Nourish the Soul

Guess Who Came to Dinner?

mrskelley2u@hotmail.com (Deb) — Wed, 09 Sep 2009 02:06:00 +0000

In a recent post titled 'Baby Love' I wrote about how much my grandsons enjoy the book 'The Very Hungry Caterpillar' by Eric Carle. In that book there is a cute little caterpillar that eats his way through a variety of foods as he prepares to turn into a beautiful butterfly. Cute little book which I have always enjoyed reading. Until now. Until a very hungry caterpillar, or two or three or more, ate their way through my tomato plants. Here are how my tomato plants looked at the beginning of August. I could taste the salsa. I could smell the spaghetti sauce.

And then....the caterpillars arrived. They are officially called Tomato Horn Worms. I have my own special nickname for them which I will just keep to myself.

If I wasn't so mad at them I could write about their great color and markings and how this one almost looks rather cute hanging upside down as he enjoys MY tomato.

Guess I will be buying Ragu spaghetti sauce this winter but for now I will enjoy the colors and shapes of the tomatoes I saved from the jaws of the very hungry caterpillars.

In the beginning...

mrskelley2u@hotmail.com (Deb) — Thu, 03 Sep 2009 01:00:00 +0000

In the beginning...I started my blog as a way to journal about the trip to India my husband and I were taking to attend our oldest daughter's wedding. I have lived in NH my whole life and had not had many traveling adventures so this was the trip of a lifetime and I wanted to document all that I was seeing, feeling, hearing, tasting and smelling. My blog also allowed me to communicate with our friends and family who were not able to make the trip with us but who wanted to stay connected to the activities. I recently reread my oldest posts and it was a trip down memory lane. I was taken back to the weeks leading up to the trip including the series of inoculations I had to get beforehand. My post 'Typhoid in My Belly' just might be my favorite post. And funniest.

In the beginning... I had no idea what it meant to be a blogger. I just wanted to journal about my travel adventure. I wasn't even sure if I was going to continue blogging when we returned home. What would I write about after India? I live in a very small town in a small state. There are no Dunkin' Donuts in my town. No traffic lights. No pizza delivery. Lots of cows and horses. Lots of trees. Lots of deer and coyotes. What could I possibly write about in a blog once my India adventure was over? Who would want to read anything written by me?

In the beginning... the only people reading my blog were close friends and family. If I got two comments on a post it was cause for celebration. This blog has allowed me to not only have written memories of my adventures but I also have written memories from the people who left comments. As I reread my oldest posts recently I found the comments left for me from my brother-in-law, Dan. I had forgotten that he had even taken the time to read my blog. I had forgotten that he took the time to leave comments on my blog. It was rather unnerving for me to read his words since he passed away in April at the age of 49 years old from lung cancer. I don't think I have any other written memories from him ~ I am glad that I have his comments written forever on my blog.

In the beginning... I had no idea about blogging protocol and it took me awhile to learn my way around the blogosphere. For awhile I lurked around, reading the blogs of others, trying to find blogs of interest. I started going back again and again to certain blogs and tentatively left a comment here and there, nervous about whether I would be welcomed into the blogging community. And then...slowly but surely...people started leaving comments on my posts. I was pretty sure that I knew how Jodie Picoult, the best selling author, must feel and I started preparing for the movie version of 'Nourish the Soul' and wondered who might play me. I have been told that I look like Sandy Duncan so I guess that is a possibility.

In the beginning...I had no idea how blogging would change my life and the friends I would meet. One day I tumbled into Patti Digh's blog, 37 Days, and the rest is history. Her book has changed my life AND Patti came to my community and spoke to a group of sixty people at our local cafe AND stayed at my home.I don't think that would have happened without blogging. It was an incredible adventure from beginning to end. I have 'met' so many other wonderful people through blogging ~ true blogging friends. I am in awe of Daryl over at 'On the M104'. Her photography is creative and if she doesn't exhibit it in a gallery soon I am going to have to become her agent. Daryl allows this country mouse to see the Big Apple through her lens. And did I mention that I love her sense of humor! Then there is Akelamalu who is one very busy lady but always takes time to welcome me with open arms. If I ever make it over the big puddle I hope to connect with her someday. For now she is my virtual blogging tour guide since she travels frequently. Marg and I have so much in common - love of family and basketball are at the top of our list. If we ever meet we will be hiking, cooking, laughing and talking lots. Willow is my very patient and talented friend from the West Coast who is willing to teach me to knit. Many people have tried but Willow seems to be up for the challenge. Now that cool weather is on its way I plan on sitting down and paying attention to my knitting mentor. Willow's blog also often reminds me to slow down and enjoy the small everyday wonders. Beverly is my blogging friend from down South who checks in on me and makes sure that I am okay. I appreciate her kindness. I have enjoyed watching Pink Dogflower evolve as a writer. She writes in a concise manner and paints a picture with her words. She is a thoughtful blogging friend, dedicated mom and I always enjoy my visits to her blogging home. She is always a welcome guest over at my place. And then there is my friend, Louise, who writes with refreshing honesty and candor. She is one very busy lady but does a nice job juggling it all. And her photography...if National Geographic doesn't hire her soon, it is their loss. I am convinced that someday I will be saying, ' I knew her when...' and I hopefully will get an autographed print before they all sell out. David McMahon is a blogging guru. He is a talented photographer but more importantly he has created a blog where many people want to hang out. Five days a week he lists "Posts of the Day" and to be mentioned there almost guarantees a new reader or two or at least at heady feeling of accomplishment and pride. David's blog is like a clearinghouse of blogs...and I have meant many of my blogging friends from hanging out at David's place.

In the beginning...I didn't know any of these wonderful people but blogging has opened so many doors for me.

In the beginning...I never knew Shaye or Jeni or Maggie May or Chapati or Cheffie Mom or Shrinky. All of these blogging friends write from their heart. I find myself wondering how Tsannie's garden is growing. And whenever I go to visit my new friend, Brian Miller, I bring a box of tissues with me. Not just one tucked in the waist of my pants. Oh, no...a whole box because Brian is one talented writer who grabs my heart and my soul with his words and I so wish I could write with his creativity and passion. I would be remiss if I didn't mention Sandy Carlson who is a powerful blogger who reaches out to her blogging friends with her pictures and words. And one of my newest blogging friends is Kim who actually lives only twenty miles away from me. We met at the Patti Digh book event and the rest is history. Kim is an artist and I am always inspired when I stop in to visit her blog. And the comments she leaves for me leave a smile on my face which last for hours. Natalie ,who live 'Down Under', writes with total truthfulness and humanness and I often wished she lived closer. Sandi is an inspiration to many in the blogging world since she recently published her first book. And then there is Diane who is not afraid to tackle any subject with respect for the opinions of all. She recently became a grammie, as did I, so we also have that in common. Diane recently wrote a post where she 'recognized' many of her blogging friends in a post so I must give her some credit to her for the direction of this post.

In the beginning...I had no idea that blogging was so addictive, so time consuming. A writer at heart, I could spend hours in the blogosphere. I have had to take blogging breaks because I need to focus on other hobbies or annoying things such as housecleaning or bill paying. But I always come back for more. I find myself wondering what my blogging friends are doing and if they are okay. It is not that I am nosy, well I might be a little bit, but I truly have come to care for my blogging friends in a blogging sort of way. People who do not blog do not understand. But a wise woman named Daryl basically told me to do what I want and ignore the naysayers. She might have actually used more colorful language but you catch my drift.

In the beginning...I never thought I would have a site meter. I now have a site meter which tells me over 10,000 people have visited my blog.

In the beginning...I never thought I would write 100 posts. I have now written 115 posts.

In the beginning... I didn't know where this blogging adventure would take me, I still don't, but I do know that I am truly enjoying the ride.

In the beginning...I wasn't sure where this post was headed but now I do...I just wanted to say thank you to all of my blogging friends for enriching my world, for opening my eyes and for a unique friendship that is only a blog away. Thank you.

And if I forgot to mention you, I apologize. It doesn't mean that I don't appreciate you or your comments. It means I am menopausal and I am prone to spells of forgetfulness. Honest. If I forgot you, let me know and I will dedicate a post to you. Promise.

Baby Love

mrskelley2u@hotmail.com (Deb) — Mon, 24 Aug 2009 11:57:00 +0000

Once a week I have the pleasure of caring for my twin grandsons, my sweet peas, for the whole day. They are now 6 months old, robust and healthy. Someone recently asked me what I do with the twins all day long and as I rattled off our list of activities I felt a blog post forming in my head.

Since both boys are starting to teeth, lots of time is spent chewing. Below is one of their favorite chew toys. I love all of the colors. I also keep a supply of wet washcloths in my freezer which feels good on their swollen gums. Teething is not one of my favorite things.

Before the boys arrive I set up a big blue blanket on my family room carpet so they will be safe from dog hair, germs and other dangers. The big blue blanket allows for plenty of play space. Last week I had to go to the bathroom so I explained to both boys that they were to stay on the blue blanket while Grammie ran quickly to the bathroom and quickly emptied the bladder. Both boys agreed that they would stay on the big blue blanket plus I wasn't really too concerned because neither boy is crawling yet so... imagine my surprise when I came back to find this...

So much for the big blue blanket and no more bathroom time for grammie!

Reading is one of my favorite things so we read together each day. Eric Carle is one of our current favorites ~ especially the 'The Very Hungry Caterpillar'. The sweet peas love the pictures of colorful food and are starting to enjoy independent reading time.

Eric Carle might have made some of the food pictures a bit too realistic...

Okay. So true confessions. Sometimes the TV is on in the background for white noise but when a certain show comes on please do not call the house and ask to speak to the sweet peas because they seem to have a little crush on Bonnie and their little eyeballs are glued to the set. They also love the Sally Field commercial promoting some osteoporosis medicine. Both boys flirt with her via television. Just like their grampie.

We smile lots during the day because we are happy that we are together.

Below is a picture of our favorite toy. The boys are fascinated with their toes. They lay on the big blue blanket and talk to their toes, suck on their toes and teeth on their toes. Last week I laid down next them and tried to stick my big toe into my mouth and quickly realized that it wasn't happening. The boys did find it amusing to watch though.

We take walks through the neighborhood. It is a rather bizarre feeling for me since I used to push my own children in a stroller through these same streets many moons ago and now I push my grandbabies past the same homes, stone walls and trees. Life goes on.

In the hot afternoon, we lay on our big blue blanket and watch the fan. The sweet peas love to watch the fan and they go crazy when grammie plays with the remote and changes the speed on it. Their eyes grow huge and their feet start kicking as I hit the superfast button. I start to giggle as I watch them. And once again I learn an important lesson from my grandbabies ~ simple joys are priceless.

So what do I do all day long with my sweet peas? I enjoy each moment, I love them to pieces, I hug them, I kiss them and tell them that I will love them forever and always. And then we wrestle some more!

First Day of School

mrskelley2u@hotmail.com (Deb) — Tue, 18 Aug 2009 03:03:00 +0000

In a few days my oldest daughter will be starting school. I didn't buy her any new school clothes this year. No shiny new shoes for her. I wanted to buy her a Strawberry Shortcake backpack to put all of her supplies in but she wouldn't hear of it. I recommended that she polish an apple or two and hand them to her teacher as she enters the classroom. I think she harrumphed at that suggestion. I really did offer to buy her a new desk so she will have her very own workspace. I won't be standing at the corner with her waiting for the big yellow bus to come bumbling down the road. She is quite independent about this whole school experience and doesn't need my help but that is probably a good thing since she is thirty years old. I know it seems impossible for me to have a thirty year old child and you are probably searching the Guinness Book of World Records to see if I am listed under 'Woman who gave birth at the age of one,' but alas I truly am old enough.

I have always respected and believed in education and its importance. I understand and respect that college is not for everyone and truly believe that some of the best educations are not found within the walls of academia. But my daughter is a born scholar. She LOVES to learn and to be surrounded by papers, piles of thick books, syllabuses, schedules and research materials. She already has her Bachelor's Degree and is now pursuing her Master's Degree in Linguistics. And I couldn't be happier for her. She lives on the opposite coast from me so I do not get to see her nearly enough. But when talking to her on the phone recently about her upcoming first day of school I could hear the excitement in her voice. She had renewed energy and zest. She talks fast on a slow day and on this day I had to set my ears to super fast listening as she excitedly told me about the classes she had signed up for and the people she had met so far. I am so happy for her. I am so proud of her. And then I decided I wanted the whole world to know how very proud I am of her.

Dear Oldest Daughter,

As you prepare for your first day of Graduate School, I find myself reflecting on the past thirty years and just a few of the thousands of experiences we have shared. When I was pregnant with you the popular belief was that if I ate lots of tuna fish my baby would come out with an IQ of 500 so I ate many tuna fish sandwiches. Of course now the research shows that maybe that wasn't the wisest decision because of mercury levels but you certainly are one smart cookie. Dad and I started reading to you prebirth. I would hold the books up to my belly button so maybe you could peek out and see the pictures and Dad would read the words to you. You would kick me and poke me when we came to a verse that you felt passionately about - you had very bony elbows. Dad would sing to you and I talked to you incessantly. Your present interest in Linguistics does not surprise me at all.

My favorite thing to play when I was young was school so imagine how delighted I was to have a little girl who was my first real student. I read to you from the beginning, and when you were four you wrote your first book titled 'Henry and Denise'. I took dictation which was no easy task since you were a fast talker even back then. You drew all of the pictures to accompany the text. The book starts out...'Once upon a time there were two people. One day they were walking down the street and they found a box. It had two lines and a design on it. Their names were Henry and Denise. They opened the box up and they found an ...' the story continues for 21 pages and that book sits on my coffee table today.

I cherish the memories of walking to the local library and choosing books each week. You loved going to the children's room and there we would sit playing Hi-Ho Cherry-O and finally we bought our own copy of the game so we could play it more frequently. Your love for books and your proficiency as a reader was obvious from a very young age. You are proof that reading to children at a young age does make an incredible difference in the life of a child.

Prior to your starting public school, your dad and I had done our research and had the ability and freedom to be able to move to a community which had a reputation and track record for teaching children how to learn. And hats off to all the educators through the years who recognized and encouraged your love of learning. And words can not describe the pride your father and I felt when you not only graduated from high school but you graduated at the top of your class ~ with a 4.0 average. Your hard work, dedication and focus are to be applauded. And I must give some credit to the many cans of tuna fish I consumed while pregnant with you.

You then went off to college, taking a piece of my heart with you. You excelled in so many ways. You have traveled to places I have only had the pleasure of reading about. You challenged yourself constantly. You were like a sponge soaking up as much knowledge as you possibly could during those college years. I am thankful that your father and I could give you the gift of education and we know that you appreciate it and have never taken it for granted. You have developed into an intelligent, compassionate member of society who gives back to others and who uses her brain to make the world a better place.

You are a risk taker which is obvious when one learns that you started your own business and have run it successfully for the past few years. You love a challenge and to problem solve. You are one of the most organized people that I know and on your next visit home maybe you can help me straighten out a few closets. Again.

And as you prepare for this next chapter in your life I just want you to know how proud your family is of you ~ always and forever ~ Mom. xo

Wordless Wednesday

mrskelley2u@hotmail.com (Deb) — Wed, 12 Aug 2009 10:00:00 +0000

Busy little bees ~

Do you know what time it is?

mrskelley2u@hotmail.com (Deb) — Mon, 10 Aug 2009 00:12:00 +0000

A few weeks back, my husband and I were sleeping soundly. Deep sleeping, heavy snoring and a puddle of drool on each of our pillows. Often our sleep is interrupted by my hot flashes, my restless legs, or middle of the night nature calls. But not this night. On this night we were in the midst of some intense REM sleep when ' briiiing, briiing,briiing'...the ringing of the phone harshly woke us both. I sat up confused. My husband knocked over the lamp on his nightstand as he tried to reach the phone. The numbers on the clock read 3:00AM. As I slowly became aware of my surroundings my heart leaped into my throat and my stomach started to churn. Phone calls in the middle of the night are never a good thing.

"Answer the phone. Answer the phone," I hysterically yelled at him. I prayed it wasn't my mom calling to tell me that something unthinkable had happened to my dad. I crossed my fingers and toes, hoping, praying that it wasn't the police telling me bad news about one of my children. And it had better not be one of my tenants calling to tell me that the tenant above them was making too much noise or that someone was parked in their parking space. I tried to patiently listen to the conversation.

"Who did you say you are again?" asked my husband, yawning and scratching his head as he finally started to wake up.
"State Police Officer Jones. I need to speak to Tim Kelley. Is he there?"
"Yes, that is my son and he is here. Asleep. Can you tell me what is going on?"
"No. I need to speak to your son - now."

So my husband proceeded to get out of bed and walk downstairs to our son's bedroom. I paddled after him , wrapping my robe around my pink flamingo pj's.

"Ask him if this is an emergency. Ask him if there has been an accident. Ask him if everyone is okay. Ask him if he knows what time it is. Ask him..." My husband glared in my general direction and shooshed me. I felt nauseous. Phone calls at 3:00 in the morning are never good. I thought my knees were going to collapse.

My son came out into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He took the phone from my husband. "Yes, this is Tim Kelley." I dropped to the floor, holding my head in my hands. I knew that this had to be horrendous and my overactive imagination had created quite a scenario in my mind. Images of sirens, red lights, and more flashed through my brain.

"Yes, yes I did, " I heard my son speak into the phone. "You did what?" I yelled at my son. He brushed me away. Tears started to build up in the corners of my eyes.

" Yes, I was in that area last week," he continued. I ran to pick up the extension. Enough was enough. My nerves were shot.

"Yes, I did lose my wallet last week."

What?

"Oh, great. You found my license and my credit cards. Excellent news." My son had left his wallet on top of his car while pumping gas and it had blown off onto the highway. This State Police Officer had been on duty during night road construction and had found the guts of Tim's wallet - no wallet but all of the important cards were found. Guess he thought it important enough to call and tell us at 3:00 in the morning.

"So can I come down to the station in the morning to get my license and credit cards?"

The officer replied that Tim had to go and meet him right then. Tim agreed since he did want to get his lost cards.

At this point I was still sitting, holding my stomach, still shaken up. My hands were trembling. "He wants you to drive all the way to Exit 14 at 3:00 in the morning? This is odd. I don't like this. Your father is going with you."

While I was still sputtering and muttering, the two headed out the door into the car - to go meet the State Police Officer and retrieve Tim's belongings. I tried to fall back asleep but there was no way that was going to happen. I tossed, I turned, I paced.

Finally husband and son returned. It was now 4:15 AM. Nice. Birds had started to sing. I grumbled to my husband about the need to call our home at 3:00 AM to tell my son that his wallet guts had been found. Was that really necessary? That officer must not have children because if he did he would know that you don't wake people up at ungodly hours to tell them that you found their wallet guts AND you don't make them get in their car and drive to meet you so you can hand deliver the guts of the wallet. My husband decided it might be quieter downstairs in the kitchen so he got up for the day leaving me to grumble to my pillow. Finally at 5:00ish I once again fell asleep, still feeling anxious but no longer nauseous.

And then at 6:30 AM my dog decided to run from window to window in the house barking, growling and howling. I jumped straight up in my bed. What the heck? I flew out of my room screaming at my dog that she had better have a wicked good reason for waking me. If I found out that it was a squirrel that was causing her to get this riled up there was going to be a major tantrum on my part. By the time I got downstairs she was leaping at the front door ~ frantic. I looked out the window to find a local town police officer standing on my porch. No kidding. Not joking. I opened the door, trying to hold my dog back.

"Hi. I just wanted to drop this off for your son. A State Trooper found it on the side of the road, radioed me that he had already given your son the rest of his wallet and thought he might want this so he asked me to bring it over to him." He stood there holding my son's wallet. The empty wallet. The wallet which had been lost one week earlier when it blew off the roof of the car. The wallet which had been run over 1800 times while it laid on the highway and didn't look so much like a wallet anymore. I stared at the police officer and tried to look past him. I just knew that I must be on Candid Camera or I had just been punked by Ashton Kutcher. I pinched myself because the events of the last 4 hours were to bizarre to be real. But nope, I really was standing on my porch at 6:30 in the morning talking to a policeman who was returning the wallet. I thanked him for lack of anything better to say.

I walked to the trash and threw the wallet away. I poured myself a strong cup of coffee. I wondered what time it really was ~ and did anybody care?

Wordless Wednesday

mrskelley2u@hotmail.com (Deb) — Wed, 05 Aug 2009 10:00:00 +0000

Golden Memories ~

Our tree is growing...

mrskelley2u@hotmail.com (Deb) — Sat, 01 Aug 2009 23:54:00 +0000

First comes love...

It seems like only yesterday that my husband and I went to visit our oldest son at the University of Maine. He was a freshman, living four hours from home. Leaving for college had not been the easiest of transitions for him or for those of us who were left at home missing him. There was a void in our home and in our hearts. I became more and more excited as we approached the campus. I needed to see with my own two eyes that he truly was okay, that he was surviving the rigors of academia and the weekend 'activities'. When we got out of the car I could barely contain myself when I saw him walking towards us. I resisted all temptation to run up to him and give him a huge bear hug. I didn't want to embarrass him totally. I settled for a quick peck on the cheek and then a mini bear hug. I stepped back and took a long look. Somehow my son seemed different but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. He nervously danced around and seemed rather giggly. What was this new behavior? I checked his pupils. Normal. I checked his breath. Hmm...normal boy breath. He took a deep breath...'Mom, Dad, there is someone I would like you to meet.' Ah, I quickly comprehended the situation. My son had met a girl, a girl who captured his heart and soul.

Over the next few years of college and after graduation their love continued to grow and strengthen. Our entire family fell in love with her ~ he chose a woman who is intelligent, kind, beautiful, humorous, patient, thoughtful, generous, compassionate, logical...perfect for my son. It was as if our family had had a missing puzzle piece and then when she came into our lives, she was the perfect piece and our family was complete. We accepted her with open arms and open hearts. Our family tree gained a new branch and was thriving.

Then comes marriage...

Last August this wonderful couple was married. It was a storybook wedding and I wrote an emotional post which left me teary and exhausted upon its completion. It seems hard to believe that in one week they will be celebrating their first wedding anniversary.

Here they come pushing a baby carriage...

Yes, that is correct. This wonderful couple gave birth two days ago to my granddaughter. They will be celebrating their first wedding anniversary with the cutest little baby girl, who I will refer to in my blog as my little Olive. She weighed in at a whopping seven pounds and was twenty inches long. Ah, it has been a lovefest around here. Lots of kissing, hugging and celebrating as we welcomed Olive into our family. Our family tree has never been healthier. My heart and soul have never been more complete. And now I would like to introduce you to the newest member of our family...our little Olive !

This is love.

Wordless Wednesday

mrskelley2u@hotmail.com (Deb) — Wed, 29 Jul 2009 09:18:00 +0000

Encounters of a Bird Kind

mrskelley2u@hotmail.com (Deb) — Mon, 20 Jul 2009 10:57:00 +0000

I was recently organizing a few of my 15,641 pictures when I noticed that over the past few weeks I had taken quite a few bird pictures. Upon further reflection I realized I had enough material for my own version of an Audubon handbook. I should add my disclaimer here and let you know that I am not a bird expert and some of this information about birds might be incorrect. Do not use any of this info to write a bird report. Now on with this story.

I took this picture when I was in Florida. I ran recklessly into the middle of the road to capture this shot. I was convinced it was a Bald Eagle and was screeching while taking the shot to try and attract this bird to land close by.
My screeching was successful and the bald eagle landed! Although it wasn't a bald eagle. It turns out that this actually was a turkey vulture which really are ugly and large. This particular bird had a wicked attitude and tried to scare me. I informed him that it takes more than some ugly bird to scare me.

So...maybe I was a bit scared. I scurried away quickly after snapping this final shot of Mr. Mean Turkey Vulture although I must admit I do like the color of his feathers but I wouldn't tell him that.

This is the graceful Great Blue Heron that hangs out by the pond near my mom's house in the Sunshine state. He has a calm personality and a much more positive attitude than mean Mr. Turkey Vulture.

He is searching for some dinner. I love the way he can move his neck.

Success! You can see the tail of a small fish sticking out of his bill.

Now some might find the following story disturbing so I am warning you ahead of time. Sometimes nature can be harsh. One day when changing sheets in our guest bedroom I looked out of the window to see that we had a new tenant living in our roof gables. A mother robin had built a nest and was hanging out waiting for the birth of her babies. I was quite excited and each day would sit and watch her as she flew around fixing her nest. Most of the time she just sat and kept her eggs warm. I paced anxiously, waiting for their arrival.

And then on the morning of June 1, 2009 Mama Robin's babies hatched and she began the task of feeding her newborns. I couldn't see them yet but I knew they were in there and was a proud Auntie. Mama Robin was a hard worker, tireless, as she fed, protected and continued to keep them warm.

So imagine my surprise, confusion and dismay when one morning I went to visit the Robin family and instead I found this sitting in the middle of their nest...

a Mourning Dove! What the heck! I yelled to my husband that we had an emergency situation -pronto! He ran up the stairs three at a time since I was distraught, crying and screaming. Totally breathless he asked me what was wrong ~ all I could do was point out at the nest.

We didn't know what to do. Twice I saw the Mama Robin dive bomb the nest but Papa Mourning Dove appeared out of nowhere and chased her off. I don't know where the robin babies are or if there are now baby doves living in the nest. We did consider getting a large pole to boot the intruder off of the nest but we did not do that. We figured that this is nature and we had better not mess around with it. I was sad though and all hopes of getting pictures of the baby robins for the family album vanished. I think this Mourning Dove has beady little eyes and I do not trust her.

And like many of the tenants who have rented from us over the years, this one was no different. I went to check on their nest one morning to find that they had skipped out in the cover of darkness without cleaning up their place and of course, with no rent paid. The worse part is that I will never know why this happened or what happened to the babies.

Emotionally exhausted from the robin/mourning dove drama I decided to focus more on my plants. I have these beautiful cascading 'somethings' hanging from planters on my front porch. And yes, I know they must have an official name besides 'somethings' but there was no identifying tag in them when I bought them so I asked the clerk what they were and she said, "they are cascading somethings." Honest. So...I was standing on a chair so I could reach my 'somethings' and I noticed straw sticking out of the top of the planter. I screamed to my husband who once again came running to see what was the matter this time.

He lifted the planter off of the hook so I could see if there was something inside of my somethings. And sure enough...

A Mama Robin decided that none of the thousands of trees on our property would be a good place to make a nest. Nope. Let's make the nest in the middle of the hanging somethings. Let's start a family right here.

I refuse to get emotionally attached this time. I swear. I am not going to get involved in any drama. But I do wonder why there is only one egg. I wonder if I can water my plant. I wonder how many more days until we have a baby bird chirping away. I wonder if I will be able to get an award winning photo. I wonder where the Mourning Dove is living now. I wonder...

What are you thinking?

mrskelley2u@hotmail.com (Deb) — Tue, 14 Jul 2009 11:39:00 +0000

Every morning I receive a 'Note From the Universe' in my computer inbox. The daily message from 'The Universe' is a positive tidbit which helps me remember that thoughts become things so I had better think good ones. It helps me start my day with a positive focus and a smile. My husband does occasionally feel the need to tell me that this is a computer generated message and that my message is not personalized. I am not so sure.

Throughout life I, like many people, have had events occur which have made me stop and pay close attention to my universe. Events which made me realize that there is someone or something much bigger than all of us and we need to pay attention to the messages which are floating around us. Often the messages aren't earth shattering or life changing but they do serve as a reminder that 'The Universe' is listening.

One such event occurred this past April when we were visiting my parents in Florida. We walked through my parent's retirement community in the evening and I smelled the most intoxicating, exotic smell which sent my olfactory glands into overdrive. My mom identified the flowering plant as the jasmine. I ran from yard to yard smooshing my face among the tiny delicate white flowers and inhaling deeply. My mom was concerned that the neighbors might report me to the authorities but I couldn't help myself - I was under the influence. I skipped merrily through the streets, nose lifted in the air, searching for a whiff of the most heavenly scent on earth.

"When I get back to NH I am planting jasmine throughout my yard," I proclaimed to all.

"You can't. Jasmine is a warm climate plant. It won't survive in NH."

"When I get back to NH I am buying a jasmine plant," I proclaimed to all.

"You can't. Jasmine will die in NH."

" I am going to have a jasmine plant in NH." I covered my ears and refused to listen to the naysayers.

I then returned home and forgot all about the exotic jasmine. I worked in my garden pulling weeds out from my petunias and hostas and my nose didn't even register any odors. I went to the local Home Depot one Saturday morning for some gardening supplies. As I stood in front of the bags of mulch trying to decide what type to purchase my nose started to twitch. I inhaled more deeply and had a Florida flashback. The scent of jasmine was in the air. I left my cart and followed my nose. I walked up to an older woman and tried to discreetly determine if she was wearing Jasmine perfume. I must have been in her personal space since she turned around, backed up, and slowly moved away from me. My nose ruled her out. I became a bloodhound as I walked quickly up and down aisles trying to find the source of the jasmine. I stopped in front of a row of pallets which was overloaded with a variety of potted plants. I started to rummage through and stacking the non-jasmine plants into the aisle in a rather frantic way.

"Can I help you, ma'am?"

I turned to see a Home Depot man in his official orange vest watching me with curiosity and maybe slight suspicion.

Breathlessly I explained, " There is a Jasmine plant somewhere on this pallet and I have to find it."

"Well, you are correct. It was sent up here to NH accidentally. Jasmine doesn't grow in this zone."

"Oh, it was no accident. The Universe sent it to me."

"Excuse me?"

At this point I had found the very healthy Jasmine with its green, shiny leaves and was hanging onto it with a death grip. I proceeded to explain my trip to Florida and how the Universe had been listening and...

"Why don't I show you to the checkout ma'am?" And he proceeded to walk me to the front of the store.

I stopped and turned to face his skepticism.

"Hasn't the Universe ever communicated with you?"

"Why don't I walk you out to your car?" He stood with his hand on his walkie -talkie ready to call Security.

I hugged my Jasmine plant to my chest and walked towards the exit.

Always one who has to get in the last word, I turned to share my final words of wisdom with him...

"Thoughts become things. If you see it in your mind, you will hold it in your hand."

And here is my Jasmine plant ~ living a healthy life in NH...

Pay Attention.

mrskelley2u@hotmail.com (Deb) — Wed, 08 Jul 2009 00:45:00 +0000

I am recovering from a flu/cold/nastiness which hit me last Tuesday. Thoughts of swine flu did dance through my head more than once as I dealt with achy joints, headache, fever,and a sore throat which felt as if I had swallowed razor blades. My energy levels were zapped and even the simplest of tasks were exhausting. I curled up into the fetal position, sipped tea, chugged O.J., popped cold/flu drugs wondering if I would ever feel 'normal' again. I sputtered, I moaned and I stressed over all that I wasn't accomplishing. And then, I decided maybe I had better listen. To who? My body.

My body was sending me a message to slow down and take care of myself. Like many women, I often tend to take care of all those around me and I pride myself on how I am able to 'bash on regardless.' Take care of my adorable, lovable grand babies once a week; zip down to Florida and help Mom care for my Dad ~ emotionally; continue to nurture, love and worry about my four grown children ~ once a mom, always a mom; attend graduation parties, plan and organize retirement parties and baby showers; be a good friend to all of my incredible friends; and love, support and be there for my soul mate of thirty-one years who is up to his eyeballs with stress due to the current economy so... I crashed. My immune system was on overload so when the nasty flu bug came knocking, my body's defense system did little to protect me and I was knocked for a loop. But the good news is that I am recuperating slowly. I did catch up on some reading, watched a few old movies and napped everyday frequently. I need to pay attention and listen to my own body and take care of myself. And off to bed I go...with hopes to have enough energy soon to write a wicked long humorous, inspirational post which will rock the blogging world but for now I will leave you with this: "To keep the body in good health is a duty...otherwise we shall not be able to keep our mind strong and clear.” ~ Buddha

Happy Independence Day!

mrskelley2u@hotmail.com (Deb) — Sat, 04 Jul 2009 10:00:00 +0000

Wordless Wednesday...Here Comes the Sun !

mrskelley2u@hotmail.com (Deb) — Wed, 01 Jul 2009 10:00:00 +0000

A little bit of sunshine for all of us on the East Coast where it has rained 18 of the last 22 days...

What's in a Name?

mrskelley2u@hotmail.com (Deb) — Mon, 29 Jun 2009 02:45:00 +0000

I was out and about in the blogosphere recently visiting old friends and exploring new territories. I zipped around reading, admiring photos and leaving comments. I came to my sixteenth stop of the day, preparing to leave an intellectual comment so the host would know I really had taken the time to read their post when I stopped dead in mid-typing. Quite a few people had already left comments and as I read through I noticed that another person named 'Deb' had already left a comment. And then another ... and believe it or not, a third 'Deb' had commented. And this is only one more reason why I hate my name. Once again I felt unoriginal and just another girl born in the 1950's who gets lost in the masses and who happens to think she has the most boring name EVER.

I decided to do a little research on the name ' Debbie'. There are currently 240,816 people in the U.S. with the first name Debbie. 99 % are females. It is a form of the name 'Deborah' or in my case 'Debra'. It means bee but I always tell people it means queen bee which helps in my quest to have a special name. I found a survey page which says the name is only mispronounced 11% of the time. No comment. Survey says people only misspell the name 9% of the time ~ this would include my darling husband of thirty years who wrote my name on a score sheet for a card game we were playing. I looked at what he had written - twelve times. I went to get my glasses. I cleaned my glasses. He had written 'Debby'. I thought he was having a medical emergency since HOW IN THE WORLD COULD HE NOT KNOW HOW TO SPELL MY NAME AFTER THIRTY YEARS OF MARRIAGE?! A fight ensued but long story short ~ the explanation was that he never writes 'Debbie' ~ he always writes 'Deb' - which is true but still. I bet if my name was Angelina or Halle or Goldie he would be able to write my name correctly. But I am over all that and ready to move on. Honey, you spell that D-e-b-b-i-e and I have a long memory.

Now at this point I need to tell you what my maiden name was so that you have a clear understanding of my name issue. My maiden name was Smith. Yep, Debbie Smith. Zzzzzzzz !!

Now I have a few Debbie Smith stories and if I had a dime for every time I heard 'That can't be your real name," I would be a rich girl. But I will share the story with you which made me truly dislike my name.

I was a freshman in college and lived in an all girl dorm. This was back in the prehistoric days when if a girl had a male visitor he had to stop at the desk in the lobby and the girl would be called down to meet her male visitor. She could walk him back to her room but the door to the room had to remain open.

It was a Saturday night and I was just hanging out in my room. The buzzer goes off and I hear, "Debbie Smith, please come to the lobby. You have a male guest." I looked at my roommate and asked her if I had heard correctly. I, Debbie Smith, had a male visitor? I never had male visitors. "Yes," she screamed. And soon the hallway was full of my friends all curious to see who was here to visit Debbie Smith. Well, I can assure you no one was more curious than I. I ran my fingers through my hair, thought about putting on a bra but no real need plus I had recently burnt them all. My friends shoved me to the metal door at the end of the hall which separated me from my male guest. There was this little window in the door so we could peek out to see who was standing at the lobby desk. Twelve of us were on tippy toe trying to check out mystery man. At that point we tumbled into the door and the whole pile landed, ungracefully, in the lobby. Nice. By the time I gained my composure my friends had vanished, leaving me standing there with the mystery male guest and the front desk clerk.

"Hi," I said meekly, wondering who the heck this guy was and vowed right then and there to stop drinking so much at fraternity parties.

"Hi. Who are you?" he asked.

"I am Debbie Smith."

"No, you aren't." He started to look for the closest exit.

"Yes, I am. " Now I am positive that I am having an out of body experience ~ and I am not sure why.

" I met a Debbie Smith last night at a frat party and she told me she lived in Monadnock Hall."

"Well. I am Debbie Smith. I was at a frat party last night and I do live here in Monadnock Hall." What the heck. Is this some one's idea of a joke? Not funny.

" You don't look like the Debbie Smith I met last night." Well, you don't look like the male mystery guest I have been fantasizing about for the whole semester either! What exactly are you saying buster? So you had a few too many the previous night and I looked better when you were under the influence? Slime ball. I could feel my neck veins starting to pulse and I was biting the inside of my cheek - bad sign.

I couldn't resist. "What did the Debbie Smith look like that you met last night?" Ah, Debbie, Debbie, Debbie - will you never learn?

"She had brown long hair. " I just pointed at my brown long hair. I decided to not make this easy for this male mystery slime guest.

"Um, she wore blue jeans." Hey, Einstein, that's all any of us wore in 1975. No help from me. I decided to let him squiggle a bit more since he could barely contain his disappointment that I was Debbie Smith.

" I guess, well, she wasn't as skinny as you." Ah-ha. His fantasy Debbie Smith had meat on her bones in all the right places and didn't go by the nickname 'Skinny Minny'.

At this point the front desk clerk pipes in. "You must be talking about the other Debbie Smith who lives on the third floor."

"What?" We both turned and stared at her.

"Yeah, there is a new transfer student who just moved in on the third floor. I bet that is who he is looking for."

I could see the relief on his face. I hoped he could see anything but the hurt that was threatening to squirt out of the corners of my eyes.

"Well, there you go. Mystery solved. Hope you have a good time with the real Debbie Smith," and I turned to walk back to my room, not wanting to hear anymore or to see the real Debbie Smith.

So...I once asked my mom why she had to pick such an ordinary name for her daughter. She defended her choice but then went on to tell me that it had been a toss-up between Debbie and Zilla. Right. I can totally understand why that must have been a hard call since those names have so much in common ~ NOT!

I have now been watching my children go through the name game as they prepare for the arrival of their children. No one has asked me for my advice but if they ever asked me 'What's in a name?' I would say 'Everything.' And now I am going to practice writing the new name I might consider for myself ~ Debzilla. It has a certain flair to it, don't you think?

Wordless Wednesday ~ I Spy...

mrskelley2u@hotmail.com (Deb) — Wed, 24 Jun 2009 09:00:00 +0000

At first glance what do you see in the first picture ? Dried leaves and daffodils...

And then he opened his wings...and I saw him.

Life at its Best !

mrskelley2u@hotmail.com (Deb) — Mon, 22 Jun 2009 11:42:00 +0000

For the past few days I have been consumed with thoughts of my parents and especially my father which I wrote about in my previous post. This past weekend though was filled to the brim with happy occasions ~ graduations, babies, weddings and cherished time with family. It was exactly what I needed to flush some of the feelings of sadness and worry from my mind - even if it was only temporary, it was necessary. I had fun photographing some of the events of the past 48 hours so buckle up - it was a whirlwind of activity!

On Saturday we attended our nephew's high school graduation. Hard to believe that he is eighteen years old- time flies when you are having the time of your life.
The speeches began. I love all that is going on in the background ~ unfocused attention...
My ADD or ADHD or Boredom kicked in and my camera and I started to look around for interesting shots. The kids in the picture below started to get antsy and the beach balls came out causing some distractions...

And then...I found the hats. I zoomed in on the caps of the some of the students and was impressed with the artwork. I was able to sit still for the entire two hours as I focused on the hats. I did listen politely and quietly and clapped loudly and proudly when my nephew received his diploma but his last name starts with a "B" so he was one of the first ones to receive his diploma - and there were a LOT of kids after him. Here are a few of my favorite caps...

Our youngest son arrived early on Sunday, Father's Day, with treats for his dad. I did have my eye on this pink sugary morsel. I resisted, sort of. I thoroughly enjoyed every bite of a honey glazed donut. Great way to start the day!

In the middle of this wild weekend my oldest son and his wife moved back into our home ~ with all of their belongings. They are getting ready to start a new adventure with a new job and a precious baby arriving at the end of July. A crowded, chaotic but happy home full of love !

And on Sunday we headed for a wedding. Our niece was getting married. Here's my man - dodging raindrops.

This is the first time I have ever seen a cat at a wedding. A naked cat at that !

Working the camera !

No groomsmen here - only groomswomen ! Girl Power !

Sharing the Love !

The wedding was held near the town in which I grew up. We drove by my childhood home. My parents moved out of this house twentyish years ago - and my dad would be very upset if he saw how run down it looks. He always had beautiful flowers, manicured lawns...you can't go back home. I wish I hadn't.

While in my old hometown we stopped to visit a dear friend of mine. We hadn't seen each other in years and I am so glad that we took the time to stop and say hi. Of course I had to show her my grammie brag book. Notice I am wearing a corsage that my niece gave me at the wedding - just because !

And then finally we arrived home and found these little pumpkins there, waiting to wish their Grampie a Happy Father's Day !

And now my soul is nourished and I am ready for the week ahead !

Injustice to Broccoli

mrskelley2u@hotmail.com (Deb) — Thu, 18 Jun 2009 01:49:00 +0000

Well. Just when I thought it was safe to come back to the blogging world, my life gets turned upside down, topsy turvey in fast forward. I had to rush to Florida last Friday to help my mom and dad. This was not written in my planner, not in my datebook. This was an emergency. I will not bore you with the mundane details but my dad had been in the hospital for eight days and we had to move him to a rehab facility. There are many unanswered questions, many details to attend to and a multitude of decisions to be made. I went down to try and offer my support to my parents. It was an experience I will not soon forget and it might be a bit before I recover. If nothing else I did receive an education.

The first thing I learned is that people should be prepared. Important documents such as living wills and power of attorneys should be filled out when people are healthy and calm. I realize it makes people uncomfortable to discuss issues involving death but to not be prepared puts an incredible burden on people when they are under extreme stress. To fill out 'Do Not Resuscitate' forms when one can't even focus is not advisable.

The second thing I learned is that we need to keep on moving. My dad is in his current situation because he has refused for the past nine weeks to get out of his bed. Now there are other circumstances involved here BUT the worse thing he could have done is to become bedridden. His muscles are so atrophied he faces weeks of tough therapy. Even his throat muscles have stopped working properly. Now the atrophied throat muscles have caused me great stress for the past six days. The speech pathologist ordered my dad to be on a diet of pureed foods until they can strengthen his throat muscles.

The third thing I learned is that my father hates pureed foods. I was met by the nurse on Saturday. "Your father is quite indignant about the pureed peas. Do you think you could talk to him? He is refusing to eat."
Lord, help me. I went into his room and used my calm voice. I reminded him about the atrophied throat muscles, the dangers of choking and how if he works really hard during his therapy that he could move up to mechanical soft foods. I prayed he wouldn't ask me what a mechanical soft food was. "Pureed peas taste like dog shit," he yelled at me in a loud enough voice that I am sure the dietary staff could hear him. "Dad, you have got to eat. We are worried about you." His response to me was, "I want chocolate and cookies." I went and bought the man a dish of ice cream. He ate the whole thing. Life was good.

I went in the next day and was met by the same nurse. " We are worried about your father. He is on a hunger strike and won't eat. Could you try talking to him again?" Oh, yeah, I'd love to ~ I was hoping you'd ask me.
" Dad, what seems to be the problem with your food? " Stupid question but I thought I should hear it from him. "They served me pureed broccoli last night. It was an injustice to broccoli . I won't eat that mush." I walked down to the ice cream shoppe and bought him a triple scoop of raspberry sherbet. He ate the whole thing.

On Monday, the speech pathologist agreed to change the food order to mechanical soft. I still don't know exactly what that means but all I know is that he is eating and not causing a scene. I still bought him a dish of ice cream every day.

My dad responds well when I use my 'teacher' voice. I had to resort to it on occasion when he was extremely rude and unruly with some of the staff. "Dad, do you want me to use my teacher voice?" "NO, I don't!" And then he would listen to the therapists or the CNA's while I stood watching in the corner. His roommate, Richard, motioned me over one day.
"So you are a teacher?" he asked me. I replied that I had been in a past life.
"Well, this is what I think about teachers," he replied and proceeded to give me the finger.
I wish I could write about some wise comeback or zinger that I had thrown his way but I just walked out of the room, found a quiet corner and started to cry. The tears were for my dad and for the frustration and stress we had all been under.

I could probably write many more paragraphs. Lord knows there is enough material for an entire book such as when the CNA took my father's temperature by putting the instrument into his ear. He asked her what she was doing and she told him. His reply ~ "Oh, I thought that was a sex toy." My face turned red. That's my dad. And now I am back home safe and sound. Conflicting emotions and ugly memories that I thought I had dealt with are alive once more in my belly. The past is present.

No New Piercings, No Tattoos ~ yet.

mrskelley2u@hotmail.com (Deb) — Sat, 13 Jun 2009 02:10:00 +0000

So I am back from my Spring Break. I did not get any new body piercings or a tattoo as many do when off on their trips to Cancun or Ft. Lauderdale. I am not tanned, rested and rejuvenated. To some degree I feel as if I have been partying all night long and I do look like something the cat dragged in. That would be due to the fact that I, the best sleeper in past US history, now can not fall asleep when I lie my head down on my pillow. I count sheep. When that doesn't work I imagine I am on a quiet beach and the surf is gently lapping the sand. Next I try to count the sheep in color. Then I imagine I am on a quiet beach with the colored sheep jumping the waves. I imagine myself chasing the annoying rainbow colored sheep through the crashing tidal waves screaming at them that I can't sleep and they had better get out of my way. At this point I am usually exhausted from chasing the sheep through the turbulent waves and I fall asleep until I am forced awake at 3:03 AM with a night sweat/hot flash that really makes my blood boil. I throw the sheets and blankets off. I sit on the edge of my bed confused. For a moment I think I am in a sauna and then come to my senses. I wake my husband up and ask him to feel my forehead because I think I have a fever and it could be the swine flu. He assures me as he has every night for the past six months that I do not have a fever. I growl. I then tell him that I am quite sure that I am going to burst into flames at any second and he better be prepared to throw water from the glass on his nightstand onto me. I also recite the fire safety rules about dropping and rolling. I explain how we won't have to drop since we are already in a prone position in the bed so when the flames shoot out from my sweating, boiling cells all we have to do is roll. At this point my husband gets out of bed and decides to go make the coffee. I explain that it is only 3:29AM, He mutters something to me as he shuts the bedroom door and I lay back down exhausted from the experience and sleep for another few hours. So that explains the dark circles under my eyes.

A few posts ago I mentioned all that I was going to accomplish on my Spring Break. As I go through that list now I am satisfied with all that I did complete. I ran the 5K in good time - 35 minutes, 3 seconds - my goal was to run it under 36 minutes without having a bladder malfunction so I was happy. There were 2000 runners and I was the 1,588th runner across the line. I was hoping to get a medal or a trophy but only the superfast speedy runners who have no body fat and who run like gazelles received those.

My vegetable garden is planted. That is all I can say about that for now. The weather has been fickle - no rain then no sun then a frost so... the jury is out on the garden success for now. I do think my obsessive/compulsive gene kicked in a bit when I planted the 24 tomato plants. How many tomatoes will each plant produce? Tomato sauce, salsa, spaghetti sauce, tomato sandwiches, tomato and mozzarella salads. tomato on our cereal - just joking.

I have been taking care of my twin grandbabies on Mondays. I call it Funday Mondays. If they could talk they would probably call it 'Get this fake nipple out of our face, we want the real thing NOW Day!' So far there has been a real learning curve involved for all of us. I now understand why women my age go through menopause because having babies at this age would be physically exhausting . I know women do it and hats off to those that give birth later in life. My back is so tired after juggling two babies for the day and my arm muscles ache in places I had never felt before. I raised four children so I do consider myself an expert but two at once is a juggling act. But I wouldn't trade my Funday Mondays for anything. I love the coos, the smiles, the expressions they make as I read about the pink car and the red ladybug. Last Monday I took the mirror off the wall and the three of us had so much fun looking at each other's reflections. The twins thought I had invited two more babies over and they were mesmerized by the mirror for a long time. I am thankful for the moments I get to spend with these precious little boys and I know that each Funday Monday will be that much easier.

And so now I am back. Lots of other 'stuff' happened during my break and some will make its way into a post or two. Other stuff isn't worthy of a post. I do know that writing helps me process what is happening to me. I enjoy writing and when I grow up I hope to be a writer. I also enjoy the community of bloggers that I have made connections with in the blogosphere. That would be you that I am talking about.

So no body piercings this time around but do I have a story about a girl I met at Home Depot. She had the most beautifully colored tattoos on her arms. I commented on the pink bird and she then proceeded to...but that is a post for another day.

Wordless Wednesday

mrskelley2u@hotmail.com (Deb) — Wed, 10 Jun 2009 04:01:00 +0000

Just Ask

mrskelley2u@hotmail.com (Deb) — Mon, 08 Jun 2009 01:19:00 +0000

A few months ago I posted a book review for ‘Life is a Verb’ which was written by Patti Digh. Patti writes a blog http://www.37days.com/ from which the book got its beginnings. I became a daily follower of the blog and am ‘reading’ the book for the third time. I am attempting to live this book and follow its six principles.

I noticed on Patti’s blog that she was going on book tours around the country. She also stated that if you wanted her to come to your town just ask. So I asked. Repeatedly. Now I understand that Patti is a busy lady so I wasn’t surprised when she didn’t respond to my first fifteen requests. After all, I write to Ellen Degeneres all the time, inviting her to our town’s Agricultural Fair or to Old Home Days but she never answers. I have written to Michael Buble asking him to sit outside my bedroom window and serenade me. Haven’t heard a peep from him.

Then one day I saw on Patti’s blog that she had added a city to her tour. She was going to be in Sturbridge, Mass. on June 3rd. Hmmm…Sturbridge, Mass is only two hours from here. I fired out an email or two or three. I told her I would pick her up at the airport. I told her I would drive her wherever she needed to be driven. I told her I would take care of all publicity. I told her I would sell her books. I told her that she said all I had to do was just ask. So I asked.

She said yes.

Of course, immediately after Patti said ‘yes’ I panicked. Patti Digh was coming to talk to us about her book, ‘Life is a Verb’. Us? Who was going to listen to her besides me? I don’t think anyone else in our community of 4,000 people had even heard of her book – unless they had talked to me. I had a few sleepless nights as I tossed and turned, wondering what I had got myself into this time. I decided I had a choice – call Patti and explain that I couldn’t host an Author Meet & Greet or dig my heels in and get to work. Not being a quitter I dug my heels in and set to work organizing an Author Meet & Greet. The kind owners of our local café agreed to let me have the Meet & Greet there, I hung posters wherever there was a bare wall, and sent out mass emails to anyone I had ever said ‘hi’ too. I talked to anyone who had a pulse. I recruited my husband, children and friends. I called in any IOU’s that were hanging around out there. Blackmail and bribery also guaranteed a few more people would attend.

The morning of the big event I ran around doing last minute odds and ends. I had to pick Patti up at the airport in early afternoon and was faced with a dilemma – what to wear to meet an author? I also was baking some goodies to serve Patti. In the middle of everything I checked my emails. There was one from Patti and the subject line took my breath away – ‘Delay’. I truly didn’t want to open it up – I knew it wasn’t going to be happy news. Sure enough. Patti’s flight was delayed by four hours. She would miss her connecting flight. She was going to fly into Logan Airport in Boston, landing at 4:30 PM instead of landing at our local airport. Boston is one hour away from our town when you don’t hit traffic. She was landing in the middle of rush hour. My stomach started doing flips and I had to remember to breath. How was I going to get her here by 7:00 PM ? I paced. I panted. I sweat. I had a crowd coming to meet Patti Digh and now I might not have a Patti Digh. Oh Lord.

Patti got a driver and a car to bring her to NH. I was at the café waiting for her arrival. People started to file in. Chairs were filling up. I looked out the window every few seconds to check for her arrival. More people arrived. It appeared that the word of Patti Digh’s arrival had spread. People arrived from as far away as Boston. An old college friend of mine arrived whom I had not seen in almost thirty years. We had recently reconnected on Facebook. I did get teary when I saw her walk through the door. Many community members from all walks of life arrived to hear what Patti had to say – it was clear that this could be a standing room only event. I decided that maybe I should work on my Patti Digh imitation in case she didn't arrive on time.

And then she arrived. I saw the car pull into the driveway and Patti was sitting in the backseat. I had only seen her picture on her blog and I had only emailed her so I wasn’t quite prepared for the sound of her voice. She was more soft-spoken than I expected with a pleasant, slight drawl. She came into the cafe and was met by 60 people eager to hear her message. She read essays from her book, discussed the birth of her blog, and answered questions. After the talk Patti signed books and chatted for hours with the wonderful people of my community.

The evening far exceeded my expectations. I believe that ‘Life is a Verb’ has truly guided me in my quest to live a life full of intention and being more mindful of moments. I truly wanted to share this book and this talented author with my community – and I did. I was also reminded that evening of why we have lived in this town for twenty five years - because of the incredible people. They welcomed Patti Digh with an energy and spirit which was contagious. It was one of those evenings which I will long remember. And all I had to do was ask.

This was our gathering place.

Patti signs a book.

Patti reads from her book, 'Life is a Verb'.

It truly was a magical evening.

Can I come back and play with you guys?

mrskelley2u@hotmail.com (Deb) — Wed, 03 Jun 2009 23:12:00 +0000

She quietly walked into her space in the blogosphere and took her place behind the keyboard. She has been on a two month break and wasn't sure what to say to her blogging friends. She tentatively typed...

Dear Blogging Friends,

Hi. I'm back. I've missed you. How have you all been ? Is there still room for me in the sandbox? Hope so. Got lots of potential posts dying to be written. I'll be stopping by to visit you all real soon. Time to catch up with all that has been happening at your space in the blogosphere. Take care.

~ Debbie

Spring Break

mrskelley2u@hotmail.com (Deb) — Thu, 02 Apr 2009 11:12:00 +0000

Normally Spring Break evokes visions of bikinis, excessive alcohol, wet t-shirt contests and wild partying - all night long. BUT that is not the type of Spring Break I will be taking. My Spring Break will involve digging in the dirt, planting, weeding, raking, cleaning, training for a 5K in May, playing with grand babies, visiting with my parents, AND preparing for the arrival of our newest family member - a precious granddaughter who will be arriving in July ! So...this blogger will be resting her keyboard for a while. I need a break from the world of technology and I need to get back to a simpler life style for a bit. I need to walk barefoot in the dirt, feel the sweat running down my back and when I lay down at night I want to feel the ache in my bones which will remind me that I am alive. When I am able I will visit all of you so I can catch up on all that is happening in your world. So... celebrate each day and take care!

Wordless Wednesday

mrskelley2u@hotmail.com (Deb) — Wed, 25 Mar 2009 05:00:00 +0000

Twenty Minutes and Counting...

mrskelley2u@hotmail.com (Deb) — Fri, 20 Mar 2009 22:58:00 +0000

My husband and I bought a 4-in-1 copier, scanner, printer, fax machine for our office the other day. We had been discussing this purchase for a while and decided to do it since our old current copier has been dying a slow death and our fax machine was on its last ink cartridge. We strolled around Staples casually as if we knew what we were looking for when Shawn, the salesman, approached. He was very helpful as he helped us determine which machine would best meet our needs. He answered all of our questions clearly. One final and important question that I asked him was how difficult was it to set up since it would be a wireless connection.

"Oh, ma'am, it is so simple. Why my mother, who is quite a bit older than you, hooked her machine up in less than twenty minutes. And I can tell from the questions you are asking that you are much more techno savvy than my mother." Being a total sucker for sweet talk I decided to purchase this 4-in-1 super easy to install machine.

My husband carried the heavy machine into the office and helped me position it on the desk. I told him that I was confident I could have this machine up and running in nineteen minutes. It took me thirteen minutes to remove all of the packaging material. I then sat down to examine the four instruction manuals. Groan.

Things moved rather quickly in the beginning. I installed ink cartridges and paper trays. I was feeling good. I called out to my husband that I'd have this sucker printing fresh new copies in under one hour. Shawn was one of the few honest salesman I'd had the pleasure of meeting in a while.

I was down to the final part of the set-up ~ connecting the new sleek machine to our wireless connection. No problem. I just had to type our secret password WEP on the touch pad. I typed. The new sleek machine told me that it was the wrong secret password WEP. I typed it harder seven more times as I tried to impress on the touch pad that this was the correct secret password which would unlock whatever was locked. The sleek new machine told me I was incorrect - try again. I had now been working for an hour and a half to hook up the sleek new machine.

My husband asked me how the new machine was working. I told him that he should know, after thirty years of marriage, that I don't like to be bothered when I am performing critical technical work. I also casually asked him if he had changed our secret password for the WEP. "Nope, you set the secret password when you decided our office should be wireless." I was afraid that's what he would say.

I tried a variety of possible passwords with no success. Why didn't I write the password down so that I could have put the paper in a safe place? Of course I would have forgotten where the safe place was but that's another story. I could feel frustration settling into my shoulders. The mother of Shawn, the sweet talking salesman, must have remembered her password or... maybe Shawn's mother doesn't even own a 4-in-1 sleek machine.

And then a lightbulb went off in my gray matter! I would call Ken, our very wealthy computer support person and ask him how to reset our wireless router! Sometimes I amaze myself. I explained the situation to Ken and he asked me the question I was dreading. "Don't you write your passwords somewhere safe for when your memory fails you?" No. No, I Don't. Just tell me how to reset the stupid router. Please.

He explained about pushing the reset button on the back of the router...blah,blah, blah...I had heard enough. All I had to do was push the reset button ~ that's all I needed to hear. Thank you very much. I rushed to the router and pushed the reset button. I rushed back to the sleek machine. The clock was running. I had now been working for close to three hours. Wish I had Shawn's cell phone number so I could ask him where he learned how to tell time.

I touched the sleek machine's super sensitive touch pad and followed the direction on screen. It is telling me to reenter the unknown secret password. What the heck? Oh, man. Why hadn't I listened to Ken, the computer specialist. There obviously was more to this then pushing the reset button. Why hadn't I listened to his blah, blah, blahs. I quietly called him and told him that I couldn't remember what to do after pushing reset. Oh. Just find the router software and reinstall it - I could then reset the password. Thanks, Ken. Now all I had to do was find the router software. I stopped myself from ripping the clock off the wall. This was the longest twenty minutes of my life.

I looked everywhere for that software and it was no where to be found. Now I was mad. I grabbed the phonebook and searched for Staples' phone number. I was ready to give Shawn a piece of my mind. My intuitive husband, who had stayed out of my way for the last four hours, told me he had an idea and would I mind if he helped me. I hated to admit defeat but I said, "Yes, please help me." I had been defeated by the sleek 4-in-1 machine. I had been defeated by Shawn's elderly mother.

My husband called the maker of our router. The technician calmly and quickly walked him through the steps for resetting the router and super secret password. In a few short minutes my husband had the router sending out wireless waves to our 4-in-1. I typed in the new secret password and held my breath. All of a sudden lights started flashing, blinking and a sample copy printed out. We were connected in no time at all !