Everyone is entitled to my opinion

Best birthday ever?

2012-02-11T14:07:00.000-06:00

It was a contender, that's for sure. :) I had a low-key day yesterday, volunteering, hanging out at home, and even took a little nap. Rob came home and I ran to get him an anniversary card (yes, I am a slacker), and he fixed a nice dinner for all of us.

After we ate there were presents to open; I was surprised that there were 3 gift bags on the table; I had expected something like a few bottles of shower gel from Bath & Body Works.

In the past few years Rob and I have not done big gifts at Christmas and birthdays -- it seems there are always other financial priorities. That has been fine with me, but I must admit I am a girl who loves getting presents and I really love a grand gesture.

So last week, when I finally upgraded to a new laptop (which was badly needed) after years of Rob asking me to upgrade, I thought that was plenty, and my birthday/anniversary/Valentine's Day gift would be a token.

I opened gift number 1 -- my favorite perfume (Elizabeth Arden's Red Door) and a new memory card for my camera. I didn't really need one, but I figured Rob had received it with a purchase of computer components or something.

Gift number 2 was the big moment -- it was a camera lens. For an SLR. Which I do not own.

I am sure the expression on my face was hysterical as I realized the implication of gift number 2 and reached for gift number 3. LOL

Yes, there it was. The holy grail. A beautiful digital SLR. A Canon Rebel T3i, to be precise.

I had looked at cameras a lot in the past. I love photography, and I am a better-than-average amateur photographer. I am not a pro by any stretch, but I have worked hard to improve and I have been accused more than once of using professional images that were actually my own.

And I have long dreamed of owning a "fancypants" camera. Like, since 2003, when I started really paying attention to photography and trying to learn how to get great images from my little point-and-shoot Fuji. I have upgraded my camera twice since then. Rob bought each new camera for me for Christmas. My current Fuji is great but it is 5 years old, and I really was at the point where I needed a camera that could go fully manual. I just hadn't even considered it an option right now. In fact, uncharacteristic of me, I had not looked at www.dpreview.com or checked out DSLRs in detail for a couple of years.

So I was shocked. To tears, actually. It was the most delicious, unexpected surprise.

Add in a red velvet cake, a sparkly glass-mosaic candle holder, and an evening at the annual downtown Ice Bar with friends, and it was a red letter day.

Best birthday? Well, 26 was pretty good, since it was my wedding day. But 42? Well, it was blizzard-free, included an incredibly thoughtful and generous gift and 3 amazing kids, wonderful friends, and the richness of maturity -- in myself, and in my marriage.

Best ever. I am so incredibly grateful for all of it. Truly.

Enigma

2012-01-29T22:10:00.001-06:00

I have talked about it with friends before: there is no way to know what goes on in someone else's marriage. No one but the people involved have the inside perspective, and even if you hear a story from one of them, it is colored with their own biases, dreams, desires, and emotions. What one wants from a marriage is not always what one gets. What one thinks one wants from marriage may not actually be what one wants. And we change as people. We get older, we learn things, we understand ourselves better and sometimes that understanding leads us in different directions.

I am lucky. I am happy in my marriage. I like being married, and I like my husband. Is that always enough? I don't know -- I have only ever been inside my own marriage, and while it is by no means perfect, and I am a difficult woman to live with on my best day, it works. We laugh, I cry, we act silly and we argue and we I snipe and get snarky, and somehow we wake up every day and decide we want to keep going.

When it gets so bad that a couple doesn't want to keep going, or can't, it's a sad thing for them, their family, and their community. I can't know how or why, but it happened to someone in my circle. The decision has been made. And I am just so sad.

I wish all the best to both of you as you find new paths through the world. It sounds like you are already doing better, but be kind to each other and to yourselves. Know that you are loved and that we will be here for you if you need us.

Dammit, sometimes a virtual hug just doesn't do the trick.

I should blog about ...

2012-01-25T17:07:00.000-06:00

I am procrastinating right now. I should be making dinner. Don't judge; I know you do it, too, sometimes.

I have a few posts running around in my head and I keep forgetting them when I sit down here to write so I am going to do a list in the hopes that someday I'll have both time and inspiration enough to make an actual post about each.

* predictions on the 2012 election and why I was the only one who knew Newt Gingrich would win the South Carolina primary

* some photos I inherited that are being donated to a museum and why this makes me inordinately happy

* more genealogy stories, and possibly translations of old headstone inscriptions that (I think) are in Old German

* an update about cleaning my craft area, purging, organizing, and getting ready to resume work on Garrett's school scrapbooks

* books. I have a book group again, in a very loose sense of the word "group." There are just 3 of us. We meet randomly. We encourage each other to read hard novels and things we might not otherwise tackle. We just finished Chuck Pahlaniuk's Damned.

* a post about just how far out of my comfort zone Chuck Pahlaniuk is, and an examination of why I think I am going back for more.

I am sure you're waiting with bated breath.

And now, forgive me for the boring post above, but I must be off to cook dinner.

Say, as long as I'm talking books, what are YOU reading?

Glorious Saturday

2012-01-21T11:41:00.001-06:00

I live for these kinds of days in the winter -- days when I can sleep until 8:30 and I wake up and my husband already has a pot of Dunkin' Donuts Original coffee on. Days when the sun is shining but I don't have to go outside. (For those of you who live in warmer climes, a January day in Minnesota where the sun is shining brightly usually means the temperature is somewhere far below "fit for human habitation"). Days when getting dressed means switching from fleece jammies to sweatpants. Days when I have no commitments to anyone and I can plan a satisfying dinner meal that takes hours to cook because I am not going anywhere, my friends.

This week had one of those roller coaster bumps that can't be predicted and that take a lot out of a mom. Spencer collided with another child while he was in the bus line after school Thursday. Said collision resulted in Spence bleeding all over creation, a call to me to come and get him, and an emergency visit to first our orthodontist's office, then a trek across the hall to the oral surgeon.

Yikes.

His upper lip was terribly swollen and the inside of it was actually caught in the braces wires. Ulp. Thank goodness for nitrous oxide. (And for the iPhone, which kept me busy playing Words with Friends so I wouldn't accidentally look up and see whatever the surgeon was doing.)

His teeth were saved by the braces. If it hadn't been for those silver wires, his two front teeth would have been gone. As it is, they are loose. So loose he is not to bite into anything with them for a couple of weeks to a month. So loose that, while we don't know who the other kid was, I can not imagine she did not have a colossal headache and/or a goose egg, or blood on her at the very least.

And I kept it together, internet. I did not cry or faint at the sight of my injured boy. He was so brave, and I was a puddle inside, but I did not crack. Yay me. There were moments it could have gone either way, believe me.

He was home from school yesterday. Has a script for amoxicillin and is taking ibuprofen regularly. His lip is swollen but he is in remarkably good spirits. He is eating soup and jello and pudding, and this morning he is out shopping with Dad for a new Wii game that he has wanted for a long time. Hooray for birthday windfalls.

Speaking of birthdays, we had his party scheduled for last night. I postponed it on Thursday night, not knowing how he would be feeling, and it looks like we'll be able to pull it off in a week or so but he is 10, and he handled that disappointment with remarkable grace.

It could have been SO much worse, but it was stressful, and I fussed and fretted as any mom would, and it took the gee-whiz right out of me. I was in bed ridiculously early last night.

And this morning I woke up late, had my coffee, hatched a plan to make steaks for dinner, along with popovers and P-Dub's Burgundy Mushrooms, and sent my husband out for a few ingredients and some errands that Evan and Spence wanted to run.

I will get some reading done today, work on a few crafty projects, and be grateful for my cozy house, the fireplace in the family room, the healthy kids, and the husband who keeps it all together.

Yes, definitely one of my favorite kinds of days.

Moving forward

2012-01-18T13:54:00.000-06:00

It's all going to be okay. I appreciate the notes of encouragement. I never understood before I was a parent how desperately you want to fix everything, make sure they don't make mistakes, keep them from being sad, hurt, afraid, confused ... and the sad news is, feeling all of those things is what makes a real person. Life is messy. My mantra right now is, "This, too, shall pass." I cling to those words.

I am in the midst of another burst of creativity. Finishing up an altered canvas for my front hallway. Making a little gift for a friend. Getting ready for a craft project using toilet paper rolls. Ready to get a little mending done. Nothing major but it is good. Goals for February include getting started on that headboard, which I have been procrastinating on, as usual.

On my mind today are 2 friends who have lost their dads in the last week or so; a friend of a friend who lost her partner and the father of her young daughter, a family grieving their 13 year old daughter, another mourning the loss of an 18 year old daughter in a tragic car accident, and a family dealing with the senseless death of an 18 year old expectant father. I don't know if it's true, but I certainly feel as though this month has been a heavy hitter in the grief arena.

And on Pandora, as I typed those words, Paul McCartney sang, "Let it be." A message? Coincidence? I don't know, but I find comfort in it nonetheless.

Little kids, little problems. Big kids ... well, you do the math.

2012-01-16T19:08:00.000-06:00

I would love to just hop onto the ol' blog in the evening and vent about my day. Yep, my day that was full of a newborn and an 18 month old, full of poopy diapers and being peed on (what? they're boys, after all) and countless hours spent reading Goodnight Moon (who, by the way, decided that was such a gem? I don't like that book. So there.)

I would love to wax poetic about how, while my oldest was in school and my youngest in preschool my baby decided to take the Fisher Price telephone with the googly eyes and dump it into the toilet.

Or I could share with you the tales of being terribly ill, with 2 or 3 also ill children, and a husband who just had to go to work. From 7 am to 5:30 pm. In a basement lab with no cell phone reception and no one responsible for the phones down there, so they ring incessantly and everyone ignores them, and even if by some miracle the phone DOES get answered either they don't know who your husband is or have not seen him all day and so they surmise he must be in another lab, to which they give you yet another number for a phone that will go unanswered and ... well, that isn't funny at all. But you get the idea.

I would love to post a Mommy Blog entry. God, I HATE that term. My blog never really fit into any category other than "navel gazing" and that is the way I like it. I don't write to drive traffic, I don't obsess over my viewing stats ... I just write for ME. But today's blog entry (because all together the entries make up the blog, but a single post is an entry, not a blog.) is not what I want to be writing.

My kids are past the Mommy Blog stage. They are not little and cute anymore. The things they do are not (and have not been, for some time) appropriate for a blog, nor are they my stories to tell. So I don't post much about them. It's my choice; what other parents or Mommy Bloggers do is their business. I pass no judgment.

But. The stuff they do now? Is SO MUCH BIGGER than potty training struggles, or sticking tiny beads up their noses, or running out into the street at a (fortunately quiet and low-traffic) lake resort. (Yes, all of those things happened.)

The struggle I am engaged in now is about autonomy. It's about self-identity. It's about figuring out what kind of a person you want to be. It's about personal responsibility, self-motivation, and finding one's place in the world.

It is BIG STUFF. And I can't go into detail, or spill my guts because this? It's really about my kid, who is awesome and creative and intelligent and funny and a good friend and a decent human being, and who is just going through the messy process of growing up.

This place, where I have ironed out my own issues with regard to growing up and figuring out who I am, is not the place for me to vent about these particular issues. They are universal, there is no doubt. But this is my family we are talking about, and I don't want my kids' friends in college to Google them and find their entire catalog of adolescent angst laid bare for the world.

The issues, when they're little? They seem so big. No. They ARE big. They are monumental when you are in them. The teething/potty training/temper tantrum stage? It sucks. It's hard. I know, I have been there. But. All I'm saying is, the problems get bigger as the kids do. Every stage has its struggles, and its rewards. Age 2? Tantrums and sticky, drooly kisses. Age 9? Friend drama and a kid who can crack a mean knock-knock joke.

So, as cliche and trite as it is, live in the now. Because they grow up, man. And ain't nothin' any easier when they're big.

More guilt

2012-01-14T20:04:00.000-06:00

Sheesh. I could have a PhD in guilt if I just tried a little harder. LOL

I got an email this week regarding Evan's religious education class, detailing the planned activities for the next couple of months. There are a LOT of things, including an overnight lock-in at the church President's Day weekend.

And, as usual, they asked for help.

Ulp.

I have terrible guilt about this. I don't WANT to help with middle schoolers. I don't WANT to stay overnight at church. (Already did it once for one of Garrett's events.) I am willing (possibly) to help in other ways, like in the evening or the morning, but here's the thing:

I already do a ton at church.

Is that enough of an excuse? I don't know. Right now I think not. The teachers of this class are great -- wonderful with the kids, thinking of really meaningful ways to help them learn what it means to be UU, and they deserve help.

But I am overextended. I am on the Caring Committee. The Communications Committee. I am on a Resolution Task Group that is doing weekly events at church and for that task group I am also the webmaster. I am helping a little with planning an upcoming youth conference, and I am committed to helping with that in some capacity.

In December I was at church for both services the first 3 Sundays.

I don't mind; I am not complaining. I signed up for all of this, it means something to me, and I want to do it. Honest.

But does the fact that I do other things at church absolve me of responsibility in terms of helping with my kids' religious education classes?

Because even if it does, I am pretty sure I'll feel guilty anyway.

So much for Unitarian Universalism being guilt-free. Thanks to my Lutheran upbringing, I just brought it along.

*sigh*

What's for dinner?

2012-01-09T18:42:00.002-06:00

I hear that question far too often. I also know that if I have a basic menu plan I am less stressed out and I feed my family much healthier meals.
I found a couple of meal plan ideas on Pinterest, used elements from both, and came up with this.
I am happy with it and knowing that we have all the ingredients for all the meals on the board gives me flexibility while allowing me to feel organized.
Genius.

Finishing projects

2012-01-08T18:02:00.002-06:00

I have had this little pincushion sitting around for a long time and finally finished it the other day.
I ran out of fill when stuffing it and didn't want to buy more until I had a use for it.
I guess I just decided it didn't need to be perfectly stuffed to be finished.
The pattern is from "Seams to Me" by Anna Maria Horner. Google her. -- she has a lovely blog and is the kind of person I would like to share a cup of tea with. The book is full of fun patterns and projects and -- this is the best part -- has a very readable section with basic sewing information. It is presented in a way that is useful and helpful. I highly recommend. It is published by Wiley & Sons.
I have lots more going on, lots of projects and lots of volunteering. It is good but I am feeling like a little step back and prioritizing is in order.
I am publishing this from Lola so I will come back later and link to it, but somewhere here there is an entry featuring an apron I made. It's red, green and purple, and it's from the same book.
Really fun, useful projects. And simple enough that even I can make them.
I am off to sync my calendars for the week, wishing peace and strength to all who need it, and especially comfort for those who grieve.
Have a good week.

Too much Sad

2012-01-06T20:04:00.001-06:00

Sometimes The Sad is overwhelming. Not sadness, not the feeling itself, although that is part of it.
No, what I mean is, The Sad that exists every day for someone. Usually it is kind of spread out over the world so that, even though it is HARD, it can be dealt with. We all know sometimes it's our turn to feel The Sad deeply, as when we experience loss.
My community is full of The Sad these days. A police officer from a neighboring community was shot in December and lingered in the hospital here for 11 days. He was 32, married, and had 3 small children. His funeral is tomorrow.
And, as if the city and the region were not reeling enough from that terrible dose of The Sad, today a young girl lost her battle with brain cancer.
Her parents are long- time community members, whose family ties and friendships are woven deep here.
It is a city of 100,000 people, but in many ways it's a small town.
She was 13. Thirteen.
There are no words for me to say how sorry I am for the losses of these families and communities.
In the deaths of these 2 people, the world has become a lesser place. I wish those who mourn strength and comfort, and I thank my lucky stars for a simple Friday night at home, healthy kids, and a reminder of just how quickly everything can change.

Doctor Who

2012-01-04T21:34:00.001-06:00

Oh my goodness! Evan and Garrett went to a youth conference for church a few weeks ago. They came home raving about the BBC series. We shrugged; no plans to change our cable service, despite our dissatisfaction with the local cable company, which has a monopoly, and therefore no real need to satisfy customers.
Until I got cash for Christmas. I had decided I was using it for a TiVo. We have had 3 DVRs from the cable system but they all had problems do we've been without any option for recording anything for years.
When Rob did a little research, he found we could get a DVR, expand our channels, and still keep the basic cable for less money than we had been paying. Sold.
So my Christmas money bought me some work clothes, we got the DVR, and the boys are now watching the Doctor.
Lovely.

Immortal

2012-01-02T19:32:00.001-06:00

A few years ago my friend Kris directed the play W;t. It's about a woman who is diagnosed with cancer and her journey through treatment. Oddly enough, the play had just finished its run when she was diagnosed. Sadly, I did not see that performance but I read the play later.

In the play there is a phrase -- "Immortality in culture" -- that really struck me. Every once in a while I find myself wondering if Kris's cells are out there, suspended, waiting to be thawed out and left to grow again. It's a strange thing to think about.

Which may explain my fascination with this book.

The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks is a fascinating read. Henrietta, a poor African-American woman, was treated in 1951 at Johns Hopkins in Baltimore for cervical cancer. Some of the cells of her tumor were harvested and, in a scientific breakthrough, survived and multiplied in culture. They were the first cells to reproduce through many generations, and they were used for decades in medical and scientific research around the world. Known as HeLa, these cells continue to be used today in laboratories all over the globe.

The book examines the way the cells were obtained, how they were sent to labs everywhere, and how companies later profited from them while leaving her family ignorant of the fact the cells were still living long after Henrietta herself had died. The repercussions of decisions made in 1951 reverberate through the book, even to the present day.

I started and finished this book the same day, which has not happened in quite some time. I thoroughly enjoyed it. The science is interesting but not overwhelming, the family story is compelling, and the author places herself in the story, which I would normally criticize but in this case, in her voice, it seems entirely appropriate.

Highly recommend.
************************************************************

And now for a bit about me. I struggle with Seasonal Affective Disorder. This year it hasn't been so bad, what with the relatively warm temperatures and the lack of snow. (No snow! On Christmas! Reminded me of Christmas 1997, when G was a baby and it was a brown Christmas. For the record, I am all for brown Christmases.)
Today it's cold -- I walked the dog this afternoon and I am guessing it was around 15 degrees F. Cold. But I discovered that I can even stay pretty cheerful in the cold with little or no snow on the ground. Apparently some of my struggles are simply from dealing with the (usually) ubiquitous white stuff. Good to know.

So this year I have not had to deploy all of my weapons yet (although I am aware we have a long way to go). Things I have found helpful for me in dealing with my winter blues include Vitamin D supplements (which I take year round), my little blue goLITE (mine is an older model), getting out of the house at least once a day, and lemon candles. I use Sparkling Lemon and Meyer Lemon from Yankee Candle. The scent helps me -- really.

I am okay. Not great; definitely still feeling the winter blahs, if not the blues. I struggled for days in mid-December to stay vertical all day. All I wanted to do was climb into my bed and sleep. Happily, I resisted the siren song of the bed and electric blanket, and since the days are getting slightly longer every day, I know I am slowly climbing up and out of the dark.

If you struggle with SAD, or think you might have it, please see your physician. This is something I have had since I was a child. (I think I was 9 when it started.) It can be better. YOU can be better; higher energy level, better mood -- it can be different. If nothing else, adopt the "can't hurt, might help" philosophy and give it a try. It can be different. I promise.

Resolved

2012-01-01T16:28:00.000-06:00

I don't like New Year's Resolutions -- just a setup for failure.

I do have a few things I just want to put down here, though, to perhaps encourage me as I move through 2012.

I would like to learn how to use Photoshop Elements well. I have version 7 and I don't want to upgrade until I am more comfortable with it. It is NOT intuitive, it is NOT user-friendly, and I am always frustrated when I open it up to do something new, but it must be the best option or millions of people wouldn't swear by it. I owe it to myself to figure it out.

I would like to post more regularly here. I miss it. Having this space to process is something I have appreciated for the last 6 (!) years. I find I post less and less about the boys as they get older, and I am busier all the time with work and activities and life in general, but I need to find a way to carve out a space in my life for this. I will try.

As I typed that, I was reminded of Yoda: "Do or do not. There is no try." Dangit.

I'll try anyway.

I'll also try to remember to be more patient. More calm. More kind. Especially to my family. They deserve it.

Last year was a year of endings -- mostly positive, but still endings, in so many ways.

I want to make 2012 a year of beginnings. The possibilities are endless. I'm going to get started.

I wish you all the best in the coming year: health, hope, and more happiness than your heart can hold.

Look what I made!

2011-11-26T13:09:00.002-06:00

Two new Christmas wreaths are up at my house today. My son Garrett loves to go fishing. He is quite a fly tyer and will fish from a dock, a canoe, or right off the shore. It is ALL he wants to do in the summer when we are camping. So the bobber wreath that I found at BHG's website was perfect. The directions are very clear, but it is time consuming.
I finally finished Garrett's and moved on to Evan's yesterday. I had a vague idea of where I was going with this and started off. I checked in with Evan, who said he liked it, and the whole thing was done in a couple of hours.
I can post instructions later if anyone is interested.
Wreath #3 is now underway; it is Harry Potter themed and I am just winging it, but will post pictures when that is done.
Thanks for stopping by!

Let it go?

2011-11-22T20:27:00.001-06:00

I watched my family members hurting. I didn't have anything to offer them to help them through it. And make no mistake, I was hurt, too.
I listened to lies. I watched people pick up the broken pieces of their lives to make something beautiful again.
I will NEVER understand the choices you made. I have no respect for you, as a human being and especially as a parent.
Now I'm told that some healing has happened; that apologies have been made, that a new leaf has been turned over.
You don't owe me an apology, nor I you. But I will not let it go so easily.
Prove it. Show up for your kids. Stop the hate you have perpetuated for 7 years. Be a parent. Be the kind of co-parent your kids deserve. They, of all people, deserved this the least and have been hurt by it the most. Make it different. Make it better. Heal yourself and heal them.
And if you do the right thing, again and again, even when it's hard, you might find that some of the bridges you burned could be repaired. I don't ever want a relationship with you -- I don't think I ever want to speak to you again-- but I wouldn't mind not having a thousand reasons to hate you anymore.

It's me, isn't it?

2011-11-20T16:27:00.000-06:00

I am out of sorts. Have been all weekend. I am cranky. Weepy. Irritable. Touchy.

Honestly, I don't even like myself when I am like this.

But I can't help it. I ~~have tried~~ am trying to snap out of it. Went to a church event last night that was fun. I don't think I was a complete buzzkill but I know I probably would have avoided me.

I went to church this morning and since I was a presenter in the service I was there for both services. I chatted with people (some of whom have had awful things happen in the last week and during the last year) and I tried to offer support and encouragement.

I don't know how effective I was, though, because of the storm cloud all around me.

We came home and I went into the basement bathroom. This is G's bathroom for the most part, and yesterday I had pointed out some trash and dirt on the floor, particularly in the corners, and asked him to clean the floor. I knew he had attempted to clean it but the same trash was still on the floor this morning, and I took that as a giant "F-you" and went off on him.

I sort of had a plan for the afternoon in my head and relayed some of it to Rob, who agreed and then went off on his own stuff. I was confused but figured it was stuff he needed to get done and I just did my own thing. Until it was time to go, when I thought we were leaving together only to discover that 2 days in a row Rob has his own agenda (or hasn't thought things through enough to have an agenda) and I need to adjust accordingly.

I don't adjust. We have been married almost 16 years, and he knows that. So WHY can he not communicate with me? And WHY is it that in all of this stuff I feel like I am being a reasonable human being and letting people know the plan, my expectations, whatever .... and yet, in the end, I am the one who comes out looking like a lunatic?

Damn. I am just off balance. I hate it. I can't find a way to get back in balance. Is it hormones? The time of year? The moon phase? The alignment of the planets?

Honest, I would change it if I could, but how do you fix something when you don't know what's broken?

Things I do not want to do today

2011-11-09T13:54:00.000-06:00

* drop off the videos at the rental place (3 videos for 5 days cost $1.07. Screw you, Netflix)
* pick up the dirty clothes on the floor next to my bed
* make my bed
* do laundry
* unload the dishwasher
* wash the dishes that aren't dishwasher safe

What I do want to do? Surf the web for ideas for the bedroom re-do I'm cooking up and pin the good ideas to Pinterest.

Sweater

2011-11-06T19:38:00.003-06:00

Two years ago today I was in Chicago, caring for my friend Kris as she was dying of metastatic breast cancer. We were both 39.

I didn't know she was dying. I mean, I wondered, but quietly. Just having the thought cross my mind felt like a betrayal, but she was so very ill. She ate little, slept little, suffered unimaginable pain at all hours. She struggled to breathe as fluid developed on her lungs, was drained, and then returned. She used an oxygen machine, the clear plastic tubing snaking its way across the hardwood floors of her loft.

I was alone with her, and for much of the time I was there, that meant that, although she was my dearest friend, I was emotionally very alone, too. She wouldn't talk about dying. She wouldn't admit it was a possibility, wouldn't entertain the notion, at all. Sure, there were conversations where we talked about our friendship, about how much we meant to each other, but even when there was an air of finality to my words, hers were hope filled. Funny, since I was always the starry-eyed, romantic idealist and she was the iron-willed pragmatist, ever sensible, ever logical, always able to separate her emotional side from her rational. Still, she held on to hope.

I left Chicago the morning of November 12, 2009. I didn't know it at the time, but Kris had already had a catastrophic cardiac event and was in the ICU, unresponsive and being kept alive by machines. She died that afternoon, and as I rode further and further away from the city she loved, I felt further and further from her, from our shared memories, from her shiny blond hair and that wicked sidelong glance.

But I had a husband. Three kids and a dog. A home to keep up. Laundry to do, meals to cook. Volunteer gigs. I *wanted* to crawl into my bed and sleep for a year. Oh, how I wanted that. Instead, I got up most days and trudged through them. I showed up as much as I was capable of. I wasn't always mentally present, but I did the best I could on any given day. Some of those days the best I could do was get my boys on the bus and crawl back into bed, turning on the electric blanket and losing myself in dreamless sleep.

I went to counseling -- first, one-on-one with a therapist who helped me to deal with the immense guilt I had, and the bitterness I harbored toward my friend, whom I loved but when consumed with pain and disease was, quite frankly, a bitch. How does one reconcile that anger and the guilt that comes from the helplessness one feels in the face of the dreaded "C" word? How does one reconcile one's own bitchiness? Because, although I tried desperately not to show it to her, I was angry. Pissed, even. And I had no one to talk to about it.

I would sit on her patio in the afternoons if she was asleep. Since the loft was open I couldn't have a phone conversation that wouldn't disturb her (and couldn't talk about her, obviously, in her hearing). That November was so mild -- the highs the whole time I was in the city were in the 60s. It was lovely. I would sit in an adirondack chair and call my mom for a hurried few minutes, assuring her that I was ok and trying to process all that was happening in those rare moments of quiet. I process things here, in words, or in conversations. I need words to work stuff out. Having no outlet for my emotions, no one to talk to about all the awful stuff that was happening, was probably the worst part of the experience.

So I joined a grief support group when I came home. I went every week, in the dark and the cold, to bare my soul to a room full of strangers who had lost their husbands and their fathers. And here I was, undone by the (I thought) relatively simple loss of a friend. That's where I learned that grief is grief. You can't judge someone else's grief. You can't grieve for them, or tell them how to do it. You just have to move through it.

In the beginning, after she died, I wrapped myself in it. The grief was like a sweater -- a physical separation between me and the world. I was too tender to expose myself without that insulating, protective layer. It wasn't a sweater I particularly liked -- it was uncomfortable, it was the wrong color, and it just didn't feel right. But it was what I had, and so I wore it. Every day.

Gradually the sweater became more comfortable. It seemed to fit better -- it didn't swallow me up, making me look like a child in her mother's clothing. The color? Well, I don't think it changed, but I developed a fondness for it anyway. Sometimes I would even take it off for a minute or two here and there. I would set it down on a sofa, or drape it over a chair -- always within arm's reach, but still, it was off. Those moments felt good, but I always grabbed the sweater and put it back on.

Two years later, I still have that sweater. It's kind of stretched out now, and it's tear-stained and there are pulls in the knitting. It travels with me everywhere I go; I have not gone a single day in 2 years where I have not thought of her, have not gotten choked up at a memory, a flash of insight, or the realization that she will not be at yet another ... Thanksgiving, child's concert, you name it. I can't get rid of the sweater -- I couldn't, even if I wanted to.

Two years ago, I wrapped myself in my grief. I put one foot in front of the other, every day, trusting that each day I would be a tiny bit better than the day before. It was almost a year before I felt truly like myself. In fact, that day was so momentous I actually blogged about it here.

And here I am. Have I figured out how to live in a world where she is not? Well, yes. And no. I miss her. I miss calling her and talking about the dinner I just had with my family, meat and vegetables and a starch, while she, the vegetarian, told me she had had a banana and a yogurt for dinner. Those were the only things in her kitchen, apart from cheese (she grew up in Wisconsin) and wine, most of the time. I miss telling her about my clashes with Garrett. She always had calm reassurances for me that he was going to be ok, and words that helped me let go and forgive myself for parenting mistakes. I miss going to Chicago and sightseeing with her, having lunch at The Zephyr, and playing "roll ball" on the floor of the condo with babies and puppies and cardboard boxes. I miss all of that, and so much more.

And yet. I sort of have figured out how to live. I love my family. I try to tell them as often as I can. I try to show them every day. I laugh. I cry. I drink wine and read books, listen to Minnesota Public Radio, go to plays, volunteer. I cook and bake, I clean my house, I take too many pictures, I try to keep things organized, I sew, I scrapbook, I create things. I live.

It's just that now? Well, I always have this sweater nearby ....

Where I'm From

2011-11-02T11:48:00.001-05:00

I am from wooden spoons, from Tide detergent and sheets dried on the clothesline.

I am from the clapboard house with the sloping bedroom ceilings in a prairie town ... from snow, sky, and bitter cold wind that takes your breath away.

I am from the white birch trees, the loons calling across the lake at twilight.

I am from military service and orneriness, from Grandpa Gardie and Frasers and Vandergons.

I am from the nature lovers and the dog lovers.

From watching the thermometer climb to 70 before going in the lake and waiting an hour after lunch to go back in.

I am from St. Olaf Lutheran, spire stretching to the sun, singing bells on Sunday morning, from potluck suppers and Special K bars.

I'm from North Dakota and Norway, lutefisk and lefse.

From the international menu Christmas dinners at Grandma Sally's, the square dances called in Grandpa Don's basement, and mom's Delft pottery in the glass cabinet.

I am from scrapbooks, file cabinets and my cluttered attic bedroom, from hardy prairie pioneers, from sodbusting, subsistence farming, and a desire for more opportunity for the next generation. I am from quick wits, reverence for education, and patriots who believed in hard work, responsibility, and the promise of America.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

This piece was inspired by several "Where I'm From" poems written on blogs in 2007. Many of those posts credited this website as a source and inspiration. I loved the exercise, and I hope you liked the results.

Update: George Ella Lyon is the originator of this poem, and did me the honor of visiting my blog and leaving a comment. Her Where I'm From poem can be found here. Reading the first poem born of this writing prompt (not just a prompt ... is it a movement? an inspiration? an enlightenment?) has made me decide I will revisit my own piece and add to its depth.

Thank you, Dr. Lyon, for your kind words and the opportunity to share your website and your inspiration with others.

This is only a test

2011-10-23T19:15:00.001-05:00

I got the new iPhone 4s. The day it was released. Yes, I do think that is somewhat of a problem.
I am posting from the new Lola because "there's an app for that" as they say.
This was a 4 day weekend and it was awesome. We spent a night in a hotel and invited the kids' friends over to swim. The older boys did the Cardboard Box City Fundraiser on Friday. We stayed home and did nothing Saturday, and today we cleaned and did some shopping for the upcoming DIY headboard project.
The big news? The last of the 4 basement doors is stained and hung. Hoo-rah for my awesome husband, the new iPhone, and the Blogger app. All a resounding success.

Yom Kippur

2011-10-09T20:08:00.000-05:00

We had a service today in honor of the Jewish high holy day Yom Kippur, which was yesterday. It was lovely.
Yom Kippur is about atonement -- and in one reading, the word was broken down like this: "at - one - ment." How profound. At its most basic, forgiveness helps us become one with god, and one with each other.
I don't need to tell regular readers (reader?) of this blog that that is a struggle for me. Forgiveness. Letting go. Leaving the pain in the past.
No, I am not good at that at all.
So today's responsive reading was an excellent exercise for me. Kind of like Joel's friend in Risky Business; "If you can't say it, you can't do it."
The repeated line in the reading?
"I forgive myself. I forgive you. We begin again in love."
------------------------------------------------
I have a friend who is struggling right now. It is a big struggle, one that is shaking her to her core. She is trying to find her way, but it seems to me that she has forgotten who she is.

Isn't it interesting that strong, intelligent people can be so ... challenged by people or circumstances in their lives that they literally lose themselves? I am not judging, just observing. She is lost, but I see her. I know she isn't far off the path. I am so sad that she is afraid and that she feels that she is so far away from everything good in her life. I want to take her hand and gently lead her back to where she belongs.

But I have traveled a similar path, and I know that she has to find her way back to herself on her own. It is her journey. No one can lead her back, she has to slowly pick her way across the rough stones, through the grass so tall it hides her from the world, and around the boulders strewn along the way.

If you are reading, friend ... I am here. I have a candle and a flame. You have a candle, too, you just have to find it. When you do, I will light it for you and walk with you as far as you need me to. You will find your way home to yourself. And while you are wandering, feeling lost and alone, I am here, wishing you well.

-----------------------------------------
Lost in the Woods

When you are certainly lost,
when the wind blows acutely,
when the moon is unavailable,
when tragedy catches up
and walks,
like a companion, by your side,
when the snowflakes fall
severely;
then,

may you see a window and a pallid light,
may the light get bolder
as you get closer;
may the light be the sound
of vital laughing,
may the laugh be the laugh
of the ones you're missing,
may your feet find their way
to the oaken door;
may the door swing open, sure
and slow,
may each kind glad face
turn
to yours.

~Kathleen Sheeder Bonanno

A magical day

2011-10-07T16:38:00.000-05:00

My little brother got married over the summer. It was a lovely celebration of the merging of two families -- the bride has two children from a previous marriage and the groom has 2 as well. In fact, this blended family was the only way my parents could finally get a granddaughter -- my brother's 2 are boys, of course I have 3 boys, but the bride has a son and a daughter. Awesome.

This was the reception hall -- the ceiling was strung with twinkle lights and giant tissue paper flowers. Lovely, no?

A friend of mine made the top layer of the cake. It was chocolate cake with chocolate buttercream and covered in fondant. The bride and groom took it home and ate it after the wedding and reported it was delish. The "V" was on clearance at Michaels for 2 bucks last spring and I picked it up on a whim. The little balls of fondant around the cake are coated in pearlescent powder. Fab.

Then there is the cake stand. My little brother made it. Fabricated, welded, etc. -- amazing, no? And then they painted it and added the ribbon. Truly a joint project of the bride and groom. Truly spectacular.

The cupcakes were a mixture of chocolate and vanilla, topped with white or pink frosting and glitter sugar crystals. Here's a white one:

And a pink one:

It was a beautiful day and I could not be more pleased for the whole bunch of them.
Congratulations guys! All 6 of you. I love you!

Shiny, shiny

2011-09-26T11:57:00.005-05:00

I found a "before" picture. Gold, shiny, a little too everything. I loved it anyway. But the "after" is spectacular if I do say so myself. I bought this lamp on eBay years ago and it hung over the dining table until we took it down in the spring of 2010 when we put the house on the market. I love it, but I do realize that the brass and gold tones and the general frou frou style are not most people's favorite. We put in a respectable (read: boring) fixture and stored the vintage swag lamp. And I was sad.
As we've cleaned out the storage unit (4 days left) the lamp came out and I was eager to have Rob hang it back up. Until I started thinking about all the vintage chandeliers I've seen redone with spray paint. And I thought about it, and I ran the idea by a friend who likes vintage crap, and I decided to take the plunge, and I purchased "Ocean Breeze Blue" high gloss spray paint.
Rob fixed some broken pieces, I hit them with multiple coats of the paint, and he installed a new cord and bulb housing (the originals from the 40s left a lot to be desired), and he hung it up yesterday.

Since I snapped this shot I found the missing crystals, so all 20 are now back where they belong. And the lamp is FAB, is it not? I am so happy with this funky, happy piece. The lamp itself was about $80, so not cheap, but the spray paint was less than $5, so if you already have a fixture hanging around that you don't really love, a little spray paint could be just the thing.

September

2011-09-21T12:22:00.002-05:00

I have been mired in housekeeping this month. Not that you would even begin to guess that if you saw my house right now.

We have that storage unit, the one from when we put our house on the market in 2010, that MUST be cleaned out by September 30. And while I am proud to say we have made great progress, we still have work to do, and I am a bit overwhelmed that we are down to just over a week before it needs to be gone.

So we are bringing home boxes, a dozen at a time, and going through them. We purge (fortunately our church's semi-annual rummage sale is this Saturday, so I took a van load of stuff yesterday and my van has a bunch in it again for drop off tomorrow), we sort, and we try to figure out where we can put the stuff that we really want to keep (or stuff that will require another going-through, like paperwork and photos).

I have gotten rid of picture frames, VHS tapes, CDs, bedding, clothing, shoes and winter boots, kitchen stuff, books and a few toys. I have Freecycled and Craigslisted a ton of stuff this month. And yet here I sit, next to a stack of 4 boxes that is as tall as I am sitting in my chair. Oh dear.

So back in I will dive, purging and organizing, strengthening my resolve to get this mess cleaned up so that I can order my new mattress and boxspring, help my husband make a new headboard, and enjoy my oasis of a home through the long winter. Or at least until the next home improvement project comes up.

A Song of Peace for September 11

2011-09-11T14:23:00.001-05:00

THIS IS MY SONG

This is my song, O God of all the nations,
A song of peace for lands afar and mine.
This is my home, the country where my heart is;
Here are my hopes, my dreams, my holy shrine;
But other hearts in other lands are beating
With hopes and dreams as true and high as mine.

My country's skies are bluer than the ocean,
And sunlight beams on clover-leaf and pine.
But other lands have sunlight too and clover,
And skies are everywhere as blue as mine.
Oh, hear my song, O God of all the nations,
A song of peace for their land and for mine.

Music: "Finlandia" by Jean Sibelius (1865-1957)
Words by Lloyd Stone (1912- )
Listen to it here.

2011-08-30T15:36:00.001-05:00

Two things:
One, NPR has a story that goes along with my last post.
You're Not Alone

Two, WHY is it that when someone posts on Facebook about having a hard time parenting (not complaining, just acknowledging that it is a tough gig), someone else (or multiple someones) has to immediately jump in with something that sounds like sympathy or empathy but ISN'T? In other words, a response like, "Yes, hard work but ultimately so rewarding!" or "Yes, but they are so worth it." or "Yes, it's a hard job and we are so lucky to be mommies." or whatever.

Yes, I am grateful for my kids. Yes, I understand that many people want them and can't have them or have to go through expensive medical and or legal procedures to get them. Some of those people are in my family. I also understand that many people have them and don't care for them properly and don't deserve to have them (sadly, some of those people were in my family and are now legally not part of it but are still given parenting time by a court system that is really a mess. Wait. I digress.). Yes, it is a blessing to have kids. BUT SOME DAYS IT IS JUST HARD AND ALL YOU WANT IS AN AMEN, SISTA.

I just want people to stop laying guilt trips disguised as sympathy. STOP.

That is all.

The Village

2011-08-26T14:43:00.000-05:00

It takes a village, the old saying goes. A village to raise a child. The WHOLE village. And I have experienced that. If I did something wrong while riding my bike around the block Janice was likely to scold me, just as my mom would scold Janice's kids for errant behavior. The block was full of moms -- Joanie, Carol, Janice, Fae, Darlene -- who would hold everyone accountable for their transgressions.

Today people make fun of that saying, maybe because Hillary Clinton used it as a book title, maybe because it just got overused and now seems trite and cliched.

But it is still true, and I was reminded of it in a powerful way this week.

I worked yesterday morning and came home to find Garrett on the sidewalk, waiting for me. This is never a good sign. He 'fessed up to some inappropriate behavior and (of course) laid equal or greater blame on Evan. The what and how of the fight are not important -- they never are, are they? The bottom line is how my children treat each other. And in a word, they treat each other badly.

I posted on Facebook. I was frustrated. I was tired. I was discouraged. I feel like I am in the movie Groundhog Day, where Bill Murray relives the day again and again. The difference is, he makes the most of it and finds ways around the problems of the day (stepping in a puddle) and learning new skills (like playing the piano and learning a foreign language). In my version of the movie we all do the same things but NOTHING EVER CHANGES. I still don't play the piano well, and my Spanish could use some help. LOL

But here is the cool part. The Village kicked in. Nancy "liked" my status. When I objected to "liking" such a thing, she said it was just because she understands. She's been there. She struggles some days, too, with this parenting gig. Soon Tracy piped up, and Jennifer, and Susan, and my sister-in-law Woo. They all gave me encouragement and (this was key for me) showed me compassion. They cared for me. They let me know I was not alone in my struggle, and that having a bad moment or day as a parent doesn't make me a bad parent. Parenting is not a sprint, it's a marathon. One day is not going to make the difference. (Confession: The Jackson Five's "One Bad Apple" is playing in my head right now. You're welcome.)

I don't think I blogged about it (I was too wounded and ashamed to, I think), but our neighbor lit into me one day because I snapped at her dog, which was barking mad (literally), and I was impatient and tired and for god's sake the dog knows me and still will not stop barking.

She basically told me that I should put up with the dog because she listens to me yell at my kids. I know for certain one word she threw at me was berate. And because I already feel guilty for being a yeller, and because it was not long after Kris died and I was so tender inside, and for a million other reasons, I took it. I owned it. I internalized it. I believed it.

And yes, I have confessed here before to my struggles with my kids and the tidiness of their rooms, their personal hygiene, etc. etc. etc. I know I yell at them. But at some point can we not at least make an allowance that I have had the same conversation with them forty times and still they refuse to learn? Can I get an amen here? No, I don't always handle it well, but my anger and frustration are at least justifiable.

Not to her. She is a teacher. She is unmarried. She has no children. Clearly, she knows how to raise my (and your) children better than we do. I should know, I knew everything about being a good parent until I became one. Turns out, what you know beforehand is bullshit.

So I have been questioning my own parenting skills for a long time, but far more seriously after this incident in early 2010.

And you know what? All those friends coming out of the Facebook ether to tell me they understand, they feel the same way too, that their parents taught them lessons in grace and humility by admitting they were wrong and apologizing, that this was just one day in many, and that I am still a good mom, well, it made a HUGE difference. Huge. And I am grateful every day for that village; not just because I know they will be there for my kids, but because they are there for me. Turns out that it also takes a village to raise a parent.

I still have a lot to learn. I keep trying every day. I love my kids as fiercely and gently as I can. I would do ANYTHING to keep them safe and happy and well. So if my kids read this today, or 5 years from now, or after I'm long gone, I tried my best. I did the best I could. I'm sorry I yelled. I love you.

And to my neighbor, who moved out this summer without having to tell one person in our neighborhood goodbye (which I think speaks volumes about her), well, I hope you have a lot of kids. Twins, even. And I hope you have a village, because this parenting gig? Man, it is SO easy until you wake up one day and you are entirely responsible for providing EVERYTHING another human being needs. You should probably get to work on building that village now.

Where are my wings?

2011-08-25T20:04:00.000-05:00

My friend Heather posted this on Facebook today. I laughed out loud, and because I love it so much and think it is absolutely true I am posting a link to it here. It's a must read.

Because I'm the mom, that's why!

2011-08-24T14:56:00.000-05:00

The photo retrospective continues. I'm sure he'll be thrilled.

Milestones

2011-08-22T19:35:00.003-05:00

I am a sentimental girl. I get teary pretty easily, much to my own annoyance sometimes.

But I am not a crier at kids' milestones. I didn't cry when Garrett stepped onto the bus the first day of kindergarten; I most certainly did NOT follow the bus to school and believe me, I rolled my eyes at the idiot parents who disobeyed the request of the school district and did follow the bus.

I was (and am) proud of the fact that my kids (all 3) were ready, excited, and perfectly competent to enter into the world of school. (Okay, I cried a tiny bit when Spencer got on the bus, but it was more because he is the last one than that I was sad he was going.)

I LOVE to see the things they learn every day. I love seeing them discover their own strengths. I make them make phone calls; to the eye doctor to see if the new glasses are ready, to the orthodontist to ask if we can pick up more rubber bands. They are capable humans, and I feel like my biggest job is helping them not only BE capable, but to trust themselves and know they can handle things, knowing that I am there to back them up if need be.

So I didn't expect to be suddenly overcome with emotion in the high school cafeteria this evening during schedule pickup.

I didn't anticipate the sudden drop my stomach would take, the overwhelming urge I had to grab my friend Cathy's hand and tell her, "I need someone to hold my hand" (a joke we've been making for a while since she is the parent of a junior at this school). I did NOT expect my eyes to fill with tears at the prospect of my son, this boy I have held for almost 14 years, starting high school.

He was oblivious to it, thank goodness. He was already off with an upperclassman, a captain of the football team, who was going to help him find his locker and figure out where all the classrooms are. We had planned to do that together, he and I. Instead I dried my tears and went to a parent meeting, signed up for the Booster Club, and talked to Student Nutrition Services.

Fourteen years. He has made me laugh, made me cry, filled me with such hopelessness (Is he EVER going to potty train? Is he EVER going to pick up the damn Legos? Is he EVER going to stop fighting with his brothers?), and filled me with such unspeakable pride and joy (his meeting the President of the United States, Barack Obama, earlier this year was certainly a highlight).

He is so smart. Got his dad's aptitude for math. Loves wordplay and puzzles, like me. He is a rockhound. He loves fishing and, when given a book about fly tying and a few supplies, turned out a dozen or more in a weekend. He loves nature, the color green, the feeling of being in the woods. In the quiet. In his head.

He is talkative, but he won't share things that worry or wound him; those I must carefully draw out, or guess, and trust that there are others with whom he will share those things. He is a good friend; he gets along with other kids and has some really close relationships, with boys and girls, that I think I treasure even more than he does.

He is fourteen tomorrow, embarking on a whole new adventure. High school is a place to grow, to learn, to try new things, to discover who you want to be. He is ready to fly.

And when the day comes, I'll be ready to cheer him on. The crying has to be done; this kid? He's gonna conquer the world. This milestone? It's really just the beginning.

And I can't wait to watch it all unfold.

Happy birthday, Garrett. You are an amazing human being and I am so incredibly grateful that I am your mom.

Genealogy stuff, part 2

2011-08-20T18:15:00.003-05:00

More newspaper clippings and obituaries, again primarily from the Bagley, Clearwater County, Minnesota region. Some extending into greater Minnesota (even Rochester and Stewartville) and some into North Dakota (mostly the Larimore area).
As before, they are alphabetical by last name and you should check all of these blog entries (Aug. 12 and Aug. 17).
Email me at jennifer [dot] my3sons [at] gmail [dot]com and I will be happy to mail them off to you in a SASE you provide.

So without further ado ...
William John Baker
Marvin Balstad
Mrs. Floyd Bardwell (filed under Curfman)
C. W. Barrows
Mrs. C.W. Barrows
Jacob Gerhardt Beckman
Charles H. Benedict
Mrs. P. Benedict (filed under Sorenson)
Zella Berman
Mrs. Anna Brustad
Mrs. John Carlson (Gertrude Nystad)
Mrs. Anna Cease
Melvin Christenson
Selmer Christianson
Tom and Banna Christianson
Dr. W.C. Covey
Mrs. Glenn Curfman (filed under Curfman)
Timothy W. Dee
Edward Eide
Mrs. E. Englehart/Englehardt (Margaret Brown)
Lynn "Butch" Everhart (filed under Curfman)
John H. Gordon
Nathan "Nate" E. Gordon
Fred Grover
Otto Gunsch
Mr. and Mrs. Frank Halkney (50th anniversary, see also Marian Oleson)
Frank Halkney
Mrs. John Hanson (filed under Curfman)
Ole Hayes
Jesse J. Hill (filed under Olson)
Olavus T. Holty
Mrs. Pearl Hopke (filed under Eide)
Mark Hvezda
Edwin Dwight Ingalls
Hans J. Iverson
Mrs. Teoline Jacobson
Peder Jorgenson (filed under Sorenson)
Mr. and Mrs. Kenneth Kolding (filed under Christianson)
Lt. and Mrs. David Kolding (filed under Christianson)
Joseph Konick
Charles Langworthy
Dr. B.W. Lemery
Mrs. Johanna Loun
George W. McCall
Mrs. Matilda Elizabeth McNamara
Robert Marshall
Mrs. Ben Martine
Donna Mellinger (filed under Curfman)
I.O. Messelt
Edna Vera Mootz
Charles Murphy
Mrs. Herman Nass (filed under Curfman)
Henry Bernhard Nasset
Marian Eleanor Oleson (marriage announcement to Allen C. Luebke, see also Halkney)
O.A. Olson
Orvis L. Olson
Floyd E. Nelson
Alton H. Rendall
Joseph Rosicka
Roger Sanquist
Mrs. Helen Sorenson
Lester Sorenson
Arnold Stavig
John H. Towey
John W. Walker
Mrs. Annie Walland
Dennis Watson (filed under Curfman)
Mrs. Stewart Watson (filed under Curfman)
Mrs. Devere Wilson (Julie Edna Johnson)
Mrs. Nellie May Woods (nee Farnsworth)

That is a complete list of what I have right now. I will add to this if I find any more in the boxes I have left to go through.

Too much stuff

2011-08-19T13:01:00.000-05:00

I've posted before about the stuff I have accumulated by being the family historian. The latest batch in my collection is from a great-great aunt and uncle who had no children of their own. With no direct descendants there is no one (including me) who wants all of the memorabilia they collected during their lives.

A lot of stuff is connected to Ft. Riley, KS. Bob must have served there during WWII. There are some photos of military units with mountains in the background. That's not in Kansas, I am positive. Some internet research confirmed his obituary, which said he served in the Pacific and was wounded. But I was frustrated in determining where his unit was trained before deploying to the Philippines.

I called the museum at Ft. Riley and connected with a very professional man who not only said the museum would be glad to have the small collection of postcards and memorabilia, he found information about the unit and has promised to help me get the photos to their proper home.

All of the items will be donated in the names of my great-great aunt and uncle and their photos will be included in the collection as well.

If you are a genealogist it is certain you will collect historical documents that are of no interest or use to you. Please consider donating them to a museum or historical society. I think it's a great way to keep your family members alive.

Say it, Ray

2011-08-18T16:40:00.003-05:00

Rain Man learned quickly that "Kmart sucks." You'd think I could have figured it out by now, too, but clearly I haven't.
The Kmart in Rochester is awful. It is poorly managed (and has been for more than a dozen years), it is sloppy, it is chronically understaffed, and, well, it sucks.

Unfortunately it is right across the street from my family clinic, it is on a thoroughfare I travel regularly, and it does carry a few items I can't find anywhere else in this town. So I stop in several times a year, always with trepidation.

Today I went in for folders. Two pocket folders without the prongs for holding looseleaf paper are nowhere to be found. Seriously. Kmart didn't have them, either, but the prong style folders were on sale for 10 cents, whereas other stores are asking 50 cents or more. So I grabbed a half dozen and headed to the checkouts.

It was crazy. There were 3 registers open, lines snaking back close to the middle of the store. The lone service counter employee seemed oblivious, so I asked (nicely, I might add) if she could call another cashier. She unleashed on me and chewed me out saying that 2 people had called in that day and there was no one else to help.

Okay, lady. THAT is not my problem. It's your job to provide customer SERVICE. I have done that job. Yes, I worked the service desk at a Kmart. For years. And if I had even thought of responding to a customer that way I would have been (deservedly) FIRED.

My response to her tirade? Oh, believe me, I gave as good as I got. Did you expect any less? In my typical dramatic fashion, in front of a couple dozen people, I stormed up to her counter, told her she could stick the folders up her ass and that I would be calling her boss later, and marched out the in door.

So, if Kmart has people checking social media and blogs for references to their stores (which would shock me, since they can't seem to get one decent human to run the store in Rochester, Minnesota), they should send the Powers That Be a little heads up; you are losing business daily here, and your reputation as a retailer is as low as it can get. People here like Walmart better. And that is saying something.

Kmart sucks.

Funeral Cards

2011-08-17T11:01:00.001-05:00

On August 12 I posted a list of obituaries and other newspaper clippings I have that I am willing to send to those who want them for genealogy research. As of today that list is still incomplete, but I wanted to add funeral cards that I have today. Check both lists because some of the names are on both pages. I am filing all of it together alphabetically so if someone requests a particular name I will probably find all pertinent documents but it would be helpful if I knew I was looking for a news paper clipping AND a funeral card, so list both in your request if the name is on both pages.

Ida Louise Anderson
Evelyn Charlotte Fletcher
Hans Flom
Ingeborg Groven
Oscar A. Hallan
Mrs. Archie H. Hammond
Albert E. Hurd
Harry John Hurd
Jens Martinus Jespersen
Brynjel T. Johnson
Anna Langworthy
Charles J. Langworthy
Sidney O. Larson
Sigvald Peter Lund
Myrtle B. Moen
Bennie P. Nelson
Norris J. Nelson
Ingebrigt J. Netland
Benjamin F. O'Dell
Albert Olson
Arnold T. Olson
Olaf Olson
Herman Peters
Ray Peters
Thomas Pollard
Bertha Bassett Rendall
Dempsy Charles Rendall
John C. Schultz
Elmer A. Skare
Stella Nathalia Sorenson
Mrs. Borghild Swenson
Richard M. Swinburne
Carl O. Wahlin
Esther W. Wahlin

All 3 posts containing genealogy for this month are complete. Email me at jennifer [dot] my3sons [at] gmail [dot] com and let me know what you are looking for, and if possible, how you are connected to the person/people in question. Once we've connected and established that the record is of the person you seek, I will email you my mailing address. If you mail a SASE to me I will be happy to have it go somewhere useful.

Items that are sent off will be crossed off but not removed from the list. I would suggest adding a comment to the entry after receiving the item that lists the name and your name or some method of contacting you for future researchers. I am sorry, I just can't promise to stay organized enough to keep track of what is sent to whom.
Thanks.

Submitting

2011-08-15T13:19:00.001-05:00

Rep. Michele Bachmann (who is running for president and is batshit crazy in my not-so-humble opinion) has been in the news lately because of her religious beliefs. Specifically, she and her husband are evangelical Christians and they believe that a woman should "submit" to her husband. She's taking a lot of flak for that.
Now I am not a fan (clearly) but I am not sure this is a fair line of questioning, despite the fact that we have for years been asking people of faith how their faith is going to inform their decisions as President of the United States. Some people were convinced JFK was going to take all his instruction from the Vatican. Some are concerned that Mitt Romney's Latter-Day Saints (Mormon) beliefs will somehow corrupt the presidency. The implication in the questioning of Bachmann, though, is that her decisions will actually be made by her husband because she, as a Christian wife, submits to his will.
I may be WAY off base in this, but I don't necessarily believe that simply because a couple believes the wife should submit to her husband the marriage has any more or less trust, respect, and understanding than my marriage or any other.
Shockingly, I submit to my husband's wishes regularly. He is the primary financial decision maker in our household; I have a small income that goes into our joint accounts along with his. We pay bills together. He handles the meetings with the financial planner and makes sure we have adequate life insurance, retirement, etc. I HATE dealing with money. Even though we have plenty to pay the bills each month, even though our personal debt is very low, even though it should be relatively simple because we have enough, I am stressed out at the thought. My stomach is in knots as I type this.
So he tells me about how much grocery money we have. He is usually the one who decides it is time to make major purchases (like the recent weekend we purchased 2 TVs). Now don't get me wrong, I can go to the scrapbook store or buy a book or two for my Kindle without advance permission, but generally I check with him first, even if it's a text or a conversation the night before where I simply say, "I am going to buy a ______ tomorrow."
So sometimes submission is just a fact of living in a marriage; it's compromise. It is recognizing that we can't both be the driver all the time. My husband's career is the money maker for our household. His job is the deciding factor in where we live, where our children go to school, and most of our life. Of course what HE wants in his career path, what HE wants in terms of job growth and added responsibility, drives many decisions we make. How can it not? it certainly wouldn't make sense for me to suddenly decide I want a change and that we are moving, for example, to Denver. I could get a job there, but it would still not be the primary income in our home, Why on earth would we do that? So I submit; not because I am a doormat, but because that is how we choose to balance the power in our marriage.
And my marriage, or Michele Bachmann's marriage, or any other marriage or relationship, is not where anyone else should be. No one can really know or understand anyone else's home or relationship. And unless someone is being hurt in some way, we don't need to.
And as long as I'm on my soapbox, I think the same thing regardless of the gender or sexual orientation of the people in said relationships.

Genealogy stuff

2011-08-12T13:42:00.002-05:00

I am an amateur genealogist and I recently received several boxes of stuff cleaned out of an elderly relative's home in Bagley, Clearwater County, Minnesota. Among the family obituaries and funeral cards there were many newspaper articles, obituaries and funeral cards of community members who are not related to my family. The articles are primarily of tragic events -- car accidents, accidental shootings sheriff's sales and the like. I am not sure why this woman took such a prurient interest in the newspaper but I thought perhaps the articles might hold value for a family member, so I kept them in spite of the feeling I get from them.
Below is a partial list of them. I will add more periodically and will note when the list is complete. If you are a researcher and have run across this in a web search I will be happy to mail them; simply contact me through the link at right and send me a self-addressed stamped envelope.

Frank C. Anderson
Mrs. Ida Anderson
Alfred John Astrum
Mrs. Frank (Martha) Bailey
Joe Balik
Mrs. Elsie Bang
Mrs. Leroy Bang (Margaret "Sally" Mootz)
Martin Bang
William Stanley Barrows
Mrs. W.C. Barrows
George Henry Baumann
James Hubert Blix
Mrs. Euguene Bodner (Luella Mae Johnson)
Mrs. Francis (Frances Elizabeth) Bonik
~~Leo Bonik~~
Patsy Boon (age 8, daughter of Jobe)
Magnus Bratland
Leslie "Red" Brustad
George Buck
Mrs. William Butler (Phoebe Josephine Fix)
J.C. or J.D. Calloway (formerly of Larimore, N.D)
Mrs. Michael Carroll (Catherine Lewis)
Mrs. Collin (Winnifred Mary) Campbell
Oscar Carlson
Mrs. Anna Cease
Albin L. "Christy" Christenson
Anna Clemens
Harry Courtney
Mrs. Clifford (Iva) Covey
Dr. Kenneth Covey
Dr. W.C.Covey
Timothy W. Dee
Larry Doyle
Dr. H. M. Eisenlohr
Henry Ellenberg
Alfred P. Erdelt
Gladys L. Ewers
Mrs. Colonel (Alice Amelia "Meda") Farnsworth
Mary Lee Farnsworth
Ole S. Glomsrud
Jay B. Goodnough
Arlen M. Gould
Iver Grodahl
Dr. John Grogan
Harold C. Hagen
Ed Halladay
Luella Mae Hammond
Palmer Haugan
Magnus Helgeland
Oscar Melvin Hendrickson
Mrs. Dave (Edith Florence) Hier
Arne J. Higdem
Virgil Hill
Belander Hough
Harry John Hurd
Mrs. Frank (Marie) Janous, Sr.
Wayne Jasperson
Jens Martinus Jespersen
Betty Mae LaFountaine Johnson
Mrs. Gina Johnson
J.P. Johnson
Mrs. J.P. Johnson
George Price Jones
Tolef Julin
Anthony Joseph Kawski
Mrs. A.D. Keye (nee McCall)
Myrtle Kleven
Lillian May LaDue
Norma LaFontaine
Oscar Larson/Larsen
Mrs. Oscar Larsen/Larson
Mrs. Ole G. Lee (Clara Oline Sletten)
Mrs. Leroy (Eileen) Lewis
Adolph Lindgren
Mrs. S.C. Lobdill (Jospehine Elizabeth Farman)
Oscar Lukkasson
James McCall
Mrs. Bert McHenry
Wilbert McHenry
Mart J. McMahon
Robert Marshall
Mrs. Louise Mathison
I.O. Messelt
Mrs. Andrew Molenaar
Donald Stanley Nelson
Mrs. Laura Nelson
Norris J. Nelson
Sever Nelson
Steven Nelson (age 7, son of Norman)
Ingebrigt Netland
Carl Norlander
Frank A. Norquist
Reina O'Brien
Fred Oelrich
Mrs. Fred (Alma) Oelrich (formerly Mrs. Frank Kelly/Kelley)
Olaf Olson
Oscar John Olson
John Halsten Oversea
Mrs. Frank Peterka (Letha Maruska)
Herman Peters
Claude O. Peterson
Fern Alma Peterson
Lloyd Iranus Peterson
Valoy Fern Peterson
Edwin Pingrey
Charles S. Pingrey
Mrs. Charles S. (Margaret) Pingrey
William A. Reed
Ernie H. Reff
Olai Risan
Gene Robbins
Lyle Rotzien
Mrs. Lyle (Bertha) Rotzien
Logan Sackett
Mrs. Emma Searles
Joseph E. Seeley
John F. Sheehan
Theodore Simenson
Elmer Skare
Selmer Sorenson
Stephen Elmer Clarence Sparks
Mrs. Stephen Sparks (Anna Marie Volden)
T.O. Stensrud
George P. Stiles
Eugene Sullivan
Tobias Sunderland
Mrs. R.M. Swinburne (Daraxra Ollie Numbers)
John Herman Thayer
John Peter Theis
Armer Alvin Thompson
~~Mrs. Elmer Tibbetts (Antonette)~~
J.H. Towey
Mrs. Clifford J. (Mildred) Turner
Ben Vorderbruggen
D.H. Waggoner
Ardith Wahlin
Robert Wallingford
Emilie Marie Wastweet
Robert Widrig
Gene Ellis Wilberg
Vernon Willborg
Charlotte Wolf
Ed Wright

My head itches

2011-08-01T20:55:00.000-05:00

On my best day I don't handle bugs well. I have been heard to say, more than once, If it isn't paying rent, that spider\ant\crawly thing is not staying in my house.

Imagine my shock and dismay when we had a case of head lice in the house in February. It was horrifying. Ever since I have (in slightly obsessive fashion) checked my kids' heads, thinking I've seen something moving. Today, I did.

I guess I can be grateful I caught it sooner this time.

And that I have sanitize cycles on my washer and dryer, which are huge capacity and awesome. So I don't have to go to the laundromat.

But grateful, well, it isn't the best adjective to describe me right this minute.

*sigh*

Say my name

2011-07-27T12:46:00.001-05:00

Saturday Amy Winehouse died.

Sunday the theme of our church service was Green Burials. Don't know what that is? Google it. Go ahead, I'll wait.

Okay. So I am a Unitarian Universalist and it stands to reason that many UUs (who are pretty environmentally responsible as a group) are interested in green burial. Me? Not so much.

Of course, I am all for losing the concrete vault, the shiny casket, the embroidered satin lining, all of which make me a little sick to my stomach, but I am not a "plant me in a pine box or a cotton shroud and I will decompose and literally push up daisies" kind of girl.

Cremation for me, please. And I would like the environmental offset fees paid, as well. But I won't know, so whatever.

As for what to do with me, my husband jokes that he's going to scatter my ashes on the crab grounds in the Bering Sea, since King Crab is my favorite food and I LOVE the television show The Deadliest Catch. However, as a girl who hates the cold and the snow, I think that's just cruel.

So I decided to document my choices here. I understand that nothing is legal or binding about this but I have hope that my family will honor my wishes.

Cremate me. Don't buy a casket or anything fancy. Do NOT burn my jewelry, including my wedding ring. For heaven's sake, I don't need it. Jewelry should be worn.
Divide my ashes in 3 parts: one to be scattered at Maple Lake, Minnesota in Polk County near my grandparents' cabins; one to be scattered in the ocean, one to bury. Bury those in Bethel Cemetery in Clearwater County, MN. I am in the process of finding out more about that cemetery and obtaining a plot, but I have chosen it because my great-grandma Anna's brother Arne is buried there. He was 2 years old when he died and it was the cemetery nearest the farm. Later the family moved to a different farm and everyone else is buried in a municipal cemetery nearby.

Bethel is out in the country. It's small and a little overgrown. In doing genealogy research I have spent a lot of time in many cemeteries and I know what I like. Bethel is friendly. There are trees and shade and it's peaceful. There are lots of different sizes and shapes of headstones. And as long as I'm talking about what I like in a cemetery, let's talk about Sunnywood Gardens in Grand Forks, ND, where my Grandpa Don is buried. I HATE that cemetery. It is right in the middle of town at the intersection of 2 very busy roads. It doesn't have enough trees and feels commercial, too sunny, and just yucky. If I die and it hasn't been done yet, I want him moved to Bethel. Leave my grandma where she is ... Grandpa, Arne and I will have a grand old time in a shady, quiet corner.

I want a headstone -- not fancy or ornate, plain is fine. And for now, I simply want the epitaph to read, "She Loved." I may change my mind, but I think that says it all.

And then -- don't come back. I mean, visit if you want to, if it makes you happy. But if it makes you sad, or you feel any guilt about not visiting, or whatever, then don't. Think of me. Have a drink. Listen to some Springsteen.

Say my name out loud.

Time flies when ... it's summer?

2011-07-25T14:17:00.002-05:00

I guess that's my excuse. I haven't posted on my blog for 2 months because it's summer. Although, to be fair, it really has only felt like summer for a month. It took its own sweet time getting here, then bore down on us last week with temps near 100 and humidity to match. Brutal. I try really hard not to complain about the heat -- I do, after all, live in Minnesota, and, well, we have such cold so much of the year it feels ungrateful to complain when we finally get a warm day. But this? This was ridiculous.

So ... what has been happening since May 11, when I took my little hiatus?

Well, my little brother got married. He and his wife were both married previously and had some sad tales to tell. They had a lovely day and a beautiful ceremony and they are deliriously happy. So that was nice. In an awesome bonus, I did NOT get into a hair pulling, scratching, biting fight with my mom's sister, who hates my everlovin' guts. Ignoring evil relative FTW!

Also, my eldest son graduated from 8th grade. They had a simple ceremony at the end of the school's annual awards ceremony and I did not cry. Perhaps I am unsentimental, but I prefer to think of it as "looking forward to all of the cool stuff my kid will learn and do as he grows." It's all in the spin.

In June I made a trip to North Dakota to spend a couple of days with my mom. We attended a lecture by Clay Jenkinson, who portrays my favorite President, Thomas Jefferson, and it was amazing. I highly recommend Clay's Show, The Thomas Jefferson Hour.

And I drove my new car home from North Dakota at the end of that trip. My dad restored it for my mom (who picked the beautiful color) in 1996. They are starting to think about downsizing and moving somewhere warm, and they decided they had better start getting rid of cars. (My dad has a fascination with cars, which I detailed in an album I made for him a few years ago. You can see the inside pages in my gallery at Scrapjazz. Here is a link, but the album starts on page 7 of the gallery just in case the link doesn't work.

And here is the car:

I know.

It is gorgeous. I could not love it more.

Of course, in the interest of full documentation I should also add that the fuel pump died on the doggone thing before I'd had it a week. Fortunately the part was under $25 and my awesome husband did the mechanic work to get me up and running again. Could have been worse.

And of course we have been doing the usual home improvement stuff around here lately -- Evan's room is looking very appropriate for a gearhead, and Garrett's room just got its bamboo wall mural and a new oak door, and will get new bifold closet doors (also oak) as soon as I get them stained. Patience, grasshopper.

We spent a lovely few days at our friends' lake cabin in central Minnesota, where all 3 of the boys learned to waterski. That was a highlight. We had a ball. It is so much fun to give my boys a little chance to experience stuff like that. I took my grandparents' lake cabins for granted, and I wish one of them was still left in the family. Having a week every year to hang at our friends' cabin is really a treat.

And, of course, Potter fever hit our house in July, when Evan and I went to the midnight showing of the final harry Potter movie with our friends Tracy and David. The boys dressed up and we all loved the movie. We all love the books even more.

And, speaking of books, I read The Count of Monte Cristo with a couple of friends over the spring and summer. It is 1,200 pages. It was great fun to read with a group again and we are thinking of doing it with more books, although keeping a looser format than a monthly book group. I read it on my Kindle, and cannot love the Kindle more, either. What a great invention.

So ... it wouldn't be my blog without a list, would it? We still have that doggone storage unit from spring 2010, when we put the house on the market. Since then we have gone through a lot of it and it is less than half full, so we hope to clean it all out soon. Plus there are always a million things to do to get ready for school starting, so here is my list for today:

* clean out storage unit by Sept. 30 (in progress as of 8/22)
* ~~get out for a few days of camping~~ (not so many camping days this summer with the government shutdown)
* ~~get kids to eye doctor before school~~
* finish staining Garrett's closet doors (in progress as of 8/22)
* stain remaining 3 doors for basement (in progress as of 8/22)
* ~~weed garden~~
* ~~take out tree/bush in back yard~~

I think that's good for now. I am well. My kids are doing great -- they are at UU Chalice Camp this week (Vacation Bible School for UUs). My husband is as handsome, patient and kind as ever.

So I am grateful for the things that stay the same, even as the world and my family change every day.

SC

2011-05-11T11:35:00.001-05:00

Sorry this is cryptic. I need to verify this is my blog and that I am receiving emails from a support team because I neglected to change my email address on the account when we moved from California almost 5 years ago.

I shudder to think if I am this forgetful now what my life will be like if I make it to age 70.

Argh.

ISPs (aka Internet Suckitude Purveyors)

2011-05-01T19:58:00.001-05:00

In 1998 I got my first desktop computer. We went with the local cable company (which has a monopoly in our fair city) as our Internet Service Provider.

Keep in mind that my husband is a computer engineer and works for one of the largest computer companies in the world, and that I knew less than nothing about computers and that new-fangled email.

The company then was Bresnan, so our email was at bresnanlink.net. Then the company got sold to Charter (without a doubt the WORST ISP on the planet) and some stupid idiot who didn't know that Minnesota's postal abbreviation is MN made the domain name here at chartermi dot com. Ummm? That's Michigan. Fail. Then we got an upgraded service to enable Rob to log in to work from home. Extra security, extra charges, extra inconvenience. And a new domain name, at magnaspeed dot net. Keep in mind that is 3 emails and we were still with the same company. And there were a couple of other changes, too. Frustrating.

After we moved back from California (where we had Comcast for cable and internet and I LOVED them. People on the west coast rail about Comcast so it says a lot that I thought they were a huge improvement from the assholes that I deal with at Charter Communications). Please click on that link so that they can see how much I hate them. And let me say that when I call their customer service and get the little survey at the end of my call, I always click the option indicating I would not recommend their service to anyone. And they hang up on me. Because, apparently, providing great customer service is asking people if they would recommend your service, not asking WHY they would not and then doing something about it. Again, what idiots. But I digress. After we moved back from California (and yes, I know I left that dangling up there at the beginning but I thought you might have forgotten. I did. LOL). After we moved back from California we switched to Qwest.

They have been ok. No love for the email because it was through Hotmail and, honestly, a company that big should have its own email setup, right? But whatever. It worked, it was fine, and I use my own personal domain name for primary email anyway.

Until the FORCED MIGRATION from Qwest. First, they sent a POSTCARD to tell us that a change was coming. No indication of when or how, but they informed us of an internet change VIA SNAIL MAIL. WTF? And yes, they called it a forced migration. Because those of us who are change averse (hello, my desktop runs on Windows XP and I am married to a computer engineer with 2 extended family members who work for Microsoft) are going to be mellowed by the word FORCED.

So I migrated. Under duress. And their system? Oh my. The interface is AWFUL. Ugly. News links are all from tabloid news shows, nothing reputable. It's slow. It's cumbersome. I have to log in to the mail provider then log in to the email. Aw. FUL. Then? Multiple calls to their technicians, one of whom told me I was an idiot, basically. And yes, I did hang up on him. How did you know? And then I tattled on Chad to his co worker who helped me in online chat.

In the past couple of weeks I have spent close to 10 hours on this switch. I have talked to multiple customer service people and it seems they have had a tsunami of people needing help. Shocking. Poorly planned, poorly designed, and poorly implemented. Whooda thunk?

So I decided to forward my email to Gmail. Except they won't let me do that. Yep. I pay them for a service and they set conditions, like, We do not like those guys at Gmail and we won't play nice with them. The end. Grrr. Fortunately I have the aforementioned personal domain name. So Qwest forwards to it, and it routes to Gmail. A bonus is that Gmail (unlike Qwest mail) will allow me to use that email as my Reply to address as well.

Honestly. Qwest, I would have canceled my service the other day but after spending 2 hours or more on configuring my personal domain and my Gmail to circumvent your stupid system, I'm staying. For now. But do your employees a favor, all you suits ... start actually thinking of the customer and your employees before doing something like this again. I feel sorry for the people who work for you.

Oh, except for Chad. He can suck it.

Royal Wedding

2011-04-30T20:33:00.002-05:00

I do not apologize for being a bit of an anglophile with a more than casual interest in the Royal Family. My first scrapbook was of Lady Diana Spencer, her wedding to Prince Charles, and their lovely little boy, William.

My grandma and I got up early on a long ago July day and watched Charles and Diana's wedding in St. Paul's Cathedral. Of course I wanted to see William and Kate get married.

I woke up to Rob's alarm at 3:50 and watched the coverage until after the vows. Then I went back to sleep.

I was eager to see the dress, which did not disappoint. My first reaction, like my friend Careless, was that it evoked Grace Kelly's wedding to Prince Rainier of Monaco.

I loved Wills and Harry in their uniforms, I loved the pageantry and the pomp.

I HATED Princess Beatrice's hat. WHAT was she thinking? Certainly not, "Wow, that looks lovely on me. I'm sure it's quite suitable for my cousin THE FUTURE KING'S wedding." Fail.

I also hated Victoria Beckham's dress. Honestly, Posh, you are stunning. In fact, I've heard people say of other people, "She would look good in a sack." Well, sad to say, I would have thought that of you as well but then you showed up at the Abbey wearing one. And, it turns out, it was, ummmm, HEINOUS. I know you are pregnant but seriously, honey. With all of that money you had the opportunity to do better. Instead you wore one of your own designs (ever heard the saying a person who serves as his own representative in court has a fool for a client? Ahem.) and missed one of the greatest opportunities to look, well, royal. Almost. Epic fail.

So the wedding was lovely. Of course I got a little teary, but you must remember I have a son named Spencer, after Will's lovely mum. And I thought of her that day, how proud and happy she would have been, and how lovely she would have looked, as always, and I cried a tear for her, and for him, as he must have missed her so terribly all day.

Diana's fairy tale was a scam. She was 12 years her groom's junior and far too young to be thrust into the spotlight in a family she didn't know with a thousand years of protocol and propriety behind them.

I hope with all my heart that Kate and Will, as peers and as a couple that has been together for a good number of years, as well as being almost a decade older than she was at the outset of her fairy tale, will weather the storms and show us all that, every once in a while, a fairy tale DOES come true.

The right tool for the job

2011-04-26T15:33:00.000-05:00

I have written before about the fact that I am an appliance snob. Well, not really a snob because I don't care what anyone else has, I just want what I want, regardless of what's the fashionable thing to have. That goes for appliances, cabinetry, furniture, and everything else in my home.

Our washer and dryer were old. The spin cycle on the washer was not as efficient as it once was, and a few times a month I had to run a second spin cycle on a load. The dryer had a hard time keeping up with loads of jeans for the 5 people in the house.

So Rob told me to start researching. I knew I did not want a front loading washer. (See above. LOL) So I looked into the Cabrio and the Bravos. The reviews were mixed, leaning toward awful. I was scared.

So I asked friends and acquaintances, and was steered toward the LG top loading washer. I went to Sears to look at it, and the sales guy told me that LG makes the Kenmore Elite models. Which were on sale for 40% off. Awe. Some.

The Elite models have 2 tiers -- we opted for the lower tier. No need to see the clothes while they wash, tyvm, and no need for a steam dryer. And with the sale price we were able to buy the extended maintenance and repair warranty for about the same cost as the regular price of the machines. The reviews of these are significantly better but it is reassuring to know we have a backup plan, too.

I do a lot of laundry. I am so grateful I have a husband who recognizes the right tool for the job can make all the difference.

For Brad

2011-04-25T20:45:00.001-05:00

My little brother and I had a number of years when we just didn't get along. The whys of it are unimportant -- we both made some mistakes and let some things take more space in our minds than they deserved and it led to us growing apart.

Thankfully we found our way past that, in the midst of his very painful divorce a few years ago. We don't always agree, but he is my brother and I will be there for him if he needs me, no matter what. I know he feels the same way about me.

The last few years have been incredibly painful for him as he has watched his children, who live full time with him, deal with the aftermath of divorce and abandonment.

This post is dedicated to him and is for any parent who is dealing with divorce and/or custody issues. I don't pretend to know how hard this is; I've never experienced it from the inside. All I know is that what I have learned from him, simply by paying attention to the way he has handled things, is good stuff. I wish every parent (including me) could be as patient and selfless as he has been.

So, Brad, this one's for you. I respect and admire the way you've dealt with this situation that was not your choice, and I wish you nothing but happiness and peace all the days of your life. You have definitely earned it.

Promises from a dad to his children:

I will always love you, and I will tell you that as often as you need to hear it. Or more. I love you.

I will not share details of why my marriage to your mom broke up. That is grown-up business. It wasn't your fault. We both still love you. That is all you need to know.

I will not badmouth your mom in front of you, no matter how angry I am with her. She is still your mother, and as much as I disagree with her or dislike the things she does, I will not be disrespectful of her in your presence, nor will I allow anyone else to be.

I will never keep you from your mom. If she calls you and you are not at home, I will give you the message. If she sends mail, I will make sure you receive it.

I will never keep you away from your mom's extended family or friends. There can never be too many people who love you. If they want to be in your life, and they respect me and my rules, I will find a way for them to see you. If they don't make an effort to be in your life, it is their loss.

I will not lie for your mom or make excuses for her. I will not condemn her to you, but I will not be a party to the promises she makes and breaks repeatedly.

I will make sure you understand that you can love someone and still be angry with them. I will validate your feelings as best I can and try to help you through your anger. I will listen to you.

I will surround you with people who will love and support you. You will know my extended family. I will be active in your school, in religious life, in sports or activities, and you will have many people to turn to in times of trouble. If I marry again I will choose a spouse who joins me in supporting and loving you.

If I marry again, I will make you a part of the ceremony so that it is clear we are all making a commitment to each other to be a family.

I will do anything to keep you safe, make you feel loved, and help you grow up to be a happy, healthy person.

Brad and his kids are moving forward in their life and embarking on a new adventure soon. I wish them all the best, and I promise to be there for them, supporting, encouraging and celebrating. It has been a long, dark night.

Here comes the sun.

Busy

2011-04-22T11:42:00.001-05:00

I'll be back -- I am currently in my basement laundry room, mesmerized by the glowing blue dials of my brand new washer and dryer set.

It's the first new set I've ever had, and it is lovely -- a high efficiency top loading washer (the kind with a giant 5 cubic foot tub and no center agitator) and an equally lovely 7+ cubic foot dryer.

They arrived yesterday and, after 5 hours of plumbing and electrical work, my husband pronounced them ready to use.

We sat in the laundry room for almost an hour as we ran the first load of clothes through it. I am not kidding.

So far, so good. I obsessively researched machines until I was so overwhelmed by the compliments and complaints about every top-loader available I couldn't see straight. Three loads in, I can see the merit in the complaints (twisted clothes? yes, but not terribly, and the compliments (the clothes DO come out practically dry!).

At any rate, they are here, the laundry room is clean (shelves cleared off for the recent church rummage sale, vinyl installed on the concrete pad where the machines sit, floor scrubbed, walls freshly painted), and I am grateful to have my own machines that do not have to be shared with a barracks full of people, and grateful for my husband who is the ultimate handyman.

Life is good.

Why I cried over a bag of salad

2011-04-08T14:59:00.004-05:00

I posted a new status on Facebook the other night: Jennifer (Name redacted) "ponders the age old question 'What's for dinner?' and wishes there were another age old question to ponder."

Which prompted a discussion with 18 comments. I don't often get 18 comments on anything I post. I guess because that dinner question is a dilemma we all face.

I don't think I've written about it here, but my friend Careless and I were pretty tight in the early years of our marriage and child-rearing time. Quite often we would talk on the phone in the afternoon while our littles were napping.

Often, one or both of us was uninspired, we were both poor, and we craved time together. Fortunately we liked each other's husbands (not in an inappropriate way) and the husbands got along, too. It helped that they are both geeky types who enjoy woodworking and building stuff. And beer.

So we would engage in a conversation about what each of us could theoretically contribute to a meal and whose house was cleaner, and we would come up with a game plan and let the husbands know we were having a dinner party.

(Which, let's be clear, at our house was eating at the coffee table in the living room while seated on the floor with the littles tumbling around at our feet. I have a dining room table now but I shudder to contemplate getting rid of my giant square coffee table. It rocked. Anyway, it was never fancy but the company couldn't be beat.)

All of that explanation to share with you the single post on Facebook which honestly made me tear up:

Careless posted, "I've got a bag of salad ... what do you have?"

In one sentence she invoked all of those toddler/baby stressed days, the simple fun of spending time with friends and sharing food, the fun of listening to 80s music and her husband's commentary, matching every song, it seemed, to a girl he dated. We didn't have a lot of money but we were RICH. That friendship saved my life. That girl was my rock. That family, well, they are MY family.

And that, my dear blog reader, is why I cried over a bag of salad on Tuesday.
And I smiled. In fact, I am still smiling.
Careless, you are one amazing woman, and I am so glad you are my friend.
Oh -- I have chicken breasts and banana bread. And my house is clean. Come on over, anytime.

Infinite possibilities

2011-04-04T14:57:00.001-05:00

This house has seen many incarnations since we've owned it. It's been 14 years this week. Currently the upstairs (with the cute sloped ceilings) is my scrapbooking/craft/computer/genealogy room and the "master" bedroom. I use the quotes because in this day and age it doesn't feel like a master without a bathroom, which we do not have. But I digress.

The main floor is where our middle and youngest sons sleep. Spring break was last week and I worked like a dervish to get cleaning/organizing and painting done. Our poor stereotype (often neglected, fades into the background because he is so mellow) of a middle son, Evan, had been waiting patiently for months to get his room painted and personalized.

Monday I painted, with his help. It was a lot of work, and I think at 41 I may have decided painting is a job to be hired out from now on. Maybe.

Evan loves cars and motorcycles and the Indianapolis Colts. Not necessarily in that order. (The Colts move up during football season and move down the rest of the year. Sorry, Peyton.)

The big empty space above Evan's bed is for the 24 x 24 inch canvas we procured over the weekend. It will feature a large Harley-Davidson bar & shield logo and some motorcycle pictures. Soon.

This is Spencer's room.

And Garrett's. Clearly I should have used the flash. Sorry. The loft bed and desk are from Walmart. He wanted a bed from IKEA but it was too tall for the ceilings in the basement. This was the only option we could find that fit. We hope to get a chair in the next few months that will fit where the blue chair is (far left in the shadows) and will fold out into a twin-size bed for guests.

This is my grandma's breakfront. I had to look it up, but it's called a breakfront because the center of the case is set out from the sides. This is curved glass and I was a basket case transporting and unpacking it. Can't imagine having to replace the glass. Yikes. Many of the items in the breakfront were given to me by my grandma over the last 10 years or so. I love having it in the room, but I think it will be quite some time before I stop referring to it as "Sally's furniture."

And I did use the flash here, but it's cloudy and the light is funny so it still looks dim. This is the table and chairs, again from my grandma. I remember sitting here for dozens of holiday and everyday meals with my grandparents and parents. I find myself stopping and staring at it as I move through the house -- it throws me off every time I see it.

I think we are set now, for a few years. (I suspect until Garrett graduates, anyway. (What a freaky thing to type ... it's only 4 years away.)
Our family has grown and changed over the years and the house has managed to shiftshape and morph along with us. It's a pretty amazing house with endless variations. :)

Spring cleaning

2011-03-27T20:33:00.001-05:00

I LOVE spring. The crisp scent in the air, the mud, the deceptively sunny days that are surprisingly cold when you step outside.

I made it through this winter, and it is somehow more and less of a surprise than I expected. I wasn't on any medications this year. When my doctor suggested I taper off last fall, I was terrified and told him no. Mere weeks later I discovered that I was suffering from side effects and he changed my medicine and I went crazy. Okay, perhaps that is a little harsh. But the new med, it made me sick. It made me feel like I was wildly careening from sane to batshit crazy and back again in seconds. And, frankly, the withdrawal from that drug was worse than the drug. So bad, in fact, I told the doc I was ready to go it alone.

And it was fine. I felt the normal ups and downs of winter, although I suspect they are more intense than most people. Still, I was ok.

Now it's spring, and I am feeling the sunshine. My mojo is back -- at least until the next cloudy day. I am cleaning, organizing, purging -- eliminating all that excess stuff from my life. The church rummage sale is in 3 weeks and I hope to bring an entire van load. Or two.

Tomorrow Evan and I will paint his bedroom, and Tuesday all 3 boys and I will hit the storage unit to clean things out, find some of our treasures, and begin emptying it, because by the end of June I want to be done paying that ridiculous $100 a month.

What went today? About 4 dozen 3.5 inch floppy disks. A box of photos to be mailed to my aunt. Another box, this time of scrapbooking supplies, to go to a charity I love. About 50 textbooks (Goodwill takes them and nothing goes to waste so if they don't sell them they are recycled). Several cardboard boxes. Rob cleaned up his work room, purging who knows what. It feels good.

This week, I will find stuff in storage -- shoes I have missed, art from the living and dining rooms, kitchen towels I stuck in storage to free up a drawer but that I need now, the magnet boards we bought the boys to keep their ever-growing collection of travel souvenirs, sheet sets that will immediately go the the rummage pile, an antique settee that I miss and want back in my living room -- but only the stuff I love and need comes back.

I am still in mourning for my grandma and her stuff. Things are not the way she would have wanted them. But they are the way she chose for them to be. I learned a lesson in this. Avoiding difficult decisions does not mean that the decision points won't someday arrive; it just means that someone else makes the decisions.

I decide. Difficult or not, I am the decider. It's started -- I just have to carry it through.

What's really important

2011-03-21T13:57:00.002-05:00

She would lift me up just high enough to reach the tiny wooden ball and remind me to pull gently. The sun streamed through the glass front door and the room, with its white carpet and furniture, glowed. I grasped the little golden ball and as the string came out of the box I held my breath.
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A week ago I traveled to my grandmother's home. She is in a nursing home now with no prospect of leaving. Her cognitive function is limited, her mental illness so bad she is on antipsychotic drugs, her physical health failing, too.

I picked up her dining room furniture, pieces that had been promised to me when I was a child. A thousand times, she told me the story of my uncle accidentally etching a map of the Hawaiian islands into the table top. It was funny then -- I suspect it was NOT funny at the time it happened. Now it is a story I tell my children as they trace their fingers over the shapes and the names of the islands. HAWAII, LANAI ... etching themselves into my children`s memories as they are etched in mine.

Things were important to my grandma. She said people were more important to her, but I disagree. Her home was filled with lovely things -- and many times if she liked something she bought it in every color or style. I never saw her give one thing away or donate anything to charity -- people who shop at Goodwill could not possibly care for her items properly. When I would tell her the things she no longer used could be useful to someone else she became angry.

She and my grandpa moved far away from their home of 40 years after a devastating flood. She moved EVERYTHING. The junk drawer. Hundreds of tubes of lipstick, some 40 years old. Clothes that were old, out of style, outgrown, damaged.

And now, her worst nightmare -- HER things, being pawed through by people, trying to clean things out. Vultures. I was one of them. It was awful.

I have a beautiful dining room set now, some lovely pieces of glassware and thousands of family photos. I have thrown away twice as many as I kept -- all those lovely landscapes on vacations? Don't bother, they will only be tossed away by the next generation. I have a few precious items that remind me of her, of my grandpa, of their lake cabin and their homes.

It has inspired me to clean things out. Why do I have all these books? They are just something for someone else to go through later. I donated 350 or more last week to our church book sale.

My genealogy is a puzzle. What to do with it in the event none of my sons want to continue the research? I need to find a place that will welcome the information and make it accessible to other family historians.

The photos. Oh, the photos. How I LOVE them. They are a touchstone, a key to the past, a glimpse of people long gone. But they lived. They breathed. They loved, they laughed, they cried. And they are part of me. Many things will go away to find homes elsewhere. The photos, well, I will try to organize them. Label them. Assemble them into a puzzle that others can understand.

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I pulled the string one last time before I left the house, and the theme from Dr. Zhivago played. The string slowly wound into the music box plaque, and the little shiny ball made its slow journey back to its home. I wanted to take it with me, but it could not be the same in another house.

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When I die, I want those who love me to keep things that make them smile. Things that have happy memories connected to them. Things they love. If my dining room set, so recently deposited here, fails to match in their houses, or if they hate it, or happy memories are absent from it, I want them to let it go. Keep what you want, sell or donate the rest. It is just stuff.

I love my stuff. I have made no secret here that I love stuff. Shiny things, sparkly things, craft supplies, photos ... but there are no words for me to express how I feel about my husband and children, about my parents, my brother, my extended family, my friends. If I love you, you know it. And stuff, no matter how cool or beautiful, is no replacement for the people who are my life.

If you are reading this, you are one of those people. And believe me, I am grateful for you, more than words could ever say.

Arizona

2011-01-10T15:54:00.004-06:00

It's been a few days since the awful shooting in Arizona. Rep. Gabrielle Giffords is still in a medically induced coma and people of all political persuasions are praying for her recovery.

There is a lot being made of this shooting. People are saying it's the Republicans' fault. It's the Tea party's fault. This is bullshit.

We all own it. All of us. Republicans, Democrats, Tea Partiers, athiests, fundamental evangelicals, the radical left, the religious right, the apathetic, the disillusioned, the angry, the passionate, the politically obsessed, the willfully ignorant.

We have encouraged the media to ramp things up. Glenn Beck gets ratings because he is dramatic. He cries and whines about the state of his beloved country, blames the liberals, and ignores entirely the facts. Rush Limbaugh inflates and exaggerates and spews vitriol and people listen. Jon Stewart (and if you read this at all you must know I am a fan) uses humor to skewer right-wingers of all stripes. (Though to be fair, he invites people he disagrees with on to his show and treats them respectfully and gives them an opportunity to explain their positions, even those he abhors).

We don't think of "the other side" as human. We dehumanize them daily, and we allow others to do so as well.

I do it, too. I am trying not to. I have been trying not to. I have said it many times before -- Republicans love their country as much as I love it. I believe that they truly want the best things for our nation and its people. I simply believe they are wrong in terms of the things they want and the ways to accomplish their goals. That is my right as an American. I disagree with them. I do not question their patriotism.

Since September 11, 2001 many Republicans have openly questioned my patriotism. People have told me that I am not a patriot because my beliefs differ from theirs. In the media, Republicans have somehow appropriated the American flag as their own and insinuated or worse that liberals are not only NOT patriots, but that we collectively do not deserve the rights and benefits we are guaranteed in the Constitution.

I take issue with that. Yes, I do. I love my country. In fact, I love it so much that I stepped up and took an oath that said I would defend it against all enemies, foreign and domestic, and I offered up my life to do so if necessary. Not a patriot? Bite me.

Now if my dad is reading this he is waiting for me to get to the gun violence part of the post. Let me be VERY clear: I support responsible gun ownership. (As does Rep. Giffords, for the record). I grew up in a home with firearms. I cringe every time somebody in the media calls a rifle a "gun." They are not the same thing. I have handled firearms since I was tiny. I recall my dad letting me help him clean his firearms when I was 3. He taught me gun safety. He taught dozens of kids firearm safety in my hometown.

My dad is a sportsman -- he hunted upland game when I was a kid, went deer hunting with his dad and brothers, took my brother hunting for deer, geese, and more. He taught me about conservation and stewardship of the land -- that we have to care for the land so that it continues to support wild game. He helped me understand hunting as one means of population control in animal species. He made it clear that when you killed an animal you owed it the dignity of your respect and you used as much of it as you could, eating the meat and donating the hide and whatever other options were available.

I support the second amendment. Period.

I don't know how the alleged gunman acquired his weapon, nor do I know what weapon it was (I have avoided most of the coverage, I confess). I can't speak to gun ownership laws or waiting periods or any of that.

I CAN speak to this: the Constitution (which, apparently the Republicans now own as well, if you infer from their recent grandstanding) gave all the people at the Safeway that day the right to gather peacefully. It gives all of us the right to dissent with each other and our government. It holds all of us accountable in the governance of our nation. That means if you have the right to vote, you should exercise it at EVERY opportunity.

Old documents can make us uncomfortable. They are printing a new edition of The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn that replaces the "N" word with the word slave. The "N" word is key in that story and it will be a lesser story for the loss of the word. The Bible has all manner of uncomfortable scenes -- let's talk about Lot's daughters after the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah, shall we? Or maybe not. Go ahead and look it up yourself. (Pop quiz-- do you know what book you should look in? Just askin'.) The Constitution? Oh yeah. Some REALLY uncomfortable things in there. Did you know the Republicans LEFT OUT the part about slaves being counted 3/5 of a person AND the entire 13th Amendment, which abolished slavery in their dramatic reading? Yes, it is uncomfortable. But it is our HISTORY, and if we do not talk about it and why it was not okay to have slaves, how are we to teach our children right from wrong? Not talking about it does not erase it.

So. We all own the Constitution (much to Mr. Boehner's consternation) and we all own the mess we're in now.

What can we do? I wish I had the answer. Maybe we could start with listening. Maybe we could commit to calling people out in the media when they spread falsehoods, malicious half-truths and incite violence. Maybe we could think of the Sting song from the 80s, Russians. He sang, I hope the Russians love their children, too. Can we just agree that we ALL love our kids and our country and we simply have very different ideas about how to make things better? Can we encourage our representatives to sit down together and work it out? The Constitution has worked for 200 years and now many people are saying the rules of Congress need to be changed. I think the way politicians work needs to be changed.

My thoughts are with the families of those killed and wounded in Tucson on Saturday. All of us are appalled. All of us wish them well.

I don't know if the shooting was politically motivated or not. I do know that regardless of the motivation this incident was a wake-up call for all of us.

The question is, are we going to get up and go to work, or press the Snooze button?

Letting in the Light

2011-01-09T15:47:00.004-06:00

We sang "This Little Light of Mine" in church today, and the theme of the sermon was stories. How the stories of our lives make us who we are, how they can help us learn about ourselves, how we can puzzle out their meaning as we tell and re-tell them.

This weekend has been revelatory. I am learning new stories, and I hope in the telling I can somehow begin to make sense of it all.

The relative I wrote about recently continues to be unwell. The secret she hid for so many years has taken its toll and she has lost all quality of life.

Inspired by that, and perhaps looking for further reasons or basic information another family began digging in papers supplied by the ill woman in healthier times. Papers she distributed to the entire extended family with genealogical information, including a copy of her father W's death certificate.

I had seen W's death certificate before. She sent it to me with the same packet, probably 10 years ago.

I hadn't realized it, but he died in a mental hospital in the 1950s. A contributing cause of death was "psychosis." Could it have been Alzheimer's Disease before it was recognized as a disease and not a normal part of aging? He was in the institution for almost 4 years before death. What and who put him there?

None of this has ever been discussed before. The stigma of mental illness, the shame of abuse, the desire to move away from it all and begin fresh -- these must have been the motivations of all involved.

But the perception now, today, in the age of full disclosure and navel-gazing, is that keeping the secrets was wrong. Some people in the family feel betrayed. They wonder why even simple acknowledgments and explanations were not given; why didn't they tell me SOMETHING?

I can't know the reasons, the symptoms, the fear or anguish. Everyone who could shed light on the story is dead or mentally incapacitated.

But this I know for sure: the stories will not die with me. I am opening the closet door and letting the full sun shine on them. The stories of my family's past does not have to define its future. We can acknowledge that our family, like so many others, has had trials and tribulations. We can talk about the pain and suffering of so many people, trying to keep painful secrets locked up. We can have sympathy for the suffering they endured, even the suffering that was self-induced because of fear or ignorance or who knows what.

Today, I shine my light on my whole family. I call upon all those involved with this to face the demons of the past in a fearless manner. The past cannot hurt us unless we fail to acknowledge the lessons that were supposed to be learned.

Deep Thoughts

2011-01-05T19:25:00.004-06:00

Okay, really, I don't have any. Nothing to ponder or to make you think. Maybe just a quick recap of the last month:

*my folks and my brother (along with his girlfriend and their 4 kids) were here for Christmas. It was the first time in 13 years that we'd all been together. A long gap that was mostly inspired by his ex-wife, who, in addition to being an absolute pig at home, would trash my house every time she came. She was a human tornado without the benefit of the rainbow at the end. At any rate, she is gone, and I enjoyed having everyone here (mostly LOL). I am ME, after all.

*Evan's big Christmas gift this year was plane tickets for him and me to go to Indianapolis to see the fabulous Teresa and her son Mike. She is truly an incredible and generous host. We went because Evan (inspired by Teresa and Mike) has become quite a Colts football fan, and Teresa has season tickets. January 2 saw the 4 of us at Lucas Oil Stadium, wearing Colts jerseys (even me!) and cheering Peyton Manning and the guys to victory. The stadium is awesome and we had a lot of fun.

*In a week (a WEEK!) my baby will turn 9. How did that happen?

*In just over a month I will celebrate my 15th wedding anniversary with my amazing husband. He has frequent flier miles and I am itching to get away with him for a couple of days, I just need to find someone who can take my kids. Cross your fingers!

*My job is going well. I love the flexibility and the fact that I can log in from home whenever I want. I got the laptop a few weeks ago and it is so convenient. I often log in for an hour or so at night to get through email, and I am doing a fair amount of reading about Time Banking in general and learning a lot.

*Minnesota has a Democrat in the Governor's office for the first time in 20 years. Mark Dayton was my candidate all along, and I am very pleased he was elected.

*The great bedroom remodel of 2010 is almost complete. We got the room painted Wednesday the 22 and furniture moved in the 23rd. We still need to get new carpet, add trim and closet doors, and put the closet organizer in, but it is a room, it is warm, and it is functional. Garrett is pretty chuffed.

*I am still reading Anna Karenina. It isn't boring, but it requires some concentration. And a cheat sheet delineating names and relationships. I need to finish it, though, because I just added several books to my library request list: Room, An Exact Replica of a Figment of My Imagination, My Reading Life and Port Mortuary.

How delicious -- to start off the new year with books by 2 of my most favorite authors, Pat Conroy and Patricia Cornwell. I will let you know what I think.

In which one wishes one had been wrong

2010-12-29T14:42:00.005-06:00

For a long time I have suspected that a member of my extended family was abused as a child.

Her memories of her nuclear family were so vastly different than the memories her siblings shared I just figured she had made up her happy memories to cover up (at best) a relationship where an adult shared too much of his or her adult ... errr, issues or (at worst) a sexually abusive relationship.

She has been unwell ... a disintegrating memory, a move to a facility (which was necessary but incredibly difficult and painful), and a lack of contact with a number of extended family and friends (again, painful but necessary for her adjustment to her new surroundings, according to her doc). All of this has combined with her natural tendency to be a drama queen and attention whore (to borrow a phrase), and the result was she took to her bed, refused food and drink, and waited, I guess, to die.

She was moved to a psych ward. Given intravenous fluids. Made as comfortable as possible.

A psychiatrist visited her. I don't know what or how it happened, but it finally came out: sexually abused as a child.

In a life that has been so goddamn full of sadness, pain, anger, misery, guilt, recrimination, accusations, rage, venom and pathos in the last few years, those are the 5 saddest words I can imagine typing about that life.

I don't know the stories, the details. I'm a former reporter -- I want the who, what, when, how and WHY. Who was it? Who knew about it? Who didn't protect her? Who let a little girl be so broken that in her eighties she is still done in by it?

I am not much of a believer in Heaven or Hell or an afterlife, but if there is a Heaven for me it will look like the Main Reading Room of the Library of Congress and every question left unanswered in my life will be answered there, by the person best suited to answering it.

In Heaven, I will ask Thomas Jefferson if he loved Sally Hemings. I will ask Jesus Himself if He really is the Son of God. I will ask JonBenet Ramsey who did it. I will ask Amelia Earhart what happened.

And I will ask the people who knew about this if they understand the damage that was done to a little girl who deserved to remain innocent longer than she did.

I'm pretty sure THAT answer will still be inadequate, even in Heaven.

How do I love thee?

2010-12-06T19:18:00.002-06:00

When we were in California I shopped at Trader Joe's pretty regularly. It was close to our house, it was inexpensive, and it had lots of unique and tasty items that allowed me to introduce flavors from other cultures to my family.

When we moved back to Minnesota I missed it. A lot. There are several TJ's in Twin Cities suburbs and I would go up every month or two and stock up on olive oil, Orange Chicken, Lemongrass Chicken Stix, and Veggie Chips.

But today that all changed.

Today Trader Joe's opened up right here in Rochester. Although I abhor crowds, I went at 9 this morning, right after the kids got on the bus. I met my friend Roxane there and we happily wandered all over the store. We accosted the manager, I offered purchasing advice to other shoppers (only because I was telling Rox about this or that product and I could see people paying attention to my loud mouth), and I discovered that my family's favorite Dark Chocolate Raspberry Sticks are no longer sold there. (Tragic.) But the crowds weren't bad, the store was busy but not crazy, and all was good.

I procured a few items (Panda Puffs cereal and Peppermint Joe-Joes among them) and checked out. I received a free shopping bag (W00t). And I spent under $20. (Double w00t).

Later a friend of mine on Facebook said her local store was OUT of Joe Joes and did not anticipate receiving more before Christmas.

Having only bought one box, I panicked and headed back to the store at 4 PM for more Joe Joes. And there were cops directing traffic. Really. So I went in and bought 4 more boxes, paid for them, and left.

I think I have a peppermint problem.

Fortunately they're just down the road if another culinary crisis occurs. And let's hope for the people of Rochester that they don't run out of Joe Joes before Christmas.

We don't need another grocery tragedy. The loss of the raspberry sticks is devastating enough.

Adjusting

2010-12-05T20:26:00.004-06:00

Yep. We still are. It has been an adjustment, this working thing. We're getting the hang of it and I am getting better about planning ahead (I have to be more dedicated to the crock pot on Tuesdays, when I usually work all afternoon).

But it is GOOD. I love the job. There have been some bumps along the way (most notably that there is a laptop that goes with the job but which is not yet in my possession) but I am hoping that and any other little loose ends will get tied up this week.

The people I work with are nice -- friendly, funny, and very welcoming. My boss is patient and encouraging (and forgiving, which is good when one makes bonehead mistakes).

I have been doing pretty well keeping up with all of my household tasks, too. I do wish that my kids didn't have the habit of waiting until I have emptied the laundry chute cupboard to add their dirty clothes to the mix; that has left me in tears a couple of times when I thought I was caught up on laundry, only to discover another 2 loads waiting for me.

The dishwasher was acting up but Rob took it apart for me and we discovered a layer of crusty, disgusting ... detergent residue? I don't know, but it took a toothbrush, a bunch of cotton swabs and twice that many toothpicks to clean it up. The dishes are actually getting clean again, which is an improvement over loading the dishwasher, unloading it only to discover half the dishes are still dirty, and hand-washing them. Urgh. That was not working for me.

And apropos of nothing, TRADER JOE'S opens here in Rochester tomorrow morning. It's gonna be a zoo, but I'm going with my friend Roxane, who should be able to help me keep my murderous intentions under control.

And speaking of murderous intentions, if anybody has tips for helping my sweet, darling boys (particularly the older 2, ages 13 and 11) get along, I'd appreciate them. They are constantly aggravating one another and it seems as if they almost enjoy the conflict, the needling, and the attention they get from me (even though I am frustrated and annoyed and begging and pleading). Grrr.

Last, just a note to hug your loved ones (even the annoying ones LOL) because life around here has been too full of tragedy lately. A young man in our community was struck down by a drunk driver who put 3 other people in the hospital at the same time, then fled the scene (he was caught). One of Rob's cousins (a first cousin once removed) died while mountain climbing in Europe a couple of weeks ago, leaving his parents childless and a young wife alone. And a friend with whom I had grown distant lost her husband of 2 years a week ago in a tragic car accident. Senseless and tragic, and my heart goes out to all the friends and loved ones as they try to negotiate the holiday season when there must be very little joy in their hearts.

My heart? Actually, it's fine. Better than fine. I am not using my light yet -- haven't felt a need, really. I'm taking my vitamin D and so far I am ok.

I'm ok. Wow, that is boring, but oh, so good.

And a side note: check out a new blog on the right -- Lauren was a youth volunteer at the library where I worked when Rob and I were first married. Now she is a grown up and she's getting married. (No, that doesn't make me feel old at all, why do you ask?) Anyway, we reconnected on Facebook and her blog is funny and honest and a little silly and I like it a lot, so you should go say hello. Hi Lauren!!!

Working girl

2010-11-21T15:48:00.002-06:00

I have spent the last 2 weeks transitioning into my new job. It's only 16 hours a week, so you'd think the transition wouldn't be that difficult, but it actually is.

The person I replaced is actually still {sort of} there. She had planned to leave at the end of October but a family event caused her to leave a week earlier than expected. Of course that week she had planned to do many tasks in preparation for someone else to take over. Now she is juggling new responsibilities as well as trying to clear things out to allow me to start fresh.

We hope to meet this week so that she can show me some things that are not obvious to me. I've figured out a lot but her insight will be helpful to me, I know. She also has the laptop that is attached to the position, and hopes to get that to me this week as well. I have to confess I am pretty excited about that.

I got a 2011 scrapbook calendar completed for the church service auction (which was last night) and it went for a good price, so I was happy about that. I have a cousin who is expecting a baby any day now and am working on a little thing for her, too, so maybe will get that posted when it's done.

On top of the work transition, Rob has been chipping away at the remodeling job in the basement -- Friday he took the afternoon off and he and his brother got the hole cut in the foundation and installed the egress window. SUCH a relief to have that done and know the house has 4 legal bedrooms now. He is doing some wiring today and hopes to have the electrical inspection done Tuesday. After that we should be ready to start insulating and drywalling.

Garrett has picked a paint color and a 6 by 8 foot wall mural for one wall. After spending a year getting rid of wallpaper in this house I am a little afraid of that, but he is excited and I do want him to feel like it is truly his space, so a mural it will be. LOL We hope to have the paint done by Christmas and bedrooms moved around YET AGAIN so that we can comfortably sleep everyone (my brother and his fiance, 4 kids, and hopefully my parents). Fitting 13 people in this house will demonstrate that we really do utilize every inch of space to the nth degree.

Still to come: photos of the bedrooms as they are now and maybe a full reveal of who I am. For some reason I am still hesitant to fully put myself out there, but if I am to talk about this great new job and give any detail at all I will have to step out into the sunlight. Why am I so reluctant to do this?

As this Thanksgiving week begins, I find myself so very thankful. For my family and friends, for the small luxuries in my life that many others don't and can't have, for the new job that is inspiring me and making me grow as a person, for my faith community, for everything.

I hope you find yourself just as blessed, and I wish you a lovely Thanksgiving.

A year

2010-11-12T13:43:00.002-06:00

Now (s)he has departed from this strange world a little ahead of me. That
signifies nothing. For us believing physicists the distinction between
past, present, and future is only a stubbornly persistent illusion.
~Albert Einstein

74 blog posts

Countless tears

Hundreds of times saying, "I think I'm getting better."

Hundreds of times getting pulled back into the depths without warning.

Dozens of days where I just couldn't function.

One dream with Kris in it.

A year of absorbing the fact that she is gone.

A million wishes that it wasn't so.

A gray day, appropriate for the way I feel.

A hopeful heart looking forward to all that can be good in life, and back with gratitude at all the time I had with her as my friend.

Where do you Work?

2010-11-08T20:42:00.002-06:00

Okay, I told my boss this today and I am sure she thinks I am a complete dork, but all day at work there was a little part of my brain running around waving her arms in the air and saying, "Squeee!"

It was just so exciting to be back in that world again.

I have voicemail. A new email address. A cubicle. A computer. A laptop to take home. And? I am getting business cards.

In the US we take our careers for granted in some ways; when we meet someone, we ALWAYS ask, "What do you do?". And in this town of researchers, doctors, scientists and engineers, it is more than a little daunting to say, "I stay at home with my kids." Even though that is a perfectly reasonable thing to do.

Most of my friends who stay home full time are a lot like me; it is a job to them. They have a daily routine, they keep their homes clean and neat, they cook or bake,they read stories, drive kids to lessons and play dates and classes, they take their kids on educational outings and fun adventures ... they just don't receive a paycheck for it.

And they sure as hell don't get much respect.

What I did for the last 12 years was important. I nourished little tummies, I nurtured little spirits, I supported and encouraged and yes, sometimes I yelled and screwed up and made giant mistakes. I ran my family's life and it was a MORE than full-time job. I never got a sick day, I rarely took a coffee break, I went 6 full years without spending time in a bathroom alone. It was hard. It was joyful. It was fun. It was crazy. It was rewarding. It was drudgery.

And I don't regret any of it. I loved being able to take my kids to the park, to snuggle up in my bed on a snow day and watch movies. I loved having them near me, even when they drove me nuts.

If you are a stay-at-home mom, I know how hard you work. I know.

If you are a mom who works outside the home, I know how hard you work as well. I had a mom who worked full time for a CPA, then came home and did all the cooking, cleaning and child rearing because she was of a different era and men weren't expected to pitch in on the housework.

I am in the middle right now -- I work part-time, I will continue my volunteer commitments at school and elsewhere in the community, and I am fortunate that I think my new job will fit into my life smoothly, rather than having to fit my life around it.

It will be exciting to talk about my work, to share my very cool and exciting position with people, to engage them and perhaps even get them involved.

But I will never forget the feeling, at parties, at social events, at school and church and community functions, that because I was a stay at home mom I had nothing to contribute to the conversation.

And I will make sure that I engage that stay at home mom at the party. Because even the most engaging, intelligent 3 year old leaves a little to be desired as far as stimulating conversation goes, and I know she has a lot to say.

A new chapter

2010-11-07T20:56:00.003-06:00

I am embarking on a new adventure tomorrow.

I GOT A JOB.

A real, honest-to-goodness job. Where I had to fill out an application, go to 2 interviews, and I will get a regular paycheck.

It's for a non-profit, just part time, and very flexible hours. I will reveal more later, perhaps. For now I am excited to be doing something that fits in with my "little d" democratic principles and that, I think can be a stepping stone to a career later on. For now, this is a dream job -- they approached me initially, it's something I care deeply about, and it will fit into my busy mom-housekeeper-volunteer-etc. life easily, I think.

It is strange to be celebrating such a milestone even as I recall where I was a year ago, and the space and emotional distance I have traveled to find myself here.

I'm in the middle of some endings right now -- the end of the first year without Kris, the end of a long span of sadness and lethargy -- and all of a sudden, unbidden, I have a beginning to celebrate as well.

Here's to looking back with no regrets and looking ahead, to fresh starts, to not just recognizing that my life is still being written, but turning the page on an entirely new chapter.

More election stuff

2010-11-04T20:53:00.002-05:00

I just want to call attention to my amazing and very politically astute friend Alex's blog, Rip and Read. He has several posts on politics right now, including some really great criticisms of the Democratic Party and some analysis of why a lot of Dems are feeling the way he describes in the post. You can find the one on Democrats here.

A couple of post-election pieces went up on Wednesday, too. They are here and here.

It's nice to see that my frustration is shared (and to see it expressed so much more eloquently than I have been able to do).

And a personal note to Alex: it has been WAY too long since I've actually seen you in person. Perhaps we should try to fix that, and soon.

Election recap (the short version)

2010-11-03T18:45:00.002-05:00

I got most of the stuff in my list done.

I'm still working on a few things and will keep moving forward.

I am disappointed in the results of yesterday's elections. I'm not really disappointed that Republicans won (although, of course, that is not my ideal), I am more disappointed in Americans. Disappointed that so many people let the politics of fear take over their minds and hearts. Disappointed that so many people stopped using their brains and just let their emotions override their intellect. Disappointed that so many people are so willfully ignorant that they really think they made good choices.

I'm not going to rant about this; it's not productive and the election is over and now it is time to roll up our sleeves and get to work, regardless of our party affiliation. But with all of the rhetoric about budgets and taxes and living within our means, I feel it necessary to point out that President Clinton had us in great economic shape when he left office in early 2001 and that it was a Republican who has amassed the greatest debt in the history of our country.

So, Republicans, Tea Partiers, and people with your brains in pause mode right now: here is what I have to say. I sincerely hope you all get exactly what you asked for. I hope the people you chose to put into power get the reality check of their lives. I hope, with all my heart, that the gridlock and divisiveness will continue, that you will be once again disillusioned with the promises that were made to you, and that when we all hit the polls in 2 years that you will again be looking for something different than what you chose last time.

I believe in the Democratic Party and the democratic process. The electorate has spoken, and the other guys had louder voices than my team this time. Okay. This stuff isn't easy and if there were simple answers and simple choices it would have been fixed. Take a crack at it -- go ahead.

I'll be over here, volunteering to make my country a better place to live, and it will be my friends and I, and our leaders who took a solid right hook yesterday (see: Congressman James Oberstar, Congressman Earl Pomeroy, MN Representative Andy Welti, MN Senator Ann Lynch) who will keep doing the work, every day, that will make a difference for all of us. Even those willfully ignorant dolts out there who voted based on lies, rumors, half-truths, and exaggerations.

I believe in the process. I believe in hope and change. And just because a bunch of people are twisting history and deliberately misunderstanding things doesn't mean I give up. Go ahead. Take your best shot. Believe me, I'll be watching and letting you know just how I think you're doing. I'll have your offices on speed dial, and I plan to get a whole bunch of Forever stamps so I can send weekly letters to you offering my opinions and assessments of your actions. I will send letters to the editor (possibly one every 30 days). Look for them -- they'll be very specific.

You want a chance? You got it. Put your fearmongering aside and do your jobs, because those of us who still USE our brains will be paying attention.

Teen angst

2010-11-02T15:35:00.003-05:00

Mine, not his.

As my longtime readers know, my eldest son turned 13 in August. We have been having the "I want a cell phone" conversation with him for quite some time but, after much debate, discussion, and internet research, we decided to give him his own phone for his birthday. (Let it be noted that we had said NO so many times that he did not even broach the subject and was thus greatly surprised when he received it.)

We have a family cell phone that floats from kid to kid in the event that one of them is at an event where they may have the need to call us, but we decided to give him a phone of his own for a few reasons:

1) After discussing this with parents of older teens, we came to the conclusion that it may be better to give the phone to a 13 year old who (theoretically) is more likely to listen to rules of use for said phone. According to these more experience parents, a 15 or 16-year-old may reject or ignore the rules more readily. We decided to go for the "he's still putty in our hands" theory.

2) His entire peer group at church and many of his school classmates had phones already, and it had become clear to us that he was missing out on a lot of key communication about youth group and stuff simply because his friends couldn't text him. (He also did not have a Facebook page because Facebook's minimum age is 13 and we refused to let him have a page and lie about his age, and the other major form of communication for the peer group happened to be Facebook.)

3) Our extended family lives anywhere from 5 to 9 hours away from us by car, and everyone (aunts, uncles, cousins, grandmas and grandpa) has a cell phone. We have always emphasized that, if he was uncomfortable sharing something with us, he could go to his extended family for help or advice. Making it simple for him to do so as he navigates the rough waters of adolescence seemed like a good thing to do.

So. Once it was decided, we found an appropriate phone and changed our plan to include unlimited texting. Knowing that was the preferred method of communication, we decided to avoid limits on the text numbers and instead focus on the limits of usage we had decided on. We did NOT give him a data plan, either. I used a couple of sites (this was my favorite) and put together a phone use agreement and a Facebook use agreement (inspired by this page) and he woke up with a phone next to him on his birthday.

The agreement? No making or receiving calls or texts after 9 PM. Doing chores as required by us, keeping grades up, no inappropriate images or language, no using it to hurt people, remembering that rumors are just that -unsubstantiated and potentially damaging- and should not be shared or spread around, we have the right to check messages, the usual stuff.

He had the phone for about a month before his grades began slipping. Since this is an issue we have had FOR THE PAST 2 YEARS, we acted swiftly and decisively and took the phone away. Until the end of the quarter. It is still gone. But I can report that the grades are back up and it seems that the lack of immediate communication opportunities with his friends is giving us the hoped-for result.

Do I think our plan is right for everyone? No. I think this is as individual as any parenting decision. It (so far) is working for us and we left the agreements open so that we (or he) can open a discussion for changes and adjustments as he grows and circumstances change.

I am glad that we drew a hard line on the Facebook thing and made him wait until age 13. I am glad we have open lines of communication, and that we essentially put the control on him -- he can make good choices, do well in school, and we will continue to let him have the freedom a phone can give him. And if he chooses to neglect his school work, or to not report inappropriate activity before we discover it ourselves, he understands that, basically, he is choosing the consequences.

I have never been the parent of a 13-year-old before. It IS scary. But it is also exhilarating --he is really coming into his own as a person. His friends are cool, fun, interesting people. He is funny and smart and has witty, wry things to add to a conversation. We are giving him the tools to be a kind, caring, responsible human being, and so far he (mostly) is showing himself to be those things. He is only 13, but he is an amazing, wonderful human being, and I am relishing every step forward and every milestone, even as I wince at the unavoidable mistakes a 13-year-old makes. We are learning, together. And I think it is gonna be ok.

Weekend Update

2010-11-01T16:44:00.002-05:00

We had a nice weekend -- mother-in-law JoAnn came down for a visit and attended a fundraiser with us on Saturday afternoon. We went to a Halloween party at church, went to a service on Sunday, did some shopping, hung out with the kids, and Garrett and Rob went to a Scouting event on Saturday as well.

Guess I haven't mentioned that Garrett got involved with Boy Scouts earlier this year. It has been a positive thing and I will definitely blog more about it later.

Also, I haven't mentioned ... I am learning to knit.

I know, like I need another hobby, right? But one thing I have learned about myself is that I do not do well with too much free time. I need a routine. There's a knitting group at church that meets one afternoon and one evening a month, and people just come when they can. I went to the last afternoon meeting and JoAnn (who is an extremely talented knitter) gave me some pointers this weekend. I think it will be a good thing for me; the social time, the learning, the creating objects for others ... all positive.

So that's what's up. Nice weekend, low stress (thanks to my lack of political commitments), and happy kids.

Wow. I love that.

untitled

2010-10-25T13:58:00.005-05:00

I guess I really AM back. How can I tell? I am making LISTS! LOL

Today I got started on the laundry, emptied the dehydrated apples from the dehydrator (and I plan to do more of those - YUM!), have been getting the kitchen cleaned up, organizing up here in the crap room, clipped coupons for my grocery trip later in the week, and edited a letter to the editor for my husband. We have a limit of 225 words and he wanted to write a letter in support of the school referendum on the November ballot. 225 words is not a lot. I would send a letter myself but you can only do so every 30 days and of course I've been sending campaign letters. LOL

Last night I got a patch sewed onto Garrett's Boy Scout shirt (on a pocket. Holy cow that was a challenge!) and a button onto one of Spencer's polo shirts. I have a couple of stuffed toys that need a stitch or two so I may get that done tonight.

I took pork chops out of the freezer and I'll make scalloped corn and baked pork chops for dinner. One of Rob's favorites.

My mother-in-law arrives Thursday and so I have a lot I want to get done before she arrives, plus some stuff for the big weekend (school fundraising auction, Boy Scout events, Halloween party, trick-or-treating ... whoa.).

So, in no particular order, here are my to-dos for the week. I'll report back later by putting the ta-das in italics.

*make pretzel wands for school auction bake sale
*label and decorate applesauce jars for auction bake sale (decided not to do this)
*make labels for pretzel wand packages
*finish breast cancer layout and post on blog
*work on leukemia ribbon cards
*finish laundry
*re-organize medicine cabinet
*take a load of stuff to Goodwill
*clean main floor bath
*clean basement bath
*finish apples (can, dehydrate ... whatever)
*standard dust/vacuum/tidy main floor (in progress)
*get kids to clean rooms (pray for me) (in progress)
*take pictures of new bedrooms and post on blog
*finish going thru scrap stuff boxes and take stuff back to storage unit
*finish grocery list
*make menu plan
*empty/take out garbages
*ask Rob to hang white board for me
*get kids and self to Bookmobile this week
*get box ready to mail to Bailey
*get box with winter clothes ready to mail to Brad and Colette
*get basement family room cleaned up, dusted, vacuumed (in progress)
*work on calendar I'm donating for UU auction
*work on baby memories book for my cousin's baby (in progress)

Whew. It's a lot, isn't it? But the fact that I can organize myself enough to have a list of goals and put it all together is HUGE for me.

I have some other stuff in the works ... stuff I am not ready to talk about yet. New projects, learning new stuff, getting out in the world in some different ways. Will I still need my little blue light this winter? Definitely. Will I still have some days where I just CAN'T? Can't think, can't function, can't whatever ... Yes. I expect it. I am not a different person, after all. I will always struggle with my dysfunctional brain and its lack of serotonin-producing skillz, as it were.

But if I can get a day or two like this now and then, I can feel ok embracing the "can't" days, too. After all, life is about balance, right? I am walking the balance beam right now. Equilibrium vs. disequilibrium, organization vs. disorganization, motivation vs. lack thereof. We all walk it. And today I am so very grateful to feel that my walk is pretty much like everybody else's.

You heard it here -- the girl who refuses be to be like everybody else just embraced the ordinary. Amen.

I'm Back!

2010-10-23T18:59:00.004-05:00

Thank you. Thanks to everyone who has stuck around here while I have spent far too much time avoiding writing here and fighting my demons.

Today was an AMAZING day. Amazing.

I got up this morning and had a cup of coffee thanks to my husband. We relaxed and hung out with the kids for a while. It was gray and gloomy and a little drizzly.

I changed my bed, got the sheets in the washer, and hopped into the shower. All 5 of us loaded in the car and did a lit drop of about 175 pieces. (For you non-political types, that's when someone comes and just drops a flier or piece of literature about a candidate on your doorstep or hang it on your doorknob.) We hit 175 households in an hour for a candidate I really believe in who just received the endorsement from the local paper because of her terrific record of helping our city and county.

A quick trip to Aldi and we came home. I went through a pile of clothes with the boys and we determined that I need to put bricks on their heads because they are all growing so quickly. Have I mentioned ALL 3 OF MY CHILDREN now wear size 10 pants? They are 13, 11 and 8. I would just like to know what I did to make the Universe angry because ohmygoodness I was counting on hand-me-downs! Sigh.

Anyway, I threw some chicken breasts and salsa into the crock pot (chicken tacos, mmmm) and came upstairs where I got ALL my mending done. Well, all except the khaki pants but that was only because I didn't have the right thread. Will do that tomorrow. So the mending got done. I cleaned off my scrapbooking table and worked on a LO (which I hope to showcase later in the week) and played around a bit. I was happy.

I ran down to the kitchen for a bit and watched Divine Design while I peeled some apples and put them in the dehydrator. Went through some school paperwork with Evan, then baked a pumpkin pie. The sun had come out and it was a glorious afternoon.

I took Garrett to a birthday party, came home and fixed dinner, and am back up here playing around with that scrapbook page. Soon I'll go down and whip some cream and we'll have pie.

It doesn't sound glamorous or fancy. It was a pretty ordinary day. But OH MY GOSH this is what I've been waiting for. Today, with all its hustle and bustle, all of its little accomplishments, was the first day in I can't remember how long that I felt normal. Happy, even. Content, clear-minded, focused. I wasn't cranky or impatient. (I think I am finally through the withdrawal that was making me feel like that.) I was patient with my kids (who responded by being more awesome than ever.) I was a little ... dare I say it? Cheerful.

I know. Let me say it again. I was cheerful today.

And despite the fact that overall I am cheerful, I am a little bit teary at the realization that maybe, just maybe, I am seeing what my life can be like again. I am finding out how to be in this world without Kris. I miss her, as always, but HOLY COW!!!!!!

Today I saw the sun! Hallelujah!

Caring for Chloe

2010-10-16T17:51:00.007-05:00

The PayPal donation button above has a story behind it.

Rhonda lived in Rochester about 10 years ago with her husband and their daughter, Bailey. I met her at our local Early Childhood and Family Education classes. They never had much money because she was being treated for cancer at Mayo Clinic here, but Bailey always had the cutest outfits from a local secondhand kids' shop and Rhonda was the best deal-finder and penny-pincher imaginable.

They moved to Texas for her husband's job and it was a good move. Rhonda was healthy. They paid off some bills, bought a house, and things were going along pretty well.

One day Rhonda wasn't feeling well and went to the doctor, who told her she was going to have a baby. They had been told again and again that they would never have another child and there was no reason to doubt the doctors. Until that day. It was the most glorious, joyous surprise for them.

Today Chloe is almost 4 years old. She has undergone treatment for leukemia in the past but this summer everything seemed fine. They were just told the leukemia that was in remission is active again, and she is undergoing radiation.

This is a faith-filled family. They contribute to their community -- Rhonda is the PPT President, they run their church's Junior Bible Quiz group, and they spend countless hours volunteering at their local public library. Rhonda is the queen of volunteers.

It is hard for her to ask for help; she is used to being the one to offer her assistance in any situation. She is generous to a fault. She is caring and kind. She is a great mom and a wonderful friend.

This illness is draining them, emotionally and financially. They are struggling. I have started a group on Facebook that is mobilizing their friends nearby to get them meals on Chloe's treatment days. I know a few people who have mailed them gift cards. But they need more.

If you can spare a few dollars, please donate to my PayPal account. All money donated (minus the fees collected) will go to the family in the form of gift cards. If you want to donate directly, you can contact me at jennifer.my3sons@gmail.com and I can advise you where to send the gift cards. If you are here in Rochester I will collect cash from you (or gift cards) and mail it directly so that we can avoid paying fees to PayPal. They are asking for Texaco, Shell and Walmart cards because gas and groceries are their biggest needs and Walmart is conveniently located near their home.

I can't do a lot. I am doing what I can and I will continue to do so. But this family needs more than just my help and money. They need anything you can spare -- money, prayers, good thoughts, donations to the American Cancer Society. It will all make a difference, and I hope someday Chloe can do a guest post here on my blog to tell everyone she is healthy and that your donations and prayers changed her life.

Thank you in advance.

Put that in your algorithm

2010-10-10T16:54:00.002-05:00

I've been spending a fair amount of time lately listening to Pandora. Usually I listen to my Bruce Springsteen station. Okay, yes, I am aware I am nothing if not predictable. But, for those of you who are uninitiated, here is how Pandora works. You pick an artist or a song and it chooses other songs that are similar. So in the course of listening to Bruce, I will also hear Counting Crows, Billy Joel, Bob Dylan, Tom Petty, Jackson Browne ... you get it. And usually I like the songs that come up. There is an opportunity to give a thumbs up or thumbs down to each song. Sometimes Creedence Clearwater Revival comes up. I ALWAYS click thumbs down. I HATE CCR. I cannot even express to you the hatred. There aren't enough words, and the ones available are too few, to describe the infinite suckitude of CCR in my opinion.

And yet Pandora keeps slipping those songs in here and there. Bitch.

So I have only one criticism, Pandora people: you need an option for me to hate an artist. Not just a song here or there; the entire compendium of that artist's work. His or her Opus, as it were. Your algorithm clearly doesn't support my disdain for John Fogerty. Let's work on that, shall we?

Upswing

2010-10-07T09:24:00.004-05:00

The last time I posted I was having a hard time. I hit an upswing of sorts and went in for a check up with my doc to get a prescription renewal. He wanted me to go off the meds and I was profoundly uncomfortable with that. The first anniversary of Kris' death is approaching and I was afraid I might need a boost through that.

We talked about side effects and I found out that something I had been dealing with (we'll just call it tummy trouble here) was a side effect and that there was another med I could try that perhaps would not have such an unpleasant result.

Less than 2 weeks on the new drug I had a horrible, unrelenting headache. The kind that keeps you from actually living because you can barely function, let alone cook meals, clean, do laundry, or any of the other things that keep my household running. It was awful. So ... back to the doc. Where we decided that it was time to wean off the meds.

I have told my mom, my husband, a few friends, and now I am telling you. You're my friend, too. So if you see in my blog posts (which I sincerely will try to do on a more regular basis) that I might need a boost, Tell me. Post a comment. Let me know. I don't always see it, but you are outside my head and in it at the same time, through my writing. You have my permission. In fact, it is a request; please let me know if you think I might need to see my doc again.

And now, the symptoms of withdrawal are receding, my energy level is up, and I am feeling far more positive and happy than I thought possible.

I'm anticipating Nov. 12 with apprehension, but with hope. I miss my friend but I am more at peace with the experience I had of caring for her and the jumble of emotions I felt when she died (grief, sadness, guilt, anger ...) is starting to get sorted out in my mind and I am hopeful.

I want to do something to mark the date. On Nov. 12 I want to do something that feels BIG. Something permanent. Something ... GRAND. I don't know what yet, but I would love input on this: what can I do? What is appropriate? I have long thought of getting a tattoo -- a pink ribbon, something feminine and delicate but bold, too. Here's the thing: she HATED tattoos. Thought it was crazy to mark your body in such a permanent way. I have always sort of wanted one but I wanted it to be meaningful, not just rebellious or to seem like a badass.

So what do you think? Is is disrespectful to Kris if I get a tattoo, or is it reasonable?

Untethered

2010-09-15T15:05:00.002-05:00

I don't know what it is.

Is it the fact that the weather is growing colder, signaling that fall is coming, and after that, the dreaded "W" word?

Is it my hormones? After my uterine ablation I have no sense of what my "cycle" is and so I suppose it could be PMS. How do I tell?

Is it that I changed medicines and then opted to stop taking them entirely for about 5 days because, to put it delicately, they were causing intestinal distress?

Is it that, although I am grateful that I've been able to choose to stay home full time, it has required sacrifices and right now I am wishing some of those sacrifices didn't have to be made and feeling bad that my husband is feeling some stress over said sacrifices?

I don't know; maybe it's all of those things. Maybe it's none of them.

What I DO know is that I am irritable. I am cranky. I am impatient. I am lethargic. I am emotionally volatile. I am prone to sudden bouts of weeping.

Ordinarily I view menu planning and cooking as a necessary but often fun task that allows for me to be creative. Right now I have no desire to make menus, look through cookbooks, make shopping lists (I LOVE to make lists!), and certainly no desire to cook anything.

I am untethered. Frustrated. Disappointed in myself. Once again trying to lift myself up just a little so that I can be the real me again; a little bitchy, yes, but creative, motivated, generous, anal-retentive, and even funny sometimes.

It's just really hard to fix a problem when you don't exactly know what it is.

The scent of yesterday

2010-08-29T11:53:00.003-05:00

It happens every time I wash my hands. The hand soap in our main bathroom has green tea and aloe in it. It is light and fresh and a little earthy. It reminds me of the lake cabin.

Instantly I am there, in the tiny bathroom that was put in the summer before I was born. My grandma's many bottles and jars of good-smelling potions are on the top of the toilet tank and scattered over the edges of the tub. There is always a container of Hibiclens somewhere in there. Grandpa was a doctor and must have received free samples.

The water tastes of iron. Everyone else drinks bottled water brought from town but I drink straight from the tap. I love the sharp metallic taste. I am anemic so no one stops me, though they comment on it every time they catch me.

I walk out of the bathroom into a small sleeping porch. There is a record player with some old records -- the Beatles, the Monkees, and several paperback books. I read One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest when I was about 12. There is another one called The Women's Room. It has a ladies bathroom door on it with the word "ladies" crossed out and "Women's" scrawled over it. I want to read it because it seems like I shouldn't, but it's boring.

The windows cover the front of the cabin facing the lake. They open inward and swing up to attach to hooks in the ceiling. When the sun dances on the waves it is reflected through the glass onto the ceiling and it looks like a million tiny diamonds swirling and cavorting. I sit in Queenie's chair and watch it, mesmerized.

The bunk room has red swinging doors like an old-time saloon. They pinch your fingers if you're not careful. Inside it has a set of bunk beds on each side of the room and an aisle just wide enough to walk in the middle. There is a cardboard clothes chest with Mickey Mouse on it. The fishing nets, canoe paddles and decoys are all stored in here, hanging from the ceiling and on the walls. It is dark but not scary.

A motorboat zooms past and I listen for the plink plink sound of the sailboat rigging hitting the mast. Later we will pull hats off the wall in the dining room and wear them while we sail. Grandma always insists I wear a hat to keep from getting a sunburn. She tells me it will age me prematurely. Her fair skin is smooth and clear and I promise I will always wear a hat. My favorite is a wide-brimmed straw hat with a blue scarf that ties under my chin. I think it makes me look like a movie star.

The candy drawer in the kitchen always holds those pink lozenges and lots of peppermint Trident. Grandma buys entire boxes of Trident and I think they must be very rich. There are also Nips, coffee flavored caramels (sometimes with fudge in the middle) that are delicious. I can eat as many as I want here and no one minds.

The dresser in the dining room has a drawer for me and my brother. In it are cut-up straws and yarn for necklaces, coloring books, crayons, crossword puzzle books, a jump rope, and a cap gun. Sometimes when we arrive there is a new toy or game in the drawer, but usually it's the same Barbie coloring book that's been there for years. I can see in the pages how I have learned to stay in the lines, shading clothes and Barbie's hair, making the outfits coordinate with the shoes and handbags as I've grown older. Other children have visited the cabin, too, and their pictures are signed in childish scrawl or scribbled autograph-style so I know they were there.

There is a table near the window in the living room with a red lamp on it. At night we turn it on and it fills the room with a warm glow. The lake grows quiet and a loon calls. The sky darkens. We hear owls and crickets and a million frogs. It smells fresh and earthy and green.

Even as a child I know this is my real home, the one where I am most myself.

karma

2010-07-01T11:13:00.002-05:00

The guys got the roofing done yesterday. Actually pretty impressive overall.

So this morning what woke me at just after 7 AM?

More roofing guys at a house down the street. Granted, they *really* needed a new roof what with the gaping hole they had, but still ... demolition at 7 Am followed by another day of pounding, shouted conversation, and air compressor noise.

Guess I shouldn't have complained yesterday....

In which I complain bitterly while understanding it is a minor thing in the grand scheme of the world

2010-06-30T13:27:00.002-05:00

We had a huge windstorm a couple of weeks ago. Northwest Rochester even had a tornado (fortunately no one was hurt). We had a number of trees down in our neighborhood and a lot of large branches in our yard. One fell and knocked down a portion of our rain gutters on the garage.

Most of it is cleaned up but the house across the street suffered visible damage to the shingles so today it is being re-roofed.

The constant pounding of the hammers coupled with the air compressor and the guys as they talk, laugh and call to each other is awful. I know it is not a big deal overall but HOLY COW -- a beautiful, cool summer day completely ruined by noise.

I am bitter.

Two birthdays

2010-06-29T14:48:00.003-05:00

A week ago, a birthday slid right past me. June 21 marked 5 years this little blog has been around. I was a much more consistent blogger then, and I hope to get back into the groove again. Thanks to all of you who still check in every one in a while to see if my muse has struck, and for being patient with me on the many, many days it hasn't.

And the other birthday.

Today Kris would have turned 40. SHOULD have turned 40.

We'll have cake tonight (chocolate, of course) and reminisce a little -- although it can't be much because Evan, bless his heart, still cries at your mere mention. He misses you.

I miss you.

Remember the chocolate thing at Faneuil Hall in Boston? With the giant ice cream scoop of still-soft, gooey fudge on top? Of course you do; how many times did we relive sharing that while my husband listened and shook his head, wondering how on earth we could be so passionate about a dessert we'd had 2, 5, 10 years before?

Remember when you came to visit me our senior year of high school and meeting all my friends? How grateful I am you did that -- especially since that meant my husband's history with you was almost as long as mine.

Remember?

I know you do. Your memory was always far better and more reliable than mine. I have discovered in these 7 months that THAT is the thing I have lost; I lost your memories of us together -- your perspective, your unique take on events, your understanding of things we shared yet may have experienced differently.

Friendships are built on shared experiences and the memories of those experiences. I lost my other half when you died, in so many ways.

I miss you, my friend, on this day when you should have turned 40. We should have commiserated about those first few crow's feet showing up; should have talked about Garrett's upcoming birthday and how I plan to navigate these teen years with him, should have dished about a pair of shoes you were eying and that cute bachelor you'd just been introduced to.

You should BE here.

And I am so sad and angry and frustrated and, well, just Pissed. Off. That you are not.

I'm still figuring this out, this living without you in the world. I'm not sure exactly how to do it, and while some days I think I'm successful, most I think, as you would say, "Not so much."

In the end, all I can say is, "I am thinking of you today, and every day. Happy birthday, my friend. I hope all of your wishes have come true."

Just desserts

2010-06-23T20:55:00.004-05:00

I have not written about a situation on the periphery of my life here because it is not my story to tell. Until today. Today I found out that some of it is a matter of public record. And some of it just needs to be said.

There is a woman I know who has deeply hurt some people I care about. She was a wife and mother and made some terrible choices about how she was going to conduct her life. Some of the mistakes she made were on the computer, in a virtual world. And then the line between real and virtual blurred for her, and she made some very bad choices in real life. Choices with consequences for her and her entire family.

She constantly blames other people for her situation in life. She lost custody of her children to her now ex-husband because there was proof of some of her bad choices. She refuses to support her children in their extra curricular activities, she never paid a dime in child support until the courts forced her to, and still she blames others for her circumstances.

Today I found her online, in a court judgment. She pled down to a gross misdemeanor from a felony charge of defrauding the welfare system. She owes over 6 thousand dollars in restitution. She had to spend 10 days in jail. (10 days!) And if she breaks the law in the next year she will go to jail again, this time for another 170 days.

This woman has told her children that her bad financial situation is due to the fact that she has to pay child support to their father. To his credit, he refuses to stoop to her level and tell the kids that she is broke because she refuses to hold down a full time job and she stole money from the state.

No matter what she does -- endangering her children, neglecting them, encouraging them to misbehave in school, egging them on to be disrespectful to loving adults in their lives, refusing to provide them with basic necessities and then trying to buy their affection with new bikes and expensive electronic toys -- he refrains from criticizing her in their hearing because he believes they deserve to have a relationship with their mother that is not tinged with anger, resentment or guilt.

I kept my mouth shut. I stepped back. I lay awake nights worrying about that guy and his kids. I cried for all of them when she refused to attempt to resuscitate a dying marriage. But you cannot fix a marriage when half of the marriage wants it to end.

She made choices, and now she blames others for all of it. She is angry, she is resentful, and she is very likely mentally ill. She refuses to get help or to acknowledge that she played any part in the series of events that has her living in the basement of her dad and stepmother's home.

So now I have a choice. I can stay bitter and resentful of all the awful things she did and said to people I love, or I can let it go and decided that the judicial system, or karma, or god will see that she gets her just desserts.

God, I hope she chokes on every bite.

I call Bullsh*t

2010-06-19T19:06:00.003-05:00

I read a blog post not long ago on one of my favorite blogs. This blog has multiple bloggers and this particular blogger, Silvana, is not one I am familiar with. However, this blog post totally hacked me off the minute I read it and, since it is still pissing me off a month later, I will respond here.

Go ahead and read it. I'll wait.

Okay. Let me start by saying that my grandmother, who was born in 1923, used her maiden name (yes, I hate that word, too, but it's less awkward than "her last name at birth") as a middle name from the time she was married in 1945. Her name was Sarah Jane Lastname but she had always gone by Sally, so the middle name was basically meaningless to her. When she got married she became Sally Lastname Hislastname.

My uncle married an educated, professional woman who kept her name. They had 2 kids, and while I think she was often referred to as Joyce Hislastname because of the kids or whatever, it was and is clear they are a family unit regardless of last name.

When I got married I thought long and hard about whether or not I was going to take Rob's name. In the end, I did, signing my marriage certificate Jennifer Middlename Lastname Hislastname. My last name has 9 letters, as does his last name. They are both very rare names that would identify our families with one Google search.

I reject Silvana's lame arguments and I say this: it is a valid choice to change one's name because it is a choice. I don't have to justify to Silvana or anyone else, including my husband, that choice. When I made my decision, I told him what I'd decided, and that was it. Had it been the other way, he still would have been fine with it. We had discussed it and, essentially, he told me I should choose what I wanted to be called. And isn't that the REAL point? Making the choice of what to be called is empowering. In choosing, I took that power for myself, even though I took his last name. It's frustrating to have my (in my view) feminist choice reduced to "you shouldn't make that choice because I think it's wrong." Grrr.

I didn't want to deal with being called the wrong name by people at school; I don't deal well when people call me Jen rather than Jennifer. I hate it. I would not be happy about the wrong last name being tossed around. I felt like I was still maintaining my ties to my family (what with genealogy, that's important to me) and that if I chose to use both names at some point (as I do now on Facebook) it would be legitimate.

And in the completely frivolous department, Hislastname was way ahead of mine in the alphabet and I had something of a complex constantly being stuck at the back of the classroom, the end of a list, and the last one called for EVERYTHING.

If you didn't read through the comments, my favorite was from username "errr" and it hits the nail on the head. I recommend a read of it. Go ahead, I'll wait again.

Is it just me who gets so worked up over this stuff? I see feminism as empowering, and it is really frustrating to see lame, shallow arguments dissing fellow women presented in a manner in which someone is bound to say, "Well, she has a Ph.D. and is this famous blogger and I am just a (fill-in-the-blank) and so she must be right and I am not really a feminist or an independent woman but instead I am a lame, sniveling harpy who buys into all the patriarchal crap of this society."

So, Silvana? Shut up. You don't know me, you don't know what drives my choices, and you sure as hell have no right to tell me I am wrong. I made the right choice for me. I made it after a lot of thought and discussion, and after 14 years I still feel it was the right choice.

You can do whatever you want in your own life, and when I want your opinion, I'll be sure to ask. Until then, bite me.

2010-05-30T16:53:00.001-05:00

We were all lathered up with sunscreen but it was HOT and no shade. Might have been a record hot temp at the track.

2010-05-30T16:50:00.001-05:00

Very exciting that he won. I have some pictures ... Will post once we're home . In the meantime, cross your fingers that I'm not as sunburned as I feel.

2010-05-30T16:48:00.001-05:00

Just left the Indianapolis 500. We were seated in Pit Road Terrace, right behind Dario Franchetti's pit.

Moving on

2010-05-26T15:26:00.002-05:00

Thanks to all of you who expressed concern for me and who offered suggestions. I went to several individual counseling sessions after Kris died, then attended an 8 week grief therapy group. I have friends here in Rochester who are supportive (and for whom I am incredibly grateful). The pattern of grieving is so unstable ... periods of relative calm where I think maybe I really am moving on, followed by times of great sorrow, frustration, and lethargy.

But it's the feeling of hopelessness that is the most awful.

I don't feel hopeless to the point of suicide; in fact, that is still incomprehensible to me. But the fact that I feel so desperately hopeless some days makes me so much more sympathetic to people who attempt or commit suicide. If I can feel this hopeless and still think life is worth living, how very hopeless and sad and desperate they must be.

When the hopelessness got the best of me a couple of weeks ago, I called the doctor. I went in the next day and we adjusted my medication a bit. It helped. I found a new equilibrium. I feel better on the whole. On a day to day basis I still feel like I am staggering around drunkenly, trying to find my footing.

Today has been a good day; coffee with a friend, laundry getting done, a lovely dinner coming together, my parents arriving for a visit and our impending trip to Indiana for the Indianapolis 500 are all things keeping me up.

We have come to some decisions on the house, pulling it off the market shortly for at least a little while to get a few things done. We are also going to add the egress window to make a legal bedroom in the basement, which will be Garrett's. The other 2 boys will move into the main floor bedrooms after each gets a coat of paint, and Rob and I will move back upstairs to the room we had when we first moved in here. The extra space up there will hold my scrapbooking and sewing stuff. It feels like a lot of work but it will make the house function so much better for my growing boys.

I am off to pack, do more laundry, and continue to prepare my dinner: a marinated tri-tip on the grill, steamed green beans, roasted butternut squash and beet salad (with chevre and pumpkin seeds), perhaps some sweet potato fries for the boys, and cloverleaf rolls to satisfy our never-ending carb craving. It's chichi enough to satisfy my cooking needs but manly enough to make my dad happy, so I think it will be a success.

This has been all over the place; sorry that it is disjointed. I AM feeling better. I appreciate your well wishes, and I look forward to reporting on a great family trip and, soon, telling you the real me is back. She's kind of a bitch sometimes, but I miss her.

Great gift idea

2010-05-18T12:27:00.005-05:00

I have 2 nieces who were confirmed this spring, and another who is graduating in June. I needed some nice, memorable gifts that were keepsake quality but fun, too. Everybody else was going for the sentimental cross necklaces and the like.

I found a seller on etsy, the website for handmade and vintage items, and promptly fell in love with her work. I emailed her asking if she could get me one item within a week because, once again, I had procrastinated.

Lo and behold, she replied that she could and I ordered 2 necklaces for the confirmands. That was a Monday morning. By Saturday afternoon I had BOTH necklaces in my hands. Since the second confirmation was last Sunday I can talk about the gifts now. (I am not sure my nieces even know about this blog, but I didn't want to take any chances.)

The seller is Tiffany from charmiesonline. She makes hand stamped personalized jewelry and I ordered necklaces for the girls.
I ordered necklaces like this one. On the small disc I had their names and a cross, I added their birthstones and 3 pearls each because pearls symbolize purity, and the silver bar contains a Bible verse, the date, and the event; for one, simply "confirmation". The other was baptized and confirmed the same day so I had her include both events on the necklace.

They are very personal and are lovely keepsakes but have a playful, funky feel that is less formal than the gold cross pendant that is traditional. Of course, they both received those as well, and they are lovely and appropriate for dressy occasions or with a simple t-shirt and jeans; the silver necklaces are more casual feeling.

Tiffany was a wonderful seller to work with. She was pleasant and accommodated my wishes, and she was FAST.

Both girls were delighted with their gifts and I was so happy with the entire process.

As for the upcoming graduation, I haven't purchased a gift yet. I am pondering the idea of another one of these necklaces or some art.

Opinions, anyone?

sigh

2010-05-13T13:19:00.002-05:00

I am still here. I wish I could somehow get that old blogging mojo back, but it is just gone for now. Yesterday marked 6 months since Kris died. I don't know what I expected, don't know what that milestone was supposed to mean in my mind, but it was a letdown. I want to feel better, I want to find some kind of "normal," but every day is a struggle. Every day I force myself out of bed, I take care of my responsibilities, I volunteer, I attend meetings, I drive the carpool ... but nothing means anything. Life is flat. I am desperately trying to keep the extent of my feelings from my kids, and I don't know how long I can do that.

Things are getting done, if not as efficiently as usual. The laundry is caught up, meals are being cooked, bathrooms cleaned ... the house is not ready to be shown at a moment's notice, but that doesn't matter -- no one has looked for 2 weeks. The April 30 deadline passed and apparently the market just stopped cold. Fortunately we don't HAVE to move, and at some point we had decided long ago we would pull the house off the market, do some remodeling to make it work better for our family, and stick around for a while. That's ok with me, and it takes some of the stress away.

As my kids have gotten older I have shared less about them, trying to honor their privacy as much as I can. We are still having some struggles with school and while it's possible we have found a solution, I am not particularly optimistic that I won't be facing this same issue next fall. That is a helluva burden to be lugging around.

I know others have it much worse than I, but the thing is, when it's YOUR struggle it is the biggest, most important one for YOU. I am struggling. I am still adrift. I wish I could find a way out, but I fear all I can do is keep moving.

Sinking

2010-05-04T09:06:00.003-05:00

I'm sinking again.

Too many commitments, too much uncertainty. Our house hasn't sold; we need to do some repairs on the driveway and concrete. We had hoped not to have to put the money into it but the buyer rules our lives right now. I'd laugh but I don't think it's funny.

Also, our realtor is not great at communicating; we had a showing last Wednesday and Rob finally emailed him yesterday to find out what the buyer said. Not acceptable. He should be communicating with us within a day after a showing; particularly when it was HIM who did the showing. And rather than offer any suggestions whatsoever, he gives us the feedback and hangs up to go to the gym. Asshole. I would fire him and pull the house off the market but I can't summon the energy right now.

I like having the house on the market because it forces us to keep things tidy (and by "us" I mean my children). I am always tidy. But certainly there are downsides to it as well. Like I don't have all my stuff. I would like a pair of black sandals I have to wear with an outfit to my niece's confirmation. They are in storage. Way in the back. So no sandals. Stuff like that is frustrating.

I confessed to Rob last night that I am having some scary thoughts. Nothing like I am going to hurt myself or anyone else, but thoughts that are not like me; thoughts that are dark and out of control. Scary.

Garrett continues to struggle with school. He has now lost all privileges through the summer and can't get them back. this includes fishing. Yes, I said it; he can't go fishing ALL. SUMMER. LONG. My husband and I argued about what course to take last night. We'll figure it out; in fact, we pretty much have reached an agreement; but it scares the kids and since I'm already fighting with the 12 year old I would prefer not to be fighting with everyone else, too.

It's a busy week; I hate the spring every year because it is so busy. School field trips to chaperone, volunteer commitments, family events and celebrations, a trip to Indianapolis ... this month is jam-packed. It's great to have so much to do, but it's a burden, too. I enjoy my time to myself. I feel like it's selfish of me, but right now, when I have had so little of it, I realize it is a necessary thing. My sanity depends on it.

It will get better. It will get better. This, too, shall pass.

That's all I've got to hold on to right now. Let's hope it's true.

Shameless

2010-04-26T13:06:00.002-05:00

I got an email from some Blog Interview place that said my blog was listed as a favorite by someone on their site. As far as I can tell, that is a complete lie and they were just fishing for more traffic on their site. So I bit. Whatever, I fall for flattery every time, even the insincere kind.

So I am asking for votes. I only have until the end of the week to get enough votes to win, and if I get the most votes I receive my choice of prizes. It's worth a shot, right?

The page where you can vote for my blog is here.

I'll add their little handy vote button in my sidebar as well.

Thanks in advance!

Balancing Act

2010-04-22T12:36:00.002-05:00

I've written before about the conflict I feel with people of faith, not because of their faith, but because of my lack thereof.

This weekend our niece is being confirmed. I explained confirmation to my kids, who have absolutely no concept of it. We will go, we will celebrate with our family, and we will give a lovely necklace commemorating the date with a Bible verse on it. (Numbers 6:24-26, the benediction. I am a heathen, but I made that choice after learning a whole lot of Bible stuff, including a lot of verses.)

Our church has a program similar to confirmation, called Coming of Age (COA). It's similar to confirmation in that they learn about religion (although they learn about many faith traditions, rather than a comprehensive history of one faith), but completely different in that in confirmation, one is recognized from that point on as an adult member of a congregation. It's sort of the end of a journey. COA is the opposite. This from Wikipedia:
"COA signals the beginning of individual spiritual searching; it is an official recognition that the youth involved have begun to search for personal truth."

I have a lot of respect for individual faith journeys and I would never demean or denigrate someone else's belief system. I am glad to be included in family celebrations even though I don't share the same beliefs and I'm not teaching those beliefs to my kids. I just hope the journey my kids take, even though it's very different from the one all of their cousins will take, will be supported and celebrated the same way.

Merrily we roll along

2010-04-14T09:10:00.002-05:00

Spring is really here. The Alpine Currant bushes outside the scrap room are beginning to leaf out. They are the most wonderful bright green. Must remember to try to capture that later with a camera.

We have touched up the paint on the house and garage and last Friday I cleaned out the garage. I don't talk about it much, but my garage is possibly the biggest embarrassment of my life.

I grew up with Dave, my dad, the King of all things garage. He has a Garage Mahal. I kid you not. It's insulated and drywalled and painted white. It has hanging fluorescent light fixtures and kitschy car-guy art. It has pegboard and shelves and everything is in its place. Everything.

And then I married Rob. Who is a great guy; thoughtful and caring, generous to a fault, helpful and kind, smart and funny. But his garage is a mess. It's a disgrace. It is an embarrassment.

So last Friday I decided our single car garage, which has never held a car in the 13 years we have owned this house, was getting a major clean out. I rented a small storage unit next to the big one that is housing our furniture and extra stuff. I moved Rubbermaid tubs and flower pots. I shelved grass seed and gardening gloves. I used the shop vac to pick up the mounds of sawdust from the table saw in the middle of the space.

Rob and his brother loaded up the table saw and the Karmann Ghia engine and brought them to storage. I loaded the van and Rob made a trip to storage while I was at a meeting. And later, he and I worked together to roll the engine-less Ghia into its spot. In the garage.

It was awesome.

The house is in a perpetual state of readiness. The feedback we're getting is great. "Love the house, great house, very nice house ..." and then it trails off. "But you only have a one-car garage." People, I KNOW this. It's not news to me. I live in a 1950s neighborhood. People only HAD one car then. My driveway is long. Three vehicles can park in it. THREE. But I can't do anything about the garage.

The ONE is out there. That one person who will walk in here and feel at home. Who, even if they don't LOVE the frise carpet in the hallway, can live with it for a few years. Who will adore the back yard as much as I do. Who will fit perfectly in this space.

I am so very eager for that person to arrive.

Carly Simon knew it all along

2010-04-01T13:17:00.002-05:00

when she sang, "These are the good old days."

Last weekend some dear friends of ours were in town. It wasn't for a happy occasion, unfortunately, but it was certainly a happy occasion to host them in our home. I hadn't seen Careless or her kids since the late fall of 2003. Six years is just too long.

In 1998 I met Careless at our local Early Childhood and Family Education (ECFE), which is part of Community Education and provides learning experiences for children birth to kindergarten and their parents. Parents and kids have time together in an age-appropriate classroom, then the parents typically split off and go into another room for time with a facilitator who helps them discuss issues common to parents of young children: nutrition, sleep issues, potty training, discipline, etc.

Those classes were a lifesaver for me. They provided a weekly outing that was fun for my kids and that gave me time with friends in the parent room. We vented, we laughed, and sometimes we cried. At the time, ALL of my friends were in those classes. People I would probably not have been friends with otherwise but because our kids were close in age we were drawn together.

The day I met Careless she introduced herself to the group, she was quiet but not shy. She seemed confident and she said she had recently moved to town from Seattle. She was dressed in her classic "Gap" style and she was articulate and poised. I immediately decided she was going to be my friend.

After class I approached her and suggested a play date for our kids at a local park. We went, the kids played near each other (they were both around 1) and we talked. And she became my friend. I have a penchant for making strong, long-lasting friendships. I choose people carefully and I am seldom wrong. I am so grateful for the friendship I have with her.

When we met I was already pregnant with my second child. We grew our families until we had 5 kids between us. We went to ECFE on Fridays. We called each other during the rest of the week. We dropped our kids off at each other's houses when we had errands to run or doctor's appointments or when they were driving us crazy and we just needed a break.

She saved my sanity a thousand times. We went through the 7th year of both of our marriages at the same time and discovered that, for us, the Seven Year Itch was a real thing. Joking about it with her helped make it not so horrible and I did not run screaming from my home looking for a different life, though I could have.

One of my favorite memories is our conversations where we would inventory the contents of our kitchens on the phone. She would say, "I have fruit and bread and a salad." I would dig through the freezer and come up with chicken breasts and some kind of dessert. In ten minutes we would decided where we were eating (whoever's house was cleaner) and would have a plan for our husbands. We'd call them and often they would just come straight from work to eat. Often the evening included a board game or some 80s music. We'd bathe the kids, get them in pajamas, sometimes borrowed from the hosts (I have pictures of Garrett in pink jammies), and the evening would end around 10 or when the kids started melting down.

Those nights were impromptu -- never planned, and no fancy food, just simple fare that young single-income couples could afford -- and they were SO fun.

To this day, we can pick up just where we left off -- no awkward silences, no trying to find common ground. Even the kids (who were 6,6,4,3 and 1) picked up and played Wii, talked and got along great despite the time apart at ages 12,12,11,9 and 8. Crazy to type those numbers.

I guess what all of this is about is that sometimes we don't see the amazing wonderful things or people in our lives for the amazing, wonderful things they are. Or at least we fail to see what magic we live with every day. That old saw, "Don't know what you've got 'til it's gone." Particularly when you talk about couple friendships -- that delicate balance of 4 people -- do they all get along? Do the men get along? Does one of the men think one of the women is an idiot? Does one of the women think one of the men is a jerk? -- we didn't have that. We all got along. I adore her husband, who is brilliant and funny and a wonderful dad, as much as I love her.

So I am exceedingly grateful for that friendship. For the opportunity to see them again. That the kids all got along (and even remembered each other a little bit). That, once upon a time in my marriage, we had that oh-so-rare experience of making friends who STAY friends regardless of the distance between us.

And, Careless, I am serious about that plan to retire near each other. I fully intend to listen to you brag about your grandkids and then brag about mine to you. And this time, I will truly relish every minute with you. I love you!

2010-03-28T22:38:00.001-05:00

It's Sunday night. I'm in bed, reflecting on the weekend. Dinner with friends Saturday night and a long- overdue reunion with other friends today, browsing real estate ads and cruising open houses, kids swimming and riding bikes. How blessed I am, and how fortunate I can look back thankfully and ahead with hope. To all of you who touch my life, THANK YOU. It is messy, imperfect, and sometimes scary ... But it's my life and I am glad you're part of it, in real life or through this blog.

One down ...

2010-03-24T17:47:00.002-05:00

We had our first house showing today. Not bad considering it's only been on the market 24 hours.

The fresh tulips looked great on the dining room table, everything was supernaturally clean and tidy, and I had bread in the machine, timed to smell heavenly just about the time they walked in the house.

Cross your fingers.

House Tour, part 8

2010-03-23T18:47:00.003-05:00

This is the front door and hallway. The border on the wall is made up of 2 pieces of molding and it neatly holds 4x6 inch photos. I used double-sided tape on the backs to make sure they don't fall. In the past I have put up pictures of the kids in costume over the years in the fall for Halloween, pictures from a vacation to brighten up the winter, and family pictures to practice getting to know all the extended relatives before a trip to Grandma's.

This is my phone alcove. Possibly my most favorite charming accent this house offers. The message board next to it is great for quick notes and the shelf holds the city phone book. Very cool, no?

Linen closet in the hall outside the bath. The hole in the bottom falls to a cupboard in the basement where I keep a laundry basket. This is a very convenient feature of the house, especially with kids. They go to take a bath, drop their clothes down the chute, and I get them to the laundry. Awesome.

Here's the cupboard where they fall. Rob built it because prior to the cupboard's existence the clothes just fell in a heap next to the water heater and the furnace. Can you say fire hazard? The lower section is just storage -- we use it for board games.

I am not posting pictures of the former guest room. The bed has been removed and the computer desk and a bunch of bookshelves are the new residents. It has walnut paneled walls and tan carpeting. It's a functional office space but not very attractive, so no pictures.
The hot tub is gone from the back yard (I was tired of spending money on repairing hoses and winterizing only to have to get new hoses the following spring, anyway.) We need a stair rail in the upstairs so Rob is working on that. I am off to bake banana bread.
Thanks for looking!

House Tour, part 7

2010-03-22T17:20:00.005-05:00

Good Lord, does it ever end? We can see the finish line. I just took the last few pictures and uploaded the whole kit & caboodle onto a disk for the realtor.

Just a quick update tonight, as we haven't had dinner yet and my tummy is rumbling.

Our bedroom. The closets are the 50s "his and hers" style and are very cute. That feature is in both main floor bedrooms.

The basement family room, which we remodeled in 2000. The gas fireplace is a wonderful feature, as it still gets pretty chilly down there in the winter. The up side of that is the lovely cool temps we have down there, even in the hottest part of the summer. The room was supposed to evoke my grandparents' lake cabins, where I spent much of my childhood. There are 17 can lights in there, on 3 separate switches, so there is a lot of light and it really doesn't feel like a basement. The cutout in the stairwell lets light in from upstairs and makes the room feel more open as well. The cool blues are soothing but the oak and pine in the room warm it up and it is quite cozy.

One more post tomorrow, I think, and we'll wrap up this little torturous episode in your life. Sorry if this was boring but it was a way for me to document all the work we've put into the house over they years. Tomorrow, the laundry chute and cabinet and the telephone alcove. :)

Spring

2010-03-21T14:56:00.004-05:00

After the winter I had I feel like I should post an update on me. I made it through the winter -- yesterday was the first day of spring! I am still using my little blue light every morning, but I am down to just 15 minutes a day.

Since the end of February (when this little house-selling adventure began) I have been so busy I haven't had time to be sad. Or perhaps I should say that, although I have felt sad, and still do at the thought of the loss of my dear friend, it's not so piercing and painful as it was last fall. It's been close to 5 months and I see now that much of my grief was mixed up with the incredible anguish I felt in the 2 weeks leading up to her death, when I helped to care for her.

Those days ... those long, awful days spent tiptoeing around the condo when she was getting some much-needed rest or careening wildly about, dashing for pain meds, waste baskets, ice chips or ice packs, were the most difficult of my life.

The hardest thing? We fought. Well, she fought. She was abrasive, abrupt, easily frustrated. She wouldn't talk about the fact that she was dying. So I wasn't allowed to talk about it either. That was really hard. And though I backed off from every fight, acquiesced every time to her wants, needs, whims ... she still found a way to turn it into an argument. When I backed off and fell silent she accused me of being angry with her. Which I was, kind of ... but not about what she thought I was angry about. And when I denied the anger, it was worse. We went in circles, like a dog chasing its tail. I hardly knew where my anger and frustration stopped and hers started.

I am not ordinarily one to back away from confrontation, but I just wanted her to be better -- to feel better, to have a small measure of comfort and peace in her life. The cancer denied all comfort and peace. And she -- she fought SO hard, clung so tenaciously to life, willed her body to face the pain and get through it -- she denied that the cancer was winning. My trust in the pain meds brought suspicion. My trust in the doctors brought derision. My trust in my own capabilities and intelligence disappeared.

I was not myself. She was not the Kris I knew. Somehow through it all we put the differences aside and trusted each other to stay on script, to hit our marks, and to stay in character until the curtain fell.

That was what a lot of my grief was -- processing the hurtful remarks (hers), the muttered-under-the-breath epithets (mine), and the moments of grace where we held each other and cried.

I'm not done yet. I'm crying as I type this. But I am better. I miss her desperately. I think of her every day. I keep thinking about it, trying to put my anger and hers into perspective. I think about what she went through and how I wish I could have done more. I think of the times she thanked me and said she knew I would come and that she only wanted me at the end. I know that she did all she could to stay. She knew I did all I could to keep her here.

I guess for now it's enough to know that. The rest will come in time.

And I will miss her forever.

House Tour, part 6

2010-03-21T14:21:00.005-05:00

I got up into the boys' room this morning and got through the closet and made a ton of progress. Evan's dresser drawers may leave a little to be desired (since I simply left them closed), but everything else is frighteningly perfect. No telling how long it will last, although I have informed all 3 boys that if they leave stuff out from now on, it will be confiscated and sent to storage until we either move or remodel and move the stuff back in here. They appear to believe this threat so I am sticking with it.

There is a closet in the bedroom but my favorite closet in the whole house is this one, with openings at both ends. The kids have always loved this fun spot. The hardwood floors in here are supposedly throughout the upstairs, but we have never confirmed it.

At one time Rob and I used the upstairs as our little quiet space. The sewing table sat out in this area. Now it's a study area with a music stand, a desk, and a few bookshelves.

The hanging beaded fish are from Kris' condo. A nice touch of whimsy for a beachy room.
This built in dresser is a fun feature, too. It is completely enclosed so the clothes are not open to the attic space (just in case you were wondering).

Thanks for looking!

House Tour, part 5 and a vent, sorry

2010-03-19T21:58:00.005-05:00

I hit a wall yesterday. I have worked so hard to get the house ready (as has my husband, believe me) and last night I was just DONE. In tears, overwhelmed, crabby with and at everyone. I am not an easy person to live with at my best. Let's just say right now is not my best.

Today I got some errands run -- Uncle Henry's flag mailed to the cemetery so they can fly it on Memorial Day, Flag Day, 4th of July, etc. because it was doing me no good sitting in a closet. Also an old tattered flag taken to the American Legion so they can dispose of it properly later on, and a few bills dropped off around town.

Then the realtor came. It appears we will NOT be ready for an open house tomorrow. I already knew that. He is pleased, he says the house looks great, he loves the pictures I've taken ... but we just still have some work to do. *sigh* So we will list Tuesday. One more big push through the weekend. I can do it.

This afternoon I dropped out. Crawled into bed and slept for 3 hours. After dinner (an asparagus frittata thanks to my fabulous husband the chef) I headed upstairs to rearrange the boys' room and do some cleaning. Two weeks ago my mom did a big cleaning job up there. She did not go into their dressers or the desk and she didn't sort toys. Still they hauled out multiple bags of trash and vacuumed, dusted, etc.

Tonight I hauled out MORE trash, boxed up stuff for the storage unit (which is about full to the brim, thankyouverymuch) and cried. SO frustrating. They are pigs. My mom helped Spence and Garrett clean out their closet and it is a DISASTER a mere 2 weeks later. I went right back to overwhelmed and exhausted.

Tomorrow I will try to finish so that Sunday I can take pictures (it's supposed to be sunny). I just have their room and play room and the basement family room left to shoot. Rob has been slaving away at the family room all evening so with any luck that will be ready Sunday as well.

In the meantime, here are the laundry room and the basement bathroom. The curtains in the laundry room are coming with me. The one behind the washer and dryer hides the plumbing. It was ugly and I didn't like looking at it. The shelves under the stairs are great storage and there is room for plastic totes for Christmas decorations, etc. It's a 1950s house but it has a lot of storage for a home of that era.

The basement bathroom color is "Blueberry Popover." Everything was new in 2000 and it is a bright, clean, efficient bath for evenings downstairs in the family room or for guests who come to stay. We just installed a new vent and fan with heat lamps. Very nice. The basement has a sort of North Woods Lake theme. I tried to create a cabin feeling since my grandparents had cabins on a lake when I was a kid and I miss them desperately (the cabins and the grandparents), hence the loons on the wallpaper border. I know ... but it's a basement bath. Deal with it.

Okay, and on that note, I will close and go to bed. No more whining. We are close and with any luck this will all be a distant memory by summer.

House Tour, part 4

2010-03-18T20:14:00.003-05:00

The dining room is part of the living room, but I anchored the table and chairs with a navy blue rug to help delineate the space a bit. I used to have a very cool vintage fixture hanging over the table but since A) it was likely to be unappealing to most people and B) it was coming with me, we put in a new swag lamp over the table. It's a simple 3 light piece in brushed nickel and looks up to date without being out of place in this old(ish) house.

Pippa walked into the shot just as I took it and I decided she looked cute so I'm posting this shot. I took another for the realtor minus the dog. :) The vase on the table is from World market and it is perfect for tulips. I love fresh flowers so having them around to make the house look pretty is one of the bonuses of having a house on the market for me.

The print on the wall over the wine console table is a commemorative poster for the 1989 North Dakota Centennial. The photo was taken by a man from Rob's and my hometown who also happened to be my neighbor and a good friend of Rob's folks. It was a wedding present from my grandparents and has hung in every place we've lived since we were married.

The wine bottle in the wood holder on the table is actually a puzzle. Rob loves puzzles and Kris, who was an amazing, thoughtful gift-giver, brought a bottle of "Kris" wine in the puzzle the last time she came to visit. It has sat out on display ever since but of course took on special meaning when she died. She delighted in watching Rob solve it when she gave it to him and it makes me smile when I look at it.

Rob installed the crown molding in 2006. It was a HUGE job that frustrated him a lot. It was late the night before all the household goods were to be delivered from California and I was removing carpet and tack strips from the scrap room floor. I went to check on Rob's progress and he remarked, "Norm (Abram) makes it look so easy." LOL It took him longer than we expected but it looks great, doesn't it?

So that's the dining room. I am heading back to Monday's post to add another photo or two of the kitchen and will try to post more on the house tomorrow. The realtor comes in the morning so it may be later in the day.

Thanks for coming to visit!

House Tour, part 3

2010-03-18T09:47:00.003-05:00

Today it's the main floor bath. This is a pretty small room, to be honest. about 11 feet wide by 6 feet if you include the bathtub.

The color is "Green Tea Leaf" and the flooring is the same as the vinyl in the kitchen and my entryway. When we bought the house the main floor had 5 different kinds of flooring. Thirteen years later we are down to 3 -- the vinyl, the hardwood in the living/dining and 2 bedrooms, and the frise carpet in the hall. There is hardwood under that carpet but it is also under a stubborn layer of linoleum from the 1950s (it's jade green with splotches of yellow, red and black and it is really cool). Anyway, when we tore up the old Berber carpet we contemplated sanding the linoleum off but it was just too daunting for us. Even as seasoned do-it-yourselfers, it was a LOT of work. It's really a job to hire out. In the meantime, I like this carpet just fine.

Back to the bath. LOL There is a peel-off layer of film on the window that makes it look like frosted glass. Over that is a bamboo matchstick shade that lets in light while providing privacy. The room used to be terribly dark.

We recently replaced the brass cabinet and drawer pulls with brushed nickel and replaced all the towel bars, etc. with brushed nickel as well. The light fixtures are placed vertically and the mirror has a frame around it. A friend of ours recently said he had never looked so good as he did in our bathroom mirror. LOL

The palm trees are a nod to our 2 years in California and the photos are mine.

The big cabinet is our medicine cabinet but it could be used as a linen closet, too. Lots of space and very convenient. There is a linen closet in the hall just outside the bathroom that is small but has been more than enough space for our family of 5, and it has a LAUNDRY CHUTE. Okay, maybe it's more of a square hole cut in the bottom, but it drops to a wonderful melamine cabinet Rob built shortly after we moved in. It is SO convenient and holds a laundry basket so I can grab and take it the few steps to the laundry room. Truly one of the great features of this house.

Thanks for looking! Later today I will post the dining room photos. The rug in there is navy blue and is desperately needs to be vacuumed first. :D

House Tour, part 2

2010-03-17T20:15:00.003-05:00

I updated the last post with pictures.

Today I will wax poetic on my living room. When we first looked at this house 13 years ago the exterior was an ugly orangey-tan with burgundy trim. The woman who owned it before me had NO color sense. When we drove up to it I told my husband I would never live in it and we might as well go. He convinced me to go inside and my living room was what sold me on the house.

It has a ginormous picture window that looks out into the back yard. I LOVE this -- who wants to look out onto the street when they can look into a parklike back yard with trees and a flowerbed and a garden? Not I. Adding to the appeal were the hardwood floors -- just so warm and beautiful. The window faces east and the morning sun absolutely makes the room glow. Gorgeous.

The painting is new -- nice, huh? So nice one of my friends saw it and immediately bought it for her own house. LOL I love it when my good taste is confirmed like that. It's a 12'x20' room and, while the kitchen does have the space for a small table and chairs that will seat 4, once we had child number 3 we turned part of the living room into a dining space (pix of that tomorrow).

So here it is -- the warm and inviting living room. It has been the scene of a lot of fabulous gatherings of friends and family and people often tell me it is welcoming and comfortable, even though I tried for a slightly more formal look than the average living room. I think I struck just the right balance.

House Tour, part 1

2010-03-15T20:53:00.005-05:00

I have found that I am compelled to tell our realtor everything about this house. Every. Thing. And well, I'm pretty sure he doesn't want to know. And neither does anyone else.

So I'm going to tell you, anyway. Because if you don't care, you can just click away. This will be an ordeal for you that will last a week or more.

I'm sorry, but I have to do it.

Photos will be posted at some point, but NOT tonight on this entry. If you do care you'll just have to come back to see. (Insert evil laugh here...)

So my kitchen. Not huge but an awesome layout with a wonky but very functional "work triangle." The flooring is vinyl and looks like 8x8 tiles. I love it. It's sort of a taupe color that hides the dirt very well. This is key when you live with 3 little boys and a dog.

The cabinets are custom and were here when we bought the house and I don't like them. That said, they are a warm golden oak with cathedral arches and I worked my arse off to clean them up and they never fail to garner compliments. The hardware are funky brushed nickel swirly things that look modern but are not over-the-top.

The countertops are Formica -- Tuscan Marble in the sparkle finish. They don't sparkle, but they do have a slight sheen that is really pretty. They are taupe and they do look like marble. They are warm but neutral and I intend to put them in my next house as well. And I always use a cutting board so they are in perfect shape.

The sink is a double bowl stainless steel. Why would anyone have anything else? It has a sprayer and an instant hot water tap.

There is a pantry cabinet that has a little counter space that is perfect for my bread machine and my toaster. It's like a special little carb-loading station just for me. I credit this space with inspiring me to use my bread maker regularly.

The appliances are biscuit, or almond, or bisque, depending on your preference. The stove is solid surface, the fridge has the freezer on the bottom, and the dishwasher has a stainless steel tub. The microwave is over the stove and it has a rack and a turntable. It also has a popcorn button that pops perfect microwave popcorn every time. All of the appliances have been replaced in the last 6 years or so.

The wall paint is a mossy green but I don't recall the color right now. The soffits are "Tumbleweed" and the ceiling is "Coco Parfait." Hey, I don't make up the names. There is a wallpaper border on the soffit -- I know, I know -- but it is nice. It has grapes. And wine. It is subtle and classy. Plus the walls and soffits are plaster so you can steam the hell out of that paper and it will come off like a dream without damaging your walls. That, my friend, is priceless.

There is a stainless steel pot rack from which hang my Calphalon stainless steel pots and pans. It appears I will have to leave the rack for you. But you'll have to peel the Calphalon from my cold, dead ... oh wait, that's my handgun, not my Calphalon. Sorry. I got carried away. I do love my Calphalon. And if you decide to come and look at the house, rest assured I was only kidding about the handgun. I store all my firearms at my dad's house. LOL

There is a stainless steel and glass shelf, too, and it has a vase on it filled with wine corks. Yes, we drank all that wine. I know it's appalling. Fortunately we never did home improvement after consuming the wine. You're welcome.

Oh my goodness. I almost forgot the backsplash. Listen, the heavenly choir is singing now! The backsplash is Travertine marble. It has a lovely mosaic pattern framing the window over the sink. It is neutral, warm and rich. It is lovely.

When you take all of that, with the under-cabinet halogen lights, the cabinet over the microwave with the glass panel doors (which is also lighted, to highlight my beautiful glassware), and the anal-retentive habits that have kept it very clean, it is a kitchen people dream of.

The windows (one south facing, one west) have simple taupe valances over them. The wallpaper border adds enough visual interest so simple is good.

One the south is my baking cabinet, a vintage piece that was my great-grandmother Ethel's dresser. It was my dresser in high school and I kept the mirror (which sits on my current dresser). I refinished the dresser and added a Silestone top. My Kitchen Aid mixer sits on top of it and a couple of stools sit next to it, like a little breakfast bar.

So that's my kitchen. It really is a great room, with great appliances and is up-to-date without looking out of place in my 1950s Cape Cod home.

Pictures to come, and thanks for sticking with me if you're still reading.

Model home

2010-03-13T17:26:00.002-06:00

Our home is 1 day closer to looking like a model home. The leaf has been removed from the dining room table. The antique swag lamp I found on eBay has been taken down and a shiny modern 3-light chandelier has been hung. Rob bought a swag kit and converted it today. Looks great over the table.

We took down the family portrait taken on a California beach and replaced it with a GINORMOUS (50 inches across!) print of an Italian street scene. Very Mediterranean colors and warm earthy tones, so it is really pretty in the living room.

I added a little tray with 4 votive candle holders and a glass oil infuser bottle with a vanilla scent to the bathroom shelf.

I bought a snap-top plastic tote for my beloved label maker so that I can recycle the shoe box it used to live in.

Tomorrow I will purchase a few more scrapbook snap-top boxes (thank you, Michaels, for the 25% off your entire purchase coupon) and haul some more stuff to the storage unit.

The antique floral-print settee I got from my great uncle Henry will go to storage as well, and Garrett's twin bed will get put away, too. He'll move (gladly, I might add) to the basement family room, where the oak day bed Rob built a few years ago is. Some flannel sheets and the gas fireplace will keep him cozy while we try to demonstrate to people how unutterably lovely it is to live in this home.

I sound snarky; I don't mean to. It actually HAS been lovely to live here. My home is warm and cozy. It is a true reflection of me and has been the place I love to come to to unwind, relax, and feel peaceful. Lately, with 3 growing boys, one of whom will cross the threshold into the world of teenagerhood in a few short months, it has become apparent we need more bedroom space, in particular. Of course, it doesn't help that my stuff requires a room of its own, rendering our 3 bedroom into a 2 bedroom. We either had to remodel a basement office into a legal bedroom or look for more space.

Our storage unit will be full soon. And somehow the house doesn't look empty. Guess we really do need the space.

But I have poured my heart and soul into the decorating of this house, and I will miss it, even as I recreate some of it in a new place.

Random busy, busy, busy

2010-03-12T11:53:00.003-06:00

Still working on getting things ready. The house looks pretty good. We are making a shopping trip tomorrow to pick up a few pieces of art and some tchotchkes to glam it up around here.

The snow is melting at warp speed right now. I love it but my front yard needs to look nice for potential buyers and it is a muddy disaster right now. Yuck.

I have the LAST Circle Journal in my possession (the theme is Jim Henson's Muppets) and I am itching to get to it and do a 2 page spread on The Muppet Show.

Contemplating listing some things on eBay -- Princess House margarita glasses, anyone? Or perhaps Creative Memories punches that are no longer available?

Sorry -- that is a little peek into my not-so-organized mind right now. I sincerely hope this "transition" phase will be over in 3 months or less.

Wish us luck.

Ch-ch-ch-changes

2010-03-07T16:35:00.002-06:00

We found a larger house. It's in a nearby neighborhood with a bedroom for each kid, a scraproom for mom, a master bedroom with a bath, and a willow tree in the yard.

Of course, we can't buy that house unless we sell this house, so we are frantically rearranging, moving stuff to a storage unit, cleaning, and making basic repairs that have been neglected. Nothing major but stuff we had just been putting off.

It's stressful, this stuff. We've never sold a house before. The market is bad. But the worst case scenario is that we don't sell, we've downsized some and will downsize more as we move our stuff back into the house, and we will still love our house and our neighborhood. We will need to do a little renovating to make one more legal bedroom. But for now, we are working toward a more perfect home. No personal items on display, everything supernaturally neat and tidy ... actually, my neatnik self is not all that unhappy about that. Except my craft supplies will be vastly depleted because they are going into storage too.

Spencer says the house "looks lonely."

Maybe, but as we take bags to the Goodwill, boxes to Habitat for Humanity, and greet people at the door who are coming to pick up goods I advertised on Freecycle, stuff we don't really need is finding its way to people who do need it.

I think of myself as pretty good at cleaning out, purging, and donating when stuff isn't needed. Turns out I could do better.

As for my grief journey, I seem to have turned a corner. I don't know if it was the ending of the grief counseling group I attended for 8 weeks, the reappearance of the sun, the distraction of the move, or simply that it's been 4 months since I left to care for Kris, but I am feeling good and she is no longer my last thought at night and my first thought in the morning.

It's a good thing, I know, but it is sad, too.

I had a dream the other night and she was in it. It wasn't about her; I don't remember what it was about. But she was there. And in the dream I had no awareness that she had been sick or that she had died. She looked normal; the thin, drawn, pain-filled expression she wore at the end was gone. And she told me she was okay. It wasn't a dramatic, emotion-filled moment, it was just a quiet conversation. And in the dream I wondered WHY should would be saying that, because I could see her and she was fine. Her cornsilk hair was shiny, her blue eyes were clear and bright, her expression was serene. She WAS okay.

And when I remembered the dream, I was blown away. It just made so much sense. And I am so comforted by it, even as I move forward, leaving her behind in the mists of my memory.