Wednesday, September 28, 2016

Sometimes, you have to eat and run (and it's all good...)

You know the kind of weekend that, when it's over, you feel like what you reeeeallly need is another day off...to actually rest up from all the fun? Well, last weekend was one of those, for me. It started with Bonus Family Time--one of Husband's cousins and her daughter were visiting Chapel Hill to tour UNC, which she's considering as a prospective college choice when she graduates next year. So his OTHER cousin, who moved here about 6 months before we did and lives across town from us, hosted everyone at her house for dinner on Saturday night.

(You might recall that I sent my boys out to the grocery store to obtain a few key ingredients I was lacking for several dishes? Yep--this is the reason. I know, I know: when one volunteers to make pasta salad and bring a dessert, one should also make sure she has all of the necessary components, right? But really, what are kids for? Especially those who can now drive themselves to the market and take care of thankless errands for their beloved mother...)

So, there was college football watching (mostly Derek and Riley), chatting and catching up on family events and whatnot (primarily the adults), and much eating (well...everyone). We also made plans for Cousin and Daughter to meander toward the Team WestEnders part of the area on Sunday evening for another meal, so we could show her our neighborhood and the adorable little 'burb known as Carrboro.

But first, there was a 5k that some of us needed to conquer. This was somewhat of an odd situation: the race was originally scheduled for early June when we registered, and it was perfect because at that time of year, it didn't conflict with any soccer shenanigans whatsoever. As it turned out, however, Riley's injury happened literally days before the event, so he wouldn't have been able to participate. Then, for some reason, the organizers changed the date entirely, moving it to last Sunday. Even better, since it's not the dead heat of Summer anymore, they set the start time for 2 p.m. Plus, the park where it was still being held is a scant 10 minutes from our house. Easy peasy.

That just left the question of whether Riley felt ready to tackle several miles of continuous running, which he hadn't done since he broke his leg. Now, he's been diligently doing his p.t. sessions, keeping up with his stretching and strengthening exercises at home, and logging interval workouts where we alternate periods of jogging and walking...but this is obviously not the same as pounding the pavement for a half-hour at a time. When asked directly, he expressed uncertainty and doubt about being fit enough to make it work. But I sort of...encouraged/pushed...him to think about giving it a shot....pointing out that he could just as easily do his interval sequence on the course, since at every 5k we do, we always see quite a few people walking the entire length anyway.

And then, his brother stepped up to volunteer to stick with him, so he could both keep a comfortable pace, and have some company. (Yay, Sibling Power!) With that, and also these facts: it wasn't the typical "wake up/scarf some food/go run, groggily" situation...the weather wasn't disgustingly hot...and the setting was local and familiar...Riley was persuaded to make an attempt. As usual, the youngsters set off much more quickly than my shorter...older legs would allow, so I did what I always do--maintain my own stride, which is steady, and placed somewhere firmly in the middle between "snail" and "hare". (Hey, it's worked for me for DECADES, what can I say?)

What we didn't know until we started was that they had the course set up as an out-and-back, not a circular loop. Soooo...that very first steep downhill portion, to kick off the action? Yeah, that would come back to bite us...and by that I mean "me"...in the tushie at the end. In fact, I quickly discovered that the path was pretty much sloped downward on the way out...and therefore obviously reversed in the second half. Seriously? Whose brilliant idea was that? Someone who was NOT running, I daresay...

But, having caught onto that at the outset, I knew I had to do my best to keep something in the tank for the final push. Nevertheless, those last several uphill climbs took it out of me, despite my...energetic intentions. I had (to my surprise) actually passed my sons during one of their walking phases, but I could sort of hear them behind me--just a little bit out of earshot. Meanwhile, I could feel myself plodding along, slowing down...so I got busy giving myself a silent pep talk: you can do it...almost there...no quitting now! And then...within yards of the Finish Line, with a gleeful bellow...my precious children barreled past me, sprinting for all they were worth...just so that they could beat me. (BRATS! You're both grounded!)

Actually...I have to admit it was pretty hilarious. Here's how we ended up:

20  Westman, Derek: Pace 09:26 Time 29:14.72
21  Westman, Riley: Pace 09:26 Time 29:15.97
22  Enders, Johna: Pace 09:27 Time 29:18.72

That's out of 70 total runners, so not too shabby. And YES, I realize that their average pace was the same as mine, even though they were walking part of the time....whippersnappers. What's even funnier, to me, at least, is that I ended up 3rd in my age group. For the First. Time. E-V-E-R. Of course, there were only 13 people in my bracket--but so what? I'll take it for the "W"! (As a matter of fact, I feel faster already--whoo hoo! Okay, that little adrenaline rush is over...I'm calmer now...)

Whew--we had earned our supper! Cousin and Daughter joined us a bit later, and we took them into Carrboro, where the annual Music Festival just happened to be in full swing. Crowds of people strolled the sidewalks, enjoying the pleasant evening and taking in the open-air concerts that were set up throughout town. Fortunately, one of our favorite eateries had space for us, so we got to sit down right in the thick of things and savor our meal while being serenaded by the strains of songs wafting in through the door whenever a customer or server opened it. Lovely.

All-in-all, it was a busy, tiring, but super-entertaining weekend...the only possible downside being that there wasn't nearly enough time in the mix...for NAPPING. Never fear: here we are at Hump Day, so we're over halfway to the end of another work week. I'd better get right on the Team WestEnders Agenda...so I can pencil in some "do absolutely nothing" time for Saturday...or Sunday...before it's too late!

Monday, September 26, 2016

Money money money MO-NEY

Remember when I joked about how excited I was to have the opportunity to send the freshly-licensed-to-drive Derek out on a silly quest to pick up something I forgot at the supermarket? Yeaaahhh...I should know better than to jinx myself like that. You see, I was sooo pleased to find a tasty-sounding baking mix at Whole Foods--one that also didn't contain gluten, or any of the other myriad ingredients I'm supposed to continue to avoid for the time being--that I neglected to read the directions, to find out what one needed to add to it, to make the magic dessert...ness...happen.

In short, it called for a stick of butter, which we typically don't have in the house. Oh, and also vanilla, which I discovered we only had a few drops of left in the container. And...since he was going anyway, I figured he could pick up some capers, for me to toss into the pasta salad I was making for that night. What a strange list, right? Especially for a teenage boy who is pretty darn near unfamiliar with shopping--I mean, sure he's accompanied me plenty of times...but he's never been "in charge" before. So really, this could be the biggest lifesaver ever...or--equally likely--an unmitigated disaster.

At least his sibling offered to tag along--either for moral support, or to watch and laugh while the spectacle unfolded, I'm not entirely certain which. I even had to wake the High Schooler up...on a Saturday...to accomplish this task. (Hey, CAKE waits for no one, I always say....or....maybe I'll make it my new personal motto, starting now? Whatever, the boy needed to get out of bed, that's my point...) As he sleepily crunched his cereal, I did my best to explain exactly what I wanted, and approximately where it was located in the store. (Riley had already written it all down--naturally.) Then I handed him some money, wished him good luck, and sent him on his way (with fingers firmly crossed).

Oh, and there was one other teensy little wrinkle: they were under time constraints, since Husband needed his car back in about a half-hour to leave for his soccer game. So, no pressure or anything. I watched the minutes tick by...creeping closer to the deadline...and finally they barreled back in the door, triumphantly waving their supplies (in a reusable bag that they'd remembered to take in--extra points for that, young men--well done!). Butter: check. Capers: yep. Vanilla: mmm...yessss...but did you absolutely HAVE to buy the $7 bottle? "We were in a hurry...and it was the cheapest one!" they claimed. (I looked the next time I went to that particular store, and the one they'd chosen was directly beside one that cost less...but for their initial foray into the world of "picking things up for Mom" it was still an acceptable mission completion.)

But wait--there was still more learning to be done in the financial field this weekend--Derek had requested a tutorial on how to actually use his new debit card to make purchases and retrieve funds from the ATM. Alrighty, then, my son(s); let's do this thing! First we stopped at a cash machine, since Derek had run out of "walking around money" anyway. I talked him through inserting his card, entering his PIN, and selecting the options for "withdrawal" and "print receipt". Everything was going so well...right up until the stupid thing spit out a piece of paper that read "unable to process"...with NO crisp twenty dollar bill. Uh-oh. That made both of us nervous, as it was the first attempt to access his account electronically--and it'd failed miserably.

But we here at Team WestEnders are nothing if not persistent...and by this of course I mean "impossibly stubborn"...so were we going to be deterred by this admittedly-annoying but hopefully-temporary setback? We were NOT.  Next, we tried a gas station quickie-mart, to see if Derek's uncooperative piece of plastic would allow him to treat us to some frosty beverages. The boys chose their Gatorades...I filled up a mondo-Diet-Pepsi (it'd been that kind of day)...and we approached the counter with collectively-bated breath. This time, I got to instruct him on the chip-reader checkout procedure,..aaannnd....success! He now possesses the skills to approach any convenience store scenario with confidence in his abilities...to pay for snacks. (That's falls under the heading of Valuable Life Skills, doesn't it? Look it up--I think it's in the Road Trips chapter...)

Since that had gone so swimmingly, we decided to give the ATM another try, at a different branch. I'm happy to report that in this case as well, his card worked just fine--so I have no idea what was up with the other one's bad attitude. Riley hadn't wanted to bring his own card on this trip, but he paid close attention and--knowing him--took copious mental notes, so that when it's his turn to pay for something, he'll be ready. Now all we have to do is set them up with the daily text alerts, so they're aware of what their balance is at all times...and they'll be ready to spring upon the world at large.

Speaking of which: I've been informed that they have Big Plans for this in the near future, so maybe I should also call the fast food joints in our area and warn them the W-brothers are coming? On second thought, nah...where's the fun in that? (At least I can say, "My work here is done"...for now!)


Saturday, September 24, 2016

More hallowed halls of learning...and whatnot

Lest I forget to mention it, I also attended the High School's Open House this past week. Derek wondered if I was planning to go, to which I answered something along the lines of "Duh--have you MET me?" He told me the reason he'd asked was that his Social Studies teacher had shared that he "didn't think too many parents of Juniors actually showed up". Well...geez Louise. Now I was feeling paranoid and...a little bit nervous...imagining I'd be the only person sitting at each instructor's presentation, looking like that painfully eager, super-awkward nerdy kid in class. (Thanks, son. Need I tell you that your mother doesn't need that kind of stress in her life?)

But I needn't have worried--after all, this is high-achieving Chapel Hill, where even the parents of Upperclassmen continue to be involved in the academic world of their offspring. Pshew! Not only was I far from alone in each period, I ran into some neighbors and soccer friends whose sons share classes with Derek this year. So, while we did have to recreate a shortened version of our kid's full academic agenda, Periods 1-7--which I always find frankly exhausting--at least we got to socialize while doing so...much like our children, come to think of it. Very authentic experience, then.

Oh, riiiiight: what about his actual subjects? First off, when he got his schedule he was somewhat surprised, and very pleased, to discover that it contained exactly what he'd selected. Naturally, some of his academic courses were a given--such as his English, Math, and Social Studies. Unless you opted for an AP version, you got into whichever 11th grade level you'd chosen, and that was the end of it. Derek also wanted to continue his streak of including a Study Hall (Done), and to sign up for the second class in the Principles of Biomedical Science series, since he'd enjoyed the first one so much last year (evidently it's so popular that they offer multiple sections, so this was an easy one to get as well, fortunately).

Really, that left the only wild card as AP Biology--which he was quite keen on taking, given that it was taught by the same man who'd lent his...unique...wisdom and....style to Derek's Freshman Bio class. However, rumor had it that over a hundred students were clamoring to get into the course, so Derek feared they'd be forced to fill the slots with Seniors, and make Juniors put it off. I pointed out to him that it seemed to be in the academic institution's best interests to allow as many scholars as possible to take such a rigorous and advanced class--and hopefully score well on the exam--to shine a positive light on the school's achievement. "Look at all of our smart students! Aren't they wonderful? Many colleges will want them, yeah?" It's a classic Win-Win, I tell ya.

Maybe I was onto something, because Derek did indeed get into the AP Bio Lecture/Lab...along with two of his closest friends from down the street. Uh-oh...all I can say about that is: thank goodness the instructor is A) tooootally laid-back and B) a bit of a goofball, himself. Even so, I envision a year full of...hmm...barely controlled chaos? At least it's not Chemistry, so presumably there won't be opportunities to...blow stuff up (fingers crossed).

That was another somewhat unusual thing about this Open House: besides Mr. Bio, I also was already familiar with Derek's BioMed and Math teachers, since he'd had them last year. Heck, even his Study Hall proctor was familiar...from Freshman World History. That left only American Lit and U.S. History as new-to-us--and both made suitably favorable first impressions on me. Other than that, the most-repeated mantra of the evening related to the DEMANDS of Junior year...which was not exactly "breaking news" to me at this point, given the fact that helpful parents who've been down this road before us had already begun warning us to batten down the hatches and prepare for the possibility of a long, tough, bumpy ride.  (Um...yaaayyy? Yeah...NOT...)

So here we are, admittedly only a couple of weeks in, but the seas are calm so far. (Knocking on...glass computer desk...it'll have to do--it's in the spirit of the superstition, so it still counts, right?). Now, Derek is signed up (grudgingly...thanks to his mother...and by the way, you'll thank me later, so you're welcome, my dear!) to take both the free ACT and SAT practice tests in the next few weeks. And if I had to guess, I suspect that might be the catalyst for...stuff...to begin to get very real, very quickly after that. At least MY school visitation duties are D-O-N-E for another term....do I get a gold star, or what? (Honestly, I'd settle for some chocolate...) Ready? Let's do this!

Friday, September 23, 2016

Driving Mr. Derek

As I explained back at the beginning of this odyssey, in North Carolina a teenager can obtain their Learner's Permit the day they turn 15, if they so desire (and their parents are brave enough). They must then have it for a period of one full year (counting from whatever day they actually do pass the written exam and get it), accruing 60 hours of supervised practice along the way, before they can take the road test to earn their Provisional License.

Okay, so Team WestEnders was a little bit sloooow in kicking off the process--Derek didn't even get into the school-sponsored Driver's Ed classroom session until May of last year, after his birthday had come and gone. And it took another month to get on the schedule for the behind-the-wheel portion. Besides, it seemed there were always other obligations taking up all available time--homework...and soccer...and...whatnot--so somehow JULY snuck up on us before we actually got around to storming the good old DMV. And then...the rest of the Summer passed by, without a whole lot of Derek clamoring to go out and...ahem..."put rubber to the road", as it were.

Then, of course, school and sports started back up again, limiting his free time...but truthfully, even when he had golden opportunities--such as the thrice-weekly practices we had to haul his butt to all Winter--he just...didn't seem to care all that much. That it, until his 16th birthday came around...and some of his friends started getting their little plastic tickets to freedom...and he suddenly became verrrry keen to hurry up and log those hours.

Therefore, all Summer we made it our collective (Temporary) Life's Mission to ride around in the passenger seat with Derek, every chance we got. We need to go to Costco? Derek's the chauffeur. Church on Sunday and errands afterwards? Yep--hand over the keys. He even got to take a shift on road trips to South Carolina and Atlanta, to focus on building stamina and maintaining attention for extended jaunts. And oh-so-gradually....the hours began to add up.

When the carefully handwritten tally on the log sheet finally approached the magic number, it was time to think of the next step...spending more precious moments at the beloved Department of Motor Vehicle...Torture (the unspoken, but understood, part of the official name). One of Derek's friends, when I asked his opinion, told me unequivocally that making an appointment to take the exam was an absolute MUST, to avoid wasting ridiculous amounts of time waiting around for your turn.

Good to know--so I took him at his word, promptly called our local office...and got that obnoxious "busy signal" tone that I probably haven't heard in...decades? (Seriously, I didn't think that function even existed anymore, thanks to automated systems and voicemail. What the WHAT?) This happened during regular business hours...and repeatedly, at various times that I tried. Oh....kay...clearly, "answering phone calls" is NOT one of the services offered by the DMV.

FINE (she said with dripping sarcasm) I'll just show up at the front desk and politely request a slot for Derek. Yeaaahhhh....right....the first time I did a drive-by, I saw throngs of people spilling out of the (admittedly tiny, but still) lobby, onto the sidewalk. No. Thank. You. I slowed down, but ultimately kept moving. I went through this same absurd routine maybe twice more before I hit a time when I decided there were few enough other victims--um "customers" to risk actually, you know, parking the car and venturing into the fray.

It looked promising--sure, the seats were mostly filled by people clutching their little paper numbers and waiting to be called to the back...but there were only 3 other folks standing in a short line to be triaged at the (one and only) service desk. I installed myself at the end...then noticed that there wasn't an actual human being manning (or woman-ing, whatever) the station. This was not what you might call a "good sign", yeah? I remained there...shifting from one foot to the other...looking around for a clue from the other patrons as to what the heck was going on in this shoddy operation...becoming rapidly and increasingly more impatient...before giving up after 10 minutes or so of being ignored, and leaving in a (quiet) huff...again.

Well...this was just freakin' unacceptable. Drastic measures were obviously called for, immediately--so one day I woke up before I usually do, got ready for work in an all-fired hurry, and hightailed it over to the office, hoping to synchronize my arrival as closely as possible to the time they opened the doors. Eh, I was in the ballpark ("first thing in the morning" not being among my favorite time periods, and "punctual" not being in my genes), showing up at about 8:05.

And whattya know: by 8:15 or so, I had spoken with the surprisingly pleasant customer service individual (I know it was early, and she hadn't been forced to handle much conflict yet, but if I were her, dealing with a long day of very likely disgruntled, belligerent and/or confused people, I'd surely slap someone...and be fired, so that would be the end of that...which would be for the best, really..."managing the public" is soooo not my thing..) and procured an appointment--for only 2 weeks out, which was an unexpected bonus.

It turned out that the "first appointment" was in the middle of the school day...aaannand would possibly interfere with his first AP Biology exam...but this seemed like a "let your teacher know what's up" and "write a note for an excused absence" situation if I ever saw one. Then it was just a matter of finishing up those last few practice hours...and admonishing Derek to try (for the love of...everything) not to forget all the skills he'd learned before the test rolled around.

On the actual...D-day (of a sort)...I wished him good luck and went to work, keeping my fingers crossed all morning. He had assured me he wasn't nervous...but that's just Derek, who is easygoing to the hilt. Me? I was on pins and needles. Also, the conditions weren't the best--after months of dryness, it had been raining heavily for a couple of days, causing dark grey skies, reduced visibility, and some pretty substantial puddles of standing water. But...I'm happy to report that it all worked out, as the text came in a short while later from Husband, reporting that Derek had successfully passed, and was in possession of his first real license. Well, a paper copy, at least--they mail you the real one in a couple of days. But who cares--yaaaayyyyy!

Such a huuuuuge milestone in the life of a teen--I swear I can still remember how exhilarated I was to be handed that magic permission slip...to the mall...the local convenience store for a slushie run...heck, ANYWHERE outside of my neighborhood represented the Big, Wide World to me back then. Of course, I'm now on the Parent end of the spectrum, and thus have to worry about his safety as a motor vehicle operator...every single minute he's in a car. (Siiiighhhhh...)

However, he's already admitted to me that he has no interest in driving to school (even if that was an option, which right now it definitely isn't, since he currently doesn't have his own jalopy) because "the parking lot's a ZOO!" So I wonder if he's concocting any plans for where he's going to roam, on his Inaugural Journey. On that note, I jokingly informed him that I plan to take full advantage of having another driver in the family, by sending him out to take care of drudge chores--I mean "helpful excursions"--like when I forget an item at Food Lion...or I run out of something I need. "I know!" I enthused during our conversation, "You can pick up stuff we need to replenish every couple of days, like bananas...and salad ingredients...and....and...my almond milk!" He looked at me with what appeared to be equal parts bemusement...and mild panic..."Um...I don't know how to buy any of that stuff!"

Okay, then, don't worry, we'll start small, my son...grab the keys, and you can take me...to Starbucks! Whoo hoo! Away we goooooo....

Tuesday, September 20, 2016

Popping Up....and Singing!

When I was growing up, there was always music playing in the house--the radio on as background to our daily lives, or when one of my parents wanted to hear something specific...albums (yes, the vinyl kind)...or 8-tracks (the dinosaurs of recording, marking me as prehistoric...sigh..). Now, some of the selections I...didn't care for so much...such as Old, OLD School Country (Loretta Lynn, Waylon Jennings, Hank Williams--the original, not his son...who, truth be told, isn't a fave either--and the like). On the other hand, I somewhat shared my dad's penchant for folk music ( Kingston Trio--anyone else heard of them? I didn't think so...) and early rock 'n roll (Buddy Holly, Elvis).

But my mother...she was the one who introduced me to SHOWTUNES. (Thaaaanks, Moooom!) She exposed me to some of the classics: Chorus Line, Jesus Christ Superstar, Grease (the play, of course, long before Travolta and Newton-John offered their version). (And on a historical note, I use the term "exposed" loosely, as she banned certain tunes until I was in high school and she deemed me "mature enough" to hear them. Dance 10, Looks 3 (aka "Tits and Ass") was an obvious no-no...but it was YEARS before I actually understood--and was properly mortified by--the lewd words to Greased Lightning. Not to mention being in college before knowing what the term "Mooning" meant. What can I say? I was a sheltered one...)

From there, I discovered other gems on my own--I became a huuuuge fan of Pippin, for example. And when I got to high school? And there was a Spring Musical every year...allowing me the opportunity to be on stage...and dance...and siiiiing my little heart out? H-E-A-V-E-N! But even when I wasn't at rehearsal, I would still just belt out songs all the time--to myself, in the car, while washing dishes...whatever, whenever. As I've gotten older, this tendency has diminished to a certain degree--if I had to pinpoint a reason, I would hazard a guess that it's mainly because life is often so busy, and filled with..."noise" of all kinds--from activities, people...my own constantly-running brain--that I cherish silence more than I ever did before.

Don't get me wrong--I still sing along to certain tunes...and when I'm alone in the car, particularly on a long trip? Out come the soundtracks, baby: the trusted standbys (now on CD, at least!) and also some new...er...ish...additions, like Rent, Hairspray, Lion King (Sir Elton John on Broadway, with apologies to the Mouse), Aida. Little Shop of Horrors, Wicked. And I probably should give credit to Glee (the early seasons, when the music was faaaabulous) for reviving my passion for breaking into song at any given moment--much to my family's chagrin. ("MOM! Do you have to do that?" Why YES, yes I do, my beloved son. Suck. It Up.)

Alas, an adult...who's not in the entertainment industry...is presented with precious few chances to put one's singing voice to use, other than in the aforementioned privacy of one's own house or vehicle, wouldn't you agree? (Or maybe karaoke...which has always seemed equal parts potentially embarrassing and utterly terrifying to me. Hey, I was always part of the "company" for our productions--safety in numbers, and all that!) However...in the Sunday edition of our local paper, an article caught my eye...about a little phenomenon called the Pop-Up Chorus.

Apparently, this is a group that meets twice a month to learn two songs, practice until everyone's comfortable, and then...perform them for a music video. Whaaaat? Surely you have to try out for such a thing, yeah? Uh-uh--there's no auditioning...no talent requirement whatsoever, in fact. If you enjoy singing, no matter your skill level or...ahem...vocal acumen...you are welcomed. Oh. My. Gosh. While I sat at the kitchen table reading the details, it took all of my willpower not to jump up and down with enthusiasm, as I imagined how much of a freakin' BLAST this could be.

So yeah...I did pause to consider being nervous, for a few brief moments...then gave myself a stern warning to get over it, and purchased my ticket. No backing out now! (Incidentally, the paper mentioned that the bar will be open in the lobby of the Arts Center where the event is being held, which I suppose is an excellent idea on their part--both for revenue, and for "liquid courage"..so I can always fall back on that in a...theatrical... emergency, right?)

UPDATE: Well, I got home a little while ago, and can I just tell you THAT WAS SUPER-AMAZINGLY AWESOME, Y'ALL! First of all, there were about a hundred people there, both locals, and folks who drove in from towns all around the vicinity. Next, there was a real, live band to accompany the choral efforts. Not to mention a director who led the whole shebang. And believe me, it was kind of a major undertaking--with repeated run-throughs, and instructions on how to create layers of harmony, and people raising their hands and asking technical questions about particular notes or wording...and whatnot. In short, it was like....Singing Class! Dude! (I'm still buzzed on adrenaline....perhaps you couldn't tell...)

Tonight's numbers were Karma Chameleon by Culture Club and Goodbye Yellow Brick Road by Elton himself. When we arrived, we were handed a lyric sheet for reference, and boy, was THAT eye-opening. Boy George's lines were familiar...but as for the other tune...it's such a gorgeous piece of music that I had noooo idea what Elton was actually, you know, saying. Now I get that he was pretty damn bitter and angry at someone. Huh. So, also a learning experience, yeah? Anyway, we rehearsed, and made tweaks based on the director's expert critiques, and finally let it all hang out for the final take--dancing was strongly encouraged, here--while a videographer captured the whole scene for posterity...or, you know, YouTube....

I was thrilled to find out that it was every bit as inclusive and accepting as advertised. There was no "back there, you're off key" or "the section to the left, someone's getting pitchy". Nope. Everyone just opened their mouths, and let fly. It was all "come as you are, and be who you want" (which, come to think of it, may very well be one of the unspoken mottos of Carrboro...). At some point during one of the "yellow brick ro-oh-oad, ah-ah-ah-ah-ah" verses, the guitarist actually called us Angels of Carrboro. Okay, that might have been pushing it a teeny bit, but somehow, inexplicably, 100-odd strangers managed to join their voices together and sound...at the very least, "pleasingly melodic".

Whew! I haven't sung like that in...I can't tell you how long. The whole evening totally exceeded my expectations of...fun...ness. And I've already told my family that they can plan for me to be penciling in this engagement twice a month...come rain or shine (or soccer, or what have you...) I might be hoarse tomorrow, but it was well worth it...and this may motivate me to start working out the vocal chords in the Subaru again...I'll just consider it "training" in my "studio" for next time. Whoo hoo!

Wednesday, September 14, 2016

Middle School...One More Time

Sooo, I just attended my very last Parent Night at the Middle School--EVER. That's right, baby: done, fini, hasta luego and all that. And while Riley's team of teachers acknowledged and addressed this topic with sympathy and understanding--"We know some of you might be feeling emotional"--I, personally was experiencing only positive thoughts. Like, "Yay, check that one off the list!" Or, "Whoo hoo, only 34 more weeks of classes until we're promoted to High School!"

Now, before you get the impression that I'm a completely unsentimental hardcase (yeaahh, right...I think we all know better...), let me hasten to assure you that I'm already planning for how to manage myself NEXT year, when I'll be dealing with the double-whammy of Freshman Riley...and Senior Derek. (Pause....waaaaaaaaa!!! Deep breath...now take the healthy...um..."self-preservation" approach: bury and refuse to consider these issues until September 2017.) And it's not like I'm dying for Riley to hurry up and get through 8th grade--because the past 2 years have been good ones, and I want him to enjoy his last hurrah in the formative adolescent period between the pure childhood of the elementary era and high school's time of...um..."young-adulthood...ish".

Therefore, I was pretty much able to just listen to the presentations, make mental notes...and remain calm and rational. One interesting fact: I don't know if parents have...become weary of the routine?...or given up?...by 8th grade, but there seemed to be very few present. I sat with a couple of the "usual suspects"--that is, fellow soccer parents from Riley's team--which was a pleasant change from way back in the beginning, when we'd just moved to North Carolina and I literally knew no one. Because of the light turnout, I had the opportunity to introduce myself to most of Riley's instructors, who all seem delightful. (And not only due to the fact that they told me how wonderful my son is. It's early in the term, and I'm sure they're contractually obligated to say nice things...)

I learned that they'll be taking a field trip (3 miles away, but it counts) to UNC to watch a play after reading Shakespeare's Twelfth Night. (Cool! Can I come, pretty please?) I found out that much of this year will be spent emphasizing preparation for 9th grade, not only in terms of content, but also study skills and time management--as one would anticipate, but it pleased me to hear it anyway. The educators also took a bit of a cautionary tone, however, about how students and their parents can expect grading this year to more closely align with High School standards; that is, more emphasis on test and project scores, and less on homework, classwork, or participation. (Objective evaluation of knowledge and skills? We're ready--bring it! Er...hopefully Riley agrees...)

Finally, there's one aspect of Riley's 8th grade curriculum that I'm very much looking forward to--he's taking Spanish. Derek completed his third year in 9th grade, and decided not to continue after that, so I've been lacking an amigo de Espanol for a while now. So far, Riley seems very enthusiastic about it, asking me to practice pronunciation and vocabulary with him most nights. (And can I just say: Yaaayyy! Wait 'til we get to GRAMMAR, baby, then we'll be having soooo much FUN! She said in a totally nerdy-but-doesn't care kind of way...) Even better...so far he's retaining the phrases, and his accent improves every time he runs through his worksheets...dare I hope...that maybe he has a knack for it? (And yes, I offer this with the realistic attitude that it's verrrry preliminary, and it could just be that I WANT him to love the language as much as I do, so he willingly keeps going and one day can actually, you know, converse with me. That'll be awesome...eventually...if it happens...fingers crossed....)

And...that's basically what I took away from the whole shebang. Work hard, get ready for High School, deal with higher expectations...blah blah blah. Wait, there's not gonna be a QUIZ on this stuff, right? Shoot, I'd better go ask Riley to share his study guide--I want to start off with an A--ha!

Monday, September 5, 2016

Prerequisite to Econ 101...

Okay, kiddies, you might want to brace yourselves, as today we're going to talk about a weighty subject, and one which is very important to your overall well-being and peace of mind: financial management. (Before you scream "Aaahhhh--please, not that!" I promise it will be painless. You've just gotta trust me...are you calm now? Let's continue...) I think I remember being given an allowance as a kid, but I couldn't tell you how much, or how often...or anything else about it, for that matter. And I certainly don't recall being formally taught how to handle my wealth--um "paltry pocket change", either during childhood or later, as a teenager. I'm not sure if it was a "back then" thing, or just in my own household, but money just wasn't ever an open topic for discussion.

In contrast, Husband and I are fortunately on the same page about this, and sort of tacitly agreed a long time ago that we'd address economic...stuff...with our boys. I mean within reason, of course; there's no need for them to know exactly what either of our salaries are, for example. But how much we budgeted for our house, or a new car....or (gulp) how much college costs? Yes, we talk about that in front of them. Comparison shopping, saving up for a big purchase, weighing the value of something based on its quality and/or long-term desirability, or deciding whether an item falls into the category of a "want" or "need"? Oh, HECK yeah, we go there.

And we started doling out a modest monthly stipend years ago, mostly in order to have these types of conversations, about how they chose to spend their moolah. The funny thing is, given that the best prices and selection are often found on Amazon, in the early days I never actually handed them cold, hard cash. Our transactions were almost always handled virtually, with me placing the order using my credit card, and subtracting the amount from the running total I kept for each of them in my (very Old School) ledger each time. This worked smoothly for quite a while...until Derek reached High School age and began cultivating a social life that often required paying for things like food, movies, (snacks AT the theater....I quickly noticed that most everything with him involved eating in one way or another--typical...) etc.

At that point we began the frequent cycle of "Mom, I need money for xyz." Me (sighing) "I'll have to go to the ATM; when are you leaving?" Because naturally, since I DO have plastic payment options at my disposal, I rarely carry around much in the way of our good friends Washington, Lincoln, Hamilton, or Jackson. (Confession: I had to Google the last two--that's how seldom I entertain them in my wallet...or, apparently, pay attention to the photos...) Then Riley started going places with HIS buddies, and it all got even more complicated, in a hurry.

So, as the WestEnders Secretary of the Treasury (yes, I grant myself new titles all the time, so what?), I decided it was high time for an overhaul of the system. That's right, the paper-and-pencil era was coming to an end, and it was about to go all high-tech up in here...with bank accounts all around! Therefore I visited the local branch of the fine institution that tends to Husband's and my banking needs, to add accounts for Derek and Riley. This meant transferring all of the heretofore phantom funds from my notebook to actual savings accounts, for starters. And then it got...interesting...in order for them to be able to access their accumulated allowance--which is the goal, after all--they would each have a checking account....and a debit card.

Okay, pause for a deep, slow breath--we've mentioned this to them as a possibility before; it should be fine. It almost goes without saying, however, that there will be a whole LOT more education in their near future about such topics as "protecting your card and PIN", "being mindful of your available balance", and especially "not going all crazy with your newfound independence and ending up broke in one regrettable weekend o'wild splurges".

And, oh boy, are they (understandably) excited. They can't wait to get their paws on those little rectangles of financial freedom and...I don't know...go purchase some Gatorade? I haven't asked if they've concocted some Grand Scheme for their maiden voyage to break in the cards (let's face it, the odds of it being an restaurant-related excursion are extremely high...) but at least this should put an end to the days of "Can I go bowling in a half-hour...and do you have any cash to give me?" My greatest hope is that this helps set their feet firmly on the right path to fiscal responsibility and maturity...or at the very least, that they don't blow their entire savings on an impulsive, extravagant trip to Dick's Sporting Goods...fingers crossed!