Live and Let Di

Singular Sugarland

Entertainment Weekly is one of my guilty pleasures. Good journalism joins pop culture. I love it!

However, I must get your opinion on something. Recently EW did a story called The Sugarland Express, about the country duo Sugarland. "Baby Girl," their beautiful song of a young woman's love for her parents and desire to make them proud, is a song that can make you cry as you are singing along. Here's a sentence from the article:

"...Sugarland have grown into one of the country's most successful and beloved acts."

Does that sound like nails on a chalkboard to anyone but me? While I have no dispute with a subsequent sentence that reads, "They've scored eight country top 10 hits..." because the "they", I feel, refers to the two members of the group, I can't understand the use of the plural verb with the singular band name.

Discuss.

Di

Thursday Thirteen (Vol. 86)

Thirteen Things I Learned at the Brad Paisley Concert

My husband, kids and I got the Country MegaTicket for the summer which gets us into eight different country concerts at Walnut Creek Amphitheater over the summer. (By the way, do you pronounce it am-fi-theater or do you feel that the "h" is silent, making it amp-i-theater?) Every time we go, I learn something new and it seems like this week I learned more than usual.

1. If Alison Krauss appears on the upper level of the stage singing "Whiskey Lullabye" with Brad Paisley, she is just a hologram.

2. I have a lot of fun doing stuff with my husband and son (and my daughter if she'll stay and hang out with us!)

3. My daughter's friend Courtney claims to not like country music...but if I looked as good as she does in a cowboy hat, I'd LEARN to love it. My pink-cowboy-hatted daughter looks fab AND loves the music.

4. The natural drama that prevails in the life of a teen is exacerbated at a concert. I'm (fortunately) not talking about my daughter here. But I saw lots of crying and angry carrying on as I navigated the young people on the way to the bathroom.

5. Outside of every country music concert, they should post a life-sized poster of a girl in short-shorts and cowboy boots, in a heap on the floor, her friend holding her hair back as she pukes. The cute cowboy-boot & short-shorted girls should see on the way in what they could end up looking like by the end of the night. It's very sad.

6. People are REALLY nice...especially here in the South. We had our friends with us and their 9 year old daughter. I went up to get water and saw that they offered a soda in a souvenir cup. I was pretty sure my friends didn't want her all hopped up on sugar, so I asked how much it would be to just buy the cup. The lady said it was $6 whether it was filled with soda or not. So, of course, being a sap, I bought it. When I turned to walk away, the guy behind me stuck $6 in the cup and said, "That's for you...you shouldn't have had to pay that much when you didn't even get anything in it." How's that for a random act of kindness?

7. Jewel likes to yodel. There are lots of people who like to hear her yodel. I am not one of them.

8. If you try to avoid the long line for the ladies' room by going in the men's room, security will throw you out. I swear that I only know this from overhearing it in the bathroom line. 25 years ago, I would have known from personal experience.

9. Some people should really think twice before going shirtless at a concert:

10. Some people take great pictures of themselves (my friends Shirley and Gary):

11. Most high school kids at the concert do not seem to want to hang out with their parents. We saw Haley exactly once and Shirley's son Michael exactly none.

12. The probability of rain is inversely proportional to the amount of rain gear you bring: 87-cent ponchos from Wal-Mart (check), large garbage bags for under the blanket (check), hooded raincoats (check), two umbrellas (check)...amount of rain...NONE!!!

13. I have even MORE fun with my husband and son if I'm wearing a cowboy hat!

Di

Texting Goes Political

Is this the younger generation's version of "Make Love, Not War?"

Modeling by my daughter, Haley...who is doing more than her share on the "sending texts" front!

Di

Move Over Chuck!

Some days I never quite get to the Life, etc. section of the N&O. Being a creature of habit, I read the newspaper in order. Well, except for the Sports section which is immediately peeled off and left out for my son to read. I figure he will tell me anything that I need to know in the world of Sports. So some days my reading ends with the obituaries. How appropriate, right?

As a matter of fact, yesterday I completely missed my own article about how privacy goes out the window when you are a parent on page 3D of the Life, etc. section. AND, had I not received an e-mail from Leigh about my article, I never would have seen that Papa Jack was quoted in an article about Time Warner Cable's new Navigator system. That's Papa Jack on the right. Yup...he's in better shape than most guys half his age. As a matter of fact, as you read this, he is probably on the tennis court beating up on his daughter or on his bike cruising the neighborhood.

Today, with my husband on a business trip, my daughter at camp and my son sleeping over at a friend's, I treated myself to a long morning of coffee and news. On Wednesdays, the Life, etc. section is dedicated to food. I noticed that this was true of the newspaper I read when I was in Florida, so maybe Wednesday is the universal day of meal preparation. In any case, with no carpool to drive and no one asking for a bowl of cereal (and subsequently noticing that we are out of milk) I went immediately from obituaries to Life, etc. with only a momentary stop to refill my coffee cup.

What I noticed when I finished this sumptuous section filled with meal ideas and exciting news about Tar Heel melons, was that I read exactly two articles. And guess what? They weren't about food!!! On the front page, I was sucked in by an article about the glories of box wine. Apparently some box wine is as good as wine in a bottle with a price tag that makes Three Buck Chuck look positively exorbitant! (Go ahead, click the link. Yes, Chuck has its own Wikipedia entry!) And now it's politically correct as well since a box of wine can be smushed and put in recycling, taking up much less room in its eventual home in a landfill.

Target has even gone so far as to make the boxes kind of chic, with handy-dandy mesh bags for toting to the beach or pool.

When I turned to page 6D to read the continuation of the article with the list of "Best Overall," "Middle," and "Worst," I had to read "Bye-bye, Bud?" about the recent buyout of American beer standard, Anheuser-Busch. (Not to get all political here, but could someone buy out the OTHER Bush?) In it, I learned about the globalization of the beer industry AND that right here in the Triangle there is a group (Pop the Cap) that has an upcoming dinner featuring pairings of beer and food!

So, while all those "good Moms" walked away from this morning's paper with the secret to fettucine Alfredo, a recipe for Customized Chex Mix and a purportedly good guacamole recipe (which CAN NOT compete with the brilliant guac my husband made this weekend!) I came away with a new respect for beer and a way to undercut Three Buck Chuck. Cantina, here I come!

Di

Eggs, Fruit and Compassion

I was overwhelmed yesterday by the compassionate, loving comments and e-mails I received in response to my report from the abyss.

I am feeling much better, thanks to doing some healthy things for myself, forbidding myself to wallow in guilt and several episodes of deep breathing. This morning's healthy breakfast was photo-worthy...mostly because I love the food pictures taken in the natural light from my (and when I say "my," I mean "my landlord's" although it feels like mine since our house never seems to be finished!) kitchen window:

I called my resident doc at UNC and found out that she has rotated out of there and that there is a 4-week wait for an appointment. So I have to get on BCBS.com and find a local provider. I've resigned myself to the fact that beggars can't be choosers, so I have to accept that this will probably NOT be someone with whom I feel totally comfortable and who "gets" me like my beloved Dr. Doran in Florida did. I need to look at this person like a drug dealer. I don't have to like him/her, but I do have to go see him/her occasionally to feed my habit.

I had left a message with the secretary for the ECT department at UNC and surprise of the not-so-surprising, Dr. Dawkins, the head of the department, called my husband to see what was going on with me. She was concerned that I hadn't been in. She wanted to dig a little deeper with him as to my situation so she could determine if perhaps I would need a course of 3 or more treatments instead of just one. That is so like her. She is brilliant and amazing and compassionate. The secretary is supposed to call me to set it up so I can get squeezed in this Friday.

So, I am feeling like there is a light at the end of the tunnel and that I'm not terribly far away from it. And it's not that light they tell you to go toward at "the end." That's a good thing.

Di

Good For Me

I'm taking this bull by the horns. I'm not letting the abyss suck me in. So today I vowed to do good, healthy things for myself.

For breakfast, I fixed some scrambled eggs topped with the amazing guacamole my husband made last night:

Then I went on a one-hour walk with my friend Pilar. There's nothing like a little cardio in 100 degree heat...laughing and talking all the way...to get your head back on straight.

And for lunch? How about this amazing array? The fruit salad that my husband made (are you seeing a food preparation theme here) with some yummy Formaggio mozzarella from Costco...also purchased by my husband on one of his Costco runs.

I didn't beat myself up for eschewing the apples (sorry honey, they just don't meld with the fruit salad) and picking out the strawberries to eat first (they are so yummy!)

I took a guilt-free nap. Played gin with my son. And went to Pilar's house for some chicken chili (the leftover guacamole was my contribution). Now I am home in bed and feeling like the abyss has been held off for the time being.

Di

The Abyss

I am not in the abyss...yet. I am clinging to the walls with my fingernails digging into the rapidly disintegrating edge. My head is straining to see over my shoulder into the darkness. I am alternately spiraling and slowly seeping into the vortex.

It is so easy for me to be all candid and brave when I have just been ejected from the abyss thanks to a combination of medication and shock therapy. Not metaphorical shock therapy, real shock therapy. But when I am sliding toward the brink, denial thwarts action. Or even recognition. I've been going too fast and too hard for too long. I'm just tired. I'm not irritable...the world is just irritating.

Negativity is not just a momentary, fleeting thought, but an insidious mindset that is critical of everything. My body. My clothes. My parenting. My friendships. My habits.

Because of the crazy, chaotic schedule of the past month or so, I am about a month late for my monthly dose of ECT. A month ago I was researching online to see if, in fact, this monthly course of ECT to which I am committed is really necessary. I felt great! My marriage felt sound. My kids were doing great. I was optimistic and social. I was myself...the good self, the healthy self. I fantasized about the ECT doc telling me that, no, I wouldn't need to do this every month. I was cured!

Now I feel like I will never be cured. And not in a healthy acceptance kind of way. In a miserable, I'm damaged goods kind of way. The simple tasks of cashing a check at the bank, going to the grocery store and fixing dinner are feeling monumentally insurmountable. My bed taunts me with promises of blissful unconsciousness. My books remind me that I am not finding the joy that reading has always provided. My children's eyes seem to be filled with the awareness that Mom is not herself. She's just going through the motions.

I never wanted to get back here. I promised myself that I wouldn't. I was committed to scrupulously following my treatment regimen. I didn't. Depression sucks. It fights dirty. It sees a moment of weakness and capitalizes on it. It kicks dirt in your face when you are down. It never puts its hand out in a gesture of fair-play.

I wanted to insert a paragraph of hope here because I know that I will get back on track with my treatment and this brief moment will be a distant memory...a memory that the zap of ECT might even erase. But right now, it just felt necessary to write this down. To look at it from this side of the crevasse instead of from the other side where the view is diffused by the vaseline-smeared lens of retrospect.

Di

Crashing the BLOGHERNOT '08 Party

I just went to the most amazing party. It's BlogHerNot 2008. I wasn't invited. I totally crashed it. And then I even stole the banner!!!

Apparently this weekend all the cool blogging women have gotten pedicures, abandoned their children, packed their stiletto heels and jetted off to San Francisco to get drunk network with all the other cool blogging women at BlogHer '08. As is typical with anything cool, I didn't hear about it. I will probably go in the future...the year AFTER it becomes as cool as the faded plastic Santa on your lawn in February.

I'm not sure how I found BlogHerNot 2008, but I found it about an hour ago and it has changed my life!!! Before BHN08, I was feeling left out, ostracized by the pretty girls, the girls of the hundreds of comments, the girls who make money on their blogs instead of by getting cash back when they pay for groceries and pretending it was part of the cost of the food. I can't imagine anyone doing that, can you???

I'm sitting here in the sweatpants and Durham Bulls Baldelli t-shirt I slept in last night. I have black swaths of last night's leftover mascara under my eyes. My hair is sticking out in all directions. I'll spare you the photo. I'd rather you remember me thus:

My weekend plan was to eventually put the two empty laundry baskets on my living room floor back where they belong. Empty laundry baskets! How cool is that? Then tomorrow I was going to unfold my chair at a ballfield and sit for hours watching game after game after game. Do they REALLY need a loser's bracket? Couldn't they reward the loser parents by letting them go home? Then, because no one should be allowed to have so much fun in one weekend, I was going to drive my daughter and her friends to camp!

I'm still going to do all that, but now I will have a mission, a driving force...I will be BlogHerNotting! It's kind of counter-culture. It's a movement against the establishment before it even gets a chance to get established! I am such a rebel!

Di

Thursday Thirteen (Vol. 85)

Thirteen Firsts

1. First Job - McDonald's in New Hartford, NY at age 16. $2.65 per hour. My parents still say no one at that McDonald's has done a better job at keeping the drive-thru moving!

2. First Blog Post -I started my blog on August 14, 2006. It was originally called Di's Book Blog, etc. I thought it would be all about books and that most of my posts would be book reviews. The first one was a review of A Most Uncommon Degree of Popularity by Kathleen Gilles Seidel.

3. First Blog Read - I never even read a blog until I read Maternally Challenged by Tracy Thompson, the wonderful author of The Ghost in the House: Motherhood, Raising Children and Struggling with Depression (reviewed here in my second blog post). It was this blog that inspired me to start mine.

4. First Love - His name was John. He was in ninth grade and was a JV football player. I was in 7th grade. He rode my bus home from school. One day a girl on my bus said, "My cousin thinks you're cute." I asked who her cousin was and it was John. The next day he asked me to sit with him. It was unrequited...we flirted for several years including a moment emblazoned on my brain when I was wearing my cheerleading uniform and he was wearing his football uniform. After a big win one Friday night, he came up to the cheerleading bus, picked me up and spun me around in celebration. I thought I was in heaven!

5. First Anne Lamott Book - Everyone who knows me knows that I worship Anne Lamott. Her books speak a truth to me that resonates in my soul. Hyperbole? Maybe...maybe not. The first book I read was Operating Instructions: A Journal of My Son's First Year. It was recommended by my friend Barb who wasn't even a Mom at the time. Once I read it, I was hooked!

6. First Trip to Europe - In early November, 2000, right around election day, my husband said, "Hey, want to go to Paris for Thanksgiving?" My high school 25th reunion was coming up that weekend and I had been toying with the idea of going. Then I thought, "Hmmm...a beautiful weekend in Paris with my husband or hanging out with a bunch of people I didn't like that much back in high school." Easy decision. It was the first of many wonderful travel experiences with my husband.

7. First House - Hurley and I took $800 from the money we received as wedding gifts and bought a king-sized bed. The rest we stashed away, saving for our first house. We saved for over a year and in the meantime were displaced from our rental house by Hurricane Andrew. Almost a year and a half after our wedding, with me a couple months pregnant, we bought our first house. 1,800 sq. ft. Three bedrooms. Two bathrooms. We thought it was so enormous that we would get lost in it. When we called out to one another from the various rooms, the sound would echo off the walls.

8. First Pet - Soon after we bought our first house, I came home from work and found my husband on the patio, snuggling an adorable brown bundle. He was Doberman. We named him Garth (after Garth Brooks...my husband had just discovered country music). He was with us for 13 wonderful years. We still miss him!

9. First Time Skiing - I grew up in central New York, where winter wasn't so much a season as a way of life. But somehow I made it through without ever trying downhill skiing. So, at the ripe old age of 36, my husband convinced me that I should actually ski on our trip to Crested Butte, Colorado rather than lounging by a fire reading a book (which was my vision). I did it. I even occasionally managed to get off the chair lift WITHOUT falling down! It was fun. But all in all, I'd rather go to Paris!

10. First Real Friend - My Mom often told me that if you could count your friends on the fingers of one hand, you should count yourself as lucky. I had a lot of friends in high school and college, but it wasn't until my friendship with Amy, who I met in college, solidified over years that I truly knew what friendship was. She is my soulmate. There is nothing that I can't talk to her about. She defines the word friend.

11. First Broken Bone - I've broken the occasional toe over the years, but I'll never forget breaking my ankle in 6th grade. I was in a track meet doing the high jump. Somehow when I cleared the bar, I slipped off the mat and broke my ankle. I had to walk for 6th grade graduation wearing a walking cast that really did not match my cute new dress!

12. First Hospital Stay - Believe it or not, I was never in the hospital until I gave birth to my daughter at the age of 31. I've made up for it since then.

13. First Time on an Airplane - My family took the occasional vacation, but always in a car. When I was 16, I babysat for the Costellos. Mr. Costello owned a car dealership, so they had a huge, cool van, back in the days before pimped-out minivans. They asked me to accompany them to their vacation home by a lake in Michigan. We set out from New Hartford, NY and drove up through Canada, stopping at a hotel for the night. The next day we made the rest of the trip. I slept a lot in the van. When we got to the house, I went upstairs to put my stuff down and fell asleep. When I awoke, I came downstairs and by the time I got to the couch, I was so exhausted that I fell asleep again. It turned out that I had Mono! So they had to put me on a plane, BY MYSELF, to fly home. I was more excited than scared and really too sick to care much about anything. My Mom and my Grandma picked me up at the airport, standing at the gate wondering if I would be brought out in a wheelchair.

So many more firsts come to mind that I may have to do a follow-up...

Di

Hurley - triumphant runner!

Hurley finished the Boilermaker in 1:37...a respectable time given the hills that plague the runners from mile 3-4. I was dutifully posted about a block before the finish line for about three hours before he passed. And here he is:

The lady next to him in the red shorts is Lauri, his new best friend. Hurley always makes new best friends when he runs or bikes. And they are always women! But he always introduces them to me and he's usually pretty sweaty and nasty, so I don't feel terribly threatened.

Di