Mid-Century Home, with a Twist

I love watching house hunting, home decorating and DIY landscaping television shows. Being an amateur woodworker, I get some "food for creativity" from watching these shows. One trend I've noticed recently is the number of home-buyers who are looking for "Mid-Century" style homes. These are homes that were built in the 1950s and early 60s. My parents bought one of these homes in the 1960s and my mom still lives in it today.  My parents have done some remodeling and some updating but it remains a mid-century style home.

As part of an expansion and remodel about 25 years ago, my parents enlarged their kitchen and purchased one of the first down-draft ranges. We all thought it was pretty cool because you could interchange range top "burners" for a griddle or for a "grilling" attachment. Then, because the fumes of what you were cooking, were "sucked" out through an exhaust system, (that sounded like it was powered by some engine from NASA), we felt like we were closely tied to the new "space age."

So, the range worked really well, of course there were countless trays of burnt cookies over the years that were blamed on the oven not working properly, but, aside from that, no complaints. Recently, however, there have been some pretty serious issues that have arisen. So, my sister, Karen and her hubby, Robert, decided to purchase a new stove for mom. They took mom to one of the big box stores, (which shall remain nameless), and let her take her pick. They explained to the sales rep that mom was replacing her current down-draft stove but that she was not married to the plan of replacing it with another down-draft. Mom explained how her exhaust system worked and where the ducting for the exhaust came into the stove and exited the house. After a LOT of looking and discussion, they decided to go with a more conventional stove.

Now, convention is a subjective descriptor. The machine they purchased is a beast! It has a ceramic stove top and a gigantic oven which is capable of baking three levels of cookies at a time. (Yes, I have a bit of an issue with cookies, one can never have enough, you know!) Now that it is installed, mom couldn't be happier with her selection. HOWEVER, getting it installed was much less satisfying and much more stressful.

One of my long-running rants/issues/peeves with large box hardware stores, especially the orange one, is that customer service is pretty much non-existent. That trend certainly held for mom's experience with her new range. You see, despite her having given detailed description of the venting system for her old stove, that information was not forwarded to the installers. When her stove was delivered, the first installation team refused to install because the old one was "hard-wired." So, mom called in an electrician to put in a plug. I phoned the big-box and told the manager that the wiring was completed and ready for the installers to come back as agreed. I was transferred three times, then told they would phone me later. Well, later became the next day. At that time, we were told that a different installer would be coming to do the work. We, however would be required to wait until he contacted us.

The installer came a couple of days later and started work. He was, however, not informed about the return ducting from the old stove and insisted that he be paid an additional $100 to do the work. I advised him that his issue was with the big box store, not with me. After a few tense moments and after I spoke with the correct person at the big box, the manager acknowledged that we had given all the information about the ventilation system so they would cover the additional cost.

One final issue arose with the stove. You might recall that I mentioned that my parents had done some renovations on the house. Well, part of that renovation included custom cabinetry in the kitchen, the customization included making the cabinets slightly taller than standard. Well, that little snowball caused another problem. The stove mom and my sister chose has a really cool lip that is designed to cover the "crumb catching" space between the stove and the cabinetry. Well...since the cabinets are taller than average, the stove did not fit. Fortunately, we found some plywood that worked well in allowing us to adjust the height so the stove slide in as designed.

In the end, the only thing that matters is that mom loves her new stove. However, let me just give any of you future renovators a suggestion. Unfortunately, cookie-cutter is the norm. Everything you do that is outside the norm has a series of consequences. Many of those consequences will continue to show themselves at the most unexpected times and in the least convenient times.

TTFN,

 

Lois

 

Carrying My Heart

Thirty one years ago, on March 21, 1984, I learned what it meant to carry my heart in my hands for the first time. I became someone's mom. HOLY COW! There is just no way to understand what that means. If you are a parent, you know what I'm talking about. Suddenly, you are supposed to be responsible for this squiggly little human. Well, let me back up. Let's talk about how my first squiggly little human got here. Well, we're not going to go into all of the details about how he got here, let me just tell you about the day he finally decided to make an appearance.

Chip was due to arrive on, or about, March 2, 1984. For those of you who are not familiar with Texas history, March 2 is Texas Independence Day. I thought that was an appropriate delivery date, after all, he is a Texan and I was ready to have him independent from my ever-increasing belly! Well, March 2, came and went, as did March 3, 4, 5 and so on. Finally my labor was induced on March 21. (Do the math, that's almost 3 weeks late, by then, I was HUGE!) Anyway, think about it, why would any baby be in a rush to venture out of the relative comfort of the womb? They are warm, never hungry, get rocked all the time, I mean, really, what's their rush? As you might also surmise, while he was lolly-gagging about making his appearance, he was still growing. By the time we insisted that he join the party, he entered the world he was twenty-two and one half inches long and weighed 9 pounds 7ounces. (Yes, it was like giving birth to a rail-road tie). He had orange "carrot-shaving" hair and he was the most amazing person I had ever met. I just couldn't stop looking at him. Granted he was a newborn human, that is to say, he looked a lot like ET, but he was perfect! When the nurse placed him in my arms, I knew that my heart no longer belonged to me.  

The nurses and the hospital staff repeated told me what a wonderful baby he was. They insisted that he never cried, nor seemed unhappy, rather, they said, he is just content to sleep. Well, they were right about the sleeping while we were in the hospital. He wasn't entirely sold on the nursing-thing when the clock said it was time to feed him. He'd give it a less than half hearted try and go back to sleep. Of course, being a first-time mom, I didn't know what the heck I was doing wrong and although I checked his bassinette for them, there were no instructions for feeding, changing, holding, transferring to another person/bed/the other breast or anything!  WHAT THE HECK???

You might recall that I am the first born of five children. Well, I didn't have to do any of the parent things with my sisters and, in fact, I had no real experience with any babies. I mean, sure I thought they were cute when I saw them in church or at the grocery store or in movies but, where the heck are the instructions? I had only vaguely figured out the nursing thing and the diaper changing thing and the next thing I knew, they were sending us home.   Wait, my mom and dad had just left to visit some friends in the Valley. What do you mean we have to go home? I don't know anything yet.

 

So, we get home and all was good until the sun set. No one told me that newborn babies can cry and cry and cry for hours. I tried everything I could think of to stop the crying. I rocked him, I sang to him,  I cried with him, I tried nursing him, I walked all over the house with him, (it should be noted here that his father never moved, and never stopped snoring...nuff said). Finally, after what seemed like days, Chip exhausted himself and went to sleep. I just kept crying.

Fortunately, that was our one and only night when we were both wondering if we shouldn't find a "parenthood for morons" class. It sounds very strange, but it was almost like we came to an understanding that we were the best thing in each other's lives at that time. I think Chip realized that he was the center of my universe. I finally started to relax and really began to enjoy my new role as a mom. As he grew, and his personality really started to develop, I realized that not only did I love my child, I really liked the fun-loving little boy that he was becoming.

Chip has always loved to be challenged, he has a very quick wit, a fabulous smile and a wonderful sense of humor. When he was between three and four, Chip told us that he wanted a little brother. One Sunday, as we were leaving mass, he told us that he had taken care of getting a little brother. I asked him what he meant by that. He very sincerely said that he had prayed to God, during mass to send him a baby brother so he was sure he'd get one soon. He was correct. Reece was born about five months after Chip's fourth birthday. (You'll read more about Reece in a future post).



Chip started scouting at his first opportunity as a Tiger cub. He loved the camaraderie,
the challenge of earning badges, camping out, advancing through various ranks and testing his ability to achieve the goals that he set for himself. He earned his "Eagle Scout" rank at the age of thirteen. He is one of the youngest Eagle Scouts in the Alamo Area Chapter.

In the spring of his sophomore year of high school, we moved to Southern California. Chip did not initially want to make the move. Who could blame him? He had already suffered the growing pains of transferring from a small Catholic elementary/junior high school to a much larger public high school. He had made some good friends, dated a few girls, was involved in the band and the Jr. ROTC. Fortunately, my relationship with Chip has always been one of trust. I asked him to continue to  trust me that he would enjoy this new adventure and that if he didn't, I promised him that I'd allow him to move back to Texas to live with my parents if he was not happy in California. Then, I prayed.
Well, both the boys were expecting to live on the beach, (near bikini-clad babes), and that they'd be rubbing elbows with celebrities. Well, we moved to a region known as the "High Desert" of the state. They were initially, not impressed! However, within a very short time, they made some very good friends and are both richer for the experience.  One of the best things, in my opinion, of our time in CA was that I was hired to be an administrator at the high school that Chip, (and later, Reece) attended. (If you get a chance, ask Chip about trying to leave his computer programming class for a soda). High school is tough. Then, compound that with being the new kid for your Junior year. Sure, kids do it all the time, knowing that, however doesn't really matter as much when you are the new kid. Chip never missed a beat. He joined the band which gave him a group of students to get to know before the semester started. I was able to watch him make friends with an incredible group of young people with whom he will remain connected for a life-time. When he graduated, the first major mile-stone in a person's life, I was able to present him his diploma. WINNER!! Then, literally the morning after his graduation, he was gone. He moved back to Texas with my parents, spent the summer working, (and playing), and enrolled in Texas A&M that fall. He graduated four years later.

.

 During the spring semester of his sophomore year, he started dating a wonderful young woman who became his wife. Theirs is an amazing love and we are all so happy that Mallory is in our lives. They are an incredible couple because they make wonderful team. They compliment each others strengths and weaknesses. Most importantly, they are truly wonderful parents to their son, the most wonderful grandson in the history of grandsons.

If you've made it this far, thanks for indulging this mom by letting me share just a very few of the things that have bonded me so permanently to my first-born. If you stay with me, I'll ask that you allow me the indulgence of sharing some things about my second (and last) son later. For now, I'd ask you to raise a glass and toast Chip on his thirty-first birthday.

 

Someday, someone is going to have to explain how my son can be thirty one when I don't feel a day over thirty five. Oh well,

 

 

Happy Birthday Chip, I will love you through eternity.

 

 

 

 

 

TTFN,

 

Mom, (aka,Lois)

 

 

Better Life Through Chemistry!

It's been an "E-Ticket" ride of a couple of weeks. There I go again, dating myself. For those of you who are younger than 30, "E-Ticket" refers to a pricing scheme that was popular at Disneyland. There were different entry fees charged per person, depending on which rides you wanted to include on your visit. The "E-Ticket" rides were often the most popular and/or the most thrilling. They were also the most expensive. My "E-Ticket" reference refers to challenges and emotionally charged rollercoasters.

One of the few trips Haime made with
us--Italy for one of my
"significant" birthdays

Mom had heart surgery last week. Most of you who are regular readers of this blog will remember that Barbara is not just my mom, she's my travel buddy. Haime, you'll also remember does not suffer from the wanderlust affliction that I do. He's happy being a "home body" and is happy I have Mom travelling with me.

 

The condition that Mom had repaired via the surgery was one that her doctors had been monitoring for several years. It's just been within the past six months that she had become symptomatic. So, the procedure was considered "routine" by her doctors and surgeon. Well, when we're talking about your mom rather than some "anonymous person," and heart surgery, there is no such thing as routine.

Mom was just ready to get it done. She was, as the saying goes: "tired of being tired." A few days before her surgery, Mom asked if  I would stay with her in the hospital. I told her that, that was the plan and not to worry, she would not be alone. Thankfully, God does great work and guided the surgeon through the whole thing and mom came out with no issues.

As you might expect, she was in the Intensive Care Unit for the first day and "a half," (more about the "half" later)...All of my four sisters and I were at the hospital for the surgery. We had predetermined that I would be the "sleep-over" daughter. Two of my sisters tend to "sleep LOUDLY," and we certainly didn't want to take a chance of being asked to leave; and one sister claims that she works for Cruella DeVille and could not be off of work for more than a day. Also, Haime has been in TOO many hospitals, so I have lots of practice sleeping therein. I was informed that I would be unable to sleep in the unit with mom but that there was a waiting room immediately out from it and that I could come inside to see mom as much as I wanted, anytime during the night.

When I went to see the waiting area, I was acutally thrilled because most of the chairs had no arms! As I mentioned earlier, I  have lots of experience sleeping in hospitals so I know that if there are no arms on the chairs, one can actually stretch out across several of them and maybe actually sleep. I felt like I was in HIGH COTTON! Also, I was a girl scout so I had planned well for my stay...I brought a blanket-throw, a pillow, toiletries and a few changes of clothes. The first night of my "camp-out," as I prepared to sleep, stretched out over three(ish) chairs, I learned that we were not allowed to turn off the lights...WHAT?! Oh well, I thought, I am really tired, I can probably go to sleep. WRONG! So, I devised a "light-cancelling-shelter." As you see, I butted two pairs of chairs up together and draped my blanket across the them. The chairs under the window are affixed to the floor and butt right up to the wall. The blanket end on those chairs fit very snuggly. Unfortunately, the opposite side of the blanket kept sliding off of the other chairs so I tied my shoes as anchors to each end of that side of the blanket. GENIUS! I crawled inside my new home, with my belongings with me and thought, WOW, I've just constructed, and am living in a homeless shelter tent. The five other campers were so jealous!

So, after spending that first night in the waiting room, I thought I'd be on Easy Street for the remainder of Mom's stay. We had requested a private room so I could sleep on a recliner in the room with her. Well, remember when I told you that we'd be talking about the "half" day that Mom would be in ICU? Well, the morning after her surgery, we were told that Mom would be moved to her room as soon as the person currently occupying it, was discharged. Unfortunately, we learned later that the bed was in a semi-private room, which was not ideal but at least Mom would be out of ICU. That fell through, however when we learned that the other person in the room had contracted the flu. We continued to wait for a room throughout the day. Finally, about 10:30 that night, I reestablished "Camp Aggie" (more classy than Homeless Camp), and dove in for the night. At about 12:15, the ICU nurse came knocking on my tent to say that Mom was moving to a room...that's 12:15! (They call Vegas the place that never sleeps...)

So, by 1:30 AM, after a little bit more "musical hospital room changes," we settled in for the night. Mostly the next few days passed without incident. And with the aide of Milk of Magnesia, everything finally passed as well. Finally, on the fifth day, Mom made her escape. I drove the get-away car and we turned for home. Once there, I organized her meds and made sure that two of my sisters, who would be staying with Mom over the weekend, knew what the new temporary "normal" looked like. As I left Mom in their very capable hands, I realized for the first time what an adrenaline rush I had been on for about 5 days because suddenly, I was raw and I really didn't understand why. I was never worried that Mom would not be OK, I was pleased with her progress and I had slept well. However, as I was driving home, I felt like I had nothing left...what a WIMP!!! So, I got home, fixed myself two double vodka tonics and felt the world tilt back into place...you know what they say, "Better Life Through Chemistry!"

I've included some of my favorite pics of Mom from some of our travels...enjoy

Italian Nights

    

"Cowgirl Mom" (Nashville)

 

              "Minute Mom" (Boston)

 

 

 

 

                   

                                    Travel Buddies

 

TTFN,

 

Lois

 

 

                                          

"Lobsta-Bait Mom"  

(Bar Harbor)          

                                

                            



  

 



 

 

 

 

 

Yes, Virginia, It Is a Wonderful Life!

Well, I might as well tell you, I am a "closet, wimpy, sappy, sucker-for-a-happy-ending, hopeful romantic"...there, now you know.  I say hopeful, because, I really believe, to my core, that good will always conquer evil; that love will always find a way; and that if the sensationalists media were to somehow disappear, we'd all find ourselves much more tolerant and much less judgmental. But, again, I've gotten a bit ahead of myself...

This past week, one of the television networks, broadcast a version of the story, "Yes Virginia, There is a Santa Clause." So, being the "closet, wimpy, sappy, sucker-for-a-happy-ending, hopeful romantic", I watched it.... At the conclusion, I thought WOW, wouldn't it be miraculously fabulous if news outlets could not print, say, broadcast, etc. anything that wasn't true? I mean, where would we be without the half-truths, suppositions, innuendos, and mis-direction that are too commonly found today? Of course, any self-respecting, "closet, wimpy, sappy, sucker-for-a-happy-ending, hopeful romantic" would not have missed the bigger story of hope and faith and, I confess, I might have had to wipe a joy-filled tear, but the idea of an "only report the truth" quickly made it to the top of my Christmas Wish List!

 

Then, speaking of stories of hope and faith and joy, Mom, one of her girlfriends; Mallory and her mom and grandmother; and I all went to see a musical version of the Christmas Classic, "It's a Wonderful Life" which was performed at our local theater by local actors. It was beautifully done. Maybe its the season, (we are actually celebrating the first day of Advent today), but the voices in my head are telling me to slow down. They are saying that we should pay more attention to finding the good, to giving what we can--maybe especially more of ourselves and our time and our talents to those friends and family and neighbors who need it. Near the end of the musical, when George learns how his life had had such a profound impact on others, the "closet, wimpy, sappy, sucker-for-a-happy-ending, hopeful romantic", once again thought of what a wonderful gift we could give to those we love if we gave more of ourselves...

 

I know, I'm being a bit of a "Polly Anna" here but you must admit...it would indeed be a "Wonderful World" if we were all just a little nicer, and a little more understanding, and a little more tolerant...

 

As the busyness of the year begins, please accept our heartfelt wishes, from our family to yours, for a most Blessed and Merry Christmas.

 

 

 

TTFN,

 

Lois



Time Keeps On Slipping, Slipping, Slipping Into the Future...

WOW, did I do a fine job dating myself with that title/song lyric reference! (OK, be honest, how many of you actually had to Google the lyric? Never mind, I really don't want to know). At any rate my life, the past couple of months has been a bit crazier than normal and it just "BLOWS MY MIND" that November is this weekend.

The early fall is generally busy for us, we are season ticket holders for Texas Aggie football so most of our Saturdays between late August through Mid-November are spent at Kyle Field Cathedral. In addition, this year we traveled to two "away games." Sadly, my Aggies were outscored too many times this year but, they are still MY AGGIES and my maroon blood just warms every time I get near the hallowed ground where four generations of my family have walked.

It's ironic for me when I think about the fall. It is easily one of my favorite times of the year. Cooler weather,  (though this year, cooler slipped quickly to FREAKISHLY COLD!), Texas A&M football, Thanksgiving, Advent and Christmas all coming together. Seriously, I love fall. Unfortunately, it seems to get cluttered with errands, "to-do" lists, shopping, cleaning, and just old fashioned busyness. Of course all of these things must be done but they are time-suckers! This morning, as I finished updating the checkbook and checked and responded to emails and brought order back to a couple of rooms, I found that I have nothing penciled into my calendar for this entire week! WHAT?! I was nearly giddy with excitement! For me, that means that I get to do some things that bring me joy!

So this week will be spent in the shop, working on a piece of furniture that I've been thinking about for Carter to store his toys and "treasures" at our house. Right now, they are mostly kept in a large "toy sack" that my niece, Sarah, made a few years ago for our gift exchange at my mom's. It's a great size and it has worked well. Unfortunately, as my time slips away, (at an exponentially accelerated rate, I might add), I have become more comfortable with order in my life. I've found that I like things put away and categorized so that places in our home appear more tailored and organized. (Now, if you visit our home, and you are always welcome here, you may look around and find that I have not accomplished that goal. You'd be correct, but I' working on it and that's what counts, right?)

I'll also start checking out recipes and suggestions for side dishes for Thanksgiving. I'm hosting it this year. I'm both excited and a little saddened by this. You see, my mother has hosted our family Thanksgiving for as long as I can remember. Her dressing is legendary, (and she'll be making it again this year). As we've all grown, we've all pitched in more and more but it has always been done at mom's house and under her close scrutiny. This year, she decided that she is just not up to the fuss and informed us all that dinner, lunch really, will be at my house. I love to entertain so I'm happy to host but as the torch passes, I can't help but feel like another important part of my youth has slipped away.

Speaking of passing torches...Chip shot a HUMONGOUS buck this year. I mean GINORMOUSLY HUMONGOUS! The torch here refers to hunting. I think I've written before how I have no brothers. Instead, I have four sisters, yes, my dad loved his girls. My father, as I know I've mentioned previously, was an outdoorsman. As a result, I, possibly because I was the "first born," (I really like that term over "oldest"), learned to hunt with and from my dad. I'll never forget shooting my first buck and all the emotions that went along with that. I'll also never forget shooting my last buck, I was about 5 months pregnant with Chip.

Anyway, time slips away for us all. So as we get ever closer to our national holiday that is meant to remind us to stop and take stock of all the blessings in our lives and to remember to offer thanks for all we have been given, we want to wish all of you a very Happy and Safe and Blessed Thanksgiving.

TTFN.

Lois

 

The Dad He Didn't Have To Be...

I've been considering writing topics and discarding them for several weeks. The past few months have become filled with details related to some volunteer projects that I've either agreed to take on, or have reluctantly fallen into. The "worker bee" part of my being is actually thrilled with these tasks which range from mundane to challenging depending on the hour of the day and the project of the moment.

Last night, I settled on a topic that is actually quite timely and perhaps a bit overdue. Haime's birthday is on Wednesday. This is a significant one...of course, Haime will tell you that every birthday past the 35th one is significant, he's probably right. Anyway, with this anniversary of his debut, he is seeming to change his normally maudlin view of September 17. In fact, he informed me that he wanted to go to dinner for his birthday rather than quietly enduring a small "celebration" at home with family.

 I've never written much about Haime nor about our relationship. In short, if you put our individual characteristics on paper, most people would never imagine that our relationship would work... In many respects, we are POLAR opposites! We typically vote for people from different parties, we listen to different music, we even like different types of dogs, LOL!  I suffer from horrible bouts of Wanderlust and Haime is happy being a home-body. I am spontaneous and am always up for an adventure while Haime likes to know what's going to happen, but not more than about a week prior to the event, more than that and he has too much time to worry and fret about the unknowns that might crop up.  I have a wicked sense of humor, I tell jokes and sarcasm is my favorite tool against the evils of logic and cold hard facts.  While he has a sense of humor, Haime does not tell jokes well and has been known to unintentially hurt feelings when he tries to do so. I love to work with my hands, woodworking/furniture making, gardening, and building. Haime likes to play golf and gamble, video poker and astronomy. I read and Haime watches television.

 

However, in spite of our differences, we have a fabulous relationship! Haime and I have been together for about twenty-three years. Like most successful relationships, we check a lot of boxes for each other, we are friends, lovers, critics and cheerleaders for each other. We enjoying being together but we allow each other the space to pursue our individual hobbies and interests. Haime is an amazing individual. He sees the good in nearly everyone. He does not speak badly of others and considers people forever friends.

 

When we started dating, Haime was concerned about my young sons. His own children were raised with a step-father and he felt that the step-dad took too much of Haime's place in his children's world. He was concerned about doing that to another father. As our relationship grew, Haime soon realized that while my sons have a father, they did not have a dad. Haime became their dad. He loves them, supports them, and has given them opportunities to grow to be the men they are today. He made them his own. He takes pride in speaking about them and refers them as "our sons" or as "my sons." Mallory and Chelsea, the loves of my sons' lives, are always amazed about how much each of my son's sound and act like Haime. He continues to be a role model, now for the next generation in the family, our grandson, Carter. He is the doting grandfather and is always looking for the next opportunity for us to have a "sleepover" with Carter, (of course maybe that's because he knows his chances of getting ice cream improve greatly when Carter is with us!)

 

So, on paper, we might not work, but in real life, we definitely do!

 

Felize cumpleanos Haime, te amo mucho mi vida, ...

 

Lois

 

 

 

 

 

OZ, the REST of the Story...

In my last post I told you all about meeting our cousins in Wichita, KS. What I didn't tell you is that the "National American Miss" competitors for the State of Kansas were also at our hotel. I thought something looked odd when we arrived at the hotel and saw several little girls milling around the hotel with matching pink shirts with "NAM" printed on them. Now, I am a child of the late 60s and 70s so my immediate thought was that perhaps these were grandchildren of Vietnam Vets who were here to support their grandfathers at some Vietnam veterans function...silly me!

These cute-pink t-shirted-YOUNG girls were competitors in the "National American Miss" state competition. WHAT-THE-HECK?

I was momentarily speechless! These little girls were YOUNG, I'm not kidding. Some of them looked to be prekindergarten. I just couldn't believe it. Then someone reminded me of a commercial I had seen for a "reality" television show called something like "Toddlers in Tiaras." (I just don't watch much television and if that show actually exists, it is not something that I would be interested in...). Of course, silly me, I had to respond, "yes, but I didn't think it was a real thing!" 

too young to work

I should remind you that I do not have daughters. However, I have nieces. They are all beautiful, talented, intelligent young ladies whom I love dearly and fully support. This isn't about the "contestants," rather, as my 11 year old niece Hannah pointed out, "that contest is really about the moms," (and some of the dads, I must add). We encountered the little contestants being "schooled" in the hallways of each hall we visited, on the terraces outside the lobby, in the lobby, and in the elevators etc. Unfortunately, most of the "schooling/coaching" sounded a lot more like "scolding." "I told you to smile more," "I told you not to tug on your jacket," "I told you...". 

too young to flirt

Frankly, it made me SICK! I don't watch the "sensationalist 'news'" networks that only report spin-stories...in other words, I don't watch very much "news" on television. One thing I have noticed, however, in several reports and advertisements and movies etc is the seemingly ever increasing focus on increasing sex-appeal using children. Then, one day, while I was "walking off the pounds" at the gym, having left my Kindle at home, I was watching "The Talk" on the built in television on my treadmill. Whoopie Goldberg made a similar observation. Hers, however, (in typical Whoopie style--I love her!), suggested that the obsession with bikini waxing is further proof that we are becoming too focused on "prepubescent" sexiness. She clarified by saying that she agreed that trimming was in order but her point was that the complete wax was of cause for concern.   

Some of our group discussed the "pageant" was clearly a "no win" situation for these girls. Rather than, as the logo boasts, "Growing Confidence," what happens to these little girls, who can begin competing at the age of 4! How do we explain to them that all though you did your best and we, your family, believe you are the cutest, most amazingly talented and poised four year old on the planet, you just aren't good enough to be the winner. Someone explain how that works to grow confidence.

Then there are the siblings, mostly the brothers...they walked around the hotel like zombies. Mostly heads down, feet dragging, and resigned to the fact that they could not be outside, running around being little boys. They were expected to be completely quiet and stay in the background while their sisters were primped, styled, made up, and dressed like miniature women.

Really, is it any wonder we were usually found in the bar?

OK, this is the end of my current rant.

TTFN

  Lois