I write. I ramble.

There’s no doubt everyone has their own personal memories of where they were on September 11, 2001 when they heard the news of planes hitting the World Trade Centers, the Pentagon, and a Pennsylvania field. I was glued to the television the entire day watching it all unfold in disbelief.

It’s hard to believe it’s been 10 years since that fateful day. I visited New York earlier this year and visited Ground Zero. From the observation point, all you can really see is a construction site. The memorial wasn’t open yet. I will be back in NYC next year and plan to visit Ground Zero again and go see the memorial. This day is forever ingrained in my memory.

I’ve spent the last week or so watching all the various 9/11 specials on TV. It’s not easy footage to watch, but I can’t not watch. I’m fascinated by the stories of the survivors, and of the loved ones of those who didn’t make it. I am enthralled with seeing where they are now and how they’ve coped.

Please head over to Band Back Together for our 9/11 memorial to read the amazing stories posted there today. The terrorists tried to destroy a nation on September 11, 2001. All they did was succeed in bringing a nation together.

As parents, it’s a given that we will have to make many difficult decisions when it comes to our children. I think one of the most difficult decisions comes when our kids turn 16. They, of course, want their driver’s license right!now! They want their own transportation right!now! I remember when I turned 16. My parents handed me a gift wrapped box. I was beyond excited when I opened that box and saw a set of car keys. I couldn’t believe they had gotten me a car! They didn’t. It was a set of keys to the cars we already had. Cruel, cruel joke, and one I may just use on Aidan when he turns 16.

One thing I know I will NOT do when Aidan turns 16 is buy him a motorcycle. Now, I have nothing against motorcycles. In fact, I quite like them. I don’t have my motorcycle endorsement, and in all honesty, I’ll probably never own one, but I’m more than happy to ride bitch on the back of someone else’s. The feeling of being on a bike is freeing. Nothing between you and the road. The wind rushing by. It’s quite a rush. It’s also inherently dangerous. Even the most conscientious riders are always at risk. More often than not, it’s not the ones on the bike that are at fault in an accident. It’s the people in cars around them who are not paying attention. Of course, there are some riders who are just idiots and weave in and out of traffic with no regard to their safety or anyone else’s.

There was a local high school student that was killed on his motorcycle this week on his way to school. He collided with another student’s truck. The details are still being sorted out, and it is not yet clear who was at fault. He was wearing a helmet, but he was still killed. This young man got his license nine days before this accident. His parents bought him this motorcycle the day before this accident. One day. He had his bike for one day.

I feel for these parents. I know they’re going through unimaginable grief. However, I can’t help but wonder what the hell they were thinking by giving their 16-year-old a crotch rocket for his birthday. Sixteen year olds driving cars is scary enough. A motorcycle at 16? That thought would never cross my mind. Kids just simply aren’t experienced enough to handle that kind of responsibility. I can’t imagine the guilt those parents must be feeling on top of the grief of losing their son. I know we all want to give our kids everything they want, but sometimes you have to make the tough decisions for them and be the bad guy. I would imagine if these parents had to to it all over again, they’d be the bad guys and still have their son.

I know I don’t have to tell you all who Aunt Becky is. She’s a legend on the Interwebz. What you may or may not know about her, however, is that she is the founder of Band Back Together. Band Back Together was started as a place where everyone could tell their stories of loss, dark things, light things, anything really, and know that none of us are alone. For every dark or light thing we experience, there are others who have gone or are going through the same things. There is safety in numbers, and Band Back Together is living proof of that. That is why I became one of the Brains Behind the Band.

Most of the blogoshpere is cavorting at BlogHer11 in San Diego this weekend. While I’m extremely jealous that I’m not there, Aunt Becky is there doing amazing things for Band Back Together. Please take a minute to watch this video and share it everywhere you can think of. Band Back Together isn’t about any one person. It’s about all of us supporting each other and knowing that none of us are alone.

I really thought once I wasn’t working, that I would write so!much!more! It turns out, I haven’t had much of anything at all to say lately. Aidan spent two months in the mountains of North Carolina alternating between my mom’s house and his paternal grandmother’s house. He had a blast. I missed him like crazy! We left last week to go retrieve him, and spend a few days up in the mountains ourselves. The beauty that is the mountains is stunning. If circumstances allowed, I’d leave Florida in a heartbeat and move up there. I really don’t know what it’s like to live close to family. Since I left home for college, the closest I’ve ever lived to any family is four hours. Currently I live eight hours from my family.

I still don’t have a whole lot to say, but I thought I’d leave you with the beautiful mountain views from the stunning Mt. Pisgah Inn about an hour from Asheville, North Carolina.

Living in central Florida, I’ve become accustomed to seeing the space shuttle come and go over the years. It’s amazing to be able to walk out my front or back door and watch as seven astronauts blast off into space. You feel it in your bones when the shuttle returns and those sonic booms hit. This morning I heard the sonic booms for the very last time.

I wouldn’t say that I’ve taken the space shuttle program for granted. I get goose bumps every time I watch that spaceship launch into space. I remember where I was when Challenger exploded. I hold my breath during every launch until I see those solid rocket boosters separate from the shuttle. I remember when Columbia disintegrated upon reentry. I hold my breath every time she’s coming in for a landing until she’s safe and sound and stopped on the runway. The space program has always awed me.

Living her for all these years, I’m somewhat ashamed to say that I only made it over to the coast for one launch. It was the 3rd to the last launch. Seeing it up close was awe inspiring. I can’t really describe the feeling of watching that great ship launch over the water. The roar of her engines is something I can’t accurately describe.

As I lay in bed waiting for the booms this morning, I was happy, relieved and sad when I finally heard them. Happy and relieved because she made it home on her last flight safe and sound. Sad because it is the last time I will ever hear that boom boom. I have an immense amount of respect for all the astronauts that have taken that brave ride into space. I’m sad to see the program come to an end.

These are some pictures I took at the launch I was privileged enough to see up close.

Living in Orlando, we’ve dealt with the Casey Anthony case far longer and in far more detail than the rest of the world. I watched along with the rest of the world as the verdict was read. I wasn’t shocked that they did not find her guilty of first degree murder, but I was beyond shocked that she was not found guilty of aggravated manslaughter. Yes, the case was largely circumstantial, but the bottom line is someone put duct tape on that child’s mouth. Someone put that child in a trash bag and threw her in a swamp like yesterday’s garbage. Whether Casey meant to kill her child or it truly was an “accident that snowballed out of control”, the bottom line is the same. A child is dead. HER child is dead.

I understand that Casey must feel relief for being found not guilty of murder or manslaughter. But it’s a disgrace to her daughter’s memory to act so joyful in the courtroom after the verdict was read. There should be no joy. Your child is still dead. How can you be happy about that? How can you stand in that courtroom and smile and laugh with your attorneys when your child is dead? That I will never understand.

What’s been lost in this entire farce of a trial is the person this is all about in the first place. Caylee Marie Anthony. She was a beautiful little girl whose life was cut far too short. She was a beautiful little girl whose death will never be settled in the American justice system.

This is who this trial was supposed to be about, and that got lost in the circus.

I’m job hunting. There are very few things I loathe more than job hunting. Some of the ads I come across amaze me. They want multiple degrees and decades of experience, but they want to pay $10 an hour. I can’t live on $10 an hour. I don’t know many people who could. Perhaps if they didn’t want the Masters Degree and 15 years of experience, $10 an hour could be warranted. I mean, if it were an entry level position for someone with no experience, I can almost see the validity in that paltry hourly sum. I didn’t go to college to earn a degree to work for $10 an hour.

As I weed through the various job ads, I find myself applying for positions in which I am extremely over qualified. If the salary is anywhere near what I’m making now, I’ll apply. Those jobs are few and far between. I hate the ads that don’t list at least a salary range. Time is a commodity. My time is valuable. The interviewer’s time is valuable. If the salary isn’t anywhere near what I would consider accepting, it’s better to know that up front so as to not waste anyone’s time. A note to job ad writers – put a salary range in your job listings.

Every now and then I come across a job listing that is so poorly written, I want to send them a note with corrections. Take this ad, for example:

Now, I realize that this is a job ad on Craigslist, and as with everything on Craigslist, must be taken with a grain of salt. There are very few legitimate job ads on CL. Unfortunately, poor ad writing isn’t limited to CL. I didn’t save it, but I came across an ad on a major job ad site that also wanted someone with impeccable attention to detail and they also had many grammatical and spelling errors in their ad. Proofreading isn’t hard people!

I’ve taken the liberty of highlighting the pertinent parts. They want someone with impeccable attention to detail. Apparently that wasn’t a requirement for whomever they hired that writes their job listings. The grammar whore in me desperately wants to send them an email pointing out the errors. I won’t. You never know where that email may land, and let’s face it, as of June 30th I’m no longer employed. I can’t afford to take a chance that my sarcastic correction could cost me a job somewhere down the line. Of course, I’m probably already screwed if potential employers ever find this blog.

My son is smart. Sometimes too smart for his own damn good. However, sometimes we come across a subject that he just can’t quite grasp. In trying to make him understand, the conversations sometimes get strange and funny. This is one of those times.

I have an iPhone 4. Prior to this, I had an iPhone 3G. As any parent with an iPhone knows, half the games you buy are for your children. These are great time fillers when waiting for something that bores your child to death. Never mind that he has a DS. No, he must play with my phone. Out to dinner? He plays with it while we wait for our food and after he’s finished eating his food. Long car ride? He’s ready to fling some pissed off birds into some dopey looking green pigs. Long wait at the doctor’s office? He’s doing something with the pygmies in Pocket God. I think you get the idea.

I told him I was upgrading my phone and that he could use my old one so he would always have it to play with, and I could keep my own phone and maybe be able to have the battery last more than an hour. He was thrilled! I was even more thrilled when I realized that I could still update his phone with any things I downloaded on the new phone. Basically, my old iPhone now works like an iPod Touch for him. It does everything except make phone calls and text (I think I could download an app that would make it text, but he’s 8. He doesn’t need to text). He loves watching youtube videos on the phone as well. At home, this is not a problem because we have a wireless network. I still don’t understand why he doesn’t just use his laptop at home, but he’s 8. Eight year old boys are weird. It’s not a problem with any place that has free wifi either. It is, however, a problem when we’re somewhere that doesn’t have wifi.

Herein lies the problem. He doesn’t understand why he can’t use the internet on the phone when we’re out and about, and he doesn’t understand why he can’t make phone calls on the phone. I was trying to explain that it wasn’t really a phone anymore. It was more a game playing device now. He just wasn’t grasping the concept since it HAD been a phone before. This is where The Man stepped in to explain. He explained to Aidan that our phones have souls. This is why we can make phone calls, text and access the internet whenever we want wherever we want. His phone has no soul, so it can’t do those things. Only phones with souls have special abilities. I’m still not sure he gets it, but at least he’s stopped asking about why he can’t call anyone. I’m wondering just who he would call anyway.

I think he should be happy that I’ve graciously given him my old phone. We’re talking about an 8 year old with a Wii, a DS, a laptop and a soulless iPhone. He really doesn’t have anything to complain about.

Saturday morning I put my baby on a plane by himself and sent him to my mom’s for the summer. This is not the first time he’s flown by himself. In fact, he’s quite the seasoned little solo traveler. Every summer he spends some time with my mom and his paternal grandmother. It’s convenient that they only live 45 minutes from each other. The first summer they lived in different states so it was 2 weeks with my mom, home for 2 weeks, then 2 weeks with his other grandmother. That wasn’t so bad. Last summer my mom moved back up to NC so it was 2 weeks with each grandparent, but no home in between. That month he was gone was a very long month for me. This summer, it’s 2 entire months up there. I put him on a plane on June 4th, and I won’t see him again until we drive up there the first week of August.

I usually enjoy the first couple of kid-free days, and then the missing him sets in. This time I wasn’t even back to my car at the airport before the pangs of the reality of not seeing him for two.whole.months. set in.

I have no doubt that he will have the time of his life. What kid wouldn’t want to spend his summer in the mountains of North Carolina hiking, swimming and camping? I think I’m taking it harder this year because as of June 30th, I will be unemployed. My summer session of school ends June 24th and fall classes don’t start until the end of August. I’ll have all of this free time and no kiddo here. I seriously don’t know what I’m going to do with myself. I am applying for jobs and hopefully I won’t be unemployed for too long, but in this economy, you just never know. I am looking forward to driving up there with The Man and his daughter and spending a week or so in the mountains of North Carolina myself and bringing Aidan home with us.

I spent just about every summer with my grandparents when I was growing up. Some of my fondest memories are from those summers. I want Aidan to have that same experience, so I’ll suck it up and let him go. I can’t promise there won’t be weekly phone calls though. I resist the urge to call daily! Because this face? is too cute not to miss.

I am attending the University of Central Florida getting my bachelor’s in legal studies. This summer session I’m taking Torts and Criminal Law. I was really looking forward to my criminal law class because that’s the area of law I hope to find work in. I was less than thrilled when I signed up for this class and saw that it was on Monday and Wednesday nights from 6-10pm. That’s a long time to be in class, but it’s only a 6 week session, and I’ve never had a professor keep the class for the entire time. Until now.

I understand that we’re trying to squeeze in 12 weeks worth of material in 6 weeks. I get it. I can even (begrudgingly) get on board with staying for the entire class time. That’s a lot of material in a short amount of time. I can even appreciate the fact that he does not require us to purchase a text book. The class material is comprised of different Supreme Court cases. Yay, I save money.

I can almost get passed his blathering about stuff and then telling us we don’t need to worry about that because it won’t be on the test. At least in most of those situations he’s still talking about criminal law. Albeit, it’s usually cases he’s personally handled, but at least it’s related to the subject matter. I’d really rather him just stick to the stuff that’s going to be on the test, because that’s all I’m really concerned about at this point.

However, I have paid good money to learn about criminal law. What I have not paid good money for is to listen to my professor pontificate and bloviate about his political and religious viewpoints. I don’t care what he thinks of the Florida Governor (even if I happen to agree with some of his opinions). I don’t care what he thinks about the Florida Legislature. I don’t care about his personal opinion of the Supreme Court and/or the Supreme Court Justices. I don’t care what his religious affiliations are. This is not what I’m paying hundreds of dollars to learn. These things are not going to help me when I’m working in a law firm. I’m willing to bet if he cut out all his personal shit, and stuck to issues he’s actually going to test us on, we’d probably get out at least an hour earlier. If you’re bound and determined to keep me here for 8 hours a week, at least give me 8 hours of material that I’m paying to learn. Leave your personal opinions to yourself.

The best part is, I have this asshat next semester for criminal procedure. I’m thinking I may want to rethink taking that particular class.