Stop Presses .....

Stop Presses......

News just in .... Strep test for me .... positive ..... Strep test for Ben .... pending and supposed positive ..... Matti's condition viewed as most likely positive for strep .... Thanksgiving officially cancelled for Shapiro family household ...... I turn 43 tomorrow and can't even drink because of the medications I'm on for strep and allergic reaction to crappy shower gel ...... Could life possibly get any shittier? .......

Stop Press .... Cut last sentence ..... I don't want to know the answer to that......

When it rains, it pours

Alright, I admit it, I haven't been posting very much lately. There could be any number of reasons for that. Perhaps I have been too busy travelling the world with Bono, working on eradicating third world debt, spending my days sipping coffee in the shade of Jacaranda trees while discussing intricate economic policy with African leaders.

Okay, maybe not.

Perhaps I have had to step away from my laptop in order to spend some quality time with dear, dear Charles and lovely Camilla when they attempted to take on Manhattan. After all, they needed some colonial support - it is just so hard to be away from Highgrove and all that hunting, fishing and shooting, my dear. And New York can be so ..... mean. After all, did you see what they wrote about dear Camilla? And just because she wore a brightly colored suit to a memorial service at Ground Zero.

Or not.

Perhaps the truth is just too miserable to be believed. After all, the thought that I haven't posted in the past month because I chose to have my basement renovated at the exact same time that everyone in the family became sick -not with one, or two, but with three separate illnesses, would be too ridiculous to contemplate. Men knocking out walls, banging on beams, dust sifting through the house while christian portugese music blares from a beat up carpenter's radio - all competing with the sounds of my family retching into the toilet! Not just one time, but three successive weeks of this! Not possible. As would the idea that I am sitting here right now: nose dripping, head clogged with post nasal cement, my nether regions aching from a reaction to a shower gel that led to a rather embarrassing rash in an even more embarassing location .....

Preposterous.

Perhaps the truth will never be known. Save for that lone matchbox sitting on my upstairs dresser. A simple box with The Lost Monkey bar, Turks and Caicos islands, inscribed on it. Hmmmmmm ......

Just call me Shapiro.

Kim Herdman Shapiro.

Rain, rain, and builders

Rain, rain, and builders, originally uploaded by kimhs.

Frogs and rain and a wedding - oh my!

I have frogs in my basement. Tiny little frogs. And a torrential downpour banging on the roof. Apparently locusts and plagues are just around the corner.

Or not. Actually, the frogs in the basement are the "overflow frogs" - the rest are idly swimming around in bowls on the tables of the Wentworth Ballroom, Sheraton Nashua, performing their little froggie acrobatics for the entertainment of the guests of the Su****** Wedding. You see, Alison, our nanny, was married today. It has been two years of planning to build up to this one day, this single event - this monsoon.

It didn't just rain today, the skies opened up and small animals pelted to the earth. Roads became rivers and the parking lot of the Church of the Resurrection began to resemble a children's wading pool.
"Mama," Ben said as we did the shuffle under the umbrella dash to the front door, "it's really wet out here."
"Yes, I know, sweetheart."
"No, Mama, I mean really wet."
It was dry inside the church, as we silently steamed in our damp clothes and settled into the pew.
"Mama, what's that big X up there?"
"You mean the design on the stained glass window?"
"No, that wood thing."
It struck me that my son had no idea what a crucifix was.
"That's a cross, Ben, and the man on it is Jesus."
He seemed to be trying to take that in as we watched the procession. He approved of Alison in her "princess dress"and felt that even the music wasn't bad. But everything else was well ... silly.
"What are they reading, Mama?"
"It's the bible, sweetie. It's a very important book."
He looked at me like I was crazy.
"Bend your head and close your eyes, Ben. We're praying."
"Praying?"
I put a gently pressure on the back of his head to bend it down. "Yes, praying."
He began to giggle uncontrollably. All of my efforts to shush him only made him laugh harder.
"What's that, Mama?" he asked as the priest raised the communion wafer in the air.
I murmured in a quick rush of words, "It's the body of Christ. Mama will explain later."
As soon as the words were out of my mouth, an insistent ringing bell went off. Although I knew it was part of the service, it did sound surprisingly "alarm" like. Ben has a terrible fear of fires and fire alarms, mainly caused by the fire drills at school.
"AAHHHHHHHHH!!! FIRE!!!!!!!!"
Things went downhill from there.

We are home now, the unused frogs swimming peacefully in their aquarium. The cat's are rather miffed that we will not allow them to eat them - especially as they are not really necessary anymore. The reception must be in full swing by now with everyone drinking and eating and having a wonderful time. Perhaps the music is so loud with everyone dancing away that they won't hear the rain lashing the windows. Or notice that the water is sloshing in the frog's bowls.

One can hope.

This may surprise some of you

I received a letter from John Kerry the other day. Well, an email to be exact. Although I strongly supported him in the 2004 election - and I'm talking about signs on lawns, making bag lunches, offering to have strangers doss on my New Hampshire living room floor in the final push, etc., etc. - we're not exactly chummy. That may be due in some part to the fact that I think he utterly fucked up his 2004 campaign. How a man with his brains and backbone was able to so soundly snatch defeat from the jaws of victory, I will never understand. But that's ancient history. I think it's more likely that I'm on that massive computer rollodex at the DNC than that my email was as personal as I might have hoped.

But I digress. Senator Kerry was writing to inform me of how he was going to vote on the Roberts nomination.

"I will vote against this vitally important nomination."

It surprises me to say this, but I think you're wrong, Senator Kerry - as are many of the democratic senators who agreed with you on this issue. I think you should have voted for Roberts.

Is he the best candidate for the job? Perhaps, perhaps not. The reality is that Bush won the election and that means he gets the perks of the job: Air Force One, that rather attractive presidential residence, and the right to pick names out of a hat for all these important posts. You may not like that fact, but it is incontrovertible. Stonewalling and bitching about who he picks isn't going to change the fact that you're not going to get your turn. Elections are a bitch that way.

So, Bush picks. I, quite frankly, was expecting a two-headed conservative monster, frothing at the mouth to devour Roe v. Wade and put bibles back in the classroom. But we got Roberts. Is he more conservative than I would like? Yes. Do I feel that he will side on all major issues in the way that I think is best? No. But is he the gorgon I had been expecting? Most definitely not.

"Win or lose on this vote, it is essential that we act on our deepest convictions. And I refuse to vote for a Supreme Court nominee who came before the Senate intent on demonstrating his ability to deftly deflect legitimate questions about his views, opinions and philosophy."

I have not had the time or inclination to even begin to scratch the surface of his past record, but I do find it interesting that he seems willing to examine and, in several cases, defend both liberal and conservative issues. However much I would like a liberally minded Justice to chair the Supreme Court, I will be happy to settle for a fair and balanced one. And no, this has nothing to do with you, Fox News. I do understand that justice can be meted out as well by a Republican as a Democrat - a concept that seems to be hard for either side of the political spectrum in Washington to understand these days.

"If he is confirmed - and he may well be - the Roberts Court will shape the course of constitutional law for decades to come. It will decide dozens of cases that will define the depth and breadth of freedom in America - our commitment to civil rights, our dedication to civil liberties, our devotion to privacy and a woman's right to choose."

Yes, this is true. But it is also true that often in life it falls upon us to make the best of a bad situation. And Dubya is definitely a "bad situation". His pick appears to be an extremely intelligent, moderately right wing man who has been known to defend both Reagan policies as well as Gay rights issues. A better choice than I would have expected.

Look at it this way folks. This is the same man who placed Michael Brown at FEMA. Compared with that, we're coming up trumps.

Everything I need to know I Iearned in Kindergarten, right?

Do you remember that book, the self help bestseller of a decade or so ago - All I really need to know I learned in Kindergarten? It was written by a Unitarian minister, Rober Fulghum, and was filled with simple kid themed ideas with which to guide your life: share everything, play fair, hold hands and stick together, etc.

At the time it came out, I thought it was cute but rather laughably simplistic. I, of course, had moved far beyond schoolyard politics - or so I thought. How then can it be that at the ripe old age of - almost - 43, I feel like I'm suddenly marooned again in the corner of the playground, the butt of whispered laughter and pointing fingers?

The neighborhood situation - which I have discussed in earlier posts - has suddenly bubbled over into a burning sticky mess. DeeDee and Jeff have decided that I am Enemy Number One, the Wicked Witch of the West - and I'm not talking any fun Broadway musical witch, either. It makes no sense - but when has common sense had anything to do with it? I now understand why four families have chosen to move rather than deal with them. The rest of the neighborhood knows that they're crazy and say they don't believe any of the gossip they're attempting to spread about us .... but it's amazing the level of fear and paranoia that can be spread by two unbalanced people in a small, enclosed community.

So now my boys cannot play with DeeDee and Jeff's children across the street and vice versa. And the other moms in the neighborhood seem to be studiously avoiding our house in their round robin of playdates. They were already avoiding DeeDee and Jeff's - but what has happened to us? Have we somehow been tainted by the whole brouhaha?

I couldn't believe that I was actually brought to tears yesterday to hear the neighborhood kids all laughing at a playdate next door - while mine sat inside, alone. Suddenly I was back at school again: the smell of floor wax and chalkdust, the taste of pb&j on my lips, the echoey sound of kids footsteps running down empty hallways. There I was, on the edge of the playground, desperate to have someone to play with. The loneliness, the pain, the feeling of utter unwantedness. A tiny unformed kernel that I would never let them hurt me quite this badly ever again, tasting bitter, so bitter, in my mouth.

Was it the pain of my children's rejection that upset me so much yesterday? I really don't think they minded all that much. After all, Spongebob was on tv. They didn't even notice that Mommy was crying. Or was it really me? Was this really all about me and the fact that forty odd years later, I am still struggling to understand that there will always be children who either cannot or will not learn the true lessons of kindergarten.

To play fair. To share your toys. And most importantly, to hold hands and stick together - no matter what happens.

Faking fate

This is how it goes. Husband gets invited to conference. Tells wife. Wife is unhappy but hides it well. Husband explains how incredibly important this conference is to his career and he won't enjoy a minute of it- especially the part of being away from the loving embrace of his family. Wife feels guilty for feeling angry about this. Husband tells wife - over his shoulder as he exits the room - that he'll only be gone three days and will be staying at an exclusive resort on a Tucson golf course, complete with spa and Kobe beef dinners. Wife throws glass at his disappearing back.

I'm sure there are some wives who are happy to see the back of their husbands. I don't happen to be one of them. Not only because I love my husband - which I do - but mainly because that means that I have one less pair of hands to help run this ship that we call home. And I'm not talking about a captain swanning around on the foredeck - I'm talking about some navvie to help me swab the latrines.

Stuart leaves tomorrow for a two day trip to deal with a family emergency in Indiana, returns for two days and then departs again for the aforementioned Westward Look Resort Tucson. This means that - except for the days in which I get help from Alison - I will be 24/7 with the little hoodlums - sorry, dears. This would be difficult under normal circumstances, but since when do things run normally when they really need to? First off, Matti takes sick. The weekend is off to a great start with an early Saturday morning dash to the doctor. Earache? Molars coming in? No, he has hand, foot and mouth disease. Dash home. Adminster tylenol, cold soda, and Dora the Explorer. Ben starts to feel feverish. More tylenol and popsicles. Stuart, stressed out, has headed off to the office to tidy up loose ends before his trip. I move from sick child to cranky child, attempting to tidy the house and fold laundry at the same time. Fun! Then I check my email. Crazy lady from across the street has decided to go ballistic on me. Accusations fly. Epithets scream at me from computer desktop. One of the nicer things she says is that I should get a life. I pause and look around at the ruins of my living room, and feel a distinct ache begin to pound from one of my back teeth - maybe I shouldn't have cancelled that dentist's appointment after all.

Doesn't she realize that I have a life - and, quite frankly, on day's like this she's welcome to it?

This always seems to happen to us. Stuart leaves on a trip, and suddenly ants infest the house, the van breaks down and the water heater explodes. Plagues and locusts are no doubt on the horizon. The only thing we can do is try and hoodwink destiny. Fake out the Fates. Have Stuart plan the trip, book the tickets, but secretly plan to go on the following weekend. That way, when food poisoning turns our living room into the pea soup scene from the Exorcist, Stuart can return from his unneccesary trip to the airport - never having intended to get on a plane anyway.

And be ready to swab out those latrines.