Watermelon purchased in Niagara Falls, New York. (Tops Friendly Markets)

So, do you think this is for real? Not so sure I believe the whole gimmicky serial number thing- but it’s a cute idea on a really beautiful vintage looking label.

I did trace my melon. I went to www.melontrace.com , as encouraged by my friendly little watermelon and I typed in my serial number. Sure enough, it told me everything that was on the label. My watermelon was grown at B&K Farms in Dorchester County, Maryland. That’s cool to know. I like buying fruit and vegetables and knowing where they came from.

However, is the website tracing thing for real? I mean, doesn’t my serial number sound just a little suspicious? 101 001 365 024. Like someone was trying to come up with a number and then just thought oh yah man, 365 days a year, 24 hours a day! I don’t know. How many other watermelons have my same serial number? I think we should go to Tops Friendly Markets on Niagara Falls Blvd. in Niagara Falls, NY and find out. Then again, maybe I’ll just stay home and read my Chuck Palahniuk on the glider.

And eat some Maryland watermelon.

Well, after almost daily calls to the Health Department, my doctor’s office and the hospital’s family practice we were able to get my teenage son immunized against H1N1. It was only sheer luck. We had an appt at the doctor’s office and I was mentioning how difficult it’s been to get the vaccine. The medical assistant said she saw it on the news that it was “somewhere” today. I tracked it down via WGRZ.COM, the website for Buffalo’s Channel 2 News.

I was upset that it was already 2pm and I was just finding out about it. When my son got off the bus, we went right over. It was in a home health care store, and an agency was doing immunizations on behalf of the health department. (Guess the Health Department didn’t know about this when I called during the week???).

You had to get a ticket to be immunized. The person directly in line in front of us got the last injection- and my son was the first to get the nasal mist. I didn’t get the nasal mist because I gave my ticket awa.

I was so grateful that he got immunized, I really hate to complain but there were things that just weren’t very organized. For example, they gave out injections (shots) only all day long and only when those ran out did they switch to nasal mist. Couldn’t they have given everyone able to get the mist the mist so that they had injections for those who don’t qualify for the mist. (Like asthmatics).

Then there was the matter of who was getting the shot. Okay, please don’t get me wrong. But I thought the priority was pregnant woman, people ages 0-24, people with serious health conditions. Instead, just everybody in line got immunized till they rant out.

It was strange and sort of heartbreaking to see throngs of people parking and leading their kids to the parking lot real quick to get in line for medicine- and to have nurses yelling, “WE ARE ALL OUT- SORRY- WE ARE ALL OUT” and then the people turned away. A sheriff’s car was cruising the parking lot real slow.

It felt, well, surreal.

How well would an even more dangerous epidemic be handled? Say small pox or something? This just is not put together well at all… and I know our tax dollars have gone into planning for years and years. This is what we have paid for?

I think in a situation such as this, there should have been more oversight as to method, rules, directions, etc…

I felt so bad for those people turned away. It was hard to look them in the face. That is why I gave my ticket away. I just couldn’t do it knowing that maybe my ticket would help someone who truly was in the high risk category… maybe a kid.

Well… I keep my immunity up with vitamins and keep very diligent on preventing germ spreading. Until then, I will keep monitoring the availability of the vaccine for Iris and I.

UPDATE: 11.05 I visited the doctor’s office both in Niagara Falls and Amherst where we are seen. Neither office has seen any vaccine. The Niagara Co health department is reporting that small amounts of vaccine are released for high risk groups- but will give NO INFORMATION about how or where to get it. I have been told all of the nursing and medical staff at the hospital have received their vaccines- by a nurse at the doctor’s office in NF.

I listen to the Canadian Niagara Falls station and they have had free H1N1 vaccine clinics all week- not restricted to any member of society.

In addition, WKBW in Buffalo has reported that hundreds of people from all over New York State flocked to Batavia, NY this week for a vaccine clinic. Batavia- a relatively rural small town!

I’m not sure. Perhaps this year we’ll call it a malcontentment. That’s not really a word. But that’s what I’m calling it. Sitting here at my worktable I hear the windchimes banging constantly against each other, with only a diffuse grey light coming through the window at high noon. I look out and the wind is blowing strongly the brilliant orange and yellow trees- leaves raining down all around like a Winnie The Pooh cartoon. Everything is wet and standing puddles reflect this year’s constant drizzle.

It’s interesting- each Fall seems to have it’s own personality. 2009 seems to be one of most spectacular colors, but a fast cool down from summer with plunging temps and an early snow- not to mention days upon days of rain showers. This year Fall isn’t as all-out emotionally destructive as usual. Maybe it’s because my life has some real problems of it’s own, so I’m not brooding over the loss of summer freedoms.

No- this year I’m dealing with multiple issues but I’m going to pull them all together into a big circle and call it DETACHMENT. For the good- for the bad- I don’t understand yet.

My twenty year old daughter has clipped several more substantial apron strings this year. She is living off campus for the first time and is experiencing independence like never before. Add to that her development of new adult relationships and the exploration of graduate school far from home and she’s down right pulling away from the nest. It is, after all, what she is supposed to do. It’s what I fed, clothed and sheltered her for.

But this mom has little pains of sadness when cell phone calls aren’t answered or returned. Or I am told she is busy and will talk to me later, or the next day. What did I want? Oh- nothing- you’re busy? Oh- nothing really… I just called to say hi. What? Okay honey, have a fun time and be safe. Love you. Bye.

Then there’s the 16 year old. Somebody stole my baby bear and replaced him with a man in a bedroom who dislikes me, plays video games and texts a girl all day. Oh this one hurts really bad like a fresh and unexpected wound. I did not see this one coming. I thought I still had a couple of years. But, deep breathe, nope- it happened. The struggle for independence, most of all, individuality, dignity and respect is taking a toll on him and me. Yelling, swearing, drama punctuate prolonged days of no communication. I’m not yet sure how to relate to this man and I’m resenting the fact that he took my little boy hostage. It’s going to be a tough tough thing for me. It’s my last hold on the nest. I feel like- if he flies away the nest falls apart.

Oh- motherhood, hormones and emotions! Tears are streaming down my face with self-deprecating laughter and self-pity as I write this!

And so I am experiencing all of this while the autumn nesting instinct begins to take hold. Time to put up the storm windows, bring in the lawn furniture, button up the nest for winter. Just when I’m questioning the integrity of my nest.

I’m doing the steps of Fall. I made the apple pie. I put up Halloween decorations. Gave up my sandles. Bought a new jacket.

As I watch the leaves fall, I remind myself they are very important fertilizer for the next Spring, the new beginning, the next chapter of life.

If the energy revolution were a saga, this would be the “prequel” story. Solar and Wind Energy 1.0 .

Before we were so masterful that we created an electric machine to simulate heat and wind motion, people actually hung their laundry out on the line! It was virtual real reality. I know because I was there! I’m not that old. It was the early 70s and I hung out with my Grandma Vicky when my mom was working.

I loved the warm sunshine days when we would do the laundry. She still had a wringer washer and she’d roll the laundry out the dangerous looking cylinders, and then into a basket. We’d take them up the basement stairs and right out onto the backyard.

We hung the clothes, sheets, towels, linens in the bright sunshine. She had a burlap satchel of wooden clothespins that hung off the line on a metal frame. I’d help her. She’d tell me how life worked during those laundry sessions. She told me one day I’d be grown up and come to her house to do her chores for her and drive her places. I laughed at that- how silly! I couldn’t imagine me being grown up and more skillful at something than she was. “Nyeh? You will do it… you’ll see kiddo!”, Grandma would say in her sing-song Polish American voice.

So, thirty-five years later, I can’t stand it when my family has the dryer running on a warm summer afternoon! The wash needs to go out on the line! I yell at them. They think I am crazy. Must be hormonal. They think it’s my fire phobia. It’s really not.

It’s not even that I am such an energy-conscious person, or obsessed with “green” housekeeping, it’s that I was brought up with a few conservation lessons:
1.) No lights should be on when you are not in a room or if it’s daylight.
2.) The TV should not be on unless you are purposely watching a show you planned for and it is night.
3.) Running a dryer when the wash could dry for free is a waste of money.
4.) Filling up the bathtub too much is a waste of water.
5.) Letting the water run while I wash dishes or brush my teeth is also a waste of water.
6.) There were children in Poland who had none of these conveniences at all!

I come home and hear the dryer running, blowing hot air out into the hotter outside, and I just can’t bear it! Somewhere in Poland, someone is wishing for a dryer on a rainy day. Bosia is looking down in disapproval of my wasted energy. Ed Begly, Junior may be hiding in my bushes with a camera crew.

So, here’s the deal people: it’s summer! If it’s nice weather, hang out your laundry! If you can, wait to do the laundry until it’s a nice day! It’s so easy.

Here are some laundry line tips:

1.) To combat stiffness in line dried laundry, snap the clothes out before hanging, and after dried, you can put them in the dryer for 10 minutes with a fabric softener sheet. (Also try hanging on a windy day.)

2.) Did you know that the UV Rays from the sun are antiseptic and kill germs?

3.) To prevent wrinkling fabric, add 1/2 cup vinegar to the last cycle of your washing machine. The odor of vinegar leaves the fabric as it dries, so you will not smell it.

4.) You can see all sorts of tips and buy line drying products at: http://www.linedryit.com

5.) You can also buy a bag of clothespins for a dollar at Dollar Tree!

6.) You can use electrical wire instead of rope as clothesline. You may want to remember to wipe if off between uses so you don’t get any dust on your laundry.

7.) The clothespin bags on a hanger are really fun!

8.) Let your kids run through the laundry as it dries- they’ll remember it always!

If you think you need some directions, do a google search, or go to this simple step by step guide from eHow.

No one cares to help me get a video blog done for Wednesday! This week’s BAD RECIPE is soooo bad I thought it had to be on video! But it won’t be. Because I live in the storybook, “The Little Red Hen”.

Yesterday brought a call from our dear friend, Chris, the most loyal reader of fuzziebutter.com and quite possibly, the most emotionally generous person on planet earth. It was so wonderful to hear from him and know that he is a survivor, in Wichita, Kansas, laughing in the face of tornadoes.

Late last week we had a funeral for Celia. I made the casket and lined it in her favorite fabric: fluffy fleece. Iris made her a soft pillow. We buried her with a yellow tulip as a sign of our deep friendship, peace and love as well as a small nickel crucifix with a heart on it.

Our daughter has returned home for the summer from school. We are grateful to her for another terrific year at school, in the Honor’s Program, double major, with a most GPA! She has lined up a wonderful dream job for herself this summer, too!

Today I’m going to prepare the BAD RECIPE, and try to organize my photos. Hope you are having a wonderful Monday.

Mother’s Day has come and passed for another year. Most of us moms are back at work now, earning money, doing laundry, dishes, and bathroom cleaning. We are back to being counselors, kissing boo-boos, financial advisors, and keeping bogeymen away.

No matter how grand your Mother’s Day was or was not, you have probably been thanked, loved and admired for another year.

A lot of you may not have had a “Mother’s Day” that you did not create yourself. Maybe you cooked the dinner, or paid for the dinner. You probably gave your kids money to get you a present. You may have scorned your partner for not doing those things for you. But being a mom was never about Mother’s Day, was it?

In fact, I’ll be the best gift you ever received (after your kids), was a dandelion bouquet. Now that’s gratitude and beauty. Once upon a time, your beautiful child ran around a yard or a park, gathering up a bunch of dandelions for YOU. Seeing all these beautiful yellow flowers populating the area, that little baby decided they needed to make you a gift of sunshine-y fluffy flowers!

I remember doing that when I was young. My girlfriend told me… “Oh, look at these flowers! Moms LOVE getting flowers more than anything!”. We promptly gathered as many tall ones as we could and proudly carried them to our moms.

I remember my children, roughly three feet tall, bringing me a beautiful bouquet of dandelions. Their faces looked up at me in earnest, hoping I would be pleased. I loved it! I treasured them! Immediately they were put in water. Unfortunately, they don’t last long. But the memories do!

I took my daughter to college last week. It’s her sophomore year. Her freshman year, I cried as I waved goodbye to her down the hall. I cried as I waved goodbye to her from the car. I cried as the car pulled out of the university. I cried all the way down the New York State Thruway and I cried for about 4 months following.

This year, I vowed it would be better. I would keep my chin up. This photo shows me keeping my chin up. It’s me, in the back, holding the big thing with a too giant smile on my face. Happy? Well, happy for her. She was so glad to be back. But inside, my heart was feeling like the most thin, most fragile bone china. This year was different. She was greeting by friends. She looked so happy to be back! She couldn’t wait to unpack her dorm room. She was looking forward to giant brunch at the dining hall. She kept running into people who were so glad to see her. She received invitations for the same day!

So clearly, it was my job to be happy for her. I really *want* this for her. This is what mothers *WANT*. This is what we raised them for- to be happy, brilliant, independant young adults that don’t need us! And that’s what she is! Success!!!!

And that’s a good thing, right??? Yes- just look at that great big smile of me. Definitely good.

My baby is growing up. My little Baby Bear. Just a few days ago he was wrapped in a soft little blanket pressed up against my chest. Just a few hours ago he was gleefully walking in a clumsy way, cackling and laughing at his new mobility. A few minutes ago he was up to my waist and had the cutest little cheeks and softest baby hair and I snuggled him on the couch, reading him stories like “Are You My Mother?” and “In a People House”.

This week I bought him an electric shaver. How. Surreal. A shaver.

(dramatic pause)

I had to ask like 5 men how they shave their face. I didn’t want my son to have a razor blade quite yet. I had to look up online any instructions and tips. I had to read the instruction packet.

My son helped me open the packaging. He examined the shaver. He sort of looked at it like it was dangerous. I read the instruction book. I showed him the “tips”. He read them intently, very seriously. He was very studious about it. Wanted to make sure he was doing this right.

Then, we turned the shaver on. I had to flip open the hair trimmer because first he had to get rid of his longer peach fuzz. It was intimidating. I showed him by trimming hair on my arm. Then, I trimmed a swatch on his arm. We laughed, but he learned it didn’t hurt.

Then, my son, (that baby bear?), he held that shaver to his face and slowly, methodically he trimmed his sideburns and under his chin.

He looked down at me and nodded. “I got it mom.”

I just looked up at his eyes. My god, he did have it. The first day of kindergarten flashed in my head. He was walking into that classroom, into the world, without me. I nodded silently back. There was a lump in my throat.

“Yes, you do have it!”

“Yah, I do mom. I got it. It’s okay.” He nodded down at me. Gently telling me I was excused from the situation. Permanently. Lovingly.

“Okay, babe. Have fun!” Maybe I lingered at the door just a moment too long.

I walked out of his bathroom, down the hall, and I cried.

Oh… this mommy job is hard stuff.