43 Years

Today is our 43rd anniversary. You'd think by now we could ace the Newlywed Game or some other game show about how well do you know your spouse.

Maybe. Maybe not.

For instance, this morning, at breakfast, I served orange juice in two pretty little glasses engraved "20th Anniversary". I told him the girls had given us those glasses 23 years ago. "Hmmm, I'd have failed that question on a game show," he said. That's ok. They have been mostly on display for the last 23 years. This morning I chose to use them.

However, there have been times when we have been so in sync it is positively scary.

There was the Christmas we gave each other the same gift. We bought each other bath towels with ducks on them. True...we had spent the whole trip south to Florida from our vacation in Connecticut stopping at outlet malls looking for duck towels to go in our newly redecorated bathroom featuring mallard ducks. We hadn't found any then. Yet, 5 months later, there were several towels in wrapped boxes under the tree.

There was the Christmas we bought each other Christmas cards that looked different on the outside, but had the exact same message in it!

Sometimes it can be scary.

And then there was yesterday. We are in the middle of this move. We've been overwhelmed by the unpacking. There are address changes to make, insurance to set up, auto tags to apply for. Plenty to do, and little time to get it all done. (The kids are popping in for a visit with the grand kids in a little over a week from now.) Lots to get us sidetracked. So I tentatively asked him the other night, "We aren't exchanging gifts are we?" He glanced over. "Uh-uh" he says with conviction. OK. Phew... because I hadn't had a chance to even think what to get him!

Of course I didn't want to be completely unprepared so yesterday, I ran out to Walmart to pick up a prescription AND to get him an Anniversary card. I came home and tried to sign it behind his back before we went out for the day; Movie, sofa shopping and dinner at my favorite restaurant. I planned to present the card at dinner. It was the perfect card... It started out "Today is the day to drop everything, ignore the demands, put the world on hold..." Yes it was, and we were doing just that!

He saw what I was doing and looked sheepishly at me. "Ummm, I didn't get you a card."

"You WHAT? You didn't GET me a card????" Incredulous, yes. (But honestly, not upset.) However, I had to rub it in. I left the card at home, and reminded him he still had a day to get me one. He wasn't off the hook yet!

After we bought the sofa, later that afternoon, we had some time to kill before dinner and I saw him scoping out the cards in a gift shop.

This morning we exchanged our cards at the breakfast table. Our day to 'drop everything' was past, but the rest of the card still said what I felt. I opened his card. There was a hot fudge sundae on the front with lots of whipped cream and two cherries. (My kind of dessert!)

"Building a life with you is the sweetest treat of all"....it said. "That says it all" he added.

And that's what anniversaries are all about. Celebrating the present, the past, the moment, the memories. Appreciating the moments when you are in complete sync, and laughing about the moments when you are in two different orbits.

And this year... just being glad to make it to the end of the day still smiling, and looking forward to a good night's sleep. And ready to do it again, tomorrow!

Happy Anniversary, Honey! Here's to Many, Many More!!

Feeling Moody, Not Thankful

In January, when I chose to keep as my daily mantra, the Bible verse from 1Thessalonians, 5:18, I knew there would be times this year when it would be hard to live up to. "In all things give thanks" instructs Paul. Paul knew what he was saying. He knew there would be days when you just wouldn't want to, wouldn't feel it, would hardly be up to it. But he knew it was the way to keep in touch with God and the way to keep things in perspective.

Yesterday, as Larry and I climbed into the car to do an afternoon of running around, I wasn't feeling the joy. The sky was gray, the air chilly, and I was tired of everything. I wanted to be home. I wanted to be alone. I wanted this move to be OVER! I've said it before, and I will repeat myself here. I hate moving. When it is all over I will be fine, but right now my home is in Pittsburgh. That's where my stuff is. That's where my friends are. That's where my life is, or at least, has been. I hate the transition. I want the unpacking to be done. I want to know where all my stuff will go. I want to be finished weeding out the stuff we will discover we don't really need. I want it to be six months from now, when I walk in my house and feel completely settled. I don't want to be living out of a suitcase, in a house that has one table, one bed and 2 chairs.

In all things give thanks....?

Let's see... since April 4, I have been a girl without a home, (sort of). I spent 5 weeks and 1 day (Larry was counting) taking care of Zachary, sleeping on a mattress on Jen's living room floor, grabbing a shower while they ate breakfast and before they left for work, and living out of a suitcase that was on their bedroom floor. Each morning we dragged my mattress back into their bedroom and propped it against the wall, and brought it out each night. I have to say, right here, it worked GREAT. We had no problems. In spite of the lack of alone time or privacy for all involved, there were no issues. And I loved spending time with Zachary and seeing Nicholas each day.

Then I spent 2 and 1/2 days with my sister. I had my own bed there! Luxury! It was a short visit, but she will be heading north about the same time we move south, so we grabbed the time we could.

Now I'm back at our cabin in Georgia. But my stuff is in the house in Pittsburgh. Home is where the heart is? Sounds nice but truthfully, for me, right now, home is where my stuff is. And that is Pittsburgh. It's been 6 weeks since things have felt normal.

Yesterday, as we did our errands, that (stupid) verse ran through my mind. Hmmph. I wasn't feeling it. I tried to come up with an attitude adjustment. As the day wore on the errands took over and I allowed myself to settle into the moment. The moodiness diminished, but I can't say I ever got that 'thankful' feeling.

Today, the sun came out, and I took the car by myself, to do MY errands, at my speed. I wanted to scope out plants that grow in the Georgia mountains and get an idea for what I might want to plant here once we finally stay here long enough to plant and water them. I stopped for a caramel macchiato and a donut and I sat alone in the sun and soaked up its energy. I looked at flowers and absorbed the energy from their simple beauty. I picked up groceries and planned dinner. Whoa! That's the first dinner I've planned and cooked since early April! In short, I started to feel normal. And the tension slowly melted away. By the time I came home I felt like a different person.

Was I giving thanks? Not really. But I realized sometimes it's not an act of joy, but more an attitude of acceptance for whatever was bugging me.

In The Hiding Place, Betsie Ten Boom told her sister, Corrie, they had to give thanks for the fleas in their barracks in the concentration camp. It was a hard lesson, and I don't believe for a minute, they ever felt joy at the fleas. But they did accept them. Later they discovered the real blessing in those fleas. But even if they never had, they still carried an attitude of thankfulness.

The good news for me is that this transition period is just that. Someday, it will all be over and I will feel connected with my life again. Until then, sometimes it's really not about the joy. It's just learning not to fight what can't be fought.

And that, I can do.

MEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! A Two-Year Old's Vocabulary

I'm staying with Jen and Dave these days to help take care of Zachary while his current babysitter is unavailable. I love these days with the kids. I haven't been here for close to a year, although I've seen them a couple of times in that period. This gives me a chance to reconnect with Nicholas and get to know Zachary a little better. He is two. He is self-absorbed. He is determined. He rules the world. As far as he is concerned, It's All About ME!!!

Zachary's idea of getting to know you is to give you a big hug-- a wonderful hug, I might add-- and to make sure you know EXACTLY what he wants and what he doesn't want. That's a tall order for an itty bitty thing that has a working vocabulary of about 5 words.

Mama, DADA, Out, UH-UH!, The lesser--Uh Huh!, EW and ME! or MEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!! depending on the urgency. There are other words, but these are the most important as far as he is concerned.

And yet we always know just what it is he wants.

Most of those are self explanatory. EW is very descriptive and covers everything from sticky hands, to a stinky diaper. EW with a screech probably means "Get that drop of syrup off of my bib this second!" EW means "Clean it Up!"

Then there are hand signals. An outstretched hand opening and closing means "I want to show you something". Wise people will go look. It could be harmless... "I want Elmo out of my bed." Or it could mean "Look! There's a boat floating in the toilet!", OR, "I just helped myself to some vita gummies on the counter." He is a constant reminder that 2 year-olds are fun-loving (note: boat) and resourceful (note: vita gummies).

My favorite hand signal is the one that comes at the end of dinner... or after he eats 3 bites and hands his plate back. "Dada!," he says. When Dave looks at him he holds his arms out in front of him, makes a tight fist with his hands, and his whole upper body tenses and shakes---his sign for Cold--or in this case, ICE CREAM! His light blue eyes positively light up at the thought! If dada ignores him he tries it again, a little louder. By the 3rd time his eyes have a fierce look, the shaking has taken on earthquake proportions, and he sends as much energy as he can muster into that look so there can be no mistaking what he wants!

Today we have heard a lot of  UH-UH, and MEEEEEEE!!! Today he is ornery and full of himself. Whatever I suggest, (or need to do) he's got other plans.

"Zachary, it's time for lunch." "Uh-Uh"

I try again, "Yep, It's time for lunch!," I say enthusiastically. "UH-UH!" he answers with more defiance.

"Do you want a hot dog, or Peanut butter?" UH-UH!

I change tactics.
"Then it's time for a nap." UH-UH!!

Lunch or Nap?  UH-UH!!!  Each response is louder and higher in pitch.

Finally we settle on lunch.

"Let's get in your chair." MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!! he says racing to the chair.
I slowly back away, lest it escalates again, and let him climb in his chair by himself.
I heat his hot dog in the microwave and transfer it to his plastic plate.

UH-UH!!!!! he says pushing away his plate.
This, I have learned, doesn't mean he doesn't want it. It means if I fixed it on one plate, that's the plate HE expects to be served on. I put the hot dog back on the paper plate and give that to him.

I am learning. There are tricks to feeding him. There are ways to cajole him into doing what you want. And there are times when you will never win, until you pull out the Parent Card:  "When all else fails, remember YOU ARE BIGGER!" As parents, next to patience, it is the best card we have.

A Gradual Awakening

When March and April roll around I eagerly begin searching for the first signs of spring. When I walk, I check the trees to see if the branch tips have begun to turn red. I search peoples' flower beds for signs of a crocus. I'm always in a hurry, and Spring always seems to drag its feet. This has been a very snowy winter and people everywhere are just ready for Spring! Me included!

March 20, The First Day of Spring came. It was cold, gray and there were snow flurries in the air.

This is the time when robins appear looking for worms, and make all of us think '"It won't be long now!" Then you wake up one morning to several inches of snow on the ground and you hear a loud healthy scream coming from somewhere. It turns out it's you, trying to vent some of that frustration.

One day as I was driving through the snow flurries I remembered the promise I made myself at the beginning of the year. "In all things, give thanks.", the Bible verse I was going to try to live out. OK, I can be thankful it's just flurries, and not a blizzard. Fair enough. I can be thankful it's..... hmmm....think some more.....it was warmer yesterday and it will be warmer tomorrow. It's a thought, but truthfully, I was still not feeling all that grateful.

And then I really started to think about what Spring is all about. Plant life has been dormant all winter, and March is its time to slowly wake up. Thinking back I remembered winter a year ago. We had a mild December. My daffodils were 4 inches high before Christmas, only to be crushed again and again by the late freezing temperatures and snow. They couldn't figure out when it was safe to come up.

This winter all of my bulbs have stayed tucked deep in the ground until now, when they are hesitantly peeking their heads out to see if it's safe. The trees are beginning to test the air as well and are slowly turning red. How much better is that gradual awakening than the mild spring, followed by a late snow that kills off the new blossoms.

I thought a little more about gradual awakenings and realized that's how we all are. There is the image of a dad, sound asleep on the couch, and his 4 year-old son comes in and yells in his ear. Dad jumps, sits up, his heart pounding in his chest. How much nicer, and better, is it to lie in bed in the morning and gradually come-to as you wake up at your own pace.

Even patients, who have been put in a sleep-induced coma for their healing, are brought out of it gradually.

Waking up slow. It has a nice feel to it. As much as I would love to wake up tomorrow and see a forest full of leaf covered trees, it would be hard to appreciate the daffodils if they were surrounded by roses and petunias. It's the fact that the daffodils and tulips are the only show, that allows us to see them as the star of the show. And speaking of the Only star in the show? I love Forsythia. Not everyone likes this shrub that can grow wild and bushy. It's not all that pretty in the summer when it's covered in little green leaves. It doesn't have much character then. But in late March or early April it is the only bush blooming and that gorgeous, bright, sunny yellow calls to you from hillsides and roadsides. It heralds Spring.

In Florida, winter is a muted season. It can get cold--below freezing in fact, but it doesn't last long. In February, spring arrives quick and vibrant. Azaleas bloom along with flowering cherry and a few dogwoods. In 3 weeks it's over and summer is knocking on the door. When I lived there I liked it that way. But I missed daffodils. When I moved back north, the Pear, Eastern Redbud and dogwood in Spring reminded me of all I had missed.

Ok. I still wish Spring would move a little faster, but when I compare it to places where it does, I can appreciate a gradual awakening that comes with Spring. While I'm waiting, you'll excuse me if I roll over in the morning and snuggle back into my pillow. If the trees can take their time waking up, then so can I!

Challenges and Conquests

February came and went and we are almost finished with March. Yea!! Most winters I get to spend a few weeks in Florida, but this year we made the Great Trek at Christmas to both Iowa AND Florida. And we are moving soon to Georgia, so winter travel just wasn't in the cards. Even with trips to the land of the sun, usually by now I am deep into a jug of OJ and Vodka. This winter, one would think I would be well into my second jug. It's been long, cold, and snowy. One could get a little tired of it all.

In search of endorphins, I take Yoga at a gym. It's a great class, with a great group of  women. This winter the gym did its best to give us another reason to feel sorry for ourselves. The Plank Challenge! What is the Plank Challenge? To see how long we could hold ourselves in Plank position, of course!

Every class from Yoga to Zumba began with us holding the plank position for as long as the instructor challenged us...or as long as we could make it. It started at 20 seconds at the beginning of February. At the end of the month we were challenged to last for 3 minutes! I decided early on if I could make it for one minute I'd be happy!

There was another side to February that was more fun. I signed up for 2 months of voice lessons to evaluate my voice and learn better breathing techniques. As a teen I sang soprano. After I got married and had kids, I didn't sing in a choir for years. By the time I went back to choir, the high notes were gone, so I started singing alto.

I learned a few things at those lessons. First, I discovered I should be a soprano, but I really need to stretch my voice. I also discovered that if you want to prove to yourself that you really can't sing, try voice lessons! I can carry a tune pretty well, and put me in a choir surrounded by other average voices like mine and it sounds lovely. Put me in a room by myself with just a piano to keep me on pitch and I sound remarkably like those poor kids trying out for American Idol whose parents assured them they were the next Mariah Carey.... but werent'! The ones that made Simon, Paula AND Randy wince.

So when February was over how did I do? All I can say is I amazed myself!

As for the Plank Challenge, I hung in for 3 minutes and 20 seconds! I was so proud of myself!

My voice lessons are just finishing up, but I started with a range of about an octave and a half, and ended with a range of two and a half octaves. I hit high notes I hadn't heard in years. It doesn't sound pretty yet...more like a bad wheel bearing, but in time it will. It just takes daily practice. Just like holding plank in yoga.

I will never be a Yoga instructor, or sing solos in a choir, but I stretched myself in ways I haven't done for a long time. It was probably healthier than fighting through February with the jug of OJ and Vodka. One thing is certain. If you want to feel good, endorphins only go so far. Conquering a challenge is a feeling that lasts a lot longer.

Making God Laugh

There is a line that says "If you want to see God laugh, just tell him your plans."

I believe it's true. I can document some of the chuckles I have given God over the years.

In my early years I followed what came naturally. I graduated from school, went to college, met the love of my life, got married, had kids....I followed the pattern. Then Larry decided he wanted to change jobs. He got a new job. He wanted to move south. I wanted to move north. I thought New England was the perfect place to be. (Of course, the only time I had ever spent in New England had been in the summer. It was beautiful. It was friendly. It was fun. Let's go there!!) Or Colorado. (It has mountains. It is beautiful. Let's go there!) Larry checked the statistics for salesmen in fishing and hunting. He was looking around. I thought to myself, PLEASE, NOT the SOUTH!!!! So he picked Florida. Ok, Technically, Florida is just a northern state that was placed south of Georgia, so maybe God was just looking for a giggle, not a real laugh.

7 years later:
I have finally adjusted to living in Florida. I've decided it's ok if I stay here. It took awhile, I know. I was a reluctant transplant. For the first time since we've moved here I've made plans for the fall. I will be my daughter's Girl Scout leader. The phone rings..... within hours I've discovered we are moving to Ft. Lauderdale. There are only 2 places in the U.S. I don't want to live. California and Miami. God apparently needs a pick-me-up. Time for a chuckle. Send her to Ft. Lauderdale. Her husband can work in Miami.

After 4 years of penance I am returned to that place I didn't want to be in the first place, Tampa. And I am THRILLED!!!!! I can not tell you how happy I am to be back there. Ironic isn't it? God has a great sense of humor.

Fast forward several years. My oldest daughter is approaching marriage. No proposal yet, but could be soon. I look at the church where we've been a member for years. These people have been a part of her life. I can see it. The pastor that will marry her, the organist that will play at the service. The couple in our church that can sing the solos at her service. I can see it all coming to fruition.....

There is not a happy ending here. Let's just say it never happened. 1) the pastor retired. 2) the organist and one of the soloists had an affair. 3) Fortunately, my daughter had her own plans and her own church so she had her own people lined up. I suspect God wasn't laughing. Perhaps there was a trickle of a tear. But there was a happy wedding, even if it wasn't what I had seen. And He was smiling.

2005--I can see the future. Although Larry and I moved away from our extended families, I have a great chance of having my kids around me in the future. Jen and Dave are in Orlando, with strong ties to the area. We have been in Florida for 25 years. Janice has proclaimed that she doesn't want to move from Florida. (HA)!  I'm feeling good. I never see it coming.

Jen starts the dominoes. She and her husband are looking at teaching positions in Charlotte, NC. I'm ok with that. A couple of months later, Janice announces she has been on eHarmony.com and met a guy named Mike who lives in Iowa. IOWA??????? (I can't tell you how long it took me to wrap my head around that!) Larry completes the Trifecta. His job is eliminated. He starts a nation-wide search. I can see all my plans collapsing around my head.

God must have needed a real belly laugh with this one. Jen stayed in Florida. Janice married and moved to Iowa, and we moved to PA. What happened to my vision of a family close by in Florida? (Author's note: I've been to Iowa many times now, and I really like it there. More importantly, so does Janice!)

What prompted this post? Why am I talking about all this history, now? The weather.

We, by that I mean most of the east, are having a crazy winter. Super cold is one part of it, but most areas are experiencing very high snowfalls. Recently, I was clearing snow for the 3rd day in a row. After a while it gets boring. And annoying. I get up in the morning and then try to decide if I need to shovel or get the snowblower out now, or later because it's still coming down.

As I was clearing it, I thought to myself, "It might be cold in Georgia but I won't be doing this!"

And the next morning I heard the weather report:" Extreme cold in the south and record snowfalls" for an area without snow removal equipment.

And I thought to myself, "REALLY GOD? Are you that bored? Are you laughing with me or AT ME????"

God has probably laughed at me more than this, but sometimes I'm too blind to see. All I know is that deciding I know my future is futile. But I'm sure I'll keep doing it. Someone has to bring a chuckle into His life.

Olympic Inspiration Part 2

The Olympics have come to an end and I have regained a portion of my life. I reclaimed my afternoons and I'm back to getting to bed before midnight, but it was fun while it lasted.

Who inspired me this year? An Olympics or two ago, (1996 actually) there was a tiny little thing that bounced off a Vault in gymnastics and landed on 2 legs and immediately, And I Mean IMMEDIATELY pulled her left leg up, because it was hurt. Keri Strug didn't hurt her leg on that landing. She hurt it in the preceding vault. But she went for it anyway. Common sense would have said, being able to walk for the rest of your life is more important than getting a great score right now. But athletes don't always recognize Common Sense rules. Their goals are so integrated into their being they can push through situations that would flatten most of us.

This year, I watched Figure Skater Jeremy Abbott hit the ice. Literally. Jeremy launched into some kind of spin/jump, but when he landed it wasn't on his feet. He hit the ice, and fell hard on his hip and then slid HARD into a wall. He lay prone for several seconds. (Just seconds? Felt like forever!) Finally he stood, rubbed his hip, winced in pain and headed for the judges station to withdraw from the competition. Then the fans started applauding and cheering.

I've been to enough sporting events to know when the fans applaud you standing up, they aren't saying GO ON!~ YOU CAN DO IT!!!!! YEA!!!!!!!!. They are just glad you aren't permanently injured. But that's not how Jeremy saw it.

Unable to let the fans down he went on to a truly inspirational program. He hit every jump. As far as I was concerned, he nailed EVERY move and was inspirational! I have a little bit of professional support here. The announcers were as amazed as I was.

That same night Evgeni Plushenko was also inspirational to me, but in a totally different way. Knowing when to walk takes just as much courage as getting back on the horse. Here was a national hero. He knew what was expected of him. We want our heroes to succeed. They EXPECT them to succeed. Evgeni knew he couldn't perform and would either embarrass his country or hurt himself. Either way, he knew it was time to walk, not skate. It was a sad moment, especially for all of his Russian fans. But I was proud of him. It was a really difficult decision.

Then there was skiing. Lots of skiing. I'm not familiar enough with the different events to keep them all straight, but there was one that was memorable. In one event 5 men skiied downhill. Only the first 3 would qualify for the finals. A skier at the back of the pack fell.  No way would he qualify,-- but he didn't give up. He got up and continued on to sure failure. Then the skier in 3rd place lost his balance and fell into the one in 2nd place. AHA! Suddenly, what looked like sure failure for one skier was sudden success. Not Giving Up. That's a trait among competitors.

That's how I saw the race. Apparently, Kelly Ripa saw it the same way I did. Micheal Strahan however, saw it differently. He barely noticed the one that fell and got up. Instead, he focused on the two that fell. He said if he had worked that hard to get to the Olympics and someone took him out of a race, he'd be pretty mad. I bet most guys were thinking the same thing. I wonder if that's a male vs. female attitude? Or is there something else that makes us look at the same thing differently?

In the end, for me, the Olympics are a series of stories of people; successes, failures, miracle wins and unexpected loss. I rarely remember who won which Gold, or which country has the most medals. But while the games are going on, I'm hooked. And when they are over, it is the stories that stay with me.