My Real Life

August 26, 2015

Progressive Dreaming

Filed under: Uncategorized — Amy @ 6:00 am
Tags: , ,

Over the course of the past few months, I’ve had the same dream again and again.

It’s not the same exact dream, every time, however.

Details, here and there, regarding the main storyline change, with each dreaming.

I have had many recurring dreams, over the course of my life.

For example, when I was a child, for a period of years, I had a sort of “pre-dream” every night, before I’d move into my actual dream for the night.

I dreamed that Dracula, Frankenstein, and some other monster, who I cannot seem to remember, would stand around my bed while I slept, push a panel in the wall, and have my bed descend into a chamber beneath my bedroom, where I would be protected from nightmares.

And, amazingly, when I had that dream first, the dreams that followed were never frightening.

However, that dream was the same…every night.

This dream changes, and so I did some research, and it’s called a progressive dream.

Recurs, but different, each time.

—–

The main part of the dream is a house.

A mansion.

I believe it is round, although I’ve never seen the outside.

I’ve also never seen the first floor.

The second floor is full of bedrooms, and they flow into each other. There are walls and doors, but you get a sense of flow.

I’m trying to get my kids to choose a room, but they won’t decide on which one they want.

There are large bedrooms and small ones.

Rooms filled with beds, rooms with a ton of space and a very small bed.

Opulent rooms, sparse rooms.

However, all of them are bedrooms.

The third floor is also circular, but it has more living space and, what I guess I’d call “specialty rooms.”

It also has an open flow to it, but in the upstairs, the walls are more imagined than real, if that makes any sense at all.

The kitchen is massive, with stainless steel appliances, and one of those refrigerators with the glass doors.

Glass cabinets and a massive island.

The kitchen opens into a family area with many couches and several large televisions that hang on the wall.

This area gives way into a library, with floor to ceiling bookshelves, which gives way to a piano room with several grand pianos, some uprights, and a few decrepit, old pianos.

In all of the dreams, I want to play the grand pianos, but keep being drawn to the old ones that won’t work as well and try to plunk out some tunes.

There is also a circular staircase to a bell tower, and every time I start to ascend the staircase, I look back over my shoulder, and the house has turned into an ancient cathedral, and I know I am there to solve some ancient mystery.

And then I wake.

Those are the pieces of the dream that never change.

The pieces that change are the circumstances that bring me to that house.

Sometimes I own the home.

Sometimes I am visiting.

A few nights ago, in my dream, Real Man and I inherited 2 billion (yes, billion) dollars, and we were considering purchasing the house.

—–

I have no idea what it means.

What my subconscious is trying to tell me, beyond my latest desire to win the lottery.

I just know that whenever I dream it, I consciously, within the dream, try to stay in the dream, because there is a strong desire to figure it out.

And, maybe, sometimes a dream is just that…a dream.

Fascinating stuff, dreams and the subconscious mind.

I’d love to hear if any of you have any recurring or progressive dreams.

Even if just to know I’m not all alone in this!

 

August 25, 2015

DaVinci’s Demons

Filed under: Uncategorized — Amy @ 6:00 am

I know, I know…

I cut back on tv watching this year, so why on earth would I add a new show?

I’ll tell you why.

I’ve been watching a lot of my summer shows on the treadmill.

In fact, to make sure that I get on that treadmill, every day, I ONLY allow myself to watch some shows while walking on the treadmill.

So, when I finished the season finales of True Detective and Unreal, I needed something else to watch while I waited for the next episode of Suits to become live on the iPad.

I thought, “Maybe I’ll re-watch Outlander,” but, when I got to the Starz app, I saw a show called DaVinci’s Demons.

I like DaVinci.

The Renaissance is always one of my favorite time periods to teach, and I have always been fascinated by Florence and the patronage of the arts and the Medici family and the flourishing of learning and knowledge that happened during that time period.

And DaVinci?

Have you seen his notebooks?

To call him a visionary is almost an insult to his intelligence.

The man was incredible.

I can’t even fathom what we might have today if he had been born in a modern era where the technology to create the things he imagined existed.

When people ask what historical figure I’d like to go back and meet (and you’d be surprised how many people actually do ask me that question), he’s tied for first on my list.

I like Demons.

Okay, I don’t mean, I like actual demons…if they even exist.

Like, I don’t have pentagrams painted under all the beds in our house and chicken heads dangling from the rafters.

At least not throughout the whole house.

But, I like reading/watching about the supernatural, and when it is religion-related, I love it more.

I thoroughly enjoy ancient religious mystery books, and give me some Illuminati conspiracies and I am all in.

So, I thought I’d give it a try.

I was NOT disappointed.

The first episode hooked me, and I haven’t been able to stop watching since.

And, while I’d like to say this means that I’ve been working out on the treadmill non-stop, my willpower is not that strong.

Tom Riley, as DaVinci is crazy beautiful, and I mean, plays insane crazy very well…and is beautiful to look at.

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The political intrigue is high, and much like I enjoyed the politics of The Tudors, I am completely sucked in by the evil Pope Sixtus and his attempts to bring Florence under his control, and out of the light that it enjoys under the leadership of the de Medici family.

It’s also got a bit of humor, and isn’t high drama all the time.

It’s like The Tudors meet Hercules and Xena…just way less ridiculous than the latter two.

The characters are all likeable, except for the evil ones, and those are the ones you love to hate.

And they are complex, because some of them…you love and hate all at the same time.

The show also works in the real sketches from DaVinci’s notebooks, and he winds up making so many of his inventions as he attempts to save Florence time and again.

It’s so good.

Like, really, really good.

Not a show for the kiddies, by any means…language and nudity and violence abound.

But, if you like historical fiction…this could be your show.

August 24, 2015

Fort Life

Filed under: Uncategorized — Amy @ 6:00 am
Tags: , ,

There are many frustrating things about being the little brother.

You can’t stay up as late as your older siblings.

You aren’t tall enough to ride all of the best rides.

Your older siblings get to do everything first, and their stuff always looks bigger and better.

—–

Over the course of the past week, Monkey in the Middle and his friends have been building a fort in the woods.

They’ve made a teepee style fort and have gone dumpster diving for things to make it super-duper-cool.

It’s an awesome fort.

Baby Monkey has been feeling some fort-envy, because a) he’s not old enough to walk over to that part of the neighborhood alone, b) even if he was, Monkey in the Middle probably wouldn’t let him join the fort-building fun, and c) if there was ever a born engineer, Baby Monkey is it.

The kid will likely build the first bridge from the Jersey Shore to Portugal when he grows up.

So, after the whole family went and checked out MiM’s fort, last night, Baby Monkey was sitting with me in the kitchen and said “I wish we had woods behind our house, and I could build my own fort.”

“Excuse me?” I said.

“What?” he responded.

“Look out the window, you goof.”

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(picture above is pre-Hurricanes Irene and Sandy, but it’s still the backyard)

“Oh, yeah,” he said.

So, out we went.

The result of the hurricanes on the woods behind our house was quite beneficial for a boy looking to build a fort.

The trees fell in such a way that it is almost as if they were begging to be made into a fort.

Like, Hurricane Irene meets The Giving Tree.

And so, when he woke up this morning, Baby Monkey got to work.

With his own little brother.

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There’s still plenty of work to do.

More logs to be propped up to form the ceiling for the “inside” of the fort.

More rocks to be collected to line the walls for the “patio” of the fort.

Brush to be cleared, treasures to be collected and placed.

But there’s a boy who is ready to do the work, and is proud of his own fort.

Close enough that he can go by himself.

Even though he’s the little brother.

 

August 22, 2015

Venus and Mars at the Golf Course

We’re a mini-golf family.

We love playing mini-golf.

Okay, we love the “idea” of playing mini-golf.

Because when it comes to actually playing mini-golf, we start out like the Brady Bunch, singing songs, laughing about our errors, making some Sunshine Day memories.

By by the last hole, we are practically tossing our golf clubs at the person manning the booth, saying “Thank God that’s over. Never again.”

And, truth be told, it’s not the kids.

It’s Real Man and I.

But, our methods of destroying the fun of mini-golf differ greatly.

By the time we get to the third hole, someone has already gotten a 5, and I am excluding Tiny from this conversation, because his are all 17’s that we’ve turned into 5’s on the score card to be merciful.

As soon as someone gets frustrated with their score, Real Man swoops in and begins to “teach” them how to play.

“Stand here.”

“Hold the club like this.”

“If you line it up this way.”

“No, don’t rush…take your time and really aim your shot.”

And it’s nice, and the kids improve a little.

But when we get to the sixth hole and he’s still doing it, I start to panic.

Because by this time, the people who were two holes behind us are now waiting for us to finish each hole.

And, while I don’t mind waiting for the people in front of me, I don’t want to be the person that makes other people wait.

So, I start with my tactics.

“Monkey Girl…go ahead and start the next hole.”

“Monkey in the Middle…just tap yours in and go with Monkey Girl.”

“Yes, yes, Tiny…just pick up your ball. It’s gonna take you five minutes to push your ball into the hole that way.”

By the time it is Real Man’s turn at hole 16, I’ve already pushed everyone else on to hole 18 and the poor guy is left all alone, and then when he catches up, we yell our scores at him for the last two holes as we run to the next hole…so no one has to wait for us.

Mid-course, we come together again for the “cool” hole.

And then we all golf together, in solidarity, because of this:

But then it starts again.

And when we finally get to hole 18, which is the awesome hole where if you get a hole in one, you win a free game, I’m saying things like “Wow! You almost got it!” out loud, but in my head I’m thinking, “If one of them wins that free game, I’m going to shoot myself.”

We get in the car and tally the scores, although they are all almost always the same.

Real Man always wins by a lot.

Probably because he is taking his time, lining up his shot, and imagining the ball going into the hole.

The next four are a crap shoot, depending on who was able to actually make the shots with their mother hurrying them along, and then Tiny rounds out the herd, yelling things like “72! That’s such a great number! I winned with 72!”

And I sigh and think “Never again.”

Until the next time.

 

 

 

August 21, 2015

Change

When I was a kid, we didn’t find out who our teachers were until the first day of school.

We would get to school, assemble in the gym, organized by buses, and the lists would be posted on the wall. They’d read off the names of the teacher and you’d listen eagerly for your name to be called, and hope beyond hope that it was called off under the name of the teacher that you had been wishing for all summer long.

You’d go to school that first day with a backpack that had a pack of pencils, a notebook (denim Trapper Keeper, if you were awesome, like me), and your lunchbox.

Your teacher didn’t know you before you got there, and it would take him or her a week or two before they knew everyone’s name.

You’d get to class, and the teacher would go over the class rules, which usually consisted of “Keep your hands to yourself” and “Try your best” and you’d hit the ground running.

Your homework, the first night, would be a sheet of math problems and some spelling words, and you’d run home to do it as fast as you could, so you could head outside and ride your bike or climb some trees, trying to grab hold of those last, fleeting moments of summer, as the cool breezes of fall were already sneaking in.

Your parents would have homework, as well. One, rectangular emergency card that asked for your address, phone number, and the name of one other person, in case of emergency.

You’d fall asleep that night, exhausted, but happy, and ready to go the next day.

————

My kids start school in a few weeks, and already, the beginning to their year is different than mine ever was.

The schedules for the middle school were mailed this week, and the high school and elementary schedules will come next week.

What follows their arrival in the house is a flurry of photo taking and schedule sharing via text, Instagram,  and SnapChat (no SnapChat in my house, but I guarantee it’s everywhere else).

By the time school actually starts, they will know the name of almost every child in their classes.

As soon as they get their schedules, I’ll go to the school website and download the supply lists.

And they will be endless.

We’ll go to Walmart or Target or Staples and spend my first paycheck of the year on school supplies, because a pack of pencils and a notebook aren’t gonna cut it anymore.

On the first day of school, they’ll head in with a backpack loaded with supplies, their lunchbox, the BoxTops for Education we’ve saved over the past few months, and 50,000 papers that I filled out over the summer.

In that packet, there was the emergency card, the Home and School directory papers, the school lunch forms, the insurance forms, the user agreements for the school internet, the harassment, intimidation and bullying forms, the donation forms, and a variety of other papers, specific to their school.

They’ll go right to their classroom, and the teacher will already know them, because in that mountain of papers I filled out, was a “Getting to Know Your Child” form where I told the teacher what kind of student my child was, how he or she learned best, how he got along with others, what his or her hobbies were, and what I would like to see my child accomplish over the year.

Their first days will be spent going over the packets of classroom rules, grading policies, dress codes, school handbooks, and having assemblies to discuss the rules of the school.

And then their homework will be assigned.

When my kids get home, they’ll likely sit at the kitchen table working on their first day of school homework and assigned reading until it gets dark out, and then it will be too late to go outside and play, so they’ll veg in front of the television or hop on an electronic device until it’s time for bed.

That won’t be the end for me, though, because I, too, will have homework.

More papers from the teachers and the school that I need to fill out in order to ensure that my kids get everything they need to be successful this year.

————

Times have changed.

Some things for the better.

Some for the worse.

But what will never change is that night before the first day, where everyone goes to bed, fresh and showered, new school haircuts resting on their pillows, tossing and turning, brimming with excitement for that first day and the promise of a new year.

A new year full of possibility and fresh starts.

For all of us.

Photo on 8-20-15 at 9.09 AM

 

August 20, 2015

Gone Country

I have an on-again/off-again relationship with country music.

I think it’s safe to say that I hated country music for a good 37 years.

Then, I decided to give it a listen, and I found that the country music of today isn’t quite like the country music of my childhood.

It had a beat, it had a story, and I found myself liking it more and more, until it is now one of the most listened to stations in my car.

However, every now and then, I’ll have my fill, and stay away for a few months, if only for the fact that there aren’t as many country artists as there are mainstream, and so if you listen for a few hours, it all begins to repeat itself.

But, it’s safe to say, I’m a country fan.

So, imagine my delight when some of my fellow teachers approached me and asked if I’d like to channel my inner Miranda Lambert for the student/staff Talent Show, this past spring.

I said yes, they said they’d sing back-up, and here’s what we did:

That. Was. Fun.

I love to perform, I love an audience, but more than anything, I loved playing with my colleagues.

We had a blast practicing, changing things, refining the act, and when it was over, the talk turned to “What should we do next year?”

Life is so much better when you enjoy the people you work with, and they embrace your weird.

Which is lucky for me.

Because most of me … is weird.

August 19, 2015

Half-Year (and then some) Check-In

Filed under: Uncategorized — Amy @ 6:00 am

In January, I posted my 15 goals for 2015.

I probably should have taken a look at my list in June, when we were actually halfway through the year, and then used the summer to take care of some of the things on the list, but I didn’t, so I’m taking a look today.

Let’s see if I actually accomplished anything, so far, in 2015.

  1. Take the family to DisneyWorld. No time, no money, no way. Didn’t happen.
  2. Participate in at least one random act of kindness per week.  I believe that I have followed through on this one. I probably got too wrapped up in my own stuff every now and then, but it’s always been a priority to me to be good to others, and so I think I can say with some certainty that I most likely achieved this goal.
  3. Exercise at least twice a week.  Yes! Success! I have definitely exercised at least twice a week, so far this year.  Some weeks, it may have only been twice, but others it was more. So, now I’m feeling a little better.
  4. Watch less tv.  I think I did this. The dvr is full of a lot more stuff that the kids have recorded than things that I have recorded, and there are quite a few shows I’ve let go. So, yes, I’m watching less tv. Hey, three in a row! I’m doing great!
  5. Make $1,000 by selling on eBay, consignment, etc.  Talked too soon. I’ve made $10 this year.  Only $990 to go! 🙂
  6. Blog at least once a month.  So, I did this for a few months, then I didn’t for a few, and now I’m back and committed to finishing out the year strong.
  7. Read 50 books (and keep track!)  I’m at 56 right now, so YES, I have done this! School starts in two weeks, so I don’t know if I’ll make it 100, but I’m shooting for a new goal of 75.
  8. Really go through my closet and be ruthless with getting rid of what I don’t wear.  I’ve donated seven bags of clothes to the Salvation Army and I feel great about it. I still have some more to go, but it’s a good start!
  9. Play piano at least once a week. I didn’t start this until this month, so as a yearly goal, not so much.
  10. Write in my journal more often.   Didn’t happen. Wrote at the beach last week, but that was the first time in years.
  11. Get published, again.  Workin’ on it.
  12. Re-edit my novel.  Haven’t even picked it up. Two weeks left in the summer…probably won’t.
  13. Shred and pare down all of our files. Actually hoping to do it next week. Wish me luck!
  14. Entertain more.  Um, no. Haven’t entertained at all.
  15. Be kinder to myself.  I’ve read over 50 books, I’ve gained 10 pounds, I’m smiling more. I think I’m being kinder to myself. And I think I’m good with that.

August 18, 2015

Pinegrove

Filed under: Uncategorized — Amy @ 6:00 am

Every summer, we take a week to go away with my parents and a week to go away with my extended in-law family.

The weeks with my parents are just the six of us and my parents.

The weeks with my in-laws are a bit more chaotic, with 20+ of us descending on the beach each day.

This year, half of my in-laws decided that they were going to take a two week road trip together, out west, and so another full week off for them wasn’t a possibility.

Instead, it was decided that we would be visiting a dude ranch for three days and two nights.

What?

A dude ranch?

My initial reaction was less than thrilled, as I wasn’t exactly sure what on Earth I was going to be able to do with a 4 year old to keep him entertained on a dude ranch, but I wanted to be with the family and I knew the kids wanted to be with their cousins, so we were in.

Turns out…it was great.

We went to the Pinegrove Ranch in Kerhonkson, NY.

Think Kellerman’s, from “Dirty Dancing.”

Just, less clean and less 1950’s.

It was a blast.

The big kids were pretty much on their own for the entire time, with plenty to do to keep them busy.

Tiny and I went to the pool, to the petting zoo, to the bounce pillow, to the snack bar, to the playground, and round and round we went.

For the adults and big kids there was a pool, archery, horseback riding, tennis, shuffleboard, family dodge ball, bocce, horseshoes, etc.

I have always wanted to try archery.

It’s one of those things that I’ve always imagined I would be really, really good at, even though I’ve never done it.

You know those fantasies.

Turns out, although my visions of greatness at some things are not accurate, I’m a pretty darn good archer.

I think I totally could have taken Katniss in the Hunger Games.

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The horseback riding was an extra fee, but well worth the money.

They have a beginners route and an intermediate route.

We chose the beginners route.

I’ve been riding before, and have loved it, but it was many, many years ago, so I will admit to being a little bit nervous.

Once we got started, however, it all came back to me, and there were points on the trail through the woods, when I would see an open field through the trees and imagine just giving the horse a little nudge, pulling those reins to the side, and taking off into the wildnerness, as fast as my horse could go.

Then I remembered that I had the old horse who actually slipped and fell on his butt in the mud, twice, while I was on his back.

So, I didn’t leave the trail.

But, man, was that some amazing scenery.

And the kids loved it.

My horse and I rode behind two of my nieces and their horses and listening to their chatter, I am assured that it was an unforgettable experience for all of us.

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For the whole family, on one night, there was a magician comic and the next night we saw the juggling comic.

One of my sisters-in-law was called up on stage while the juggler juggled a machete over her body, while she lay on the floor.

Of course, afterwards, she admitted that she wasn’t as scared of the machete flying over her face, but the filthy blanket that he had her lay on might give her a few nightmares.

The jokes were corny, both nights, but you kinda didn’t mind.

We were busy every second and had a great time.

Sometimes, the unexpected is pretty darn good.

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August 17, 2015

Name That Tune

Filed under: Uncategorized — Amy @ 6:00 am

I’ve written, frequently, about my love for music.

It’s playing in our home, in our cars, in our ears, all the time.

It’s just a way of life for us.

Along with this goes conversations about music.

Why one song sticks in your head, and another you can hear once and never think of again.

Sometimes, the answer is “I like the message it sends.”

Sometimes, it’s “Because I can dance to it.”

Sometimes, it’s “It reminds me of a time in my life when…”

And sometimes, I don’t know…

Until I do.

Recently, one of the monkeys asked me, “What is it about this song that you like so much?”

Without thinking, I responded, “Because it reminds me of “Whiter Shade of Pale,” which is one of my top 5 songs ever.

Here’s the song, and if you don’t want to hear the whole thing (although it’s a great song) move to 2:10 and listen:

Then, listen to “Whiter Shade of Pale” by Procol Harum. Right from the beginning.

Hear it?

I know it’s the whole electric organ thing, but it takes me there every time I hear it.

Kinda like “Uptown Funk” brings me right to “Get Your Head in the Game” from High School Musical.

Don’t believe me?

Go to 1:29 and listen:

And then go to 1:20 and listen:

That one may not be as defined, but it still takes me there.

I mean, it’s not as scandalous as the whole Vanilla Ice stealing David Bowie’s “Under Pressure,” but then, what is?

August 16, 2015

I Wear My Sunglasses at Night

Filed under: Uncategorized — Amy @ 6:00 am

Today, I’d love for you to go back and read about some completely wrong lyrics I thought I knew, and hear what some of my readers had to say in an old post, which you can find here: WrongLyrics Contest.

However, I feel like I would be cheating in my 21 day blogging challenge, so I’ll tell you a little story that reminded me about that post, to begin with.

We were in the car the other day and “I Wear My Sunglasses at Night” came on and as I sang along, at the top of my lungs, Real Man looked at me and said “What song are you singing? Those words don’t even make sense!”

“I know,” I replied. “He must have been on crack when he wrote this song.”

Of course, when we got home, I immediately looked up the words, and I wasn’t even just sorta wrong.

My lyrics were WAY off.

But, I like ’em.

Listen to the song and read my lyrics. I think you’ll agree, they are not so bad.

I wear my sunglasses at night

So I can, So I can

Watch you weave and breathe to story land.

I wear my sunglasses at night

So I can, so I can

Keep track of visions in my eyes.

While, she’s deceiving me.

She cuts my security, and

She got control of me,

I turn to her and say.

Don’t push the play on the sky and share the war

Don’t masquerade with the sky and share the war

I can’t believe it

You got it made with the sky and share the war.

I wear my sunglasses at night

So I can, So I can

Forget my name while you collect your fee.

I wear my sunglasses at night

So I can, So I can

See the love that’s right before my eyes.

While, she’s deceiving me.

She cuts my security, and

She got control of me,

I turn to her and say.

Don’t push the play on the sky and share the war

Don’t masquerade with the sky and share the war

I can’t believe it

Don’t be afraid of the sky and share the war.

Cuz you’ve got it made with the sky and share the war.

I wear my sunglasses at night

______________

You can look up the real lyrics, but I think mine are better.

I mean, it’s a song from the 80’s.

Everything was about the Cold War.

Corey Hart just wanted us to share it.

With the sky.

Apparently.

Now, go read the old post, and come back and tell me about some of your misheard lyrics in the comments below.

I bet you, like me, are a way better songwriter than any of these so-called “musicians.”

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