Pros
5. It really doesn’t matter how bad you look.
4. If you want to, you can have ice cream for lunch.
3. You are immune to catty interoffice banter.
2. If you need to do some extra work in the evening or the weekend, you don’t have to take extra time away from the family by “going in” to the office.
1. You get to use your own bathroom (after years of restrooms open to the public, or shared office restrooms that were sometimes, even worse than public restrooms, this is definitely my #1.)

Cons
5. You end up looking bad for days because you’re not going to see anyone and no one will see you.
4. You can have ice cream for lunch.
3. You miss out on interoffice banter, catty and otherwise.
2. It’s rather easy to work more than you should.
1. No one cleans the office (or the kitchen or the bathroom) for you.

We finally, after sixteen years of progressively worse sneezing, eczema and itchy eyes, took the boy for allergy testing. Interestingly, they still do the scratch test. The plus with this method is the instant results. After being pricked with approximately 36 allergens, I watched the boy squirm, trying not to scratch for the 20 minutes it takes to get the final results. First his arm turned flaming red. Then giant welts appeared all over his arm. He made some pretty funny faces.

After this allergy season, he was the one pushing for the test. I’d never seen him suffer so badly. We’re going to start shots and hopefully get him somewhat immune before we ship him off to college in two years.

During the agony of the test, with his face contorting, dying to scratch his arm, we determined that his most intense allergies are birch and oak. Naturally, we’re surrounded by trees. The allergist proclaimed the birch welt to be the largest he’d seen in quite some time. The nurse wanted to take a picture. Our kids always turn out to be medical case studies. I think they wish they were slightly less interesting, medically speaking.

It’s about ten days early, but what the hey. It’s time for your six month review, Charlottesville.
Overall, we’re impressed. We’ve seen a bit of all four seasons, now, traveling here first in October to check the place out, moving here in December, surviving spring allergies and boom, here we are in summer.

In an effort to get to know you better, I’ve joined the Charlottesville Chamber of Commerce (check is in the mail) and applied for the Leadership Charlottesville program. If accepted, I will become an active member of the community, learning more about the area’s civics, history and future than the average resident. I will probably blog about the experience, as well, and perhaps others will become interested in the program.

You see, I don’t just want to live here, I want to be immersed. There’s no reason to think we won’t retire here, even though we’re still quite young.

While I do suffer from bouts of loneliness, that’s more about missing my friends who live all over the place, not just in St. Louis. It’s also a symptom of working at home, alone. I know it takes time to develop friendships — in fact most people say it takes a year before you can live in a new place and it feels like home. I think that’s true. Halfway through the year, though; it’s getting better.

A friend sent me the link to her source for swimsuits. That’s all well and good, I suppose and, if you’re in the market for a bikini and have one of those spectacular model bodies, go ahead and fire one up. The result of this e-mail was a quick flip into “I’m never going to eat again as long as I live,” a resolve that lasted about 14 hours.

Unfortunately, it’s a hot weekend in Charlottesville, 89 today, 92 tomorrow, so we’ll probably be hanging out by the pool as much as possible. Note to St. Louis people: no matter how “hot” or “humid” it gets here, it is still nothing compared to the solid air, sweating in the shower, slog of a summer in Missouri. It cools off here at night!

The girl was delighted last night at the neighborhood pool party when she saw a teenaged girl wearing the same bikini that she had on. I’m sure the teen was less delighted to see a 9 year-old sporting the same suit. “Mom,” she said, “it’s the same, but the top is really small on her.”

If you do nothing else this weekend, spend six minutes watching this.

Go ahead, there’s nothing on TV and this will put a smile on your face.

It’s kid-friendly, too. We spent our six minutes huddled around a laptop, just like the olden days.
You won’t be sorry.

See how many of these dances you remember doing and watch your kids look at you like you just said you used to be a crack addict living on the streets of Ecuador before they came along and ruined all your fun.

1. The Da Vinci Code (oh, what, like you’re not tired of it?)
2. Stem cells
3. Religion (particularly mine)
4. My political leanings (you can probably figure it out)
5. Really disgusting stuff (except this: in an effort to see if I could get the kids to shoot milk out their noses last night at the end of dinner, I was telling them stuff I knew would make them laugh. I made sure they were done eating then shared with them the unique talents of my cousin’s ex-husband, he with the cleft palate who could vomit not only from his mouth but his nose. The girl marveled that she doesn’t nose-shoot milk as often as she did when she was younger. The boy noted that those people you see in freak shows that put chains up their noses and pull them out their mouths also, most likely have cleft palates. We have weird dinner conversations.)
6. My very personal, private life
7. Money, except when it pertains to good deals, sales or shopping excursions

This is cool — sent to me by my husband yesterday — a ringtone that only teens can hear (well, anyone theoretically under the age of 30 anyway) has been developed. I cannot hear it, making me feel old and crotchety. My husband can (which is surprising since this is a man who slept through two screaming babies). I’ve not yet tried it out on the kids. Can you hear it? Tell me (ballpark) how old you are if you reply.

When I can’t sleep I have a bad habit of revisiting terrible moments in my life. I try really hard not to but if I’ve had a particularly bad day, I’ll be watching a dark ceiling montage of all the failures, pain and frights. I’ve been forcing myself of late to try for highlights instead, trying to imagine what 100th episode reel would contain. It is much harder.

I read about Caitlin Atkinson’s series of photos on Poppy Mom. In the series, she catalogs things she has done wrong in her life. I promise it will make you smile, or say, as I did; that’s ME!

I’m trying to clean up my house today. In fact, I’ve taken the day off work for cleaning and last-minute preparations before my sister and her husband arrive this evening.

My daughter is missing the last day of school with an earache and a fever so we’re running to the pediatrician in just a bit. You can’t plan when your kids will get sick, can you? Last year on the 4th of July her ear started to bleed. This child has had all kinds of ear trouble in her life. She has one remaining tube and I’m starting to wonder if she needs a new set.

Anyway, I’m doing all of this in an antihistimine fog. My allergies have really kicked in so I’m leaning on Claritin and Sudafed just to make it through dusting and vacuuming without collapsing in a really counter-productive sneezing fit. It’s a good thing I’m not trying to work today — sneezing on conference calls is oh-so-unprofessional. The fog makes me feel as if I’m not really all here, though. Everything requires an extra ounce of concentration and my head feels batted in cotton.

I’m officially in my mid-thirties, the age at which I’ve learned, one turns a corner. Around the corner one finds that many people in positions of authority are younger than their mid-thirties.

So uncool.

I realized recently that our doctors, dentist, pharmacist, the last four pilots that shuttled me between St. Louis and Charlottesville, the person from whom I seek financial advice, teachers, police officers, etc. — are all less aged than I. Whippersnappers.

Now that I’m technically eligible to run for president and therefore become the leader of the free world, I have gotten all cynical and ageist, apparently. I don’t like that — that’s not OK.

My dad, in his early seventies, has a specialist, a physician who we, as a family, have known since he was about five years old. This guy, now in his late twenties, in caring for my dad, has dispensed great advice and a wonderful bedside manner. He can’t stop himself from calling my dad “Mr. Heroux.” My dad, on the other hand, can’t stop himself from remembering the doctor as the kid who harassed us on summer nights with endless games of “ding dong ditchem.”

Several trips ago, on the St. Louis to D.C. leg of the trip, our pilot was running late, so the flight was delayed. This babyfaced kid, our pilot, showed up ten minutes later with a brown bag lunch in his hand. Oh, how the snide remarks flew.

“Must have had to stay after school.”
“Had to wait till his mom packed his lunch”

Once on board, the pilot had to reboot the computer so shut off the entire system and restarted. The passengers were shooting each other mildly alarmed looks, particularly when the pilot mentioned that the crew were all new. Well, someone said, everyone has to have a first flight. It turned out to be a great flight, of course. But we sure had fun with the freshman pilot.

I’m excited because my sister and brother-in-law are coming to visit us (and Charlottesville) for the first time this evening. They will stay for the weekend and we will show them the town. To put it in perspective, they live in a small agricultural community (pop. 6,000) in northern Illinois. My brother-in-law travels worldwide for work, but neither of them have ever been to this part of the world.

So, here’s my question, Charlottesville, what would you do?

If they want to go to Monticello, I’ll take them there . . . and we definitely want to hang out on the downtown mall . . . but what else shall we do?

I’m also looking for restaurant ideas. All comments and ideas will be greatly appreciated!