Make Me Smile

Every time you smile at someone, it is an action of love, a gift to that person, a beautiful thing.  

~Mother Teresa

Isn't it amazing what a simple smile or laugh can do for your mood?  My boys and the cat definitely bring the most smiles to my face on any given day.  There aren't many things that make you more aware and grateful than happiness.  I thought I would share a few of those smiles with you.  Don't be shy about paying it forward! 

Sam's Christmas hat.  Actually this has a small story behind it.  I took this photo last weekend.  The boys had been in one of their "fight every single second of the day" modes, and they were making us nuts!  At one point, Greg had put Andrew in a time out in the living room and sent Jake to his room.  Greg went into the living room to talk to Andrew about his offenses, and I went upstairs.  When I came down, Greg said, "Well, what did Jake have to say for himself?"  "Oh," I said, "I didn't talk to Jake.  I went up to put a Santa hat on the cat."  "You're kidding?"  he said smiling.  "No, I'm not kidding.  Look:" and I showed him the picture of Sam, nuzzled in the covers of our bed, wearing a Santa hat.  "Incredible," he said.  "I'm yelling at the kids and you're dressing the cat."  "Hey," I said,  "I've had enough yelling, and this made us both laugh.  It was worth it!"

Apparently Andrew thought that Sam might want to play with his remote controlled bulldozer.  Sam, it appears, was less than enthused with the offering.

Sam has taken to sleeping in this planter.  It used to house a rather large plant, which amazingly lived for 5 years, but just recently bit the dust.  This morning Greg said, "We may as well replace the soil in that planter and just get a pillow for the cat!"

Wrapping Christmas presents with the "help" of a kitten proved to be a bit of a challenge!

Sam makes the best Floor-Mopping supervisor. 

"What do you want?  Can't you see I'm taking a nap?"

Only my cat would cuddle with a broom!

This was Andrew's way of tricking me into thinking that he wasn't awake before the sun.  I think his tactics need just a little bit of refining!

This jar was a Christmas gift from Jacob a few years ago.  It says "Mom" on the back of it.  What is one to do with such a container, exactly?  I chose to use for my spare change.  Actually, it's been very useful. We live in an old house, so the floors aren't exactly straight and the walls are sometimes crooked.  I'm not complaining at all; I love this house, but the doors don't always stay where you want them because of the slopes.  They either drift shut or open, depending on which side of the house you are on!  So, I use it in our bedroom to prop the door open at night.  Well, yesterday I noticed Andrew in the living room with a mound of change.  I asked him where he got all that money.  He looked at me straight faced and said, "I got it upstairs in your money bunny."  Ah, my money bunny.  Of course.  Everyone needs a money bunny! 

(Oh, and don't judge me because there are twice as many photos of the cat as Andrew [and none of Jake!] The photos are taken based on willing participation and cooperation, not preference of animal over person!)

Joy Ride

I would thank you from the bottom of my heart, but for you my heart has no bottom. 

- Author Unknown

When I first graduated from college, I worked briefly for AT&T Wireless Services as a customer care representative.  Although it was the best paying job I ever had, I hated every minute of it.  It was nothing but constant negativity.  People would call, frustrated with their cell phones, frustrated with service, frustrated with their bills and would unleash all of those frustrations on me and the other representatives.  I would never have been rude to a customer service rep before I worked at AT&T, but after working there, I am even more aware of my tone and wording, even when the company is in the wrong.  The representatives are just trying to make a living.  But I didn't intend to write about AT&T.  That, thankfully, was a short lived phase of my life.  

One day, I quit my job at AT&T on a whim with no safety net, which is very out of character for me.  It was just that bad.  Not knowing what to do with myself, and needing a pay check, I started working for a temp agency that contracted to providers of care for adults with mental health and mental retardation diagnoses.  I worked in a few group homes and then found myself at Allegheny East.  I will never forget the first day I worked there.  I was in the conference room reading over some of the company rules and regulations and I could hear the clients in the hallway singing, "Who let the dogs out."  

The director asked me to help in the Pre-Vocational area for the first week.  Marsha, the program specialist is someone who draws you in immediately and takes you under her wing.  After a few days, the director asked me if I would be interested in a full time position with the agency.  Not wanting to commit myself to something that I would not be able to follow through with, I told her that I wanted a little time to see how much I liked it.  I will never forget her telling me that it was fine to take my time, but that she was sure that "these guys will grab you by the heartstrings."  She was so right.  Even now, almost 12 years after starting there, and nearly 9 years after leaving, I still hold both the clients and the staff dear.  I think often about the people I met.  It was a job which could bring incredible stress, but not a day went by without genuine laughter and excitement.  I would not have left there, had my life circumstances not necessitated it.  I truly loved that job.  I worked with the most sincere people - the staff, the clients, the parents of the clients, and I am forever grateful for my experiences at Allegheny East. 

How about the van story?  I know I shared this story before on the blog, but it's been a while, and it's a story worth repeating.   It's a great example of how much people loved me, and how not to take yourself too seriously.  Actually, I think all of my stories from Allegheny East are stories about how not to take yourself too seriously!  If nothing else, they helped make me into a good sport! 

So, the van.  Well, one day I took several of the clients along with several staff on a picnic lunch.  The agency had two buses, which were about the size of Access vans.  That day, we all climbed into the big brown van, which was the color of rust and drove at about 25 mph at top speed, a very attractive vehicle that we endearingly referred to as "the commune bus."  I hadn't brought a lunch with me, so I needed to stop and grab something on the way to the park (we were really not allowed to do that, by the way, but who was going to find out, right?).  So as I was considering my lunch, I realized that I didn't have any money and would need to stop by an ATM before getting lunch.  (Now, I don't recall any specific prohibitions against using MAC machines, but I'm guessing that is also frowned upon when on company time.)  Well, I drove the van to what was then Melon bank and I looked at the space for the drive through ATM.  I have very poor eyesight, for those of you who don't already know.  I don't use my right eye, and my depth perception is significantly compromised because of it.  This physical limitation does nothing to add to my already seriously lacking driving skills.  I realized that I wasn't going to fit through the ATM lane, so I thought I would just park the van in the drive through lane that wasn't in use and walk over to the ATM.  That would have been a great idea, if I had correctly gauged the height of the bus versus the height of the drive through roof.  It didn't fit, but I didn't figure that out until I had already rammed the bus into the drive through.  As I sat there, stunned that I had just run into a bank, quite literally, the teller behind the glass glared and yelled something at me insinuating that I better not try to get away.  Um, I'm stupid sometimes, but not that stupid.  I just crashed a gigantic brown bus that couldn't outrun a turtle into Melon bank.  Trying to get away was the last thing on my mind.

After I took care of what I needed to do at the bank, I called my supervisor back at the center and told him that I had just run into the bank.  He said, "Um...OK?"  "No," I said, "I literally ran into the bank.  With the brown bus.  Full of guys, and several staff.  Please don't kill me."  He didn't kill me.  In fact, he was super nice about it.  He & I had to fill out 12 reportable incidences because of that little err in judgement (and no, we didn't get to go on our picnic).  A few days later, I came to work and found a little box on my desk that had "Rebuild Melon Bank Fund" written on it.  He told staff that I was going to have to pay for the damage myself and that they should start donating their spare change to me as a courtesy!  He was kidding, thank goodness.  And I was grateful for the good nature of the entire company! 

Gosh, I have so many stories from my time there, I don't even know how to narrow them down.  I've actually been thinking and thinking and thinking about this blog entry since I started my gratitude posts at the beginning of the month.  These women and those times are truly in the foreground of my mind, and I don't think I could ever adequately express the gratitude I have for them.  We had so much fun.  We did so many cool things.  We took the guys bowling, swimming, and berry picking.  I loved going on hikes with Donna, and baking with Norma.  Even things as simple as taking a few of the clients grocery shopping was fun.  I loved all of the clients, but a few of them were extra special to me -  D, who loved his pie and camping; K, who said exactly what was on her mind whenever she wanted; M, who loved everyone and everything; R, who stole so many cups of coffee and soda it's surprising he ever slept; R, who couldn't talk, but could light up a room with the smile behind his eyes; B who rummaged through my desk every day while signing to himself, "no, no,no."  I could go on and on.  The director was right, they truly did grab me by the heartstrings, and some of them, across the years, the miles and even in death, are still holding tight.  

Everyone was also so supportive when I was going through my divorce.  I was working at Allegheny East when my husband left.  I was 5 months pregnant and alone.  They helped me make it through the winter, and then in the spring, they threw me a huge baby shower.  Marsha coordinated with my mom, who made me a quilt that everyone signed.  When I left, my heart broke.  It ached for the guys, the staff, everything.  Even though there are many things about my job that I love right now, I often long for the closeness that we had at Allegheny East.  It wasn't perfect by any means, but it was perfect for me at that time in my life.

I have kept in touch with many of the people.  Most of them I see only once a year, or only have contact through email or phone.  But three of them, Marsha, Norma and Donna have stayed in more regular contact.  We make it a point to get together at least twice a year, and we try to email and phone (at least somewhat) regularly.   It's not uncommon for us to lose 6 hours when we are together and feel like the day just began.  I miss them all the time, and I cherish the time that we have together.  I have a photo of us in my office, directly above my desk, so that when I feel that old nostalgia creeping in, I can look up and be reminded of three women who have made an enormous difference in my life.  These are women for whom my heart has no boundaries.  I am a better person because of their friendship and for that I give them a heartfelt "thank you."

The whole gang, December 2009

My best gals, Marsha, me, Norma & Donna

Care to share any stories, girls?  I know you've got an arsenal!

My Old Friend

It isn't what you have in your pocket that makes you thankful, but what you have in your heart.  -- Author Unknown

Jackie and I met in 5th grade, but we weren't immediate friends.  In fact, for the first few years we were more like slight rivals, vying for the attention of a mutual friend, Kristin.  As time went on, somewhere along the way, we both realized that we actually had a lot in common, and that Kristin could indeed be friends with both of us.  Kudos to Kristin for never choosing one over the other, and instead acting as a catalyst to what would become my longest standing friendship to one of the most remarkable women I know.

In junior high and high school, Jackie was the mother to our entire group of friends.  She was the one who told us when our cockamamie ideas were not so smart.  She's the one who kept us out of trouble, or tried to anyway, and along the way she took a lot of good natured abuse from all of us.  In 8th or 9th grade, they misspelled her name in the school newsletter, and we all called her "Jakey" for a long time. We even made up a poem about her, and wrote it out in calligraphy for her!  We were in the band together, took honors and AP classes together, shared all of our hopes and dreams and insecurities.  I spent just as much time at Jackie's house as I did at my own.  I loved (and still do) her entire family much as I love my own blood.  

A few years ago, after a trying for a good long while, Jackie and her husband found out they were expecting their first child.  I can still remember her phone call to me telling me she was pregnant.  She was so excited she was breathless at times.  How wonderful to be bringing a child into such an open heart!  But her pregnancy was less than ideal.  She suffered from hyperemesis gravidarum, which is extreme vomiting, throughout the pregnancy.  She was unable to work and eventually had to have a semi-permanent port put in, just so she could receive medication and nutrition for herself and the growing baby.

As if that weren't enough, during a somewhat routine sonogram, she was told that the baby had extreme hydrocephalus.  During the initial discovery, she was also told that the baby may not have a cerebellum.  The first doctor she saw recommended terminating the pregnancy.  Jackie got a second opinion, which confirmed the hydrocephalus and also gave their baby a diagnosis of Dandy Walker Syndrome.  Dandy Walker can range in severity from mild to severe, causing a number of motor delays as well as cognitive delays.  There was absolutely no way of telling whether or not her baby would even survive after birth, let alone if he would stand a chance at living a normal life.  Jackie, very strong in her faith, decided to continue with the baby and pray for the best.  I am sure that it was the longest 9 months of her life, filled not only with severe physical discomfort but also with unspeakable worry and anxiety.

After baby Sean was born, he spent a long time in the nicu at Johns Hopkins.  He had his first brain surgery, placing a shunt for drainage, at only a few months of age.  At 2 1/2 years old now, he is a remarkable little man who inherited his mother's undying determination.  He has undergone several additional surgeries and has some physical limitations, but he's the happiest toddler I have ever seen.   He's talking and even walking with assistance.  I wish the first doctor who recommended termination could see him now!

Sean could not have been born to a better set of parents.  He needs lots of extra help and her schedule for specialist appointments, speech and physical therapy would exhaust and frustrate anyone.  And her mind is never still.  She must be constantly in tune with Sean.  What many of us would simply attribute to a common cold or a tired kid may me that Sean's shunt isn't draining properly (which has happened), or something else much more significant than a nuisance virus.  I know Jackie is tired, but her love and patience for that little boy is so intense that she wouldn't let a thing stand in the way of getting him all the help he needs, and his success is a true testimony to her dedication.  Jackie is such an inspiration to me.  I don't know that I would have faced such a challenge with the faith and perseverance that she did and continues to do. 

Life is busy.  We don't talk nearly as much as we should, but she is always on my mind and forever in my heart.  I love Jackie like I love my sisters, and I am blessed to call her my friend.  I am blessed because of the love and support that she has given me throughout the years, and I am also blessed just to be witness to such devotion and resolve.  Thank you, Jackie, for always putting life into perspective for me.  And thank you, Kristin, for bringing us together!  It's been a great (almost) 25 years! 

Me, Kristin and Jackie in Jackie's driveway, summer of 1993.  This was my first car, which was a total junker.  I had all kinds of issues with it.  Eventually, it blew up (sort of) at the drive through at McDonald's (Yes, I actually ate there at one point in my life.  Gasp!).  My mom was working, and Jackie's mom is a teacher so she was off.  I had to call Jackie's mom to come get me and take me home. We ditched the car shortly thereafter. 

High school graduation

At a friend's wedding, 2001.  This is an awful picture of me (can we say, quarter life crisis?) but it's a nice shot of Jackie, and it was a good time together.

Mandi, another high school friend, Jackie, Sean and me at Jackie's house in Maryland.

Summer 2010, my house

Christmas 2010, my house

What's On Your List?

 You won't be happy with more until you're happy with what you've got.  

         Viki King

I've prepared a nice list of things I am thankful for, just for your reading pleasure.  There's so many things, really, but I narrowed it down so you wouldn't  be overwhelmed.  Yes, you can thank me for that!  ;)

• Hummus.  Have I told you how much I love hummus?  I think I've eaten it almost every day since June and I'm not sick of it yet!  More hummus, please!
• My Cuisinart Food Processor, without which, hummus would be impossible.  It was a Christmas gift from my parents last year - a definite good pick!
• Our new Toyota.  It's so nice to drive.  Smooth and easy, and just a little luxurious with its leather seats and fancy back up camera.  And it's so roomy.  I love it!
• My old Honda.  While I love the Toyota, the Honda is my sweetheart too.  It's tiny and I can park it on a dime, plus it still gets nearly 35 miles per gallon, almost twice the gas mileage of the Toyota.  Also, it's has a manual transmission.  Except in bad traffic, I love driving a stick.  It makes me feel capable, ungirly (if that's a word).  And since it's almost 10 years old, I'm not upset about the little dings I might put on it throughout the course of my day.  I'm a notoriously bad driver.  I told you the story about the Access van and Melon Bank, right?  If I didn't, I will soon!
• Coffee.  Can a person ever express adequate gratitude for coffee?  I don't think so.
• Chia seeds.  Again, no amount of expression is enough.  Love them!
• Insomnia.  How can I possibly be grateful for insomnia?  Well, here's the scoop:  I have never, ever slept well.  I used to get very angry and frustrated, lay in bed and try to force myself to sleep while I fretted over how I was going to function the following day.  It took me 31 years to realize that approach wasn't working.  Like I said on the previous post, I'm not always that quick on the uptake.  Sometime after Andrew was born (it had nothing to do with Andrew.  He has always been a good sleeper.  That's just the time frame when things changed.  I actually think it had something to do with hormones, because a lot of things changed for me in that year after Andrew was born, but I digress...) I changed my approach.  Instead of cursing and fretting, I got out of bed and started using the time in the wee hours of the morning to my advantage.  Greg occasionally gets out of bed early because of insomnia, but not as often as I do.  He's still in the "lay in bed and stew" phase.   Normally, if I get up at 3 or 4, I can count on 3 or 4 hours of peace and quiet to get stuff done.  It is thanks to insomnia that my cupboards and closets are clean and my lists are made.  Actually, that's not true.  The house would be clean regardless of what time I got up, but when I have insomnia, I have a lot more time and feel a lot less stressed (albeit exhausted) about chores.
• Naps - the only way to really combat insomnia.  I used to be the world's most dedicated napper, but with working longer hours and all of Jake's after school obligations, my naps have been significantly cut.  I try to squeeze in a quick nap whenever I can, even if it's only 20 minutes laying half asleep on the couch while Andrew watches a movie.  It's amazing the difference just that little amount of time can do.   And even when I do have time to nap longer, I really try not to.  Anything over 30 minutes and I feel worse.  Even though it's hard as heck to get myself awake after only half an hour, I rarely let myself doze longer.  Hey, I got things to do! 

So that's my list of gratitude for today.  What's on your list?

A Ghost Story

 The best and most beautiful things in this world cannot be seen or even heard, but must be felt with the heart.  Helen Keller

When Jacob was an infant, I used to rock him to sleep on a glider in my bedroom.  The walls in the room were wallpapered with pastel flowers, and hanging directly behind and above the glider was a walnut printer's tray which had belonged to my grandmother.  Under the glider was a tall nightstand/bookshelf that my mother had made for Jake.  Jacob used to stare at that tray forever until he fell asleep.  I always attributed the allure to the high contrast between the dark wood and the light background, until something happened to change my mind.

One day, after I had laid Jacob down for his nap, I sat on the edge of my bed and looked at the printer's tray.  I studied the nick knacks inside it.  Some were hers, some were mine.  I focused in on a little porcelain doll, no bigger than a spool of thread, very delicate.  It had been my grandmother's doll.  The next day, I walked past the glider and spotted something out of place.  It was that tiny doll, seated neatly on top of the night stand.  I asked my mom, dad and sister if they had put the doll on the stand, but none of them had.  "Odd," I thought, and I replaced the doll.  

When I put the doll back, I paused for another moment and looked at the items in the tray again.  The things that were hers were sweet - a thimble from a visit down south, a ceramic kitten, a straw doll.  The things that I had placed in the tray over the years were just strange - a matchbox army car and a tiny fake aquarium plant, to name a few.  "Why on earth would I have put an aquarium plant into that printer's tray?"  I thought,  "such a goofy teenage thing to do." I didn't tell anyone about my thoughts, and I wasn't thinking out loud so that anyone could have heard me talking to myself as they walked by. They were silent musings, like any other number of random thoughts throughout the day.  

Or so I thought. 

The following day, when I awoke, I found the aquarium plant placed neatly on the bedside stand under the printer's tray.  

Now, at any given moment I may maintain that there are no such thing as ghosts.  I believe it's highly possible, and in fact probable, that when we die, that's it.  Light's out.  You're gone.  But then I think back to those two days, and I can't help but question my certainty.  

About a year ago, one of my cousins in my grandmother's generation passed away.  When she died, she left a huge box of photos to another one of my grandmother's cousins.  Colleen (the living cousin) asked if I wanted to join her at my aunt Carmen's house to sort through the photos, and of course I said yes.  In typical Koelle fashion, I started crying at the first photo of my grandmother.  Colleen has also since passed away, but she gave to me an incredible gift that day.  She gave me some wonderful photos, but her words were her true gift.  Colleen told me that when my grandmother was diagnosed with cancer, what bothered her most was the fact that she would not live to see her grandchildren grow up.  She would miss our graduations, our weddings, the birth of our children.  I had always wondered what her thoughts on dying so young were (she was 58), but it was never something that I could bring myself to ask.  I was glad that Colleen shared that with me.  I'm sure my grandmother's mind was filled with countless thoughts during those months, but it was nice to have a glimpse into just one of the thoughts, especially one that included me.  

My grandmother treated us all like princesses (and one prince), so much that I think my sisters and all of my cousins would maintain that they were each her favorite, but I know better.  I know better not  because I am conceited, or because that's what I want to believe, but because I see my relationship with her reflected in Jacob's relationship with my mom.  My mother adores all of her grandchildren.  She can't wait to tell me stories about my niece or do things with Andrew, but her heart belongs first and foremost to Jacob.  I was my grandmother's Jacob, the first born,  the one who lived with her the longest and needed her the most.

When I was younger, in junior high, I used to imagine that my grandmother was my guardian angel.  I would subtly slide to one side of my seat, in case she wanted to sit next to me.  When I would fly, I would imagine she was on one of the clouds, just outside the airplane window, smiling in at me.  As I got older, that need for make-believe slowly disappeared, but the need for my grandmother's love still burns strong.  It saddened me to get married without her, and I felt her absence when my children were born.  The holidays and beach vacations are always bittersweet. 

I think about my grandmother every single day, often multiple times.  Sometimes I can entertain happy memories of her, smile and move on.  Other times it brings a grief so intense, it feels as if she just died.  When I feel down, when the void feels vast,  I try to focus on the gratitude I have for the time I had.  I could not have been blessed with a better grandmother.  She was in fact my guardian angel, not after she died, but while she was living.  She gave us a safe harbor, stability and security, and she did it with the utmost kindness and the biggest smile...oh, and she threw in a handful of fudge or spearmint leaves now and then to sweeten the pot!  

Do I think she stopped by for a quick visit when Jake was first born?  Absolutely.  I think she stopped by twice, because I was too dense to fully grasp her first sign.  Duh, her ceramic baby, my newborn baby.  Pretty tight connection there! Hey, I never was all that quick on the uptake!  But the aquarium grass? Yep, I got it that time!  

Yes, I think she stopped by just to let me know that she did indeed get to see her first grandson, and I'm betting that she thought he was pretty darn cute.  Thanks, Gram.  

Me, Gram, my cousin Ian and my grandfather, 1980.

I inherited my sweet tooth honestly.

My great grandmother (who lived to 99 and kept all of her own teeth!  Amazing!) and my grandparents on their 25th wedding anniversary.

My grandparents before they were married.  She wrote "windy" on the top of the photo. What a beautiful pair!

(My grandfather is still living, if you are wondering.  He's 83 and still going strong!)

A Boy of Many Hats

"Wearing a hat is like having a baby or a puppy; everyone stops to coo and talk about it." Louise Green

Andrew has always been a boy who loves his hats:

There's the L.L. Bean look...

The Pound Puppy look...

The "Oh Good Grief, What Is On My Head?" look...

The Ski Patrol look...

Halloween Homeboy look, "What's up, yo! Me-OW!"

The "Come join me in some outdoor fun" look...

And the Scooby Dooby Doo look.

Yep, Andrew is a boy of many hats, and I'm so glad he's mine! 

Fall Foliage

Winter is an etching, spring a watercolor, summer an oil painting and autumn a mosaic of them all.  ~Stanley Horowitz

Fall is by far my favorite season.  I love the cold winter temperatures for running, but I despise snow and ice.  I love the promise that spring brings, but the rains get me down.  I adore the careless freedom of summer, but I'm not so wild about the oppressive heat.  But fall, well, what's not to love about fall?  Vibrant colors everywhere, perfect temperatures, the excitement of the upcoming holidays not quite tangible yet, but lingering in the air.  Everything just seems right in the fall.  I wish I could freeze the climate and the hues and live in a constant state of fall all year long.  What a bummer that it's just not possible.  But perhaps if I lived in a constant state of fall, I would begin to lose my appreciation for the season.  It is by recognizing and experiencing both both the favorable and unfavorable attributes of each season that we gain a true appreciation for the uniqueness of each.  Indeed, "to every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven" (Ecclesiastes 3:1).  For today, despite a not-so-fabulous fall forecast, I'm going to focus my gratitude on the season before me, and be thankful for my favorite time of year. 

*Disclaimer - I took these photos a few years ago, but hey, they still capture the beauty of the season, right?!

Back Off, Jack!

Some people are always grumbling because roses have thorns; I am thankful that thorns have roses. Alphonse Karr

Truth be told, these gratitude blogs are making me a little depressed.  The other night Greg asked me what was wrong with me over the last week, and I said I didn't know, but I did feel a little off kilter.  The only thing I can come up with is that I am thinking too much about some of the things in my life.  There are parts to some of those stories which I did not share, not because I am keeping secrets, but because the details don't belong to me.  Some of those details, however, make the stories even sweeter, but also a little sad.  I realized that while reflection on my blessings is good, one can certainly have too much of a good thing.  It is very typical of me to adopt an "all or nothing" mentality about pretty much everything I do.  Like I said before, balance is not my strongest attribute.  With the acknowledgement of how much my life has been blessed, also comes the realization that nothing is absolute.  My kids will be grown before I know it.  My aunt and my parents will not be with me forever.  Heck, even most of my good friends, aside from my college gang, are 20 years older than me.  In all likelihood, they'll be gone before I am too.  I think it is important to be cognizant of the frailty of life and not to take anything for granted, but thinking too much about it is a real downer.  That said, I gotta lighten things up a bit!  I still have a few people I have yet to acknowledge, but the month isn't even half over yet.  I've got time!  I'm not quitting the "30 days of gratitude,"  I'm just choosing more lighthearted banter over all the deep sentimentality.

So, what am I grateful for today, you ask?  Well...

I'm grateful for the return of my dear little kitty, Sam, who is currently sitting in the most inconveniencing spot, directly between me and the keyboard.  It's amazing how you learn to work around goofy situations when you have kids.  Pets are no different!  He had his neuter and declaw surgery on Friday and spent the night at the vet's office.  We brought him home Saturday morning with a shaved butt and bloody front paws.  Although he appears to have a little discomfort here and there, he is surprisingly playful and agile.

I'm also grateful for the outdoor cat bathroom that Greg built this weekend.  He actually cut a hole in the side of our house, installed a cat door, and a "breezeway" which attaches to a Rubbermaid, flip top storage bin, with a litter box inside.  When he first told me about this idea, I was more than a little skeptical, but hey, it works!  And the cat loves it!  Yay!  No more litter inside my house!

I'm grateful for Andrew's unique fashion sense.  It always brings a smile:

I'm grateful for sauer kraut!  Last weekend Greg made sauer kraut with his brothers, dad and friend Cheese.  I was the only wife who tagged along!  I had a lot of fun being one of the boys, and mashing the cabbage to make kraut.  For New Year's day this year, we'll be eating a happy pig in homemade kraut!  (Sorry the picture is blurry - it's from Greg's cell phone)

I'm also very grateful for my darling husband who watched the kids most of the day yesterday so that I could run errands and go to a friend's baby shower.  I got a lot done, and I plan to get more done today.  When Andrew lays down for his nap, and the family is watching a football game that I couldn't care less about, I'm hitting the stores to finish my Christmas shopping.  Sure, there's always a few things that I can't buy until the last minute, but aside from that small handful, I plan to complete my obligations this afternoon.  That relief in completion is perhaps the most wonderful thing of all!  

Sweet Potato Love

All happiness depends on a leisurely breakfast.  ~John Gunther

I love sweet potatoes.  I love them baked, raw, mashed, you name it.  I have yet to find a recipe with sweet potatoes that I didn't like.  That's why I was so excited when I came across the pumpkin muffin recipe in Runner's World, which suggested substituting sweet potatoes for the pumpkin.  Well, this morning instead of running (my motivation is seriously lacking), I decided to make sweet potato muffins.  Before I started making the muffins, I had a few changes in mind.  I wanted less ginger, a little nutmeg and cinnamon.  Then, as I was making the muffins, I realized that I had no buttermilk.  Being already 3/4 of the way through the recipe, I decided to substitute a container of Chobani plain Greek yogurt.  Now, I have never claimed to be a baker, and making hap-hazard substitutions has traditionally ended in irrevocable kitchen disasters, but today the results were fantastic!  I don't care what kind of diet you follow.  If you don't like these muffins, there's something seriously wrong with you!

This is the recipe as I made it:

2 1/2 cups quinoa flour (original calls for pastry flour)
3/4 cup sugar
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoons ground ginger (original calls for 1 teaspoon)
1/2 teaspoon pumpkin pie spice (not in original)
1/2 tsp cinnamon (not in original)
1/4 cup melted butter
1/4 cup applesauce (no sugar added) (original calls for 1/4 cup vegetable oil)
1 cup pureed sweet potato (I used two small sweet potatoes, peeled, cubed, boiled and mashed.  They equaled about 1 1/2 cups and I just threw it all in)
1 egg, beaten
1- 6 ounce container Chobani plain Greek yogurt (original recipe calls for 1/2 cup buttermilk)

Preheat oven to 375.

Combine dry ingredients.

In a separate bowl whisk together the wet ingredients, including sweet potato.  Fold wet mixture into the dry.  The batter will be very dense.

Spoon into muffin cups.  You can fill the cups almost completely, because the batter will only rise slightly during baking.  I also recommend keeping a shallow bowl or cup with water in it, to wet your fingers and smooth the batter out in the muffin cups before baking, because it's so thick that it doesn't spread and fill the cups itself.

Bake for about 25 minutes.

Spread a little butter on a warm muffin, and you can't help but be grateful for such a delicious breakfast!

Allegheny Gals

Let us be grateful to people who make us happy;  they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom.

                                         Marcel Proust

I graduated from Allegheny College in Meadville, Pennsylvania in 1999.  I can hardly believe that 16 years have passed since I first set foot on campus as an Allegheny freshman.  The four years I spent at Allegheny were among the best years of my life.  I was surrounded by eager learners, ample opportunities, and wonderful friends.  When else, except in college, do you have your best friends living right across the hall, multiple closets of clothing to choose from, freedom and independence abounding, while your only real responsibility is to get good grades?  Only in college.

Who else loves you like your college friends?  Who else has seen you at your worst, knows your most embarrassing stories and darkest secrets and loves you anyway?  Actually, they love you because of those things…or maybe they love you because they know that you have enough equally incriminating information on them that it would be unwise not to love you!

At this point in our lives, we have all moved to different geographic areas, and most of us have families of our own now.  Even amidst the chaos of our lives, we still manage to get together at least once or twice a year.  Our gatherings are the type where the years immediately fade away.  We are instantly 19 again - immature, fun-loving, full of heartfelt sarcasm, and frequently at least partially inebriated! 

These are the women who came of age with me.  We helped one another sort through our childhood demons and find our true selves, and we had some really good times during that process.  To my Allegheny gals, I love you all dearly.  You are among my best, life long friends.  I can’t wait to see you all again soon! 

10 year reunion, at Woodcock Dam

Michelle, Me, Danielle and Amy

Spring get together at Shelly's house

Summer fun at my place

30 years old!  How did that happen?  And that was 5 years ago!!!

Camping at Gambrill State Park with my best buddies.

Greg

For you see, each day I love you more,
Today more than yesterday and less than tomorrow.
~Rosemonde Gerard

There are many things about my day that I am grateful for: 

• that first sip of coffee, made possible by a lovely programmable coffee pot
• when Andrew totters down the stairs in the morning, stuffed lobster in one arm and blankie in the other, smiling behind his binkie, waiting for a cuddle on the couch.
• when Jake comes home from school and tells me all about his day.
• when Sam greets me at the door, as if he were a dog.

But the time that I look most forward to is bed time.  The boys never sleep with us, barring the occasional illness or early morning snuggle.  Our bed is ours alone, the only sacred spot in a sizable house that we do not share with our children.  This is the time of day when Greg and I can catch up with one another and recount the highlights of our day without any outside distractions.  When we are ready to sleep, we have the same ritual every night - he lays on his back, and I cuddle up to him, wrap my legs around his and drift off.  Inevitably, I get uncomfortable before he does, so I flip over to my other side, and he cuddles with me.  I love everything about those moments.  I love how he feels next to me, the comfort between us, the security of the moment.  I don't have to make a conscious effort to be mindful of my blessings each night; they are laid out readily before me.  

I think I have mentioned before that I broke up with Greg twice during the years we were dating.  The first time was short-lived and uneventful.  The second time was longer and much more serious.  Let's skip the details of the actual break-up - I'll only tell you that I told him not to contact me, and that the break-up was caused by my panic about a relationship that was too good for me to accept as my own.  Let me instead tell you about how we got back together.  It's a much better story.  

One fall night in 2005, I was awakened by my dad telling my mom that our neighbor's house was on fire.  My first thought was that I was dreaming, but sure enough, when I looked out of my room, our entire upstairs hallway was filled with the orange glow of flames.  Their house wasn't just on fire, it was completely ablaze.  We hurriedly got ourselves dressed and got out of the house.  I stood in awe as I watched our neighbors home burn completely to the ground.  It was one of the most horrific things I have ever seen.  

No one was seriously hurt in the fire, thank God, but in the aftermath it became apparent that the families (it was a duplex) would need some considerable assistance getting back on their feet.  The entire neighborhood helped.  I made a list of items that the families would be needed and spoke to local businesses about donating items.  The day after the fire, Greg drove by my house.  I was standing outside and he got out of the truck to ask what he could do to help.  I told him about the things the family would need and he asked me for a copy of the list.  I gave it to him, and he drove off.  It was a tense conversation, to say the least.  He was only inquiring about the victims of the fire.  He left me alone, as I had requested, but I could see the hurt in his eyes and it broke my heart.  

A few days passed as I made my way around town.  I went to Riverside (now Hometown Market) and asked them if they would be willing to donate anything.  The manager said, "Koelle has already been here."  I said, "I'm Koelle, and I know I haven't been here yet."  She said, "Well, it was a man, a very handsome man, speaking for Koelle."  "Ah, " I said, "I know who that was."  Later that day, I was at the new home of one of the families (which was only half a block away), helping them get things in order.  Greg drove by and unloaded countless supplies from the back of his truck.  Some of the supplies were things he bought, some were things he had persuaded companies to donate.  He was nice to me, but he didn't press me for anything.  He didn't do it to get me back.  In fact, I know it was extremely difficult for him to help that family through me because it magnified his pain over our break-up.  He did it because it is simply his nature to help, to contribute, and to support anyone who is in need. 

I thought about him for a day or two and then I called him.  We went for a walk through town and I told him that I wasn't making any promises, but that I would like to try again as long as we moved at a snail's pace.  He agreed and the plan worked.  We've been happily together ever since.  

Greg is the most balanced person I know.  He works, and works and works and works.  His work is tough, physically and mentally demanding, with long and sometimes unnatural hours, always exposed to potential danger.  When Greg is done working, he's truly done.  He never brings his rough days home.  He is always 100% focused on the person he is with.  No matter how exhausted he is (and there are many times when I know that exhausted is an understatement), he is always pleasant, always ready to play with the boys or get together with family and friends.  

Greg values family and friends more than anything else.  He would drop everything if someone he cared about simply invited him for coffee.  He is a dedicated father who doesn't just provide for his children, but also plays with them, and does so because he wants to, not because he feels like he is obligated.  He is a wonderful husband.  He would give me the moon if I asked for it.  But I don't want the moon.  I only want Greg.  

Greg has been my equilibrium since we met.  He helps me see the good when I am blinded by negativity.  He makes sure that I don't take life too seriously.  He encourages me to break out of my beloved (and sometimes imprisoning) routine and seek adventure and spontaneity.  He is kind and attentive, generous and loyal, devoted and tenacious.  I often wonder what I have done to deserve this man, because surely I am not his equal.  Perhaps it is best not to question.  Instead, I will simply cherish him and thank God for bringing him into my life.  I have been blessed.

Steelers power!

Jacob's 2nd birthday party

You may now kiss the bride...that is, if you can get past her 3 year old!

Boatmen

If Greg is on the tube, who is driving the boat?

Andrew's first fishing trip...10 days old!

There's nothing quite as sweet as holding your new born son.

This picture makes me laugh every time I see it.  I'm the only one who looks decent (I wish I was still that thin!), and that's quite a rarity!  Greg looks like he's had a few too many drinks, Andrew is unsure of the whole thing and Jake, well...Jake speaks for himself! 

"Mom, your hand is in my armpit!"

Young love

Christmas 2010

Every boy needs someone to show them the nuances of extracting juice from a honeysuckle.