Monday, January 31, 2011

It's not fair...

If you read the paper and listen to the news, one would think there isn't a decent soul on the face of the earth.  We don't read too many stories about people being loving, kind or even helping a brother out.  Or so it seems.

I think people are inherently kind, giving and want to love.  I really do.  I think we struggle so hard to make it in the world and watch folks get ahead that we may think don't deserve to, and get mad.  And get even...we think, it's just not fair

I tell my kids, "life isn't fair" alot.  Because it isn't.  It isn't fair at all really.  Think about all those folks when you were a kid that had the perfect families.  The perfect parents and yours were just a joke.  They had all the latest things, they were funny, nice and looked better than your family.  We had those folks on Round Hill Drive.  I always wished I was invited to their house for dinner because even their mother made better food than mine.  And it wasn't fair!!!

I have gotten past all of that...or so I think, but it makes me wonder about the folks born in other places in the world.  Like the folks in Haiti, Africa, Mexico and even Nicaragua...talk about not fair.  I can speak for the poverty in Nicaragua...I have seen it and when I am there, I feel like it's not fair that I have so much. It's not fair to them.

In Nicaragua, the poorer families generally live in small houses, put together with garbage bags and card board.  Thank God it is fairly warm there but let me tell you...it rains alot and it rains hard.  One of my favorite families would huddle up in the corner of the "so called" room and get into the garbage bag to try to stay dry.  Yep...and I say "it's not fair?"


They  move up from garbage bags and cardboard to houses like this.  There is no running water and no toilet.  The water and sanitation in these parts of the world are horrifying.  There is no garbage man that comes to pick up garbage or a place to keep things cold.  Barely any electricity and when there is...you never know when it is going to be shut off.

In the small town we go to, the kids can go to school but they need to have a uniform or its a no go.  The uniform is similar to the one I wore in catholic school in the warmer time of spring..white polo shirt and navy blue skirt for the girls and navy blue pants for the boys.  They have to have shoes on too.  Uniforms cost, on the average about 20.00 to assemble and then there are the shoes.  Most families make 25.00 a month and that covers all the eating and living expenses.  Doesn't leave alot for school uniforms or anything else for that matter.

On our trip 2 years ago, my youngest had befriended a little girl named Amelia.  It was odd to us because he was really in a "not liking girls phase".  But she was different, she was little, tough, fun and she could keep up with him.  They played soccer and wrestled and spent all the time they had together when she wasn't in school.  We joked about him finding his "soul mate" because he would give her the time of day.

On our last day of our trip, my youngest decided he needed to go to the general store in the town.  "Dad, we gotta go to the Pali, what time does it close?"  My husband was in no mood to shop and what did this kid, our kid who had everything, think he needed now?  (Being in that kind of poverty and heat tends to make one a little crabby at the end of the day)  My youngest kept bugging him...Dad, Dad...come on, walk me to the store!  Finally, my husband gave in and walked him to the store.  They walked in and my youngest went over to the shoes, held them up to my husband and said, "Do you think these will fit Amelia?  She doesn't have shoes for school and she won't be able to go"...my husband was stunned...this wasn't about my youngest at all...it was about giving to someone else.  They bought the shoes and walked them to her house.  She was out playing but her mother was very thankful and we were just so glad we could do something.

I don't claim to have any answers when it comes to humankind and poverty and dissagreement...well, maybe after a few drinks...but really, I always want to err on the side of kindness and love...always...because when I need you, I hope you can get past all of our differences and show me kindness and love.
The way I look at this life is...eventually everyone is humbled by something, or so it seems...illness, divorce, death, no money, no looks, too many looks, children, no children...your own thoughts in your head...whatever. 

I go to Nicaragua every year not to change the world...in fact, I don't change a thing.  I get so much more than I give and I watch the way my kid's hearts and eyes open up...even if it is for a short time to other ways of life.  I watch as my husband tries to speak spanish and dissolve into laughter with the guys on the job site because they know what they really are doing...and it's not so much just building a house.  I hug and cry when I see my favorite grandma...and how the house she recieved did, in fact, change her life.


I think we all do what we can do...sometimes it's a trip to Nicaragua, sometimes it's driving a dear friend to her chemo treatment.  Sometimes, it's just listening to someone and you just would rather not but sense that you should...sometimes, it's not saying or doing a thing.  We do what we can and when we feel like "It's not fair"  I would venture to say...it's not.

We'll tawk later,
I love you all,

Sunday, January 30, 2011

Enduring friendships

This weekend has been a lesson in enduring friendships.  On Friday night, we went out with friends that have been in my life for about 22 years.  I met my girlfriend when I was working as a nurse at a hospital in Denver and she was pregnant with the now 21 year old that we were celebrating.  It is an effortless friendship...we pick up where we left off and when we see each other...and miss each other when we don't.

Another gift was tonight.  We went to a friends house for dinner.  Two of us made the main dish, one made the salad, and one made dessert...sort of like the puzzle of dinner just arrived with the group. When we arrived at the house, it was like were meant to be there.  We ladies met when our kids were starting school...learning to navigate in a world that wasn't under our control anymore.  We were afraid for them...but excited at the same time.  We met at the classroom door in the mornings and afternoons and began to form a friendship.  When one of the kids was having trouble adjusting to the school, the routine or the teacher, we would try to offer suggestions and help one another.  We spent hours on the playground talking while our kids played.  We became friends.

Then it was on to middle school and the kids were becoming there own people.  At this point, we needed to have a "ladies night" to talk about kids, husbands and our lives.  We watched as our lives changed.  Our kids got older, our jobs changed as mothers and wives and we were also navigating our future.  We began to notice differences in our parenting styles, what mattered to each one of us individually and sometimes we just didn't agree.   But, that didn't really matter.  We now had a bond that could with stand the differences of human nature.  When our kids no longer hung out, ran in different groups or even went to different schools, we still tried to get together.  We began to  realize that we needed each other.   And, when life got in the way, and we were down to yearly Thanksgiving dinners...we still didn't miss a beat.  We were now a bonded group that no one could separate.

Last Thanksgiving, we gathered at my house with our kids...it ended up being 19 of us and gave thanks.  We took turns naming what we were thankful for.  We talked of our enduring friendship and what it means to us now.  We looked at each other's kids and told them how proud we were of them of the young men and women they had become...and meant it.  We remembered when they were little and laughed at the times we had together.  We were thankful for each other and the ease it takes to be together.  I think we realized that we had all changed too but our friendship is just richer, deeper, more meaningful.   We all have kids in college, changing priorities and different goals and now we are now growing older together. 

I know these woman and their men and I love them.  I get excited when we are all going to be together...almost like a date with a sweetheart.  They have seen me crying at sad times, rejoicing at good times and have supported me through both.  Our friendship just endures.  Who knew when we were standing at the kindergarten door staring through the glass that we would be so attached to each other now...who knew...but thank God. 

We'll tawk tommorrow,
I love you all,

Friday, January 28, 2011

No Filter Friday...

My family is fairly polite...When someone belches at the table, it it usually me and it is usually big and loud and, let's face it, I think its funny.  Then, as if on cue, the boys start gulping whatever drink they have in front of them to top me.  But, usually they can't because I am really good at belching.  Anyway, my polite husband, about this time, says, "Honey, see what happens when you do that?"  For a minute or so, I feel ashamed of myself but as soon as I hear..."Mitsubissssshiiii" belched out from one of them...I laugh and it passes.

I am also very open and aware of "body" things, so when someone has something that they complain about...I say, "Let me see it" and then when they hesitate I say..."I have been a nurse for almost 26 years and I have seen it all, and have had my hands in places you don't even want to know" to which my oldest always replies, "Mom, could we not?" and my husband replies, "Show your mother, she's a nurse." 

I have been told, I am missing a "filter"...that thing in my brain that stops me from saying things that are better left unsaid...but left unsaid for who?  Not me, I generally say what I need to say.

Welcome to "No Filter Friday" and if it is too much for you...just "X" out and have  a great day!

I want to start with my dogs...why, why do they do the things they do?  I have three and I feed them apart but together.  One of them, the one pictured above, Buster, eats his food in about 10 seconds flat.  Then he wanders to the other ones and they growl.  While they are growling, he begins to belch and burp and finally throws his dog food up...usually next to the dog bowl that he is trying to steal.  When he throws up, the dog eating the "non-recycled" food moves to the vomit and old Buster has another bowl of food.  It has happened every morning and evening that we have fed them together.  Here's the kicker, Buster doesn't throw up the food from the other dogs, just what is in front of him first.  Just plain nasty!!!!

My dear husband has been out of town and arrived home late on Wednesday night.  It is becoming a "the king is home" situation since he is traveling so much.  I find myself wandering around the house showing him all the things I have done while he was gone.  "See I cleaned the mold in the bathroom while you were gone"..."Good honey, that looks good" he says.  "Oh and I took the garbage out too!"  "Did you read my blog?  What did you think?" and on an on.  Like I am craving his approval or something...I wonder if he would still love me if I didn't clean the mold in the bathroom...shame on him then if that is a deal breaker...let's be honest, he probably would have been gone already...

Then along the lines of the king, he tells me what I ought to do when he is gone. "You really shouldn't let the dogs do that, or why don't you bring the garbage in from your car when you come in?"  Then he uses his old standard expression that he's used for at least 20 years now..."We ought to bolt dumpster brackets on your car and then every so often,  we could open the windows and pour the garbage out"...I say, "that is so funny, dear" and I think he gets a little offended because he still, after the millionth time, thinks it is funny.   Filter.....not so much.

I lost three pounds when I weighed at the LGN bootcamp.  I am up a net 5 and it is in a small tire-like roll around my stomach.  Just enough to create a righteous "muffin top".  The cute little trainer was positive... "What good things are we gonna eat today?" she said.  I thought to myself, It's Thursday...we don't weigh for another week so...whatever I have been craving for the last 7 days...."Salad and veggies and fruit with protien" I hear myself say.  I guess I did have a filter then, huh?

Another thing on my mind is women and facial hair.  I remember a few years ago when I was driving and my son looked over and said, "Mom, you have a mustache".  I was stunned...I thought I was the only one to see it.  I guess I was not.  Last year, I had my eyes fixed and could see up close.  I not only have a mustache but I am can see a bunch of hair on my face.  When I ask my husband, Mr. Polite, he said, "Oh, honey, you have always had a fuzzy face."  OH DEAR GOD...wasn't that in the contract?  When your old lady is growing a beard, don't you tell her?  Don't you? So last night, I decided the facial hair has to go...and I bought some "Sally Hansen" to take it off. 

My youngest son suggested I just use the "Barbasol beard buster" and a razor but my husband who walked into the situation about the time "Beard buster" was said, looked at me with a pitiful smile and offered... " I bet that will take it right off, Honey."  Mr. Polite!!!!  I told them all..."Wait until I blog about this" and they mentioned using my filter...ha, ha...I don't have one!

It's been an odd week...I have been fighting some old demons in my head.  Those are always there and I have to work really hard to "not" hear them.  My sense of purpose gets mixed up and I wonder what I am supposed to be doing.  Nothing new, really. 

I am going out tonight with my hubby and some good friends..I am kind of excited but I have nothing to wear.  I looked yesterday and decided I was NOT going up a size to fit in my jeans...I will just pack in and be uncomfortable until I have a drink of two and then I won't care.  I'm sure will think I look great and I will try not to talk about getting rid of my mustache and beard!  I will try to use the filter at least for awile.

My last thoughts of the day...I have been blogging for almost two months and have enjoyed writing...interesting because I hated writing in high school.  But I am loving it now.  I ran into some one yesterday who asked me "why" I am blogging and in a kind of tone that I interpreted to mean "what's the point?"  I was taken aback but it made me think.  Why..Why...cause I can and because it's fun and because the days I want to tell what I think is a funny story without my filter...I CAN...BECAUSE IT IS MY BLOG.  On the days, if something interests you...read on and if not...it's okay..."X" out and go...no hard feelings and no expectations...just me writing things that come into my head...funny, sad, or just plain stupid. 

Thanks for stopping by on "No Filter Friday"!
We'll tawk later,
I love you all,

Wednesday, January 26, 2011

A New Perspective

I got this book from the Queen for christmas this year. 

Here is what she wrote in the front cover. 

That is what I am trying to do on a minute by minute basis...to truly see life...when I am caught up in the what if's, I should have's, and I wish I would have's...the day passes and I haven't experienced the day...I got through it.
Then the days turn into weeks and the weeks turn into months and so on...I hear myself saying, "where did the time go?" when I know exactly where it went...and what happened. 

I want to see the pale colors of winter, the brightness of the sun even if it hurts my eyes...smell the snow, the cold, the moistness in the dirt...I want to taste the food I choose to eat and see the smiles of random people, sparkling eyes of the content ones and weary and pinkish eyes of those who are suffering...I want to truly feel the kiss of my husband's rough mustache on my face instead of turning away.  I want to look my son in the eye and let him know how much he means to me so he doesn't ever doubt he is good enough.  I want to push my body harder and feel the pain...not stop because it is too hard. 

I want to feel the feelings and experience  it all...

It doesn't have to be perfect...needing perfection has stopped me so many times before...

Truly experience life...huh...It could get pretty ugly...or it will be what it always has been...sometimes great, sometimes ugly and other times unbearable...or joyful.  But I didn't feel alot of that because I just wanted to "get through it". 

Well, I am going to try.
We'll tawk tommorrow,
I love you all,

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

Is there a Bingo gene?

We were all sitting around the kitchen table at my parents house while waiting for the funeral parlor guy...as my father called him...the "undertaker" to pick up my mother who had passed away an hour or two before. One of my sisters said, "what should we say in her obituary?"   We talked about the usual things in them like mother, grandmother, etc when I said..."We have to put in there that she loved to play Bingo".  We all agreed, Doris Joy loved to play bingo.

I remember when we first moved to Florida and she was, what she called, retired.  "Your father is retired and so am I", she would say.  I didn't understand what she meant as she was always at home when I was a kid.  She sometimes drove a van for special needs in NY to supplement my father's income but it wasn't a steady thing.  Anyway, her retirement consisted of getting up with me in the morning, shopping for groceries, getting "horizontal" in the afternoon in front of her soap operas, preparing dinner for my father and I and then going to bingo.  We always knew when she was going to bingo because she would make beef stew most nights.  My father and I loved that beef stew.  We would walk into the house around 5 pm, see the table set and smell the beef stew on the stove.  "Your mother must be at bingo" my father would say.  We never really knew which one she was at because she went to so many different ones.  She went to the Jewish bingo, the Catholic bingo, the Coast Guard bingo, the Greek bingo and sometimes, when she could get her bingo buddies to take a ride, she would go to Tampa to the Seminole Indian bingo. 

She was one of those "super" bingo players.  It was back in the day when you could smoke at the hall too.  She would lay out her cards...25 of them to watch, and then get out her magnetic chips and her wand, light her cigarette, and wait for the numbers to be called.  I remember her leaning over her cards, cigarette hanging out of her mouth, looking over her glasses telling my sister she missed a number.   It was crazy.  When the games were over, she would pass that wand over the chips and they would be sucked up in no time and ready to go for the next round.  She liked some of the callers, she hated some, and every so often, she would complain the games were rigged...but she went day after day and week after week.

When she got home at night, my father and I would be watching TV.  "How'd you do?" he would say night after night as she entered the front door.  Either she would hand over some money to both of us from her winnings or she would say it was a bad night.  "Who was there tonight?" my father would ask, and she would name all of her "bingo buddies" as we called them.

Fast forward to my life...she and my father are gone, and I am raising kids.  My kids are involved in lots of activities, some of which need lots of money to run.  At one of the meetings, I heard myself saying, "what about bingo?" to make money.  As I was saying that, the old familiar feelings came flooding back...seeing my mother walking out the door with her bag of bingo stuff, the smell of beef stew and the table set with the bowls she made at ceramics, sitting on the couch with my father in the chair watching an old John Wayne movie and him asking her..."How'd you do?" when the front door opened.

I must have the Bingo gene...I can't wait to go and play a little bingo.  I think I will start out with 6 cards, regular chips and of course, the hall will be no smoking.  I am sure that I will have trouble staying focused on the cards for awhile but I am hoping it will come to me.  I also know that I will win...I think I have an in with the "Bingo Gods" if you know what I mean. 

We'll tawk tommorow,
I love you all,

Monday, January 24, 2011

He is learning the "foozfoozler"

It's not enough to play the saxophone, bari sax, base clarinet, and guitar...now he brings home the "foozfoozler"...didn't some of the "Who's" play these?

                             He tells me it is called a Bassoon...really?

We'll tawk tommorrow,
I love you all ,

Snow, back packs at the airport and pink eye

Those three words sum up the day today.  We woke up to snow...late.  My husband left for Boston with the youngest son's backpack in his car and the Queen has pink eye.  When all was said and done...I have been to the airport, searching for the car in the Pike's Peak lot for a backpack, to Boulder for eye drops at the college clinic with an offer to bring the Queen home for the night for some love, and then home to make dinner.   Oh and throw in 4 hours of consulting too. 

We all sat down for dinner and like magic, it got quiet and I heard chewing.  We had a small "throw down" about how many meatballs everyone gets but no blood was shed.  Then, dinner was off the table, and I looked up to see this.  I had to take a picture...

Thank God tommorrow is another day...the back pack will go to school with the youngest, the snow is gone and the sun will be shining.  The Queen will have had 5 doses of antibiotic eye drops...and she will be back at college. 

Enough said.
Done and done.
We'll tawk tommorrow,
I love you all,

Sunday, January 23, 2011

Even if you think you're ready...

One of the things I really look forward to on Sundays is reading the paper.  I have a certain way I read it.  I start with the front section, then I go to Denver and the West but really I skim until I get to the obituaries.  I read the obituaries every day but I really read them on Sundays...and...I think about them.  I read the ages and I imagine them and then as I read on, I look to see if I can get a clue to how they died.  On Sundays, there are usually a bunch so this takes me a while to get through.

When I was a hospice nurse, I usually knew some of the people and would look to see if I recognized the family names.  I generally don't know the folks these days since I am not in that field anymore. 

Today, when I read the "obit's" as I used to call them, I thought of my girlfriend who's mother just recently died.  When I heard I called her and she told me and started to cry.  Then she apologized for crying..."I don't know why I am so upset, I mean, it's not like we didn't know it was coming."  Yes, she was old and yes, she was ill, and yes, it was expected but...there is no way to be totally ready.  To be ready for your mother who had you and raised you, no matter how you think it all turned out...is not an easy thing to get through.

My father was out here in July of 2001 to help me paint, re-tile and do just about everything for my husband and I to sell our house.  He was an 81 year old ball of fire.  He would get up in the morning and say, "So what are we doing today?" and the next thing I knew, we were pulling up the tile or painting a room.  He was that good.  In October of that same year, he had a massive heart attack.  He ended up having heart surgery and the result was minimal.  He had about 20% of his heart working and he had a pacemaker and defibrillator.  When all was said and done, he could barely walk out to the mail box.  When I tell you he was angry to be alive...that was putting it mildly.

We tried to encourage him and he would let us know in no uncertain terms what he thought.  He would go into weird heart rhythms and not tell anyone.  When we could get him to the cardiologist, they would tell us his pacer fired 6 times...meaning he went into a bad rhythm and was brought back.  He was ready to go.  He was done but he kept living. 

I decided I was done too.  He could go for all I cared.  He was old, crabby and kind of mean.  It was his time and I was fine when it came and it would be a matter of time.  No worries for me...I was ready.

On a Friday in August, after a busy day at church getting ready for the biggest yard sale of the year, I pressed the button to go into the garage when my husband came out and stopped me.  "Stop the car, and get out, will you" he said.  Why won't he let me just pull into the garage...what is wrong with him, I thought, and I am so tired.  I got out of the car and he stopped me and looked me in the eye and said, "Your father is gone."  "What...what...how would you know?" I said.  "Your sister just called and he is gone."  I was stunned and could hardly breathe.  And I was so ready....

Oh how I loved my father...he was a great man.  He was funny, and smart although he didn't think he was.  He could fix anything that was broken or find a way to get it fixed on the cheap.  He and my mother were married for alot of years, some good and some tough...but they stayed together.  I had forgotten that when I got "ready" but remembered it after he was gone. 

The rest of the story is pretty standard but I fooled myself about being ready.  You are really never ready and even if you are, it hurts...and it hurts alot.  If they were someone who you loved dearly, it is devastating.  You miss them for along time and then you feel guilty because they weren't your first thought of the day.  If they were someone that you had issues with...that is equally devastating...the should haves, could haves, why didn't I's?  The regrets.  So remember, even when you think you are ready to lose a loved one...it hurts, you'll cry and probably wish you had done more...that extra phone call, that extra visit...I know because I thought I was ready.

We'll tawk tommorrow,
I love you all,

Saturday, January 22, 2011

It's Baseball Season...

It's the third weekend in January and for the men in my house...it's time to sign up to play little league baseball.  My boys are headed to a school somewhere south of here to see the fella's that have been in hiding from last season.  I mentioned earlier in the week that it was registration day on Saturday but when I mentioned "you know you can sign up online" my husband replied, "We gotta go and visit with the fella's...see who is playing and what's going on."  I knew he would say that.  After that, they will make the yearly pilgrimage down to the sporting goods store for a new glove for the oldest, new "spikes" for both of them (size 13 feet) and other things that they just need to make them better ballplayers.  And my husband will turn into a yes man..."do you really need these?" and they will look him in the eye (as they are just about his height when he is not wearing his cowboy boots with heels) and he will say "OK."  It happens every year at this time.

From here on out, we talk about nothing else. We talk about who's coaching, what kids are playing, who's gotten taller, who said hello and shook his hand, what kids he wants to draft and what a great season it is going to be.  He will sign up online for coaching tips and think about nothing but baseball and his "guys" as he call the team.

The boys have been playing baseball since they were 6.  They played coach pitch, player pitch, minors, majors, juniors and high school.  Sometimes they were on different teams and sometimes the same team.  When the youngest played coach pitch, we decided that he had what it took to be in the major leagues.  He was crazy good for a 6 year old, we would say, did you see him hit the ball to the fence?  The fact of the matter was, no one on the other team was paying attention...they were talking to their little buddies, picking the grass or dancing around trying not to wet their pants.  But we saw a major league player in our son.

Then came minors...he was on the path to greatness or so we thought.  Where should he play?  Who should he play for?  He needs just the right coach and just the right league and we got a Tulowitski on our hands.  We turned into nut jobs really.  He was 7 and when he had a good game, life was good and when he made an error, I could hardly watch.  THE DUDE WAS 7!!! 

Then it happened, he had a regular year and he struggled to hit the ball.  He made errors here and there and he was not enjoying the game as he should.  He was one of the kids that always got to play...but the major league thing was not so important now.  My husband and I were humbled and realized this was about teamwork and the kids having fun...NOT ABOUT US AS PARENTS AT ALL!

While the youngest was having good years looking at being the "prodigy" as my older son calls him, my older son was struggling in little league.  He was a solid player but he was small and for some reason always played a level up for his age. (The "for some reason" was his crazy parents)  He could hit the ball but it stayed in the infield and he was more than a decent fielder but couldn't make the big throws.  So he sat...on the bench, on the bucket...he "rode the pine" as they call it.  He was the 6 outs, 2 at bats guy for alot of years.  He would go to practice and try to work harder than anyone else for more playing time but...there were bigger and better guys than him...and he knew it.  When he was in grade school, he would be upset, he would think he stunk and he would say he was not playing anymore.  I have to be honest, with my competitve nature, it was easier to not sign him up than watch him sit... But, every third week of January, he, his brother and father would head to registration and he would want to be signed up.  I decided this was a "life lesson" thing for him and backed off.  

When he was in 9th grade, he tried out for high school.  He dragged his catcher gear to practice and told the coaches he was a catcher.  He caught at practice and made JV.  He was very happy.  I just knew this was going to be a hard season and true to form, I had trouble keeping my mouth shut.  When I sat in the bleachers game after game and watched my son sit, jack around and ultimately become the score keeper, I would have to walk out to the right field parking lot and talk to myself.  My son, though, held his head high and thought alot about what was going on.  At the end of the season, he decided baseball was not for him and he was done.

As much as I loved to have them in sports, I saw how my older son felt about the whole thing.  "It's up to you what you do" and I meant it. Then, registration day came and my husband decided to coach a teenage team.  "You could play for Dad" I said to my oldest son, to which he replied ,"I'll think about it."  My  husband convinced him to play.  Now, I complain about my husband alot.  He is not terribly organized and he is frequently late to everything and it drives me nuts.  He is the smartest guy I know but I can remember thinking when the kids were in car seats, "I hope he doesn't leave one on the roof of the car and drive."  That's him.  But, he is also the kindest man I know.  This may be just what the doctor ordered, I thought. Anyway, my oldest decided to play for his dad and I had all three boys in one place 4 days a week.  It was amazing.  No yelling, just strategy, ideas and ways to make all the boys on the team better players.  My oldest was falling in love with the game again.  He ended up having the best time of his life.  He was a little bigger, could hit the ball out of the infield at times and could "throw down" to second base to get the kid stealing.  It was a transformation of sorts. 

The team ended up being at 500...losing as many games as they won.  But they were a team, and everyone played and anyone who wanted to pitch did and they were on the fence cheering each other on and they left the field after the game with big smiles.  They were 13,14 and 15 year olds that were having a good time together.  In life, what is better than that?

So when I find athletic supporters on the floor of my car or in the dogs mouth, or watch my sons walk out of the house with baseball pants that were white but are black now...you can't wash them..it's good luck...or I am sitting on the bleachers in my down coat, fur hat, and a blanket cheering on the team, I will try to remember...This isn't about me at all...It is about these boys who love to play, and the life lessons they learn about working to get better, sitting on a bench and cheering on their team and just how fun it is to hang with the guys...that's what I will think about and I will keep any other opinions to myself.

Play ball!
We'll tawk later,
I love you all,

Thursday, January 20, 2011

The Plans have Changed...

It's cold in Conifer...friggin' cold.  The kind of cold that you walk outside and your nostrils freeze together, you can't feel your hands and you just keep repeating..."It's cold"..."It is cold".."Wow, it's cold, did they say it was going to be this cold?"  I am telling you...It's friggin' cold today.

I had grand plans to include exercise, taking a certain dog home after dog sitting and working...maybe stopping at Costco to buy a neck pillow.  Yep, and I was pretty excited by these plans.  I have even taken out the crock pot to make a meal (because that is what I do when it is this cold) of pork roast and tons of veggies.  I will be the only one who eats the veggies but la-di-da.

Anyway, I had to bundle up to take the little dog out and I decided to take my camera...it was cold but crystal clear too.  This picture is looking into the city before sunrise...

Then it happened...I heard a strange voice from the basement...and as I saw the the figure making it up the stairs...it was my son.  It sounded like some growling bear with a mouthful of guts..."Moooooom".  "What's up with the voice, Dude?"  I asked.  "My throat is pretty sore"..."Sounds like it" I said. 

Let me just say, there are no free passes on school in my house.  I wish it was easy but I was raised in a house that you had to be so ill that you were passing out, or seeing double or puking in the kitchen to stay home.  Oh, and if we finally convinced my mother we were ill, she would say, "Well, don't think you are going out to play after school if you feel better, and go get dressed anyway, it will make you feel better".

In true, "Doris Joy" style...I heard myself say..."Go take a shower and see how you feel...maybe it will make you feel better".  So he did.  My youngest got to the kitchen and asked, "Where's my brother?" and I said, "I think he is sick" to which my youngest replied, "Did he throw up...because you never let me stay home unless I throw up."  I had to snicker to myself and I said, "Hopefully he is throwing up right now!" so we can make it all even.  Then he said, "If he stays home are you staying home...because you never stay home when I am sick."  Point well taken, I forgot this is a contest and my oldest is my favorite today!

The sick son emerged from the basement and still appeared somewhat ill.  He was a little warm, and of course, I looked at this throat (come on, I'm a nurse with special diagnosing powers) and he was dragging.  I decided to put on the couch, cover him up and let him sleep.  The youngest was not too happy with the decision but then said, "I bet he goes to school today because when he wakes up, you will make him feel so guilty for missing school that he will go."

When I go out today, I am buying that youngest one a muzzle, I thought. 

So here is how it stands...he's asleep on the couch and he looks like he is not going anywhere.  I am fighting the urge to pace in front of him and watch his eyes to see if he is faking it or if he is really asleep...so I think I will do some chores around the house and see what shakes out.  In "Doris Joy" style, I still haven't called the high school because I haven't used the old guilt technique and he still may go to school today...right?

Oh, and I will go out for awhile but will come home and tend to my son.  Work is highly over rated anyway, I think. 

I hope your plans work out better than mine today and as the "happy folks" in the world say..."Make it a great day!"

We'll tawk tommorrow,
I love you all,

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

When I think too much...

I got up this morning and did my usual fight in my head...get out of bed or stay in bed...you can't stay in bed, you have two kids at home and they need you up.  I got out of bed and made it downstairs to the coffee maker.  I had been arguing in my head for about 15 minutes while I waited for my husband to make the coffee.  I heard the little beep, beep that the coffee was done.  I looked at the setting and he had made strong...why does he do that...I hate strong coffee...I like mine with lots of sweet and low and milk...he should know that...so I say to him, "You made the coffee strong?  I hate that" to which he says, "Oh we can change it, I like it strong but I don't really care."  Great, I am married to the nicest human being on earth and I am gritching at him about the strength of the coffee.  You are a piece of work my head replies.

I finally talk myself into going to the gym too.  That cute little instructor will call the house like she did yesterday and I will feel worse about myself than I do right now...I take my youngest to school and race to the gym because I am going to be late.  I am always late and I appear to be a slacker. I'm not a slacker, my head says, but I am sure slacking these days.  What is wrong with you anyway? my head says.  I just don't feel good anymore, I am getting old, I tell my head...I am 46 and who else do you know my age that goes to the gym as much as me?  You live in Colorado...don't you? My head says, So get over yourself!  Everyone is fit here....you are the chubby one.

I watched the Biggest Loser last night and as I said before, I love that show.  I have been thinking about why I love these shows.  Why...maybe because they are all bigger than me?  Because they feel all the time what I feel at times or do we fight the same battle on a different level...I don't know.  Let's be honest, I am overweight but not hundreds of pounds.  Probably 50 at the very most.  But at my age, I notice that it affects me more...and I see the shift to getting older.  I hate it alot.   I was never the thin, beautiful teenager...I was the tall, chunky, clunky teenager and some of my friends in college called me the "amazon woman".  You get the picture.  So, is this the last chance to redeem myself and become a pretty older woman?   Am I searching for some lost beauty of yesteryear? 

My trainer, the cute instructor, says 70% of losing weight is diet.  Actually that is my problem.  I love to eat.  I love food and it love's me.  I can hear it in my head when I eat pasta...oh, this is awesome and I love when you eat me because you feel so good.  Have some more... I also hear the not so loving voices of failure...you said today is the day...only veggies and fruit...so why are you having THAT?  It is a constant battle for me.  I start every day the same...I am going to eat good and exercise and drink water...and by 5 pm, I am in the pantry fighting the demons.   WHY..WHY...WHY?  Do other folks fight the fight like I do and lose?  Do they have to do it on almost a moment by moment basis to not be overweight?  What is the deal?  Where does this craziness come from?

I have no answers today except that it is 1:15 and I have had water, salad and am staying away from the kitchen.  I can't even go in there or I will have to see what appeared in the pantry since the last time I was there.  So far so good, huh?  My trainer said this morning in her happy voice, "No white things and feed your body good stuff"...OK, I think the problem is that good stuff for me is pasta, bread, butter, pizza and plenty of it washed down with the favorite alcohol of choice for the week...I don't think that is exactly what she means when she says" good stuff."  Oh well, I have made it so far today and who knows, if I eat another salad tonight, brush my teeth and go to bed at around 6:30pm...I can kill two birds with one stone...get plenty of sleep and eat the "good stuff" the trainer is talking about. 

Well, like I said, I will take it minute by minute but once I fall off the wagon...I want a big turkey sub with macaroni salad and potato salad...the old fashioned kind from Safeway with a cold Coor's light.  No wonder I can't do this...I am planning my failures.  I better just go to bed now and save myself from myself!!!

We'll tawk tommorrow,
I love you all,

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

The 18th...A tribute to a dear hero

I have quite an urge to write today...as a matter of fact, I made sure I finished cleaning, consulting and walking dogs before I sat down at my computer. The whole time I was waiting to write, I was thinking about the date and how four months ago on the 18th, the world tilted on its axis.

I was sitting at the Village Inn with my husband and youngest son when my phone rang.  It was a friend that was calling me and I thought...this is odd..but answered it.  She called to let me know our dear friend of was killed in Afghanistan on his 30th birthday.  No way, it can't be...but it was. 

He was the nephew of a dear friend who fell in love with another dear friend.  He became part of my life and my kids life because of that.  I mean, we prayed for his safety at church for ten years and he had been safe all along. 

My friend married her nephew and dear friend in our church.  It was an amazing service with the bride and groom so in love they couldn't take their eyes off each other and you could see that they needed to touch.  I have never seen a couple more in love.  It was like they were meant to be together. 

The reception at the church was magical with all the kids and families from our church there to support our girls and their man.  Later, there was another party that was just as wonderful at a mansion where we danced, celebrated and wished the couple a long life full of love.  That was in March. 

I got to see the bride in July when she came to visit.  Her husband was over in Afghanistan and doing well, she said, and she talked with him quite alot.  We hung out with her family in front of the fire on our patio with the smattering of high school kids that had grown to love her.  It was a great night and we were all so happy for our girl and the life she was making with her soldier.  It was good and he was coming home in a few months... 

Until September 18th...and everything changed.  We went to his military funeral in October and cried through it.  Both girls were so strong and thankful for his life but equally devastated at the prosepect of life without him.  Our pastor, his aunt, called him Aaron-son, because she was so in love with him...he was a son to her.  His bride, stood up on the altar and read a love letter to him...and talked about how even though this is painful and unthinkable, she was thankful for the time they had together.

I miss him.  I really didn't even know him that well but I do miss him.  I miss him on the nights at church when I look at my pastor's face and know she is missing him.  I miss him when I think of his wife and how she is trudging along honoring him at every turn.  I miss him when I drive past the cemetary surrounded by the buffalo.  Then I think, wow, if I miss him...I can't imagine what my girls feel...

So today, I want to honor Aaron...for his service to his country, and for his love and kindness to our little corner of the world in Evergreen.  We miss you so much.  You will never be forgotten.  I also have to say...war is hell.  I wish that we didn't have war and everyone loved everyone.  It's just not that way.  I didn't understand what it meant though until we lost Aaron.  So, whether you agree or not, those folks over in the war zone are us...mother's, father's, lovers, son's and daughter's....and they mean the world to their family.  I honor them all and if you are a "prayer"...do it for them.  If you are not a "prayer"....send good thoughts and good wishes through the universe.  If we can help one family not feel the devastation of losing a loved one...let's.

We'll tawk tommorrow,
I love you all,

Sunday, January 16, 2011

What is a hero?

This weekend, I was at a church gathering for middle schoolers and the theme was about heroes.  "What is a hero, and who are your hero's"  the kids were asked.  They responded in usual and unusual ways.  Some kids hero's were God and Jesus, some were super-hero's and some were unlikely folks.   They all had ideas of who or what is a hero.  Like any good Lutheran gathering, there are speakers and they try engage the kids...but this year, the speakers were very different.  They were you and I, struggling with life and how to get up every day and live what you have...

One speaker was a kid with Asperger's.  He talked about who he is and being diagnosed and learning to live with what he has been dealt.  He was 14 and wanted to be a cop someday.  He sat on a stage in front of 1000 folks talking about what his day looks like and how sometimes people are mean and  how he has to deal with that.  He talked about what he does to deal with his differences and how really it isn't so bad.  I thought to myself...is he a hero?

Another was a man that was a firefighter who turned pastor.  He said he was sick of going to calls to houses that really just needed help and some medical care but didn't have the means.  One day, he decided he needed to do something...to help these folks.  He talked and walked and when he was done, he was a pastor of a group of folks and he opened a place where doctors and nurses volunteer to give free medical care as well as the medicine they need to get well.  I thought to myself...is he a hero?

The last invited speaker was a guy with a big wool hat on with his dreds tucked under.  It was the size of a basketball on his head.  He sat there and talked about his journey in life.  He had struggles as a kid, got into drugs, and became a street person.  He lived on the streets for 8 years.  He talked of the drugs he did and the bad stuff he did to survive.  I listened and felt bad for him and the kids were shocked.  It wasn't rated G and was a little PG if you want to know the truth.  He talked about how this one man would visit daily and looked him in the eye and asked him, "How are you?"  He talked of how he was one of the people in the world that when you saw him, you looked away and crossed to walk on the other side of the street.  But not this guy...every day...same question...then, when he let him in a little bit, the guy would touch him.  This guy would touch a man who was untouchable.  He would grab his hand to shake it, eventually a hug, even a kiss on the cheek.   He used the word "relationship" and what that meant to his recovery.  I sat and thought...who is the hero here, the clean guy with dreds or the guy who took the time to say hello every day? 

Then, the speaker talked about getting clean and how he did it.  He talked about "altruism".  That is a big word for some of younger set and I really didn't know the definition either.  He said it was "helping others while expecting nothing in return" and that is what helped him become clean and sober.  Wow, what a concept...what powerful thinking....and for middle schoolers...what about us adults...can we be altruistic?

I can just speak about myself...I am no hero.  I try to be someone who is helpful and I really feel bad for folks...for the dude on the corner when I pass him with his sign, for the person on the side of the road with the flat tire, for all the garbage on the side of the road...but, what do I do?  Sometimes, I will help and sometimes I won't.  It is just that simple.  And...sometimes, I will get home, pour my cocktail and tell my husband about the poor guy I saw today...but not feel too bad about any of it. 

I understand what it feels like to be altruistic...kind of.  I go to Nicaragua yearly to run a medical clinic in a poor town that folks that have nothing.  They live in card board boxes and garbage bags and eat whatever they can get their hands on.  I go, pay for my plane ticket and whatever else I need. Sometimes I take my family.   I decide to devote myself to these people for 10 days.  I touch the untouchable,  I listen to the crazy ones, I comfort the old ones and I just love...just love.  The first year was terrifying, the second year was better and the third, I found I had created relationships.  I love them and they love me.  It's kind of like the guy who went every day to the homeless guy and ask him how he was.  And when I leave, I cry.  I cry for the people, for the poverty, the sickness, for the world.  But...I also cry for me...I feel God there, the love and feeling of caring for folks and getting nothing in return. 

Do I change the world?  No...not really.  Do I really need to roll down my window in Denver and look the guy in the eye with the sign...after listening to that speaker...yes I do.  Basic human love, connection and relationship...what if that is what it takes to heal the hurts in the world?  What if that is what it takes to make everyone kinder and love one another.  What if? 

These middle schoolers taught me a big lesson...when they went to the place where everyone is in wheelchairs and drooling and conquered their fears and held hands, fed them and laughed.  Looked them in the eye.  They have huge hearts and kind hearts and need to know how to channel that love...to love themselves as they are, to just be who they are...to love the unlovable and touch the untouchable..It's not easy or cool, really.  But this weekend I saw a revolution of sorts...of loving and kindness that I haven't seen in the past gatherings.  I saw a group of kids that want peace and love and kindness...a world without war and with acceptance.  I think the time will come and they will change the world.  They are the change we are all waiting for and they are young...green...lovers, not fighters...and want everyone to feel loved regardless of gender, faith, looks, differences...they will teach us about what the world needs to be and we will sit back and be thankful!

We'll tawk tommorrow,
I Love you all so much,

Thursday, January 13, 2011

Thirsty Thursday...

I am sitting in the Starbuck's right off the campus of CU having a coffee while we wait to go out to dinner.  The Queen and I had an appointment in Denver and we decided to all go to dinner together afterward.  So...we sit in Boulder.  I am sitting at a table with all three kids using the Queen's computer.  Her computer is much nicer than mine...well, I guess she is the Queen.

The music is playing soflty...some song that I do not recognize.  I hear lots of voices having small tallk.  A middle eastern looking man talking in a loud voice to a beautiful blonde co-ed that seems to be hanging on his every word.  A asian man and well put together woman  are visiting to my left, maybe doing some kind of interview.  The woman is dressed for it but the man has a baseball cap on so I am not so sure what is going on.   There is the stereo-typical Boulderite to my right standing at the coffee bar...a long gray pony tail, jeans and moccasins using his apple I-pad and when I turn all the way around, there is a lone gentleman in the corner with earphones and a computer concentrating on something...he has a little beard and is kind of cute.  If I was younger....

I don't particularly like Starbucks coffee.  It is too strong for me.  I am a 4 sugar and fill it up with milk coffee drinker.  I am definitely not an expert at all.  We had a hard time deciding where to hunker down and do homework to kill time.  I suggested the CU library but the Queen nixed it.  I suggested the UMC. No..I don't want to go there, the Queen said.  So it is Starbucks.

You can't just go sit in Starbucks...you have to buy something.  So, we buy coffee.  The boys have medium white chocolate mocha's, the Queen has an iced coffee and I just want the cheapest thing on the menu.  It still came to about 15 bucks.  That is not chump change!

Minutia...that's what is on my mind right now as I sit and listen.   The kid to my left is doing spanish, the one across from me is doing calculus and the one to my right is doing his math's mate.  I just get to observe my kids, the barrista and the going's on in the room.  I drink my too strong coffee and notice the going's on at the Starbuck.  And for now...I am content.  I feel like I don't need to be anywhere else right now, with anyone else or be anyone else right now.  For me, and how my head works...this is a gift.
I accept this gift and am going to sit and enjoy it for awhile longer...

We'll tawk tommorrow,
I love you,

Wednesday, January 12, 2011


While I was cleaning the kitchen for the gazillionth time in my life, I made a wish...I wish I didn't live with a bunch of slobs.  Then as I walked past the back door, I made another wish...I wish these dogs didn't run away all the time, sometimes I even wish we never had them.  The afternoon went on like this and I was trying to be aware of all this wishing I do.  I wish alot because I think alot...I think.  As I continued this conversation in my head, I decided to think about what I wished for that I wished I hadn't wished for...do you have that?  Crazy, huh?

I remember when my kids were little and I used to have the same wish around 5pm every evening.  I was making dinner with one in the high chair, one pulling everything out of the cabinets and one telling the other one to stop with a loud voice.  I would look over and think...I wish they would grow up and I won't have to do this every stinkin' night.  Well, they did grow up a bunch  and some nights it's just me.  I wander around the kitchen wondering what to do.  I wished my husband and I  had more money, time, looks and a better relationship.  After 22 years, we tend to spend every dime we make, we have no more or less time than anyone else, he looks good, I look like Barbara Bush and we are big buddies along with being husband and wife.  So really, on that wish, if I had to re-wish, I would wish I didn't waste another minute of time on those things.  I remember wishing that  my son/daughter/dog/cat were different than they are...that they would be better athletes, more social, more into boys/girls, be invited to more parties, not poop in the house, be trained better, not scratch the couch, etc.  You name it, I looked at other folks families and pets and wished mine was different.   I remember being a kid thinking that I wished my parents didn't fight so much or that they didn't drink so much.  Well, I am a drinker and a fighter so I come by those traits genetically and have tempered them somewhat but...we are who we are.  I used to wish I was prettier, thinner and smarter...well, if I was, I would have a different life with a different man. 

"We are who we are"...or "It is what it is".  Those sayings sound cliche and at times they are.  But I am closing in on 47 and in my head am still the same 4th grader who couldn't stop long enough to go to the bathroom and I would wet my pants.  Well now at my advanced age, I hate to stop for gas on the way home so I run out of gas alot and because I don't stop, I have to pee and can hardly walk in the house.  I can tell you now that even my kids will say, "Mom, do you have to go to the bathroom" when they see me dancing around.   I wished those traits would go away, that my brain would slow down, that I could do one thing at a time but you know what...those wishes never came true and really I am thankful for alot of my craziness.

Oh, and It is what it is...really.  We can wish for all kinds of things and wait for them the happen or we can be who we are and deal with the situation at hand.  As I sit here thinking about how to wrap this up with a  neat and tidy ending along with some uplifting advice...I realize I am still wishing about life instead of being right here, right now.  Don't they say the first step to recovery is recognizing there is a problem?

Right now,  I wish this wishing problem would go away....
We'll tawk later,
I love you,

Random things on my mind...

This is a late post...I wrote it last night but could not get this blogger to work.  So just pretend today is last night!

This is what I thought when I sat down to write today.  So many random thoughts circulating in my head...I decided to just shut the noise off mid day so I could survive.  When I got home, I was calmer and looked around.   I took some pictures and included some random thoughts...enjoy!

                 I bought myself flowers last week at Costco...they are still pretty.  Worth every penny!

I saw the mountain dew bottle in the pantry and decided I was gonna look for the picture I took.  Then I found the picture of the mountain dew and the wine glass.  (If you don't know what I am referring to...click here and find "the worst mother of the year post"...that is one I laugh at.

Perfect for tonight's dinner!

Dinner tonight...plus turkey burgers.  I feel kinda bad about contributing to the Type 2 Diabetes epidemic in this country by serving all this processed food.   But I love that garbage food to be honest...I mix the baked beans with the fake potatoes...awesome!!! 

The dogs are in their new jail...I mean kennel...

The skin wrinkles around my eyes will soon block my vision...and isn't the double chin coming along swimmingly?  Other than that it's all good.

What's going on in your life today?
We'll tawk later,

Monday, January 10, 2011

This is the day....

When my father had his big heart attack in 2001, I remember being in the ICU waiting room reciting "This is the day the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad in it" over and over again.  My family and I would hear, "Code blue, room blah, blah,blah" and I would say, "That's Daddy" and it was.  He had a hard time but made it through to live another year before he finally died. 

Today was one of those..."This is the day the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad in it" days for me.  I don't know what made it that way but it just was.  There was about a foot of snow on the ground when the alarm went off and I though that maybe...just maybe...there would be a snow day.  In Colorado, the snow days are few and far between so I got the boys up for school.  My oldest son was exhausted and really was having trouble getting up...(remember, he is the one I lost my mother card on) and my youngest son wasn't moving either.   They made me become absurd..."OK, just go back to sleep and maybe when you get up, you can watch TV all day"...to which the youngest one  replied, " I gotta go to school".  Thank God.  The way I was feeling, they both could have just stayed home and watched TV all day for all I cared.

Anyway, I dropped off the youngest at school and went to the gym.  I am sure that I have lost any aerobic capacity I gained in the weeks before Christmas sadly.  I felt like I was going to throw up through most of the class and my heart was up in my throat.  That has to be good for you, right?

I came home and worked...sent emails and got ready for some consulting that needs to be done this week.  I sat in my office and the sun was shining.  The snow was beautiful even if you don't like snow.
My family had made it back from different parts of the world, even through a snow storm.  My daughter called and had made it through her first day of school for this sememster.  I was feeling very lucky and thankful.  My husband worked from home and we spent lunch time talking about his trip.  He mentioned all the good things and the bad but really was glad to be home.  "Glad to be home" he said and I felt happy.  I was glad he was home.  I have become the one who likes to be home and he has become more social...imagine that!  My son who went to California made it back too.  He told me of talking to the group about Malaria and what he is doing to help the world with it.  Cool, I said..."while you were gone, we got your report card in the mail".  With a bit of a worried look, he scanned the grades and didn't say much.  He had gotten mostly B's and an A and his father and I were proud.  He had "held up his end of the bargain" as we discussed at the start of school when giving him the keys to the car. 

The boys went to shovel for the neighbors and I had this need to go outside.   It was about 5 degrees and the sun was shining.  I started up my husband's tractor and made a pass at the driveway.  He showed up to take over.

I suspect there is nothing better for him than being home and driving his tractor...clearing the snow on a clear, sunny Colorado day!

I was shoveling the walks, watching him and thinking...I got the world by the tail today.  I read the paper and felt the pain of the greater world...guns and death, disease and sickness...people not able to know the life I have...and I am sad.  But today, I will count my blessings and be thankful for all I have...not take a moment for granted and hope tommorrow will be as today was!

So I say, nothing too spectacular...nothing earth shattering...just life.  I didn't win the lottery, didn't eat as well as I wanted, drank only half the water I should have and peed even less but...we are all here, tonight, with a warm house, food in our bellies and a family to keep us in line.  That is  more than enough for me today.

We'll tawk later,

Sunday, January 9, 2011

Tying up loose ends on an "out of sorts" Sunday

Ever wake up and know that the day is not going to be ideal?  As in...the voice in your head says stay in bed today...take my advice!!!  But you get up and decide...how bad could it be...Well, let's just say that I should have listened to the voice in my head and stayed in bed.

I went to bed last night after watching "Pay it Forward" with my youngest son...good movie but why did the kid have to die at the end?  All of those people with candles at the end are nice but...still very sad.  As I was starting to sob, my son said ,"Mom, it's just a movie."  Well, there you go...sometimes my reality is a little messed up.  Woke up to snow on the ground and the day as gray as my hair after I don't color it...you know, the strip down the middle...that gray.

My son and I make our plan to go to church and I say..."Ok we have 30 minutes.  "Let's shower and meet me downstairs...Oh, help me put the dogs out!"  Well, let's just say that one of the dogs did not have a good night in my mud room.  When my youngest opened the door, there was a pile of dog excrement that no dog should ever have to excrete...and my son starts to gag...now I start to scream...JUST PUT THEM OUT...DON'T BREATHE THROUGH YOUR  NOSE...JUST PUT THEM OUT !!!  He is gagging his head off and I am getting madder and madder...GO. GO. GO.  STOP GAGGING AND PUT THEM OUT!  I go upstairs to get paper towels to clean up the mess and as I kneel down to clean...and then I start to gag and say choice words about what we were thinking when we got these dogs, etc, etc.  Not a pretty site.  We get it all cleaned up and we shower and we go to church. 

Needless to say, the day went from there.  We wanted to watch football when we got home and the cable had been turned off because my dear husband couldn't find the bill to pay it.  Okay, we can live without TV.  We will go outside and play with these distgusting mutts and maybe we can become better dog owners.  We bundle up since there is about 8 inches of snow on the ground and go out.  The "runner" gets away and starts to run taking the other two with her.  Now my son and I have to walk the neighborhood looking for these mutts.  As we are walking, we are thinking of ways to "do them in".  My youngest son has a wicked sense of humor.  Anyway, after about an hour of looking, we are frozen, tired and mad so we go home.  "I don't care if they ever come home" I say and at the time, mean it!  All of a sudden, here come all three of them and one has a big skull of some dead thing in his mouth.  Beautiful....just beautiful.

At this point in the day, I am counting the hours until it is bedtime.  I am ready for it to end and the sooner the better.  My son and I decide we will watch old Saturday night live shows on Hulu for a little while.  Since we live out in the middle of nowhere, and it is snowing, it takes about an hour to load an episode and it never does work.  How about a movie?  Oh, let's watch Brother Bear with the moose commentary on...Oh, I think, that will be funny and good.  We pop the movie in the DVD player and it plays for awhile but then dies.  That's it.  I tell him I am done and I am going to bed.

A few loose ends to tie up though...on the "worst mother award" that I recieved a day or two ago... My son informed me that he made the silver honor roll and there was an awards ceremony.  Everyone asked where I was and he replied, "sometimes I don't think I have a mother".  When he told me that yesterday, I said, "Yeah, sometimes I don't think you have a mother either!"

The Queen went back to college yesterday...we did not dance the jig until she was walking towards her dorm room.  Actually, she said after we had dinner, "I'm sorry I was such a pain while I was home" to which my youngest replied, "don't unload on her, mom"...But after I pulled up at her dorm, I opened her door and told her to "Get out" and huggged her good bye and peeled out in the parking lot.  My son and I laughed so hard we almost wet our pants!!!

So anyway, I guess that is enough for tonight...I had pictures to share but I would be up until tommorrow loading them and I just want today to end.    Here's what I will leave you all with tonight...The kid's spelled this out playing banagrams one of the nights they were all home...Just another day in paradise!!!

I guess tommorrow is another day...
We'll tawk tommorrow,
Love you,