Flamingo Feathers

Social Grace. Say What?

2011-12-20T19:52:00.004-05:00

There remains a segment of the population who adhere to the strict rules of the social graces. These people no longer fit in the 'norm' as it were. They are not rude, they will hold a door for the opposite sex, an elder, a youngster, a woman with a stroller. They will offer you a cold drink, a hot cup of tea, a snack. They'll provide you with a smile and "Hello. Nice to meet you." while making eye contact and shaking your hand. They will not say what is really on their mind in instances where doing so would be rude, offensive or hurtful. The old adage 'If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all' still applies in their lives. I love these people.*

Are you one of these near extinct individuals? I am. Or rather I thought I was until I realized over the course of the last few weeks that I am fighting a losing battle with myself and those I encounter on a daily basis. Those simple acts of kindness, politeness, courtesy seem to have become the latest fatality in a world that seems a bit upside down. Upside down, that is, for people who have become, perish the thought, their parents! It bothers me no end that I am regularly the victim of rude, uncaring people. It bothers me more that I'm beginning to fight back. With my mouth. Oy.*

Ever the optimist & happiness spreading fool (that's a subject for another day) I have found myself letting things slip. Out.Of.My.Mouth. It has become no easy fete for me to zip my lips and walk away; from rude, unfriendly, uncaring people. *

Say what? Yes. Me. Tsk.Tsk.Tsk. I am no longer the daughter my mother and father carefully raised to be the hostess with the mostest or the girl everyone loves because she is always, and I mean always, nice to others. Plaster that smile on your face Chicky and suck it up, me. Nope. *

I just can't do it anymore. *

A few weeks ago I had to go in to the local Verizon Wireless store with a phone that was not working. After careful discussion and questions asked and answered a new phone was ordered. I knew the guy lied to me. Knew it. But I didn't want to believe it. Twenty-four hours later my refurbished, not new, phone arrived and I promptly called the store. I was treated to a young woman who told me, "I don't know why he told you that. He KNOWS we never send new phones." And that was that. She didn't want to hear about my complaint and didn't seem inclined to want to resolve the problem. So I kind of blew up at her. Alright, that's a fib. I did blow up. I was loud. I was rude. I was demanding. I probably ruined her day. *

I'm not calling to apologize. I took my phone problem to another local store where the problem was promptly, efficiently and courteously corrected. So, yeah. I have a new working phone and a large stone of guilt hanging from a chain around my neck. Know what I mean?*

Then, I went to Lowe's. I ran in to pick up some suet, a pair of work gloves and a live wreath for the front door. I quickly picked up the items and went to the self checkout area. Where the computer promptly did not like my scanning abilities. Or the bar codes. I'm not sure which. The female employee who was working the self checkout area was assisting another woman, but she looked up and told me she'd be with me in a moment. *

I am nothing if not patient. So I waited. I looked around, added a magazine to my items. In the meanwhile the employee is calling the office for help. She looks up and tells me, "I really can't help you. I have a severe allergy to greens!" My brain kicks in with 'what the hell are you doing working in a store that sells greens then?' but my mouth does not open and I suggest that I'll move back with the wreath if she will come over a reset the computer, which she agrees to do. In the end, the computer just would not work for me and I eventually lost my patience, but not my social graces, and left the items for another day. *

The list of encounters that end up badly for one or the other of us involved is long this month. At the car repair shop. The bowling alley. Papa Gino's. *

Today a coworker told me I'd "hit the nail on the head" when I commented that I don't appreciate people coming to me with a big smile on their face and their false greetings and social graces when in fact all they want is for me to do something for them. Fix a problem. Order supplies. Check their payroll. What-have-you. *

Say What? Hit the nail on the head? "Yes. That is exactly the problem. People either don't know, don't remember or don't care about being courteous and thoughtful any more. I'm not saying you have to like everyone you meet or work with, but if you practise the very act of being kind, caring, courteous it makes not only your own day, but others peoples days much nicer too."*

Sure does. *

Social Graces: *Social graces are skills used to interact politely in social situations. They include manners and etiquette, deportment and fashion. These skills were once taught to young women at a finishing or charm school. The focus of social graces has changed over the last century, recently with an emphasis on business etiquette and international protocol. * excerpted from Wikipedia.

Blog Business

2011-11-29T19:44:00.004-05:00

As I've tried to jump back into blogging, er, more steadily, I find myself thinking about the blog roll I have over on the side, 'Blogs of Interest to Me'. I scroll down the list and recognize that fully half of the blogs I used to follow are no longer on that list because I did some housekeeping a while back and finally decided those folks weren't going to be blogging again anytime too soon.

Seems my list is getting shorter and shorter because, well, dang, there are a number of blogs in the list who have not updated in two years. Two years is a long time to be away from your blogging friends but I know some of the reason is the AOL Toss we got and some of the reason may be blogger logistics and let's add living life to its fullest to that list.

But I really wish some of you would come back to the fold. The reason your blog remains on my list, even in an inactive state is because some of you were the first on-line friends I had relationships with and as foolish as it seems, that was and remains important to me.

Further blog business requires me to now find a little extra time to add some of my blog friends back on the list and also add some new blogs as well. Come one, come all! And to those of you who are formerly AOL-J and are on the 'Formerly AOL-J' list on Facebook, yippee! It's so easy to find you!

I am trying to back off a bit from Facebook, not because I don't love it because anyone who knows me on or off Facebook knows that I love it - for whatever reason or reasons. My dear, dear sister-in-law (and friend) refers to me as a Facebook Freak. Be that as it may, it's fun and inexpensive entertainment and a great way to keep in touch without burning a hole in my brain from over use of the phone.

Of course, one could argue that letter writing the old fashioned way would keep us in touch too. Which reminds me that I owe Deb a return letter from just about a year ago. And that birthday card I was going to send my cousin? Yeah. No. E-mail is just as easy a way to keep in touch but it's not as much fun as the immediate satisfaction of Facebook. I guess I look at Facebook as one gigantic nationwide chat room or instant message session.

I've added the 'Follow By E-mail' option to my side bar and I've attempted numerous times now to add a favicon so that when my blog name appears in your favorites list there's a picture instead of the orange 'b' in front of the name, but I either can't make the picture the correct size or it ends up not being square. :::sigh::: Just one more thing to learn.

I haven't tried and I don't intend to try the new blogger lay out. I've worked through the many changes on FB this year -- with more in our future -- and I'm done learning any new tech-type things until January 1, 2012 unless I am forced to.

There seems to be an ongoing struggle between myself and blogger about highlighting text and changing the font, the color, the size ... I'm pretty sure I'll figure that out somewhere down the road quite by accident. I seem to find out how to do things by 'Eureka!' moments, friends sending the directions or suddenly my brain clicks and there it is. Just like that.

I tried the Monetize your blog thing for a little while but found it too distracting for my taste, so that's gone. There are folks who use it and it seems not at all distracting to me on their blog. What's up with that?

Do you find it cool to know where your visitors are from? Or would just rather know how many people visit your page? Does it matter either way? I kind of like to know where folks are visiting from rather than how many. Seeing different cities, towns and countries reminds me of just how small the world really is. Or maybe, how big the world really is.

Blog Business. I'd better get on it. Then get back into writing. Really writing.

Bait & Switch or People Who Don't Read The Fine Print

2011-11-26T14:21:00.005-05:00

It's that time of year again. Time to hit your favorite mall, light of foot, layered clothing, with cash or card in hand. Arrive at the mall, find a space, eventually, and head on in.

Although I prefer cash, I am consistently sucked in to Macy's 'Magic'. Who isn't? You needn't answer that question.

Today while shopping at Macy's during yet another of their 'One Day Sale!' sales or their 'Black Friday One Day Sale!' sales, or 'Morning Only Sale!' sales during which you can buy already discounted, sale wrack items for an additional 15 - 20% off or $5.00 off a $25.00 purchase if you open a Macy's charge or use your Macy's charge card.

Yep. That's all you have to do. Charge your items on your Macy's card and get the discount. Simple right? Well, no, actually. You have to read the fine print.

Intimates:

"Why do you people send out these coupons if they can't be used on anything? You send me a 20% off coupon, but it doesn't apply to my pajamas. Why not?"

Sales Associate: "That's an Every Day Value item and the discount is already in the purchase price. And, it's a morning only sale on these items."

"Fine, well, I need pajamas so I'll take them, but I am not happy."

uh-huh. Don't blame you lady, but if you'd read the coupon you would have read that discount may not be applied to Every Day Value, Coach (hahahaha -- that's funny, cheap in the same sentence as expensive) certain other rules and restrictions may apply. Blah, blah, blah.

I returned the mis-sized bras just after that particular customer spent way too much on penguin adorned pajamas, in cash. See Macy's? You pi** off a customer and they are likely to pay cash, therefore cheating you out of your exorbitant interest rates.

Women's Department:

Sales Associate: I cannot apply that coupon to Karen Scott items. They don't qualify fpr the discount, but you'll still get the extra 20% off if you use your Macy's card.

"It's ridiculous that you send these coupons out to people. What's the point if every time I get one and I come in, I can't use it?"

Sales Associate: I'm sorry Mrs. So-and So (she used her charge card you see) I tried to get you the additional 15% off but the register won't accept it.

"I'm going to write a letter." stomping off.

Petite Department:

Little Old Lady (with the kindest, nicest son in tow) "How much is this shirt?"

Sales Associate: $24.99

"So I can't use my $5.00 off a $25.00 purchase?"

No. Unless you want to buy a candy bar. I have one left for one dollar. That would take you over the $25.00.

"I won't take this item. Thank you just the same." Although, if she had purchased her other shirt with the $24.99 shirt, instead of with her gift card, she could have taken the $5.00 off the sale, gotten an additional 20% off one of the items and used her gift card to pay for part of the purchase.

One lady came right out and complained that Macy's sales tactics are more like a bait and switch scam. Send you a promise of a deep discount, get you into the store and then, well, you can't use the coupon for the discount.

On one level I get what she's saying and I agree. But if she read the fine print, she would have known that the discount coupons cannot be used on very specific brand names and items. It's been that way for a long time at Macy's. But if you do read the fine print on the coupons, you know that you can get really great clothing items for very little money.

Just not Coach, Every Day Value, Jones New York, Inc, and others. Not on Saturday, Monday, One Day Sale day, Morning Only Sale day or any other day.

Macy's -- Way to Shop!

The Magic of Macy's!

Thankful Thoughts on Thanksgiving Day

2011-11-24T12:10:00.003-05:00

Some of you know me on Facebook and also know that I spend the month of November harping on gratitude. That's after I spend the month of October harping on mammograms -- and how you need to get them done!

And after I spend the entire year harping on not using the 'R' word.

I do my best to entertain, after all.

Although I spend an extraordinary amount of time harping ... I also spend every day feeling grateful, thankful, appreciative -- call it what you will -- for the every day funnies, the on-line friendships, the real-time friendships, my family, my work, your work (because some of you had been unemployed and some of you still may be), good health, helpful people, prayers from others and prayers for others. I am forever whispering "Thank-you God" in appreciation of answered prayers and sometimes the ones I think go unanswered. Because, as we all know, God answers them all, but occasionally the answer is a decided, "NO" [insert thunder booming and a lightning strike here]. It may take a while to recognize that.

I am grateful to our military personnel who week in and week out, work to keep our freedom alive and well and living in America. I am thankful for police, fire, EMTs, for without them, mayhem might ensue. Okay, sometimes it does in spite of best efforts.

I am appreciative of a good vodka, a great cup of coffee, a waiter or waitress who serves me. It is without a doubt a most thankless job, so if you are one, know that I appreciate your long hours, your tired, swollen legs and feet and how miserable some people can be. I applaud you and I appreciate you. And I tip well!

I hate doctors, but am thankful for them. I love nurses ... you are the best. Lab techs, x-rays techs, support staff ... sometimes just the smile you bring in to a room with you is all it takes to make a day, no a life, better. So, just when you're feeling no one notices or cares or appreciates you, remember, I do.

I think fall leaves on trees are beautiful, not so much on the ground all brown and crispy. But I love hearing them beneath my feet when I take a walk. Those old dead leaves add a little something to the footfall. The pond down the road, the one with the view ... how I love to snap a photo each season ... to mark the years I've enjoyed driving by on my way into work.

Ocean waves crashing to shore, churning shells, pebbles and sand into a symphony of sound. Birds all a twitter and crows, (yeah, even those noisy buggers) black as night, a glimpse of them flying over head against the bright cloudless, blue sky.

There's much to be grateful for every day of my life, although I'm not sure about traffic but I do like my wheels. Travel is great, returning home is better. How thankful I am to lay my head on that feather ... pillow, so soft and scrunched and just right. A roof over my head to keep me warm in the winter and cool in the summer and windows that open in spring and in fall.

I'm grateful and thankful for family -- good and bad, happy and sad, joyous and proud. We really are one crazy, loud crowd. We're getting together today at my house, just one more thing to add to my list.

Thanksgiving is just that extra special day of the year to remember our friends and those we hold dear. It's a day to give a little more than we get. So I'll say, "Thank you!" right now and Happy Thanksgiving too! From my house to your house -- I do mean it all year though.

Grape Arbor & Love

2011-11-22T19:59:00.009-05:00

Here they are -- the happily engaged couple at their 'Engagement Photo Shoot'. With the help of many friends and family on Facebook, E & S were awarded the win of a free session with a local photographer. We trekked about Maudsley State Park in Newburyport (not a difficult trek, mind you) and found some lovely locations for shots. Christen of Reflections by Christen did a wonderful job and when she was done, she sent two CDs and two sets of prints for the happy couple as well as the rights to use them when and how we'd like. She's a really nice person and her work is beautiful. Each time I look at the photos, I'm thankful for the opportunity for E &S as well as people like Christen. Those people that make a big difference in the lives of others, without ever realizing just what good they have done.

For Mary And Anyone Who's Listening

2011-11-19T20:05:00.004-05:00

Had I known you were showing up once in a while at your own blog, I would have visited you sooner. I've missed your energetic, enthusiastic, sometimes caustic and very entertaining views and opinions of the world around you.

I am one of those folks who needs, no -- wants, to be connected to others; life-long, fleeting, joyful, painful, contented, quiet. If you are my friend, you are my friend until you prove otherwise.

I prefer the quiet kind of friendship the best. I may not hear from you and you may not hear from me (you being you -- or any other person I hold dear) but it really does not matter because when I do hear from you or vice versa, we just start up where we left off. Chatting is fine. Sitting quietly is fine. Adventures are, are, are ... awesome! when they are with someone you want to be with.

As much as I'd like to say there is nothing going on here in Brrrr, New England that just isn't true. We are building a garage. Ho-hum. The dog has been groomed. No dog smell. I still like my job. If only I could retire. I have connected with a best friend from high school. It is so much FUN! to know her again.

Big news is that Miss E is happily engaged to S and before you ask, let me just say, this will be one long engagement. He popped the question back in the spring, shortly after he went through some serious surgery and during his parents divorce. It has not been an easy year for him and I was hesitant about timing and yet, I didn't attempt to stall the process. They so love and care for each other and the joy and happiness they feel is contagious and spreads quickly. We, her family and her friends want nothing more than for her to be happy, healthy and live her life the way she wants to.

Ah, but the caveat. I have told her for years she can marry when she is twenty-five. Uh, yeah, it's creeping up on me faster than I can keep up and I am simply not ready. (nor is she, but lots of people would argue the point with me) So the focus for me, consequently her, is commitment in a relationship and learning how to live independently or with another. Life changes when you move in with someone you don't know. They have a lot of time apart so their time together can be rocky because they don't understand or know how to work through the little difficulties. Their commitment is not just their commitment -- it belongs to all of us: parents, siblings, friends. That's a lot of commitment.

If I am honest and practical I don't see marriage or living together happening terribly soon, but I dream that it will for her. I dream that all those things she wants will come to her. Somehow. Some day.

For her part, she is a wedding planner. Gowns, cakes, flowers. Honeymoon trip. Food, maid of honor, bridesmaids. What church and where will the reception be? Eavesdropping when they are together is fun. S says, 'we'll get married in the yard' E says, 'okay honey bun'. They look at wedding cakes on line. They look at gowns on line. They agree, disagree and agree again. It's really very sweet, enlightening, and worrisome.

You might wonder, did he give her a ring? Oh, yes. It's a beautiful ring. She polishes it up every day and she puts it on her finger and she holds her hand out at arms length, fingers splayed, turning it this way and that. It cracks me up and pleases me to see her so enjoy that ring.

That ring that sparkles so much. So much like her.

Not My Mother's Brussell Sprouts (this may be recipe 2)

2011-01-19T12:30:00.006-05:00

Okay. I admit it. I'm getting forgetful. So, for the record, if I posted this recipe a few posts or so ago, this is the new improved or varied version.

Not My Mother's Brussel Sprouts

3 T butter (2 T & 1 T)
2 shallots, thinly sliced
1 tub brussel sprouts, rinsed, cleaned, halved
1 small package pecan halves
1/4 - 1/2 C dried cranberries

Steam brussel sprouts for 6-8 minutes and immediately remove from heat and drain.

In a nonstick fry pan, melt 2 T butter and cook the shallots until carmelized, over medium heat.
Remove the shallots, and in the same pan, melt 1 T butter and cook the pecan halves until you their woody scent just rises.
Add the brussel sprouts, return the onions to the pan and add the dried cranberries. Heat for another minute or two.
Serve! Yummy!

Another Favored Meal At Our House

2010-12-17T17:27:00.002-05:00

This recipe is one that might be widely known, but in my circle, when asked, friends claim they've never had it. And then they claim it's really good! It is.

Campbell Soup Recipe: Chicken Broccoli Divan serves 4, easily doubles

4 C cooked broccoli florets (use fresh, uncooked, two crowns)
1 1/2 C cubed chicken (use chicken tenders cut up -- 1 package for 4 servings)
1 can Campbell's Condensed Cream of Chicken Soup (any variety, low salt, etc)
1/3 C milk
1/2 C shredded cheddar cheese (I use mild and sharp mix)
2 T dry plain breadcrumbs
1 T butter, melted

Place the broccoli and chicken into a 9 inch pie plate (I do spray with PAM first)

Combine the milk and soup together in a bowl, then pour over the broccoli and chicken.
Sprinkle cheese over the top. Stir the bread crumbs into the butter and then sprinkle the buttered bread crumbs over the cheese.

Bake at 450 for 20 minutes or until the chicken mixture is hot and bubbling.
Adjust bake time for larger quantities. I typically double the recipe and use a 9 x 13 baking dish.

Serve with a favorite rice, noodles or oven roasted potatoes. Yummy!

A Social Network Christmas

2010-12-17T06:46:00.001-05:00

This video is ...

A Social Network Christmas

... a gentle reminder that Christmas is about oh so much more than what appears at the mall.

An Odd Photo Or Two (and blogger gone crazy -- edits not working)

2010-12-12T08:01:00.010-05:00

Late fall reflections

Rammalamma. My portrait of the day.

Sploge ... curious critter.

Plate fungus gone crazy.

Paper wasp nest ... indicative of a cold, snowy winter and a buzzing spring.

Who doesn't love a nice lemon meringue pie?

Calmly waiting for the ride to move on ...

Disturbed by the fool who thinks burning rubber is cool.

A coffin door.

Of Holiday Decorations

2010-12-11T18:23:00.002-05:00

and a trip up the stair ...

I walk into the living room. Stop. Look. Sigh.
Storage boxes piled in front of the sofa, the piano, the desk.
Everywhere.
Or so it seems.

My heart wants to be in it.
Christmas decorating mode.
Such a short run from now until then.
Seems a lot of effort to be done on my own.

I turn. Walk to the office. Write checks instead.
A few minutes change to hours before I can notice.
I'll just start a little decorating.
Take it slow, keep it low. (key that is)

Steps up? Only two.
I miss one.
Then the other.
Another sigh escapes me.

Ouch! I'm hearing from my shoulder.
And Oh! from my left foot.
I laugh at them both, because they just don't realize
I have my eyes on storage boxes.

Storage boxes piled in front of the sofa, the piano, the desk.
It's time to dig in, get dirty.
Get it done. Or at the least, get it started.
Tonight. Because tomorrow brings other responsibilities.

Small prelit tree with jingle buddy ornaments.
Up, lit, pretty.
String of snowflake-like bell lights. Up. Lit.
Not even one storage box opened. Not yet.

A drink. A snack. A sit on the chair.
Storage boxes piled in front of the sofa, the piano, the desk.
I can't make them disappear.
Without making some effort.

... but that trip up the stair

Blu Lemon Spaghetti

2010-12-11T17:42:00.002-05:00

My friend Andrew sent this recipe along. Andrew loves to find new recipes, although he isn't much of a cook himself. This recipe is from Blu, 4 Avery Street, Boston. I didn't see the dish listed on their web site. It's good. Really good. Brings a grin to my lips ...

1 lb pancetta, cut into 1/4" pieces
1/2 sweet white onion, diced
juice of 1/2 lemon
4 egg yolks
1/4 C chicken stock (broth)
1/4 C fresh parsley, chopped
3/4 C freshly grated parmigiana reggiano, plus a little extra for pizazz
zest of one lemon
finely ground sea salt
freshly ground black pepper
1 lb thick spaghetti (fettuccine works well too)

In a large pot, bring to a boil 3 quarts of water with 4T salt.

While water is heating, heat a medium sized saute pan over medium heat. Add the pancetta; cook until lightly brown and crispy. Add the diced onion and lower the heat to low; cook until the onions are very soft and translucent. Add the lemon juice and cook for about two minutes more.

While pancetta and onions cook, in a large mixing bowl, combine the eggs yolks, chicken stock, parsley, parmigiana reggiano, s & p, and lemon zest. When pancetta and onions are ready, add to the egg yolk mixture and set aside. (no need to drain the fat from the pancetta, but don't use all of it in the dish)

Cook the spaghetti al dente. Drain the pasta, reserving 1/4 C of the cooking water (I substitute additional chicken broth). Return the pasta to the pot; add the egg and pancetta mixture with the additional pasta water (I substitute chicken broth). Stir to combine and serve immediately, topped with fresh grated parmigiana reggiano.

Makes four to six servings.

Serve with a nice plum tomato, cucumber, cheddar cheese salad with a drizzle of olive oil and lemon juice as the dressing.

The NonPresent Christmas Present -- 2010

2010-12-05T08:01:00.005-05:00

Christmas: The sweet sight of a lovingly decorated tree. Candles surrounded by greens and sparkly stuff. Mall parking lots too full to find a space. Money spent in a flash. Each weekend filled to the brim with events to attend, shopping and chores to complete. Wrapping!

So this year, when an aunt demanded, "Tell me what you want for Christmas." I responded quietly with, "Time with you."

She stopped in her tracks and looked at me. "What?" then went on with, "IhavesomuchtodoandIreallywanttogetdonewiththisearly.Seriouslywhatdoyouwant?IhavetoplayafuneralthisweekandplanmyChristmasparty ....."

I repeated, "Time with you. Just time with you."

My sister-in-law was with me one day and we had a conversation with this aunt. Somehow, a suggested nice evening out, after Christmas, just the five of us, dinner in The North End at one of those little cozy Italian places that have five or six tables and incredible food was decided upon. Not an easy task, but ... good. Done.

Uh. Not so fast. Or easy.

A couple of weeks go by and this simple evening out for dinner begins to grow into an additional brother invited (and who will he bring?) and a cousin and her husband (and probably their kids) a rental van and a neighbor to drive it (so we can all freely drink if we choose). And last, but not least, a drive by The Commons to see the lights. A drive by? Huh.

I say nothing because I don't want to make waves. But this dinner, the one that's being planned now is more like a party and not at all "time with you". My silence while listening to Aunt discuss her plans for a nice evening out says volumes, I know. She tells me that Brother One is inviting his ex-wife as his date (ohjoyjoyjoy!) and then says, "I hope that isn't a problem for anyone." I respond, "Well, it may be for some." And leave it at that. (so far, she hasn't mentioned the cousin a second time, so maybe we are out of the woods on that)

Of course it's a problem. She (Ex SIL) doesn't like sister-in-law T. Never has. Never will. It's the way it has been for thirty years. My relationship, such as it is with her, is not tense, but I feel the tension between the two of them.

Brother one will put on his sarcastic, mean pants for the evening (because he really doesn't enjoy spending time with his ex-wife but will do it for Aunt who we all know wants her there) and will spend most of his time ignoring her and picking on Brother Two. It will be awful because then Brother Two will revert back to childhood emotions and either become sullen or snip back. Lovely.

Brother Three will do his best to referee this friggin' fiasco.

Aunt has moved on from obsessing over who will attend to when this nice evening out should be. SIL and I suggest the week between Christmas and New Year's Eve because we'll all be done with the obligations of the holiday week and can relax a bit. We can go out mid-week when things are a bit quieter. There. That's settled.

So. "Time with you." Has turned into a ride in a rented van, chauffeured by the neighbor, a drive-by view of the lights on The Common, dinner in the North End at a cute little Italian place with five other people.

Next year, I'm going to ask for GLEE on DVD.

Jump Ahead A Year

2010-12-04T20:22:00.011-05:00

Graduation Day. Emily walks the long walk from the back of the auditorium all the way to the stage. Alone. She is one of two students attending NES, a new program this year. She is half of the class. She is the only graduate this year. Her great aunt is surprised that the school would make such a special graduation day for just one student. Our student, but none-the-less, just one. I am happy for Emily. I'll admit a tear or two slid from the corner of my eyes, along my cheeks to be wiped away hurriedly before anyone noticed. Dave did not try to hide his.

Her teacher, Christa presents Emily with her certificate of completion after speaking for a few moments about the wonders of Emily: her work ethic, her generous spirit, her happy personality, the way she pitches in and does classroom chores without being asked to. She talks about her shining light and her bright smile and her jokes. I admit, they aren't very good, but she finds them clever and funny.

After she received her certificate, Emily stood on stage and read her speech to her audience. Family and friends and students from different classes at the same school, in attendance at her graduation listened carefully. We couldn't see her face, she is a bit shy when presented with a large auditorium, but we heard her words: thank you Miss LaC., and Kailey, my BFF forever, my mom and dad. She has a yellow rose for Kailey and they hug. Solid friends. Good friends. Supportive friends. They will miss each other every single day, but somehow I know they will be alright. They'll see each other at Special Olympics and bowling and art class and the once a month dances they attend. They are, quite literally, attached at the ear, when they are not together.

When the ceremony is over, we all head down the hall to her classroom where her teacher, her co-student and Emily have decorated in pink and purple: streamers, tablecloths, napkins, paper plates and silverware. There are two kinds of salad and ziti in sauce, bread and three kinds of cookies and a giant cake with Emily's picture on it. We watch a wonderful slide show Christa put together for Emily; of her year with Christa and the places they've been ... summer camp, job sites, classroom work. It's a lovely slide show and I am thankful to see where she's been and what she's been doing.

Emily poses for photos with Dave & I, her Godmother, teachers and friends and smiles all the while. She visits with her guests and enjoys her special day. It is so much like her.

She's excited: Rosy cheeked, sparkly eyed.

She's is warm chocolate pudding with whipped cream on top.

She is just perfect.

Quote Of The Day

"Mom!" "I'm going to be twenty-three my next birthday!"

Those of you who've read my blog for a while will recall, this is the annual right of passage for Emily. Turn one age and start projecting to the next.

God Bless her.

Herbed Butter over Broccoli and Cauliflower

2010-12-04T18:21:00.004-05:00

Here it is recipe time again. I'm always willing to try new recipes or attempt to improve upon old favorites. This recipe originally came from a Pillsbury recipe book, but, as is usually the case, it has morphed into its own little specialty.

Herbed Butter over Broccoli & Cauliflower

3 T butter, softened
2 T olive oil
1/2 - 1 tsp dried thyme leaves
3 T finely chopped chives
zest of 1/2 lemon (use a potato peeler for large swathes)
1 clove garlic, smashed
salt & pepper to taste (try fresh ground sea salt and pepper)
1 head cauliflower, cleaned and cut into flowers.
1 head broccoli, cleaned and cut into flowers.

Bring a large saucepan of salted water to a boil. (four quart pan, two - three quarts water) I prefer to steam my veggies though. Once boiling, add the cauliflower and cook for two minutes, then add the broccoli and cook for another two to three minutes. Veggies should be tender enough to eat, but still crisp. Drain and let sit in colander for a few minutes to be sure most liquid is gone.

In a large saute pan, mix together: butter, olive oil, thyme leaves, chives, lemon zest, garlic, salt & pepper. Using medium heat, heat the butter/olive oil and add the veggies. Saute until veggies are coated and heated through.

Serve warm. Reheats on a medium heat, well, in the microwave, but I prefer to just re-saute without adding any more butter or oil.
Enjoy!

More Of The Same ...

2010-11-24T20:47:00.003-05:00

...But. What would Thanksgiving be if we didn't share a thought or two ...

So this evening, tomorrow and all the year through I am thankful
for each and every one of You, the lawn guy, the postman, the pizza guy, our emergency workers and military friends. For protectors, defenders, advocates, and those who know how to lend a hand and just when to. For prayerful types and opinionated types and quiet types, shy types, confident types, loud types, pensive types, brainy types and all types, because the world would be boring without your very presence and the difference you bring to the day.

I am thankful for my past and all that was in it. For visits with girlfriends and reminders of my youth. I'm thankful for today and the chance to live it. I'm thankful for tomorrow and what it will bring. Laughter and tears, sorrow and joy, they give us depth: make us who we are.

Computers and laptops and fingers to type, a wooden kitchen table to sit at tonight. A cup of good coffee and mocha latte, a fantastic hair cut, Mary Kay. I'm thankful for freedom. Who wouldn't be? For choices and options and speaking freely. I'm thankful for pets that snuggle and warm. I'm thankful for winters that bring a good storm.

My cup runneth over with all that is good.

For everything practical and silly stuff too -- like flamingos, silly bands, Mr. Potato Head. I'm thankful for a cozy warm house, a nice car to drive, a job that I love. For pumpkin pies made and delivered to friends, for cookies dropped off and real creamery butter.

My list could go on, on and on. And on. So I'll say one more time, this evening, tomorrow and all the year through, I'm mostly just thankful. Yes, thankful for you.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Sweet Treat

2010-11-22T07:57:00.002-05:00

This recipe is from the Nestle Chocolate Co. Funny thing is, it was printed on a grocery store coupon, the type you get with your register receipt. Typically I wouldn't give a recipe from a store a second thought because I have so many of my own recipes that I love. It intrigued me so I baked a batch the other day.

Yummy! Bite in and a burst of flavor and melt in your mouth sensation. These might be my next favorite cookie recipe.

Mini chip Snowball Cookies
makes about five dozen

1 1/2 C butter, softened (3 sticks)
3/4 C powered sugar
1 T vanilla flavoring
1/2 tsp salt
3 C all purpose flour
2 C Nestle MINI chocolate morsels
1/2 C finely chopped walnuts
Powered sugar for dusting

Preheat oven to 375 degrees

Beat butter, sugar, vanilla and salt in a large bowl until creamy and smooth.
Gradually beat in the flour; stir in the nuts and mini chips.
Shape tablespoons of dough into round balls.
Place on ungreased cookies sheets (the cookies don't spread much)
Bake for 10 -12 minutes until bottoms are just golden (the cookies were done in my gas oven after 10 1/2 minutes)
Remove from oven and sift powdered sugar on hot cookies while still on cookie sheet.
Cool completely.
Store between layers of waxed paper in an airtight container.
Enjoy!

Victory, However Small, Leads To Success

2010-11-20T21:37:00.004-05:00

It seems the longer I live, the more challenging the battle. But this week, there was a small victory. A small slash of chalk on the wall so-to-speak.

Emily is fortunate to have a nice little part time job. It is only four hours a week, but it is a job, none the less and she loves her job.

Back to high school we go. Travel back in time for a few years to a meeting and coincidentally the sun, moon, stars and the special ed directors hormones all lining up right smack in a row. I asked for a vocational evaluation for Emily which was readily agreed to. I asked for a job coach and a part time job ... after school hours ... and that too was readily agreed to. You could have knocked me over with a feather two months later when Emily started a job two afternoons a week, after school, with a job coach one-to-one and the school district was footing the bill.

Emily worked at a little Woolworth type store ... old-fashioned, full of everything from sewing notions to hammers and nails and anything in between. Her job was to stock and tidy the eight very short but very full shelves of toys. Not only was she good at it, she could tell you where just about anything in the store was located. She has a knack for that sort of thing. Then ten months after she started her job, the store, an anchor, old friend, dependable in its presence, closed. The owner could no longer support not only his few employees, but his family. Those box stores had come too close ...

George, Emily's job coach, went right next door to the grocery store and asked if they could take Emily on. He, we, couldn't imagine how Emily would handle the store closing and the loss of the job she so loved. Very fortunate indeed, the store manager felt he could fit her in and she would be an asset to the store. She has worked there since and I am told by the store manager and her current job coach that she is dependable, conscientious and well liked.

Does a heart good to hear those words. Honest.

Emily hasn't been to the high school in ages, she is currently in a post graduate program, still under the direction of our school district and her job coaching is still picked up by the school district. I am and will be, forever grateful for this part of her education. She has learned so much ... but has offered as much in return.

I was told that her job coaching would no longer be available to her because, well, she'll be done with the school district at her next birthday and there is no funding for vocational portions of day programs for young adults with special needs.

No job coaching. No job. My heart was breaking. For Emily. I thought long and hard about how I could find a way to keep the job coaching so that Emily could keep her job. $60 per day, two days a week, four weeks a month: $480 a month. Where would I find that money? A second job? Tap the savings account? My retirement? I was still reeling a bit when, thankfully, an angel turned up and she told me about a program through an agency here that might just be able to help with funding for job coaching. She suggested I apply on Emily's behalf and a day or two later the application showed up in my mail box. (Thank you!)

I hemmed and hawed and scratched my head over some of the terminology. Adult services are very different than youth services and the abbreviations are tricky. They could mean, literally, anything ... and were pretty much Greek to me until I read that application three or four times when finally the questions began to make some sense to me. I completed the form, mailed it in and that was that. Until yesterday.

Out to do errands, I stopped into the post office to pick up the mail, and there, in a # 9 envelope was a letter from the agency. I looked at it and turned it over and thought about it. I could barely open it for worry and anticipation. It was nearly as bad as waiting and then receiving an acceptance letter for college. Taking a breath, I slowly slit open the top and pulled the letter out.

"Dear Emily, We are pleased to advise you that ...." And there, pulled from that envelope was a small victory that will lead to success for Emily. She will be able to keep her job. She will be able to continue to earn her small paycheck and pay her way to the movies, the dance, for a magazine. She'll continue being out in the world; socializing, helping others, being an integral and important part of our world.

I couldn't, I wouldn't ask for more.

Put This In Your Mouth And Eat It!

2010-11-18T10:25:00.002-05:00

Having nothing to do with Thanksgiving dinner or Christmas dinner or for that matter any special dinner, I present to you one of my families favorite desserts.

Chocolate-Filled Cream Puffs

from the Hershey's Chocolate Cook Book, 1989

Cream Puff Cakes
1 C water
1/2 C butter or margarine (skip the margarine, it's not really that good for you!)
1/4 tsp salt
1 C all purpose flour
4 eggs
Confectioner's sugar (for dusting)

Heat the water, butter and salt to boiling in a medium sauce pan. Add the flour all at once, stir vigorously over low heat for about one minute or until the dough forms a ball and leaves the side of the pan. Remove from the heat, add the eggs one at a time, beating well between additions until the dough is smooth and velvety.

Drop by 1/4 cupfuls (scant) onto ungreased cookie sheet. Bake at 400 degrees for 35 - 40 minutes or until puffy and golden in color. Remove from heat and while the puff is still warm, slice horizontally through the top portion of the puff; save the top. Remove and soft dough filaments and let puffs cool completely. Fill with Chocolate Cream Filling, replace the tops and dust with Confectioner's sugar. Store in airtight container in the fridge.

Chocolate Cream Filling
1 1/4 C sugar
1/3 C cocoa
1/3 C cornstarch
1/4 tsp salt
3 C milk
3 egg yolks, slightly beaten
2 T butter (or margarine)
1 1/2 tsp vanilla

Combine the sugar, cocoa, cornstarch and salt in a medium saucepan, stir in the milk. Cook over medium heat, stirring constantly until the mixture comes to a boil. While boiling, stir for one minute and then remove from the heat. Gradually stir in a small amount of the warm chocolate mixture into the beaten egg yolks, then return the egg mixture to the chocolate mixture in the pan. Stir and heat again until just boiling. Remove from heat and add the butter and vanilla. Pour into a bowl, cover with plastic wrap (pressed down so skin won't form), cool to room temp.

This recipe makes about one dozen cream puffs. You can make smaller cream puffs by dropping a tablespoon of dough onto ungreased cookie sheet.

Enjoy!

Eileen. Do You Know The Many Life Lessons You've Left For Me?

2010-11-17T21:01:00.008-05:00

I'm certain if my mother were here today, she'd say, "Oh Kathleen! Take that horrible picture off your web page." That is, if she had the terminology down for all of the technology we suffer from these days.

I agree with you Mom, it's a horrible picture of you. But somehow, I love it. You look serious and sad and pensive and, well, mad. Which is not how I spent my life thinking about you. I knew you as the fun loving, easy smiling, loving mother. But let's not confuse loving with demonstrative. No, that wasn't you. But I am glad to know that you were able to throw a hug and a kiss at the girls now and again. I'll bet there were days when you were wishing we weren't such a huggy kind of family. It makes me smile to think of your discomfort with all things demonstrative. Not in a bad way. It's a fond memory of a woman who was born well before her time and yet, somehow, struggled to move into the way society behaved. You held all of us to high standards of behavior, but never higher than what you held yourself too. I always admired that about you.

This week I'm struggling with a let down. It's not such a big deal, what the let down is about. But being let down is a big deal. It sort of smacked me upside the head and put me in a tailspin for a moment or two. Pulled me up short and made me stop and think about ... I dunno. Just made me think.

You know, when I would go to you with a problem, you didn't offer solutions. You offered an ear. A listening ear. You didn't interrupt. You listened. And when I was done with my rant, my rave, my fussing, fuming and whining, you would ask, "Well, how do you feel about it?" Sometimes I would think, "What?! I just told you!" But I wouldn't say that out loud. Oh no. I knew what you wanted me to do was to think. Not emote. Emotions were fine with you. As long as we used our heads. And we didn't make you hug. "The Good Lord gave you a brain. Use it."

I value my integrity and my reputation and I guard them well. You taught me that.
I stand on my own two feet and stand up for what I believe in. You taught me that.
I love unconditionally and I accept love in return. You taught me that.
I accept people for who they are and do my best not to judge the behavior of others. You taught me that. And I'm working on the not judging part. Still.
I've learned to forgive. And I've discovered that's almost an art form. You taught me that.
You taught me to find the humor in every situation, because as you said, "There is humor in everything. Sometimes you have to look a little harder to find it, but it's there."

So I've thought about the let down and I've thought about what it's about. And I've decided, that whatever the reason for the let down, I'm not going to hold it against them. And I'm not going to judge them.

As a matter of fact, I'm going to forgive them.

Then, I'm going to stand up, by myself (although I like safety in numbers) if I have to, for what I believe in. I'm going to stand up with the courage of my convictions, knowing that they are right for me.
You taught me that too.

Were I able to sit with you right now, I would take your hand in mine and hold on gently. I would look you in the eye and I would say, "Thank you, Mom, thank you." I've know doubt, you'd know what for.

It's Nearly Thanksgiving ... Do You Have Your Pie Recipe?

2010-11-17T12:28:00.004-05:00

Swedish Apple Pie

from the kitchen of: My Dear Friend Barbara

1 9" unbaked pie crust (make your own or use store bought)
2 - 3 peeled and sliced tart apples (this is where I tell you I use Macs exclusively for all my baking)
1 T sugar
1 1/2 tsp Cinnamon
3/4C butter, melted
1 C sugar
1 C flour
1 egg
1/2 C each, raisins and walnuts

Preheat oven to 350.

Fill pie crust 2/3 full with apples. Sprinkle with the 1T sugar and cinnamon.

In a small bowl combine remaining ingredients and spread evenly over the apple mixture.

Place on center rack of oven and bake for 45-50 mins.

Serve warm (or cold) with ice cream or whipped cream. Serves 6 - 8*

*unless you eat it all yourself ... and you might be tempted!

How Dare You

2010-11-15T15:50:00.006-05:00

How Dare You ...
... turn twenty-two when I least expect it, although I've known for years we were headed just this way. Twenty-two.
Big number. For a petite adult.

Emily's graduation from her post high school program is just around the corner. A matter of two weeks away. While I find myself excited for her, the birthday princess who loves all birthdays, old, young and in between ...

... I find myself reflecting on sleepless nights, worried days, harried meetings, forms, forms and more forms and realize with a start -- it isn't over yet.

To the left of my laptop sits a form letter with a form underneath. I need to complete this form and mail it in asap. The good parochial student in me will not let me start the form until I read from beginning to end; to be sure I understand the questions and also know the answers. I take note that the form is not all that long. But it is daunting. There are questions here I have no idea what the answer should be. What is EES? What is MRC? SGA? Pass Plan?

Good grief. Who can I call to help me? Oh forget it, I'll figure it out. Sooner rather than later, I hope.

I look at Emily and I am so proud of the young woman she has become. She is loyal, oh-so-loyal to family and friends and works hard and tries hard and lives well. And energetically.

I'd like to be more like her and less like me some days.

Her plans for her future? Well, marry Steven, of course. That is a far off dream. She, and he, have so much to learn before they can step off in that direction. Setting an alarm clock, telling time, grocery lists and grocery shopping, banking and money management, laundry, cooking, transportation. All the acts of daily living we do without thinking, they need to learn and learn and learn some more, because if they don't, they won't be successful. But what, exactly, is success? Is success found in only those things she can do without help? Or is it found in her acceptance that she needs help? I think a little of both.

Emily is a life long learner. That's a good thing, right? Isn't that what most of us strive to be?

I'm glancing at the form again and finally recognize that in some small way I've been sort of hoping forms would go away when twenty-two arrived too soon. Just a small dream, a fleeting thought that somehow twenty-two and being 'all grown up' would make all the rest of her challenges go away.

I want to watch Barney, and Arthur and see her eyes light up when she learns something new and knows she has. I want to put her in that little pink bathing suit and go to the town beach and splish and splash and enjoy a warm summer day. Just one more little girl summer day. Heat from the sun caresses your skin while the sand is cool on your feet and the noise of water lapping the shore lulls you to relax, step back, enjoy each moment.

What do I see for Emily's future? Next year? The year after? Five years from now? I don't know. I can't imagine her not living at home and yet I know that sometime down the road, it's the step that needs to be taken. Because keeping her with me, with us, will be holding her back. It would be keeping her from living her own life.

Do I want to look that far ahead? Oh no. Not at all. I want to stay right here. Two weeks from graduation.

The Best Oatmeal Cookies. Ever.

2010-11-13T15:22:00.003-05:00

These cookies turn out thick, chewy and oh so delicious! I found this recipe 'out there' on the Internet and while it's mostly true to what I originally found, I've changed it up a bit to satisfy my oatmeal cookie needs. Grinning here. These cookies make me smile!

This recipe makes a couple of dozen cookies but is easily doubled if you must have more! More! More!

1/2 C (1 stick) butter, softened -- I use unsalted
2/3 C light brown sugar, packed
1 egg
1/2 tsp vanilla extract
3/4 C all purpose flour
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp salt
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1 1/2 C rolled oats (I use Quaker Oats)
3/4 C raisins (but you can change it up with chocolate morsels)
1/2 C walnuts, chopped (optional)

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees, line baking sheets with parchment paper.

In a large bowl, cream together the butter, brown sugar, egg and vanilla until smooth.

In a separate bowl, whisk the flour, baking soda and salt together. Stir this into the butter/sugar mixture gradually with hand mixer on low.

Add the oats, raisins (or chocolate morsels) and nuts, if adding them and mix well with wooden spoon.

The real secret to this recipe is chilling the dough before cooking. The chilling keeps them thick while cooking and makes them chewy!

Using a small ice cream scoop, place the dough two inches apart on two cookie sheets lined with parchment paper and slide into the fridge for a few minutes. Once the dough is chilled, place trays in the oven and set your timer for 10 minutes. While the cookies are baking, prepare two more sheets with dough and place in the fridge.

Check at the end of ten minutes, if the edges are golden and the tops are 'just about done' the cookies are ready to come out of the oven.

Cool for five minutes on the pan and then transfer to a wire rack. Store in an airtight container between layers of waxed or parchment paper.

Miss You Brother

2010-11-13T08:38:00.007-05:00

I miss my brother. But I won't tell my sister.
Sleep is elusive in my bedroom. It hits me like a ton of bricks and then slowly wisps away leaving me with open eyes, restless body and ruminating mind.

I want my brother back: The brother who took me 'up town' and to the Village Store for penny candy, candy cigarettes and coke in a glass bottle. The brother who ate the top layer of my sister's wedding cake with his friend and then responded to my mother's angst with, "It wasn't decorated so I thought it was extra." The brother who taught me how to drive a standard in the middle of a busy intersection at Fort Meade, and told me not to worry when the MP kept hollering for me to "move on! move on!" The brother who married in a kilt and knew a good joke when he heard on. The brother who told funny, knee jerk laughter jokes and went bottle picking with me, 'for something to do'. The brother who gave me the Candy Fashion Doll for Christmas even though my mother told him not to.

I don't know where that brother went, but he's been gone for many years. He traded himself in for the silent brother, the sullen brother, the brother who stopped calling and visiting and joining in at holiday gatherings. The brother who ignored his father while he was dying of cancer and then guilt ridden, visited the cemetery weekly for a year. The brother who stopped talking to his mother when she sold her home and moved to a smaller, easier to manage apartment. The brother who when told of his mother's imminent death told his sister, "I don't want to be a hypocrite, so I won't go to visit." As if that mattered to me. Or my sister.

The brother who sat through his son's murder trial with me at his side. My sister too. Who had lunch with us and when it was over went home. And began to ignore me again.

I stopped calling that brother six years ago. Many, many years after he stopped calling me. I didn't give up easily, but I don't know who he is, how he got this way. We were a close family growing up and now we are disjointed, dysfunctional. Wrong, somehow. Where once we played hide and seek through the evenings of summer, we now play hide and seek in an effort to avoid each other.

How did this happen? Was it just easier to not make the effort, not care at all, than to call, drop by, love back? What changed him so dramatically that he can't or won't be part of our family any longer?

My sister tells me she's well done with trying ... but for me, since our mother died, I find myself carrying the burden of deciding he was no longer worth the effort. For a while I was okay with the burden. I know in my heart there was nothing I did that pushed him away. He left on his own. But I think not knowing that he was leaving us. I think not knowing that he was no longer the person we once knew.

I miss the brother who knew how to be a brother. I feel it more now that the holidays are approaching and although I know I won't do a thing to change how things are, I wish I could face his rejection just one more time, because maybe that one more time would be the time he didn't throw his rejection in my face, as if I didn't matter. Maybe that one more time would be the time he said, "I love you too." back.

Let's Talk Personal Stuff

2010-11-10T14:57:00.003-05:00

I've had a busy year or so health-wise. Nothing of crisis or life threatening proportions. Just stuff that needed attention. Do you love the disclosures we are required to read, initial and then remember when we go to the doctors for special testing procedures or surgeries? I read them all, initial and then think, "Oh yeah, I'd better disclose the truth about me."

I grab an ear and come right out and say it: "If anything can go wrong, anything at all, it will go wrong with me." Then I continue on to say I'm not worried about anything going wrong, I'm just giving them a heads up. In the last two years I've given three 'heads up'. In all three instances, guess what?

It's been just two years since I had three teeth extracted to then have dental implants to replace them and another tooth that was part of a bridge. It's been over $28000.00 in medical bills since. But, ha! I have two implants in my jaw, one up, one down and a very empty space where one implant would have gone, but the space is too narrow, and another empty spot where one would be placed to repair/replace the bridge.

To say it's been a long haul is an understatement. There were four surgeries to repair the gigantic hole in my jaw and my sinus, created when the first dentist extracted a tooth and lost the root tip in my sinus. So many antibiotics. So many tummy aches ... The residual effects are daily annoyances. One side of my nose 'blows' just fine into the tissue. The other? Not so much. There is a puffiness in my cheek (and while you might not notice it with all the other puffiness, I do)the space between gum and cheek is, ah, different. There is numbness on my face and a pressure change (much like an airline cabin) when I say certain words, sneeze, cough, laugh. I am unable to use the nasal spray for my allergies and I am now the proud owner of one-sided sinus headaches. I often feel as though water is running out of my nose. Where there should be teeth now, I have two missing and two metal posts. I'm almost terrified to let the dentist build the crowns to cover the posts, but promised myself that after the first of January that is what I will do. I'm nervous about the localized jaw pain at one site and what that will mean later. Down the road.

There was a growth in my left thumb that had been there for many years. When it started to grow larger, hurt and get in the way of typing, writing, etc. I decided it was time to take care of it. Off I went to Doctor P. for a consult and a surgical booking. I arrived early one morning and settled in to the Day Surgery Suite. He came in and spoke with me about the surgery and I repeated my usual disclosure, "If anything can go wrong, anything at all, it will go wrong with me."

Let me just say he didn't laugh, but I saw the amusement in his eyes.

I went through the surgery with flying colors. The wonderful thing about conscious sedation is that you don't have to take as long to come out of it. No vomiting, no headache, no sore throat. The weird thing about it is hearing the doctor speak during the procedure, in English, but have your brain unable to translate to whatever language your brain is currently thinking in. Strange.

Returning for a follow up appointment and to get the results of the lab tests on the neuro-type tumor that had been housed in my thumb, I was happy to note that I had feeling in the thumb and that the incision had healed so well. Dr. P walked in and asked a few questions about how I was feeling, explained how the surgery was completed and then went on to tell me that the results from the lab were in. He said, "but the lab didn't have the tumor to check, it only had a tiny piece of nerve." What? "The nerve tested fine but there's nothing we can do about the tumor. It's not here and it's not there." See?

Jump forward to today. I was scheduled for an early morning colonoscopy (don't shudder) and arrived at my duly appointed time. Hooked up to IV and BP and O2 monitors, weighed and questions answered, I was wheeled down the hall to the procedure room. In walks Dr. L, another very nice man, and he comes over to chat. He explains what he'll be doing and how if there are polyps found they'll be excised and sent to the lab for testing (rolling my eyes here ... I've heard that before) and he'll give me enough Vercett and Demerol that I won't feel a thing. He likes his patients to be comfortable. I don't bother to read the authorization and disclosure ... they all pretty much say the same thing. I sign it and say, "Well, now I have to make a disclosure to you. If anything can go wrong, anything at all, it will go wrong with me." He nods in acknowledgement that I've told him, but I don't think he believes me. Silly him.

I woke some time later in the recovery cubicle ... monitors beeping, confused as heck, vision blurred. The nurse (thank you all nurses -- you really are wonderful people) tells me to take my time waking and she'll be back with a snack. Crackers and cranberry juice after twenty-four hours of not eating! I felt as though I were in a fine dining establishment. It tasted so very good. We chatted and I dressed and she reminded me I would have to call Dr. L's secretary for an appointment in two to three months.

What? "You have to come back." "Dr. L couldn't finish the procedure." What? "You were in discomfort and your O2 was too low. " What? Really? I didn't remember any discomfort. I had no clue what-so-ever. See?

"Yes, Dr. L came in to speak with you." When I was asleep? "Well, you were awake, but probably still too under the influence that's why we tell you not to make important financial decisions or drive for twenty-four hours." "It's also why Dr. L writes everything down while he's speaking with you, so you can read it at home tomorrow."

That is if I can find it. And gee, I get to look forward to all that prep work again. :::sigh:::

Thinking About Dinner (and taking a suggestion)

2010-11-09T18:25:00.004-05:00

While I wade back into the waters of blogging posting a recipe now and again might be right up my alley. I love to cook. I love recipes. Great combination in a kitchen. What I love best is when I can appreciate another's recipe, stay true to it, but somehow make it my own.

I rarely make up this cranberry sauce. Not because it isn't good. Oh no, that's not why. I rarely make this sauce because the recipe is my friend Barbara's. She makes it for me every year. Bless her heart. I prepare it occasionally for Christmas, but it's really a Thanksgiving treat for me.

Cranberry Sauce (serves 8)

2 C fresh cranberries
1 & 1/2 C water
1 C sugar
1 pkg raspberry Jello
1/2 C crushed pineapple
1 tart apple (chopped into small pieces)
1/2 C chopped walnuts (optional)

Add water to cranberries in a medium saucepan. Bring to a boil, reduce heat and simmer 10 minutes. Immediately add sugar and jello.
Remove from heat and partially cool. Then add the pineapple with a small amount of the juice, apple and nuts.
Pour into your favorite mold or serving dish, chill until firm.

This recipe is easy and stores well with plastic wrap over the top, or if you prefer chill until firm in a tupper-type container and then transfer to your serving dish.

Got a Thanksgiving favorite you'd like to share? Please do!

A Grace by Rebecca Weston 1890

Father, we thank Thee for the night, and for the pleasant morning light; for rest and food and loving care and all that makes the day so fair.

Help us to do the things we should, to be to others, kind and good; in all we do, in work or play to grow more loving every day.

Amen.

No Longer On Hiatus

2010-11-08T16:57:00.002-05:00

Although I'm no longer on hiatus, I'm wondering what it is I have to write about.

Simple fact.

I continue to be intrigued by the blogs of others and by my own posts -- you know, the good ones. Not the fillers. I have so many fillers.

But then, my days are fillers. Of my life.

Life. I've been living it more fully this last year. I'm somewhat surprised by that.

Facebook is fun. It's okay with me if you don't like it. I do.

That's another thing that's changed. It's okay with me if you don't like something I do and it's also okay with me that I do like it. I'm not making excuses for my likes or not likes any longer. (you don't have to either)

I have so much to tell. And few words to express it all.

Soon. I'll get out the thesaurus. That should help!

A Week Of Twenty-One Was Just So Much Fun

2009-12-06T10:05:00.014-05:00

Happy Birthday and Good Morning Emily!

You are twenty-one and I am feeling it!

Look at your cornbread this morning Em.

Using our best china for a breakfast cornbread birthday cake.

Amy & Andrew wrapped her gifts the night before. I commented that I couldn't believe Emily is turning twenty-one. Amy, with a melancholy look on her face said, "Don't even talk about it." Hm, I guess we both feel a bit sad while we are feeling very happy for Emily.

Dinner with BFF ... R & K ... since the preschool days.

Amy completes lighting the candles on this Friendly's ice cream cake.

Oh, Emily is so very excited! She received the Bettsyville bag she had been eyeing for a while.

Reading her birthday card from K.

Her first every legal drink at The 99. A pinot griggio after showing her ID for the first time ever to a very nice, young waitress. Probably her age.

She asked me to order white wine with a "side of coke". Cracked me up! And then she would get the giggles each time my sister-in-law asked her about her drink or her ID. So very cute.

Like it Em? Not so much.

Bleh. Give me Pepsi!

A paddle ball and a glass of wine. Now there's a contrast for you!

"Mom."
Yes, Em?
"I'm going to be twenty-one soon."
Yes, you are.
"Mom."
Yes, Em?
"Next year I'm going to be twenty-two!"
Yes, Em. You are. But you know what? Let's just enjoy twenty-one for while. Okay?

Oh yeah, and The 99? They just really, really need to serve a better house pinot. Bleh.

December 2

2009-11-30T16:40:00.009-05:00

Twenty-one! !!21!! ***21*** TWENTY-ONE Twenty. One. twowentywon!!!!! 2.1. 21

Happy Birthday Little Weasel, Princess Pea, Emmabeans, Miss Em, Hunny Bunny, Wheeze, Emmilyschmemily, Baby Girl.

You are funny, smart, clever, witty, pleasant and not.

You are hardworking, serious, loving, caring and kind.

You are joyful, happy, easy going.

You are a shopper.

You are loyal, a good friend.

You are bright and shiny.

You are that twinkling star, the moon, the sun on a cloudy day.

You are stubborn, mulish, moody and sometimes sullen.

You are energetic and lively and ready to go!

You are exciting, challenging, worthwhile.

You are a worrier, perfectionist, neatnik!

You are confident, poised, gracious.

You are a brunette, a blond, a bright pink and a red head.

You are layers of love, joy, wonder.

You are interesting, entertaining.

You are a quiet room.

You are chocolate pudding, thick and warm from the pan, creamy and rich and filling.

You are light and fluffy whipped cream topping, chocolate chip cookies and jelly sandwiches.

You are Emily.

Bangs driving you crazy? Me too!

Resistant To Change

2009-11-27T18:18:00.010-05:00

Or Old Car vs New Car

Emily is often resistant to change ... or perhaps it's that she is a loyal human being. So it came as no surprise to me that she has this chagrined look on her face when I tell her,

"This is your last picture with the van. We are getting the new car today."

"Mom, no new car."

I explain that it is time. That the car is old and tired and worn out and it's going to cost a lot of money to repair it. You'll love the new car!

"No." huff, huff, stomp, stomp.

Go ahead, state your displeasure however you have to ... the new car is coming home whether or not you want it to.

:::sigh:::

Our 2001 Nissan Quest van still had Great Good Looks after one hundred and fifty thousand miles, a lot of song singing, road trips and errands and some body work after that old lady hit me not once, but twice: a decision had to be made ... put a years worth of car payments into the Quest? Or buy a new car?

She needed a transmission sensor, a transmission control box, left front CV joint, rear suspension, an engine knock sensor and an inspection sticker. It was time for an oil change and tire rotation. And that cement mixer sound? There was ...

No contest.

New car won.

Oh, is that you grinning Emily? Do you like our new car?

Shiny, new (to us) and blue!

I don't believe I have ever seen an engine compartment quite this clean. Very clean and oh-so-pretty!

Emily and Dave check out some of the dashboard features and of course, Emily is on the phone to BFF Kailey.

Me? I'm all moved in. The bulldog is on the dash. And I am grinning from ear-to-ear!

Thankful On Thanksgiving Thursday

2009-11-26T08:44:00.008-05:00

Thank you ...

...for the anticipation of a family gathering with good food. For great nieces and nephews and in-laws (well, okay, sometimes ...) who come to visit. And even those who don't.

Thank you ...

... for my new car, my warm cozy house, the lovely rural town I live in. For woods for walking and streams for enjoying and Mr. Baker and his WWII airplane (whatever it is).

Thank you ...

... for keeping Mark safe.

Thank you ...

... for the New Jersey gang and the love they share with everyone they meet. For cousins near. For cousins far. For family ties and family connections.

Thank you ...

... for Mackey, Bob and Mac. And their fur. And my vacuum.

Thank you ...

... for my sister Maryanne and my brother Barry. And although he hasn't spoken to any of us in many years, thank you for being who you used to be.

Thank you ...

... for Amy, (the love of my life) who right now, in her pj's is driving two pies down to The Salem Mission for their Thanksgiving dinner.

Thank you ...

... for Emily (the love of my life) who keeps me interested, entertained and honest in all things.

Thank you ...

... for this keyboard, this PC, this desk and this electricity because although it isn't green, it is useful and I use it.

Thank you ...

... for David. For being supportive and kind. For his hard work. For his energetic personality.

Thank you ...

... for my new car. (again) It has had me giddy and grinning for three days. And David, (again)who is washing it as I type.

Thank you ...

... for New England weather, the Pats, the Sox, the Celts and the Bruins, even though I think they are highly overpaid and overrated they make for lively conversation.

Thank you ...

... for Massachusetts politics which are never dull and boring but always make me yawn.

Thank you ...

... for those people who put others before themselves. Firefighters, police officers, EMTs, Paramedics, 911 Dispatchers. For they are the ones we can lean on when we need help and Fast!

Thank you ...

... for golf. (need I say more?)

Thank you ...

... for Barbara, Helen, Peggy, Tina, Ann, Bonnie. For Brian, Warren, Ron, Chief, Jim. For Andrew. For Judi. My real time friends. Who lift me up when I fall down. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Thank you ...

... for Belle, Donna, Donna, Amanda, John, Kristen, Greg, Lori, Cathy, Mortimer, Dave, Guido, Sugar, and all the rest. You know who you are my FB friends, my blogging buddies. (Really, it isn't personal if I missed your name)

Thank you ...

... for turkeys, squash, peas and carrots. For gravy, stuffing, potatoes and corn. For an oven that bakes and a kitchen that I love to cook in.

Thank you ...

... for patriotism. Because without it we wouldn't be free. Thank you for all the men and women who serve this country every single day. Here and abroad. In government offices and on military installations. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Because even though I am sometimes quick to criticize, I know you are working for all of us.

Thank you ...

... for the greatest country in the world to live in. And for space exploration. Because maybe someday I'll be able to change my address to ' 1 Out Of This World Ave'. Or maybe Amy and Emily will.

Thank you ...

... for the sun, the moon, the stars, the oceans, desserts, prairies and wildlife. Oh, thank you for so much wonderful wildlife.

Thank you ...

... for Boston Common, The Public Gardens, Fanueil Hall. For Salisbury Beach, Plum Island and Rye, New Hampshire. For The Great State of Maine. For Revere Beach. The Mystic River Bridge. For Salem Willows and Independance Park. For Danvers and TJ Maxx.

Thank you ...

... for summer flowers of pink, white, yellow, orange, purple. For fall leaves and green, green grass. For breezes that gently rustle the leaves and wind that whips the waves into foam.

Thank you ...

... for cutting edge medical care and research not twenty minutes from home. For the parking garages and the ease of getting there.

Thank you ...

... for the not-so-great experiences that help me to grow as a person.

Thank you ...

... for everything good and everyone wonderful in my life.

Happy Thanksgiving my friends. Enjoy this day with your family, your friends, your co-workers. Make wonderful memories and share them with the generations to come.

Why You Should Keep Your Kitty IN Instead Of Out. Lady.

2009-11-21T08:25:00.002-05:00

You should keep your kitty in because he is beautiful.

Black. Sleek. Shiny. Fluffy. Green Eyed.

You should keep your kitty in because he will get

Ticks.

You should keep your kitty in because he will be

Eaten by a coyote. Or worse, a fisher cat.

You should keep your kitty in because he definitely

Upsets my indoor kitties when he stands

Wailing at my patio door.

You should keep your kitty in because I fear

The dog next door is going to

Break that chain one day.

You should keep your kitty in because he will or

Could get rabies.

You should keep your kitty in because it is

A dangerous world out there for

Sleek, shiny, fluffy, green eyed, black kitties.

You should keep your kitty in because if

You love him you want him snuggled

All warm and next to you at night as you sleep.

You should keep your kitty in because he

Is going to get into really big trouble

If he stalks, hunts, catches and kills another of my birds.

Patrick's Saturday Six on Sunday Afternoon

2009-11-15T13:01:00.003-05:00

... because I haven't done this is a long time, I am trying to get back to blogging and spend less time on Face Book and because I saw two other blogging friends (Donna and Barbara) post this today as well.

Here are this week’s “Saturday Six” questions. Either answer the questions in a comment here, or put the answers in an entry on your journal…but either way, leave a link to your journal so that everyone else can visit! Permission is not granted to copy the questions to message boards for the purpose of having members answer and play along there. Enjoy! Patrick's Place : http://www.patrickkphillips.com/ (yeah, I don't know how to change the name of the link)

1. What is the last thing you purchased for yourself, other than basics like groceries? I bought myself a nice leather bag just the other day! Before that? No guilty pleasure items ... just work clothes.

2. What is the last thing you purchased for someone else? Christmas gifts, so, uhm, can't say what or who!

3. If you were to win a lottery, what is the first charity you’d donate to? I wouldn't donate to a charity. I would organize a charity. I have a dream ...

4. If you won that lottery, what is the first “luxury” you’d buy for yourself? New teeth! Well, not dentures ... but I'd finish the project I've been working on ... right after the doctor finds a method for closing that darned hole in my jaw.

5. Take the quiz: Do You Put Yourself First or Last? Should not have bothered. I knew the answer. I also know I should change this.

You Put Yourself Last
You take everyone's needs seriously, except for your own. You mean to take care of yourself, but you're always the last one on the list.While it may be tempting to lend a helping hand every time you can, you're actually not helping people as much as you could be.You are simply not at your best. You're too frazzled to really be giving anyone 100%.Take a mental health day - or even a mental health hour - as soon as you can. It's time to start getting some balance in your life.

6. When is the last time you spent an entire weekend putting yourself first? Many years ago when I was single and had the time.

I remember about Patrick that his Saturday Six's tend to open my eyes. Maybe I'll try to get back there more often.

Emily: Early Years

2009-11-15T09:42:00.018-05:00

Emily and Mom, December 1988 Mass General Hospital NICU. Imagine ... your baby is born at 8:20 in the evening and a scant twelve hours later she is in an ambulance on her way to Boston while you are left to wonder, 'will she be okay?' Never a shrinking violet, I was on the phone to husband, OB, pediatrician and my own mother ... until someone gave in and allowed me to leave the next morning on a day pass to go visit Emily.

I found her none-the-worse for ware, in fact, I found her in better health when I arrived, wheelchair bound ... and I enjoyed the chance to hold her and rock her

Home from the hospital, being held by our friend Paula, who after having been with us when Emily was born, announced that 'the best birth control ever for a single woman is to watch someone having a baby!'

March of 1989, Emily's Christening. Godmother Bonnie, Mom, Dad and Godfather Steven.

March of 1989 Emily is snuggled into the crook of Uncle Steven's arm.

Summer, 1989, just out of the bath.

August of 1989, eight months old. This picture shows her long, wild hair and reminds me of all the visitors we had through that revolving door ... OT, PT, nurses ...

Fall of 1990, Cole School playground. The little red building behind Dave and Emily is one of the town's historic one room school houses. Sadly, in 2009 it sits neglected and lonely.

March of 1991, in the back yard. My girls were always outdoor girls. I believed in the power and benefits of fresh air and joyful child's play.

March of 1991, ready for bed. But really ready for play.

March of 1991. She didn't make it up the slide that day ... but she did a couple of years later!

Feeding the ducks and geese in Danvers at the pond by the library. 1993

1993 Winter play. She could barely move, but she was out there enjoying the cold! Four years and three months old.

Spring 1994, a visit to Shortie the sheep at our neighbors house.

Fall of 1994. We started training for princess status early ...

Bits & Pieces

2009-11-14T17:09:00.014-05:00

Someone is turning !!21!! this December and I've been sorting through pictures. Mind you, I haven't gotten any further back than 2003, but I am working on it!

Amy and Emily, Logan Airport December 2003 ... on our way to Ft. Myers!

Emily & Falstaff 2004 Brrr .... winter riding!

Go Celts! With cousin Christopher January 2005, Verizon Center, Manchester, NH.

First Special Olympics event ever. Track & Field. Spring, 2005.

With cousin Jamie, 2006.

On the beach in Manomet, Memorial Day weekend 2007.

Amy and Emily, Amesbury 2007.

Auntie Maryanne and Emily lean on the fire hydrant ... that the news van is parked in front of. NYC Spring 2008.

Topsfield Fair, Columbus Day weekend 2009. She can really toss a football!

Lots of reflection going on in my head as we approach age 21. From birth 'til now there has rarely been a dull or boring moment.

One of the best things about being Emily's Mom?

Experiencing life through her eyes.

Happy Veterans Day

2009-11-11T09:36:00.002-05:00

I've nothing special to say, no new words to use, but I offer to those who have served, those who are serving and to those who will serve; May God Hold you close and may you experience gratefulness wherever you go.

My humble thanks to all of you, old and young, new and old, here or gone before. Without your willingness to serve your countrymen America would not be free.

I thank you for the many opportunities in my life that you helped to protect and keep intact.

http://sugar-sugarsotherplace.blogspot.com/ created this tag.

Over On Face Book There's That ... and Here There's This

2009-11-07T15:20:00.004-05:00

Our friend, Donna of 'Just Me' http://donna-justme.blogspot.com/ fame has posted a status on Face Book and asks us to do the same:

Let's see how many ppl can do this. Every day this month until Thanksgiving, think of one thing that you are thankful for and post it as your status. "Today I am thankful for..." The longer you do it, the harder it gets! Now if you think you can do it then repost this message as your status to invite others to take the challenge, then post what YOU are thankful for today.

Today I commented on myself that I am thankful for the Local Heroes Wall at our Walmart. It reminded me of the pictures I have of my dad in his Army uniform -- during WWII. (I really ought to scan and post some)

Anyway ... I could go on and on about how I haven't been here or over to your place to read or what-have-you, but you all know I just get here when I can and there when time allows and that I appreciate all of you always.

I just feel like complaining right now and telling you all the things I am ungrateful for. Is there such a thing as being ungrateful for, say, extra housework? extra tidying up? extra errands? extra grocery shopping? extra cooking? extra worrying about the people in your life? extra extra?

Typically I'm the easy going sort, but let a bee get in my bonnet or a hair across my butt and things go from bad to worse and then back to good again. Just spewing in this moment has lightened the load a bit and I haven't even written anything of interest or substance.

Folks, I'm tired. Worn out. Fed up. Finished. I cannot continue to do 'all of this' alone and I have run out of ways to be nice in the asking.

But then, D would tell me I don't ask. I just do. He might be right about that. I do just do.

I feel if the people one lives with love and respect you or have some common courtesy, they would do without having to be asked, told, cajoled, harassed, nagged, snipped at, into doing 'it'. After all, they live here for goodness sake. And they can see with their own eyes what needs doing. From the simple, taking the trash out and putting a new trash bag in ... to swishing a toilet ... it's me, me and me who get it done nearly every day. On the days I don't, well, I don't. Once in a while, someone will see the trash is overflowing and take the bag out of the barrel and put a new one in. But take the trash all the way out? Sure, in their own time. "How about now?" is what I'm thinking. The list goes on and on. Laundry. We'll start it, but we won't finish it. Vacuum? Mop a floor? Make a bed? Put something back where you took if from? Write a check?

While I'm moaning and groaning about this, I need to tell you that I recognize the folly of my ways. I do, do and do and even though often the rewards don't live up to my expectations, I continue to do, do and do. It is my own fault and I'm not sure how to fix it.

I rarely sit and enjoy an activity. Oh sure, I go to my FB page, I play some computer games, I sort through pics on the PC and I watch a few television shows a week. All the while, my head is spinning with the thoughts of what needs to be done, how much time I have to get it done and there is no real relaxation going on.

You see me sitting, but I'm not chillin'.

So, that's what I'm ungrateful for.

Catch me on a better day if you want to know what I'm grateful for.

Let The Transition Work Begin

2009-10-17T13:12:00.009-04:00

Sanibel Island, Christmas week 2003

Back when she was fourteen with long, naturally colored hair and braces on her teeth, I couldn't have imagined how quickly the years would go and how interesting they might be.

We are coming up on twenty-one! (What?!) and that means all those dreams I've been dreaming and all those worries I've been worrying are now right in front of me and the time has come to make some concrete plans, allow for some flow to them and get down to the business of bringing Emily into adulthood.

It's daunting.

I began the process of transition to adulthood back in junior year of high school when I approached the school about a part time, after school job. With a job coach. I was pleasantly surprised and mildly shocked when the school okay ed a vocational evaluation and a quickly timed meeting followed and that very afternoon the job facilitator found her a paying job at a local store, two hours, two afternoons a week with a job coach. She's been working ever since!

That job was a wonderful job at a local five and dime, now closed. But oh! She has a wonderful boss and a job coach match that clicked and it's been going forward since. The store closed one year after she began working there but her job coach mosied on over to the grocery store next door and Emily found herself gainfully employed pretty much before she was unemployed!

Same deal, two hours, two afternoons and she loves this job. She's been there over a year and a half now and has developed some co-worker friendships in-house. Which is where they will stay. But the in-house friendships does this mother's heart good. They remind me that there are still good people in the world and that my daughter is fortunate to be surrounded by folks who respect her, support her and like her.

Will her life always be this way? I like to think so. Ah, but I am more realistic than naive and so I tend to walk around with the feeling that a shoe is going to drop or the eggs aren't going to hold me. A small price to pay to see this wonderful young woman have a good, meaningful life.

Now we are facing one more year of school and then what? What will she do during the day? Continue where she currently works -- for two days, two hours? Will more hours be available? Will transportation miraculously appear? Who will her friends be in adult life? Where will she spend her off time? At home, alone? With Mom or Dad? Or will she go to a day program? A sheltered work shop? (shudder at that thought) Forty hours? Twenty hours? Health insurance?

As I mentioned, it's daunting. While the dream is to eventually find Emily living in an apartment with friends [and help] for the moment ...

I envision her living at home, with Mom & Dad, getting up in the morning and then going off to a day program, perhaps three days a week, and on the other two days working at her job. I envision transportation pulling into the driveway, but that's a dream that's not going to happen, so pull yourself together Mom and envision you and Dad doing the transportation piece.

Emily will be happy because she'll spend time with friends, learning new skills and fine tuning the ones she knows and we all will be healthy and ... living happily ever after.

Nope! Don't tell me no. I ain't gonna listen! Weekends will be filled much as they are now, with Friday night social group and Saturday morning sports and time at the gym when we can. Visits with cousins and aunts and friends and mall trips and phew ... I'm tired thinking of all we accomplish now and then I wonder, 'just how does one do this for ... ever?'

How do I make this happen? Right now I am attending a series of work shops put on by a local ARC program and I am busily calling day programs, post grad schools and day rehabs for visits to check them out and see what they have to offer. I have been talking to DDS to see what exactly they'll fund. Let me tell you, the answer there is usually 'We don't do that.' or 'There is no funding.' But I know better and don't want to hear there's no money, 'cause I know there is. I don't want to hear 'we don't do that' because I know you can if you want to and I know there are many ways to knit a sweater and we're probably using a similar pattern to others but our cables might be a bit thinner or maybe a bit more complex.

Relax, I'll help YOU figure out what she needs and we'll go from there. Team work. Team effort. Just the way it was when she was a toddler, a preschooler an elementary student and then middleschooler and highschooler.

It's all about the team and the people that will come together to help make her life meaningful.

I've already begun to worry about depression and how it will set in if she goes from five or six very active days out in the world to sitting home waiting for me to get home from work. That will not work and I won't allow it, but none the less, I worry about it. Will I be able to cut my hours back? Retire? Work evenings?

Will I be able to pull any of this off?

But more importantly than anything I've thought of or worried about ...

What will Emily want for herself?

June 2008 holding brand new cousin Jazmine.

Her license? A car? A house? A husband? A baby?

The one thing that Emily hasn't learned ... is that she really can't have it all. Not in the way you or I can. Or the way her sister or her cousins can.

But it seems to me there is a built in knowledge that what she can have, she can have differently.

And the rest? She aspires to it. All of it.

Team Sport, Team Spirit, Team Player

2009-10-04T19:14:00.007-04:00

October 4, 2009, Special Olympics Fall Soccer Assessment

I look at that photo and I see a very small team.

Emily's soccer team has morphed.

For the last few years there have been fifteen to sixteen players on her team and with the leaving of her 'old' coach and the entrance of her new coach and some changes in the number of players allowed to attend the games ... New Coach found himself in a bit of a dilemma.

Allow only twelve players to attend the games? Split the thirteen into two teams so all can attend?

He split the teams. The 'Tigers' are seven strong, the 'Wildcats' are six strong, but with any luck they'll be seven come the fall soccer finals.

In the meanwhile, New Coach has taken this motley crew of would be soccer stars and in three practises turned them into teams with spirit, heart, work ethic and had taught each of them how to be team players.

Amazing. I have watched Emily herself morph from the young woman who wants to play soccer, but not mess her hair, her nails or her clothing, up, at all, into a young woman who is beginning to understand what she is watching and is able to be where she needs to be on the field.

Today, I saw the girl who ducks when a ball heads her way, morph into the charge right at it player ... who was able to get her feet on the ball and do some dribbling!

With five on the field and only one sub available the team rotated through in four to five minute intervals with rest periods being roughly two to three minutes. Then it was back in to spell another player. They were all red-faced, sweaty, tired and hungry after just two games, but their spirit never lagged. The lost the first, won the second and thoroughly enjoyed their day.

As did I.

Thank you New Coach. I had no idea this young woman could find her playing skills. With positive feedback and some help from you, she and her teammates excelled today in ways the spectators hadn't seen before.

Bravo!

Guido Reminded Me

2009-09-30T19:38:00.008-04:00

That tomorrow is the one year anniversary of the move from AOL-J to here, Blogspot. Time flies when you're having fun and even sometimes when you aren't.

Guido went back to a year ago and posted from his archives and I think I am going to do the same thing with a twist. I'm going to post one entry from roughly the same time each year from the last five years.

And if you can get through the drivel that follows may the Lord Bless you and keep you in His Hands.

My first ever journal entry was on Tuesday, October 21, 2003. While I had posted that first entry and a couple of others here, I've since decided to remove those and leave the ones I want you to read. My old AOL journal on blogspot is private and I don't post to it now ... I pick and choose what I repost very carefully.

Wednesday, September 28, 2005
Anyone Who Has Lived With Cats Knows
A Cat Quiz for Humans
Your cat waits and meows at the front door when you arrive. Is it saying?
a) Welcome home, I missed you.
b) The phone rang twice while you were out.
c) Feed me, *NOW*.
d) So, I see you didn't bring me the mate I asked for.

Your pillow is history.Your cat meows at the door when you go out. Is it saying?
a) Please don't leave me here all alone.
b) Have a nice day.
c) But what if I get hungry while you out?
d) Kiss that new vase goodbye.

Your cat digs its claws in your leg. This is?
a) A sign of affection.
b) A demand to be fed now.
c) Have YOU had YOUR shots?
d) An attempt to 'fix' you like you 'fixed' him.

Your cat scratches at the door after being fed. Is it saying?
a) Lemme out - I need to fertilize the garden.
b) Wanna go out and play?
c) Wonder what they've got to eat next door?
d) Do I mark my territory outside, or inside?

When your cat stares at you, it means:
a) It is bored silly.
b) It's trying to understand how it's food grows in cans.
c) You are being sized-up for an attack.
d) Human mating habits are disgusting.

Your cat brings a dead mouse/bird into the house. This means:
a) A primal instinct is being displayed.
b) You're not feeding me enough.
c) It is showing a sign of affection by sharing.
d) It is demonstrating the fact that it knows how to kill; be forewarned!
e) All of the above.

Your cat sleeps with you; covering your face. This means:
a) It is showing you great affection.
b) It knows you are allergic to cats.
c) It has discovered the fine art of suffocation.
d) You should have let it out tonight.

Your cat displays signs it wants to mate with other cats in the neighborhood. You should:
a) Let it out immediately.
b) Try to switch it's interests to other things.
c) Put on heavy protective clothing if you are not planning to let it out.
d) If the other cat's owner is attractive, maybe you could double date?

Posted by Kathy at 11:51 AM
6 comments:
lifeseensideways said...
Ha, I loved this! I once adopted a stray cat ... my parents agreed they would look after it "for a few days" ... they had him for 14 years! Cat's have a knack of getting their own way whether or not the human concerned speaks cat!Kath
September 28, 2005 11:57 AM
globetrotter2u said...
That was adorable! (I'll bet I got all the answers right, too!)When we first brought Boris and Natasha into our household, I was a bit dubious about cats, having only had dogs. They definitely have their own distinct personalities, and as a Frenchman once said to me, "Les Chattes sont comme des femmes!"I laughed, cats are like women, in many ways!MAryanne
September 28, 2005 2:24 PM
b4i8clover said...
Marvelous quiz. Cats are superior to humans and are not afraid to remind us.Bon & Mal
September 28, 2005 2:39 PM
firestormkids04 said...
It's been a while since I've had a cat, but you never forget! Penny
September 28, 2005 2:48 PM
astaryth said...
Cats, gotta love 'em! I used to have a t-shirt that said "In Egypt cats were once worshipped as Gods, and cats have not forgotten!" and another that said "Dogs have Masters, Cats have Servents!"http://journals.aol.com/astaryth/AdventuresofanEclecticMind
September 28, 2005 9:29 PM
fitzzer said...
How true, how true! :)
October 4, 2005 9:49 AM

Comments left for my Friday, September 29, 2006 post and the interesting thing about these comments are the names of the writers ... Only two still write somewhat actively over here at blogspot, one has passed on and the others don't write anymore.
Posted by Kathy at 7:52 PM
6 comments:
siennastarr said...
Sorry, Linda.. wish I could help you, but I don't know who that might have been. If you find out let me know!HugsJackie
September 29, 2006 9:41 PM
siennastarr said...
Jackie <~~ DUH! As soon as I hit the save button, I realized that I wrote Linda instead of Kathy. Sorry. I don't know where my brain was at! Certainly not in my head where it belongs! lolPardon my faux paux Kathy!HugsJackie September 29, 2006 9:43 PM
b4i8clover said...
Sorry, Kathy. We wish we could help, but never read the story ourselves. Good luck locating it.Hugs,Bonnie and Walt
September 30, 2006 3:58 AM
frankandmary said...
NO, I cannot help with that. I do remember when you first started reading my Francesco's Life, & left lovely comments.....;']
September 30, 2006 9:57 AM
gaboatman said...
KathyI wish I could help you out on this one, but I came on the scene a year later and have not run across the story or the journalist you are looking for. Sounds interesting, though. Sam
September 30, 2006 5:48 PM
luvmort said...
I never read that story, and it sounds like I would have remembered it. Sorry, dahling.

... yet another year has passed ...

Sunday, September 30, 2007
FEE-VA!
Driving north along the New Hampshire coast, I sense that I am with someone although I can't discern who it might be. A large person, taking up space on the bench seat in my nineteen year young Olds Delta 88, gray and loaded with the amenities of the times. This person is non threatening, so must be a friend?

The sun shines bright and makes the dark blue water of fall sparkle. There is a chill in the air and I feel content and happy. This is a trip to nowhere. A joy ride. An adventure. I sense all of it.

Suddenly the front end of my car drops down a bit and the hot topped road turns to beach sand, soft yet firm; it is wet and packed from the ocean waves. I apply the breaks quickly, turn off the engine and hop out of the car. There is a shell I must check out.

Falling to my knees in the cool sand of fall, the sounds of waves and gulls echoing in my ears, I see legs and hands extended toward the ground as if a person is bending down to me. I cannot see who it is, but I sense someone I know. I lift the shell, small, conch-like. Inside lives a sea creature. It opens up to look out at me. I wonder does it know me? Behind it a beautiful tropic fish swims. Yellow, blue, purple, black. I lift the shell toward the hands to show the fish to Amy. Amy! That's who's on the beach! I don't see her face but I know it is she. She reaches for the shell and the fish drops out onto the sand. I quickly scoop it into the shell and run to the waters edge. I must save the fish and get it back into the water quickly.

Climbing the lava ash cliffs of Rye Beach I come face to face with Trevor. There are white fluffy, down filled blankets everywhere with names on the pillows. My name is near the edge of the cliff and I fear if I lay down I will roll off into the sea. Trevor tells me to rest. He knows I am tired. I am so very tired. Instead I ask, "Why do you like my daughter so well?" He responds, "She limits me." I look confused. "She has rules." "To live by." "I never had that before."

Walking the small incline cut into the side of a large plateau above the sea, I am excited. The wedding will be soon and I will be on time. Trevor takes my hand and pulls me along the last few steps. The grass is thick, emerald green and there are golfers at each tee. Why are we on a golf course? Did he take me the wrong way? Walking between fairways I chat with the golfers and offer them tips. Confused still I speak with the superintendent and ask for directions to the wedding. I am quite sure I am not where I belong. I am directed back the way I came and told to go down those three stairs and through the door.

Where did Trevor go?

The grass feels good under my feet and I don't want to leave but I must make it on time to the wedding.

Down three steps, I turn the big brass nob on the weathered door. I step inside a room that is filled with plastic. Black plastic like that of yard waste bags. Looking to my right I see a wall in shades of brown and green checkerboard. Three steps rise to an open doorway. Slowly I climb those three steps and find myself peering into another plateau of beautifully cut lawn. Bright green and light.

I wake to find myself twisted in blankets, hot, sticky with sweat. The room is dark. The house is quiet.

Such are the dreams made of fever.

Posted by Kathy at 9:15 AM
3 comments:
mlraminiak said...
Wow! Psychedelic! Have fun trying to figure out what it all means...
September 30, 2007 10:41 AM
frankandmary said...
I label that a dream that could be converted into a short story(contest winner). ~Mary
September 30, 2007 6:45 PM
gdireneoe said...
KATH??!! I LOVVVVE this! EXCELLENT writing! LOVE. IT. ;) Smooches, C.
October 1, 2007 4:29 PM

Feeling better a year later ...

Friday, September 26, 2008
"I was afraid of you back then."
Last night Emily and I headed to our HipHopForFitnessAndFunClass, aka torture for your weary body ... but you'll laugh while you're at it. When we arrived my SIL Tina was sitting in the foyer area with two mothers, Chelle and Ellen, holding the baby, chatting. I overheard one say, "Kathy? Yeah, she can."

Approaching from where I've just changed my shoes, I say, "What can I do?" And Ellen says, "We were just talking about people who can be a bitch and I told them you can be." As if my SIL didn't know that! Well. Harumph. What brought this on? I just smiled, nodded and said, "Yeah, that's true. I can be." Since I had no idea the context of their conversation there wasn't much point in getting huffy or offended.

Ellen looks up and says, "Yeah, you can be. I remember when I used to be afraid of you!" "Afraid of me? Why?" "Back when I was Emily's speech therapist. I'm not anymore but I was then."

Okay then.

In the early years I would arrive at a IEP meeting about Emily terrified myself. The school didn't make it easy. What Emily was entitled to (no frills here) I had to beg for. Plead. Cajole. Argue. Cry. Stamp my feet and threaten professional advocacy service or worse ... an attorney. All with courtesy and calm demeanor.

Through it all, I believed Ellen was in my corner. Or rather, Emily's corner. I believe that today.

I've been through five special needs directors, nearly as many student/school liaisons, and six principals. Each time, you start all over. Again. So if I got bitchy, or pissed. Oh well. I never lost sight of why we were there. We were there for Emily. There were times when a cast of thousands would be sitting at a conference room table and I would arrive, sit down and pull out framed photos of Emily and line them up down the center of the table so that each person in attendance would also remember why we were meeting. The meetings were not about money or control or cream puff services. The meetings were about just how we could educate Emily as a team.

It so pissed (and still pisses) me off when team members couldn't focus long enough to accomplish a simple goal.

We moved on from the elementary schools and Ellen. She had a busy, sad and happy couple of years there through fifth and sixth grade. Her mother died. She married and was unable to conceive and started the adoption process. They bought a house. Sold a house. Traveled to China for their first baby. Then a second. Her best friend betrayed her and made life miserable for her at school. Finally they bought a house in a neighboring town and she took a job at the elementary school there. One day she told me she had to take a cut in pay and lose seniority (same school union but different town) but it was worth it to get away from the strife at school.

The consummate professional and one of Emily's school/student liaisons, Ellen never budged and inch more than school administrators allowed and she never ever let on the whys of services not provided, not allowed, not continued.

She never even let me know she thought I was a bitch. True professionalism.
In defense of me I'm going to repeat what I used to say to myself as I would head out to school for another tedious meeting with people I never ever intended to meet or befriend or work with. Period. I didn't even like most of them, but given a chance to meet them elsewhere? Maybe one or two.

I used to say, "If they groan when you walk into the room, you are doing your job." "If they roll their eyes when you speak, you are doing your job." "If they start to fidget when you are making a point, you are doing your job."

And that is how I got through many if not all of the meetings regarding Emily's education.
And that is why Emily is who she is today. It is why she can read. It is why she can print. It is why she is bright and smart and happy. Because I was a bitch.

Imagine that.

Why is it that everyone likes you when you agree with them, but as soon as you don't and you try to make your case ... you're a bitch. Why is that?

Me. A force to be reckoned with? Formidable? Scary? Not. At. All.

Why was Ellen afraid of me? I think I know why although I didn't ask her. Ellen knew that I knew what needed to be done. She knew I arrived to meetings prepared and completely knowledgeable about the topic we would be discussing. She knew she couldn't fool me and yet she tried. Under the direction of 'not enough money, personnel, time and crappy-assed principals' she did her job as liaison, as she was expected to. I understood and I never held it against her. In fact, I never thought she was a bitch.

I wonder now did she think I would attack her? I never raised my voice or pointed a finger or trembled with rage. That wouldn't be effective. I did use my words to the best of Emily's advantage ... and I wrote a thank you note after each meeting.

Today I feel no need to apologize to each and every one of the school/student liaisons. Or Ellen I never meant to make anyone feel afraid ... of me. Or anything I represented. But I did mean to make allof them tow the mark and educate Emily.

There's an old expression: The proof of the pudding is in the eating.

And Emily is one fine pudding. She is rich chocolate with fluffy whipped cream on top. A pudding full of calories and sugar. A pudding to savor and enjoy each day of your life. That is my Emily.

And now ...

September 30, 2009

I realize I've been journaling or blogging for almost six years now ... and I have met some truly inspiring folks, some interesting folks, some funny folks and I have made many friends and aquaintences along the way. We've all lost a friend or two and more along the way... to death. To happenstance. To changes in life.

But me? I'm glad I've taken this journey with all of you ... those that have gone and those that have stayed and those that will join us.

Blogging, for me, has become another part of my life, another part of me.

Happy Anniversary all you AOL-J 'throw-aways'! We've made it through another year!

Change Is In The Air Because My Kilter Isn't There

2009-09-29T18:53:00.003-04:00

I had popped off an e-mail to a blogging friend ... one from way back on AOL-J (that many of you know as well) and the response I received was a bit disconcerting.

It seems this friend is going to be off line a lot more than on (from now on? forever? or for a while?) and I absolutely respect that.

I certainly didn't ask why, because if I did I wouldn't be respecting that.

And I don't want to make this about me ... but I somehow feel as though I've let this person down. Call it a gut feeling, woman's intuition or even paranoia if you will.

But the news that this blogger was going off line indefinitely (forever? for a while? from now on?) got me to thinking a bit 'harder' than I have been or usually have about my own blog. I've fallen into the trap of slacking off ... and I have contributed I am sure to the demise of the sense of community some of us feel, although I know not all of us [from AOL] feel that way.

"So," you think, "She's still going on and on and on about blah, blah, blah." On the one hand that's true, but on the other, finally some light has dawned on Marblehead and I've realized I've been neglecting my own blog for a couple of fairly simple reasons.

The first is that I still have this tiny fear that an ex-girlfriend from real time life will find me and harass me. I should just get over it. If she does. She does. Not much I can do about it except to go private, but I was unhappy private at AOL-J so it stands to reason that when the opportunity popped up for me to post publicly so-to-speak, I jumped right in.

The second is that I often feel as though I have nothing useful to offer this crowd of bloggers. It's a huge community with lots of talented writers and interesting people who find very interesting or engaging 'things' to write about.

So the dilemma becomes, "What should I write about?" I guess I haven't quite grasped the atmosphere here, although when I do get round to friends blogs, they are pretty much the same as they were before. Interesting and engaging.

I've finally figured out that I am out of kilter here ... just a bit ... but then I was knocked over today by the news that my friend (and yours) won't be on line much anymore. (forever? for a while? from now on?)

And I don't want to face a loss here again.

So I must look to my friends who are still here ... posting daily, weekly, infrequently, rarely, always ... for unspoken and unwritten encouragement.

Because I recognize that just by their being here ... they are being supportive.

What change is in the air? Well, I've been thinking about writing about what I know best .

... an old, old photo ......

and so I am going to start at the very beginning and write the story of Emily.

Will the story be in order? Probably not. But will the story be entertaining and interesting?

Oh yeah. It will.

cross posted Women On

did Face Book fall down

2009-09-21T06:47:00.002-04:00

... and go Boom! ? Or is it just my account? I haven't been able to access since sometime yesterday, Sunday, and have received only one e-mail notification of an 'apps' contact for me, today, Monday.

I'm going with FB is having technical difficulties, but I'd like to know for sure just in case my page has been hijacked.

Any of my readers having the same 'maintenance' message when they attempt to sign in?

Thanks!

Clean Up!

2009-09-12T14:49:00.002-04:00

Fall is fast approaching and for me, just as in the Spring, I must do some nesting and clean up. Today I have spent an hour or so at the PC just going through digital pictures, making new folders, sorting, deleting and trying to cement in my head 'just where that picture is filed'.

So here is a favorite picture of Mac and Bob. The lazy guys ... who don't do anything to help us clean up or out.

:::sigh:::

But. They are cute.

Remembering

2009-09-11T06:23:00.008-04:00

Today and always, God Bless America

I went to bed with 9/11/2001 on my mind and I woke thinking about that horrible day. Like all of you, I can tell you precisely where I was, who I was with, what I was doing when I heard the news and how for a brief moment in time we believed that the news we were hearing was about a horrific crash and not a terrorist attack.

At our office, there was a scramble to locate a television of any size and condition so that we could see with our own eyes ... and when we finally got a tiny portable TV to work, the shock sank in.

Today I was hoping to post a remembrance of one of the victims or heroes of 9/11/2001, the day America was attacked; I was late getting over to Project 2996, http://project2996.wordpress.com/ and so I won't be getting one done today

However, we can all go over to Project 2996 and browse through the list of names, memories, tributes posted by and linked to other bloggers.

Today I offer a prayer for the victims, heroes, and families of those directly affected by the attack and I offer a hope that America and her citizens will remain vigilant against oppression and terrorism and work together to keep each of us safe and secure in the knowledge that we are a great country of many.

God Bless America. Today and always

Like Deja Vu only Worse

2009-09-06T19:08:00.006-04:00

At the end of July I wrote a post explaining in some fashion how hard mothers, well, parents, of children with special needs work to be sure we cover all the bases. You'd probably read it here before and you may read of it again in one fashion or another through the life expectancy of this blog. That entry was more for my friend than for any other person. I was so angry and distraught for she and her family at the time.

Before I get to their story, I need to tell you another story ... as a way to show that this type of incident is not an unusual occurrence per se.

Five or six years ago, which now seems ages and ages ago, which is often the case after bad things happen to really good people, a friend whose son has special needs got into some mischief. Mischief is perhaps too weak a word, but criminal activity is far too strong to describe exactly what happened.

There's a lot of history that goes with the story but I can't state it here ... it'd take all night and part of next week.

... a few years back this nearly teen went for a bike ride and found himself at a local farm where he knew many of the workers. He had a visit and then left his bike there and took off in the farm's SUV. He drove this SUV all the way to Boston where he was involved in a fender bender. He being the hitter not the hittee. The woman whose car he smashed into was fine with no injuries and little damage to the vehicle and so when the State Police arrived to the scene, information was exchanged and the woman left. The SPO had the SUV towed -- because after all it was stolen (although not reported as such) and the driver was not only underage and unlicensed, he was obviously a boy with special needs, although his special needs are not visible to the naked eye.

In the end, a parent was called and drove into Boston to pick him up, the SUV was retrieved by farm personnel and while one local police department believed charges should be brought forward, the town where the SUV was housed, the farm owner and the SPD did not believe that should be the case, because, the nearly teen was really incapable of understanding that he should not have taken the SUV ... until it was explained to him after the fact.

His response to all the hubbub was "I was going to visit my teacher." Yes, he was a student in an out of district placement and he knew exactly how to get to his teacher. He had been riding a special needs van for a number of years to Boston. Five days a week.

So here comes the Deja Vu only Worse.

Recently my good friend, the parent of another young man with special needs called me to relate a story that gave me chills and I was as distraught as one parent could be for another.

Her son, nearly an adult, rode his bike to their local bank. He parked his bike near the back of the building where he had been told to by his parents (to avoid going through he parking lot and coping with cars pulling in and out) and went in to the bank to make a deposit to his checking account. This was not a new activity, quite the contrary, he'd been going to this bank for some time and as I understand it, usually went to the same teller each time he went in.

What happened next is somewhat of a mystery ... primarily because the story to the parents comes from more than one source. It's a hodge podge of trying to sort out the information but regardless of just how things went from making a deposit to being arrested ... the police officers involved had no idea this young man has special needs, although his special needs are visible to the naked eye.

Well. Shut my open mouth.

Maybe.

This young man's speech can be unintelligible to people who don't know him or have 'untrained' ears ... despite the fact that this young man has a visible indicator of a disability ... the officer who arrested him only thought there might be something wrong because the young man told him he understood what he was talking about but asked to explain, could not.

You know, we love our kids and think they are perfect just the way they are. That being said, we are also the first to admit that even sometimes we can't understand what they are trying to communicate. On a good day. Imagine what it's like when there is a high level of stress or nerves thrown into the processing of language.

Handcuffed, placed in a cruiser and booked at the police station, finally a parent is notified and arrives to pick him up. Of course there was bail to contend with. And the newspaper calling to find out what happened.

For his parents part, "No comment" was the word of the week and for the moment continues to be so. They are making every effort to keep this incident from becoming a media circus. On the one hand they want and need to keep quiet about it to protect the young man's reputation, good citizen standing and let Lady Justice do her job. But the other hand? Oh, that one is in a much tougher place ...

I admire their ability to keep the faith. To not lash out and make public statements that may make matters worse in the end.

For young man's part ... he's worried about going to jail. And since he can't understand why he was arrested, how is he to know that he won't end up in jail?

In the end, I believe Lady Justice will have her say ... but that's in the end. In the meanwhile there's a lot of sorting out to do. While the sorting and the wheels of justice are turning at a snail like pace, please keep this young man in your good thoughts and prayers.

Everyone Can Use A Little Emily

2009-08-30T19:20:00.012-04:00

Emily loves to stick her tongue out just as I snap a picture.

"Oh relax Mom. Takenother" "Why? So you can stick your tongue out again?"

Whatever floats your boat, Em.

Prepping for a dance

She is nothing, if not all girl. From hair color to lips, the girl knows the color she wants and will accept nothing less. I guess this is good for the most part.

April 2009 ... one of the first pictures with the new camera

"Yes Mom, takenother picture." "Sure Em, while you have Amy in a death grip ... "

Salisbury Beach, August 2009

Little poser. Shake it girl!

The younger cousin is taller and the older cousin is smaller. Michael & Emily, August 2009.

Having a great visit with cousin Michael and Thomas, who is missing from the photos.

"Mom, Timber was smelling my butt." "Stay away from him then." "Eewww, it's discussing." "Yes, it is."

Today's Thinking Is Thematic

2009-08-30T17:23:00.004-04:00

So there I was driving along thinking about my blog.

I know not why ...

I've learned that when you lose an on-line friend to death the grief you feel and experience is every bit as real as the grief you feel and experience when you lose a face-to-face friend.

Painful. Difficult to get through.

When Flamingo Feathers & I were Life on Flamingo Row @ AOL, I made a close girlfriend an ex-friend. Honestly. Honestly. It was a tough decision that two years later pains me in some ways. But it was also the best decision.

It is impossible to keep up with every blog I follow or read on a regular basis.

I am grateful for bloggers who spread the word when someone is struggling. It is good to know when you really need to stop by ... and it is good to take the time to do so.

Through blogging and reading others blogs I've finally recognized that I should be appreciated for my talents and that I don't have to live up to the talents others impose upon me because they perceive me to have a talent or ability that I do not. (see comment I made on this paragraph)

There you have it, me, waxing all philosophical. Or not.

I Don't Like To Lose Followers

2009-08-30T08:07:00.002-04:00

Do you? No, of course not. I've noticed that my followers box number goes UP then down.

Thankfully, more up than down. Because really, although I write for myself as a way to chronicle the dribs, drabs, adventures, misguided moments and daily drivel in my life, the truth is, if you blog you like to have readers.

Here are some things I've learned about myself and life since I began blogging ... nearly six years ago now.

If my old faithfuls were to go away, I'd be crushed.

Blogging is not my life, but it is a part of my life.

It is easier to tell complete strangers and on-line friends the details of my life than it is to sit down face to face with my friends and loved ones to do the same.

They judge me. You don't.

I've made lasting friendships here that have evolved into phone calls, e-mails and snail mail.

I hope to meet these friends in the flesh. With clothes on, of course.

It is easier for me to give my opinion, even when it differs from your opinion, right here in my blog. Or yours.

I enjoy offering a word of silly, praise, support or encouragement to other bloggers who write.

It's okay for me to pray. You don't have to, but I do. And I pray for all of you. In times of need and not.

I don't judge my on-line friends. But sometimes I do judge my real time friends. (got to work on that)

There are many unusual, interesting and fun people who blog --about as many varied subjects as there are bloggers.

I have had moments of complete clarity while writing here or reading ... there.

While I don't write nearly every day as I used to, I miss my time writing and posting and reading ... when I am unable.

Community isn't the town you live in. It's the people who live in the town.

I know. Totally mind blowing thoughts, eh?

Click Here

2009-08-30T08:02:00.002-04:00

Just now, as I was beginning a second post for today I happened to left click in the title box in the compose mode.

Two things popped up. The first 'Eighteen Holes' the title of my just entered post and 'where is the knock sensor on a 2001 Nissan Quest'.

I'm pretty sure I wasn't going to write about that.

In fact, I know my husband was looking that up just a week or so ago. How it ended up here is beyond me.

One word might explain it.

Computers.

Eighteen Holes

2009-08-30T07:31:00.007-04:00

Wait for the silly. It'll be at the end. ;) On Monday, August 17th I headed out early in the morning to Olde Salem Greens http://www.salem.com/Pages/SalemMA_REcreation/golfcourse
This is the view of the club house and restaurant from the women's tee of the first hole.

to play eighteen holes in a charity tournament. The day dawned sunny and nice and quickly turned to hot and humid. The temps hovered in the 90's all day. Phew ... it was hot! And wet!

Women's tee, first hole. Tina begins her drive shot.

Our foursome is made up of myself, Tina, Lorraine and whomever we can beg, borrow, steal, cajole or pressure into playing with us! Usually we don't have to work too hard to get someone to join us. Last year, a lovely young teen joined us. She can really drive a golf ball.

The charity is http://www.stephenogrady.com/ in memory of friend Beth's late brother. Stephen was killed in an accident ten years ago ... caused by a drunk driver. At the time I was an firefighter/EMT for the town and responded to the call. I did not know it at the time ...

Beth and her family and some of Stephen's friends set up the foundation to honor and remember him and chose to raise money for the youth of Salem. So far the organization has donated over $100,000.00 in ten years. The money is raised through the golf tournament, a oldies dance, a comedy night and marathons that Beth runs. Big ones. Long ones. She never ran a day in her life ... and then ... she ran through her grief. And while doing that ... she has been able to honor her brother's life and memory.

Coolest place all day. Next to a marker in the shade.

Sarah and Lorraine choose their clubs for a fairway shot.

After the tournament we all head over to the Knight's of Columbus Hall and have a wonderful barbecue lunch and get to visit with the other golfers and friends who volunteer to make the day a successful one! There are many raffle prizes as well as 'good golfer' prizes. Oh, don't worry -- we never win!

Now for the funny. Lorraine, Tina and I play golf at a local, eighteen hole, three par course every Wednesday morning. In a 'casual' league that plays only nine of the eighteen holes. One week we play the back nine, the alternating week we play the front nine. There are rules and prizes and such, but the league is all level of player from beginner to expert. We like this league as there is no pressure to perform for anyone but yourself.

Last week, while standing at the tenth hole tee box waiting for the group in front to move on ... Lorraine was watching the grounds crew deliver and drop off some bushes and trees near the tee. She was looking around and as she explains it, before she said what she said ... she realized how much open space and land there is on the course ...

"You know, they have so much land here, this could be an eighteen hole course!"

To which Tina replied, "It is!"

2009-08-03T22:17:00.010-04:00

Doug & Amanda 8/2/2009

My father's family was large ... there were eleven or maybe twelve siblings. Henry, Donald, Robert, Addison, Nancy, Florence, Jessie, Isabelle, Nora and Dear Lord! I've forgotten the rest. I'll have to dig through a manila envelope to garner the rest of the names or with luck they'll come to me as I write.

As things went so many years ago,my Canadian relatives immigrated here to the North Shore, married, had children, lived long happy (and not so happy) lives and now, we cousins are the three generations of that side of the family left. No longer are there elders to look to for family history or stories ... all have gone on to, well, I hope, Heaven. But maybe there's one or two that didn't quite get that far.

Yesterday I attended the wedding of my second cousin's daughter, Amanda. Diane and I are six months apart in age and so while her mother and aunts were my first cousins, only one remains, Barbara, now in her seventies. Diane and I were close as kids spending many weekends at each others homes and thoroughly enjoying each other until we weren't.

The we weren't part was merely a bump in the road of growing up. A city girl. A country girl. A daring girl. A chicken girl -- Me! Now we see each other infrequently, but always in good cheer -- glad to spend time with one another.

It was nice to see (I mean hear) this rather large contingent of cousins although not all were able to attend. Arthur and Terri live out of state and were not able to make the trip. Unfortunate, that. Still others, may not have been included -- be it budget or personalities, I didn't ask.

But Diane, Donald, Nancy, David, Johnny, Laura, Ramona, Donna, Barbara, Vanessa, Alicia, Joseph, Jacob, Jenniker, Aiden, Catiana, Brittany, and of course, the bride, Amanda were all in attendance. They are so much fun to spend time with!

Did I mention that this group is completely out of control? There is no rounding them up and getting them to stand still, so pictures were done however they could happen.

The groom serenades his bride with a song he wrote for her .... and the bride thanks the groom with a wonderful kiss!

Make Lemonade or Kick It To The Curb?

2009-07-31T21:41:00.006-04:00

I was reminded on the occasion of what would have been my mother's ninety-fourth birthday of an expression she used. It's just an expression and people use it as a way to feel better or put events in perspective.

Not everyone believes the expression to the extent that my mother did ... or in the way I do ... because of her beliefs.

When life gives you lemons, make lemonade. But I think today I'd like to kick it to the curb. Life and its lemons.

The expression reminds me of brighter colors and happier days and oh! The beautiful lemon-yellow taffeta dress with lemon colored chiffon my mother sewed for a friend of my sister's ... way back in the 60's.

Today, I am saddened for a friend. With a friend. I am as discouraged and confused and crushed as one can be for a friend and I cannot elaborate on the why just yet. But I am sure as the next week or so unfolds, I will ... with her approval and even appreciation - not for the doing -- for the caring.

"I like the way you articulate things." she said to me today when I said, "Oh J! I want to blog about this right now! I am so ... !" and that's about all I could get out for that moment.

Making lemonade out of lemons is not going to help in this situation. Not at all. For a moment or two, in theory, there may be some peace or relief, but each waking moment is terrifying in the thoughts of what could come and what could be. There will be permanent emotional scarring and many lessons learned along the way. For everyone involved.

I've often enough stated here that as a mother of a child (who by age is no longer a child, but by ... er ... IQ, certainly is) I do my best work when it involves advocating for education. For change. For tolerance --if not acceptance. But there are times when I, with my nose to the grind stone researching whatever it is I need to research ... times when I think I've dotted every 'i' and crossed every 't' ... suddenly recognize or realize that, um, no, I haven't.

The guilt and shame builds and I think why am I so bad at this? This parenting of a child with special needs when in truth ... I shouldn't ask myself that. I am an excellent parent of this child and the proof is in the pudding of her.

The opportunities and independence I have worked so hard to build through years of pestering teachers, Ed Teams, husband, sister, friends ... to let her do it herself ... let her take care of it ... teaching her what I know, showing her what I know, helping her overcome the daily struggles of learning ... of living life. Her own life.

WAS I WRONG?

When I say to 'them' that she needs to do it herself. She can do it herself. Let her try to do it herself. When I stamp my feet and dig in my heels on an issue, I know ...

I AM CORRECT.

That is exactly what is needed. This young adult (by age) will one day have to go it alone to some degree. Her parents, who love her with no strings attached and for nothing in return if that is what she has to offer, may not always be here for her. That is why we teach her, why other parents teach their special children, to live their lives to the best of their ability doing things on their own.

But not alone. With guidance and a hand, always, and like our typical children, making mistakes along the way -- we let them learn from those mistakes. And we mirror the learning from our mistakes as we go along beside them, guiding them. We are, after all, human.

WE ARE NOT WRONG IN OUR EFFORTS.

Although there are times when we are forgetful or harried and hurried and maybe, just maybe we miss a step or misstep along the way.

Sometimes when we least expect it we are reminded that indeed, mental retardation is present in our lives. The fact that our children are great mimics and blend so well and easily into society on a social level often hides the truth of their existence. They struggle every day to be just like you. Just like me. Just like everyone they see.

IT IS FORGIVABLE.

When you see my daughter and her friends, you immediately know that they are 'different'. It may be looks, attitude, abilities, behavior ... it's there as distinguishable as night and day and you would have to be a buffoon not to notice.

Different isn't bad. It isn't a disease. It's just different. (I've said that often enough too)

Today, for the first time in the twenty years of her, I wondered, 'why?' Not specifically why her? Why me? Why us? Why them?

But rather ... Why did this happen? What's the lesson You want us to learn from this? Are we to reach out to others in forgiveness? In teaching? In anger?

Huh. I don't know. I'm going to pray on it.

While I'm praying on it, I'm going to be reflecting on ignorance. Ignorance as poisonous as racism. As ugly and dark and dangerous. There is no excuse or reason for it.

But it's there.

So God, please help my dear, dear friend get through this. And while You're at it, help me too.

What Have You Been Up To Miss Kathy?

2009-07-22T07:01:00.002-04:00

"Oh, not too much." I answer.

Today finds me off to the oral surgeon (again) for a(nother) procedure which, will complete the repair needed after that dammed tooth extraction last November.

Yep ... still working through that mess, both physically and emotionally. What amazes me is that I haven't bitten off any one's head. Not yet anyway. And ... that I am still wavering between anger, tears and feeling completely stupid.

I find myself somewhat culpable in this in that I just sort of put myself in a professionals hands so-to-speak, and completely trusted his opinion and his ability.

"Put it out of your head girl. Worse things could happen." I say to myself. I am correct about that, but then I think, "Why should I expect myself to accept bad things when they happen to me?"

Truth is, I shouldn't. I've mentioned before that I believe life, it's events or incidents, is all about perspective.

My perspective or view today is not so good.

I dreamed most of my sleep away with wild, wacky (and er, X rated) dreams and have woken with indigestion. Since I cannot eat, drink or be merry for the next number of hours, the indigestion will stay with me most of today.

Poor. Poor. Pitiful. Me.

I am bearing the cost of Dr. M's mistakes and negligence in more than emotional and physical ways. I cannot bring myself to type out what the cost of today's procedure is costing in greenbacks. I'll just say that the girls and I could have one very nice vacation if I could keep that money for our use.

Just think! Five days off from work. Today and tomorrow won't be so good, but maybe Friday through Sunday will be sunny and I'll feel well enough to venture out to ... the deck? Dr. G forewarned me that I should expect to feel better three to five days after this procedure. I'm shooting for three! Thinking positive! Wanting to be back to work first thing Monday!

A few months from now there will be one, final, corrective surgery. Good news about that! There will be no charge to me or the insurance company because Dr. G had to create this problem to work through the bigger problem. After that I should be good to go for the rest of my dental work (some that will even be covered by insurance) and I'm guessing that this time next summer I'll be eating steak off the grill and corn on the cob!

Oh ... I am so looking forward to that.

2009-07-12T09:34:00.018-04:00

Award! Me? Cool!

The Rules:

1. Thank the person who nominated you.

Thank you Lynne! Although I don't write as much as I used to, I do try my very best to keep it honest.

2. Copy the logo to your blog. Done.

3. Link to the person who nominated you for this award.

http://lynne-tnt-ii.blogspot.com/ Lynne is heading out of blogger for a sabbatical ... and then going private. She'll be missed while she's gone! Please come back.

4. Name ten things about yourself that people might find interesting.

Many of these my regular (& old -- no, not older, just from before) readers will probably find this a bit boring ...

1. I was engaged twice before I kissed the frog that turned into a handsome prince. Then married him!

2. I turned to police & fire dispatching as a way to meet new people and spend time with adults after moving to the then rural community I live in.

3. I worked in the parts department of Cycles 128 (seems like a hundred years ago) and could find any part for any motorcycle that a customer requested. Could have had lots of dates too, but, alas, I didn't.

4. I'm sure I've forgotten pretty much everything I used to know about motorcycles!

5. I owned and rode my own motorcycle when I was 21 and after just 96 miles and one fender bender ... I brought it back to the shop and sold it!

6. My efforts to educate children about disabilities began in a grassroots way that included myself and one other mom and snowballed into researching a formal curriculum, working with the school district to purchase and implement same, and I am pleased to say is still in use in the local districts.

7. The Z Girls all love the color pink! And usually one of us is wearing it.

8. Golf. Need I say more?

9. My SIL & I have played the same KENO numbers when we meet for lunch at a favorite restaurant for many years now. The numbers where chosen by my SIL during one of my birthday lunches ... my birthday, lucky 7 and 69. I have one $100.00 playing the numbers on more than one occasion.

10. I have lived in three homes my entire life. My childhood home, my young adult home and my married home. All three are within ten minutes of each other.

5. Nominate ten or as many as you can -- Honest Scrap Bloggers -- include their blog links.

Robin http://yellowbrickroadtwo.blogspot.com/

Lisa http://cw2smom-wearinmyheartonmysleeve.blogspot.com/

Mortimer http://mortimerscafe.blogspot.com/

Jon http://lonestarconcerto.blogspot.com/

Karin http://fleecenikfarm.blogspot.com/

Jodie http://dornbrau-dustbunnyclubofnorthamerica.blogspot.com/

Vicki - 2 http://havenwoodhouse.blogspot.com/
http://mymaracas.blogspot.com/

Cathy http://cathy-daretothink.blogspot.com/

Donna http://donna-justme.blogspot.com/

Lisa http://mlraminiakcomingtoterms.blogspot.com/

Group! http://womenon.blogspot.com/

Mary http://rejectedtruth.blogspot.com/

Well, that's my list of links. BUT. I am leaving some of Lynne's links in, because you know, links are a good way to go out, meet new folks, visit folks we've been missing and build community among ourselves.

Carlene at http://horseshoebend2.blogspot.com/
Dawn at http://bbubblyb.blogspot.com/
Joann at http://joannsnewjournal.blogspot.com/
Linda at http://findingfootprintsinthesand.blogspot.com/
Lyn at http://lyn-britsblog.blogspot.com/
Sheri at http://justanotherday-sheri.blogspot.com/
Sugar at http://alittlebitofsugarplease.blogspot.com/

6. Leave a comment on each of the blogs, letting them know they have been nominated.

Oh gosh ... I went to visit all of the links I posted and totally forgot to let them know I've nominated them! I'm off to do that now! ** Gave up** Got through four or five and blogger was having some AOL moments.

PS -- It's perfectly okay to accept your award and not pass it on. Sometimes that's fun too!

Just Some Flowers -- 'Cause I've Nothing To Tell Tonight

2009-07-11T21:13:00.009-04:00

A daylily blooming in a bucket ... of daylilies that had been removed from my back yard garden.

I finally couldn't stand the overcrowding and on July 4th (nope, no parade, no fireworks for me!) I removed all the plants, drove to Lowe's and purchased new plants and soils and paving bricks and ... wow! all sorts of things for not too much money, came home and made myself a new flower garden in the back yard.

Funny, the first day I accomplished so much in two and a half hours that I was surprised at myself ... and invited a friend over for dinner ('cause Emily was in Maine at her boyfriend's and Dave was in New Hampshire on a mountain bike ride). My friend, her daughter and my Amy and I took off to the movies to see The Proposal with Sandra Bullock and What's His Name ... oh gosh we laughed and laughed.

Then on Sunday Amy & I took my nephew Landon bowling -- three year olds are so darned cute! -- and then it was home to do some more garden work. I completed the garden Sunday late in the afternoon but my two and a half hours on Sunday accomplished one quarter of what I'd gotten done on Saturday.

This body is getting ... er ... not old, exactly, but old!

Queen's Tiara Iris Lacy Ruff Iris

Looking to the woods next to the house, just a corner of the new garden. A tiny Astilbe in front of the iris and just behind them a small holly bush I transplanted from out front. The deer were having a field day with the front garden!

Just Because

2009-07-03T20:08:00.005-04:00

Emily on the stairs of Boston Common with one wing of the State House in the background.

Just because I love this photo, I'm doing a 'hit or miss' posting. I might hit upon something of interest or it might be a total miss. C'est la vie!

Emily and I took the Blue Line in to Boston on Tuesday, a relatively dry, but not terribly sunny day, although there was a minute or two of sun ... any of you that follow me on FB know that I have been whining my sorry self to death (and you too) about the dammed rain all month long in June. As on June 24th there had been four days with sun. Only four. Pffft. What's up with that?

Emily and I headed into Boston to meet Amy at the State House where she is interning for a local state rep this summer. We packed sandwiches, chips and cookies for a quick bite to eat on Boston Common just across from the State House.

The trip in was uneventful as was the walk up Beacon Street to the General Hooker entrance of the State House, but we did have to stop and rest for a minute. It was getting muggy and we were in lightweight, layered clothing ... needed to shed a bit.

Amy wasn't in the office when we arrived, she was at one of the Legislative Aide seminars, Tim Cahill was speaking, and so we plopped ourselves in the nice, old, wrinkled leathers chairs in the teeny, tiny lobby of the senators office area. Talk about small! Wow ... in the office there are four desks occupied by four employees ... and an intern or two and you can imagine how cramped quarters can get.

It was really nice to see Amy in a different environment. We walked to a small convenience store, purchased some drinks and then headed over to the common where we found a nice quiet spot to eat and chat.

A quick visit, but we enjoyed every moment. Emily and I hiked back down the hill to Government Center where we picked up the Blue Line back to Beechmont in Revere ... and then home.

A quick trip, but fun. Emily would like to do it again! So, we will, right after her six weeks of summer work study are finished. Yikes!

The Dome. Tours of the State House and the dome are available weekdays for free!

Emily and Amy.

Coworkers Behaving Badly

2009-06-28T19:50:00.004-04:00

I have to sanitize this a bit -- sorry.

Two days a week we have an extra person on duty to assist with higher levels of activity; answering phones, directing calls, calling out to other agencies, assisting folks at the window.

One one day a week, B works with the direct supervisor in this department, who works the desk to 'keep in touch' with the inner and outer workings of a 911 center. This helps the supervisor measure what does and doesn't work and allows a fresh perspective from that office when TSHTF.

On the second day, B works with R who is 'just a dispatcher' as we dispatcher/911 operators are often referred to. (this is one reason I am happy to just work per Diem in the room now)

R is a nice enough person, but sometimes, R is crotchety. Curmudgeon isn't always accurate a term for R, but we use it often enough ... to R's face even.

Well, R passes gas all day long. ALL. DAY. LONG.

It's disgusting really and while the rest of us can be out of the room while R is doing R's thing, poor B can't get up and leave. B has to stay and work regardless the odor emanating from the other side of the room. On more than one occasion, this gaseous excretion problem has been brought up to the boss ... by B, by me, by others.

Apparently you just can't do anything about a person who, while having this problem, continues to eat, oh, I dunno, four or five jalapeno peppers with lunch. Even Beano has its limits.

But shouldn't said person be spoken to? This is a delicate subject, but come on! Go to the dammed bathroom. Fart. Come back. But please, stop spreading your smelly farts all over the room, not to mention no one wants to use the chair R sits in ... eeeeuuuuwwww

Let me move on to the latest. R is actually quite humorous and funny -- always nice to me. We share a laugh a day at least and if R gives me any lip, I hand it back on a silver platter. It is our coworker relationship and we've been getting along fine for years on just that level.

But R cannot be nice to B. Pretty much ever. For no particular reason that one can figure other than the insult that there has to be another person in the room to 'assist' during busy times. This is surely taken as a personal affront ... but it shouldn't be B that suffers because of it, it should be the boss. Bossman is the one who wants to extra person on duty.

Anyway ...

For years we worked in the worst room in the building (until a big addition and upgrade six or seven years ago). It was tiny, crowded and dirty. One person could work in the room on a good day. On a bad day we'd squeeze in, elbow to elbow, chair to chair, two and sometimes three of us! When we moved into the new big room ... we all felt elated that we had space to move, new chairs, new consoles, new everything! WOW!

Over the course of the last few months, Bossman has been working on setting up a new console. More ergonomic, less height for less craning of the neck ... that sort of thing. Everyone has an opinion, myself included. Bossman has been asking for feedback and suggestions but reminding all of us that he may not be able to make changes on this console, but the second one may be a better set up because of the first one. Makes sense ... he had the 'back up' console put in first so we can try it out and see how we like it.

So, all week, B and R and others are talking about the new console. Likes, dislikes, etc. B mentioned that there really isn't all that much area for writing ... and that if we had a busy day, we couldn't fit two people at the console. Valid points, both.

Late on Friday, after I settled down from the car accident and had time to really think and breath, B and I were chatting and she brought up those points to me. I told B that it wasn't that big a deal, those really hectic, busy, crazy storm and disaster days don't happen often and remember the room we came from? We can figure it out!

We should all keep a positive outlook and be thankful for all that we have now, that which we didn't have before.

Then B told me something that has had me pretty po'd all weekend. The Bossman left early on Friday and shortly after that, B & R were talking about the new console again. (we're all pretty tired of discussing it ad nauseam) and she brought up her concerns about space.

R told B, "You'd complain even if we gave you the rope to hang yourself with."

At which point B stopped talking to R except about work related items. But I know B well enough to know that B was terribly hurt by the remark.

And all I can think is: Who says that to a coworker? Forget that. Who says that to anyone?

Fairy Godmother

2009-06-27T19:37:00.002-04:00

Today we celebrated Jazmine's Christening and first birthday.

St. Paul's church was founded back in 1878 or 1879 by estate workers of Irish extraction. From 1878 on through 1990 every priest at the church was of Irish descent. Until this priest ... who is decidedly French! Father Goudreau made the baptism interesting with his history of years past when mothers would come to the priest after the birth of their baby for a blessing, of baptisms performed on Sundays during mass, (but people will give one hour to God a week and so we don't do that anymore) He talked about water being the symbol for life and he included the little cousins in the process. They all carried the gifts and the accoutrement to baptism.

The service was lovely and my sister-in-law and I thought the priest was interesting enough and the church was lovely enough to almost get us to go back. We even talked about going together one Sunday.

After the baptism we all packed into our cars and headed to Lynch Park in Beverly for a cookout and some relaxation. Although honestly, it's a lot of work for someone to get the tables (it's a first come, first served deal), reserve the area with chairs, coolers, tables, grill. Today was a gorgeous day.

Jazmine's mom, Jamie had spread the good news that they are expecting their third!! later this year and we are all very happy for them. Food, cake, gifts and games for the little ones ... a pinata, donuts on a string, sack races ... all fun.

And then the clean up. I didn't do much other than put a few light things into bags. The neck and back are pretty good today -- although I did come home and sleep for two hours -- and then Jamie and DJ gathered us a round to make an announcement.

"Thank you everyone for coming. You all know now that I am expecting our third and today we'd like to ask two of you to be the next baby's godparents." My sister-in-law raises her hand and quips, "pick me! pick me!"

Then Jamie asked Emily if she would be willing to be the new baby's godmother? Emily says, "Sure, why not?" which got a few laughs because every one knows Emily isn't terribly effusive and she's limited in how she expresses herself, but she was beaming from ear to ear.

After she asked Emily, she then asked DJ's sister, Heather if she would be the godmother.

Too.

And Heather said, "I am so honored." Jamie explained to all of us that she had spoken to the priest and asked him if two godmothers would be welcome rather than the traditional godmother and godfather and he was quite willing and enthusiastic.

We all said our goodbyes and on the way home Emily was chatting about the new baby.

"Whatsit Mom? Boy or girl?" We don't know Emily. "Jamie know?" No, Jamie doesn't know. She doesn't want to know. She wants to be surprised. "Me too." "OoooH! I so happy!"

"I goin to be a Fairy Godmother!"
Emily & Amy, Lynch Park 2009

Just Call Me Crash

2009-06-26T18:34:00.004-04:00

I took a vacation day today in order to attend a forum co-sponsored by Massachusetts Parents Advocating for Change and the Merrimack Valley Dept of Disability Services -- DDS (formerly DMR, Dept of Mental Retardation). The forum ran from 9:00 am to noon with a continental breakfast and beautiful view of the golf course ... on our first sunny day in a month of gray.

The forum was put together in answer to parents requests for information on programs and services available to their children with special needs who upon turning 22, are out of the local school district and into the adult world of services. And service providers.

It was a worthwhile attendance for me. I had no idea just how many choices are available to Emily (and her family) for programs and services from day rehabilitation services to vocational training and support. While I think I have a clear view of what I'd like her future to look like, I'm certain Emily's is somewhat different; it was good to have the feeling that others can accept my clear view and are willing to work with both Emily and her family to make her dreams and goals come to fruition.

As one presenter said, "Sometimes we meet them way down at the bottom of skills ... and then we simply take them along with us to where they want to be." I have no doubt that these speakers, advocates and worker bees have the best interests of all the young adults they provide services to ... in their hearts and daily lives.

There was a young man there. Okay, he's in his 30's ... and he spoke about how parents need to let go of their dreams for their child and let the child dream and grow. And let them make mistakes. And let them learn from their mistakes. He has made many, but he has learned from them too.

Amazing young man. He is an intern at the State House -- my oldest had mentioned him to me just two weeks ago. John was at one the Legislative Aid Seminars that she attended. And she wondered did I know him? I did not.

He gave those of us in attendance a few tips: "Listen! Listen! Listen!" He went on to explain that without the support of his family, friends and workers he would not be where he is today.

He told us to remember that we should think outside the box, take the time to really get to know our kids and who they want to become and most importantly we should believe in the person we are supporting.

How wise and smart he is. He ended his speech by telling us that "Right now I am living my dream! I couldn't ask for more."

I left the forum and in very heavy stop and go traffic I mulled much of what I had heard, read and seen today. I was flipping between discouragement and encouragement ... the budget has been slashed and slashed and it looks like the Governor will be passing a budget that will have many young and older adults losing placements or having less services due to huge deficits and no way to meet them.

I was driving along next to a Burger King set at the front of a strip mall ... with a large parking lot behind it and at the back of the lot there is a Panera Bread and an Ace Hardware store. Completely stopped, I opted to let a woman pull out of the parking lot at the end near the Ace store and wham!!! My car was rear ended. It was quite a jolt, but I didn't think there could be too much damage.

Looking into the rear view mirror I saw a smallish car with an older woman driving it. I promptly pulled into the parking lot and she followed me in. There were no easy parking spaces, so with my mind telling me 'this should only take a minute' I pulled into an easy out handicap parking space with the intention of her pulling in behind me ... I'd hop out, get her info, check the damage, if there was any and be on my way.

It was not to be. As I was pulling into the space ... CRASH!!! and this was a big one, the woman hit my car again, but this time, she hit the driver's side passenger door stoving it in and tore the running board nearly off the van. She managed to wedge her car between mine and another car that was parked in a handicap space ... and neither one of us could get out of our cars.

Within two minutes of each other, I was involved in two accidents.

The 'OH!!!' from the diners at the outside tables at Panera Bread was audible! I sat in my car, stunned ... for a minute or two and then started to collect my thoughts. I should call the police. Shouldn't I? I should call my husband, shouldn't I? I should get out of the dammed car ... but first I called David and then the police. Knowing they police were on the way and after three different people stopped to be sure that first I was okay, and then she was okay I managed to crawl across the front seat of the car and get out. Pen and paper and reg and license in hand I walked to the back of my car where there was barely a scratch to the bumper! But the driver's side ... oooohhhh. Ouch!

The police arrived and asked, "were you the one hit?" Yes. "well, how'd this happen" I told him first, she rear ended me, out there (pointing) at the street, while I was stopped in traffic. His eyes open a bit wider and the grin just hits the corners of his mouth ... and then when we pulled in here, I don't know what she was doing, but suddenly she hit me again! "You mean the same lady hit you twice?" Yes. He nearly Buwuwuwuaahhhahaaaaa'd in my face but managed to contain his emotions.

I said, "Is she all right?" He said, " Everything but her driving is all right." Oh my gosh ... and then the Fire Department arrived, two on the rescue, four on the engine, and although my back was hurting I refused transport. Emergency Departments are for emergencies and an achy back can be treated at a primary care docs easily enough. But while I am waiting for the notebook computer to come up so that I can sign a treatment refusal and HEPPA sheet ... they ask how'd this happen.

Have you ever seen six firefighters all trying not to laugh at the same time? Well, I have and it was killing me ... so I gave them permission to guffaw away. And oh, they did!

Eventually the FD left, the wrecker arrived and the lady who owned the convertible Mercedes in the parking space that had been it as well was able to move her car out ... The officer let me drive my car home but told me not to drive it 'around'. Like I felt like driving home, even.

I arrived home somewhat the worse for wear and although the officer had told me I would have to file two accident reports and open two claims, I was kind of hoping I wouldn't. The good news is the lady and I have the same insurance company, the bad news is there are four separate claim numbers. Two for me. Two for her.

As the afternoon progressed so did the ache in my back ... moving up into my shoulder blade with the numbness and tingling and down into my left arm, over the elbow, down the forearm and out the ring finger. I called the doc's, headed over and was given a couple of prescriptions and an x-ray requistion. Off to the hospital for a c-spine series, back to the pharmacy for the scrips and finally, at long last, home to rest.

At some point, this very nice, older woman, all made up and in lovely clothing came over to talk to me. She explained to me that she drives in and out of Boston for treatment of her esophogeal cancer and that she's had a problem with her car before. She told me where and when she bought it and how it acts up and she can't control it. Honestly? I think her foot slipped off the brake and onto the gas ... and she can say what she wants.

So I ask you? Who's having the bad day? Me? or Her?

Just call me Crash.

My Staycation Has Me Stymied

2009-06-25T18:29:00.005-04:00

My Staycation has me stymied. There's no money for a spa for the deck, a pool for the back yard or a Corvette to cruise in ...

What to do? What to do?

We live in an area truly rich with history and there are beaches, famous and not-so-famous within twenty minutes of home and as far away as a couple of hours drive. Connecticut with Mystic Seaport and two casinos ... Providence, Rhode Island with it's wonderful gourmet offerings as well as lively entertainment ... Boston, Newburyport, Cape Cod ... the Mohawk Trail.

... the mountains of Maine, New Hampshire and Vermont are a stone's throw away (as the crow flies) and all three states offer enough recreational activities and relaxing opportunities ...

... right here on the North Shore there are gorgeous beaches, hiking and biking trails, short trips to great shopping and eating as well as historical cities that offer art, theater, museums.

So, let's see, I live smack in the middle of the six New England states and I am wondering how to spend some time off this summer.

There has to be something wrong with me.

I'm still struggling to write for my seemingly defunct, but not quite yet dead, blog.

If I think on that a little too long I get this strange and weird idea that I should somehow start the charge for a class action suit against AOL and its' treatment of us ... but that's just silly. Lots has changed in several months and I've noticed that some folks are posting their blog links on their wall in Face Book, which makes sense.

I'm still finding this blogspot system a bit cumbersome and although I thought I had it all 'down' I've found that since I was absent while sick, I've got to get my own system back in order.

Drat. Sometimes I think I should just give it up, but then I think of all the time and energy we all have put in to the effort and I think ... that's silly too. So I'm hanging in, wishing I had something worthwhile to share with an audience that may be more than just my old AOL neighborhood and friends. Seems to me that AOL J offered just that, a neighborhood feel and here, it's a different culture and something I'm struggling to learn.

Probably just me and my never sleeping mind on over drive again ...

And on the 25th day of June, we finally, finally during the late afternoon saw the sun peek through the clouds. I guess that means that officially, in 25 days we've had just 4 days of sun.

Mackey just celebrated his 7th birthday yesterday with cake and presents! Happy Birthday Mackey! You make me smile.

Mindsleep

2009-06-18T06:39:00.002-04:00

Mine does not.
Sleep that is. As a rule.
Dream free sleeps evoke solutions to problems or difficulties that are pushed to the furthest reaches of my mind during waking hours. The resolves I make while sleeping, the ideas I come up with, the solutions are not always crystal clear when I wake but usually I am able to pull the scattered, blurred thoughts together enough to ... use them.

As I lay my weary body and too tired mind in bed last night, I had hoped for a solution to an issue or two that have been dogging me lately. They are not 'big deals' but they are problems that require delicacy and tact in order to save feelings and face.

Mindsleep arrived last night. So there were no solutions. There were, however, some very strange, disjointed dreams.

My sister-in-law and I finally went for that long walk in the woods. The one I've been begging her to go on for years. (not really) As we strolled the path of the Bird Sanctuary, a giant black bear crested the hill above us and a quick decision had to be made. I was ducking under a full branched, thick needled pine tree, she was racing up hill toward the bear. I thought, "Wow, she can really run fast! Why didn't I know that?" I was terrified, wrapped around the base of the trunk, glued in place, eyes closed, body taught while she, she ran full force into that giant black bear screaming as if her life depended on it. She stopped screaming. I sensed a second bear approaching -- I could feel the ground tremble as came closer. Refusing to move, to acknowledge its presence, body so tight, I knew when it had moved on.

Plink. Plink. Plink. plinkplinkplinkplink. Coins dropping into Campbell's Tomato Soup cans. Plink. Plink. Plink. P.L.I.N.K!

Cold, damp air. A wet mist swirling about me. I am young and I am confused. Where am I? Why is there mist? Alone, I turn, turn, turn, looking, searching and then I fade away into the mist.

....'come on get higher, loosen my lips'... the clock radio wakes me and I realize I had Mindsleep last night.

Shouldn't I feel rested?

Dotting I-s, Crossing T-s; Do We Get Them All?

2009-06-13T20:19:00.003-04:00

I am the parent of a wonderful young woman who happens to have Down syndrome. Way back when she was born and we were presented with the news of 'bad things to come' I sort of shrugged and walked away (at least in my head) from that mean doctor who didn't, obviously, know anything.

Turns out that I was pretty right at the time. And now, after years of growth, learning and experience, I find that even ... I don't, obviously, know everything.

The good news is, it isn't just me ... it's mother's of her friends and close friends of mine and what is the old saying, "misery loves company". Well, for me (and yes, for us) it's more about joyful moments and experiencing life in a different way.

Well. I'll relate a little story here about a friend's son ... and it's really quite ... well, you be the judge.

Let's call him Special, for obvious reasons, and let's not use his real name, for other obvious reasons. I will tell you this ... he's a sweetheart and a good kid.

Recently his parents allowed him to get a debit card for his checking account. Emily has had one for a number of years, more because it came automatically than for any real thought about obtaining one. But at Special's house and in his life this was a big deal.

In fact, it was such a milestone moment for him that every time someone he hadn't seen in a while came by for a visit ... he would stop what he was doing, pull out his billfold and say, "hey, Kathy, look! I got a debit card!" holding it up for all to see and congratulate him on his very good fortune!

Special was instructed in its use and told to use it wisely, but as all parents of special children know, you really have to dot the I-s and cross those T-s. Because if you don't, something is bound to happen.

Special has been allowed to walk home from school for the last few months of the year, at his request, and his parents trepidation. However, he has mastered the art of arriving where he should be on time and if he leaves a note or lets someone in the house know where he is going, he is allowed to walk to the park around the corner or to the corner store, around the other corner.

One day he went off to the corner store and shortly after arriving home, he asked to speak to his mother in private. Hm. That can't be good. They sat down together and he pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and put them on the table. "Mom, I bought cigarettes."

What's a mother to say? He's of legal age to purchase ... but does he smoke? Has he smoked? Turns out that, no he has not, but he thought another member of the family could use the cigarettes. His mom explained to him that he shouldn't buy cigarettes, because that other family member could do it themselves and reminded him that he knows cigarettes aren't good for him.

Having straightened that out, she did what all good mothers do ... she headed to the corner store to speak with the clerk there and hopefully, finish dotting the I-s and crossing the T-s.

Ms Clerk was happy to oblige in that she will not sell cigarettes to Special, even though he is of legal age, because, one, his mother nicely asked and two, she worries about Special too. As a matter of fact, she herself had spoken to Special about buying cigarettes. She told mom that she would speak to the other clerks, and by the way, are you aware that ...

... the other kids, the underage kids, are asking him to buy cigarettes for them?

Uh. No. So mom heads home to have another sit down with Special and explains that although he is old enough to purchase cigarettes, the younger kids are not old enough to legally purchase or smoke them and that although it's not likely, he certainly could get into trouble if he were to be found buying for them. And, if you keep buying expensive cigarettes there won't be any money in your account for you to spend!

He understands as well as he can but he wonders, "what do I do if they ask?"

Tell them to ask their mother to buy cigarettes for them.

I Wanted Candy!

2009-06-13T18:30:00.004-04:00

Raising children in small town America allowed parents to allow us freedoms. As a young child, my friend Elaine and I would dress up my old tuxedo cat Mac in baby clothes, lay him gently in the old baby carriage, cover the opening with mosquito netting and then we'd walk 'up town'.

For his part, Mac just went to sleep. He was a good old cat.

'Up town' was Danvers Square ... a wonderful place for young kids ... a movie theater, pizza parlor, Five & Dime, Woolworth's, Danvers Savings Bank, the VFW and a host of other interesting spots we could walk through and receive 'ohs and ahs' over our baby.

Our favorite stop was Woolworth's because even though the lady behind the lunch counter knew we had a cat in the baby carriage she never shooed us away, she simply made the necessary "ohs and ahs" and took our order for vanilla cokes. Occasionally we'd have enough money to add a cookie to the order, but usually it was just the coke.

We'd sit quietly and sip slowly making those sodas last as long as we could and then stroll the aisles of the store, uneven, dull wooden floors creaking and squeaking beneath our summer tennies. Woolworth's had it all, from Evening In Paris par fume to Nancy Drew mystery stories ... it was a wonderful place to pass the time.

One day Elaine had enough money to buy some candy. We finished our drinks and strolled the store, eventually arriving at the cashiers counter. The woman behind the counter was so very nice ... she rang up Elaine's small purchase, thanked her and looked expectantly at me. "I'm not buying anything," I said. She smiled at us and we left the store and began the half mile walk back to my house.

We were just out of the square -- "I wanted candy too." as I pulled a box of Jujubes out of the carriage. I'd tucked them in under the mat while I was making over Mac. The look she gave me said it all and she simply held her hand out offering me a piece of her Hershey bar. I accepted and sheepishly put the Jujubes back in the carriage.

Once home, we undressed Mac and let him escape to parts unknown. Elaine headed home to her house and I went to my room.

There I sat, alone and guilty. It was time to do the right thing. I didn't tell my mother or my father what I had done, but after a while I did ask if I could meet Elaine and go for a walk. The response was just as usual, "yes, but be careful and be home early."

I headed 'up town' on my own, stolen candy in my pocket. I remember thinking how embarrassed I was that I was going to have to return the candy and how awful it was of me to steal it in the first place.

Standing outside the door of the store, building courage, I wondered if the cashier lady would call the police! I had committed such a crime! Finally after stalling as long as I could, I marched in and right up to the cashier. Sliding the box of Jujubes across the counter. "I have to return these to you. I took them without paying. I'm very sorry." And I was so humiliated to have done something that terrible.

There are people in the world who know just how to handle a situation and she was one of them. "Oh, I'm sure you just forgot to pay for them. Let me just put the nickel in the register for you. You pay me back the next time you come in."

I thanked her, took the box of candy and sniveling, walked home again. I couldn't eat that candy if I'd tried. I felt so guilty and humiliated. Later I gave the box of candy to my brother. "Where did you get this?" "Woolworth's!" And that was that.

The very next time Elaine and I walked 'up town'. I sipped cold water while Elaine had her vanilla coke and then I paid back the nickel I owed the cashier.

For years I didn't tell anyone that story until I was busy trying to raise and teach my own children some of life's lessons.

The kindness that cashier extended to me ... and the lesson she taught me ... all without fanfare or fuss has never been forgotten.

And yeah, I know ... while I was making up for stealing, I was lying to my parents.

Cross posted @ womenon.blogspot.com in answer to 'the challenge'.

Friday's Faltering Fodder

2009-06-12T19:27:00.008-04:00

A girl and a dress ...

... becomes a princess ...

... on a date with a handsome prince ...

... What!?!! Kissing?

It would be easy for me to write that 'not a thing' has been going on since my last post of April 25th. What?! That long? Yes indeed. So hang in there while I let my mind take a walk back through time.

Emily and boyfriend Steven attended his senior prom on May 16th. This prom was the last of the high school dance experiences for Emily. She'd been to Homecoming, two junior proms and now this, her third senior prom!

Both of my daughters love the girl-lee gig. Nothing better than shopping for a formal dress, shoes, jewelry, make-up and then heading off to the seamstress for the finer fittings and the nail salon and hair salon for all the necessary 'stuff' we girls tend to do. Needed or not.

I confess. I love this 'stuff' too. Honest. I've taught them everything I know and we've learned a few tricks along the way. While my intent is to age gracefully, it'll be okay with me if I carry my wrinkles along ... I earned 'em and I really do love them. Mostly.

Recently my niece wrote that I was a fashion-eesta ... at least, that's how she remembers me being. Her memory is good and while I don't buck the current dressing trends, I don't actually try to wear some of them. Let's face it ... I'm not going to look the way I used to in polyester and spandex. Nope. Not going to.

Health issues are not going to be put aside tonight. Keeping it brief: I'm still in the middle of a process ... there is little to no pain now. I hesitate to say there is none, because each time I think that's gone it comes raging back to me. Two more surgeries to come. It's all good.

It's all good because I have finally crawled my way out of a bout of depression (hidden fairly well if not completely) without the use of prescriptions. I could easily have requested something, anything to help with the problem, but in the past I've been given meds with little to no support ... 'here, take one a day and in three weeks you'll feel better.' Will it fix the problems? 'no, they just won't seem as bad.'

That brand of medicine does not work for me so I took my own route ... writing, reading, exercising, gardening and doing my best to put and keep things in perspective. I don't know ... I'm good. At being 'functionally depressed'. Go figure. (I think this runs in the family)

My flower beds are looking lovely, what with all the work I've been putting in to them. I've planted some new bushes and perennials and just a few annuals and have spent many hours relocating and mulching. More to come.

When I find the time to learn to use the new camera ... I may actually get some good photos. I do like that there is the fully automatic setting, but feel I should be doing so much more. Let me laugh at that. I haven't spent more than five minutes on the manual and I'm hoping to find my muse this summer.

A favorite picture of one of my great nephews taken at Easter this year.

Know what's really cool about this age? Even if you don't have grand kids, you have nieces and nephews who provide you with great-nieces and great-nephews -- it's just as much fun, I think, as having grand kids! Hey wait! Should that be grand-nieces and grand-nephews? Doesn't matter. The little ones bring joy and happiness every time you see them. Who could ask for more?

Golf season should be in full swing and if the weather cooperates any time soon I might get out more often to play. Maybe even play well! I've been on the course a few times this year; stumbling to find my game ... it'll come. I hope. And even if it doesn't I'm out in the fresh air, walking and enjoying the company of good friends.

Oh, and that dammed Face Book. What was I thinking? Okay, I'll tell ya' ... I love FB because I can very quickly keep up with friends and cousins and friendly acquaintances ... the problem is this: you either get behind because you don't read the wall every day or you spend so darned much time reading you don't get to blogs.

Face it Kathy. You are just never satisfied!

Who Knew A Tooth?

2009-04-25T07:58:00.002-04:00

Who knew a tooth, one tooth, would cause so much angst?

It's been a rough five months of mostly failures and frankly, I'm tired of making lemonade out of the lemons.

Pass the gin please. (or any other alcoholic beverage guaranteed to cause stuporous behavior)

I haven't read or visited any blogs nor done any 'honest' writing in a while.

To tell you the truth, I think my writing is better left in my head some days anyway. On my many trips -- and I mean many -- back and forth to the docs (who by the way is just plain adorable and phew, ladies, takes my breath away) I write essay after essay in my head.

Arriving home I mosey into the office, pop in here to blogger and find my mind a blank. Again. I have been fighting the urge to let a bout of depression take over the blues I've been wallowing in. Pity party anyone? Bring your own dammed booze and I'll provide the snacks. Using all the platitudes, attitudes and reminders that 'this too shall pass' and 'I'm not suffering a fatal disease'. But you know, there are days when ...

Excerpt from an e-mail to a friend who genuinely wants to know:

I see Dr. G. again on Tuesday for follow up and I'll see what he says. I have weaned myself off of all pain meds including regular strength Tylenol because I kept doing things I'm not supposed to primarily because nothing hurt.

The pain caused by doing something sometimes reminds you to not do that. So far, so good. I have some minor discomfort of ache or throb now and again and overall the sharp pain-pain is gone unless I do something I'm not supposed to do. Sinus precautions are a pain in the nose, mouth and daily routine.

I have learned really quickly that as careful as I was being, I can be even more careful.

And that my friends, is where I'm at. I am hopeful at this stage of the game that my next follow up leads to "I'll see you in three months."

Three months? Yes, because I have three more not-so-serious-but-necessary surgeries to get through before the saga of One Dammed Tooth can be closed.

It Really Does Matter. Really.

2009-03-31T16:47:00.004-04:00

(Did anyone tell the President?)

Go. Take the pledge.

www.specialolympics.org

Eight Cool Blogs

2009-03-25T18:30:00.007-04:00

Well, Lisa over at ThatKentuckyGirl@blogspot.com (private) has chosen my blog as one of eight cool blogs she reads (and of course, loves ...) I am now to choose and list Eight Cool Blogs and I will, but it may have to wait a day or two. I'll post an entirely different entry for that in the next day or two.

As of this writing, I am recuperating from a not-too-major, but more-than-minor, oral and sinus surgery. So, I'm up and at it for the moment, but will be crashing soon. I'd bore you with the gory details but I don't want to gross anyone out.

The upside to the surgery is that this is the beginning of the end of the now infamous tooth incident in my life. The prognosis? Great! If I follow doctor's orders and hang in for a years worth of effort and work on his and my part.

Gees ... but it's all good. When life hands me lemons I do try to make the lemonade. And I am working more diligently at that than usual when it comes to the 'tooth' thing.

Today, I've decided I will never have a botox treatment. Even though the right side of my face is swollen enough to afford me no age lines or wrinkles (my badges of a life well lived) I'm not certain I like the look when compared to the real me of the left side.

However, I will rush out to purchase an eye shadow in just that shade of purple when I've some energy! Whew! That's pretty!

Can't eat. I'll lose a few pounds! Can't bend over. I can skip some housework! Can't go to work. Until next Wednesday!

My sister has arrived and taken Emily to all of her activities over the last twenty-four hours, Bless her, and she will finish up tomorrow by dropping Emily at her job before she heads back to Maine. Barb came by and cooked up a batch of macaroni and cheese for me as well as carting in two different types of homemade soup. Dave moved the recliner from the family room to the bedroom for me to sleep in over the next three nights. I have good friends who have been checking in and offering rides to and from ... wherever.

I am loved and cared for. I love being able to write that!

I'll be fine, but I suspect just a tad of piss-off-ed-ness is entering my head toward the dentist who balled all this up. I'm doing my best to keep it in check. After all, things happen. I'm alive and I don't have a fatal illness. I'm inconvenienced and I'd like my money back for the botched job, but I'll cross that bridge when and if I feel the need.

In the meanwhile, I have to remember, perspective comes from position.

I Bowled A LOT ...

2009-03-23T08:18:00.016-04:00

... but I never bowled over a 90 or maybe even less. I also never referred to myself or anyone else in quite the way President Obama did just last week.

Some of you may have been thinking to yourselves, "Hm, why hasn't she jumped on the Bad President Band Wagon?"

Simple. I needed time to think this through. I was surprised to hear a man of his stature make such a gaffe:

“I bowled a 129,” Obama said to Jay Leno on Thursday night. “That’s very good, Mr. President,” said Leno. Obama replied, “It was like Special Olympics or something.”

:I was borderline outraged. Borderline supremely pissed off. Borderline calling the White House and yelling at a staff member. Borderline insensitive to his, er, ah, well, whatever. I thought "give the guy a break."

But where would that get me? More importantly, where would that get all of our very hard working Special Olympians?

Not very far, I think.

So what do I have to say on the subject?

Dear Mr. President:

Initially I was shocked and somewhat stung that you would make such an insensitive, offhand remark comparing yourself to Special Olympians. These athletes work at and practise extremely long hours to accomplish their goals.

I am quite sure that if you were able to travel to Danvers, MA on a Tuesday evening and join the ranks of our SO bowlers you would find that on a bad night for them, they would far surpass your abilities.

But then, you'd have to pay close attention to the bowlers and not their scores.

I'd like to sit down and lecture you the way I feel you sometimes lecture us, but I don't want you to tune out to me, the way I tune out to your voice when you drone on and on about what bad citizens we are.

Read very carefully the next few lines.

I wanted to give you a pass on this. After all, we've been giving George W. Bush passes on his verbal gaffes for way too many years. What's one pass? In this case, it's a lot.

You campaigned opposite a woman who has a son with Down syndrome. You yourself, if you are to be believed, were not immune to teasing, racism, bigotry, discrimination and prejudice. You portray yourself as a man of the people. But what people?

Shame on you Mr. President. For your insensitivity; for your insincerity in suggesting you'd like to invite some Special Olympians to the White House to bowl and to get to know them.

It's time to educate yourself on stereotypes, prejudice, discrimination. Oh, and while you're at it, you need to train your brain to tell your mouth when to shut.

Sincerely,
Kathy Zolla

That, my friends, is what I have to say on the subject.

Change Is Good. But Some Things Should Stay The Same.

2009-03-21T20:02:00.023-04:00

A busy Saturday with Emily & boyfriend Steve; I delivered them to the movies and then I challenged myself to find or do something just for me -- mani & pedi was just the ticket! -- and then a new pair of shoes!

Not sparkly, glittery, shining shoes. No. A more sedate, adult, loafer style shoe with just a hint of a shimmer in a pale pewter. For work.

Perfect! I love them. They fit. Half the battle, I'd say -- I particularly don't enjoy shopping for shoes. (This from a woman who had to clean her childhood closet of shoes upon shoes upon shoes when she married.)

Funny how we change. Change is good. Right?

I mentioned in my tag line, some things should stay the same.

Things like a little girl's love of sparkly shoes: pink, silver, black, blue, red, turquoise, gold, all colors that little girls fancy.

I remember well, my daughters, now grown, oh-so-in-love with their sparkly shoes during their childhood. Amy was more of a white or black patent leather lover while Emily chose red. Red! Red! Red! A stand out in any crowd! (like her hair now) Red glittery, Dorothy-In-Oz shoes.

She chose them at an early age and wouldn't let go. Until we could no longer find them in a size large enough to fit her.

It was a sad realization for her that things change. Like, you know, shoe sizes.

It was a sad realization for me that she had changed, not only her shoe size -- she had grown up before I knew what was happening!

I met Emily & Steve at the movie theater and we headed off to dinner at The 99 and then for an ice cream at a local ice cream stand.

Change is good. Right?

The weather has changed to cold but sunny days, a sure sign that the seasons are changing and Spring is going to grace us with her presence and so, the lines were long but quick and I stood back and let the young 'uns do their own ordering.

I found an empty table and sat people watching. Do you know what I saw? Sparkly shoes!!!

I saw red sparkly shoes on the dark haired little one who, poised, 'just so' on the ball of one foot, spun 'round and 'round until she slipped and fell. No tears, she was back up and spinning in those I-can-do-anything-glittery-red shoes! I saw silver glittery ballet slippers on a girl just a few years older. Paired with argyle socks, in white, pink, brown and turquoise, plaid pants and a paisley jacket, colors coordinated, she was adorable and her girl confidence shown through.

I saw an older woman with tired bleached blond hair, red lipstick, and a weathered face wearing a smile, sporting -- shiny gold loafers -- her pose told me she was fine with her tired hair because she was wearing her perfectly gold shoes.

Yes. Change is good. But some things, like a little girl's love of sparkly shoes in any color she chooses, worn with any outfit of her making, shouldn't change. I think as we grow from girlhood to adulthood we replace our very obvious shine with more subtle touches ... diamonds, gold, silver, platinum, pearls.

I've figured out that it isn't just about the sparkle, the glitter or the color -- it's about building style, grace and confidence. It's about being happy! It's about feeling good!

So, next time I'm out shopping I know exactly what I'm going to get. No silly, not diamonds. Not gold or silver. Not pearls.

Change is good. Right?

Saving Face But Not My Own February 10, 2006

2009-03-05T16:26:00.007-05:00

Odd ... three years later ... I remember this day and this entry as if it were yesterday. I'm weeding out in the old 'Life on Flamingo Row' and eventually plan to delete the 851 posts of five years on AOL-J.

I'm not sure where this entry is going as I write. More than likely it will jump around a bit as I try to corral my scattered thoughts. I do know where it will end up. It will end up with me saving face, but not my own.

Some lady's face. In the grocery store. She seemed innocuous enough. She was beet red-faced. She needed to be saved.

:::sigh::: Why me?

I know that I am sick to death of this happening. It's not like we're a freak family or anything. We don't have blue, pink, green, purple or orange hair. No facial piercing -- no naval or nipple piercing. No split tongues, no dark menacing clothing. No spikes or leather jewelry. No nothing out of the ordinary. We're normal. Average. Right? Two arms, hands, ears, two eyes, a mouth, a nose, a chin. Two eyebrows. Two legs, two feet. Neatly trimmed hair. Your typical casual outfits.

Apparently not.

I'm worn out from coping and dealing. Ah-ha! But it's in my job description. I am a mother and mothers are on duty 24/7. That hunk of rock in the pit of my stomach, the one I refuse to let into my heart? Well, it got a little larger today. Not once, but twice. It grew a little last week too. And the week before. And the day before that week. It's grown from a grain of sand many years ago to a rock large enough to make my stomach flip- flop and give me butterflies. But not the good kind. These butterflies are more like hornets that have had their nest knocked around.

I am at the grocery store. Or anywhere. I am accompanied by Emily. Different Emily. But not funny looking Emily. Different looking Emily. But not funny looking. We walk up and down the aisles paying little attention to those around us except for the stranger contacts you make when excusing yourself or avoiding a carriage collision. We chatter and make choices and talk about what it is we are purchasing. But I am really quite in error here. I pay no attention to what's going on around me. I'm focused on the job at hand and I am teaching Emily the simple, normal things she needs to know. She, on the other hand, is paying close attention to everyone around us. She is watching and learning and experiencing. It comes as no surprise to me when she asks me, 'Why little boy/girl lady/man looking at me? Him/her staring at me!" I simply reply that they are looking at her because she is pretty. Some days I say she is cute. Some days, beautiful. You have such beautiful blue eyes, they can't help but look. It is always because they are attracted to her by her good looks, regardless the descriptor used.

Who's the dope here? Not Emily. She used to accept my comment as chapter and verse. Not so anymore. She knows that she is different than other people. She knows that she doesn't look the same as others. Now when someone stares, we have to have a discussion about being polite and not staring. We have to discuss how people don't mean to be rude, but sometimes they are. We have to discuss her differences. Not at home where I would like to discuss it, but rather, right out there in a public place in the middle of a grocery store aisle with people walking by. Eavesdropping.

Good. I hope they learn something from the experience. You know, Emily doesn't want to be different. But me? I wouldn't change one thing about her. Nope. Not a one.

She, on the other hand, wants to drive, to go out alone with friends, to have a boyfriend and go to the prom, not with 'kid like me' but with 'those kids'. Who knew she could be so smart? Don't ever underestimate the brain power of an individual with Down syndrome. They may be slow movers and slow thinkers, but they are smart and deep thinkers.

Three kids with Mom. Mom, like me is focused on the task at hand.... tug at my sleeve. Stage whisper, "Mom, girl looking at me. Why?" Because you are the most beautiful girl in the store. "She rude." She doesn't mean to be, honey. Just ignore her. Don't look. "I no like it." A thought runs through my head, 'me neither.'. Keep moving, don't pay attention, just get the groceries and get away from that little girl.

Not that the little girl is wrong. Or bad. Or rude. She's seeing someone very different from herself. There is no one to tell her why, what, how. It's taco night at our house. We head up the aisle for taco items. There is another mother with two little ones. A girl, about two, a boy probably four years old. They are riding in one of those nifty fire engine grocery carts. I noticed them but only in terms of trying not to ram their cart in the narrow aisle. Pretty blond mom with two pretty tow heads.

... tug at my sleeve. Stage whisper, "Mom" What Emily? "I'm no look funny." No, you don't. I continue to browse the items. Why can't I find what I'm looking for? Stage whisper, "MOM!" What Emily? Emily, just helped me find the right taco sauce. "MO-OM" What?! "He picking on me. " Who? " That boy." Emily, don't pay any attention. It's okay. Now I begin to tune in to what is going on. There's the mother, squatting down looking to pick up an item on the lower shelf. She is behind her carriage. Her little boy is looking at Emily. Loud voice, "Mommy, that girl is funny looking! " Whisper, "Michael, that's not nice. She's not funny looking." "YES SHE IS! SHE IS FUNNY LOOKING!" Normal voice, "Michael. She is not funny looking and you are being naughty. You'll hurt her feelings."

Too late lady. Damage is done and today I am out of damage control. But let me just look into the bottomless pit of my pocketbook and see if I can come up with some more. JUST FOR YOU. Mom grabs her item and stands up. She looks at me. She looks at Emily. Honestly, I would've moved on if her carriage wasn't parked in front of the item I was looking for. "I am SO sorry." "Don't be sorry. He's a little boy. He's just telling it like he sees it." "I am soooooo embarrassed. So very sorry. I don't want him to hurt her feelings." "Oh, she's tough ... getting tougher. She'll be fine."

I would have liked to stand there and yell at her kid! I have liked to stand there and yell at her! I wanted to sit on the floor in that aisle, gather Emily up in my lap and have a good cry with her. Right there. In front of all those shoppers. I don't.

I say, "He doesn't mean she's funny looking. Not like a clown or a funny face. He means she's different looking than say, you or I." "No harm done."

Stammering a bit, "I'm so very, very sorry."

"Really""Don't be sorry. Explain to him what is different about her. Try teaching him about people that are different than he is. He has no knowledge of Down syndrome or people in wheel chairs or with canes. He didn't have the 'right' word to use, so he used funny. That's all."

I am so tired of -- people. I understand why this occurs with children. They don't have the same experiences as you or I. They aren't exposed to the hard, cruel world. What I don't understand is why an adult can't take a minute or two to explain to a child what it is they are seeing. "He uses a wheel chair because he can't walk." "She has a cane because she is blind" "What he's doing with his hands is sign language because he can't hear." Young children don't need the long version. A simple statement does the trick. You might get a question or two. An honest answer will suffice. "I don't know" is never wrong when you add, "but I'll find out."

Let me be honest. I would rather someone walked up to me and asked me, "what's your daughters disability?" than to have them walk on in continued ignorance sputtering an explanation to a child.

Ask me. I'll tell you.

I'll introduce you to Emily. She'll charm the daylights out of you. You will be richer for the experience. Your child will too.

Follow UP!

2009-03-04T11:45:00.002-05:00

Friends and commenter-s ... you should all know, that I handled the MILF comment guy with a mix of methods that works for me.

I spoke with my boss directly about this. Well, obviously, he told me what it means. This guy has gotten away with this type of thing for way too many years, however, I don't think we need to take the issue out of the building.

Essentially I have decided that this gentleman is first The Stereotype Of Older Men From Years Ago. That's his problem.

I view him as something of a caricature ... and mostly poke fun at him in my head. I mean, really, does he think he's sexy? 'Cause he isn't.

I wonder ... if I were to tell him that he has become the man no mother or father wants their daughter to run into ... what would he think?

A friend came up with an acronym that works well.

He's a G.I.L.K.

a Guy I'd Like to Kick.

I won't. But I'd like to. ;0

I'm Not Asking For Advice, Per Se ...

2009-02-26T19:55:00.004-05:00

... (<- gosh how I love those dots ... ) I'm not asking for advice, per se, but maybe after you read my short story, you'll tell me what you believe you would do ... I already know what I'm going to do.

Brief History: Years ago I was C O O L. Today, it's official, I'm no longer cool. Not even remotely.

Yesterday, after a busy morning off -- it's all relative -- I worked at home for my husband, rather than at my job for my boss -- I ran to deliver CAT Scan films to the oral surgeon and headed to the local hospital to visit a friend from work who had been in the hospital for about a week.

Before I ran off to do the delivery and the visit, I carefully groomed myself, sans makeup because of the cryosurgery of a few weeks ago; nice blue twin set, gold hoop earrings, gold chain and cross, gold ring, a teeny, tiny bit of scent. I'm not the girl I used to be and I am okay with that.

I arrived to work and got down to the tasks at hand. My boss came in to the office and greeted me, left, came back ... it's how our days go, usually. Some days we don't see each other much at all, others we are busy, busy, busy.

Later in the afternoon he came in to the office and on his heels a co-worker followed him in. This co-worker is not a superior of mine. Thankfully. My boss said something along the lines of, but I cannot quote it exactly, "You know Kathy, when I saw you earlier, I was going to comment how you looked like .... a nice Catholic girl." Which made me chuckle. As he knew it would. We are friends beyond our working relationship.

But there was more .... right up there where the like ... a nice, on those dots, inject another male party having his say, which I heard, but didn't get. And so I ignored it because I was paying attention to my boss.

My bosses comment, 'I was going to comment how you looked like .... finished with the other male party saying, 'a M.I.L.F.'

Had I know then, what I found out today, besides the fact that I am totally out touch and not cool at all, I'm sure I would have shot up out of my chair and been over the desk tackling this fellow ... rather quickly. How dare he presume to say anything like that to or about me?

My defense would be justifiable rage. This *(%#&* has been, er, doing things and saying things to the women who work here, for the last twenty years or more. Soon to be twenty-one for me. We've all been 'hit' at one time or another, some more than others. We all keep some kind of tally sheet in our heads. I don't know if others keep them on paper or not, but I do.

I tend to forgive but not forget because, well, I have to work with him. I have no choice. He is not my boss, but we have to commiserate on some items and while it is distasteful on a good day, my demeanor is such that you wouldn't know that I can't stand this person. Pretty much at all any more. I used to try. I don't bother now.

Sad state of affairs.

Today, my boss came in and leaned down toward the desk, "Did you hear what he said yesterday?" Who? Nods head in the direction of his office. Uh, yes and no. I heard him, but didn't get it. "MILF? You don't know what that is?" Uh-no. What does it mean? Bosses face sort of pinks up and he's trying to tell me without embarrassing me or himself. He told me what it means, but he left off the last offense word. Didn't need to hear it once I heard the first three.

Did I feel like a dope or what? On the other hand, I guess it's a guy kind of thing. Best used between men and out of earshot of women who know what it means.

If you don't know ... reference the movie American Pie ... and if you need further clarification ... ask ... I'll explain.

I could make all manner of excuses for his inappropriate comments, gestures, remarks to others and about others, and even myself, but I'm not going to. We are all adults. The work climate is such that hostile work environs and sexual harassment should be non-existent. Wouldn't you think? Not so.

So, tell me, what do you believe you would do?

The Brief Phone Call

2009-02-20T12:47:00.002-05:00

State Representative Brad Hill and I just had a conversation. Brief, but a conversation none-the-less.

He called to let me know he had received my letter ( http://flamingofeathers-kathy.blogspot.com/2009/02/this-is-second-letter-ive-sent-off.html ) and wanted to assure me that he has always been and will continue to support DMR services and the citizens who need those services. He thanked me for my letter and then asked my permission to share it with "my co-workers on The Hill' to show them the type of feedback and response I am getting from the citizens of my district."

Yes! Please feel free to share my letter and thank you for your continued support and for taking the time to call me yourself.

It's always better to write from the heart than it is to follow the suit of others ... form letters don't cut it ... they aren't personal enough and they are not your own thoughts.

I haven't taken the time to figure out how to perma-link one of my own posts to another of my posts ... hence, the long link back to my original post. :::sigh::: I may, or may not, get it some day.

Pssst ...

2009-02-18T06:40:00.002-05:00

Dr. M. #1 called me, again, from his vacation in Arizona, at 7:30 last evening to check on me and to apologize for being so 'out of the loop' on what has been going on. No need Dr. M. #1, I was in your office in January, a repair had just been done and things were good that day. Who knew?

Poor Mary At The Doctor's Office

2009-02-17T16:40:00.009-05:00

Well, the tooth saga conintues and while I am grateful this isn't a fatal disease or anything else like that ... I am exhausted.

After a tooth extraction and two oral surgeries to correct the root up into the sinus, er, gaffe, I was back for the third surgery when Dr. M's assistant noticed that the root of my tooth was actually still way up there in my sinuses and in fact, had not come out during the first ... and golly ... that's a problem.

The plan? Drain and repair the sinus again, close the hole between gum and sinus by ... well, that's a bit too graphic for here ... and voila! You're done. Except for the part where I have to go see the ENT, have a CAT Scan and all.

The flowers were beautiful! Remember I wrote that?

I couldn't get an appointment with an ENT until mid March ... which is when I am due to return to Dr. M. I checked both of his offices, "oh, we're just so busy." I get it. Every one is busy and health care being what it is today ... don't let me get off on a tangent. I didn't make an appointment, I decided I'd try to find someone else.

However, I am still trying to figure out how a receptionist/booking specialist can't know that if she reschedules two noncritical follow up patients, she can fit one new patient in. That, my friends, has to be rocket science because no amount of explanation helped. That was something routinely practised back in the day, when we really needed to fit a patient in. Non sick patients are typically more than happy to wait a few days or weeks longer, as long as their prescriptions don't need refilling or will be refilled during the wait time.

Over this the weekend just past, I could tell something was amiss and I waited until this morning to do anything about it because it was the weekend and any sane surgeon, dentist, doctor who didn't have hospital rounds would be enjoying their time off. Add to the weekend mix it is also school vacation week here ... they are all off skiing. Or something equally fun and exciting.

Yeah for them.

I woke Sunday to the sinus drooping again and as the day wore on, filling up because my sinuses no longer drain properly. If they ever did, now that I reflect. But. Anyway. I can't reach anyone and so I start taking my Amoxicillin prescription (don't lecture, you would too) that was left over from the original extraction last November. It was left over because Dr. M. changed the med. I have enough for five days and I figure I should at least start something so that at the least the infection is maybe being treated and at the worst ... my sinus won't explode. It's like having my thumb take up residence in my mouth. Grrr.

It hurts. Yes, I'm whining and I'm frustrated. This has been going on too long.

I called Dr. M's office this morning. He's in Vermont skiing. His secretary called my regular dentist's office. That Dr. M is in Arizona. He called me via cell phone. Promised me a rose garden and you know what? Actually came up with one. Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

In the meanwhile, I assured Dr. M's secretary that I was going to get an ENT appointment if it was the last thing I did. Today. And I started to cry. The pain is awful. Add to it my pulse making it throb and, well, I'm worn out from it. Frustrated and annoyed and tired.

I said, "I know I'm an adult, but right now, this moment? I don't want to act like one, so please, just bear with me." And bear with me she did. Bless you B.

I finally located an ENT who can see me on Friday morning at 8:30! Yeah! Called my PC for a referral. No problem. Double Yeah!

Received another call from Dr. M. (the one on vaca in Arizona) ... he set up an appointment with another oral surgeon, Dr. M. (yes, that is three doctor M's -- imagine!) whom I went to see this afternoon.

He looked at my x-rays, ordered another, looked at them, looked at me and gave me the good and the bad news. The good news is, he can fix my problem. I need a CAT scan and once that determines exactly where that root is, he can do the surgery. The bad news? Under general anesthesia at the hospital. Oh joy.

But first, because I have wonderful health insurance, I need to get that referral for the Dr. M. # 3, because this is medical, no longer dental, and I need to get pre-certified to have the CAT Scan. This is not a big deal except when you are worn down from the last few months and the pain, the simplest thing becomes somehow, stupidly huge.

Paperwork in hand I headed out to my car, pulled out my cell phone and called my PCP's office. Kathy the receptionist/greeter lady was very nice and told me to stop by with the paper work and she would see what she could do. Thank you, thank you, thank you. An office that has an actual person answer the phone ... that's three in one day!

There seems to be a three theme going on in my life just now.... Could be good. Could be bad.

Weeping all the way, I drove myself to the Dr. B's office where Kathy took my paperwork and went 'down back' to Mary, the nurse practitioner to see what she could do to help. Mary called me back to her office.

I walked in, sat down and burst into tears. Again. Blubbering about how sorry I was, but I'm so dammed tired of all of this ....

Poor Mary. She handed me tissues and listened to my tale of woe through the sniffles and weeping and then got on the phone with the health insurance company referral department. It seemed in the blink of an eye the paperwork was filled out, faxed and on its way.

"You're all set, but this may take a couple of days to pre-certify the CAT Scan."

It's all good. I just need to know that this is almost over. Even that little crumb has me feeling a bit better.

So I while away the rest of Emily's school vacation week and my own vacation doing pretty much nothing, because even the treadmill at the gym is too much ... but I'm going to remember to count my blessings, which are many, and finally, finally, I'm going to get good and thoroughly caught up on my blog reading. ;)

Pssst.... Dr. M#3 just called to keep me posted on the progress of that CAT Scan appointment. It's still in limbo land, but getting closer.

Violets In February

2009-02-14T09:39:00.003-05:00

Growing up I would ask my mother, "Why did you marry dad?" I suppose I wanted to hear the romantic story of how she met my father or of how he proposed to her or even of their unrequited love for each other.

Her answer to me each time I asked was, "I always said that I would marry the first man who brought me violets in February."

"Did dad bring you violets in February?"

She would chuckle a bit or smile and say, "No." And she never did tell me why she married my father. I presume she knew I knew she loved him and he loved her.

They didn't share a romantic-can't-eat-sleep-do-anything-without-you kind of love. Their love was a deep, committed love ... and they left the romance ... tucked away in privacy. "If it existed at all." my sister would say.

I know it did. I was the child who watched everything and learned about relationships from my parents. Their romance wasn't all flowery and noisy and in your face. The romantic moments in their marriage could be seen when you watched closely, when you really wanted to see them as a couple, rather than parents.

I recall years of my father doing his yard work on a Saturday morning. I'd see him walking slowly back toward the house with a small fistful of pussy willow branches, a bouquet of violets or apple & pear blossoms during the spring, timothy grass or a sunflower during the summer months and through the fall, the odd bits of left over flowers that continued to blossom and the last of the grapes as the weather grew cold.

My mother would make him a hearty lunch of homemade chowder or soup and a wonderful sandwich. She would perk the coffee that she did not drink and serve him his lunch as a king would be served. There was china and place mats and linen napkins. She was not subservient, but rather, appreciative of what he did for her.

They would sit quietly together at the table, eating and softly chatting about this and that.

There was no romantic comedy at our house. There were no love letters or proclamations of undying love.

There was loyalty, kindness, respect, compassion. Plain. Simple. Love.

~Happy Valentines Day~

2009-02-06T07:16:00.002-05:00

This is the second letter I've sent off today. The first was to the State Senator of our district and it is posted @ http://womenon.blogspot.com/ There are subtle differences only ...

February 5, 2009

Representative Brad Hill
State HouseRoom 128
Boston, MA 02133

Dear Representative Hill:

Earlier in the week I was invited to attend a ‘State House Rally’ at the Grand Staircase to share my story with my state legislator and ‘anyone else who will listen’. Unable to attend, I am able to write.

Our story began just over twenty years ago with the birth of our second child, a daughter whom we named Emily. Emily was born with Down syndrome. You may be able to imagine the surprise, even shock of a pediatrician, not your own, entering your hospital room to advise you that your baby has a syndrome, a heart condition and is being transferred via ambulance to a Boston hospital while you are stuck, right there in that room, in that bed, for another twenty-four hours. Fortunately for Emily and her family, her heart condition required no surgery and she was home with her family in no time.

The road we’ve travelled since has been uphill and bumpy and on occasion we found ourselves lost due to detours and curves that we hadn’t planned for or dreamed of in our wildest imagination. It has been long, often times arduous and so completely not what we expected. We have all had to learn as we go the ins and outs of living with a special baby, then child, then teen and now young adult. Each age brings new challenges and a new learning curve. For each of us.

We love our Emily no less and no more than we do our oldest child. In our eyes she is a shining star. She spreads joy and laughter as she goes about her days, unaware of all that goes on in the background of her life. She has a light about her that beckons us, pulls us in and encourages us to do more, do better, be better. This learning, these challenges show us just how strong we are as people and have cemented our commitment not only to Emily, but to other individuals with disabilities and different needs. I shudder to think of the financial burden that some families face as they work to provide a good life for their child, brother, sister …

Our family has not been alone in our efforts to educate Emily, to give Emily the tools she needs to live a life that she will enjoy, independent of her family, yet fully supported as she needs. Our extended family, our friends, our school district, her educators, her coaches and the many, many people who work tirelessly at agencies such as North Shore Arc, Till, Inc. and DMR … have all been there with us through ‘all of it’.

Tough economic times are upon us. I know difficult choices are being made daily, weekly, monthly throughout the legislative body. I admire those of you who serve in public office and support your constituents not only in the good times, but also during these difficult times. I recognize that your office receives requests daily from many individuals with varied special interests – those that they hold dear – to support their cause, their funding, and their needs.

I am no different than those that ask for support for other causes. I am writing to ask you to support full funding of current programs that provide family support, respite, social, day care and educational opportunities for babies, children, teens and adults with disabilities, special needs and mental retardation. Without the continued funding of programs currently in place, the many disabled and special needs citizens of the State of Massachusetts will lose the precious support services they receive that enable them to live full, and to the best of their abilities, unrestricted lives.

As you work as Representative of Fourth Essex, please keep in mind the hundreds of families and individuals receiving these needed supports and services, and recognize that the numbers will not diminish, but more than likely, will climb as the economic downturn forces layoffs which in turn will force more families to seek assistance and support.

The waiting lists for respite and other vital services are long now. I remember well the four to five year wait during the early years of our journey with Emily; I cannot imagine how much longer the wait will grow as we all struggle through the next few years.

I believe the State of Massachusetts should make a commitment to these citizens, less fortunate than some perhaps, but in no way less valuable than other citizens of the commonwealth.

Respectfully,

The Dentist Awaits. Hope He's Not Holding His Breath

2009-02-04T12:36:00.003-05:00

Okay, the title isn't quite fair, but it's close to how I'm feeling about the dentist, the oral surgeon and an upcoming visit to an ENT.

What was I thinking? Do you remember way back when I was fussing and fuming about my primary care doc? Well, silly me. I should have just stayed with him 'cause I wouldn't have gone to see him, and had referral after referral and test after test just to have something to do all winter long.

I don't mind being busy ... but harried is another thing all together!

I dutifully followed the new PC doc's orders. Saw the plastic surgeon ... three visits later I am finished with him until the next bout of spots show up! Then the mammograms, the blood work, the bone density test.

Good patient am I.

Back to the PC to have some female work performed and then one more visit to have a thing or two or ten removed. This fair Irish skin o' mine, ya see?

Then off to the dentist whose question of the day was, "What would you do to keep your teeth?" Well, almost anything except take a mortgage. Geesh.

The referral to the oral surgeon, an extraction or three later and I am still suffering the ill effects of one extraction that included a tooth root that broke off and found itself in my sinus. The hole in the sinus healed but the sinus kept herniating into the tooth socket and so the socket is not healing.

For those of you that a weak about the knees and stomach ... no pain. Not even gross. More of an inconvenience than anything. Well, an annoyance really. I mean, it has been since the beginning of November.

Three visits, three more surgeries and I am due in for yet another follow up today. And the name of the upcoming ENT visit doc will be handed down while I'm there. I'm thinking, "oh boy! That should be fun!" (not) But someone has to get the root out of my sinus ... so I can drain and blow my nose and you know, breath. :::sigh:::

I'm not sure I want to see this guy again ... but ...

The flowers he sent me last week after my third surgery to heal the socket? Beautiful!

2009-01-25T09:28:00.004-05:00

I can't seem to get my mind in a writing mood, of for that matter, in the mood to do much of anything of any value.

This morning I decided I had neglected not only the 'Blogs I Read' folks for too long, more importantly I had been neglecting 'Followers' for too long. I've spend an hour or so visiting here and there and leaving comments to let friends know I haven't forgotten who you are or where you are.

This little ditty was over at Linda's and I thought, "I can do that!" (and then it's off to the gym)

A Fun Thing To Do <---Linda -- I was tagged by my friend Trees in her Garden of Hope blog. What you're supposed to do is go into your fourth folder of pictures and take the fourth picture in that folder and post it. So here goes; this is the fourth picture in my fourth folder~

The fourth picture from the fourth folder .... is one of my lesser photos ... of course.

Fast Friends. Fast But Not Loose.

2009-01-23T21:53:00.014-05:00

original artwork by Kathy. Please ignore the spelling. That's what makes it so charming. LOL

Fast Friends. Close Knit. Solid. One-of-a-Kind. On-line Buds. Yep. I've got them. You do too.

While I was over at Lisa's she was awarding "Friends Awards" and I was a recipient. That made my day. In particular after my 'dissatisfied post' of an hour or so ago.

Thank you Lisa. <-- You look pretty in pink, by the way. ;)

"The Friends Award isn't about being the most popular blogger or having the most read blog. It is just because you consider the author a friend. These blogs are exceedingly charming. These kind bloggers aim to find and be friends. They are not interested in self-aggrandizement. Our hope is that when the ribbons of these prizes are cut, even more friendships are propagated. Please give more attention to these writers. Deliver this award to eight bloggers who must choose eight more and include this cleverly-written text into the body of their award."

I don't know that I have eight on-line friends who blog, although I have GOOD on-line friends. The number of, matters not. They are the kind of friends who have seen me through the ups and downs in life and on occasion, when most needed, have given me the kick in the arse that my real time, in-my-face, I can see you and hear you friends don't have the, er, gumption, or willingness to do. And sometimes, they provide a simple written line of support or a barely whispered hug.

Thank you friends. Some of you have been here with me since I first started blogging on AOL -- over five years ago now. Wow.

Debra's Dose Deb! Ds Designs and Other Things Donna!

Women On... Girls! (okay Lisa, the Ladies)

Rejected Truth Mary, Mary. Havenwood Vicki!

JUST ME Donna.

and Lisa!

Better Terms Coming to Terms...

When I began journaling, what I sometimes call a 'social experiment gone out of control', I had no idea why. The temptation was too great to pass up and over the course of five years, the friends have come. Steady Eddies my father would call you all.

I've lost a friend or two along the way. One, sadly, to death. Another to ... who knows? And still others? The little box to the right -> Followers? I could award each of them a Friendship Award because over the course of five years, when you read the same journals/blogs you develop friendships and friendly acquaintances. . We lose each other occasionally when we get busy with life, much like real time life not in the ether land, and when we move from provider to provider, from public to private and back again and when we take a break from blogging.

I don't like the breaks. That means, "I'm not going to do this any more, and I just can't tell you that."

But in the wee hours of the morning, I know where to find all of you

... and oftentimes I do.

I Like To Think I'm Satisfied

2009-01-23T20:06:00.004-05:00

I like to think I'm a satisfied person. You know, personally. That life is good. (my life anyway) I tend to be an A-type personality with a little B-type thrown in for good measure. That wasn't always the case. I had to work to find the B-type genes in my genetic pool.

I am fast approaching the loss of all patience with pretty much everything. And nearly everybody I come into contact with daily. I'm going to reclassify myself as a D-type personality. But I promise, I won't go postal.

It's exhausting to have a mind that won't sleep. Ever. It's exhausting to be so discouraged about so many things on a daily basis.

What happened to my rose colored glasses? Where and when did I misplace those?

Is there a lost and found for misplaced satisfaction?

From the worst meal EVER in a restaurant the other day ... hostess, waitress, cook, manager, cleanliness .... EU. A totally free $75.00 tab. I left a tip for a waitress who needs waitressing lessons, but at least she was smiling all the while. And trying. Not successfully, but the effort was there. The manager arrived at the table, looked at us, flipped her long blond tresses back, as if she were eighteen again,waved her hand somewhere in the vicinity of the table and said, "The meal's on me. I'll take care of the tab." Then she promptly stomped off the next dissatisfied group.

Restaurant XYZ won't be seeing me again. I mean it this time.

They'll be no more putting my foot down and then picking it up again. No sirree!

There was the perfectly horrible chocolate shake at Wendy's. "What can you do to a chocolate shake at Wendy's?" you ask. Huh. Do not buy one at the Endicott Street store any time soon.

There are the teachers who are 'in good faith' negotiating a contract with the school committee. Yeah, okay. Let me hear you whine one more time about not getting enough of a raise. Why don't you be me? Or the other umpteen public employees who will be getting no raise next fiscal year and probably the year after that. Been there. Done that. Gonna be doing it again.

1% COLA not enough for you? Stamp your feet.

Tell that to the unemployed teachers who are looking for a job. Wah. Better yet. Resign. Go find another job. One that will put up with your whining and fussing. Really. You won't be missed.

These teachers are better compensated than most. How does $63,000.00 base sound to you? One or two extra duty assignments a year? Slush funds for many departments? A beautiful 54 million dollar building? The best of the best of the best.

That's not good enough for you? Nor is the 85% of your health insurance premium paid by the town while the rest of the public employees have only 66% paid. Oh, and let's not forget when you retire you will maintain that level of insurance cost. 85% town, 15% retiree. The rest of us? 50%/50%. Huh. Whine some more.

And then, when you are done whining about all of that ... tell me ... that you will not involve the students in your negotiations ... after you hand out fliers to them on their way into school. Oh, yes. I'm dissatisfied with that too. When you've finished all your maneuvers and they still haven't worked, throw in that you won't volunteer to work with the senior interns this year.

That's not involving the students at all. You call yourself educators? Let me just throw this out: You aren't educators. You are the new version of terrorist. At the worst possible time ... economic downturn ... be dammed ... you want your money and you want it now.

Get a clue. We'd all like some more money just now.

How about movies? If I see one more let down movie, I'm going to stop going. Romantic comedies with actors that have no idea what romantic comedy is. Oh wait ... that could be the director. Previously good actors, even some great, wasting their time (and mine) on story lines that could be fun and charming and water cooler talk, but aren't ... what is wrong with them?

Me? I'm going back to old black and white films. When actors could act and directors could direct and it didn't take a mortgage payment to go to the theater.

Caroline Kennedy? What a buffoon! Really. What was she thinking? Do I need to say more?

There are two-faced co-workers who might have been friends ... but not in this life time, I'll tell you. Promises made, promises broken. You don't have to talk behind my back about me, but it's okay if you do. I have broad shoulders. But you should never, ever, talk about my family behind my back. You don't even know them. How dare you.

The dentist? The one who charged me an arm, leg and $2000.00 who can't seem to get my gum to heal? Yeah. I'm dissatisfied with that. Big time. I'm tired of brushing, flossing, rinsing to no avail. An appointment a week. Really. What a screw up this has been.

Ah, to hell with it. I like to think I'm a satisfied person, but I can no longer find satisfied. In my mind, my heart, my daily life.

So, I'll just fess up. I'm not satisfied. Not even with the dammed burrito I purchased tonight on my way home ... at my favorite little Mexican place. It just sucked.

Yeah, go ahead folks, call me dissatisfied. Aren't we all sometimes? I'm just afraid this is going to become my permanent me.

Then, on top of it all, I'll be dissatisfied with that.

Addendum -- Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

2009-01-19T08:54:00.005-05:00

As I posted my entry last night I thought about how much letting go I have to do. I thought about how valuable these life lessons are. I thought about how I wouldn't want Em to learn bitterness. Her emotions are so pure and sweet and honest.

This morning I read an e-mail from L, which read in part,

At some point, the child needs to have her own life. That is living. She may never be independent from you, in the sense that another child might be... But I don't think you should feel responsible for shielding her from every (non-life-threatening) bump in the road. ((((Hugs)))) ,

and a weight lifted, just a bit. Sometimes I get caught up in the protection of, rather than he education of, Em. I need to remind myself more often that she is a young woman with a life of her own and she will learn, just like we all did, as she goes along.

Worth note here is that after I hit the publish icon last evening, I tidied up my desk and headed down the hall to see what was brewing at that end of the house. I overheard Emily saying, "Okay S. Relax. I love you!" and the distinct click of a cell phone closing. "Mom! S apologized! We're 'agether again!"

This scenario played out in my mind a dozen or more times this weekend -- and so J or I should be in touch via e-mail or phone to determine what occurred on both ends of that conversation, but for now, just for today, I'm going to let sleeping dogs lie.

Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

2009-01-18T13:02:00.005-05:00

It's not so much fun to watch either.

She says, "He'll get over it."
She says, "It's just a joke."
She says, "He's got drama."
She says, "I'll get over it."
She says, "I'm really mad at my boyfriend."
She says, "We'll get back together."
She says, "I'm sad Mom."

Maybe yes. Maybe no. To all of the above. At any point during the day.

She's sad. She's hurt. She's mad. She's worried. She's exhausted.
She's blue.

She's hopeful too.

But I must caution her against being girlfriend and boyfriend again. At least for a while. I must caution her to remain a friend only, for the time being. I have to somehow show her that creating or enabling a cycle of breaking up and getting back together is not a good thing.

This break up is not the first but it has become the worst (for her). I think I [we] may have underestimated the extent of their relationship. The deep, abiding love they carry for each other. I believe that when it's happened in the past it's been so brief as to be 'cute' (forgive me -- it is never cute) or immature or a mimicry of what has gone on in their lives, and I [we] didn't give it enough thought or notice. Or credence?

I must caution that those ups and downs are not emotionally healthy. In fact, they are very bad for her. For anyone. But how to explain that?

I have to remember, I have to feel, and I have to understand that she is a young adult now and she feels the very same emotions that we all feel and that my responsibility is to protect her ... well ... from herself.

I know all of that. I'd just forgotten. [reads as if the forgetting is no big deal -- but it is] In the Sweetness and the Cute-ness and the First Love-ness of their relationship, in the Pure-ness and the Honest-ness, The innocence, this mother dropped the ball. I didn't prepare her for ups and downs, although any small difficulties have been helped along as they occur [from both the moms and sometimes the dads].

I am quite sure if he called her today and asked, "Hey Em, will you be my girlfriend?" She would say, "Oh S. Sure! It's fine." And while I would like to allow that yes, it is fine ... I guess I'm thinking that it is and it isn't.

Note to self: She's more in touch and in tune with things than even I sometimes give her credit for. Knowing. Understanding. Loving. Caring. Hurting. Feeling. Forgiveness.

How do we Moms handle a break up? With as much grace and understanding as is humanly possible. We have special children, now young adults, who have been first pre-schoolers together and then friends and then eventually girlfriend and boyfriend. We must think first of our own child and what is best for each of them. We can't allow this break up or moment or temporary set back to come between us and I've enough faith in our own friendship that we won't.

I've no doubt that Emily will remain a friend for life. Loyalty comes to mind. Acceptance. Love. Kindness. Caring. It's all unconditional on her part. She's made that way. If you are her friend you are wrapped in a cocoon of love and loyalty.

I'm sure it's not healthy for her to feel and hold on the way she does, but her life experiences aren't as broad or varied as [yours and] mine and it's difficult to know if the explanation given actually gets through in the way it's intended.

Keeping a close eye on her in an attempt to gauge her feelings has proven to be something along the lines of unreliable. If I bring up S or the breakup I hear, "oh don't worry about it mom." But if I listen to the quiet I see and hear another story all together.

I see and hear sad.

Cold! Cold! Cold!

2009-01-15T15:42:00.002-05:00

A little something to remind us that we have a mere few months 'til spring arrives.

Change In The Air

2009-01-05T15:34:00.002-05:00

There is a little bit of a 'pain in my butt' in comments this time around and so I am going to change my comment section to require the word verification process to leave a comment.

Apologies ahead of time ... I'll take it off in a while. I just don't want to cope with solicitation here in my blogs and while it has only occurred one time since I've been here, I feel I shouldn't necessarily complain, but I'm not going to welcome it either.

So ... here goes ... a change in the air. Hopefully just for a short while.

Sorry gang. I know it's much easier to just pop in, leave a comment and go.