William Lee Johnson 

Mary Ann Frakes & William Lee Johnson 

Happy Father's Day 2005!!

This is for the dads who read this...are there any?! lol

This morning Jim opened his presents. I got him shirts--no dark colors! I've noticed that he's always wearing dark pants and dark shirts to work. Looks like some engineering uniform or something! So this time I got him light blue, beige, grey...nice neutral colors to go with all those dark pants.

Jim also got a new Martin DMX guitar. It's gorgeous!

We're headed over to Jim's parents' for the big barbecue. We have to cut it short this time because there is, of course!, baseball practice. Yesterday, the twins won their first playoff game--the game was called because of the slaughter rule. But that's an entirely separate entry for a different day!

Friday night I helped out at the batting cages with the tournament team. Let me tell you, I now have a new-found respect for those pitchers and other in-fielders. I was feeding balls into the pitching contraption--it's really two motorized wheels that fling balls down the cage--while standing behind netting. My head was well beneath the top of the net, and it covered me sideways. But when those crazy battin' 12 year olds knocked those balls toward me, I flinched and squealed more than once. It was scary! Frightening! I was certain the netting would break and I would get a ball batted into my face or body. It was also quite a work out. Thirty balls for six batters five times each...I had to help shag the balls. Yikes! The back of my legs still hurt!

Today I am spending a lot of time thinking about my birth father, William Lee Johnson. I am looking at a picture of him, wearing a chefs hat and cooking up something. I never knew him. He died in 2002 and I didn't find my birth family until 2004 (again, another post on another day). He's so handsome. He looks so happy. When I look at him I really see my brother Paul.

My adoptive father, Rich Harkness, is also very handsome. When I look at pictures of him from his younger days, I am reminded of Buddy Holly. Yes, maybe it's just the glasses! And now, he's in his 60s and I think he looks a little like Andy Griffith or Buddy Ebsen--think that cop show he was in, not "Beverly Hillbillies"! sheesh

Jim's dad is a big man. He's over six feet tall. He looks great for 72 years old. His hair isn't even completely grey yet! He has the drollest sense of humor and I can completely relate to it.

Art wise, I want you to see a project I worked on since November 2004. I joined a row round robin on the Greenies Quilting yahoo list. There were six of us in each group and we each made a row to compliment the row the owner of the quilt made first. My quilt is absolutely gorgeous! These ladies did a great job. I am impressed. I also cannot wait to finish this off. Not quite sure how to do it. I'm thinking of a plain-ish fabric between rows. Borders. My original thought was a quilt for a king sized bed. That might have been a pipe dream! Any suggestions?

Happy Father's Day to all of you!

I'm 32!

You Are 32 Years Old

32 Under 12: You are a kid at heart. You still have an optimistic life view - and you look at the world with awe. 13-19: You are a teenager at heart. You question authority and are still trying to find your place in this world. 20-29: You are a twentysomething at heart. You feel excited about what's to come... love, work, and new experiences. 30-39: You are a thirtysomething at heart. You've had a taste of success and true love, but you want more! 40+: You are a mature adult. You've been through most of the ups and downs of life already. Now you get to sit back and relax.

What Age Do You Act?

What a hoot! Having recently turned 39, I am pleased to quiz out at a 32! woohoo!!!

Incidentally, this is the exact age a man at a bar recently told me he thought I was. It was kindergarten mom's night out. I drank beer--2.5 Coronas with lime! I thought the music was too loud and the girls were dressed too scantily.

By the way, women of the 80s. Haven't we spent our entire lives making certain our underwear doesn't show? Bra straps are hidden. If they can't be hidden, we wear strapless ones. Panties stay tucked into pants.

I always felt a little wanton, a little reckless, when I didn't wear a slip under every single skirt. I figured it really wasn't all that necessary under denim...wool...all heavy fabrics. What's the purpose?!

But I've never dreamt of putting on a black bra and wearing it under a pink or white or blue or...spaghetti strap top. I've never let my thong (ok, never worn one...but still...) or any of my underwear hang out of my pants. Maybe once, in 7th grade, my underwear showed when I cut my jeans too short making them into shorts for the summer.

The best part about kindergarten mom's night out--at Diamond Lil's in Roselle, by the way--is karaoke (how in the hell do you spell that word?! spell check doesn't even know!). People have no shame! lol A young woman got up and sang "Touch Myself" by the DiVynals. Points for choosing a DiVynals song...but yikes. Or the bartender who got up and sang "I'm So Horny." Guess it's a song from "Full Metal Jacket" but since I don't watch war movies I'm outta that loop. The song made me blush. Literally. I was embarrassed.

OK, I'm off to bask in my 32 year old self...but, why do I feel 82?! roflmao

I was offended today...

by a bumper sticker that read: If Mary was ProChoice there would be NO Christmas

I've tried posting two different rants about this, but keep destroying them. Obviously, my rants on this subject are not meant to be. I'll let you draw your own conclusions about the absurdity of this bumper sticker on your own.

And I'll add a few more rants, in no particular order:

Letters written by professional people who want me to do business with them that are crammed into the envelopes (yes, an 8.5x11 piece of paper can fit into a #10 envelope with two simple folds) and full of mis-spellings and grammatical errors. We've all seen the email that comes around blasting spell-check. That's why you proof-read things.

Home-improvement vendors who refuse to work with the wife only. They always want to meet with me and my husband to give a quote on work to be done. If you can't meet with just me, don't plan on getting the job. My husband works, I am home. We communicate with one another. I can relay any information correctly. I can even make decisions about money!

Hearing comments from people wondering (sometimes they even pose it in a joking matter) whether my sons are really 12 years old. OK, they're big. OK, they play a mean game of baseball. But did you think we altered their birth certificates when they were eight years old in anticipation of them being good ball players in the future? Maybe you might do that...but we have integrity here. Oh, and we have some really big, really good baseball players. Eat your hearts out.

Enough! Enough!

Maybe I need a blog just for ranting!

Yikes! Nearly a Month Without a Post!

I've decided to use my blog for lots of things...not just art. So look for a change in postings! I might get nasty. I might get political. I might get funny. Never know where the day's gonna take you!

It's summer vacation here in the Land of Lincoln (hey, that's Illinois!). The kids have been out for 1.5 weeks. And it's been baseball...baseball...baseball.

So far the 12 year old Diamondbacks of the Roselle Medinah Softball Baseball Association are undefeated. Lots of people--mostly big-mouthed parents from other teams--seem outrageously bothered by this. Comments made this past week: "Have you lost a game yet? No? Isn't it getting old?" (said to my 12 year old son). "They really shouldn't let them play on the same team, it isn't fair to the rest of the league." (said to my husband who helps coach the team).

Yes, adults picking on 12 year olds. Pretty pathetic, if you ask me. No, they haven't lost a game. But there are two regular season games left and then the playoffs. It could happen at any time. Yes, the twins play on the same team. That's the way it should be. Can you imagine making 12 year old brothers compete against each other?

I keep repeating, "It's little league, not brain surgery" to my husband when we talk about this. That's what it is folks...little league baseball. It doesn't result in anything except a nice medal if they place. Everyone still gets their trophy at the end of the season, not matter how the team performed.

Jeremy and Jermaine are bigger than a lot of the kids. Not all the kids. I think there are a few who might be bigger. Maybe not taller...but bigger. Their size had one coach "commenting" that they scare him and his team, and he's told his team members to just avoid their balls if they can. Nice. Put such negative thoughts into your players' minds. You cannot catch their balls...they are big...do not try..."

The funniest thing about all of this is that to Jeremy and Jermaine this is a game. It's fun. Baseball isn't their life. They happen to enjoy it. A lot. They play catch with each other. With Jim. They have informal neighborhood games with the other kids. They cut up and goof off like all the other kids on the team.

At no time have we made baseball a Big Thing at home. Sure, there are comments when we see the high school players: "that could be you some day." And when their grades could be better we point out that low grades means you don't play sports in high school.

Just like all parents.

They start play-offs next Saturday. I hope they go all the way. I hope that parents of other players from other teams congratulate them on their success. By "them" I mean the entire team because they are all darn good players. It takes a lot more than two players to make up a team.