Zumba....Zumba

If you are looking for one of the best high impact aerobic exercises ever...then Zumba is your poison. I went to a free Zumba class, I had to leave after 45 minutes instead of finishing the hour so I could get to Band practice...let me tell you...my BUTT muscles hurt! I had my rear end kicked and handed to me on a silver platter. First off....I don't dance. I have no rhythm. I am a klutz on a dance floor. I wish I could look like the people in Dancing with the Stars...but alas...I look more like someone having a seizure on the floor. It is so very sad. Zumba is some of the coolest dance steps...with some of the most pulsating music....all rolled into one. Our teacher, Tia, was awesome. She was number one...gorgeous, number two did not have an ounce of fat on her anywhere, and number three....she had legs to die for. I loved watching her....even though I never looked quite as cool as she did...I tried it all....I squatted, cha-cha'ed, slid, squatted some more, kicked, moved muscles I did not know I had...or if I did I had forgotten and all that was in the first ten minutes. I looked at the clock and groaned. It would be another thirty minutes before I would look at the clock again....I was trying my best just to keep up and squat, pick up the correct foot while raising the correct arm....and by then my face was blood red. I could not get the redness to go down before I got to the church. I looked like a lobster. A glass of Milo's unsweet tea later...and my face was not quite so red...but 3 hours and a cool shower later...I am still feeling the sting. Zumba rocks I will say that. I can't wait now for next Monday night and Belly Dancing exercise class....who hooo...that will be fun. I had to pass on the Salsa class tomorrow night...what was I thinking....I bowl in a league on Thursday night. I must have had a part-timers moment. Anyways...I am working this week and next on endurance....for me....cause I am run/walking a 5K on October 10th in Dothan. It is a cancer walk/run and I am excited. Kat, Brian, Mary and I are all going to enter. I get a T-shirt...BTW...I hate T-shirts. They do absolutely nothing for me....round neck shirts have never been my favs...since I have this little short neck. Griefus....so the remodeling of Karen continues. I hit the 50 pound mark this week. I am halfway to my goal. Happy Hump Day Everyone! Zumba on Dudes and Dudettes!

In Which Tommy Loves To Swim

“Tommy, you’ll have to bring your jacket because it’s a little chilly,” I called out. I picked up his jacket and realized that it felt heavy. Then I checked his pockets and found a ton of stones. “Er, Tommy? Is there a reason for these?” I showed him the stones in my palm and he gave me a big grin.

“They’re my magic,” he explained solemnly.

I nodded as though this made complete sense. “I see,” I said. I left the stones alone because you can’t mess with magic.

“You ready to go?” I asked Tommy as he shrugged on his jacket.

“Yup!”

We were headed for his swim lessons. He’s been going all month long. Yesterday was his last lesson. Thankfully Tom has been coming home from work in time to watch Natalie so I don’t have to worry about her trying to leap into the pool. And she definitely would try, too. I just know it. Unfortunately swim lessons don’t start for her until three.

“Mommy? Do I swim super duper fast?” Tommy wondered as we drove to the aquatic center.

“Yes you do,” I said and I wasn’t telling a fib. When he first started out he was usually the last kid to touch the wall. Now he usually finishes first or second. Granted, there are only two other kids in the class, but still...in the beginning he’d get frustrated and stomp over when the lessons were over. His lips would be clenched and he’d be sulking at his feet.

“I’m always last place,” he muttered to me.

“Well. You just have to keep trying,” I told him as I rubbed him down with the towel.

When we got to his last day of swim lessons he went over to his teacher and said, “Guess what? My Mom showed me videos of people swimming!” His voice reverberated around the room. My kid has a loud voice. But he was right though: I HAD showed him videos of people swimming because he doesn’t seem to understand the concept of the butterfly stroke. So I showed him a race that a bunch of swimmers did. And okay, one of those swimmers MAY have been Michael Phelps…which is why I heard Tommy saying (loudly) to his teacher,

“And Mom thinks one of the swimmers is a stud.”

His last word seemed to echo around the room so it sounded like “Stud-ud-ud-ud…”

A few of the other mothers waiting started to giggle. One of them leaned over to me and mouthed, “Michael Phelps?” and with a red face I meekly nodded. I should have lied and said something like, “Actually, no. Mark Spitz.”

Swimming seems to be Tommy’s thing. We knew we could never put him in t-ball or soccer or flag football—sports that other parents seem to quickly want their boys to be in. The reason being is that Tommy is extremely sensitive. If he didn’t hit the ball in t-ball, he’d surely cry. If he didn’t get to kick the ball in soccer, there would be tears. If someone accidentally pushed him down in flag football, he’d probably sink to the grass in despair and turn into Nancy Kerrigan and shriek, “WHYYYYYY? WHYYYY?”

Sure, he may have improved. But Tommy is just wired to want to succeed all the time. He has Aspergers and doesn’t always understand the rules of our society.

I noticed he had a knack for swimming when we were visiting my parents over the summer. They have a pool and I’d watch as Tommy taught himself how to swim.

“Look Mommy! Look! Am I swimming?” he’d call out hopefully as he splashed across the pool.

“Yes! You are swimming!” I’d shout.

Still, I wanted him to improve because when he was in the pool, he sort of thrashed around. I wanted him to understand the different strokes.

So he started swim lessons.

And yeah, he had problems sometimes. The teacher would teach them how to kick their legs and Tommy wouldn’t always comprehend. He’d try for a few seconds and then revert back to the way he knew how. Tommy isn’t always aware of how his appendages work which is why he’s been in occupational therapy since he was three. This is another reason why other sports wouldn’t sit well with him: he’s awkward when he runs and trips over his two feet if he gets overexcited.

Tommy’s best stroke turned out to be the backstroke. I’d watch in awe as he’d get on his back and propel himself easily across the pool.

It’s humbling to know that your seven-year-old swims better than you.

He still needs some more lessons so he understands all the different strokes and how exactly to do them. When his teacher was trying to teach him to do the butterfly he looked at her and went, "I don't like that one. Let's do the backstroke again." So I’ll be signing him up for more lessons. Unfortunately the base pool is closing for renovations until March so now I have to travel off base—which is fine but when it starts to get dark, I tend to get nervous because I hate driving in the dark. But I’ll do it. I’ll do it for him. Because swimming makes him happy.

No Penguin Bathroom

Yesterday Tom didn’t have to go into work until one since he had to pick a co-worker up from the airport and didn’t get in until midnight the night before.

I was going to use this to my advantage. I planned on leaving Natalie with him and shopping at Target in peace.

But no. Natalie saw me grabbing my purse and she was immediately on high alert.

“Shopping Mommy? We go shopping?” She rushed and started trying to put her shoes on. This was not going well. She’d attempt to shove her foot in and nothing would happen. The shoe would just dangle on her toes.

“Actually,” I said kindly. “Mommy was planning on going alone.”

Tom looked startled from the couch. “What?” He appeared to have forgotten our conversation that we had a few minutes prior where I had said I’d be going to the store. By myself. Sometimes I wonder if he hears me at all. If I’m not talking about sex, boobs, or food, my comments tend to go right over his head.

“I’m going to Target and you’re staying with Natalie,” I reminded him.

Tom blinked. This does not compute. The words might have well been scrolling over his forehead.

“I go shopping, Mommy?” Natalie asked sweetly. “And Daddy come too?” She fluttered her eyelashes towards a still baffled Tom. He clearly had no idea what was going on. One minute he was lounging on the couch picking his toe cheese (ew!) and the next he’s being coerced into going shopping.

“I’ll come,” Tom grumbled because it’s hard for him to say no to Natalie. I mean, he can do it, don’t get me wrong, but then five minutes later he’s apologizing and saying, “Daddy doesn’t mean to get upset. But you need to listen.”

So I didn’t get to shop alone. But that’s okay. Sort of. The thing is, Tom doesn’t understand how to shop Target. He doesn’t get that I look in every section because you never know when you’ll stumble on those beautiful 75% off signs. So when we first walked in the store, Tom started heading down towards the electronics section.

“Woah there,” I said lightly, pulling on the cart. “Where are you going?” Doesn’t he know that I always start off in the clothes section and work my way around?

“I’m going to the only section I like in the store,” Tom replied.

“Okay. Well. I’ll meet you there,” I said and started to walk off.

“Mommy!” Natalie called out, arms outstretched.

I turned. “I’ll meet up with you later,” I promised.

“Mommy! I come!” Natalie begged. She puffed her lip out.

Oh for—so much for shopping in peace. I took the cart and started doing my rounds. Tom found me standing in front of a Tide display with a wide grin on my face a few minutes later.

“What are you doing? I was waiting forever and I decided to see what happened to you,” Tom said.

Waiting forever? It was more like five minutes! Tops. But then again, five minutes in a store to Tom probably feels like five hours.

“The Tide is on sale for $10.99 and I have a dollar coupon off!” I said in a giddy tone as I dug through my purse for the coupon.

“And…this excites you?” Tom’s brows were furrowed as though he were in deep thought.

“It does! This means I get Tide for $9.99! That’s a good price,” I felt the need to add because Tom seriously looked confused. He doesn’t comprehend how to use coupons. When he does go out, I always try to get him to use the coupons and he’s all, “I don’t know how.” What does that even MEAN? What does he mean he “doesn’t know how?” You just hand the coupons over to the cashier. It’s as simple as that.

I managed to find the dollar off coupon and held it over my head like a trophy.

“Found it!” I said and this old lady who walked past us winked and said, “Good for you, dear.”

“See? Someone else who knows the beauty of coupons. Now. Let’s do a little test, Tom. There are various amounts of Tide on sale for $10.99. Which one should I get?” I said.

Tom appeared to be a little frightened. He stared at the display of Tides for a few seconds and went, “Well. This one smells like lavender. You like things that smell, right?” He went to reach for it.

“WRONG!” I said cheerfully. “If you notice that the lavender one is only good for 40 loads. But this Clean Breeze scented one is good for 64 loads.” I tapped the bottle to show him.

Tom was agog. “Does it really matter?”

Thank goodness he isn’t in charge of the shopping. We’d be totally broke. He’d just throw the first thing he saw into the cart.

“Can we go now?” Tom asked with a sigh. Obviously my Tide lesson wasn’t enlightening in the least.

“Go? No. I still have the other half of the store to go through,” I said and started walking off.

Tom groaned as he caught up to me. “Why? Why are you going down the bathroom aisle? We don’t need anything—wait. Oh my Gosh, look! We can decorate our bathroom in penguins!” Sadly, he wasn’t even joking. Tom pulled a penguin shaped trash can from the shelf and hugged it to his chest. The penguin even had a pair of sunglasses on.

“Um. No Tom,” I said gently and tried to take it from his hands.

“No?” He looked genuinely shocked and shifted away so I couldn’t take his treasure.

“We’re not children anymore. I don’t want to decorate our bathroom in penguins. I like the way it looks now,” I explained as though I were speaking to my son when he’s begging for a toy.

“Our bathroom is boring,” Tom fumed.

It’s decorated in blue and white by the way. And okay, that probably sounds a little boring but up until the penguin, Tom wasn’t complaining.

“Tom. That penguin will creep me out when I go to the bathroom at night. I’ll feel like something is staring at me,” I attempted to try another tactic. And I wasn’t lying. I startle easily and I probably WOULD jump when I shuffled into the bathroom at night. My bladder isn’t what it used to be thanks to my two kids who used it as a punching bag so I’m usually up at least once per night to use the bathroom.

“I’ll turn the penguin around before I go to bed,” Tom said graciously.

I rubbed my temples. He was starting to give me a headache. “Tom. Please. We’re adults. I’d like my bathroom to convey this. If we decorated in penguins, I’d feel like I was walking into Toys R Us.”

“But look at this awesome penguin soap dispenser!” Tom said, pointing it out.

“It’s nice. Really. But no,” I said and pried the penguin trash from Tom’s hands.

“The kids get a duck bathroom,” Tom muttered.

“Yes. Because they’re CHILDREN,” I answered.

Honestly. Sometimes I feel like I have three kids, not two.

Look Out Zumba....Here Comes Karen!

Wooo Hooo....I am going to a Free Zumba class on Weds. evening, a Free Salsa class on Thursday and a Free Belly Dancing (which I still have a good bit of) next Monday. We have a new dance place in our little town...and it is NOT one of those places where you learn tap and ballet...this is a place where you learn different kinds of dancing...the lady who runs it is Tia and I am so excited about getting to do this. Kat, my daughter has been to a belly dancing and zumba class at the YMCA in Montgomery...big towns always have lots of cool stuff to do....little towns...not so much. Anyways...I know what Salsa and Belly Dancing are...and I believe that the local Spanish teacher SHOULD be able to do a little Salsa-ing...don't you? But Zumba was something out of left field for me...had no clue what it was. My friends who have already attended one of the free classes...say it will kick your butt as far as exercise goes. Cool! So I decided to do a little research on it because I need a little stress relief and butt kicking therapy. "Zumba® fuses hypnotic latin rhythms and easy to follow moves to create a dynamic fitness program that will blow you away. The goal is simple: They want you to want to work out, to love working out, to get hooked. Zumba® Fanatics achieve long term benefits while experiencing an absolute blast in one exhilarating hour of caloric-burning, body-energizing, awe-inspiring movements meant to engage and captivate for life! Sounds like my kind of fun. I will have to post about it after I survive it. Remember...I am a 55 year old, sadly out of shape, overweight (but working on it) female. If it doesn't kill me...it might make me stronger. Wish me luck!

Silence!

“So who died? What happened? Why is everyone crying?” Tom asked me on Thursday night as I watched Grey’s Anatomy. This wouldn’t bother me if he had asked these questions during a commercial. But no. He has a bad habit of asking questions during the actual show. And yes, I suppose I could have paused it but sometimes I’m just not in the mood to converse.

“No talking,” I said to Tom and pressed a finger to my lips. I had just got the kids down and was relishing in the fact that I could stretch out on the couch and watch a show in peace.

“Who died? Who is George?” Tom continued, not getting the hint. Apparently he doesn’t comprehend the words “no talking.”

“It’s quiet time!” I tried again.

He continued to yak again when I started to watch FlashForward on my DVR.

“What’s this? What’s going on?”

Is he KIDDING?

He thankfully lapsed into a silence for a few minutes and then practically fell off the couch when he shouted, “Seth MacFarlane! That’s Seth MacFarlane, creator of Family Guy! I knew he sounded familiar. I kept going, ‘Why am I hearing Brian the Dog?’ and now I know why. Because it’s SETH MACFARLANE!”

Oh my dear God.

You have to understand that Seth MacFarlane is sort of like a God to Tom. He loves Family Guy and loves to quote the show.

So basically, since Tom kept asking me questions during MY show, I decided I’d do the same to him when he was watching his beloved Family Guy.

“Wow, is that a dog? Why is a dog talking? It’s not a Disney movie after all,” I said as I plopped on the couch. (For those who have never seen the show, it depicts this dog named Brian who behaves like a human.)

Tom pulled his eyes from the screen and stared at me as though I had a bra wrapped around my forehead.

“So does the entire family understand what Stewie is saying? Or it is really just his thoughts like they did in Look Who’s Talking? ” I continued sweetly. (Stewie is the one year old in the show.)

Of course I knew the answers to these questions but I just wanted Tom to feel the frustration that I experienced.

“Amber,” Tom said, speaking to me as though I were a complete idiot. “You’ve seen this show a lot. Why are you asking me dumb questions?”

Dumb questions?

Excuse me!

“I’m surprised that other people don’t question that a dog is walking around behaving like a human. If a dog was walking on two legs around me and talking in English, I’d be scared shitless!” I said, completely ignoring Tom’s statement.

Tom frowned as he tried to concentrate on the show. “Amber, please. I’m trying to watch.”

A HA!

“Just like I try to watch my shows in peace,” I said.

A commercial came on the screen so Tom stared at me again. “What?”

“It’s annoying when people speak during your shows, right?” I pressed.

Tom was clearly bewildered. “Right…” he replied slowly.

“Well, you seem to love asking me questions during my programs so I decided to do the same during yours to teach you a lesson,” I explained.

Tom made a face. “I never ask questions during your shows!” he argued. Then he seemed to remember jabbering on while the show was running and he looked slightly guilty. “I mean…well, sometimes I just need to know what’s going on.”

“And I’ll be happy to answer your questions. During the commercial break,” I said. I stuck my hand out. “So do we have a deal? No talking during shows?”

Tom gave me a limp shake. “I guess…”

He’s going to totally forget. I can almost bet when I watch Grey’s Anatomy this week he’s going to be all, “Wow, so there are LESBIANS on this show?”

Sweet Potatoes - YUCK!

I don't eat Sweet Potatoes. I didn't even eat them as a child. My mom would pull the labels off of the baby food jars and try to trick me with sweet potatoes...making me think they were carrots. I would spit them out instantly...I keep trying them but I just don't like the feel of sweet potatoes in my mouth. They are pithy. Anyways a few years ago a group of friends and I ate at the Piccadilly Cafeteria. Why you ask? I have no clue...it is just where we ended up. I hate cafeteria food almost as much as I hate sweet potatoes...but on the trail down the food line there was a dish labeled carrot souffle...that looked an awful lot like the sweet potatoe souffle I make at Thanksgiving and Christmas for my family. The server told me, "No ma'am...this really is carrots. The cook makes it because he does not like sweet potatoes." "Get out of here!" I thought to myself...someone else who does not like those nasty orange colored things....yooo hooo. I got a serving of the carrot souffle and dissected it at my seat. It was carrots and it was wonderful. It had the consistency of the other souffle I make...and that same brown sugar and nut topping. I thought I had died and gone to heaven. I actually went back and got another serving to go for later. I actually planned to go home and dissect it and recreate it for myself. I was pleasantly surprised when the cook came out and gave me the recipe....but of course...his recipe makes a 200 serving dish. I only need one for 20....so I cut it down and want to share with you my recipe for Carrot Souffle. If you like carrots and sweet potatoes, you will like this...it is good. If you don't like carrots but like sweet potatoes...you probably won't like this....but try it once anyways. I now take this to my family Thanksgiving each year and no one knows the difference....except me.
This is what the Piccadilly Souffle recipe should have looked like, but instead of using confectioners sugar and dusting it he used the traditional sweet potato souffle brown sugar topping and to me that made all the difference.

Carrot Souffle

Combine
2 pounds carrots, chopped finely or if you are lazy...get 32 ounces of canned carrots and drain them well
1/2 cup melted butter
1 cup white sugar (can substitute Splenda)
3 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
3 eggs, beaten
Toppings:1 teaspoon confectioners' sugar for dusting -original topping1 cup dark brown sugar - sweet potato souffle style topping1/3 cup all-purpose flour
1/3 cup melted butter
1 cup chopped pecans

DIRECTIONS
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C).
Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Add carrots and cook until tender, about 15 minutes. Drain and mash. To the carrots add melted butter, white sugar, flour, baking powder, vanilla extract and eggs. Mix well and transfer to a 2 quart casserole dish. For Toppings:Prepare the topping in a small bowl by whisking together the brown sugar, flour, butter and pecans(sweet potato style). Sprinkle mixture over potato mixture and bake for 35-40 minutes depending on your oven.
If you use the confectioners sugar method dust the souffle with confectioners sugar when you remove it from the oven.
With the Thanksgiving Holidays coming up I thought you might enjoy a new/old recipe to try out! Have a Wonderful Monday!

Conch for a Day

This is one of my favorite places, Mallory Square in Key West, FL. I have kidded with my friends over the years that this place is to be my final resting place. Actually my exact words were...when I die I want all my friends to gather at Sunset at Mallory Square, I want Richard Forehand and Rexton Lee (two former students) to play the Kansas song Dust in the Wind as my ashes are scattered to the four winds. Sounds romantic huh? Actually there truly is no pretty place on earth than the sunsets at Mallory Square and when I do die...it would not be a bad way to go. The center of Key West's historic waterfront, Mallory Square stages the famous Key West sunset
celebration and that is what I want my passing to be a big celebration. I think the Irish are on to something with their famous wakes. The Historic Mallory Square and the city of Key West both had their beginning along this deep harbor waterfront -the wrecking schooners, the frigates and warships of the US Navy, the Cuban cigar makers tobacco warehouses, ship's chandlers and government offices combined to make Key West a bustling seaport out on the frontier of a young America. Today, Mallory
Square is a Key West must see. You will find exciting attractions(street jugglers, entertainers, Hemingway's House, et.al.), the unparalleled shopping of Duval Street, the Key West historic sculpture garden and of course, every evening, the famous sunset celebration. If you ever decide to plan a trip of a lifetime...you need to go to Key West and spend at least one evening at Mallory Square taking in the most breathtaking sunsets ever. It is truly one of the places you want to see before dying...oh and while you are there....eat a piece of Key Lime Pie ( I am enclosing my own personal recipe) and sample some conch fritters...they are a local must! Bon Appetit!
Karen's Famous Key Lime Pie Recipe
When you take a bite of this pie, you'll understand why key lime pie is such an awesome experience. It is well-loved in my household that is for sure!

Servings: Makes one (9-inch) pie
Serving Size: not available
Nutrition: See Below
Prep Time: 10 minutes
Cook Time: 45 minutes
Total Time: 0

Ingredients
3 eggs, separated
1 (14-ounce) can EAGLE BRAND® Sweetened Condensed Milk (NOT evaporated milk)
1/2 cup key limes lime juice...regular lime juice does not make a key lime pie
1 (9-inch) unbaked pie crust (you can use a grahm cracker crust if you prefer.
1/4 teaspoon cream of tartar
1/3 cup sugar
Instructions
Preheat oven to 325°F. In medium bowl, beat egg yolks on low speed; gradually beat in EAGLE BRAND® and lime juice until smooth. Stir in food coloring (optional). Pour mixture into pie crust. Bake 30 minutes. Remove from oven. Increase oven temperature to 350°F. In large bowl, beat egg whites and cream of tartar on high speed until soft peaks form. Gradually beat in sugar on medium speed, 1 tablespoon at a time; beat 4 minutes longer or until sugar is dissolved and stiff glossy peaks form.
Immediately spread meringue over hot pie, carefully sealing to edge of crust to prevent meringue from shrinking. Bake 15 minutes. Cool 1 hour. Chill at least 3 hours. Store leftovers covered in refrigerator. Notes: Tip: For a lighter filling, fold 1 stiffly beaten egg white into filling mixture. Proceed as directed. If you are watching your weight...this pie may not be for you. There is nothing low fat about it. My suggestion is to take an extra pass around the block after you eat a piece...because this pie is NOT something you want to pass up.

Carla and Her Amazing Story

Yesterday I told you about my two oldest friends, Carol and Susan. What I didn't tell you was that when Carol and I were 15 Mrs. Geiger had another child, Carla. There was already sister Cathy who was three years younger than we were...but along came Carla. She ruled the roost as a small child. We would give her anything she wanted, do anything she wanted...she was precious. This child could eat some more cookies. She loved them. My mother and father both adored her. Heck, all the neighbors did. All of the once children of El Prado had gone on to become adults...and then there was Carla. When she was four I moved away. I kept up with Carla through her sister, Carol and actually saw her from time to time over the next 15 years and one day I turned around and she was graduating from the University of Florida. Where had the years gone? She looked just like she did when I left Florida and moved to Alabama...just an older version and still had a wonderfully fun personality. You can't be around her but just for a few minutes and she will have you in stitches...and what a life she has led. To quote her own desciption she was a professional band geek – she spent four years in the high school band, five years of band at the University of Florida (where she switched majors to Music Education so that she could officially be a “professional” band nerd), six years as a clarinet/saxophone instrumentalist with the U.S. Navy, five years teaching band at St. Augustine H.S. & Pedro Menendez H.S., two years as a graduate assistant with the Gator Band at UF (earning a master’s degree in band geek a/k/a instrumental conducting), two years as a graduate assistant with the Husky Marching Band at the University of Washington (where she actually completed the coursework for a PhD in music ed but she is not quite ABD), and two years as the Associate Director of Bands/Director of Athletic Bands at Florida International University in Miami. This past year she hit a big milestone....she turned 40. Where did the years go? When did I hit 55? All of a sudden....my little four year old Carla....is now forty and still going strong. In January of 2009 she was forty, overweight, and so...she did what most of us do...(no she did not sit down and eat a package of oreos)...she actually lost her job...the music program at FIU was eliminated due to budget cuts. How can you have a football program without a band? Answer me that please? I mean...there are those of us who actually go to the games...and watch them for the halftime shows. I know I do and I know there are others like me in this world. I was NOT a band geek, but I am married to one (Frank played for the Big Green Indians of Choctawhatchee High School in Fort Walton Beach, FL and Kat and Brian were both part of the Pride of Alexander City with the Benjamin Russell High School Marching Band (said with pride...Kat was the drum major her senior year)...Back to Carla though...she has become a runner, having started in January with her first race. She is training for a sprint triathlon and a half marathon, and that’s just the beginning. She is very much looking forward to officially earning the title of “endurance athlete”, and She is once again loving life in our hometown of West Palm Beach. She has entered several races...now...at 55 I could not just become a runner...I would have to become a walker first...then maybe a power walker...then maybe a jogger....then possibly a runner....so I would not kill myself. I am so very proud of this girl. She has done wonderful things in her 40 years...and the best thing...is that at age 4...she was my best friends little sister...at age 40 I consider her a dear friend. Keep running Carla...I am cheering for you! You Go Girl!

When You Live With A Two Year Old...

This is a door.

Correction.

This is a locked door.

Correction again.

This is a locked door that has a crack in it because I lost my temper awhile back due to it being locked. I may have tried to do karate moves to bust it open. It did not work because A) I have no karate moves and B) I have no karate moves and only wound up with a sore foot. Oh, and a cracked door.

But that was another story.

This is a completely different one.

Because this time, someone was actually on the other side of the door.

Do you know who that someone was?

That would be my daughter.

Natalie.

She’s two, by the way.

My two year old rushed upstairs, ran into my bedroom, and locked the door on me.

Do you want to know why?

Oh, it was a series of events that led up to the locked door. So it’s best that I start from the beginning.

What happened was, Natalie and I went to Once Upon a Child to drop off some items to sell. Contrary to my husband’s belief, I actually can get rid of things. Fine, so I get attached to some items but I can’t help it. He thinks I need to throw out my high school notebooks but hello, maybe there will be a time when I want to look and see what I had for seventh period when I was in eleventh grade. You just never know. (And by the way, it was journalism.)

So I dropped off the bin of stuff and while the store workers were going through it, Natalie and I looked in the toy section. I love to buy books from Once Upon a Child because they range from fifty cents to a buck fifty. I hate to pay full price for books because my daughter usually ends up either A) coloring in it or B) ripping it up. This hurts my heart because a book should never be defiled in any way. Unless it’s Heart of Darkness which I could not get through no matter how hard I tried. And then I had to write a report on it and I wrote something like, “It’s about some guy on a boat.” I imagine I wrote more because I ended up getting a B but honestly, that book was hard to read. I felt so lost in class as other students yakked on about imperialism and I was all, “All I can remember is some dude shouting ‘The horror, the horror,’ and that’s basically the same thing I say when I’ve discovered I’m out of chocolate.” No one laughed when I said that by the way. They just went on talking about imperialism which made me think of Star Wars.

Anyhow, the store worker let me know that she was done going through my clothes and that they’d give me forty bucks for it. This excited me because forty bucks mean new clothes to buy! I’m kidding. I really am trying to cut back. I told Natalie that it was time to go and she had to say goodbye to the diseased looking bear she was holding.

“No thanks,” Natalie told me primly and stuck the matted bear in a toy stroller. She started walking away in the opposite direction.

I rushed over and stood in front of the stroller. “It’s time to go,” I tried again, attempting to pry the stroller from her grasp. This was not easy. For a two year old, she’s surprisingly strong. Or maybe I’m surprisingly weak. I think I’m going to go with the former.

“No THANKS, MOMMY,” Natalie screamed into my ear. This kid is seriously going to render me deaf one day. It seems my ears ring on a daily basis thanks to her and that can’t be good.

“You may not speak to me like that. I understand that you want to stay and play but we’re going home,” I said firmly. I gave the stroller another tug and Natalie refused to let go. She gave me a defiant look before turning around and walking off in the opposite direction leaving me standing there partially deaf.

“PLOW! PLOW!” some other kid shouted and rolled a toy pony right into my legs.

I was beginning to lose my patience. I wanted to go, my left ear was ringing and now my legs hurt. I limped over to Natalie, who was in the corner talking lovingly to her bear. I was a little insulted. How can she be so nice to a diseased animal but be so mean to me? I mean, I gave her life. The diseased bear will probably give her the flu. I’m not understanding her rationale.

“It’s time to go,” I said and then scooped her up before she could escape again. I had her tucked under my arm and I walked over to the cashier to get my money. Natalie had started to thrash and shout angrily because her freaky looking bear had been left behind.

“How would you like your money today?” the cashier said calmly, seeming oblivious to the fact that my daughter was turning into Linda Blair right in front of our eyes.

“Whatever is easiest,” I replied in a rushed tone. (What I wanted to say was, “In bills, thanks,” but people don’t always comprehend sarcasm.)

The woman slowly pulled out some money. I was starting to lose my grip on Natalie.

“PLAY MOMMY! PLAY!” Natalie was crying. She twisted around in my arm and tried to struggle free. “LET GO! LET GO!”

The cashier gave her a bright smile. “Are you having a bad day, sweetheart?” she inquired. Even when Natalie is blue in the face, people are still nice to her. I believe it’s because of the ultra adorable outfits I put her in and the fact that I put her hair in pigtails. Not many people can resist a kid in pigtails even if they are in the middle of a fit.

But Natalie, who is going through a shy phase and doesn’t like other adults to converse with her, promptly covered her face with her hands.

“Are you shy, honey?” the woman continued as she slid two twenties at me.

“AHHHHHHHHHH! AHHHHHHHH!” Natalie bellowed her hands still over her eyes.

The cashier gave me a baffled look. “Did I frighten her?”

I grabbed the bills and shoved them in my purse. “Well…she believes when she covers her eyes that you don’t exist. So the fact that you still were speaking freaked her out because she assumed you were gone,” I explained gently.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” the cashier said to Natalie, who yelped again.

It was definitely time to leave. I said thank you and rushed out of there.

We had to stop off at Wal-Mart next because Tom is obsessed with these mini apple pies that they sell. And they’re Wal-Mart brands so that’s the only place I can get them. All morning he had hounded me to “remember to get those pie things,” and then when I was in Wal-Mart he called and went, “did you get the pie things? Two boxes of them?” After I hung up with him, there was this lady giving cereal samples. My stomach was growling at that point so I said I’d try them. First she gave me a tiny bowl of that Kashi Krap. I decided I’d give it another try even though the last time I tried the stuff it reminded me of flavored bark.

I took a bite and made a face.

It still tastes like flavored bark.

Then she let me try this cereal:



I was a little wary because any cereal that claims that it’s healthy usually tastes funky to me. Hi, I’m Amber and I’m twenty seven and I still prefer Lucky Charms and Cookie Crisp. Oh, and Reeses Puffs.

I was pleasantly surprised. This cereal, the one that claimed that it was vanilla almond, tasted delicious. I just tasted sweet, not nuts. (That’s what she said!) So I decided to buy a box.

When we were done, I stopped at McDonalds and asked Natalie if she wanted the nugget Happy Meal or the cheeseburger one.

“NO EATS!” she screeched.

Seriously, this girl sometimes behaves as though eating is a chore. Eating is one of my favorite parts of the day and here is this kid, MY kid, who seems to hate it.

I got her the nuggets and obviously as soon as they were handed over, she wanted the cheeseburger.

I just cannot win.

She was upset the entire drive home.

“Burger Mommy! BURGER!”

“Sorry. You didn’t tell me so you’ll be eating the nuggets,” I replied.

“BURRRRGERRR!” she yelled as I rolled down my window to give the base policeman my ID card.

“Sounds like a party in there,” the guy quipped as he gazed at my card.

“It’s more like a zoo,” I answered, wincing.

When we got home Natalie abruptly stopped shouting and sniffed, “I’m happy now.” I believed this. I believed it because I wanted to believe it. I believed it because now both of my ears were ringing. I believed it because I wanted a little peace and quiet.

We went inside and I said I’d get her some ketchup for her nuggets. I was off in the kitchen doing this when I heard a bang from upstairs. Oh no. I rushed up the stairs and found the closed door. I put my hand on the knob, turned it and….nothing. It was locked.

“Natalie! Please open this door!” I said in a cheerful voice. I didn’t want her to know that I was both irritated and frightened. Irritated because hello, that’s MY bedroom. You don’t lock someone out of their own bedroom. It’s just poor taste. Frightened because then I start to worry that Natalie would get hurt and I was in no mood to rush to the ER and wait for hours on end while Doogie Howser assured me that everything would be okay.

“NO!” came Natalie’s voice.

“So you lied to me? You said you were happy now. You said you were HAPPY NOW!” I said dramatically as I struggled with the knob.

“GO away!” Natalie yelled.

I knew how to get the knob open from the last time it was locked on me. So I got the wire thing that I knew I could stick in the middle of the knob and started fiddling around.

“I’m coming in!” I said, after hearing the knob click. I went to turn it and only ended up banging my shoulder on the door because it turned out it wasn’t unlocked after all.

Ouch.

So I kept messing with it and finally, mercifully, I did get it open. I swung open the door and went, “AHA!” expecting to find Natalie going through my jewelry or pulling out all my clothes in the dresser. Instead she was sitting on my bed, sucking her thumb. She glared at me as I entered.

“Go away,” she fumed from the side of her mouth.

Of course she got punished for her behavior. Locking a parent out of their own room is bad manners. But after she sat on the naughty step, she did apologize.

“Are you ready for some lunch?” I asked.

Natalie nodded.

“Great. Let’s go have some nuggets,” I said, leading her to the table.

Natalie’s brows furrowed. “Cheeseburger!”

Old Friends - One is Silver and the Other Gold

I am a fortunate person. I have some great friends. Some have been friends for a short period....others have been friends for over 50 years. Chuck and Sue fall into the later category...at least Sue does. Chuckles comes along by default. Susan and I met I think the first day I moved into the neighborhood on El Prado. She lived just around the corner and we had so much in common it was eerie. We still do....and the funny thing is that we can be apart from each other for months at a time and when we get together it is as if no time passed at all. When my parents disappeared I called Sue...she is my daughter Kat's godmother(not the fairy kind)...and I needed one of my fiercest praying friends. I wanted some prayer results that first night....so I called and left her a message. On Thursday, they were on their way down. I can't tell you what having them here did for me. During their entire visit I did not have to think...they did it for me. I just had to function and that was about all I could do. What an amazing friend Susan is. I can't imagine life without her...or Chuck in it. I am blessed with amazing friends like them.
Most people are lucky to have one special friend in their life. I have several....but only two old ones that I am still in contact with. I know for a fact that I met Carol on my very first day in the neighborhood and to quote Mr. Rodgers...when I met her...it WAS truly a beautiful day in my neighborhood. I did not want to move to El Prado...of course I was only 5 years old...so what did I know. Carol was the cutest thing I had ever seen. She was so tiny. My little two and a half year old brother was taller than she was at age 5. She was the first person I ever knew with a birthday on or near Christmas...and I always felt a bit sad for her because people would only give her one gift...for both. I have always made a habit of giving her one for each(wrapped in birthday and Christmas paper too)...this is a practice I continue to this day. If you look at her picture she does not look any different than she did when we were younger....lots younger...Carol was with me when my brother died. She has heard me wail and moan over some boy, she has done things we really shouldn't have done with me, started kindergarten with me at Vedado Park, walked to school with me the first time we were allowed to, ridden bikes with me, spent the night with me, was a Brownie with me, we were inseperable. She called my dad Derf...he called her lorac....(their names backwards)...she was so effervescent. The only thing we didn't do...was share smarts. For Carol learning happened...for me it was an uphill climb everyday. I have begged her more than once to hold her report card until after some event I wanted to attend...so I would not be grounded. She has always been a thoughtful friend. We shared a major love of music and she has compiled a whole series of CD's for me with music through the ages. Not only do I love this gift, but my daughter Kat loves it too. She borrows them from time to time for some project she is doing. I love the fact that although we are mother and daughter and we weren't born in the same era...sometimes I feel as if we were. Carol, on my 40th birthday made me a scrapbook of things I had forgotten. I was telling someone the other day about how different I am now than I used to be. 40 years ago...I would never have spoken in front of people. There was a trash can at the door to the sanctuary for me to vomit in before a solo...and somewhere between here and there...I have forgotten that person...and become who I am today. It is nice from time to time to revisit who we once were....it gives us a new respect for who we now are. Carol's husband Jeff went to school with us. He is the handsome blonde guy in the family photo. He definitely has not aged a bit. Jeff and I bowled together when we were in college and we also rode to classes together. Jeff had a bright red camaro. It was fun riding with him. He had a great sense of humor and was crazy about Carol. I think I was perchance a wee bit jealous of that fact at age 18. I moved to Alabama at 19, met and married my first husband and the rest was history....and you know I understand a lot about history...it is important...because history (even your own) is what connects you to the past...and allows the future to be. Carol lives in South Carolina now. Her husband has retired. Talk about six degrees of separation....they live in Summerville, SC....where my sweet Frank hailed from. Who knows we might eventually settle there ourselves when I retire....ahhh retirement....that is another topic for another day! Friends are wonderful to have. I am lucky to have the ones I have...Old friends are the best. They knew you when...and still manage to love you. Thank You my two oldest and dearest friends. You are both very special to me. I can't imagine my life without either of you in it...

Stop #1 on My Lighthouse Travels

I love lighthouses and throughout my life have visited many of them. I have always wanted to spend a summer being a volunteer lighthouse keeper...but alas...it does not ever seem to happen. Yaquina Head (Yakina Head) lighthouse is one of the first I ever visited on the west coast of the United States and I loved it. I have actually been there twice. Once with some friends when I was in college at Whitman in Walla Walla, and once with my daughter and Amanda and her family. Both times I loved this place. It is my dream lighthouse. Oregon's Tallest Lighthouse is Yaquina Head. This lighthouse is one of the most-visited on the west coast with over 400,000 visitors each year. when it was being built it took approximately one year, and over 370,000 bricks from San Francisco, to construct Yaquina Head, also known as Cape Foulweather Lighthouse. There was trouble with the lighthouse from the very beginning. Construction work began in the fall of 1871 but was often delayed due to the horrendous Oregon winter. Boats bringing materials often had difficulty landing in a cove on the south side of the head. Two boats were overturned and lost all their cargo. The lighting of the first Fresnel lens was delayed for almost two years due to parts being lost in transit. The light has since been active since Head Keeper Fayette Crosby walked up the 114 steps, to light the wicks on the evening of August 20th, 1873. During early times the oil burning white light was visible from sunset to sunrise. The light was automated in 1966. The original 1873 lens is still in place, but now it is illuminated by an electric 1,000 watt globe that generates over 130,000 candlepower. This lighthouse has a signature ….that is the light shines two seconds on, two seconds off, two seconds on, then 14 seconds off. The lighthouse has been renovated and has a new "old look." The purpose of the renovation project was to restore its 1873 appearance. More restoration work is planned. This particular lighthouse was used as the setting for the "Moesko Island Lighthouse" in the 2002 film The Ring. It also appeared in Dead Man's Curve (1998), Hysterical (1983) and Nancy Drew: Pirates Cove (1977). If you like lighthouses as much as I do I would encourage you to check this one out. She really is a beauty standing up so straight and tall against the Oregan skyline. But...don't just take my word for it....go check her out yourself. I promise you won't be disappointed....and BTW...while you are there head south and check out the sea lion caves and Heceta Head lighthouse. Another beauty...especially at sunset.

I'd Love To, But I'm Sick

Tom is sick.

It sure is fun to be around a grown man who whines about not being able to breathe out of his nose.

It’s just a ball of laughs to hear “I’d love to, but I’m sick,” for every request I give him.

For example: I asked him to entertain Natalie while I made dinner.

“I’d love to, but I’m sick,” he replied while stretched out on the couch. Which is another thing: I never get to stretch out in the couch when I’m sick.

“Tom, give the cat some food,” I said.

“I’d love to, but I’m sick.”

I was close to smothering him with the couch pillow, let me tell you.

He’d also stretch out his words in this horrible whine. Like when we were eating dinner (which, by the way, he made a big show from getting up from the couch—he lifted his body up and made this loud moaning sound) he was all, “My throat hurttsssss so muchhhhhhh.”

At this point, I had enough. So I said, “I imagine your throat does hurt Tom. You know what also hurt? When I felt as though my stomach were about to rip apart and I pushed out a HUMAN BEING.”

This shut him up for a little bit.

Then he shuffled to the computer to play his game. He speaks to other plays via a headset and he sounded perfectly fine to me.

I was grateful when he announced he was going to bed around nine. Finally. Some peace and quiet. I went upstairs to say goodnight and his hands started to roam over my body.

“Excuse me? I thought you were sickkkkkk,” I said, slapping his hands off my breasts.

“I’m never too sick for sex,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows up and down.

I can’t believe he didn’t even worry that he’d pass the germs onto me. If I’m sick, I don’t get to lounge on the couch. I still have kids to tend to. So I can’t afford to be sick.

So I looked at Tom and just said, “I’d love to, but I’m sick,” before rushing out of the room.

Would the Real Me Please Stand Up

I was raised in a house by a mom with a mega A personality. I am a B. I hate conflict and will do anything to avoid it...(a carryover from childhood). I grew up with a miniscule amount of self-esteem. I never felt I was good enough, just could not measure up, was a failure, was not important, had nothing to say that anyone would want to hear. One day...when I was pregnant with Kathryn our preacher at the time, Rev. Mike Jones, told our Sunday School class that we were all going to teach a Sunday School lesson. "Not Me!" I thought silently to myself. I am not speaking in front of anyone! You are looking at the girl who used to throw up in a garbage can before singing a solo in CHURCH CHOIR! Well, as luck would have it I drew number 1 and was to teach the first lesson. I grumbled all week and honestly only gave it about 50% effort. I had not desire to teach Sunday School. I taught that next Sunday and then Brother Mike critiqued my lesson, pointed out its flaws, and told me to try again the next Sunday. Well...he made me so mad...I went home and thought, "I'll show HIM what a lesson looks like!" I worked all week on my lesson and gave it about 150% this time. On Sunday I delivered a great lesson, and during the week learned that I was selling myself short....I was supposed to be a Sunday School teacher...I have taught ever since...BUT...in this process, I found out that I was supposed to TEACH period. The next week I applied for a student loan...got it...and two weeks later started college to be a teacher. God certainly has a way of working things out. I was still terrified to speak in public...but my first instructor, Mrs. Barbara Campbell, made me feel so at ease...and then before I knew it...I was teaching....and loving it. I had a last found something I was good at, could succeed at, was meant to do...and no one else could make me feel less because of it! What a boost to my ego and self-esteem. I still had a lot of hurdles to overcome...and overcome them I have. I still have moments of self-doubt...but you know...I AM SOMEBODY! I have learned over the past ten years that I AM WORTHY of respect, I AM SPECIAL, I AM LOVEABLE, and I AM GOOD AT WHAT I DO! People listen to me...and God opened that door when I entered AUM. People who did not know me then...cannot believe me when I tell them how whipped I was...but I know what I used to be...I am living proof of the old me dying and the new me coming to life. Sometimes I can't imagine that I was once shy and introverted. Introverted? Me? Get Out of Here....but there once was a time I was...I was the queen of introverts....and sometimes...when I am feeling kind of vulnerable...the Introvert gets a hold of me and only then do I remember...that that was once me. I thank God daily for sending me Frank, who allows me to shine; for giving me Still Magnolias, who allow me to sing my heart out; for giving me the Arbor Praise Band, who allow me to sing my praises to A God who knew I could really be all I could be. My God truly is the Wind Beneath My Wings...and I love this feeling of soaring!

Fashion Shows R Us

So it's no secret that I love buying cute outfits for my kids.

I can't help it.

Some people are all, "I don't bother getting the cute outfits because my kids outgrow it in a month." Not mine. I gave birth to incredibly skinny children who can remain in an outfit for over a year. Heck, my daughter is 2 and she can still fit into some 12-18 clothes.

Anyhow, I have some pictures. It's getting chilly over here which means it's time to break out the fall clothes!



I fell in love with the owl vest and had to have it.





How do I get her to laugh? I jump around and sing creepy Yo Gabba Gabba songs. Yes, my neighbors think I'm crazy. They've walked by several times. One guy shouted, "Nice song!" when I was singing about not biting your friends.

My neighbors also think I'm nuts because I do things like this:



What? So it's not normal to pose in sixteenth century clothing in your front yard? I once went outside and attempted to tend to the plants that I attempted to grow over the summer in this dress hoping that it would make gardening more exciting. It didn't. I was still bored and still wonder what people see in it. I suppose the outcome is nice but the problem is, I can't GET to the outcome. Oh well. And yes, I will be wearing this dress on Halloween. Maybe I'll even curtsy to the kids who come to the door and be like, "How does thou do this evening?"



Then Natalie started a conversation with a stick. Should I be concerned?

***Cue Muzak for the outfit change. La la la why do birds, suddenly appear....***



This would also be perfect for Valentine's Day.



Love this picture even though she seems really attached to those stick things..



She's all, "Yo. If you like these clothes, shop at Crazy8."



Her reaction when I told her we were out of Hershey Kisses. She's all, "WTF woman? You best be getting me some more chocolate."



She's all, "I know. I don't get the purpose of Dancing with the Stars either. If the show went away, there could be so many other shows in its place. It's on the air too much!"

The Cheese Shirt

Okay, so I admit it. I probably don’t dress like a typical Mom. A lot of my shirts depict funny sayings on them which apparently is a big no no to wear if you’re an adult. The people on What Not To Wear claim that worded tees are tacky. Tacky or not, I love them. But at the same time, I don’t want to embarrass my kid. So before we left for Parent Information Night at his school I asked Tommy if I could wear this:



(And if you can’t read backwards, the words say “You Monster!”)

“You can wear that. I like cheese,” Tommy said cheerfully.

Thankfully we didn’t have to take Natalie with us since Tom got home in time. Natalie tends to get insulted whenever we go into Tommy’s classroom because she assumes she’ll also get a desk and a chair. She’ll shout, “Where’s MY chair? WHERE’S MY CHAIR?”

She’s also going through a shy phase. If an adult speaks to her, she’ll instantly cover her face because if she can’t see you, you don’t exist.

Weirdly, she’s not shy around other kids. No, with other kids she marches over and says, “Who you?” to the startled child.

Well, that night I wouldn’t have to worry about Natalie frightening the kids or dodging the adults because she was staying with her Daddy.

“Remember to cut up her hot dog and give her some ketchup,” I told Tom as I grabbed my purse.

Tom rolled his eyes. “You act as though I don’t know how to take care of my own kid.”

Well. Maybe so. But he once stayed home with Natalie and when I came home, the house reeked because Natalie had pooped and he had claimed not to smell it even though his eyes were watering. He says that changing poop diapers makes him gag. I always joke that he’ll risk his life for his country, but heaven forbid a poopy diaper comes at him. It just doesn’t make sense.

Anyhow, Tommy and I went to his school and found seats in the auditorium. The Principal was going to speak before we were able to go to the classrooms. I had sat through this same speech twice before. A lot of people don’t bother to show up until a half hour later when the classroom visits begin—I’d do this but then there is no parking which means you get to park on the dirt and get boxed in.

The thing is, I’m awful at backing out and if you park on the dirt, people practically park on top of you and I know I’d hit something.

So I always come early which means I get to sit through a speech about responsibility from the Principal. She started her speech and I started to find ways of entertaining myself. Sometimes I’ll play Count the Gymboree. This is when I take note of the kids wearing the clothes. I had spotted two and then, oh my God, a family with five kids walked in all clad in Gymboree! Do you want to be my friend? I wanted to call out to the woman.

When the Principal was done, we were able to go to the classrooms. As we walked down the hall, Tommy waved hello to a lot of people. He’s well known because he’s a great kid. And, okay, because in Kindergarten he totally screamed. I’m proud to say he does not do that anymore.

Thank goodness there were adult chairs set up in Tommy’s classroom. It’s a little uncomfortable when the miniature chairs are set up—I mean, I can’t get my entire butt on that thing! I get one ass cheek on and the other hangs off. It’s especially comical to watch tall men sit down on the tiny chairs—their knees are practically up to their cheeks.

“Big people chairs!” I blurted out as I settled down. The woman who sat down beside me raised an eyebrow. Apparently she’s never had the misfortune of sitting in a munchkin seat.

I learned all about the expectations of second grade. When the teacher went over the discipline method—it’s a traffic light and if a kid gets a warning, they go from green to yellow and if they are really naughty, they go to red. Tommy whispered to me, “I’ve only gotten green lights since school started.” He nodded his chin to another little boy sitting with his Mom. “That kid always gets red lights.” I pressed a finger to my lips and Tommy was all, “I was just SAYING…”

Tommy is doing well in school. I’ll find out more during the Parent/Teacher conferences next month but for now, there are no issues which is always a plus. In Kindergarten I dreaded the sound of the telephone ringing because it was usually always the school telling me that Tommy was crying again.

So far, so good…

Life Goes.....and it Sucks!

Just when I thought I had it all under control again....the rug was pulled out from under me. We had to take my dad off of Hospice care when we put him in assisted living...because that is assisted living rules. They cannot be part of Hospice upon entry...and after 30 days they can be placed on Hospice. So...we had to cancel Hospice....and pick up Home Health. What a pain. It is all the same building...just different parts....but all new paper work...what a headache. Anyways...today the Cancer called to tell me my dad had an appointment to discuss his P.E.T. scan and C.A.T. scan from last week...at 10:00...talk about lousy timing...if Peggy (the manager at the Meadows) could not take them....I was going to have to take yet another day off to deal with this. Sigh! I am glad I have a real understanding boss. An hour later the Cancer Center called back...after I had stewed about this new development for an hour...and told me we did not have to come. That depressed me tremendously....because it means there is nothing more they can do. They just wanted to make sure we went back to Hospice at the end of the 30 day period. My mind is racing....will we make 30 days? Are any of us guaranteed 30 days?....are we guaranteed one day? Sigh...I had a butt kicking reality check....my dad is dying and there is nothing I can do about it. We are all born to die....I know this in my head....but my head and heart are not on speaking terms at the moment. My heart is hanging on for that last little glimmer of hope. My head is taking this all very clinically....we are born, we pay taxes, we die...the end. Somewhere in between head and heart...is a wonderful path that I have walked with a very special man for 55 years. It is a path I have loved every step of. For those of you who are out there...hug those you love really good today, and be so grateful you have them with you....no matter for how long. If I have learned nothing from this experience I know now that life is what it is. It is not always good yet how you handle it makes you who you are. I went to see my parents at the Meadows today....just like I always do. My dad seemed out of sorts. He held my hand like a person who is drowning and needs to hang on to something. He kept looking me in the eyes...like he was trying to tell me something. I kept searching his face...looking for a clue. When I got ready to leave....I kissed him...twice today...and told him I would see him tomorrow....his response today was, "maybe." It took my breath away from me. I barely made it to the door befor I came unglued. I realized today...that he needs me to tell him it is ok for him to go. I cried all the way to the house. I don't want him to suffer...but I don't want to live without him either. One of my wants is not going to happen...and the bigger person would let him go...so I am practicing with you guys here tonight.....ok...here goes...."Daddy, I love you with all my heart...and it is ok to leave us when you get ready. I promise to take care of mama." Whew..that was hard...not as hard as telling him face to face is going to be...so please keep me in your prayers and thoughts that I can let him go without him knowing it is killing me inside. I love this man...I wish my own daughter had had a father like him. I am fortunate. God sent me Frank...who is the closest thing I have ever known to my father. NIght all and God Bless!

And I Sat Down and Started Writing.....

Ok, I have big news. I am working on a book. I am so excited about it. I have actually sent a sample to a couple of publishers and they seemed interested. Can you believe it. Have I Got a Story for You....might actually be in print in the next year. I have about 20 chapters down and with the new episode with the ancients have enough material now for a series. On Monday night I was the guest speaker at the Business and Professional Womens monthly meeting. I talked about storytelling and writing, and gave them a small smattering of my quick wit (LOL) and writing styles. It was so much fun just sitting there doing something I love....telling stories. My Uncle Cecil would be so proud of me. I even shared some poetry with them and then finished up with a sample of the 48 hours from hell chapter. All of them wanted to preorder their books last night. My friends Kathy and Carolyn have been after me for a couple of years just to compile my Sunday School lessons into a book for them. I had thought about self-publishing several and just spiral binding them....but for this project...I want it to be done right. Keep your fingers crossed...I doubt I will ever be a New York Times BestSelling Author...with a book tour going...but I do truly believe that I Have Got a Story for You....and you might actually get a little treasure from something I write. I have discovered that there are a lot of people out there...in the same boat I am in...with aging parents, or having lost a sibling, or dealing with a terminal cancer patient, who need to hear that there is someone out there who understands and cares. That Would Be ME! I am on fire now...and can't wait to be signing autographs at the local library someday. How cool would that be? So...since you guys are my audience...you will be my story test audience. I will be watching for you responses....so keep them coming! Love You All....Happy Tuesday!

Natalie is Part Animal

“Your daughter is part animal,” I informed my husband Tom. I had rushed upstairs and found him emerging from the bathroom because he had just enjoyed a leisurely PIP (poop in peace.) I suppose I should at least be grateful that he had done it upstairs so we wouldn’t have to smell the wafts of his creation downstairs. Of course it would be nice if I could enjoy a PIP but whatever, beggars can’t be choosers right?

“Huh?” Tom replied, scratching the side of his head. I really hoped that he washed his hands when he was finished using the bathroom. I read in a magazine that 86% of men admit to not washing their hands after using the toilet. I find this disgusting. Do they not realize that URINE can transfer to their fingers? And thus, if they touch other people or FURNITURE in the house that said urine will get on that? This is why I try not to think about it.

“Your daughter is part animal,” I repeated. “Do you know what she did? I was on the computer writing my novel and all of a sudden I heard this dripping sound. I assumed she was dumping out her sippy cup again and I swirled around and was in the middle of asking her to stop it when I saw her standing over a VENT and PISSING INTO IT!”

Tom started to chuckle.

“It’s not FUNNY!” I shrieked. How could he be laughing? Did he not hear me when I said that his daughter peed into a vent like a common vagrant? How could that not bother him?

Tom quickly wiped the smile from his face for fear of my wrath. “Well,” he said, struggling hard not to laugh. “Why did you take her diaper off?”

I threw my hands up in frustration. “I didn’t! The little minx took it off herself! You know she’s been stripping these days. Which is another issue: should we be concerned? Is she starting to practice early for a future job as an exotic dancer?”

Tom smirked. “I doubt that.”

“So anyhow, you get to clean the pee up,” I added casually, heading downstairs.

Tom was at my heels in an instant. “What?”

“You get to clean the pee up,” I said again. “You got to enjoy a PIP, thus you get to deal with the pee.”

Tom seemed genuinely confused. “That doesn’t seem fair…”

I got to the bottom step and whirled around. Tom nearly collided into me. “Jesus! Don’t just stop like that,” he complained.

“Tom, it’s only fair that you take care of the mess,” I said sweetly. I went into the kitchen and picked up some paper towels and the carpet cleaner.

“But..But..” Tom sputtered as I placed the towels in his baffled hand.

I pointed out the vent that Natalie had mistaken for her potty. Maybe she needs glasses?

“I peed,” Natalie told us grandly as we entered the room. She was sitting naked in the living room, coloring a picture.

“Natalie peed in the vent!” Tommy tattled.

“Make sure you get all the pee. I’m not sure if the liquid will like, cause the house to blow up when the furnace kicks on,” I told Tom. Obviously I’ve been watching too many action movies. It’s not my fault. Tom always puts on True Lies whenever he sees it on cable.

“This is so gross. Ew, there’s pee surrounding the vent too!” Tom whined. “Natalie, sweets, what were you doing, writing out a signal?”

Natalie looked up and grinned. “I peed!”

“Maybe she was trying to spell out her name,” I said jokingly.

Tom was not amused. “Oh, laugh it up.” He made a face as he started dabbing the pee with the paper towel. “This is so gross. It’s still WARM!”

Please. How can he find that disgusting? If he wants disgusting, he should try cleaning a diaper where the poo has gone up the back. THAT’S disgusting because you’re not quite sure where to start when that occurs. But sopping up some pee? That’s nothing.

Tom opened the vent and stuck his hand down to scrub off the liquid. “When I pictured myself as adult, I never pictured doing this,” he fumed as he struggled to wipe up everything.

“Welcome to my world!” I said sweetly. When I pictured myself as an adult, I never thought I’d utter phrases like, “Penises belong in your pants,” (spoken to both my son and husband, I’m sad to admit..) and “We don’t suck on rocks.”

Children definitely bring plenty of surprises, that’s for sure.

But I don’t mind.

It gives me something to write about, after all.

I'm Back!

Well, it has been two weeks since I took my parents to The Meadows on Hillabee. I have made a conscious effort to visit them every day...sometimes I will sit and watch television with them for an hour or so, other days I plan my visits so I can leave when they go to dinner and I am only there for 30 minutes. The point is I visit and make sure to hug them and tell them I love them each day. My mom is still wanting to come home but those comments are fewer and farther between. My dad has no clue where he is. He is content to eat, sleep, and watch tv. I did not realize until yesterday how much this whole episode in my life has taken out of me....I was sitting in church and Brother Bill was talking about the "Word that Never Comes Back...Now." I sat there and got a little misty eyed when I thought of my now. My now consists of meeting my parents needs, my husbands needs, my spiritual needs and I am drowning. On my way to Waverly church - to sing and hear my sweet Frank preach...I heard the song Cry Out to Jesus by Third Day. I love to hear Mac Powell sing. He really does not have a great voice...but it is a powerful voice...it sounds as if he is really dealing with the pain he sings of. I sat in the back seat of Carolyn and Phil's car, listened to the song and had a small come apart. Frank preached on Freedom and I felt as if God was pointing his finger at me going....You! I realized that I have not been nurturing myself these last couple of weeks. I have been so busy taking care of everyone else I was missing myself. So, today is Monday....a new start to a new week....and I am putting myself back on track. I have wants, needs, desires, and feelings too...and they count!. I will be back reading posts and commenting this week....so watch out blogging world....the new and improved Karen is BACK! Happy Monday!

Some Exciting News

“Whooooooooo!” Tom bellowed as he walked through the front door. He had his arms waving victoriously in the air.

He startled me, to be honest. I was in the middle of drinking water and I nearly choked on it. I mean, you don’t just come bursting through the door shrieking. It’s just not cool.

“Guess what?” Tom sang at me. He looked positively thrilled and I half expected him to do a pirouette, which by the way, would have been hilarious. My husband is six feet tall so watching his limbs twist around would be a sight to see.

“You got expert?” I wondered. I knew he had just come home from firing his gun and he usually always gets expert.

“No. I mean, yes I did but that’s not why I’m happy,” Tom said, standing in front of me. I could smell his breath. It did not smell good. Has he not heard of Tic Tacs?

“Then why are you happy?” I asked impatiently. At this point I had been stuck inside with a cranky two year old and my son had come home from school grumpy and I had just burned my finger while cooking dinner. I was not in the mood to guess.

“What would make you incredibly happy?” Tom replied. He had a goofy grin on his face.

I stroked my chin. “Hmmmm. For the Gosselin family to go away and for there to be no such things are calories,” I answered.

Tom made a face. “No. Something else,” he said, twirling his arm impatiently.

I scratched the side of my head. “Um….not to move?” (For those who don’t know, Tom got orders to a base in Montana and we were planning on moving next month.)

“Yes,” Tom said, his goofy grin expanding.

My face brightened. “Yes as in…we’re not moving?” I was practically doing a happy dance. My feet started to tap on the carpet and a goofy grin was beginning to form on MY face.

“My orders were cancelled. We’re staying here,” Tom said proudly.

I whooped and jumped in his arms. He smelled like dog and gun powder but I didn’t care. We were staying! We didn’t have to move!

This is apparently what happened: see, Tom is a K-9 Handler and he called the base in Montana to make sure he’d get a dog when we got there. The guy told him that he couldn’t promise that which confused Tom because the reason he got orders there was because they needed handlers. So then Tom told his boss and his boss said he’d look into it.

To make a long story short, apparently the base in Montana forgot to update their lists. Basically the list that said that they needed handlers was over a year old.

I’m thrilled. I was thrilled when Tom told me. I kept squealing and then I said something like, “We need to thank your boss. What does he want? Does he want a two-year-old? Or maybe he’d prefer a boy? Tommy, you’re going to go live with a nice man!” I called out.

Tommy looked up from the book he was reading with a start. “WHAT?” he shrieked.

I laughed. “I’m kidding. But really, we need to do something. I’m going to write him a letter and bake him cookies!” I rushed into the kitchen to check and make sure that we had the ingredients.

“I thought you wanted to thank him?” Tom said, following me in.

I rooted through the cupboards. We have a lot of crap in there. When in the WORLD did I pick up minced onion?

“I do want to thank him, Tom. I need to make sure we have the stuff to make chocolate chip cookies,” I explained, pulling out a bag of chocolate chips. Yes! Score! One ingredient down, er…maybe eight more to go?

“Cooking for him seems like a punishment. I’ve tasted your cookies,” Tom pointed out.

I swatted his arm with the chips. “You be nice! I’ll make the best cookies ever.”

I ended up writing Tom’s boss a thank you letter and giving him some cookies, which by the way, turned out really good.

I just want him to understand how grateful we are.

We get to stay!

Stop Yelling!

Okay.

Everyone is yelling.

Why is everyone yelling?

For starters, my son was upset because I accidentally picked up Cinnamon Toast Crunch when he wanted Froot Loops. He looked at the box with disgust and went, “What’s THIS? I wanted Froot Loops?

I reminded him to watch his tone. And I said, “Look, I’m not a short order cook.”

He said, “I know! You barely cook at all!”

Touché, son. Touché.

But still, I told him that he needed to be grateful for what he had because some kids get nothing for breakfast.

“I guess I’ll eat the Cinnamon Toast Crunch,” Tommy sighed. “But I won’t be happy about it.”

Fine.

Then my daughter had a famous two-year-old meltdown. It was the over the same thing I wrote about yesterday. She asked for some oatmeal so I made some. I brought it to the table and said it was ready.

“No THANKS!” Natalie shrieked, arms crossing her chest.

“You have to eat,” I urged. Seriously, Natalie is nearly two and a half and is only about 21 pounds.

“No THANKS MOMMEEEEEEEEEE!” Natalie shouted.

Does anyone want to borrow her for a few hours?

“Fine. I’ll eat the oatmeal,” I said and scooped up the bowl and took a big bite. “Mmmmm,” I said dramatically. I even rubbed my stomach for emphasis.

Natalie instantly took offense.

“Hey! THAT’S MINE! THAT’S MINEEEEEEEEEE!”

Who talks that loudly at eight in the morning? Who has the strength?

Apparently my daughter does.

Then she came hurling at me and I thought she might bite my ankles. Instead she stuck her face against my knee and whimpered, “That’s mine.”

So I offered it to her.

“NO THANKS!” she yelled, backing away as though I were offering her gruel.

We played this song and dance for about a half hour. Then Natalie decided that yes, she was hungry and took all of three bites.

At least it’s something.

Then my car yelled at me. Well, sort of. It’s a hybrid and the display turns this angry shade of blue if you’re using the gas too much. It turns a festive happy shade of green when you’re being kind to the Earth. Look, I’m all for being kind to the Earth but sometimes I have to put my foot on the gas. Sorry car, but I do. I was driving to Target and the display turned blue and I went,

“Why is everyone being so MEAN today?”

I got home and put Natalie down for her nap. She wasn’t pleased. She yelled some more. When she finally went down I went on my WiiFit. The thing told me I had gained two pounds and asked me why.

“Because I bought some pecan pie and consumed nearly all of it myself,” I told it in a snippy tone.

Then Tom came home and whined because he didn’t like what I was making for dinner.

“You’ll eat it and you’ll like it,” I said through clenched teeth.

Basically, I had a long day.

But I perked up.

Why?

Because I found this in my mailbox:



A book can always make me happy.

I bet Nicholas Sparks doesn’t complain about his wife’s cooking.

Life with a Two Year Old

Help!

For the love of chocolate, help!

My daughter is posessed.



She'll ask me for something, right? So I'll bring it to her. Then she'd decide that she doesn't want it. So I'll put it back.

Then she does this:



She'll be like, "FOOL! Did I TELL you to put it back?" Her arms will immediately cross and she'll look offended.

EVEN THOUGH SHE TOLD ME SHE DIDN'T WANT THE ITEM!

So fine, I'll bring the thing back. Sometimes it's food, sometimes it's a toy...

And she does this:



What does she want from me?

Is she PMSing early?

I DON'T KNOW WHAT SHE WANTS!

So I take the thing away.

And she does THIS:



Maybe she has short term memory loss and didn't realize that she asked for the item in the first place?

Maybe she HAS been posessed.

Or...maybe she's just being two.

Memories Can Be Amazing

Most of you have no clue who Tennessee Ernie Ford is....but I do. He was one of my dad's favorite singers and therefore I loved him too. I remember hearing his voice come drifting across the radio my dad loved to listen to on the weekend and one of the songs I loved the most was called "Sixteen Tons." I think it was one of the earliest songs I learned to play on the guitar. This is a song about the life of a coal miner. I thought the lyrics were great. There was a verse that said, "If you see me coming better step aside. A lot of men didn't and a lot of men died. One fist is iron and the other one steel, if the right one don't get you then the left one will." My dad and I would croon out this song and when we would get to that verse he would grin, wink, and ball up his fists and hold them up. You would have to know my dad to grasp the brevity of this. My dad never even spanked me as a child...the odds of him hitting someone, anyone with his fists is hysterical. I remember one time when I was in trouble....my dad came home from work, my mom told him how horrible I had been and that he needed to spank me. He took me into their bedroom, pulled his huge electricians belt off (which terrified me), and slapped the bed with it about four times. I was so scared that I cried out the first time, "No daddy!" My mom was probably listening at the door to make sure I would get my just rewards...gloating I am sure...well...the beating was done....I was none the worse for wear....everyone was happy....my dad didn't have to spank me, my mom thought I was punished thoroughly, and I missed the bullet to live and play another day. I always thought my dad looked like Tennessee Ernie Ford...and they do have some similar features....but looking back at him today...I was surprised at how much they DON'T look alike...funny what we think and remember as kids. I thought I would introduce you to the smooth stylings of Tennessee Ernie Ford. Enjoy and Happy Hump Day!

A Little Praise

I was mad.

I’m not going to lie.

I was also annoyed. How could he stroll inside and not even notice? How was he able to pull off his stinky boots and plop right down in front of the computer without saying anything?

I pressed my lips together in a tight line. I was trying to keep my anger inside even though I could feel it bubbling, desperate to come out. Maybe he’d say something in a few minutes. Maybe he just had to unwind.

But then an hour passed.

This is when I realized that he didn’t even notice that I had mowed the lawn, which by the way, is not the easiest thing in the world to do. I had mowed the lawn even though it was HIS job—I had done it to be nice because that’s just the kind of wife I am. And okay, I also did it because I had consumed three slices of pizza and I needed to burn it off. It’s not my fault! Pizza is my weakness.

I had assumed Tom would come home from work and realize that the grass was cut. Then he was supposed to burst through the door and shout, “Sweet wife of mine, thank you ever so much for doing the lawn!”

Okay.

So he wouldn’t exactly say it like that.

He’d probably say something like, “The lawn is done. Cool.”

But I got nothing.

This irritated me because Tom practically expects a song and dance when he takes out the trash. Let’s not even mention that taking out the trash is one of his chores to begin with. But when he actually does it he’ll say, “I took out the trash,” and look at me expectantly as though I’m meant to toss my arms around his neck and shriek, “Thank you, my Manly Man for getting rid of our rubbish!”

I usually praise him. I admit it. On Dr. Phil I saw some husbands moan that they’d do more around the house if they felt appreciated.

But the thing is, sometimes I don’t feel appreciated. Do I get praise when I change a disgusting diaper? I mean, some of those are horrible and I sometimes wonder if it’s entirely healthy to be breathing in fumes like that.

Do I get praise for vacuuming? Sometimes I do get a, “It looks different in here. Wait, I think it’s because it’s CLEAN!” and I’m not sure how to take that.

So fine, I’ve made peace with the fact that I may not always get a celebration when I do things.

But when I mow the yard, manual LABOR, I expect some sort of recognition. I mean, I SWEAT when I did it. I was nearly attacked by a bee who was pissed that I mowed away some of his flowers. It tried to sting me, I swear it did, and I went tearing across the lawn screaming, “BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” Then I went back to the mower that I could have just abandoned. But I’m a tough soldier, I have to finish what I start.

I went over to my husband who was starting up a game on the computer.

“Did you notice anything different?” I asked sweetly.

Tom blinked at me as he pulled out his headphones. “A new…shirt?” he guessed, looking a little nervous. No man likes to be asked about what he notices because it’s usually very different than what the woman is talking about. Like one time I pointed out this woman with neon yellow hair and I went, “Look at her,” and Tom went, “I know! She has huge breasts! I’m surprised she hasn’t fallen over!”

“Tom, I’ve had this shirt for years,” I said with a sigh.

“Could you just tell me then?” Tom practically begged.

I gestured to the front door.

“Did you paint?” Tom was flabbergasted.

I was close to jumping up and down in frustration. “Did you notice anything when you pulled up?” I wondered.

Tom frowned. He was contemplating this and coming up blank. “You cleaned the garage?” he replied hopefully.

Cleaned the garage? No, I’m mad at the garage. I went in there to organize and it attacked me. All sorts of boxes came toppling down on my head and that’s just not cool.

“The lawn, Tom!” I shrieked. My patience was gone and I needed to give the kids a bath.

“Did you put the feed down on it?” Tom inquired.

The FEED?

“I mowed it! I mowed the lawn! I was attacked by an angry bee and I got all sweaty and nearly mowed my foot off!” I yelled.

Okay, that last bit wasn’t true but I was going for a dramatic story.

“Oh. Thank you,” Tom said, turning towards his game.

That’s it?

“That’s it?” I blurted out.

“Thank you very much,” Tom tried again.

I stared at him.

“You’re the best wife ever,” Tom said.

I grinned. “Thank you for saying so! You’re too kind!” Then I walked away, satisfied in my praise.

“You’re weird!” Tom called out as I went up the stairs.

“You’d be bored if I were normal!” I answered.

“This is true,” Tom shouted back without missing a beat.

Singing for Two Sitting Presidents

Yesterday was a good day and today is going to be good too. Story number two is that I have sung for two sitting presidents. I attended Belvedere Elementary School in West Palm Beach, FL. We had a music teacher named Miss Murphy and we would put on these cute little programs throughout the year. The year I was in second grade we put on a Veteran's Day program and President John F. Kennedy and his family sat in the audience and watched us sing. I thought that was pretty cool because I thought he was the handsomest man I had ever seen....except for my dad. I was very sad and will always remember the year he was shot. It is one of those moments you will never forget. As a child I remembered how loving he seemed with his little girl and son. The Kennedy family has had to endure a number of very tragic moments throughout the years. I used to love to ride by the Kennedy compound in Palm Beach just for a glimpse of them...it never happened. The only glimpses I ever got were in magazines, on the television, and in the newspapers. Many years later, when I was in high school at Forest Hill, I sang with the First United Methodist youth choir called New Dawn. It was an awesome experience to sing with New Dawn. It was in the choir that I learned I had a pretty decent voice and began using it in public. Before that I sang for family and friends only. Anyways, there was a huge concert at the Leaky Teepee (the Civic Center) that combined all of the local church youth choirs and sitting in the audience was President Richard M. Nixon. I actually had a solo for this performance and could see him and all his entourage sitting on the front row while I sang. I was so nervous that I am surprised he did not hear my knees knocking in the microphones. Years after this Mr. Nixon fell from grace and it saddened me that such a powerful political figure could do all the terrible things the news said he did. After I heard Chuck Colson speak about the Watergate Trial and the various roles people had at a conference later in my life I was saddened again because I was so naive about government officials and their abuse of power. But, no matter who he was...I sang for him while he was the President of the United States and it was a memorable experience. Have a Terrific Tuesday...I am planning to!