huge mess

The huge mess behind me is not nearly as huge or as messy as it could be. It was only a couple of nights ago, some wild hair up her ass, Momma dumped all the Legos into the floor. We have three separate tubs of Legos and the random Mega Blocks that are basically Legos ( or would that be legos?) Before Momma's big Lego tub dumping, there was no order in how the Legos were separated into the tubs, as Lego cleanup has long ago become of the order of scoop and dump.

The Legos were already out, just not all the way out. The soccer set never go much chance to be a soccer set, but they were a good portion of the reason that the Legos were out at all. Big Brother built a Ninja Warrior course, a good portion of which was made up of the green rectangles that make up the Lego soccer field.

There are plenty of Lego people, most of whom came with the soccer set. The majority of Lego people are currently sitting in piles, completely pulled apart. Big Brother has even gone so far as to pull their little hands out of their arms.

I'm pretty sure it's the current fascination with Lego Star Wars video game that has him pulling the people apart. One of the features of the video game is the ability to build new characters using the cast of characters available in the game.

You might wonder how Ninja Warrior and Lego Star Wars fit together. Well, it comes together when an eight year old boy builds a Ninja Warrior course out of Legos and then builds people to compete using random Legos and imagination to build the characters from Lego Star Wars, such Luke Skywalker on Dagobah, Han Solo as a storm trooper, and so on.

I began writing this post last night when there was still a mess behind me. I didn't finish it and left it till today. Momma did in fact pick nearly all of the Legos up that she had dumped. Her original goal, for whatever reason, was to dig out all the parts that go into the Slave1, Bobba Fett's ship. It's a difficult thing to do, and it's possible that Big Brother never did succeed in building it when he first got it. He tried on and off for a while before growing frustrated and putting it away. By putting it away I do mean of course allowing the pieces to become mere Legos as opposed to pieces of a bounty hunter's transportation. They became merged into the tubs.

There are still three tubs, but we now have a few extra containers to house the various parts and pieces. Because the Bionicles have their own separate tub, and because we had the plastic container that one of them came in, we now have separate storage for wheels and axles. We have an old baby wipe container holding the random pieces, the one of a kind tiny pieces and we have a plastic takeout dish from the Thai place that once held soup, maybe even tom yum, that now holds the people.

Damn, now I want some tom yum soup.

expo bout

Our roller derby league was lucky in the earliest days of the league to find a place to skate, a place for both practice and bouts. There have always been some issues with the rink, and location and size have always been the top issues.

Saturday night Hard Knox Roller Girls present Triple Threat, our expo bout where we check out a possible new location. The Icearium is huge, lots of parking, serves alcohol, has parking, is still technically in our town, et cetera. Did I mention they sell beer?

The fact that our current home is in the next county is enough to throw some people off. People just don't want to go to Maryville, as it seems like a drive. It's not any closer or farther for the average person than the Icearium, but sometimes it's just the name.

All three of our intra league teams will be playing in Triple Threat. I'm not sure how we're going to manage it, though some system of staggering the teams on the floor will occur so that each team skates the same number of jams and each team faces each other team the same number of jams.

If you live anywhere within the sound of my voice, I suggest you hitch up the mules, help grandma and the kids into the wagon, and come out and show your pride. Whether you wear Kelly purple, Betty red or Lolita black and white, your favorite team needs you to come and show your love. More than that, your league wants you here, screaming and cheering for us all.

borrowed theme

Carol Borges, blogging at KnoxViews, has an interesting piece about the possible racism in damning the violence and misogyny in hip hop music when "white" music has many references to similar actions and attitudes. She listed a few songs to make her point. I hadn't really considered the issue this way before. Though not much of a hip hop fan over all, I do listen to a few groups and tend to steer away from a lot of gangsta rap as well as the more overtly sexual groups. For me it's more some quality I see in the groups I do enjoy versus the content of their songs.

Celebrating the misogyny as well as the bling culture that so much of hip hop seems to have devolved into is more damaging I feel. To some extent, the more violent music, at least at one time, could have been argued to open a window onto the reality of life for too many people, but at some point even that rings a little hollow when you wonder why so many artists can get rich at the expense of the suffering and yet the gangs still continue to hurt people and make neighborhoods unlivable. What good is the money when all the community sees is gaudy diamond encrusted watches and necklaces? Of course there I seem to hold black artists somehow responsible. If we are to suggest this, then why not also suggest that country artists are responsible for rural communities?

I grew up in Atlanta, in south Dekalb County. We attended church and school in an area that would have been considered white at the time, though south Dekalb is and was decidedly not. On some level I've always had an interest in issues of race and equality. It seems like it's always questions and never enough answers.

them toes

Before I say anything else, the following post is to be in no way misconstrued as a comparison to any real injury earned in the actual bout. Yes, you are getting another post that is in some way derby related, but I really have to reiterate the whole not comparing thing. I'm not including bruise or contusion pictures, because this post isn't about that, and I don't have any.

I do have some toe issues though that are related to the bout. This was my first time as an announcer for the league. For the most part I did team and skater intros, I introduced the refs and tried to do a reasonable play by play. I exhorted our fans to cheer louder and audibly swooned over the soul crushing hits our team dealt out.

My toe problem is related to both the shoes I was wearing and the physical stance I take when actively observing a roller derby bout. I tend to squat on one leg, a position that is not quite standing or sitting but leaves me in a position from which I can easily stand to shout encouragement or even to leap into the air with joy when our jammer makes that move past the opposition's pivot, faking a quick step before ducking to the inside and hitting the power as she skates away, hands raised high in the devil horns.

And here is where we come to the shoes. They are some absolutely sweet shoes, black and white wing tips, a good bit clunky, and they even sport a steel toe, for whatever the hell that gets me these days. Steel toes on me are nothing more than added weight. The shoes get really uncomfortable after an evening of being out, so I tend to reserve them for those random nights that we actually have an all night baby sitter and it's worth getting dressed up.

Getting to cheer on the league that much louder is certainly a worthy event, and that they match the team's black and white motif makes it that much harder not to wear them. However, combining them and the squatting stance, I've temporarily fucked my foot up. I've almost convinced myself that it's the shoes fault and not that I squat like an idiot on one foot. At the same time I'm sure it's not the shoe's fault.

Monday morning I woke none the worse for wear except that the toes on my squatting-on foot felt numbish. They'd bothered me throughout the bout, mostly in the breaks between periods when I climbed down from my perch and walked around, and I knew it was from the squat or maybe the shoes, but I assumed it was just a thing, too long in one odd position kind of thing.

That does happen to me, but it's because I squat, and it's never something I don't just walk off. I do it outside smoking sometimes too. I don't really think about doing it, and it's weird to occasionally realize you've bypassed a perfectly good chair in order to squat on your haunches.

I may just have to stand up when I do the announcing, but at the rink we currently use, the place I have to be is just this crazy perch in the air where I'm just standing like a dancer in a cage without the cage part. There are people crowded all around it to the point where I almost feel like putting up a sign that reads "servers only." Maybe it just feels weird that I have absolutely no separation beyond height from the people I'm talking too. It bears thinking about I'm sure. Maybe it's looking down and realizing I'm standing in someone's face.

The toes don't hurt. They're actually a sort of numbish, asleepish feeling. I can feel the feeling coming back into them with each day, but I also feel that I need to rethink those shoes. I really never thought I'd be concerned with the price of beauty, and in many ways I really feel I should be able to be above it. But you should see those shoes. And that leads me to think I should just wear the shoes. Who really needs to squat anyway? We're evolved past squatting. Hell, we've evolved to the point where our women can pit themselves against each other in feats of strength and speed combined. The least I can do is look good for them.

ooooh, derby stuff

Want to see some derby action? You know you do, so click HERE to go to the video. It was produced and is hosted by a local group, Mind Punch that is basically like a local Myspace. I couldn't figure out how to embed the video in this blog post.

Our team is in black with our pivots and jammers in red helmet covers. As usual, look for Momma wearing the skull face. She's an amazing jammer, which you might know if you'd come to town and watch our league tear shit up. You might also know if you ever read here, as I kind of have a habit of making sure people know that my wife rocks.

If you do in fact pay attention and find the girl with the skull you might also see here take a couple of hard hits. Pay special attention and see that she deals out some hard hits. I'm not sure how many roller derby leagues have jammers that hit as do ours, but I doubt there's too many jammers that hit as well as ours. Another of our jammers, Goblynn, is also seen knocking an opponent ass over tea kettle.

The match is our Hard Knox Roller Girls versus Tragic City Rollers from Birmingham Alabama. They beat us in our first ever bout last year and have beaten us again. They took an early lead and not only held on but increased it. The score totals between the different jams however was all over the place and, in my opinion, gives a better view of the skills evident in both teams.

I can't speak for playing with them as I'm not allowed, because of my dude parts, but our team seemed to have fun, and TCR was a blast at the after party. I don't know if any of them will read this, but I'd love to tell them thanks again. Thanks for a great game and for great after party. I'm pretty sure we and they all made it back home and in one piece, so outside of the fact that the win is ours next time, we couldn't really have asked for a better weekend.

fresh ink

I've always wanted a pinup tattoo, but it wasn't something that was necessarily at the front of the line of ideas queuing up to be sunk into my skin. I was quite certain that my next tattoo was going to be something dragon related, another of the classic tattoo themes that I've always loved.

The inspiration for the jammer inked onto my arm was the jammer I'm married to. It was in fact the top picture that screamed at me, "Wouldn't I make an awesome tattoo?" And I had to agree that it was indeed a great idea.

I won't assume you are familiar with roller derby, though why you haven't found a local team by now is beyond me. Seriously, just google your town and the words roller derby, but that really isn't the point right now. My tattoo is a jammer, or point scorer. This is signified most obviously by the star on her helmet. The hands at her hips indicate she's calling off the jam. That she obviously kicks ass could be an indication that she's a Hard Knox Rollergirl, though without hurting the other teams' feelings, you see the purple Kelly love in evidence.

Finally is the shout out. Corey at Saint Tattoo etched this onto me, and he does great work. His calling card graces the skin of several people I know or have known around this town. Of the people I know that have seen the tattoo and thought to ask who did it, they all knew immediately when I said Corey, and they all answered the same way, "He does great work." So thank you to Corey because it is awesome and I love my jammer.

I'll be honest with you, I'm at least a little bit thinking about getting a blocker pinup so the jammer doesn't get lonely but only a little.

I'll probably update this in a week or two, assuming I remember, so that you can see her without the fresh ink scabby parts, just so you know.

rate me baby

Who always has the fun? Pissed Off Housewife, because she finds great finds, like this rating doohickey.

Anyway, my blog, as if I needed to ask them, gets . . .

Mingle² - Online Dating

The rating was earned because of the following words.
kill-used seven times
ass-used five times
shit-used four times
punch-used one time

I don't know how far back they look when they peruse your blog for their rating, and I'm not saying I disagree with NC-17, but honestly, if that's all they found then they didn't look very hard. How about all the times I say fuck, jizz splash, cock gobbler and santorum? Didn't they even try? Punch apparently is a bad word, but it's not like I was talking about neck punches and throat babies.

I'm calling this a meme, so go and play along, but I don't expect too many people who show up here to even get past a possible PG. I know who you are.

nothing really

Yet another weekend plus full of me not writing. The Saturday and Sunday parts of me not writing are easily explained with two words, roller derby. We had a meet and greet cookout Saturday night to welcome the skaters from Birmingham, and Sunday was bout day and early to the rink after rushing to get the boys to the babysitter followed by much too late of a night at the after party.

Friday was out because I spent a good portion of it with some guy jabbing inky needles into my arm. My arm stayed stiff for most of the rest of the day from the odd position, and the skin is slowly growing less and less tender. Thankfully Momma found my tube of Aquaphor in the place we'd both looked at least once each.

She is now going to fetch the boys. She also needs a bath, and I need to figure out something to cook for supper. I'm really not feeling the cooking. The actual bout last night left me feeling almost deflated. I feel like kind of a dork for even thinking like this. I was not one of those girls hitting and getting hit. All I did was stand on a box and holler about things and get sweaty hugs from awesome girls. But I still feel a tiny bit drained. I'd almost rather have the bangs and bashes, but there isn't enough duct tape to convince them I'm a girl.

I'm quite likely going to ignore a large portion of dirty house today. It's been begging for attention and is now screaming for cleaning. Along with not posting, I've spent the weekend letting things pile up in Bloglines, so I have a fair amount of reading and catching up to do as well. Right now, I just need a smoke.

Bonnie and Clyde

My most recent post, concerning a certain fellow who continues to question without the benefit of listening, has drawn more comments to a single post than I've ever had. One commenter mentions my picture of Bonnie Parker, and another commenter, from Europe, is at first unaware of who Bonnie and Clyde were. Upon learning about them, she asks, "Why are these people a hero? Is it possible I can never understand completely the American sensitivity?"

I love that question, but I'm afraid I may not really be able to answer it.

As Americans, we do seem to cheer for the bad guy, often seeming to develop a sort of Robin Hood view of some of our worse societal elements.

It's true that Bonnie and Clyde were murderers and robbers. It also has to be understood that their heyday was during the American Great Depression. This was a time when the gangsters ruled the street, prohibition was in full swing, and Americans thrilled to the exploits of those daring rogues.

In a sense, we seem to have always been a people that loved the outlaw side. Our nation was founded by people who could, in a sense, be considered outlaws, bucking the system of laws that were in place from the King of England who was in fact the ruler of the colonies as they then existed. It was not until several of our founding fathers turned outlaw and bucked the system that we eventually became our own nation.

Looking at our founding as a nation, it's not a large leap to see ourselves in love with the rogues. We still do that to this day, the dark and troubled hero being more popular than the shining example, uncertain motivation and a sense of brooding being more popular than purity of desire.

One can also look to our fixation with the old west, the cowboys that we imagine stepped out of bed in the morning directly into a pair of boots and a gun belt. We don't love a John Wayne that always did right but the John Wayne that swaggered in, fists or guns blazing, whichever seems appropriate to the situation.

So why do we so often idolize the scoundrels? Is this only the US, or is it a human thing?

I think as a final thought we should examine the double standard of this view. While we may romanticize Bonnie and Clyde, we certainly would not look forward to being the bank teller the day they showed up. Many people are currently fixated by the idea of some cutesy piracy that completely ignores the truth of the men and women who we celebrate. We overlook the murder and the deprivation, the added shares from the prize for those sailors unfortunate enough to lose a limb or an eye. We ignore the fact of entire ship's worth of people being drowned rather than being allowed to become a burden to the crew who were after more prizes, more robbing, raping and looting.

So what's your idea? Why do we celebrate the rogues and scoundrels, the Bonnies and Clydes?

calls you shouldn't answer

At some point, some people should just shut up. You can be against homeschooling as much as you want, but the proof is in the children, and ours just keep on being okay, one grown up homeschooled child after another. I'm friends with a number of homeschooled families, and they all seem pretty much normal. Granted, my idea of normal is pretty wide open, but that's how I roll.

To say Greg Laden is a blank is putting it mildly. He can't let go of his antipathy for homeschoolers, be it the parents or the children, and his newest post may easily be the absolute stupidest jab at us I have ever been sadly astounded by. I honestly can't do his idiocy justice, so you'll have to go and read for yourself.

Greg Laden is the kind of person who is so secure in his infallible rightness that he feels quite happy to assume that his will should be law. He has a problem with homeschooling, and no amount of answering his questions will change his mind. He's so sure that we are wrong to homeschool that truth and proof are of no consequence to him.

Talking to him is like trying to thresh wheat with a pair of socks for a flail and the idea of wheat instead of real grains. You can beat all you want, but you're not going to get any wheat worth shit out it.

And thanks to JJ of Cocking a Snook for bothering to keep going back for more. JJ, if you're out there, leave the mad dog alone. He's just going to keep growling and slathering, and reason doesn't seem to live where he is.

dig that groove

Ready for another video? This isn't about Ska Weekend, though you're more than welcome to wait patiently for the next in that series. No, this is the newest band that The Boy keeps asking for. Out of nowhere just moments ago, not prompted in any way to pick music, he asked if we could listen to the Toy Dolls. How can you not say a loud, "Hell Yes!"

You know the drill, either click play or go to the actual YouTube and biggify the video. This would actually be a good video to view large as it's not nearly as pixelefied as so many. Turn the volume loud and rock out hard.

Oh, and anyone who can get me a pair of those sunglasses will have my undying love and gratitude.

true grits

You have less than a week to plan your trip to my town. You know you want to, because this weekend is the rematch, Birmingham Alabama's Tragic City Rollers get to make the long nervous drive up and the long sad drive back.

Sunday, June 24, Hard Knox Rollergirls face off against the very first team we ever faced. We were fresh meat last year when we drove south and suffered the defeat, but such will not be the case again. This time we're ready.

There are plenty of things different this time. Our skaters have played a few teams from outside our town as well as a season of intra league bouts. HKRG has also been practicing hard and preparing for this rematch. Another difference between then and now is that we have a new announcer, yours truly, though my nervous, quavering voice won't really make a difference in how much ass we kick. It will sound better though, and perhaps my dulcet tones will warm our girls little derby hearts and drive our team to skate that much faster and hit that much harder. I do believe that TCR will be in for a bit of a surprise. They may think they remember some of our skaters, but even if we had the exact same roster it still wouldn't be the same team.

You know you want to come see our skaters, and you know you have nothing better to do on a Sunday. You may just as well drag your ass out to the skating rink and see the action. Your option is to wait till whenever next week I get around to writing about it. You don't want to have to wait that long do you? Of course not. So make the drive. Unlike TCR, you won't have to drive all the way home crying.

almost not monday anymore

And since it's not Tuesday yet, I can at least attempt to begin the Monday Melee. I've got to get The Boy in bed soon, which means another chapter of Harry Potter, and that may interrupt me a bit, but you won't notice unless I tell you, so there.

Since it's Monday Melee time, I should remind you that we have Fracas to thank for this. Please feel free to take the fun to your own blog. If you want to know more, click the fancy thingy right down there, hopefully after reading all the cool things I have to say.


1. The Misanthtropic: Name something (about humanity) you absolutely hate.
Too often, people fail to see past their own needs/desires to the truth of the matter. It's sort of like the anti gay rights people who are willing to outright lie to people/sheep in order to make their inhuman point when in reality they are just being selfish assholes.

2. The Meretricious: Expose something or someone that’s phony, fraudulent or bogus.
abridged books

3. The Malcontent: Name something you’re unhappy with.
I may have mentioned this before (possibly both times previous to today that I've done the Monday Melee) but I really need to make more of an effort to write. Blogging is supposed to be practice and a hapit builder, but even the blog finds me giving too little attention too often.

4. The Meritorious: Give someone credit for something and name it if you can.
The US Men's National Soccer team is kicking ass in the Gold Cup. Too bad all the games are on Fox Soccer Channel, and I don't get to see any.

5. The Mirror: See something good about yourself and name it.
I make myself laugh so hard that I often almost but not quite pee a little.

6. The Make-Believe: Name something you wish for.
This isn't really make believe, as it all rests on me, but I do wish for it. I'll be announcing my first roller derby bout in just less than a week. I'll post later tonight about that, but I really hope I do well. I love our league, and the fact that they are willing to give me a shot is very gratifying. I only hope I can do well and help the league as we grow and continue kicking ass.

And there you have it. I didn't yet get The Boy in bed, and he and Big Brother are having a blast playing and charging through the house, possibly being Jedi, but who really knows with the two of them.

go, read, learn

Who doesn't love a Country Fair? How about when that fair is in reality a blog carnival? Think you know a little something about homeschooling? This month we celebrate the ways we celebrate diversity.

I am sadly not featured at all in the fair, but that's all my fault. I scribbled out a little something a week or so ago and sent it in. Then I paid attention for a moment and realized that what I had written was in no way going to fall under the theme of celebrating diversity. I should read all of things before assuming I know what's up.

That's actually a common them among people who are anti homeschool. Too often, people scribble some anti homeschooling rant and post it on their blog or as an article in their local paper. The nature of the internet is such that we can find these people and their rants laden with untruths and misconceptions. It doesn't take much looking around and reading all the way to the bottom to understand homeschooling better or even just to learn whether or not we've already covered your concern. And we probably have covered your concern, and we've probably covered it over and over and over and over and . . .

LMLC

I promised a couple of weeks ago to post videos and talk with heart full of love about the ska bands that I'll be seeing in a couple of months. I'm antsy as is possible looking forward to this show, Ska Weekend, when our town hosts an easy metric shit ton of bands from all over the country and even a couple from outside our borders.

Tonight's band is one I haven't heard offline. I don't yet own any of their music, but having listened at Myspace and having camped out at YouTube, I've come to really look forward to Last Martyrs of a Lost Cause, and it's not just because the singer is kind of really hot.

I've found a number of videos of them on the Tube, and none of them are spectacular quality sound wise, but they do show you the band's style, more ska-punk than ska, and they do give one a feel for the band. I'm excited to see them, as I'm excited to see all the bands that will be playing. So click the play button, turn it up and rock the fuck out already people!

Last Martyrs of a Lost Cause, Don't Take it Personal

ooookay

On my customized Google page I have a quote of the day (actually three) that come to me via The Quotations Page. One of today's was a bit of a doozy, assuming some amount of religious belief on the part of my readers, though I personally feel that it's one of those truths-that-can-hurt sort of situation. So without further ado, and with no more commentary from me, today's quote, which comes to us from Steven Weinberg. This is what Wikipedia has on him.

With or without religion, you would have good people doing good things and evil people doing evil things. But for good people to do evil things, that takes religion.

eight things

You've seen it, and you've loved it. It's taking the internet by storm, laying waste to blogs left and right. If you have a blog, then you've probably been tagged, and if you haven't yet been tagged, you may be thanking your mystical, interstellar being of choice.

Ren tagged me, which I appreciate, because I like the idea that she reads my blog. She's not not local to me, and I always enjoy reading about all the fun stuff she does with her kids. Plus, when she posts pictures, at least one of the family, Ren or a kid or both, have the greatest hair color. Don't tell her she's stealing the punk thunder by making it pretty to dye your hair a crazy color instead of it being a slap in the face of "the man."

So onward, without any prior thought as to what eight things I will include, I give you, Eight Things About Me meme.

1. I'm fairly cynical and jaded, and I really don't like people in general, but I still find myself wanting to please people to some extent. Try though I may, it seems I still almost care what people think. Plus, I don't want to be an unreasonable dick.

2. I never settled on a gender to be interested in. In fact, I don't feel that I married a woman so much as the person that woman is, and should there ever be reason for me to seek out a new relationship, I'd go back to not having picked a gender.

3. Me and my inner child both have always felt like the kid who always gets picked last to play kickball, and I was never bad at kickball, so there must be some other reason, possibly having to do with perceived dorkiness.

4. I'm an atheist, but I still love a lot of the music I grew up with. I love a lot of the stories of sacrifice, the themes of ultimate good versus ultimate evil. I can do without every single bit of religion, but songs like Amazing Grace or The Old Rugged Cross still carry a tiny sentimental weight.

5. I DJed at a titty bar for about ten months several years ago. I developed a coke problem and threatened dancers with That Smell, a Lynrd Skynrd song that is never appropriate.

6. I tried selling pot for a short time until I got mugged, even more years ago than the job in number five. Two guys got me to follow them to an area that was a little shady (in the bad way) and then proceeded to beat the shit out of me. They got most of my pot and my money, but they didn't get my MARTA card, so I was able to get a bus back home, shirt torn, face and head bloody and pounded on looking.

7. I habitually think that everything I like is the best and that people should listen to me when I tell them how great a band or a writer is and that they'd be happier if they took my advice.

8. I hate and am unaccountably afraid of calling people I don't know on the phone. It makes no sense, because there's always a purpose behind any phone call I make. The worst is at the start of a new soccer season when I have a list of seven or eight families that I don't know, and I have to go down the entire list and call them all.

And that's my list. I don't know about the tagging thing because everyone I came up with to tag would be someone that's already done this or someone that doesn't do memes. So if you haven't done the eight things meme yet, consider yourself tagged, and share the love.

my chat with ack

I have meant for at least a week to post this conversation. The incident happened at a local grocery store, in the parking lot. I had just purchased the evening's beer and cigarettes and was walking to my car. I had seen the woman I was about to meet as I was chatting with the guy that's worked at that same store since I've been going there, happened to look out into the parking lot, and she wandered past through the middle.

I had a bad feeling as soon as I saw the woman. This grocery store can be interesting and is nicknamed locally after Italian filmmaker Federico Fellini. Considering the lateness of the hour, knowing the locality, I walked a little slowly out the door, sighing with relief at seeing this woman well enough away from the car as to give me hope that I could reach the car unaccosted.

Such was not to be the case. I hadn't gotten very far before she doubled back, meeting me mere feet from the relative safety of my automobile.

She: Can you give me a ride?

Me: (cringing inside, rolling my eyes, not willing to not help but knowing this can't end well) Where do you need to go?

She: Just down the street.

Me: Down the street where?

She: Just to the end of the street?

Me: (a bit incredulous) The end of the street?

Now, understand that I am now incredulous because she is indicating Broadway, a street that becomes any number of streets and is also a US Route that's over 900 miles long, much like the Broadway in any number of towns. She's obviously not quite sure what she's talking about, and I'm not willing at this point to get involved in whatever is happening. I can tell this isn't going to end well, and I'm surprised it was a ride and not money.

Me: I'm sorry, but I can't help you.

She: (suddenly growing "frantic") But they'll kill me!

Me: What? Someone's going to kill you? I have my phone right here. I'll call the police.

At this point I reach into my pocket for my phone. I know I'm not going to be calling the police, and she confirms this for me. She's not the least bit frantic or worried or upset. She still hasn't asked for money the entire time, and I can well imagine that she's just looking for a lift. I can also tell this isn't any scenario that's going to play out with me as a cast member.

She: Oooohhh nnnnooooo! You can't call the police. They're going to kill me.

Me: Ma'am, who's going to kill you? Let me call the police, because I really can't help you. I can call the police though, and if someone is trying to kill you . . ."

She: You can't, I just need a ride or they'll kill me.

It was about this point that the nice young gentleman who has worked there for ages walks up. He asks if there is a problem at which point the woman's attention is drawn to him for a moment. I take this opportunity to open the car and put my things in. I sit down, turned toward the action as store employee and the woman are out of my hearing for a moment. I'm still willing to call the police, and I inform this woman again. She refuses the help, admonishes us that it will all be on our shoulders when she gets hurt and stumbles off toward the fast food place.

I never found out what her real deal was. Maybe she did just want a lift somewhere. Maybe she wasn't going to offer to suck me off at a reasonable rate. Maybe she wasn't high as shit on the kinds of drugs I don't do. Maybe someone was really going to kill her if she didn't get a ride.

please no!

So really, this isn't an unschooling blog, though I'm proud to mention the fact on occasion, just to make sure people remember. I insist, at least once in a while, in throwing out a rant about something someone else found and wrote about better.

I might have written the socialization post sometime ago, though I'm not quite sure if I did or not. I'm sure I must have because it seems a staple of the genre, even though I don't really fit in the genre, you know, home/unschooling blogger. It would be great if this were the last socialization post anyone ever felt compelled to write considering homeschool socialization, according to those practicing homeschooling and socializating, is really a non issue.

Seriously. Let it go already.

Darryl posts, and probably writes better, about some new someshit or other proclaiming that homeschooled kids are not allowed to socialize and therefore will end up social misfits, pariahs, outcasts at the very least. As everyone knows, life outside of public schools perfectly mirrors that of "life" inside of public schools. Love those scare quotes by the way. Also, I didn't read the article he linked. I don't need to anymore.

So, my kids aren't socialized? Does seeing grandparents count? How about playing soccer, does it count? Does the homeschool group count?

How about roller derby practice? It's my favorite example because of the variety of kids to be found. In all, it's possible for there to be ten to fifteen kids at derby practice depending on who is there and who brought their kids, though usually there are much fewer. There are a couple of tinyish fellers that don't quite count till they get a little steadier on their feet. The rest of the kids range in age from four to twelve. The Boy, is his own person, not always even interested in playing with the other kids. Big Brother, at eight, is right in the middle.

And then there's the practice when you have Big Brother, The Boy and three five/six year old girls, and they all still run around and act crazy and have fun. It's at that point where I think that I'm glad he's not fuming because he's bored. He's got friends that aren't a bunch of eight year old boys. There are of course those practices when it's all boys except for the lone sad little girl that can't figure why the boys won't play something she wants.

Not to make it all about derby, but we're going to socialize tomorrow with the derby mommys. Did I tell you I'm a derby mommy? We're going swimming. The day after that we're going swimming somewhere else with homeschool friends, where we will probably forget to socialize. We'll just hang out like usual with a random smattering of ages and genders, doing what we want, not being pressured into wearing the hip new this and listening to the cool new that. We'll enjoy each other's company, have and resolve conflicts, play with toys, splash water, wish they'd eat the good food and not the other, and we'll leave in time to get Momma to work.

mmmm, maybe not

Thanks to Gem of My So Called Homeschool blog for relating a story of something she thought she'd never hear herself say which reminded me of my own story from today.

We were doing some major grocery shopping, the boys doing their thing, me trying to keep them corralled and not bowling over the old guy in the orthopedic sunglasses. The Boy was a gonk droid for a short time, pulling his arms and knees into his shirt so that he was just a little torso with head and feet. He even fell over in the middle of the aisle and kicked his feet just like they do in the Lego Star Wars video game.

We walked up the aisle a little further, and then came one of those things I never thought I'd say, not that I ever had a reason to imagine saying this.

To The Boy, I found myself saying, "We don't punch ourselves in the butt at the gro . . . uuuuhhhh, what's next on the list?" Not even looking around to see if anyone heard, just keep moving at that point. Wondering why he was in the first place, wishing I'd encouraged the gonk droid because at least it just stumbles along and looks funny.