If you watched the Democratic National Convention last night, heard Barack Obama’s speech and you weren’t moved in a deep way, please check your pulse now.  You either have the Tin Man’s heart, or you are Dick Cheney.

Obama knocked it out of the park and finally did what we Democrats needed so badly.  He was tough.

As I sat there (in my new kick ass chair!) watching him and weeping, I began to wonder why I haven’t been more involved in this campaign.   Save for a few calls I did before the Wisconsin primary, I haven’t done much to help my guy.
Then it hit me why I haven’t jumped into this fire yet.  In November 2004, a Senator from Massachusetts broke my heart and perhaps I never got over it.

I worked my tail off for John Kerry in 2004.  I co-hosted huge fundraising parties, and every time Ben had a play date or I had any free time, I was at the phone banks calling voters in Wisconsin and all over the country.   I went with my mom and my friend Darcy to strangers homes to attend calling parties.  My mother and I waited for hours outside the Madison airport just for a chance to shake his hand.  I even had a Halloween party that year in which I carved in my pumpkin, “Vote Kerry!”  You name it, I did it for John. 

And then, on November 2nd 2004, he lost to a corrupt bully from Texas.  And my heart broke.  How could this happen?  How could America let this happen?  How could this country endure four more years of this?!  My mother and I were inconsolable for days.

But last night, watching Barack Obama speak and having my heart swell with pride and hope for this country again, I knew it is time to get over the heart break, move on and HELP THIS FIGHT!   I knew last night that from now until November 4th, I am going to do everything in my power to make sure this country has a chance to right itself again. 

Mr. Obama, you had me at “Thank you America!”  I’m 100% in!  I’m your girl.

Watch out McCain.  Princess Mikkimoto is coming at cha and she won’t be nice about it! 

“We are here because we love this country too much to let the next four years look just like the last eight. On November 4, we must stand up and say: “‘Eight is enough.’”

- Barack Obama, August 28, 2008.

Thanks to Marketing Mama, I got a little hooked on this site.  In fact now I’m searching to see if they have some sort of support group.

Since I’m getting my haircut again today, (yes, same hairdresser.  This is his last shot!) I thought I would try out some different styles.   Especially since I can’t let “Blake” go out on his own again.

Here I am in 1950:
Aren’t those curls purty?I’m so glad my lace collar is buttoned up tight.  Wouldn’t want those nasty boys thinking they could play some back seat bingo with me.

This is me in 1962:
All the cats were so jazzed of my hair do.  Do you know how much hairspray I had to use to get those curls to stick?

Here I am in 1964:Don’t you just love my glasses?  I think they are so kinky.  And I was just sick of the long hair so I went to the beauty shop with some friends from class and got this smart cut.  I got a little more risque with my shirt too.  It’s almost a V-neck.  GASP!

Time to burn those bras in 1970:By this time I had ditched not only the bra but the glasses too.  Groovy man.

Nobody puts Becky in a corner in 1987!Gag me with a spoon.  Fer sure fer sure….

We are so going to party like it’s 1994.I just wonder if my hair will ever recover from this much Aqua Net?

Hey Julia Roberts could do it so why not me?  Hello 1996!

And finally… we have the Y2K HAIR!
With all the water collecting and preparing for the end of the world, I forgot this hairstyle was NEVER in style. 

So… which one should I go with?

Wordless Wednesday

My father, bless his heart, is truly a minimalist.  He’s just not a fan of many material processions.  In fact, whenever Ben and I are leaving their house (which is almost on a daily basis) my dad always looks around desperately trying to give us something.  Just to get it out of the house!

“Wait!  Is this your book?”
“No Dad.  I just brought that back today.  It’s Mom’s.”
“Oh, OK.  But this is your sweater, right?”
“Nope.  Again, that’s mom’s.  She bought it this afternoon.”

Whenever I do inherit something from them, the only rule is, it NEVER COMES BACK INTO THAT HOUSE!

The few things that my dad does have, he covets.  He still has sweaters from 1972.   Ties from his student teaching days and of course, His Chairs.

This chair he got in 1965, in his first year in Madison. 

My father explains, “…figuring that a comfortable chair was essential equipment for an academic, just as a good saw would be for a carpenter.”

As you can see, it has been loved.  A lot!  Hundreds of baseball and football games have been watched in this chair, and thousands of books have been read in this chair.  I vividly remember being a little girl and sitting on his lap while he read me Winnie the Pooh.  I’m pretty sure it will stay in that house forever.  

But recently I told my father, “Dad, um, your chair now has a new huge tear in the back.” 

To which he responded, “Let me tell you something.  It isn’t the chair that’s the problem!  It’s Duck tape!  They don’t make a maroon colored Duck Tape.  I have looked everywhere and can’t find any!  The chair is in great shape.”

My mom lets this go because this chair is in his study and away from public eye.

This chair, on the other hand,

was in their living room. And finally my mother had enough of him duck taping the arms and demanded he get a new chair.  After much dragging of the feet and sheer procrastination, my father finally complied.   The new one came this week.

When I learned of the new addition to the house, I was astonished but also clever.  “Hey, what are you going to do with the old one?  I’ll take it!”
Again, because Richard is one who hates to deal with stuff, he immediately said, “GREAT!  It’s yours.  But you have to haul it out and it can…”
“I know.  NEVER come back.  Got it.”

I love this chair.  Not only is it still in pretty good shape (hey it’s a spring chicken at 20 years old compared to the 43 year old fossil in my dad’s study) and is soooo comfortable, it reminds me of my Pop. 

When Ben found out we were getting Grandpa’s chair, even he said, “Oh, that’s going to be my special chair because I love Grandpa so much.” 
To which his very mature mother replied, “Hey, I knew him long before you, Buddy Boy!  I get first dibs.” 

On Saturday, with the help of my new cute friend (which is a post for another time), it is now happily in my home. 

And wouldn’t you know it, the old guy even threw in the navy Duck tape.

Something weird has been going on as of late. 
We registered Ben for school.   We went school supply shopping.  The weather has been turning somewhat cooler at night.  The calendar is saying it’s past August 20th.   And the school hot lunch menu is back on our fridge.

It’s just sorta weird.  But it DOESN’T MEAN anything.  Nope.  Not a thing.  Some MIGHT assume that summer is almost over and school is starting.  But that’s just silly.  It was just the 4th of July.  Like last week.  Right?

And maybe I just wanted to buy Ben some pencils and a new backpack for his summer drawings and for camp.  Yes, camp is technically over but I’ll just make my OWN camp for him. 

“Get your gimp out, boy!  Let’s melt down these candles and make new ones!  Who wants to SING?!  Anyone up for Tie-Dying t-shirts?”

And to make matters worse, my bookworm suck-up kid is all, “I’m so excited for school!  When does it start?!? How many more days?!”  To which I reply, “Oh I don’t know.  Who cares!  Get your suit on.  We are going to the pool!!!” 

Yes I’m clearly in severe denial, but I do still have one full week before this stupid school thing starts and the stupid pool closes and stupid people say summer is over.  (Maturity is my strong suit.  I’m also SUPER good with change.  Can you tell?)

You better believe I’m going to milk this last week for all it’s worth.  Today we went to the pool for the last time this season.  You could see myself and many others trying to soak up as much sun as possible; as if it could get us through the long cold winter that looms ahead.

I seriously choked up as we were leaving and saying, “Bye pool, see you next summer…”

I will be brave.  I will enjoy fall in Madison.  I will have fun at the Badger football games and Halloween IS my favorite holiday. 

But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to look at this picture of the official Boy Of Summer every other day with longing in my eyes. 

Camp is over.

And I’m sad.

Honestly I thought I would feel some relief to have my house back and the quiet, but darn it, it’s TOO QUIET!  BEN!  MAKE MORE NOISE!

I dropped Amy and the kids off at the airport in Milwaukee this morning and then proceeded to cry until Johnson Creek.  For those of you that don’t know Southwest Wisconsin, that’s most of the hour and a half ride home.  The lady in McDonald’s who sold me my Super-Huge-Super-Sized Diet Coke almost gave me a hug, I looked so pathetic.  I just muttered “Family.  Just left.  Good trip.”  And she nodded sympathetically.

I was thinking of all the crazy fun moments as I collapsed the Pack-n-Play, rolled up the futon mattress and deflated the air bed. 

I want them back.  I want to laugh with my cousin sister Amy as Naomi repeats everything we say.  I want to tell Tali that those boys are just being dumb and she is super cool and I love her.  I even want to tell the kids to “knock it off! we will be there soon!”   I want it all back.

I guess that, in and of itself, is a sign that it was a great trip.
It will take me some time to get back into my good old routine.

Until then, my heart aches for Camp Runamukah 2009.

One of the many wonderful things to come out of this week with my cuz and her fam is the very thick relationship that has developed between Ben and Samuel.

Since we were just out in Seattle in March, it didn’t take them long to get reacquainted.  And therefore, throughout the whole week, these two have been apart, maybe 5 minutes. 

They often have their heads in their Nintendo DS’s, or are watching Star Wars, or just picking on poor Tali together.

My birthday present for my dad this year was 4 tickets to the Brewer’s.   So yesterday, we took Ben and Samuel with us.  They had a blast, ate more than two eight year old boys should, and Samuel says that now he likes the Brewers more than the Mariners.  Just another step closer to convincing his family to move to Wisconsin.

On the way home, they were playing with their toys from their kid’s meals from a certain fast food chain and Ben took Samuel’s by accident. Samuel said “Hey, I had that in my mouth! Now you have my DNA.”
To which Ben shrugged and replied, “I don’t care.  I want your DNA.  I want freckles and black hair.”
Samuel then said, “Well then you lick yours and give it to me.  I don’t want freckles and I want blond hair!”

As much as I tried to deter the spit swaping this bonding couldn’t be stopped. 

Although it was definitely on the gross side, the boys will remember this DNA swap and more importantly their brotherly relationship for years to come.  And that is worth all the gross boy stuff in the world.

Wordless Wednesday

Hello Mudda, Hello Fadda…

Oh give it up.. I’m tired.

Camp is fun but good lord there are a lot of children!  How did the women in this family of mine have so many kids?  BREEDERS!  All of them.  At least they make SUPER cute kids who’s cheeks I just want to eat.

Like hers:

And hers:

Things are so crazy it’s every man, woman and child for themselves.  This one gave up trying to get a snack from a tall person who can walk, so she just started eating her own toes.

Camp activities yesterday at Grandma and Grandpa’s house included:

Bead making:

Don’t you love it that it’s the BOYS working on the beads? 

And here is evidence of their beautiful work they made for their mothers.

There was story time:

Lots of eating:

More story time:

and spontaneous naps.  Atta girl Nomi.  Sleep when you can, sister.

After a full day at my parents house and another 3+ hours at the park, we were all exhausted.  But so cute!

HI CAMPERS!  Everyone say “RUNAMUKAH!”

(Did anyone notice that all our homemade Camp Runamukah shirts have the writing backwards?  That we, as the counselors, forgot to read the directions for “Make the iron-on a mirror image”?  Good, neither did we.)

Things maybe crazy and exhausting but darn if this camp thing isn’t FUN!  So, through the heat, the brother looking at YOUR STUFF, the not getting the last cookie, or all the falling down, we must keep smiling! 

Right Naomi?

Hello Mudda.
Hello Fadda. 
Greetings from, Camp Runamukah.

Welcome to day two at Camp Runamukah!

Things are going fairly smoothly.  We have had lots of messes, lots of laughs and lots of tears. Luckily none of the tears are from the counselors.  Yet.

Our campers of all ages are playing together nicely.

In the mess hall, during breakfast, we have Benita and Samatha.  Say hi girls!

After breakfast the counselors managed to get all the campers out of the house and to the Farmer’s Market!  Where we had a feast of cheese curds, green beans and homemade doughnuts on the Capitol lawn.  Nothing better…

The campers are getting along pretty well although we have had some serious divide between the girls and boys.  Hopefully in the days and activities to come, this separation between the pigtails and the puppydog tails will close a little.  And if that doesn’t work the couselors will just knock their heads together and everyone will be fine.

After the Farmer’s Market, because everyone was hot and cranky, we hauled everyone back into the rented mini-van (oh yes, we so rented a mini-van) and went to the pool.  There, our youngest camper, enjoyed her mother’s Diet Cocadots (translation for all of you readers over the age of 2 - Diet Coke.)

Sorry I have to end this letter so quickly, but many more Camp Runamukah campers are arriving today.  Sister Debby and her SEVEN children, to be exact.

I hope I’m around to write the next letter.  I’m sorta scared.  Wouldn’t you be with 12 kids all under the age of 9?   Wish me luck.

Love,

Me