I Don't Know What To Say...

What clever words can I write down beside the following link? There are none. Jim made me this as an anniversary present. He has been working on it for hours, and hours, and hours over the past month.

And still, the morning after its unveiling (during which he sat me down in front of our livingroom DVD player) I remain numb, tearjerked, and appreciatively quiet. You will understand when you watch. (Approximately 13 minutes long with accompanying sound... Password: hoodenpyle)

Alright then, judge the book. Whatever...

Notice the two children above. Elementary school teachers (not me, of course, but my colleagues) are sometimes guilty of "photo previewing" regarding their students. This happens in the summertime when one receives his or her list of students. You grab last year's yearbook and see what faces match these names you've just been handed. Some look like angels. You want to pinch their cheeks and scoop them up right then and there. "Oh! Now he/she looks sweet. I bet they're a good kid. Look at the smile." But just as you have these, you see some faces that fill you with a foreboding feeling. Hair covering the eyes, hunched posture, mohawks, excessive chainwear, an almost visible stamping of the word "HYPER" across the forehead, any type of snarling... all of these make you wonder. Is this kid going to make, or break, my year?

Now that's not to say that first impressions can't be wrong. There is a saying, "Don't judge a book..." So yeah, photo previewing is nothing more than a superstitious act that has minimal chances of actually producing accurate information. But still.... my colleagues do it. Not me, of course, though.

Anyway, in comparing the two children above, one would be an angel. One would be deemed a "possible turkey". Because I don't believe in the labeling, I'll not participate in this ritual of yours. But you go on ahead. You're wasting your time, you know.

Hodge Podge Entry

I'm a little bit all over the place in my conversation today. You'll see what I mean. Maybe it's because I'm the only company I have, and my mind is wandering. Jim is off in Joplin riding the MS 150, Jack is at Grandma's, and I'm grading papers to music. Speaking of music...

When I'm alone and relaxing, I find myself cranking the radio or picking up the mp3 player. It's a habit. A natural thing happens next... a retreat back into Whitney. The week has been busy, but I've discovered that when the music of my choosing plays, I go off someplace and feel instantly more like myself, regaining what the week may have stripped of me. I can grade papers mindlessly, but my head seems to travel. In this way, I still can turn into the teenager that closes her door and plays her music reclusively. But anyway... how am I feeling today? Where's my head going? Like I said, all over the place. My favorite artists today:

1. Ben Folds

I didn't really know what I was missing with these guys until a summer concert (in which they were the special guest opener) made me more familiar with their music. These are the people you were friends with back in high school or college - your eccentric, opinionated, charismatic, and hilarious little circle of comfort. (I feel very affectionate about my own little high school/college circle in Tallahassee. I even ponder Jim's college gang... his band of guy friends felt much like mine. Consequently, I wonder if everyone has this "so odd they're cool" collection of friends at a certain point in their lives.)

Anyway, Ben Folds was number one on my list this weekend. Their self-proclaimed "piano rock" is satirical, smart, and intensely musical. They were most entertaining live in concert, and now that I've returned to them this weekend, they are just as fun. Note: They use profanity generously from time to time, but you get past it when you realize that it comes from somewhere intelligent and efficiently delivers just the right sarcastic message. On my songlist: All You Can Eat, Gone, Bitches Ain't Right, Trusted, Landed, Bastard. There is a funny concert story about one of these foul language loaded songs and the fast-handed interpreter for the hearing-impaired, stage-right that did her job with gusto. Perhaps the song was selected on purpose by these guys that night. Pure speculation. But in any case, they really DO have sign language gestures for all words, it seems.

2. a blend of Colbie Callait, Corinne Bailey Rae, and Jack Johnson

Why a blend? Because my brain categorizes them collectively into one file as they all make me feel the same way... quiet and thoughtful. On my songlist: Bubbly, Like a Star, Till It Happens To You, Questions

3. White Stripes

I'll speak truthfully and say that, ordinarily, I despise this group and all the music it produces. However, there is one song that makes me smile: We're Going To Be Friends.
This song has a perfect back to school, autumny feel to it. (It was "that song" from Napoleon Dynamite also, but that's beside the point.) It's a sweet little song if you really listen to the words. In fact, I'm chuckling as I'm listening to it now and grading papers. The song reminds me of my favorite "type" of kid to have in class. Today, it's Taylor, a good little boy who's quiet, but not too quiet. He apparently has a special sense of humor and knows to share it only at the perfect moment so that you have no choice other than to appreciate it so much more. On a worksheet where he is required to complete the sentence with simply a noun, he says:

Some students played a game of "toss the propane tank out of the window." (I'm laughing so hard that I can't breathe.) Of course, he just needed a noun, so I'll speak to him Monday...

Other thoughts:

I believe I should be getting some royalties from the game, "Twister Scram." Seriously, Milton Bradley owes me some money. I believe that I invented this game on Gelven street in my front yard when I was nine. The only difference was that I used my collection of a gazillion pom-poms rather than the colored Twister circles. On someone's mark, we'd have to "scram" to another colored pom-pom... for an added challenge, you needed to reach a certain color to be safe. Now, I've not checked the EXACT rules of Twister Scram, but the picture on the box leads me to believe that I was onto something. Come on, Mom. Surely you watched out the front window back then and can back me up here..

Additional News:

I have a new car! I've never had a new car before, so this is a big deal. I enjoy the new car smell that doesn't come from a spray at the local car wash. It naturally smells dreamy, clean, and luxurious. My Jeep was going down the drain, so we've purchased a Ford Escape. It's similar in size and shape. When I get a moment, I'll post a picture of mine. For now, a dealer's picture will have to do.

Tour of Missouri

Jim is a big fan of cycling. BIG fan. Each summer we watch the unfolding of the Tour de France, and we scream and yell for our favorites on the Discovery Channel team. Lance Armstrong was/is a big idol for Jim. I, too, enjoyed watching him very much. But then again, I find a pattern in my "fan habits" when it comes to sports... I like watching a team/athlete who causes me to feel little suspense/drama while they are engaged in competition. I like gaping margins of victory... there's no stress and wringing of the hands there. Jim is different. Jim is loyally devout in his fanhood whether the athletic performance is sparkling or downright dejecting. He was a fan of Lance... the obvious and easy athlete for whom one would choose to clap. On the other hand, Jim sticks by FSU football... watching, still, with his back off of the chair at times while I have long since left the room to fold clothes in disgust.

The Discovery channel team has remained intact, up until now, since Lance Armstrong's retirement from the sport of cycling. Jim, predictably, has stayed loyal. There are still some key figures on the team that he adores: George Hincapie, Popovych, etc. Upon Lance's exit, some new key figures entered into Jim's fancy as well: Levi Leipheimer, Contador, etc. Maybe these people have even inspired some of Jim's own success in the sport lately.

The Tour of Missouri, a new cycling event, has come to our neck of the state. Sure, it's been on the news, and people are talking about it. But for Jim.... this is THE event. A chance of a lifetime to see a peloton composed of famous, professional cyclists blowing your hair back as you stand watching from the curb. Today was the day The Tour of Missouri pedaled southward to Springfield. My husband was ready. While standing at the ironing board this morning, I listened as Jim pondered, "I know it most likely will never happen, but let's just say I get the chance to have a conversation with George." I smiled to myself, hoping he wasn't setting himself up for disappointment. I guess my silence wasn't satisfying enough because he went further, "I mean, what if you got the chance to speak to John Mayer. What do you say?" Good question there. What do you say? I just offered a supportive, "I don't know, Babe. I would just stutter, I guess." I said good-bye to Jim this morning and saw that he must have still been thinking about the possibilities... he had that floaty, starry-eyed look about him.

Three texts came to my cell phone today. Each was more exclamatory than the previous message. You can imagine their subjects as you view the following pictures. My goodness! How fun for my Jim.

Popo's bike!!!

Jim holds the camera high to snap a photo of a Leipheimer interview

Inches from Contador, 2007 Tour de France winner

A great view of the bell lap... Hincapie in second at the moment

Hincapie on the podium as he is awarded the yellow jersey

Jim sits and casually chats with George - winner of the day's stage

Who would've thought?

No Longer in a Pickle?

Thanks to all who've been concerned, really and truly... Pickle, surprisingly enough, is doing quite well! You can tell from the previous post that my hopes for her survival were very slim. In a way, that was my goodbye. But Pickle always has been pretty scrappy... I should've known not to give up on her so quickly. Thanks to the calm logic of Jim. I am so grateful that he called off an impending final veterinary visit, and said... "let's just see what happens."

Her progress has been astounding:

*She is now breathing easily again... not gasping for oxygen... nor hacking, coughing, spitting, straining, etc.

*She has emerged from the shower... huddling in the shower being a very strange uncatlike behavior that surely suggested I would come home and find her unresponsive, though soggy, one day.

*She is minus a considerable percentage of body weight. Does she look sickly and bony? No way... she now looks normal.

*She has resumed eating and drinking. Consequently, she again has cause to use the litterbox. (She has not yet, however, resumed the cleaning of the hind end after said use of the litterbox.... baby steps, baby steps.)

*She does not throw up three times a day. She never did do this, even on the brink of seeming death - it's just my chance to send a sideways glare toward Cookie.

*She has returned to the nightly positioning of herself in the crook of my arm. Glad to have her back.

Dear Pickle

One of the hardest things about having pets and really loving them is the realization that they, just like people, can get sick and not stay around forever. And so it goes with Pickle. She has been my very first cat.

Sure, I've always had cats growing up, so it does seem odd for me to say that. There was Ming, Tyler, Chuck, Caesar, and then even Miss Kitty. But when I really stop and think about it, these animals ended up being more of my "sibling figures" than my pets. I was the older sister who mostly loved them but occasionally pestered the tar out of them when the mood struck her. (One day I'll have to ask Mom for the photo of one Siamese Tyler adorned with an embarrassing amount of hair scrunchies on his ears and paws. This would've been what I've always imagined to be an annoying older sister moment.)

One day I grew up, got married, and inherited a black cat named Cookie. I loved her (and love her still) but she was, again, not really mine. A few winters later, Jim brought home a little, orange, and wild ball of nerves in a cardboard box. She was scared, starving, and frostbitten at that time and still very much in survival mode. Back in college I'd decided that one day I'd have a son named Jack and a cat named Pickle... so you can imagine, her name was easily bestowed. Welcome home, little cat. And again, I'll stick to that earlier statement: Pickle has been my first cat-- mine, and mine alone.

She can't be more than eight years old, and although it's been a rather short "cat life," I'm glad she's spent her time with me. Thank you, Pickle J, for loving me the most and letting me love you too. In the coming days, when you see a little white dog named Millie, bite her on the bottom. It'll be a fun game, I bet.

Days at Disney

This weekend brings us safely back from Orlando, FL where the Hoodenpyles experienced bigtime fun at Disney World. While visiting, we stayed at the Disney All-Star Movies resort and overdosed heavily on all things 101 Dalmatians -- the theme of our building. Riding the buses and/or monorail was great fun for Jack and, in hindsight, could've almost been passed off as yet another "ride" during our stay. The trip all-around was so much fun.

During our 4 and a half day stay at Disney World, we were able to experience three parks: the Magic Kingdom (two days), Animal Kingdom, and MGM studios. The natural favorite was the Magic Kingdom where Jim emerged as a master of the FastPass feature. Purely for our own entertainment, Jim and I would make frequent points to stop and ask Jack, "What have you liked the best?" at various times of the day(s). He was always consistently dependable with his answer in that he would list whatever attraction we had just visited in the last five minutes. He did them all, even the ones that required him to be "super brave," as he put it. Splash Mountain, Big Thunder Mountain, and even MGM's Tower of Terror were big hits with Daddy alongside him. I think he would have enjoyed Space Mountain had he only been two inches taller to meet the 44 inch height requirement. Oh well. He says he'll do that one "when he's five."

Jim and I both think it's funny that the biggest hit for Jack was the Tomorrowland Transit Authority (or what Jim and I have always known to be the "People Mover") in the Magic Kingdom. Why are we surprised? I have no idea. We must've ridden it a dozen times as the escalator leading up to/down from and the moving platform that one had to negotiate while boarding a car (and preferably the front car) only sustained Jack's fun.

Jack is pictured here on the People Mover... again.

We were lucky enough to be pulled out of It's a Small World's line as "special guests" of the attraction. Here are Jack and I up in the control booth.

Above, Jim and Jack are displayed onscreen at the Monsters, Inc. Laugh Floor attraction. This was an interactive "show" where a few of the audience members are selected to participate in the jokes. It was a great surprise for Jack to see himself on "tv."

This is how each day of fun ended... a satiated Jack... passing out.