True Love Never Lies- Especially in the Aisles of an Old Navy

This morning I packed the kids in the car and headed over to my favorite shopping place- Old Navy.  I absolutely love Old Navy- I buy almost every article of clothing any of us wear from this one store.  There is always a sale, I always have a coupon and I can shop online, late at night in my pajamas.  Best of all if I order something with always free shipping and don't like it or it doesn't fit, I can return it tot he store free of charge.

Today I had four items to return so the boys with their Nintendo DS's accompanied me on my journey where we were met by the great wheel of prizes.  They spun for me and I won a $10 coupon.  It was awesome!  I was there to return stuff and before I even made it to the register, they handed me a coupon.  A coupon for the coupon queen.  I love a deal and a coupon will give me so much joy that I can barely contain it.  My half full glass fills up to overflowing when a coupon is available!

As I shopped the sales and piddled around the store, I ran into my dear friend.  In less than sixty seconds she denounced my love of black and insisted I wear color.  Oh and she demanded that I color my hair to cover the grey area at my temples.

Now, my friends, that is true love.

Instead of dancing around the subjects I know she wanted to discuss, she came right out and demanded I do something.  Could I have been offended?  Yeah, I could have.  Was I?  Nope.  I know she just loves me and true love never lies.

So I bought a bright red top.

I now have a red top, a purple sweater and a turquoise sweater tucked in among the blacks, greys, browns and blues.  I am making progress.

Wearing colors takes confidence and I severely lack in confidence on a regular basis.  Motherhood and gravity have not been overly kind to me and thanks to a myriad of health issues out of my control, several ineffective fad diets and dozens of binge-purge cycles, I will never have the sort of body that I feel belongs in bright patterns and pretty prints.  In fact, I will even admit that I hide behind dark colors, ill fitting clothes and plain styles most days of the week.  I figure if I blend into the background no one will notice that I am no longer the picture of what I was at 25.

I have struggled with this distorted sense of self image most of my life and although I mostly successful at ignoring it, I avoid a camera at all costs and rarely look at any image of my reflection without wanting to cry.

So today, thanks to the love of a good friend, I took control of my destiny for just a moment and bought the beautiful ruby colored top instead of its olive green companion.  Hopefully I will have the nerve to wear it.

I long for the day in my life when I have the confidence to dance down the street in my red hat and purple pumps and not give a damn what anyone thinks.  For now I will settle for one beautiful red shirt and a friend who gives it to me straight ever single time.

Thanks, C!  You know I love you too!

I've Got Spirit- How 'Bout You!

    Whew!  What a week this has been!  I am so exhausted as I sit here at my computer that I actually can not sleep.  I am way beyond the window of opportunity and hope that  as I write a little, my brain will relax a bit and allow me to actually get a little of that coveted thing called sleep.

   Tonight is Homecoming- the biggest game of the football season!  And this week was Spirit Week.  For those of you who don't know, Spirit Week in a high school basically gives the students creative license to be anyone or anything that they want to be.  Each day has a theme finally culminating with the day of Homecoming and a sea of school colors filling the hallways and classrooms. 

    What I really enjoy about Spirit Week is all the different interpretations of "Out of this World" day and "International" day.   Especially "Home Sweet Home" day on the day of the big game.  The whole process opens windows for me into the creative minds of our students and I just love seeing what they come up with and trying to figure out the thought process that brough them to that point.

    What I love the most about Spirit Week- and foorball season?  THE DRUM LINE! 

    Every friday morning of a home football game, the drum line actually walks the halls of the school, tapping out infectious beats that bring at least a smile to everyone's face- teacher and student alike.  Me?  I find it hard to resist the urge to step it down the hall way!

   After a quick tour of the halls they congregate in the cafeteria with the cheerleadres and the dance team for performance that never fails to lift the spirits of the entire school.

   Who can resist a good drum?

    This is the only school I have ever worked in where the school spirit literally oozes from the pores of the cinder block walls.  It's something akin to a move production the way the drumline marches the halls, students dance and teachers can resist at least a bounce in their step.  It is awesome and gives me goose bumps every single time!

    So, this morning as I stood in the hall soaking in the spirit and tapping to the beat, I realized something.  I love my job.  I mean, I really love my job.

   Don't get me wrong- it's exhausting, sometimes infuriating and often frustrating.  Somedays I question my very sanity for giving up solitary, peaceful research for a building full of teenagers with sagging pants, too short skirts and ear buds hanging out of the front of their shirts.

    Then I remember that it is also challenging, rewarding, ever-changing and, on days like today, downright fun. 

   There are so many things in my life that are uncertain; the size of my husband's paycheck, the amount of the electric bill and whether or not the refrigerator will actually contain something that might suffice as supper for example.

   But one thing I can count on daily- teenagers make my life grand.  They are so unpredictable, so in need of affirmation and valuation and so certain that they are going to take on the world - and win- that each day that passes I know for certain that I will laugh, I will want to cry, I will wish I had stayed in the lab and I will thank God that I didn't.

    I look back over my life and think about all of the different things I thought that I wanted to be when I grew up.  Writer was never on the list- it is at the top now.  Teaching was as far from my mind as being a swimsuit model  and I planned to stay single and without children forever.

   Looks like the joke's on me! 

    My life has taken a whole series of unexpected turns and when I try to go back and find the exact place in time; the exact turning point where mother, wife and teacher were conscious choices, I can not even begin to find it.  It's as if the choices were decided long before I had any say in this world.

    If you know me at all then you know that I have slight issues with control- I have to be in control of everything.  This lack of control is no easy thing for me to contend with!

    I want to be a glass half full girl.  I want to embrace life yet not try to control its journey.  I want to take a lesson from my teenagers and open my mind to creativity and interpretation.  I want school spirit, I want marriage spirit, I want motherhood spirit!  I want to embrace the unknown and travel the path I am on with an open mind and an open soul. 
 
   This is a tough time we are living in.  I don't know anyone who hasn't been touched by the recession in some way and it has played a powerful force in the lives of many around me.  Worst of all- I have absolutely no control over it and I don't like that.  Nope- I don't like that at all!

   What I do have control over is my spirit.  I can face the challenges of an underfilled bank account and an empty pantry head on and I am going to from now on.  I'm blessed in ways I could never imagine.  The love, the support and the caring that fill my life are immeasureable by any abacus.  Tonight my nephew cuddled up against me and in the simple security of knowing I would protect him always, he fell asleep hugging me close.  A half hour later, my youngest son did the same thing- fell sound asleep sprawled across my lap on the couch.  My oldest son still hugs me a dozen times a day and says he loves me.  People, it just doesn't get any better than that.

    You have already heard my thoughts on cancer and death plenty of times.  Well, you can now add stress and fear to the list of things that I hate.  This week I banned all negativity from my classroom.  Some of my students were becoming particularly nasty and putting each other down on a regular basis so I told them that they were in a nastiness and negativity free zone.  There was no longer any room for put downs, snide comments or rudeness in my classroom.  Well, I am now officially banning all negativity from my life.  My glass will be half full starting right now.

    Of course, now I really need to consider what beverage I would like to measure in that glass....

   Have a great weekend all!



  


   
  

Even the Tiniest Among Us Grieve

    I feel as though I have been neglecting my in recent weeks.  So much has been happening in my world that it seems as though writing for relaxation has been shoved to the way back burner.  I would first like to thank those of you that have checked out my first "publication" on Amazon.com.  The process of publishing the first book went so well that I have decided to post some of my other completed works.  "Four Lucy Fight Club" now has some company on my Amazon bookshelf.  If you take a minute to check it out, you will find my first romance with a little twist of Greek mythology entitled "Atlantis Had a Sister" as well as one of my crime novels "The Devil and Kate McNally".  I have a couple of others that I intend to place on the digital bookshelf as well in the coming weeks.  Amazon has also set me up with a Web Page on their author central site.  As soon as I have done some work on it I will post a link to that for you all to check out.

   I just have one favor to ask.  Anyone who has read any of these books, even prior to digital publication, please take a few minutes to find them on Amazon and write a review.  I would really appreciate it.

    Anyone who is interested in reading them, you do not have to have a Kindle reader to access them.  A PC, Mac, Ipad, Itouch, blackberry and several other electronic devices have or can have the free Kindle App or software.

    I am just so excited that I can finally get my work out in the world!  It makes writing fun and worthwhile again knowing people will actually get to read the things I create. 

   By the way, I made them as cheap as Amazon would let me! 

    I wish I could say that all I have had to worry about is publishing my books but alas, as the way of the world always goes, there has been a wagon load of goodies to deal with at home as well.  As many of you may remember, my mother in law passed away about four weeks ago.  Last week my father in law came for a visit to bring some things to us and take care of some business with my husband.  He has been here for almost two weeks now and I have got to say that as much as I have enjoyed having him here it has been tough not having his other half with him.  My little one has been under a great deal of stress- not sleeping well, crying at school and even regressing to baby like behaviors at home in an effort to get extra attention.  We have determined that he is indeed grieving not only the loss of his grandmother a few weeks ago but his grandfather barely a year ago.  His separation anxiety is out of this world and I have felt so helpless- I don't know what to do to make it easier for him. 

    I suppose it is a testament to how much his grandmother was a part of his life.  Five is so young to have to deal with loss, not just once but twice even.

   When I think how hard it has been for me though, and I understand what has happened, I can not imagine how his little mind is trying to wrap itself around the loss and make some sort of sense of it.

   I have determined that death sucks just about as much as cancer and war and poverty and the recession.  The everlasting reprecussions of the death of a last one are like the ripples in a pond- one blends into the one in front of it and we never quite make it back the calm, smooth existence we had before we lost someone we loved.

   In just a few minutes I will head over to pick up my baby from school.  I will hug him and shower him with attention and affection.  We will cuddle and read stories and play together yet nothing I will do this weekend will ever be enough to mend the tiny little break in his tiny little heart.

New Frontiers

The other day I read an article on a website called WOW!- Women on Writing-  about five women like me that had little success finding represenation for the works they had written.  Each one of them decided to strike out on their own and explore the world of digital publishing and had experienced great success.  According to statistics on the site, the purchase of digital reading material increased by 116% in the first quarter of 2011 while sales of paper copies dropped something like 25% as compared the same time last year. A month ago I would have told you this was rediculous.  I recently inherited a Kindle e-reader.  As a die hard paper copy reader, I wasn't exactly sure if this method of reading would work for me.  I went on Amazon.com and sought out a couple of free books.  They downloaded almost instantly and within minutes I was happily reading away.

I love my Kindle!  It has changed everything for me!

Each of the women had found not only financial success with digital publishing but personal satisfaction as well.  They could stand proud in the knowledge that they had achieved their main goal- getting their words out there and read by others. A goal I have struggled with repeatedly for several years. 

So, I thought to myself, why not give it a try?  As of yesterday, my novel Four Lucy Fight Club is available on www. Amazon.com!  Just type in my name or the book name into the search bar and there it is.

There was nothing more exciting then seeing my work with my name on it somewhere other than my flashdrive! 

The coolest thing about publishing with Amazon is that you DO NOT have to have an e-reader.  Kindle books can be viewed on any PC, MAC, Blackberry, Ipad or Itouch! Anyone with a computer can now read my book. 

I have always dreamed of being pulished the traditional way with an agent and an editor and the box of printed copies showing up at my doorstep so I resisted the idea of digital publication despite my husband's repeated suggestions to try it out.  But honestly, this is the 21st century and everything is changing so I figured maybe I ought to change my way of thinking as well.

Please take a moment to check out my book and let me know what you think either here or on FaceBook.  Thank you to everyone who has supported me along the way, those of you who have read excerpts and those of you that encouraged me to keep on writing even when I was frustrated and determined to hang up my laptop.
I have included the link here:
http://www.amazon.com/Four-Lucy-Fight-Club-ebook/dp/B005O0Q438/ref=cm_cr_pr_product_top

I doubt that I will ever make it to the New York Times bestseller's list taking this nontraditional route but I honestly don't care so much.  I hate to be photographed and television interviews wouldn't work for me anyway- I get all tongued tied with a microphone pointed at me! 

All Good Things Must Come To An End- Or At Least Change Course

    My oldest hopped a bus to third grade this morning, my youngest donned a uniform and began his educational trek with his first day of kindergarten and I swear I hardly cried at all!
    We had a good summer.  The end was a little dicey with the hurricane and my mother in law's passing but all in all, it was a good break from the rigors anf rogamarole of the school year.  Despite the broken pool, we all worked up a good tan at the beach, my baby sister got married and we managed to slip away on a quick three day camping weekend.  The boys attended their first (and second) minor league baseball game and we had many, many good nights of friendship and fellowship with the other members of our little village.  All in all, I am rested and ready for the new year- a very different feeling from last year at this time.
     Since my husband was gone for the last two weeks of summer vacation, we decided that :Labor Day weekend was going to be about family fun- we were going to take summer down to the very last minute! 
    On Saturday, I learned to drive the riding lawn mower.  Later, my little sissy and her baby man spent the day with us (Mom is still visiting!) and we ended up with a big dinner at our favorite restaurant- kids eat free on Saturdays!!  Following dinner, we tucked all the kids in bed and when my brother in law got out of work, we had out last official Summer Game Night.  (Now that does NOT mean, game nights are over by any means, just that summer is ending....) 
   '90's Trivial Pursuit is the bomb by the way!!
   Good snacks, good friends, good family- cheap, old fashioned fun! 
   We always play guys against girls- even Mom stuck around and played with us.  Thank you Mom, for sharing your wisdom! 
    The girls won, by the way.  And no one cheated!
    Sunday my new brother in law cooked up the most massive piece of prime rib ever with all the fixings and we all feasted until we were closing to exploding. I told my sister that if they ever divorce, weekly meals cooked by my brother in law needed to be a part of the divorce decree!  After dinner, my neighbor whipped us up a batch of Mommy Milkshakes for the women and we sat on the deck in the summer twilight as our men spent some time "bonding" around the kitchen table.  I am pretty sure Sam Adams and Mr. Daniels may have attended the session as well.  It was a really great day and night.
   On Monday we met the neighbors at the stadium for the last minor league ball game of the season.  The boys had a blast, I got some last minute sun and we all relaxed in the final hours of our summer vacation. 
   A dip in the neighbor's pool followed by some good old fashined hot dogs and hamburgers topped off the day and wrapped up the last weekend of summer quite nicely.
   All in all it was a really great summer- the only real down point was losing someone we cared about. 
   Now, as the new year gets started I find myself thinking back on the past couple of months and I can't help but smile.  I survived my first real hurricane on my own, learned to operate "heavy" machinery and grew actual, edible watermelons in my back yard!  (Nothing grows in my back yard...) 
    I have two goals this year- to vamp up my lesson plans and really try to instill a love of chemistry in my students and finish my most recent novel.  I am also conisdering organinzing all the closets but that may be asking way too much!
    They say that all good things must come to an end and a really good summer vacation is about to end.  I refuse, however to say that the things about summer that I really enjoyed- family and friends and just enjoying being alive are coming to an end.  I have learned so much in recent months about what it really means to live and discovered so much about what life is really about that I want to keep going.  I want more game nights, more big family dinners, more sharing time with people I care about. So I am decreeing right now that I refuse to let it end.  We will just change course, adapt life to the changing seasons and keep on living, learning and loving.
    There is a picture in the faculty restroom at the school where I work that I love to read.  It begins with somethign about when we die, no will know how much money we made or what kind of car we drove but they will know the mark we have left on the world.  I want to be remembered because I was loved.  I want people to feel my loss because of me, not the stuff I have or the places I have been to. 
   Some day when you are gone from this world, people are going to sit around a table and talk about how they remember you.  How will you be remembered?

I Fought the Hurricane and I Won!

    I am now officially a hurricane survivor!  I want a t-shirt to commemorate the fact that Hurricane Irene was strong but I was stronger.
    As many of you probably know, my mother in law passed away last week.  My husband stood by her side with his siblings and father as she took her last breath and I am so glad that he was there for his father in the days following her passing as they prepared for the funeral services and took care of other necessary business.    As much as I missed him, I know that he was where he needed to be. 
    In the days leading up to Irene's visit, mom (who is staying with me currently for an extended visit) and I readied ourselves not so much for the storm itself but the days after she passed over us.  Tales of weeks without power from Hurricane Isabel in 2003 urged us to store drinking water for us and the pets, nonperishable foods and even extra cat litter.  I have to say that my mother is the queen of preparedness and I learned a great deal from her about being ready for anything.  Thursday, two days before the storm, we booked my husband on a flight home for the next day.  I was so glad that he was going to be with us for our first real hurricane!
    Since moving to the coast, I have experienced tropical storms and nor'easters but never a real live, official hurricane.  I would be lying if I didn't admit that I was nervous.  We have an old, worn out roof and not yet enough money to replace it as well as a rickety old fence that I was certain would go down flat in hurricane force winds.
   So, I prepared the house as best  I could.  With the help of my wonderful neighbors, I battened down the hatches- locking away lawn furniture, the grill, a mess of toys and other possible projectiles just waiting for 80mph winds to toss them around like nobody's business.
   On the friday before the storm, the day my husband was set to return, the weatherman reported a change- the storm was moving ahead of schedule!  An hour later, my husband's flight was cancelled.
    Until that time I was doing all right.  I was holding my nerves in check and just doing the things that needed doing.  When I got that message, everything changed. 
    It was the straw that broke the camel's back.
   After all the preparations that led up to my sister's wedding and the planning that led up to the hurricane, I was emotionally roasted.  If you could have stuck a fork in me I would have gone up in steam like the turkey in National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation.  To find out that my husband, the one I depend upon in trying times, was not going to be present for something like a hurricane was overwhelming. 
    I became even more obssessed with the weather reports, prehurricane coverage and pleading with God to spare our home from major damage.
    By the middle of that night, the winds had moved in.  Vinyl siding has an eerie way of creaking and whining in the wind so by four in the morning I was wide awake tracking tornado warnings.  Rain fell in a steady, repeating pattern of downpour and light mist with the occasional torrential drenching to spice things up.
   The dog refused to go outside and relieve herself unless someone was with her so I stood in my backyard barefoot, protected only by a light rain jacket every two hours as my elderly pup sniffed the soaked lawn for a place to go. 
    Every so often there was a lull in the storm where the winds calmed down just enough and the rains held back just enough to make it safe for me to step outside and assess damages.  Each time we had that short burst of calm I would run out front and check the fences, the roof and the cars.  Then I ran through the house and made a check of the back roof and the deck.  After eight hours of near constant wind and rain we lost our first major limb in a tree in front of the house.  After twelve hours a few of the shingles began to flap in the breeze and I was certain we were going to sustain some serious roof damage before all was said and done.
    Eighteen hours after Huricane Irene began her assauly on our humble home, a window screen bent completely in half and hung perpendicular to the house.
    By Sunday morning the rains had gone, the winds were nothing more than a pleasant breeze and the sun shone bright in a clear, blue sky.
    The Outer Banks in North Carolina had flooded, parts of south eastern Virginia were under water and power was out all over the mid- atlantic.
     We had one broken limb, a bent screen and the boys collected one hundred and ten sticks from the front lawn.  The power blinked out a few times but never cut off completely and the entire roof was still intact.  All along our cul-de-sac the story was the same.  A few broken limbs, part of a fence that had fallen over and tons of leaves on the ground.  But that was it.
    We had survived Hurricane Irene virtually unscathed and everyone we knew and loved were safe.
    My little sister and her family lost power and had a run in with some flood waters in their basement.  They spent a couple of days with us at our house.  We had a huge cookout, tons of family bonding and the opportunity to show love and support to each other.  It was a great time for all.
    Two days later, my husband found his way home and life has slowly returned to a more normal speed.  I truely hope it is a very long time before I have to live through a hurricane again.  I am proud that I was able to protect my home and family and grateful for all of the help that others gave me in the process.  It was the sort of experience that teaches one alot about themselves and I, for one, learned some surprising things.  I am much stronger than I ever thought, capable of survival not only for myself but the ones I love and that all the worrying in the world won't change what is meant to be.

Of Sorrow and Joy

  It is with great sadness that I wish to share with all of you that, after a very long illness, my mother in law passed away two days ago on Monday, August 22.  She was at home, surrounded by her husband and children and many of her grandchildren, all of whom loved her dearly. 
   It is with great happiness that I wish to share that my baby sister was married to the love of her life also two days ago on Monday, August 22.  She too, was surrounded by the people who love her- minus one groomsman who stood beside his mother as she left this world and passed into the next.
    Because of the wedding that all of us, even my boys, were a part of, the kids and I were unable to be there along with the rest of the family.
   What I would like to share with you now may leave some of you skeptical but I swear that it is exactly what happened. 
   As I stood on the shore of the Atlantic Ocean, my toes buried in the warm sand while my pink chiffon dress stirred gently in the sea breeze, I watched as my little sister said her vows.  As she stared up into the eyes of her fiance', my own eyes teared up and I had to look away for just a few seconds.  Behind where we stood on the beach was the hotel that would hold the reception.  It had a deck that spanned its width where several hotel guests stood and watched as the sacrament of marriage was performed on the perfect Virginia evening. Humidity free, the air was comfortable, the sky an awe inspiring shade of blue.  A woman in a green tank top leaned against the rail of the deck smiling as if she knew something the newlyweds did not yet know but would one day soon discover. 
    As my eyes wandered, I caught the briefest glimpse of an image that I will never, ever forget.  Two feet over from the woman in the green tank top I saw my father, leaning on the railing, his ivory button down shirt flapping slightly in the breeze, a big smile on his face.  Beside him was my mother in law.  Both looked vital and healthy- no trace of the terrible diseases that had taken them from us.
   I heard the words, "She just died" in my head.  And then they were both gone.
   The last time I visited my mother in law in the hospital, she told me she still hoped to make it down south for the wedding.
   Well, "Mom", you did!  And I was so very happy to see you there!
   After the ceremony, I hunted down my girlfriend who held my cell phone (there was absolutely no place to tuck it into my halter dress!) and said "Quick! Give me my phone!  I have to see if my husband called- I think his mom just died."
    Her reply?  "No, she didn't.  You are just worried."
    Of course, she was right.  There was no text message.  No missed call.
    But I was certain of what I had seen so I sent him a message asking how she was. 
    He did not reply.
    Finally I broke down and called him.  It was then that I learned she had, indeed passed in the middle of the wedding ceremony.
    I have always believed that loved ones who pass sort of take on the job of guardian for us.  From the other side, they watch over us, protect us and when they really want to, drop in on us.  I am convinced that the week after my oldest boy was born my great grandmother, whom I was very close to, dropped in to see him.  I swear I could smell her perfume.  Another friend shared with me once a story of her father coming to see her first born son as well.  I was certain that Dad would somehow manage to be at the wedding and he didn't let me down!
   It's perfectly OK with me if you don't believe any of this really happened.  And I don't even mind if you think I am a little crazy because I just might be slightly left of center on a regular day anyway.  But, I am going to choose to cherish the fleeting glimpse- whether it really happened or my active imagination just filled in a gap for me- and take comfort from the fact that two people I loved are now in a place where they no longer hurt or ache or feel the agony of their ailments emotionally or mentally.
   I am deeply saddened by the loss of my mother in law.  The boys have just lost a grandmother they really loved, my husband has lost his mother and and my father in law has lost his spouse of nearly fifty years.  I am sad for all of us because we are left here feeling the pain and sorrow of her death but for her I am happy, ecstatic even.  She no longer has to scream out in pain as she shifts from one position to another.  Her breathing is no longer labored and her chest no longer aches.  For that I am infintely grateful. 
    Truth be told though, I mostly jealous.  She gets the opportunity to hang out with my dad any time she wants now while I just have to wait patiently for three or four decades to see him again!

Let Them Know How You Feel Now- When it Really Counts

     In eleven years of marriage, this is the first time that my husband and I have slept in different states.  He is currently up in New England to see his ailing mother and help his father cope with the stresses that come with terminal illness in a loved one.  He has only been gone thirty six hours but it feels like forever. 
    My reaction to his absence surprised me greatly.  We spend more time sleeping apart than we do together because of our opposite shifts.  So, why it should bother me to be alone at night is odd to me.  Of course, when he is at work, he is only a short drive away so he may not be home but he could get home relatively quickly.  Now, though he is a ten hour car trip, an eleven hour train ride and a four hour flight from us.  Psychologically that feels like the universe to me.
    Now, I have always considered myself perfectly capable of getting by on my own.  I never felt like I "needed" a man to get along in this world.  In his absence I have powerwashed my house, painted dozens of walls, cut acres of grass and done just about everything else.  So, why, when he is tending to such important things do I still feel so lonely?  It's the strangest concept and I am having real difficulty making sense of it.
   To pass some time this evening, I finally picked up the guitar he brought home for me last month.  The boys and I stopped at a music store today and I picked up a beginner's book and a guitar pick.  In part I think I did it because I miss my husband and playing with the instrument would somehow make me feel closer to him.  Either way, it was about time I began to learn to play it.
    For many years I played the violin so I can read music and I understand the mechanics of sheet music.  This turns out to be a real plus because I was able to focus on the notes instead of learning to read the notes.  After two hours of play and practice I have now mastered "Ode to Joy" and "Skip to My Lou."  It is only a matter of time before this rock star goes on tour!
    I had forgotten how relaxing it could be to play music. Once I figured out the strings and the first few notes I felt comfortable and began to really enjoy the actual music coming out from the strings plucked by my own fingers. 
   Of course, I now have a blister forming on my finger from pressing too hard against the strings but I feel accomplished.  And for a couple of hours I lost the lonely feeling at my husband's absence and the worry for my mother in law and just focused all of my energies on something that seems to have been quite therapeutic.
    For so long now, I have been so completely consumed with the rigors of everyday life that I forgot what it felt like to just piddle away a couple of hours; in this case picking out simple tunes on a cheap guitar.  Right beside me sat a basket full of laundry needing folding and in the kitchen dirty dishes still cluttered the sink. But you know what? They were still sitting there when I was done.   The world did not switch its tilt or stop turning on its axis.  The moon was still high in the night sky and water still ran out of the faucets.  In short, the world did not suffer in any considerable way by my ignoring the laundry and dishes.  They eventually got done and I was ablt to record my first "concert" on my cell phone and text it to my absentee husband.
    I feel sad for my mother in law.  She is very ill and there is little anyone can do for her except to make her comfortable.  I feel even sadder for my father in law- her mate of nearly fifty years.  FIFTY YEARS.  Some of us can't even keep a friend for more than a few years yet they managed to stay married for half a century.  That is an awesome thing.  But, when she is gone, my seventy something father in law will suddenly be alone.  After watching my mother lose her mate of forty two years last summer, I do not take lightly the loss that he will feel upon his wife's death.  Most of all I feel sad for my husband.  I know how it feels to lose a parent.  I want to take the pain away and carry it for him but I know I can not.  I love him and I know he has to follow the path himself.  The best I can do is offer my love and support.  Perhaps that is in part responsible for the empty, lonely feeling I am harboring this week.
    In the past year I have lost my Dad, my close friend moved away and I have been preparing for the loss of my mother in law for quite some time now.  It's been a tough go of it for all of us actually and I am ready for just a little break.  I am sort of even looking forward to getting back to work so that my routine becomes so chock full again that I won't have time to think over such things.
    When you are done reading this, get up from your computer and go and find your spouse or signifcant other.  Tell them you love them.  Tell them how much their presence in your life means to you and promise them that you value and appreciate them.  You won't regret saying it but I know for a fact you will regret not saying it one day.
   
 

Back Off, Stress!

     What a week this has been and it is only Tuesday! 
     This morning my oldest son had surgery at the children's hospital to correct a problem that has been causing him a great amount of discomfort in the past few months.  Of my two children he is the strong, healthy one who gets an occasional cold or sinus infection but had perfect attendance for the entire school year this past year.  So, unlike his baby brother who has already had two surgeries by the age of five to insert ear tubes, he has very little experience in the art of being sick.
    In short, the word "surgery" scared him.  Alot.
     It even scared his little brother who spent the morning at day camp at his school crying and waiting for someone to pick him up.  He melted down immediatley upon seeing his brother- a clear indicator that even the youngest among us experience fear, worry and best of all, relief.
    It scares me too, but for different reasons.  There is a history of a disorder in my family called Malignant Hypothermia which is a severe and often fatal reaction to anesthesia.
    Everytime I, or one of my children are faced with "going under", I panic a little and worry a lot.  Fortunately the children's hospital has a protocol for such situations and they handle it with great ease and finesse'.  Needless to say the surgery was uneventful and very successful.  He will be up and running around in no time as though nothing ever happened and I will actually sleep tonight.
    Well, maybe.
    My husband has taken a bit of FMLA leave to go and be with his mother who has minimal time left on this planet.  Hours? Days?  A week or two?  No one can tell us for sure, and so we wait and see.
   With my sister's wedding only a few days away, we are not sure whether he will make it back or not.  Each hour of each day we wait for the phone call to come, the one forcing me to tell them boys that someone else they love has passed on.  I am so glad that they had the chance to see their grandmother in June and will always remember her as grammy who likes to cuddle and listens to every single one of their Nintendo DS stories.  I bet she even understands what Pokemon are!
    As a grown up, I understand that death is a part of life.  It's inevitable and I attempt to comfort myself by telling myself that she lived a rich life full of travel and exeriences and people who loved her.  But it isn't making things any easier.  Like I have said previously, she was always good to me and we have a great relationship as mother in law and daughter in law. 
     Stress seems to follow me around like the grey fluffy cat hair that seems to tumble across my wood floors like tumbleweeds in a desert.  I keep trying to get the drop on stress but it seems smarter than me, showing up around every corner.  Still, I am doing my best to dodge it and not succomb.  This week has been a true test of that little white blood pressure pill.
    Today's mantra:    
I won't give in.  I am stronger than the will of cancer, the inevitability of death and the strangulating force of stress. 
     Still, as I sit here, I am mentally taking stock of all the blessings in my life.  The wonderful show of support from friends and family as we prepared for this morning's adventure.  The offers of help if we needed it, the kind words, the offerred prayers...  How great is this village that I call my own?
  

WIth a Heavy Heart

   This summer we have been exploring the concept of earning an allowance.  The boys have both been assigned a short list of chores to complete each week and if they do, they will earn $3.00.  Of that money, at least $1 must go into savings.  As we progress in this experiment, we will eventually select a charity to donate to as well but for now, we are concentrating on making the chores part of their routine and learning the value of a $1 so to speak. 
   My little sister is getting married in a week and in a few days we will have some house guests staying with us.  Inundated with housework that never seems to be caught up, I offered the boys an extra dollar each to clean up the playroom.  I mean, really clean it up.  To sweeten the deal, I tossed in an extra fifty cents to whoever found their cousin's sandal that I knew was in there but had refused to show itself for about 3 weeks now.
   Five minutes into the great clean up, my youngest child shows up in the kitchen with the baby's shoe and asked for his 2 quarters.  As I handed them to him, he said "I'm going to give one to my brother because he helped look for it too."
    I've got to tell you, that just about melted my heart and definitely warmed my soul.  Most kids, probably myself included at that age, would have run off with the two quarters as their own but my child wanted to share with his brother becasue they both took the time to look for the shoes.  Does it get any better than that? At the age of five, there is absolutely no sign of greed in my little man.  I can't help feeling like we might be doing something right as parents after all!
   It's the little things that keep me moving forward.
   This has been a particularly rough few days in our house.  My mother in law, who has been ill for a very long time, has taken a turn for the worse.  The much worse.  It is only a matter of days, a week at most before I once again have to broach the extremely difficult task of explaining death to my little ones.  Trying to make arrangements for my husband to get up north to see his mom and help out his dad with only a week until the wedding that we are all in and squeeze in a minor surgery for my oldest  has pushed both of us to the brink of breaking.  Since my husband's job pretty much owns his soul, we are pacing the house waiting for permission for him to leave while I shift the household books around to make accomodations for the unexpected expense.
    As some of you might expect, I have been experiencing a great sense of de ja vu from my own father's passing only a year ago and that is adding to the heavy weight I am feeling as we wait for "the call".  I personally, do not fear death.  I am sad to think of my boys growing up without a mother, but I am not afraid to die.  I have always tried my hardest to live the best way that I could.  I hope I have done more good than harm in the world and I don't have a single regret.  Except maybe turning down law school eight years ago... how different my life would have been had I earned my JD...  Anyway, I believe that the real sadness in death is for those left behind with the big empty hole in their lives where the one they loved used to be.
   From what I understand, I am one of the lucky ones.  My in laws are very good to me.  They always have been.  They love me and I love them and losing one of them is going to be extremely difficult.  We have always had a great relationship and I am so glad that I did have to go through my married life with a mother in law who didn't like me as many of my friends have told me is the case in their lives.  Because of them I have had many opportunities I may not have experienced otherwise.  Trips to Narragansett, Disney, Carolina Beach and Newport are just to name a few of the great things we have done together. 
    Maybe there will come a day when death does not have to be painful or drawn out.  For now I will concentrate on supporting my husband and father in law as best I can.  It is unfortunate but I do have a bit of experience in this inevitable part of life.
  

Tent- $50. Camp Site - $30. Quality Time as a Family- Priceless

     Since we ended up spending our vacation in June visiting my sick mother in law, we promised the kids a camping trip to make up for it before the summer was over.  So, we just spent three days up in the beautiful Blue Ridge Mountains taking a much needed break from the real world.
    I had never gone camping before I met my husband.  The idea of sleeping on the ground with nothing more than a few millimeters of nylon fabric between me and the wild was never very appealing.  I don't squat against trees and I have an innate need to wash every day.  So, camping would not have been my vacation of choice.  And then I met a man who loves nothing more than sitting under a tree around a fire reading a magazine and enjoying the fresh air around him.  Needless to say I pretended the idea of camping sounded like fun!
    I have only two requirements- a toilet with a roof and walls around it and a place to shower.  I don't even care if it is an outhouse and a cold creek, I just have to have those two things available to me or I can't do it.  I even seem to lose my intense dislike for bugs and dirt when I go camping as long as there is a toilet and water available to me!
   The campground we chose was pretty simple.  Treed tent lots, a pole with some outlets on it for a radio and a well pump with a faucet on it to rinse dishes or what ever.  This place did have a nice clean bathroom with hot showers which of course made me happy(!)  and a small inground, six foot deep pool which made us all happy.  A long hot summer without the use of our own pool (a side rusted and collapsed last summer)  has been a difficult thing to contend with so we were very excited to find this little piece of paradise in the middle of the mountains.
   We spent alot of time reading and playing catch with the kids.  I brought along my lap top to do a little writing- I always write best when we camp- and the boys played with dirt and twigs and rocks.  It was very relaxing.  Even the trip we took along the Blue Ridge Parkway was phenomenal with its mountian views and leafy trees we hadn't seen much of since leaving New Englad seven years ago.
   Essentially it was a back to the basics sort of weekend- spending quality time together without committments, televisions or any of the many other distractions life always seems to offer. We came back home tan from all the swimming and relaxed from all the sitting around just in time to jump into a whirlwind of activity over the next couple of weeks before returning to school in September.
    I know that camping isn't for everyone but I truely believe everyone should give it a try.  There is nothing like the serenade of crickets and cicadas as you drift off to sleep each night.  The beauty of the landscape is never tiresome and the night sky never looked so amazing as it does against a bright campfire.  Camping is good for the soul.
   We can't afford big summer vacations every year to Disney or the Bahamas but we do our best to take the boys camping at least once each summer.  I believe it is essential for little boys to learn skills such as building and lighting a fire as well as fire safety.  They should know how to handle a fishing line and to tell the difference between safe and poison berries and how to avoide rock piles where rattlers and other snakes may make their homes.  Actually, I believe that ALL children should learn these things- boys and girls. The quality time is priceless and the skills are important.
   You don't need to spend loads of money to build a realtionship with your children.  All they really want is your time.  For a three day all inclusive trip to the mountains we spent less than one day at Disney would have cost us. 
    Now don't get me wrong.  We want to take our kids to Disney World and one day we will.  But what we want most is to foster a relationship with our boys that includes love, trust, approval and comfort while teaching them to be productive members of society who will one day raise children of their own.    

Take Me Out To The Ball Game

    So, last night we took our kids to their very first "live" baseball game.  We happen to live very close to a minor league baseball stadium and thanks to the awesome lunch deal at Subway this month we managed to score four box seats on the first base line for only six dollars.  As a family we are avid Red Sox fans- the kids sit and watch the games on television with us so we thought it was time for them to see a ball game up close and personal.
   Our neighbors grabbed up their own Subway special and together we all headed out to the ballpark, gloves in hand.
    Did anybody know that cotton candy- air blown sugar- is $4.00 a bag?  Never mind the $3.75 for hot pretzels, $6.00 for hot dogs and $4.50 for a soda!  But, we agreed before we went that since this was our vacation we would allow the boys to have the true ball park experience and eat expensive junk food and get sick to their little stomachs as they stay up way too late! 
   It was worth every single penny.
   Watching the wonder on my five year old's face as he saw the stands and the giant light poles and the brightly lit scoreboard for the first time was truely priceless.  Having my eight year old tell me that he really loves baseball and wants to finally play a team sport was also priceless.
    I like baseball games- always have.  When I was young and my dad sort of hoped his first born might have been a boy or at least a "tom boy", we sat for hour after hour watching the poor NY Mets struggle to save face and not lose EVERY game.  As a teenager I often attended minor league games in Rochester, NY with my summer camp.  And now, I have officially bonded over stadium food in a brightly lit ballpark with my own boys. 
    Taking the time to explain to them the game the same way my father did for me was one of those never forget bonding moments.        
    All in all, it was a completely awesome experience.
    I am actually excited that they have both chosen to play little league this fall despite the fact that it will mean one heck of a crazy schedule for me for two months.
   Today we went school clothes shopping to take advantage of Virginia's tax free weekend.  While I stood outside the changing room as my boys tried on each article of clothing (they don't need me in the changing room any more!) I chatted with another mother who had two little girls that were also trying things on.  As usual I was experiencing the sharp sense of nostalgia over the fact that we were trying on jeans and polo shirts instead of cute little skirts and dresses. 
   And then I thought of the joy and excitement on my boys' faces the night before as they experienced something every little boy should experience at least once and I realized that I was exactly where I was meant to be, mother of the two little boys I was meant to raise.

Hope Springs Eternal

    Last night I was playing on the floor with my little nephew and he momentarily forgot the rules of play with Auntie- you know the ones where we don't hit or throw things.  He got so excited over the game we were playing where he pit a rubbermaid pitcher on his head that he waved his arms wildly and threw the pitcher make dead on contact with my nose. I don't think I have to tell any of you just how much that REALLY hurt.  That old expression about seeing stars?  Yeah, its true.
    As I sat on the living room floor too dazed to move, my husband brought me a frozen water bottle (beach ice pack!) to hold on my already swelling nose.  My little nephew, not even a year and half old was so concerned he kept circling me where I sat and stopping to hug me every few seconds.  One time he even kissed my nose and said "sorry"- something I had never heard him say.  The best part though was when he observed me holding the frozen bottle to my nose and he went off to search the house returning with another empty bottle fromt he recycling that he held up to the other side of my nose! 
   This morning my nose hurts like hell and it is red and swollen but I keep thinking about the sweet innocence of little man as held the empty bottle against my face.
    Already he is capable of feeling remorse.
    I can't tell you how much hope this gives me for the world that we live in!!
    In a world where people can kill their children with no remorse and little punishment, I wonder sometimes what has become of the moral fiber of human beings in general.
    Is it a product of upbringing?  Or a genetic defect?
   When a student tells a teacher to F--- Off, I have to wonder where in their teenage minds did they decide that it was OK for them to say that to an adult- or anyone for that matter.
   I used to say I would never bring a child into this world.  It actually frightened me to consider raising a baby in a place where I can not even let them play inthe yard without fear of some one taking them from me.  When we moved into our current neighborhood, my husband ever the cop ran a sex registry check on some public access site on the internet.  Imagine my surprise when there were five registered sex offenders with a couple of miles of here.  Of course, sex offender might just mean a ticket for urinating in public but still- it is unnerving. 
   The Casey Anthony trial had most of the country on the edge of their seats anticpating her guilty verdict yet somehow she was pronounced innocent.  A woman's child is missing for days and she delays reporting it when I go into a panic if I can't see my kids in the backyard because the pool is in the way?
   Every night my husband and his colleagues hit the city streets only to find two yearsolds playing in the street at 2 am.  Really?  My kids have been asleep for 6 six hours by two in the morning!
   Last night's news mentioned a man who actually packed a loaded gun into a suitcase and attempted to get on a plane yesterday.  In these post 911 days did he REALLY think he would make it through x-ray machines and metal detectors with even a heavy belt buckle on?  IS it really such a great idea to test the FAA like that?
   And what about homegrown terrorists?  Is the United States really such a terrible place to live?  I mean, despite the debt ceiling and bipartisan disagreements that almost threw us into default over politcal agendas?   
    Even worse, I think I might have even heard that one of our own elected officials may have called Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords a member of the cracked heads club or something to that effect.  The woman was shot in the head by a deranged sniper at a community gathering.  I don't care who you are or what party you belong to- her recovery has been miraculous and her trip to congress on the day the debt deal was voted on was monumental.  I watched the videos, I shed a few tears of my own.  That is one strong woman and I can only hope to match her strength of character and determination.
   I am not a political fiend.  Sometimes I can not even watch the news for weeks at a time because I like living in a sheltered state of denial.  I am, however, as I have stated many times before, fiercely patriotic, a big believer in our freedoms and a die hard supporter of our military.
    I am also a bit of a dreamer- I am holding out hope that there is still enough good out there, enough remorse even, to get our nation and the rest of the world back on track  The military knows that there is strength in numbers.  Perhaps instead of being constatnly divided on so many issues, the people of America should finally band together on the important stuff and set the example we have always been so proud to be.

The Complexities of the Emotional Meltdown

   I would first like to apologize for my long absence.  It was brought to my attention today that there are a few readers out there who actually tune into my wit and wisdom regularly and that I might be letting those readers down by ignoring my blog.  So, here I am, hoping to find my groove once again.
    All in all, it has been a pretty tough week for me.  I wasn't feeling well physically but more importantly I was not myself mentally or emotionally.
   It all started with a major meltdown while at dinner with my sister and her family on Monday night.  As I sat at our favorite restaurant trying to decide between a chicken sandwich and the chicken tender platter I started crying.  Completely out of left field, no lead up, no emotional breakdown, just a steady flow of tears on my laminated menu.
  Unable to explain my emotional response to deep fried, breaded chicken, I forced my emotions back into the tightly sealed box I usually hide them in and went on to have dinner with the family.  I didn't even give in to the tears when I realized that nearly every television in the place was broadcasting the New York Mets.
   For those of you who don't know- the Mets were Dad's favorite baseball team and we spent many hours watching games in my youth.
   Thinking all I needed was a good night's sleep, I went to bed early that night only to spend hour after hour tossing and turning plagued by nightmares of people I love being hurt or worse.  It wasn't my best night.
   The rest of this week was much of the same- sleepless nights plagued by dreams that would make great horror novels and days without energy, way too much emotion and several crying breakdowns.  I did what needed doing but lets just say I am way behind on the damned laundry again.
   I did however indulge in several hours of Ty Pennington and his home make over program.  Each time I watched a heart wrenching episode I would cry my eyes out and tell myself it was because of the show.
    Last week, my cousin started a blog in which she is telling a story of her own about her struggle to find her way in a medical situation that is laden with legalities and severe trauma to her health.  I am so proud of her for taking back the control of her life by telling her story and I hope she continues to explore writing as an outlet for her emotions and a means of reaching others who also struggle with life altering circumstances out of their control the way that she does.  In her third entry she mentioned me as her inspiration for writing because she sees me as being a strong woman not afraid to share my stories.  I was so flattered and so thankful that anything at all that I have to say might help even one person.
    And then I started to cry again.
    I really didn't feel like the emotionally strong woman that she believed me to be this week while I was crying over chicken tenders and television reruns.
   In fact, I was pretty much convinced that I was out of things to say and for someone who likes to talk as much as I do this was pretty unbelievable.
   I began to think I was a big fake and that ultimately I was going to let my cousin down when she saw the "real" me.
   Like I said it has been a pretty tough week for me.
   Miracle of all miracles I actually slept six solid hours last night with absolutely no nightmares.  Refreshed and feeling like myself once again, I realized I still have plenty to say! 
    Every day is a challenge for me- not just balancing a family of four on two meager civil service paychecks to trying to be the best mother and wife I can but to try and accept and love myself for who I am.  Some days I look in the mirror and smile and admire my long hair or my green eyes.  Other days I stand there and scowl and wish I hadn't looked.  I want more of the first kind of days.  I want to always like what I see and be satisfied with who I am.  I want the confidence of my baby sister and the relaxed, self acceptance that my husband has always had.    
   I don't really know what happened to me this week.  Maybe I had a few hormones out of whack or my brain went on hiatus, I don't really know.  I am just glad that it is over. 
   
  

What of The World We Live In

    It is so hot here today that it I am amazed that my home has not spontaneously combusted under the intensity of the southern sun.  At six in the morning we were at a balmy 80 degrees so I set the air conditioner for icy cold, covered the upstairs windows with blankets to black out the sun and waited for the heat wave to settle in over us. 
    A couple of hours later I cranked the air conditioner in the car and met my sister for a quick wedding dress fitting.  Five of us (and two car seats!) crammed into my little Ford Focus and set out for North Carolina when my amazing seamstress friend lives and where our repsective dresses are being altered.  It was hot but not too bad at that point.  A quick stop at the pediatrician for a case of swimmers' ear and a middle ear infection in my oldest boy and a longer stop at Wal Mart for antibiotics led us into the hottest part of the day.  I am so grateful for two zone air conditioning right now!
   Of course, since the heat wave is currently settled over most of the nation, I suppose I don't really need to tell many of you how hot it is here.  From what I understand, you all are suffering as much as we are!
   So, like most of you probably are, we are bunkered down inside a dark house waiting for the jet stream to shift and give us a little relief.
   I have spent more hours in the past few days than I like to think about watching reruns of Extreme Makeover: Home Edition.  Aside from my infatuation with Ty Pennington, the show really gets to me.  The families that are protrayed have been through some unbelievable stuff.  My family has been through incredible things as well but let me tell you, that as bad as things got, there is and was always someone out there who is worse off.
   Lately I have been feeling that familiar sadness over not being able to have a daughter.  I go through the usual gamut of emotion anger, sadness, frustration and finally resignation and wonder why it is that I have gone through what I have when there are people out there who don't even want the babies they are blessed with.  A couple of weeks ago, a teenager in a nearby city gave birth to a beautiful, healthy baby that she promptly stabbed to death and hid in a closet.  My husband was told by a woman on a call he responded to recently that if he could take all her kids, she didn't want any of them.  A couple of months ago a couple was found to have a six year old daughter locked in a makeshift cage fashioned from her crib and a piece of plywood nailed to the top.  She was starving and covered in feces.
    People throwing away babies in the trash, giving them away without a thought and caging them like animals.
    What exactly is this world coming to?
    I would give anything to have each of those six babies lost to me over the years.  Each one of them was a child that my husband and I will never see grow and flourish as human beings and individuals.  My heart cries for them constantly yet so many children go unloved in this world every day.
   We have given alot of thought to adoption.  I would take in a dozen children if I could- if the system would let me.  Have you ever "priced" the "cost" of adoption?  International adoptions can run as high as twenty or thirty thousand dollars and domestic adoptions are pretty close to that as well.  Not to mention the fact that we are not wealthy people and apparently love and caring and support don't mean quite as much as a hefty paycheck.
   I struggle regularly with the decisions I have made in my life and I wonder sometimes if I made all the right choices.  I could be a wealthy pediatric oncologist, saving lives every day or a revered forensic scientist putting killers and other violent offenders in prison.  Instead I pick through people's trash in search of hidden treasures, I teach high schoolers the one science (chemistry) that NO ONE ever wants to learn and I move from paycheck to paycheck hoping to be able to put a little bit away each pay period for a new pool.
  Am I giving my children the best possible start in life or am I shortchanging them?
  I question constantly whether I am a good mother or a decent wife or an effective teacher. 
   Today at Wal Mart I met up with an old student.  He was actually a young man that was in my very first block of my very first semester of my very first year at the school I work for.  I just completed my sixth year there so that means he is about to become a senior in college.  He told me that he is only one year away from becoming an English teacher.  He was so proud of himself when he shared this news with me that I could help but share in his excitement.  I realized later that it is these little things that make me realize that at least that decision- to become a teacher-  was a good one. 
 
   

 
  

Trash Picking - Reduce, Reuse and Recycle At It's Very Best

     I took a few days off from blogging to work on some other projects that desperately needed doing.  I finally sat down and made the curtains for the boys's room I had been sitting on for about three years.  I am slowly cleaning out drawers and closets and corners and toy boxes.  I spent some time on my current manuscript project and I actually put in a few hours on my summer curriculum writing job.  I am throwing a bridal shower at my house on Monday- my baby sister is getting married (!)- and so I am attempting to make the shabby furniture more like shabby chic and finding ways to dress up an otherwise pretty standard middle class home.
    We are big recylcers around here.  My husband and the boys save aluminum in a big gray tub to turn in to the aluminum factory and now a days we have way more stuff in the big blue barrel than the big brown one.  The majorty of our furniture has been plucked out of someone'e refuse or taken from people looking to get rid of something they consider useless.  The only rule I have is that I will not take anything that has fabric or cushions- too many issues these days with bedbugs and other little lovelies.  However, if its a good piece of wood anything, it's mine!
   Lucky for us we were fortunate enough to move into a neighborhood full of trash pickers just like us! It's like a sport around here.  If you see something you like, you better move fast or it will be gone!  My most recent acquisitions were a large cast iron skillet and a wood quilt rack.  My husband has come home with wood for projects, tools and a host of other guy stuff,  Just yesterday my neighbor was telling me how she has been scouring trash for an old screen to fix the screening in her door.  Like a good recycling neighbor, I gave her the piece from my screen door that was torn on the bottom half and she put the rest of it to good use!
    I am not what one would called a "tree hugger" or an "earthy crunchy" or any of the other derogatory names out there for people who just really believe in their cause.  I am by all accounts frugal- and often extremely cheap- but my reasons for rescuing the gently used and previously loved come from somewhere else.  I have always been able to look at something- an old house, a scratched piece of furniture- and see it for what it could be not as what it is.  I love to imagine all the things I could do to make the house or furniture or piece of fabric or whatever beautiful again.  I attribute this to my dad and the many hours I spent working with him on his side remodelling jobs.  He saw beauty and promise in old things and had a vision that was even more beautiful when it came to fruition. Now, I unfortunately am often hampered by my budget and not every dream is realized but I do what I can.
   When we first moved to VA, we looked at this house that we fell in love with instantly.  It was well over a hundred years old, had a "historic" designation and was slated for demolition if someone didn't buy it soon.  We have these companies down here that will buy up properties from people just looking to get rid of them usually way below market value.  This home was owned by one such company.
    Now let me be completely honest- the place was a wreck overall.  It was the mother of all projects.  But it had so many beautiful pieces of architecture and capentry in it that all the two of us could see was the restored beauty just waiting to be resurrected.  We wanted that house so badly!
    By the time we had finished touring it, we had all the plans made- what we could do ourselves, what needed to be contracted out and we were literally salivating.
    An inspector told us what needed doing and it pretty much matched with what we already knew so we were ready to go. 
   Until the company selling it decided that they could take us for a ride.
   No matter how we negotiated with them, they wouldn't work with us on a price.  They had a rediculous number in their head and they would rather knock the place down then sell it to us for what it was really worth.
    To this day- seven years later- I am still broken hearted over it.  We sometimes still drive by the lot and sit in the car and bemoan the loss of a small piece of history.  As of our last visit the land sat empty and unsold.
    We live in a day and age of glitz and glamour.  Talk of new houses, new cars, new televisions, new toys is rampant.  Why buy a "used" house when you can build a big, shiny new one?  Used cars have too many "problems" and who doesn't have a flat screen TV these days?  (We don't, just so you know!) 
    What if we felt this way about people?  Old, used ones go out with the weekly trash?  Or do we just recylce them for use later on?
    Our resources are finite.  Once the oil is gone, its gone.  Unless more trees are planted than are harvested, they too will be gone.  Our ancestors understood this.  They took only what they needed from the Earth to survive and they never wasted anything.  Ever heard of a 19th century trash dump? 
    Today I challenge you all to join me and my wonderful neighbors in the sport of trash picking.  Find one item somewhere that is destined for the trash and breathe new life into it.  A coat of paint, a layer of polish and you might be very surprised at the beauty just waiting to be discovered. You won't be disappointed.
   

Has it Really Been 20 Years??

     This is the weekend of my 20th high school reunion.  Unfortunately I was unable to make the trip back to my little hometown in  upstate New York to join in the festivities.  From what I understand there is a weekend full of opportunities for long ago friends to catch up on where their lives have taken them and I am a bit disappointed that I was unable to join in the fun.  As I sat here this afternoon looking at some of the pictures that are starting to make their way on FaceBook, I find myself  squinting at faces and wracking my brain to place names with faces. 
   Everyone is an adult now!!! 
   For twenty years my memories of my graduating class were as we were as teenagers. Now I look at these grown up versions of everyone and it strikes me just how much can happen in twenty years' time.  I know I for one have gone through several careers, earned two college degrees, gotten married, had two wonderful little boys, bought four cars and moved to three different states.  And it seems like only yesterday that I crossed that stage in the hockey rink/communtiy center/war memorial building and accepted my high school diploma!
   Now I watch my own son go off to his little "nerd school" as we affectionately call his summer enrichment program and have begun to plan for his future. 
    Every one always say that they want more for their children than they had.  I am no different.  I never made it to Cornell like I spent years dreaming for so now I have a new dream- my son will attend Virginia Tech and become a world class building engineer!  OK, maybe I need to give him a little say in this but I figure if I start planting the seeds now....
   My youngest child informed me yesterday in no uncertain terms that he will one day drive a police car and be a police man just like Daddy.  He even wants to work at night like his father.  This is not the first time he has told me this and from what I understand my husband made up his mind for a life of civil service as soon as he could vocalize the words so I am prepared for at least one of my children to follow in daddy's bootsteps.
   When I was five like my own baby I wanted to be a grade school teacher.  When I was thirteen I wanted to be a pediatric hematologist oncologist (yes, I was that specific!).  When I graduated high school twenty years ago, I never wanted to get married, I did not want children and I was going to cure childhood leukemia.  By my senior year of college I thought forensic science was pretty cool and went on to get my MS in that so I could finally solve the Jon Benet Ramsey case.  Then I met this guy who wanted to be a cop who I didn't really like but agreed to go out with just once so he would leave me alone.  Three years later we were married and thinking about a family.  Someone offered me the chance to teach a chemistry class and I thought "Why not?"
    A few years later we decided we had had enough of the cold New England winters and now we are "Beach People"!
    I wonder how many of my fellow classmates, who were so certain of their future paths on the day we said goodbye to old GRB for the last time have found themselves in some distant land or a different part of the country doing something they love so different from what they thought they loved?  That's what I will miss the most this weekend is hearing everyone's stories.
    I did not love high school- I will not even try to lie about that.  I was awkward in social situations, lacked self confidence and was not at all athletic or even the least bit coordinated. I got picked on terribly on the school bus and didn't date much.  I skipped the ten year reunion and resisted joining Facebook for years because I was pretty certain that no one was interested in what had become of me.
   I was still viewing things through the eyes of a teenager.
   As a much older adult now I see things differently.  I wonder if we weren't all a bit awkward socially.  As a high school teacher I have learned that teenagers are nasty to each other as a general rule- it must be all those raging hormones- so I realize now that I was probably not the only one getting picked on on the school bus.  As I finally gave in to the social networking craze a couple of years ago, friend requests starting popping up daily and I realized that more than one or two people might actually have remembered me.  I am far more confident and happy with myself in my thirties than I ever imagined I could be in my teens or even my twenties.  I have found all these hidden talents I didn't know I had, I have some of the best friends anyone could ever be lucky enough to know and I have one heck of a great life going on here.
   So, I wish just the tiniest bit that I was able to make it to the reunion this year.  There are so many people that I would like to talk to, to find out what paths their lives have taken them on and to hear all the wonderful things they have accomplished.  I hope that you all have a terrific time getting reaquainted in ways that social networking doesn't allow for- with face to face conversations, a little bit of "remember whens" and a whole lot of fun, well-wishing and congratulating. 
    Twenty years is both a long time and a mere drop in the bucket of time.  As we graduated from high school twenty years ago, the valedictorian and salutatorian gave speeches about the great things we were off to accomplish and the opportunities available to us and we all sat in our chairs, fidgeting with anticipation just waiting to get out of there and on with our lives.  I hope that each and every one of my classmates has found their lives to be full of blessings and love and great things.  I promise that I will do my very best to make the next reunion- 25 years maybe?

Shoe Crickets and Angry Blue Jays

    My husband keeps his uniform and work boots out in the garage.  We decided years ago that it was best to keep his work clothes and shoes, often exposed to some pretty dirty places and well, some pretty dirty people, away from our living space.  So we set up a nice little changing area and work space for him in the garage.  On a few occasions when he has spent time at a particularly gory crime scene or even a natural death, I have been glad for his foresight to avoid bringing any "evidence" into the house.
    One of the "joys" of being a police family is always expecting the unexpected and not being shocked by it.  Like the time I was drying a load of clothes and heard something banging around in the dryer.  Expecting to find a matchbox car or a rock, I was amazed to find that it was a .45 caliber bullet that somehow missed the pocket check after a day at the range.  I set the bullet on my kitchen windowsill where it still stands today as a reminder of just how different our life is.  I smile even now when I think about it- it's a trophy of sorts, representative of the great thing he does each night just by going to work and the great things the boys and I do just by being supportive of such an important job.
   Anyway, last night, just before he left for work, my husband comes into the kitchen to grab his keys and he's walking sort of funny with an even funnier look on his face.  He tapped the toe of his boot a couple of times and then said "Man I hope there isn't a spider in my shoe."  Taking his boot off he tapped it over the sink a couple of times.
  Out came a cricket that started jumping wildly in the stainless steel sink!
  Shoe crickets- the necessary accessory for any well dressed cop!
 Another important accessory?  Handcuffs of course.
 Even better when they are spray painted neon pink!!!
 Cops have a hard time keeping track of their stuff- one guy (or gal) cuffs a suspect, another transports him to the magistrates office, a third might escort them to the holding cells.  By then no one remembers who the handcuffs actually belonged to.  Police supply companies started producing them in colors to help keep track several years ago.  So, my husband decides to spray paint his red.  A tactically sound color that wouldn't attract attention but would identify them as his, right?
  So, he pulls out all of his cuffs and hangs them like Christmas ornaments in a crepe myrtle tree on the side of the driveway.  A can of red spray paint later, they hang drying in the summer sun.
   Skip to six hours later.  My friend Sherry pulls into the driveway for an evening of scrapbooking and stands on the door step a shocked look on her face.  The first words of greeting?  "Why are there handcuffs hanging from your tree?"  Of course, we never gave it much thought and they had actually gone forgotten for most of the day but I can imagine the surprise a lay person might feel at seeing such yard decor!
   Believe it or not, the red handcuffs have all gone missing.  So we are on to bigger and better colors.  This weekend the boys will help Dad spray paint the new sets a brilliant neon pink.
   Again, there is no life quite like that of the police family.  We are quirky, slightly more "cautious"- OK paranoid- than the average citizen and know how to expect the unexpected. 
   Even our pets are quirky- the dog prefers to push her mat away and sleep on the bare floor.  One declawed cat scratches tirelessly against everything to no avail and another one of our rescued cats will only drink water from one bowl in one spot in the entire house.  Our oldest cat likes to go outside in the morning and sit under one of the trees where a family of blue jays has made their home.  Each day the parent blue jays scream and yell at her yet she just sits there, testing their tolerance.  Yesterday I watched one of the blue jays swoop down and peck the cat ont he hind quarters with its beak a couple of times.  The cat just sat there looking at the bird with an expression that said, "Seriously?  Is that all you've got?"  It was down right comical.
   As life continues on each day, I read the paper and watch the news about the debt talks going on in Washington.  When I think about how I manage to balance a budget of two miniscule civil service paychecks that haven't increased since the economy dropped into the toilet and the cost of everything has shot through the roof; I watch the floundering and the ego contests going on between the parties and just want to laugh.
    The standoff between cuts and tax hikes, partisan arguements as old as time, is going to be the downfall of this country.  We've got the president issuing threats and the house leader calling dares.  And this is how they are managing our money?
   I mean, seriously guys?  Is that all you've got?
   Why not do what the rest of us do?  Stop eating at restaurants and cook a few meals at home.  Try a coupon or some bargain shopping.  Maybe just stop spending indiscriminantly and stop trying to outdo each other with your great ideas.  Or how about live the next three years in an ecomy of constantly increasing health care costs, higher food and gas prices and no increase in wages?  Make do with less.  Stop bickering over details and start looking at real solutions.
   Right now I am going to go and make my boys some breakfast with yogurt I got with a coupon, milk I got for free and cereal I managed to purchase on sale AND with a coupon.  Later, I might take them to the park where they can have a good time for absolutely no expenditure on my part and then we will eat cheesburgers on the grill and vegetables from the garden for dinner.  While I wash the dishes I will look at my little .45 caliber trophy on the window sill, smile and thank the good Lord that both my husband and I are still employed and pray that those in Washington will finally figure out that there is more to life than having your own way all the time.

I Almost Forgot That I Am An Adult Now

    A couple of months ago I talked to my doctor about joining a gym.  I have some endocrine issues that truely do hamper my ability to lose weight in the traditional manner of cutting calories.  When I do that my metabolism goes into a panic and says "Oh no!  Save everything!" and stores every single calorie I ingest.  I may lose about ten pounds eating all salads all day but then I can keep on eating salad and nothing will happen.  In fact, I might even start gaining weight.  Have you ever met anyone that gains weight eating vegetables??
    I have no doubt that I did it to myself.  Years of the binge purge bulemic lifestyle I forced my body to endure more than likely contributed to the malfunctioning of my thyroid and other important glands. 
   It's an annoying little disorder and even when I take all my meds nothing changes except that I have less sugar crashes.  Anyway, at this point my only desire is to stay healthy so that I can enjoy life and be active with my kids.  A few lost pounds would be like Christmas to a four year old but I am not looking for miracles.  So I thought joining a gym might be helpful. 
   I will not mention the treadmill that sits in my living room.  Yes, my livingroom. 
   Anyway, I have this amazing doctor who has like seven kids (really!) and a thriving practice yet he seems to know everything about everything and always has time to discuss my questions and concerns.  It doesn't even bother him that I might actually know a little bit about what we are discussing or that I have done a little research on my own before coming to him.  Before I was a teacher, I was in chemical research so its in my nature to look things up  and I have had a doctor or two in the past that just didn't appreciate that quality in me. So, I tell him my idea and he tells me about a study he read recently that might actually be helpful.
    Two groups of thirty people were tasked with working out.  The first group followed the traditional route by cutting calories, forcing aerobic exercise into their lives and toning with weights.  The second group did just a minimal amount of aerobic exercise to warm up then concentrating on building muscle mass.  The first group lost thirty pounds of fat.  The second group lost 20 pounds of fat and gained 10 pounds of muscle.  Since muscle weighs more than fat the second group actually lost a comparable amount of body mass yet increased muscle mass and thus increased their resting metabolism rate.  This sounded pretty good to me since I quickly get bored walking miles to nowhere on the treadmill and I have never been much of a runner.
     So I joined the local gym for $19 a month.  This appealed to my frugal nature and they have a nice kid's care.
     I should explain that this was an incredibly big step for me.  Bigger than for the average couch potato.  Since I am a teacher in our neighborhood, I am surrounded by current, past and even future students.  Everywhere I go,literally, I run into at least one youngster that I once had in my classroom.  This is so so true that even my future brother in law once said, "Gee, Sis, we can't go anywhere..."  That is the primary reason that we stopped going to the YMCA several years ago (that and the fact that it did not appeal to my frugal nature!).  I find it unnerving to be clad in sweat soaked clothes with my hair hanging in my face as I struggle to finish the las three minutes on the elyptical surrounded by kids that are supposed to respect me in the classroom. 
     Knowing that I had just signed a contract with the cheapest gym in town where I knew that most of the kids worked out was a really big step for me. 
    What changed?
     I had a conversation not too long ago with a lady named Jackie.  Her son is in my son's TKD class.  She is as fit as can be, oozes confidence and a real "I don't care what anyone thinks" aura that I envy.  Jackie is from St. Lucia, her husband from Puerto Rico.  She told me a story of a church she once attended in the midwest where she was literally shunned at the entrance because of the mixed nature of her marriage.  The elderly women made snide comments, cast her dirty looks and whispered as she and her husband sat among them.
    Personally?  I never would have gone back.  My emotional psyche would have been damaged for life. 
    But she wanted to go to that church so she went. 
   I asked her what this had to do with me going to the gym.
   She said "Who cares if the kids are there?  You are going for you.  Maybe they will respect you more if they see you doing what you want and need to do."
    How right she was.
    Working out is so not my favorite thing.  I hate  to feel sweaty, I get bored and I keep thinking of the million other things I need to get done. 
    All the stress of recent years took my perfect blood pressure and shot it through the roof about a year ago.  Dozens of tests couldn't accredit it to anything physical and so here I am not even forty yet and I have to take BP meds every day. 
    The doctor says if I can release some of my stress through other outlets, medication may become a thing of the past. 
    And so I drag myself to the gym two or three days a week.
    Thank you Apple for the IPOD.
    Mostly I have gone in the morning when it is relatively quiet and I don't see many teenagers or twenty somethings.  But last night I decided to go while my boy was in TKD class.
    Things are a little different at five in the evening.  The young man working the desk?  Former student.  The boy on the stair climber?  Former student. 
    I almost left.
    But I stayed.
    Plugging myself into the IPOD, I blasted some good workout music and blocked out everything around me as I plugged away at the elyptical, sweat soaking my clothes and my stringy hair hanging in my face.  As I casually glanced around I noticed that everyone was doing the same thing.  No one was staring or laughing or pointing.  I didn't see any cell phones snapping pictures for later posting on Facebook and everyone was sweaty with hair hanging in their faces.
    I have been following my doctor's suggestions and find that I really prefer the weight machines to the cardio machines anyway.  I feel like I am accomplishing something as I move from place to place and really feel my relatively weak muscles working with me to get stronger and healthier.  Last night was no different. 
    What did change for me was my mindset.
    As a kid and even into my teenage years, I was a prime target for being picked on.  I was always taller than everyone else- reaching nearly 5'7" in sixth grade and there is nothing about me that could ever be described as petite or delicate.  The boys teased me, the girls wanted nothing to do with me and I became used to standing on the sidelines in gymclass or on the playgound.  Don't get me wrong, I had friends.  Good friends.  But I still often felt like the third wheel in a group- I wasn't athletic or even coordinated and no one ever wanted me on their teams in PE. 
    Somewhere in my adult mind I still felt like that little kid.  I imagined myself on the sidelines trying not to act like I cared that I was the last person picked for a team and only by default.
    What I  seem to have forgotten is that I am an adult.  I am an accomplished human being who no longer has to prove herself to her peers.  All I have to do is live and be me and take care of myself and my family.
    I am feeling pretty good these days.  I haven't last dozens of pounds but my shorts are looser, my muscles a bit toner and I have alot more energy.  A lifetime of fighting with eating disorders, crash diets and uncooperative metabolism seems like such a waste of time now as I sit here and reflect on it all. 
    I am not sure if there will ever be enough time to sweat out all the stress in my life but I enjoy the small amount of time I have carved into my routine to take care of me.  I don't have a weight loss goal at this point- I am over looking at scales and stressing about pounds.  I just want to stay healthy and strong, set a good example for my boys and maybe one day get off the damned medicine- all of it.
  

A Picture is Worth a Thousand Memories

    I have over 600 pictures on my computer that need to be printed.  After spending an hour sorting through them all and uploading the ones I wanted to Snapfish, I somehow managed to delete the whole album.  Minutes from picture printing success, I am now back to exactly where I started wondering if I should go through the process again or call it a day.
   We take alot of pictures.  I mean ALOT of pictures.  My husband likes to capture every possible moment either on film or in video and we often walk around an air show or a school function with two or three picture devices.  His thought is that after someone is gone all we have left is memories and pictures.  I can totally respect that.   The problem is that he taks soooo many pictures I often spend hours sorting and uploading the digital pics and then deleting the whole album just like I did this morning.
    Several years ago I took up "scrapbooking".  I am not particularly creative with my hands but I enjoy the "girl time" with friends at a "crop" and I really love to look at the finished books with my kids.  I made an album for my husband for all of his police academy things, an album full of our trip to Walt Disney World, a baby book for each of the boys and just so many other pages of pictures yet to be designated to an album that I lost count.  Like I said, I am not particularly good at scrapbooking.  What I enjoy most is going through the pictures; the memories of holidays, camping trips, days at the beach.  All the moments that have made my life so worth living.
    A couple of years ago my mom went through all her old photos and passed on to each of us an evelope of pictures from our youth.  After I marveled at how darned cute I was as a baby, it was amazing to me how much I remembered about each of those pictures and I was grateful that my parents enjoyed picture taking as much as we do.
   I haven't scrapbooked anything in a while.  I tried to pull together some pictures of my dad and create a memory book for the kids but I didn't get past sorting the photos before I broke down in tears and shoved them all back into an envelope.  I will do it one day though, I have promised myself and my kids.  The boys need a place they can go to remember the great man that they called Grampa.
    Some of you know that I am an aspiring novelist.  I have completed several novels over the past decade, queried hundreds of agents and even had one project signed with an agent for about a year that never actually sold to a publisher.  Lately I have focused more on blogging and the freelance work I do for an internet site that actually pays me a little money.  Along the way however, I have been working on a new little project that I hope to one day see in print.  Not to make me famous or rich but for my family.  It is a fiction story based on the true life of my father- from his childhood, to the time he spent in Vietnam to his struggles with chronic illness as an adult.  It is about a man who suddenly discovers he has only six weeks to live and during that time his entire life "passes before him" as he prepares for his departure from this world.  In the weeks prior to his death, Dad and I talked alot.  Actually, he talked alot- sharing stories of his youth.  I realized that he had quite a life story to tell.  A life story of an average man who had done some pretty great things that might actually touch the lives of other ordinary, average people.  At the very least, my boys, my niece and my nephew could one day read about and get to know the man that was their grandfather.
   I have let a couple of people read a portion of this work and they tell me that I might be on to something.  I dson't know if I am or if I am not but I have to say that the whole process has been extrememly therapeutic.  I have gotten to know my dad on a different level than I had when he was alive.  Through the stories he told me, old letter and narrations my mom has shared with me and even the war stories he told my husband, I have gotten to know the man behind the dad.  It's been pretty amazing and has gone along way in my mourning process.
   My oldest son is attending a "summer enrichment program" this week and next.  Basically it is "nerd" summer school and I am so proud of him for being selected to attended!  He packed his backpack with a snack, drink box and his prized lime green calculator (just in case he has to calculate something!).  Both this morning and yesterday he was up, dressed and ready to go before I even managed to roll out of bed.
   The focus of their research for the next two weeks is value.  The value of money, things, people, history, etc.  Yesterday for homework we discussed what each of us value, where our ancestors came from and family connections.  It made me believe even more strongly that my project is worthwhile if for no other reason than to document the value of a man's life, no matter how insignificant others may believe it is.  Scrapbooks, too are a way to show the value of memories; how much the time we spend with loved ones means not only to us but to those we share our lives with.
   I know scrapbooking and blogging and writing novels isn't for everyone.  But, preserving memories and keeping loved ones close to our heart should be.  One of my biggest regrets in life goes back to when I was a teenager.  I used to spend time with my great grandmother, we all called her G.G., in the summer.  She would tell me amazing stories about growing up at the turn of the century.  One of my favorites was of my great grandfather.  He worked for the coal mines in Pennsylvania as a conductor on a train that transported the coal out of the mines to the processing areas.  In the evening, as he made his last delivery of the day, he blow the train's whistle two times in short succession to signal to my G.G. that he was on his way home to supper.  If I had taken the time to write down some of her oral history, I could have created a journal of the life of a great woman.  I regret that I let all off that ancestry go unheeded.
   Take the time to listen to each other when you talk.  Pay attention to the tiny details that make up who a person is.  When they are gone from this earth, all that will remain are the memories you have.