Squalor.

I’ve never looked up squalor in the dictionary before. It’s a word I’ve heard for years – most often when my mother would come into my room as a kid. But now that I’ve looked it up, I think it was a gross exaggeration. The quality or state of being squalid. Get this: Squalid is marked by filthiness and degradation from neglect or poverty. Now Mom, do you really think my bedroom as a kid was that bad? But I digress.

My house is squalid. Okay, hyperbole is the word of the day. But we’re under construction – doing some remodeling. In several rooms at once. The workmen are everywhere. That photo below – that’s my driveway. This one above and to the right – that’s my garage.

It’s going to be great when all the work is finished. I’m going to love my new space.

But when the snow hits tonight and tomorrow and our cars are buried on the street, it’s going to be really annoying. But just think how convenient and quiet it will feel when these guys are done.

Snow haiku.

The first soft snow!
School two hours late today.
How inconvenient.

Photo: National Oceanic & Atmospheric Administration (NOAA)

Family time.

Don’t we all struggle to keep connected to our family? The dinner table is the perfect venue for catching up, hearing how the day was, what is frustrating, what is wonderful, etc. But on Monday night, I have a dinner meeting with a board member. On Tuesday night, one kid eats early, and misses the family dinner for basketball practice. On Wednesday night, a different kid has basketball practice. You get the idea. It’s getting harder and harder.

At our house, we spend time together after dinner playing games or reading books. But our kids are still young enough that they don’t go out at night.

I see it happening all around me. This morning, I got an email from a friend of mine – an email that she got from her 15-year-old son:

Dear beloved family,

I have noticed the changing pace of our lives and the minimal communication between us as a family. Tonight I felt as if we lacked communication. I reopened my account on the blog from the summer before last on blogger.com.

It is easy if you type in your email address and follow the steps they will send you an email and you can log into the account. I think if everyone can post once a week I think we will be better able to stay on the some page.

Happy blogging,
Sam*

*not his real name. The names have been changed to protect the innocent.

I think blogging is a great idea. And I know that this family relishes in all the details of each others’ lives. And it is pretty cool that a teenager is proactive about communicating with his family! But I wonder, if this is the trend of the future – that we’ll keep in touch with those in our own houses online…. ?

Maybe the goal should be to make ourselves less busy. Simplify. Spend time together. Yeah, Right. Dream on…..

Phil. Friends.

Phil Lesh & Friends are playing tonight at the Patriot Center in Northern Virginia. For those of you (Mom) who don’t know, Phil was a member of the Grateful Dead until Jerry Garcia died. Andrew went to the show. As did most of my friends from back in the day.

What makes this concert particularly interesting is that Mookie Siegel, an old friend of mine (since elementary school, but he was Michael then) is touring with the band, playing keyboards. He was always very talented. I never doubted he’d be successful. And here he is.

Backing up a little, I don’t go to concerts anymore. Well, rarely. That’s because everyone stands up the whole time. It’s exhausting and for the ridiculous cost of a ticket these days, I would like to sit and enjoy. Plus the fact that I’ve never been one for crowds. Yes, I went to many a concert in my day and got past that crowd issue. But no more.

And everything was going fine. The boys are asleep. Even the extra one sleeping over. And then the phone rang. It was Andrew – back stage. After a brief hello, he handed the phone to Mookie. He wanted to know why I wasn’t there.

Even I think my reasoning sounded lame. I’m sorry Michael. I’ll be there next time. Looks like we might be going to Atlantic City next weekend…

Forty years ago.

Yesterday, I uploaded a photo of myself onto this blog. I used to think I would rather not – who needed to know what I look like? But, so many of my favorite blogs have photos and they make me feel like I know Gnightgirl, Janet, Jenne, Steakbellie, Jeff Risley (oh wait, I do know Jeff)…. So I did it. I put up my picture. It was a big step for me. I don’t have many photos of myself that I like. Even this one, my eyes are kind of squinty and my chin looks substantial. But I think it reflects who I am.

After further reflection, I was feeling bolder yet and decided that today, I’d show you what I looked like forty years ago. With a bun. (Thanks, Mom, it’s a nice look.) I think this photo is the one that was used when the phrase “like a deer caught in the headlights” was coined.

Being a little different is pretty cool in itself.

In yesterday’s Buffalo News is a piece written by a friend of mine, Susan Clements. (the photo doesn’t match Susan’s description, but was the best I could do!) I think she has a point – we all are at our coolest when we’re doing what we love to do. (and btw, I think she’s cool.)

Speaking of cool, this article struck me today especially since I’d just had a conversation with a friend of mine. A friend with a middle schooler. The pressure to be cool and in the “in crowd” is really intense. I think I blocked out how hard those years were – but every once in a while, I remember. There was a girl named Liz in my 7th grade homeroom. She was verbally tortured by a few of the boys on a regular basis. I never understood why. But I didn’t help her either. I don’t know why, but I’m sorry I didn’t.

I wasn’t a mean girl. And I didn’t try to be like everyone else. And I almost always thought for myself. My brother, who was a grade ahead of me, once told my mother that I didn’t follow the trends, I made new ones. I think that’s one of the nicest compliments I ever got. Thanks, Jeff.