And definitely not everyday that you get a "Love & Candy" card!

Love Card

Love + Candy = Mom




New Nice Design Mom








6-30-08

Dear Mom,
Thank you for making today the best day that I've ever had of 08. I had a perfect day going to the PB Library, Taco Bell, Wendy's, Blockbuster, and the Post Office. You were nice by giving me a quesadilla, and 2 waters. Thank you for having spare love and candy time with me.
Love,
Jamie
P.S. Backyard Baseball?



Nice Mom and ME

Not everyday you receive a letter from a 2-star General...

Dear Moira,

I would like to welcome you to the Multi-National Forces - Iraq family. As you know, Ben arrived safely on June 1, 2008, is rapidly adjusting, and is already establishing himself as a key player on my staff. The fight we face will only be won with selfless dedication of people such as Ben, and his success is directly attributable to the support and encouragement he receives from home. The contribution that Ben will make in Strategy, Plans, and Assessments cannot be understated.

For the record, SPA is not a reference to a health club, though we do have an adequate weight room. As our name says, SPA entails three focus areas -- strategy, plans, and assessments. Our role is to give General Petraeus the best insight and well-formulated plans we can to support his role as Commander of the Multi-National Force serving in Iraq. We take his vision of how the mission here needs to be accomplished and turn it into a specific strategy spanning multiple years. We then write the plans that will be executed in order to bring this strategy to fruition. Finally, we assess the execution of the plans to see if they are being effective or not... and to determine if the strategy remains sound. This is all done through close coordination with the US, British, and Australian embassies; the inter-agency; and the Government of Iraq.

The task is not easy, but, as you can see, it is vital to our chance to win this fight. This is indeed a dangerous environment so we greatly appreciate your thoughts and prayers. I am well aware of the significant sacrifice our families make that allow us to deploy. This is my second one-year deployment in four years and my eleventh six-month or longer deployment in 32 years: In addition, my wife, Nancy, and I have sent our son-in-law once and our son twice to this fight.

Thank you for your dedication and support in this critical time. I greatly admire your willingness to shoulder the burden of sacrifice and separation this fight requires. I truly believe this is a fight for our children's and grandchildren's freedom. Please know that you have my eternal gratitude, respect, and prayers. God bless you...

Semper Fidelis,
------------------
Major General, USMC

(Handwritten): Ben is here and doing great...as you'd expect. Thanks for your sacrificial support...especially with 5 children. We had four so I do understand (or Nancy does). God bless you.

Guest Blogger, Jack with Day 1 of Trailblazer BSA Camp Report

Today we swam, learned hiking fundamentals, and tied knots. Our lunch is CATERED every day. We played flag football. We used slingshots. The counselor and I got locked in a shed by the rest of my group. In the shed, I found a secret stash of Dum-Dum (lollipops). The head of the camp "reamed our butts" for that stunt.

Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus and he sometimes visits in June!

His name is Mike and he's a supervisor in the Finance Dept. at Sprint.

Mike just made my $26.54 headache go away this afternoon by agreeing that we'd made good faith efforts to pay and submitted evidence showing the attempt. He has written off our balance and closed our account.

Sprint is redeemed (even though we're not using them anymore).

YAY! It truly is the little things...

We have a WINNER!

None other than Aunt Patty Toni, who correctly guessed that the Sand Crab or his yappity son Jack was the author of the quote.

It was indeed Major Crab, on June 27, 2008, who quipped, " I am quietly thinking big thoughts, reading voraciously, and plotting my eventual world domination. That is until I go home."

Congratulations to Aunt Patty Toni. Since you win absolutely nothing but this feeble yet notable posting, it is not problematic that you had the inside track given your close, personal association with others in the Familia Arthropod.


Patty Toni with her husband (brother of Sand Crab and erstwhile Crabby Guy in his own right) and charming daughter.

Brass Groupies: Jack and the Queen Get Some Culture

Jack's pending French horn instructor mentioned that his brass ensemble was performing in Clairemont this afternoon, at St. Mark's UMC. As in Charlie's nursery school's location. As in 10-minutes from our house. As in free.

Since our Sitter Who Cancelled was making up half the shift today, Jack and I were also free. So we drove over and discovered it was an "Americana Concert" AND an ice cream social.

*Side note: I sent Jack to fetch himself some ice cream and gave him a $20. He returned with a GIGANTIC bowl of chocolate, vanilla, whipped cream and chocolate sauce and a odd little smirk. Turns out it was "free will donation"...he quipped, "Well, I sure wasn't gonna put in the twenty, Mom." So I sent him back, reminding him that he also had $1.50 in his pocket and to put every quarter in the basket.*

Anyway, we enjoyed a 75-minute concert with Westwind Brass -- including 2 excellent trumpets, a hilarious Canadian on the tuba, Jack's teacher playing the French horn and an incredible trombone player -- who's off to be the principal in the Boston Symphony.

An American Revolutionary War Medley
Civil War Brass Journal (Grafulla, Foster, and Holloway)
Scott Joplin Suite (Solace and Maple Leaf Rag)
Liberty Bell March (J.P. Sousa)
Original Dixieland One-Step
The Quint-essential Gershwin
Glenn Miller Suite
Duke Ellington Suite

As an encore, they played each of the service songs and invited veterans or family members to stand when their respective march was played. Very nice prelude to the week.

Samples of most of the selections can be heard at:
http://www.amazon.com/Americana-Aaron-Copland/dp/B00005MF6S/ref=sr_1_5?ie=UTF8&s=music&qid=1214790635&sr=8-5

Sand Castle Quiz: Who Said This?

"I am quietly thinking big thoughts,
reading voraciously, and
plotting my eventual world domination.
That is until I go home."

A. John Lennon
B. Nelson Mandela
C. Benjamin Netanyahu
D. John F. Kennedy
E. Che Guevara
F. Epictetus
G. Winston Churchill
H. William J. Clinton
I. None of the above

Vote via comments.

Farewell, SOS Responsibility!

After four terms on the exec board -- including two consecutive terms as 2nd VP (read: Activities Chair), on this date I have purged the notebook and inserted a colorful divider system along with a most thorough turnover report. Stuck the binder with all the name-badges and delivered them to a neighbor and continuing officer for transfer to the new trio of folks taking my former role. I'm done! I'm done! I'm done! No more by-laws controversy, no more being micro-managed, no more wrestling with evites, no more monthly stressing, no more compulsory gift-giving among board members...whee!!

Fun while it was fun. And now it's d-o-n-e.

Evidence of Peaceful TV Viewing

Tim snoozing before the first movie was over.














Joe and Charlie-with-a-mouthful-of-crackers.










Dan and Jamie.












Sam and Jack.


This posting also serves as evidence that my kids did not get the memo that you look AT the camera when it is pointed at you!!!

After the frolic at Naval Medical Center, the 3 boys and I drove thru McD's. I was distracted and departed (even though I sat for 5-minutes waiting for fries) without Jamie and Charlie receiving their chocolate milks. So, up to Wal-Mart where we did McD's once more with feeling (and paying another $2.38) for the same 2 chocolate milks.



Wal-Mart on a Saturday afternoon with 2 kids with autism (and another visually-assaultive hive-faced child) was oh-so-pleasant. Did buy 8 (EIGHT!) pairs of nosepads for Charlie's eyeglasses as well as 2 boxes of the colloidal oatmeal that the doctor forgot to enter for the pharmacy. And 2 bottles of Zyrtec (TM) for Charlie that the pharmacy hasn't had in stock for months. And a birthday gift for our neighbor's son. And 2 replacement lunch boxes (because I can never find them when I need them). And other stuff to render a total of $90. Pretty impressive given my entourage!

Home and back to the laundry, tidying up, showering Charlie and Tim before dinner, and readying for the Long-Awaited Movie Night. The Sitter-Who-Cancelled this a.m. called around 4:30 p.m. to report that she felt bad about missing today and to offer to come tomorrow. That it was just last night and early this morning and that she felt WAY better now. (After 8-hours not watching my kids, I feel WAY better, too!) I opened with "12:30?" And she said, "How about 2 p.m.?" My auctioneering skills are old n' weary so I said, "sold, 2-to-6 it is." 3 or 4 hours of help on a Sunday seemed better than a sharp stick in the eye...or better than persistent schedule-related questions! I thought how considerate, how responsible, and then...

Right around 5:01 p.m., I remembered that S-W-C was supposed to babysit for the family across the street immediately after her shift here. Miraculously, and sure enough, she appeared promptly for their date. I know this because all hell broke loose (their kids screaming so loud that it sounded like blood so I poked my head out to see if paramedics were required) and saw her come out of their house to see what was going on. *** Awkward moment and am referring the incident to APC's memory for such HR faux pas. ***

Anyway, the boys enjoyed their Little Caesar's pizza & breadsticks as well as cut-by-the-Queen watermelon and have settled in with Hoodwinked (the matinee before our Pink Panther marathon begins). Thankfully, after a few minutes of technical debauchery (and mild panic on my part), the livingroom DVD player managed to decode the 2nd-choice movie.


Fairly peaceful Saturday night with 7 boys in one room, interrupted only by the every-few-minutes query about "What time is it on the stove? Is it almost 6:30? Can I have Capri Sun and Goldfish now?"

6:06 p.m. Darrin calls, offering China Inn delivery service. Movie night with a side of fried dumplings!

Sweet validation for the Queen

Presented "Little Mister Scabies" to the pediatrician, who brought in a second pediatrician to consult. Both concluded that while the blisters resemble scabies, they do not fit the pattern. For example, he should have them in lines (or furrows), but instead they are in clusters. He should have them on his hands, fingers, and soles of his feet. He should feel better after treatment, not worse. And, yes dermatology-fans, others in his vicinity should have been afflicted even with the best-case home treatment.

GOD BLESS AMERICA...we do not have scabies.

That doesn't mean that we know what we have. Their best guess is an atypical form of hives with a long Latin name that, without Tim and Charlie in tow, I might have remembered. Pappillia (sp?) something or other. In short, everyone in our family is exposed to something but only the Most Allergic Person reacts or Jamie alone was exposed to something but he's not able to identify the culprit. Most likely an insect or pet dander since he only broke out on exposed skin. Not contagious and here's some Benadryl and Hydrocortisone. Feel free to soak in colloidal oatmeal baths. Come see us if it gets worse. Biggest worry is scratching too much and giving himself impetigo.

A Plague for One?

Jack will be a little disappointed...

His report card arrived today.

Advisory Period: No letter grade. Citizenship = E.
Seminar English: B+. Citizenship = E.
Science: B. Citizenship = E.
Band: A. Citizenship = E.
Math Cluster: B. Citizenship = E.
Seminar Social Studies: A-. Citizenship = G.

Needless to point out, his SS teacher didn't like his mom and ruined Jack's otherwise exemplary (4.0) citizenship GPA.

Semester GPA was 3.35/4.0

The Day (# 63) Just Gets Better and Better, and it's not even 9 a.m. yet

The phone rings just before 8 a.m., as I am contemplating (with the melodious sound of vacuuming fictional scabies-eggs by Jack and Tim in the background) whether:
* I really, truly need to launder every piece of bedding for a third straight weekend? (answer: yes);
* Tim might be able to go visit the recreational program we've been waiting to start since January as part of his intake assessment...I had tentatively deferred it during our ER antics of yesterday but was reconsidering since I'd be with him anyway? (answer: maybe);
* I might take Charlie and Jamie fishing at Miramar with the Scout Pack, figuring that Charlie would enjoy and Jamie couldn't look worse? (answer: why not); and
* Jamie's doctor appointment could occur about 2-ish and still leave me time to hit the pharmacy and Little Caesar's for movie night chow before my sitter's departure time of 4:30 p.m.? (answer: probably).

Okay: RING-RING, RING-RING.
As I picked up the caller-ID phone number made it to my cortex...it's my sitter, due to arrive in T-minus (blissfully) 35-minutes.

Woefully, said sitter went from her 2-6 p.m. shift of yesterday to World Curry restaurant and proceeded, thereafter, to encounter digestive turmoil. So much so that the entire 8-hour shift for today was summarily cancelled (i.e., no help for 72-hours).

More than the sheer self-pity for having no assistance today, I am frustrated with the turn-on-the-dime rescheduling (er, reshuffling and cancelling) and having to deal with Autism/Seizure Teenager, who had just reviewed and approved the Plan of the Day with me, in excruciating and written detail.

Soooo, back to the excruciating and written detail for a revised Plan of the Day -- third iteration -- including shrieking, tantrumming, and hitting (him aggressor, me recipient).

Revision looks a LOT less fun for the crablets and the Queen:

No fishing.
Substitute copious laundering tasks and soaking in Aveeno oatmeal for Jamie.

No CCC Kids.
Substitute lunch at home and lots of sympathetic itchiness by the Queen.

A doctor's appointment for Jamie.
With escorts Charlie and Tim to "keep it real" for the unlucky pediatrician who has our 1:35 p.m. slot. (Jack is going to be a "groupie", his word, for Sam's All-Star game so at least my entourage is reduced by one mouth).

If we survive the appointment and pharmacy, then a drive-thru reward.
If we don't survive, then we will come straight home with much weeping, wailing, gnashing of teeth, and banging of heads.

Little Caesar's pizza/crazy bread fetching with my trio of "helpers" in preparation for Pizza & Movie Night "with Capri Sun and Goldfish crackers" (Tim's definition of movie night) with Patty Kiki's boys (in a feeble beginning effort to repay her with a "date-night" for the 3-hours of Charlie-shriekapaloosa from yesterday). If, in fact, Jamie's diagnosis is leprosy or similarly repulsive and plague-qualifying condition, then we probably will have to revise the Plan of the Day yet once more with feeling. (A Feeling of Utter Resignation, that is).

And MORE bumps this morning...

Have spread to the backs of Jamie's calves, his chin, and returned to his forearms.

T-minus 48 minutes until we can arrange a pediatrician visit.

Did I mention that I'm D-O-N-E with this?!

Revenge of the Bumps...

Jamie has those bumps again on his neck and cheeks. I'm so done for this day.

They cannot be scabies as not a one of the rest of us got them.

They cannot be scabies as I've treated twice already (and tonight a 3rd slathering of my pal Elimite just for good measure).

Therefore, I am resigned to offer new and/or re-tread guesses:

* contact dermatitis
* alternative bug bites impervious to the diabolical Elimite cream
* allergic reaction to sunscreen, sweat, grass, or some combination thereof
* strange weekend-only rash
* some fresh, new Hades-on-Earth plague

Of course, Jamie didn't have them this morning when I applied his sunscreen with love, devotion, and scrutiny and he didn't have them (or at least didn't mention them) this afternoon between camp/shower/out the door again but when Patty Kiki brought the J-Crabs home from spectating at the Minors All-Stars game, she mentioned the bumpiness.

Naturally, 8:02 p.m. and the appointment line is closed for the next 12-hours so zero ability to do any scheduling of Saturday before Saturday. I'm done.

Rock-Climbing Recap

Jamie won "Most Improved Climber" for the week. (This confirms my suspicion that he was indeed a big whiner for at least the first two days).

Jack won "Best Test" for the week, the only camper to score 100% + get the extra credit question correct. I understand this was a test encompassing safety, technique, etc. for mountaineering. (The boy can take a test).

If You're Not Riding the Ambulance, You're Not Trying...

So just before 11 a.m. this morning, my orderly week went kaput. Phone call from Tim's school letting me know that he needed to go to the ER because he was exhibiting "neurological symptoms" while out in the community that were consistent with the symptoms of a rare but life-threatening condition called Neuroleptic Malignancy Syndrome.

Patty Kiki was near the Naval Hospital so she met me in the ER parking lot to take Charlie and his carseat. (This location was probably, in retrospect, not calculated for calm and non-traumatic transition).

Despite the fact that Tim's episode occurred within a mile of the Naval Hospital, I beat the ambulance by 10-minutes because I did not have to stabilize Tim or adhere to SOP for ambulance transit (i.e., following posted speed limits, freeway vs. local street driving, etc.).

Initially, he was pale and pretty out-of-it. Paramedics were fairly sure that he had a seizure despite my regimented medication dosing and therapeutic blood levels...just underscores that body chemisty/electricity does not yield in the presence of Queen Control Freak.

Generally, an unimpressive experience--suffice it to say Tim got the novice IV-placer, managed to pull out the ineffective IV (couldn't get blood out of it as it was against a valve), had to have a second poke, lost/missing urine sample caused us to make a fifth trip to the restroom and only after returning, victorious, learned they'd found the first one, never had an actual M.D. lay a stethoscope upon Tim, no neurological screening assessment, and so much more). :(

But, the almighty labs looked fine so after about 4 hours of waiting around, he was sent home with directions to call his neurologist next week.

Back at the ranch, Patty Kiki endured nearly 3 hours of Charlie's ill-humor and intermittent sobbing (including, yes, a reprisal of his hit routine, "Get Out of Bis House!") until his beloved sitter, daughter of Patty De De (there, baby, you have received the mention you're long overdue!) arrived to relieve Patty Kiki.

If it's any consolation, Charlie's eyeglasses didn't get fixed, he missed some therapy, and the J-Crabs had to leave camp a little early ... oh, and my toes remain in desperate need of a pedicure. Oh, and there will be that matter of Triwest claims for the ambulance ride.

Rock-climbing Report: Guest Blogger, Jack.

Day 3 (Yesterday):

I climbed to the top of 3 ropes.

Jamie climbed to the top of a rope...his first time and he was blind-folded!

Day 4 (Today):

I climbed to the top of 5 ropes (same 3 as Day 3 plus 2 more).

Jamie climbed to the top of 3 ropes.

Racing results:

Jack = 45 seconds
Jamie = 63 seconds

Prankster Queen ...

No one is safe.

Today, mid-morning, I ventured on one of the multiple trips per week to Von's, our nearby grocery store, and as I sought parking I noticed a USS P-------n magnet on the back of a gray minivan. "Hmmm...", thought I, "that must be Patty Kiki." So I circled round and parked facing her van. "Tee-hee", I chortled, "I'll leave her my calling card." So I grabbed an omnipresent fast-food napkin (Wendy's and not even used!) and scribbled, "You can run...but you cannot hide" and then emerged my own van to leave it on hers. As I approached, I recalled that Patty Kiki is not one for locking up the vehicle so thought I'll just put it right in on her seat rather than having her start to drive before noticing the calling napkin.

As I prepared to open the door, I had that split-second registration that the windows were slightly ajar and looked for her poodle. Instead, to my surprise, I spied a boy in swimming trunks crawling around the interior -- I think eating some type of processed-sugar-enriched substance.

"Pat Joe!" I yelped..."Is your mom getting a Starbucks inside?"

"Yeah...and shopping, too," he volunteered.

Thinking surely Patty Kiki must not be long for the store, I helped my pregnant-lazy-self to her driver's seat and settled in with my friend, Pat Joe. I was swiftly rewarded at the sight of Patty Kiki, pushing a cart with express-lane-exceeding-quantity of goods. It was only then that I realized the gift from God that she couldn't see me between the angle and the windows.

Right as she got within an arm's-length of her own van, I did the witch-cackle,
"Ha-HA!" Supremely rewarding was the combination of startle response by Patty Kiki with complete stunned countenance (which one most seldomly witnesses on Patty Kiki's always-prepared face).

Besides the fact that Patty Kiki is a dear friend and my sole local gofer of Immodium in an Hour of Need, she remains fair game. In an effort to point out the sunny side of being Crab-queened, I did note that were her own name Patty [Crab Queen], there would be at least 2 Child Protective Service workers with a black helicopter circling overhead as a TV news team provided live-feed of Pat Joe being administered ice chips by a frantic, overconcerned busybody.

As payback to her for the simple unadulterated joy of being today's contestant on "candid Crab Queen camera", I helped unload groceries and took her cart. (Yes, she did also have a Starbucks in hand). Who says I'm not a helper?

A Diaper Bag Befitting the "Baghdad Baby"

The sand crab wondered in one of his early posts about the effect of his whereabouts for the incoming "Baghdad Baby"~


After more than a decade surrounded by navy, khaki, gray, red, and the occasional, pushing-the-envelope shades of apricot, melon, lemon, avocado...pink has begun to take its rightful place in the sand castle.


Let me assure Major Crab that pink is the new black (or perhaps more accurately the new khaki in his line-of-work).

Hence, as a tribute to his Baghdad-ness and to make sure that the J-crabs and I encounter daily "I-spy" games to find an essential piece of gear in a veritable sea of pinkness, I present LLGA's diaper bag:

Book Group Meeting De-Brief: Lessons Learned

1. Charlie's assinine behaviors are by no means limited to in-home interventionists or museum outings. No fewer than a dozen visits to the livingroom, where the ladies were visiting (or, should I write, attempting to converse). Function of the behaviors:
Saying "hi" or curiosity (first two interruptions);
Coming in bare-chested (by the 4th interruption and henceforth -- likely related to the spilled water discovered on his PJ top);
Demanding "tasty treats" (3rd, 5th, and perhaps another interruption); Protesting "No Pink Panda-r! No!" (reference to Pink Panther DVD, on 8th and further interruptions);
Climbing on the back of the loveseat, upon which 2 guests may have thought they had squatters' rights (2 instances);
Loudly hollering with no discernible communicative intent (2 times);
Sensory-seeking burrowing into the loveseat, mercifully after the 2 guests had taken their leave of said furniture (10th visit); and
Mission to obtain maternal company (probably each occasion).
Highlight was Jack and Jamie each grabbing 2 appendages and trying to carry him out of the room, down the hallway.
Secondary highlight was my verbalizing that "THIS is not quality sitting worthy of compensation, Jack."

2. Jack and Jamie are not yet skilled entertainers and certainly NOT qualified babysitters. No money or tasty treats for them! See Item one. Some partial credit for effort awarded to Jack. Jamie was so frustrated by Charlie and spending all week at camp in Jack's perpetual vicinity that he couldn't fix his face in front of company. Charming.

3. When directions say bake at 400-degrees for 10 to 14 minutes (re: par-baked artisan breads), one should not interpret that to mean bake at 400-degrees until you remember that the timer went off about 10 minutes ago (i.e., 20+ minutes). The crust will repel one's bread knife and guests will fear for dental work.

4. Tim is a going-to-bed-early superstar. 6:30 p.m. and out.

5. Tummy woes (mine, for the 7-hours prior to event) may be a strong correlation to relaxation of event. Rallied thanks to Patty Kiki's Von's run for tummy-relief product; however, I probably should have interpreted this malady as a foreshadowing of the gastric distress Charlie would impart. See Item One.

6. Having three (3) babysitters right up until the guests come only lulled me into a false sense of peace n' quiet. One sitter 12-6:45 p.m., one sitter 4-6:30 p.m.(she decided to leave because Tim fell asleep -- even though she was technically scheduled until 8 p.m.), and another 5-7 p.m. All this help right up until folks arrived at 7:15 p.m. And the under-12 crowd went wild!

Charlie: Punk of the Year?!

In the past, in-home therapists, Pat Matt, and I sort of smirked behind our hands at Charlie's reaction ("Get out of bis house!") when he sees someone darken our doorway who is coming to make him "work" (and by work, I mean talk and take turns and play...really awful stuff!).

Today, he greeted a District employee by trying to physically propel her back out the front door. When that didn't work (physics lesson involving relative masses of objects), he ran to me and appealed, "Wet's get out of here!"

Another in a line of proud Mommy Moments.

Again, for this I endured museums...and bought said Punk-in-training a dino-on-a-stick grabber-thingie?! Thinking of my suffering led me to bring out the dino-on-a-stick and hand it dramatically over (like the keys to the Golden City of Compliance) to said District employee. Suddenly, Charlie is tractable and cooperative. A beacon of citizenship and sunshine.

Thinking it's the proverbial hybrid of the carrot or the stick...

"Carrot-on-a-stick!"

Mother-of-the-Year Strikes Again!!

Charlie's in-home session for this morning was canceled by the agency so after dropping the J-Crabs at the YMCA for Day 3 of Rock-climbing, stopping by the Post Office to ship some packages (although not one for the Sand Crab, since he's not commenting on my blog posts), and going to his 9 a.m. OT session...

We went to Museums!

First, Natural History for "di-no-saw bohnz".


MOTY-application bonus 50 points for plunking $3.83 for a little talking dino-on-a-stick in the gift store.

Second, walked around the fountain.


Third, Fleet Science Center.



Too overstimulating I think. Didn't stay long and for my efforts, he had an accident. After dealing with that detour, I "earned" negative MOTY-application 50 points for announcing in a loud voice, "We're leaving now". As penalty, Charlie threw a tizzy fit all the way to the car.

No good deed goes unpunished.

Hit McDonald's (happy meal to render us happy again), Blockbuster (returning Bob the Builder DVDs to reverse course back into angry-Charlie), and 7/11 for cash (to make the cleaning lady content but throw Charlie into another fury).

I'm exhausted by shortly after noon and still have another OT appointment and the rest of the day.

Looking ahead: The Suspicions of Mr. Whicher Leads to Crab Queen's Folly

Tomorrow the Sand Castle hosts book group. Not only does this imply that the Sand Castle will have a harried and hurried make-over but also this suggests that the Crab Queen will have adults in the house. Aye, that would mean adults that talk about adult things (and People magazine) and eat adult food and drink adult drink. Marvelous!


Book Club Menu:

Orange & Bergamot Green Tea (iced).
Pinot Grigio (not-for-me).
Mixed ("fancy") nuts.
Milk Chocolate Almond Lacey Cookies.
Caramel Waffle Cookies.
Artichoke & Spinach Dip (hot).
Feta & Carmelized Onion Tarts (hot).
Cheeses -- Double Gloucester and English Cheddar w/ Carmelized Onion.
Water Crackers and Multigrain Savory Thins.
"Rustic rolls" (purportedly an artisan bread).
Baked garlic.

*** I'm including this tantalizing temptation of Trader Joe's treats in the unlikely happenstance that Patty Grace -- and she knows who she is -- deliberates and decidedly ditches her Writing Group in order to nosh, eye-roll, and colour my gray and white(!) hair. ***

Book review:

Methinks I am just not a fan of Things Victorian. Alas, this title was selected because I brought it to the group's attention (and Patty Grace seconded it with a positive reaction to an interview on NPR with the author). It is the story of a highly-publicized crime in a thought-to-be-upstanding middle-class household. It coincided with England's fascination with detectives and featured the clash of Victorian privacy with a media fervor.

Just didn't grab me...maybe it was the child-in-peril, maybe it was the not-very-likeable characters (excepting the deceased, who I found quite endearing), maybe it was the period, or maybe it was the not-very-scintillating material. Certainly, the writer is capable and the topic thoroughly researched.

I should have used my book-club capital to sneak in Freakonomics or Stumbling on Happiness or even NewJack. Drat!!

Worse, I violated my own rule: You should never be caught recommending a book to a group that you haven't already read yourownself. Double-drat!

Day 59 (and another tidbit from Day 58) & Botanical Note for Dan

Per Cub Reporter Jamie

So, forgot to mention that Jack had to be corrected at camp yesterday. Apparently, he overheard a camper calling a counselor a name he understood to be "Amoeba". Sooo, being Day 1 of a new week of camp and not having prior knowledge of the counselor in question, Jack called her "Amoeba", too. *** Good time to mention that Jack has diagnosed auditory processing differences so I do believe Jack. ***

The problem, naturally, is that Jack darn-skippy knows what an amoeba is and, hence, every time he said "Amoeba" he snickered. The jury (well Jamie) is out on whether it was the smirking or the wrong name usage that got Jack busted.

Needless to say, "Amoeba's" name is NOT Amoeba -- it's Anita. And Anita, I'm just guessing here, is not putting Jack in for Camper of the Week! (In fact, if he has a mysterious rock-climbing accident, Jamie and I are going to ask where Amoeba was and she better not have been at the other end of Jack's climbing rope!)

---------------------------------------------

Customer Service Wins and Woes...

Jeers to Motorola. Awful-awful customer service, clearly via Trans-Oceanic phone connection. Cannot stress how much of a Crab Queen-hour sinkhole it is to exchange a defective cell phone car charger manufactured by Motorola. I'm at almost 5-hours and about to wave the white flag (which for those of you who know my cheapskatedness and disinclination to give in to corporate hooey is saying Something).

Cheers to Nordstrom. (Not the "Rack", the real deal). Lingerie department that carries even H-is-for-Humongous sizes in nursing undergarments. (At this sentence, my father-in-law will probably rethink his loyal following of my blog). $214 of the Sand Crab's Hazardous Duty Pay was spent so that my fellow Americans could experience a reduction in visual hazard when I'm in their vicinities.

Jeers to Sprint. Another customer service/collections nightmare. I paid a bill via our banking account's "Bill Pay". Our bank has records showing that it sent a check to the correct address with the correct account number reference. Yet, Sprint has no idea where the money is and keeps sending nasty-grams. As an added flourish, the amount due varies between 26.24, 26.16, and 26.54 depending on whether you are looking at a statement, online, or listening to the phone menu -- inspiring ZERO confidence. And this is the joy one experiences when converting service away from Sprint to an alternate carrier.

Cheers & Jeers to Trader Joe's. Jeers for no longer carrying Ben's Favorite Banana Chips (or at least for not knowing when they're coming back or why they're "unavailable"). Cheers for finding the tasty feta & carmelized onion tarts for my book group tomorrow. (I'm hosting).

Cheers & Jeers to Costco Optical. Cheers for repeatedly fixing Charlie's eyeglass pads, which he peels n' eats for fun and sport. Jeers for 1. the huge-ass wait and 2. refusing to provide me a couple spare nose pads since I'm there -- at minimum -- once every 2 weeks for replacements. Cheers, I think, for at least telling me that I can buy them myself ... correct that, JEERS are in order--> from Wal-Mart.

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Today's MOTY nomination bullet-points:Took the J-Crabs to the Library (or as they refer to it, to the "PUB-LIC Library". Exhibited great patience while they both whined about not being able to find the precise book that their little ISBN-number-conjuring minds devised. Exhibited great patience with the "self-checkout" system. Exhibited great patience with the unfriendly clerk, who was forced to assist us in checking out 1 of 6 items.

Third night in a row of home-cooked food. Gasp! With side dish and vegetables cut by my very inexpert hand. Applause!!

2 mornings in a row of departing the castle at 7 a.m. to make the camp drop before the various other a.m. activities commence (e.g., therapy, school bus pick-up, etc.) with only minimal hollering.

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To make up for my Nordstrom purchase discussion...I had mentioned to Sand Crab's pa that I just love "kangaroo paws" that Patty Kiki has strategically placed in our front garden. We have burgundy and a marigold-color ones. They seem quite hardy, which Grandpa Crab agreed was requisite for both the soil, clime, and (anti)Gardener-in-Residence. Per the Australian National Botanical Gardens website:

The colour and form of kangaroo paws make them one of the most rewarding Australian native plants for the home garden. Kangaroo paws are also very good cut flowers. They are exported to many parts of the globe and are grown commercially in the USA, Israel and Japan.

Kangaroo paws belong to the genus Anigozanthos, which has 11 species. The closely related Black Kangaroo Paw is called Macropidia fulginosa.

Day five-eight

Last night, credit where credit is due, Jamie got Jack to cooperate in an effort to clean up their bedroom. Yes, he donned his protective eye-wear, his "lucky" Padres camouflage beanie-cap, and some protective ear-muffs (probably to dull Jack's constant whining) and had a little "Field Day".



Now there was clearly an ulterior motive: earning Backyard Baseball on my computer. I was in such shock that they were granted this huge reinforcer (even though -- see earlier post -- cleaning their own bedroom up rightfully falls solidly in the category of "Chore", specifically "Expectation").

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Following Jamie's lead, I tackled a longtime eyesore in the kitchen -- made worse by the recent pick-up of 3 large grocery bags full o' meds that had taken up residence above the dishwasher (approximately 20% of our total kitchen counter space). I threw out about 1.5 large grocery bags full of expired or no-longer-needed meds and organized the rest. Most of all, all meds are now on our specially-installed medicine storage shelves -- vice all along the window sill.








This activity is a unique nesting phenomenon. (Doesn't it look bee-you-tee-full?)

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Jack and Jamie reported that they enjoyed Day #1 of rock-climbing. One of the counselors told me that they'd "done really well" and I, because I'm me, asked "but did they complain?" and she smiled the smile of "yeah, but they are such charming whiners that it doesn't count."

Jamie specified that he climbed about 6 meters. Basically, calling me out for not being a rapid Metric converter-on-foot. He volunteered that he was very helpful as an assistant belayer (dealing with the "slack"). *** Given how he coped with his slacker roommate, I can imagine he'd be quite effective at managing slack. ***

Jack commented that he'd do better at Joshua Tree next time and tried "bouldering". He also mentioned that he was one of the only kids old enough to fulfill the belayer role (anchor-guy for the climber).

Hey, no injuries and no crying at camp...Victory!

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Tonight, unfortunately, was Court of Honor for Jack's Boy Scout Troop. This is when all the little scouts who advance or get a merit badge or such are recognized.

Issue 1: Jack is still a Scout. This is technically exactly the same rank as when he earned his Arrow of Light as a Cub Scout (Feb. 2007). Painful and grotesque and a reminder of what a unmotivated-loser mother he has. *** Minus 150 points from my MOTY application.***

Issue 2: Jack did earn a merit badge (Art), bringing his 16-month tally to TWO merit badges. Hardly a land-speed acquisition record.

Issue 3: Over the weekend, the troop powers-that-be sent out an e-mail telling folks that family photos (for the directory) would be taken at the Court of Honor so "pretty up" and come and don't forget the siblings. Naturally, having been in the troop for 16 months but having missed making the last directory by one month, this alert caused me consternation.
A. No way could Charlie and Tim hang for the formality and expected silence of the COH.
B. Ben, naturally, is unavailable for photographing.
C. Could I look fatter for posterity??!

So, I'm feeling more than a bit peeved this evening about having all this Special-ness in my family (i.e., deployed spouse, disabled kids, an under-achieving Scout, and a gi-normous belly/gray hair/limited clothing choices). Also, tweaked to realize that the last photo in which all 6 of us were pictured was taken at Liz & Sean's wedding!

Just an opportunity to rally tomorrow.

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Toy recommendation from Charlie:



"I love Pop Bead People from Chicken Socks Publishers. It keeps me out of trouble for hours and gives the vacuum cleaner lots of little items to find!"




(Yes, it does seem that he wears these pj's with scary regularity!)

V is for Victory and F is for French horn!

In today's advance toward MOTY selection...

Jack's French horn lessons are secured for Tuesday evenings with Barry Toombs, who is Executive Director of the Westwind Brass group and also performs with the San Diego Chamber Orchestra, Starlight Musical Theatre, San Diego Symphony, San Diego Opera Orchestra, Summerfest, and SONOR, the contemporary chamber ensemble at the University of California San Diego.

As a fringe benefit, Mr. Toombs was active-duty in the Navy Band for years and currently serves as a reservist. (This factoid allowed us to snag a convenient Tuesday because, yes, I played the Deployment Card).

As yet another auspicious sign, he has 3 boys in the same range as the J-Crabs.

Sealing the deal, he sounds unafraid of Jack's relative inexperience with the horn. We will take Jack's blaring elephant on the road and grace someone else's home with the, er, music.

Couldn't find a retailer with a Wii in stock, so....

...haircuts for all my boys!

With no big Sunday afternoon plans and the weather outside still unenjoyably sizzling, decided that Day 57 of Deployment was as good as any to bring our offspring's locks back into military regulations. Not that it's a requirement, but...Tim was looking rather unkempt, Jack was looking like a random chincilla escaped and was using his head for a roost, Jamie was resembling the look of a particularly-scruffy Beatle, and Charlie still had some fuzz from my barber (barbaric) efforts the other week.

Charlie was quite the air traffic controller, volunteering such assistance as "Jamie's turn...Jamie (pushing him around) sits on the table!"

Meanwhile, I broke out the Major Crab clippers and went to town. This is my first time using and without supervision. Judge the results (fresh from the shower for that glistening aura) for yourself:

"Mysterious Skin Malady #3" [enter stage right]

Last night, after dutifully applying more Elimite than a Wal-Mart (TM) probably vends in a given month, I was finishing slathering Jamie's back when, LO, I spy (actually register via tactile sense first...EW!) a new, improved rash!

Thousands (i.e., far too many to count) of red bumps from his shoulders to his hips. Yes, they blanch. Yes, they're raised. No, there's no streaking. Nope, they're not hives. No, they don't hurt. Yes, they feel "warmish-like" (thank you, Master of Specificity). No, they aren't itchy. No, they do not resemble the afore-treated "scabies" discrete spots or the blistery face/ear deal. Not located on chest, legs, forearms, face, etc. No, when Hydrocortisone cream applied, no change in the trial zone. Yes, he's up-to-date on all immunizations.

As an added degree of difficulty, our internet went down -- effectively isolating me from consulting webmd or other internet-located hysterical web sites. Forced to turn to my trusty tome, Portable Pediatrician for Parents. After determining that he would not expire by morning, I instructed him to strip off his t-shirt and lie on his tummy (back to the air). Within an hour, the red bumps were merely pink and, by this morning, they are far less angrily flared.

Prickly heat? (It was bloody hot yesterday, after all).
A miniscule amount of bleach leftover on his t-shirt? (See you fellow MOTY-wanna-be's, letting one's child have stained clothing is okay).
A localized reaction to the Elimite? (Seems doubtful, considering that the cream was applied almost universally and was well-tolerated a week ago).
Some other source for contact dermititis? (That's always my preferred diagnosis, since it ascribes no fault on my part and little reason to go to the pediatrician).

Or might this be the onset of another PLAGUE??

High-Maintenance Children

I awakened to those dreaded words (which is, admittedly, preferable to finding out through other means), "Mom, I threw up." Speaker: Jack. Hour: Pre-7 a.m.

Headache, lower-right abdominal discomfort, and one episode.

For this, Jack won an all-expenses-paid trip to Nowhere except his bed. All day. Only Gatorade, chicken broth, and saltines. Of course, MOTY nominee (gaining credibility for her nomination with each passing day) just happened to have 2 Blockbuster DVDs awaiting this weekend so he watched those on his hand-me-down computer (The Neverending Story and Indian in the Cupboard).

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If you haven't heard the news (or do not live here in So Cal), we are having a smidgen of a heat wave. The field temp at Chavez Ravine (Dodgers) was about 120-degrees. Here, in the adjacent neighborhood of CLAIREMONT, it was 99-degrees before noon. Needless to say, the house is sealed, the blinds are pulled, and the window A/C units are being run hard.

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Because I haven't waited on kids enough today, tonight is the 1-week interval for, HOORAY, reapplication of the Elimite (anti-scabies) treatment cream. More fun than capturing and de-lousing a barrel full o' monkeys. I'm out of surgical gloves so am thinking a plastic baggie will have to do. This job is one that Wonder Crab, our Iraqi-residing non-resident superhero, would have otherwise been uniquely-qualified to undertake.

Yet Another Worry for the Crab Queen!!

Major Crab called and wove a yarn about being issued a defective keyboard that omits certain keystrokes (e.g., "n" from the new word-creation "substatial"). Methinks he was trying to suggest that perhaps said malfunctioning keyboard registered a "5" instead of the "2" he intended (i.e., "1500" instead of "1200" on his original running-goal blog posting).

Oh, NO!


This is either a red herring* or a (little-m) major problem for the U.S. military. We have here a PowerPoint Warrior being expected to fight the enemy insurgent with less-than-functional computer accessories. If the pen (or word) is mightier than the sword (or AK-47), then surely Major Crab needs a swift equipment upgrade! You wouldn't knowingly issue a misfiring weapon to a soldier, would you?
Poor Major Crab...however will he log his mileage electronically with this kind of unreliable electronics!?!

*

Another Worry for the Crab Queen

"I can't go back into my trailer...I have another gazillion miles to log!!!" -- Lt. Colonel Crab on June 20, 2009


So Major Crab has promulgated a (secondary) goal of logging 1500 miles during his Tour.
***Ed. note: Since this posting, Major Crab did a downward adjustment to 1200 miles, making him all shell and crumbling meat. Of course, he added a tertiary goal of STREAKING about the IZ before he comes home. This wretched concept will be the focus of a later Crab Queen rant-blog. Please note that Sand Crab's primary goal is to survive the year away from his soulmate! tee, hee ***

Besides the fact that I didn't think PowerPoint platforms were mounted on treadmills, I have had to educate and tweak the dear Sand Crab. (Much of below appears on his Ramblings but I have some quite-reasonable concerns that my pithy, witty, and accurate commentary may meet an unfortunate end called "Delete comment" at the crab claw so I am preserving the comments for posterity ... or at least for the "I told you so" (aka: Wal-Mart) moment)~

First, what is THIS?


Just saw the runner counter (above, on Crab's blog) and, naturally, have something to mention:
Barefoot & almost-nude dude was the best google image you could find?!

In the interest of accuracy...isn't this more realistic?




Then I felt the need to enlighten Major Crab on a teeny consideration called MATHEMATICS.

Story Problem o' the Day:
If Sand Crab can indeed accumulate forward progression on a treadmill (must overcome propensity for sidewise, lurching movements a la arthopods the world 'round), continue to locate a steady supply of functional treadmills, & remain mostly healthy and unmolting,
then how many miles would he reasonably run in a year???

Showing my work:
Given known data of 63 mi./20 days in country = ~ 3 mi./day average.
For 360 days in country @ 3 mi./day, Major (by-then Lt. Col Crab) will have logged about 1,080 miles of sandbox mileage.

Thinking that I didn't want to quelch his dreams, especially only 5% of the way into his tour, I went back and gave him some tips for improving his chances of meeting the goal while perhaps driving the math point home (again):



1. Homer has to morph into Spartan Stud-Crab. Exercise can help but you also have 120-degree days to look forward to enjoying.

While 1500 miles per year in desert conditions is an admirable goal, did you do the math with your cubicle-buddy? I have a master's, I can help!

Sand Crab would need to average 4.25 (or a 42% increase over his current mileage per day) in order to achieve this goal.

Because I like to show my work:
(1500-63)/(360-20) = 4.25
AND
1.25/3 = 41.6666666666667%

***Ed. Update: Even with SmartFanny CrabCake's recent downward adjustment, there is still the matter of a SHORTFALL. Yes, Arithmetic (Logic's Tricky and Calculating Pal) still tells us that 1200-1080 = 120 miles.***

Predictably, Crabby Ben will retort something about "Like Crab Queen Could Run Even One Mile Unassisted and Without Walking A Little Mid-way". True, so true. Then again Crab Queen -- in her fit (and great but not-great-with-crablet) days -- looked like this without becoming a Spokesmodel for a Public Service Announcement regarding the epidemic condition of Hyperhidrosis among obsessive-compulsive runners:



I would also point out that my walking regimen did not leave a trail of these in my wake:


(I know, it's hard to make out the treadmill through the flames!)

We all want a fit, healthy, recognizable Lt. Col. Crab in July 09 -- not this:


A crab so buff it looks like steroids were involved.

Or an injured crab (look at all that gauze!)

Or a Dad-crab that would scare his own children!!

Or, worst of all, a Crab with scrawny, too-much-running, chicken legs!!!!


By Direction,

Micromanager of Dreams from a World Away while I Hold Down the Sand Castle with One Claw Tied Behind My Back (Just to Keep it Sporting!)

P.S. As a nod to the animal-lovers who may view this post, be advised that the coconut, ghost, and other assorted crabs pictured above were not abused, injured, maimed, or otherwise vexed during the production of this blog.