahah, that's funny). I'm the one that's too loud, dresses too differently, wears too much glittery jewelry. I am irritated time and again over how different and new everything is, and I have trouble keeping my mouth shut. Everyone seems to know one another and that's a lonely feeling.  I'm the one that has suddenly become shy because I feel so different. I keep to myself but sometimes I get so lonely I just talk to anyone and everyone. I've noticed how quiet and boring most people here live---and I enjoy being the life of the party. I don't care if people talk about me behind my back---as long as they're talking about me!!

I'm taking private vocal lessons, and my teacher is amazing. Hopefully Tim and I will put a new band together and start performing again. Breaking up our band was really the hardest part of leaving  Reedley. Baseball season will be sad for Ian's former team without him; the boys have all played together for six years. We thought that when we moved away, WE were the ones who suffered the most, but in seeing friends and family again, we realized that our absence left a hole in their lives as well. I hadn't thought of that.

The familiarity of friendships and shared experiences breeds not contempt, but comfort. 

I See Naked People

I witnessed something truly frightening at my gym yesterday in the locker room. I had just come from my workout, and was standing at my locker, key in hand, ready to open it up when out of the corner of my eye, I saw a rather obese woman probably in her 70's or 80s standing across from me, stark naked. She was just standing there, completely absorbed watching "Nate Berkus" on the locker room TV. She was clutching a folded-up towel, seemingly unaware that it wasn't unfolded and wasn't covering up her mashed-potato physique. This wasn't frightening in and of itself. I see naked people in the locker room all the time. I wouldn't have probably remembered her a day later had the following not occurred.

When I returned to my locker about 15 minutes later after showering, she was STILL standing there, holding her towel! She was so mesmerized by Nate Berkus she was completely unaware of her nakedness. I think she forgot she was in a public place and thought she was in her own bathroom at home. I think my presence woke her out of her stupor, because as I passed her, looking down at the carpet of course, she jolted out of her stance and began to wipe herself down with the towel. **WARNING--HERE COMES THE FRIGHTENING PART** and you know what I mean when I say "wiped". I was so grossed out. THEN she turned around and bent over to get something she'd dropped. I COULD SEE FROM HERE TO CHINA!!! Holding my breath,  I gathered my things and ran out of there. I was like, "This woman is old enough to be my grandmother! Where did she grow balls like that?"

Now I've seen lots of naked women in the locker room, but for the most part, locker-room nakedness usually consists of fleeting moments of necessity;  total nakedness is unneccesary for any length of time longer than a millisecond. What happened to modesty?? And to think Dr. Laura blames the media for our young generation being corrupt? What about the corrupt old folk, huh Dr. Laura? Who's fault is that?

Have you ever seen a really gorgeous young woman in the locker room walking around naked? (pause here for your answer......)NO. ME NEITHER.  Not that I WANT to see pretty young naked women walking around the locker room, but my point is, why do only unattractive, overweight women waltz around the gym naked? I'm all for loving your body the way it is, yeah yeah yeah, but come on ladies, get a clue! We don't want to see your hairy asses and you shouldn't want to be showing them to us!!! I think I'm being reasonable here.  I personally change out of my clothes as quickly as I can, facing the lockers. If I drop something, I cover up my naked ass first! Jeez! I have a body I could flaunt but it doesn't occur to me to parade around naked.

I was telling this story to my son Ian. He was laughing his head off as he was listening, and then proceeded to tell me his own horror stories of elderly (some overweight, some not) naked men in the men's locker room as well. He was telling me how they parade around naked, without a care in the world whatsoever. He said the worst he saw was two old geezers chatting to one another, stark naked, just chatting as if they'd met in a bookstore parking lot. Ian and I are wondering what's up with oldsters  and why they love to be naked? Even my son said he has more modesty than these people. He's embarrassed he has to be naked at all even for that appropriate time period of a nanosecond. Poor kid. I feel for him.

I ask you, are these people exhibitionists? If they are, is this their first attempts at such bravery? If so, please direct yourselves to a nudist colony where other like-minded individuals welcome you with their (naked) open arms. I mean seriously folks, what's with the complete lack of self-awareness? They behave like toddlers. Have you ever seen a naked toddler (usually fresh from a bath. The parent is chasing them to get them dressed).  They're hilarious. They poke their belly buttons and their tiny penises and run around free as the wind. THEY'RE CUTE. THEY'RE CHILDREN. When elderly people behave this way, it's NOT cute.

Have you ever seen a surfer change clothes after surfing? (I have, and I'm not ashamed to admit it). The very hot surfer boy stands by his car, door open, and peels off his wetsuit down to his waist. Then he wraps a large towel around his waist, and proceeds to pull his wetsuit off from underneath his towel. He then puts his jeans/board shorts on from UNDER the towel. Only after he's completely dressed does he flip off the towel. Voila!!! And these cute surfer boys do this in seconds. I should know--- I married a cute surfer boy and it's rare you get a glimpse of anything other than clothing and naked legs. (sorry, what can I say?) These elderly nudists need to take a hint from these surfer boys. Do it, and do it quickly, and hide as much skin as you can. (Well, the surfer boys can show some more. On behalf of libidinous women everywhere, we wouldn't mind).

As a fitness fanatic myself, I'm proud of these women (and men) for going to the gym to get in shape, to be healthier. All I'm asking is, well, begging actually, have a little modesty people! Locker rooms are not nudist camps. There is an unwritten code of conduct (maybe we should write it down and post it??) that you should refrain from all behaviors of personal nature while in common areas. Unlike the guys, we women get shower and bathroom doors. There is no need for personal "wiping" in front of the TV ladies. I wish I could say this woman is the exception, but she was really the straw that broke this gym rat's back. EWWWWWWW!!!! Enough!!

If modesty won't prevail, maybe there's a way to encourage these people to shower at home. Good looking people (and their good-looking bodies) get small towels. Average looking people (I would assume I fall into this category......) get average sized towels, and unattrractive types get the biggest towels. Maybe they'll get the hint.

If I hear "how are you surviving the snow?" one more time I'll scream!!!

I and my kids just had our very first white Christmas ever. And it was every bit as magical as all the songs describe it, as all the Christmas cards pictures show, and all the talk about it. It snowed on Christmas Eve, and it was just like a Norman Rockwell painting. We were sitting around the tree in our living room, fire in the fireplace, the dog curled up in front of it, our three cats sacked out in varying places around the room (one under the tree among the presents). I took some pics and we all just for a moment, watched the snow coming down outside the window, and just took a deep breath, taking in the whole beauty of the moment. We laughed and wondered how the heck we ended up here, but glad we were. Then we started tearing open the gifts--and the magic of the snow was soon relegated to back burner status.

We are one month into our first winter here in Wisconsin, and so far so good. We are actually enjoying the snow SO much, the kids and I all commented that we can't imagine not living where they get snow in winter! Seriously! We have a huge backyard, 1 acre, and we have a little hill that's great for sledding. The kids spend hours outside sledding. They have gotten very creative, making jumps and icing their sleds so they'll go faster. Ian took the wheels off his skateboard and made a make-shift snowboard, and he's gone from crashing constantly to being able to stay up all the way down without falling! We think he's ready for the real deal. Jenni has a need for speed and begged us to take her to a REAL hill, so Tim found a couple challenging ones. We all piled in the car and went together. It was snowing hard, which made it even more spectacular. I don't think I've ever had more fun in my entire life than I did that day, watching my kids scream down the hill, sharing a sled with my daughter, seeing Tim on a dinky sled with the biggest smile I've ever seen on him, it was just so so so much fun.

The view from my kitchen and living room is breathtaking. We still don't have any curtains or blinds, so everywhere you are, there's nothing but windows and white snow. We traded palm trees for evergreens, and honestly, I've never seen a snow-covered evergreen that wasn't fake flock. Even Ian can't stop marveling at their beauty. Every time we get in the car, we just still gasp at the beauty of everything covered in white.

I am proud of how we've acclimated. Myself actually. When it's around 24-32, it's comfortable. I'm still wearing jeans and a T-shirt, and just a light jacket. I have traded my Converse for a pair of Uggs, and that's the outfit. Perfect. We've realized that snow, as it's coming down, is not wet like rain. We hate rain now. We prefer snow. Also, when it's snowing, you don't need to use your windshield wipers. It just bounces off the car. And let's face it, snow-covered cars look soooo cool. Like Jenni said, "Mommy! We live in a snow globe!!" That's exactly how it feels. Well said darling.

Now, wind chill is another thing entirely. I have gotten so acclimated, I can guess the temp. We came out of the movies yesterday and it was colder than when we went in. I said to my daughter (who loves to check them temp on her new iPhone), "Hmm, so it's 24 right now? Feels like 15 with wind chill." And guess what???  It was 12! (insert smug face here). Wind chill means if you don't have your gloves on and every inch of skin covered, you will be a popsicle in less than 15 seconds. I had no idea what frozen fingers really felt like. Yikes!

Ian only covers up when he's going outside to play in the snow. He looks absolutely handsome in his knit cap, jacket, ski gloves,  ski pants and boots. His white teeth sparkle and he's got the happiest face i've ever seen on him. Jenni's beauty comes alive with her adorable peach hat with braided dangly things bobbing as she flies down the hill. She's fearless.

Ian turned 15-1/2 in November and got 100% on his driver's permit test, and so guess what?? He's driving! It's been soooo surreal. Any parent who's been through this stage knows exactly what I'm talking about. It's all new to us, and it's exciting and scary. Ian's is a good driver, although he's got his mommy's impatient streak. I gotta work on that myself. It's a reminder how kids really take in what they see and hear on a daily basis.

Driving in snow, no problem. Driving 3 days after it snowed, after a sunny day that melted some of said snow, not so easy. I have been afraid of black ice since we first knew we were moving here.  Tim versed me well in how to cope with different driving situations, but it's not till you actually are IN those situations that you learn how to cope. I was careful, going way under the speed limit, and I saw other cars spinning out of control. It was soooo scary. I only slid once, going downhill to a stop sign. I was already breaking, going like 3 mph, but still my car wasn't stopping. I just came to a stop inches from the other car's bumper so that was scary.

I also didn't know that WALKING was dangerous!! Jennifer had lost her cell phone out sledding in our backyard, and we knew we'd never find it till spring, so we stopped looking for it. Then we had a big rain, which washed away lots of the snow, so smart me decided to go look for it.  I never found it (of course) but while I was looking, my boots slipped on the icy snow and just like a cartoon, they whipped me flat on my butt. Which, if you didn't know this, your butt has a little bone in it called a TAILBONE and let me tell you it HURT LIKE A MF!!! OMG I never knew how important that little bone is to a multitude of activities. Like sitting down!!! Sitting anywhere (use your imagination). Not to mention doing my ab crunches. Yowch!!! It'll be weeks before I can do those. I Googled "broken tailbone" and it says there's no treatment, just basically take Advil 24/7 and it'll fix itself. Psshhhh wonderful. What a dork I am. I can't even walk without hurting myself.

So now, forget fear of driving. I'm scared of walking!!! I look for ice everywhere. Getting out of the car and going to a store or wherever I shuffle like an old man. Pathetic. The farthest I really ever need to walk is the mailbox and the newspaper, and most of the time I just drive to it anyway. Works for me. Will my life really be that affected if I skip reading it a day or two?

Well, it's the end of December, and we've made it this far. When we get back from California, it'll be January, and we've been told the worst is yet to come. That "first snow" is the soft, pleasant snow, and that the rest is going to be cold and miserable. All I can say is, thanks for the heads up people. I'm taking it one day at a time, one snowfall and one icy driveway at a time. This lifelong California girl is doing the best she can, trying to stay optimistic and try to find the joy and beauty. Would I be me if I did it any other way??

Stuff I Swore I'd Never Do (or Buy for that matter)

As we say goodbye to Halloween, hello to Thanksgiving and "OMG I have to start Christmas shopping!?", we Kuckelman's have been busy little bees getting ready for THE SNOW. Yes, we know it's coming. Last night Tim and I sat with our mouths gaping open, not breathing, watching the news report about the 8 inches of snow Minneapolis got overnight. Now, Minneapolis is not far away from us, five hours driving, an hour flight. This was a sign, not from the gods, but from hell, as in, "when hell freezes over".  Now this isn't the first time we've seen people shoveling snow and scraping ice off their car windows. We've seen plenty of video of cars sliding on icy highways and watched something called "snow-blowers" on our TV screens from the warmth and comfort of our California house. But this time, it was different---this was happening in Minneapolis, yes--but in a matter of weeks, this will be us.

Last week we bought a new 4-wheel drive car, which I'm under the impression is nothing short of a tank and will protect me and my children from all dangerous driving conditions. (here's where you laugh). I had to take said new car back to the dealer to have a remote start installed. What is that you ask? It's a cute little remote control button that when you push it, your car automatically starts, without you in it. This is very popular out here, and soon I'll appreciate how neat a remote start really is--like when I'm pushing a 75-pound grocery cart from store to parking lot in a blizzard. That little button will magically warm up my car, inside and out, and literally save my life. (it won't, however, unload my bags--pronounced "bee-aggs", remember---into said car. I will still get covered in snow and my ears will freeze).

When I took the car in, I got a "loaner" car to drive. This loaner car belonged to the dealership, but was being driven by the salesman. He gave me the keys, and as I opened the door to get in, there was a very strange contraption in the back seat. It was a long, red stick, about 3 feet long, with a little squeegee thingy on one end. Next to it lay a pair of heavy winter gloves. Hmmm, I marveled to myself, what an interesting thingamajig. "....wonder what the heck that thing is!" I chuckled to myself and dismissed it as a "guy" thing, you know, some sort of stupid  "guy" tool.

It came to me watching the news last night when I saw that some poor shmuck was using a long, red stick exactly like the one in my back seat!! He was scraping the ice off his car windows, and I swear it looked like he was getting a really intense workout. I was quickly adding up how many calories he might be burning, and thought, hmmm, maybe I can skip the gym if this happens to me. But then I thought, Oh My God, am I going to have to scrape ice off my car windows????  Add this to the list of things I thought I would never do.

And going the hardware store to buy one of these stupid ice scrapers is definitely on that list.

Our neighbors have been bugging us to get our own SnowBlower. Yeah, right, like we're REALLY going to go out at 5 am and blow our own snow off our driveway?? Pssshh right!! Not the California Kuckelman's!! Yes, we are smarter than that, silly Wisconsinites. We hired someone to do it for us!!! Yay!!! So, as we sleep, the Snow Blower Fairy will come to our humble abode and nicely get rid of all annoying and misplaced snow for us!! Ain't that amazing??? I am deeply grateful.

We had our first foray into snow last night, as we got what's called "snow flurries". Now, these are nothing like the McFlurry's you get at McDonald's. They are so NOT like McFlurry's, I honestly have no idea why they are called that. Jennifer and I got SO excited when we found out we were going to have "Snow Flurriess" we did a happy little dance around the kitchen. Then we realized we had no idea what "snow flurries" were so we had to Google "snow flurries" to find out.

It had been a cold rainy night when said Flurries were due, so with baited (and possibly garlic) breath, we kept gazing out the front door hoping for a glimpse. Yes!!! Finally said Flurries were falling from the sky!! We ran out the front door and did another little happy dance and hugged as we experience our very first snow together. I ran back into the house screaming, "IAN!!! COME QUICK!!! IT'S SNOWING!!!" Ian struts his manly strut towards the door in his usual outfit of wife-beater shirt and shorts, barefoot, and takes one look out the front door and grunts, "That's not real snow", annoyed, and turns and goes back in the house.  Jennifer and I were nonplusssed and continued our happy Flurry dance. There weren't enough flurries to make any snowballs, and so we got bored and went inside too.

There's no snow in the immediate forecast, but that's good cuz it gives me time to accept that I've got to go buy a thingamajig-ice-scraper-thingy. And, actually hand over money for it, and keep it in my backseat.

Just in case.

Sex, Deer, and Other Crazy Things About Wisconsin

Part of the fun of moving 1500 miles to a new place is making fun of just how different the new place is. We have been here in Wisconsin now 2-1/2 months, and although I think the hardest part is behind us (being new, finding our way around, getting lost every single day) each new day seems to smack me in the face somehow and remind me, Lauren, you're not in California anymore.

I was driving Ian to school at the usual 7:15 am time this past Monday, the day after Halloween, and we saw a subdivision that was already decorated for Christmas! Ian and I gasped and guffawed at the sight. "Wreaths and garlands up the day after Halloween? OMG" we clicked our tongues the rest of the drive at the ridiculousness of it all.  I mean, we still have 2 skeletons hanging that we haven't taken down yet (ladder needed) and someone's already putting up wreaths and garlands?! What an atrocity! What happened to waiting till after Thanksgiving???

And it doesn't matter how long we live here, we will NEVER stop laughing at the way they talk here, especially at the grocery store. In California, you hear, "paper or plastic?" and here they say "paper or plastic bag?" but the bag has 2 syllables, more like "bee--agg". You have no idea how many times Tim has asked, "do I want a what??" and he truly has no idea what they're saying! It's the one accent I really can't imitate. It's just, well, odd.

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The next time you're driving on one of California's crazy freeways, say a small prayer for us Kuckelman's here in Wisconsin, because it's a miracle we're not dead yet.  I have come to realize that California drivers are indeed some of the BEST drivers in the world. Stop laughing!!! You obviously haven't driven in Wisconsin before if you're laughing.  I don't know what it is about them, but they don't get the whole, MOVE OVER INTO THE EMPTY LANE PLEASE SO I CAN MERGE ONTO THIS FREEWAY YOU IDIOT!!! This is what they'll actually do--they will drive in the outside lane where you need to go to merge onto the freeway and they will just stay where they are, completely blocking you out. They don't go a little faster to let you in, nor will they slow down to let you in, or move over to the EMPTY lane next to them to let you in! It's insane. You have no idea how many times Tim and I have almost gotten completely squeezed out and rolled down embankments. It's not funny.

The other completely irritating thing we've experienced is the constant highway construction that goes on during summer and fall months. Basically, 24/7 if the weather's permitting. They've been repaving the same 4 mile stretch of highway since we moved here, and today, the onramps were STILL closed so I had to take a detour to get Ian to school! (will they EVER be finished?????) I am so sick of seeing orange barrels!!! I actually accidentally hit one last week, guess how???? (pause for your answer.....)
YES!!!! TRYING TO MERGE ONTO THE FREEWAY!!!! Some jerk wouldn't let me in so I accidentally smacked one of those stupid orange barrels with my right rearview mirror. It snapped shut close to the car and I was so freaked out. I was happy that it hadn't done any damage after all--it just snapped back into place. WHEW!

I also don't think they like people from California.  Tim didn't believe me when I told him how it seemed I kept getting tailgated. I had several rednecks in stupid Ford trucks with their stupid John Deere hats on try to run me over, honk their horns at me, and then swerve around me and flip me the bird. For doing what I ask you?? I have no idea! I mean, come on, you guys know me, you know how I drive. I usually go faster than everyone around me, I'm always late wherever it is I'm going. So for someone to tailgate me and get THAT irate at me really is beyond my understanding. I have concluded that it's because I have California license plates. I have been threatened, stared at, and seen the eyes roll and the fingers pointed from inside car doors going 65 mph. I have proof I'm right---we just bought a new car that has Wisconsin license plates, and guess what?? No one's tried to run me off the road. No roled eyes. We've become one of them. Hmmph.


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Now, lastly, I have to say up front that I love deer. I don't get how hunting is such a big effing to-do out here. How Neanderthal! The first time we saw deer crossing the road in front of us, I was driving Ian to a friend's house, and a family of deer was crossing the road literally right in front of us. They absolutely came out of nowhere. Fortunately, I was in a 25 zone so I was going slow and had no trouble stopping quickly so I wouldn't hit them. Ian and I gazed at their beauty, and marveled at "how cool is it to see deer?"  They floated across so quickly if you'd have blinked you'd have missed them. We then went along our merry way just mesmerized.

THEN----- we took a family trip to Kansas this weekend, yes, 10-ish long hours in the car (one way)and dozen of deer carcasses later, I'm scared of seeing any more Bambis.  The first time I saw a dead deer off the side of the road, we all sighed and said collectively, "Awwww, poor thing", and the car got quiet as we all felt anger at how we city people have driven them from their native burroughs to the point that they cross dangerous roads in search of food. Evil evil humans!! How dare we???

Then Tim told me how it's not food that drives them to cross highways streaming with cars--it's SEX!! Seems the male deer are always chasing the female deer, and like most horny men, will risk life and limb (or should I say, all four limbs) to get a little action. So, what ends up happening is the male deer will be chasing the female, and she's scampers across the highway safely. I don't know why this is, it's just what Tim was told by someone who's an expert on this sort of topic. So the male (buck) is running after her, tongue wagging, saliva dripping everywhere, and he's not really paying attention to the cars whizzing by. He's looking at her cute little white tail, and BOOM he's dead. Doesn't even see it coming. Meanwhile, she's safely trotted off to the other side of the freeway, having a little nibble of grass on the other side, wondering,  "why did Romeo stop chasing me? Oh well, must've been that pretty doe over there by the Kuckeman house-- he's been staying out late every night this week and I'll bet cha he's doing her". She doesn't give him another thought because her tail is so white and cute it's not long till another cute buck comes along and starts chasing after her. And so on it goes.

So the moral of this story is, if you see a deer daintily cross the road, please don't accelerate and think the coast is clear. A very aroused buck will soon appear in front of your headlights and you won't see his eyes because he's looking at the previous deer's tushie. There might even be two or three if she's really a hottie. Give the poor guys a break.  They can't help themselves. It's just nature. And isn't nature beautiful?? Awwww........