{{{Taters}}} I hope you all get a good night’s sleep tonight. Make sure you’re taking care of yourself through all of this, too. If family therapy’s a possibility, that might help to defuse the situation.
Get some tart-but-not-too-tart apples, the kind you’d normally bake. Mix un-frozen berries, apple cubes and no-sugar-added whipped cream.
It’s yummy and good for you!
doggio, I’d check whether my apartment allows pets, but the contract’s in German. I can’t read German. That’s one of the weirdest things about being here, I’ve signed several contracts that I was unable to read. I hope none of them is asking for a kidney from my firstborn child, do you guys think they’d take a slightly-used one from my mother?
swampy, right now my pantry includes cod-filled peppers, squid-in-its-sauce-filled peppers and trout-filled peppers. I had some ham-filled peppers but someone ate them, must have been me cos nobody else lives there.
rigs, this is the MMP. There is no such thing as boring people. We want details on the uniqueness of #1.
I knew this little girl once. Her family lived in a tall, tall house, at the corner of two very busy streets. To go to school she had to cross the busiest street and then a park (a very small one, only about 100 yards long) and then a narrow street without much traffic. One day as she left home, the sky was very dark grey. She took an umbrella; she had one of those kiddie umbrellas with stuff in pink and blue but she took her Daddy’s black umbrella because it was there and it was bigger than her pink and blue umbrella. But by the time she walked downstairs it was POURING. Real real bad. The kind of rain that gives birth to stories about everybody drowning except some weird guy who wanted to have a zoo but hadn’t quite understood the idea. So the little girl walked back upstairs, which wasn’t very far anyway, only one floor and her Mom was in the bathroom, and the little girl told her, through the door “Mom? Mom, it’s raining very bad!” and her mother said “so take an umbrella!” “but it’s very bad!” “getting wet won’t kill you, just take an umbrella and stop being a wuss. Go to school. Now.”
So the little girl, who was still too little to know better (she only needed to open one hand to show her age) went and stopped being a wuss, because Mom said so, but the rain and the wind didn’t care whether she was a wuss or not. She opened her umbrella and went across the street, fighting the fierce wind that tried to push her back, so if you had been in front of her you would only have seen a big black umbrella and two little feet in navy blue stockings and navy blue maryjanes. And she crossed to the park, and crossed the park, and when she was about to cross the little street the wind got under the umbrella and lifted the little girl, umbrella and all!
And the wind carried the little girl aaaaaaaaaaaaall the way up to the top of the park, where there was a big, wide statue with a pond below it, and dropped the little girl in the pond, SPLASH!, so if any part of the little girl had still been dry, it wasn’t any more.
And the little girl felt like crying, because now she was closer to her house than to the school, and she wanted to go home and get warm, but Mom had said to not be a wuss and go to school, so she got out of the pond and headed for the school again. And her umbrella was now upside-down and twisted, so she wouldn’t have been able to open it again, but anyway she was all wet so an umbrella wouldn’t have done any good.
And she walked through the park again, and it was raining so hard that she could barely see, and the trees in the park were just blurry dark vertical things with something green on top, and she walked all the way through the park, and then crossed the street, and the school yard.
And she got into the school and went left, because that’s where her classroom was, second on the left, and when the teacher saw her she said “oh my GOD!” and went to get some towels, and dressed the little girl all in towels and put her clothes to dry on the classroom’s heaters, even her underwear because everything was wet, but only another little girl and the teacher were in the class so it was all right. The other little girl wanted a turban like the wet little girl had, so the teacher made turbans for all three, and when the rain stopped the mother of the wet little girl came and blushed a lot and took her home and the teacher took the other little girl (who was from another town) home as well.
Kids can be very literal, one should never give orders to a child through a closed door. Specially if it’s raining real, real bad and the bathroom doesn’t have a window 
That very wet trip took one whole hour.
{{{{{Taters & family}}}}}}
Aw Taters, the best advice I can give you is to always trust that “feeling”, a mother’s/wife’s woman’s intuition. I have always regretted not trusting that feeling, particularly when it came to my two now grown daughters. I don’t know, it’s so difficult when the babies grow up a bit and the hormones begin flowing. I am sure that your husband is seeing red at the thought of that (imnsho) much too older guy handling his precious baby daughter, and I feel for him. I feel for you being in the middle in so far as you don’t want your daughter to make mistakes, but you also don’t want your husband and daughter to be at such severe odds. Has the subject of “jailbait” come up between either you or your husband and this young man? Also, from my own personal experience (myself as a teen with an older boyfriend as well as my two older daughters) simply taking away privileges at home is not necessarily going to keep her from being in contact with the young man when she is at school or at friend’s homes. The counsellor as a uninvolved third party is a great way to open communication if she will participate. What a mess, I feel for you and will keep all of you in my thoughts and prayers.
pugs you too are in my thoughts and prayers as you take this journey with your dad. I know that we are headed toward that slope with my fil.
Everyone else, I guess that I am coming down from the stress/adrenalin/whatever from the fire. My body hurts and my head is foggy. My best to one and all, and perhaps I’ll be back tomorrow with a more coherent brain. I’m gonna go watch some tv and just veg.
Night all!
I’ve said before, that even though I don’t post much here (not compared to the rest of you crazies), but I do enjoy following the MMP. That being said,** Taters**, this is for you; take or leave whatever you will like from it.
First of all I am sorry for hearing about the troubles lately, but about 4 and a half years ago, the summer before I entered college as a senior, I met a girl going on to become a high school junior. I think you can see where I’m going with this…
We both worked as life guards at a local lake beach for the summer. It was hardly love at first site, but the more we worked together the closer we began to become. I never had any intentions of trying to make any moves on a girl 4 years younger who was still in high school but it seemed like I didn’t have much control. Our first “date”, was on the Fourth of July that summer. I say “date” because we still kid around that it didn’t actually count because there was nothing obviously date-ey about it. I never tried to hold her hand, I wasn’t generally affectionate, and there was no romantic kiss under the fireworks or when I took her home. To be honest I was terrified the whole time and thinking “I can’t believe I’m attracted to this young girl” over and over again. At the time she was only 16, going on 17 in October.
The rest of the summer seemed like bliss, we got closer and closer to the point of even being together “romantically” so, even though I fought back and forth with myself about it the whole time. But she kept pushing everything further and further, and I couldn’t believe why such a young and beautiful girl would even have wanted anything to do with me. Now at the time I never really realized this, but she pretty much hid our being together from her very disapproving mother after the Mom found out that something might have been brewing with an older guy (me). I know in hindsight you could ask me HOW could I have not known but it really wasn’t until after the summer I found out to what extent this was really being hidden.
Well, the summer ended, and even though it killed us both I had to go away back to school. She loved me very much at the time, and I her, but we decided it would be best that even if we did talk every now and then we would put everything between us on hold while I lived about 2 hours away and went to school. I even naively believed that once the summer was over that her “crush” would go away as Septemeber went along. She would find a new boy, a new infatuation, and our Summer would only be a happy memory.
I grossly underestimated the feelings of a teenage girl.
The phone calls never stopped, the letters kept being written, and she kept talking about how she would wait for me until the end of time. We probably “broke up” and “got back together” a dozen times in between Septemeber and December simply out of frustration and heartache alone. She may have had a couple dates, as did I, but when it came down to it we still constantly thought about each other.
We saw each other off and on throughout those months just meetig each other for dinner, or movies, or other ways of catching up. But it wasn’t until New Years Eve night of that year that we really spent another night together. Under the fireworks at Boston Harbor I didn’t hesitate to kiss her that time, and for the first time I really felt like things were going to be okay with us.
With the exceptions of a handfull of breakups in the past four years we have remained together. We still consider the Fourth of July of our first year to be our anniversary date of when we started going out, and we talk frequently about the future. Now she has grown into a beautiful 21 year old young woman, and I’m still a 25 year old guy who can’t figure out what she’s seen in me that keeps her around. She just got back from spending a semester abroad in Europe, and I spent 3 weeks over there traveling with her and spending time together. In the meantime while I was back on the state-side it was my turn to wait for her instead of her high school years when she had to wait to be with me.
Her Mom still hates me, with an enormous passion, and the two of them (mother + daughter) rarely talk about it. I just know that I’m pretty much supposed to stay away from the Mom. I don’t blame her for being mad at me. I was an adult who had (at the time) an inappropriate relationship with her daughter. And indirectly and unbeknownst to me caused the daughter to tell many lies to her. I don’t have any hard feelings towards her, and am just happy that we have 2 different personalities. I can’t hold a grudge and she can’t let go of one. So she’ll be carrying that grudge with her for a long time, and that is not my burden to carry.
So that’s my tale Dopers. I don’t wish to defend what I did, and Lord knows that if I had a 16 year old daughter going out with a 21 year old guy I’d want to chase him down and introduce him to a baseball bat. But that’s what happened that Summer, and with the exception of a couple of breaks we’ve mostly been together ever since.
{{{{{Taters and the TaterFamily}}}}} - I really have nothing to add to what’s already been said, but I hope your daughter gets some benefit from talking to the counsellor.
{{{{{Pugs}}}}}, just 'cos you need 'em.
Yes, quince vodka. Hmm…vodka with sugar and grated quinces, shaken (not stirred), left in a dark place for a couple of months. Add a bit of nutmeg, cinnamon and whatever else takes your fancy. Drink.
My friend has a quince bush in her garden that produces quite a lot of fruit, she ran out of things to do with it so we started making quince vodka. Five of us tried it, they all turned out different. Last summer we tried it again and still have five very different sorts of quince vodka. Tasting sessions are required!
Quiet night yesterday, I was good and went to the gym, came home to a bowl of onion soup, had a soak in the bath and went to bed. Not that I got much sleep…it was just one of those nights.
Today I’m hoping for peace and quiet in the office, I’ve got stuff to do but very little inclination to do it. Tea, I think.
Morning. I had a bit of a sleepless night, going to be a long day.
{{{taters}}}, I hope the counselor and the talk helps, or at least tones down the screaming.
Nava, as long as nothing said “keine Katzen, Hunde oder tribbles” or"Ihre ganze Unterseite sind gehören uns" you should be OK. 
Morning, all.
I’ve been up since 2 AM at a major fire; a pig house burned to the ground. Since I’m beat, I’m going to bed a the time I should be leaving for work. I’ll probably play hookie sice I’d rather sleep at home than at my desk.
Many tale of hose humping and disgusting smells when I awake…
“all your underwear are belong to us”? No, I don’t think there was any specific mention of panties…
{{{Taters}}} What a tough situation to be in. I’m glad you thought to call the school counselor and that your daughter has agreed to meet with the counselor. A disinterested third party can be a great help in these kinds of situations. Hopefully Tatershubby and daughter will have calmed down some by today and negotiations can begin. I like what you said about baby steps. Feel free to come in and rant, rave, whatever you need, cause you know we all care.
rosie mopheads and wiiiirrrreee haaaaaaannngggeeerrrsss will always be a part of my life, unfortunately. They’re two big products that bring in lots o’ bucks around here. Little cardboard boxes and round rubber gasket thingys also remain very much a part of my work life. That’s why I make the big bucks. HAH!
Happy Wednesday everybody!
Continued hugs for Taters and family. Keep slogging and keep venting and we’ll all keep hoping and praying that it gets better.
Jah, I just read through your group home thread; it’s amazing.
OK…now you have me wondering what a no-pets clause would actually look like in a German-language lease. Haustiere, I think, would be pets in general. (I’m not looking it up. When I’m tired, I tend to scramble German and Spanish…) Oh…and the walk in the rain story…have you considered writing a book, Nava? It sounds like something out of a kids’ book.
We’ll look forward to the fire story, Bobbio; hope everyone was OK and glad you are.
Sorry about your loss, Mindfield.
That class sounds interesting (if depressing), Haze.
I’m getting a late start to getting ready for work…and it’s all your fault!!!
GT
Glad you liked it, plantedarearoamer, that’s the tone I wanted to get. One of my uncles (the craziest one, officially, which takes some effort) is a writer and one of his books are his childhood memories. I was amazed by how easily his siblings took offense… not at him recounting some thing or other that they didn’t want the world to know, but at “it wasn’t exactly like that!” It’s his dang memoirs, it’s how he remembers it.
Maybe I could write down a bunch of short stories, even actual events like that one. Funny how if I wrote it in the first person it sounds so much sadder than in the third, isn’t it? I actually sort of know someone who owns a small publishing firm…
how is it, even when I wake up on time, I still end up getting out of the house later than I should?
Oh, right. It’s all you guys’s fault 
until tonight, my lovelies.
Stoooooopid dogs woke me up. I called in sick at work; back to bed.
But it wasn’t the singing that swampy does for everyone else.
Taters I too have nothing to add. Just hang in there.
And you too, Puggy.
Continuing prayers and good thoughts for Puggyfamily and Tatersfamily.
Oww. Headache. Stupid cold. Bread rising, going vacuum shopping with parents in two hours. Do I want this or a Dirt Devil? I’m leaning towards the cannister, but Costco has such an awesome return policy…
Taters, I have no words of wisdom, but your daughter being accepting of seeing and talking to the counselor can only be a good thing. It sounds like you’re the only one in the house that either of them can talk to, and hard as it is for you to be ‘in the middle’, they both need you there.
Rigs forwarded me the letter she sent to Bus Honcho, and all I have to say is that I’m going to offer her a job here teaching irate parents to write effective letters.
Ha…the Rosie I have nere, (N.O.R.) is this sweet, 50 something-ish lady, stands about 4 foot nothing and wouldn’t say ‘boo’ if you spotted her the “B” and the “O”. Every morning she walks past my office door and just waves, and I say “good morning Rosie”. Today, she came in, helped herself to a seat and told me all about her sister’s son who is going to be accepted to Annapolis. I mean, ALL about him. I saw his baby pictures, his little league picture from 8 years ago…
I swear that’s more words than I’ve ever heard from her in all the time I’ve been here!
Much love to everyone this morning. Sounds like a lot of people need it.
Wee, dawggie but it’s chilly hereabouts! First time I’ve had to use my gloves in – quite literally – two months. Not even my hand warmer (read: coffee) could have kept them from freezing otherwise. The forecast, with the exception of the next few days, is also looking a lot more like winter, too, if not so much with snow then at least with temperatures.
Taters - I can’t speak for having been a teenage girl, but I remember my own teen years wherein every bad thing that happened to me must surely have been tragic enough to be newsworthy if only I could have alerted the media. Having my first significant girlfriend at the ripe old age of 16 dump me after we’d dated barely three months? Devastating! Why, the whole planet must surely have shook to its molten core, perching the human race and all living things precariously on the brink of complete annihilation when she broke the news! Indeed, there but for the grace of a stronger heart than I believed I possessed did this world go. In hindsight it all seems so silly, of course, but for lack of the wisdom only time and experience grants, you just can’t see that for yourself, and no matter how eloquently anyone else relates their own experiences to you, they can’t understand it for you because you feel that they can’t possibly have felt exactly like you do or have been in precisely the same situation, so their anecdotes simply can’t apply. (Attempting to repeat a run-on sentence like this last one in one breath might amuse them briefly, however)
Although not related to females, there was one time I did lash out at my father, too. He had been trying to get me off the phone despite me being mad at him for something (I remember not what). Exasperated that I was ignoring him, he grabbed the phone from me and hung it up. I fixed on him my most irate gaze, drew a mighty breath, and yelled, “What the fuck did you do that for?” – placing all of my ire and venom into the emphasis of that one expletive. It was the one and only time I ever swore right at him, and because of him. I got cuffed for it, too – the one and only time he ever smacked me upside my head. Once again hindsight has allowed me to see what an intolerable little brat I was despite feeling like I had been personally and mortally offended at the time.
I’m sure the daughter will get over it, even if right now she feels like she’s being cut off from the source of all light and life itself, and she feels like you’re the ones responsible for it. I think, too, that maybe your dear hubby isn’t really helping matters along very much for being as stubborn as her – not his fault, of course, but I think he needs to step back one or two paces to regain a little perspective and objectivity on things, inject a little more rational reasoning into his dialog. Just my opinion of course, and I’m not a parent so obviously my view on such matters is probably a little idealized, so take that for what you will. I just think a lot more progress can be made if only actions come with good explanations to bring understanding instead of being simply lessons in “because I’m your [parent] and I said so,” which never really worked for me. YMMV.
Since we’re on a Deutsch kick today, there’s a saying I once heard: kleines kind, kleine schwierigkeit. Großes kind, große schwierigkeit. Roughly: “Small kid, small problem. Big kid, big problem.”
Hey, Reuven Malter’s father says that to him in The Promise. Or The Chosen. A Chaim Potok book, anyway. I was re-reading them last week.
Mindfield, you whiner, it’s nice here! Winter! 
{{Taters and Puggy}}
Yesterday was one month since KeithT’s and my wedding! It went by so fast. We celebrated appropriately. By watching Scrubs (on DVD) and House, of course. (What did you think I meant??)
Now my motivation has tanked. I still have a bunch to get done this week, but I think I used up all of my motivation on Mon and Tues. Ugh.
I’m trying to decide if I should go to a Billy Joel concert in May. KeithT doesn’t seem interested (we have wildly different taste in music), and I don’t really know anyone around here yet to ask to go. So if I went I’d be going alone. That doesn’t sound like a lot of fun. But I’ve never seen Billy Joel live and he doesn’t come to the Twin Cities very often. So I don’t know what to do. ::sigh:: I can make the life-altering decisions just fine, but when it comes down to choices like this (or what to have for dinner), I have all kinds of trouble.