The Extreme Gene

Having the Extreme Gene isn't all bad. After all, it was my Extreme Gene that led me to buy a house on the park. The above scene is in my front yard, and I don't have to peform any landscape maintenance.



Last fall I was taking out my trash, and a passer-by commented that on how lucky I was to live here. Well, anyone could have bought my house- its price was average for this city, not expensive. It's just that whirlingbetty possesses the Extreme Gene which caused her to drive by the 20 houses on the park every day until finally one of them went up for sale.



The Extreme Gene isn't all good, either. The interior of the house is either pristine or chaotic at any given time- nothing in the middle. When it's in its pristine state, you can be sure that whirlingbetty has just pulled an all-nighter getting it that way.



The Extreme Gene even marks my expenditures. The Child lives like royalty and owns several state-of-the-art electronic items plus their attendent games. I rarely spend money on myself, and never at full price- second hand, if possible!



Our late Chihuahua was given the run of the house, and it showed. I am still finding "treasures" (like moldy pizza crusts) which he buried 3 years ago. Our current Chihuahua is kept under strict supervision in the house and park. When he is set free in the house, he bounces off the walls like a kid at Christmas.



Dressed in new outfits from Land's End, The Child is driven around in a 17-year-old Honda Civic. The car may be old, but it too has also been treated like royalty. Last spring I sprung for a high-dollar rust removal job.
Now really, does this look like a 17-year-old car? The Extreme Gene explains its presence in my driveway as well as its excellent condition. Last summer when I took The Child to an antique car show, he asked me why I hadn't entered the whirlingbettymobile in the show, as he watched the proud Model-T owners buffing their vehicles.


The Extreme Gene can be exhausting to live with. I'm going to have to take a nap now.

Betty's Big Brother

Yesterday I was presented with an unusual opportunity which I wasn't sure I wanted to accept. My BB (Big Brother) called to say he was in a nearby city, visiting from the west coast.

Mind you, I come from an odd family, a truly dysfunctional one which unraveled completely upon the death of my mother many years ago. My brother and sister were teens while I was a toddler, and they both moved out before I was 7. I hardly knew them, since, even before they left home, they were always "out galavanting" as my parents would say.

To this day, I hardly know my brother and sister. I hadn't seen either of them in years, until last night, that is. After The Child finished school we hit the road to meet up with BB. It was dusk by the time we arrived, and observing the dark silouette of BB, I recalled the time when, at around age 3, I fell backwards down the wooden stairs in my parents' house for fear that BB, who was 6'3" even when I was 3, would chase me down the stairs. I still have the scar on my head.

BB had never met The Child, so the focus was mercifully off of me. The mysterious BB is still scary and unknown. I remembered my mother saying he could never hurt a fly. He does seem almost shy, afraid of offending, yet people have always liked him. Opposite of whirlingbetty, he has always been popular. I had told The Child in the car that he'd probably like his newfound uncle, because everyone else did.

BB seemed oddly youthful. He's very good-looking, and seriously, he appears younger than when I saw him last. His yoga instructor girlfriend could have something to do with that, or it could be because of the pact he made with my sister: when she was diagnosed with tongue cancer, he said he'd swear off drinking alcohol until she recovered and he could share a drink with her. This was probably the first time I've ever seen him sober.

The visit was necessarily short: The Child had school the next morning, and I'm going back to work this week. BB doesn't talk much when he's sober, but in the restaurant he did express concern that the corn chowder I ordered wasn't enough to sustain me. (I wonder how he thinks I get by when he's not around.)

I observed BB whenever I could steal a furtive glance. His big blue eyes and wavy hair look much like The Child's. He looks peaceful, content and settled. His latest girlfriend suits him well. He looked as if he had his act together for the first time ever. I wish my mother and grandmother who had so adored him could have seen him last night.

When we first arrived to meet BB I had been nervously babbling about needing a flashlight in my car. I was just trying to create distraction, and I quickly forgot all about it. But after we left the restaurant, BB walked into the nextdoor Rite Aid and bought me 4 flashlights and a package of batteries.

With tears clouding my eyes on the long drive home, The Child asleep in the back seat, I wondered what BB had thought of me.

scenes from an October day

I'm always looking for parallels. There must be a way in which this time of year reflects the phase my life is in. But October as I witness it today does not resemble the concept of October in my mind. That's OK- I don't seem to have a grasp on what phase my life is in anyway.

Until I bought a house on the rose garden, I never thought of October as being a month during which to view roses. October used to conjure up notions of falling leaves, bonfires, skeletons dancing in the cemeteries and witches gathered around their cauldrons. Of course, I did grow up in part of the country where temperatures dipped earlier in autumn.

These roses don't look to me as if they're on their last legs.

Nope, this isn't what I think of as October. I admit, though, that I am enjoying the nippier nighttime temperaures. Some here have actually used their furnaces already. Not I. I'll hold off until I can see my breath.

blackout

The weekend started out like any other, except that The Child had started a new project: flute playing. He shows much promise.


After a lengthy flute session we headed to the downtown neighborhood I want to live in, where a street festival called Via Colori was underway. Local artists (or wannabes) create chalk pictures in the street, in the style of an old Italian custom (or Mary Poppins).

I liked these colors.

No comment!

Then, all of a sudden, the wind started blowing like never before. It was Hurricane Ike showing us how powerful it was even though this is not hurricane territory. The city went black. This photo was taken inside my house that night- the first night of MANY without power.

Outside in the park the next morning, sights like this explained the power outage.

Thankfully, the weather was spectacular, and The Child and The Chihuahua tried to make the most of the daylight hours. No school for many days- Hurrah!

FINALLY, more than a week later, the saviors arrive en masse.

Here are a few of the heroes who restored our long-lost power.

Second Guessing

It's something I'm good at, I'm told. Quite frankly, I never really understood what it meant. I mean, everything is a guess, right? Each decision or choice is a guess- hopefully a best guess. So the second guess is the act of changing one's mind, right? Big deal. I always considered that to be a sign of open-mindedness, which is a good thing, right?

Now I'm not so sure.

The above sentence was a prime example of second guessing. Now I know this. While I was typing the sentence, I was not aware that it was "second guessing." I do it constantly, as habit.

Second guessing indicates lack of self-confidence rather than open-mindedness. As I attempt to strengthen my sense of self, it is necessary for me to break the habit of second guessing.

I am beginning to realize that second guessing is a precious waste of time and energy, and it creates negativity. Furthermore, in my case it is an act of selling out, of disregarding the self and its boundaries.

As a recent example, I have been busy preparing for a trip to the Pacific Northwest to apply for a job. I have a lot to do to prepare. My phone rings, I waffle about answering, I decide it might be The Child's school calling with a dire emergency, so I answer. It's no emergency- when was the last time a phone call was an emergency?- it was a Pest wanting me to go to dinner, and I said no, I am very busy, I can't make any frivolous plans over the next 3 weeks, and the Pest went on to say that a good steak dinner was probably exactly what I need to get the job, and I said, hmmm, maybe you're right, even though I don't eat meat, I'll have to see how The Child feels about me going out on a pseudo date- I'll get back to you after consulting with The Child......

See how easy it is for me to be talked out of my original decision, or boundary in this case? The Pest exerted very little effort to inspire my turnabout.

In retrospect, I see that it would have behooved me to stick to my guns. The Child is already feeling abandoned because I've been so intense about my job search. The truth is, I want The World to leave me alone for the next 3 weeks. Now I'm stuck with the burden of talking my way out of the steak dinner.

I am second guessing the travel plans I've made. There were many factors to consider, and I did the best I could. I have reserved the flight and hotel, and now I am busying myself with second guessing. Why did I choose such a late flight? What are my odds of being mugged when arriving at a strange city at midnight? How will I get to the hotel from the airport at that hour? The mass transit only runs until midnight...... What if the hotel sucks? Should I have shelled out $150 extra for the hotel I know to be acceptable?

OK, I'll stop. Now that I have some awareness of the omnipresence of second guessing in my life, I can watch for it and stop it.

Although, come to think of it, doesn't that mean I'll become arrogant and closed-minded?

summer's end

The Child has been disgruntled. Apparently Every Other Child On Earth has gone on a magnificent luxury vacation this summer. (The Child's Best Friend has gone on four such vacations, I hear.) We went to a local Shopping Mecca's "game room" where The Child could shoot at his frustrations.

I'm not much of a shopper, especially as an unemployed single mother with no child support payments, but this sign made my day at the Shopping Mecca. Ever since childhood, I have been panda-crazy. This ad outside of a Chinese restaurant thrilled me.

In all fairness, Shopping Mecca does go out of its way to placate even the hardest-to-please like me. This frog actually went out of his way to wave at me.

Then he went back to work.

But I can't resist inserting my opinion on Shopping Mecca, nonetheless. This is a "town square" in the center of Shopping Mecca. You see, Shopping Mecca was built to look like a town, a neighborhood. This causes my blood to boil. Why in tarnation couldn't they have built an ACTUAL neighborhood, where PEOPLE actually LIVE????????

Correct me if I'm wrong, and I hope beyond all hope that I am wrong, but is this Pottery Barn supposed to resemble an Art Deco movie theater? I'm sorry, but this turns my stomach. Heaven forbid that there should be a real movie theater in a real neighborhood anywhere in this God-forsaken city that I live in!!! Across the main street where we live, there is an old movie theater which has not shown a movie in decades. Why? Because the huge mega plexes have taken over. Get in your car and drive to the multi mega to see any movie at any time. This Shopping Mecca has, of course, one of these mega movies complexes, located inside an enormous enclosed mall, well-protected from the "neighborhood".

The Child does not understand why I am upset about this. Why? He has never lived in a real neighborhood!!!!!!!!

Doesn't it almost look as if this Cheesecake Factory restaurant is located in a neighborhood? Well, it's not. It's just off the "town square" in Shopping Mecca.

Still, we ate there after reading Loving Annie's http://lovingforyourheart.blogspot.com/ tantalizing review. I had to try the Chipotle chicken pasta after reading her description of it. The only problem was, I was too full to try any cheesecake, after eating only half of my pasta. (Annie did warn her readers that the portions were generous.)

It seems that in my life lately a lot of chapters have been closed. These friends of mine moved to New York City this week. I will miss T's bubbly personality, ever-ready wit and extreme intelligence. I wish them well in the most exciting city I can imagine. They have found a REAL NEIGHBORHOOD there to live in!!!! HALLELUIA!!!!!!!!

This isn't exactly what The Child had in mind when he said he wanted to go on a vacation, but hey, it was a 20-minute drive and offered sights we just don't see every day.

This is a "Where's Waldo" Zoo Edition. It's not just a pile of rocks. There's a grizzly hiding in there somewhere.

But this is always my favorite part of any trip to the zoo- the soothing boat ride through the Indonesian exhibit. I would love to stay on the boat for an endless journey, but it costs $1 for each time around. It ended way too soon.

Every boat ride has its hazzards, though. Just when you start to let go of life's burdens, a snake appears out of the grass.

Back at home, the rose garden offers its sights any time we're interested, right outside our front door, with summer still going strong, probably well into October. Who needs that luxury vacation that all the other kids had?!

The Water Cycle

As you see, the view from my patio chair has been marred. It all started with a leaky faucet. In retrospect, I wish I had just shut up and let it go. So it leaked. Big deal. I try to be earth-conscious, but really. The water recycles itself no matter what we do, no? It leaks out of my bathtub faucet, it pools in the tub, it evaporates, it rains back down onto the earth. It's the water cycle. I could have just shut up and let that happen. But noooooooo........

This is the aftermath of my fateful decision to call a plumber. Good heavens, I'm unemployed. You'd think I could find better ways to use my time than calling plumbers. Most unemployed folks would surely have the good sense to ignore a leaky bathtub faucet. But there's a part of Whirlingbetty which calls itself Missgoodytwoshoes, wanting to do the right thing all the time. A good homeowner dutifully calls the plumber when the faucet leaks, even if she's unemployed.

This is what it looked like after the plumber left. How did I not realize that demolition was part of the deal? I mean, would you expect your tub to end up like this due to a leaky faucet?

Note the holes in the wall way above the faucet- the plumber cut those holes after I said that as long as things were torn up, I'd like to have a shower installed. (It used to be just a bathtub, and I was thinking of resale. How long can I hold onto this house without a job? And wouldn't prospective buyers want a shower?)

Silly me- I thought the plumber was actually going to complete the job! The plumber left it as you see above. Stunned, I called my realtor, who put me in touch with a contractor who is now reconstructing my bathroom.

I was called upon to make a major decision about the tiles. The original yellow tiles are irreplaceable, it turns out. So the contractor had to integrate some other tile color into the yellow theme. I chose the above tan/gray which matched the wallpaper and sort of went with the yellow. Hopefully the finished product will look OK, and the bill won't send me into cardiac arrest.

This guy, whom I encountered in the park outside of my house early this morning, personifies my mood right about now.

Actually, he's just eating, not snarling as the front view implied. Or maybe he's smoking a turtle-sized cigar....

This photo was also taken this morning just outside of my house. It's a senior recreation center owned by the city, built in the late 50's, I'm guessing. It's rather unsightly, isn't it? Well, it's soon to be demolished. That brown and white sign is front of the building was removed minutes after I took the photo. Hopefully the absence of this eyesore will raise the value of my house, which faces this property.

This photo shows my house (on the right, hidden in the trees) in relationship to the soon-to-be-eliminated senior center. The city, ever creative, will turn the site into a parking lot.


This is the view out of one of the floor-to-ceiling windows in the senior center. Soon it will be the view from the city's new parking lot. Sometimes I wish I'd been a city planner....but where would I begin?

And this photo takes the prize, so far anyway, in this summer's whirlingbetty hummerpic competition. Too bad the hummer is a female. This was taken by The Child, who snatched my camera unbeknownst to me and got lucky.

the Muffin Mouse approach

Back in the days before The Child could read, this was one of his favorite books, and I read it to him frequently. I always thought it offered the best approach to life that I could imagine. Muffin Mouse awakens each morning and greets her alarm clock, then her toothbrush right off the bat. "Good morning, alarm clock. Hello, toothbrush." Turn the page, and Muffin Mouse says,"Good morning, clothes. Hello, yummy breakfast." Muffin Mouse is glad to be alive, and greets the mundane with undying enthusiasm.

I can imagine the heyday Muffin Mouse would have with this scene. This is where I sit most mornings, reading and feeding the wildlife.

Muffin Mouse peeks out her window to a sight not unlike mine. When I am in a state of awareness, sometimes I greet The Child when he awakens with reminders of what Muffin Mouse would say. "Hello, world. Good morning, birds. And good day to you, Mr. Mailman."

Wouldn't Muffin Mouse be enthralled to see my chipmunk friend who visits me each morning!

And the hummingbirds fit right into Muffin Mouses's perfect world of harmony, bliss and wonder.

Each day presents an unusual activity of some sort. Muffin Mouse is all about finding joy in life, and constantly expressing her appreciation.

And the world answers back.

past few days

My lifelong quest for a decent photo of the male ruby-throated hummingbird continues. Above, he is poised strategically before dipping into the feeder.

And here, the light is suddenly and inexplicably more suitable, a split second later. But his head is now bobbing for ambrosia.

Following my hummingbird photography session, The child and I walked through the park on our way to the community July Fourth breakfast held in the park shelter house. This rose brightened our walk on a dreary day.


Look at all the people converging on our park before breakfast.

Inside, the community breakfast featured pancakes, sausage links, cinnamon buns, orange juice, coffee and patriotic decorations.

The Child appears more tolerant of all this than he actually is- take my word for it. He didn't eat a bite, and was generally disgruntled. Old-fashioned events like this don't impress him much.

A surprise greeted us back home in the driveway.

For size perspective, here's our guest near The Child's feet. But not too close.

Later, from right outside of our house, one of the best fireworks displays in town entertained us before bedtime.

This one looked like a burst of sunshine in the nighttime sky

The next day, our friend Garnet and I drove The Child to computer camp at a faraway university at which the Child will learn to design 3-D computer games. This is the Child's dorm room for the week.

The Child perches on his bed, taking in his new environment, complete with roommate and parents. The camp is expensive, but I consider it an opportunity for the Child to gather information in his ongoing search for his life's calling. Besides, I had already paid for it before I lost my job.