Fall on Me

Fall on Me
Berry/Buck/Mills/Stipe

There’s a problem; feathers, iron
Bargain buildings, weights and pulleys
Feathers hit the ground before the weight can leave the air
Buy the sky and sell the sky and tell the sky and tell the sky

Don’t fall on me (What is it up in the air for) (It’s gonna fall)
Fall on me (If it’s there for long) (It’s gonna fall)
Fall on me (It’s over it’s over me) (It’s gonna fall)

There’s the progress we have found (when the rain)
A way to talk around the problem (when the children reign)
Building towered foresight (keep your conscience in the dark)
isn’t anything at all (melt the statues in the park)
Buy the sky and sell the sky and bleed the sky and tell the sky

(repeat chorus)
Don’t fall on me

Well I could keep it above
But then it wouldn’t be sky anymore
So if I send it to you you’ve got to promise to keep it whole

Buy the sky and sell the sky and lift your arms up to the sky
And ask the sky and ask the sky

(repeat chorus, etc.)

***************
After September 11th, I couldn’t listen to this song without totally losing control, sobbing uncontrollably. It’s not even about September 11th — it was released in 1986, and it’s an environmental protest song, of sorts. (Wikipedia reference: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fall_on_Me)

Seeing the towers fall live on TV, between stints at the voter registration tables, is marked on my soul and in my memory. The looks on the faces of the voters that slowly walked into our room, saying, “I had to come here and vote. It is all I can do. I have to vote…”

I finally got rid of the crying jag two years later, during a long car ride between St. Paul and Rochester. I played “Fall on Me” over and over and over and over again, until I had it all out of me. Part of it is out. Most of it is still there.

Workplace Oddness

I returned to work this morning, after a few days off. Upon arriving at my floor, I stepped off the elevator and tripped on a garden hose spread down the hallway.

Have I mentioned I work in the financial services industry?

Out of curiosity, I followed the garden hose. One end was connected to a faucet in the janitor’s closet. The other end was in the room that contains all the telephone and computer network wiring for the floor.

Why a garden hose connected to a water faucet was in a room full of electrical connections and wiring is beyond me.

Have I mentioned I work in the financial services industry?

The High Price of Gas

A few scenes from the Wall household:

Scene 1: Herring, Sweet Potatoes, and Laddie
Ran out of dog food the other day. Remembered on a Saturday late morning as I was driving through the vast commercial wilderness known as Cottage Grove. Can’t get to the vet for the prescription diet before they close.

I spot a pet store, and hastly pull in. Manage to find a variety of wheat-free dog foods, just what Laddie needed. I choose the Herring and Sweet Potato formula because herring and sweet potatoes are two of John’s favorite foods. If Laddie and Sydney won’t eat it, maybe John will.

The dogs love the food. As you might guess, it’s a little smelly when you open the bag. Rachel refuses to feed the dogs, because of the smell. But’s that’s not the worst.

While the food is perfect for Laddie’s wheat allergy, it has a smelly side effect: herring and sweet potato dog farts. That hang in the air for hours. An aroma that clings to your clothes. A smell that will make you bold upright in your bed in the middle of the night.

Scene 2: Hidden Talents
At an impromptu gathering at my house, it was discovered my friend’s daughter has a hidden talent. Because there are minors involved, we will just say it has to do with precision-timed flatulence. The adults in the crowd were ROTFLOAO.

It’s a good thing we were all outdoors, although I’m sure our neighbors thought we were nuts.

Scene 3: How to Fill an Empty Closet
We have a 5 x 5 closet upstairs. The City of St. Paul says this is a half bath. Right now, it is empty except for pieces of the vanity, and the box that contains the toilet bowl. Earlier this weekend, John had the toilet bowl out of the box so we could determine the final layout of the bathroom.

Barely 5 minutes after I told Rachel she should not consider the toilet functional, I find John sitting on said toilet, pondering the universe. Then waving his arms, as if he was doing a Toilet Time version of the Funky Chicken. Ponder. Funky Chicken. Rinse and repeat.

Yes, he was fully clothed. The arm waving was to make sure there was plenty of room to move his arms. Maybe he’s not planning to add an exhaust vent. Thank goodness there is a working window in the closet.

Speaking of room, do you think it would be crude to put a mini-bar in the bathroom? There’s space in the corner…

Not Entirely Out of Action…

I’ve been creative, just haven’t posted much. Here’s photo collage I made for John for his birthday.

I’ve been a member of the CS Birthday Club. This month I sent a bunch of cards that looked like this:

I love that felt flower. That was a RAK from a CS’er in the Netherlands, for a swap I am hosting.

Here’s an ATC I made for the August Retreat:

So, I’ve been creative. Just not posting much.

Sarah Plans Her Inheritance

It’s Thursday; the girls are home with John for the day. This is the day of the week I get many odd phone calls or voice mails. Check out this voice mail message:

“Mama? You there? Mama, Mama. Mama, when I grow up and you die … can I have your computer?”

Of course, that rates a call back to the kid.

Mama: “Why do you want my computer?”
Sarah: “I like it. Can I have it when you die?”
Mama: “What about Rachel? Maybe she wants my computer.”
Sarah: “She can have your work computer.”

And so it goes.

Yeastie Boy and Rhel

Oh yes, another post about Laddie. He now has a yeast infection in his right ear, and the left one looks not too good either. Another vet trip. Dr. C. said, “Laddie, you’ve been here entirely too much in your first year!”. More drugs, and we’re on the way. I was also warned that he’ll be susceptible to ear yeast infections because of his wheat allergy. Now I know.

Thanks to Rhel and Sydney, we have ANOTHER round of the poops for Laddie, just after I cleared the last one. Rhel left a PBnJ sandwich on the table and left the room. That was too much temptation for Sydney, who managed to get on top of the table and knock the sandwich to the floor. Took it to her kennel, where she shared the sandwich with Laddie.

Where was I? Doing dishes in the kitchen and dealing with Sarah. I need to be cloned.

A little poop, a little barf, and Laddie is back chasing his tail for 10 minutes at a time.

You may be wondering who Rhel is. Or not. Rhel is the 4 year old who lives here. The name is pronounced “Arr Hell”. Or when things are very bad, “Our Hell”. Oh Lord, I hate Age Four. It is miserable. The lying. The stealing. The fighting. The misery and wailing.

I wish Rachel would come back. But, based on the last 4 year old that was in this house, Rhel is here for another eight months. I don’t know if I’ll last that long.

Sarah asked me if I was a foul 4 year old. I don’t know. All I remember about Age 4 is that John Thompson (our next door neighbor) asked me to marry him. I guess Sarah will have to talk to her grandma.

Nano Nano

Heaven help me. I’ve purchased an iPod.

I got tired of carrying my few internet radio programs around on a travelstick, looking for a willing computer. Also tired of downloading stuff and hoping I won’t get in trouble at work. It’s not that what I’m listening to is anything other than Rated G, but you just never know how liberally they’ll apply those technology agreements.

So I have covered my … self, and have purchased a Nano. I might as well be Mork — it’s about as familiar to me as Earth was to Robin Williams/Mork. I have no knowledge of how this thing really works, so I’m hacking away and RTFM* only when I have to.

No surprise to most of you — I’ve subscribed to a number of news talk podcasts. I am looking forward to listening to Ring of Fire without kid-interruptions. Like Rachel Maddow‘s show, you need to LISTEN because it’s full of interesting stuff. It’s not just background noise.

What else do I have on this thing? Oh, Flylady, Steve Earle, On the Real, and a weekly Mandarin Chinese class. I also purchased Queen’s Greatest Hits and Green Day’s “American Idiot”. I’ve wanted “American Idiot” for a while now, but I felt like I was too old, too Mama-ish, and appearing too stodgy to walk up to the checkout line with it in hand. I could hear the snickers in my mind from the 20 year old clerks…

I am now part of the plugged in generation. I have to wonder if Timothy Leary anticipated this age, as “turn on, tune in, drop out” kinda fits.

I gotta hit the hay, I’m starting to babble. Don’t tell Orson.

*Read the ______(Fine) Manual

Baby Boy Turns One!

Happy Birthday to Laddie! The Baby Boy is one year old today. Here’s a photo of him chewing on his Isaac Mizrahi doggie cell phone. (it was on sale at Target…)


He started out his day, in typical Laddie fashion, with a big pile of loose poop. Last night, I dropped a bag of egg noodles on the kitchen floor. I thought I picked them all up. But no, Laddie got a couple.

At least I know what to do. Hello, Metronidazole! Wheat allergies/intolerances stink. Sometimes, literally.

But it is worth it to have a dog that enjoys sitting in his food dish.

His little sister, Macalester liked to do that, too.

Today will be a time for lots of hugs and cuddles for Laddie. While we wish the way he joined out family could be different, we are SO glad he is here. And I think he likes it here, too.

WWIII …

… started December 13th, 2000. And you know it, Newt-Boy.

That’s all I have to say.

Addendum: My friend, Omega Mom, states the date I want is December 12th, 2000. While that is the day the Supreme Court fired the shot heard ’round the world, the 13th is the day when I knew it really was all over.

Point taken, Omega.

Screamin’ Sydney

I found a new way to see your neighbors all at once. Sit out on the deck with your two hyper Scotties. Ask a bunny to walk across the yard, then sit right in the view of the Scotties. And sit. And sit.

When Sydney sees a rabbit, all hell breaks loose. Her go-to-ground bark is no bark. She screams. YIIIIIIIYIIIIIIIIYIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!! Sydney sounded like she was in serious pain. Oh, but it was pain, the pain of a terrier not able to go to ground and kill some vermin.

We tried to get her and Laddie back in the house quickly, because all the neighborhood dogs started barking hysterically. We had our fellow dog-owning neighbors come running from all directions. One of our neighbors, a vet, jumped her fence to get over here pronto.

It was embarrassing, and funny. All these folks know us, and our dogs. In a way, it was good to know that if they heard something awful like that, they would come to help.

Then the rabbit ran across the alley into the vet’s yard — where two bloodhounds and a lab-mix live. There is no word if the rabbit is still among the living.