Why I Always Lock My Office Door

I should know by now that working with people requires careful wording.  Yesterday I asked one of my case managers to put a box of stuffed animals into my office for a family engagement event that we had at work this morning.  Well, she put the animals in my office, just not exactly how I expected.  I'm thinking she didn't do this alone, although I have yet to pin down the exact culprits yet.  Take a look at what I saw when I opened my door:

Dear God, it looks like a smiley face exploded in my office!

Perhaps these guys will be my new case managers, after I clean house this week!

Aw... a little runner lion, just for me!

Apparently they like to organize community resources, as well as toys and cleaning supplies!

Apparently a few want to work community outreach events!  I'll keep this in mind next time I have to "gently persuade" someone to volunteer for a Saturday morning!  

Thanks, girls.  Even though you made a mess of my office, it was an easily cleanable one, and it certainly made me laugh! 

Now come on and fess up!  Who assisted Lisa?  I know she wasn't alone!

(Oh, and a big thank you to Kohl's too.  They donated those animals as well as a ton of really nice books.  They have donated time and goods to us often over the last few years.  What a great store!)

Clean Up Your Act

I have people ask me for tips on organization from time to time and I have thought about writing a post about it for the last few years.  Actually, I've started posts several times and deleted them, because I thought maybe no one would really want to read more about my OCD cleaning and organizing.  I certainly post enough about it!  Yesterday, another one of my friends asked for some tips and I decided to throw caution to the wind and post the entry!  It doesn't get much more exciting than this, kids!

I am probably more organized than a lot of people, but I'm really not the most organized person ever.  I have a system of doing things, but it doesn't include labels (except for on stuff that is in big storage bins) or multi-color dry erase boards.  The truth is that sometimes my closets get a little cluttered.  Sometimes I will let three weeks go by before dusting the second floor.  The desk in my front room has been known to collect a small pile of papers on occasion.   I don't sweep the kids crumbs from the floor around the kitchen table every day.  In fact, some days I don't wipe the table off until we are ready to eat dinner! Our computer desk has a glass top, which shows ever smudge imaginable, and I only wipe it off once a week.  No one is perfect.  Everyone needs to let things go every now and then, but I try to keep up with most of the household needs on a regular basis.  While it may feel like a lot of work at first, it's really a lot less work to maintain a clean and organized house (and lifestyle) than it is to start from scratch repeatedly by taking on massive clean-out projects.  I always prepare for the work/school week in advance, and I never skip out on cleaning tasks for any length of time.  The most important thing, in my opinion, is finding your own perfect system with just the right level of intensity.  So here is what I do.  You can take from it what you want:

• Lists, lists, lists.  Does this surprise you at all?  Lists are so useful for keeping track of things...unless, of course, you misplace or misuse lists and they end up scattered amidst the rest of the clutter in your house!  I have three lists on my fridge at any given time.  
• My grocery list, which I add to as I see that I am running low or out of any items.
• My seasonal cleaning list - a list of things I need to do for spring or fall cleaning, like wiping down the floorboards, washing the windows, cleaning out the china closet - things you don't do on a weekly basis, but still need to be done regularly.
• My weekly cleaning list.  I actually have two lists that I have in a Word document on the computer.  Some tasks I do every week, like cleaning out the kitchen sink, cleaning the bathrooms, vacuuming and mopping the first floor, etc.   Other items I do every other week, like changing the sheets, dusting the second floor, dusting the blinds, etc.  I have printed out a few months worth of lists and I alternate which one I am using.  I also hand write any additional tasks that need to be done on the list throughout the week, like "buy so-and-so's birthday gift."  I don't wait until the weekend to tackle the weekly cleaning list.  Instead, I try to do a little each day, and cross it off as I go.  That way, I only have a few things left on the weekend to do and I'm not a slave to cleaning every Saturday and Sunday.  
• I keep cleaning supplies handy.  There are paper towels, rags and spray bottles in both bathrooms, in my kitchen and in the game room, so that I don't have to go looking for anything when I need it.  That way, if I am all the way in the attic and I suddenly feel like I need to spritz and wipe something down, I don't have to go all the way down to the first floor.  No excuses, the supplies are right there, the cleaning is done quickly and painlessly, and it's done before I walk away and forget about it, which lately is becoming more and more of an issue! 
• I do laundry almost every day.  Really, laundry is something that should not pile up.  It's not time consuming at all, if you do it right.  Hell, the machines to all the work! You just have to wait for them to be done.  I throw a load in the washer before I go to bed and then toss it into the dryer when I get up and fold it when I get home from work.  Or I'll throw a load in the washer when I get home from work, into the dryer before I go to bed and fold it in the morning when I get up while I wait for my coffee to kick in.  Folding laundry is something you can easily do half asleep.  I've proven this many times over!  
• On Sundays I iron outfits for school and work for both of the boys and for myself. That way I am not trying to figure out what to wear in the morning during the week.  Sometimes I will do 2 weeks of clothes for Andrew at a time, because he has that many clothes, and then it's 7 less outfits to iron the following week.  Plus, then I know that I am rotating and wearing out all of his clothing equally.  I only iron Jake's school uniforms and my work clothes.  Leisure clothing for the two of us can either be worn wrinkled or ironed as needed!
• Each night before I go to bed, I lay out clothes for all three of us, as well as any accessories we may need.  I pack lunches, and place anything that we need to take with us on the kitchen counter so I don't forget it.  I also program the coffee pot.  There's nothing worse than trying to coordinate scooping grounds and pouring the water, then waiting for your coffee in the morning! 
• As for lunches, I prepare as much of them on Sundays as I can as well.  I make myself 5 salads and put them in Pyrex bowls.  I cut up 5 days worth of fruit and veggies and put them into travel containers or baggies for myself and the boys too.  Sometimes I make a double batch of hummus and divide it among little containers too.  Depending on what the "main dish" is, I may or may not be able to prepare it on Sunday.  I can always prepare it the night before, though, and the "night before routine" has repeatedly proven to be one of the best habits I have.  On the days that I found an excuse not to prepare before bed, I am rushed in the morning and I inevitably forget stuff.
• Before I go grocery shopping, I clean out my fridge.  It's an easy way to survey our needs.  It keeps the fridge clean, and it helps cut down on waste, because I can easily see what food we have to eat.  I decide on three or four meals for the week and write them on a chalk board in my kitchen.  I make my grocery list based on my meal plan.  After I make the meals, I erase them from the board.  This prevents buying stuff that I don't need (and therefore end up wasting), helps us maintain healthy eating habits, and keeps me from wondering what to make for dinner.  Sometimes I don't remember what I planned for or what I have ingredients for.  I look on the board, see what I have to choose from and viola!  Dinner!  
• 3 ring binders can be your friend.  I use them to hold recipes, the kids archived artwork and school projects, etc.  
• Donate!  Donate!  Donate!  I clean things out on a regular basis.  I am always going through closets, cabinets, clothes, desks drawers, and toys.  If I haven't used something in 6 months or over several seasons, I toss it.  When I get out my seasonal clothing, if I didn't wear something all winter last year, it gets donated.  What's the point of holding on to something that you aren't using?  It's just taking up space, collecting dust and maybe someone else can use it.  Nothing feels better than getting rid of stuff, in my opinion!  I regularly clean out our desks and closets, reorganizing them and wiping the shelves.  It not only feels good to get rid of things, it also helps avoid waste too.  I can easily see what I have and what I need.  It keeps me from buying stuff that I don't need an ensures that I use the things I have.  
• Designate areas for your things.  I have an art supply cupboard in my dining room for the boys.  All of our games and old kid stuff is in the closet in the game room.  The dresser and closet in our spare bedroom are for our seasonal clothing.  Everyone has varying amounts of space, but everyone has the ability to organize. It's just a matter of how.  
• Every year in December, I get a daily planner.  I still prefer the old fashioned paper and pencil kind.  I go through it, write down every birthday, holiday, early school closing, vacation, etc that I know of.  I carry it with me like my long lost twin sister.  When anything new comes up, I write it down immediately.  If I don't write it, I will definitely forget it.
• Some things I do every day, out of sheer habit - putting away toys at the end of the night, cleaning off my kitchen counters, scooping the cat box, sorting through mail and the kids school papers.  Why let stuff pile up?  If you do these things a little each day, then the house stays relatively clean, stress levels stay low, your mind is clear, and really, what's better than that?! 

And that's pretty much my routine in a nutshell.  What do you do to stay on top of things? Do you think I'm crazy or are you more organized than me?   Do you have any suggestions to fine tune my routine?  

Baby Brynn

Baby Brynn was born yesterday afternoon.  7 pounds, 13 ounces and 20.5 inches long, she's nothing but perfect.  I was able to drive to Pittsburgh today to meet her.  She barely made a peep, happily sleeping through the afternoon.  My niece Ella was so proud, and was such a doting and gentle big sister.  We can't wait to watch this little one grow and see what she has in store for us! 

Big sister Ella checks out Baby Brynn's tiny toes.  

"All this talk about me is boring me! YAWN!"

Sound asleep, blissfully unaware of the fuss around her.

Sisterly love, right from the start.

"Don't worry, Brynn.  When Mom and Dad try to make you eat vegetables, I'll show you how to slip them to the cat without anyone noticing."

Ten little finger and ten little toes...

A good little Catholic girl, already saying her prayers.

Unwanted House Guests

My sister went into labor yesterday morning.  Naturally, my parents gathered their things and headed over to Pittsburgh to be there for the birth of their 4th grandchild.  While Megan was busy laboring away, the boys and I were at home, eagerly awaiting the news...oh, and taking care of my mom's dogs. 

They are two of the laziest, fattest, stinkiest creatures ever.

Actually, they're very sweet hearted creatures, but eh...I guess I'm just not a dog person.  I like dogs.  I think they are cute, and if I see one, unless it is bearing big ugly teeth and bristled fur, I will likely pet it.    I just don't really like taking care of dogs.  I like other people's dogs.   I definitely don't want my own.  We took them for a walk yesterday afternoon and they each pooped twice in a 20 minute span of time!  Is there anything nastier than scooping up turds in a plastic bag and toting them around town?  O.M.G.

I scooped the poop, but I made Jacob carry the bag, which he found to be utterly disgusting, and Andrew found to be absolutely hysterical.  Two years ago, Andrew was obsessed with the phrase "poopy butt."  He called everyone and everything a "poopy butt."  It was a long journey to erase that phrase (or at least minimize it) from his vocabulary.  Not surprisingly, it resurfaced yesterday.  

The cat was not very pleased with our house guests either.  He took several steps down the stairs, looked through the railing and all but said, "What the f*** is that?!"  He then refused to come back downstairs when the dogs were in the house.  Luckily, the weather was nice, and they were able to spend a little time on the porch while Sam came downstairs, ate and used his litter box.  Thank goodness for small favors!

Really, I don't mind taking care of the dogs.  The kids love them and they're pretty well trained.   I just hope she doesn't leave them to me in her will!  

Now, what you've all been waiting for...

Baby Brynn, fresh from the womb!  Isn't she sweet?  I'm headed over to the 'Burgh today to see her in person, and I can promise lots of real pictures will be posted soon.  

Now that's a better deal than a dog any day, if you ask me! 

Break the Fever

Really, there has been no reason to experience cabin fever this winter.  It's been one of the mildest in history, with temperatures falling in the high 30's and low 40's pretty consistently since December.  We only had one significant snowfall, and it warmed up enough in the days following that there is no trace of snow left.  It's a dream for me, because I hate the cold of winter.  I also especially hate shoveling snow and dealing with ice.  I'm grateful for the break, but I still felt a little itchy yesterday.  I have been spending my weekends and evenings cleaning out closets and getting a jump start on my spring cleaning and I needed a day of activity.  I wanted to take the boys swimming, but the Y's schedule didn't fit with ours, so that plan didn't work out.  Bowling or a movie just didn't fit the bill either.  Falling short on my plans of creating a wonderfully exciting day for me and the boys, we opted to take a stroll around town instead.  It wasn't exactly what I was hoping for, but it got us outside for about an hour, exposed us to sunlight and fresh air, and allowed the boys (and me) to blow off some steam.  

Pausing for a rest on the dilapidated steps of Highland Hall.

Ice cream sandwich, the perfect snack for a 40 degree day!

Mmm...sugar.

"Hey, Mom.  What are you eating?"

Don't all boys love big guns?

Yo. Shoot this baby!

Crawling on monuments, a great pass time!

"Excuse me, lady.  What book are you reading?"

"Here, Honey. Take these.  It's sunny out today."

What do you do for cabin fever?  Any suggestions for future flare ups?

Quinoa Burgers

Thanks to my friend Dorie, I have some new Quinoa recipes to try.  Last night I defrosted some vegetarian split pea soup that I had made a few months ago and paired it with quinoa burgers.  It was a good combination.  When I looked at the recipe a few weeks ago, I thought, "Oh yeah, those will be easy.  I always have all of those ingredients on hand."  So, I went to the grocery store without revisiting the recipe.   Of course, when I went to make the burgers, I did NOT have all of the ingredients it called for.  I just made some simple substitutions and I think they turned out well.  I didn't put them on a bun, because I'm not a big bread eater.  I just smeared some mayo on top of them and ate them plain.  I will say that the recipe makes a TON of burgers.  Had I known that it was going to make 12 burgers, I would have cut the recipe in half.  I put some in a Pyrex container for today's dinner and sectioned out the remaining "batter"into wax paper and froze it.  I don't know how it will be when I thaw it.  Fingers crossed.

So, if you were looking for a new Quinoa recipe - here's what I did.  You can click the recipe title to go the the blog it came from and see the original.  She has a lot of good recipes to look at, and I recommend visiting the site.

Quinoa Burgers  (my version)

• 2 rounded cups cooked quinoa (put 1 cup uncooked quinoa into a pan with 2 cups of water and a dash of salt.  Simmer for about 15 minutes or until liquid is absorbed)
• 1/2 cup Chobani plain Greek yogurt
• 3/4 cup shredded Swiss cheese
• 1 medium carrot, grated
• 3 eggs
• 3 tablespoons quinoa flour
• 1/8 red onion, finely chopped
• 1jalapeno pepper, chopped
• 1 packet of splenda (a little less than 1/2 tsp)
• 1/4 tsp black pepper
• 1/4 tsp cumin
• 1/8 tsp salt
• 1/8 tsp garlic powder
• olive oil for frying

Combine all the ingredients in a large bowl.  Heat oil in a pan for frying.  Use a 1/4 cup measuring cup to spoon out the batter (I say batter because it is very liquidy, a little thicker than pancake batter).  Drop into hot oil and flatten it some.  Cook for 3-4 minutes on each side.  I placed mine on a paper towel when they were done, but they actually weren't very greasy.  

She gave me another recipe for quinoa stew with butternut squash to try soon as well.  I'll let you know how it fares!  

Bon Appetit!  

Kick The Bucket

My bucket list has kicked the bucket.

Or maybe I should say that the sole item I had on my bucket list has kicked it.  The only thing I have truly wanted to do for the last few years was to run a marathon.  I talked about it a lot, but I never actually raced until I ran the half marathon in Pittsburgh last May.  It only took one race to get me hooked.  I ran a few more local races and then, despite some hip pain, I signed up for Pittsburgh's full marathon in May.   I was sure I could work through the injury.  I was wrong.  I didn't work through the injury.  Four months later, it's no better.  In fact, it's worse.   I'm not running at all.  I haven't run since before Christmas, and my last run was a meager 3 miles which caused excruciating pain afterwards.  No, I will certainly not be able to run the marathon in May.  I don't think I could even run around the block right now.

It's troubling for a lot or reasons, many of which I have already shared with you over and over and over.  I love to run.  It's my time alone, my time in the sun (even when the sun isn't out!), my time to work through my stresses or just focus on my blessings.  Without it, I feel stressed and depressed.  Couple that with the fact that I hate what is happening to my aging body and spreading ass, and I have become somewhat of a grump lately.  I had been debating over and over whether or not I should sell my bib or try to make a go for the race.  I have finally come to the conclusion that I need to throw in the towel and sell the bib. I'm not running.  Damn it.

The question now is what do I do with myself?  I'm not ready to toss my love of running completely, but I realize that it has to be replaced at least temporarily.  As much as I scoffed at walking, I have been walking during my lunch hour at work recently.   It's not the same as running, but it is helpful.  I find myself often suppressing the urge to break into a run, which then kind of puts salt in the "I'm not running" wound, but at least I am moving.  I am getting time outside in fresh air, and I'm giving myself time to think.  It's hardly a workout.  It's not trimming my ass, but it's clearing my mind a little.  That's good enough for now.

I don't know what my running replacement will be.  Maybe something will come to me on a walk.  In the meantime, while thinking about my shit canned bucket list, I realized that I really don't have a true bucket list.  Is that normal?  I mean, if someone asked you what you really wanted to do before you die, would you have a list of pressing items?  I don't.  There are things I would like to do, but if I kicked my own bucket tomorrow, I don't know that I'd feel unfulfilled or be unhappy.  I think I'm pretty content over all.  I mean, I guess if I were dead, I wouldn't have much choice about being happy or not...oh wait, I think we already discussed this on my last blog post!  Anyway, I'm thinking about having a bucket list and what I should put on it, not for any official reason, just to see what my desires are.  What I've realized is not at all surprising - I'm not a very exciting person.  I don't want to skydive or bungee jump.  I don't want to scuba dive in open water.   I'm looking for items with a little safer flare.  Who cares if I'm boring.  It's my life, and my bucket list.  I like boring anyway!  Here's what I've come up with so far:

• Travel more - to places I haven't been.  I've been all over Europe and it's beautiful.  I've been all over the eastern U.S and it's beautiful too.  I want to go somewhere exotic and visit continents I've never seen - maybe the Australian Outback, Africa, or Brazil.  I'd like to see spectacular waterfalls and landscapes and be awed by nature, but not alone.  I want to take Greg with me, and maybe some friends, and maybe (just maybe) the boys too.
• I would love to see more of my own country - check out Alaska's glaciers and Northern Lights, go to the Grand Canyon, see Old Faithful, maybe eat some authentic Cajun food in New Orleans while listening to jazz.  OK, actually, I don't really care that much for jazz.  Maybe New Orleans isn't where I should go.  Perhaps San Francisco is a better bet, or Denver or Nashville. 
• Swim with dolphins - but in a controlled environment.  I think I would freak out and be afraid of Flipper taking a chomp out of my arm if I did it in the wild.  
• Learn to dance - not goofy line dances or ballroom dancing.  Dances that I can do to any music, any time and not look like an idiot be-bopping mindlessly on the dance floor.  I'd like to learn to dance so that I don't have to be drunk to feel cavalier enough about my appearance to actually get up and move.

And that's all I can come up with.  Sad isn't it?  

What about you?  Do you have a bucket list?  What's on it?  I need some ideas and inspiration! 

I Want to Believe

The statement that “I am Catholic” needs to be taken with a grain of salt. My mother was raised Catholic, and I was born into a Catholic family. I was baptized in the Catholic Church and went to parochial school for kindergarten and first grade. I made my first communion at the end of first grade, and that pretty much sums up my official knowledge of the church. My mom hauled us to CCD from time to time in elementary school. She took us to Christmas and Easter masses and to a handful of sporadic mid-year church services as well. I never completed CCD. I was never confirmed. Church just wasn’t a huge part of my upbringing. It’s not that my mom wasn’t a faithful person; just that she didn’t push religion on us.

By the time I was in high school, I stopped believing in God all together. The whole concept just felt a little too far fetched for me. As I got older, I softened my opinion and slowly reclaimed my faith the in the possibility of the existence of a higher power. By the time I graduated college, I had actually begun praying again, but on my own, not with an affiliation to any one particular church. I felt like organized religion was just mankind’s way of making sense of something beyond ourselves. I still feel that way to a degree, although now I also see the benefits of worshiping as a group.

When Jake was born, for reasons stemming from both my family and from myself, I felt the need to baptize the baby.  I met with the priest from the Catholic Church down the street wearing as much mental armor as I could muster. I wasn’t confirmed. My first marriage was not in a Catholic church, and I was divorced. I hadn’t gone to confession or taken Communion since 4th grade, and I hadn’t attended mass for over a decade. I fully expected him to impose a myriad of ridiculous requirements on me just so that I could baptize my child. I was so overwhelmed with just getting through daily life at that point that I had already decided that any demands the priest made were going to be my excuse for once again abandoning the Catholic church.

My preconceived notions couldn’t have been any more wrong. Father Gardner requested absolutely nothing but my word. I will never forget sitting across from him as he said, “You have a lot going on right now, and I don’t want the church to be another hurdle for you. Give me you word that you will raise this boy in the Catholic faith and I will baptize him.” And that was it. It was as if Father Gardner was sent directly from God to me.  I don’t know of any other Catholic priest who is as open and welcoming as he is. I filled out paper work, joined the church, and had Jacob baptized. True to my word, I took to him to mass every Sunday. Jacob was always so good in church, even as an infant. He sat quietly, taking in the sights and sounds, or he slept. I held him during mass, and I cried at every single service for at least my first year back. I needed God in my life at that point, and He found me.

I went to church regularly until Andrew was able to move around. Andrew was not as well behaved at mass as Jake had been. Once he could walk, he repeatedly tried to storm the altar. He was loud and obnoxious. On top of that, Jacob and Andrew fight like cats and dogs. We have a “cry room” where I could take them, but it’s cramped and hot, and when I went there, I wasn’t getting anything out of the services because I couldn’t pay attention. Slowly, our church attendance dwindled, and at this point it is sporadic at best.
I have never been one to believe that church attendance absolves any sins committed throughout the week. I think that there are many people who have very strong and personal relationships with God completely independent of the church.  I, however, am not one of those people. My faith has waxed and waned pretty much all of my life, and especially over the last year or so, I find myself lacking a strong bond with God. I pray from time to time, but I have little feeling behind it. I envy those who have undying faith in the Almighty. It is something that I want for myself, yet even with rigorous searching, I have not found.

Instead, I am on the fence, so to speak. I do not rule out the possibility of God. In fact, there are times when I wonder how people don’t believe. How could I look at the wonder and intricacy of my surroundings and believe that it all happened by mere chance? But just as often I feel a complete void. When I think about people I love who have passed away, I like to think that they are in a better place. I like to think that maybe they are watching over me, protecting me and guiding me. There are times when I swear that I have felt their presence, or times when I know in my heart that they are well. But just as often I feel absolutely nothing. Nada. Silence. Stillness. Emptiness.

When I think about my own death, I do not envision a joyous reunion with my God or my family. I do not believe without doubt that I will go to heaven or to Hell for that matter. In fact, I’m pretty sure that I don’t believe in Hell at all. If anything, I think we are destined to repeat our journey on the earth until we right our wrongs. (Oh, I know reincarnation is an all together separate and controversial topic, entirely incongruent with Christianity. I’ll let that one be for now). While I would absolutely treat a loved one’s remains with the utmost care, my actions would not be driven by any particular religious belief, but rather out of humble respect for the life that once was. I don’t think that what happens to my body after death is important at all. Cremate me. Wrap me in cheesecloth and put me in a “green” cemetery. Donate me to science. I don’t care. Just don’t bury me in a coffin. I think cemeteries are a total waste of space. I have never gotten any comfort from visiting a grave. The person you are visiting is not there. It’s just a concrete slab and cold ground. I can’t justify stealing land from future generations for storage of my corpse. Of course, I’ll be dead and not have any say at that point, but I would hope that you (whoever you who may be caring for my dead body are…) would do as I wish, if not out of respect for me, then out of respect for the future of your planet.

Alas, I did not start this blog to write about my burial wishes. I am writing it to vent about my lack of faith, and my nagging wish to find something that even remotely resembles Godly devotion. I do not believe that a person needs to believe in God to be a good person, have good morals, and live a good life. A person’s integrity should not, in my opinion, be based on a reward in the afterlife, but rather be emanated from a sincere desire to do good for no other reason than that it is the right thing to do. I don’t want to find a faith in God just to validate my existence or to motivate me to live better. I want to find a faith in God because I desire the comfort that comes with trusting in a higher power. I want to feel and reciprocate a love that is greater than my comprehension. I want to “let go and let God,” but I can’t, because the cloth of my faith is threadbare.

So how do you get to the point of unconditional faith and reverie? Where does faith come from? Is it inherent? Is it taught? Can it be learned? Is it possible to develop unmatched faith in mid-life or is it something we have to be born with? What’s my problem? Is it a control issue, a matter of skepticism, or just an inborn personality flaw? There are times when I am OK with doubt, but other times when I wonder what if my doubt is unjustified? I have been told it’s not enough to “do the right thing,” so am I in for a rude awakening when I am condemned to eternal damnation in the Hell that I never believed existed in the first place? Or are the people who tell me these things simply voicing their beliefs, their opinions? How do they know it to be absolutely true? Ah…they don’t. They have faith.

What do you think? Where does your faith come from? Do you work at it or is it just a part of you? Where am I going wrong?

My Little Prince

If you're friends with me on Facebook, you've already seen this photo:

Prince Andrew!  

I think it's just hysterical! 

I also think some of the things he says are pretty darn funny too:

• "Mom, we can't go outside today because it's really winding!" (pronounced wind - ing)  
• "Mom, could you clause the DBD for me?"  (As in, please stop the movie)
• "Mom, can you change my shirk?  I just bless you'd on my sleeve."
• "Mom, who built our house?"  "I don't really know."  "Did Dad build our house?"  "No.  It wasn't Dad."  "Oh.  Well, maybe it was God."  "Yeah, if it wasn't Dad, God is the next logical assumption."
• We went to Panera for dinner with friends last week.  Andrew had a Horizon yogurt tube.  Their logo is a cow.  Andrew sucked down some of his yogurt, smiled and said to me, "Mmm...this yogurt tastes like cow!"
• Walking up to bed the other night I thought I heard Andrew quietly swearing to himself.  He was saying, "Ath.  Ath.  Ath.  Ath."  I said, "What are you saying?"  He said, "Ath.  You know.  Like BUTT!"
• Andrew constantly says, "What did you say"  after pretty much every statement we make.  It's maddening, actually.  I checked his ears and they are fine. It's just something that he has substituted instead of asking "why" all the time.  A few weekends ago, Greg and I both were about nuts with answering the "what did you say" question.  We were driving somewhere and Greg said something to both Andrew and me.  Of course, Andrew said, "What did you say?"  Greg took a deep breath and said, "I said we are going to drive to the parking lot at Kmart, scratch our  butts and make dog noises."  "Aw," Andrew said.  "I don't want to do that!"
• And finally, just now he said, "Mom, I thought you said you were making dinner."  "I am making dinner."  "But you're not.  You're playing on the cooter."  I think that's my cue to go!

Doomsday, Schmoomsday!

When I was little, my grandmother used to have an annual panic attack, usually sometime during the summer months, about "the gypsies" being in town.   From the way she talked, I pictured handsome men and women with dark hair in colorful silk clothing wearing wild gold jewelry pillaging homes all over town.  I think my imagery probably had more to do with this video of Cher than with my grandmother's wording.  I'm fairly certain that her idea of gypsies was vastly different than mine.  Her gypsy rant was the closest thing I can remember to someone in my circle of family and friends actually being ridiculously worried about something beyond our control.  I come from a family of crazy people, but even in our lunacy, we're pretty well grounded! 


Last night, Greg and I watched a show by National Geographic called Doomsday Preppers.  It chronicles various families' preparation to survive the end of the world.   The people in this show have gone to extreme lengths to secure their lives and the lives of their families.  They were all just a little crazy, in my opinion.   


I think people have probably been obsessed with the end of days since the dawn of time.   Since well before Nostradamus there have been numerous predictions of the end of the world, which quite obviously have never come to fruition.  The Mayans predicted that 12/12/2012 would mark the destruction the world through some kind of cataclysmic event.  Hmm... I have to admit that their prognostication certainly isn't enough for me to feel comfortable maxing out my credit cards.  Many people believe that we will face some kind of major catastrophe within our lifetimes, possibly even in the near future, whether it be from a natural disaster, terrorist attacks, or Armageddon.  I wouldn't go as far as to say that it's unlikely.  In fact, it may very well be probable, but I, for one, am not going to waste my time worrying. With so many things within our faculty of control that could go wrong, why would you want to obsess about something that, if it even came to be a reality, would be well beyond our ability to adequately manage?  I worry about a lot of things, but the end of the world is not one of them.


While we watched the show, Greg talked about how he would prepare for survival.  Here's a prime example of how different the two of us can be:  While I was busy thinking that the people on the show were certifiably nuts, Greg was all fired up, getting into prep mode.  He told me he even has a "go pack" ready, in case of an emergency.  Apparently my husband qualifies for the cuckoo category!  Seriously though, I suppose it's a good idea to make provisions in case we lost electricity for any length of time, or in the event that we would need to get by without the creature comforts to which we have become accustomed, but the end of the world?  Nah.   In all honesty, if the end of the world came to be, I wouldn't want to survive.  I wouldn't want to see my family and friends dead or suffering, my town in ruins, and my life destroyed.  If the earth cracks open and the cities go up in flames, if the sun and moon go dark and the stars fall from the sky,  if the the rivers turn to blood, and the world comes to an end, dear God, take me out quickly! I want no part of it!


So...that said, I can't say that I am completely devoid of macabre thinking.  I have my moments too, but my thoughts are rather self centered.  Want to hear them?  You know you do!  Here they are:

• Whenever I stand on a bridge or a balcony, I always look down and wonder if I am high enough to die should I jump off.  No, I'm not planning to jump off any bridges.  It's just a thought.  You know, would my skull shatter?  Would my arms and legs twist in inhuman angles, or would I just break a rib?  I've never tested my theories on height requirements for death.  I never was much of a physicist. Sometimes it's best not to take any chances. 
• Sometimes when I am driving, I get a chill up my spine imagining myself suddenly swerving across the double yellow line directly into an oncoming Mac truck.  Again, I'm not planning to do such a thing, namely because I wouldn't want to injure anyone else...or myself, of course.  It's just one of those thoughts that periodically pops into my mind.  Beep, beep! 
• When I am in any kind of large crowd - a concert, sporting event, on an airplane, etc. - one of my first thoughts is that if there were some kind of catastrophe like a fire or a bomb, we would all die.  My imagery is not of people burning, tortured and over come by smoke, but rather of bodies trampled and suffocated in the wake of each other's panic.  Nice, huh?  That's one that I have to try pretty hard to push from my mind, because it has the potential to snowball into panic.  Normally I'm pretty good about acknowledging the thought and letting it go out of my mind as quickly as it entered.  The last time I had this thought was on our last plane home from Florida.  We were in the second to last row of the plane and I had an aisle seat, so I could clearly see the entire cabin packed with people.  There was some kind of issue with one person's window, which I think was just that the blind wouldn't close.  As I watched them trying to remedy her window, I couldn't help but notice that two of the flight attendants kept mouthing words and grimacing at each other.   So, as rational as I am, I started worrying that the window seal wasn't sufficient and that right after take-off, the plane would implode or explode or whatever planes do when they aren't sealed properly!  I felt hot, nauseated and my heart was racing.  I even considered getting off of the plane and renting a car!  I had to close my eyes for several minutes, take deep breaths and think calm, happy thoughts.  It passed.  I was OK.   The plane did not implode, and I don't think anyone noticed my little personal freak out session.  I hope not, anyway!  In the midst of my imploding plane worries, my mind also continually returned to my time at jury selection last fall.  There was a girl in our group who must have been claustrophobic or something of that nature.  She had to get up and move around several times and even started crying once because people were too close to her.  Part of me felt bad for her, but part of me also couldn't help but wonder if her actions weren't some kind of show for attention.  Yes, I'm so sympathetic.  I wanted to say,  "Suck it up, Chicky and nix the drama.  None of us wants to be here!" But while I was on that plane, what I felt was pretty intense.  It made me feel bad for thinking mean thoughts about that girl, but it also made me not want anyone to think such thoughts about me! 
• If I died alone in the house, would the cat eat me?  Nasty thought, isn't it?  Think about it, then look at your cat.  I bet it changes the way you think about him when he's staring you down and licking his chops!
• My last death thought is this:  If I die before Greg - and barring some kind of awful accident for him, I can pretty much guarantee that I will kick the bucket first - I want him to remarry, or at least find another woman to love.  To be perfectly honest, the thought of him with another woman makes me feel more than a little sick, but the thought of him being unhappy makes me feel even sicker.   Greg needs people in his life to be happy.  He is the true definition of an extrovert.  He gathers his energy from others.  He may be comfortable in his own skin, but he would not be happy alone for any length of time.  I'm not so egocentric to think that I am the only person who makes Greg happy, but I do know that Greg is loyal to a fault.  I can see him not dating again out of devotion to me.  So here it is, on the Internet for all to see - if I die before him,  I want him to find another woman to love...just as long as she's really ugly and bald.  Just kidding.  She can have hair.  

What's your opinion on the end of the world? Are you making preparations? Do you have random morbid thoughts about death pop into your mind?   

All About Me!

I feel like being totally narcissistic, so I'm going to post an entire blog devoted to glamor pictures of myself!  

NOT!

I was going through a bunch of old photos the other day and came across some of these.  I was certainly not the cutest baby, and my mom always dressed me like a boy, which didn't help...but I was amazed at how much Jake looks like me. (Poor kid)  I've always known it, but seeing these photos of me as a baby was just too much not to share.  You should probably pee before you look at these, because you are guaranteed to have a good laugh, or two, or three - I know I did!

 8 months old, November 1977.  Nearly 35 years later, I'm still waiting for the other dimple to appear and for my eyebrows to grow in.

November 1978.  It was the beginning of the Pajama rage.  Little did the world know it, but 3 1/2 decades later, everyone would be wearing PJ's everywhere - to the grocery store, to pick their children up from school, yes, even to the photographer! I was a trendsetter before I could even talk well!

 Apparently, June of 1979 was a rather cold one in Ocean City, MD!

I didn't break the blankie habit until junior high.  Seriously.

Primping for Thanksgiving dinner is intense.  Too bad no one thought to include Dolly in the preparation...or to just give her a bath.  Ew!

The fruits of our labor paid off.  What could be cuter than a curly pig-tailed girl playing the piano?

Mom basks in the glory of her little star!  I think she cut her own bangs that year too!

 

December 1979 I had a kidney infection or something like that. Miss Piggy and a fire engine are must-haves when you are 2 years old in the hospital.

Welcoming smart ass comments for this one...I drew a blank.

December 1979.  The year the Asian Santas invaded central Pennsylvania.  

December 1980, my version of Farrah Fawcett hair.

1983.  My mom was hoping my sister and I would become sailors.  I married one, is that close enough?

Ah, second grade.  Lovely specs, and home done haircut.  Tight collar and embroidered sweater.  Yes, I was the epitome of style.  If only I could find my first grade picture which, believe it or not, is WAY worse.  The night before first grade pictures were taken at school, my mom got irritated at me and cut off all my hair - herself, in our bathroom.  It was the world's worst hair cut.  On top of that, I had only one front tooth, my collar was half in and half out of my uniform, and the poor photographer tried to fix my whacked out hair, only making it much worse.  I have to find it...and submit it to Awkwardfamilyphotos.com.  I bet it could win a prize.  

Anyone have embarrassing old photos of themselves (or me for that matter) that they'd like to share?  I think it's so much fun going through old pictures.  

Happy Birthday to the Greatest Great Aunt!

Today we sing Happy Birthday to my Great Aunt Carmen!  As you already know, Carmen is one of my all-time favorite people.  She has 79 years of joy, wisdom, and love stored up in that big heart of hers, just waiting to be shared with everyone she encounters.  If everyone retained the generous appreciation for the little things in life like she has, the world would be a much better place.  She is truly an inspiration to me, and I am blessed to have such a wonderful woman in my life! 

My Aunt Carmen, age 3 or 4 (it says on the back 1936 or 1937) with her sister Mary Lou and my Great Grandmother, Anna.

My grandfather, Micky (the cat) and my Aunt Carmen.  In every picture that my grandmother had, she wrote the names of the people on the front.  Instead of calling my grandfather by name, she always wrote "you," as if every photo she had actually belonged to Pap.

My aunt Carmen, uncle Bill, Gram and Pap made a trip to California to visit my cousin Suzanne, either in late 1987 or early 1988.  My poor grandmother is obviously already sick in all of these photos, but it was good for them to have one last opportunity to travel together. 

Gram & Carmen

Sisters warming themselves by the fire.  

This has to be one of my favorite pictures of Carmen.  Look at the way she and the seagull are eyeing one another up.  I don't know anyone who loves animals more than Carmen, and I can just hear her thoughts as she and the seagull regard one another.  So sweet!

Happy Birthday, Aunt Carmen, and many, many more!  

Pet Peeves

I was fortunate enough to steal a half hour phone call with my dear friend Norma on Sunday.  We don't get to talk often, so I always cherish hearing her voice.  In the course of conversation, however, she told me that she found my blog to be sickeningly sweet as of late.  I think she said something like this, "I've been reading your blog and I can't take it.  'Oh, I went to Florida and it was beautiful! I love my husband; he's so wonderful!' Koelle, it makes me want to puke!"  Hahaha!  If you know Norma, you know she said this with the sweetest intonation underlying her sarcasm.  Well, I love Norma so much that I would never, ever want to make her sick.  So, Norma, this blog is for you.  I'm breaking my traditional blogging personality to make you a list of things I hate!  Here goes nothing!

• Litter bugs.  Come on, people.  Throw your trash away!  The rest of the world isn't here to pick up after you.  It's disgusting, ill-mannered and inconsiderate.  
• Late people.  Also inconsiderate.  The world runs on standard timing principles, not on YOUR time.  Get a watch and use it.  
• Sugar.  OK, actually I love sugar.  I love it so much that I have to hate it for its addictive qualities.
• Winter, cold, snow and ice.  Honestly, I can't complain much this year.  It was 55 degrees here today.  We have only had one significant snowfall all season and it melted completely in less than a week.  Still, I much prefer the heat and sun of summer.  What can I say?  I'm a fair weather gal!
• Finding whatever I am searching for empty.  i.e. no toilet paper on the roll, no paper towels in the dispenser, an empty box of cereal in the cupboard, an empty box of pens in the cabinet at work.  I don't know what irritates me more - that someone has left the scene unprepared for the next person or that someone didn't care enough to throw away their own garbage.  I guess this is a partial extension of my litter bug aversion.
• The scale.  Enough said.
• Insomnia, heart palpitations, night sweats and anxious dreams. Ugh, ugh, ugh, ugh.
• Getting older.  Wrinkles.  Stray facial hairs.  Back fat.  Back fat?  Gross!  At least I can pluck the chin hair!
• Not being able to run.  Having a cinched back and aching hip 24/7.  I think this is directly correlated to getting older.  Next I'll be donning a cane.  You have permission to call me "Granny."
• PMS.  Also, enough said.
• Sibling rivalry.  A 4500 square foot house can seem incredibly small sometimes.
• Doing homework with Jake.  It's as if I am putting him through some kind of medieval torture ceremony.  Good grief!
• Speaking of torture...  Do all 9 year olds view personal hygiene as torture?  Since when did brushing teeth and showering become grounds for a nervous breakdown?
• Arrogant, insensitive and know-it-all people.  It does everyone good to practice a little humility from time to time.
• Grudge holders.  People who are always right and don't have the ability to forgive are doing themselves and everyone around them a huge disservice.  Forgiveness is one of God's greatest gifts.  If He can forgive all of my hair brained indiscretions, then I can certainly forgive yours.  Besides, forgiveness isn't really for the person who did wrong, but rather for the victim.  Holding a grudge just makes you bitter, and it's a real turn off to everyone around you too.  We all meet our Maker one day.  Let go, and leave the judging up to God.  
• People who can't take a joke and who are never happy.  I really believe that even in the worst case scenario, there's humor and light.  Sometimes you just have to try a little harder to find it.  Lighten up, and you might just find some appreciation you never saw before!

And, thanks to Norma's insistence that I kill the rainbows and butterflies, I have come to find that I apparently have a real problem with other drivers, which I find incredibly funny because I am probably one of the worst drivers out there! (I told you about when I drove the van full of clients into the bank, right?  Yeah, that's right, into.the.bank. Click the link if you haven't already read the story)   Here's what I hate about other drivers:

• Tailgaters.  Back off.  Riding my ass is not going to make me go any faster.  In fact, I just slow down.  It's dangerous, and if we're in an accident, you're going to be at fault for following me too closely, so like I said, back off already!
• People who leave their cars running while they go into the convenience store or take their kids to day care, etc.  It's winter.  I get it.  Warm up your vehicle for a little bit in the morning.  Honestly though, do you really think that the car is going to significantly cool down in the time it takes you to order a hot dog and grab a Gatorade?  Or in the summer, do you think 5 minutes inside the day care makes that big of a difference?  I can tell you that it doesn't.  And really, on a day like today, at 55 degrees and sunny, there's no reason to leave your car running while you go into Sheetz to buy an MTO.   It's a waste of gas, and it's polluting the environment.  It's not so hard to turn the key and start it up again.  Turn the damn thing off. 
• Inefficient parking.  Do yourself a favor and if you haven't already, learn to parallel park.  Pull up close to the person in front of or behind you.  Don't park them in, but don't leave 5 feet of space either.  Where I work, parking is at a premium.  Every single day I see people who waste parking spaces.  It's maddening, especially when the weather is bad.  If you live or work where you have to street park, learn to park right!  I swear one of these days I'm going to bring it up at an All-Staff training.
• People who ignore the turning lane, and instead slow way down on the main road before making a turn.  That lane outlined in yellow with the arrows inside it is there so that you don't cause an accident.  Use it!  And use your turn signal too, while you're at it!

I believe that concludes my list of pet peeves for now.  Who knows, maybe I'll be more in tune with what bothers me, now that I'm thinking about it.  How's that for a sour and salty post, Norma?  Did I ease your queasiness?  ;)