WARNING TO FUTURE SON-IN-LAW

So, we're leaving for vacation in 35 hours. No, I'm not packed. This is far more important. As noted in a previous post, my daughter is getting married. Her wonderful fiance is coming with us. The car ride is 14 hours long. We are not that bad of a family, but we are a family. I felt obligated to send him the following:


Hello Dear Future Son-In-Law!

I am writing this to let you know how excited I am for next week AND that you are coming! I know Sam is excited ;-) Now, as your mother-in-law to be I would be remiss to not inform you of the situation you are about to enter. Let me start by saying that you will see Biddicks at their best, and you will surely see Biddicks at their worst…hopefully not their very worse. These are the things you need to be fully prepared to witness and deal with: cramped legs from an exhaustingly long car ride; arguments over music, movies, personal space and seat arrangement; whining about driver—regardless of who the driver is; there will be personal character attacks, accusations and bold-face lying; there will be few stops associated with anything besides “necessity”; and there could be foul odors, all of which will likely be blamed on the “new guy”…you. That’s just the car ride.

When we get there, there will be discussion on where and how to park; the best method of unpacking the car; who should be carrying what; there should be some critique and complaining about something to do with our accommodations; there will rarely be a time when everyone is hungry or tired all at the same time; there could be outright yelling matches and perhaps even a slap or two (however this is unlikely—but always possible); there will be periodic foul language; there will be nagging regarding “helping”; disagreements on activities, food, and, again, seating arrangements; there will be races for the bathroom and lines waiting for the bathroom; and there will be the proverbial “time-out” for various individuals. And, you my dear get to be in on all of that!

Having forewarned you of said “issues”, I will now let you in on some other less distasteful things that may or may not happen. There could be some type of minor catastrophe that pulls everyone together in a very interesting and comical way (i.e., losing only pair of prescription glasses in ocean, car breaking down, allergic reaction to jelly fish stings), there will likely be some decent enough food; very likely game-playing will occur several times; a good and healthy amount of chastising, teasing, mimicking and ribbing will occur; reading, laying and/or sitting around doing nothing, sunbathing, ocean romping, beach walking will all occur; 89 trips to Publix will be made for the BEST Light Caesar Salad Dressing on the planet and other various “forgotten” items; inordinate amounts of time will be spent at the corner junk (a/k/a – souvenir) shops finding just the right t-shirt; more games will be played; more beach time; more laying around will be done and lots and lots of laughing, cajoling, smiling and more laughing…hopefully!

At least that’s the idea for these fun-filled family adventures. We’ll see. But, we’re all really glad you’re coming! And I, by no means want to scare you off, but I did want to make sure that you had the opportunity to come down with a mysterious terrible communicable disease, just in case it all sounds too crazy and kind of scary! I’m guessing you won’t cause you’re a stand-up guy and all. But I sure hope you still like us when it’s all over!!

Looking forward to our week and really glad you are joining us!

Stephanie


It's like a bad test where set-ups to fail are everywhere. I really don't expect him to be the one taking the test...it's more like "us" taking the test...and poor daughter! We'll do our best though. I know he'll be fine, but maybe I should have waited to buy the dress AFTER this, just in case!

Downhill, On Wheels

Some of you are going to think that because of my recent posts inferring my less than perky and attentive demeanor of late, that I am making this next one up. Maybe someone out there can vouch for this to verify that, in fact, I am not. Yesterday, in one of my many, many miles of driving, I was headed west on 71st Street. I've lived here a long time. I remember when 71st was truly "out in the country". I've seen 71st Street grow and grow and reshape in different sections. I've seen a lot of weird stuff on 71st Street before. I've seen weird stuff that was temporary and gone by the time I drove back by ten minutes later and I've seen weird semi-permanent stuff that's lingered for days, sometimes weeks. But to date, in my nearly 49 years of off and on living in this town, I have never, EVER seen a guy (whom I will refrain from calling "Jesus") walking down 71st carrying a cross on wheels.

Yep, I saw it with my own eyes. There were many things about it that I found terribly interesting, but my first thought was, "my gosh, I need to pull over and find out what the heck this guy is doing and does he need a hand". Honestly! That was my first thought and I got tickled thinking how that conversation might go:

"Sir....SIRRRR....Yes, YOU sir....you with the cross...yeah, could you hold on a sec" (he was moving at quite some pace--I decided it was not so much that he was in a hurry as it was that he was going downhill and carrying the most massive cross I've ever seen). "...uh, sir, uh..do you need a hand with that?" (well, DUH! He's carrying a CROSS--a big, heavy cross...of course he needs a hand with it!) Or should it be "excuse me sir, but what on God's green earth are you doing?" (clearly, the answer is: Carrying a cross down the street)

I didn't stop. I gawked as best as one can gawk going 40 mph. Here's the visual: Caucasian male, approximately mid-to-late 30's, blue jeans, t-or polo type shirt, shorter light brown hair. The guy is walking on the north side of Sheridan headed east. And, well, he's carrying a cross. Now before we go any further please let me disclose that I am a full-fledged cross supporter. Truly--I have no cross issues. It's just not every day when you see a cross of this magnitude. It appeared to be made out of wood. Based on how far it was dragging behind it's bearer, it was about ten feet long. The crossbars were square block-like construction about 6x6 inches thick. At the bottom of the cross was a set of wheels.

Wheels you say? Yes, wheels. Nice sturdy rubber wheels. Herein lies my perplexity with the scene unfolding before me. I know a little about the "Real Cross-Carrying Dude". I know He was pretty worn out before even being forced to carry His cross. I know He did this somewhat unwillingly, or at least with grave hesitation. I know His cross was not quite so finely sawn. And I, absolutely, without one teeny tiny doubt, know His cross had no wheels. Nope, not even one rickety one. Not even an itty bitty wheel. No wheels, no where, no how.

So this brings me to my possible question above...what in the world is this guy-with-cross doing? What is he trying to say? Trying to prove? What is his motivation? Well, I'm going to be generous in my theory of this situation. Of the above-mentioned Cross facts I know, I'm giving 71st Street TCG (Tulsa Cross Guy) huge benefit of the doubt and I'm offering him three...yes, THREE of the above mentioned similarities:

Perhaps TCG was tired. Maybe he'd had a really bad day before, exhausted from work pressures, overwhelmed with life's curveballs. Heck, maybe he'd even been beat up a little. Who knows. Again, just trying to give benefit of the doubt here.

In some weird way, maybe he was being forced to do this. Maybe TCG felt his calling was to cross carry down 71st Street. Maybe someone was blackmailing him. Maybe he lost a bet. Again, no way to tell for certain, but it could be entirely possible that he was in no way a willing participant in all this. (Not quite sure how one would prove that, but we'll go with it being a possibility)

Finely sawn wood is what I believe TCG's cross wood was, but I've got to give an out on two counts here. Maybe TCG's cross was prickly and splintering and rough. It very well could have been. Remember, gawking at 40 mph does not necessarily give you the most accurate perception. Or, and I find this far more unlikely, could it be that MFCG's (Most Famous Cross Guy's) cross had been sanded down a touch. Maybe there was a sympathetic follower who smoothed out some of the rough edges as a form of compassion. I should probably know this one, but I don't. Regardless, I'm giving TCG the benefit of the doubt here also.

BUT WHEELS??? Nope, NO WAY MFCG definately did not have wheels on the cross He beared. No discussion, no questioning, no doubt.

So that leads us to exactly what is TCG trying to say? I think we must assume that he, in some way, is trying to emulate MFCG. I'm guessing there is some statement of "...man, can you believe MFCG did this way back when?", or maybe it's more "please know that there was this guy who's done this before". But context??? Could we have a little context please? I mean I believe, have faith in and fully acknowledge MFCG life and death and the redemption I believe comes from that. But for those who are a little less faithful, perhaps, no faith at all or maybe even totally clueless to the whole cross thing, then this could have been just a smidge confusing, dontcha think? And, if you are trying to sway the masses, wouldn't you try a bit more authenticity? Maybe a robe of some sort. Some sandals? Longer hair. Rougher terrain. And yeah TCG--ditch the wheels.

I mean...come onnnnnn. You have got to be kidding! WHEELS? If the whole cross thing wasn't enough, then the wheels just sent the whole deal into "uh-huh" mode. I ain't believin' anything you got to say dude. No pain, no gain. In fact the more I think about it, the more I think this was insulting. What a cheat. I guess if MFCG isn't your deal, then the wheels seem logical;
"I'm going to go out in Tulsa today and try and prove some insane point and, hey...I know...I think I'm going to carry a giant cross to help prove that whacked out point of mine. But man...that cross thing is gonna be a drag to carry around...HEY PHIL...Phil, you got any small wheels in your shop? You mind putting some on my big giant cross here? That'll make it a whole lot easier to lug around today"

But to me it's like saying "yeah, see this little kitty, it's really a mean tiger" or "hey, wanna go work out?" and you meet at the icecream shop instead or "I want to tell you a story about Cinderella, but she's really an heiress when she starts out." It's bastardizing the story. It's saying I want to tell you about something really special, something I really believe in, but you know...I want to leave out all the tough parts. I don't want it to be so hard for me to tell, and I sure hope you get the point.

It is entirely possible that I am making too much out of Tulsa Cross Guy. At first I thought, how odd. Maybe he needed a job. Maybe this was his way of making 71st Street drivers think about Most Famous Cross Guy that day. It made me think about it. And then I wondered if those wheels got going very quickly down that really steep hill if TCG would stumble, fall into traffic and get run over. Nahhhh, I think even MFCG would save him from that peril. In an odd sort of way I'm glad that the real MOST FAMOUS CROSS GUY didn't have wheels. No doubt wheels would have been nice--but I think it would have changed up His story a bit.

Do You KNOW How Cool I Have Just Become?

Getting fancy now!

(read the comment section...yeah, right HERE underneath this sentence, right next to the time...go ahead click "comments" and just see how cool I am now!)

Dog Park for People

We just got back from the dog park. Not many dogs were there at all and only one "trouble maker"...always the little dog with "little dog" complex...they are ornery! Opal played HARD! She wanted to play ball with a Golden Retriever who would ONLY retrieve one particular ball. Golden Retriever would chase any ball, but would only retrieve the one large, yellow, squeaky football. Opal decided it would be fun to try and play "take away". Opal quickly changed her mind when Golden Retriever snapped BIG TIME at Opal, the pesky dog trying to steal Golden Retriever's large, yellow, squeaky football--FUN-NEEEEE!

What's also funny and sometimes not so fun-neeeee (I really need to enhance my writing skills) is how people act at the dog park. In the old days when you took your dog to the park, your dog knew it was at a people park and it was to respect the rights of other people and it was going to do what you, its owner told it to--hopefully--plus 99% of the time it had a big shiny silver thick chain around it's neck reminding it of it's place in the people park. Well, at the dog park, the people are supposed to know and respect the rights of other dogs, right? At the people park, the people are supposed to look out for their dogs. At the dog park the dogs look out for their people. But there's always one dog, not so concerned with it's person's reputation.

Case in point...all dogs, like people are different and for the sake of argument, we, as a human and canine beings are to be respectful of those differences. So, if Spot and Blackie are playing and Lucky decides to play too, then Spot and Blackie sort of "decide" whether Lucky gets in the game or not. Now if they decide Lucky passes the sniff test and they are down with Lucky playing, then it's Lucky's lucky day. But let's say they aren't too keen on Lucky's demeanor--for whatever reason...they just don't want to include Lucky. Well in dog world, there is no need for a conference, a sit-down mediation, an intervention...in dog world Spot and Blackie simply don't play with Lucky. Now Lucky has a choice to make here: does Lucky; a. want to force Lucky's self into Spot & Blackie's romp-fest, or b. decide to move on to more inviting rear-end sniffing elsewhere. If Lucky picks "b", then all is well in dog world and at the dog park. But if Lucky picks "a", a multitude of things could happen. Herein lies the problem with "people" at the dog park.

Lucky's owner is usually some person who thinks their Lucky is the most precious animal on God's green earth. Who on earth would not want to play with my sweet little Lucky. Well, Spot and Blackie for one...um, two. I see this all the time in "people" world: at the park, the zoo, the mall, youth sports activities, oh yeah...and at school. I finally had to tell my daughter, "look, we love you. We will stand in front of a freight train to save you. But see those other people out there? They are not nearly as nuts about you as we are and some of them even think it's kind of creepy that you hug everybody. Regardless of your cuteness, you, my dear, are invading their personal space. But remember, you are always welcome to invade ours and we love you no matter what. This is what Lucky's owner needs to convey to Lucky.

But instead, Lucky's owner invariably either watches Lucky running around annoying all the other dogs (again--no acknowledgment of respect for the other dogs), or runs around with Lucky saying things like, "oh...Lucky thinks he's such a big dog", or "hahaha, that Lucky of mine sure never meets a stranger", "oh don't worry, Lucky here just wants to get in the game". About that time Spot or Blackie or some other dog have had just about enough of this annoying intruder, and decide to engage in a little pest control. That generally begins with a quick snap or snarl and perhaps a display of a nice mohawk down the spine. Depending on how obstinate, egotistical or simply dumb Lucky is, Lucky either picks up on it and moves on to more welcoming canine companionship, or, Lucky thinks that perhaps the fun romping game has been ramped up a notch and by golly he can hang "with the big dogs". Hopefully Lucky is not foolish enough to make that mistake, but from what I've observed that is the very thing that makes Lucky the sort of ostracised dog he is. He and his owner just refuse to get that it's just not always about Lucky.

So dogs like Spot, Blackie and others have to take matters into their own hands much the same as we people finally do at our people parks. Hair flies, snarling escallates, teeth gnashing begin and then, once Lucky has been shown his place, his owner generally scoops Lucky up and leaves the park. Owner continues to be clueless as to what all the hub-bub was about and Lucky is insulted at the lack of acceptance by the dog group and vows to never go back there again.

Much like our dogs who wouldn't have any other owner besides their one and only "us", much the same as they have complete and total loyalty to us regardless of our faults and distasteful characteristics, we seem to be the same way with our dogs; bragadocious ("well, you know the Grand Welch Corgi has a proven intellect the same as an above-average intellect of a 38 year old human"), apologetic ("she can hardly help letting people know just how much she is a people dog but you can tell her to get off you lap if you want to"), over-indulgent ("I just have to feed him prime rib when he looks at me with that cute little puppy face") and proud ("nice coat of fur your dog has...Lucky has won three regional competitions for shiniest dog").

I'm afraid we will see this scenario play out time and time again. So far, four dog park trips, four "Lucky's" and their owners there. I guess the dogs and the people really aren't so much different from each other. I just hope I can continue to respect all the Spots and Blackies our there, regardless of Opal's vast amount of charm, talent and outstanding demeanor!

Now THIS is EXCITEMENT

I wasn't "allowed" to divulge my exciting news. It happened May 17th. It was a nice and pleasant evening when all the sudden the phone rang...and who could it be but my oldest daughter...and what on earth did she have to tell us other than that she was now formally, officially ENGAGED! We weren't even allowed to divulge said information to family members for an entire week so that the newly engaged couple could come tell everyone in person. Do you have any idea how underwhelmed the electrician, nail tech and landscape guy were with my exciting secret?

We couldn't be more happy for her. Of course we had a bit of a head's up on this one since her nearly perfect now-fiance had come to our house a mere two weeks ago (which seemed more like two months to me!) to ask her father's blessing that he be allowed to ask her to marry him. How totally wonderful is that? I wanted to say "sweet", but "sweet" is just not it. "Sweet" is not serious and committed enough. "Sweet" is just cute. This was wonderful, this was responsible, this was, and is serious business. This is the kind of wonderful, marvelous business that makes a mom cry--tears of happiness, tears of joy, and yes, a few bittersweet tears of days gone by.

It's interesting. Do I think these kids of mine are going to morph back into their toddler years again so that I can relive and re"do" any of those mistakes I may have made? Is it possible that if life did not move forward for them, that I could somehow stop, or even better-reverse time to live those forgotten, unappreciated moments that escaped me? I think that's where the tears come from. They are happy tears. Happy for her. Happy for her happiness. Happy for her determination to make the right choices. But there is a twinge of sadness, of wishing I could go back, stop time, make everything slow down. Had I just known. Had I listened to all those old people who told me that very thing. Had I understood how quickly it would all make sense. Well, coulda, shoulda, woulda's always leave you hanging with that not-quite-finished feeling, but that's life.

Anyhow since the announcement of said engagement I have succeeded in bringing her to tears only once (that I know of and accept responsibility for). We all knew it was coming. We all knew "mom would eventually screw up this happy time" and far be it from me to let everyone down. I did have to have the "are-you-sure-you-MUST-have-this-wedding-only-a-mere-three-weeks-or-so-after-not-one-but-TWO-graduations-and-during-the-most-expensive-oops-i-mean-popular-time-of-year?" talk with both her and her fiance. I gotta say, this guy she's picked is good...he is very, very good! Upon the onset of tears I, of course, felt very guilty (yes, really I did). He sat very composed, listened carefully to my reasoning, nodded his head all the while patting my lovely daughter's leg. When I realized I had nearly reached full "lose 'em" potential, I quickly suggested that the subject be changed, they think about what I had said and we go inside and talk about fun wedding stuff.

Within 48 hours she called and they had thought about it and no, did not want to change their date. OK...alrighty...mom is going to have a little breakdown during her eldest daughters most precious moment in life to date...great...this is great. Quickly, I pulled myself together and thought NO--YOU ARE NOT! You are MOM, you CAN and, more importantly, you WILL do this! You will overcome for the greater good! You will formulate a plan, move into action, you will CONQUER! And with the confidence of a great leader, KAMINSKI-BIDDICK WEDDING TWO THOUSAND AND TEN, kicked into high gear!

To date we have: Secured ceremony venue (our church of course); Met with ceremony planner; Secured reception venue; Met with and secured caterer, baker, photographer, music & chair-bow vendor (a seemingly meaningless, but ever so important detail); Had first round of engagement pictures taken; Composed guest list; Chosen Save-a-Date announcements (ready to be rolled off the press); Decided upon invitations (ready to be rolled off the press); Designed and posted wedding website; Submitted engagement announcement for local newspaper; Purchased miscellaneous favors and bridesmaids gifts; Chosen bridesmaids dresses; hosted a small engagement party; and said YES TO THE DRESS, measured, ordered and paid for!

I can go into immense detail on these fun activities (and I won't unless begged to do so), but suffice it to say the wedding industry is NOT caught up in the economic downturn folks...not! Regardless, the process has been relatively pain-free--no, that is not true, it has been TOTALLY pain-free. I think to both of our surprise and amazement, Sam and I have had the best time doing this together. I cannot really think of anything much more "bonding" than participating in and preparing with your daughter for her most important journey...away from her parents. As mentioned earlier, a very bittersweet and sometimes surreal experience for me, "the mom", but one I wouldn't trade for anything. I am lucky to have an extremely level-headed daughter who has chosen the most magnificent guy on planet earth. Truly, all you girls out there, take lessons from this girl--she calculated cleverly and waited patiently and hit the husband-to-be jackpot! (I have that little fluttery happy feeling just typing that!)

Now having said all that "he's a great guy" stuff. We are embarking on a journey here very soon that will be the most telling of all....Biddick Family Vacation (think Griswolds), complete with all family members packed into the burb for a 14 hour road trip to the beach. THIS will be a true test of said "great guy's" stamina, patience, sense of humor and bladder control. More to come later.

I Like to Be Grumpy When I Work

Well, my new blinds for the living room came today. There's nothing all that special about my new blinds other than they are replacing the 17 year old shutters and (probably) the 10 year old "bra" fabric topper that has adorned out living room window for as many years. I was excited not only because they are here, but because they came super fast. I ordered them just four or five nights ago.

My husband is a lovely man. He really is. But while in the process of, or while trying to complete household "to-do's" that loveliness sometimes escapes him. Apparently tonight he had that very same revelation about himself.

I had made no bones that I would "love" to have the blinds hung tonight. Being the lovely husband he is, he agreed to do that. Our neighbor had requested we run by to see some things and I asked Steve to go. "No, I'm going to stay here and get the blinds hung". "Are you sure?" Yes. So an hour later I return and he is hanging bracket #2 of blind #1. Anne went in to talk with him and quickly learned he was also not nearly as lovely a dad during blind hanging time. Nothing terrible, but I think his comment was, "no, I really don't like doing this at all".

So being the supportive wife I am, I thought, ohhhh he just wants someone around while he's working. You know people like that? I'm sort of like that. You don't really need help, but it's nice to have a person who can fetch things close by preventing you from making sixteen trips up and down the stepstool. Someone to make conversation so to take your mind off the tedious nature of the job. Someone to give you a quick opinion (higher or lower? to the left or right?) when you need it. So I decided I would go sit in the rocker by the windows and be that supportive person. I sat and asked if he'd read the instructions (knowing full well he hadn't, but didn't need to either), I read the tools needed list to prove that there was no need for a great husband like mine to read the directions, we chatted briefly about the extra sliver of sample wood that was in the packaging, I then shared my observations at the neighbors house, shared the fact that the wife is quite the artist, shared that I wanted her to paint the kids pictures, shared...well, I shared for a bit...apparently too long...

Bracket #2 was completed and it was time to move the stepstool and reconfigure his tool placement:

Him: You're kind of in my workspace.
Me: Well, I thought I would just sit here and talk to you and keep you company. You don't want me to do that?
Him: No. I like to be grumpy when I work and with you here, you are just going to get the brunt of it.
Me: (Huge belly laugh) Are you serious?
Him: Well at least I can be honest. Here, can you go throw this away?

And there, my friends is the sort of revelation one must wait for nearly twenty five years to finally hear.