Charlie-Bean and Multi-Blogging

This is just to let you know that I have started a new blog. Because one blog wasn't enough of a distraction to keep me away from all of the other things I'm supposed to be doing. I needed more...

My new blog (which link should be available on my profile page) is entitled "Beansprout, and you can find it at http://charliesprout.blogspot.com. That is where I will be writing about my life and times with my new granddaughter, Charlotte...

Oh -- Haven't you heard?

Charlotte Rose Kopp made her debut this morning at 3:26. You can read all about it in my other blog! I'll still be writing here from time to time, of course...You know, all those posts where I whine and complain about stuff. But for photos and stories about Charlie, please check out my Beansprout!

Thanksgiving 2009: A Retrospective Blog

Meagan and Joe, Thanksgiving Day 2009 (My LRDC)

This past Thanksgiving, just like all of the other Thanksgivings before it, was filled with blessings for which I am thankful. But this one had something extra...

At the end of the day, after the feast had been consumed, the food put away, the dishes washed...after the table had been taken over by the "players" (those who chose to take part in games like Balderdash and Catch Phrase , My Dazzling -- and Expecting -- Daughter Meagan and I shared a special time on the living room sofa...

As the games commenced in the kitchen, the two of us put our feet up and pored over the journals I had kept for Meagan while I was looking forward to her imminent birth.

Although I had read through some of my entries when I pulled the notebooks out of storage a few days earlier, there was much that I had forgotten about those days of anxious anticipation, coupled with a desire to keep things status quo; I knew it would never again be so easy to provide my child with everything she needed!

It's hard for me to describe what it meant to me to sit there on the couch with my hand on the warm little mound that is "The Bean," listening to my daughter read out loud, sometimes exclaiming, sometimes laughing. It brought back memories of all those other Thanksgivings -- and all of the other just plain old days -- which I can clearly see have all been blessed beyond belief by the gift and the love of my family!

My Hair: A Trivial Matter of [No] Small Concern

This week my hair has become the topic of an ongoing "thread" of discussion on facebook. Well, not just my hair. We were also talking about some of my friends' hair. You know, the tendency hair gets to need be reminded what color it's supposed to be...How, when it starts fading to gray, we have to apply something that resembles its "true" color. Or not. Sometimes we just say, "Oh, to hell with it!" and pick some other color -- even if it's a color not normally seen on hair. Like this...


Kate, June 2005 -- The "Crazy" Summer

Actually, what started the discussion was a comparison of childhood hairstyles. I remembered how my mother always cut "smiley" bangs for me, and spent God knows how long coaxing it around her finger into "banana curls." (She later subjected me to pincurls over my ears so I could resemble Bozo the Clown. Too bad she never thought about dying it red back then!)


Kate, circa 1955 -- "Smile!"

But back to the subject at hand -- The way my hair looks now!


Kate, January 22, 2010 -- A Work in Progress

And this is a good hair day. Those are few, and far between. (Actually, the only difference between a good hair day and a bad hair day is that on a bad hair day (i.e., three out of four), the sides of my bangs curl out from my face in a smiley flip.)

Although I have received a few compliments recently on what I've "done with my color," I would prefer to withdraw from my life until I've returned to what I hope will be a nice, silvery gray. (Because, you know, the most important thing in life is to look good -- or at least look like you're trying!) But since I can't do that, I look at old photos of when I did have gray hair to remind me that it might be worth waiting out...


Kate, circa 2003 -- Talk-Talk-Talk...

And to show that I bear no grudges against my mom for the bangs and pincurls, I'd like to include this picture of My Dazzling Daughter Meagan, Mom and me from Mom's last Thanksgiving. I think she'd approve of my gray hair now. (And she'd definitely aprove of me becoming a grandma in a couple of weeks!)


Meagan, Rose and Kate, Thanksgiving 2000

HEY -- CAN YOU SEE MY FACE?!!

Can you?

Because this is what My Face is doing:


"My Face" (MSN Paint, 1/19/10)

Do you know why My Face is doing that?

My face is doing that because you just ran a red light, causing me to slam on my brakes to avoid being t-boned -- and possibly injured. That's why My Face is doing that!

But, of course you can't see My Face -- You can't even see my car, can you?

So My Face and I are following your car as you veer crazily down the road strictly for our own entertainment. (And possibly entertaining one or two other drivers, as well.)

But it makes me feel good, following you with My Face like this -- like maybe you'll see My Face and think Oh My God! I've just run a red light! I should be more careful...I could have hurt someone!

Well, here's where I turn off to go to work...I have to stop following you now, and fix My Face some other way. You have a nice day -- And do be careful!

Getting Physical: Another Blog About Hazards in the Workplace

At first I preferred to think of it as Tough Love. I later decided that it was simply Verbal Abuse. But when I returned home from My Very Own Fabric Store last night looking like this...

"The Day it Got Physical" (Kate, Pencake Ecards, 1/18/10)

...I recognized its name: Physical Abuse.

Oh, yeah. That's what it was, all right. Not that she actually pulled that huge roll of decorator fabric down on my face, but she was just as responsible for my injury as if she had!

If she had not just chided me for working too slowly as I measured and cut massive quantities of fleece fabric, stopping between each cut to re-roll the fabric left on the bolt so that it could more easily be replaced later...

If the memory of her hounding me as I pushed a dustmop over that filthy floor last weekend, pointing out every dustball that managed to escape my reach, was not still relatively fresh in my mind...

If I hadn't been reflecting earlier about how she had chastised me for spending too much time with my customers, walking around the store with them, helping them decide what might work best for their various projects...

Well, then I might not have been so angry that I let Rage take the place of Reason. But she had, it was, and I had been.

So there I was, trying to replace one of those gi-normous rolls of Home Dec on its metal rod, holding it over my head, blindly trying to find the right slot for that rubber-tipped pole, all the while fantasizing about how I would say, Look, Bitch! I do a good job around here, okay? I'm not even allowed to touch sharp objects at home! I have my own skill-set, and it doesn't include running with scissors and mopping floors. Maybe my gift is that I know how to be nice to people. So maybe you should just shut up and start sweeping!

Unfortunately, anger is not compatible with jobs that require manual dexterity. I thought I had located the bracket that would hold the end of that rod securely as I slid the other end into place; I thought incorrectly.

I'm not sure exactly how it happened, but the next thing I knew, a heavy roll of cream-colored brocade was crashing into my face, knocking my glasses askew and tenderizing my nose. (I'm okay. The two tears that I surreptitiously let fall were more from my frustration at not being able to actually say those things than from pain.) I didn't realize until later, when I felt the scab on my chin as I waited for a customer to hand over the cash, that I had been scarred by the experience.

Physical Abuse, it was. Sigh. Wish I could find my rose-colored glasses!

Bow Tie: The Award

My Awesome Husband Greg and Some Other Guys Wearing Bow Ties (Kate's LRDC, Oct. 24, 2009)

Last weekend the awards gods were smiling on the Fischers...

First, as I've already documented in this blog ("Barn Scene/Pencake Free Ecard">, Jan. 9, 2010), I found out that I had been named a co-winner in a drawing contest. Nothing worth blogging about, really, but I was inordinately pleased with myself for several hours.

Then, as My Awesome Husband Greg and I were on our way to the installation banquet for the Greensboro Tarheel Chorus later that evening, he informed me that he'd been informed by our Dazzling Daughter Meagan that her Awesome (but Untouted) Husband Joe had been dubbed "Employee of the Year" the night before! Now that's something to blog about. Unfortunately, Meagan doesn't blog; and since Joe doesn't, either, I get that he's not the kind of guy who likes to tell everyone about everything he does. So I'll just say that we're very proud of him, feel certain that he deserved the honor, and leave it at that...

But really, congratulations, Joe -- We've very proud of you, and know that you deserved it!

(On top of that, Meagan and Joe's team won the company's annual Trivial Pursuit tournament, but they probably wouldn't want me bragging about that either.)

Now let's see...Seems like there was something else...

Oh yeah! That installation banquet I mentioned earlier...the one we were on our way to when I heard Joe and Meagan's good news? Well, that was where MAHG was given a fine-looking framed document declaring that he was the Barbershopper of the Year! (That's BOTY. Bow Tie. Get it?)

You talk about proud!

Of course, I'm talking about myself being proud, not Greg. Greg was, in fact, humbled by the honor. He really hadn't seen it coming. But everything that the group's president said in presenting the award was absolutely true: Greg is always there, ready to help in any capacity necessary; but more than that, he's a natural leader -- he's able to see what needs to be done to improve a situation, knows how to get it done, and does it.

Greg's like that at home, too, but I'm sorry to say that he doesn't get plaques and accolades for it. He probably should, but he's lucky if I stop complaining and remember to say thanks every once in a while. That must be why he was so surprised to be lauded for those qualities.

Well, let me say here that MAHG also deserved his award, and that I was very proud to stand up with him that night (even though I'd worked all day, hadn't had time to put on fresh makeup, was wearing colors that were not on my "most flattering" list and my hair looked like a pile of multi-colored crap -- Sorry, Honey!)

Oh, one more thing: Greg has a wonderful voice, and he loves to sing. That's why he joined the Chorus. His singing around the house (as he has done nearly every single day that we've been together) is one thing about him that I will never take for granted!

This is Where I Would Flip a Switch...

Sigh. It's over. My hope for each new day...my motivation for getting out of bed...dare I say -- my reason for living? The Christmas tree is gone.

Every morning for the two or three weeks before and the week or two after Christmas, getting out of bed becomes something I actually look forward to, because I know that once I make it down the stairs on my creaky ankles and knees, I need only take three or four more steps before I can reach the switch that lights the miniature white bulbs on our Christmas tree. Just a flip of that switch and, voila! The room (which, for me, symbolizes the day that has just dawned) takes on a beautiful, warm glow that elicits feelings of love and goodwill toward men.


"Oh, Christmas Tree..." Kate's LRDC, December 2009

Alas. Now, two and a half weeks after the Most Wonderful Day of the Year, the tree is gone. It's been lying naked by the curb, bereft of its glorious lights, stripped of all of those beautiful, shiny ornaments, since last Saturday, when My Awesome Husband Greg decided it was becoming a fire hazzard. (True, I can still admire the ornaments as they adorn the coffee table...I'll probably leave them there until at least Valentine's Day. But without the greenery and lights, they don't hold quite the same charm.)

I guess you could say we're back to "normal" now. But I still like to pretend, as I head down those cold, dark stairs in the morning, that within seconds I'll be flipping a switch and lighting up a new day. Sigh.

Seriously, People?!!

Do you remember this picture? It's me, reveling in my fine fortune almost a year ago, when I first began working in MVOFS. (My Very Own Fabric Store, March 15, 2009.)



Back then, I loved absolutely everything about My Very Own Fabric Store! As a matter fact, I posted several blogs declaring that love, which I thought would never fade.

But there was something that didn't show up in my self-portrait that day...



...the rose-colored glasses!


Well, I'm here now to admit that perhaps I was a bit delusional when I wrote about how kind, wonderful, considerate and patient all of the customers were in MVOFS. Maybe I was being overly effusive when I gushed about how much I loved thread and zippers and planagrams...

Ah, but now the glasses are off.



Perhaps it's just post-holiday letdown -- the customers' and mine. Or maybe we're all a little bit cranky from working so hard to hold it all together as we tried to find some Comfort and Joy. Whatever it is, something is causing my undying love to become more, well, dying.

Maybe it began with the woman who wanted to know why she could not return a pattern, when the store policy taped to the check-out counter clearly states that we don't allow customers to do that. "It's the store policy" is like "Because I'm your mother." I shouldn't have to explain it to her.

Then there was the lady who came in carrying nary a fabric swatch, a spool of thread, or a bottle of nail polish for comparison. She simply declared that she wanted some watermelon pink fabric to make a bridesmaid's dress. We had, at the time, at least eight different fabrics that I would describe as "watermelon pink." But to each one, she said, "No. That's not watermelon pink."

Or the lady who interrupted my conversation with another customer -- the one who was asking if I could get those five huge rolls of home dec fabric off the top row so she could see if she liked them -- to ask, "Is there someone here who makes Indian doll clothes?" (Happy as I was to be pulled away from hefting gigantic bolts of fabric from lofty heights, all I could do was gape at her and say, "Huh?")

Or how about the man who accosted me as I was rushing back to tell the lady on the phone that no, we no longer had any UNC fleece fabric...He wanted to know if we had any of that fabric you cover kitchen chairs with. And also, could I tell him now much he would need. He'd never sewed before, but he had this idea that he could take his ladderback chairs and turn them into parsons chairs with a little bit of foam and the right fabric. Oh yeah -- and a pattern, too, of course.

But just as perplexing was the whiny little woman wanting to know why a particular pattern didn't come in her size -- And she expected me to have an answer.

I don't know -- Maybe it's just me. I do seem to be a little on the dark side lately. Maybe everything will seem brighter when I go back tomorrow...

You know, now that I think if it, I'd been there for about an hour yesterday before I realized that all of the elastic had disappeared from the waistband of my tights, and, and that I was struggling to walk around with the crotch just a couple inches above my knees. Do you suppose something like that might have affected my attitude? Hmmmmmm.

It Waved at Me!

Last week, not to outdone by my Pregnant (but still Dazzling) Daughter Meagan, I had an ultrasound of my heart (aka Echocardiogram)*...

I was ushered into a dimly lit room with a table (the kind you lie on), a chair and some fancy looking computer equipment. The soft-spoken technician with the very kind face had me recline on the table, and explained that she was going to rub some oil on my chest. (Although it's been a few years since I've had an ultrasound -- 23 to be exact -- I remembered that oil, and I braced myself for the cold. But to my relief, what she used was exactly body temperature -- I didn't feel a thing!)

For the next 20 minutes or so, she moved her stylus (or whatever it's called) over and around my chest as she explained to me exactly which parts of my heart were showing up on her monitor. Her voice was so soothing, the lights so dim, my position so comfortable, that I nearly dozed (but wanting to be polite, I tried to interject my "ohs" and "m-hmmmms" in all the appropriate places).

As I said, it's been a long time, but seeing my heart this way was not unlike seeing my babies on up on that monitor...The same shadowy shapes, undulating with life -- In fact, I think I even saw it wave at me...




"Ultrasound" by Kate, 1/11/10 (MSN Paint)


*The reason for the ultrasound was just to be sure my heart is ok now -- to establish a "baseline." I hope that doesn't mean things are expected to change, but due to my Oxygen Deficit Disorder (Scary Doctor Blog, Oct. 1, 2008) I understand that is a possibility. I still haven't heard back from my wonderful and trusted Dr. Pulmonologist, which I assume is a good thing. At the time of the test, I asked the nice tech if she could tell if anything was blooey from what she was seeing. Of course she's not allowed to say, but she assured me that if she saw anything "emergent," I would not be allowed to leave without seeing a cardiologist -- and she didn't see anything like that. (Whew!)

Barn Scene | Pencake Free Ecard

"Red Barn" by Kate, Pencake Ecards, December 2009


Hi there -- Remember me? I used to write this blog. Sometimes I still think about writing it...Like I'll log on and do a few lines of a draft so I can remember a certain day or event, something that I thought of...But then Life (i.e., facebook, work, sleep, etc.) intervenes, and I somehow never manage to get back to my blog...

Then today I came home from work, sat down in front of my computer and logged on to Pencake. That's facebook's biggest competitor for my time[-wasting] efforts. (Actually, they're related...I learned about Pencake on facebook). I've been drawing pictures there for several months. Apparently it's addictive, because I can't seem to stay away from it for more than a few days.

Anyway, as I was saying, I logged on today, and found out that I was a "co-winner" in their Santa/Snowman Card Contest! (I'm not sure yet, but I think that means I get I get a t-shirt or something.)

Now if I understand this correctly, the link to my winning drawing is the title of this post. You should be able to click on it to "replay" the drawing, complete with all the rub-outs and do-overs that were part of the process. (You can also see the comments that were made about it. The guy who says "congratulations -- late, but congrats anyway" is my co-winner. I'm not sure whether he was being nasty or nice, but we're still co-winners!)

There now. I've blogged again. That was kind of fun. Maybe I'll be back tomorrow...