Nourish the Soul

Full Circle

2012-01-25T10:38:00.000-05:00

All I can remember of that day is sitting in the front seat of a car. I can't recall the weather, the time of year, or even the model of the car. We were in the parking lot of Applebee's restaurant. I know that we had gone there to eat lunch but I can't recall the meal. I was seated behind the steering wheel and my husband was sitting next to me. In my memory, it seems that he was seated very close to me as if we were in a mini-compact car. My husband, my rock, my man of steel, was visibly upset, an emotional mess. I remember hugging him and telling him that it would be okay. I also remember thinking, 'Holy shit, what are we going to do?' as I rubbed his back, consoling him as I fought the urge to start crying myself.

It was the early nineties and the real estate market had come tumbling down all around us. My husband is a real estate investor, an entrepreneur. My husband builds houses, owns apartment buildings, fixes run-down properties and makes them livable again. He loves fixing the worst house on the block, to clean up a neighborhood. He provides housing for people of all socio-economic levels. He is a risk taker to some degree but always acts in a responsible manner. We had four children under the age of thirteen during this time period. Banks, who had wined us and dined us months earlier were now belly-up. The news was filled with doom and gloom. The FDIC became involved. Mortgage notes were being called, and property values were tanking. To say it was a scary time would be an understatement.

That particular memory of sitting in Applebee's parking lot, almost 18 years ago, has stayed with me through the years. My husband had been to see an attorney and it looked like the only way out of the situation would be to file bankruptcy. As we sat in the parking lot of Applebee's, my husband broke the news to me. I had no clue what that meant for us or our four children. I wasn't sure if we would lose our home. Where would we live? We were both scared, not knowing what lie ahead. But we put on a happy face for the sake of our kids. They were our sunshine, our hope, our future, our reason to get out of bed every morning. As it turned out we didn't end up filing bankruptcy but we did 'lose' three of our apartment buildings. The mortgage companies took them back. I was pretty angry with the entire banking industry and with the FDIC for a long time. The whole situation felt surreal. It took a while before my husband got back in the saddle again but he did and he worked hard to rebuild all that had come tumbling down. I am proud of the fact that as a couple we worked together through those uncertain times to get to a better place. It wasn't always easy but I never doubted that we would survive...together... as a family.

So now fast forward to January, 2012. The husband and I park our car in the very same parking lot. We walk, hand in hand, into the very same Applebee's restaurant. We had not ventured inside of this restaurant since that day back in the early 90's. The hostess seated us in a booth and the two of us just kept smiling at each other and at her. We couldn't stop grinning. It felt so surreal. You see, we had just left from a real estate closing where we had proudly bought back one of the apartment buildings which we had 'lost' almost twenty years ago. We own it again. There is a certain feeling of pride, of accomplishment, of success, of completeness. We have come full circle and it feels good.

Just Playing Around...

2012-01-12T08:13:00.000-05:00

Sometimes, when the grandbabies have all gone home, I just play around.
It's good for the soul.

The Christmas Frog

2012-01-08T10:54:00.000-05:00

A cold, blustery day in December 2010 found me deep inside of my bedroom closet. My house was full of guests who had arrived for the holidays. My Dad had passed away only three weeks earlier so the holidays weren't feeling cheery or bright. The reason I had crawled deep inside of my walk-in closet was to clean it out which now looking back was odd behavior in itself. It's not as if I was so organized that I had nothing else to do...quite the contrary. I had cooking, wrapping, last-minute shopping, decorating to do. Cleaning is not my strong suit so reflecting on that day, I am perplexed as to what even possessed me to climb into my closet through the mountain of shoes, clothes that had fallen off hangers, and a variety of odds and ends. Whatever. I was deep within the bowels of my closet, sitting on the floor, searching for my other black flip flop with the rhinestone studs. I patted around on the floor, feeling for it when my hand touched a dry lump. Startled, I pulled my hand away. If I had a cat, I would have thought that it was a small pile of dried up cat poop but I had no cat to blame. I went to get a flashlight since I was pretty convinced that this was a pile of grossness.

Cautiously, I shined the light around and saw a little darkish green creature. A little, darkish green,dead creature. A dehydrated, dead, little darkish green creature. I carefully picked it up between my two fingers and examined it closely. It was a frog. I gasped. I sat it down very carefully and then I started to cry. I sat in my closet with my dead frog and let the tears flow.

You see, this wasn't just a frog. This was a sign from my father who had died three weeks earlier. My Dad and I had an unspoken 'frog' connection. When I was in college, my parents had come to visit during Parent's Weekend. We all attended a semi-formal dance and my father and I danced to 'Joy to the World ~ Jeremiah was a Bullfrog' by Three Dog Night. It is a dance I will never forget...probably because he hip checked me at one point and I went flying across the dance floor. Over the years, I gave him a variety of 'frog' gifts...a frog statue for his garden, a frog doorstop, frog bookends. What else do you buy a man who was impossible to buy for since he bought whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted ? At my father's funeral, the minister allowed me to play ' Joy to the World ~ Jeremiah was a Bullfrog' as everyone left the church. It was the perfect ending to the service. I took comfort in looking around the church to see many of the seventy/eighty year old attendees bopping and rocking in their pews as Three Dog Night blasted from the rafters.

So, here I was, sitting in my closet, holding a frog skeleton. How in the world did a frog get into the back of my closet ? Our bedroom is on the second floor, at the end of a long hall. The thought of this frog hopping up the entire flight of stairs and then hopping down the hallway into my room, around the corner into my closet did bring a smile to my face. I also do not believe that is what happened. I don't even know if it is physically possible for a frog to hop up stairs. Then I have to ask why a frog would seek out my closet...a closet which has no water ! Frogs need water. This was not a toad. I do know the difference between frogs and toads. This was a frog !

Quietly, carefully, I carried the frog downstairs to show my family. They gathered around and just stared at the frog. They stared at me. They clearly didn't know what to make of the situation. My family was quiet, a phenomena which doesn't happen often. I told them my theory, that my Dad had placed the frog in my closet as a sign that he is watching over us. They stood quietly. I think they were afraid of pushing me over the edge. No one wanted to burst my bubble. Many of the people in my family are very black and white thinkers, very logical. I, by the way, am not one of them. I am a colorful, out of the box thinker. I let my emotions lead me through life. So I threw a challenge out to all of the logical thinkers who stood there staring at my dead frog.

"How did this frog end up in my closet?"
"Um, maybe you brought it home in your shoe?" Wrong.
"Maybe the dog carried it in the house and placed it in your closet?"
No way.
" I guess the frog hopped up thirteen stairs, down the hall, around the corner into your closet." I truly doubt that.
"This is a sign from my Dad...he wants us to know that he is okay and he is watching over us."
My family stood quietly watching me and my frog.

My holidays were brighter from that point forward. I had a bounce in my step once again. Previously I had not felt like putting out all of my holiday decorations but now I went up into the attic and pulled them all out. My Dad loved decorating for the holidays with lots of color and bling. I even hummed Christmas carols as I ran around placing each decoration carefully in its place of honor. I reached into the bin for the next item and my heart stopped, momentarily, as I looked at what sat in my hand. Earlier in the year, I had seen a goofy frog statue, a parent frog with a baby on its back, each wearing a red stocking hat. I was going to put it in my Dad's Christmas stocking this year as a little joke gift, thinking it would have put a smile on his face. I had totally forgotten that I had bought this little momento and it caught me offguard. I swallowed hard, then just let the tears flow...again. I carried the frog statue down to show my family. They stood quietly watching me and my frog. I smiled.

"I would like to introduce you to our newest frog...the Christmas Frog." I set my corny little statue up on the mantle so he could see all of the festivities, hear all of the laughter and be a part of our Holiday traditions, once again.

Hit the arrow, sit back, tap your feet and sing along !

A Gaggle !

2012-01-04T09:27:00.000-05:00

Just wanted to introduce you to a few of my neighbors !

Believe !

2012-01-01T21:01:00.009-05:00

Happy New Year !

Like most people, I spend a fair amount of time thinking about what my New Year resolutions and goals might be. Some years I decide to just write a list of what I hope to accomplish in that year. Other years, I decide to just bash on regardless, with no resolutions or goals in mind. This year I have decided to just focus upon a guiding word to lead me through 2012. At first I thought of simplicity but decided there really is nothing simplistic or simple about me or my life. I like the idea of living a simple life but then everything gets complicated.

I next decided on living for the moment. I know that is four words. It is also a rather popular, overused phrase and it is easier said than done. I could easily live for the moment if I didn't have four adult children, one husband, five grandbabies, a gaggle of friends, a job, and a zillion unfinished projects. It can be difficult to focus on the moment when one is being pulled in multiple directions.

My husband seemed to come up with his focus word quickly, without much hesitation. Forward. He stated it simply and confidently. Forward is the direction he plans on moving this year, with confidence and purpose. No looking back, no second guessing himself, no regrets.

I envied his ability to find his perfect word with such ease. I plopped down in front of our Christmas tree, staring at the lights, as I thought about my perfect word. And then...there it was...dangling down in front of me, hanging from a branch. Believe. Just believe.

Believe in myself.
Believe in the power of a positive attitude.
Believe in living a healthy lifestyle.
Believe in the power of positive thinking.
Believe in living for the moment.
Believe in the power of humor, laughter, playfulness.
Believe in the goodness of humans.
Believe in the Golden Rule.
Believe that good things do happen to good people...every day.
Believe in the power of the Universe.
Believe that my Dad is watching me from heaven.
Believe in the power of prayer.
Believe in miracles.
Believe that the every day simple pleasures are truly what matters.
Believe in the power of a smile, a nod, a hug.
Believe in living each day to the fullest, with energy, motivation and grace.
Believe in being the best person I can possibly be, each and every day.
Believe in love.

I believe that 2012 will be filled with positive energy, positive changes, and many wild and crazy adventures. There is going to be lots of loving, giggling, playing, creating, and reflecting.

I believe in you.

What do you believe ?

Fluff

2011-10-20T08:47:00.000-04:00

Everyone needs a little fluff in their life !

Just sit the hell down and write !

2011-10-17T21:57:00.000-04:00

Dear Blog,

I feel as if I owe you a written apology for having neglected you for SO long. How ridiculous is that ? Several of my 3AM anxiety attacks might even have been due to the fact that I have not written forever. I have missed you and the art of writing. My brain is going to bust open from the ideas that are ricocheting around inside. I don't believe there is any graceful way to slide back into writing on a regular basis. I just need to do it. Fearing that you might be angry with me for the L.O.N.G. hiatus, I have actually created a list of reasons as to why I have been absent for so long. Here goes ~

1. I had a speck in my eye. More accurately I had a whitehead thingy near my tear duct which my sister convinced me to let her remove with a sharp object. My husband held me down while she performed this mini-surgery in my living room. I will admit that I yelled, wiggled and squirmed but the surgery was a success. Whitehead thingy is gone and I can still see.

2. For the past ten months I have been grieving for my dad. I am trying to figure out how life goes on without him. I have not found the answer yet. I cry at random times and my heart aches. If you are reading this post and your dad is still alive please give him a call, write him a letter or give him a bear hug. You could do all three. xo

3. One day I quietly sat and watched a woolly bear caterpillar as it crossed my porch.

4. I am learning how to pray.

5. On numerous occasions I chased Lady the Goat around my yard. She is an escape artist and thinks she is a dog. After munching her way through my flower gardens she would appear on my front porch and bang her head on the door. Getting her back into her pen is no easy task.

6. My Mermaid rug project is ALMOST finished. I started this rug four years ago. Talk about embarrassingly slow. I am one slow hooker. I often have to decide between writing and hooking...and then I wander off to take a photo walk with my trusty camera.

7. I have developed a mini-bicep muscle. I refer to it as my (cap)gun. Twice a week I force myself to attend BootCamp. Never in a zillion years did I think that I would be doing push-ups, pull-ups or planks. Okay, so I still can't do a pull-up and my push-ups are wimpy but my planks are noteworthy.

8. Three months after Dad passed away, Mom suffered a stroke. I am still trying to figure out life with my 'new' mom. Life is different. Very different.

9. Six months ago we welcomed Grandbaby Five into our family. She is a cutie pie, full of love, laughter and giggles. I could just kiss her to pieces. I love how our family tree continues to grow.

10. My name is Debbie and I am addicted to Needle Naps. Ahhh...Zzzzz. Twice a week you can find me at Manchester Acupuncture Studio snoozing away while needles stick out of my fingers, toes, head and knees.

11. No more dirty eating for me. I now follow a clean eating regime which basically means I have taken processed foods out of my diet. Lots of protein, veggies and fruits and complex carbs...and an occasional peanut M&M.

12. In June, I had the honor of being a reader at my niece's wedding. Surrounded by family and friends, it felt right to read the special words which hopefully the newlyweds will hold in their hearts as they start their new life together.

13. Chased the chickens out of the garden, off of my porch and out of the garage. I don't like the chickens.

14. When it is not a BootCamp day I jog. I would like to say that I run but I am pretty sure that I am moving at the pace of a jogger. Whatever.

15. I swallowed a bug while jogging.

16. I saw a falling star the other evening. I made a wish.

17. I pretended to be a dinosaur while playing with my twin grandsons. We were friendly dinosaurs who chased each other until we fell down laughing.

18. Working on being able to beat my husband consistently at Bananagrams ! This is a tough one.

19. I took a workshop on learning how to mat a picture. I now have a better understanding of why it is so expensive to mat and frame pictures. Not sure I have the patience or skill to try this on my own.

20. I tried my hand at milking a goat. If we had to depend on me to get our daily milk we would be thirsty.

21. I ran a 5K recently. It was a gorgeous course that weaved through an ocean town. Breathtaking views inspired me as did being surrounded by fourteen hundred people who shared a common goal with me ~ finish the race ! Not only did I finish the race with a time of 33:10 I made sure to finish with a smile.

22. Many days I could be found dancing around my kitchen with my 2 year old granddaughter. How can I resist when she tugs at me, looks up at me with those big blue eyes and says, "Dance,Grammie dance !" So I dance !

23. I do believe in signs from above. I was followed on my morning walks by a little bluebird. It was my dad. I have no doubt.

24. Many trips to the ocean which nourished my soul. Ocean air, gritty sand, numbing water, hot sun filled my senses and made me so thankful for so much.

25. Caught up on my reading. 'Breakfast with Buddha', 'Shadow in the Wind' and 'The Help' were three of the books that kept me up late reading. Getting lost in a good book is a great escape.

26. I participated in the 365 Photo Project for over six months. Each day I had to post a photo which would allow me to remember my year in photos. I learned a great deal about photography, "met" some incredibly talented photographers, and greatly enjoyed the project. But it did seem to take on a life of its own and I found myself having no time for hooking my Mermaid, reading or writing blog posts. Hope to jump start that project in the future.

27. Sang ' The Wheels on the Bus' and ' Ring Around the Rosie' more times than I can count. My grandbabies keep me young.

28. Our community and I lost a dear friend. Suzie was so much to so many...she was a leader, a mentor, a volunteer, a wife, a mom, a grandma, a friend, an inspiration. She fought a hard battle against cancer for quite a few years. She was loved and she is missed.

29. Took the grandtwins to a Children's Museum where we explored many exhibits together. One of our favorites was donning goggles as we dug for dinosaur bones.

30. Drove up the Maine coast and discovered a town I fell in love with ~ Cape Porpoise. I could totally see myself living in this community. Maybe it is time for a change.

31. Babysat PeeWee the Great Dane for a weekend. She was homesick the entire time. And she thinks she is a lapdog.

32. Attended a three day Writing Workshop featuring Patti Digh, Jennifer Louden and Susan Piver. Motivating, inspiring, hilarious, creative... these three writers instilled in me the confidence and the desire to start writing again. And Patti Digh's words have become my new mantra...'Just sit the hell down and write !'

Little Grasshopper

2011-01-24T13:36:00.000-05:00

I took this photo when I was in Florida in November. I took many shots and this was the only one that was not blurry or shaky or half a grasshopper. We now have so much snow here in NH I think it will be forever before I see green grass or a grasshopper !

Better Late than Never

2011-01-10T08:43:00.000-05:00

My "Christmas Cactus" has never bloomed on December 25th but was very close this year ! The beautiful flowers arrived for the New Year ! I am participating in 'Macro Monday' ~ always working on my photo skills !

Wordless Wednesday

2011-01-05T06:00:00.001-05:00

Patiently waiting for...

The wisdom of a child

2011-01-03T21:55:00.000-05:00

When I was a child, summer vacation seemed to last forever. We packed so much fun into each day ~ from the minute we hopped out of bed in the early morning until the moon came up and we ran around playing flashlight tag. But it just wasn't the summer time which seemed timeless. All of the seasons, all of the months, all of the days seemed to be endless. There was never any concern about running out of time. We just played until we collapsed. So many hours of tag, kickball, hide and seek, jump roping and bike riding. No need for planners or to do lists or even a watch. We just lived for each moment. We focused on the 'here and now' instead of getting lost in the past or wishing for the future.

We just lived for each moment. We focused on the 'here and now' instead of getting lost in the past or wishing for the future.

Oh. My. Goodness.

When I was seven years old I had a clearer understanding of how to be mindful of moments, on the importance of enjoying each day and on making the most of my time. Today at the age of fifty-three I have to work hard to accomplish these goals. I need constant reminders to stop and smell the roses. I get caught up in my past and worry to much about the future. I have difficulty appreciating the small 'things' in life. Those small 'things' really are the big things. Stress levels are high and lists are long as I try to do it all. The sad fact is that I often end up accomplishing very little since it can be difficult to focus on the here and now.

So through the writing of the post I have avoided long expensive hours on the couch of a therapist. I know what I need to do in order to live my life with purpose and intention. I will start appreciating and celebrating the small stuff. Being mindful of moments will be more than just words ~ I will walk the walk ! I will allow the inner child within to come out on a regular basis so I will be reminded of what is truly impotant. Time will not be my master anymore. A seven year old with a pixie haircut, skinny legs and crooked teeth will gently remind me to have fun because time is running out.

Just one more time...

2011-01-01T11:06:00.000-05:00

The flight from San Jose to Las Vegas was nondescript. Typical flight attendant speech during take-off, same small bag of dry crackers, and the dull murmur of voices mixed with the occasional hacking cough from the man sitting two rows in front of me. The sky was cloudy gray and offered little distraction for me. I thought about ordering a Bloody Mary to help me relax but decided that I needed to be clear headed to face what lie ahead. I read the same page in my book multiple times before I finally gave up. I tried a few deep breathing exercises but it felt like I was going to suffocate. Napping was out of the question. Couldn't this pilot fly this thing any faster ? Did he not realize that I was in a hurry ? The question my kids had asked me a thousand times kept running through my head ~ "are we there yet?"

And finally we landed. It was one of those bumpy, hang onto the seat in front of you while saying a little prayer, landings. Of course I was seated way back in the plane. I impatiently waited for the gazillion people in front of me to get their belongings. Jeez, this must be national slow motion day and nobody told me. Do these people not know that I have a situation and I need to get off this piece of metal immediately? PRONTO. I turned my cell phone on. No new messages. I decided that was a good thing. No news was good news. I worked on my deep breathing exercises as I fought the urge to climb over the seats in order to get off the plane. Did the lady in 22A not understand that I was in a hurry? Obviously not as she decided to stretch her arms, readjust her panties and freshen up her lipstick in the middle of the aisle. I bit my tongue. Somebody somewhere decided this would be a good day to test my patience. Not sure I will be getting a gold star on this one.

I don't think I even responded when the flight attendant and pilot flashed their unnaturally white smiles at me as they told me to have a great day. If they only knew. Parts of that day seem like a blur while other parts will never be forgotten.

I had never been to the Las Vegas airport before so it was rather overwhelming to be greeted by rows and rows of slot machines. People stood at the machines trying one last time to hit it big. It was the perfect location to do some prime people watching if I had been in the mood, if I had nothing else on my mind, if I hadn't felt like I was going to vomit at any second.

I had a very short layover in Vegas before jumping onto the next jet for the final leg of my journey. I was headed to Florida to see my dad. One more time. Over the past few months Dad's health had been failing and I had made many trips from my home in NH down to Florida. It only takes a few hours if I get a direct flight and if the pilot puts the pedal to the metal. Hmmm...do planes have gas pedals ? I must google that at a later date. But this trip was entirely different.

I had been visiting my oldest daughter in sunny CA for a couple of weeks. She had recently given birth to her first child and my husband and I were meeting our granddaughter for the first time. She truly is our little sweet pea. We were spending our days cuddling, snuggling and bonding with her. But it was while I was there that I received the phone call that Dad had been moved to a hospice facility. I knew this day was coming. I had been to visit Dad two weeks earlier and it was clear that his life here on Earth was coming to an end. I told him that I loved him. He told me that he loved me. There were no deep revelations or new understanding. There were no apologies given. There were no secrets shared. There was just the love between a dad and his daughter and that was enough. So when the phone call came telling me that he was in Hospice I did lots of self talk ~ " Debbie, you are prepared for this. You knew that this day was coming. This isn't a shock. Buck up girl. Go enjoy your little sweet pea. You said your good-byes. Be strong." I decided this might be a good time to try out some deep breathing exercises or meditation or yoga since I felt as if I was going to start vomiting violently. So I did what I do best in emergency situations...I cried. Hard. Non-stop. And in the middle of the night I knew what I had to do. I had to get to my Dad's side one more time so I could tell him that I loved him - just one more time.

I told my story to the lady at Southwest Airlines. She worked hard to get me to Tampa as quickly as possible but the reality is that CA is far away from Florida ~ over 3000 miles in fact. She booked my trip for me. I would be by my Dad's bedside in ten hours if you factor in time zone changes which always confuses me. My next call was to my sister who was with my Dad. I asked her to hold the phone to my Dad's ear. "Dad, I'm coming. I'll be there as soon as I can. I need to see you Dad. I love you Dad." Please don't die Dad. I'm not ready for this. I need more time.

I walked around the Las Vegas airport with all of its bells and whistles. I needed to find a quiet zone. I needed to call my sister so I could update her on my progress. I wanted her to hold the phone to Dad's ear so I could tell him that I was almost there. I needed to tell him that I loved him just one more time.

I sat down on a hard plastic seat outside of the airport bathrooms surrounded by hundreds of people. I hit the speed dial button which would connect me to my sister. She finally answered. "Deb, Dad passed away ten minutes ago." No. She must be mistaken. I was pretty positive he was going to wait for me to get there so I could tell him just one more time that I loved him. How could it be that time had run out ? I needed to tell him just one more time how much he had meant to me. But just like all those people standing at the slot machines, my luck had run out. I had run out of time. Again.

Stars and Stripes Forever !

2010-07-05T07:56:00.000-04:00

Spring Cleaning 101

2010-06-28T22:21:00.000-04:00

Once again I have allowed my blog to take a backseat to all that has been going on in my life. And that's okay. I realized that I get uncomfortable when my blog begins to take on a life of its own and starts to control me. No, no, no, dear nourish your soul blog. I am the boss of my destiny and I will write when I feel the desire, the need, the urge. Now don't get me wrong, dear blogging friends. I do care about what you have to say. I do love to read your words and check out your photos and find out how life is treating you. I do care. And of course, I want people to read my blog ~ after all, isn't that why we create blogs in the first place ? But my menopausal ~~personalities~~ personality has decided that it is time to get this house in order. And I mean a top to bottom, attic to basement, corner to corner, clean sweep. I mean the deep thorough cleaning which does not allow for sweeping things under the rug. And so it began... innocently enough.

I started pulling items out of the kitchen cabinets. My 11 month old granddaughter Olive actually inspired the cleaning of the kitchen cabinets since that is her favorite place to explore. She recently came across this ~

and stared at me with bewilderment. I tried to explain to her that there is a logical reason for having a gazillion pepper shakers in the cabinet. I won't name any names but someone has a salt addiction and since I don't want the title of nagging mother-in-law I keep my mouth closed about the dangers of too much sodium in one's diet ...and now I must apologize to my mom for mocking her when I was younger for collecting dozens of empty peanut butter containers and allowing them to clutter up her cabinets. In the midst of all this cleaning I realized I had become my mother. I took a break from my cleaning so I could process this realization.

I also tackled the ever growing piles and piles and more piles of books in my house. I love to read. I love to read the old-fashioned way by holding a real book in my hands ~ no automatic high tech book machine for me ~ I love to smell the book and feel the pages between my fingers. But my book collection is a wee bit out of control so I weeded through so I could take some to our local library. These are the books I decided to give away...

...notice any particular theme among them ?

I couldn't bring myself to give any of the others away. I know what you are thinking...hoarder ! No, I'm not. I just love my books. And there is a logical explanation why I have all of those pepper shakers. I took a break from my cleaning so I could read 'School of Essential Ingredients'. It is a great read for the beach or if you are trying to escape from cleaning.

I decided to tackle the pantry which can be a scary proposition since there is often a forgotten potato lurking somewhere...there are few things that smell worse than a rotten potato. I wore my protective cleaning gear to protect myself from the overgrown dust bunnies and entered with caution. I tried to organize the canned goods alphabetically but lost interest with that by the time I was up to the letter 'C'. I realized that I could probably make enough pasta to feed our entire town...does spaghetti get stale ? On the very top shelves in the pantry I found these...

My husband found these in the basement of an old house he bought years ago ~ a true fixer upper. I don't know quite what to do with these gems but one thing is certain ~ I am not going to sample any of them. So back to the top of the pantry shelf they went ~ to sit until the next time I get into a cleaning frenzy.

The desk and its drawers are one of my favorite items to clean out. It is like taking a walk down memory lane...and I sit down to read old birthday cards, love letters, and pictures. I laugh, I smile, and sometimes I even cry. This whole spring cleaning routine is exhausting...physically and mentally. I open one last drawer in the desk to find ~

and I decide that I have done enough cleaning for one ~~year~~ day and I sit down to color my world and nourish my soul.

Let me tell you...

2010-05-23T12:23:00.000-04:00

about the birds...

and the bees....

and the flowers...

and the trees...

and the moon up above...

and a thing called LOVE...

Life is busy. Life is full. Life is good.

Zero Tolerance

2010-04-21T11:46:00.000-04:00

In January, our family celebrated the birthday of my grandtwins. They turned one year old. We had balloons, cake, gifts and the house was filled with laughter and the sounds of celebration.

In January, Phoebe Prince made the decision to end her life. She was fifteen years old. Her younger sister found her hanging in the stairwell of their apartment. Phoebe was the victim of bullying at South Hadley High School in Massachusetts. Her family had moved to America in the autumn of 2009 from Ireland. Phoebe was the new kid in town. And she was not met by the Welcome Wagon.

A freshman at So. Hadley High, Phoebe probably...maybe... dreamt of attending football games, semi-formals, giggling with girlfriends, getting her driver's license, going to concerts and finding Mr. Right. I don't know for sure. I never met Phoebe Prince but I wish I had. I wish I could have put a protective cloak around her and protected her from the bullies ~ the seven girls and two boys who saw it as their right to ridicule Phoebe constantly with verbal abuse. Nonstop. Throwing cans at her as they drove by. Drawing obscene pictures of Phoebe and hanging them for all to see. Emailing her, texting her, Facebook bullying, calling her obscenities as she entered the classroom. 24-7. I have a heavy feeling in my gut as I think about how Phoebe felt every day when she entered ~~hell~~ school.

I have been having flashbacks to my days in junior high school. The new kid in town, I was bullied by three girls. Three mean girls. Nancy, Valerie and Maureen verbally teased me and physically pushed me around ~ I avoided the stairwells and empty hallways. I feared being locked in a locker - yes, I was quite skinny back in those days and easily could have fit into a locker. They told me they were going to shove me in there and that no one would find me for days. Looking back, I now realize that I probably would have been found alive but at the age of 13, it was a threat that I took seriously. They pulled my hair. They elbowed me hard. I went home and cried. Mom told me to ignore them. I tried. Fortunately, after a year of this abuse, someone new moved into town and they moved onto their next victim. Phew.

So I am now obsessed with Phoebe Prince. There has been a fair amount of finger pointing as to who is at fault. The school, the bullies, the parents of the nine bullies, society at large...you and me. Have you ever looked the other way when you have witnessed a bullying situation ? Would you step in and get involved ? We must. Our society must take a stand against the bullies of the world. And I mean that wholeheartedly and sincerely.

When my husband and I were in Washington, DC recently, we stood in many lines throughout our visit. Musuem lines, restaurant lines, White House lines...but we were patient and chatted quietly while waiting our turn. One day we were in a long line while in the Smithsonian. There were fifty people behind us in line. I know because I counted them while waiting patiently. I noticed two teen-age girls quietly walking up the aisle, cutting everyone in line. I thought to myself, 'No. They wouldn't dare cut fifty people. They must know someone in line.' Well. Apparently they thought they knew me because they cut right in front of me. Out of all those people they picked the wrong lady to cut.
"Excuse me. You don't really think you are going to cut in front of me, do you?"
They turned and just glared at me.
"I am in line. I have been in line and you are not going to cut in front of all of these fifty people. The line forms at the rear, girls." I smiled, sort of.
They realized that I am teacher material. They realized that I am uncuttable.
"Oh. We didn't know there was a line." And they turned themselves around and went to the end of the line.
People around me thanked me, stating that they were glad I spoke up. They wanted to but they didn't dare. They didn't want to get involved.

Well, I am going to get involved. I am a protector of the underdog. I will take on the bullies of the world. I want to get into my car and drive down to South Hadley and have dicussions with the nine bullies who took Phoebe's life. I wonder if they were bullied at some point in their life. I read with sadness that one of the girls wrote 'Accomplished' on their Facebook wall the day after Phoebe ended her life. I want to talk to the parents of all involved. I want to help.

This is not the world I want my grandchildren to grow up in. I want their world to be one full of love, rainbows, four leaf clovers, peace, daisies, balloons and nonstop laughter ~ a life of celebration. I will don my supergrandma cape and protect them from the bullies, remembering Phoebe Prince and the life that was stolen from her.

Stale Jelly Beans

2010-04-07T09:54:00.004-04:00

She stood on her front steps, soaking up the darkness. She felt almost giddy since she couldn't remember ever being up and dressed at this hour of the day. She couldn't ever remember seeing the sun rise before. Her fifteen year old body was filled with anticipation. She was going to attend her first sunrise service at a local church. Her parents were not church going people so her religious background was a blank page. Her knowledge of Easter centered around rabbits, candy, and new dresses. She knew that there had to be more to Easter than boiled eggs and baskets filled with plastic grass. She was grateful that her best friend had invited her to attend the sunrise service with her family.

She bounced around on the front steps waiting for them to arrive. She had an all-over good feeling about the day. The night before, her mom had made a cake shaped like an Easter Bunny. This was a huge accomplishment for her mom since cooking/baking were not her areas of expertise. The bunny cake had come out perfect and it was now the centerpiece on the kitchen table. Covered in coconut with jelly bean eyes and nose, it appeared to welcome all who entered this house. Her mouth watered just thinking about the huge piece of cake she would enjoy later in the day.

The sky was still dark when she hopped into her friend's car. She was a bit nervous since she had no knowledge of church services or ceremonies. She didn't know how to behave or what to expect. Her mother had given her a one dollar bill to give at church. She checked to make sure it was inside her pocket. She wondered who she had to pay or when. She decided that she would just follow the lead of her friend.

The service was held in a field on a hillside. She followed the people up the hill to where there was a huge wooden cross standing. She prayed, she sang, she clasped the hand of her friend. And as the sun rose over the hill, she felt her eyes fill with tears and her heart filled with a feeling she could not describe. A sense of hope and joy filled her entire being.

On the ride back to her home, the excitement and anticipation of the day which lie ahead made it difficult to sit still. She couldn't wait to tell her parents about her experience. Maybe her family could start going to church together each Sunday. Couldn't hurt to ask them one more time. Her belly rumbled and she realized how hungry she was. Maybe Mom would let her have a tiny piece of the Easter Bunny cake for her breakfast. It couldn't hurt to ask.

She bounded out of the car, the sun filling the sky. She ran into the house, singing one of the hymns she had just learned. She hoped her younger sister was awake so they could attack their Easter baskets. She entered the kitchen and stopped skipping. She stopped singing. The sun stopped shining.

Her mother stood in the middle of the room, hair disheveled, bathrobe pulled tight around her thin body. The dark circles under her eyes seemed darker then ever. "Mom, what's wrong?"
"Your father didn't come home last night."
"What do you mean? Where is he?"
"He went to the neighbor's house to play cards lat night and he never came home. Go get him."
Tears filled the young girl's eyes. She headed out across the lawn, a path she knew all too well. Before long, she looked up to see her father headed her way, his head down. She turned back to the house and stomped inside. He entered, head still down. His wife greeted him with an icy glare, her cheeks hollow, her face full of anger. She turned on her heel, and slammed her bedroom door behind her.

The fifteen year old turned to her father, and she waited while she slowly transformed into the role of parent. The smell of alcohol poured out of his entire being.
"What were you thinking?"
No response.
"Do you know what day this is?"
No response.
"Today is Easter, A day of new beginnings, a fresh start. What kind of day do you think we are going to have?"
He attempted to make eye contact. "I need to sit down."
"Fine. You go sit down and I will try to figure out how to make Mom happy. I will try to save the day. One more time."
She resisted the urge to slap him across the face. He soon passed out in 'his' chair and was snoring. She stood staring at him, not knowing where to turn. She looked at the door of her mother's bedroom, shut tight as her mother tried to protect herself from any more hurt. She tried to take herself back to the hill where she had felt safe.

As she walked past the Easter Bunny cake, she thought about how stale and dried out it looked. It no longer looked appealing or appetizing. She laughed at how naive she had been...new beginnings, fresh start...not this time.

Cherry Blossom Special

2010-04-02T21:31:00.002-04:00

We just arrived back home after spending six fantabulous days in Washington, D.C. ! We were there at the beginning of the Cherry Blossom Festival which was an event I have always wanted to attend. Over three thousand cherry trees surround the Tidal Basin area. The trees were given to the U.S.A. in 1912 from the city of Tokyo to celebrate the friendship between Japan and the United States. In 1915, the United States gave Japan flowering dogwood trees as a gift. The trees weren't quite at peak when we were there but it didn't matter. They were beautiful and I truly appreciated being able to soak up all of this beauty. Enjoy.

I am not a shooter of bunnies !

2010-03-23T20:53:00.004-04:00

My first grade students gathered around me for story time. They all got comfortable on the rug as I made myself comfortable in the old, dilapidated chair which held the honor of being known as our reader's chair. I waited until everyone had settled down and then began reading. All eyes were on the pictures as I read with expression and a variety of voices. You could have heard a pin drop as all eyes and ears followed the story. And then out of nowhere a little voice spoke up and said, "Mrs. Kelley, what do you say?!"

I looked at the owner of the voice, six year old little Emily. Sweet, precocious Emily with her matching hair ribbons and frilly pouffy dresses sitting in front of me, staring right through me with her huge eyes.

"What do I say about what, Emily?"

"You know. You just shot a bunny."

I was totally confused at this point. The picture book had no bunnies featured in it. I wasn't wearing a bunny or gun jewelry. What in the world was Emily talking about? I looked over at the paraprofessional in my class who was doubled over in laughter. What the heck ?!

"Emily, I am confused. I don't know what you are talking about. I didn't shoot any bunnies."

"Yes, you did. You did so shoot a bunny." She glared at me.

The other students watched the exchange. Being thoroughly confused I didn't know which way to turn. Maybe Emily had bumped her head out at recess? I asked her to come up to see me, hoping to clear up my confusion.

"Emily, I didn't shoot any bunnies. I would never shoot a bunny. I like bunnies.'

Emily shook her little head. She then whispered in my ear, "Mrs. Kelley, shooting bunnies means you farted."

"WHAT!! Emily, I absolutely did not shoot any bunnies !"

"Yes, you did. I heard you."

The paraprofessional leaves the room, tears streaming down her face.

"Emily, it was the chair squeaking. I did not shoot any bunnies. Now let's finish the story."

Emily folded her arms and continued to stare at me with a 'yes, you did' look.

I tried to regain my composure. I tried to get everyone focused on the story again. But the words bunny shooter just kept running through my head. Hopefully the other students were oblivious to the exchange between Emily and myself. I certainly didn't want to be labeled as a bunny shooter.

The day continued and soon we were all involved with making cheerio necklaces to celebrate the 100th day of school. Stringing 100 cheerios requires one to focus so the bunny shooting episode soon was forgotten.

Parent/teacher conferences were that evening. Conferences can be stressful because you never know what to expect. The first parents walked in, sat down at the round table with me and smiled as they asked, "Shoot any bunnies lately?"

My name is Debbie and I am a hooker.

2010-03-17T21:18:00.010-04:00

In my spare time...I hook rugs. Traditional rug hooking. I started hooking almost four years ago and I am totally hooked. This hobby began innocently enough ~ I wanted to spend more time with my oldest daughter so the two of us took a rug hooking class at a local high school as part of their adult education courses. One thing quickly led to another. I love the colors of the wool. At times hooking can be relaxing, at other times frustrating. I love figuring out what colors to use in my rug, I enjoy the friendships I have made, I love being creative. My brain unwinds as I hook. The picture above is of my second rug which was designed by my instructor. The two pictures below are of wool being dyed for my current project.

These are the piles of wool at the studio where I take classes. Sometimes I forget to hook and just get lost in all of the colors, dreaming about future hooking projects.

Books, books and more books in the studio to help inspire us or guide us. I rely on these books lots as I work on my latest rug.

On a recent Saturday I went to a hooking workshop which was like hooking heaven. Just sit and hook and talk with people who have a common hobby as you ~ the perfect way to spend a Saturday. The photo below shows a work in progress. I love the colors and the paisley print the artist chose.

This zebra almost looks like an oil painting. My goal is to someday be able to hook like this!

Another work in progress by one of my hooking friends~ I just want to touch this sheep. His coat looks so realistic.

The next three photos are of a huge wall hanging of our Solar System. The pictures do not do it justice. This piece truly is a work of art and is just one of many rugs created by a hooking artist.

I LOVE this sunflower rug. The artist has only been hooking for a short amount of time but her talent shines through !! This is blue ribbon work !

This rug is titled Mini-Fantasy ~ and the artist chose the perfect colors. Perfect hooking!

And here is my current project ~ Queen of the Sea. I really need to finish her since I have ideas for my next ten projects. So when I am not blogging or caring for grandbabies or working or gardening or reading or exercising this is where you will find me ~ playing with wool and colors and letting my creative side be nourished !

I’m not bowling alone.

2010-03-12T08:40:00.007-05:00

I hate it when I suffer from a blogging block. For the past week I have been looking for some raw, clever, creative blogging material. Nothing too exciting happening in my corner of the world though. And I am feeling the pressure. My daughter, April, has hit the blogging jackpot this week…she has had over 25,000 visitors to her blog, Eclectic Effervescence, THIS week alone. Granted, she is one talented writer and she has taken on the mega-giant known as Facebook but her cause is valid and important on so many levels ~ freedom of speech, women’s rights, and right of babies to be nourished without having to suffocate under a blanket while eating. I am more than a little proud of April and her writing success but now…I have hit the writing wall…hard. I did consider the fact that April’s success came in part because she is writing about breasts and our societies’ confusion over the true purpose of breasts. So for a nano second I considered writing about vaginas. Maybe if I wrote about the saga of a menopausal vagina I would become an overnight blogging success but there were a couple of problems with that idea. One…my husband and children would be mortified and probably disown me. Two…what would I actually write about my menopausal vagina? I don’t think anyone really wants those type of details. So back to the blogging think tank I go.

I am fortunate that today is a Friday which means I can once again participate in ‘Only the Good Friday’, a meme created by my blogging friend who lives at This Eclectic Life . Maybe given a little structure and organization I would be able to focus. So I reflected on the week to try and determine my best thing. And after a couple of cups of my Yogi Egyptian Licorice tea which always calms me I had that ‘AHA’ moment. That moment when the Universe lines everything up perfectly. A feel good, let’s get writing moment.

I just finished reading ‘The Geography of Bliss’ by Eric Weiner. A definite worthwhile read about Eric’s travels to find the happiest place on earth. He states that 70% of our happiness comes from our relationships with other people. I knew that being around my family and friends ~~always~~ usually makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside. He mentions the book ‘Bowling Alone’ by Robert Putnam which states that our sense of connection is fraying. We lead fragmented lives and spend less time socializing in person. Social networking on the Internet cannot replace the ‘up close and personal’ interaction between humans. When I am with my family and friends I can physically feel my soul being nourished. Sappy, I know, but it is the truth and the story behind my blog title.

So as I was considering what my best thing for this week was, Weiner’s words were buzzing around inside my head. I then realized what an incredibly full week I had lived surrounded by my family, friends, delicious food, bowling, rug hooking, laughter, shopping, romancing…lots of bliss. So many good things.

And as I organized my pictures of the past week to see if there were any which would tie in with this post, the little hairs on the back of my neck stood on end when I found this shot. My husband and I went to the beach on Sunday to enjoy the warm air which had moved into our area. This sign was in a gift shop window.

It IS in the shelter of each other that the People live…and may you never bowl alone.

What's your best thing ?

2010-03-05T07:13:00.003-05:00

There are many things I miss about having my children grown and gone. I miss the sounds of their voices and the laughter. I don't miss the dirty laundry mountain. I miss the hikes through the woods as we sang 'The ants go marching one by one...' I miss their hugs and kisses. I don't miss the 'clean your bedroom' routine. I miss the fact that I can't blame my messy house on them. I miss the creativity and energy that was contagious. I don't miss the waiting up until they returned home ~ safe and sound. I miss the conversations. I don't miss the squabbling. One tradition that I miss is 'What's your best thing'? At dinner time in order to keep everyone focused and positive we would each have to say the best thing that happened to us that day. Sometimes the answer might be 'I woke up' but that was okay. No one could pass - you had to say something. It actually was a wonderful conversation starter plus it allowed me to have insight into their lives that might have been missed.

So the other day I was out wandering through Blogland when I came across a new place to visit ~ This Eclectic Life. I felt very comfortable, sat right down and read for awhile. One of the features of this blog is 'Only the Good Friday' and it caught my attention. It is a meme and I don't usually participate in memes because I don't like any blogging restrictions. I like to blog when I want to blog or when I have the time to blog BUT I totally feel the need to focus on the positive in my life which is the intent of 'Only the Good Friday'. You just have to focus on something good that has happened in your life recently. No negativity allowed. It is simple ~ it can be a picture, a recipe, a thought ~ just keep it positive. So I signed on to help spread the good news because we certainly need it.

So what is my best thing? The obvious would be the fact that after three days without electricity we regained our power. I got to take a hot shower. Life was wicked good then. Plus three of my four kids were home for part of the outage adventure so we played Scrabble and other games during the outage which was fun. No television was heavenly. All good but not my best thing.

After the power came back I went with my husband to get our generator serviced. I thought this was a quick mission. Nope. I sat in the truck waiting, waiting and finally stomped into the generator garage to remind my husband that I was alive. He was talking to the technician. Surprise. I was standing, tapping my toes loudly when I noticed a jar on the counter FULL of Fireballs ~ one of my favorite candies which I have not had the pleasure of sucking on in a long time! I walked right over to the counter, stuck my hand in and pulled one out. I wanted to pop it in my mouth right then but what if it was one of the wicked hot ones and I couldn't hold it in my mouth until the hotness dissolved? I didn't want this technician to see me as a wimp. So I shoved it in my coat pocket for later. Minutes go by, generator talk still droning on so to the counter I go and grab another Fireball, giggling as I pull my hand out. I looked for a sign that said 'one per customer' but none was anywhere to be seen so now two Fireballs sat in my pocket. I walked around the generator showroom trying to figure out what in the world two grown men could find so interesting about this piece of metal when the urge came over me to grab just one more Fireball. Now I am feeling a little bit naughty at this point. I know I shouldn't grab the third Fireball but I did. It was done rather sneakily but I did notice the technician watching me. Oops. Time for me to go sit in the truck. So off I went ... three brilliant red Fireballs in my pocket... which I am saving for the perfect moment when I can just sit back, eyes closed, enjoying each molecule of hotness. That was a good day.

What's your best thing?

What's in your gutter?

2010-03-03T06:54:00.004-05:00

I first noticed this house while driving through a nearby city. I found myself driving by on a regular basis just so I could see if the grass was still growing out of the gutters. Finally, just had to take a picture. I think the grass gives the house a little more personality and for whatever odd reason, it always makes me smile. Hope the homeowner feels the same.

Jump Right In with Eyes Wide Open !

2010-02-23T10:37:00.005-05:00

As we approached the camp, I had no idea what to expect, but what's new? The entire experience up to this point had been full of unknowns, new experiences and trepidation over what lie ahead. The view all around me was a sea of pink. Pink bubbles as far as the eye could see. I assessed the situation and tried to figure out where my pink bubble was located. I found a man walking around with an official looking name tag on and asked him where my pink bubble was set up.

"All the tents are laying over there. Just grab one and set it up."

He had to be kidding. There is no way they expected us to set up our own tent after just completing a twenty mile walk in weather that was so hot my armpits were stuck to my body. I had sticky Popsicle goop all down the front of my shirt and Gatorade stains made me look like my whole body had been dipped in tie dye. If I thought too long and hard about it I could feel a blister working hard to develop on the back of my left heel. If I thought at all, I could feel every muscle in my body screaming at me to go take a hot shower and get a massage.

And then I stopped.

I thought about the women and men who had undergone weeks and months of chemotherapy, radiation, invasive surgeries. I thought about the pain, the fear, the side effects they live with every day as they fight to survive. I thought about the friends I have lost to this dread disease. I thought about how hard so many of my friends had fought to survive. I thought about my mom and her battle with breast cancer 24 years ago and how thankful I am that she survived. I gave myself a good bitch slap, ended my pity party, walked over and grabbed my pink bubble tent. I proudly set it up in the field with all of the thousands of other Susan G. Komen participants who were walking with me in the 3 Day, 60 mile walk.

That was in 2007. I had the privilege of walking in the Susan G Komen 3 Day for the Cure walk with five wonderful friends. Our team name was 'Melons with Moxie'. We raised over $15,000. for the cause. I was Major Melon and the other teammates were Senior Melon, Math Melon, Ellen Melon, Motivating Melon and Stylin' Melon. We walked, laughed, sang, cried, danced and were dedicated to this life changing event. I don't type that lightly. It was a life changing event for each of us in very personal ways. Have you ever had the privilege to participate in something that is so much bigger than yourself? A chance to make a positive difference in someone's life? For three intense days we were surrounded by powerfully positive attitudes, mind boggling motivation and lots of love. These weren't just invisible concepts. These were tangible, 'you could feel it in the air' actions that were happening all around us. We never felt that we were walking on concrete or cement. We felt that we were walking on clouds and sunshine for sixty miles over three days.

Don't get me wrong. We all had our moments. Blisters, nasty blisters like I had never seen before developed on many heels and toes. Moments of missing our loved ones sometimes overwhelmed us. Many emotions surged through our bodies as we walked, hoping and praying that the cure for this disease be found and no one would ever need to walk for this cause again.

And now I have made the decision to walk again. On October 8, 9 and 10th I will be walking in the Susan G. Komen 3 Day Walk for the Cure in Washington, DC. I will walk hard and steady, knowing that I am making a difference, knowing that I am part of something so much bigger than myself. I am once again putting together a team of Melons who have Moxie. Not sure who will be my side, but no worries. I know that I will not be alone because I am walking for so many and I will carry them in my heart and soul.

If you have an extra moment and are able to make a donation I invite you to visit my web page by clicking on the 3 Day button on my sidebar. Interested in walking with our 'Melons with Moxie' team, please email me. Aren't able to walk with us or make a donation? Then please send positive energy and hold us in your thoughts and prayers as we train over the next few months. And know that by doing so, you are also part of something so much bigger than yourself. Thank you.

Oh, Deer !

2010-02-16T21:31:00.006-05:00

This was the view out of my window late yesterday afternoon during the snowstorm. At first I saw just one deer and I ran to get my camera. Then I noticed that there was a second deer in the distance and then deer number three made himself/herself visible and I tried to get all three together for a family portrait but they wouldn't cooperate for me. Imagine my surprise when a fourth deer meandered into view. I was wishing I had a wider lens but with or without the pictures, I am quite sure I won't forget any time soon the view outside of my window.

Through a Child's Eyes

2010-02-13T06:00:00.001-05:00

I love the art which children create. It is frequently colorful, detailed and honest. It always puts a smile on my face. I have a young artist friend who truly made my day by drawing a picture of me. This picture has been hanging on my refrigerator so that I can look at it every day and smile. I love her use of color and how she paid attention to detail. Notice the little birds sitting on their nests and the flowers on the bushes. Pink is one of my favorite colors so I love the dress. And I love how she drew me. Tall and slim, with the greatest hairdo and look at that smile on my face ~ it is just like the one I have every time I look at this picture. Thank you, dear artist friend.

This Phenomenon called Facebook

2010-02-10T14:59:00.005-05:00

I joined Facebook a few months ago mostly out of curiosity. My children all had FB accounts and I would watch over their shoulders when they were at my house checking their FB accounts. They showed me the friends they had re-connected with and the games they were currently playing. I was mildly curious and then one day my good friend, Pam, joined FB and requested to be friends with my daughter. Pam was on Facebook ? Now I was even more curious. Of course, Pam doesn't always know what she is doing on FB such as the time she reprimanded one of her adult children on FB and he had to remind his mother that she couldn't do that - it is one of the unspoken FB rules - no disciplining children via FB. Pam openly admits that one of the reasons she is on FB is to spy on her children. But we all know she is joking. Sort of. My favorite Pam FB story though has to do with LOL. Pam would write LOL on many posts and at times it seemed odd that she would be laughing out loud when people were posting rather sad news. And then one day Pam's FB status stated: 'OMG. I just found out what LOL means. I thought it meant Lots of Love. I had no idea it meant Laugh Out Loud. I am sorry if I offended anyone. ' And when Pam, in her lovable, giggly Pam way called me and we discussed the LOL situation, she stated that she felt that LOL should be changed to Lots of Love because it makes more sense. I informed her that I'm not sure how we would go about changing the whole world's understanding of those three letters: LOL. I do know that when I am with Pam I LOL a lot and I have LOL for her.

So with the help of my daughter I went about setting up my account and then I waited. I became friends with my children and Pam. I tentatively asked another person to be my friend and held my breath while they decided if they would accept my invitation. Yes! They said Yes! They'll be my friend. I feel loved. I feel wanted. I feel accepted. I feel like I am back in 7th grade. Oh great.

I continue to collect my friends on FB and we have had some wonderful reunions. I found some dear college friends who I have missed dearly and we are now planning a real person reunion. I actually get teary at times when I read messages or updates from these wonderful people. Even though many years have passed, our friendship is still alive and treasured.

I stay connected with people within my own community which is wonderful yet at the same time I realize the importance of having real life social interactions with these friends. Face to face. Hugs. Handshakes. Real LOL.

And most recently I have started connecting with many people who went to high school with me. This has been an interesting journey and at times has caused mixed emotions within me. I was never one of the popular girls. But it didn't really matter because I had a strong core group of friends who accepted me for who I was, friends to laugh with, friends to have adventures with, friends who supported me through those very difficult years. We were never invited to the popular kids parties, and at times we were teased and bullied by some of the popular kids. My self-confidence was low, at times non-existent, and most days I walked through the halls of school praying I would make it through the day without any verbal or physical abuse occurring. I am the woman I am today because of my past. I work hard to support the underdog. I will not tolerate bullying. I want everybody to play nice in the sandbox. I am a fierce protector of my loved ones.

And now thirty five years have passed. Reconnecting with people who didn't really know me. And I didn't really know them. People who might never have spoken more than ten words to me throughout my high school years. Maybe they were shy. Maybe my protective shield kept them away. People who have written kind words on my FB Wall. People who are reaching out to me. People who had many of the same self-confidence issues as I did although I couldn't see that at the time. People who had difficulties of their own but I couldn't see past my own issues. People who have experienced lots of life over the past 35 years. And because of Facebook I have the opportunity to finally have friendships with these people. And when we get together for our 35th reunion I will party like a rock star with my high school classmates, my high school friends, after all these years.

I have heard the complaints about Facebook. It is a time sucker. It can be addicting. But it is also allowing people to reach out and reconnect. It is allowing friendships to flourish. It is allowing the world to be that much smaller, that much friendlier. And that is a good thing.

What a Difference a Year Makes !

2010-02-03T10:51:00.008-05:00

These first four pictures were taken one year ago when my twin grandsons were born.

And now they are one year old !

I have truly enjoyed my first year of grammiehood. Looking forward to celebrating many more milestones and creating many more memories. Happy Birthday !

Happy Birth Day April !

2010-01-29T06:00:00.001-05:00

Flashback to January 29, 2009. My husband and I head for our car as we leave the bowling alley. We make plans with our friends to meet the next week - same time, same place. As I get behind the driver's wheel I check my phone messages. Only one. It's from our daughter who is 32 weeks pregnant with our first grandchildren. That is correct. Grandchildren. She is expecting twin boys in mid March. I start up the car as I listen to her message.

" Mom, Kyle and I are on our way to the hospital. My water broke. Meet me at the Elliot."

Holy cow ! This was the phone call I had been waiting for. I looked at what time she had called. Twenty minutes had passed. I jammed the car into drive and stepped on the gas.

'Deb, maybe I should drive," my husband quietly suggested.

" Why? Why should you drive?"

"Well, so far you have managed to drive over the curb and you just took a left turn at that red light. There is no left turn on red law as far as I know," he calmly replied.

" I am fine," I not so calmly snarled.

I drove for a few miles and then quietly turned and looked at him. Using my quiet indoor voice I said , " I can't remember how to get there and I need to get there fast." My mind was whirling and I could feel the emotions starting to take control. Somehow we made it to the hospital and I parked in the nearest snowbank. We ran through the hospital doors and made a quick stop at the front desk. We were directed to the third floor birthing center. My daughter had originally hoped to have a homebirth but that wasn't to be. She was still hoping to not need a Cesarean section and had been doing her homework for months. I knew she was prepared. I, in the meantime, was prepared to sit in the waiting room as long as it took for my grandsons to arrive.

I tried to contain my emotions as I approached the nurses' desk. I told the attending nurse my whole life story and she finally interrupted me and asked me my daughter's name. I told her and she looked at me calmly as she said, "She'll be brought into recovery soon." What?

"No, you don't understand. My daughter just arrived here thirty minutes ago. It is her first birth. I truly doubt that she gave birth in thirty minutes."

"The twins have arrived and are on their way to the Newborn ICU floor." What?

None of this was making sense to me. This was not the birthing plan that April and I had gone over and reviewed for months. I looked the nurse right in the eye and said, " Is my daughter okay?" She met my stare and said tight-lipped, " They will be wheeling her to recovery soon."

My knees started to wobble. I felt nauseous. I reached for the arm of a chair to support me. "Where is my daughter? I need to see her now! "

And at that moment my son-in-law turned the corner and was facing me. And he had a huge smile on his face. I knew then that April must be okay. I started to cry.

And she was okay. Despite a few complications, an unexpected C-section and a great loss of blood my little girl was okay. And her babies were okay. She was now a mommy. And I was a grammie. And a new chapter in our lives was about to begin.

I walked into April's room to find her hooked up to many machines, looking so small, so pale. I wanted to climb right into the bed next to her and just hold her close. Instead I got as close as I could and bent down for a kiss.

" Mom, I did it. I had the babies." She beamed from ear to ear. "Have you gone to see them yet?"

"No, not yet. First I had to make sure my baby was okay." I brushed her hair out of her eyes.

"Mom, I lost five gallons of blood." It was then that I realized that April was a bit drugged up. I smiled at her and just nodded in agreement. April has always had a flair for exaggeration.

The rest of that evening was spent running to the fifth floor to see my incredibly cute grandsons and back to the third floor to visit with April . Not sure who designed the hospital but not the best of plans. But it did allow me plenty of time for reflection. I remembered that Halloween almost thirty years ago when April arrived - our little treat. I remembered the thousands of pieces of artwork and poetry that she had created including many love notes to me which I will cherish forever, her dancing while standing on her daddy's feet, carrying a pair of her daddy's dirty socks around and smelling them throughout the day, the scare we had when the doctor thought she might have cystic fibrosis, the dance recitals, the cheerleading tournaments, the proms, the popcorn soup she made for the family, and the night she stood on the stage for a school talent show. Oh, that night...she stood on the stage , age 10, accompanied only by a piano player as she sang 'Would You Like to Wish On a Star' ~ her tiny voice lost in the huge auditorium. My husband and I sat in our seats, willing her to sing louder...the empathy was overpowering. We wanted to just reach out and grab her to our chests and hug her tight. And that is how I felt the night the twins were born - I just wanted to reach out and pull April onto my lap and hug her tight. I wanted to take away the pain from the traumatic birth of her sons, I wanted to shelter her from the stress of motherhood, and prepare her for the emotional roller coaster which lies ahead. And while I can't physically protect her I am always there for her - to talk with, to laugh with, to share with, to help her in anyway possible.

And now we are celebrating the first birthday of the twins. One year has passed. The boys are growing and thriving, happy and healthy. April and Kyle are excellent parents, working together. April writes a blog, Eclectic Effervesence which allows one to see the struggles and joys of raising twins in this day and age. So April, thank you for giving your father and I the gift of grandparenthood and Happy Birth Day ! Celebrate !

Good Morning Sunshine !

2010-01-28T08:57:00.002-05:00

This was the sunrise which greeted me this morning. May I rise each day as vibrant, energetic and passionate. Hallelujah!

Wordless Wednesday

2010-01-27T05:00:00.001-05:00

Click on post title to see other Wordless Wednesday Particpants entries.

Defensive Walking 101

2010-01-22T21:13:00.004-05:00

Over the past few months I have been trying to walk on a more regular basis. Dr. Oz and my own doctor recommend some type of exercise each day and since I have my 35th High School reunion fast approaching and since the recent results of my blood cholesterol were disappointing I have made a commitment to walk for a minimum of thirty minutes each day. This should be doable - no fancy gym clothes needed, no need to drive to the gym, no excuses - just open the front door, pedometer in place and walk.

I have been walking for over 50 years so how difficult could this daily walking routine be? Making sure that my sneakers are tied tightly so I don't trip I set out. There are no sidewalks in my community, no traffic lights ~ just plain paved road. I follow the rules of walking, always walking on the left side of the road so the oncoming traffic can easily see me. I would be hard to miss. I am often pushing my grandsons in their stroller. An orange stroller. A double wide orange stroller carrying my twin grandsons. I start out pushing the boys down our country road when a gray Honda approaches. I expect that the driver is going to slow down and veer around me out of common courtesy. That's what I do when I see a pedestrian,horseback rider, or bike rider - I show courtesy and respect their space on the road. The driver of the Honda made no attempt to slow down or to veer away from me. As a matter of fact, she appeared to be almost playing a game of chicken with me. I pushed the stroller into the grass and raised my fist at the driver of the car. I stomped my sneaker on the pavement in anger. The health benefits of walking seemed to be diminishing.

I have continued walking and could write forever about the near misses I have had with vehicles who speed by me coming dangerously close. I shake my fist, I yell at them to slow down. I now wear brighter clothing and make sure my invisibility cloak is removed before I start my walk.
I refuse to hang up my sneakers so I have developed a few defensive strategies to protect me when I hit the road.

1. I have a walking stick which I often carry. When a car approaches I put the stick on my hip so that if the car gets too close they could lose some paint off of the side. Back away from the stick. I am considering putting a nail on the end of the stick so that it will guarantee a scratch on the car.

2. I have wondered what happens to a car's paint if I spray it with mace? Or Silly String? How silly would that be?

3. I frequently carry my camera with me when I walk so I can capture the perfect sunset but I also can capture license plate numbers. I just aim my camera at their car and snap ! Might just start a blog listing dangerous drivers.

Of course, I probably wouldn't really practice any of these defensive moves BUT I certainly have been tempted on way too many occasions. What I would really like is for all people just to be courteous as drivers, as walkers, as humans...and to share the road with this middle aged grammie who is walking to stay healthy.

Wordless Wednesday

2010-01-13T06:41:00.004-05:00

Click on post title to see other Wordless Wednesday participants.

Fashionista ~ Not !

2010-01-11T09:28:00.001-05:00

I have often dreamed of being a fashionista. Daydreams are filled with visions of stylish colors, textures, accessories fitting and matching perfectly – no lumps, no wrinkles, no mismatched tops and bottoms. Whenever I spot a well-dressed human I come to a stop and try to soak in their fashion know - how. I go through a mental check-list so that the next time I have occasion to get dressed up I will have stored the knowledge I need away for safe keeping.

As a child I gave no thoughts to what I wore. I grabbed whatever was at the top of my bureau drawer, threw it on and went out to play or else my mom would tell me what to wear and I wore it, no questions asked. As long as I was comfortable and could run, jump, and ride my bike, I didn’t even think about what I looked like. I became more aware of clothing and fashion in my early teens. When I was 13 we moved to a new town and I had to go through the process of making friends. I just wanted to fit in and be liked – how difficult could that be? I met a girl who lived around the corner from me and she spent that summer helping me learn the ins and outs of my new community.

We spent a great deal of time discussing the first day of school and wondering what to wear. I daydreamed about entering the sacred halls of junior high, people turning to watch us as we walked in, rushing to meet the new girl in town. My organizer would be filled with names, addresses, and I would be overbooked with invites to slumber parties and dances. The golden glow of my daydream quickly vanished and a dark cloud moved in with my new reality. My new friend and I , after much discussion, had decided to wear plaid skirts with crisp white blouses for that infamous first day. I even convinced my mom to let me wear a training bra. A training bra ? What the heck was it training? Okay, girls, sit up and look perky ! At 13 I didn’t have a lot of perky. Who named it a training bra ? I can only guess. Then there were the legs. This was before the days of pantyhose so mature women wore garter belts and stockings. So while I convinced mom to let me wear the ‘training’ bra, there was no way she was letting me wear a garter belt. Now my legs at that point in my life were ~~thin~~ super skinny, very shapeless, really pale. Many a heated discussion was held with mom about what my leg coverings would be and she assured me that she would find me the perfect socks. Trust me, she said. So I did. And off I went to my first day of junior high with my pleated plaid skirt, my crisp white blouse, training bra hanging around waiting to train and my little white ankle socks. Yep. White ankle socks. My golden glow quickly disappeared when I noticed that many of the girls were wearing fishnet stockings. As hard as I tried to make my legs invisible it didn’t happen. Red fishnets, green fishnets, even black fishnets…and my brilliantly white ankle socks. And while I have repeatedly tried to erase the memories of that day, I have not been successful. From that day forward I was a marked target. My label had been cast in stone for the rest of my school days. And my label was not fashionista.

So now flash forward. For the last thirty years I have been busy raising children, teaching, playing, and my closet is full of blue jeans, t-shirts and sweatpants. I have my ‘teacher clothes’ and fancy dresses for those special occasions. On a day to day basis I dress rather plain jane. Until now that has not bothered me but maybe it is my age, maybe it is THE menopause, maybe I just need a change but I am starting to think that I want to be a fashionista. I want people to take a second glance when they notice that my blouse, skirt, sweater, and shoes all match. My accessories will be the perfect finishing touch. My grandchildren will be proud and never embarrassed.

So January 2010 seemed like the perfect time to begin my transformation. I have been more mindful of what I am wearing and have started to weed out my closet. I have been studying fashion magazines and looking closely at women who have already attained the status of fashionista. I can do this. I am capable. I will finally be able to wipe out all memories of that disastrous day in September 1969. Last Monday was to be the unveiling of Fashionista Debbie. I went to the gym first thing in the morning because I think that is what fashionistas must do. I sweat just a minimal amount, trying to move with grace and poise on the machines. I am not the most graceful of exercisers so this was a taxing situation. And I was really missing my baggy old sweatpants which I had retired. These new black too tight spandex yoga type pants were giving me a wedgy and since mirrors surround the gym I was stuck with it. After a not so rewarding workout I went to the locker room to change. So maybe the gym experience hadn’t gone as planned, I now could proudly display my fashion abilities. My maroon skirt, jacket, with silky black top accented with my ~~snowman pin~~ pearls,finished off with my sexy black leather boots. These boots were a treat to self, a splurge, part of the white ankle sock healing process. I pulled the boots out of my gym bag and went to put them on. I then stopped breathing for a second or three. I furiously reached for my gym bag and pulled everything out. I swallowed hard. I had two different black boots. Not a pair of black boots. I felt like I was on Sesame Street playing the ‘one of these things is not like the other, one of these things just doesn’t belong’ game. I sat down on the bench. I regrouped. Crying was not going to help me in this situation but that was my first impulse. I could wear my sneakers but I just kept wondering what would a true fashionista do? I really had no clue since this whole fashion thing was now giving me a friggin’ headache. I looked at the boots.They were both black, both had zippers, one had a silver buckle, one had a stiletto type heel, one had a chunkier heel..I don’t even know who belongs to the stiletto heeled boot – I don’t have too much experience walking in stilettos. How often do people look at my legs or feet? My guess was not very often so…screw it. I am wearing these mismatched boots. I would pretend I was doing a social experiment. How many people would mention to me that I had two different boots on ? So I put them on and then started to do what I always do when I am nervous, I giggled. I then took a deep breath and entered the locker room. Whoa. I had not taken into consideration that walking in boots with different heel lengths could be challenging. I strolled casually around the locker room trying to establish a gait which felt normal. I looked in the mirror at myself walking and my nervous giggle erupted. I looked like the horses on a merry-go-round. Left side up, right side down, my hips were getting a workout as I attempted to be graceful. I ventured out of the locker room which is on the second floor of the gym and approached the stairs with hesitation. I took the first step and made the necessary adjustments with each step. Clip, clop, hang on tight to the rail, slowly I approached the first floor landing. I found a bench and sat down. This social experiment was turning into a physical challenge. I made it to my car without making a scene and no one commented on my boots. I had planned on stopping at a store before heading to the office and for a second I considered nixing the plan but is that what a true fashionista does? No way. So into the parking lot I pulled, stepping right into a huge slush pile upon exiting my vehicle. Stiletto heels do not maneuver well in slush and I am thankful that I had one chunky heeled boot on since it saved me from an embarrassing fall. My hips were starting to ache from the uneven up and down stride but I kept on walking. A man in a walker passed me, head down and then, his head abruptly lifted and he made eye contact with me. I smiled. He looked down at my boots again. Eye contact again. I smiled my best fashionista smile, and choked down the giggle which was working its way out. He shook his head, smiled and we continued on our path. I entered the store and found the tiled floor to be a bit slippery. My stiletto heel slid out of control to the right. Chunky heel held his ground, and my thigh muscle tweaked. I had grabbed onto the store shelving to balance myself and I slowly regained my composure. I looked around to see if anyone was watching and found a true fashionista staring at me. Go ahead, I thought, say it, you know you want to. She ~~glanced~~ stared hard at my boots. I begged her to talk to me, to make mention of my mismatched, wicked uncomfortable pair of boots. I wanted to tell her that I knew where she could get a pair just like mine! But she said not a word. She shook her head quietly in disbelief. I started to giggle.

I finally made it safely to the office, pulled my boots off and went barefoot for the rest of the day. I filed all dreams of being a fashionista away. I filed away September, 1969. I am finally comfortable with who I am.

Look Who Came Over For Breakfast !

2010-01-06T05:00:00.000-05:00

Happy New Year !

2010-01-03T21:14:00.003-05:00

I surprised myself when I came to visit my blog recently and saw the date of my last post ~ September 8th, 2009. Four months have disappeared since last writing. Almost 120 days since writing about the life and times of a 52 year old menopausal woman. A woman who recently realized that she graduated from high school 35 years ago. That was a sit down and take a deep breath moment. A woman who realized she can no longer explain away her belly fat by telling people she just had a baby - her baby will be 25 years old this year. A woman who is thinking that maybe she should seriously consider getting a wig since her thinning hair issue doesn't appear to be connected to the fact that she just had a baby since said baby will be 25 in September. A woman who has decided to write a 'to do' list for 2010 ~ included on that ever growing list is conquering her fear of making a gingerbread house; to be able to walk successfully in stilettos; to attend the Cherry Blossom Festival in Washington DC, and to go on more dates with her wonderful husband of 31 years while wearing stilettos. The list is always growing, constantly evolving, just as this woman of 52 years is. Lists are what keep this woman organized, moving forward and she often must keep lists of her lists. It is not for loss of memory ~ it is because of the depth and extent of thoughts which bounce around in her gray matter. The joy of being a grandmother to 11 month old twin boys and a five month old granddaughter ~ celebrating and cherishing their lives each day. The amazement and satisfaction of watching her four grown children make choices and decisions in responsible and independent ways. The fear of watching her dad battle cancer while living so far away, not ready to say good-bye. The worry about her mom and how she will hold up. Anger and confusion bumps off the gray matter cells as the 52 year old menopausal woman tries to understand why people are sometimes so cruel. Desire to be surrounded by family and friends who are loving and caring, trying to stay connected. And it is that need to be stay connected which has brought her back to her blog. To resolve to write so she may stay connected. So on her 'to do' list she adds one more item ~ * Remember to Nourish Your Soul each day.

Guess Who Came to Dinner?

2009-09-08T22:06:00.004-04:00

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...

2009-09-02T21:00:00.002-04:00

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

2009-08-24T07:57:00.011-04:00

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

2009-08-17T23:03:00.001-04:00

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

2009-08-12T06:00:00.002-04:00

Busy little bees ~

Do you know what time it is?

2009-08-09T20:12:00.002-04:00

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

2009-08-05T06:00:00.001-04:00

Golden Memories ~

Our tree is growing...

2009-08-01T19:54:00.012-04:00

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

2009-07-29T05:18:00.001-04:00

Encounters of a Bird Kind

2009-07-20T06:57:00.010-04:00

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?

2009-07-14T07:39:00.007-04:00

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.

2009-07-07T20:45:00.006-04:00

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!

2009-07-04T06:00:00.000-04:00

Wordless Wednesday...Here Comes the Sun !

2009-07-01T06:00:00.001-04:00

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?

2009-06-28T22:45:00.002-04:00

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...

2009-06-24T05:00:00.000-04:00

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 !

2009-06-22T07:42:00.011-04:00

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

2009-06-17T21:49:00.003-04:00

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.

2009-06-12T22:10:00.000-04:00

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

2009-06-10T00:01:00.002-04:00

Just Ask

2009-06-07T21:19:00.006-04:00

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?

2009-06-03T19:12:00.004-04:00

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

2009-04-02T07:12:00.002-04:00

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

2009-03-25T01:00:00.000-04:00

Twenty Minutes and Counting...

2009-03-20T18:58:00.002-04:00

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 !

Springtime in New Hampshire !

2009-03-17T21:33:00.006-04:00

I love MUD !

I'm in love with mud,

It's sad, I know, but true.

I just can't help but splash in it,

Or stomp a path right through.

It's sticky and it's dirty,

And it covers all my clothes.

But when I see it lying there,

A voice inside me grows......

You can't resist,

you know I'm right,

It's fun to play in mud!

Look at it just sitting there,

I really think you should!

I splatter in the grimy gloop,

I can't resist the ooze!

I run, I jump, I stamp about,

It drips into my shoes!

Ready for the Weekend!

2009-03-06T06:52:00.003-05:00

It is 7:00 AM. My teeth are brushed and flossed. The dust bunnies are under control, sort of. Work week is coming to a close. I am ready for the weekend. It is going to be a good one. Full of love, happiness, smiles, relaxation, calm, appreciation, nourishment of the soul. And I am ready. I won't be blogging this weekend - no computers allowed. I would like to share some pictures of Pumpkin and Peanut with you. Take care.

Wordless Wednesday

2009-03-04T06:00:00.000-05:00

Salutations!

2009-03-01T06:56:00.008-05:00

It is a rather odd Sunday morning for me. I am awake before my husband which rarely happens. I am glad that he is catching up on some sleep but there is one little problem. He always makes the coffee. I don't even know how to use this newfangled coffeepot which basically picks the beans, grinds them, and brews a decent cup of coffee in seconds flat. There are so many buttons, buzzers and lights on this machine you need an engineering degree to use it. So here I sit, trying to decide if I should attempt to make a pot of coffee or just make a cup of tea. I really want a cup of coffee so I will just keep typing loudly and maybe he will wake up. I just made some blueberry muffins (from a mix) so I am hoping the aroma of those will stir his nostrils awake!

I am also trying to ignore the weather report I just heard. The good news is that we are not getting a snowstorm in the next 24-36 hour period. Nope. We are supposedly going to get hit with TWO snowstorms, back to back, over the next couple of days. Enough already! But the reality is that I can't change the weather so I will just sit here quietly and watch the beautiful white flakes fall from the sky, pile up on top of the other one zillion snowflakes which have already landed. Okay, I probably won't be sitting here quietly - I am rarely quiet. So come on already...bring it on...my shovel is ready...let it snow!

Today I am going to make cookies (from scratch). I obviously am in some type of Betty Crocker mood since I started my day by making blueberry muffins which smell delicious - ooh, if I only had a cup of coffee. I am going to make butter Spritz cookies for my husband. They are his favorite type and I just never got around to making them at Christmas so...better late than never! I am going to make peanut butter blossoms also. Maybe I am in the baking mode because my body senses there is another snowstorm coming and I need one more layer of fat to protect me against the cold! I am also going to make a humongous batch of beef stew - one for us and one for my daughter who just had our grand babies. The twins are home now and doing well but they are a little confused about the difference between night and day. As much as I have sometimes missed my baby making days I am not missing the sleepless nights. So later on today, before the first of the two snowstorms hits, I will deliver some beef stew and cookies at their door so they won't have to worry about making dinner.

I have a comfy, overstuffed chair by our fireplace which is where I station myself in the winter. I plan on reading some more of the book which my daughter highly recommended I read 'Jitterbug Perfume' by Tom Robbins. I have only read a couple of chapters but I have found myself wondering what Mr. Robbins might have been ingesting or inhaling as he wrote. I will no doubt be calling my eldest daughter at some point today so we can have a book talk. It will give me a chance to whine about the snow and allow her to tell me about the California sunshine.

And then when the day has quieted down I will work on my never-ending project. My pride and joy of the moment ~ my mermaid rug which I am hooking by hand. This is not a kit. This is a traditional hooked rug - just like they used to make in the old days during those long, cold winters when all it did was snow. My goal is to finish this rug by the end of summer. Yes, I am a slow hooker! I shouldn't show her to you until she is complete but what the heck! Who knows what tomorrow might bring besides more snow?! Here she is. I am trying to figure out what color to make the baby mermaid's hair. I started hooking it in the brunette but I don't like it so much. What do you think? I don't ask for opinions very often so here is your chance! :)

Another way to get my mind off of the snow is to think about summer. And when I think about summer I think about lemonade stands. These last two sentences are a lame attempt to tie in the wonderful award which my dear blogging friend and mentor Akelamalu awarded to me a few weeks ago. It is a refreshing award this time of year. I have now collected three awards and they are all from my dear friend, Akelamalu. Thank you Ake and I will pay you off later. Just kidding! Please go over to her blog today - I promise you won't be disappointed. She is one creative lady! Now let's get serious. I am supposed to award the 'Lemonade Award' to ten people. Yikes. This is hard. I don't have that many blogging friends and I hate to hurt the feelings of the few I have ~ so to all of my blogging friends I award to you the Happy Snow Day award. Here it is :

Notice it is all white. That is due to the fact that it is a blizzard with white out conditions. Okay. So I am trying to avoid having to pick ten blogging friends for the Lemonade award. Let's see... Lemonade is sweet with a tart, zingy taste mixed in. It is refreshing. It is reliable and has withstood the test of time. So I am going to choose ten people who are sweet but zingy, refreshing and reliable. Here are the winners of the March 1, 2009 Lemonade awards, listed in no particular order. Please take a minute to visit their blogs and congratulations to all who made it to the end of this rambling post.

Here is the award. Please take yours as you exit the stage.

The rules of this award are quite simple. Choose ten people to whom you would like to give this award. No easy task I warn you! And then please link back to the person who gave you the award. And here are the winners. If I didn't choose you and you feel that you are worthy please feel free to take this award also. All I ask is that you link back to me - I need all the help I can get!

Marg at Home Again ~ Marg is honest, kind and one of my first blogging friends. She is very energetic, loves her family and friends and lives each day to the fullest.
Willow at Willow's Cottage ~ She knits. She reads. She sews. She travels. She has a good heart. She is mindful of moments and reminds me to appreciate the small stuff.
Daryl ~ On the M104 ~ Daryl is the City Mouse and I am the Country Mouse. If I ever get to the Big Apple I will have deja vu because of the virtual tours I take on a regular basis over at Daryl's blog. She is a very talented photographer and she is zingy! I love zing!
Louise ~ Potted Frog ~ Lousie is an artist - on many levels. She writes from her heart with honesty and humor. I love her photography as well.
Jennie at View from My Camera ~ I love Jennie's blog. She hasn't posted in a while but I am hopeful that maybe this award will lead her out of hibernation. I miss you, Jennie and I hope you are well.
Sandy at Writing in Faith ~ I am a newbie to Sandy's place but I always enjoy my stay. Whether it be her words, her reflections or her photography I feel refreshed after my visit. I urge you to stop in and say hi.
Rapunzel at Rapunzel's Castle ~ Rapunzel deals with life with honesty and real emotions. She tells it like she sees it which is refreshing. Life has given her way too many lemons lately so please stop in and share a glass of sweet lemonade with her. Thank you.
Sandi at Holding Patterns ~ I love visiting Sandi and I love it when she visits me! She leaves honest comments with a positive outlook. Her blog is full of great stories of her adventures in life and let me tell you - she has had many! She is sweet, she is loyal and reliable and she has lots of zing!
I'm Being Held Hostage ~ An Air Force Wife, J writes with incredible humor and honesty of raising a family. I swear she could be a stand up comic. I feel guilty sometimes because I find myself laughing at her various life adventures with a house full of kids. I often think to myself that I have been there, done that and I am so glad that I am past that stage in life! She deserves a medal!
Beth ~ One of my newest places to hang out! Warning - do not have food or drink in your mouth because you could choke or spray liquid all over your monitor. Beth is funny! Beth is real! Beth has zing! And I love what she has to say!

And now... I am going to drive to Dunkin' Donuts. I need my coffee!

Wordless Wednesday

2009-02-25T06:00:00.001-05:00

I Didn't Mean to Hurt Him. Honest!

2009-02-22T11:14:00.006-05:00

About two weeks ago my husband was sitting at his desk, hard at work. He called out to me that his neck felt very hot and he was rather uncomfortable. I checked it out and his neck was quite red and the redness seemed to be creeping up to the back of his head. He said he felt as if a heatlamp was shining on him. Odd. After about an hour the color returned back to normal and we both went about our business.

The next day was Saturday and I was out and about running errands. My cell phone rang and it was my husband.
"It's happening again."
"What's happening again ?" I asked.
"The redness is back but this time it is all over my body. I am watching it spread. It looks like I have a sunburn. It feels like I have a chemical burn."
My sister is a medical assistant for a dermatologist so I suggested that he call her. She asked him if he had any taken any new medications or eaten any new foods or used a new laundry detergent. No, no and no.

Once again the redness disappeared as mysteriously as it had appeared. We scratched our heads. We tried to diagnose via WebMD. I was convinced the rash was caused by stress. I believe that stress is the root of many medical evils. My husband wasn't convinced.

Day three arrived. The red rash started on his hands. We watched as it spread up his arms, across his chest, down his back. Here we go again. We now were starting to get concerned. Our daughter didn't want him to go near our new grandbabies and we totally understood. Was this measles? Blood pressure issue? Time to call 'Ask a Nurse'. I mentioned to my husband that he should tell her about the incredible stress he has been under lately. Stress can cause body malfunctions.

The nurse asked him question after question. "Mention the stress. Mention the stress," I mouthed. He told her he had taken no new medications. No new skin products. No known food allergies. I wrote a huge note which I waved in front of his eyes. Mention the stress!!! He brushed my hand away and tried to pay attention to the questions being asked him. She asked him about the daily vitamin he takes. "Do you take any other supplements?" He told her about the fish oil and the glucosamine chondroitin. He mentioned the niacin supplements which we take. I had just bought a new bottle of the heart healthy capsules last week. She asked him how many milligrams were in each capsule. He read the small print - they were 2500% of the RDA. What? That couldn't be right. I am very careful about what we eat and try hard to keep us healthy. Niacin supplements have been part of our heart healthy regiment for months. I got out my reading glasses so I could read the fine print and had an 'aha' moment. While shopping I had bought the niacin but had not paid attention to the amount of milligrams in each capsule. I had bought the superduper niacin capsule which had caused my husband to have a niacin flush. In my rush I had not read the fine print.

I truly feel horrible that I had caused my husband worry and discomfort. How ironic that in my quest to make sure that we are doing all we can to be as healthy as possible I was the cause of the flush. I am so thankful that the side effects weren't more serious and once we stopped taking the superduper niacin capsules his flush disappeared. I learned my lesson...carefully read the small print and then your stress may disappear.

Wordless Wednesday

2009-02-18T06:00:00.001-05:00

Things My Mother Never Told Me...

2009-02-14T20:35:00.007-05:00

For the past sixteen days I have been redefining who I am - once again. I am a daughter, a sister, a wife, a friend, a mom, an aunt, a mom-in-law, and now I am a grandmother. Of course I have also been called a few other things over the years but we won't go there today. I thought I would just become a grammie with no thought required but that has not been the case. I have been reflecting a great deal about what it means to be a grandmother. I have been reminiscing about raising my four children and how fast the years flew by. At times I have even been sad as I face the realization that my baby raising days are behind me. I have spent hours thinking of my own grandmothers ~ how much I loved them and how much I miss them. It is amazing that two baby boys with a combined weight of less than eleven pounds have had this type of effect on me.

Part of this introspection has included thoughts of my mom. She is now a great-grandmother. My parents live in Florida and I don't get down there to visit as often as I would like. They are not able to travel any longer so unfortunately I don't know when or if they will get to meet their great-grandsons. I have sent pictures but that's not the same as being able to kiss those cute little toes and inhaling that wonderful baby smell. I miss my mom and wish she were here to share this next chapter in life with me. I want to see her holding her great-grandsons, rocking them and soaking up their sweetness. I want to talk to her, up close and personal, about being a grandmother.

So as I process new feelings and revisit stored memories and try to make sense of this new phase in my life, I linger on a few of 'my mom' memories. My mom is a sweet lady. She is not an adventurer, not a risk taker. She plays life safe. She was a stay at home mom and did whatever my father told her to do - right, wrong or otherwise. That is also another post for another day.

One memory was when I was thirteen years old. My sister and I were doing gymnastics on the beds. I was doing a tumble and landed hard on the wooden rail at the end of the bed. I landed real hard and let's just say I am glad I wasn't male because I would have been singing soprano. I ran into the bathroom and on further investigation I realized that I was bleeding. I started to cry. I knew I was in serious trouble. I wasn't supposed to be doing tumbles on the bed in the first place and now it appeared that I had internal bleeding. My thirteen year old dramatic imagination was on overdrive and I worked myself into a frenzy. I yelled out to my mother, "Come here fast, I am going to die !" My mother came into the bathroom and checked out the situation. She handed me a feminine product, told me how to wear it and then prepared to leave the room.

"Mom, what is this for? Am I dying? Why am I bleeding? Shouldn't we go to the hospital? What's wrong with me?"

"This is going to happen to you every month."

She left the room. I remember wondering what was going to happen every month. Was I going to do tumbles every month, fall on the rail and then bleed? Thoroughly confused, and not for the last time, I entered the world of womanhood.

I remember when I was curious about the birds and the bees. This was before the days of sex education. At all of the slumber parties the main topic of discussion was sex and I was once again confused. I went to my mother and asked her about some of the conversations. She turned and told me to ask my grandmother to explain it to me. What? To this day mom has never mentioned the 'S" word to me. Thoroughly confused, and not for the last time, I entered the world of sexuality.

I remember when I became engaged. I was so excited. My parents had been married forever so I asked my mom for words of advice as I prepared to get married to my true love, my soulmate. She turned and looked at me with sad eyes, and said, " You make your bed, you lie in it." Whoa. I didn't truly understand what she meant but I knew this wasn't happy, happy, joy, joy talk. Thoroughly confused, and not for the last time, I entered the world of marriage.

When I gave birth to my first child, I was beaming, excited, bursting with pride. I couldn't wait to show my new baby girl to the world. I was a mommy! My mother walked into my hospital room and I held out my arms so she could give me a hug. She looked at me and I waited for her words of love, her words of wisdom.

"Are you sure there isn't another baby in there?"

"What?"

"Your stomach is still huge. Are you sure they got everything out?"

Thoroughly confused, and not for the last time, I entered the world of motherhood.

And now, I have entered the world of Grandmotherhood and I am finding that once again there are things my mother never told me. She never told me how much love I would hold in my heart for my grandchildren. She never told me how after sixteen short days I would protect my grandsons against any type of danger. She never told me about the bonds that form, a bond stronger than Gorilla glue. And for once, I am not thoroughly confused. I have entered the world of Grandmotherhood and I'm lovin' it!

I'm Rockin'

2009-02-11T13:09:00.006-05:00

Hello to my Blogging Friends ~ I just wanted to check in. I haven't had too much free time lately since I have been rocking, burping and loving the newest additions to our family. I have been offering support to the new parents, offering advice -if asked, and standing back and watching with pride as my daughter and son-in-law begin this newest adventure. I am figuring out how to be a grammie, what it means to be a grammie and trying to decide if I look like a grammie. I have a few potential posts to write and I promise to come and visit all of you soon! Thank you so much for your kind words and well-wishes. Keep your fingers crossed - the babies might be able to go home this weekend! Yahoo! Here I am with my grandbabies - just a tad proud and bursting with love and happiness!

Wordless Wednesday

2009-02-04T06:00:00.001-05:00

It's a Wonderful World

2009-02-01T08:06:00.015-05:00

This is ridiculous. One of the biggest events in life occurred on Thursday and I can't find the words to express myself. Our daughter gave birth to our twin grandsons. They arrived six weeks early. They arrived fast. They arrived perfect. Sweet Pea weighed 5lb 2oz and Pumpkin weighed 4lb 14oz. They are perfect. Round faces, ten long fingers and ten cute toes. Our daughter and her husband are doing well. I am so proud of them They were so strong, so calm and level-headed during an extremely harrowing experience. My knees are still shaking. The babies are in a neo-natal intensive care unit being well-cared for by many wonderful professionals. I haven't been able to hold them yet but I have been able to whisper to them that I love them. I have been able to stare at them and imprint their faces to my memory. I have been able to gaze at them intently and shower them with the love that I hold in my heart for them . I stand by their little incubators and will them to grow and flourish. I talk to them of the adventures we will have, of the mudpies we will make, the forts we will build, the artwork we will create. I am ready to read to them, cuddle them, kiss them and play with them. For now I will cherish them, pray for them and adore them. And now I would like to introduce you to my two grandsons...

Sweet Pea ... ...and Pumpkin ! xxoo

Wordless Wednesday

2009-01-28T06:00:00.001-05:00

If the Pants Fit...

2009-01-25T07:07:00.008-05:00

My husband and I were at the gym recently and as we finished up by doing some stretching, I overheard the conversation of the two guys behind us. Both men were in their fifties, one was rather short and stout with the other being tall and slimy. I tried to block them out since most of the conversation seemed to center around young women who were working out. I could feel myself getting agitated and I tried to ignore them. But then my head decided to turn around and my eyes began giving them the evil glare. My husband was oblivious to all this since he couldn't hear them. I tried to focus on stretching my glutes.

Then tall slimy says, "What's the difference between a girlfriend and a wife?"
Short stout replies, "I don't know."
Tall slimy is yucking it up, so proud of himself he can barely give the punchline, "Oh, about fifty pounds." Both men roar.

I almost have an out of body experience as I turn around to glare stare. I confirm that they are both wearing wedding rings. I am livid. How dare they talk about their wives in such a disrespectful manner? Who do they think they are ~ George Clooney? Brad Pitt? I decide how to best take them on. I must defend married women of the world, women who have sacrificed, gone without, raised children, worked long hours...when I felt my husband tapping my shoulder. "You okay?" he asks, wiping the foam from the corner of my mouth.

"No, not really. Those two sleazebags think they are so funny. I just want to..."
After thirty years of marriage, my husband knows me well and he can tell he had better remove me from the situation at hand, quickly. He walks me to the womens' locker room and asks me what was said. "I'll tell you later," I reply.

I grab my gym bag and head for the showers. Hopefully my blood pressure will settle down. The hot water feels good but I am still disturbed by 'the joke'. I can't stand jokes which are at the expense of other people. I can't stand old married men who think they are some type of stud muffin. They make me gag. I feel a need to put them in their place.

I pull my jeans out of my bag and proceed to put them on, one leg at a time. Hmm...I had better calm down and focus on getting dressed because I seem to have an issue. Both feet are in and I can get these jeans on over my knees but what is going on with my thighs. What the heck? I look at the tag on my jeans and realize I grabbed my 'skinny' jeans. Well, actually since the holidays these might now be classified as my 'very skinny' jeans. Like many women I have a variety of sizes in my closet to keep up with my everchanging waistline. I have pre-baby, postbaby, prePMS, postPMS, perimenopausal, and now the newest size to join the closet...menopausal. It is good to have options.

So there I stood, struggling to get into my jeans in the changing stall. Not a lot of room to move around in so I opted for jumping up and down as I shoved my thighs into place. I marched in place at a rapid pace to stretch the material out. I was now working up a sweat and my face had a rosy glow. Now the tough part - the zipper. My best bet would be to lie down, suck in and zip but there was no room in the stall and there was no way I was going out into the main locker room in front of all those women, many young women, and laying down on a bench. No way. I sat on the little stool, put my feet on the opposite wall of the stall and tried to lay backwards. I sucked in, laid back and whacked my head on the counter. I wanted to kick short stout and tall slimy where it counts.

I wish I had a pair of pliers in my bag. Maybe I should just put my gym clothes back on. Gross. I stand up straight, on tippy toes. I suck in real deep so my belly button hits my spine - LOL - and I pull on the zipper. I yank as hard as I can. I think about those two sleazebags yucking it up and SUCCESS! I am now fully dressed and ready to go. I bend over to pick up my gym bag. Ooohhh... I knelt down to pick up my bag. Bending doesn't appear to be an option at the moment. Denim can be very stiff material. I look in the mirror for a quick final glance and try to ignore the fact that all of the extra skin and body parts have shifted and it appears the stomach fat has been shoved up so high it is squishing out the neck of my sweater. Attractive.

I enter the gym lobby and meet up with my husband.
"You okay? Your face is really red and you're walking funny."
"I am fine. Let's just get out of here," I growl.
"So what did those guys say that upset you?"
"You know, it doesn't really matter. Let's go."

Wordless Wednesday

2009-01-21T07:06:00.006-05:00

Snow Puppy

What's your Best Thing?

2009-01-18T08:02:00.005-05:00

When my four children were young I worked hard to make sure we had sit down dinners each evening ~ together. I had read an article in a magazine about how to promote healthy, positive conversation at the dinner table. I decided to give it a try because I was tired of the bickering, whining, elbowing and kicking under the table that seemed to have become a routine.

It was an easy idea - no gadgets necessary. No bells, no whistles, no gimmicks. I took my place at our table and asked ~ 'What's the best thing that happened to you today?' and then we went around the table - one by one - and we talked. It was awkward at first but the kids, my husband, and I quickly got the hang of it. I was amazed at how it pulled the family together and meaningful conversation developed. So often you will ask kids what they did in school and the reply is 'nothing'. But now they had to be specific and it worked- and it allowed me to get a clearer picture of what was happening in their lives. More importantly it forced all of us to focus on the positive aspects of our lives.

The one rule I had was...they had to say something. There were times during the teen years when they would reply that nothing good had happened to them. I would remind them that at least they had the opportunity to wake up and see my smiling face... and that was a good thing. They would do the eyeball roll but eventually they would come up with one good thing that had happened during their day.

So for the past twenty something years this has been a tradition in our home. We would do it even when we had dinner guests over. It is an ice breaker and a conversation starter. And now the kids are grown and gone. Our dinner table usually consists of only two plates or worse - we frequently eat in front of the TV ( I can't tell you how embarrassed I am to write that!). I realized recently that my husband and I have gotten away from our cherished tradition. So...I have decided to do something about that! Starting tonight we will have a cozy dinner together, he and I and whoever comes through the front door, and I will ask that very important question...'What is the best thing that happened to you today?'

It is a quiet, snowy Sunday morning as I sit here typing this post. Life is good. I am reflecting on the past week and reflecting on all that I accomplished. The best thing that happened was that we had a wonderful baby shower for my daughter who is pregnant with twins. Twin boys! I am going to be a Grammie ! It is hard to even comprehend this. Where did the years go? My daughter is going to be a mommy?! Oh, and what a wonderful mommy she will be!

The shower was your typical baby shower - times two! Our theme was 'The Perfect Pair' ~ and we celebrated with my daughter. We hugged, we laughed, we oohed and aahed as she opened a mountain of gifts. Her friends and family were so generous and I know that she and her husband are so grateful. I spent part of the time just watching her ...and remembering ... and thinking to myself that this is one of the best things that has ever happened to me.

TP Therapy

2009-01-13T13:27:00.006-05:00

At the gym this morning I spent 40 long minutes on the elliptical machine. I had some definite aggression, anger, frustration, stress to work through so I grabbed onto those handles and I went to work. The music from my Ipod further helped to pump me up. I soon was lost in the zone. My mind started to wander and my blood stopped boiling. I took a few deep cleansing breaths.

I thought about strategies I have learned through the years for dealing with anger and negativity. I recalled a memory from when I was teaching first grade. It was the end of a rather long school year and I had planned a field trip to our local airport since we were studying transportation. After our tour of the airport we were going to the restaurant with the golden arches for lunch.

One afternoon I was sitting at 'circle' time with my class and we were discussing the upcoming trip. I handed each child a permission slip and a letter explaining all of the particulars of the trip for their parents. I explained to the students that I needed to know before the trip what their choice for lunch was: hamburger happy meal or chicken nugget happy meal. I also informed them that we would all be drinking milk - no soda. Since we had recently finished a nutrition unit I didn't see this to be an issue. Wrong. Billy Bob stands up and shouts, "That is a stupid rule. I am drinking soda. My mother says I can drink soda anytime I want." He was probably correct. His mother probably allowed him to drink soda anytime he wanted. Just as she allowed him to bring a knife to school. Just as she allowed him to draw very graphic, often disturbing pictures of the human anatomy - girls and boys - anytime he wanted, just as she allowed him to decide if he needed to meet with our school guidance counselor...he usually refused...the list goes on. This was the child who had whacked me in the head with his metal lunchbox. This was the child who, at show and tell time, shared pictures of his mom on her vacation. How cute - except she was nude. It had been a very long year and when Billy Bob stood up and shouted at me that he would drink soda I made a decision. The only way Billy Bob was going on this field trip was if one of his parents came with us. I had no support paraprofessional in my room and I decided that it would not be wise for me to take all of this responsibility for this child. I was confident that the administration would support my decision.

I called mom that evening and explained my decision. She went back and forth for a while but I stood my ground. She finally saw things my way and told me that she thought it might be good if Billy Bob's father be the parent to accompany us on this adventure. I had no issue with that. As a matter of fact I felt that it would be a positive for Billy Bob to have his dad there. Sure enough, for the next few days Billy Bob floated around the classroom so excited that his dad was going on the field trip with him. His father was frequently not in the picture and the few times I had conversations with him I felt that he was always trying to 'sell' me, never truly listening to the serious concerns I had about his son.

Finally the big day arrived. I was relieved to see that Billy Bob's behavior was golden. He was SO proud that his dad was sitting next to him on the bus. I was glad that I had stood my ground.

We met our tour guide and she explained the rules. We were actually going to walk out onto the tarmac to see some of the smaller planes up close and personal. She stressed the importance of staying within the ropes. I did a quick head count. Where was Billy Bob's dad? Oh, there he was, over in the corner talking on his cell phone. Great. Where was Billy Bob? Oh, there he was. Over at the soda vending machine, kicking it and pushing all of the buttons. I got Billy Bob away from the machine and convinced him to get in line so we could go see the plane. I went over to his father and motioned, frantically, that I needed him to get in line with his son - now.

We walked out onto the tarmac and I was on alert that everyone stayed behind the ropes. The last thing I needed was for one of my little guys to get hit by an airplane. There was a lot of activity - planes landing, taking off, propellers propelling, a little boy running recklessly towards a moving plane...WHAT! Sure enough, there was Billy Bob running out of control, on the wrong side of the ropes. I took off after him, trying hard not to panic. I finally caught up to him and corralled him. With his hand firmly in mine, I marched to his father who had his cell phone stuck in his ear.

I put my Irish temper on the back burner and acted as the professional educator that I was. "Mr. Billy Bob, it means the world to your son to have you here as a chaperone. I need you to focus on him for the rest of this trip. It might be wise to shut your cell phone off so you can focus on Billy Bob. We need to insure that he is safe."

I then turned my attention to the rest of my class. We went back into the airport and continued our tour. Billy Bob and dad were lagging behind but it appeared that the cell phone was put away. We prepared to get on the bus so we could drive to the golden arches. I did a head count and realized that I was missing two people. Of course, it was Billy Bob Jr. and Billy Bob Sr. ~ incredible. I went back into the terminal to search for them. My head was starting to throb. When I found them, my blood began to bubble as it reached the boiling point. I reached the vending machine just as Billy Bob Sr. put the last of his coins in.
"What are you doing?" I asked, not so calm.
"Well, um, you see, I have to leave. My friend is coming here to meet me. I have business to take care of and I need to get going. So I told Billy Bob he could have a soda if he promised to behave."
"You have got to be kidding me. This is not fair to Billy Bob, it isn't fair to me and it certainly isn't the plan that I set up with your wife. Plus, he is not having that soda while on a field trip with me."
"Aw, c'mon, "....and he continued to schmooze me, sweet talk me, sell me.
I took his son's hand and said "Come on, Billy Bob let's go have lunch with the rest of your classmates."
We walked away from his father.
"Wait, Mrs. Kelley, you forgot this." I turned to shoot him the evil eye. He stood there, holding the can of soda. I resisted the temptation to tell him where to stick it.
Billy Bob and I got on the bus together. He held my hand for the rest of the day and never again mentioned the can of soda.

When we got back to the school we were met by the school's guidance counselor. He was anxious to hear about how our day had gone. With no kids in sight I started to vent. I started to cry. My heart ached for my young student. I now had a much better understanding for why he behaved the way he did. I told the guidance counselor that I wanted to meet up with this poor excuse of a man -alone -one on one.

The guidance counselor then left, telling me he knew exactly what I needed. Hmm...as far as I knew alcohol wasn't allowed on school property. I was curious as to what he had up his sleeve.

He soon came back with a bucket, a large piece of white paper, and a roll of toilet paper. Great, now I was going to probably be a guinea pig to some new therapy treatment he had just read about. He filled the bucket up with water as he told me to draw a life size picture of Billy Bob's dad on the large piece of white paper. I did as directed and he then hung my drawing up on the wall.

"Now, take a wad of the toilet paper, soak it in the water and then throw it hard at the picture of Billy Bob's father. As you throw it, yell out why you are angry at him."

Now the students had all left for the day so let me tell you, I let things fly. Wad after wad of toilet paper stuck to my paper drawing. I laughed as one wad hit him right between the eyes. I screamed about how he repeatedly hurt his little boy. I yelled about how he thought a can of soda could make it okay. I used the whole roll of toilet paper and by the end I was emotionally wiped out.

So if the elliptical machine, treadmill or stairmaster don't remove the stress from your body, grab a roll of toilet paper and start throwing - hard.

Hit the Road and Don't You Come Back No More...

2009-01-07T07:56:00.003-05:00

We ushered 2009 in rather quietly. We spent the evening with four of our closest friends. We ate too much, drank very little and played games. If you haven't played Mad Gab yet I strongly recommend that you try it soon. Laughter guaranteed! At midnight our host set off some fabulous fireworks. We aahed, oohed and all felt a sense of the excitement, the promise that the New Year holds. The old year was tarnished and had its share of defects and we were ready to replace it with this shiny new model.

My husband and I are self-employed in the world of real estate. And like many professions, when life is good, it is very good. And when life is bad, it can be very bad. We have been on this ride before and I truly hoped that we wouldn't have to venture down this road again but here we are. I will not bore you with details. That is not the purpose of this post. The purpose of this post is to tell you about an unwelcome visit into our lives, a visitor that I am kicking out - today.

My husband and I are both emotional, passionate people. When we work, we work hard. When we play, we play hard. When we dance, we dance hard. When we panic, we panic hard. So during the past few months, we have had to work to remain focused and positive. We are both believers in the power of having a positive attitude. But sometimes we lose our focus and that is when the uninvited guest sneaks in.

This particular guest is invisible yet an aura of darkness surrounds him. I refer to the guest as a male because he is strong and heavy. When he pushes down on my shoulders it can be difficult to remove him. He sits on my husband's chest, making it hard for him to breath. He sucks the oxygen out of the room. He blocks the sunshine from entering the room.

Well, guess what, Mr. Uninvited Guest ~ your visit here in my home, in my workplace, in my body , in my husband's body is over. Pack your bags! You have picked the wrong woman to mess with. I am a Taurus and stubborn is a key component of my personality. So Mr. Bully, my size seven foot is now planted firmly on your backside and I am kicking you out via the front door. Good-bye Fear!

I know what we need to do and we are going to do it. Think positive talk. Focus on positive thoughts. Act in a positive way. Be mindful of moments. Exercise. Communicate. Work hard. Surround ourselves with friends and family. Appreciate the small stuff. Keep a 'happy' journal. Laugh. Dance. Hug. Kiss. Snuggle. Watch Ellen Degeneres. I will stick my chin out and stand tall.

I have been here before and I know that we will survive. I am a fighter from way back. I also know that life could be SO much worse. I will not wallow in self-pity. I will reach out to others in need. I will make the most of each day and cherish each moment. We will survive.

And now I am going to go out into the snowstorm and make a snow angel! Enjoy.

Three Important Words!

2008-12-31T09:37:00.039-05:00

Happy New Year! I have blended two ideas together for my last post of 2008! I have decided to recap my year in photos - month by month. It was an incredibly busy year for us. It was a year full of love, celebrations, friendships and adventures.

In addition to the photo recap, I would like you to leave me a comment, please. BUT not just any comment ~ I would like you to leave a 'three word phrase' which sums up the year 2008 for you. I am curious how you feel about the last twelve months in just three words. I know you can handle this 'challenge.' At the end of this post I will share my phrase for 2008 with you. I can't wait to read your thoughts.

January 2008 ~ This year started off with a bang !

February 2008 ~ We traveled to India to attend our daughter's wedding. It was the trip of a lifetime and one that I will never forget. Friendships were made, cultures were shared and memories were created.

March 2008 ~ We arrived back home to the USA. We celebrated with our family and friends. Go Green!

April 2008 ~ I celebrated my birthday - the fabulous age of 51! Yowser! We took a trip South to visit Mom and Dad. I did lots of kissing and hugging.

May 2008 ~ A time to sow and grow. We had a delicious veggie garden and the colors of my flowers brought a smile to my face on a daily basis.

June 2008 ~ I believe that this was one of the quietest months of the whole year. We spent time at our camp relaxing and recharging our batteries.

July 2008 ~ A road trip to Niagara Falls to celebrate thirty years of love and marriage! A fabulous time was had by all involved!

August 2008 ~ The wedding of our oldest son took place. We danced, we laughed and we celebrated. I also cried happy tears.

September 2008 ~ A month of hiking and enjoying sensational foliage! The month ended with the Deerfield Fair which we attended each day despite the torrential rains.

October 2008 ~ The U.S. wedding for our oldest daughter occurred. It was a whirlwind of a month as we celebrated with showers, bacherlorette parties, endless preparations and magical moments.

November 2008 ~ The month of finishing old projects and trying something new. I spent part of this month recovering from the hustle and the bustle of the past year. I had to figure out what to do next in life now that the three weddings were over. I decided to get busy. I joined a book club at our town library, finished a basket I had started years ago, worked on my mermaid rug, joined an informal arts and craft group and ... Do NOT laugh ~ my husband and I have started bowling! Once a week we meet up with three other couples and we bowl. I am probably the worst bowler in the bunch but I laugh a lot. Some day I will write about my friend, Pam, whom we now call 'Ballbreaker.'

Here is my guy getting ready to bowl a strike!

DECEMBER 2008 ~ Shopping, Decorating, Major Ice Storm, Trip to Woodstock ,Vermont, and Celebrating the Holidays with friends and family...

Our Pride and Joy were with us for the Holidays and for that I am thankful.

And that is a snapshot of 2008 for our family. There are so many 'little ' moments which aren't included but which were equally important. When I started putting this post together I realised how much happens in one year and it certainly has caused me to reflect. So now, my work for this post is complete and I pass the task of writing three words, just three words, which sum up the past year, to you. I will go first ~ 'Change is Constant.'

Life is one big puzzle !

2008-12-27T07:15:00.003-05:00

She slowly removed the blanket from her head and peeked out cautiously at the world to see how life was looking. It appeared that the shades of gray that had been bombarding her were now replaced by deep reds, lively greens and speckles of silver and gold. The chaos that had overwhelmed her seemed to have been conquered to some degree. Projects which had sat unfinished for years were now complete and it was with a sense of satisfaction that she checked items off her 'to do' list.

The 'Easter' basket she had started for her daughter almost ten years ago is now complete - and shipped to her in sunny California.

The scrapbook she had started a long time ago was finished and shipped to parents as their Christmas present. The scrap booking process turned out to be an emotional trip with too many tears shed as she went through hundreds of photos, remembering and sometimes trying to forget.

The mermaid rug was brought out of the closet and the hooking began. A date has been set for the completion of this 3' X 4' traditional hooked rug ~ the rug will be entered into the Deerfield Fair in September 2009.

She watercolored Christmas cards with her husband and son - and sent them off almost on time.

She survived the seven days without power when the ice storm of ice storms hit the Northeast. She did do a happy dance when the electricity was turned back on and she is very grateful to be reconnected.

And I am very grateful to also be emotionally reconnected. Thank you to all who checked in with me - it helped. As bizarre as this might sound to some, I miss my blogging friends. I enjoy blogging and I like feeling connected to the bigger picture. There is so much bad news everyday it is reassuring to connect with good people and my blogging 'friends' are very good people. So I am back.

I had to take a break. I had to get my life in order. I had to find the edge pieces to my puzzle. And I did, at least for now. I hope you all had happy holidays and that you were surrounded by friends and family, love and good cheer.

And now as I prepare to hit the 'publish post' button I realize I am a bit apprehensive. It took me a long time to find my blogging friends and I hope that they are still there. I probably have committed some blogging faux pas and I am on some list - and not the 'A' list. But here goes! I look forward to reconnecting with all of you !

Funkytown

2008-11-11T13:40:00.003-05:00

Phew. I'm back. I was in a funk for a few days after the wedding of my oldest daughter. Add hot flashes, night sweats and the roller coaster of emotions which accompany menopause and I have had a difficult time - tears, feelings of 'poor me', wondering what lies ahead...the list goes on. I even stayed in bed for two days straight - which I NEVER do. My poor husband. He should have just called a few of my girlfriends to come over to slap me out of the sorry state I was in but he patiently waited for me to return back to my 'normal' state. He deserves a medal.

So now that I am back from my unpleasant trip to Funkytown I have decided to finish a few of the unfinished projects in my life. The list is quite long but I am not worried. I have time. Another decision I have made is to post less often on my blog. I enjoy blogging but I can easily become obsessed and compulsive about posting. Time seems to fly by when I sit down to enter the blogosphere and then at the end of the day I realize I have not accomplished any of my 'real-life' projects. So I am going to take a break from writing on my blog for now. The good news is I will still float around from time to time to visit the many wonderful people I have met in blogland. I will be sure to leave a comment when I am in the area! Take care.

Deflated

2008-10-29T06:31:00.011-04:00

Hi. My name is Debbie and I am a recovering mother of the bride. After months of planning, it is all over. Done. Finished. That chapter in my live is complete. And what a chapter it was!

I wasn't sure what to expect with this wedding, the wedding which we refer to as the 'American' wedding. We had gone to India in February for the 'India' wedding and now it was our turn to host the festivities. My daughter and her fiancee wanted a 'traditional' American wedding. She wore a beautiful wedding gown, her dad walked her down the aisle and our minister married them reading familiar words and Scripture. Guests arrived from India, all corners of Canada, Texas, Arizona, California and many states up and down the East Coast. We all shared a good laugh as we discussed the many different ways we greeted each other as we all came together at the rehearsal dinner on Friday evening. The Canadian girls gave us the two cheek 'air' kiss, the Indians greeted us with a slight head bow and put their hands together as they greeted us with 'Namaste', and the Americans shook hands, hugged or kissed or some awkward combination of all three. And so there I was ~ air kissing, bowing, shaking, hugging and kissing - all at once. I was exhausted.

The wedding took place at 5:00 pm. I have to be honest here - I am not a huge fan of these late afternoon, early evening weddings. I can't stand the wait time. By Saturday morning I was ready to go. But...it wasn't about me. It was my daughter's wedding, my daughter's day, so I kept myself busy until the magical hour. So off to the spa I went for my hot stone massage.

In my opinion if all people received a monthly massage the world would be a better place. I can think of only one physical experience which is more enjoyable than a hot stone massge - and I am not talking childbirth. As I laid on the massage table I tried to sleep as the massage therapist worked her magic but my mind was racing. I started talking. My sinuses started to let loose. And then the tears came. Lots of them. The massage therapist said to let the tears flow. I had no choice. So I laid there defenseless as tears poured down my face. My nose was running. I was, once again, a mess. I like to think I was a hot mess.

So many emotions were running through my veins. A jumble of thoughts and memories fought to get attention from me. My parents were not able to attend thier oldest granddaughter's wedding due to failing health so I cried tears for them. Memories of my daughter as a little girl filled my head and I was taken back to the days of playing school with her, watching her dance to the movie 'Foot Loose', and to the times when I had to set an extra plate at the table for her imaginary friend, Charlie Brown. I chuckled as I remembered the evening I sat down to eat and my daughter screamed at me - I had just sat down on Charlie Brown!

Memories of walking to the nearest corner store to buy our daily Popsicle, spending hours in the children's room of our local library and dancing to 'Girls just want to have Fun' in our kitchen were all part of the tears which cascaded down my cheeks. Just let them flow. Memories of reading, reading and reading some more to my girl. Memories of telling bedtime stories, making dozens of Christmas cookies, watching her run on her school's track team, preparing for the debate team, buying her first prom gown. So many memories, so many tears.

And then I focused on the here and now. My first born was getting married ! My daughter has met her soul mate. She has met her match. They will challenge each other. They will respect each other. They will support each other. They will love each other. My tears dried up. I took a few deep breaths. It was time to get this party started.

My daughter had asked her dad to say a blessing before the meal at the reception. He had been working on choosing the perfect words for a few weeks but I had no idea what he was going to say. He looked so handsome standing in front of all of the guests dressed in his tuxedo. I felt my heart flutter as I watched him. After thirty years of marriage he still reaches me at my core. His words were spoken from the heart and powerful. I would like to share the last line which set the tone for the evening... ' We pray that the differences now gathered herein will form a beautiful mosaic which exemplifies, glorifies and celebrates that which is the very best of humankind.'

And then we got the party started. We ate. We talked. We danced. We toasted. We laughed. We made friendships. We shared traditions. We shared cultures. My son found out he loves Punjabi music. We taught the Electric Slide to our new friends. I found out there were more tears hanging out in my tear ducts! They became visible when my beautiful daughter danced with her wonderful father. I watched as he struggled to keep his tears under control. Just let them flow. My cheeks were wet as I watched the groom dance with his mom. She was so nervous. She was not at all familiar with our tradition, with our dancing style, but she did it for her son. Her love for her son enveloped the room.

We came together from around the world to witness this marriage and at the end of it all the world seemed to be a more beautiful mosaic and our differences seemed less than our commonalities. Love does make the world go round!

So here I sit, propped up. I am exhausted from crying. My feet hurt from wearing cute heels which really hurt. I am reflecting. Three weddings in one year - phew. My closet is now full of gowns, tight heels and saris. I will deal with all of that later. Now I have to figure out what to do next. Sleep is high on my list. I'd love a massage but my tear ducts ache. Cleaning this house is low on the list.

But there is no rest for the weary - today is my husband's birthday! Tomorrow is my daughter's birthday. Not the newlywed daughter but the pregnant daughter ~ my Halloween baby. She will be 28 years old tomorrow and she is very pregnant ~ with twins ~ twin boys! Let's get this party started- again.