Just Said No

I thought I would try to write daily for NaBloPoMo but I have failed. I simply don't have time and so I had to Just Say No to NaBloPoMo. I will try instead to post something weekly.

A Tisket A Tasket

A tisket, a tasket

A red and white blind basket

With zero cost

Nothing's lost

I'm getting better at it.

#3

Crimson and Cream

There's nothing like getting up before the crack of dawn to prepare for a day of tailgating and football in Bloomington with my daughter and friends. Go IU!

Just a Moment

Our young people who havc taken it upon themselves to serve in our military deserve our respect and prayers more than ever today. The shooting in Fort Hood yesterday hits hard because it seems to be such a senseless act of violence. Let us all take a moment today to really think about what these men and women and their families sacrifice every day and offer up our prayers and thoughts for all of them.

Just Say No

Four weeks ago I started a healthier eating plan. I didn't want to call it a diet because I am not restricting myself from any particular food with the exception of Big Red. I just want to get and stay healthier and I am giving myself a year to lose the excess weight I have put on over the past three years. So though I may have a small piece of chocolate (one Dove milk chocolate piece is only 44 calories) or a coffee with Baileys in the evening (not sure of the calories in that and don't really care to know) I feel much more in control of myself. Knowing that I can allow myself a small portion of anything has made this lifestyle change much easier. So today I was pleasantly surprised when I weighed in at the office on those dreadful doctor's scales that don't lie. I have lost nine pounds since starting this plan. I am hopeful that I will be able to make it through the holidays because I know I can allow myself small portions of those foods I love to eat at this time of year. I think this will make me less apt to binge eat. So I am saying No to diets and Yes to the basic food groups and Yes to a small bit of something savory to treat myself every day. I am hopeful that I will be fit enough to run the mini-marathon in April 2011.

Trash Talk

I made another basket with those plastic mini-blind strips. This one is a bit more pleasing. I think I will add a handle and embellish it with red so I can use it for tailgating at the IU game on Saturday. It's the perfect size for a couple of bottles of wine, some cheese and crackers, a tablecloth, and a few other items. It's plastic so it can be washed in the sink afterward. And since it was free to make with the scrap blinds it's a win-win. It's nicer than a plastic bag to carry my items and I get to practice my newly discovered enjoyment of the craft. Who knew?

From Trash to Treasure?

Last night I replaced my mini-blinds in the living room windows. They were the ultra-thin plastic type. After taking out the excess slats for each set of blinds I had a sizeable pile of plastic strips left. I almost threw them away but thought I would just play with them instead. Surely they could be useful for something. Maybe a basket? I had never made a basket before but had nothing to lose but my time for trying. It was good for a bit of entertainment to wrestle those plastic strips into place as I wove them in and out. If my husband had been awake he would have thought I wqs crazy. And maybe I am. Here is the result, my "garbage basket". Not a bad way to recycle I guess. I even added the leftover string for decoration around the top. I actually found that I enjoyed this process. Maybe I will take a basket-weaving class.

Writers Block

It's National Blog Posters Month
It's National Blog Posters Month
Can you write every day
Do you have something to say
For National Blog Posters Month?

Do you have a good tale you can share
Or simply a thought you can spare
Can you pen a quick rhyme
Do you have the time
For National Blog Posters Month?

Can you write something silly or sad
Will your faithful readers be glad
That they frequent your sight
Whether by day or by night
For National Blog Posters Month?

Can you hang up your phone for a bit
And show the world your true grit
Can you get it done
Will you try to have fun
For National Blog Posters Month?

Have you noticed that I'm a bit slow
Getting started on NaBloPoMo
Thanks Conversations
For your revelations
'Bout National Blog Posters Month.

It's National Blog Posters Month
It's National Blog Posters Month
Join us in writing
It's so exciting
It's National Blog Posters Month.

Crazy for You Baby

My husband and I are crazy for our grandchildren. We dearly love the weekly webcams we have with them. It is the next best thing to seeing them in person. We arm ourselves with assorted props: frog puppet, crazy viking hat, assorted items from the toybox. I love that our thirteen month old grandson is really beginning to get that those two crazy people in that computer box are really talking to him. He smiles and waves and claps his hands for us. He blows kisses and laughs at our crazy antics as we try to interact with him over the world wide web. On Saturday, after finishing his lunch as we watched and chatted, he lifted his empty plate, set it back down, spread out his little arms and announced "All gone". I loved it. To be able to see the progress he is making as he takes in the world around him. His time in front of the webcam is usually somewhat limited by his camera loving older sister. She commands us from across the ocean, as we read her books and play games with her. We take turns playing hide and seek, one of us hiding while she counts to ten, the other taking the computer on a search through the house so she can find us. We happily oblige when she asks us to take the computer outside so she can see the flowers on the porch, or when she asks us to cut out shapes and color for her. She sings songs and reads to us. She adjusts the camera so she is the main focus on the screen. I know one day she will get bored with it and our visits on webcam may get shorter, but for now I am enjoying every minute we can get. To be able to reach across the vast ocean and interact with them both is absolutely mind-boggling. We are totally and enthusiastically crazy for you Amelia and Evan!

A Moving Experience

Today I spent some time clearing some things out of our storage shed. I gave up on the notion of having a yard sale so I loaded my vehicle with items to be donated to a local charity. After several trips back and forth with the boxes of smaller items I was finally ready to load up some of the bigger items. I scooted a desk out to the SUV and then contemplated how I would lift the heavy, bulky item up into the back of the vehicle by myself. Determined not to have to move it back into the storage unit, I looked around for a possible solution. I did not want to take a chance of scratching the vehicle and I sure did not want to hurt myself lifting it. Then I spotted a couple of table leaves standing in the corner. I propped them against the bumper creating a makeshift ramp. Then I tilted the desk onto its back and slid it up the ramp and right into place in the back of the SUV. Problem solved.

My thoughts flashed back to a similar situation I ran into years ago when I held a yard sale. The extra long plaid sofa that my husband had helped me move out into the yard before he left for work had not sold by the time I needed to go to town to pick up my children from school. The skies were beginning to darken and threaten rain so I needed to move the sofa back inside the house. I had no nearby neighbors to help me. How could I move this monstrosity across the lawn and up the steps to the screened porch? After a few minutes of contemplation I came up with an idea that just might work. I slipped each sofa leg into my children's roller skates and tied them on tightly. I was able to roll the sofa across the lawn right up to the steps. Lifting one end over the steps I was then able to then lift the other end and roll it straight into the house. Then I rushed off to pick up my kids from school.

When I was growing up it was not uncommon for my mother to decide at a whim to repaint a room and rearrange the furniture in the middle of the night while no small children were afoot. Sheer determination to get a project finished before the light of dawn made for some ingenious methods of moving bulky heavy items. I credit her for passing on the problem-solving gene to me.

I also credit my grandfather for allowing us to experiment with all sorts of tools and devices in his basement workshop. Under his guidance we learned to build gocarts, skateboards, pulley systems, bike ramps. We learned how to motorize our bicycles. We learned about the function of ball-bearings. Without those experiences I may not have understood the laws of motion and gravity as well.

So I have also been known to rearrange the furniture in the middle of the night while everyone else was sleeping. I would use rugs or sheets of plastic to help slide big pieces across the floor. It took a while longer than if I had help but I was a night owl and I did my best decorating and arranging with everyone else out of the way. And I did not have to irritate my husband when I wanted to try multiple arrangements before I decided on what fit my mood at the time. My family never knew what they would wake up to.

Office chairs were great for moving televisions and other heavy electronic equipment and boxes. Planks of wood became ramps. Belts linked together became great hoisting straps. I have used a makeshift rope and pulley system to hoist bedroom furniture up and into a second floor bedroom window in my daughter's college apartment because the spiral staircase leading to the second floor was so narrow. A strip of plywood made a good surface for sliding heavy furniture down stairs.

So thank you Mom and PaPaw for allowing me the opportunity to learn these valuable skills. They have come in handy many times over.

Grace and Gratitude

Last week my father-in-law's long struggle with Alzheimers and/or vascular dementia ended. He passed away at his home under the devoted care of his beloved wife. I am sure that he is in a better place now. Being trapped within his own body and mind, unable to embrace life with the energy and enthusiasm that was typically him, failed to rob him of his faith and optimism. Faith in God so unwavering and optimism that things would always get better, even if in a way not fully comprehended by the human mind. He was an ordinary man who lived an extraordinary life of value, honor, service and love. Not a day went by when he didn't greet and close the day with prayer. Never did he fail to express his love to his family and friends with a kiss, hug, or handshake. Stranger was not in his vocabulary. He befriended all he met and took great care to extend that friendship to those whom society rejects. Never seeking accolades for his service, he humbly volunteered his time to his church and community, serving as board member or dishwasher, fundraiser or mentor, repairman or teacher, actor or clown. He was a buzz of hyperactivity, seizing the day with great intention. Yet he was able to center himself through prayer and reflection. He was always grateful for the goodness in his life. And when things went wrong, as they always will, he was optimistic that it was going to get better. He was not perfect and he recognized that. He simply chose to never stop trying and to look for the lesson in failure. His optimism allowed him an ability to see hope where others saw despair, to seek out the good in spite of the bad, to live a life of grace without the need for glory. His spirit will remain in our hearts and hopefully live on through us as we seek our own path to grace and humanity. I am honored to have known him.

Crunch Time

My little sister has recently informed me that she has noticed how much of a potty mouth she has developed. Words fly out of her mouth that she would have been embarrassed to have uttered in public in prior years but the stress of her job and the constant buzz of cursing around her by her male coworkers have taken a toll on her censory abilities. Now that she is acutely aware of how she sounds she has started a self-imposed deprivation program based on Pavlov's theory. First, she started wearing a specific bracelet and ring to work so that every time she sees them she is reminded of her goal to clean up her vocabulary. Then, the hard part: for every foul word that escapes from her subconscious thoughts she will punish herself with ten stomach crunches.

I had to laugh when she told me about this plan. I could just imagine how her days would go over the next few weeks:

"I can't f'...ing believe those assholes. Oh shit, I didn't mean to say f....! That's ten damn, I mean darn, crunches. Oh crap, I just said shit, didn't I? That's twenty crunches."

Never mind that she glossed over a few and by my count she probably should have done at least fifty crunches. The next morning would start out something like this:

"Holy shit, I can't get out of this freaking bed. I am so sore from doing those crunches. How the hell will I be able to work today?" Wincing in pain as she rolls out of bed, she realizes she now has earned twenty crunches to start off the new day. "Crap, I have got to get a handle on this." With shallow breathing and shuffling feet, she walks in to work just in time. Glancing at her bracelet she vows to make it through the morning without further punishment. All goes well until her coworker announces that he has to take a road trip to pick up some parts -code for he's going home for the rest of the day. "That son-of-a-bitch....! No, no, no, what the hel..ck is wrong with me? I have got to stop my mouth. That's thirty crunches and it's not even lunch time yet. God help me. It just pisses me off so much that I work my ass off while he's out screwing around."

Stopping for a moment, she realizes just how hard this endeavor is going to be. She grabs her cigarettes and heads outside to take a break. She calls me for a bit of phone therapy. "Crap, I forgot my lighter. No, crap is not a potty word. I'm thinking more like the F word, you know, the bad ones." She borrows a lighter and as she takes a long draw from her cigarette she contemplates other methods she can add to reach her goal. I suggest a rubber band around her wrist that she can snap to inflict pain instantly whenever she slips up, truly Pavlovian conditioning. She envisions a visit to the hand surgeon as a result and vetos the idea. Maybe a swear jar where she drops in a quarter for each infraction and she has to give the proceeds to those infuriatingly lazy coworkers each day. This goads her into another round and she bites her tongue.

This bad habit may be hard to break but she very well could end up with abs of steel in the process. Good luck Sis!

Tumbled Memories

My dryer is not working properly so I have had to do the wash then haul it off to the laundromat for drying. I would hang it out on the line to dry but with all the trees in my yard I am afraid the birds would make a mess of it. So I loaded the baskets into the back of the car, grabbed my library books and a soda, and drove down the road to the coin laundry. As I parked the car near the door I was glad to see that I would be the only one there. After dropping my quarters into the slots and selecting the heat settings I settled into a chair to read. As I sat there my mind wandered away from my book and back to my childhood. My mother would be doing this very same thing, late at night or very early in the morning so she could stake claim to as many washers and dryers as necessary for a family of eight. If any of us kids were awake and willing to go she would let us tag along to help with the folding and hanging and the loading of the car. I always loved it if I got to be the sole accompaniment and have time to talk to her without all my brothers and sisters around. It didn't seem much like work because time spent with my mother was always a pleasure. She would let me put the coins in the slots and slide them in to start the wash and she would follow me down the row of machines adding detergent. A few extra coins would appear for the soda machine and then we would take our seats and flip through the magazines, talking idly as we listened to the swoosh of water cleaning away the dirt of our busy lives. It was at the laundromat that my mother taught me how to sort the clothes, to get out stains, when to take clothes out of the dryer before they wrinkled, how to fold sheets so they would feel fresh and sleek when stretched tight across the beds. It was at the laundromat that I learned to appreciate the quietness of the early mornings, the glow of neon, the clean powdery smell of laundry soap, and the dance of colors as the clothes tumbled and floated in the dryers.
I was brought quickly back to the present when a mother and her teenage daughter walked in with their baskets overflowing with wet clothes. The teen loaded the dryers as the mother went in search of the change machine. Then they too settled into their seats with magazines and sodas, chatting off and on as they flipped the pages. I couldn't help but smile to think of how these most mundane tasks have a way of becoming the concrete foundations of our relationships and a pleasurable pool of memories from which to dip as the years go by. I closed my book and waited quietly until the dryers buzzed, wishing I could have my mother here with me, thankful for the times we shared before the light of dawn.

I Love You Most

After a wonderful, long-awaited visit from our daughter and her family it was finally time to say our farewells and see them off for their long flight back to London. That is the hardest part of the visits, not knowing how long it will be before we will once again hold them in our arms and wrap them with our love. After hugs and kisses and trying to hold back tears we left our daughters and our grandchildren at the check-in counter of Virgin Airlines. My husband and I walked slowly down the corridor then stopped to get one more glimpse. As we stood there watching them checking the bags and pulling out passports our three year old granddaughter, perched in the baggage cart, caught sight of us. Cupping her little hands to her face she called out loudly "I love you". My husband and I called back "We love you more" to which she immediately responded "I love you most". And that is what will get me through the months to come until we see them in person again.

Rocky Day

Somehow I missed the memo that today was Take Your Raccoon to Work day. If I had gotten it I am fairly certain I would have been more prepared for the sight at the gas station this morning. As I stood pumping money into my seemingly bottomless tank I glanced across the parking lot to see a man emerge from his pickup truck with a small raccoon perched upon his shoulder. As I blinked in disbelief he sauntered into the mini-mart, the masked critter clinging to his shirt for balance. Emblazoned across his T-shirt were the words The Tree Man. I wondered what exactly one would do with a raccoon while out trimming trees? Perhaps send the animal as a scout to scare away any animals lurking in or near the tree? Or maybe Tree Man uses the raccoon as an unpaid laborer, sending the little creature up into the highest boughs with a small chainsaw to top the trees? Maybe the raccoon helps with tying off limbs by dragging ropes up the tree to the designated point? I finished filling my tank and walked warily into the store to pay. As I approached the counter there was Tree Man talking to the wide-eyed clerk. I kept my distance, not wanting to alarm the creature who was now clinging to the man's head. I could envision being attacked by this woodland creature for invading his space. I wanted to turn around and leave but I didn't want to be charged with theft so I waited quietly in line. After the man had paid for his Slushee and cigarettes he turned ever so slowly, and the raccoon scrambled from his head, across the counter, and onto the clerk's shoulder. She laughed nervously and the man stepped aside to allow me to step up. I practically threw my money at the clerk, not wanting to encourage another change in transport for the raccoon. On the way back to my car I made a mental note of the truck so I could drive on by the next time I might happen to be stopping for gas. I think I would probably make it to the next station instead. Why do people have to take their pets with them everywhere they go anyway?

From Old Comes New

I have been counting down the days until my children and grandchildren are all gathered in one place. I can hardly wait for the plane to land in Chicago, bringing its most precious cargo to American soil once again. It has been nearly six months since I last saw my younger daughter and her family. My husband has been anxiously waiting to hold his grandson for the first time and to swallow them all in giant bear hugs. I want everything to be perfect for their visit, yet I know it will not be so. I haven't managed to clean out my husband's home office to make way for a room of her own for our granddaughter. She will have to share a room instead. I haven't gotten around to touching up the paint on the bathroom wall where the new light fixtures were installed. I haven't managed to weed all the flower beds and trim all the shrubs. I haven't yet planned out the menus. But nearly perfect is good enough for me. I have managed to drag out my children's toy box and sort through the twenty-something year old toys. I had to smile when I opened a small blue jean purse to find it filled with dozens of Cabbage Patch Kids Shrinky Dinks. Dance leotards and tap shoes were tucked into a pink ballet bag. Jump rope, pink child-size weights, and assorted exercise gadgets were tucked into another bag. Rainbow Bright and Strawberry Shortcake dolls were packed away in boxes, while My Little Ponies were corraled in a small trunk. My youngest daughter's Lemon Drop treasure box was secured tightly with its tiny lock, the key to which was found hidden inside another small purse in a sliding metal lip balm case. Adjustable Fischer Price roller skates await my granddaughter's use, as do the hundreds of storybooks that I saved from my children's early years. A Rainbow Bright cassette player still seems to work and the cassettes are now sitting on a shelf just waiting for little ears to enjoy the tales to be told. My younger daughter's music box, a gift from her grandmother, sits upon the bookcase, beckoning with its tinkly song and tiny twirling monkey. The giant chalkboard is waiting to be washed down and fastened to the garage wall in anticipation of little artful hands. I was actually surprised at how many things I had kept from my daughters' childhood days. I expect that they will get a kick out of seeing some of these relics of their past. A new wading pool is stored in the garage and several new baby toys share space in the toy box for my grandson's pleasure. The car seats, strollers, baby monitors, booster chair and sippy cups are ready and waiting. It has been a pleasurely trip down memory lane getting ready for this visit. I cannot wait for the chance to create many new memories while sharing the past.

No Apologies Please

Over the years I have grappled with a question that inevitably comes up when meeting someone for the first time. In the course of pleasant conversation someone will ultimately ask how many children I have. To the majority of people this may seem illogical that it would give one pause before answering. If you have never experienced the loss of a child you cannot understand the emotion involved in the answer. First and foremost I am the mother of three daughters. In my heart and soul I will always be so. So shouldn't it be that simple to say so? But it is not so simple, so I weigh whether I am likely to see this new person again and how often I may be interacting with him/her. If I tell a relative stranger that I had three daughters but my youngest died twenty years ago at the age of seven from a brain tumor, conversation can come to an uncomfortably screaching halt. The stranger suddenly feels guilty for asking and begins to apologize so I end up trying to ease their anxiety. I hate being in the position of providing comfort to a stranger for my sorrow.

I would never say I had only two daughters but I might say that I have one daughter living in Chicago and another living in London and leave it at that, though it feels guiltily like denying my youngest daughter's existence. Or I might say simply that I have three daughters if the conversation will likely be very brief so that further questions will not ensue. If I am meeting someone that I will be seeing or dealing with regularly I find it better to have the conversation early on. I don't rush to explain but when I am asked I would go ahead and talk about it then so we can move beyond that moment of anxiety for the listener.

Don't get me wrong on this, I enjoy talking about and remembering my youngest child. She was an absolute joy and will always be in my thoughts daily. It's just that some people, usually younger adults who have perhaps not experienced the loss of a close family member, feel so uncomfortable when they find out that they get flustered and don't know what to say. They get that deer in the headlights look and you can see them mentally restraining themselves from bolting from the scene. Other people are totally comfortable with it and we can enjoy a moment of explanation without the stumbling of words and then move the conversation forward. You never know what someone's situation is so always try to be the latter. Don't make that person tell you it's okay. It is not okay, never will be okay, but life goes on and we have to make the best of it.

A Royal Lesson

While webcamming the other day with my daughter and my grandchildren I was given a lesson in British culture. My three year old granddaughter had performed a song for us and then took a bow. Afterward, she curtsied and asked me to do the same. Seems I needed a lesson because I didn't quite come up to standard for meeting the queen. Amelia explained in detail to me just how to properly bow my head, bend my knees, and hold my dress (or rather my T-shirt that morning) for a royal curtsy. I tried again and was praised with "Good job Nana". I suppose I will be practicing over the next month before their visit to the states so I will get it right when I next see the little princess in person. I hope I will meet her royal expectations!

Tag - I'm It

I was tagged for this meme by my daughter so here goes:

1. What are your current obsessions? Pottery, roasted red pepper hummus and sea salt pita chips, crossword puzzles, photography, strawberries-cored and filled with Amaretto then topped with whipped cream - fabulous.

2. Which item from your wardrobe do you wear most often? as much as possible, flannel pajama pants with t-shirt, very comfy, especially in the early morning hours while sipping coffe on the porch! Blue jeans when I am in public. Scrubs at work.

3. Last dream you had? work related, so I won't bore you here

4. Last thing you bought? besides groceries, a quilt for my 3 year old granddaughter who was absolutely adorable with her excitement when she received it in the mail

5. What are you listening to? Right now, a random mix of Corrine Bailey Ray, Robert Plant and Allison Krauss, Joe Bonamassa, Harry Manx and Kevin Breit, and Susan Tedeschi.

6. What childhood friend that you have lost contact with would you most like to see again? Dandelion

7. Favourite holiday spots? London, Chicago, Memphis, Nashville

8. Reading right now? Gardening books, medical coding books

9. Four words to describe yourself: Stubborn, Clutterphobic, Detail-oriented, Creative

10. Guilty pleasure? Art fairs, buying clothes and books for my grandchildren

11. Who or what makes you laugh until you’re weak? My husband, when he is not making me scream or cringe.

12. Favourite spring thing to do? I love to lie in bed in the wee hours of the morning, with the spring air drifting gently through the window screen billowing the sheer curtains in and out like a sail, and listen to the concert of chirping and whistling as the birds awaken and begin their day. Makes me really miss living in the country.

13. When you die, what would you like people to say about you at your funeral? She was late for everything, even her own funeral.

14. Best thing you ate or drank lately? Grilled salmon prepared by my husband

15. When did you last go for a night out? Went to see Taken at the theatre then to dinner, maybe 2 months ago? A wedding reception in March? So long ago I don't remember.

16. Where is the next place you'd like to travel? Napa Valley with my wine-loving friends

17. Care to share some wisdom? Be happy in the present and grateful for the tomorrows

18. Song you can’t get out of your head? Janis Joplin's "Me and My Bobby McGee"

19. Thing you are looking forward to? Holding my daughters and grandchildren in my arms when they are all here in June.

20. Which disease or condition would you most like to see eradicated? Pediatric brain tumors, autism, diabetes, and multiple sclerosis.

21. What is your most irrational fear? My fear of heights.

22. what irritates you on a regular basis? Work

23. What is the most important lesson you've learned from someone in your life? Never go to bed angry with those you love

24. If you could change careers right now what field would you be in? Perhaps architecture

This meme ends here unless anyone would like to continue in comments or on their own blog.

Spring Fling

It is an absolutely gorgeous evening, warm with a mild breeze blowing away the last remnants of the long winter days, restoring my soul with hope for a relaxing spring and summer spent with friends and family. I am mesmerized by the ever mindful robin as she flies steadfastly back and forth to her nest of baby birds tucked into the eaves with her cache of insects to quiet the hungry brood. She never waivers in her dedication and when the cheeping finally subsides and her little ones have settled down into the nest she perches nearby to stand guard, warning away any other bird that dares to come near. As I sip my drink I lean back into my chair to quietly observe the frolicking on the lawn as two fuzzy brown squirrels tease and chase each other. The smaller squirrel dashes for the nearest tree then stops to shake its bushy tail, taunting and inviting. Then up the tree they both race, round and round the trunk as they make their way upward, then flitting across the budding limbs. Just when it seems the squirrel would be caught it leaps into the neighboring tree and makes its escape down the knobby trunk, stopping to quiver its tail, its flag of victory. Then they race to the far corners of the yard and disappear into the distant trees. The neighbor's black and white patchwork cat slinks around the corner and the mother robin begins a noisy revelry. I shoo the cat away, temporarily staving off his sneak attack. In spite of the buzz of traffic I am acutely aware of all the sounds around me: the buzz of the insects, the chirping of crickets, the whistling of the birds, the creaking of branches and rustling of leaves, the barking of the neighborhood dogs in the distance, the laughter of children playing down the street, the whir of skateboards on pavement. It seems that everyone and everything is out enjoying the warm spring evening. I finish my drink slowly, then close my eyes and let the sounds wash over me. I love this time of year.

Treasure

I am in a funk and feeling sorry for myself so this blog is dedicated to my little sister and my best friends in my hometown. I miss them all so much. How nice it would be to be able to jump in my car and run over to their houses to visit, to have their company when I am feeling low. I think back to the days when life was so simple, when the greatest joy was to sit around a dining room table, dealing out cards for a game of euchre, with our kids happily playing nearby, spending an evening of fun with the best friends a person could ask for. No matter how much our incomes have risen, or not, it is these simple carefree days that I truly treasure and miss. No pretense, no high expectations, we were able to just be ourselves with the knowledge that no matter what was happening in our lives at the moment we would have each other to lean on. I would give my left arm (did I mention that I am left-handed) to have those friends so near again. What I wouldn't give to be sitting at this moment in my little sister's kitchen, toasting a marshmallow over the open flame of her stove, laughing and talking about everything that was on our minds, never having to worry about being judged. Or to be popping the cork on a bottle of wine with T, her infectious tipsy laughter lifting my spirits, making me smile in spite of myself and my troubles. To be making a fool of myself on the dance floor of a small time club in our tiny town while letting my troubles fall like sweat from my body as I swayed to the music while my longtime conservative childhoood friend chuckled at the nearby table, knowing all the while that she secretly wished she could garner the courage to get out there and shake her wild thing with the rest of us. To laugh until our stomachs ached with the strain, to cry so hard that we were emptied of emotion, to be held and to hold through the good times and bad, to bare our souls and feel safe in that nakedness, to know that nothing could possibly drive them away. I love you, my dear friends, and I miss you terribly. Let us all raise our glasses and have a toast to true friendship and to true love. You are my salvation as I am yours.

Baby Steps

Today I took my husband by the hand and gently led him down the hall , out the door and onto the carport. I unlocked the shed and began to hand him box after box of items to be sorted. He didn't understand at first the need I had to begin the painful process of organizing and decluttering his domain. He really didn't see why it was a danger to have boxes stacked as high as his head, leaning like the tower of Pisa. What did it matter to me if he could barely squeeze through the space? So what if the shelves overhead were sagging with the weight of all things past crammed onto them? He became agitated that he was being forced to confront his demon, his tendency to save everything because someday he might find a use for that scrap of wood or sheet of plastic. This is not a man who grew up deprived. His father was a packaging engineer and his mother was a nurse anesthetist. They weren't extravagant but they also weren't miserly. His was a rather typical middle-class upbringing. He tried to justify the chaos by blaming his parents. When they down-sized we inherited a lot of their junk - old power and hand tools, half-finished woodworking projects, several million nuts and bolts, a flag pole and a few old flags, old mechanic's books, and other assorted items that really have no monetary or sentimental value that he just can't throw away. Added to that were box after box of sample plastic color tiles, sample fabric coatings, miniature sample containers, old sales presentations, headlights and other car parts from past packaging projects that he had worked on. I suggested that he either take those to the plant for storage or throw them out if he no longer needed them. I was made to feel that I was asking him to cut off his arms. But I persevered and we managed to make some progress. He threw out the equivalent of 4 large garbage cans full of junk and he agreed to take several things to his office. We packed up some items to go out to our rented storage unit (yes we still have those). He still has enough car wash detergent, wax, tire care, leather cleaner to open a car wash but at least now he can find it and won't have to run out to buy more. I am sure there is enough antifreeze to last for five or so years. He can now get to his workbench and actually find the most basic of his tools. There is now a designated space for extension cords and garden hoses. No more tangled mess to test his patience. Next weekend we will try to work on the overhead shelves. That's when the real struggle will ensue. I want to enforce a new rule: for every new item going in, two items must go out. Baby steps to clutter freedom.

Ring Ring

With my three young children tucked into their beds and my husband off to work third shift I settled into bed with a book, the television on for background noise. After just a few minutes my head was bobbing with fatigue and I could not focus on the words before me so I lay down the book and switched off the light. As I drifted off to sleep to the drone of the evening news I was startled by the ringing of the telephone. In the days before cell and cordless phones I had to get up to answer the wall phone in the kitchen. I lifted the receiver, half expecting to have a family member on the other end of the line. What I got was an earful of sexual obscenities from the unknown caller, making my heart race with fear. I listened for a minute trying to see if I recognized the voice. This was not my first obscene phone call in recent weeks and I was frustrated and afraid. It seemed that the caller knew when I went to bed, always calling just shortly after I had turned off the lights. On this particular summer night the caller was especially explicit and then spoke the words that sent my mind reeling. He called me by my name and said that he was coming over to my house. I slammed the phone down and at the same instant all the lights went out in my house. I was petrified and quickly called my brother, who lived just a few blocks away. While I waited for what seemed an eternity for my brother to arrive, I armed myself with a baseball bat and stood sentry over my children's room, my senses on high alert for any unusual creak or shadow. My brother arrived and made his way around the perimeter of the house, through every room, and then finally into the basement to check for signs of intrusion. To my relief, he found the cause of the lights going off, a blown fuse caused by the window air conditioner. He graciously agreed to stay the rest of the night to ease my fears and slept on the sofa in the living room, keeping an ear open for any suspicious noises. The rest of the night was restless but uneventful.

The next day I dropped off my children at my grandmother's house then headed to the police station to report the caller. I was young and very shy and approached the desk with trepidation. I was told to have a seat and an officer would take my report shortly. When the officer finally took his seat at a desk and began to question me a few other officers arrived and seemed to be just hanging around the area, as if they found it entertaining to listen as I was being asked to tell the officer exactly what the caller had said. I could feel the flush of my cheeks as I repeated the words of the caller and the event leading up to this request to have a tracer put on my phone in the hopes of catching this guy. I signed a consent form and went on to work.


The next day the phone line was rigged so that if I received another obscene call I would simply keep my line open. The caller would not be able to disconnect, enabling the police to trace the call. They would then go to the address in question, pick up the phone and speak to an officer waiting on my phone. Irrefutable proof that they had the right person. When the phone rang a few nights later I thought this would be the caller's last time at threatening me. With the pervert on the line I wasn't prepared for the reality of the situation. I would have to either wake all three of my children, load them into the car in the darkness, and drive to a relative's house to call the police or leave them sleeping in their beds as I went to a neighbor's to call. Neither seemed like a viable option, especially since I didn't really know my neighbors all that well. For all I knew, the caller could be one of my neighbors. After a few moments of hesitation I hung up the phone, letting the caller escape. Unless he called on my husband's nights off work I would not be able to end this unwanted intrusion on my sense of security. The weekend came and went with no calls.

I worked out with my husband and family that if they needed to call me after 10:30pm for any reason that they would ring twice then hang up and call again. Otherwise I would not answer the phone after my husband left for work, eliminating the opportunity for the caller to intimidate. Over the next few days as I sat in bed listening to the phone ringing insistently just after I turned off the lights I couldn't help feeling as if I was being watched. Worry kept me awake and restless through the long hours of the night. Finally the weekend came and I had a reprieve from the calls. We enjoyed time with friends and I felt prepared for the coming week of harassment. I planned to have my children stay with my family a couple of nights that week in the hope of being able to use the tracer on my phone. Then the phone calls abruptly ended. I assumed that the caller had lost interest because I hadn't answered the phone.

A few weeks later my husband came home from work with news to tell me. The police had arrested the caller. I was shocked to hear that it was a friend of ours who had just been in our home a few weekends before. Our children had played together. They lived just two blocks over from us and were part of our large circle of friends. He had been calling several of his coworkers' wives late at night and had finally gotten caught by a traced call. He was court ordered to obtain counseling and was transferred by his employer to the Atlanta area, where he began the cycle of calls again until he was arrested a second time. He lost his job, his wife finally left him, and he had severed all ties with his friends because he couldn't stop this perverted behavior. I don't know, nor do I really care, what ever became of him. It does make me wonder, though, if persistent obscene phone calls is just the first step before a person moves on to actual physical sexual assault, especially after they lose everything of value in their lives.

Birthday Blessings

To our granddaughter - It is hard to believe that you are three years old already. Time passes quickly. You have brought an immeasurable level of happiness into Nana and Boppy's lives. Though we don't get to see you in person often enough, our talks on the phone and on the webcam bring such sunshine into our lives. You will always have a special place in our hearts no matter the distance between us. To have the privilige of watching you grow and change is a great blessing for which we are grateful. From the first time we held you at the age of one month an unbreakable bond was forged. You can melt our hearts with just a smile. You are so much like your mother was at your age with your blonde hair and blue eyes, your wide smile and gregarious nature, wanting so much to be independent. As you grow we wish for you only goodness and love. We hope you have a wonderful birthday party. We will hold you in our hearts today and forever. We love you.

Nana and Boppy

Duck, Duck, Geese

While on the subject of cows, birds, and Easter I will recount another tale from the farm. In celebration of our first Easter living on a farm my oldest sister and her husband decided that it would be great to give their four kids and our three kids baby Easter ducks. Oh, what fun to see those cute little fluffballs waddle around on Easter morning. What fun to watch them paddle around in a tub full of water and to see them curl up together in a cardboard box padded with an old towel. Weren't they adorable?

What wasn't so adorable was the fact that ducks are little poop machines leaving their little trails everywhere they went. Our outside dog was not quite so taken with these tiny creatures so they had to be kept inside the house until they got a bit bigger and the weather turned warm enough to put them in the pen attached to the barn. So they lived in our kitchen for a few weeks. It was a lot to take care of, but they finally were big enough to move them outdoors. They were safely penned out of the reach of the dog and I thought the kids would be able to run down to the barn a couple of times a day to feed and water them. I didn't realize how the resident geese would react. These two geese somehow got confused and must have thought the ducks were their babies. They became very protective of the little ducks and would hiss and peck at anyone who came near that pen. My children, who were only three, five and seven at the time, were afraid to go anywhere near them so the feeding task fell upon my husband and me. It got so difficult to go near the pen that I would take a broom with me to swat at the geese as they came hissing with their necks craned, ready to attack. I couldn't wait for those little ducks to grow enough to set free by the pond.

One particular afternoon my husband and I stood watching the geese from a distance. A group of cattle had congregated near the duck pen. The geese went on attack mode and began hissing and pecking at this herd relentlessly. Though they were cornered by the herd the geese were ferocious in their attack, never waivering in their effort to get the cattle away from their adopted brood. I would not have bet the birds over the bovine but after suffering many beak blows to their faces the cattle backed off. The geese had won the battle. I was relieved in some ways, disappointed in others.

A few weeks later we were able to free the ducks and we enjoyed watching them swim around the farm pond with the geese. If you think about getting tiny farm creatures for your children, you had better think twice. And make sure you have some good farm friends!

Turkey for Easter?

As I talked on the phone this morning I happened to glance out the kitchen window to see a huge bird running across the street toward my house. I continued talking while squinting my eyes to focus on the unusual sight before me. Was this a duck or a goose approaching? Nope, upon closer inspection the bird now heading toward my porch was a wild turkey of the Thanksgiving kind. Now I would fully expect at this time of year to see Easter rabbits hopping about the yard, but a turkey? Really? I quickly said goodbye and ran to get my camera. The big bird strolled along the edge of my driveway pecking away at the sodden ground for unseen morsels. As I cracked the door open to ease the camera lens into position for the photo op the turkey nervously glanced in my direction then continued its leisurely meandering across my yard. It strutted among the trees, stopping occasionally to look around, then moved on toward the neighbor's yard and the open nine acre field of grass beyond that.

I was reminded of the morning years ago when I was busily getting my children ready for school before I headed to work. My husband rushed out the door to go to work, then popped his head back in the door just long enough to inform me that there was a cow in our yard and it looked like it really needed to be milked. Then off he went, leaving me to deal with this cow mooing in agony, with swollen udders nearly ready to burst. As much as I wanted to, I couldn't just leave this poor animal unattended. I tried to call a couple of the farmers that I knew who lived nearby to no avail. I had no idea whose cow this was. I finally called the local police. When the officer arrived we tried to approach the cow but it bolted away, then looked forlornly back at us. It seemed to want our help but was too afraid. The officer contacted a local farmer who arrived with a cattle trailer. After the cow was safely loaded onto the trailer I was able to get my kids to school and myself to work, much later than originally planned. Explain that one in a note to their teachers: please excuse my children for being late due to udderly unforseen circumstances!

This reminded me of another incident involving an animal in my yard years ago. It was a drizzly spring morning and my children were entertaining themselves while I was tidying up the house. Our dog began barking furiously outside and then the whole house trembled. I wasn't sure what was going on. I ran outside and there stood the neighbor's biggest bull, escaped from its prison of fencing, face to face with our dog. The dog kept barking and began chasing the bull, round and round our house, the bull occasionally crashing into the siding, shaking the house like an earthquake. I struggled to get the dog onto the screened porch so the bull would calm down. Then I had to figure out how to get the bull back into its confines without getting myself hurt. I had lived in the country but I was not a farmer so I was not quite sure how to force an animal at least ten times my weight into a space it wanted to be free from. I tried the only thing I could think of at the time. I opened the gate to the field, walked through, called out to the bull several times, then began to sing. Don't laugh. I was not completely insane.

When we first moved to the country the year before I was out mowing the grass around our home. With headphones on and the walkman cranked up on high I pushed the mower up and down our lawn, singing out loud as I went. After mowing the first few strips I turned to make another pass. I was astounded to see a row of twenty or so cows lined up along the fence row watching me intently. I slowed my pace as I walked past them, wondering what it was they were fascinated by. Was it my singing, the humming of the mower, or were they plotting their escape? I felt a bit creeped out as I recalled the plot of "Animal Farm" by George Orwell. The cows just stood there watching until I finally made the turn toward the back side of the house. Then they simply walked away one by one, back to grazing in the pasture.

Back to the bull: it finally heeded my cajoling and singing and wandered into the pasture. I slipped back out through the gate and wrapped a chain around the gateposts, very tightly. Then I headed back across the yard to let out the dog and continue with my chores after assuring my children it shouldn't happen again.

Such is the life in small Midwestern towns!

Splenda'd Morning

On the weekends I generally cook breakfast for my husband since he cooks most of our dinners throughout the week. I am always up before him and have already enjoyed two cups of coffee while I peruse my emails and blogs before he eventually wakes and makes his way down the hallway. This morning he wanted biscuits and gravy but I had no sausage thawed so I fried up some crisp bacon and cheese omelets. Then I surprised him with a treat that I had forgotten about for quite some time. I quartered the canned biscuits, lightly rolled them into balls, and dropped them into hot oil . After they were evenly and lightly browned I drained them on paper towels then dropped them into a plastic container filled with a cup of Splenda with just a couple of tablespoons of sugar added for better flavor. After attaching a lid I shook them to coat each one with a dusting of sweetness. Voila! Homemade little donuts.

I remember my Mother fixing this treat for us when I was a child. It was an easy and inexpensive substitute for bakery donuts. It was fun to help cut the biscuits up into fourths and watch her drop them into the hot oil. We got to take turns shaking the little donuts in the brown paper lunch bag that she used for the sugar. Then we would divide them up evenly between all of us. Six children and sugar donuts. It doesn't get better than that. After washing them down with big glasses of cold milk we would be sufficiently hyped up for a morning of play. Oh, sweet childhood memories!

KISS Excellence Goodbye

I know I tend to be a stickler for detail but it seems as if our society has accepted mediocrity as the norm in our work and education environments. Is it wrong to circle the errors on the notes my children brought home from their teachers because I expected that teachers should set a good example to their students? Whatever happened to proof-reading their own work, especially if the teacher in question was the Advanced English class teacher? My children would complain about having to take these corrected and signed notes back to school, partly due to embarassment and partly due to fear of teacher retaliation. I tried to explain to them that it was the principle of the matter.

At my job in the healthcare field we have written policies and procedures. Sometimes when there is a breach of these policies and I try to report it as instructed I am treated like a tattletale who should mind her own business by the higher level managers, directors, and administrators. My feeling is that if they don't really expect that the policies will be followed then they should not have them or they should amend them. It is very frustrating to try to do a good job and follow the rules and then suffer the consequences. This is not just the principle of the matter, it is the legal and moral issue of the matter. I have read many publications over the years and attended enough seminars and education meetings to understand the implications.

Today after taking a test for my online coding class one of my answers was marked as incorrect when, in fact, it was not. There were two correct answers for the multiple choice question but I was instructed to only select one. Was it petty of me to email the instructor of the course and inform her of this error on the test that kept me from getting a 100%? I scored a 96% on the exam and I only have to obtain a score of 70% or higher to pass each module in the course so did it really matter? I considered just letting it go but I was aggravated that I would pay $1300.00 for this course in order to obtain a certificate for something I have already been doing for years on the job and the creators of the course could not even make sure that their exams are accurate. It was a simple medical terminology question. This does nothing to boost my confidence in the accuracy of the more complicated coding issues to be addressed in later modules.

I feel like a dinosaur in a world of complacency. The dumbing down to the lowest common denominator seems to be so much more acceptable in our society now than when I was younger. Somehow we have moved away from striving for excellence to just striving for fairly average. Once we are all just fairly average where do we go from there? I suppose the acronym KISS (keep it simple, stupid) is more appropriate than one might think.

Sugar Sugar

"I like water."

"Wait a minute. Who are you and what have you done with my wife?"

For those of you who know me or who have read my previous post about my obsession with soda of the reddest kind you will understand my hubby's concern. After polishing off the last of the Big Red over the weekend I began my withdrawal from sweetened sodas. I know I am getting a late start as I was supposed to begin on the first day of Lent, but what the heck, I'm a little slow at fasting. There will be extreme fatigue, excruciating headaches, sluggish motion. The flow of profanity, the hissing, and the tantrums as the sugar demons attempt to control me will rival Linda Blair in The Exorcist. As my husband dons his silver cross and douses himself with garlic oil I slump in a near-coma in the rocking chair. Quickly he passes a brownie under my nose, trying to revive my limp body as he whispers a short prayer, though I am not sure which of us he is praying for. With shaking hand I press a glass of water to my lips, my third of the day, and let the clear liquid trickle its way down my esophagus. I begin to shiver uncontrollably as my body temperature drops. The endless yawning begins and I fight to maintain control as my head bobs helplessly. I finally give in to the exhaustion and settle back for a quick sleep. When I garner the strength I trudge off to bed. One day down, thirty-four more to go. Yay God!

The Coat of Many Memories

While searching for some paint supplies today I ran across a treasured item that I haven't seen for a few months. My youngest daughter's little red winter coat with its bright yellow lining beckoned to me. I couldn't resist the urge to pull it off the hanger and hold it close, imagining her at the age of six proudly walking into school, Minnie Mouse bookbag slung loosely over her shoulder, her blue mittened hand waving me on, blonde hair wisping beneath the bright hood snugged around her tiny, smiling face. I could picture her as she disappeared through the doors, heading down the hallway to her classroom and her friends. Everything she needed for the day would be neatly packed into her bag, milk money secured in the tiny Tuxedo Sam wristband coinpurse easily accessible in the little velcro pocket on one side of her bag, lifesavers and sweettarts tucked into the pocket on the other side of the bag. Inside the bag her homework would be protected inside a folder, neatly waiting to be turned in during class. Her blue plastic school box would be filled with pens and pencils, safety scissors, Elmer's glue, a box of Crayola crayons, and tiny assorted erasers in a small round plastic case. In the pocket of her coat would be a travel packet of Kleenex and some stickers she got from the many trips to the doctor and hospital during the course of her battle with the brain tumor lurking in her head. She would make her way down the hall just a bit unsteadily, a result of the surgery that bought her more time in the world she so wanted to be a part of. Her classmates would greet her tenderly, understanding even at their young age that she was fragile. She would tell them jokes and share her stickers, then take her place at her desk for a normal day of classwork and fun. She loved school. I would have liked to keep her home all day with me, to take in as much time with her as possible, but she needed to live like any other child her age, surrounded by the noise and chaos, the laughter and singing, the structure of the classroom. When she walked back out those doors in the afternoon she would be smiling, full of chatter about her day and all that went on in class. I miss her terribly even after twenty years but seeing her little red coat fills my heart with the sunshine that she was.

Fresh Start

Over the past week I have been painting again. This time I repainted my bedroom and bathroom after having some plaster work done. As much as I dreaded picking up the paintbrush, once I got started I began to feel a sense of peaceful satisfaction. I love the warm, comforting creamy beige color that is replacing the very light lemony yellow that has been surrounding me in slumber for the past ten years. The slightly darker tone in the bathroom adds just a bit of contrast without being too overpowering. I am holding out on painting over my terracotta orange cabinet in the bath though. I simply have to have a little splash of boldness to keep it from being boring. So until we are nearly ready to put our house on the market this spring/summer I will leave the cabinet as it is. The curtains have been washed and rehung, the baseboards wiped clean, the cobwebs cleared, and the dark, scary recesses under the bed freshly vacuumed. With everything clean and dusted and placed back where it belongs I wanted to just lie on the bed and enjoy the freshness of it all, to soak in the calm, clean look of the room before the wear and tear of daily living takes its toll and the freshness wears off.

DayTripping

When I was a child my family couldn't afford to take week-long vacations. Instead, my mother would take us on day trips. Most of these trips were randomly planned, usually at the last moment, but the prospect of getting out of our little town to explore new places was as exciting to us as a real vacation. In the days before seat belt laws we would take our assigned places in the big Buick. My grandmother, who almost always went with us, would sit in the back seat to supervise me and my two brothers while my oldest sister usually got to sit in the broad front seat with my mother. Depending on their age, my little sister and my second oldest sister would be scrunched in wherever there was room. My grandmother made little cloth-covered booster seats so we could see out the windows. With the picnic basket and cooler tucked into the huge trunk we would set off, stopping by the old neighborhood grocery store to stock up with sodas, gum, and other assorted goodies. Then we would hit the road, never knowing exactly what my mother had in mind for the day. Would it be a trip to a state park where we could hike the paths and explore nature, working up an appetite before spreading out the picnic fare in a shelterhouse? Or perhaps a day at an amusement park where we would thrill to the rides and laugh ourselves silly in the funhouse as we attempted to stay upright on the various tilting, turning, shaking objects? Or would our trip take on a more educational tone as we learned about the locks and dam on the Ohio river, a historic village where we could see how pioneers lived, or a telephone museum? Would we seek out covered bridges along the way? Would we go horseback riding? Or would we head to the city to visit seldom seen relatives? No matter where we went we were ready and willing to take on the day. Those trips not only broadened our horizons but they simultaneously tied us to each other for a lifetime. Perhaps with the change in the economy more families will be seeking out their own day trips, exploring the area they live in, learning and sharing along the way.

Simply Gorgeous

Because of the glorious sights outside my office window I really enjoyed myself at work today. I even spent my lunch hour taking more photos. Here's a few more for sharing. Enjoy.

Ice Ice Baby

There is something about snow that stirs the soul, allowing the ordinary to be transformed temporarily into something awe-inspiring. I spent some time today out in my yard trying to capture a bit of this awesome show of nature, mindful of the danger lurking overhead as the ice-burdened limbs creaked and cracked. Mother nature may have wreaked havoc in the region but she has blessed us with an awesome fleeting beauty. Take time to appreciate it before it's gone.

Turning Points

With the new year comes a hopefulness that 2009 is going to be a turning point for me and for my husband.

My new camera is providing me great pleasure as I learn to use it. I have been taking pictures of ordinary items around my home as I learn to use the different settings and lenses. When looking through the lens my creativity has been unleashed as I zoom in to see things in a different light. So I am beginning the year with an attitude of fun. I have also signed up to take a beginning pottery class which begins next week. Once a week I will be getting muddy. Oh, childhood memories revisited!

Just today I enrolled in an online medical coding course so I can put the credentials with my years of experience on the job. I hope to have it completed within two months so I can sit for the exam by March or April. Wish me luck for this endeavor.

Last night my husband mentioned that our town was enrolling citizens in its Move It Lose It program and he wants us both to join. So for the next six months we will be going weekly for the weigh-ins and other activities as our schedules allow. Since he is diabetic and we are both overweight I could not refuse his request to be his partner in this life-changing venture. Goodbye Big Red. Hello water?

While the economy is on shaky ground, my husband's business is expanding. With a new addition to the facility in the process and a new general manager coming on board this month he is very optimistic that 2009 will be the turning point for him and his partner. While I am a bit nervous about it all, I stand behind his desire to grow this business. We have discussed the possibilities but have determined that the risk is worth it. No matter the outcome we will still have each other. We are hopeful and that is what our country needs right now from businesses.

The expansion of my husband's business also means that 2009 will be the year we move closer so he can have more day-to-day direct contact at the plant. So this spring we will be preparing to sell our house and move to the hills of southwestern Indiana. I am reluctant to be further away from the city than I am now but at the same time I am looking forward to the changes it will bring. I hope all my friends and family will still come to visit me in podunker.

We are looking forward to June when my daughter will be flying in from London with her family for a long visit. I cannot wait to see them again. While here, we will be celebrating her 30th birthday and will also be having a family reunion so all the cousins can reconnect. With all the new babies in the family it will be great to have everyone together again. I am hoping for a great turnout. We will also be having a get-together with my husband's family, albeit on a smaller scale. With my father-in-law's health in a precarious state I am glad that he will be able to meet his newest great-grandson. Here's to noisy, crazy, happy days ahead!

Both my daughters have recently begun new careers and I believe they are on track to do great. They are both beautiful, intelligent women with big hearts and open minds. I am very proud of them both. A parent couldn't ask for any better. I love you Andie-bird and Tealey!

On that note I leave you this morning to consider your 2009 and all the good things in your life. Here's to love, health, and happiness. Cheers!