Yesterday, I heard the mourning dove as I stood at the kitchen sink. I looked up and gazed directly at the bird sitting on my deck railing not three feet away. I paused and studied him. He called again. That distinctive call cooooowooooowoooooo. A call I remember from childhood. A call I remember in the fields in the early mornings. A call my father taught me to recognize.
For years, I thought "mourning" was "morning" because in my memory it was a sound of the morning, and then years later I realized it was mourning as the call sounds sorrowful. It has been years since I have seen the mourning dove. Yet he came to perch yesterday.
American Indians interpret visits of wildlife, and I always pause and consider this. I do not know what his visit meant, but I would love to know. It seemed so intentional as he turned to look at me and cried again.
Could he see into my soul? I cannot help but feel he stopped by to mourn with me. Then in a moment, he was gone again.
Monday, March 29, 2010
Incoming
New Message
do u want to date anthony or not?
stln BMX
First Response--
NOT...I am married.
Second Response--
Well, what is his net worth?
Third Response--
Her Daddy owns a BIG gun.
Despite my reactions, I have reflected with nostalgia on the arrival of this message into my neglected electronic mailbox to a time when a friend asked a friend to ask you if you liked someone. This makes me smile. Of course, in the olden times and back in the days of recess, we wrote notes that could be intercepted by teachers. Fortunately, in modern times messages can be intercepted by parents...and potentially answered, and he would never know...well maybe, depending on my response. My personal favorite is 3.
I love my daughter. I thought I wanted everyone else to love her too...now I am not so sure.
I am sure Anthony is a nice young man. I even reminded my daughter, as I was (gently) teasing her to be gentle. Anthony feels vulnerable even sharing his admiration for her with a friend which is why this age group uses a friend as a buffer. We all need a buffer in life.
Overall, it is always good to live by the rule to treat others as you want to be treated.
Nonetheless, I like 3.
do u want to date anthony or not?
stln BMX
First Response--
NOT...I am married.
Second Response--
Well, what is his net worth?
Third Response--
Her Daddy owns a BIG gun.
Despite my reactions, I have reflected with nostalgia on the arrival of this message into my neglected electronic mailbox to a time when a friend asked a friend to ask you if you liked someone. This makes me smile. Of course, in the olden times and back in the days of recess, we wrote notes that could be intercepted by teachers. Fortunately, in modern times messages can be intercepted by parents...and potentially answered, and he would never know...well maybe, depending on my response. My personal favorite is 3.
I love my daughter. I thought I wanted everyone else to love her too...now I am not so sure.
I am sure Anthony is a nice young man. I even reminded my daughter, as I was (gently) teasing her to be gentle. Anthony feels vulnerable even sharing his admiration for her with a friend which is why this age group uses a friend as a buffer. We all need a buffer in life.
Overall, it is always good to live by the rule to treat others as you want to be treated.
Nonetheless, I like 3.
Friday, March 26, 2010
Smoky Mountains
As a little girl, I dreamed of the mountains of Tennessee. Of course, my dreams of Tennessee were fed by Dolly Parton's ability to put a wonderful story to music. Without a television, the sound of Dolly's voice triggered my imagination and I would dream of the little cabin in the mountains where this little girl grew up with great dreams. Though beyond the album cover, I never really saw her. I think the first time I really saw her was in the movie, Steel Magnolias.
Later, the novel, Christy, of a young school teacher who set out to teach in the mountains of Tennessee, captured my imagination again.
My grandmother knew I loved these things and dreamed of seeing Tennessee someday, so she always marked the Country Woman, Country Living magazine, or any other Reiman Publication to show me some of the farms and ranches in Tennessee and Kentucky that she had found when reading. We would sit together and talk about this countryside far away, and she would entertain a little girl's dreams of someday visiting those lush green hillsides where folks moved a bit slower and talked with music in their voices. As I grew older she would save the articles for me to read for myself.
Next weekend we are going to visit the Smoky Mountains. The little girl in me is so excited. I woke up this morning ready to count down the days. I smiled at myself because I feel all those dreams of my childhood bubbling to the surface. Dreams feed the spirit, and like Dolly who dreamed of things that sparkled and glittered in that little two room cabin, dreams manifest themselves in so many ways in our lives.
I never had the opportunity to visit the hills of Tennessee with my Grandmother though we did many times together in our dreams. Though I will think of her often as I traipse around.
My kids all know Dolly's music...and sometimes...okay, most of the time, some of them don't appreciate it at all...but someday I know that it will bring back memories of their crazy mother, and I know through the years they may grow to appreciate it a bit...
Though I can't wait to see Chayse's eyes light up when she hears Dolly's recorded voice at Dollywood. Chayse loves to sing, and together we sing "Coat of Many Colors" and "Jolene." Chayse will recognize the music immediately and give me an enthusiastic hug, as she proclaims, "Mommy this is the song we sing!"
We spend a lifetime trying to make special memories with ones we love, and I realize now that sitting next to my grandmother and talking about my dreams was just as important as anything else she did with me. Years later when I shared my memories of her in a birthday card, she told me she didn't remember all that, she just remembered it was fun. I know my children will remember the things I may forget through the years...to remember it fills the heart. The moments we laugh together and dream together.
Lately, I have begun to realize that dreams don't always have to realized...they feed the heart no matter what, but I feel lucky that I will get to visit this dream from long ago. I hope I can enjoy it through the eyes of that little girl from long ago when she curled up next to her grandmother and dreamed...
Later, the novel, Christy, of a young school teacher who set out to teach in the mountains of Tennessee, captured my imagination again.
My grandmother knew I loved these things and dreamed of seeing Tennessee someday, so she always marked the Country Woman, Country Living magazine, or any other Reiman Publication to show me some of the farms and ranches in Tennessee and Kentucky that she had found when reading. We would sit together and talk about this countryside far away, and she would entertain a little girl's dreams of someday visiting those lush green hillsides where folks moved a bit slower and talked with music in their voices. As I grew older she would save the articles for me to read for myself.
Next weekend we are going to visit the Smoky Mountains. The little girl in me is so excited. I woke up this morning ready to count down the days. I smiled at myself because I feel all those dreams of my childhood bubbling to the surface. Dreams feed the spirit, and like Dolly who dreamed of things that sparkled and glittered in that little two room cabin, dreams manifest themselves in so many ways in our lives.
I never had the opportunity to visit the hills of Tennessee with my Grandmother though we did many times together in our dreams. Though I will think of her often as I traipse around.
My kids all know Dolly's music...and sometimes...okay, most of the time, some of them don't appreciate it at all...but someday I know that it will bring back memories of their crazy mother, and I know through the years they may grow to appreciate it a bit...
Though I can't wait to see Chayse's eyes light up when she hears Dolly's recorded voice at Dollywood. Chayse loves to sing, and together we sing "Coat of Many Colors" and "Jolene." Chayse will recognize the music immediately and give me an enthusiastic hug, as she proclaims, "Mommy this is the song we sing!"
We spend a lifetime trying to make special memories with ones we love, and I realize now that sitting next to my grandmother and talking about my dreams was just as important as anything else she did with me. Years later when I shared my memories of her in a birthday card, she told me she didn't remember all that, she just remembered it was fun. I know my children will remember the things I may forget through the years...to remember it fills the heart. The moments we laugh together and dream together.
Lately, I have begun to realize that dreams don't always have to realized...they feed the heart no matter what, but I feel lucky that I will get to visit this dream from long ago. I hope I can enjoy it through the eyes of that little girl from long ago when she curled up next to her grandmother and dreamed...
Monday, March 22, 2010
Did I tell you about the time...
Ron headed home from Costco with his delightful family in tow? We had just trekked down to Homestead Park in search of a new television. The one we thought we wanted was sold out here. We are always ready for a new adventure, particularly when it involves a bigger television on which to view the Penguins. As an aside, it is our third television in 18 years. It is our largest, at 36". We were excited, though admittedly all the "big" screens made our "big" purchase seem small.
Nonetheless, we purchased our new television and headed home. En route Ron was navigating Pittsburgh rather proficiently...a little quickly for my liking, but the car was filled with kids, laughter, and fun...
Until the red lights appeared in the rear view mirror. Instantly, I silently glare my best "I told you so" look, as I scramble to find the registration and insurance. Insurance is always a problem...one...out of date...two...out of date...three...out of date. Desperation seizes me when I finally uncover one that is not expired I shove it at my husband who is now looking at the officer, who begins barking at him, "Do you know how fast you were going sir?"
"No, sir."
"Well, when it was 55 you were at 70 and in the 60 you hit 80."
"I don't recall 80, sir," my husband quietly adds with no effort to defend himself.
The kids are silent as the officer takes the documents and heads back to his car. At this point the car erupts again. Daddy are you going to jail? Are you in trouble? After the initial novelty wears off, the oldest three begin wrestling in the back seat. As the Yukon rocks back and forth, and I gaze ahead in stony silence, I finally break and ask the kids to please stop.
At this point the officer returns. He pokes his head in the window this time and begins a conversation with the kids. I know he is checking what is going on in our vehicle. Chayse smiles and chats with him. Blink. Blink. Then he turns to Ron and hands him the insurance card.
"I am no connoisseur of cars, but I don't believe this is a Harley Davidson."
Wow...I didn't even put the correct cards in the correct vehicles. I cringe awaiting the bark to return. Instead he asks politely if they are the same insurance company. I answer in the affirmative and apologize.
He dismisses me and continues nicely talking with Ron...where did the bark go? Anyway, before I realize it he is telling my husband to keep it within reason and walks away.
NO TICKET?? What?? How did that just happen??
I have a theory. When the officer saw the icy stare of the wife and watched the five children rollicking in the Yukon, I suspect that as a husband and father himself, his empathy got the best of him as he sat in the car and ran Ron's records. Plus I guarantee he had a good laugh over the cranky wife who handed over the Harley Davidson insurance card. At any rate, his humor had returned, and he just didn't have the heart to give the poor guy a ticket...he was being punished adequately by life.
Ron drove the speed limit the rest of the way home. It was a close call...he almost lost that new flat screen. The Penguins won that night too.
Nonetheless, we purchased our new television and headed home. En route Ron was navigating Pittsburgh rather proficiently...a little quickly for my liking, but the car was filled with kids, laughter, and fun...
Until the red lights appeared in the rear view mirror. Instantly, I silently glare my best "I told you so" look, as I scramble to find the registration and insurance. Insurance is always a problem...one...out of date...two...out of date...three...out of date. Desperation seizes me when I finally uncover one that is not expired I shove it at my husband who is now looking at the officer, who begins barking at him, "Do you know how fast you were going sir?"
"No, sir."
"Well, when it was 55 you were at 70 and in the 60 you hit 80."
"I don't recall 80, sir," my husband quietly adds with no effort to defend himself.
The kids are silent as the officer takes the documents and heads back to his car. At this point the car erupts again. Daddy are you going to jail? Are you in trouble? After the initial novelty wears off, the oldest three begin wrestling in the back seat. As the Yukon rocks back and forth, and I gaze ahead in stony silence, I finally break and ask the kids to please stop.
At this point the officer returns. He pokes his head in the window this time and begins a conversation with the kids. I know he is checking what is going on in our vehicle. Chayse smiles and chats with him. Blink. Blink. Then he turns to Ron and hands him the insurance card.
"I am no connoisseur of cars, but I don't believe this is a Harley Davidson."
Wow...I didn't even put the correct cards in the correct vehicles. I cringe awaiting the bark to return. Instead he asks politely if they are the same insurance company. I answer in the affirmative and apologize.
He dismisses me and continues nicely talking with Ron...where did the bark go? Anyway, before I realize it he is telling my husband to keep it within reason and walks away.
NO TICKET?? What?? How did that just happen??
I have a theory. When the officer saw the icy stare of the wife and watched the five children rollicking in the Yukon, I suspect that as a husband and father himself, his empathy got the best of him as he sat in the car and ran Ron's records. Plus I guarantee he had a good laugh over the cranky wife who handed over the Harley Davidson insurance card. At any rate, his humor had returned, and he just didn't have the heart to give the poor guy a ticket...he was being punished adequately by life.
Ron drove the speed limit the rest of the way home. It was a close call...he almost lost that new flat screen. The Penguins won that night too.
Suburban Housewife
Dad, it is official. I am not completely a suburban housewife. I added oil to the Yukon today BEFORE running the kids to all their activities. I have decided this exempts me, as I don't know a single suburban woman who does that. Of course, she probably didn't have a father that insisted she know how to change oil...or a husband that is equally obsessive, as a matter of fact, generally even her husband doesn't really know how to change oil either...they usually go down the street for that!
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Half Moon Bay
My California experience via Blackberry continues. I love my first glimpse of the beach. I knew that the beaches were not white and conducive to lounging in the sun year around...too cool, but I actually love the terrain around the beach. Ron was here to watch the tide come in, and I love the white billows rolling into the shore.
It almost feels like a story could roll in...
I have not seen the Pacific ocean...and I have decided that I want to spend my birthday exploring the beach and cruising down the ocean byways. I suspect I won't be in California very long before 40 calls me, so it would be perfect timing. A sandy beach lunch... sand castles...cool water...warm day...laughter...my family...yes, I think the kid in me will love it! It will be perfect.
Friday, March 19, 2010
Yellow
Today is the last day of winter, theoretically.
In Pittsburgh, the signs of spring have already arrived, beginning with the chirping of the birds several weeks ago. Then the the rhythm section arrived with the woodpeckers. Soon the chatter of squirrls joined in. Then Early this week the spectacular, splendid sun arrived to bathe my world in light. The gray winter of Pittsburgh is very long.
I was not the only one who came to life in the sunshine to the tune of spring.
Amidst the decay of winter sprouted new hope. Within a day, it multiplied.
Tenfold.
A splash of color at my front stoop. Planted by an artist who added blossoms freely to her life. I love the suprises of her free spirit brings.
In Pittsburgh, the signs of spring have already arrived, beginning with the chirping of the birds several weeks ago. Then the the rhythm section arrived with the woodpeckers. Soon the chatter of squirrls joined in. Then Early this week the spectacular, splendid sun arrived to bathe my world in light. The gray winter of Pittsburgh is very long.
I was not the only one who came to life in the sunshine to the tune of spring.
Amidst the decay of winter sprouted new hope. Within a day, it multiplied.
Tenfold.
A splash of color at my front stoop. Planted by an artist who added blossoms freely to her life. I love the suprises of her free spirit brings.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Silver
Threads of silver and gold are woven into fairy tales.
A silver lining may be found in every cloud.
The jingle of silver coins in a pocket delights a child.
The trill of a flute is wrapped in silver.
As I gazed carefully into the mirror at my growing hair, I discovered threads of silver...lots of silver at my temples. I paused. As the first silver thread emerged several years ago, I added color. Sometimes lots of color! Now I am down to a little. I am ready to try natural again...or was. I am still 39.
Kiahra gazed at my roots, and I asked her what she saw and she said, "A bit o' gray."
"Silver." I corrected her.
"Why don't you go platinum, Mom?" she teased.
Smart girl. She knows what color platinum is and she knows the value of the metal. It isn't blonde either.
I suspect my silver temples are a gift...from my father. My father has had silver hair for years...actually as long as I can remember. I remember his hair turned silver around his face first, and he has always worn it well. And my mother's hair was status quo at forty. However, I come from a long paternal line of silver.
I sense I should be grateful, but Dad, silver is the second place medal! Though I must admit, it looks good--it glistens like silver against my dark hair. Perhaps with creativity I could sport it with style!
But...my daughter is going to kindergarten this fall. Oh, I know there will be other silver-haired mothers, but they will be older! I know! Maybe I should wait until after my oldest graduates, and then I too could graduate...to silver. In the meantime, I think I am going to ponder this gift...the color is excellent, but I am not sure it fits me right...I can't decide.
A silver lining may be found in every cloud.
The jingle of silver coins in a pocket delights a child.
The trill of a flute is wrapped in silver.
As I gazed carefully into the mirror at my growing hair, I discovered threads of silver...lots of silver at my temples. I paused. As the first silver thread emerged several years ago, I added color. Sometimes lots of color! Now I am down to a little. I am ready to try natural again...or was. I am still 39.
Kiahra gazed at my roots, and I asked her what she saw and she said, "A bit o' gray."
"Silver." I corrected her.
"Why don't you go platinum, Mom?" she teased.
Smart girl. She knows what color platinum is and she knows the value of the metal. It isn't blonde either.
I suspect my silver temples are a gift...from my father. My father has had silver hair for years...actually as long as I can remember. I remember his hair turned silver around his face first, and he has always worn it well. And my mother's hair was status quo at forty. However, I come from a long paternal line of silver.
I sense I should be grateful, but Dad, silver is the second place medal! Though I must admit, it looks good--it glistens like silver against my dark hair. Perhaps with creativity I could sport it with style!
But...my daughter is going to kindergarten this fall. Oh, I know there will be other silver-haired mothers, but they will be older! I know! Maybe I should wait until after my oldest graduates, and then I too could graduate...to silver. In the meantime, I think I am going to ponder this gift...the color is excellent, but I am not sure it fits me right...I can't decide.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Lemon Tree
It is a song I taught with the novel, The Things They Carried. The song was a hit for Peter, Paul, and Mary in the 60s.
Now my son is dancing around the house singing about lemons. His father called him earlier and told him we officially have a home in San Francisco now. And then his big sell..."It has a lemon tree in the backyard covered in lemons."
Without missing a beat, Kade immediately replies, "I can sell lemonade."
I need to introduce him to the realtor, as she will love the way he thinks. She is a delightful little lady with an aptitude for business also.
As an aside, she talks even more than I do. We have forged a good relationship because I bartered with her. Honestly I was afraid I would offend her, but instead I think she loved it! Then of course, the deal was one we couldn't refuse in the end. Smart lady.
I had forgotten about the tree...until the dancing.
Nikela's response: "Seriously? What happened to apples? Seriously? Wait, when did lemons grow on trees? Seriously?"
Eventually she processed the information. "There is a lemon tree in our backyard. It is going to be all sour." (Note: An amazing apple tree grew in our backyard in Montana.)
Kiahra is envisioning tall, cool glasses of lemonade on warm summer afternoons on the patio. My little Chex queen needs to expand her repertoire to include lemonade...I know it will be the best, ever.
Daddy is quite popular in my house now, and when questioned why he was so cool...in text, he responded, "Now I can watch the lemons grow."
Sheesh...who needs fruit with all this personality?
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Auntie Addiction
I love being an aunt...completely.
My role as an aunt, in my mind, requires me to spoil my neice and nephews. Yes, that is correct, I only have one niece.
Last night we were searching for a new carry-on for Ron. Which reminds me, what is the life expectancy for suitcases these days if one travels often?? I have decided it is short. As a result, I was just looking for one that will do the job--cheap--though Ron did reject the one with pink lining...Sheesh...
Anyway, while I was shopping for suitcases, Kiahra discovered a darling pair of shoes for her cousin. Of course, they had to be purchased, as they match the cute pants I found earlier. Really a girl must be outfitted completely for effect...
Speaking of girls, I can no longer shop for my "big" girls without them. I can't dictate the darling pink and green. I do love shopping with them now, but the little girl stage is long gone. I do the like the spunky outfits they create all by themselves now...generally speaking...and then the tilt of the head with the fluttering eyelids as they seek my approval, so I will buy is rather charming also. Chayse does this too. Blink. Blink.
I love all my girls and all their clothes...most of the time...because sometimes I do grow weary of laundry. That makes the aforementioned outfit even cuter...I don't have to wash it. Jayla loves shoes as much as Kiahra. I makes me smile. I hope she smiles when her birthday package arrives.
My role as an aunt, in my mind, requires me to spoil my neice and nephews. Yes, that is correct, I only have one niece.
Last night we were searching for a new carry-on for Ron. Which reminds me, what is the life expectancy for suitcases these days if one travels often?? I have decided it is short. As a result, I was just looking for one that will do the job--cheap--though Ron did reject the one with pink lining...Sheesh...
Anyway, while I was shopping for suitcases, Kiahra discovered a darling pair of shoes for her cousin. Of course, they had to be purchased, as they match the cute pants I found earlier. Really a girl must be outfitted completely for effect...
Speaking of girls, I can no longer shop for my "big" girls without them. I can't dictate the darling pink and green. I do love shopping with them now, but the little girl stage is long gone. I do the like the spunky outfits they create all by themselves now...generally speaking...and then the tilt of the head with the fluttering eyelids as they seek my approval, so I will buy is rather charming also. Chayse does this too. Blink. Blink.
I love all my girls and all their clothes...most of the time...because sometimes I do grow weary of laundry. That makes the aforementioned outfit even cuter...I don't have to wash it. Jayla loves shoes as much as Kiahra. I makes me smile. I hope she smiles when her birthday package arrives.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
All In a Name
Yesterday when I was driving to the airport, my little sister called me.
"Did you pick Ron up already?" she asked after I thought I had already told her I was driving TO the airport."
"No," I answered, a bit confused.
"Well, whose voice is that?"
"Oh, it's the GPS. It talks to me to help me navigate more proficiently, or at least that is the theory," I stated as I remembered that not everyone has a male voice programmed into their GPS.
Thus, I back up. I love to hate my GPS. Admittedly, like so many of the population that utilizes the gadget, on occasion I have been know to talk back to it. "What? Why didn't you say so earlier? Hello? Oh, that is where you wanted me to go??" Of course the inflection of the voice is paramount here--generally dripping with sarcasm.
Anyway, we were having this conversation over Christmas with my cousin, Greg. We were laughing about our GPS stories when he revealed his name for his device, B@%$in' Betty. Clever, I have to admit; however, as a female, I decided that was unfair, as men are not better navigators; however, the female default voice does lend itself well to the name. Then Greg informed me I could change the voice. With a little help, my GPS tried out several voices. By the way, the list is extensive with multiple language opportunities. The Australian man was entertaining (I still like to comprehend the language), but I eventually settled on "Jack," as he was labelled.
I have never officially used "Jack's" name in my communication with the device, and if I were, I suspect I would want to find a new name. Actually, it probably is time to find a suitable name before my trek across the United States. This is officially a plea for you to help me out here...G rated, of course.
In the end, the male voice has stayed for me to question the logic of his directions. It works well for me.
As an aside, my darling little sister who makes every navigation experience an adventure with her distracted style would put the poor GPS on overload...with the constant "recalculating...recalculating...recalculating..." I wonder if the language would even matter...
I love my family and the variety they bring to my life.
"Did you pick Ron up already?" she asked after I thought I had already told her I was driving TO the airport."
"No," I answered, a bit confused.
"Well, whose voice is that?"
"Oh, it's the GPS. It talks to me to help me navigate more proficiently, or at least that is the theory," I stated as I remembered that not everyone has a male voice programmed into their GPS.
Thus, I back up. I love to hate my GPS. Admittedly, like so many of the population that utilizes the gadget, on occasion I have been know to talk back to it. "What? Why didn't you say so earlier? Hello? Oh, that is where you wanted me to go??" Of course the inflection of the voice is paramount here--generally dripping with sarcasm.
Anyway, we were having this conversation over Christmas with my cousin, Greg. We were laughing about our GPS stories when he revealed his name for his device, B@%$in' Betty. Clever, I have to admit; however, as a female, I decided that was unfair, as men are not better navigators; however, the female default voice does lend itself well to the name. Then Greg informed me I could change the voice. With a little help, my GPS tried out several voices. By the way, the list is extensive with multiple language opportunities. The Australian man was entertaining (I still like to comprehend the language), but I eventually settled on "Jack," as he was labelled.
I have never officially used "Jack's" name in my communication with the device, and if I were, I suspect I would want to find a new name. Actually, it probably is time to find a suitable name before my trek across the United States. This is officially a plea for you to help me out here...G rated, of course.
In the end, the male voice has stayed for me to question the logic of his directions. It works well for me.
As an aside, my darling little sister who makes every navigation experience an adventure with her distracted style would put the poor GPS on overload...with the constant "recalculating...recalculating...recalculating..." I wonder if the language would even matter...
I love my family and the variety they bring to my life.
Friday, March 12, 2010
Friday...
The week in review...
The snow has been melting all week. The temperatures have climbed to 60 for the first time in several months! Rain was in the forecast, but it didn't arrived until today!! Thus keeping the flooding at bay for a few more days.
My yard...it has grass! It has been white so long that I almost forgot. Of course, my yard was the first one in the neighborhood to melt. 1. It receives direct afternoon sun. 2. The snow has been trampled by my darling little chil'uns. I anticipate my front yard will be snow free by tonight.
In other news, I confiscated my "new" athletic shoes back. They are far more comfortable than Nikela's. However, I have to admit that I was proud to hear that when the pole vaulting exercises began Nikela did well. She was required to pull herself up the rope and then lift her legs/body over her head--which she did successfully. I don't know anything about pole vaulting, but I suspect that I will soon, as will you!
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Yesterday I took off to run errands and shop a bit. I am so excited to have my anniversary diamond back, as it had to be resized. It looks fabulous all polished...I barely recognize it! Oohh...and I found a cute, light, casual jacket that just couldn't stay on the rack. I can never find a jacket that fits, but this one has a fabulous drawstring in the back that really works to bring the waist in a bit!! Now, I will have to return to the mall for the perfect capris and shirt. (Very convenient don't you think?)
However, I have to admit that marketing to women has ingenious label makers. Yesterday I tried on a pair of crop jeans. The size?? 2. Yep. 2. I could even button and zip them! I am not a size two. Once upon a time in junior high I may have been; however, I love upscale stores for this. I can drop several sized by just stepping inside. I am only annoyed by the temporary weight loss. Admittedly, it easy to fall into their ploy, so buyers be aware!
Pittsburghers are ensuring we are familiar with their local dialect. Yinz and Yuns are basically the northern version of y'all. We have not acquired this usage in our home, so Kade's guitar teacher had him practice a few lines of authentic Pittsburghese. Breathe in. Harmless dialect. Breathe out. Increase language awareness. Breathe in. Breathe out.
Finally, Ron will be home this afternoon...just in time for the rain! I can't wait!
In the meantime, off to the orthodontist to repair a broken brace. Just a few more weeks, and Kade will have his braces off...though I think he has officially started the countdown!
Good morning...and have a wonderful day.
The snow has been melting all week. The temperatures have climbed to 60 for the first time in several months! Rain was in the forecast, but it didn't arrived until today!! Thus keeping the flooding at bay for a few more days.
My yard...it has grass! It has been white so long that I almost forgot. Of course, my yard was the first one in the neighborhood to melt. 1. It receives direct afternoon sun. 2. The snow has been trampled by my darling little chil'uns. I anticipate my front yard will be snow free by tonight.
In other news, I confiscated my "new" athletic shoes back. They are far more comfortable than Nikela's. However, I have to admit that I was proud to hear that when the pole vaulting exercises began Nikela did well. She was required to pull herself up the rope and then lift her legs/body over her head--which she did successfully. I don't know anything about pole vaulting, but I suspect that I will soon, as will you!
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Yesterday I took off to run errands and shop a bit. I am so excited to have my anniversary diamond back, as it had to be resized. It looks fabulous all polished...I barely recognize it! Oohh...and I found a cute, light, casual jacket that just couldn't stay on the rack. I can never find a jacket that fits, but this one has a fabulous drawstring in the back that really works to bring the waist in a bit!! Now, I will have to return to the mall for the perfect capris and shirt. (Very convenient don't you think?)
However, I have to admit that marketing to women has ingenious label makers. Yesterday I tried on a pair of crop jeans. The size?? 2. Yep. 2. I could even button and zip them! I am not a size two. Once upon a time in junior high I may have been; however, I love upscale stores for this. I can drop several sized by just stepping inside. I am only annoyed by the temporary weight loss. Admittedly, it easy to fall into their ploy, so buyers be aware!
Pittsburghers are ensuring we are familiar with their local dialect. Yinz and Yuns are basically the northern version of y'all. We have not acquired this usage in our home, so Kade's guitar teacher had him practice a few lines of authentic Pittsburghese. Breathe in. Harmless dialect. Breathe out. Increase language awareness. Breathe in. Breathe out.
Finally, Ron will be home this afternoon...just in time for the rain! I can't wait!
In the meantime, off to the orthodontist to repair a broken brace. Just a few more weeks, and Kade will have his braces off...though I think he has officially started the countdown!
Good morning...and have a wonderful day.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Heartfelt Pain
The news haunted me yesterday...particularly the story about a domestic confrontation gone bad...real bad. The kids are in custody after being treated at a local hospital.
Child abuse is too close to me. The emotional response lasts all day and the next...and probably the next and the next. It is why I generally don't tune into the news.
I remember the first feverish night my daughter had, as she cried out in pain and reached for her feet. "Owww...Owwweee..." We knew they did hurt, but we didn't know what to do. How do they hurt? What is causing the pain? The damage is difficult to measure and we will never know the extent.
We have watched her grow with underlying worry. Do her feet hurt? Sometimes or all the time? She probably can't identify it, as she doesn't know anything else. Will she be able to dance? Will she be able to play sports? How can we fix it?
Recently, her daddy observed that she favors one foot, and after careful evaluation by a physical therapist, it was confirmed she did not have full mobility in one foot. After tests to ensure she had sensation, therapy began which included heat and stretching. It was during this process, she matter-of-factly identified one foot as the one that doesn't work as well. My heart sank. We have never mentioned her feet. We have never discussed it, but she already knew.
Her tenacity to overcome the challenge is evident in everything she does. Insistent that she could ride without training wheels, she wanted them removed. Despite the guidance and help from dad, she couldn't figure it out, until she worked alone in the driveway for a day. In the end she taught herself how to ride her bike without training wheels, though she had to adapt her approach to be successful, but she figured it out at 4 1/2!
Now at night she sports her special footwear. Sometimes she cries out...though not as often now.
Of course this is just the physical pain. The physical pain is usually the easiest to cope with for millions of children around the world.
As people worry about the economy, as a society, we need to be ever mindful that the stress of economic hardship makes life more miserable for many children around us. We need to be mindful of our responsibility to keep the children safe. It may seem easier to turn the other check and mind one's own business, and frankly, I am not talking about a parent's decision to spank a child in frustration. We all know what child abuse looks like. Perhaps better yet, we should take the time to communicate with the parent, not in judgement, but in friendship, as they probably need support and encouragement to make good decisions. So often, they suffered the same treatment and without a different role model the pattern continues.
Our emotional response and horror to abuse should not end there. We should be vigilant and lend a helping hand or ask for help before it is too late.
Our society stands to lose so much if we ignore the plight of children. The way we treat our children says much about our society. What do we want it to say?
Child abuse is too close to me. The emotional response lasts all day and the next...and probably the next and the next. It is why I generally don't tune into the news.
I remember the first feverish night my daughter had, as she cried out in pain and reached for her feet. "Owww...Owwweee..." We knew they did hurt, but we didn't know what to do. How do they hurt? What is causing the pain? The damage is difficult to measure and we will never know the extent.
We have watched her grow with underlying worry. Do her feet hurt? Sometimes or all the time? She probably can't identify it, as she doesn't know anything else. Will she be able to dance? Will she be able to play sports? How can we fix it?
Recently, her daddy observed that she favors one foot, and after careful evaluation by a physical therapist, it was confirmed she did not have full mobility in one foot. After tests to ensure she had sensation, therapy began which included heat and stretching. It was during this process, she matter-of-factly identified one foot as the one that doesn't work as well. My heart sank. We have never mentioned her feet. We have never discussed it, but she already knew.
Her tenacity to overcome the challenge is evident in everything she does. Insistent that she could ride without training wheels, she wanted them removed. Despite the guidance and help from dad, she couldn't figure it out, until she worked alone in the driveway for a day. In the end she taught herself how to ride her bike without training wheels, though she had to adapt her approach to be successful, but she figured it out at 4 1/2!
Now at night she sports her special footwear. Sometimes she cries out...though not as often now.
Of course this is just the physical pain. The physical pain is usually the easiest to cope with for millions of children around the world.
As people worry about the economy, as a society, we need to be ever mindful that the stress of economic hardship makes life more miserable for many children around us. We need to be mindful of our responsibility to keep the children safe. It may seem easier to turn the other check and mind one's own business, and frankly, I am not talking about a parent's decision to spank a child in frustration. We all know what child abuse looks like. Perhaps better yet, we should take the time to communicate with the parent, not in judgement, but in friendship, as they probably need support and encouragement to make good decisions. So often, they suffered the same treatment and without a different role model the pattern continues.
Our emotional response and horror to abuse should not end there. We should be vigilant and lend a helping hand or ask for help before it is too late.
Our society stands to lose so much if we ignore the plight of children. The way we treat our children says much about our society. What do we want it to say?
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Monday Morning
3:45 AM Alarm sounds. Sleepily I pull on my jeans and t-shirt.
4:00 AM Depart for airport.
4:10 AM Stop for cash. The cash machine isn't working, so Ron settles for a cup of coffee.
4:45 AM Navigate morning rush at the airport. Say good-bye...
4:50 AM Almost awake, now and the GPS directs me back home again, except this time, ironically, I am paying attention and take the first turn it tells me. Thus embarking me on the longest, most unfamiliar route home.
5:19 AM I pull into the driveway.
5:22 AM Ron calls. His flight has been delayed five minutes prior to boarding.
5:31 AM Tune into the morning news. I reluctantly step onto the elliptical.
5:47 AM Now I know why I don't bother with the morning news. 14 more minutes to go.
6:10 AM Finally, the weather report which is the only good news for the day...48 degrees!! Spoke to soon...flood warnings follow.
6:17 AM Check on Ron. The crew is MIA, so the airline is trying to find replacements.
6:27 AM Step into the shower.
6:58 AM Heat the griddle and begin frying sausage and hash browns. Cut grapefruit.
7:19 AM Cook eggs. Add toast.
7:21 AM Nikela bounds downstairs, "Mom, may I use your shoes for track today? I don't have gym today, so I might not have time to grab my shoes from my locker." I hesitate...MY new, expensive running shoes?? With resignation, I sigh and nod.
7:25 AM Breakfast's ready!
7:47 AM Nikela hollers upstairs for Kiahra. I freeze. This confirms that the Chilean earthquake did indeed knock the earth off its axis. The planets cannot be aligned if Nikela is telling Kiahra it is time to go.
8:00 AM Phone rings. Ron is still waiting for a flight.
8:15 AM Comb Chayse's hair. No tears today. Whew!
8:23 AM Start dishwasher.
8:32 AM Leave for the bus stop.
8:40 AM Back from the bus stop. The birds are chirping.
8:45 AM Remote start the Yukon. I love a warm seat on a brisk morning at 28 degrees.
8:50 AM Depart for preschool.
9:11 AM Home again.
9:12 AM Make tea.
9:16 AM Blog.
9:46 AM Ron boards his flight.
9:48 AM I realize I am completely exhausted. Six hours into my day, and it has barely begun.
4:00 AM Depart for airport.
4:10 AM Stop for cash. The cash machine isn't working, so Ron settles for a cup of coffee.
4:45 AM Navigate morning rush at the airport. Say good-bye...
4:50 AM Almost awake, now and the GPS directs me back home again, except this time, ironically, I am paying attention and take the first turn it tells me. Thus embarking me on the longest, most unfamiliar route home.
5:19 AM I pull into the driveway.
5:22 AM Ron calls. His flight has been delayed five minutes prior to boarding.
5:31 AM Tune into the morning news. I reluctantly step onto the elliptical.
5:47 AM Now I know why I don't bother with the morning news. 14 more minutes to go.
6:10 AM Finally, the weather report which is the only good news for the day...48 degrees!! Spoke to soon...flood warnings follow.
6:17 AM Check on Ron. The crew is MIA, so the airline is trying to find replacements.
6:27 AM Step into the shower.
6:58 AM Heat the griddle and begin frying sausage and hash browns. Cut grapefruit.
7:19 AM Cook eggs. Add toast.
7:21 AM Nikela bounds downstairs, "Mom, may I use your shoes for track today? I don't have gym today, so I might not have time to grab my shoes from my locker." I hesitate...MY new, expensive running shoes?? With resignation, I sigh and nod.
7:25 AM Breakfast's ready!
7:47 AM Nikela hollers upstairs for Kiahra. I freeze. This confirms that the Chilean earthquake did indeed knock the earth off its axis. The planets cannot be aligned if Nikela is telling Kiahra it is time to go.
8:00 AM Phone rings. Ron is still waiting for a flight.
8:15 AM Comb Chayse's hair. No tears today. Whew!
8:23 AM Start dishwasher.
8:32 AM Leave for the bus stop.
8:40 AM Back from the bus stop. The birds are chirping.
8:45 AM Remote start the Yukon. I love a warm seat on a brisk morning at 28 degrees.
8:50 AM Depart for preschool.
9:11 AM Home again.
9:12 AM Make tea.
9:16 AM Blog.
9:46 AM Ron boards his flight.
9:48 AM I realize I am completely exhausted. Six hours into my day, and it has barely begun.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Death & Taxes
Since I covered the topic of death in my last post, it seems a logical progression to visit the topic of taxes next. As a kid, I remember hearing that the only two certain things in life are taxes and death. I always thought this was a bit of an exaggeration...but like so much of the wisdom of my elders, I understand it better now.
It is with dutiful resignation I accept taxes, like death, as inevitable. Therefore, when Ron suggested we get them done before he leaves, it was with great reluctance I found my faithful computer program and downloaded it. No problem. Next step was to backup last years return and transfer it to my new computer. Flash drive=no problem. It was going a bit too smoothly with no excuses to save it for another day. Next all the necessary documents were neatly organized in my drawer awaiting entry patiently. Again...too easy. Insert figures. Done.
That's it. My taxes are actually done. I haven't submitted them electronically yet just in case I forgot something. Actually, I am just paranoid because it was too easy to give away my money.
State residency usually gives me fits when we relocate. No one wants to play nicely. No one wants to share. Last year Montana and Pennsylvania were no exception. It took days to decipher partial residency laws for each state. So much for a "warm" welcome--"where is our $$$$$$$$?" Though this year I momentarily panicked when my software generated an underpayment warning while calculating my state return. My mind raced to figure out how that could be...then I saw the amount...are you ready?? $1.00. Whew.
Of course I anticipate that next year Pennsylvania and California won't play nicely either. I suspect California's current economic state will ensure they will hit us hard as we cross the state line.
Of course, we also pay local taxes here; however, like the state, they are equally accommodating--"We will just take 1% (or 3%) of your gross, thank you. Deductions? No." Well, there may be deductions, but the handful of exemptions aren't even in my vocabulary, so I know I don't qualify. Nor do I have any significant losses from investments.
Thankfully all my wealth exists in my family, so I wasn't hit too hard when the stock market crashed. Lucky me. Some folks check their stocks...I fold socks.
It is with dutiful resignation I accept taxes, like death, as inevitable. Therefore, when Ron suggested we get them done before he leaves, it was with great reluctance I found my faithful computer program and downloaded it. No problem. Next step was to backup last years return and transfer it to my new computer. Flash drive=no problem. It was going a bit too smoothly with no excuses to save it for another day. Next all the necessary documents were neatly organized in my drawer awaiting entry patiently. Again...too easy. Insert figures. Done.
That's it. My taxes are actually done. I haven't submitted them electronically yet just in case I forgot something. Actually, I am just paranoid because it was too easy to give away my money.
State residency usually gives me fits when we relocate. No one wants to play nicely. No one wants to share. Last year Montana and Pennsylvania were no exception. It took days to decipher partial residency laws for each state. So much for a "warm" welcome--"where is our $$$$$$$$?" Though this year I momentarily panicked when my software generated an underpayment warning while calculating my state return. My mind raced to figure out how that could be...then I saw the amount...are you ready?? $1.00. Whew.
Of course I anticipate that next year Pennsylvania and California won't play nicely either. I suspect California's current economic state will ensure they will hit us hard as we cross the state line.
Of course, we also pay local taxes here; however, like the state, they are equally accommodating--"We will just take 1% (or 3%) of your gross, thank you. Deductions? No." Well, there may be deductions, but the handful of exemptions aren't even in my vocabulary, so I know I don't qualify. Nor do I have any significant losses from investments.
Thankfully all my wealth exists in my family, so I wasn't hit too hard when the stock market crashed. Lucky me. Some folks check their stocks...I fold socks.
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