Good heavens, we can't risk that.

So, that leaves skewering them with a salad fork or beaning them with a Tourister? Or maybe we could fling those cute little peanut packets at them.

Police said search teams combing the park last summer never reached the sloping thicket where Levy's remains were found, the Washington Post reported today.

Please. What am I missing? Why did it take so long to find this woman's body? Didn't the clues point to her going to the park? Jogging in the park? What better area to hide a body? Just push it down the "sloping thicket".

Doesn't the police department have access to their own dogs?

She only took her keys. She searched for an old mansion in the park. Women have been attacked in that area before. It's heavily wooded, lots of places to hide a body.

Nah, too obvious. Let's try to pin it on the politician...

My daughter is going to meet her father (for the first time in her memory) tomorrow. I am both thrilled and terrified. She has wanted this for so long and he has finally come around. But what will the results be? Will she be even more confused? Angry? Will he be a jerk? Or will he finally realize the harm he has done, be willing to take responsibility for it, and help her? The great unknown. Like taking a leap off a giant precipice and not being sure your chute will open, or if you even have one.

I already know I'm older than dirt, especially perusing some of these blogs, but now it's official. I remembered all but 2 - which goes to say I'm probably older than those of you who remembered all of them. My memory is already starting to go...

From the If Project... If family or friends had issues with the one you are romantically involved with, would you listen? How much influence would you allow others to have on your relationship?

There was a time when my thoughts would have been "No way!" "Who knows better than me?" and "You don't know him like I do." Now? That's crap.

Passion blinds you. No matter how rationale and intelligent you are, it smacks you stupid. The smart ones know this, and wait for it to pass before committing themselves. The rest of us are walking into walls and calling it love.

Your parents have seen you go through changes from birth to puberty to adulthood. Your mother remembers your undying love for the rock-star-of-the-moment. The piano lessons. Tap lessons. Swimming. When you wanted to grow up to be a ballerina.

Your friends have seen you sober, drunk, stupid, witty, and scared, and stuck thru all of it. They've seen you thru short hair, long hair, the purple fiasco, and every diet known to man.

All that information amounts to something. These people have the goods on you.

Maybe it's because I'm well past 20-something. I believed then that if I didn't already have all the answers, I had a better interpretation of the questions. When I believed that the people who raised me had no idea who I really was. And they didn't know this person like I did, so how could they judge?

Well, I'm older now. And a Mom. I can smell Eau de Jerk from a thousand feet. You can change the package, but there are basic, universal truths. Baby, I got radar. It's a post-partum gift. As long as it's someone after her.

Me, that's a different story. Now, I listen to the people who know things about me even I have forgotten, or won't readily admit.

If your friends don't like him, your family can't stand him, your neighbors don't trust him, and the people you work with are wondering if your judgment really is that poor, and should they start locking the safe?... do you need to be hit by a 2x4? After all, they like you. Their judgment can't be all bad.

Take it all with the proverbial grain of salt, but take it. Your parents will always think no one is good enough. They have their own issues, many of them dealing with nursing homes. Your friends also have their own agendas, mainly, can you still come out to play and what if you make them repay all those loans? But if their overwhelming consensus is negative, and for some pretty solid reasons, you'd be an idiot not to listen. If this person truly loved you, why would he want you to be separated from the people who have loved you, and loved you longer? Bottom line - no way.

This I know for sure. Just ask me about my ex...

Bitch Blog. Here we go:

I'm all out of sorts these past few days. Don't know what is wrong, although my horoscope seems to allude to this kind of thing. I should have read ahead and prepared. But I didn't, so this is the result.

Mom Rant: Why is it that your darling children seem to forget all the hours you slaved over the laundry, especially in a house that rarely uses a dryer and chooses to hang clothes to dry? The gathering and sorting, handwashing (yeah, a little), hanging, taking down, folding, putting away? Then, when they get old enough to do it themselves, the nagging? So do you think, in appreciation of all your hard work in making sure they do not need to greet the world naked and shivering every day, they might hang up some of your clothes? Like the few you threw in their load of laundry just to fill it out? But noooo - there you find them, days later, crumpled and damp in the bottom of the basket. Do I have cooties? It's not like it was my underwear or anything. Sheesh.

Club Rant: I am cursed to be the current prez of a testosterone inundated computer club. These guys are an exercise in futility. Honestly, that territorial shit has got to go. But the worst is the guy who is still acting, I kid you not, like a high-school girl. You know, the sweet to your face, monster behind your back? I swear his head must spin when I turn around. And it's not just to me. This guy gets his greatest kicks out of sending email with the express purpose of pissing people off (which he admits, BTW) then pulling the "Who, me?" act when he gets called on it - and call him on it I do. I fire one back, and you do not hear me say "oh my, you must have misunderstood, I didn't mean that, no, not at all..." I stand behind those words. I wish he'd stand behind a few. Or under them. He does this to the people who are doing the most, too - these people are difficult enough to find in any type of club - so what, precisely does this accomplish? Of course. The attention angle. Ok, scratch high school - subtract a few years.

Biz Rant: Yeah, I know money is tight. It is for me, too. And I'm the single parent here, bub. So the next time you want to tap me, yet again, for "a little advice", I'm sending a friggin' bill. A big one.

I'm reading too many blogs with astute observations, witty quips, etc. Wondering what to write about my fairly boring life. Then realizing it isn't boring when I re-read it later - it's an interesting journal of my life - not designed to be particularly entertaining. The fact that I'm here at all. How I spend my days. I'm content enough with the way things are, and working to improve the things that don't satisfy me.

I am really not out to write the next great literary masterpiece. Just bits and pieces of my existence, something to amuse my descendants. I am fascinated enough with the writings I find from my ancestors - their everyday lives and the times in which they lived. Why can't I see the same in my scribbles?

It's Mothers Day. Where do I begin?

The scary, hopeful, amazing journey of pregnancy? The realization that this is a trip of uncertain destination with no return ticket. The labor. Is it labor? What is it supposed to feel like? No one can really tell me. The mystery of it all.

The amazing thought that you have created a human being. From scratch. No kits. No instructions.

Those first few days, wondering if I was doing the wrong thing. Had I done the wrong thing, making this commitment to this man. Deep in my heart, knowing this was the single most important thing in my life, this child. This child would be special. This child was meant to be. Hoping I wouldn't screw it up too bad.

I realize now what a struggle it was. Knowing this man that was my husband did not want this responsibility. That he had just been playing a game, with unexpected consequences. Knowing my parents did not approve of this man, of having this child. No one was happy - except, secretly, me. An immediate bond. This life. This child. More precious than gold.

The difficult birth. The problems. Not what the movies showed. No joyous moment of cradling this new life to my chest, of her hearing my voice, getting my scent, seeing the blur of my smile. A table in the distance, a crowd of hospital green, murmurs. Confusion. Exhaustion.

I still can't stand to look at those pictures of the early days. So thin, so fragile. My fault, all my fault, wasn't it? I didn't nurture her, this body. Why didn't I know more? All the baby-sitting, the daycare jobs. But not for those early days. The wisdom of those days needs to be passed on. It was not. I must make sure I do.

Then, the wisdom and experience of that wonderful nurse. The doctors with all their tests and dire predictions. The answer so simple. Forest for the trees. They studied the trees, she saw the forest. And my baby thrived. My favorite picture of that chubby, smiling cherub. The one that shows I finally got it right, knew what I was doing, got it together despite everything else that was falling apart.

My marriage finally revealed for the sham it was. A deception. A deception that became a trap of his own making. I've released the hunter, with no regrets. Except for my child. She deserved better. A father who finds as much joy in her existance as I do.

I love you, Bean. With all my heart.

My laptop is back in action. After months of getting the hinge-thingie fixed, then the power cord breaking, then financing a major expedition to find the replacement part on the Dell site, then taking my own sweet time actually ordering the damn thing, I finally have all the parts I need, in working order. Sweet.

It's been out of commission for so long, it's like getting a new laptop. When my daughter was a baby, I used to take half of her toys and hide them for a few months. When the toys she was left to play with lost their appeal, I'd switch them. It was almost like Christmas in July.

Inadvertantly, I've used the same psychology on myself...

"I like living. I have sometimes been wildly, despairingly, acutely miserable, racked with sorrow, but through it all I still know quite certainly that just to be alive is a grand thing." -- Agatha Christie

Yes, Blog, I have been neglecting you, despite good intentions. But the weather has turned and the garden chores call, and I am still in my "winter out of shape" phase - which means it takes me twice as long to get anything done. I'm busy edging gardens, pulling weeds, and spreading mulch. I'm also involved in too many organizations, on too many boards. That will change soon, thankfully. I'm tired of spreading myself too thin.

I, too, need some edging and a thicker layer of mulch.

Been reading about Kimberly's problems with her kids. Custody issues are a bitch. It's hard to tell where the judges will go; you are on equal footing in the courtroom unless the substantiated evidence proves otherwise. Even if they sympathize with you, they have to follow the law.

Fighting for your kids is hard. You have to be passionate, but not too much. Reasonable and willing to negotiate. Your ex is not the worst creature on earth - remember, you had kids with him, so what does that say about your judgment? These judges have seen it all, and they sum you up fast. But stupid, they're not.

My ex once got busted because he wore the wrong t-shirt to court. A brand-new t-shirt advertising a whale watch in New England. The judge remarked how nice it was and casually asked him where he got it. He proceeded to tell her about his trip, about taking someone else's child, about how much she loved whales - all the while thinking what a good guy it made him seem.

The hunter sets the trap, covering it with pine needles.

Then she asked him how much the trip cost.

Snap. The mechanism is spring. The animal senses the danger, but realizes it is too late to retreat.

Hesitantly, he gave her a figure. A ridiculously and suspiciously small figure. For an overnight trip to New England. For two. (Well, for obviously more than two - who's going to let their child go on vacation with their "friend" without them?) A figure that just happened to be the same amount as that of his weekly child support obligation. Which he wasn't paying. Now, explain to the judge again how you spent the money you should have been paying to your own child on someone else's kid?

Spring! The trap closes.

And I didn't have to say a word.

The Friday Five

1. What are your hobbies? Computers. Gardening. Books.

2. Do you collect anything? Pens. It's not intentional. I just keep hoping one of them might give me better penmanship. Or if I collect enough, maybe I can trade them all in for a good Waterman?

3. Is there a hobby you're intersted in, but just don't have the time/money to do? Photography. Of course, that lack of any actual talent thing getting in the way, too.

4. Have you ever turned a hobby into a money-making opportunity? Computers. Well, whether I can consider it "money-making" is still up for debate. The electric company, phone company, insurance company, and landlord would be on the "con" team.

5. Besides web related stuff (burbs, rings, etc.) what clubs do you belong to? Any that could increase the "pro" side of the "money-making" debate (see question #4). Networking groups, Chamber of Commerce, business associations. And the local computer user group. Think I need a little balance in my life?

Reading this entry brought back memories of my own daughter's operation, at the age of eight months. She, too, was born with a cleft, but luckily only of the soft palate - the area at the back of the mouth. Much easier to repair, and involving no facial surgery. So for the most part, no reminders, no memories. Except for The Mom.


I still remember that horrible feeling of turning my innocent baby over to the arms of the nurse. They would not let me go into surgery, of course. They would not even let me in the recovery room. I didn't realize then how I could have insisted on it - I am not one of those "mouthy mothers" with that fight-to-the-death attitude about their children. Sometimes I wish I had that kind of blind courage.


I can still picture her face as the nurse walked down the hall. The confusion in her eyes. "Where am I going?" "Why aren't you with me?" I'm sure this was all in my head. Short of a few minutes of curiousity, my daughter probably thought it a wonderful adventure. But to me, it was possibly the last glimpse I would see of my smiling baby's face. It was, after all, major surgery involving anesthesia, and the numerous forms requiring my signature was evidence of the danger for one so young.


The hours waiting for the surgery to finish were unbearable. Even more so with the presence of her father, my soon-to-be-ex, who drove us down to the hospital with barely enough to pay for parking, let alone to eat (we would have to be there most of the day.) Not that I would be able to consume anything but water. But this was the person who was supposed to be looking out for us? That I was supposed to be able to lean on for comfort and security? Totally, totally unprepared. Probably because my mother was also coming, and he knew she would have the resources to pick up the slack. The attitude, I'm afraid, has not changed. Many years later, he's still expecting everyone else to pick up the slack.


When they wheeled her out of recovery, I was a stew of emotions - the desire to cry, jump for joy, and break into hysterical laughter. So relieved that everything had gone well. Pained by the look of the tube stuck into her nose so the swelling would not interfere with her breathing. And amused by the sight of this tiny body on this huge hospital gurney - she was barely as big as the pillow, a tiny speck in this sea of white cotton. Seeing her mommy. A big smile. "Geez, Mom, it was a breeze. What were you so worried about?"


She's still doing this to me. Does she know that my heart, in her hands, is a bouncing ball?

Came across the Chaos Calculator at this site, so I entered 2 for family members (thinking immediate family only.) Pets was not hard, of course. The score? 25. I stumbled on it again at this site and I decided I really should add my parents in. Altho they don't live with us, we see them often and they are the people I go to first when chaos reigns. Final score? 2401.

'Nuf said.

The cats are eyeing the backyard savannah, dreaming of prey and great feasting. If the rains do not stop, it will take a sickle to get the grass under control - I managed to get the front and side yards mowed, but my hands were freezing and the sun was going down, so I had to come in and take refuge under the afghans. That was two days ago. It's been raining since, which only makes the grass grow faster.


Timing your life to the growth spurts of grass. Just one of the many joys of being a homeowner.

T-storms blew in this afternoon. Walked out to bring in the quilt I had earlier put out to dry and there was a flurry of white petals from the various flora. Like walking into a sudden blizzard. Very surreal.

The storm is over now. I love the way the light changes during late afternoon storms, a chiaroscuro painting. And that fresh, clean scent. The exaggerated contrast of the old white dogwood against the new green foliage and growing grass.

Life here is good.

I've gotten lost in the blogs again. It stuns me how much I've missed this other world, one that I'd inhabited with my mind instead of my body. I kept up with a few blogs while I was away, but rarely got sucked in. I got sucked into the vacuous cathode ray - which is pretty sad, since I don't even have cable. It was a white noise, no thought process involved, and needed at the time. But my brain is warped now, and I want it back.

Another unseasonably hot day yesterday. The neighbors have switched on the ac, and my daughter says the school is like a refrigerator.

More of the tree is down, and some mulch spread, but no other yardwork - it's just too hot. Need to get the garden planted, but first need to get rid of the weeds. So, ok, Gaia. You are in charge. I got it. Now knock it off!

Unbearably warm today. I'm not ready for summer to just in like a guest you're not prepared for. I'm still scouring my wardrobe for decent spring clothes, since everything is starting to wear out. It's no problem when I'm banging at the keys - I can come up with any number of comfortable things that I wouldn't be caught in the dark in - but I do have an occasional networking meeting or even scarcer visit to a client site (unfortunately) so I do have to look "professional" now and then. Which is getting harder.

You see, I also have a pre-teen that is having far too many growth spurts. And is far too picky about her attire. So what little money there is at the moment goes for things like shoes. Thankfully, I get to wear her cast-offs, which aren't too worn. But I still can't wear them to a business meeting.

Kid's gonna have to aspire to a higher degree of fashion if I have to resort to stealing from her closet.

A faster new memory technology has been developed which could end the need to reboot computers after crashing. Well, if Sharp really does follow thru on this, what will I do with half of my day?

Ok, so maybe's that's an exaggeration. But the time I spend rebooting this thing is significant.

Guess I need to think about taking up a hobby.