Panty lines happen to good people.

I didn't know which topic I would discuss today. It was a toss-up between panty lines and inconsiderate people. While I was trying to decide, I was watching an episode of SVU and one of the witnesses didn't remember a woman's face, but he remembered her panty line because she had a nice $#@. So...there it was. The topic du jour was decided.

Ahhh, panty lines. Never has there been a more obvious social faux pas. Really, though, there is no excuse. That's why we have friends.

Take a normal woman who goes to work. She is somewhat socially conscious and is mildly fashionable. Heck, she might not give a hill of beans about fashion. So, our woman puts on a really cute top, a cute pair of pants and fabulous shoes. Sadly, though, when she walks away, you can tell the size, cut, and color of her underwear. The whole outfit is effectively ruined. Does she know? Is she hoping no one can tell? Surely she knows.

Now, I realize that this topic might seem incredibly shallow. It probably is. But, can you honestly tell me that you haven't noticed someone walking in front of you with a huge panty line? I'm not talking size here either, because there are all sizes of women and they are all beautiful in their own ways. But even then, do we want to see their underwear?

I must confess that I'm not totally innocent in this situation. I, believe it or not, am guilty of going out of my home knowingly having a somewhat obvious panty line. I was the woman who was hoping that my outfit choice did not give away the fact that I had gained a few pounds and therefore, my pants were a little tight; hence, my panty line. I know, I know. It's tragic, but panty lines happen to good people, too.

That's why we should always depend on our friends. You tell that size 2 friend that she should not go out in pants that show her whale tail. You tell that size 12 friend that she really should not wear those tightish linen pants that fit last season, but clearly not this season. You especially tell that teenager that she can't go out of the house with her visible thong above her incredibly tight jeans.

We should look out for each other and unite against panty lines. They can be prevented so that we protect the integrity of our girlfriends.

L

We don't have time for our elderly.

I took Thomas today to see Mr. Quinn's body and pay our respects to Mrs. Quinn. Mrs. Quinn is absolutely devastated and honestly does not know what to do, but has been at the funeral home day in and day out to greet everyone who takes the time to come and visit her beloved husband.

It was difficult for Thomas, I could tell. He was very quiet and clung close to me. Mrs. Quinn did everything she could to make him comfortable. She lit incense for us and let us talk to his picture. Then he led us to Mr. Quinn. He was laid out in his uniform with all the things that he loved nestled around him. His extra pairs of glasses because he was always losing them, Sharpies because he would only write with them, Thin Mints, Jolly Ranchers, and bundles of 100 dollar bills. We paid our respects and were ushered into the kitchen where one of Mrs. Quinn's sisters insisted, "We are all family and you will stay and eat with us."

Later, we went back for the demonstration and were approached by one of Mrs. Quinn's brothers. He said that he was one of 10 kids in their family. Nine of them lived in Atlanta to "surround their mother." The other sibling was still in Vietnam. The other elderly relatives at the funeral were treated with the utmost respect.

Flashback a few weeks ago. I took the boys to meet a man whom I have known all my life. He and his wife were role models in our church and I remember them being present for most major events in my life, my sisters' lives, and other young people in our church's lives. Many years ago they sold their home and moved to an assisted living home. His wife died a few years back and I thought he had as well. He seemed old even when I was a teenager.

I took the boys to visit him. Surely he would remember me and would like a welcome reprieve from what I would assume was just another day. He was there and we were led to his room. He was asleep on a small bed in the corner of a double room and looked exactly the same, except with a little more unruly hair and less one front tooth. He was awakened by the nurse and was disoriented. I tried to talk to him, but he couldn't see well or hear. I wrote my name on a legal pad and showed it to him and for a moment, there was the recognition of my face. I tried introducing the boys to him, but he wasn't able to comprehend what was happening. We left there with many questions and I left sad.

I don't know what I expected, but it wasn't that. How could this man who had been so constant in my life be a little old man in a nursing home? Why was he there? What do I want for my family and myself when we are in that situation?

We are so busy. Our lives don't allow for the slow deterioration of a life that is ending. We have our work, our kids' sports, our own commitments.

It was just hard. Seeing Mr. Gannaway, seeing Mrs. Quinn mourn the loss of her love, and trying to explain these hard life lessons to two little boys who look to mom and dad to answer hard questions. Because there will be hard times that they will experience. Sooner, rather than later.

So, I will humble myself and ensure that I make the most of the time I have with those I love. I will try to help make the right decisions for them, not what is the most convenient or cost-effective. And I will try to make time for those to whom we should be seeking for guidance in how to live a good life. They are the ones who have the advice and the stories and the knowledge.

L

I don't like acrylic nails.

I don't know why I don't like acrylic nails. Isn't that sad? Clearly there is a market for them and many women love them, but I don't. Maybe it's because it is very obvious that they are not real. Maybe it's because I have had them once and know what it involves to keep them looking nice or maybe it's because people seem to get them for major events and then let them go. For whatever reason, it seems a colossal waste of time and money to pay for something that is going to need constant care and repeat treatments.

Speaking of repeat treaments, waxing is something that I like and I can't figure out why I hold it to a higher standard than acrylic nails. I guess I would rather not have a unibrow or eyebrows with tons of stray hairs underneath than to have beautiful fingernails.

Being a woman in this society is so tiring. If you're not worrying about your nails, then you're worrying about your eyebrows. If not your eyebrows, then it's your toes. If not your toes, then it's your hair. Don't even get me started on the amount of money one could spend on hair care: Especially when I have recently realized my hair is not a light brown-blondish anymore.

I used to have the lightest hair, eyebrows and eyelashes. Throughout the years, my hair has become darker, but my need to maintain my hair color has not wained. So what do I get? I get great highlights on the front of my head and really dark hair (my true hair) in the back. Maybe I should go to full foils and jack my price at the salon up 25% more. I think not.

Secretly, though, I really just want to be myself. I think I will keep waxing my eyebrows, getting my hair cut, and getting pedicures because it makes me happy. As for my nails, any money I spend on them will be negated the next day due to my tendancy to be a clumsy oaf. I think I will become a natural brunette, instead of an obviously highlighted blond, and I will try to remember that there is still a place for beauty on the inside.

I will give in to coloring my grays a subtle brunette, though. That will be acceptable.

L

Kids deal with death in really weird ways.

"Boys, we need to tell you something." said John at 7am this morning. "Mr. Quinn passed away last night. He is up in heaven and won't be able to teach you karate anymore."

Silence. Silence. (Then, a little eye rubbing by William. Thomas was still processing.)

"Are you guys ok? William? Thomas?"

"I'm ok. So...I don't get to go to karate anymore." said William.

"Yeah, I'm ok. I'm just trying to be strong and brave. Can I have an email address?" asked Thomas.

Kids really have strange ways of coping with loss or the thought of loss. I really expected my kids to break down at the prospect of not seeing Mr. Quinn again. He was such a positive and respectful man. We know of so many kids whose lives were improved because of his influence. I could see William growing up with him as a mentor and earning his black belt.

When I think of the loss that so many children are going to feel because he is not here, it makes me want to cry. He was very good with boys who were difficult and with children whose parents had a hard time parenting. He taught self-respect and self-esteem by modeling those behaviors and talking to kids about self-defense. He didn't tolerate disrespectful behavior and no one questioned that he had the best interest of all kids in his heart.

"Can I have an email address?" really isn't the best way to deal with the loss of a role model. But really, has Thomas had to lose a role model? Does he realize the impact that Mr. Quinn's death will make on countless children and adults alike? The answer is no. He hasn't dealt with loss and he doesn't understand. I think I am thankful that the first real loss my boys are being dealt has been met with somewhat standoffish behavior. It's like they really don't know how to behave. By being supportive and encouraging them to talk about their feelings, I think we are making our boys' journey into losing important people in their lives a little smoother.

We wrote cards to Mr. Quinn today and took them to AK Karate and taped them on the board. We will go to class and hear what his loved ones have to say to help us all deal with his loss. John and I will go and view his body and pay respects and the boys will participate in a class tribute to Mr. Quinn on Wednesday. After that, we will begin the process of questioning and remembering and applying what was learned at his death to the boys' future experiences.

Honestly, though, we are more upset about the loss of a man who could teach our children how to become better men. Clearly, there are fewer and fewer of them.

I hope Mr. Quinn is looking down on us and realizing what a wonderful inspiration he was.

L

Kids need to feel shame.

We took the kids to Taco Mac for dinner with our good friends tonight. We have two boys and they have two girls. After the kids finished their dinner, they became restless, so we gave them each a dollar and allowed them to go to the video game room. After a little peace and quiet, my friend went to the bathroom. When she came out, the kids were talking quietly and looking guilty.

After probing them, we found out that one of our kids was told by a random kid to tell the waitress that he lost his money in a machine so he could get free quarters to give back to her, even though he didn't lose his money in the first place. Said child, being impulsive and somewhat of a risk-taker, did it. What's worse is that his decision almost made one of our other children do the same thing, except that she was caught before she had the chance.

Many tears later, we finished our mother and father to son conversation (lecture) establishing why what he did was wrong. We finished with promises that it won't happen again and even had a little role playing session with both boys in the event that it does happen again...which it will.

I asked him, "Did you feel shame?" He replied, "Yes," with tears in his eyes. I said, "Good. You need to feel shame. You need to feel how bad that feels and identify with it so that you never want to feel it again."

I don't think that we allow our children to feel these very fundamental bad feelings that help shape who we will be. We want to protect our children from others and from themselves. If you don't know what shame is, how do you know you don't want to feel it? If you always have a parent making excuses for your behavior or blaming it on someone else, how do you learn to take responsibility for your own actions? While it may sound mean that I said those things to my son, I believe that he will think twice about his behavior when he is put into a difficult situation.

Trying to instill in your child that it is important to be strong and stand up for what you believe is really hard. There will be so many situations that both of my children will encounter as they grow. I only hope that we have given them the tools to choose the right path.

L

Spending the night at a hotel with your husband 10 miles from your home is totally worth the money.

John Lowman turned 41 today. Congrats to my husband, who will always be 6.5 years old than me.

When asked what he wanted for his birthday, John replied the usual, "a sweet card from the boys." So....I booked a hotel room in Dunwoody and made reservations at the restaurant where we became engaged about 11 years ago. The sitter was arranged and we were off on our adventure. John had no idea where we were going or what we were doing.

We pulled up to the hotel and I opened the trunk, where he found his dress clothes and our packed bag. We went for a short swim and then to the restaurant for a YUMMY dinner. After dinner, we sat on oversized couches and talked about the last 12 years.

We retired to our room late and spent the night in the luxury of a kidless room and surprisingly soft and comfy bed to both our liking. The best part was rolling over at 8:30, not having had to get up to get breakfasts for two rugrats and check W's BG and give insulin (Stephanie, you will now be written into our will!).

All that being said, we love our family. We love the time we spend together. We even love the hustle-bustle of having two kids in school doing multiple sports at one time.

But there is something to be said about going back to the beginning and taking time to enjoy the company of the man with whom I chose to spend my life. He is funny, respectful, fun, interesting, and is still the person with whom I would choose to spend most of my time.

Everyone should shell out the extra money and have dinner, drinks, and a night with no responsibilities. It's amazing what it can do for a 12 year old relationship.

Happy Birthday, Hunty. I love you.

L

Sting is phenomenal.

I went a little nutso on iTunes today and downloaded $25 worth of Sting songs. The entire 'Fields of Gold' cd is fantastic, as is the holiday album I didn't know about that I now own. "Shape of my Heart" and "I'm so Happy that I Can't Stop Crying" were two I had forgotten and I happily spent the day reacquainting myself with them.

There is one song that I found on his new album, 'Symphonicities.' Clearly it is an older song, but I had never heard it. "Why Should I Cry for You" is performed by Sting with a symphonic accompaniment. It is amazing. Such a beautiful, simple song taken to another level with the added harmonies and rich sounds of a symphony.

I have always loved Sting. One of my favorite songs is "They Dance Alone." The sax soloist parallels Sting's voice and its haunting sound echoes the somber message of the song, which is that women are left alone when their fathers, brothers, husbands, and sons die in war.


A few years ago, I realized how diverse Sting is after I listened to a few of his more artistic, to say the least, songs.

"Fill her up" How does an artist blend country, gospel, pop, and jazz into one song and make it work?

(cheesy video. Couldn't get a live version that I liked)

"Tomorrow We'll See" Sting has become a transvestite hooker in this song. I don't know why, but it just works.

(again, cheesy video, but I'm certain there wasn't an MTV one for this)

"Ghost Story" Everytime I hear this song, I am overcome with emotion and can't sing the end.


I have never heard an artist who is more diverse, more comfortable in his skin, more humble, and more talented. Maybe he shouldn't have split from the Police. I know what they had was amazing, but what he has done since is nothing short of brilliance. His looks aren't so bad either.

I am so sad that I didn't suck it up and go hear him when he was in ATL a few weeks ago. I know that I will have to make it a life goal to hear him live. Maybe he'll see me and decide he can't live without me.

For the record, I have a huge red burn below my right eyebrow. I hope it disappears soon. I am anticipating the many stares and well-wishes from anyone and everyone who sees me.

L

Some things are better left to be done in the beauty salon.

Today, I decided it would be a good idea to wax my eyebrows and give myself a pedicure.

I had already bought the supplies thinking that I would save the fam a little money by doing all necessary "beauty management" at home. I figured that on average, waxing and pedicures cost about $40 a month. Surely, if I spent close to $100 on all of the supplies, in the long run I would save money...

Well, I heated the wax, got out the applicator, and applied the wax to my eyebrow. I had done this at home once before and had no problem at all. I even got the arch right. This time, however, was a little different. I don't know if the wax wasn't hot enough or if I didn't let it get dry on my brow, but I ended up with wax on my eyelash and a huge red irritated spot below both eyes. There are still stray hairs that won't come out and when I put on the post-waxing cooling gel, it stung so bad I had to wipe it off.

All this to say, some things are better left to the professionals. I am good at many things, but not this. Furthermore, who am I to deny some sweet woman the $30 it costs to take away my unibrow and give me peace? I figure that I'm stimulating the economy by continuing to pay for these services.

I know that waxing and pedicures are vain. Women spend so much money and time on themselves that they sometime fail to see their own inner beauty. However, there is something to be said for a perfectly arched brow and nice looking toes. I'm not talking about a boob job, just a little grooming here and there. If anything, it gives us a break from our busy lives and makes us feel like women. In a houseful of boys, I really need that.

As for the pedicure, I am off to my favorite nail place now...

L

My first post

I have toyed with the idea of writing a blog for several years now. I have been saving my ramblings, thoughts, and comments to my phone's notes page and also on the FB notes page as a draft.

I don't know if I have a lot to say, but I think for me, it will be interesting to look back on myself at the age of 34 and see where my mind was.

We'll see how it goes.

L