A Bowl of Chairies...

Defending My Character: A Blog of Rebuttal

2012-01-03T20:38:00.011-06:00

My character has been defamed, and it's up to me to refame it!

This is the cover of the [absolutely gorgeous] scrapbook that my beautiful, talented sister, Karen, made for me, and for each of my siblings this Christmas.

Our family has been greatly blessed by Karen's talent and generosity, and over the years, we have all amassed a large collection of these treasures. I can't stress enough how important it is that you not think me ungrateful. But still...

On the page dedicated to Christmas 1967, we read, in part:

Unfortunately, this is the year that Kate made sure Mark no longer believed in Santa Claus! She was snooping for presents in the basement and found ALL of our gifts! Of course she had to drag us all down there to see them...The real kicker was that Mark got a bike that year, and Mom and Dad were ready with the camera to get the excitement on Christmas morning...the reaction was not what they had hoped for...

I'm sure that that's how Karen remembers it. But it's not how I remember it. The real truth is probably somewhere in between; I've had enough experience with failing memories lately to know that mine is not infallible. But now, look at this picture from that same page...

That's me -- the tall one in the back. The innocent-looking one. Do I look like someone who would deliberately set out to ruin a child's delusions of Santa Claus?!! Certainly not! True, another year, another Christmas, I may have beckoned a couple of my sisters into the pantry, where I had possibly discovered three coordinated skirt-and-sweater sets, and perhaps a toy or two. (And if I did that, my intentions would have been pure -- I would have only wanted to share my exciting discovery -- those skirts and sweaters were gorgeous!) But I am absolutely certain that Mom and Dad never hid anything in the basement of that house on Franklin Street. That was a dark, nasty, scary place that had a cistern in one corner!

No. I clearly remember that Christmas Eve of 1967. I was wide awake. (I never slept on Christmas Eve.) Mom and Dad had gone to bed and the house was quiet. I decided that, since I was awake anyway, I might as well go downstairs and check out what was under the tree...

HOLY CRAP -- MY BROTHER GOT A BIKE!

I knew for certain that I would positively explode if I didn't share this information at once! I crept back upstairs and woke up the other kids. I know these were my exact words: "You guys, Santa came!" (See -- I absolutely did not try to make sure that Mark -- or anyone else -- no longer believed in Santa Claus!)

So we all traipsed downstairs. If only Mom and and Dad had been ready with their camera then. Because Mark was beside himself with excitement. "I got a bike," he whispered, awestruck. (I admonished him to act surprised in the morning so that Mom and Dad wouldn't know he'd already seen this wonderful surprise.)

Somehow, we all got back to bed without our parents hearing us. I don't think any of us slept. Somehow morning arrived. (Probably 5:00 a.m., but still morning, if you're a kid and it's Christmas.) Mom made sure we all stayed in our rooms until they were downstairs with the lights on and the camera ready. Giddy with excitement, and adorable in our pink flannel gowns (except for Mark), we tumbled down the stairs.

I knew I should have spent some time rehearsing my brother. I don't know why I trusted him to pull off "surprised and excited." He looked at what was obviously the most magnificent gift beside the tree -- a brand new, red two-wheeler -- and said, "A bike," in the same tone of voice he would have used to say "Cereal."

A tragedy, indeed, as Karen said in the last sentence of her narrative. But not the tragedy of a big sister giving away the secret of Christmas. The tragedy of a big sister who couldn't stay in bed, couldn't keep a secret, and couldn't think of anyone but herself in the excitement of a moment.

I am so sorry that I ruined Mom and Dad's Christmas that year. But I don't think I'm the villain I was made out to be. At least not the way I remember it.

Tree Talk, Part Two

2012-01-02T16:20:00.001-06:00

Tannenbaum 2011 -- What remains (1/2/12)

Well, when I said I hoped we'd be talking again, I was picturing you standing there all decked out in ornaments and lights -- you know, like you were yesterday.

Did you say something?

Guess not. You probably don't feel much like talking to me, do you?

Well, I don't blame you. But even though I'm sure you feel way worse than I do, I'm feeling pretty bad myself, you know...

Sure, we didn't get off to the best start, but I really did learn to love you as you stood there in front of the window, making our living room glow so beautifully. I feel very sad that you had to go so early. We usually keep our trees around until at least the second week of January. But you were so dry -- needles everywhere. Plus, I guess you were becoming a fire hazard. I'm sorry.

Of course it's not your fault that I feel bad. I was going to be sad today, anyway. See these guys...

Tom and Rosemary Karlek, 12/26/51

...That's my mom and dad. They would have celebrated their 60th wedding anniversary the day after Christmas. Well, I guess they wouldn't have actually celebrated, since they weren't together anymore. They separated after they'd been together 40 years. Probably should have separated sooner, seeing as they'd stopped being happy together a long time ago. But that's neither here nor there, as they say. They're both gone now, and I miss them like crazy.

So anyway, there was that anniversary, which always sets off a string of sad remembrances for me...Mom died in February, 11 years ago. Dad got remarried in July of 2007. The last time I actually saw him was at my daughter, Meagan's, wedding in September of that year.

Today is the fourth anniversary of the last time I ever spoke to him. I guess we talked for a few minutes on Christmas -- He was at my sister, Karen's, house in Michigan, and I was here in North Carolina. I know she had a houseful of people, and things were pretty hectic, so if we did chat, it was only for a few seconds. I called him the day after New Year's, though, and we had a really nice conversation. He told me how much he loved the quilted wall hanging I'd made him. I felt good after we'd talked, which wasn't always the case.

Two days later, my sister, Melissa, called to tell me that Dad had died that morning while walking with his wife, Betty. They'd been to Mass -- First Friday. I knew he'd taken the Express, straight to Heaven, because I immediately felt him all around me.

I'm thankful that he got to go so quickly. He had no unfinished business to see to. It makes me happy to think that he got to leave the way a lot of people would wish for -- No pain, no lingering. Just "Hi, Tom -- Good to have you here." But I sure do miss him.

Okay, then. Thanks for listening. Since I've gotten that off my chest, maybe I won't have to write a sad, Missing-Dad blog on the anniversary of his death.

Thanks for being such a nice tree.

So It's Come To This: Talking To A Tree

2011-12-20T18:45:00.004-06:00

Tannenbaum Version 2011

There. Now that all your decorations are in place, I guess you don't look so bad.

You said I was the worst tree you've ever had!

Oh...I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that -- especially not where you could hear me. I'm having kind of a rough go of it this year, what with all the fussing and fretting over oxygen and all...I guess I was just venting at My Awesome Husband Greg. But that's not really fair, either, since I removed myself from the whole tree-selection process years ago. He's pretty much done it all on his own, ever since the kids have grown. And most years, he's outdone himself -- again and again and again. It's just that this year...

...Go on. This year...

Well, so he saved a little money this year. It just looks like you were probably on the lot a bit longer than the ones he usually buys. But you really aren't the worst. I can think of at least two that were far shabbier than you!

Only two? Gee, thanks!

C'mon. I said I was sorry. You know, Christmas is starting to seem a little more like work every year...getting all those decorations down from the attic -- or, this year, from almost in the attic. I'm really going to have to finish putting that stuff away this January! It seems like there's always something I can't find. And I can never remember how I had things from one year to the next...I'm constantly moving and rearranging things. You know, I seriously considered not even getting a Christmas tree this year!

Really? What changed your mind?

Well, a couple of things, I guess. The main reason for not wanting one (at least the reason I was willing to admit) is that new kitten, Ella -- She's incorrigible! I just knew she'd be climbing you and messing with your ornaments every chance she got. I only relented when Greg promised we could shut her in the basement whenever we're not home. And true to form, that's exactly what she did -- climbed your trunk that first day...

That was a kitten? I thought it was squirrels, or chipmunks, or something!

Nope, that was Ella. She waited until Greg had put all your lights on, then climbed up the middle and walked down through your branches, tangling everything in her wake. But are we shutting her in the basement? No way -- She's "just a kitten," according to Greg. Hah! She's a weapon of mass destruction if I've ever seen one! But honestly, she doesn't seem to mess with you much when we're not home -- just when I'm there to freak out, and then Greg says I'm being a bitch!

No way! How could he say that about you!

Ah, sarcasm...I like that in a Christmas tree!

Anyway, another reason I kind of didn't want to do a tree this year was that I was thinking of all the work I'd save myself, not having to decorate and undecorate. I know -- I couldn't even believe I was thinking that way myself -- I love Christmas so much! It kind or reminded me of how Mom was her last Christmas. She had always put so much into making sure everything looked perfect for her favorite holiday, but that year, she was just too tired to fuss. That's when we knew she wouldn't be with us much longer. I really don't want to be in that place yet, and I don't want my family to worry about me. So Tannenbaum, here you are!

Well, I guess I should consider myself lucky, huh?

Yeah. And I guess I should, too. You know, you really are a very nice tree. Remember when I said you didn't look so bad with all your decorations on? Well, you look more than "not bad." You're actually quite beautiful, now that I'm really looking at you. I'm glad you're the tree that Greg picked. I mean, who am I to criticize droopy branches and thinning needles...I should look half as elegant as you!

I really think I'm going to enjoy having you around for a couple more weeks. And then, just like every other year, I'm going to miss you like crazy when it's time for you to go. I sure hope we get another chance to talk...

My Oxygen Deficit Disorder

2011-12-04T20:50:00.007-06:00

I've been experiencing some breathing difficulties; ergo, air-to-go!

I guess this is kind of serious...

But I just can't seem to take it seriously.

(See what I mean?)

I've been wanting to write this post for a couple of weeks now, but have put it off, hoping to have more answers than questions before I attempted to explain it all. Now I have some answers, but even more questions. So I'm just going to go ahead and blog, before I forget that there was a time when I didn't need a special means of carrying my oxygen with me -- a time when it was all for free...

That was a time when I could run; when, even though I didn't always feel like it, if I could just do it -- hey, what a great slogan for a running shoe company -- before long, endorphins would kick in and I'd feel like I was in harmony with the universe. (Gosh, I miss endorphins!)

That was a time when I played tennis, and although I missed more shots than I made, I was exhilarated at being able to run madly around the court and then recover in time to be able to [try to] serve.

That was a time when our social life -- mine and My Awesome Husband Greg's -- pretty much revolved around playing tennis and tennis socials.

Today I went for a walk with a four-pound can of oxygen slung over my shoulder in its little padded carrying case. I was able to breathe easily, even though I was crying a little bit. I've finished crying now, because I realize that this is a small thing, compared to the burdens that so many others are bearing. But I needed to mourn for what I've lost.

I also feel a little bit like crying when I think about how difficult it's been, now that I know I need a portable oxygen system, to actually get one that works for me.

This is where I'm tempted to go into my tirade about how frustrating it's been to:

(1) Find someone who can tell me exactly what I need;

(2) Find out all the options that are available, and and what the differences are -- including cost -- between them;

(3) Have something delivered and set up that (a) comes with some operating instructions and (b) doesn't reek of cigarette smoke. Also, (c) it might be nice to have someone like, say, a respiratory therapist, come and explain how the system works.

And when I say tirade, that's exactly what I'm talking about. Whenever I find myself trying to actually explain how exasperating all of this has been, I realize that I look and sound like I'm doing a Lewis Black monologue.

So I'm going to spare you all of that. Suffice it to say, I still do not feel that I have the correct system for me. I'm expecting a phone call tomorrow that may put me on the right track. I hope so. My confidence in pulmonologists and home medical suppliers has been badly shaken. I feel like I'm the one who's in charge. That's probably as it should be, but it's a new feeling for me, and it puts me way outside of my comfort zone.

I long for the days when I believed that doctors were preordained by God, and that they were just a little bit supra-human; that they had time to read all the pages of the test results they ordered, that they could make definitive diagnoses, and that they knew the all the answers to my questions about the medicines they prescribed.

I long for a lot of things to be the way they used to be. But I realize that change is inevitable, and if we are wise, we roll with the punches and learn to look at things in a new way. I think I'm there, or will be soon...

Moving Day -- Half a Lifetime Ago

2011-06-04T20:32:00.013-05:00

Easter 1981: Our little family (plus my dad and my brother, Jason) in front of our little house at 1230 Adams Street. One year later, three of us and the dog moved to North Carolina.

"I have this love...It was formed in me as he himself was formed. It has his shape, you might say. He fits it. He fits into it as he fits into his clothes. He will always fit into it. When he gets out of the car and I meet him and hug him, there he is, him himself, something of my own forever, and my love for him goes all around him just as it did when he was a baby and a little boy and a young man grown." (Hannah Coulter explaining how it felt to have her son grow up and move away in "Hannah Coulter" by Wendell Berry.)

Twenty-nine years ago, on May 17, 1982, a moving van came and our little family of three (plus one springer spaniel named Toby) filled it with all we owned and moved to North Carolina. That would be the last day we would wake up in our "Little House on Adams Street," the last day we would be next door neighbors to the Stumps, the last day we would live on a square block that we could walk completely around without going off the sidewalk.

It was the day we left a hole the size and shape of us in our parents' hearts. (And maybe some other peoples' hearts, too.)

Goodbyes had been said. Tears had been shed. Busyness had kept us from feeling too sad that day. It was amazing to see how organized -- and thorough -- the movers were. I looked for the library books I'd meant to return where I'd left them, on top of the refrigerator. Gone. They'd been packed. I'd emptied a vase of flowers into the sink. Also packed. (What were those guy thinking -- She'll want to put these babies into some fresh water as soon as she gets there!?)

I remember feeling that it was somehow appropriate when the loud BOOM that signalled that we were under a tornado warning sounded shortly after the movers left. But the all-clear sounded by the time we'd closed the door on our little home for the last time, on our way to our closest friends and most constant companions, Tony and Jane Abruzzo's, for one last meal together.

As we were having our final look-around, a car pulled up in front of the house...My dad, thinking we'd be gone, but kind of hoping we weren't -- yet. He had planned on just looking at the house (where he'd often stopped on his way home from work) one more time. But we were still there. More hugs and more tears, more assurances that we'd be back to visit soon, and that everything would be fine.

But everything was not fine. Not for a while...

Dad wrote me a letter soon after we'd gotten settled in our new home. He told me how he'd been so sad he hadn't wanted to get out of bed, how he'd gone to talk to the priest about how he felt. It still hurts my heart to think about the us-shaped hole we'd left in his. I was his first-born. And I was taking not only myself, but his first-born granddaughter, who'd been the light of his life for the last four years, far away to another state.

Things were not immediately okay in North Carolina, either...

Having only made the drive one other time, we managed to take the longest possible route to our new home, traveling through states that we could totally have avoided. (Hello -- Kentucky?!!) It was near midnight when we arrived, but My Awesome Husband Greg was eager to show me the house he'd rented for us.

Here's one thing I've learned: When you're so tired you're falling asleep standing up, when you've been cooped up in a car all day with a four-year-old and a dog, and when you're terrified that you might have just made the biggest mistake of your life...Well, that is not a good time to go check out the place you're going to be living for the next year or so -- especially if it's very dark and the lighting isn't good.

All I remember is opening one of the cupboards and discovering what had apparently been the mass suicide site of a cult of beetles! (And lights that seemed to give our skin a greenish cast, but it may not be entirely fair to blame that on the lighting.)

Unable to even pretend that I thought we'd be anything but miserable for the rest of our lives, we climbed back into the car and we drove another 12 miles to the motel where we'd spend our first night in beautiful North Carolina. It was dark there, too. And stinky. I think, like my dad, I had a broken heart. I cried myself to sleep somehow, and the sun came up in the morning.

That's when things started to be all right for our little group -- Greg, Meagan, Toby and myself. May in North Carolina is beautiful. The sun was shining. It was a new day -- a new life. Everything seemed strange and exciting. (Well, not those dead beetles, but in the morning light, at least they felt like something that could be dealt with.)

Things got better for my dad and mom, too. Never much for traveling, they made many trips back and forth between Michigan and North Carolina -- sometimes together, but more often, separately. They both eventually moved down here, at least for a while. We still return home -- joyfully -- to visit family and friends at least once every summer. And now, thanks to the internet, we are constantly in touch, sharing photos, news and random comments. The distance between us no longer seems so far.

Half of a life-time. I love North Carolina and all of the wonderful people here. I'll always miss Michigan and cherish my memories of the people we knew there. But things really are okay.

Afterword: I was able to mail my library books back to Lapeer, but by the time we unpacked those flowers, they were as dead as the beetles.

Dominic: A Belated Birthday Blog

2011-04-04T17:33:00.031-05:00

My son, Dominic, turned 24 on February 27. Although he is my favorite son in the whole world, here I am, posting his birthday blog more than a month late! It's wrong to be that busy. Or distracted. (I feel really bad about it, but I did have a broken ankle, you know.)

I swear, every single day that has passed since February 27, I have thought, I will do Dj's birthday blog today. (It is true, isn't it, that it's the thought that counts?)

Well, today is finally the day...

Here's Dominic with his girlfriend, Sydney (whose birthday was also in February). The picture was not taken on their birthdays. It was, however, taken at the restaurant where we usually go for family birthday celebrations -- Monterrey.

(Dominic and Sydney, August 2010)

And this is a picture I took of a paper I found recently with some stuff my dad had saved.

Dj wrote it for a school assignment entitled, "The Worst Thing That Ever Happened To Me," when he was in second or third grade. (If you can read it, you will be able to see what it has to do with his birthday, and you won't have to ask.)

You'd think that it must be a pretty awful life that would cause someone to say that the worst thing that ever happened to him was the day he was born, wouldn't you?

But I don't believe that's where Dj was going with his opening line...With a birth experience like his, things would have to get better! To be honest, his Birth Day was one of the worst things that ever happened to me, too. We thought we were losing our baby. But after a [very scary] month spent in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit, we brought him home and commenced living happily ever after, pretty much. For which I am eternally thankful to God!

As for that other stuff -- about him not being very cute and his sister hiding him -- The two were not related. First, he was very cute. It just doesn't look like it in all those pictures we have where his hair had been shaved off in patches, with needles and tubes (or "toobs") stuck all over his little body. As for the hiding part...It was a game in which Dj was a very enthusiastic participant; Meagan would very carefully place him behind a chair or in a basket of stuffed animals, and I would be able to locate him by his shrieks of delight.

(Oh -- And she didn't actually drop him off the foot of the bed...She just sort of let him fall while she was talking to me. One time.)

And this is one of my very favorite pictures of Dominic of all time -- I love to see his smile and hear his laugh. I probably would still feel that way, even if he'd had a less frightening beginning. But I will never forget that for a few weeks, I felt as though I might never smile or laugh again...

Of course, I have. A lot. And many times because of my wonderful and very funny son.

Life is good and I am blessed.

I love you, Dj. Happy Birthday every day!

Some Revelry and a Revelation (Alternate Title: My Left Foot)

2011-03-05T11:55:00.046-06:00

I have taken many things for granted in my lifetime. There are a few things about which this is no longer true. These are gifts, and I am reveling in them...

The feel of the floor against my bare feet -- especially the left one;

A hot bubble bath;

Rubbing lotion into the dry, papery skin on my left leg;

Flexing and bending my ankles. (And being able to trace the letters of the alphabet with my left foot, per the doctor's orders, even though I can't read what I "wrote"...I must be right-footed!)

Now for the revelation part:

God, as they say, works in mysterious ways. We are not meant to understand His ways, and I'm sure that I don't need to understand. But yesterday, I think I was given just a glimpse into His workings...

After just two weeks and two days, I have been unburdened of the Big Blue Cast that encased (and encumbered) my left leg. This unburdening came about, I feel, because of a misreading of my file. I had been told that that cast and I would be constant companions for at least four weeks, with the need to check it in three weeks, due to the fact that I have been taking prednisone. (Prednisone affects bones, can cause osteoporosis, and interfere with healing of broken bones.)

But after just one week, I became worried that the burning sensation I was feeling might mean that something was not healing properly. When I called, I was told that my cast might be too loose. I had to admit that it was comfortably roomy, so the Physician's Assistant who'd returned my call told me to come in the following day to have it replaced.

I imagine that he then made a note in my file for that day which said,"Remove cast."

That was last Friday. I went in as directed, and my original cast was replaced with a tighter-fitting one. Less comfortable on my leg, but the burning sensation did stop.

The three-week appointment I had for my re-check was one week later -- yesterday. (It wasn't a full three weeks, but that's what I was given.) The day my cast was replaced, I was told that no x-ray would be taken until the following week. Yesterday.

My Awesome Husband Greg went with me for that appointment...

Cast Maker Guy called me back and ordered me up on the table so he could remove the cast. Surprised, I said, "Oh, you're removing the cast before you do an x-ray?" He checked the file in his hands and said, "Oh, we're not doing an x-ray today. It says 'remove cast.' MAHG and I looked at each other. I said "Great!" (And Awesome Greg went out to the car to retrieve in the Big Clunky Stabilizing Boot I'd been issued the night of the break. Feeling confident as I was that my healing was proceeding remarkably well, I had insisted on bringing it with us.)

MAHG watched with ghoulish interest while CMG cut my BBC off with a gigantic circular saw. (Not really -- I just wanted to say that.)

The cast off, CMG then left the room for a minute. And here's what I imagine happened:

He glanced at my file again, and realized that he had been looking at the note that the P.A. had made the prior week after my phone call -- the one that said "Remove cast." It would probably have been on top of the page that said "Re-check in three weeks." Upon reading further, he realized that he was supposed to take an x-ray. That's why he came back into our room and said, "Okay -- I guess we will take a picture now."

The x-ray showed that healing was well under way, if not complete. Things looked great, according to the Doctor who finally came in. The mystery of the how to properly work the Big Clunky Stabilizing Boot was explained to me, and I was told I no longer needed crutches -- Not even one of them!

I think I was supposed to have an x-ray and remain in the BBC for another week. I give credit for the fact that I'm free to God, who never give us anything we can't handle. He could see, of course, that I wasn't handling the Big Blue Cast very well...That, in fact, I was sick and tired of it. So he intervened.

God also gets credit for leading me (through my Amazing Sister Melissa) to some wonderful homeopathic remedies, which I am positive speeded my healing, making that extra week unneceessary. And I love that fun little thing He did, having Cast Maker Guy read my file wrong, demonstrating that even mistakes can be the work of God sometimes!

I am thrilled with -- and grateful for -- the outcome. I'm to go back in two more weeks, at which time I am sure I will be completely released from the need for even the BCSB.

Meanwhile, I will continue to revel in simple pleasures that I once took for granted...and in the way that God answers our prayers!

Vincible

2011-02-16T17:51:00.031-06:00

Self-Pitying Self-Portrait, MSN Paint, 2/16/11

Turns out that I am...Vincible, that is. I guess I shouldn't be surprised, but I can't even count the number of times I've twisted an ankle while walking or running. It's always been Oh! Oh, whew -- I'm okay... flex, twist, then carry on. Let's just say it's happened often enough to make me feel like I'm special.

But yesterday was different. I knew it was different as soon as it happened.

First of all, my ankle didn't just bend and flex. It formed an L with my leg, apparently allowing that knobby bone on the outside of it to touch the ground hard enough to snap it. (At least that's how I picture it.)

Also, I didn't just wobble a bit and then right myself. I pitched forward, hollering bad words as I fell. I tore holes in both of my hands, apparently in some half-assed attempt to distract myself from the pain in my rapidly swelling ankle. (It didn't work.)

And even though I tried to convince the two lovely people who rushed to my aid -- and myself -- that I was okay, that I meant to do that, the fact that it took both of them to get my butt off the street and onto the curb was evidence to the contrary.

But I managed to hold it together like one of those "tough cookies" you always read about long enough for My Awesome Husband Greg to come and rescue me. (Glad I'd thought to grab my phone as I headed out!) Once I was safely buckled into the car, though, I lost it.

"It hurts so baaaaaad!" I wailed.

And then, just for effect, I started heaving. (I didn't throw up in the car, though; I was able to save that until we got home.)

The rest of the evening is a long story that needs to be cut short, so let me just say that we spent two delightful hours waiting in the after-hours clinic with a bunch of dripping, wheezing, coughing people who thought there was some magic pill they could take to make the flu go away.

When we were finally given the results of the x-ray, I was triumphant...I don't have a pitifully low pain threshold; it wasn't just a bad sprain; it was a break, and those are supposed to hurt!

My foot was packed into one of those big, clunky, velcroed boots that stabilize everything you put in them, and we were told we'd be referred to an orthopedic surgeon the next day.

And that part was much quicker, easier, and way more fun...

Since MAHG had a VIA (Very Important Appointment), I relied on the kindness of my Sweet Friend Catey for transportation and assistance.

My ankle -- well, my entire left leg below the knee, actually -- is now encased in a fiberglass cast of the loveliest shade of royal blue. Secure and stabilized, it hardly hurts at all (unless myself or MAHG bumps it), and I think everything is going to be all right. In about four weeks. I'm trying not to think about the interim.

And I do have Charlie to distract me...

Mom...

2011-01-26T16:28:00.027-06:00

January 27 -- Happy Birthday, Mom...

(My Mom, Rosemary Borg Karlek, and Me, 1952)

...I just wanted you to know I was thinking of you...Not just today...All the time.

I hope -- I mean, I know -- you know how much I love you and miss you.

You also know I'm a grandma now, too, don't you? That means you're a great-grandma! But then you already were a great grandma -- Just ask Meagan and Dj...any of the kids!

But of course, I'm talking about Charlie -- Charlotte Rose. I just love that she has your name as her middle name. (And that I do, too.) I remember the day Meagan was born, and you came in to see me just before I was wheeled away. I saw such love and concern on your face that I impulsively wanted to change our girl's middle name from Day to Rose. (It remained Meagan Day, but I'm so glad that Meagan chose Rose for her Charlie.)

I know you and Dad would both love the stuffing out of that baby girl -- who's now one year old! (She almost shared your birthday, too!) I always imagine myself telling you about all the silly, funny, sweet things she does, and I can hear your laugh so clearly...

There are so many ways I wish I were more like you, Mom, but that's one way I am like you -- You loved babies -- everything about them!

I think Meagan finds it a little strange that I love Charlie's feet so much, but I remember how you used to say that babies' feet are like fat little pin cushions. (Actually, I think maybe you said Grandma Karlek said that. And I guess it is a rather disturbing comparison. But you mentioned it because we were having a conversation about how adorable babies' feet are, and I remembered it!)

Oh, Mom, if you were here, what a celebration we would have for you and Charlie!

I miss you so much, I still cry sometimes, even though it's been almost ten years. I love when I dream about spending a day with you...In my dreams, we're always shopping and going out to lunch -- And there's always dessert!

We'll have birthday cake for Charlie on Sunday, Mom, and I'll be enjoying mine for you, too.

I don't have to say more, because you know...I love you forever and am so grateful for everything you are and have always been!

That Article I Referred To...

2011-01-16T16:49:00.044-06:00

...You know, the one I mentioned in my previous post -- The one about five things worth admitting to...

"Okay -- I took the cookie -- I admit it!"

The first thing on the list is You don't have all the answers.

First of all, I have to admit that I don't even know why this made the list. Do people seriously have a problem admitting that they don't know something?

Okay. I guess I can see that some people do have trouble with this one. (Doctors, for example.) Not me, though. I love admitting that I don't know something. So much so, in fact, that sometimes I say it, even when it isn't true!

For example, to the question, "Why did you do that?" my answer is almost always, "I don't know." But often, I really do know. For example...

My Awesome Husband Greg: "Why do you insist on putting dirty pots and pans in the dishwasher?"

Me: "I don't know."

Truth: Because I didn't feel like washing them, and I knew if I put them in there, you'd rage about my incompetence, but then you'd take them out and wash them yourself (because I'm so incompetent).

Or...

MAHG: "Why don't you just clean up after yourself when you're through?"

Me: "I don't know."

Truth: Because it took me so long to find what I was looking for (because I have so much unnecessary crap) that I was running late by the time I found it, and I didn't have time to clean up!

See? No big deal. I like admitting that I don't know something.

Next on the list: You spent a small fortune on yourself.

All right. This is getting a little tougher. Even though I rarely buy anything that costs more than 20 dollars (and if I did, I wouldn't tell you), I hate admitting to MAHG that I spent any dollars on myself. I guess that's because he wears shoes until they have holes in them, while I have too many pairs to count. (But they were all on sale!)

Third item worth admitting to: Your house is usually a disaster area.

Ah. No problem here. My house is always a disaster area. I say it all the time. Every time someone comes to the door -- even the UPS guy. I don't have to say it; it's obvious. I just love admitting it.

Number 4: You're tired of hearing about it.

Well, I'm a little ambivalent on this one. I probably won't admit that I don't want to hear what you're saying because you've already told me a whole bunch of times. But I will tune you out.

I guess I can see the value of being honest, but I just can't hurt you that way. I know people listen to me say the same things over and over without letting on (unless I catch them rolling their eyes). I like to extend the same courtesy.

And last, but not least: Everything.

Got this one covered...In fact, it's my reason for blogging!

Truly, if there's something about myself that I don't want to admit (which there isn't, but if there was), I wouldn't bring it up as the subject of a blog. And although something might be hard to admit in conversation, if I can sit down and type it out, I'm likely to give even more information than was required.

Well, so I do that when I'm talking, too...There! See how readily I admitted that?

So what was the purpose of this little exercise? I don't know.

Maybe I'd like you to know that I'm a cheap, lazy slob who tries to be nice to people, and that I like to spew words -- especially words about myself -- all over the place; and when I saw an article about things that are good to spew, I couldn't resist using it as the subject of a blog. About me.

Why

2011-01-14T16:15:00.049-06:00

?

I don't know...I suppose there are as many answers as there are people who blog.

My sister, Melissa, who inspires me in many ways, got me started. She had been writing a beautiful blog about her son, Alex, who was diagnosed with autism when he was two years old.

(Alex is 19 now, and has been having seizures for about five years. Melissa's taking a blog hiatus -- a permanent one -- from Alex is all done screaming... to work on her book, and to take care of Alex.)

When Missy told me I should have my own blog, I said, "But what would I write about? My kids don't have autism. My life is a bowl of chairies," intentionally misspelling the word in my mind. And that's how it all began...

Okay. That's not really how it happened. What really happened is that when I said, "What would I write about?" Missy said, "Anything you want."

So I wrote the first post for my Bowl of Chairies on September 12, 2008. I called the post "This Is It." It wasn't, though. It took me a few days to get rolling; but since then, I've done exactly what Missy said -- I've written about anything I want.

For someone like me, who loves to say things, and who hates being told to be quiet, blogging is a great place to expound/expand/complain about things that have currently sparked my passion and/or obsessive tendencies (usually a temporary state).

At times I've questioned why I've maintained The Bowl (as I've just now, right this very moment, decided to lovingly refer to my blog). Since the last few months of 2008, when I wrote nearly every day, I have slacked off dramatically, sometimes going months without "publishing" a post. It wasn't that I couldn't come up with ideas...No, those guys are always running around in my mind, making it difficult for me to focus on things that might (just might) be more important.

It's just that in an occasional -- and uncharacteristic -- burst of introspection, I might ask myself, Who the hell cares, really? Sometimes, I question whether a post should have been published in the first place. (I once even deleted one in a fit of remorse.)

Then yesterday, I read an article in one of my favorite magazines: Real Simple: "5 things worth admitting to." And I thought, These would be great to include in a blog!

But this post is already lengthy enough. Even I'm bored with it, and I'm totally fascinated with myself! So with the hope that I've piqued your curiosity but not worn out my welcome, let me end by saying:

To Be Continued...

In Mourning Once Again...A Metaphorical Blog

2011-01-10T11:06:00.031-06:00

It happens this same time every year...

After a short period of adjustment, during which I get used to your size, your shape, your smell, I fall head over heels in love with you. I exclaim that you are even more wonderful (i.e., bigger, more nicely shaped, more receptive to adornment) than last year's love object.

Our affair blossoms. It doesn't matter to you whether I am being naughty or nice, lazy or productive, noisy or quiet... You simply stand tall and let me load your branches with sparkly lights and glittery baubles. You let me rearrange them as often as I like, with nary a complaint about broken twigs or lost needles.

You ask only for a drink of water every day.

In exchange, you cast a beautiful glow across our living room, and fill the house with your irresistible scent...

I declare my eternal love for you, and promise to keep you with me for as long as I can.

Then Christmas passes. And New Year's. You grow tired. Your branches droop and your needles fall. You stop drinking water.

I am bereft; I know what must happen next...

Sadly, I strip you of your ornaments and pack them away with the promise that I will bestow them on a new love next year.

Unadorned, you look smaller. You seem relieved. I know I must let you go.

We tip you gently onto a tarpaulin and drag you out the door and down the front stairs, being careful not to strew your needles across the lawn...

We lay you neatly perpendicular to the curb, and hope that the recycling crew will handle you with due care.

We will always remember you, Tree. You performed beautifully, and we could not be more pleased.

Rest in Peace. (Sigh.)

January 4, 2011 -- Hi, Dad...

2011-01-03T18:14:00.045-06:00

This is my dad with the first three of his six kids -- my sisters, Bev and Karen, and me -- circa 1956. (I'm the oldest.) This was taken at my Grandpa and Grandma Borg's house in Garden City, Michigan, probably by my mom. Whenever we had pictures taken with Dad, he would say silly things to make us laugh. You can tell he's saying something here, but it looks like Bev is the only one listening.

Hi Dad --

Boy, do I miss you! I can't believe it's been three years since I've actually seen you. I guess that's because it's never really felt like you left.

Of course right after Missy called to tell me that you were gone, all I could do was cry -- It was too quick! I felt like I needed to tell you goodbye or something!

But as soon as the shock wore off and it started to sink in that you really were gone, it hit me like a ton of bricks that it was okay, because I knew exactly where you were!

I even smiled, then, thinking of you landing on your butt right outside those renowned Pearly Gates, looking up at St. Peter and saying, "Well yeah, sure I want to stay. But what about those guys? Can I go back and hug them or something?"

Of course you didn't need to do that -- although I sure could have used a few more of your hugs -- I still need them!

Just like I really didn't need to tell you goodbye. (Although I sure am glad we talked on the phone a couple of days before you went!)

I don't think you had any unfinished business with anyone, did you, Dad? I like to say that you lived every day as if it were your last. (Oh, I'm not saying you were perfect -- I know you wouldn't want that -- I'm just saying that I like to tell people that, okay?)

I also like to tell people that when you died, I lost my best audience. Remember how we used to start and finish limericks for each other. I'm proud to say that it was you who fostered my love of that great art form -- the limerick! And it was you who made us kids love reading, and words! Crossword puzzles -- I so wish I had kept that New York Times one that we worked on together for a week -- and actually finished!

Well, Dad, we've finally arrived at what this whole thing has been leading up to...I wrote another limerick, just for you...

There once was a father I had.
(I lovingly called him "My Dad.")
If he were here,
I'd buy him a beer...
I miss him, yet I don't feel too bad.

You like how I did that...kind of started off serious, like it was going to be all sad or something, then threw in that surprise ending? Because that's how it is now. I'd give everything I own just to be able to spend a day with you -- and Mom -- again; but I feel really peaceful and good, thinking of where you are.

I'll see you again, Dad. I'm just glad you'll be with me until then.

Love you!

P.S. How 'bout those Lions?!!

My After-Christmas Poetry Blog

2010-12-29T03:52:00.021-06:00

Our House on Christmas Night -- Before the lights went out! (Kate's LRDC, 12/25/10)

It started slowly, did Christmas this year;

Early we woke, to nobody here.

Lights we turned on, coffee we poured,

Showers we took; the gifts, we ignored.

(Waiting 'til later, were they.)

First come was Dj, our favorite son;

Breakfast was started, Christmas begun.

Eyes still averted from under the tree;

When arrived the right time, surprised we must be!

(Waiting 'til later, were we.)

"Walking, let's go," said I to my son.

Agreed, then did he, though expecting no fun.

Chill was the air; the sky was pure gray.

"Snow now it should, this fine Christmas day."

(Waiting 'til later, was it.)

Back home, we headed; before we were there,

Falling was snow, right out of the air!

Fluffy and white, those flakes, came they thickly!

Hurried we home. now walking quite quickly.

(Waiting 'til later, not we!)

Posed we for pictures, out there in the snow.

(Rare, a White Christmas in these parts, you know!)

Arrived then, soon after, Meagan and Joe,

And Charlie; this Christmas, the first one she'd know.

(Waiting for them, had we been.)

Time, 'twas at last to return to the tree;

Presents to open, delightment to see.

Hungry we were then, but patient were we.

Guests yet were coming; still needed we, three.

(Waiting for them, were we.)

Present, at last, all parties expected;

Opened were presents; not one rejected.

Dinner aplenty; the table was laid.

Grateful we were; thanksgiving we made.

(Waiting for this, had we been.)

Stored in our memories, this Christmas just past,

Lasting as long as mem'ries can last.

Special, the Christmas snow fell on that day,

But people it was, who made it that way!

(Waiting no longer are we.)

Happy Birthday, Taylor!!!!

2010-12-27T06:50:00.010-06:00

Taylor's First White Christmas, 12/25/10 (Kate's LRDC)

Happy Birthday, Sweet, Beautiful Taylor...Your 13th!

I didn't get you a present. (That will have to wait until you get back from Nashville. I will look forward to spending time with you while you choose something for yourself!)

I didn't make you a card. (My mind was too crazed with all the excitement of Christmas to settle down and be creative.)

I didn't put together a flash mob for you. (I wouldn't even know where to begin.)

I didn't write you a song. (I've never written a song for anyone in my life!)

I didn't bake you a cake. (If you really want me to, I'll buy you one, though.)

I didn't send flowers. (They'd be all withered and dry before you get back from Nashville.)

I didn't really know what to do to show you how much I love you. I've known you since you were an adorable two-year-old with wild curly hair and huge brown eyes. I remember the first day I met you...You were so tiny, yet so brave -- We were perfect strangers to you, yet you came to our house to play while Mommy had to work. You immediately found a place in our hearts, and there you will always be!

I can hardly believe you're 13 today. Sure, I can see that you've grown into an impossibly beautiful young lady. And I can look at pictures of you we've taken through the years, and see how you've gradually changed...I guess I just have to accept the fact that you're a teenager now!

I know this is a special birthday for you. I hope it is full of wonderful memories that you will always keep.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO A GIRL WHO HAS BROUGHT MAGIC INTO OUR LIVES -- WE LOVE YOU FOREVER!

Christmas is for Kids! (December 26, 2010)

2010-12-22T10:03:00.054-06:00

Christmas always makes me nostalgic. (I wonder if, when I was eight years old, I reminisced about my fourth or fifth Christmas and sighed, "Everything seemed so sweet and simple back then...")

A photo collage of my kids visiting Santa Claus through the years. (The "centerpiece" is Meagan when she was three.)

I remember Meagan's second Christmas, just days after her first birthday. That was the year her Grandpa Florian (Greg's dad) thought she should have her first tricycle. Meagan agreed, and demonstrated that she knew how to use it by climbing up and standing on the seat -- without even wobbling!

I remember the Christmas she had just turned three...she was sick and ran a fever all day. But she was the first grandchild; I don't think anyone even considered calling off the trip Grandma and Grandpa's!

She looked adorable in her red dress with the candy-cane striped pinafore. She was a little trooper, demonstrating how much she loved the wicker table and chairs from her aunts by sitting in each of the chairs. But you can tell from the photos that her heart wasn't in Christmas that year; those big brown eyes had no sparkle.

...Until later in the evening, when we dressed her in her new red flannel pajamas before heading home. Apparently she had undergone some sort of a miraculous cure, or perhaps her fever had simply run its course. Whatever it was, we were all delighted to see her suddenly running around in circles like a puppy, climbing up and leaping into the air from Grandpa's footstool...You can tell from the picture above that she was finally enjoying Christmas!

Photos from subsequent years show Meagan posing in front of our tree with her current Favorite Gift. One of my all time favorites is the one where she's wearing her Wonder Woman utility belt, tiara and cuffs over her pajams, looking like she truly had the power! (Actually, she does that every year -- We just don't take pictures of it anymore.)

Meagan made this "self-ornament" in Brownies when she was about nine.

Then, by Meagan's 10th Christmas, there was Dominc...more popularly known as Dj! Santa would live on for another decade!

Our holiday photos now featured two smiling little faces, playing with toys, showing off new outfits, acting silly and making us very happy!

(On a sad note, the Christmas that Dj was five, he asked for a Jeep Safari -- one of those awesome cars that little kids can actually drive. Unfortunately, Santa decided that since Dj was a tall child, he probably wouldn't be able to sit comfortably in it for very long -- something Santa should know about -- so he brought him a different present. Dj asked for a Jeep Safari for the next 20 Christmases, but Santa always deemed him "too tall." Ok. I'm kidding. But it really did go on for another two or three years!)

Another precious ornament that finds a place on the tree every year; Dj was in 2nd grade when he made it.

I like to think that my holiday memories will always be there to be brought out and enjoyed like a favorite book that is read and re-read. But I can see that most of what I remember (aside from what is documented in photos) is the overall feeling of love and happiness that has always been part of our Christmases. Yesterday was no exception. I hope I find time to blog about it before the pictures start to get blurry!

Meagan's Birthday Blog

2010-12-20T10:03:00.026-06:00

For me, my daughter's birthday will always be intertwined with Christmas. She was supposed to arrive on December 2, which would have put a few weeks between her birthday and Christmas. But she waited until December 22 to make her [overdue] appearance. And she complains because the two celebrations often seem to overlap. (Sorry, Meagan -- Remember: On your birthday, you get presents. On Christmas, you give presents.)

(Meagan and Charlie, Sept. 2010, by Kelly Kano Photography)

This is my beautiful daughter, Meagan, with her beautiful daughter, Charlotte. Meagan and I are alike in a lot of ways, although she'd probably say we're dissimilar in more ways. But without question, one way in which we are identical is the way we feel about our daughters!

Meagan has said things like, "I just can't believe how much I love her," to which I reply, "So now you know how much I love you." It's true, and I can prove it; I wrote it in the journals that I kept for Meagan when she was a baby. I once wrote about holding her for hours, just watching her sleep. I had started crying because the love I felt for her was so overwhelming. (I came across that entry shortly after Meagan had told me the same thing about holding Charlie while she slept.)

So now Meagan's a mom, and one of my greatest joys is watching her with Charlie. The joy on Charlie's face whenever Mommy walks in the door is enough to trigger those "overwhelming" tears -- or maybe it's the look on Meagan's face that does that to me. She can't seem to put her stuff down and get out of her coat fast enough to get that baby back into her arms!

I am proud of my daughter for a lot of reasons, but seeing the way she loves and cares for Charlie fills me near to bursting! This Birthday/Christmas celebration will be even more special because of little Charlie. Our family has been blessed, and I am grateful.

Happy Birthday, Meagan -- I hope you have a beautiful day!

The Pieces of Christmas

2010-12-18T17:06:00.016-06:00

This post is a variation on "I Found It!", December 23, 2008.

I'm missing some of the pieces. Important ones.

I'm not sure when I lost them, or whether I lost them all at once. Maybe I lost them piecemeal. I only know that I haven't had all of the pieces since the beginning of Advent this year. (You know -- that's the time when we're supposed to be getting ourselves ready for Jesus to be born again in our hearts; in other words, gathering up all the pieces.)

One of the pieces I'm missing is Solitude. My life is busy, and it is full of blessings disguised as my family and friends. These blessings keep getting in the way of my Solitude. And when I do think I may have found a small piece of it, I usually fall asleep. When I wake up, it's gone.

Of course without Solitude, I have nowhere to put my piece of Reflection, even if I find one. There is no quiet place inside of me. Instead, it's always noisy and confusing there.

That means I don't have a piece of the Calmness that comes from knowing that I need only trust God to accomplish the things that are important to Him. No. In the place where Calmness should be is a large piece of Anxiety. Anxiety that Christmas will come, and I'll still be searching for more pieces -- one more gift, one more decoration, one more project...

Tomorrow is the last Sunday of Advent. I will go to Mass with hope and faith, and pray that there I will find all of the pieces that are necessary for Peace.

I hope you are also finding all of your pieces of Peace this Christmas!

"You Are My Special Angel..."

2010-12-16T07:07:00.023-06:00

Tree Top Angel (12/16/10, LRDC)

This little angel has been with us since the first Christmas we were married -- 1973. I remember picking her out at Meier Thrifty Acres with My Awesome Husband Greg, along with a box of little puppies and kittens in baskets (ornaments, that is). The puppies and kittens now reside with our Beautiful Daughter Meagan, but the angel is still standing duty at the top of our tree, 37 years later. She looks pretty good for her age, don't you think? Sure, her hairstyle is a little outdated, and I doubt that the color is natural any longer (if it ever was), but all in all, I'd say she's holding up pretty well!

Well, actually, she's only topped 36 of our trees. She got a break last year, because that was the Christmas all of the boxes didn't make it down from the attic. It was Christmas Eve, and Greg said, "That's it -- There's enough stuff on that tree!" So our pretty little angel, along with a bunch of Santas and tiny Christmas trees, remained in her shoebox. (Maybe that's why she looks extra perky this year.)

My Awesome Husband Greg Angel (12/16/10, LRDC)

This is my other Christmas Angel. See how he's risking life and limb, standing on a wobbly stool (Okay, so you can't actually see the stool -- Use your imagination!) so that I won't have to? That's just one of the millions of things this man does for me. I could call him my Every Day Angel, but that sounds dumb. Besides, I already call him My Awesome Husband Greg. I think that's enough.

Reality Check: Christmas Morning

2010-12-14T07:31:00.049-06:00

Christmas Morning 2009 (Kate's LRDC)

If you read my previous post, Visions of Flash Mobs Dance in My Head, you know that I've been "picturing" Christmas morning very precisely. So I was caught off guard this morning when My Beautiful Daughter Meagan said, "I don't know how you and Dad are picturing Christmas this year, but..." (Apparently she hadn't read my blog.)

Of course my flash mob fantasy was just for pretend. But I really hadn't troubled myself with thinking about how this Christmas -- Charlie's first -- might vary from Christmases past...

Besides Charlie, this will also the first year when My Awesome Husband Greg and I will be alone on Christmas morning. Our son, Dominic, moved in with his girlfriend, Sydney, last February. (He recently hinted that he might need/want to "sleep over" on Christmas Eve so he could wake up in his old bed; but since his television moved out with him, I have a feeling he's going to reconsider.)

I'm sure Dominic also forgot to factor Charlie in when picturing his Christmas morning...

Charlie -- Sweet, wonderful Charlie! We're all so excited to be part of her first Christmas. But she changes everything!

(1) Meagan and Joe won't be getting up early this year, donning sweats and joining us for Greg's home fried potatoes and a frenzy of present-opening beside the tree. Instead, they'll wake up to the excitement of watching Charlie open her presents, teaching her how to extract toys from boxes, and that ribbons and paper are not for eating. Which means that

(2) Dominic probably won't be waiting in his room for Meagan to wake him with the news that Santa has come.

(3) Charlie will need a mid-morning nap, of course; it wouldn't make sense to arrive at Grandma and Grandpa's until after that has occurred, so

(4) Dominic might as well stay home in his own bed and wait for the phone call telling him that Meagan, Joe and Charlie are on their way. So that means

(5) Greg and I don't even have to wrap presents until Christmas morning -- No one's going to be here before noon anyway. (You know us -- We never do anything until one minute before too late. Heck, if more stores were open on Christmas Eve, we'd probably wait until after Midnight Mass to start shopping.)

Well, I know it's silly for me to speculate on how Christmas morning will come down this year, worrying that the future can't possibly be as wonderful as the past. Yes, it is hard to let go of the things that have always brought us so much pleasure; but that doesn't mean something new can't be just as much fun...

And we have Charlie this year -- The most beautiful, funny, amazing baby! We will all be together to celebrate this most glorious day, along with dear friends and "Borrowed Babies." It just won't begin quite as early.

Our Christmases past will always live on in our hearts -- The ones when we were the kids and Mom and Dad made the magic and held it all together; when the house was full of noise and chaos and and Santa Claus; the long drives to spend part of the day with our grandparents...

Our kids will treasure their Christmases past, too. And for all of us, this one will be remembered as Charlie's First Christmas. What's not to love and celebrate about that?!!

Visions of Flash Mobs Dance in My Head!

2010-12-11T13:40:00.013-06:00

I love this video so much! When I first saw it posted on facebook, I immediately added "Be somewhere -- anywhere -- when a flash mob breaks out" to my bucket list. Then my daughter posted it, and told Santa that all she wanted for Christmas was a flash mob of her very own. Which prompted me to tell her that all I wanted from her and her brother this year was for them to set one up for me. Then I started to imagine what that would be like...

It would be Christmas morning, and even though I'd be sort of halfway expecting it, I would act so surprised, they'd never wonder -- especially Dominic. We'd all be sitting around in our pajamas (or sweats for the ones who'd had to drive over early). This being Charlie's first Christmas, of course she'd be drawing most of the attention -- Which would allow My Awesome Husband Greg to slip unnoticed from the living room in order to get his video camera ready.

I'd probably be the one whose job it was to keep Charlie from eating bows and wrapping paper, and to show her how to play with her new toys, so Meagan and Dominic -- and Joe, if he was willing -- would be able to take their positions without my noticing (or seeming to notice)...

I picture Dominic stepping up onto the coffee table (and if Sydney's there, she could be on his shoulders), while Meagan straddles the bannister. Joe would maybe be doing a handstand on the rocking chair to start off, but he'd probably have to flip onto his feet after a couple of minutes. In my vision, they're singing "God Rest Ye, Merry Gentlemen," and they sound just like Barenaked Ladies and Sarah McLachlan. And since that song doesn't usually bring out the sentimentality in me, I'd have to force myself a little bit, but I imagine myself crying (and looking pretty while I do it. I'll have to remember to put on waterproof mascara that morning.)

You know, dreams are what keep me going sometimes. I can't wait until Christmas!

First Snow!

2010-12-04T17:19:00.035-06:00

The First Snow of the Season (12/4/10, My LRDC)

It snowed today in Greensboro, North Carolina. It wasn't in the forecast. (If it was, I missed it.) It was just an ordinary, overcast, late-fall day, for all I knew. It was cold. So cold, in fact, that I was uncomfortable when I started my afternoon walk, even though I was wearing a fleece jacket zipped all the way up, and a scarf and gloves. But I decided to tough it out, even if I only lasted 15 or 20 minutes...

Then it started to snow. At first, I wasn't acutally sure it was snow, because it was one of those days when the sky is colorless, and just looks kind of wet. But then I saw little white things that could only be snowflakes. (I hadn't heard of any volcanoes erupting around here lately, so I didn't think ash was a likely explanation.) These tiny little white things felt cold on my face. Yep, definitely snow...

Snow! Before Christmas! Two years in a row! (Last year it snowed on December 18. That was the first time that had happened since the year we moved here -- 1982.)

I love snow. I have always loved snow -- even when we lived in Michigan and had lots of it, and it stayed around long enough to get dirty. Ok, I didn't like the dirty snow so much. And I actually hated any snow that came after April 1. But oh, those first few snows of Winter -- Loved 'em!

Of course, since we've lived in North Carolina, I haven't seen enough snow to make it a ho-hum thing...Maybe because it's seldom cold enough for it to last more than a day or two. Last winter was an exception, and I was very happy about last winter.

But enough about last winter!

I already had Christmas spirit, picturing the tree we would be bringing into the house later this afternoon. I had been listening to Christmas music since Thanksgiving, and there were miscellaneous boxes of ornaments and snowmen strewn about the house...

My walk was just an attempt to shake off the cold I've been fighting, and maybe drum up some energy for an afternoon of cleaning and decorating -- after the nap I was was eagerly anticipating (and feeling like I was earning, after burning off the chips I ate with lunch).

When what to my wondering eyes should appear, but snowflakes that were so tiny at first, they were almost unidentifiable, but that, as I walked, grew in size and quantity, and by the time I finished walking, were absolutely, positively, no-doubt-about-it snowflakes! And by the time I had taken off my walking shoes and hung my wet jacket on the back of a chair, were definitely starting to stick to things!

Talk about Christmas Spirit! I felt like shouting "Hallelujah!" and turning cartwheels in the the snow. Of course, I never have been able to pull off a cartwheel, so I curled up in my chair by the window and attempted that nap I'd been thinking about. Alas, I found I was so excited about all that white stuff out there, I couldn't sleep!

I'd like to report that I was so full of energy and spirit, that I cleaned and decorated the entire house -- perhaps even baked a couple of batches of Christmas cookies. But that would be a lie. The truth is that I sat in my chair, looking out the window and feeling really happy that it was snowing. Then I came down here to my computer to blog about it. (Oh -- I took a few pictures first.)

There's a New Blog in Town...

2010-12-02T07:26:00.012-06:00

...and it's written by a little kid!

Jordyn, Summer 2009

I've written a post or two about this little girl. Jordyn is one of my "Borrowed Babies." She's eight years old now, and in second grade. She loves to sit at the computer and type. She loves to draw and make all kinds of art. She loves to read books, and then write about them. I thought a good way to combine all of these "likes" in a way that would be fun and educational would be for Jordyn to have her own blog -- a place where she could freely draw and write and display pictures of the people and things that she loves. Of course she's too young to have her own e-mail address, so the blog is set up as one of mine. But it's totally Jordyn.

Here's the link: http://lifeofjordyn-kate.blogspot.com. The title is "Jordyn Upside Down Cake," and hopefully everything else will fall into place!

Afterword: I see that, since I apparently don't know how to properly include links in my blog, I didn't actually share a link with you. If you'd like to get to Jordyn Upside Down Cake, just click on "View my complete profile" at the end of the "About Me" section. That will take you to the page that includes "My Blogs." That's where you'll find it.

Thanksgivings Past...

2010-11-26T19:44:00.022-06:00

The original log home on my friend, Julie's, farm near Reidsville, NC. To me, it says, "Over the river and through the woods..."

It probably has something to do with my age, but I'm finding now that holidays remind me more and more of other holidays -- ones that happened a long time ago.

Our Thanksgiving this year was wonderful, as all those other ones have been. Last year will always be remembered as the year we were waiting to be grandparents, speculating about what this Thanksgiving would be like. And, of course this year will go down in the annals as Charlie's first Thanksgiving (which I blogged about at http://charliesprout.blogspot.com)!

And that reminds me of Thanksgiving 1977, when I was pregnant with my beautiful daughter, Meagan. Our official due date was December 2. So I decided that Thanksgiving was a very good day to start saying, "Any day now!" Thus began nearly a month of climbing [cumbersomely] into my bed each night, thinking, Tonight's the night...

Meagan will celebrate her 33rd birthday on December 22. If you had told me back then that she was going to be three weeks late, I don't know what I would have done! (I didn't realize then, that when I got to this age, three weeks would go by in a minute!)

I also remember a Thanksgiving Day early in our marriage...We still lived in Michigan then, so holidays were double; we alternated whose family we blessed with our presence first, and who got "satiated seconds." That year, we were headed to Metamora first, to eat with my family. I can see myself, dressed [adorably] in high-wasted turquoise courduroy pants and a striped sweater with a big, square collar, shoveling snow in the driveway.

I remember that year because it was one of the few times in my life I have ever shoveled snow! Also, because, even in Michigan, it was unusual to have snow on Thanksgiving Day! (I remember what I was wearing because my memories are vivid and complete. Don't argue with me -- I remember everything! For instance, I remember that on the aforementioned Thanksgiving 1977, I was wearing an oversized wool shirt that I had made, with a turtleneck underneath. And my pregnant body was entirely too hot to be comfortable!)

And of course I remember the one and only Thanksgiving (maybe the year before the snow) when I actually cooked a turkey. I dropped it on the floor when I took it out of the oven. (If you were there that day at our humble little home on Adams Street, you're probably hearing this for the first time -- Sorry about that!) Strangely, I don't remember what I was wearing; probably because it wasn't a good memory...

Now, let's go way, way back: Thanksgiving at Grandpa Borg's house, with all the cousins and aunts and uncles. Grandpa had the most awesome basement, complete with a bar! We have home videos of the entire family -- Grandpa and Grandma and their six offspring (my mom was third from the last), with spouses and a buttload of grandkids -- sitting at a long row of folding tables laid end-to-end and covered with white paper, which was covered with the remains of a Thanksgiving feast. Well, maybe it was just the adults sitting at the table. In the video, it appears that the kids just ran back and forth to the bar, taking turns "riding" on the swivel stool. (What doesn't appear on film was what we did in the other room with the steam bath and the laundry shoot.)

Now that Thanksgiving 2010 has become a memory, I can clearly see that what I remember most about all those holidays is the wonderful feeling of being part of a family, and of always having more to be thankful for than to complain about. And that each one was truly a celebration. And I am so thankful for the memories!

Random Thoughts About My Random Dad

2010-11-19T17:43:00.037-06:00

Tom Karlek, Thanksgiving 2007, by Karen Branson

September 23 would have been my dad's 80th birthday. (It's been three years since we've had him with us to celebrate.) That day, I began writing a post called, "Random Thoughts About My Dad on His 80th Birthday." Other than the title, I wrote only one sentence before it went into extended "draft" status: "Random is a good term to apply to my dad."

After I began the blog, I decided to look into my "Dad" file. Some of what's in there are things that I had saved -- Letters Dad had written to me, copies of articles he'd sent. But some of it is stuff that he had saved. Dad loved to write limericks, but before he'd come up with his final version, he'd sometimes have pages of drafts. I found a yellow legal page of his attempts at "A Lady Named Rose."

There once was a lady named Rose
Who liked to wear good looking clothes.
She gave some away.
Bought more today
So she can look good wherever she goes.

and

I once knew a lady named Rose
Who, when bedding, had icy cold toes.
She turned all her locks
And put on some socks
And bedded whomever she chose.

Alternate ending: What happened then, nobody knose (sic).

Dad was random in the things he saved...There was also a copy of a paper my son had written when he was in third or fourth grade entitled, "The Worst Thing That Ever Happened to Me!" (It was about the day he was born.) And a handwritten copy of a poem he (Dad) had written for Dj for his eighth birthday. The title? "Random Thoughts." Of course I'm going to share it:

D.J. Whacker, Peanut Cracker,
Few are loved as you.
If I was there, surely there
Are some things that we could do.

Ride our bikes, take some hikes,
And walk the course, at night.
Try to play, night and day,
And never have a fight.

Sounds pretty good -- I knew that it would,
'Cause it's dreaming, after all.
You are there and I am here,
While you grow strong and tall.

I don't see you as often as I'd like.
I hope that will change some down the pike.
Time can't be caught up, or ever be hurried,
But that is not something about which we should be worried.

We will just use the time given us
To play and to learn and not make a fuss,
'Cause you probably know whenever I'm there,
I don't spend my time in no damn rocking chair!

Perhaps the most random thing about the poem was the way Dad had it laid out. Lines would end and new ones would begin somewhere, randomly, in the middle of what was clearly the natural rhyme pattern (which changed randomly from verse to verse).

Dad had also saved copies of poems and articles that my sister Melissa had written, and a multi-verse limerick I wrote for him one Father's Day. The third verse is my favorite:

It was you, Dad, who always would take us
To the fair, and there you would make us
Ride Tilt-a-Whirls
Until we'd all hurl,
But not once did you ever forsake us.

I loved writing for my father -- In fact, I still do. I know that I inherited my love of words -- and playing with them -- from him. I have said that when Dad died, I lost my best audience.

Another of Dad's "treasures" that was returned to me after he'd died was a pillow on which I handstitched:

There's this guy that I like called "My Dad,"
And when I see him, I'm usually glad.
He's got pretty nice hair,
And to show him I care,
I made him a pillow that's plaid.

(Of course it was a plaid pillow.)

Dad did -- and said -- all kinds of "random" things. He was creative, as evidenced by his poetry. Another outlet for his creativity was his coloring. I remember him sitting at the table with us when we were kids, asking us why the grass had to be green, or why we could only color the sky blue. (Remember Harry Chapin's "Flowers are Red?") I was never a big fan of coloring (probably because I wasn't any good at it), and I hadn't realized that Dad's love for it had extended well past the years when he would sit and color with his kids. I remember being surprised (and later, delighted) when he told me that he was coloring a book for each of the grandkids so they'd always have something that Grandpa had done!

There's a book and television show right now based on Twitter posts some guy writes called "Shit My Dad Says." The posts are hilarious. Perhaps my dad wasn't quite as prolific as the subject of those tweets, but from time to time, some of his lines will pop into my head, randomly, and make me smile. Once, riding in the back of my brother's boat, he seemed to be meditating as he watched the wake churn away from the boat. Suddenly, he looked at me and said, "You know, water's funny. You can cut it with a knife, or a propeller...whatever...and it always goes back where it was." (I think there's a message in that, but I haven't figured it out yet.)

Something else I found in my Dad File was a stack of printed out "Sympathy Messages" from the funeral home. One was from one of his co-workers at Detroit Edison. In part, it said:

"...He looked great as usual and what a smile...His legacy to me will always be his wonderful attitude on life and others. He always looked for the positive in a person. His more recent years of volunteering with hospice can attest to his compassion. Albert Einstein said 'Only a life lived for others is a life worthshile.' God bless you. Your dad would be embarrassed that I wrote this. Tom is smiling above us all."

I don't know the person who wrote that, but he certainly knew my dad, and I am grateful for his words. Dad is smiling. And I think Dad is still reading what I write. Dad looks forward to reading my silly "smile" status updates on facebook. (In fact, if he were still here, I think he'd be on facebook just so he could read them!) I love to write, and the person I am always writing for, most of all, is my dad...

Happy Birthday to My Sunshine!

2010-11-12T05:16:00.015-06:00

It's been a while since I've done a Birthday Blog, but today is a perfect occasion for one...

Jordyn, Autumn 2009, My LRDC

This is Jordyn, and she is my Sunshine, as the song says. Today is Jordyn's eighth birthday. She's in second grade.

I first held Jordyn in my arms when she hours old. In all her tiny perfection, she moved straight from my arms and into my heart, where she will remain forever. I call her my Tiny Best Friend.

I no longer see Jordyn every day, but on the days that I pick her up from school, I wait in the "car rider" line in happy anticipation. I never know what she's going to say as she climbs over Charlie's carseat and buckles herself in, but I know it's going to make me smile. Sometimes, though, I try not to let her see. Like the day she said, "I didn't know it was 'Wacky-Tacky' day today." I looked at her athletic sweatshirt and pink camo capri pants (which had once been pink camo bootcut jeans) and pink sandals with flowers on them, and thought, You could have fooled me!

These days, by the time I get to school, I'm generally exhausted from having kept up with Charlie -- just barely -- all morning; but Jordyn usually manages to get me excited about some project she's been working on in her mind -- either an assignment, or "just for fun." She loves school, and is wonderful about getting her homework done as soon as we get home. (Sometimes even before her usual snack of fresh, homemade [Kraft] macaroni and cheese). After that, she sometimes likes to do "crafts," but lately she's developed a liking for doing book reports for extra credit!

This little girl -- along with her entire family -- has enriched our lives (mine and My Awesome Husband Greg's) beyond count, so as Jordyn celebrates her eighth birthday, we are celebrating another year of joy and love that she's brought into our lives!

We love you Jordyn. Please have The Best Birthday Ever today!

Finding Friends: A facebook Blog

2010-07-06T07:28:00.117-05:00

I have enjoyed a pretty steady relationship with facebook ever since my daughter convinced me to join. Sometimes I feel a little sad that facebook has eaten into the time I used to spend blogging, but it hasn't kept me from blogging about my facebook experiences -- including how My Awesome Husband Greg sees it as a mostly negative influence in my life, given my tendencies toward obsessiveness ("Things I've Learned About My Husband on Facebook," May 2009).

But I recently made a facebook connection that had even Greg (the facebook "Grinch") feeling happy for me...

Mark Thomas, Patricia Blevins, Kate Lillie, Peter Thomas and Matthew Thomas with Belle, front and center.

See the smiling faces in the photograph? Those faces make me smile, because they are faces associated with so many happy memories.

I think I was about 10 years old when my mom and dad became friends with Belle and Norm Thomas. **In my story, they met at a bowling alley. But my sister remembers something entirely different...She thinks my mom and Norm Thomas worked at the same place.

Please allow me to clarify, before I delve further into the past: I have come to terms with the fact that my memory may be somewhat lacking, and where details are missing, I may have filled in the spaces with other details -- details that I will swear give an accurate depiction of what actually happened. Scientists have recently demonstrated that this happens to all of us; the more we think about something remembered from the past, the less reliable our recollection becomes. That's okay. What's important here is that my memories, although perhaps not 100 percent accurate, are happy memories...memories of a time when time seemed limitless, and the whole point of waking up in the morning was finding something fun to do that day.

To anyone reading this: I invite you to make corrections and/or additions to what I have written; maybe together we can reconstruct a "truer" picture...

How We Met...

I don't specifically remember meeting the Thomases and their kids -- they had four to our five -- but I do remember that it seemed like a party whenever we got together. Kathy became something of an idol to me, being a year older. I thought she was the epitomy of cool, and I envied the relationship she had with her mom. The times my mom would bring us over to the Thomases for a visit, and the times our parents would get together to socialize -- kids included -- were much anticipated occasions for me. I regret that our families lost touch after the Thomases moved away. I guess we all just got older and our lives got busier...

Reconnecting...

One evening a few months ago, I logged onto facebook and there was a friend request from a Kate Lillie. I didn't recognize the name, but I was sure I recognized the face in the tiny thumbnail photo -- Kathy Thomas! I can't explain my excitement...It seemed that somehow, all of those memories that had been relegated to my "lower stacks" suddenly came flooding to the foreground. As I said earlier, even Greg the Grinch was excited for me!

Since making the connection on facebook, Kate and I have discovered that, in addition to both of us being the-oldest-daughter-Kate-formerly-known-as-Kathy, that both of us have morphed from brunettes into "silverettes," and that we both were gifted with baby brothers when we were 19 years old -- bringing the total kid count to 11)!

Times Remembered...

On hot summer days, Mom and Belle would take us to Bronson Lake to swim. At least one time they did. Usually, it was my dad who took us swimming when he got home from work at the end of the day. But one morning we were at the Thomas', playing outside, knowing that in a little while, our moms were going to take us to the lake...Or maybe just Belle was taking us. What I remember for sure is seeing a daddy-longlegs spider on the side of the house and Kate forbidding me to kill it; that would make it rain, and we wouldn't be able to go swimming. (If she had told me that killing that spider would make all my hair and teeth fall out, I'm sure I would have belived her.)

I remember playing in the Thomas' backyard, where there was a small hill that ran the length of the yard. We had broken down cardboard boxes, and were "sledding" down the hill. My memory is aided in this instance by a corroborating home movie of the event. Featured in the movie is Kate, ripping sheets of newspaper into strips for the sole purpose of being able to play the tape in reverse later; we couldn't wait to see the strips of paper magically grow together again.

Also witnessed by my mom's handheld movie camera is the time we vacationed with the Thomases at Fife Lake...

There we all were -- except for Mom the Photographer. Kathy, myself, and my sisters, Bev and Karen, all splashing each other, running and jumping off the dock, diving into and out of inner tubes. (I remember how those valves would scrape our shoulders as we popped up from underneath, and how our underarms would be chafed from hanging over the rubber for so long.) In the film, our mouths were constantly moving, our expressions showing how excited we were; but of course, in those days before digital camcorders, there was no sound.

We also see Norm take a running leap from the dock, where Belle is sunnning herself on an air mattress. (And we see an impish Belle wave at the photographer with her middle finger -- Rated PG-13!) My dad was running back and forth with my baby sister, Melissa -- for whom Belle had originated the nickname, "Litty Poo." Peter, Mark and Patti Thomas and my brother, Mark, also flitted in and out of the camera's reach as they played and splashed. Ah, summer vacation at its best.

There were other trips to Fife Lake -- both with and without the Thomases. One memory from our last vacation together marks the beginning of the end of innocence for me...

The summer I was going into eighth grade, another family -- friends of the Thomases -- joined us. The Tompkinses had two daughters, Sue and Deb, who were close in age to Kate and me. One evening after dinner (though it was still daylight), the four of us were allowed to go walking on the dirt road that ran behind the cottages. I remember feeling pretty big, out strolling with my buddies, no visible sign of parents or siblings...

When we noticed a car coming toward us, we moved closer to the edge of the road, expecting the car to drive on. We were surprised, but not alarmed -- yet -- when the car moved over, too. We got over further -- off the road and into the tall weeds. The car edged over, too. (I don't know about the others, but by that time, I was kind of wishing for some parental protection.)

I don't remember any of us being hit or harmed in any way, so I imagine the car then pulled back onto the road and proceeded on its way, and that we got back on solid ground and composed ourselves. I know we couldn't have walked far -- the road wouldn't have allowed it -- before we had to turn around and retrace our steps. Hearing a car behind us, we looked back, and someone said, "Oh no -- It's that same car!"

We ran all the way back to the cottage. (Could I possibly be correct in remembering one of us saying, "Split up -- They can't catch us all!?" Perhaps that was just an overactive imagination, fueled by too much television.) Although I'd like to report that we ran about 50 miles, camping overnight in the great northern woods, fishing and foraging for food...more accurately, our journey was probably closer to a hundred yards. We told our parents what had happened -- at least I did -- and it seems like someone went out and looked for that car. Or not. I know that I was terribly excited and scared at the same time, and that I wrote about our big adventure for my back-to-school-what-you-did-over-the-summer assignment.

This photo, though so blurry it hardly seems worth sharing, shows the Thomases and the Tompkinses in front of one of the cottages that housed so many fun memories. Front, Left to Right: Patti, Mark and Peter Thomas, Donald and Sue Tompkins, Kathy Thomas; Back, Left to Right: Deb, Frieda and Don Tompkins and Bell and Norm Thomas (Summer 1965).

There are more memories...Sleepovers, songs we listened to (Leader of the Pack by the Shangrilas and Hey There, Little Red Riding Hood by Sam the Sham and the Pharoas). I remember listening in our parents' conversations, and Kate remembers being allowed to play pretend cigarettes and beer...I remember being excited about showing Kate my first pair of bell-bottom hiphuggers -- My mom got them for me at Robert Hall!...I even remember a couple of visits back and forth, after our families were separated by the width of the State of Michigan.

My parents are both gone now, but I know my dad visited the Thomases a few years ago when Norm died.

I miss those people. But I have some memories, and those memories make me smile!

Trippin' Down Memory Lane

2010-06-18T17:17:00.012-05:00

My first (and only) Barbie Doll, circa 1960 (Kate, 6/18/10, MSN Paint)

Oh, Barbie...I wanted you so desperately that I said a Novena. My ninth birthday was coming up, and you were the only gift I asked for. (My mother later told me she'd heaved a huge sigh of relief when I told her about that Novena...Imagine if I'd had to learn at that young age that God doesn't always answer our prayers the way we'd like!)

By the time you were mine, a lot of my friends had already abandoned their dolls. Thank God I had younger sisters with whom I could continue to indulge my fantasies...

Oh, those wonderful outfits! Back then, each ensemble came with all the required accessories...Shoes, hats, bags, belts. And always, those little white nylon mittens that were supposed to be gloves...Apparenlty, no properly attired lady would have been without them in the 60's. Each outfit also came with a tiny little catalog depicting the other amazing fashions that could be purchased. Sigh.

Best of all, though, were the outfits my mother sewed...I still have the patterns. Circular skirts and sheath dresses with matching jackets. A cape with slits for the arms. Suits, sportswear (bathing suits and tennis outfits). And fabulous wedding dresses!

I never had a wedding dress for my Barbie, but that was the subject that set me off on this memory journey a few days ago...

One of my recently acquired facebook friends -- also one of my favorite childhood friends with whom I lost touch after her family moved away in high school -- asked if I remembered trading Barbie clothes.

Memories -- at least mine -- are funny. I did remember specifically wanting to trade for her wedding dress, but she couldn't give it up because her mother had made it. She remembers being in an upstairs bedroom...

Many times, a suggestion will become a memory for me. I think I remember that, too. But I remember being in a different house...Apparently we moved shortly after becoming friends.

I also remember playing with Barbie dolls in a wooded copse behind our house, but perhaps my friend wasn't there. That was always a favorite place for my sisters and I to play.

I'm sure my friend and I did trade Barbie outfits, although never the wedding dress I so coveted. Her mother had sewn her Barbie an entire wardrobe, and today she can't believe she ever parted with any of the pieces. And I can't believe that I have no recollection of what became of my treasured Barbie doll!

Oh, Barbie -- How could I have loved you so much that I would play with you into my teens, and then somehow just let you slip from my life with no fanfare; no memorial service? Where are you now, Barbie?

Hey -- Maybe we can become facebook friends...

Chasing Ambulances

2010-04-25T16:47:00.009-05:00

Early yesterday morning -- before 8:30 -- my son, Dominic, phoned to say that he was following his girlfriend, Sydney, to the hospital in an ambulance (Sydney, not Dominic).

Dominic and Sydney, Easter 2010

So Dominic was "chasing" an ambulance; but this post is not really about that ambulance...

First, however, let me assure you that Sydney is fine, if somewhat "out of it," resting at home after having her appendix removed yesterday afternoon. Yep. The tummy ache that had her doubled over, writhing in so much pain that Dominic could not move her on his own, turned out be acute appendicitis. The happy couple spent their entire Saturday (and Sydney, Saturday night) at the hospital. Quite a learning experience for Dominic -- and one I'm sure Sydney will be happy never to repeat!

But hearing the concern in Dominic's voice as he told me he was following the ambulance took me back more than 23 years, when my husband, Greg, followed an ambulance carrying me over icy roads. It was two days after Dominic had been born, and he'd been transferred the previous evening to a different hospital -- one with an Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. Greg had followed that ambulance, too, knowing that I'd be well cared for until the next morning, when I could be moved.

Cared for, I was. Frantic with worry, I was. Sleep, I did not.

I remember that my cot, or stretcher -- whatever it's called -- was inclined enough so that I could see Greg in the car behind us. He looked frantic and sleepless, too.

So far, that's the only time I've taken a ride in an ambulance. It wasn't much fun. Thank God I was delivered safely, reunited with my baby boy. Thank God there was a hospital with a NICU nearby for us to be transferred to. Thank God for wonderful doctors and nurses -- and for miracles. Because of all of that, we were able to bring Dominic home in our car a month later. And now he's able to "chase" ambulances in his own car.

I Still Love My Dr. Pulmonologist...

2010-03-19T20:31:00.043-05:00

For a while, I wasn't sure, though. Really. I thought we might be through...

After treating me so kindly, listening to all my worries, and then sometimes changing his planned course of treatment so that I would feel more comfortable...after making me feel like a real, thinking, breathing person, and not just as a bottomless drug receptacle...after assuring me that I could call him whenever I felt like I was getting sick, or even if I just had a question...After all of that, my beloved Dr. Pulmonogist just turned up...

...[Gasp] missing!

I was sick -- really, really sick. Fever-of-102 sick. I needed Dr. Pulmonologist, but I was told he wouldn't be in this week -- or next. I was offered an appointment with his Nurse Practicioner; I accepted.

Now you know all about My Awesome Husband Greg, right? How he loves taking care of people -- especially me? How, at the beginning of my being really-really sick, he couldn't do enough to make sure I was warm/cool/quenched/comfortable? But I was taking a long time to get over being really-really sick, and life (i.e., The Show) had to go on. It was Valentine's Day, and Greg had obligations to fulfill with The Greensboro Tarheel Chorus...Singing valentines promised must become singing valentines delivered!

So with a fever that should have precluded my operating a motor vehicle (or other heavy machinery), I drove myself to Dr. Pulmonologist's office, hoping for some relief from his N.P.

N.P. seemed like some sort of an angel to me -- But then, I was so wrought with fever, I had hugged the trash can in the hallway because it didn't give me a dirty look when I accidentally bumped into it. She spoke in the most loving, soothing tones. So did all of the other nurses and attendants -- even the one who put that little germ-catcher mask on my face. I know that's supposed to be their job, but I still wanted to lie my head on their collective shoulders and let them soothe away all my aches and pains...

Yep -- In my feverish vulnerability, I was pulled in by all the free-flowing kindness going around that day. That's why I could only argue weekly -- and unconvincingly -- when N.P. told me she was going to inject me with 80 milligrams of prednisone, and then have me take decreasing doses of the stuff for a week. She smiled affectionately when I told her that I'd just gotten that monkey off my back, and didn't care to pick it up again. (Later, sans fever, I realized the smile was part of her caring/compassionate act, and that she really wasn't even listening to me.)

That's why I walked out of that office with prescriptions for cough syrup with codeine, musinex, and an antibiotic I would later discover cost the insurance company nearly 500 dollars after my co-pay. (Poor insurance company.) That's Me -- the one who doesn't want to take drugs...anymore.

So I didn't take them. I smoked herbal cigarettes, hand-rolled by my Helpful Husband Greg. I steamed my head and face over pots of boiling water and sea salt. I ate raw ginger root.

I'd like to say I got "cured,", but I can't. I did, however, recover from whatever was causing my fever/chills/achy feeling all over -- kind of like the flu, but apparently not.

And I did finally have a follow-up visit with Dr. Pulmonologist. Who, although he may have been acting out of fear, asked me lots of intelligent-sounding questions about my holistic remedies, told me he wasn't against my using them, and told me to let him know if anything helped so he could pass the info along to other patients. You know -- kind of like I was his partner or something.

Best of all, he told me that, even though the Pulmonary Function Test I took that day showed that my pulmonary was not functioning as well as it had been six months ago, if I was happy with the way I was feeling, he'd be okay with my not taking any prednisone for a while. (Even though he thinks I should probably be on at least a small dose.)

So because I'm trying to be an optimist here, I've decided to stay in love with my Dr. Pulmonologist, because he lets me make up my own stuff. (If I were not being an optimist, I might think he really doesn't know what to do, and has decided to just wait and see. Hey -- maybe he's hoping for a miracle, too!)

The Butterfly Connection

2010-02-24T18:02:00.013-06:00

"Blue Butterfly," August, 2009, Kate's LRDC

Please use your imagaination on this one...i.e., imagine that you are listening to a beautiful symphony, or Jeff Buckley's "Hallelujah" (my preference), if you will, as you watch the beautiful butterfly lift and lower its wings. Because if I were more techno-savvy, I would be able to figure out how to have that happen for you. Then you wouldn't have to listen to the cars passing by in front of the house as you watch my little video clip. (Yes, I will accept applause and other accolades for figuring out how to upload the video...but I must share credit for that with my talented fellow-blogger, Liz Abruzzo (http://humaneegoist.blogspot.com)...I remembered, Liz!)

Now, on to the blog...

Today (February 25) marks the ninth anniversary of the day my mother died. It was winter then, as it is now. Girl Scout cookies had just been delivered, same as this year. It was a cold, rainy day, brightened only slightly by the cookies, just like many days we've recently had. But late that Sunday afternoon, as our family headed to the hospital after receiving word that Mom had died (It was my beautiful Meagan who called us...She was the one Grandma chose to share her special moment with), the sun broke through and began working on our broken hearts...

Of course we haven't stopped missing Mom, haven't stopped thinking of her, hearing her voice or her laugh at least once a day. We cry less now, although that does still happen. Time has made it easier, as they say. It doesn't lessen the missing part -- It's just that the muscles that you use for missing get stronger, and less tender, I guess.

Somehow we got through the rest of that winter.

I remember playing tennis with some friends on one of the first beautiful spring days we had in April. The sun was so warm and the air so clean. I remember consciously thinking, I feel good!, surprising myself by doing so.

I don't remember anything about the tennis; it would probably be fair to say I was not a "winner." But still, I felt good! As I was getting into my car, one of my friends walked over to me and said, "Kate, I don't know what it is, but I have to tell you...when I look at you, I see you surrounded by butterflies!"

I got a lump in my throat, knowing it had something to do with Mom. I called Donna when I got home to tell her that my mom had recently died, and I felt that the butterflies she saw must somehow be connected to the good feeling I had had on the courts. She reminded me then that butterflies are a spiritual medium...

Ever since that day, whenever I see a butterfly, I know my mom sent it.

That is why I was so pleased to be able to capture this one with my Little Red Digital Camera last summer. I wanted to share it. I wish I could also share some beautiful music...

My Lost Weekend

2010-02-08T17:08:00.007-06:00

"The Lost Weekend," 2/8/10 (Kate, MSN Paint)

Being sick is no fun. I know I really shouldn't complain, because except for this past weekend, I can't even remember the last time I was sick -- In spite of working with the public, in spite of having "compromised" lungs, and in spite of not getting a flu shot this year. So maybe I'm just being a big baby. But still...

Oh sure, I've had all the usual issues associated with inhaling toxic quantities of dust (and God knows what else) in My Very Own Fabric Store. Those I can deal with. That's why, when I came home from work on Saturday feeling like I'd been run over by a delivery truck, I just thought Oh, well, a couple hours of breathing uncontaminated air, and I'll be fine. And I went merrily along with My Awesome Husband Greg to play Wii Bowling with our friends.

And I did ok -- for some reason, I did much better throwing the "ball" under my leg or swinging it around my head a couple of times before releasing it -- for two games. Then I realized that my throat was hurting, I was shivering, and even my teeth felt bruised. I knew I was more than "overly tired."

By the time MAHG (who really is awesome, because he was having a fantastic time "bowling," yet he complained not at all about having to leave the party) got me home, I wasn't interested in washing my face or brushing my teeth. I managed to change into pajamas, because let's face it -- blue jeans do not make good sleepwear -- and climbed under the covers, having MAHG add a couple more for good measure. And I slept.

At some point Sunday morning I left my bed and found my way to the living room chair and a different pile of blankets. But that's all that changed. I stayed in that chair, in my pajamas, for the entire day. (MAHG, of course, brought me juice, water and acetaminophen, because that just how he is.)

And then I got up and went to bed again. And slept.

Today, I'm still a little feverish, but I did get up. I took a shower, washed my hair, and put on a clean pair of jeans. And some makeup. I did some laundry, and I did some office work for MAHG. (I figured I owed him at least that!) I still feel kind of lousy, and I'm still dosing myself with Tylenol, but I hope by tomorrow this will just be a memory.

Well, of course it won't be...I never remember when I'm sick. That's why it hits me so hard when it happens. But you know what I'm saying, right?

Charlie-Bean and Multi-Blogging

2010-01-25T16:48:00.009-06:00

This is just to let you know that I have started a new blog. Because one blog wasn't enough of a distraction to keep me away from all of the other things I'm supposed to be doing. I needed more...

My new blog (which link should be available on my profile page) is entitled "Beansprout, and you can find it at http://charliesprout.blogspot.com. That is where I will be writing about my life and times with my new granddaughter, Charlotte...

Oh -- Haven't you heard?

Charlotte Rose Kopp made her debut this morning at 3:26. You can read all about it in my other blog! I'll still be writing here from time to time, of course...You know, all those posts where I whine and complain about stuff. But for photos and stories about Charlie, please check out my Beansprout!

Thanksgiving 2009: A Retrospective Blog

2010-01-24T14:32:00.005-06:00

Meagan and Joe, Thanksgiving Day 2009 (My LRDC)

This past Thanksgiving, just like all of the other Thanksgivings before it, was filled with blessings for which I am thankful. But this one had something extra...

At the end of the day, after the feast had been consumed, the food put away, the dishes washed...after the table had been taken over by the "players" (those who chose to take part in games like Balderdash and Catch Phrase , My Dazzling -- and Expecting -- Daughter Meagan and I shared a special time on the living room sofa...

As the games commenced in the kitchen, the two of us put our feet up and pored over the journals I had kept for Meagan while I was looking forward to her imminent birth.

Although I had read through some of my entries when I pulled the notebooks out of storage a few days earlier, there was much that I had forgotten about those days of anxious anticipation, coupled with a desire to keep things status quo; I knew it would never again be so easy to provide my child with everything she needed!

It's hard for me to describe what it meant to me to sit there on the couch with my hand on the warm little mound that is "The Bean," listening to my daughter read out loud, sometimes exclaiming, sometimes laughing. It brought back memories of all those other Thanksgivings -- and all of the other just plain old days -- which I can clearly see have all been blessed beyond belief by the gift and the love of my family!

My Hair: A Trivial Matter of [No] Small Concern

2010-01-22T10:26:00.022-06:00

This week my hair has become the topic of an ongoing "thread" of discussion on facebook. Well, not just my hair. We were also talking about some of my friends' hair. You know, the tendency hair gets to need be reminded what color it's supposed to be...How, when it starts fading to gray, we have to apply something that resembles its "true" color. Or not. Sometimes we just say, "Oh, to hell with it!" and pick some other color -- even if it's a color not normally seen on hair. Like this...

Kate, June 2005 -- The "Crazy" Summer

Actually, what started the discussion was a comparison of childhood hairstyles. I remembered how my mother always cut "smiley" bangs for me, and spent God knows how long coaxing it around her finger into "banana curls." (She later subjected me to pincurls over my ears so I could resemble Bozo the Clown. Too bad she never thought about dying it red back then!)

Kate, circa 1955 -- "Smile!"

But back to the subject at hand -- The way my hair looks now!

Kate, January 22, 2010 -- A Work in Progress

And this is a good hair day. Those are few, and far between. (Actually, the only difference between a good hair day and a bad hair day is that on a bad hair day (i.e., three out of four), the sides of my bangs curl out from my face in a smiley flip.)

Although I have received a few compliments recently on what I've "done with my color," I would prefer to withdraw from my life until I've returned to what I hope will be a nice, silvery gray. (Because, you know, the most important thing in life is to look good -- or at least look like you're trying!) But since I can't do that, I look at old photos of when I did have gray hair to remind me that it might be worth waiting out...

Kate, circa 2003 -- Talk-Talk-Talk...

And to show that I bear no grudges against my mom for the bangs and pincurls, I'd like to include this picture of My Dazzling Daughter Meagan, Mom and me from Mom's last Thanksgiving. I think she'd approve of my gray hair now. (And she'd definitely aprove of me becoming a grandma in a couple of weeks!)

Meagan, Rose and Kate, Thanksgiving 2000

HEY -- CAN YOU SEE MY FACE?!!

2010-01-19T20:58:00.010-06:00

Can you?

Because this is what My Face is doing:

"My Face" (MSN Paint, 1/19/10)

Do you know why My Face is doing that?

My face is doing that because you just ran a red light, causing me to slam on my brakes to avoid being t-boned -- and possibly injured. That's why My Face is doing that!

But, of course you can't see My Face -- You can't even see my car, can you?

So My Face and I are following your car as you veer crazily down the road strictly for our own entertainment. (And possibly entertaining one or two other drivers, as well.)

But it makes me feel good, following you with My Face like this -- like maybe you'll see My Face and think Oh My God! I've just run a red light! I should be more careful...I could have hurt someone!

Well, here's where I turn off to go to work...I have to stop following you now, and fix My Face some other way. You have a nice day -- And do be careful!

Getting Physical: Another Blog About Hazards in the Workplace

2010-01-18T07:40:00.029-06:00

At first I preferred to think of it as Tough Love. I later decided that it was simply Verbal Abuse. But when I returned home from My Very Own Fabric Store last night looking like this...

"The Day it Got Physical" (Kate, Pencake Ecards, 1/18/10)

...I recognized its name: Physical Abuse.

Oh, yeah. That's what it was, all right. Not that she actually pulled that huge roll of decorator fabric down on my face, but she was just as responsible for my injury as if she had!

If she had not just chided me for working too slowly as I measured and cut massive quantities of fleece fabric, stopping between each cut to re-roll the fabric left on the bolt so that it could more easily be replaced later...

If the memory of her hounding me as I pushed a dustmop over that filthy floor last weekend, pointing out every dustball that managed to escape my reach, was not still relatively fresh in my mind...

If I hadn't been reflecting earlier about how she had chastised me for spending too much time with my customers, walking around the store with them, helping them decide what might work best for their various projects...

Well, then I might not have been so angry that I let Rage take the place of Reason. But she had, it was, and I had been.

So there I was, trying to replace one of those gi-normous rolls of Home Dec on its metal rod, holding it over my head, blindly trying to find the right slot for that rubber-tipped pole, all the while fantasizing about how I would say, Look, Bitch! I do a good job around here, okay? I'm not even allowed to touch sharp objects at home! I have my own skill-set, and it doesn't include running with scissors and mopping floors. Maybe my gift is that I know how to be nice to people. So maybe you should just shut up and start sweeping!

Unfortunately, anger is not compatible with jobs that require manual dexterity. I thought I had located the bracket that would hold the end of that rod securely as I slid the other end into place; I thought incorrectly.

I'm not sure exactly how it happened, but the next thing I knew, a heavy roll of cream-colored brocade was crashing into my face, knocking my glasses askew and tenderizing my nose. (I'm okay. The two tears that I surreptitiously let fall were more from my frustration at not being able to actually say those things than from pain.) I didn't realize until later, when I felt the scab on my chin as I waited for a customer to hand over the cash, that I had been scarred by the experience.

Physical Abuse, it was. Sigh. Wish I could find my rose-colored glasses!

Bow Tie: The Award

2010-01-13T15:24:00.017-06:00

My Awesome Husband Greg and Some Other Guys Wearing Bow Ties (Kate's LRDC, Oct. 24, 2009)

Last weekend the awards gods were smiling on the Fischers...

First, as I've already documented in this blog ("Barn Scene/Pencake Free Ecard">, Jan. 9, 2010), I found out that I had been named a co-winner in a drawing contest. Nothing worth blogging about, really, but I was inordinately pleased with myself for several hours.

Then, as My Awesome Husband Greg and I were on our way to the installation banquet for the Greensboro Tarheel Chorus later that evening, he informed me that he'd been informed by our Dazzling Daughter Meagan that her Awesome (but Untouted) Husband Joe had been dubbed "Employee of the Year" the night before! Now that's something to blog about. Unfortunately, Meagan doesn't blog; and since Joe doesn't, either, I get that he's not the kind of guy who likes to tell everyone about everything he does. So I'll just say that we're very proud of him, feel certain that he deserved the honor, and leave it at that...

But really, congratulations, Joe -- We've very proud of you, and know that you deserved it!

(On top of that, Meagan and Joe's team won the company's annual Trivial Pursuit tournament, but they probably wouldn't want me bragging about that either.)

Now let's see...Seems like there was something else...

Oh yeah! That installation banquet I mentioned earlier...the one we were on our way to when I heard Joe and Meagan's good news? Well, that was where MAHG was given a fine-looking framed document declaring that he was the Barbershopper of the Year! (That's BOTY. Bow Tie. Get it?)

You talk about proud!

Of course, I'm talking about myself being proud, not Greg. Greg was, in fact, humbled by the honor. He really hadn't seen it coming. But everything that the group's president said in presenting the award was absolutely true: Greg is always there, ready to help in any capacity necessary; but more than that, he's a natural leader -- he's able to see what needs to be done to improve a situation, knows how to get it done, and does it.

Greg's like that at home, too, but I'm sorry to say that he doesn't get plaques and accolades for it. He probably should, but he's lucky if I stop complaining and remember to say thanks every once in a while. That must be why he was so surprised to be lauded for those qualities.

Well, let me say here that MAHG also deserved his award, and that I was very proud to stand up with him that night (even though I'd worked all day, hadn't had time to put on fresh makeup, was wearing colors that were not on my "most flattering" list and my hair looked like a pile of multi-colored crap -- Sorry, Honey!)

Oh, one more thing: Greg has a wonderful voice, and he loves to sing. That's why he joined the Chorus. His singing around the house (as he has done nearly every single day that we've been together) is one thing about him that I will never take for granted!

This is Where I Would Flip a Switch...

2010-01-12T05:55:00.029-06:00

Sigh. It's over. My hope for each new day...my motivation for getting out of bed...dare I say -- my reason for living? The Christmas tree is gone.

Every morning for the two or three weeks before and the week or two after Christmas, getting out of bed becomes something I actually look forward to, because I know that once I make it down the stairs on my creaky ankles and knees, I need only take three or four more steps before I can reach the switch that lights the miniature white bulbs on our Christmas tree. Just a flip of that switch and, voila! The room (which, for me, symbolizes the day that has just dawned) takes on a beautiful, warm glow that elicits feelings of love and goodwill toward men.

"Oh, Christmas Tree..." Kate's LRDC, December 2009

Alas. Now, two and a half weeks after the Most Wonderful Day of the Year, the tree is gone. It's been lying naked by the curb, bereft of its glorious lights, stripped of all of those beautiful, shiny ornaments, since last Saturday, when My Awesome Husband Greg decided it was becoming a fire hazzard. (True, I can still admire the ornaments as they adorn the coffee table...I'll probably leave them there until at least Valentine's Day. But without the greenery and lights, they don't hold quite the same charm.)

I guess you could say we're back to "normal" now. But I still like to pretend, as I head down those cold, dark stairs in the morning, that within seconds I'll be flipping a switch and lighting up a new day. Sigh.

Seriously, People?!!

2010-01-11T20:44:00.021-06:00

Do you remember this picture? It's me, reveling in my fine fortune almost a year ago, when I first began working in MVOFS. (My Very Own Fabric Store, March 15, 2009.)

Back then, I loved absolutely everything about My Very Own Fabric Store! As a matter fact, I posted several blogs declaring that love, which I thought would never fade.

But there was something that didn't show up in my self-portrait that day...

...the rose-colored glasses!

Well, I'm here now to admit that perhaps I was a bit delusional when I wrote about how kind, wonderful, considerate and patient all of the customers were in MVOFS. Maybe I was being overly effusive when I gushed about how much I loved thread and zippers and planagrams...

Ah, but now the glasses are off.

Perhaps it's just post-holiday letdown -- the customers' and mine. Or maybe we're all a little bit cranky from working so hard to hold it all together as we tried to find some Comfort and Joy. Whatever it is, something is causing my undying love to become more, well, dying.

Maybe it began with the woman who wanted to know why she could not return a pattern, when the store policy taped to the check-out counter clearly states that we don't allow customers to do that. "It's the store policy" is like "Because I'm your mother." I shouldn't have to explain it to her.

Then there was the lady who came in carrying nary a fabric swatch, a spool of thread, or a bottle of nail polish for comparison. She simply declared that she wanted some watermelon pink fabric to make a bridesmaid's dress. We had, at the time, at least eight different fabrics that I would describe as "watermelon pink." But to each one, she said, "No. That's not watermelon pink."

Or the lady who interrupted my conversation with another customer -- the one who was asking if I could get those five huge rolls of home dec fabric off the top row so she could see if she liked them -- to ask, "Is there someone here who makes Indian doll clothes?" (Happy as I was to be pulled away from hefting gigantic bolts of fabric from lofty heights, all I could do was gape at her and say, "Huh?")

Or how about the man who accosted me as I was rushing back to tell the lady on the phone that no, we no longer had any UNC fleece fabric...He wanted to know if we had any of that fabric you cover kitchen chairs with. And also, could I tell him now much he would need. He'd never sewed before, but he had this idea that he could take his ladderback chairs and turn them into parsons chairs with a little bit of foam and the right fabric. Oh yeah -- and a pattern, too, of course.

But just as perplexing was the whiny little woman wanting to know why a particular pattern didn't come in her size -- And she expected me to have an answer.

I don't know -- Maybe it's just me. I do seem to be a little on the dark side lately. Maybe everything will seem brighter when I go back tomorrow...

You know, now that I think if it, I'd been there for about an hour yesterday before I realized that all of the elastic had disappeared from the waistband of my tights, and, and that I was struggling to walk around with the crotch just a couple inches above my knees. Do you suppose something like that might have affected my attitude? Hmmmmmm.

It Waved at Me!

2010-01-11T07:39:00.025-06:00

Last week, not to outdone by my Pregnant (but still Dazzling) Daughter Meagan, I had an ultrasound of my heart (aka Echocardiogram)*...

I was ushered into a dimly lit room with a table (the kind you lie on), a chair and some fancy looking computer equipment. The soft-spoken technician with the very kind face had me recline on the table, and explained that she was going to rub some oil on my chest. (Although it's been a few years since I've had an ultrasound -- 23 to be exact -- I remembered that oil, and I braced myself for the cold. But to my relief, what she used was exactly body temperature -- I didn't feel a thing!)

For the next 20 minutes or so, she moved her stylus (or whatever it's called) over and around my chest as she explained to me exactly which parts of my heart were showing up on her monitor. Her voice was so soothing, the lights so dim, my position so comfortable, that I nearly dozed (but wanting to be polite, I tried to interject my "ohs" and "m-hmmmms" in all the appropriate places).

As I said, it's been a long time, but seeing my heart this way was not unlike seeing my babies on up on that monitor...The same shadowy shapes, undulating with life -- In fact, I think I even saw it wave at me...

"Ultrasound" by Kate, 1/11/10 (MSN Paint)

*The reason for the ultrasound was just to be sure my heart is ok now -- to establish a "baseline." I hope that doesn't mean things are expected to change, but due to my Oxygen Deficit Disorder (Scary Doctor Blog, Oct. 1, 2008) I understand that is a possibility. I still haven't heard back from my wonderful and trusted Dr. Pulmonologist, which I assume is a good thing. At the time of the test, I asked the nice tech if she could tell if anything was blooey from what she was seeing. Of course she's not allowed to say, but she assured me that if she saw anything "emergent," I would not be allowed to leave without seeing a cardiologist -- and she didn't see anything like that. (Whew!)

Barn Scene | Pencake Free Ecard

2010-01-09T16:14:00.021-06:00

"Red Barn" by Kate, Pencake Ecards, December 2009

Hi there -- Remember me? I used to write this blog. Sometimes I still think about writing it...Like I'll log on and do a few lines of a draft so I can remember a certain day or event, something that I thought of...But then Life (i.e., facebook, work, sleep, etc.) intervenes, and I somehow never manage to get back to my blog...

Then today I came home from work, sat down in front of my computer and logged on to Pencake. That's facebook's biggest competitor for my time[-wasting] efforts. (Actually, they're related...I learned about Pencake on facebook). I've been drawing pictures there for several months. Apparently it's addictive, because I can't seem to stay away from it for more than a few days.

Anyway, as I was saying, I logged on today, and found out that I was a "co-winner" in their Santa/Snowman Card Contest! (I'm not sure yet, but I think that means I get I get a t-shirt or something.)

Now if I understand this correctly, the link to my winning drawing is the title of this post. You should be able to click on it to "replay" the drawing, complete with all the rub-outs and do-overs that were part of the process. (You can also see the comments that were made about it. The guy who says "congratulations -- late, but congrats anyway" is my co-winner. I'm not sure whether he was being nasty or nice, but we're still co-winners!)

There now. I've blogged again. That was kind of fun. Maybe I'll be back tomorrow...

It's Jordyn's Birthday!

2009-11-13T14:43:00.007-06:00
Yesterday (November 12, 2009) was Jordyn Paige Gottlieb's 7th birthday!

You may remember Jordyn; I've mentioned her several or more times in this Blog...

She's my imaginary grandchild, my tiny best friend and she's my Sunshine!

Of course I had to make her a birthday cake...

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JORDYN!

I LOVE YOU WITH ALL OF MY HEART!

Getting it Off My Chest -- And Out of My Mind!

2009-10-23T17:06:00.034-05:00
It's been a very long day and, as on most Fridays, I'm exhausted. I'm home alone, unless you count my Loving Son Dominic. (I usually don't at the end of a workday, because that's when he's so absorbed in his guitars and computer that he doesn't even pretend to be available to me.) Seems like the perfect time for a quick nap before dinner. But there's a problem. I can't fall asleep. See, there's something bothering me...

I know it's been a while, but you may recall that I've been working at My Very Own Fabric Store for about seven months now...Remember this?

Kate in Her Very Own Fabric Store, (MSN Paint) from "My Very Own Fabric Store," March 15, 2009

I really do still love working there, but you know how, sometimes, even though you really, really love something, you still just want to punch a hole in it? Well, today was sort of like that. Twice.

Okay, maybe the first one wasn't really punchworthy. A scathing "Well, at least I passed Charm School!" probably would have sufficed. But somehow -- and perhaps this is a sign that, having recently been thrust from my mid- into my late-50's, I am finally starting to grow up -- I was able to hold my tongue until that Big Stupid Ass-Head had left the store. (And I didn't even roll my eyes and say "Who took his cookie?" to the remaining customers in line!)

Wanna know what happened?

Oh, I knew you would!

It was an extremely busy Friday at MVOFS, but it was the kind of busy that I enjoy: Lots of customers, all with nice, easy transactions. You know -- where you're able to carry on a conversation, share a joke or two, smile, wish everyone a nice day and really mean it...the kind of day where time passes pleasantly, and all of a sudden it's time to go home. But not quite yet...

First, I noticed that my cash drawer was getting low on ones, and that I had no fives or tens, either. Then there was a spate of customers with cash. All at once I found myself asking people if they had anything smaller than a twenty, trying to keep from completely running out of small bills before someone could get to the bank. During one such transaction, I had to ask the customer to change her tender after I had rung up her sale; the amount of change that the computer told me to give her had to be re-figured. The line was getting longer and I became flustered, thinking (no -- knowing) that I was starting to look like an idiot. I had to resort to using a calculator to figure out how much change to give the customer and still have the cash drawer come out right at the end of the day.

That's when I heard the next customer in line sigh dramatically (translation: very loudly). I got even more flustered, and had to start over. Then that obnoxious little...Well, never mind what he is. He announced to the world in general, with no detectable humor, "Somebody didn't pass math class."

That's when I wished I could have used my charm school bon mot; but as I said, I'm older and (ahem) wiser now, so I just smiled a little to myself (for effect) and said "You're absolutely right about that."

It took me a few more minutes (and a couple more goes at the calculator) to be sure that my customer was getting the correct change. Then it was BSA-Head's turn. And by now I was feeling more like this:

Bad Fabric Store Guy by Kate (MSN Paint, October 23, 2009)

(I was somewhat heartened by the fact that no one laughed or cheered. Because if it had been a movie, and if he had been the Good Guy, everyone behind him would have pumped their fists in the air and shouted stuff like, "Yeah! That's right!" and "You tell her, Chief!" But they didn't do that. That means that I was the Good Guy, and he was definitely the Bad Guy.)

But, wait -- The story doesn't end here. I was about to come face-to-face with the Baddest Customer in All of Fabricstoredom!

Here, let me set this up for you...

During a lull (or before the onslaught -- I can't remember which), I had grabbed a quick moment to carry some returned merchandise to the back of the store, pausing just long enough to help a needy customer on my way back to the register. That's when I noticed a large box containing a very expensive folding craft lamp sitting on the other counter. I didn't know where it had come from, but I knew it hadn't been there earlier; I'd used that counter to rewind some fabric onto bolts. Hmmm, I thought...Someone's probably going to buy that, and doesn't want to carry it around the store. My customers are so very clever!

During my quick dash through the store, I had also noticed a tough-looking woman in (surprise!) a pink tee-shirt walking among the fabrics. (I notice a lot of things in MVOFS, not of all of them blogworthy. Trust me -- this is, simply for the fact that it was at least another hour before I encountered Tough Pink Tee-Shirt Woman again.

Have you guessed? Yep. Just a few people behind Big Stupid You-know-who, was TPT Woman. When it was her turn, she barked, "I wanna return that stuff," indicating the lamp in the box, along with a couple of other items -- which definitely hadn't been there when I'd fist noticed the box. (I will absolutely embarrass myself arguing with you if you try to tell me that they were there. That's how positive I am that they were not!)

Well, strictly adhering to MVOFS's policy, I said, "Do you have your receipt?" She muttered something about not having a receipt, but she had her debit card, which she'd had when she bought them. Knowing that there was a little piece of paper taped to the counter that would back me up, I politely declared, "I'm sorry, but we can't take returns without a receipt." She started sputtering then, and looking mean, so I quickly glanced toward the cutting table where our "acting" manager was buried past her nose in piles of fleece she was cutting for other customers. I told TPT Woman that if she would wait a moment, I'd get the manager for her. That's when she started looking downright hateful, and said, "You mean wait here longer than I already have?!! Forget it! I'll go home and find my receipt!"

I felt instant relief that what had rapidly turned into the single most unpleasant situation I'd yet experienced in MVOFS had been so quickly remedied. But when she stormed over to the other counter and grabbed up that big box, along with sewing machine oil and grommet tool she'd also set there (think she had a plan?), it hit me like a ton of bricks: She hadn't brought that stuff in to return at all. She'd been "casing" the place when I'd first noticed her. Seeing that everyone was immersed in either cutting fabric or ringing up purchases, she knew she would have plenty of time to leisurely place her "haul" on that counter and later convince me that she had brought it in with her!

Alas, she tipped her hand when I asked, perhaps just a bit incredulously (before I stopped to think how it would sound), "Did you say you brought this stuff in with you?" She said, "Yes, I did. I set it right here on this counter. You were right there." But I knew I hadn't been there. And I knew that those three items were not placed on that counter at the same time.

I also realized (hindsight) that most customers doing what she was claiming to have done would have announced, "Hey, I'm returning this stuff...I'm just gonna leave it here until I'm done shopping, okay?" (And why wouldn't they? Otherwise, someone might think they were trying to put one over on us!)

I have to admit that this time it wasn't wisdom, but fear, that made me keep my mouth shut, even though everything that's in me wanted me to point my finger, narrow my eyes and spit "Liar!" at her. (Remember, pink tee-shirt aside, she was tough, mean and hateful-looking!) Of course, keeping quiet was the right thing to do. Even before I read all that stuff in our employee manual about treating customers as we would guests in our homes, I think I knew on some level that Fabric Store Guys like me aren't supposed to call their customers liars. But still!

TPT Woman let us know with an afternoon phone call that she'd be coming in tomorrow to talk to the manager about returning her loot. I'm glad I won't be working then...but I would kinda like to be a fly on the wall.

Thanks for listening. Maybe I'll be able to get some sleep tonight!

Baby Bean -- A Grandmother's Perspective

2009-09-29T05:54:00.006-05:00

This is how our Meagan's little "Belly Bean" looked on September 1, 2009. Of course she's a month older now. A month bigger, a month smarter, prettier, more talented...whatever. A month closer to actually being here -- In fact, we're halfway there!

Yesterday, her other Grandma, Vickie, and I went with Meagan for her appointment with the midwife. There, with the help of Doppler, we were able to hear little Bean's heartbeat. And we were just as awestruck as I remember being when I heard my own two little belly beans' heartbeats, oh so long ago.

For now, only Meagan can feel her daughter's movements. But in another month or so, we'll all be able to share the excitement. (If Meagan is willing, of course.) Until then, the sound of that tiny little heart beating away -- and ultrasound photos like the one above -- assure us that, really and truly, there is a baby -- a baby girl -- growing and thriving inside there. And we love her already.

Taking Inventory

2009-09-27T15:16:00.011-05:00

That's a whole lot of bolts of fabric -- My Very Own Fabric Store is very huge!

I had realized a week earlier that the impending "Inventory" was something to be reckoned with. And as with all other things that require reckoning, I just let preparations unfurl around me (or un-unfurl, in the case of the draped fabrics). I asked no questions, trusting that someone would tell me what I needed to do and when I needed to do it. They did, but not a moment too soon...

Last Wednesday, D-Day for Inventory (I-Day?), I arrived at 6:00 a.m. on the dot to find a large cluster of unfamiliar people at the very center of MVOFS. (Unfamiliar and unfriendly people -- Not one of them responded to my friendly smile and warm "Hello!")

As I walked past them to clock in, I heard one of them say "Cheryl wants us all in the back," so after I had punched the timeclock, not yet seeing anyone I knew, I joined Cheryl's group at the back of the store, where I was immediately thrown into a quiet little panic attack! They were all holding little electronic scanning devices, as Cheryl explained that these devices would beep seven times and that meant something about a scale that would be placed at the end of each row...Oh My God! I was thinking. I must have missed a training session! Which one of these grumpy-looking people was going to be nice enough to explain everything to me -- and where was my scanner?!!

That's when my Assistant Manager appeared from the office, along with a couple of my fellow Sales Associates -- I was never happier to see a familiar face or two in my life! So I was told what to do and when to do it. And it was actually kind of fun. First I spent a few hours unwinding bolts of fabric and batting, measuring them, re-rolling and tagging them. (Not bad at all with no customers bugging you to cut some off for them and then let them pay you for it!)

Oh -- but here is where I must interject: If you come into MVOFS intending to buy some of the very expensive velvet fabric that hangs on a special rack from special hangers with sharp little spikes attached to them, you'd be better be pretty darned sure you want it before you ask us to take it off those hangers so you can see what a yard or two looks like! 'Nuff said.

Just around the time I was getting kind of bored with all that unrolling and measuring, I was given a Special Assignment. For reasons having mostly to do with my height, I suspect, I was appointed to follow one of those Inventory People around the Home Dec Department, lifting up each and every little knick-knack, taking pictures down from the walls, upending furniture -- whatever it took to expose each individual SKU number. Then I was to mark where we'd been with special yellow stickers. That made me feel very important, indeed. (And it turns out that this particular Inventory Person was actually quite friendly and nice after all. So you should never judge an individual by the group she hangs out with!)

On I-Day I worked 7-1/2 hours -- The closest I've come to a full day by far in the six months that I've been working in MVOFS. I still love working there, but I hope it will be at least another year before I-Day rolls 'round again. That was intense!

The Best Gift She Ever Gave Him

2009-09-25T07:20:00.015-05:00
Alternate Title: Memories of a Couch

Kate with Chocolate Easter Bunnies, circa 1955, but...

...what I want you to notice in this photograph is not the fat-faced kid lovin' on a bunch of chocolate...I'd like to draw your attention to that couch in the background. Difficult, I know, since the Kid Who Loves Chocolate is so much the focus as the couch fades into near-oblivion, but picture this, if you will:

That couch was an indescribable rose color. There was a chair to match, but other than those two things, I don't think I've ever seen another piece of furniture quite that shade of pinkish-red. It had a rough texture; I remember that so well...

That was the couch on which I was forced to take my naps after a half-day of Kindergarten. (Such an insult to a Big Girl like me!)

That was the couch on which I was sitting one evening just before supper. My siblings were all on the floor in front of me, and we were watching "Poopdeck Paul" on tv while Dad helped Mom in the kitchen. I had one of those little pink plastic lipsticks on my pinky finger...You know -- the kind that used to come in little plastic purses with little plastic combs and little plastic mirrors? As I watched tv, I was mindlessly sucking the thing off my finger, then forcing it back on with my breath. But once I sucked a little too hard and it headed directly down my windpipe. My life flashed before me -- all seven or eight years of it. Everyone in the room was fixated on a stupid Popeye cartoon, completely unaware that their oldest sister was expiring behind them. All of a sudden, a miracle! The little pink tube popped right of my throat and onto the floor. I was alive! (And ashamed at the foolish thing I'd almost done. I laid my face against the rough surface of that couch and cried a little bit. No one ever knew.)

That was the couch on which we used to roughhouse, throwing ourselves over the padded arms and nearly breaking our necks by landing in awkward positions on the cushions.

That was the couch where I used to lie, shivering, when I would wake up in the middle of the night, afraid of my own bed. That couch was right outside Mom and Dad's bedroom door, and if I took my pillow downstairs with me, I could lie on that couch and fall safely asleep, listening to my parents breathe. (I never thought to bring a blanket, too.)

That was the couch where Mom gathered us all during storms in an attempt to get us as far away as possible from that big picture window on the front of our house. (Our Michigan basement with its dirt floor and God knows what kind of wildlife was never an option.)

And that the was the couch my dad and I were leaning against as we sat on the floor on September 23, 1957. I have no recollection of where my sisters were, but I know that my mom was still in the hospital, having just given birth that morning to my brother, Mark -- my first brother. In my heart, I can still see my dad's face as he said, "Yep, this is the best birthday present she's ever given me -- a son."

We still have that boy, of course -- He just celebrated his 52nd birthday! I don't remember ever getting rid of that couch, but somewhere along the road it went to wherever it is that good, faithful old couches go. I know that when the stuffing started to show through that rough pink fabric, Mom covered it with a stylish green slipcover with big swatches of gold on it. (The matching chair, too, of course.)

Somewhere there are other photos of our family gathered around that couch. And of course there are all those memories...

The other day -- Mark's and Dad's birthday -- I was remembering that couch as the background of a very special moment I'd shared with my dad.

Happy Birthday Dad and Mark...I love you guys!

Gratuitous Photo of My Dad and His Two Sons (That's Mark on the left), August 2007

Remembering Frances...

2009-09-17T15:27:00.038-05:00
The Members of the "Intimate Book Group:" Frances Moore, Mary Elizabeth Kiester and Marilyn Brenneman, May 2009. (And of course, me.)

I remember many things about my friend, Frances...

I remember the day I met her. It was a rainy afternoon in April. I now know that the year was 1996, one year after her beloved Sam had passed away. I was the neighbor-to-neighbor volunteer that spring, collecting for the American Heart Association. I got very few responses to those little form letters you send out with the self-addressed, stamped envelopes. But one came back with a personal note..."Please come for a visit..." and a telephone number. It never ocurred to me not to call.

The note turned out to be from my neighbor across the street...Frances Moore -- a neighbor I had yet to meet, although our family had moved into the neighborhood five years earlier.

Although it would have been a short walk, I drove my car that day because it was raining...

I cannot tell you about my first impression of Frances without using the word "twinkly." The woman absolutely twinkled as she introduced herself and welcomed me into her home. I love telling how, upon finding out that I was teaching the 8th grade catechism class at our church, this retired 7th-8th grade English teacher clapsed her hands over her heart and said, "Oh, that is such a wonderful age!" Seriously -- she meant it! I knew then that she was, without a doubt, one of the best teachers that ever walked the halls of Guilford Middle School, and I was sad that she had retired before either of my children could have had her.

Something else I remember about that day is the James Thurber edition on her coffee table...

I was just coming off of a Thurber "binge." (That's how Frances described the times she had felt compelled to read everything a particular author has written.) Upon seeing her book, I told her how much I had enjoyed reading Thurber -- and things that had been written about him. That's how we discovered the bond that would cement our friendship for 13 years...Not just that we both loved James Thurber, but that we shared a passion for reading and authors, period!

I remember some of the wonderful authors I've read -- and fallen in love with -- simply because Frances suggested them -- John Ehle, Clyde Edgerton, Fred Chapel, Jan Karon, Tim McLaren. And I remember a few that we actually met in person...

Reynolds Price. We went together to see him speak at the main library downtown, and another time at Barnes & Noble. What an experience it must have been to have him as a teacher of writing...That strong, resonant voice...It was hard to believe that its owner was confined to a wheelchair!

Robert Morgan. Barnes & Noble again. A small group on a warm autumn afternoon. He read from his book, Gap Creek. He signed our copies, and impressed us as a perfect southern gentleman.

John Berendt. Remember Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil? This is one of my favorite France memories...

Berendt was speaking at Greensboro College, and Frances thought it would be nice to bring her friend, Emily, to see him, too. So I drove these two lovely ladies -- with their walkers in the trunk of my car -- downtown, found a place to park, and managed to get all of us into our seats before Mr. Berendt began his talk. Which was wonderful. He was very handsome, and an entertaining speaker.

At the end of the session, it was announced that the author would be signing copies of his book in another building on another part of the campus. Frances was concerned that she and Emily would have difficulty maneuvering their walkers across campus, and we knew the chances of my finding another parking place before everyone went home for dinner were pretty slim. As we were discussing our options, I saw Mr. Berendt come from behind the curtain and begin speaking with someone at the side of the stage.

Now this is not the type of thing I'm usually comfortable doing, but with Frances prompting me, I approached this rather intimidating fellow -- a New York Times best-selling author -- and explained that I was there with two friends with walkers, and, well, I'm sure he could see the difficulty...Would he mind just signing our books right then and there? He'd be making three ladies (two of them with walkers, remember) very happy, and he'd be saving us a lot of aggravation in the bargain!

I must say that although he obliged, he seemed a little tight-lipped as he looked over my shoulder; I felt properly chastised for being so bold. But when I turned around to find my friends...Gone -- both of them! I'm sure Mr. Berendt was thinking, C'mon, Lady -- Imaginary friends I can understand -- but both of them with walkers?! (I later found Frances and Emily -- and their walkers -- coming out of the restroom.)

I remember how I used to love visiting Frances at her house across the street. Oh, it was always a pleasure to visit Frances, even after she had moved into an assisted-living facility. She was ever the gracious hostess, and she always made me feel like she had nothing more important to do than to make me feel special. (And I know I'm not the only one who felt that way in her presence.)

The wonderful thing about visiting Frances across the street, though, was walking up her long driveway...It seemed like her house was a mile from the road, and that she had a magical forest for a front yard! I'm not exaggerating when I say I felt like Hansel and Gretel must have felt when they started out on their walk through the woods -- but without their apprehension. In this fairy tale, the creature who lived in the house at the end of the road was not a wicked witch, but a beautiful angel with a huge heart!

Oh, I remember so many more things about Frances. I am so thankful for all of those wonderful memories, as well as for the memories that her children, her friends and some of the students whom she loved so much shared at her funeral.

It's been just a month since Frances Askue Moore died. The last time I saw her, she was sitting on the edge of her bed, assuring me that she didn't need a thing...She was just "resting," she was fine. "Good-bye, Darling," she said. "I love you."

I love you, too, Frances. And I treasure all the things around my house that remind me of you...your birdfeeder, my angel pin, a green ceramic vase, some jelly glasses, the tiny cloisonne box from the Smithsonian. Our Intimate Book Group will continue to meet, and we know that you'll be with us whenever we do!

"Butterfly," August 24, 2009 (Kate's LRDC)

An Unremarkable Moment...

2009-09-16T07:52:00.010-05:00

I can't believe I let it go by with nary a mention! September 12 marked the one-year anniversary of my Bowl of Chairies!

I didn't even blog that day!

Actually, I was thinking September 14 was the anniversary. But September 14 (Peyton's birthday) marked my last official "If Today is Your Birthday" post. Yep. Pretty much everyone I know has now been immortalized at least once in this blog, beginning with Gina Gottlieb on September 18, 2008. Hey -- I just realized something: My other Gina-Friend, Gina Gourley, would have been properly birthday-blogged on September 10, except that I did hers a couple days early (on purpose, of course). If not for Keenan's and Peyton's (two of my "Borrowed Babies"), my birthday blog ritual would have begun and ended with a Gina! Now that's remarkable!

So anyway, it's been a year. I feel like I should change something, but nah...I went through so much trouble (with the help of My Awesome Husband Greg) trying to get that header with the bowl of "chairies" just right...

Hey, maybe this would be a good place to say that yes, I have noticed that the letters are just a tad too far left, and that the capital A even goes off the lace a little bit. Like I said, I went through so much trouble...

Also, yes, I have greatly slacked off lately, barely posting anything except birthday blogs. Could you tell that I took that responsibility seriously? It was as if I imagined everyone who knows me waking up on their birthday and immediately logging on to see if I'd done their blog. Of course I do know the reality...that even after I'd sent e-mails notifying recipients that they'd been blogged, some of them didn't even bother to read what I'd written. But I live in my own mind, so I tried -- and yes, occasionally failed -- to at least post timely birthday wishes!

Well, now my work is done. Now maybe I'll be able to think of other things to write about that people won't want to read.

First, however, there are other things I must do. In fact, that list is so overwhelming I think I may just let myself get lost in a book or something. But, hopefully, I'll be back soon with nothing remarkable to say!

September 14 -- If Today is Your Birthday...

2009-09-15T05:57:00.008-05:00
Peyton Virginia Wilson, August 2009 (LRDC)

..If today is your birthday (Well, yesterday, actually -- I'm late!), you are a very special little girl, and I love you!

...If today is your birthday, I remember the very first day that Daddy dropped you off at my house so I could watch you while he and Mommy went to work. You were so quiet, but you never cried.

...If today is your birthday, I remember the first time I picked you up to hold you...You wrapped your arms around my neck and gave me a really good hug. I've always loved your hugs, my Peyton!

...If today is your birthday, you've delighted our whole family with your funny little ways. You made me fear for your life the way you insisted on running everywhere, when you could barely walk! (I joked that there should be a Peyton-sized hole in the door at the end of the kitchen because you never stopped running until you hit something.)

...If today is your birthday, I've been amazed at the quickness of your mind and your passion for learning and trying new things. "Brilliant" is the word that comes to mind.

...If today is your birthday, I sometimes long for those days when I would get to keep you all day long, knowing when I said goodbye in the afternoon, that I'd be seeing you again the next morning. But...

...If today is your birthday, you're five years old now, and you have a baby brother and you go to school and I go to work...I'm just so very glad that I still get to see you and your wonderful family once in a while!

...If today is your birthday, I'm sorry this message is late, but...

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DEAR PEYTON!

WE LOVE YOU AND HOPE YOU HAD A WONDERFUL DAY!

September 11 -- If Today is Your Birthday...

2009-09-11T08:13:00.009-05:00
...If today is your birthday...

...and you have a brother who turned five on his birthday in May...

...then this blog is for both of you!

...If today is your birthday, etc., you are those boys who live next door to me, and whom I've had the honor -- and delight -- of taking care of from time to time while your mom and dad had to work.

...If today is your birthday...you are two of the most awesome kids I know -- for your cuteness. your brilliance and your ability to make me laugh and shake my head in amazement (and amusement). I'm so very glad to know you!

...If today is your birthday...it makes me happy just to know that you're over there having adventures for your mom to blog about! I love seeing her pictures of you on facebook, and I love running into you sometimes when you're playing outside.

...If today is your birthday...I know there will be enough cake and fun for both of you -- and Mom and Dad and your three (!) dogs, too. I just want to say "Hi Pie!" to both of you...

HAVE A WONDERFUL, FUN-FILLED DAY!

(Photos of Keenan and Kieran Rayfield, July 2009, my LRDC)

September 9...If Today is Your Birthday...

2009-09-09T07:31:00.017-05:00

My Awesome Husband Greg Looking Handsome. (June 2009)

...If today is your birthday, you are My Awesome Husband Greg, and you were hoping I wasn't going to blog you. Whatever...

...If today is your birthday, it probably won't be as much fun as the ones you remember from earlier years in terms of the "stuff" you get. But I hope it will bring you as much happiness as you can stand. That's how much happiness you deserve for all you are to me!

MAHG Thinking, What -- No Presents? (June 2009)

...If today is your birthday, you probably won't notice a big difference in the way I'm acting...I mean here I am, first thing in the morning, down on my computer...What's unusual about that? Still, there will be something special about the way I'm feeling, because it's your special day!

MAHG, Not Afraid To Get His Hands Dirty. (June 2009)

...If today is your birthday, my prayer for you is that the worries that normally keep your mind busy will give it a rest, at least for today, so you can just focus on all of the things that make you happy!

...If today is your birthday, I love you as much as ever, and am so blessed to have been able to share so many of them with you -- and I am looking forward to at least 50 more! (Yeah, I crack myself up, too.)

MAHG, Straight Up (June 2009)

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MY GREGORY -- WITH ALL MY LOVE!

September 8...If Today is Your Birthday...

2009-09-08T05:27:00.008-05:00
...If today is your birthday, surprise! Your birthday isn't until Septemter 10! Gotcha! (I guess.)
*Note added Sept. 9, 2009

Picture of a Picture...Gina Abruzzo Gourley and Meagan Fischer Kopp, circa 1981, Metamora Michigan

...If today is your birthday, I was simply going to post this photo on facebook, but then I thought What the heck...I haven't done a blog lately...

...If today is your birthday, I had some great memories of you and your family rekindled this weekend as we watched old videotapes of Meagan's early years. (You know, anticipating what her baby might look like when she gets here?) And there you were, running back and forth in a little pink velour jumpsuit, looking so cute. I hope you still have that jumpsuit!

...If today is your birthday, I'll never forget the day before you were born, driving over bumpy dirt roads with your mom and dad, trying to induce her labor. (Did I mention that Meagan was driving?)

*Well, I guess it must have been TWO days before...Whatever!

...If today is your birthday, I hope that lots of fun things will happen to you and for you!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, GINA -- HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY!

If August 20 Was Your Birthday...

2009-08-23T20:53:00.008-05:00

Max Benjamin Branson (second from left) with some of his cousins (Dominic Fischer and Bethany and Kristofer Karlek, to be exact), July 2009. (Kate's LRDC)

...If August 20 was your birthday, you should absolutely feel honored because this is the tardiest I have ever been to honor someone with a birthday blog...At least that's one way of looking at it, and it happens to be true!

...If August 20 was your birthday, I hope you'll forgive me for being so late. Please be assured that did not forget your birthday! It's just that I put so much pressure on myself to come up with something truly unique and entertaining for your birthday, because you deserve nothing less. After all, you, yourself, have always been such a unique and entertaining baby/child/person! Naturally, such pressure rendered me absolutely helpless in coming up with something!

...But if August 20 was your birthday, it is not my intent (nor is it my job as your aunt) to document all of the things which make you unique and entertaining. That has been adequately done by your mother. (Although I do own up to having regaled a few of my friends with tales of your uniquely entertaining ways. Who hasn't, after all, heard the story of the noodles and bars?)

...If August 20 is your birthday, I also hope you will forgive me for this:

An amateurish "recreation" of a photograph of Max in the "Alligator" Sweater knit for him by Aunt Kate when he was about two years old. (Kate, MSN Paint, 8/23/09

I hope you had a wonderful birthday, Max! I really do think you're awesome, and we love you!

One More Thing I Have to Tell You...

2009-08-13T08:40:00.009-05:00

"Baby Bean," June 2009 (not my LRDC). Debut scheduled for February, 2010.

I'm going to be a Grandma! Actually, I'm going to be Grammakate. Within minutes of letting us know that she and Joe were going to have a baby, My Dazzling Daughter Meagan told me to start thinking about what I'd like to be called. (You know -- with reference to being a grandmother.) She made it sound like it was my decision, but it turns out she has some very specific ideas about names that will not be acceptable. For instance, anything with "Granny" in it. Like Granny Square, or Granny Cake.

That's okay. Once the little Bean gets here, Meagan can name her whatever she wants. I know what I'll be calling her when her mama's not around. (That is my decision to make, right?)

Note: It'll be a few more weeks before we can find out if Bean is a boy bean or a girl bean. Until then, I simply cannot refer to her as "it." In my heart I feel likes she's a girl. I could be wrong, of course; if I am, it will be very easy for me to turn around and start referring to her as "him." But for now she's a girl bean.

Of course My Awesome Husband Greg and I are thrilled. So is Uncle Dominic. Whenever one of us starts to feel a little overburdened by the all of the troubles in the world today, all we have to do is say, "Meagan's going to have a baby." Faces soften, eyes glow and smiles form.

That's all for now. Have a wonderful day!

Oh Yeah -- About My Car (An Interim Blog)

2009-08-12T17:20:00.018-05:00
Remember this?

It's my boring old Catera, mentioned here a few weeks ago (But How Observant Am I REALLY?...), just sitting quietly in our garage, minding her own business on a Sunday evening...

That was before she was taken from us by some unknown malfeasant(s) who had the audacity to walk into our garage, climb into the driver's seat, start the ignition and drive her off to who knew where until an entire week had gone by!

Yes, the garage door was left open, and yes, the keys were left in the ignition. What's your point? We were all in the house at the time!

The next time we laid eyes on our poor old girl, she looked like this:

Note: I do realize that the "before" picture does not show her rear window at all (nor much else, other than her left side), but trust me -- the window was intact when she was taken!

There were more photographs, but they make me sad so I decided not to show them here. Suffice it to say that, because of the condition of that rear window, a severe thunderstorm thoroughly soaked her interior. The inside of her trunk was also ripped apart, apparently to allow access to what was most likely the reason for her abduction in the first place: a leveling pump which is standard in all Cadillac models, and worth a few hundred dollars in some markets. (Who knew, right?)

Anyway, this won't be over for me until I have another car I can call "mine." And when I do have one, I'm sure I'll learn to trust and feel comfortable in whatever it is, just as I did my old silver girl. (And if it's red, like the rental car provided by Insurance for a couple of weeks, why I may even learn to love it -- as long as it also has a CD player! We'll just have to wait and see.)

Meanwhile, this is just to let you know that our stolen car has been found. Actually, only a couple of miles from here, in the parking lot of the apartment complex where Meagan lived right after she graduated from college. She had been covered up with a tarp (the car -- not Meagan), but the aforementioned storm took care of that. When someone finally noticed her sitting there with her window broken out and her insides exposed to the elements, they called the police.

Of course we have no idea who took our car. We probably never will. We...er, I mean My Awesome Husband Greg...jousted with the insurance company, appraisers and Cadillac dealers for about a week. A dollar amount was settled upon, and now we just have to wait.

For what?

Well, apparenty for MAHG to look at EVERY SINGLE USED CAR FOR SALE IN THIS COUNTY! He needs to do that, you see, before he can make a decision. And even though I will most likely be the person to drive whatever we end up with, I have given MAHG complete authority to make such a decision on my behalf. I simply cannot let myself be drawn into the process. I liked the first [red] car he showed me; the price was right; I said "Buy" and thought it was a done deal. That was over a week ago. Still, we wait...

I Almost Forgot! (A Follow-Up Doctor Blog)

2009-08-11T15:34:00.013-05:00

"A Happier Doctor" by Kate, August 11, 2009

I can't believe I almost forgot to post a follow-up doctor blog! My last one was on April 27 -- "What the Doctor Actually Said," and bore a picture captioned "Frowny-Face Doctor." It was not a blog I was happy to post, because in it, I had to admit that I had goofed; by listening to my "inner doctor," I had created a scary setback for myself, and was convinced that I never would see the day when I could post my "Ecstatic Doctor" blog.

Well, things are definitely looking up since then! I wouldn't say Dr. Pulmonologist was exactly ecstatic when I saw him in June, but he was certainly much happier than he had been at my last appointment! The results of my Pulmonary Function Test, although not "perfect," were very much "improved" over the ones I had last October (How Does Your Pulmonary Function?). So he seemed very pleased to tell me that I could now reduce my dosage of prednisone to five milligrams a day for two months (which will get me through August), and then, if things continue to go well (and they are!), I will be able to alternate days of five mg with zero mg. Then perhaps one day on, two days off? We'll see.

Of course my plan is still to be able to completely stop taking the stuff, but I'm no longer in such a big hurry. I like not having blue fingers. I also like not gasping and coughing whenever I'm having a conversation or giving a concert*. I like being able to run if I feel like it, and dance without worrying about oxygen deficit. In fact, if things stay the way they are today, I'll be happy!

Well -- with one exception: If things can stay as they are with NO prednisone!

Because I don't like wondering if that powerful little pill...the one which is now causing my hair to fall out and my face to look like a great big giant sugar cookie with eyes...which is making me look like I have an inner tube under my tee-shirt and curls of spun glass outlining what used to be my jawline...if that same little pill isn't doing other, even more horrifying things to parts of me that I can't so easily see! (It does have that reputation, you know.)

Well, I'm glad I got this post out of the way. I've decided that my doctor blogs are the most boring, tedious ones I've written (and for that I apologize); however, they are a way of keeping track of this stuff for myself. (And I do enjoy making different faces on Dr. Pulmonologist.)

I'd like to say I'm now back to blogging with renewed resolve, because I've got lots of other stuff that I'm looking forward to writing about. But I'm afraid I can't make any promises, because I'm being pulled away from blogging by several other obsessions right now. Maybe I'll tell you about them some day. For now, thanks for listening...and keep your fingers crossed about that prednisone!

*Oh -- One more thing that would make me even happier: If I could actually sing!

If Your Birthday is This Week...

2009-07-26T14:36:00.014-05:00
...If your birthday falls with this last week of July, this Blog's for you!

...If you had a birthday this week, then you are either the daughter of a friend or a friend of my daughter -- or both -- and I just wanted to say:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY -- I'M SO VERY GLAD YOU'RE HERE!

Liz Abruzzo, Lapeer, Michigan, July 28, (Liz's photo)

Kira Krapcho, High Point, NC, July 28 (Kira's photo)

Kimberly Craven, New York City -- July 25 (Kim's photo)

I HOPE YOU ALL HAD WONDERFUL BIRTHDAYS! KEEP ON CELEBRATING!

(Note: As you can possibly tell from the date on this post, I had every intention of "publishing" it on Sunday, but Life got in the way!)

July 25 -- If Today is Your Birthday...

2009-07-25T12:21:00.007-05:00
Greg, Bahamas, June 2004 (apparenty photographed by a fish)

...If today is your birthday, Uncle Greg is giving you two thumbs up to have a great day! (Sorry, Andi -- The only recent pictures I have of you were taken by Eric and sent to me via e-mail -- Using one of them would have been sort of like plagiarizing, wouldn't it?)

...If today is your birthday, you are My Awesome Husband Greg's second niece, and the third and last of the "Red Hot Cousins." (Hey -- Whatever happened to that group? I haven't seen anything about them in the press lately!)

...If today is your birthday, I like knowing that you live only a half-day's drive away from us with your Awesome Husband Eric and your Adorable Son Jackson (several of whose photos are currently decorating my refrigerator), even though we rarely actually get in the car and drive for a half-day!

...If today is your birthday, I hope you all have something fun planned -- you know -- like a day at a waterpark or something -- and that there will pictures of you eating cake on a water slide to share afterwards!

HAVE A WONDERFUL BIRTHDAY, ANDREA! WE LOVE YOU ALL!

July 24 -- If Today is Your Birthday...and Blog Number 200!

2009-07-24T16:15:00.008-05:00
Fireworks over Lake Shannon by Karen Branson, Summer 2002

...If today is your birthday, yes, these fireworks are for you! Yes, this is also my 200th blog, but we're celebrating you today, Alex! (I do think it's kind of cool, though, that Blog No. 200 just happens to fall on your birthday, don't you?)

...If today is your birthday, I know that this hasn't been the most exciting summer you've ever had. And I know that last winter was disappointing because of all the snowmobiling you had to miss out on. Doesn't seem fair, does it?

...If today is your birthday, that's just a small part of what makes you so special -- the way you handle stuff like that. Because God made you that way. I don't know why you have to go through all of this, but like you, I trust that God has a plan, and that it's a good one. And that he'll help you get through it if you ever feel like just giving up!

...If today is your birthday, sometimes when I think about you, my heart actually hurts because of the way that I love you. Then I just tell God that I want him to turn that hurt into prayers.

...If today is your birthday, I sure wish we could all be there to go the Lake Inn with you -- if that's what you choose for your birthday dinner. But really, sitting out on your patio, eating your dad's grilled burgers and sweet corn would be just as fantastic! We miss you guys so much!

...If today is your birthday, I hope it won't be much longer before you can put all thoughts of seizures and vaccinations and remedies behind you, and just do the things you love again -- with no worries!

...If today is your birthday, I know your day is filled with love. I just wish I could be there to show you mine with a great big birthday hug!

Alex with Louie, Davison, Michigan, by Melissa Wagner

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ALEX -- WE LOVE YOU AND HOPE YOUR DAY IS PERFECT!

July 23 -- If Today is Your Birthday...

2009-07-23T05:24:00.006-05:00

Hilma with Papa Leo, Davison, Michigan, Summer 2008 (Greg Fischer)

...If today is your birthday, you are my Awesome Husband Greg's mother, and I adore you. Getting you as a mother-in-law was a big fat bonus prize I won for marrying Greg!

...If today is your birthday, you have always been there for us -- when we needed help, when we needed words of kindness and encouragement, when we needed someone to share our tears, and when we wanted someone to share our joy and laughter.

...If today is your birthday, in fact, you have brought us much joy and laughter yourself with your zest for life and your eagerness to try new things!

...If today is your birthday, you have a wonderful, generous heart, as evidenced by your long career as a nurse. You came from a large, loving family, and you have cultivated a large family of friends who love you. (No wonder!)

...If today is your birthday, I would want you for a friend, even if we weren't family by marriage. I thank God every day for the blessing that you are!

...If today is your birthday, I hope you enjoy every single minute of it!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY HILMA -- WE ALL LOVE YOU!

July 22 -- If Today is Your Birthday...

2009-07-22T09:03:00.010-05:00

Dan letting Jordyn "drive" the Gator, Summer 2008 (Greg Fischer)

...If today is your birthday, you are my Brother-in-Law Dan, and you and your family are a big part of one little girl's 2008 summer vacation memories!

...If today is your birthday, I think my Awesome Sister Melissa made a very wise decision when she married you! I am amazed at all of the things that you know how to do!

...If today is your birthday, I have great admiration for you...for your character, your work ethic and your high standards. I also admire you for knowing how to have fun when the work is done -- and how to take care of your toys!

...If today is your birthday, you also know how to take care of your family, which is not always easy! I admire your patience and perseverence, and the love you show in all that you do.

...If today is your birthday, you also grow -- and share -- some of the best sweet corn I've ever tasted (also a huge part of Jordyn's summertime memories)!

Dan teaching Jordyn how to pick corn, Summer 2008 (Greg Fischer)

...If today is your birthday, I hope you guys are all having a wonderful time celebrating!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DAN -- WE LOVE YOU AND MISS YOU!

What is it about this job...? (Part 2)

2009-07-21T17:04:00.015-05:00

...Absolutely! It's the customers who make working in my Very Own Fabric Store a mixed bag of blessings and blips. Mostly blessings, but there have been a few blips.

It's the blips who make me want to resort to nasty sarcasm once in a while...

...Like the customer who wanted to return an item she'd bought exactly 61 days earlier. Our return policy is clearly displayed on the checkout counter -- and well as printed on the back of every receipt:

"For items purchased more than 60 days ago, or without a receipt, a merchandise credit will be issued."

No big deal, right? We're not saying you can't return it -- we're just not going to give you any money back. You get a store credit to use on anything you want.

Well, this particular customer treated me like I was one of those idiots that God creates from time to time just so they can be a source of irritation to other people. The way she intrepreted that statement was that as long as she had a receipt, I could give her money back. The word "or" meant nothing to her. So I politely told her I needed to check with the manager. (Who told me that if she had a receipt, to go ahead and credit her account. Dammit! I wished some other manager had been there that day!)

So, wearing my nicest I-want-you-to-feel-like-you're-a-cherished-guest-in-my-home smile, I turned back to the counter and gave her a thumbs-up, saying, "Okay then -- I can credit your account!"

"I know you can! I return stuff here all the time!"

This is where I wanted to say, "Well then -- I guess you think that's what makes you a Preferred customer? Why don't you just quit bringing stuff back, Bee-otch?!"

But of course I didn't...

Still smiling, I began the return process. And when the cash register indicated that the item she had paid $9.99 for two months ago was now in the clearance bin for $3.29, I said (in a very friendly manner), "Oh, I guess I'll have to change that so you get credit for what you paid."

"Damn right you will!" said the bit...I mean, er, customer.

(I take some consolation in the fact that I must be a bigger blip than she is, because she went out of her way to ruin part of my day. I apparently messed hers up without even trying!)

...Like the woman who returned nine glass mosaic vases, each carefully wrapped in our "custom" tissue paper (old pattern pieces), saying that she'd bought them for a ceremony, but hadn't used them. (She'd actually bought 11, but had decided to keep 2 of them for some reason.) Yeah, right, I thought as I unwrapped each one to be sure none of them were damaged. (The manager had to open the other register because a line was forming and I was apparently going to be busy for a while.)

Oh -- You didn't use these? Then what are these TINY LITTLE CONFETTI-LIKE SCRAPS OF PAPER in this one (you big fat liar?!!)

Sigh. Of course I didn't say that out loud either.

...Like the lady who called on the phone to ask if we carried Ultrasude. (We don't carry that brand, but we do have several similar lines.) She wanted to know what colors we had. She wanted to know what each one felt like. She wanted to know if I thought any of them would work for making little flower petals to glue onto pins. And she wanted me to listen to how she makes them to give as gifts.

She wanted to know how wide the fabric was. She wanted to know how much it cost. (At least those last two were reasonable questions to ask over the phone!)

She wanted to know if we had any small pieces of it...

All of these questions were asked in between times I had to put her on hold so I could run back and forth between the fabric displays and the cash register, seeking answers for her and ringing up a slew of real, tangible customers. All the while, I kept one eye on that blinking light, hoping she'd just give up and come in to see for herself! (Which is what I more or less told her when she asked me if I'd look in our remnant bin to see if there were any suede-type fabrics in either a red or a rose color in there.)

But this blip actually ended up being a blessing! After I had finally convinced her that she wouldn't be sorry if she came in to see our faux suede fabrics for herself, she wanted to know my name and how long I'd be there so she could meet me and thank me personally for all my help. And when she did come in, she said that everyone in our store was so nice and so helpful, she was going to start sewing again so she could come in more often!

Gulp. I was glad I hadn't resorted to sarcasm on her!

Truthfully, those are the only three blips I can think of. As I said, there are far more blessings in MVOFS, and I still love it there. I just wanted to vent a little bit...Thanks!

But How Observant am I REALLY? (A Horoscope Blog)

2009-07-20T17:48:00.019-05:00

"My Car, My Garage," May 2009, Kate's LRDC (Taken to demonstrate just how close I can park to the side wall and still be able to get out, invoking the wrath of my Awesome Husband Greg.)

My horoscope in this morning's newspaper read, "You notice everything, including if people's shoes match their bags and who likes whom and how much. No one can keep a secret from you, even if they wanted to."

That first sentence is absolutely true. I also hear everything. Even when I'm totally immersed in conversation myself, I am able to follow a completely separate discussion between other people who happen to be speaking within earshot. Annoying or not, it's a fact. I attribute it to my ADD, and I consider it a gift.

(I'd like to think the second sentence is also true, because that would be really cool.)

Anyway, it's funny that my horoscope this morning should be about noticing things. Last night I had occasion to ask myself how much I had noticed about two guys I encountered on my evening walk...

I saw them as I was trucking along a curvy stretch of road with houses on one side and deep, dark woods on the other. Two young men, one with dark skin and the other white, both somewhere in their twenties and both carrying clipboards. They were walking towards me, and I heard one of them say, "Oh, a long driveway...I like that." I couldn't tell which one had spoken, but it was the white guy who headed up the driveway. The dark one stayed on course, and as he passed me, he looked right into my face and said, "Evening, Ma'am. How you doing?" I smiled, said "fine" and kept walking, wondering if they were census takers, or what.

Census Taker had popped into my head, I'm sure, because I had just been telling my sister about my having applied -- and been dissed -- for a job as one. She asked me what I would have had to do, and I told her that this phase would have been just looking at addresses and noting whether they were residential, vacant -- whatever. I would not have had to actually ring doorbells and talk to people. Hmmmm. So these guys weren't census takers...

Then, probably because I was walking all alone in Little Red Riding Hood's neighborhood just before dark, I decided to see what I could remember about those two guys -- just in case, you know...

I've already told you just about everything -- One white, one black, clipboards...The one who had spoken to me was wearing a light-colored shirt that buttoned down the front, but I can't say with any certainty whether it was yellow or green. And now I'm seeing the other guy in a white tee-shirt and jeans, although I had previously noted that both were nicely dressed. Anyway, if I hadn't seen stuff on TV and read articles about how people can be absolutely certain that they saw something, and yet it can be proven that what they "remember" isn't what they actually saw, I might have continued picturing those guys in my mind, and come up with a description on which I would have staked my life. But since I believe everything I read, I reckon I should allow that I might be off on a detail or two.

But how weird is it that it occurred to me to take inventory of what I had noticed, and then that horoscope this morning...

Here's something else I noticed: When I arrived home and walked through the garage on my way into the house, I noticed that my car was parked where it usually is -- So close to the wall that I had to squeeze past the mirror sideways just to get to the door.

My Awesome Husband Greg noticed the same thing when he went out a short time afterward to turn the hose on the plants out front. But when he went back about fifteen minutes later to roll up the hose, he noticed something else that made him call me to come upstairs immediately. And when I did, I totally noticed that my car was missing! Someone had come into the garage and driven off with it while MAHG and I were down in the office and Dominic was up in his room! None of us had heard a thing!

Now to be fair, no matter what I may or may not have noticed and/or remembered about the perps -- um -- I mean those two guys, it is possible that they had absolutely nothing to do with the disappearance of my car. I know that the police officer who came to get our information didn't seem overly impressed with the details. But together, Greg and I have come up with a plausible explanation of how they plotted and carried off the heist. I'm still working on a motive; when I come up with one, I'll record it here for posterity. Unless, of course, the police actually find the car before then, and can construct a better story...

My horoscope concluded: "Use what you learn constructively." That's all I'm trying to do.

July 19 -- If Today is Your Birthday...

2009-07-19T19:00:00.008-05:00

My Favorite Son-in-Law Joe, July 2009, by Karen Branson

...Naaaah -- Just kidding! This is my Favorite Son-in-Law Joe:

Joe with Meagan, Father's Day 2009 (LRDC)

Anyway...

...If today is your birthday, you are my Favorite Son-in-Law Joe. (And I'm pretty sure you'd be my favorite be even if you weren't my only one.)

...If today is your birthday, now that you know you're my favorite, I guess you can probably figure out that I'm pretty happy that you married My Dazzling Daughter Meagan!

...If today is your birthday, the more time My Awesome Husband Greg and I spend around you, the more things we discover that we like about you. And that just makes us all the happier we are that you married us -- er, I mean Meagan!

...If today is your birthday, I hope you could tell how incredibly happy the two of you made us on Father's Day when you told us that we're going to be grandparents! (And of course Uncle Dominic is thrilled!)

...If today is your birthday, we really do feel blessed to be connected to you, and your mom and dad, too, in such a special way. You're gonna love being a dad yourself, Joe -- I just know it!

...If today is your birthday, I hope it was a good one, and that all the ones to come will be even better!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY -- WE LOVE YOU!

July 17 -- If Today is Your Birthday...

2009-07-18T05:37:00.007-05:00

...If today is your birthday, I am a day late in honoring you with a "Birthday Blog."

...If today is your birthday, you have been a very special friend for more than ten years, although I have never even met you!

...If today is your birthday, perhaps you and I never will actually meet each other, but I hope our friendship will last for many, many years...Until you are a very old man!

...If today is your birthday, I am sending you love and prayers and good wishes, and I hope you can feel all that I am wishing you!

...If today is your birthday, I am thankful that God put you in my life, My Friend...

Happy Birthday, Ignatius, my Indonesian "son." I hope your day was filled with happiness!

July 13 -- If Today is Your Birthday...

2009-07-14T13:23:00.007-05:00

"Tori and Her Boys" (l-r: Cousin Max, Uncle Jason, Dad Mark and Brother Kristofer), Zanesville, OH, December, 2008, by Karen Branson

...If today is your birthday, your "Birthday Blog" is being posted a day late because, due to a virus scare, we were off-line yesterday. (Everything's fine now, but I want you to know that I lost hours of sleep worrying because I wasn't able to do your blog in time!)

...If today is your birthday, you are the youngest daughter of my Adorable Brother Mark, and I am so happy that we share a home state, even though we don't get together nearly often enough!

...If today is your birthday, you have completed your first year of college and grown from a crazy and oh-so-funny little kid into a beautiful and still very funny young woman. All of this growing was done behind my back and without my permission!

...If today is your birthday, I still love you, even though you "fired" me from your facebook friends list. It didn't hurt my feelings or anything (sniff). I totally understand. (I'm old.) So don't spend one more second feeling bad about that, ok?

...If today is your birthday, I hope you and your awesome family share a lot of laughs and cake and other good stuff!

Have a Wonderful Birthday, Tori! We love you!!

July 9 -- If Today is Your Birthday...

2009-07-09T07:48:00.008-05:00

(Avery Wagner on JT, June 2008)

...If today is your birthday, you are one of my very favorite people in this whole wide world -- My niece, Avery!

...If today is your birthday, it is nearly impossible for me to believe you are 14 years old! How can you have changed so quickly from that dynamic (as in explosive) little baby who did everything -- both laugh and cry -- with such gusto, into the beautiful, spirited and sweet-natured high school freshman that you are about to become?

...If today is your birthday, I envy you the childhood you've had...Do you know how many kids can't talk their parents into letting them have even one pet? (Can you even count the number of cats, dogs, rabbits, horses...that you've had?)

...If today is your birthday, you have been abundantly gifted in so many areas...Your skills as a horsewoman, your aptitude for (and innate love of) learning, your passion for reading, and most of all, your compassion -- for people and animals.

...If today is your birthday, I once held you in my arms and watched you fall asleep, thinking you must be some kind of angel. In all of those years that have rushed by so quickly, nothing has changed that feeling. You will always be my Avery-Angel, and I will always love you in a very special way!

...Oh -- and if today is your birthday, sometimes you have purple hair...

(Avery at 7 years old in her purple birthday wig)

...Maybe today will be one of those days!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, AVERY! HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY!!

What is it about this job...?

2009-07-03T07:55:00.016-05:00

...Absolutely! It's the Customers who make this job -- that is, working in My Very Own Fabric Store -- seem more like a social activity than something I should be paid for doing (although I wouldn't mind getting paid a little more)!

It's the Customers who make me smile. Mostly it's the Little Old Lady Customers (although Little Old Men still occupy a very special place in my heart)...

...Like the Little Old Lady who wanted to get rid of some of her change because it made her purse so heavy. So, oblivious to the growing line of other Customers behind her, she fumbled with a small square box that fastened with a snap -- the kind that had probably once housed a lovely brooch -- and poured a pile of quarters, dimes and nickels onto the counter. Then, with fingers that were no longer completely functional, she proceeded to count out four dollars and eighty-five cents -- the exact amount of her purchase. Sweet. (But the Customers who really made me smile that day were the ones behind her who watched and waited patiently, showing not the slightest hint of annoyance!)

...Like the seventy-something twins. They lived in different towns, dressed differently and wore their hair differently. But you could tell they were twins. The finished each others' sentences, and giggled because they were so happy to be together in MVOFS.

...Like the Little Old Lady with the heavy accent -- one I did not recognize. She barely spoke English, yet when she needed my help in choosing thread and finding yarn, she was able to make me understand that she wanted the least expensive. She kept repeating "Small money for me." She pantomimed that she wanted "thread" to make a skirt (yarn)..."Small money for me." I think she also wanted needlepoint canvas, which we do not carry. She tried to describe it for me by making hand motions that looked like weaving a needle in and out of something, and kept repeating, "Square." (I think she told me she'll bring some in to show me. I'll be happy to see her again.)

But it's not only Little Old Ladies...and they don't only make me smile. Some of them inspire me...

...Like the Blind Lady. My first encounter with her was over the phone. I had no idea she was blind, but because she was so pleasant, I didn't make my usual judgment -- Heightened Sense of Self-Importance -- about Customers who call on the phone rather than come in to find something themselves. She described a yarn she had bought, giving me the brand and the color name. She said she needed two more skeins if we had it (which we did), and wondered if we could have it at the front desk so she could just run in and pick it up. When she came in later, she was being led by a beautiful black lab. I was impressed that she knew that she had paid me with a twenty-dollar bill. When I gave her change, she asked me to give her the five first...Ah-ha -- she had separate compartments!

The next time Blind Lady came in, she had her dog, of course, but she was also accompanied by a friend. Her friend said little. It was Blind Lady herself who let me know that she was trying to find some ribbon to go on a pillow she was making. She had a sample of fabric, and we had a large bin of ribbon on spools that were marked half off. She completely trusted me when I told her what I was showing her, and what I thought would look best on her pillow (although that could have been why she'd brought a friend). What amazed me was that as she felt a spool of ribbon that was coming unwound, she would wind it carefuly before she placed it back in the bin.

I had to leave them to their own devices for a while so I could tend to other Customers, but eventually they arrived at the cash register with several spools of ribbon. Blind Lady was very excited, telling me that she would like to spend an entire day looking at the ribbon. (Here her friend interjected that she'd have to compulsively straighten everything she touched.) She told me she loved to wrap presents, knowing how beautiful they looked, and that she'd love to find a job at Christmas time just wrapping presents for someone. (Hello -- She's blind!)

Of course there are Little Old Men Customers who make me smile, too...

...Like the Little Old Man who came to tell me that his wife had "bought this yesterday," and that there was a problem. He produced an empty zipper wrapper, pointing out that there had been only one zipper in it. I looked quizzically at him, hopefully indicating And your point is...? He said "Well, there are supposed to be two in it." He indicated where the package said "2 black." When I pointed out that "2" was the color number, and showed him other packages that said "26 red" and "1 white," he just burst out laughing. He said, "Well I guess I need another one then," and he chuckled to himself all the way out the door. I know he couldn't wait to get home and tell his wife about her mistake, but I'm sure he did it nicely.

...And like all of the Little Old Men who accompany their wives into MVOFS, either as chauffeurs, chaperons, pack mules...Whatever their function, they mostly follow their wives around quietly (having had years of experience at this sort of thing, I suppose), stating an opinion if asked, keeping quiet if not. And when they finally arrive at the cash register, most of them can't resist getting in a good-natured barb or two at the expense of their partners. (Who often "barb" right back.)

Yep -- it's the Customers who make me smile.

But the other day I had a Customer make me cry. Naturally it was a Little Old Man...

When it was his turn at the register, I said, "And how are you doing today?"

"Oh, I guess I'm gettin' along okay. I lost this beautiful lady here at the beginning of the month..." and he opened his wallet to show me a picture of his wife. When I looked at his face, it was all I could do not to weep -- I knew I wouldn't be able to speak without sobbing, so I just patted his hand. (He was buying upholstery fabric.)

Thank goodness the next customer was a Sassy Lady, who was able to make me laugh!

Hula Baby: A Borrowed Babies Blog

2009-06-27T17:22:00.009-05:00
(This is actually a "Kate Has a New Toy" blog...)

Remember, a while ago I learned that I could upload videos from YouTube onto my blog?

Well, since my brain was never encouraged to develop its "techno" muscle, that's as far as I got. Although I now have a camera (Have I mentioned my LRDC?) that allows me to take my own videos, I thought that I would have to upload/download -- I don't even know the difference -- them to YouTube before I could put them on my blog. But guess what...

(Turn up your Volume)

This is My Sunshine Jordyn, doing the hula to "Junk Food Jump" when she was a little over two years old, and totally uninhibited. My Awesome Husband Greg was the videographer, using his very first digital camera...We're talking floppy disks here.

Being technologically-impaired as I am, I thought we'd just have to hold on to that camera for the purpose of watching the little 15-second video clips he'd recorded. Putting them in the disk drive of the computer didn't work; they just wouldn't play properly.

Then today, I guess because I'm physically exhausted (Greg ran a 10K this morning in 85 humid degrees and it completely drained me!), my brain must have kicked in...I had an idea!

Would I possibly be able to transfer a video from a disk onto my hard drive? If so, would I be able to actually view it?

I think this post adequately answers those questions!

Watch for more old "Adorable Kids doing Cute Stuff" videos in future posts!

Hydrangea: A Photo Blog...

2009-06-25T16:20:00.039-05:00
...A day-by-day look at the life of one beautiful blue hydrangea. I may be off by a year or two, but I believe it was 2001 when my sister, Karen (whose name is practically synonymous with "Beautiful Flowers"), gifted me with this plant...

"Blue Hydrangea," June 2009 (Kate's LRDC)

First, my "Hydrangea Haiku:"

Gorgeous clouds of blue
Delight the soul of my eyes.
Beauty just because.

June 3 & 4...Just enough color to capture my attention as I returned from the mailbox.

June 5 & 6...Color beginning to diffuse!

June 7 & 8...Definitely more than "a Whiter shade of Pale." (Procol Harem and Willie Nelson)

June 9 & 10...Getting ripe for the pickin'...

June 11...Sorry, Hydrangea. (But thank you!)

You Know What I Love? (A Morning Prayer)...

2009-06-24T05:54:00.008-05:00

"Rhododendron from a Bathroom Window," May 2009 (Kate's LRDC)

...The dreams I have when I wake up extra early, drink a couple cups of coffee as I read in the chair by the window, then close my eyes and fall back asleep.

...That kind of sleep when I'm really just awake enough to know that I'm sleeping, and it feels sooooooo good.

...The feeling of an entire day spread out before me, when it seems that anything is possible, and that it will all be good.

...Being the first one in the house to wake up -- like I'm the one who's responsible for everyone else, and I am fully equipped to handle that job!

...Knowing that no matter how messy and cluttered it is, this house is Home.

...Realizing that later on, when it all begins to feel like Too Much, there really is someone else who's in charge.

...Knowing who to thank for all the things that are beautiful, in spite of all the things that are not. (Amen.)

The "Book" Group...

2009-06-23T05:26:00.006-05:00

"The Intimate Book Group," l-r: Frances Moore, Mary Elizabeth Kiester and Marilyn Brenneman, May 2009 (Kate's LRDC)

Well, I've blogged about books a time or two, and I know I've mentioned my "book group" at least three times -- on each of these ladies' birthdays. This October will mark 20 years since I first attended the book discussion group at the Southwest branch of our library. That branch no longer exists, and Marilyn and I are the only two remaining members of the original group. But since first, Frances, then Mary Elizabeth joined us, and since we stopped meeting at the library and began meeting at one another's homes (probably more than ten years ago), we truly have become an intimate book group...

We're a book group where it doesn't even matter if you've read the book; there'll be plenty of other things to discuss. (Sometimes so much so that we barely have time to mention what we've read!)

We're a book group where, even if you don't like what you've read, you'll love the snacks. And you'll never leave hungry!

We're a book group where, if you happen to walk past the door of the little sitting room where we now gather, you'll be asked if you'd care to join us -- and we don't even care if you can read!

Truly, this group has become so much more than a book discussion group, it's hard to describe. And hard to believe how long we've been getting together -- mostly once a month (Occasionally we go a bit longer, if someone can't meet -- We rarely get together without full membership present!) -- to talk about books, families, trips, joys, troubles, recipes -- sometimes even politics and religion!

I love reading, I love books (and I have plenty of them that I haven't read!) and I really, really love these ladies! Together they are one of the blessings in my life for which I am most grateful!

A Limerick Inspired by Nature (and My LRDC)

2009-06-22T07:08:00.007-05:00

"Bean Sprout," June 22, 2009, Kate's LRDC

I spotted this cute little bean,
Its complexion a delicate green.
It clings to its stalk
Like a verdurous flock;
Such a lovely and promise-filled scene.

My Dad

2009-06-21T21:20:00.005-05:00

Photo of Dad at Kure Beach by Kris Karlek or Karen Branson. Kate added by Kate (MSN Paint).

So it's Father's Day again. The second one since Dad's been gone. He's been with me all day, though. I can feel him, and I just know.

I have so much I am thankful for -- that I have others to love, and who love me. But I'd still give just about anything to see my dad again. To sit next to him with my arm across is shoulder like this. It wouldn't even have to be the beach. The back stairs would be just fine. I'd love to hear his voice and see him smile. I have so many things I would tell him -- Would have told him the last time I saw him, if only I'd known it was the last time...

Oh, I know he knows all of it anyway. I just wish.

I miss you so much, Dad. Happy Father's Day.

A Father's Day Blog for Papa Leo...

2009-06-21T15:40:00.012-05:00

Hilma and Leo, Summer 2008 (Photo by Greg Fischer)

Papa Leo has been "Papa" Leo, since I first met him. That was a long time ago, when Meagan was just a baby. Leo is Greg's step-father because he married Hilma 19 years ago this summer. But he's Papa Leo because of the way he just naturally fell into the title role.

This is what the family looked like the day of their wedding:

Front, l-r: Dominic, Ali, Dawn (holding Brad) Hilma, Deb, Andrea.
Back, l-r: Tara, Kim, Meagan, Kate, Greg, Leo, Erin, Lew.
(Original photo taken Summer 1990. Blurry reproduction made by Kate's LRDC June 21, 2009.)

Since this picture was taken, the "step" family has grown by a few husbands and three great-grandchildren. And Leo has a daughter of his own, Cindy, who has two children, but they're not in this photo.

Also at the wedding, but not pictured is a large collection of brothers, sisters, in-laws and nieces and nephews from both sides of this "blended" family. If I could, I would interview each of them, and I'm sure this post would be a wonderful testimonial to the kind of person Papa Leo is!

It's impossible not to love this kind, generous man who is always ready to go along with whatever makes other people happy. Through the years we've all received beautiful gifts that Papa has made with his awesome carpentry skills. But the true gift he's given us is the love he shares with this family.

Happy Father's Day, Papa Leo! We love you, and wish you a wonderful Father's Day, because you are a wonderful father!

Happy Father's Day to My Awesome Husband Greg

2009-06-21T11:18:00.018-05:00

My Awesome Husband Greg Masquerading as My Awesome James Thurber, June 2009 (Kate's LRDC)

M y life would be so very different without you in it.
Y ou are that nagivational thingy -- whatever you call it
-- that keeps me on course (sort of).

A lways ready -- and mostly willing -- to fulfill my every desire...
W hatever I did to deserve you must have been good! (Wish I could remember what it was so I could do it some more!)
E ven though you'd never guess it from the way I act sometimes (okay -- most of the time), I truly do appreciate the wonderfulness of you!
S ometimes I shudder when I let myself think about what I might have become, if not for your love and strength...
O ne of those crazy ladies who just walks around striking up conversations with complete strangers in public places because she doesn't have any place else to be?
M aybe I would have joined the circus, probably as a clown/acrobat or something.
E ventually, though, our paths would have surely crossed...Probably at the circus one night, where you, freshly broken up from whatever other relationship you may have gotten yourself into, would have come, seeking to lighten your heavy heart. (Isn't that what the circus is for? I never really knew.) Our eyes would have met, and I would have fallen off the tightrope right into your lap...You can't fight Destiny, you know!

H ow fortunate for us, though, that we didn't need to waste time on all that stuff. (I could have been hurt!)
U seless to ponder such things now.
S omehow, even though we were only 11 years old when we first became aware of each other, our fate was sealed.
B ut I can only speak for myself, really...
A ll right -- I knew that my fate was sealed!
N o one else would even come close to being the answer to my dreams, although it would be ten more years before we made it "official!"
D amn! I must have been psychic!

G ood times have far outweighed the bad since then.
R egardless of the occasional messes and confusion we (I) may have created as we got on with the business of living, there is one thing on which I am absolutely clear:
E very day we've shared has been a pixel in the "big picture" or our lives, and as such, has been necessary -- and precious.
G etting this far with you as my partner has been a remarkable journey, and I am very much looking forward to the rest of it!

I love you, and am so grateful to have you, MAHG! You are the best husband -- and the best father to our two amazing kids -- that I could possibly have imagined -- had I been given the privilege of making you up!

(Our kids: Dominic, Meagan -- and Joe -- Father's Day 2009 (Kate's LRDC)

HAPPY FATHER'S DAY, MAHG!

Sweet Dreams of Clouds and Teeth

2009-06-16T07:41:00.006-05:00
(Isn't that how that old Eurhythmics song went?)

You know how I've said that I like taking pictures of clouds with my LRDC? Well, I suppose, then, it's only natural that that should become the subject of one of my Wild-Assed Dreams...

Yep. I was out taking cloud photos -- just me and my LRDC -- when all of a sudden an alarm went off in my head. Or maybe there actually was an alarm -- you know -- that alarming buzzing sound the TV makes when they want you to know that you should seek shelter immediately because there's a tornado in your backyard?

Whatever...Whether it was in my head or in my ears, I heard an alarm, and I looked up in time to see a gigantic triangular (i.e., funnel-shaped ) cloud with a huge exclamation point right on its chest heading directly toward me!

Then the scene changed...

There was my Dazzling Daughter Meagan. She had come home to reclaim her old retainer, which she had left in one of the bathroom drawers something like 18 years ago. When I told her that I had just recently cleaned out those drawers and had donated her retainer to Goodwill, she did not display the wrath for which I had braced myself. Instead, her [beautiful, huge brown] eyes filled with tears as her lower lip began trembling. I didn't know what to do, so I just woke up then.

Oh -- She doesn't need that retainer anyway...

(Meagan Smiles, 9/22/07, by Karen Branson)

In Praise of Elizaberg

2009-06-15T19:00:00.023-05:00

(Photo of sun and clouds, Kate's LRDC, June 2009)

I have been on a reading binge lately...Mostly books by Elizabeth Berg (shortened to "Elizaberg" for convenience's sake by my sister, Melissa, because Ms. Berg and her books were the subject of so many of our frequent messages to each other.)

Melissa has read everything she's written, but I, thankfully, have only completed about half the list. (I'm glad I'm me, because I'd be really sad if I had no more Elizabeth Berg books to look forward to...But she'll either have to start writing faster, or I'll have to start reading slower so that that doesn't happen!)

So many times since I have begun writing this blog I have found myself at a loss for words to describe something -- Something I had seen, something I had felt or heard. And although I may not have written it, I have often thought, If only I were a poet!

That is how I feel when have finished a book that makes me close my eyes and clasp it to my chest as I lie back in my chair and sigh, Thank you! I try to imagine all of the wonderful things I will tell people that will make them want to read the book, too, because you just can't keep something so good to yourself! Unfortunately, all I can come up with is, "This book was just awesome!" (I've said that so often, believe me -- I'm sick of hearing it myself!)

True to Form (which I have just finished) is one of those books. But, Aha! This time I dogeared pages that contained Elizaberg lines I could quote later so that perhaps you would be able to understand what I'm trying to say!

For example:

I take in a huge breath and look at the sky as hard as I can. I feel like I'm trying to eat it with my eyes. I wish there would be certain things you come across and you could say, ok, that's one. Put that away for me to pull out later just exactly as it is now. My dream is for me to be a poet who could make things like this sky come to life for someone else. If you see a sunset and try and describe it to someone in normal words, all you can say is, 'Boy, I saw a great sunset last night.' But if you are a poet, you give it to someone to feel for themselves. Like you make a little seed of what you saw, they swallow it, and it blooms again inside their own heart.

Right there -- the Number One reason why I love Elizabeth Berg...If I were trying to share something wonderful with her, and I told her that I just couldn't find the right words, she would know exactly what I was talking about! (Although she seems to have found the perfect words to say what she wanted!)

I have read about ten of her novels, two books of short stories, and am currently reading a book she wrote about writing; but I have yet to come across a collection of her poetry that has been putlished. I hope that someday I will. I'm sure she has written poetry, because I imagine that there is a little bit of every character she has created in Elizabeth Berg herself. (What am I saying? Her novels are poetry!)

In True to Form, the poetic young hopeful is 13-1/2 year old Katie Nash, who made her debut in Berg's first novel, Durable Goods.

...Whenever I start a poem, I feel like my heart is about to break. Because of all there is, because of how every single thing can have such a pure beauty that aches to be known. I take a deep breath, and then all there is is the scritch scritch scritch of my pen, trying to say something so true. What if it works? Then when I read it again, the little voice inside will say Yes. Yes. Yes. And there will be this rare excitement that makes me bend over myself with pleasure, then rise up smiling, my fingers pressed over my mouth as though to keep things from bursting out. I am lucky on the inside.

I couldn't believe how much I could relate to such a young heroine. True, she was created by a 50-something woman, but she was so real -- and so lovable -- that I instantly felt this overwhelming tenderness toward her -- as if she belonged to me.

It is beautiful outside, the kind of day where the sun touches you like mothers touch their babies' cheeks. Your breath rides in your chest like a slow-swaying hammock, and your eyes see in the rich way: Yellow isn't yellow, it's butterscotch; the red on the roses is velvet. On days like this, you wish everything would slow down; you wish time could stop for a while. But of course that never happens. When a good thing comes along, time is like a flirty girl lifting her skirt and running away, laughing over her shoulder at you...

I couldn't have said it any better myself. Not even close!

(Sigh.)

Since You Asked...

2009-06-08T21:55:00.023-05:00

Maybe it's just me...

Does it seem like there's one question you get asked more often than any other -- perhaps the same question every day?

For me, it's "Seriously -- What were you thinking?"

Well, I think I may have some answers to that question...

What was I thinking when (once again) I loaded the dishwasher "improperly," allowing the spoons to spoon, and placing the coffee pot over the water sprayer?

I imagine I was thinking As soon as I'm finished with this, I can dig through my big box of decorative trims to see if I have something I can incorporate into the curtains I'm going to make for the living room...

What was I thinking when I left a huge pile of decorative trims in the middle of the bed, instead of putting them back from whence they had come?

I was probably thinking Oh -- My Awesome Husband Greg's gone to the Post Office. Now would be a good time for me to dance in the living room!

What was I thinking when I ignored the water that got splashed behind the faucet on the bathroom sink?

Well, I know you thought I was thinking So what's the big deal? It's just a little water. I'm going to leave it there for someone else to clean up. But in actuality, I was thinking I wonder if there's anything made with nuts and dark chocolate in the cupboard...

What on earth was I thinking when I yelled "Stop!" as you approached a yellow light with the full weight your [huge] foot on the gas pedal?

That's easy...I'm pretty sure I was thinking Oh My God! He isn't going to stop -- We're going to die!!!!

And what was I thinking when I ignored your "suggestion" that I could roll up the garden hose and hang it back on the hook after you had pulled out of the driveway?

Another no-brainer...What do you think of whenever you see a garden hose? Snake!!! (Now why would I want to touch that?)

And finally...

What was I thinking when I spent more time than I was ever alloted running up and down the stairs to edit posts and make adjustments to my facebook wall?

Obviously, I was thinking This is so very important -- I must get it absolutely right so that the gazillions of people who read my blog and check my wall don't get the wrong idea...

Well, I hope this has helped clear some things up for you. Have a wonderful day now...

(Photo: Greg returning from his run 6/7/09, Kate's LRDC)

On the Road Again...

2009-06-05T20:08:00.016-05:00

"These Shoes are Made for Running," a mirror-image photo
made by Kate's LRDC, May 2009

When I first began writing this blog back in September, one of my first posts was about running ("Jogging," 9/14/08). When I wrote about it, I was no longer doing it, due to my Oxygen Deficit Disorder. And while I waxed nostalgiac about my early days of running, I didn't think I was actually going to miss it, as long as I was able to get out and walk -- and continue clogging, of course.

Now, some nine months later, I can honestly say that I haven't missed running. I'll admit that I was pretty upset for a while (during my blue-fingers phase), thinking that I might have to give up walking and clogging...or else learn to incorporate an oxygen tank into those activities; but I barely gave a backward glance at that other activity in which I had once so obsessively participated.

Recently, however, seeing my young (like I used to be -- and I do miss that!) neighbors heading out for (but more often, returning from) their morning runs, and reading their (http://www.rayfieldrambles.blogspot.com/) -- and others' (http://www.thetypingmakesmesoundbusy.com/) -- blog entries about running (including marathons!) has made me acknowledge a pang or two. I even began to wonder if I remembered how to run, should the urge ever overtake me...

And actually, it turns out that I do remember! This has nothing to do with speed and grace, mind you. I'm simply saying that I can remember what makes running different from walking. The main difference, of course, is that in running, there's a moment (for some of us, a very brief moment) when neither foot is on the ground. (Do not confuse this with flying; you'll only be asking for trouble.)

Yes, one day last week, feeling fairly confident that indigo fingers are now part of my past, I actually alternated between having one and none on the ground for a while. (Feet, that is.) And you know what? Having no feet on the ground actually felt kind of good! (Nothing like flying, of course --but for me, almost as dangerous, since gracefulness is also part of my past.)

Ahhh, the memories. Wonder if I'll ever work my way up to another marathon (the last one being October 1981)? Well, you know what they say about a picture being worth a thousand words...

"After the Marathon," October 1981, Bell Isle (Detroit)

I don't think so!

6/3 -- If Today is Your Birthday...

2009-06-03T10:33:00.027-05:00

...If today is your birthday, you have a close-knit (pun intended) group of friends who are wishing you the very best kind of day. See...?

[Some of] The Moa Boas: Hilda, Julie, Leslie and Helen, November 2008

Carol, Dec. 2009

...and don't forget this one!

...If today is your birthday, you also have one kind-of-crazy-but-not-in-a-scary-way friend, who is also sending you her heartfelt good wishes...

Kate, Nov. 2009

(Her head may be screwed on a little funny, but her heart's in the right place.)

...If today is your birthday, you are one of that priviliged group of friends who have proclaimed themselves "The Moa Boas," and seem not to care what anyone thinks!

...If today is your birthday, we couldn't have possibly been friends for as long as the calendar says we have -- we look waaaaaaaaay too young to be that old! Oh well...

...If today is your birthday, years don't matter as long as you have friends -- And I'm so happy to be one of yours!

Happy Birthday, Julie!
You deserve a completely wonderful birthday --
Enjoy your day!

Cloud Gathering -- A Mystery Blog

2009-06-01T20:22:00.006-05:00

"Cloud" May 2009, Kate's LRDC

Are you thinking what I'm thinking? I mean, what do you see when you look at this cloud? To find out if you think like I do (which my horoscope once said you probably do not, but I don't care -- I love you anyway), then read to the end of this post, where the answer will be revealed...

Remember the other day how, in blogging about my Little Red Digital Camera, I mentioned that I had been taking a lot of pictures of clouds? Well, that is the honest truth. I have no idea how many photos I've taken since that LRDC and I have become constant companions, but I am pretty sure that the largest portion of them have been pictures of clouds. I don't know why, but I seem to have suddenly developed an affinity for those fluffy guys!

I guess that's okay, as long as I'm not driving all over the country, chasing clouds with ill intent. (I mean that the clouds might have ill intent, not me; you know -- like tornados and such.) Of course I realize that I'm no better than those crazy people who do that if I'm trying to snap pictures of clouds while I'm driving. But -- confession time -- ever since I've begun looking at clouds from both sides now (whatever that means, Judy Collins), I just can't keep my eyes off of them! Which means that I'm not always watching where I'm going, even though my vision may not be obscured by a camera...

So I apologize to all of the people whom I have endangered by this thoughtless behavior, and I promise to try not to think about clouds (or my sweet little LRDC) any more while I'm driving my car.

At least I know that God still loves me, because look at that picture -- He offered me a bite of his donut!

5/31 -- If Today is Your Birthday...

2009-05-30T05:34:00.017-05:00

...If today is your birthday, believe me when I say that I have had an absolute ball going through old photographs, trying to find this specific one!

*

Jane Abruzzo and Kate Fischer, circa 1980, modeling their $9.00 After-the-Prom Sale dresses. (To give credit where credit is due, I lifted the quotes from my Anne Traintor "2009 Engagement Calendar.)

*

...If today is your birthday, you and Tony were such a huge part of Greg's and my Early Years that, no matter how infrequently we see each other now, we will always think of you as The Best Friends!

*

...If today is your birthday, there were not too many life-changing events that the four of us did not share; that much is evident from the ones we apparently considered "photo ops." (Okay, so we weren't at each others' weddings, but that's about it...For everything that followed, we were there!) In fact...

*

...If today is your birthday, Our Memorable Moments With the Abruzzos would be a pretty sizable volume...if only my memory were better! (Don't worry...I wasn't going to blog about everything, anyway!)

*

...If today is your birthday, what I do remember well -- and still love -- is your wonderful laugh! (We must have been very funny back then, because I can remember a lot of laughing!) Of course one of my favorite "Jane's Laugh" events was the day before you had Gina...Do you remember Meagan sitting on Greg's lap, driving all over Dryden's washboard trails, hoping to induce your labor? (I know it didn't happen until many hours later, but that was some pretty productive laughing you did that day!)

*

...If today is your birthday, as I'm reliving the past, I realize that what I wrote earlier about being privy to all of each others' "life-changing events" was unequivocally true -- I can think of absolutely nothing that was fun or sad or exciting or uneventful or dangerous or exciting or scary or boring or uplifiting or fulfilling or -- well, whatever -- without thinking of you! You were such a big part of it all, that I can't believe I've survived our fateful separation -- which was pretty life-changing in itself! (I can remember that at the time, I wasn't really sure that I would survive!)

*

...If today is your birthday, of course survive we did...and even went on to create some more memorable, significant (and unsignificant) events...Remember that first time we came home -- unannounced -- to visit, and enlisted Bev to help us sneak up into your bedroom while you were showing off Brand-New-Baby Liz in your basement. (Alas, my failing memory doesn't let me recall why you were keeping her in the basement. Oh well...) It seems like Greg, Meagan and I were stuck there, giggling in excited anticipation of being dis-covered, for hours before Bev finally persuaded you to give her a tour of The Townhouse! (And Liz, if you're reading this, that's what I remember of the first time I ever laid eyes on you...You were only weeks old, yet they still let me hold you!)

*

...If today is your birthday, I almost can't believe I'm brazen enough to dump a "Birthday Blog" on you, when I haven't even sent you a card in years! But I am so looking forward to another trip to Michigan in the coming months, and I just wanted you to remember, too...before we get together to share some more Moments -- and laughter -- Please let there be lots of that, too!

Happy Birthday, Jane!

We'll Love you Forever!

My Monogram Camera

2009-05-25T08:16:00.013-05:00

K is for Kathleen, a rose is a Rose and F is for Fischer, Kate's LRDC, May 2009

Have I mentioned my Little Red Digital Camera -- the one my kids and my kid-in-law gave me for Christmas?

Well, now that we've spent enough time together for our friendship to become intimate in nature, I would like to announce that my LRDC has officially become my latest Obession. I like to have it with me at all times. Together, we have snapped hundreds of photographs -- flowers, branches, shadows, kids -- and clouds. I especially love taking pictures of clouds.* (I'm pretty sure there will be a "Cloud Photo" blog in the near future, even though my Awesome Husband Greg thinks that's a boring subject.)

Anyway, for now I just wanted to show you how we've "memorialized" my initials.

*Secretly, I'm hoping that one day, as I'm getting a shot of a particularly ominous-looking storm cloud, a funnel will actually form and drop insidiously to the earth, suddenly growing fat and dark with all the stuff swirling around its vortex. Then I'll calmly switch to "movie mode" on my LRDC and capture it all on film -- er, I mean -- what?...digits, I guess. (And I won't be one of those storm-chasers who repeatedly yells, "Oh my God! Oh my God!" as I shoot. Mine will be a silent movie.) Watch for it!

Ok...But Just this Once!

2009-05-18T21:01:00.002-05:00

Meagan as a Tutu, 5/18/09, by Kate (MSN Paint and GlitterFly)

Poof!

You're a tutu.

OK. I guess I'm getting kind of tired of glitter now. That stuff really makes a mess when you spill it. Why, it's almost even too much for Grandma's Secret Spot Remover!

(But really, thanks for humoring me.)

Why I Will Never Make you a Tutu...

2009-05-17T14:49:00.020-05:00

"Sparkling Tutu," 5/17/09, by Kate (MSN Paint and www.glitterfly.com)

...Besides the fact that you are not a ballerina, I mean...

No, the real reason I will never make you a tutu is that after two full months of working in My Very Own Fabric Store, I have finally come across something that I do not enjoy about that job, and it is something that involves tulle! (You know -- that light but scratchy net-like fabric that is used in the making of tutus?)

Oh, it's not the tulle itself that I dislike; in fact, I rather enjoy seeing that rainbow array of bolts on display in "Special Occasion" fabrics. My mother even made me a tutu once, when I was about five years old. I wish I still had that tutu -- It had little red rosebuds on it, and was ever so beautiful! I do remember going a little nuts, though, about all that scratching around my tummy. If I ever wear another tutu, I'll be sure that my underpants come up to my ribcage. And of course someone else will have to make it. But I digress...

My most recent encounter with tulle was definitely not the stuff of fond reminiscenses. There was no itching involved, but I must confess to some bitching (strictly the under-my-breath kind, of course)!

You see, one day when I was not working in MVOFS, a Very Nice Customer came in and purchased some fabric for a Special Occasion. Three different fabrics, in fact, all in the same lovely shade of ivory -- including eight yards of tulle. Alas, the person for whom the Occasion was Special apparently had something else in mind, so our still Very Nice Customer had to return all that lovely fabric to MVOFS.

Of course it's always disappointing to have our beautiful fabrics returned, but it happens -- so frequently, in fact, that I have become quite proficient at the "Do A Return" transaction. I was, as I say, disappointed, but barely put out at all. (Which means that I did not begin bitching until after the Very Nice Customer had left the store, and I took it upon myself to match the SKU numbers to the bolts of fabric in "Special Occasions" -- thinking to myself, Good job, Kate -- you'll surely get a special thanks for this!)

Unfortunately, right about then, a huge bus (or boat or plane or something -- I never saw what, because I was so absorbed into trying to find those SKU numbers) pulled up (or docked or landed -- whatever) and unloaded what must have been hundreds of eager -- but very nice -- customers, who all came rushing into MVOFS clutching their coupons and items they needed to match. And oh, the questions they had! (Some good, and some kind of dumb, if I'm being honest; but I don't judge.)

Two hours later (one hour past the time I was supposed to have clocked out and 15 minutes before I had to be on the other side of town to pick My Precious Jordyn up from school), MVOFS was still packed with needy customers, and that eight yards of ivory tulle was rolled into a loose ball that resembled a gigantic hair ball or a tumbleweed or something rolling across the cutting table! I was torn: I really needed to get out of there, but I felt that I had to do something about all that tulle!

Well, I did something, but I'm not proud of the result, ok? In fact, I'm rather dreading having to hear what my Associates -- and, ahem, Manager -- thought about my handiwork the next time I go in...

Have you ever tried to fold eight yards of any fabric in half the long way all by yourself? It's never easy. But when the fabric you're folding is stiff and weightless -- and scratchy -- it simply cannot be done! Nevertheless, I wrestled that stuff onto a big cardboard roll -- the kind used for "Home Decor" fabrics -- and left it lying unobtrusively (I hope) at the far end of the cutting table.

I have met my nemesis, and it's name is Tulle. So please do not ever ask me to make you a tutu, OK?!

I Heart Avery Blog

2009-05-15T21:14:00.008-05:00

This is sort of a Guest Blog, I suppose, since I got the idea from my niece, Avery. (That's Avery in the picture, which was taken when she was about three years old -- something like ten years ago!)

A few days (or weeks) ago, Avery sent me an e-mail with a link to http://www.glitterfly.com/. That's how I got those sparkly hearts all over her photo. But you don't have to choose hearts -- There are several glitter options, as well as flowers, snow and little red hearts with wings!

Anyway, I played around with the stuff for a while, then posted a couple of my masterpieces on my facebook page. Then I sent Avery an e-mail (and a back-up to her mom -- that's My Awesome Sister Melissa -- just to be sure), telling her to get off her butt and confirm me as her fb Friend. It was Melissa who wrote back, informing me that Avery really doesn't like fb all that much, and was sort of hoping I'd use my new glitter skills in a blog.

You're thinking what I'm thinking, right? What a great idea, Ave! No wonder I love you so much!

Well, you should probably expect to see a little more of this type of thing in this blog for a while. But I promise I'll try not to overdo it. Then eventually I'll get over it and find some new toy with which to amuse myself. But in the meantime...

Thanks for the idea, My Darling Niece. Anytime you want to do a real guest blog for me -- like about your crazy mom or something -- just let me know, ok? Now haven't you got some studying or something you should be doing?

5/14 -- If Today is Your Birthday...

2009-05-14T05:17:00.007-05:00

...If today is your birthday, it's written in the clouds...

"Cloudwriting" by Kate, 5/14/09

(Cloud picture by Kate's LRDC 5/12)

...If today is your birthday, you are My Awesome Husband Greg's oldest sister, and sometimes you really did get to be the boss of him!

...If today is your birthday, you are one of the people who make family gatherings run so smoothly because of your knack for organization and your ability to make people feel at home.

...If today is your birthday, you also make family gatherings delicious because of your mad cooking skills!

...If today is your birthday, you did a wonderful job of raising your two beautiful daughters, and now you are reaping your rewards in your grandchildren. (And I just know that you and Lew are awesome granparents!)

...If today is your birthday, I have so many memories of our "early years," double-dating, weddings, waiting first for Erin, then Meagan to come along...All of those after-dinner bike rides downtown to Baskin-Robbins, first with big pregnant bellies, then with baby seats behind us...

...If today is your birthday, I love visiting your home whenever we get back to Michigan. It -- and the people who live there -- truly define "Family." I'm so glad to be part of yours!

Happy Birthday, Deb!

Have a wonderful day -- we love you!

The Grossest Thing I've Done to Myself Lately...

2009-05-13T09:31:00.009-05:00
...Perhaps ever. Let's just put it this way: If I've ever done anything grosser, I would have immediately forced myself to forget about it! In fact this is so gross, I probably shouldn't even tell you about it.

But of course I will -- in the the hope that if I blog about it, I won't be tempted to bring it up later on, like at the dinner table or something...

"Make-Up With Really Neat Built-In Applicator"

by Kate, 5/13/09 (MSN Paint)

This is the bottle of make-up that I recently depleted. It's pretty OK as far as make-up goes. The thing I like best about this particular make-up is the built-in sponge applicator. You just give the thing a little squeeze, then rub it all over your face -- no make-up to wash off your hands. Convenient and neat. What's not to like?

Well, when it gets down to the last little dab, it's not quite so neat. See, then when you give that little squeeze, it tends to spurt -- all over the sink, the mirror, your shirt...whatever. But I'm a pretty clever fellow -- by the time I got down to the dregs of this (my fourth) bottle, I knew to hold it down close to the sink when I squeezed. That way, I just have to swipe that little applicator over the inevitable blob in the sink and apply it to my face. No real problem -- so far, anyway.

The other morning I had just brushed my teeth, rinsed and spit...all the usual stuff. Time to put on my face. I held the bottle over the sink, gave a little squeeze, spurted out a little blob, swiped it with the applicator and applied it to my face...Ewwwwwwww!!!!

Slimed by my own spit!

You see, I don't wear my glasses when I apply my make-up. That would leave the skin around my eyes looking "unrefined," and not "age-defiant." Therefore, I was not able to see that I had not completely rinsed all the evidence of my recent toothbrushing activities down the drain. And that stupid make-up bottle spurted right on top of my spit!

Excuse me, please. I have to go wash my face now -- again!

Out of the Mouths of Babes...

2009-05-13T06:37:00.005-05:00

Jordyn Paige Gottlieb, 5/11/09 (Kate's LRDC)

Yesterday was one of those perfect days we frequently enjoy here in North Carolina in the springtime...the kind of day when riding in the car with the windows down makes you feel like Life is full of wonderful things created just for you -- and all for free!

As I was driving Jordyn home from school, there was a lull in the conversation (an honest-to-goodness rarity between the two of us), so I quickly filled it with "Doesn't that air just feel awesome?"

Jordyn said, "Yeah -- It's like God just put it out or something, and we're the first ones to get it."

I thought that was also perfect.

A Bee in Your Bonnet? That's Nothin'!

2009-05-12T16:47:00.014-05:00

"Greg in a Straw Hat," MerleFest 2009 (Kate's LRDC)

Now surely you've seen a gentleman's head

With a straw hat perched upon it;

And you've most likely heard of the woman, as well,

Who had a bee within her bonnet.

But have you seen a wasp who built its nest

In a fedora made of straw?

"Settin' Up the Kids' Room," 5/11/09 (Kate's LRDC)

Well, before he plopped it on his head,
I guess Greg's glad he saw!

"Fedora Wasp's Nest," 5/11/09 (Kate's LRDC)

The End

(for now, anyway)