Boy Eats Corndog

Todd, Rollie, Tiller, and I checked out the Corndogorama this past weekend. One word will sum it up: HOT. Very, very hot. So hot that matilda and I quickly retired to the nearest coffee shop for an iced coffee. (Matilda digested a magazine.)

That's Mr. Corndog himself, Rollie, at right and below.

"Corndogs make me photogenic!"

Todd's favorite new coozie.

Corn dogs! Funnel Cakes!

Matilda and I hide out at Joe's. Rollie later joins us for a post-corndog cookie break.

Introducing

Everyone's favorite new . . .

R.N. (That's Registered Nurse, folks!)

Lisa Butler Palmer Thomas!!!!!!

Way to go, LeeLee. I knew you could do it.

The Hits Just Keep On Comin'

Saturday: I come down with nasty head cold.
Sunday: Rollie comes down with diarrhea. Lasts until last night.
Last night: Eye starts itching. Wake up with left eye matted and crusted shut. Pinkeye! Just in time for my weekend away from the children, with my husband, I get to look like a goddamn ogre. Awesome.

That, My Dear Little One, Is Karma

Me: Rollie, get over here, so I can check your diaper.
Rollie: [petulantly] No! [Runs away from me.]
Me: You have until three. If I get to three . . . [turning to see where he went]
[Very loud sound of head hitting table.]

That, my dear, is what we call karma. It's a bitch.

Dear Diary

I was thinking last night about the exhibitionist nature of blogs. It began with me thinking that I was looking forward to a little writing this morning, as I have found that my daily musings are a great outlet for whatever I have pent up inside me at the time, and that I always feel relieved of it after having written about it. This reminded me for some reason of the exhiliration I felt upon receiving my first diary as a girl. It was a hardbound book, in multi-striped, primary colors. I never wrote devotedly every day, but that striped diary lasted me for years. It had a little brass lock and key on it, and I guarded that key with my life, for a girl never wanted anyone to read the private thoughts in that diary. And private they were - sure, they were the ramblings and thoughts of a young girl, but they were thoughts meant for no one's eyes but my own. (And Dear Diary's of course.)

I began thinking about the freedom of being able to write things never meant for public consumption, vs. the crafted blog entries I write these days. While I do get relief from writing about my daily life in my blog, there are still things that i think about that I would never publish on the Internet. Sure, I don't mind talking about excrement and vomit, and starting my period (a subject that used to be solely for the eyes of my Dear Diary, but has now become as natural and shameless as eating a piece of pizza). I talk about my strange political views and I debunk myths about stay-at-home-motherhood. I admit, to the public, that sometimes I want to throw my children out of a moving vehicle. But there will always be a part of me that is kept separate from these posts. Things that preoccupy the deepest, darkest recesses of my mind. Thoughts and hates and fears and dreams and embarrassments and stomach-turning regrets that i would reveal to no one else, not my husband, best friends, sister, or maybe even aloud to myself. No, those are for me and my Dear Diary. I think i need to get her out. It's been a long time since I've really flushed out this mind of mine.

Sweetie, I Love You, But. . . #2

Tell me you did not really leave a wet Band-Aid on the shower window sill.

Genetic Predestination

This is Rollie in his Batman mask. (He was Batman for last Halloween. I know, not that creative, but people, I had a 23-day-old baby and wasn't functioning at full capacity. He's lucky he even got to go trick or treating.)
While I was folding laundry in my bedroom yesterday, Rollie was running around in his mask, while Matilda sat on the floor. He ran right up to her, kneeled in front of her, and let out a ROAR! She burst into tears. I explained to Rollie that Matilda was scared of him in his mask, because she didn't understand that it was him underneath. He removed the mask and showed her his face. I told him not to do it again. She giggled and I went back to folding laundry. Rollie put the mask back on, ran around the room,then ran straight back over to Matilda and got right in her face with an even louder roar. Matilda screamed bloody murder. Seems the thought of scaring his baby sister was just too alluring. He would brave Mother's wrath for the look of fear in Matilda's eyes. In punishment for disobeying me, I took away the mask and he apologized to Matilda.

Later, while they were napping, I went downstairs and kept myself occupied for a while. The result? Simon Elizabethan. That's right: The apple doesn't fall far from the tree. Rollie is a chip off the old block. Seems I just couldn't pass up the chance to torture my cat by making him a paper towel Elizabethan collar and then photographing it for posterity. Ironic, no?

We're In the Zoo

We renewed our Zoo Atlanta membership again this year. I spent most of last summer chasing Rollie around the zoo. Seems he didn't really care too much for the animal watching, but was more into picking up sticks, running away from me in crowds (not difficult to do as I was 6 months or more pregnant all of 2005), and getting around to the all-important picnic time.

For our second zoo outing of this summer, I was joined by my old friend Jason and his daughter, Elle. (Incidentally, the last time Jason was at the Atlanta zoo was the infamous Biology Birds project grading debacle.)

There was some trepidation on Jason's part about taking Elle on the train, as she has some post-traumatic stress syndrome relating to her last train-riding attempt, but you can see in the picture with Jason, that she is a cool cucumber this second time around the track.


Rollie and Elle sit with bronze statue of the famed Willie B.


















Rollie, Matilda, and I on the train. It was Matilda's first time!













Elle, with Jason, is an old pro now!

So, I got a little bored. I did something a little crazy.

This whole mommy thing has been getting me down of late. Don't get me wrong. I love my kids. I am happy I get to stay at home with them, and read to them, and play with them, and answer their many, many, many questions. But sometimes they just aren't that intellectually stimulating. I mean, right now, we are talking about what freckles are, and Rollie is attempting to count all of the freckles on my arm. I know. You are wishing you could nod your head like a genie and suddenly be sitting in my chair. If only for a moment.

So, when I saw a week ago that Metroblogging Atlanta was accepting new authors, I jumped at the chance to do something new, something different, something not about my kids. So, what is my first post about? Trips to the Atlanta Zoo. With the kids.

But really, this is supposed to be about my city, and so my posts will have to be about Atlanta, not about Rollie and Matilda. That was part of the allure, and part of the challenge. The change and challenge of writing about something other than the all-consuming parenthood. But isn't it fun that I get to look at the city I was born in through the eyes of my children? I think I will be looking at Atlanta, and at my own life with Todd and Tiller and Rolls, a little differently now.

The "News"

Rollie woke up early this morning, and then proceeded to go into Matilda's room, waking her about an hour and a half earlier than she usually rises. (We woke to her screaming bloody murder and Rollie yelling, "Tilda's crying!!! Mama, Dada, Tilda's crying!" Gee, wonder why she's crying.) So, all four of us were up bright and early, just after six. Todd changed Rollie upstairs, and I took Matilda downstairs to feed her and watch the news before the toddler onslaught of "Me watch Dora. Me watch Miffy. Me. Me. Me!" began.

When I watch the news in the morning, (usually i just read the New York Times online instead), I turn on the local ABC news affiliate, and then check out what's on CNN's American Morning. I then flip back and forth between the two during commercials. I must admit here and now that I am a news independent - I am not married to CNN, or to Fox News. In fact, I watch both about equally, depending on which annoying hosts and shows are on at the time, and sometimes forego both in favor of BBC America. So, in the mornings, I much prefer to watch CNN over the annoying Fox and Friends. I am thinking, though, that maybe many more Americans are watching Fox and Friends, because the very things that annoy me about it (inane chitchat, silly stories, smug commentators, etc.) are starting to infiltrate CNN. Miles O'Brien might as well dress up in a tuxedo, tophat, and tap shoes and do a rendition of The Andrews Sisters "Hello My Baby" ("Hello, my baby. Hello, my honey. Hello, my ragtime gal.")

News stories that I actually consider worthy of air time on CNN this morning? Well, seems Bill Gates is stepping down from Microsoft to invest more time in his Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation. That? I think that is news. This affects the economy and the technology industry in a big way. Not to mention that I highly respect the work his foundation is doing. In particular, the foundation's support of the School Matters initiative (for more info, see this.) Any other items of actual news interest to me were scrolling in the ticker at the bottom of the page, including the fact that things in The Sudan are deteriorating quickly into "chaos and warlordism if the U.N. does not give them support soon, says Mia Farrow." Because God knows, if a celebrity doesn't bring newsworthy items to my attention, then they just aren't newsworthy.

Why on earth are the deaths in Darfur relegated to the scrolling ticker, while I am forced to watch the following "news" stories?

• Paul McCartney turns 64 this weekend during a messy divorce. (Oh, the irony! Now that's news!)
• Motorcycle helmet safety and awareness. (Sure, this is news, but the only reason they gave it any airtime is because some dumbass football star wasn't wearing a helmet when he crashed his motorcycle.)
• Britney Spears broke down in tears on national television while being interviewed by Matt Lauer (who must be really proud of landing the "big" interview.)

Wow. Sure am glad that CNN is keeping me in touch with what's really going on in the world. Phew!

Teachers Who Made a Difference

I recently read a post by friend and fellow blogger Steph. She and I are both stay-at-home moms (SAHMs) of kids about the same age, and have discussed education at length of late. She recently posted about the educators who made a difference in her life, which is funny, because I was thinking of a few of them these past weeks, too. I just didn't think to give them the proper thanks that they deserve, so i thought I would rectify the matter by giving them their very own post.
First and foremost, I have to thank my most valuable teachers: My parents. They instilled in me a love of reading and learning that has never left me in all these years. I remember them reading to me every night (Go, Dog, Go! and Cranberry Thanksgiving and Christmas), and I remember learning to read by example. Mom always had a paperback in hand, and Dad was a loyal, seven-days/week newspaper reader. In fact, he even attemped to teach me to read the stock market pages. Mom always told me that as long as I had a book, I had a friend. (This served me well in those awkward middle school years.)

Next up? Ms. Hamilton, my first grade teacher at the now defunct Northwestern Elementary in Alpharetta. She was an African-American woman, and I think she was young and unmarried. I remember having reading groups, based on our reading levels, and they were held in groups at a back table in the room. I don't remember having a lot of other subjects; As far as I recall, we had reading and math, had a lunch and a recess, and occasionally (maybe once a week for an hour) a music teacher came in. (In particular, i remember him playing a creepy Halloween record with a song on it called, "The Ghost of John," to which we had to walk around the room as if we were ghosts, while singing. Fat chance schools would do something so cool these days!) Ms. Hamilton spent time with all of the students, no matter their level, and challenged us. When we weren't receiving instruction directly from her, we were to complete cards out of a box that I believe was called "SRA." It was fun and challenging to continue to complete more and more difficult cards. I still credit this classroom with much of my learning today.

8th grade: Mrs. Sparrow. She was my homeroom teacher, (my friend Steph's husband, Doug, was in my homeroom that year!) and she also taught science. I actually don't recall much about what I learned in those years, but I do remember that she was aware enough of her students to know that I was having difficulties and she would try to talk to me about it. At the time, these talks didn't do much to allay my angst, but looking back, maybe someone just noticing was enough to make a difference. i would like to think that one of my childrens' teachers would notice if they were having problems.

High School: Mr. Terry. I am not sure what years I had him, as I think i had him more than once for history classes. But this was a man whose love of his subject was contagious, and who really could get a kid (who was completely preoccupied with meeting boys and going to parties) occasionally think about history. I only wish that I had been a better student, or who knows where I might be now with his instruction in a subject that I now find so interesting! But it was certainly not his fault; the fault was all mine.

Sadly, that is my very short list. Three teachers who actually really made an impact on me. I don't mean to say that there weren't other good teachers in my years of public school, but those are the ones that stick out for me as going the extra mile to help me, both in the classroom and out.

But Mom and Dad are the real heroes here.

Um, Yum?

Night before last, i was putting Rollie down for the night. We were going through our ritual of saying "Goodnight" to everything in God's name ("Goodnight, Dora. Goodnight cowboy pictures, Goodnight Chicken Blues, Goodnight light." And so on, ad nauseum.) I kissed him on the forehead and realized he was chewing on something. He had a board book in his hand, so i thought maybe he had peeled off some of the paper and was eating it.

Me: "Rollie, what are you eating?"
[Rollie looks at me with big, innocent brown eyes. He smiles a sweet, proud smile.]
Rollie: "Toenail," he says, nodding as if to say, "Toenails are pretty good!"

Sometimes you just have to let them figure out for themselves what tastes good and what doesn't.

There, I've Said it

Alcohol and dieting don't mix. I could have lost a whole lot more weight by now if i just quit drinking. Or drinking during the week. Or even just drinking at home.

So, my sister and I have made a pact. I am not drinking again until 4th of July weekend. We have a wedding to attend that weekend.

Wish me luck! I am going to need it!

An Evening in the (East Atlanta) Village

I had dinner with friends last night, including an old college friend, Jason, and his wife Allison. I'm not sure how Jason and I met, but he was a fixture during my college years, we have shared numerous drunken evenings and one trip to the hospital together, and more importantly, he will always have a place in my heart as one of the people who helped me get over my first and only truly broken heart. We have occasionally corresponded over the years, but hadn't seen each other again since I graduated. It is always strange to see someone after that long, and you anticipate it with a mixture of happiness and, for me, nervousness. What if this person has changed drastically? What if I have become boring? What if I am fat from having two children? And it never fails that all of this "what if" is for naught, because the person is always almost exactly the same, and yet so wonderfully different, but in a good way. And I always realize that I could talk to them for hours, catching up, and even after we go our separate ways, i think of a million things to ask them.

Anyway, I had a nice dinner and a few beers with my sister, Lisa, our friend Vanessa (another UGA friend, who also knew Jason,) Jason and Allison, and their friend Amanda at local hangout The Earl. Amanda was quite a talker, in a winning, contagious way, although her biceps brought me down a few notches. I had been feeling pretty good about my consistent workouts, weight loss, and strength training, but if you want to blow all that to smithereens, I highly suggest that you have dinner with an IronMan triathlete, his long-distance swimmer wife, and their triathlete friend.

Anyway, it was a great evening. Jason, Allison, and Amanda left pretty early (Jason is starting his new job today). Lisa, Vanessa, and I moved on to The Flatiron for drinks, solving the problems of the world on the patio, and picking up weird, 50-something lesbian Cher fans who want to take pictures of my kids at the zoo. Always an interesting evening in the village.

It felt like the beginning of a new summer era - I am looking forward to spending more time with Vanessa and her daughter during her summer off from teaching, and I am also looking forward to getting to know Allison better. (She is also off for the summer from her teaching job, and lives not five minutes away.)

Did I mention that it felt like a new era? Well, it did. And then i woke up today to a toddler with diarrhea. Looks like we'll be cooped up a little while longer.

We Need to Raise the Bar

You may or may not have noticed the lack of Dogwood Girl posts. For good reason: I was being a responsible parent. I have been thinking a lot about the kids' education lately. I have also been doing a lot of research, and realizing that the information out in the ether is really confusing, hard to interpret, and varies massively depending on who is putting it out. After reviewing a number of websites with school achievement information, I did come across one site that seems to present information in a straightforward manner, without any obvious bias, and with the improvement of public education, regardless of political belief, at its core. (Incidentally, much of this site is supported by The Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation. Yes, that Bill Gates. Anyone see him on Oprah? It was an eye-opening show.) The site did not actually solve my problem of choosing a school for my children, but at least it gave me some clearcut ways to decipher school data, presented some of the reasons for school failure, and helped me figure out what questions I should be asking about my children's' school.

At first I was worried that my kids would be shortchanged by living in GA, because it was my impression that GA schools were "bottom of the barrel." Well, it turns out they are just about average with the rest of the nation. Unfortunately, the nation's schools seem to be at the bottom of the barrel. Think I'm joking? Listen to this:

• According to the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development, the United States, the richest country in the world, is ranked 24th in Math.
• According to Gates: "Millions of kids are dropping out. Of minorities, half drop out. Overall it's about a third."

I am a little freaked out and a lot ticked off about education. Our nation's public schools are failing our children. It really concerns me. I mean, if I am paying taxes, and that money goes into these crappy public schools, shouldn't my children get decent schools for the money?
If we are paying taxes for schools, shouldn't we be able to live and work within 20 minutes of our (Todd's) job and still send our children to a decent school? Sure, we could move out to the 'burbs, but:
a) Our quality of life would decrease in a huge way - No more breakfast and coffee as a family, no more meeting Daddy for lunches, and no more Daddy home by 5:30 to play with the kids before dinner. I would for all practical purposes be a single mom.
b) I don't wanna.

It just shouldn't be this hard. In the real marketplace, if you pay for a service and it is not delivered, you can fire that service. You can't "fire" the public schools.

I have been looking at test scores and other indicators (comparing test scores, free/reduced lunches, class size, racial makeup, etc.) and my head is spinning. I have come up with a list of schools that we can afford to live near. And then I go and, just out of curiosity, I looked at the test scores for an area in which I KNEW I would never send my kids to school, and they weren't that much lower!!! WTF??? It really appears that either the tests are too easy, or the reporting on test scores is fudged. Or are the test scores themselves fudged? Ack!

How is a concerned parent supposed to know how to make an informed decision about their child's education?

The more I look at the issue, it seems that School Choice is the best solution. Shouldn't I be able to take the funds allotted for my kids and send them where ever I can afford to get them the best education? And what could I afford? Would the funds allotted my child in public schools actually cover private school tuition? In GA public schools, each child has approximately $7,000 spent on them each year. Why on earth are these schools failing? That is ludicrous! If they are really failing, it sucks that I can't take that amount and use it towards their education in any manner I wish, even if it means putting them in private school. (Of course, private school would come with its own set of problems - a sense of entitlement, possible lack of diversity, etc.)

Turns out many people are in direct opposition to school choice. Why can't we push for more competition in schools, where schools have to vie for my attention based on their results? I mean, if competition works in a free marketplace, why can't it work in education? It appears that the government is running a monopoly on education. I am now looking into why people are so resistant to the idea of creating competition in our school system, to the idea that competition and/or privatization of some kind might drastically improve the schools. It is hard to get a straight answer out of anyone, or find any reference to why the idea hasn't caught on, but here are a few things I can gather:

• Many people just don't give a shit, and expect and trust the government to educate their kids well.
  
• There seems to be a lot of top-heavy administration in education and streamlining our schools and making them more efficient and improving them would mean that people would lose jobs.
  
• Some people truly believe it would undermine public education, and I think yes, it would throw public education inadequacies into such a glaring light that it would become obvious that the schools are failing and things would come to their logical conclusion: The schools would fail. Who would pick up the educational slack? Would the private sector really save the day in a timely manner?
  
• The old separation of church and state argument - God forbid that someone choose to educate their child in a Catholic school. No, if they want to do that, they will still have to pay their taxes to the failing public schools and their beliefs can be paid for on their own dime.
  

I am very frustrated, but in the end, I am sure it will work out fine, and my kids will excel because I am informing myself about education, and because I value reading and education. But what about the poor kids whose parents don't give a crap? And then all those uneducated kids grow up to be dumb voters and then we all get screwed.

I don't think the outlook is good for the majority of kids in our country. It is very disheartening. I do wonder what would happen if all of these failing students were actually required to take responsibility for their education, were held to some standard of behavior and academic achievement. Part of me is an optimist and thinks that if we raised the bar, there would be students who would rise to the occasion. Part of me knows deep down that some of the kids have such dire circumstances and a lack of support at home that they will fail to receive an education no matter what we do to improve the schools. Do I know the solution? Don't I wish. I wish that we could get to the root of the problem, which, in my opinion, is the parents. But how does one wipe out poverty, single parenthood, teenage pregnancy, and adult illiteracy?

What I do know? That lowering the educational bar is not going to help.

My Day

7:50 a.m. Get up, throw on clothes.
7:55 am. Change Matilda's diaper, go downstairs.
8:00 a.m. Breastfeed Matilda.
8:15 a.m. Pour coffee, eat breakfast bar and drink coffee while checking email.
8:45 a.m. Clean bathrooms and upstairs for house showing.
9:15 a.m. Mow yard.
10:30 a.m. Wash face, pack bag for outing. Feed Matilda again.
11:00 a.m. Go by post office, get todd to drop me off, immediately return to car because 500,000 people are in line and only two people are working the counter.
11:20 a.m. Go to La Casita for lunch.
12:00 noon Go home, get todd to watch kids in car while I go inside, pee, check messages, make sure house has already been shown, let dog out to pee, put dog back in crate, go back and get in car.
12:20 Drive to Candler Park and find parking space. Get out, put M. in stroller and instruct Rollie on hand-holding necessity in parking lot. Walk down to playground.
12:30 Realize playground is closed. Walk back up hill and then sit with Rollie and matilda to watch kickball game in progress.
12:35 Go back to car and put both kids in carseats and put stroller back in car.
1:00 Drive back to East Atlanta to go to Brownwood Park or Glenwood Park.
1:15 Realize both kids have fallen asleep in car. Decide to find a drive-thru Starbucks (only two known drive-thru locations in Atlanta located at Piedmont Rd. in Buckhead or Briarcliff and Lavista. Neither are close to my current location.)
1:17 Realize I have no cash on me.
1:18 Drive through ATM
1:30 Pull out of ATM and leave East Atlanta for Briarcliff Lavista Starbucks in hope of getting coffee, parking, and reading while kids sleep.
2:00 Finally arrive at Starbucks after being caught in massive Buddhist parade that shut down Moreland.
2:01 Order coffee just as matilda wakes up.
2:02 Pay for coffee and pull into parking lot, realizing i have to feed Matilda again.
2:02 1/2 Rollie wakes up and wants snack and a park.
2:03 Pull out of parking lot without feeding matilda, thinking i will drive to Piedmont Park, feed her before getting out of car, then walk to find a snack and a playground.
2:20 Get caught in massive Virginia Highlands Festival/normal beautiful Saturday Piedmont Park traffic. Decide to scrap Piedmont Park idea in favor of new Cabbagetown or Glenwood Park idea.
2:30 Realize Cabbagetown Park is inaccessible due to emergency situation requiring fire trucks, ambulances, and police cars to block the way.
2:40 Drive past Glenwood park, realizing children will burst into flames if I take them out where there is no shade at 3 pm. We of course don't have hats or sunscreen with us.
2:45 Pull into parking lot in East Atlanta Village. Get matilda out and sit in passenger seat to feed her as Rollie screams about cookie/park deprivation.
3:00 Put Matilda in stroller, pack up diaper bag/purse, book etc. Go around to Rollie's side and lift him out, again discussing how to hold hands in parking lots. Walk halfway across parking lot when Rollie says his pants are wet. Check his diaper. Pants completely soaked.
3:02 Mouth "FUUUUUUUUCK" silently, realizing pants are soaked and we have no other pants.
3:03 Turn around and go put Rollie back in carseat amidst more screams of "cookies" and "park." Put Matilda back in carseat. Put bags bag in front seat. Fold stroller and put back in car.
3:05 Get back in car, make drive of shame back to house.
3:10 Get home. Fix snack. Let out dog. Put Matilda on floor with pile of toys.
3:20 Turn on Baby Einstein. Start blogging about this wonderful day.

The Possibilities are Endless

This week marked a pivotal point in my life with Todd. After very little debate, we decided that after having Matilda, our family would be complete, and we would get Todd "fixed." Actually, the deal was, we would get Todd fixed, unless for some reason i had to have a c-section while having Matilda, in which case i would be taking one for the team. That did not come to pass, however, so on Wednesday morning, Todd took a bath, shaved his balls, and then we left the kids with Aunt Lisa and headed off to The Emory Clinic for Todd's outpatient snip snip.

Todd was surprisingly calm. Actually, if you know Todd, you know that he is almost always calm, so it really wasn't that surprising, but if anything was going to get him a little nervous, i thought for sure it would be his scrotum going under the knife while he was awake. (He may have also been helped out a little by the prescription for valium that the doctor pre-prescribed for him to take prior to the surgery.)

Todd filled out the paperwork, which was rather amusing:
Q: Reason for electing to have this procedure performed:
A: "Screaming children."

Todd went through the double metal doors of his own volition, and i was off to find coffee and ruin my diet with a Krispy Kreme raspberry-filled doughnut. He went back at about 11 a.m. and was done around 1 p.m., giving me plenty of time to read about half of Heavy Words, Lightly Thrown: The Reason Behind the Rhyme and partake in some stellar people-watching. Hospitals are always good drama, what with all the dying and sickness and, in this wing, catheterizations, laproscopies, vasectomies, and colonoscopies. Everyone has a (completely imagined by me) story.

Todd came out on his own two feet, and the nurse congratulated me on having such a well-endowed husband. Okay, not really, but she did say that he had done great and to take care of him. We headed off to eat a lunch with no kids (Nirvana!) at Willie's, and then grocery shopping and picking up his prescriptions at the Edgewood Kroger. I think I broke the world land speed record for grocery shopping; it is amazing how fast you are when there is not a toddler throwing the items back out of the buggy while you shop. After that, we headed home to prop Todd up in bed with a Darvocet, some antibiotics, and a bag of frozen peas on his balls.

From an emotional standpoint, i have to admit that in the week preceding the procedure, i had a slight feeling of sadness. This simple procedure would put an end to our child-bearing years, and for all my bitching, my child-bearing years have been the happiest and most rewarding of my life. Most of the time, I still feel like a 25-year old; Am I ready to be past my usefulness as a breeder? When I think of a woman who is done having children, i think of her as being 40-something and graying, harried by taking pre-teens to soccer practice and cheerleading. Okay, i have the graying down, but I still feel like a young family, and when it comes down to it, there is something exhilarating and primal about the knowledge that every time you do your husband you could create another life from the act.

However, after a couple days of reflection on this decision, i have felt a sense of comfort come over me. I know that we made the decision that is right for us. As Todd is fond of saying, "We have a complete set." One boy, one girl, both perfect and healthy and loved. And hey, Todd can fuck around and not worry about child support payments, while if anything happens to Todd, I still have the plumbing in place to take the life insurance money, find me a 20-something boy toy in his sexual prime, and squeeze out a few more puppies. The possibilities are endless!

Okay, I'm just going to come out and ask.

I am sure this will offend someone, or someone will read it and think I'm stereotyping African Americans by even asking, but I have been wondering this ever since moving to East Atlanta back in [we're going to party like it's] 1999. It never occurred to me before, because I had never before lived in a predominately African American neighborhood, and white people just don't seem to exhibit this same behavior. At least, not white people in any neighborhood in which i have ever lived. I'm sure there are some exceptions, but it seems to be a race thing. (Or maybe it is a socioeconomic difference, or even, as local talk radio host Neal Boortz often points out, a "cultural" difference.) Whatever it is, I am truly baffled, and have been for years, but have never brought it up to anyone other than family, out of some semblance of political correctness. Here it is:

WHY DO AFRICAN AMERICANS IN MY NEIGHBORHOOD INSIST ON WALKING IN THE STREET, RATHER THAN ON THE PERFECTLY GOOD SIDEWALKS?

I am truly stumped. I can't see where it would be for their safety. How could the street be more safe than the sidewalk? East Atlanta has an excellent sidewalk system, especially on the more well-travelend thoroughfares, such as Glenwood and Flat Shoals Roads. Can anyone else see any possible logical reason for this?