tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-166557412024-03-07T13:33:17.786-06:00It's Never DullIt's Never Dull - my mantra since having kids. OR "It's Always Something!" to steal a phrase from the immortal Gilda Radner of SNL fame.
Quiet moments are few and far between with small children about. So this is my space. My quiet time. to muse, reflect and contemplate.t_colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07255590452727957539noreply@blogger.comBlogger256125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16655741.post-68033476685397607412010-01-19T09:30:00.003-06:002010-01-19T10:16:35.543-06:00Olfactory Observation<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I received some new hand lotion recently. And it stinks. But the scent reminds me of the Ponds lotion and cream my Grandmother used when I was a little girl. So when I smell this new hand lotion, I am taken back to bed time at Grandma's with us moisturizing our hands and snuggling up together in bed. She would tell me stories as I fell asleep with the scent of Ponds lotion in the air.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">My mother wore Chanel No. 5. She hasn't worn it in years - but whenever I catch a whiff of it, I am six years old watching my Mom getting ready to go out on a date with my Dad. So beautiful and glamorous sitting under the hair dryer and polishing her nails. And the hug she would give me before they left would leave me in a cloud of Chanel No. 5. I could still smell her on me when I went to bed later in the evening.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">My Dad owned a timber business. He would come home smelling like wood chips and sweat. He worked very hard to provide for his family. The proof of his work and diligence were evidenced every day when he came home to us in the way he smelled. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Lauren by Ralph Lauren smells like my Jr High boyfriend. He gave it to me. I always wore it when I was with him. We both smelled like it most of the time. And every time I wear it now, I think - at least momentarily - of him.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">It is reported that the sense of smell is one, if not the, strongest of the senses. I tend to agree with that. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">What do your memories smell like?</span></span>t_colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07255590452727957539noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16655741.post-12238874701933240932010-01-12T14:47:00.005-06:002010-01-13T09:09:51.979-06:00How do I say this...<span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >I have this self image. It's how I see me.<br /><br />Surely I am not unique. </span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >Do you have one? Can you relate?</span><br /><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" ><br />So here's the thing - when I analyze <span style="font-style: italic;">me</span>, how I feel about <span style="font-style: italic;">me</span>, how I feel about my physical presentation of self - I feel like I am getting better. I don't mean this in a vain way - just a <span style="font-style: italic;">statement of confidence</span> way.<br /><br />I look back at old pictures of me - younger. My skin was smoother. I was thinner. My hair wasn't as gray. You know what I mean - a fresher younger version of me. (or of you.)<br /><br />But I think I am MOST attractive now. I feel more appealing now than I ever have. I don't feel the years pulling me down as I see in other people my age.<br /><br />Sure, I'd love to lose some weight, be more physically fit, blah, blah, blah - but for some reason - I still feel better about myself now.<br /><br />I look at those old pictures and see the younger version of me and while physically, she might be more aesthetically pleasing than I am now, that me didn't didn't know Jack Shit. To me, the beauty of my youth is lost to ignorance of self and inexperience in the world. And to think - I thought I knew it all back then.<br /><br />Maybe this perception could be explained as living life, self awareness, finally making peace with my hair - whatever. There is a certain sense of maturity and confidence that makes me (you) more attractive to my(your)self.<br /><br /></span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >and mayhaps others.</span><br /><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" ><br />I wonder if and when I will get to the point in my life where my outer beauty (perception) will lessen for me. How will that feel?<br /><br />You know what I mean?</span>t_colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07255590452727957539noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16655741.post-62991455858204504562009-12-21T20:34:00.006-06:002009-12-22T08:40:55.963-06:00Me and My Christmas Cards<span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >Right after pictures with Santa, my most favorite semi-secular part of Christmas is Christmas cards. Sending AND <span style="font-style: italic;">Receiving</span>.<br /><br />There is a science to this. Here's how I do mine:<br /><br />After getting married, I sent Thank You notes and then Christmas cards to all the folks that generously sent us wedding gifts. After a few years, I weeded that list down to the folks that usually responded to my Christmas cards. Family and friends, of course, remain. Since I've had kids, my Christmas card always includes a picture of the kiddos.</span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" > </span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >So I send some cards to my parents' friends so they can see how Lulu and Granddaddy's Texas Babies are growing and how much Sam looks like Lulu did when she was a little girl.</span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" ><br /><br />I always order the custom-printed cards. I have our family name and the year printed on the cards. I have all my addresses in a MS Access database and use this to print address labels each year.<br /><br />Even though the cards are printed with our family name and date, I ALWAYS personally sign our first names and often pen a short message. On 120+ cards. Each year.<br /><br />And while I don't talk to many of these folks all year long and current contact may be limited to a rare email and holiday greetings, I savor taking the time to sign the cards and think of each of these people/families that have had an impact on my life. The memories of my heart are re-visited each year when I do my Christmas cards. These cards are never a task to be completed but a treasured recollection of all the people I love as well as relationships and experiences I have to be thankful for.<br /><br />Though I am not a regular Christmas card letter writer, </span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >some years I have included letters.</span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" > When there is tale to tell, I tell it.<br /><br />So now that you know how I do it - here's my scoring system on <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">receiving</span> cards. And yes, I have received some form of all of these at some point in time.<br /><br />You send me a card +1000 points<br />It is <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">pre-printed</span> and you sign it personally +25 </span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >points</span><br /><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >It is <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">pre-printed</span> and you do not sign it -25 </span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >points</span><br /><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >It has a picture of your kids, dogs, or ducks (you know who you are) +50 </span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >points</span><br /><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >It has a picture of your kids, dogs, or ducks & they are really cute +100 </span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >points</span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" ><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">It has a picture of your entire family on it</span></span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" > +50<br />It has a picture of </span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" ><span style="font-family:verdana;">your entire family on it,</span></span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" > you still look 20 years old & haven't gained a pound -500 points<br /></span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >It is not <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">pre-printed</span> & you sign it +40 </span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >points</span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >You write a short note +75 </span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >points</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >You make me a Handmade card +200 </span><span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >points</span><span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:130%;" ><br />Your card has sparkles (Bling) on it +50</span><br /><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >Card artwork designed by you or your child +100 </span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >points</span><br /><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >You send me a Christmas letter +25 </span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >points</span><br /><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >You send me a Christmas letter - it is humorous & informative +50 </span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >points</span><br /><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >You send me a Christmas letter & you brag about your new car/house & brilliant trust fund kids -100 </span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >points</span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" > <span style="font-style: italic;">(seriously, if you can't tell it like it is, don't tell it at all!)</span><br />You send me a Christmas card with your kids in front of the Eiffel Tower BONUS +250 </span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" >points<br />You include Cash +1 point for every dollar<br /><br />I do love Christmas and the mail that goes along with it. It's the one time of year I race the kids to the mailbox. <br /><br />I love it! Love it! Love it!<br /><br />I love all the folks I send cards to.<br /><br />I especially love all of you that send me cards. Particularly the ones where they are homemade, they sparkle, you're funny, your kids are cute, your age shows and you send me money!<br /><br />Keep 'em coming!<br /><br /></span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;" ><br /><br /><br /><br /></span>t_colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07255590452727957539noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16655741.post-657645180651640932009-12-07T12:11:00.007-06:002009-12-07T12:21:53.922-06:00A Different Kind of Santa Letter....
<br /><meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="City"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="place"></o:smarttagtype><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"></object> <style> st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } </style> <![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Arial Narrow"; panose-1:2 11 6 6 2 2 2 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:swiss; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:647 2048 0 0 159 0;} @font-face {font-family:"Brush Script MT"; panose-1:3 6 8 2 4 4 6 7 3 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:script; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} span.ds-category {mso-style-name:ds-category;} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--> <p style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0); font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-size:130%;" >My letter to the General Manager at The Village at Allen about a new policy regarding pictures with the Big Guy (AKA Santa Claus)
<br /></span></p><p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="">
<br /></span></p><p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="">December 7, 2009</span></p><p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal">
<br /><span style=""><span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"><span style=""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="">General Manager<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="">The Village at Allen<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="NL">190 E Stacy Rd Ste. 1308</span></p> <p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="NL">Allen, TX 75002</span></p><p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal">
<br /><span style="" lang="NL"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="NL"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="NL"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="NL">Dear Ms. GM,</span></p><p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal">
<br /><span style="" lang="NL"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="NL"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="">I am the parent of three young children who anxiously look forward to seeing Santa Claus every year. Samantha, 10 has special needs. <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Savannah</st1:place></st1:city> is eight and my son, Smith, is five.<span style=""> </span>They still believe in and treasure Santa Claus, as do I.<span style=""> </span>For n</span><span style="">ine of Sam’s 11 Christmases we have had their pictures taken with the Big Guy.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; font-family: trebuchet ms;">
<br /><span style=""><span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style=""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="">Until last year, we visited the Big Guy at Stonebriar Centre in Frisco. When word got out that the Big Guy had moved I scoured the internet until I found him at The Village at Allen.<span style=""> </span>My kids loved going to see the Big Guy last year. The reindeer an</span><span style="">d children’s village were a huge hit with them.<span style=""> </span>I liked going to The Village at Allen for the shopping.<span style=""> </span>We all looked forward to going back this year.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; font-family: trebuchet ms;">
<br /><span style=""><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style=""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="">We arrived an hour before the doors opened to be first in line as Sam cannot tolerate the anxiety of waiting her turn once she sees Santa.<span style=""> </span>My children played with their Grandmother while I waited on queue.<span style=""> </span>As a line quickly formed I thought surely they would open the doors soon. It was very cold and as one might expect in a line to see Santa, there were lots of children and babies waiting in the cold.<span style=""> </span>I was informed the doors opened at 11AM. This policy should be revisited immediately.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="">
<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style=""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="">We finally got in the door a little before 11AM. As my children were walking up to see Santa, I went to take a candid picture and was quickly informed that no outside pictures were allowed.<span style=""> </span>I was also informed this was a <i style="">‘Mall Decision.’</i> This is the first time in nine years with the Big Guy I could not take my own pictures.<span style=""> </span>I have <b style=""><i style="">ALWAYS</i></b> <i style="">purchased</i> a photo package as well as taken candid shots of my children talking to Santa Claus.<span style=""> </span>And while the posed, <i style="">purchased</i> pictures of my children with Santa are my dearest Christmas treasure, I especially cherish capturing the rapport my children have with the Big Guy while telling him their deepest wishes and hearts’ desires.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="">
<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style=""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="">One year, when Sam was about four, she started to walk away from Santa when she was done. She paused, turned around and looked at Santa.<span style=""> </span>I asked her if she wanted to hug Santa. Before she could even nod her head, the Big Guy opened his arms and Sam ran into them.<span style=""> </span>If I had not taken my own candid shots, I would not have a tangible memento of this gloriously magical moment in my child’s life.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; font-family: trebuchet ms;">
<br /><span style=""><span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style=""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="">This will likely be the last year two of my children believe in Santa and I feel your business decision has stolen something from us.<span style=""> </span>The awe-inspiring exchange between children and Santa may never happen again for them.<span style=""> </span>And you robbed us of an opportunity to capture it on film with your selfish financial decision to squeeze a few m</span><span style="">ore dollars out of an already strapped public.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; font-family: trebuchet ms;">
<br /><span style=""><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style=""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="">I know the Big Guy is big business for you and I can not fault you for wanting to maintain or even increase your revenue. That is your job and I get it.<span style=""> </span>But Christmas is not only about the bottom line. It is also about <b style=""><i style="">CHARITY</i></b>, peace on earth and loving your fellow man.<span style=""> </span>You demonstrate none of these holiday tenets.<span style=""> </span>I am certain there are some families that cannot afford to purchase the picture packages; especially in these tough economic times.<span style=""> </span>On behalf of all parents you are denying the opportunity to film or photograph thei</span><span style="">r children’s experience with the Big Guy, I say <i style="">shame on you!</i></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; font-family: trebuchet ms;">
<br /><span style=""><i style=""><b style=""><o:p></o:p></b></i></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style=""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="">I will take my children wherever the Big Guy is next year. I will take them to see him as long as they will allow me to and as long as I can find him.<span style=""> </span>If he is back at The Village at Allen next year, I will go there and I will purchase my photo package.<span style=""> </span>But I will not spend a single penny with The Village at Allen merchants the other 364 days of the year.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; font-family: trebuchet ms;">
<br /><span style=""><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style=""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="">Regards,</span></p> <p style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" class="MsoNormal"><span style=""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-style: italic; font-family: trebuchet ms;font-family:";font-size:100%;" >tcole</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkiu-bKiqOa2K8QOq3kAESOdbN_ATKauPbJruY35tVZrKFJVIgm1Xhm3ciBa32RZLzmx8WecUuy8jZUBhU3rCIyiyXDsRYuh194shyLsNoQgCgHQo2oYILY-ftQwwYS2MSTcKR/s1600-h/100_20422.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkiu-bKiqOa2K8QOq3kAESOdbN_ATKauPbJruY35tVZrKFJVIgm1Xhm3ciBa32RZLzmx8WecUuy8jZUBhU3rCIyiyXDsRYuh194shyLsNoQgCgHQo2oYILY-ftQwwYS2MSTcKR/s400/100_20422.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412559655358638018" border="0" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWKP8Sr6Boi-0b7Jz9yEbbpbUkm8mlySkHaHj5RavN6FOJrhzvBgJTNArDcveGwNdzTDeDMaeQ7455tuVI2iqHwuHC3Ub0MU9J9EYk5B3DAv-ZFmsyh-xtp9T_1TOrtNQcGFdL/s1600-h/100_2824.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWKP8Sr6Boi-0b7Jz9yEbbpbUkm8mlySkHaHj5RavN6FOJrhzvBgJTNArDcveGwNdzTDeDMaeQ7455tuVI2iqHwuHC3Ub0MU9J9EYk5B3DAv-ZFmsyh-xtp9T_1TOrtNQcGFdL/s400/100_2824.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412560561075800594" border="0" /></a></p> <p class="MsoNormal">
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<br /><span style=";font-family:";font-size:14pt;" ><o:p></o:p></span></p>t_colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07255590452727957539noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16655741.post-65689356055160128072009-09-30T14:02:00.005-05:002009-09-30T14:17:59.246-05:00The company you keep...<span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;" >Where to start?<br /><br />I just spent the most incredible weekend with dear friends I have not seen in 20 years. </span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;" > </span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;" >And yes, they are the dearest of friends – even after 20 years of minimal contact.</span><span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:100%;" ><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><br />I’ve told you before about my years at Six Flags Over Georgia. </span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">It was an amazing place to work as a teenager. </span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">And although <i style="">Place</i> and <i style="">Time</i> are an important component of this experience, I recognized this weekend that PEOPLE are the most vital ingredient. </span></span><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:100%;" > <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} -</span--><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style=""> </span></span><span style="font-size:100%;">Obviously, we cannot go back in <i style="">time</i> to recreate those years. I have not been back to the park in at least 20 years. <span style=""> </span>The closest I got this visit was driving by it on I-20. <span style=""> </span>But I was immersed in the <i style="">people</i> and personalities that made it what it was (is) for all of us!</span><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">This reunion experience was a curious study in memories, emotions, growth and recollections. <span style=""> </span>(Any sociologist would have had a field day!)<span style=""> </span>Those were some of the best summers of our lives.<span style=""> </span>We literally came of age together – going from gangly, hormonal teenagers to know-it-all young adults. <span style=""> </span>So of course we brought those immortal feelings of youth back with us to this reunion.<span style=""> </span>It was mentioned that back then we were <span style="font-style: italic;">"10 feet tall and bullet proof."</span> But now, as adults, we are forced to see our lives and relationships through a more mature lens. Today we know – as we remembered those no longer with us - that none of us are immortal.<span style=""> </span>I believe this realized lack of immortality gave us a new appreciation for each other.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">In spite of the years and distance, we fell back into place together. Just like your favorite, faded, thread-bare concert t-shirt. <span style=""> </span>The crazy over exaggerated feelings of youth washed through us all.<span style=""> </span>The humor, laughter, teasing, arguing, and loving were all present. <span style=""> </span>Still, we had to spend some time putting the teenage angst into the context of (semi-) mature adults. <span style=""> </span>What I discovered is this: These people I believed to be amazing as teenagers <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">ARE </span>amazing adults today.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><span style=""> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">On a less mature note, I don’t think I got more than eight hours sleep in three nights. <span style=""> </span>It was like no one wanted to go to sleep. We wanted to soak in every minute we had together.<span style=""> </span>As I told some of my Six Flags friends yesterday, I remember crying at the close of every summer when I had to go home to <st1:state st="on"><st1:place st="on">Mississippi</st1:place></st1:state>. <span style=""> </span>My Dad would tell me that the sadness is a reflection of what a good time I had and how much I cared for the people I was leaving. <span style=""> </span>The sadness and pain are proportional to the joy and love. After the last good bye was said in the wee hours of Sunday morning, I cried all over again for the exact same reasons.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">It is almost impossible to put to words how it felt to look into the familiar faces of adults when the last time I saw them they were the countenance of youth. It was difficult to express to these people without embarrassing myself how much it meant to spend time with them again. <span style=""> </span>As much as I love to be the center of attention, I found myself sitting back this weekend – listening, laughing, and taking it all in.<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">For the record, there were several folks who were unable to attend. You know who you are. You were not forgotten. I love you too! And YOU were sorely missed.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">In looking back over this weekend’s pictures, there are smiles and laughter on all the faces.<span style=""> </span>There was a warmth in that room you would be hard pressed to reproduce anywhere. We were not all the best of buddies back then. Some of us did not even know each other, but the bond of Six Flags Alumni is strong and undeniable.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Simply put, I LOVE these people. The memories of us together – then and now - are imprinted on my heart. <span style=""> </span>I am the woman I am because of the relationships and experiences we share. <span style=""> </span>You make me laugh until my sides ache. You make me cry until my eyes swell shut.<span style=""> </span>You are my past. You are my present.<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Thank you for being a part of my life. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Thank you for allowing me to be part of yours. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">I am honored.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">(except for you, Tom. <span style=""> </span>I still owe you!)</span></p> </span>t_colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07255590452727957539noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16655741.post-6881305173916494122009-09-08T14:36:00.006-05:002009-09-08T16:02:07.491-05:00I hold these truths to be self-evident<span style="font-family:verdana;"><em>I have decided maybe it's time I write my own personal Declaration of Experience...</em></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><em></em></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><em>I have learned a great deal about me, my life and me living my life in my first 41 years. I know there is much more to be learned. And I look forward to those life lessons. </em></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><em></em></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><em>But right now I have decided that I do know a few things about myself and about life. You are so lucky as to have me share them with you...</em></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I am fiercely <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">independent</span>. In thought and action.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">This also translates into the fact that I detest being micromanaged by ANYONE. Tell me what you need, how you envision it done and when you need it. THEN BACK OFF.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">If I ask your opinion on something, it is usually as a courtesy. So unless you make an exceptional <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">argument</span> for your cause, I'm gonna do it my way anyway.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I am loyal to a fault. To friends and family</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">If you are important to me, I got your back! Sometimes to my own detriment.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I hate snakes. Dead. Live. Plastic. Real. ALL.OF.THEM.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I am not an "Animal Person." Before you get all worked up, I do make exceptions for exceptional animals. Have been very attached to quite a few over the years. Just not the Animal <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Kingdom</span> as a whole.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I believe the absolute VERY best advice I've had the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">privilege</span> to learn first hand is to surround yourself with quality people. Find people with strong work ethics, high moral standards, intelligence, wit, common sense, and creativity. Seek these people out. Befriend them. They will almost always pull you up and at times even insulate you from the mistakes you would otherwise make.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Another life lesson learned is to seek out people different from you. Whether it be religion, politics, nationality, social caste, education level - whatever you <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">perceive</span> to separate you from them. Draw these folks in and learn <em>about</em> them. Learn <em>from</em> them. Teach them <em>about</em> you. I have always found our similarities are greater than our differences. And at the same time, I expanded my own life's point of reference.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I have learned that, on average, I will come to regret about 50% of the words that come out of my mouth. This realization does not stop me from saying stupid or hurtful things. Thus far I have not figured out how to turn my <em>Insensitive Speaker</em> off, I am just aware that it happens. And wanted you to know that I know.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">If you need prescription medication to live a normal life, TAKE IT! If your child needs them - GIVE THEM TO YOUR CHILD. I know many people do not agree with this. Fine. You live your life. My family and I will live ours. I tried alternative methods. I know what works in my house. Doesn't matter what you call the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">problem</span>. Does not matter how many labels they assign to your 'issues'. Really. It does <strong><em>NOT</em></strong> matter. If there is pharmacology that helps you (or your child) level out and actually enjoy each other and life, then by all means, USE it.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Seek out experts. Do your homework. Ask questions. Be prepared. READ! Plan ahead. And <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">sometimes</span> it really is better to ask forgiveness than permission.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Your children grow so much faster than you could ever imagine. At least mine have. My son, at five, still asks me to pick him up. And I almost always do. Because I never know when it will be the last time he asks me to do so. He asks me to walk him to the end of the driveway to wait for the bus. I always do. Soon he will be too embarrassed to even hug me. </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Enjoy every second. They go by way too fast.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Tell people you love them. Tell them specifically the impact they have had on your life. You need to say it and they need to hear it. This is one of the most life-sustaining habits I have. And I should do it more often.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><em>So that's not all I have learned. Thankfully. But it's a start. And some of the most important lessons I can share with anyone bold enough to read this.</em></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><em></em></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><em>What have you learned?</em></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span>t_colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07255590452727957539noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16655741.post-17164420356044182962009-04-06T07:07:00.003-05:002009-04-06T07:09:09.233-05:00need some loveAttention All Blog Buddies, Family and Friends.<br /><br />I need for you to go here:<br /><br /><a href="http://www.livefromthe205.com/">http://www.livefromthe205.com/</a><br /><br />and give my friend from High School, Class of 86, Kim some serious blog love.<br />She lost her husband last month and is struggling mightily.<br />Go read about it and love on her for me please.<br />Pass this on if you can.t_colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07255590452727957539noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16655741.post-36172424767184944532009-04-04T12:14:00.002-05:002009-04-04T12:22:06.037-05:00you don't say<span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;">so I am brushing and braiding Savvy's hair last night.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;">She tells me that her friend 'Suzie' tore her paper doll on the bus.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">me - <em>"I am sure it was an accident."</em></span></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">her - <em>"Nope. She did it on purpose. She bullies me on the bus."</em></span></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">me - <em>"Really???!!!"</em></span></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">her - <em>"Yeah - she said I was as stupid as a rock."</em></span></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">me - <em>"seriously????"</em></span></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">her - <em>"Yep."</em></span></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;">me - <em>"Did you tell Mr. John?"</em> Mr. John being the bus driver.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">her - <em>"No, Suzie lies a lot to get out of trouble."</em></span></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">me - <em>"Did you say anything mean to Suzie?"</em></span></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">her - <em>"No. Never."</em></span></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">me - <em>"Really???? And do you ever lie to get out of trouble?"</em></span></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">her - <em>"Only to you."</em></span></span><br /><em><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"></span></em><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;">now that, I believe....</span>t_colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07255590452727957539noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16655741.post-1244353061150174362009-03-29T08:50:00.002-05:002009-03-29T09:08:25.654-05:00where's mine?<span style="font-size:130%;">Since joining <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Facebook</span> over a year ago, I have become reintroduced to a lot of folks from my past. High school, college, summer jobs, ex coworkers, blogger friends, even some family. It has been a fantastic experience. And I have enjoyed almost every single second of it.</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">But I have noticed a strange <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">phenomenon</span>. I had two really close girlfriends through High School and College. I am still in contact with both of them. The three of us made a pact in high school to graduate virgins. And we did. (at least they say they did.) We've been through a lot together over the years. Good, Bad and Otherwise. </span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">They were the petite, pretty ones growing up. The guys were always crazy about them. I was the observer of their relationships. the confidant and advisor.</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">sometimes jealous. sometimes not.</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">now, I am <em>certainly</em> jealous. </span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">I have reconnected with two different men on <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">FB</span>. Each guy dated one of my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">bestest</span> girlfriends for awhile when we were teenagers.</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">One of these men told me about one girlfriend, <em>"She has always been my 'What If Girl'?"</em></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">The other man said to me this just week about the other girlfriend, <em>"I wonder if she knows she is the only woman I have ever really loved?"</em></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>WHAT THE HECK????!!!!!</strong></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Where's my guy? I want one. I don't necessarily want him now. I just want to know there is a guy out there that thinks he let the best thing in his life (me) get away.</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Is that too much to ask? <strong><em>THEY</em></strong> got one.</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">where's mine?</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span>t_colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07255590452727957539noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16655741.post-25926310748052649332009-03-18T12:12:00.003-05:002009-03-18T13:46:56.438-05:00cole crime spree<span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;">in the past couple weeks, Savvy has brought me some beautiful red tulips (bulb and all) she found blooming <em>on the side of the road</em>.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;">Now I know tulips do not grow wild but I could not figure out where she was getting them. I asked her and she told me from the empty lot "over there." She spotted them when she was riding on the bus. And knows that tulips are her mother's most favorite flower.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;">It was sweet, but suspicious at the same time.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">So on Sunday, after Savvy had gone to Mississippi, the rest of the kids and I went for a walk. I asked Smith - where is Savvy getting those flowers from. He shows me. Oh Shit.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">And while I can understand why it would look like an empty lot to a 7 year old, I KNOW it is the neighbor's land and SHE planted them.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">I didn't say anything and we went on about our walk.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">On the way back, neighbor woman met me at the end of drive. Super nice lady. We started talking and before she could even bring it up, I asked her if she had planted some tulips?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">Yes, in fact, she had. My horror confirmed. My flower bed now contains stolen merchandise.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">I apologized profusely. Told her that the child responsible was not present but would be coming to see her soon.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">So Savvy doesn't know it but when she gets back from Lulu's, she is taking nice neighbor lady a pot of tulips.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">It was an honest mistake. One of kindness and thoughtfulness.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">Humiliating, none the less...</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">And then yesterday, Sam and I at the grocery store. She spies the bulk candy. I tell her <em><strong>No Way!</strong></em> in no uncertain terms. That it is stealing when you take candy and don't pay for it.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">I turn my head for two seconds and then next thing I know she has a guilty look on her face and won't meet my eyes.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">and this is one of those times <strong>You Just Know...</strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"><br />I made her open her mouth and sure enough - full of candy.<br /><br />Okay. Deep breath. Teaching Moment.<br /><br />I tell her when I get done at the pharmacy, she is going to the store mgr and tell him she stole his candy - AFTER her mother told her not to.<br /><br />There is a small voice in the back of my head praying for a mgr with kids who understands the value of a good lesson.<br /><br />So walking out, I approach the store manager, and tell him my daughter has something to tell him.<br />Sam is mute.<br />Raw fear in her eyes.<br />So I explain to him that I told her not to eat the candy, that it was stealing but she did it anyway.<br />and I saw the faintest upturn of the corner of his lips and that little voice in my head said "PHEW!"<br /><br />Sam immediately apologized.<br />He asked her if she understood that what she did was wrong.<br />Nods, up and down.<br />And he tells her that her Mom is trying to teach her right from wrong and she should listen to me.<br /><em>(I love this guy now!)</em><br />I ask her if there is anything else she wants to tell him?<br />She tells him she will never do it again.<br />And I believe her!<br /><br />Did I ever tell you about the time she stole the tennis shoes from <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Nordstoms</span> when she was THREE years old?<br /><br />it's never dull....<br /></span><br /></span>t_colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07255590452727957539noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16655741.post-66110979515034305122009-03-12T17:10:00.003-05:002009-03-12T17:18:06.775-05:00second verse, same as the first<span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;">So we lost the contract on our house today. The buyer cancelled it. After an inspection, appraisal, septic system inspection and much negotiation grief. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;">He said it was too much work.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;">No, really buying and selling a house is supposed to fun? You don't say.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;">We had just today made an offer on another house. One we liked very much. 1 acre in the city. <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Husband's</span> dream shop. Had checked out the schools and whatnot. Were in the process of negotiating terms of our offer when the cancellation came through.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">I think we call this back to square one. I HATE this. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"><strong>HATE IT! HATE IT! HATE IT!</strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">Have also learned that before we can sell our house to another buyer we have to install a new 'county approved' septic system. Bye Bye $6500.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">On the upside, I don't have to pack and move. I guess that's something...</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span>t_colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07255590452727957539noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16655741.post-35745509119353812622009-03-06T16:16:00.004-06:002009-03-06T22:13:27.525-06:00taking care of second base<span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;">Been under a HUGE amount of stress lately - and not the good kind.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;">So you can imagine my amusement on Tuesday of this week when I discovered a lump in my right breast. which, I might add, is a small miracle in itself. I could have a Mini Coop in my boobs and not notice it on most days. (If you've ever met my chest, you understand)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;">So i phoned my OB/<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">GYN</span> Wednesday morning and she worked me in that afternoon.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;">And can you go in and just have them check your boobies???</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">NOOOOOO</span>, you gotta have the oil checked too - far and away one of my least favorite activities.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;">And when did they start asking you to squeeze their fingers? I'm like "Okay, am I squeezing now?" </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;">"Yeah?" </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;">"Good."</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"><br />so she sends me for a diagnostic mammogram. That just means if they find anything with the regular mammogram, they can take you in the next room and do a sonogram right then.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"><br />Had my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">mammys</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">grammed</span> this morning. And Oh Boy was that fun.<br />Seriously, who wouldn't enjoy having their boobies <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">smashed</span> until they were 16 inches across. I am not kidding - i looked. the glass is calibrated. 16 inches wide 2 inches thick. <br /><br />And I know why they mush them so tight - so you can't escape and KILL the technician when she tells you to inhale and hold it. Talk about wanting to Reach Out And Touch Someone! You are so <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">relieved</span> when she hits the Release button you forget about wanting to KILL her. Until she hits the SMASH button again. Vicious, nasty cycle.<br /><br />So she finishes the smashing part and takes me to a private waiting room while the radiologist reads the films. She says that if he sees anything, they will do the sonogram.<br /><br />So I'm sitting in there mumbling Please Don't Find Anything. Please Don't Find Anything.<br /><br />And apparently they do. Find something.Cause I am off to the sonogram room.<br /><br />And the same technician is in there that did my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">hystosonogram</span> three years ago. She found polyps in my uterus. I take this as a sign.<br /><br />So she tells me to lay on the bed. I do. and of course previously smashed <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">boobies</span> sag into the armpit. Some women compare <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">their</span> post nursing boobs to sports socks with tennis balls in them. I have stretched out shower caps with <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">cantaloupes</span> in them. And when i lay on my back, the melon is in the pits. <br /><br />I have to lie on my left side so she can do the sonogram in the right place.<br />Sonogram shows nothing. Nada!<br />I show her where the lump is. Still nothing.<br /><br />I'm like, "what the heck???!!!"<br />she then tells me that the radiologist on duty ALWAYS has the sonogram done on diagnostic mammograms. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Alrighty</span> then. (audible exhale)<br /><br />So she finds nothing and then tells me she is going to show the results to the radiologist and he will come talk to me.<br /><br />Okay - some strange guy is going to check out second base now. Not that this has never happened before, but it's been awhile and I wasn't prepared for this today. Seriously, I would have worn lipstick if I'd known boys were invited to the party.<br /><br />As I am contemplating my lack of cosmetics, Mr. Radiologist walks in. Introduces himself and proceeds to feel me up with the sonogram wand.<br />I am thinking he just wanted to see the chick welding the 16 inch wide <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">tatas</span>.<br /><br />He tells me - And I Quote, "You have fantastic breasts<br />tissue."<br /><br />I have been told many things by many men over the years about my breasts; this is a first. I have fantastic breast tissue!?!?!?!?!<br /><br />He continues to explain that there are four types of breast tissue going from dense to not dense. in the case of a mammogram, not dense is best for seeing foreign objects. So what he was really saying that my boobs are see through - or something like that...<br /><br />So he tells me I am free to go - no worries. Oh, but do follow up with the Breast Specialist. Seriously, they have breast specialist? I know oh so many men that would LOVE to sign up for that gig.<br /><br />So girls - go get your girls checked out. <br />It ain't a lick of fun - but it's good for you!<br /><br /> </span><br /></span>t_colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07255590452727957539noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16655741.post-83927574942614816292009-03-05T08:57:00.002-06:002009-03-05T09:10:42.015-06:00never been one for secrets...<span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;">Which might explain why I have felt like exploding lately....</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;">Have not told everything I know - <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">primarily</span> because I didn't want to jinx anything or cause undue alarm. That is <em>so</em> <strong>not</strong> me. Have always been a <em>What You See Is What You Get</em> type gal. And being a WYSIWYG is not always easy or fun. But it's who I am. In my DNA.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">So hear goes - </span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">Currently have a contract on our house. Yes, Virginia, we have a BUYER!</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">We put a bid in on a house that I have been watching for nine months. Did not get that house. Totally bummed.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">So now have to find somewhere we like and can move into within six weeks.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">Have actually been questioning why we are moving. Is the benefit really there? (and it is - but it's just such a PITA!)</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">My next door neighbor and dearest of friends had brain surgery last month. Heavy duty 3" hole in the head surgery. And she is making a fantastic recovery - but still scared the living crap out of me.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">Found a lump in my breast two days ago. went to the OB/<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">GYN</span> yesterday to have it looked at. And decided it was really sad when the most 'action' I have had in months is getting felt up by the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">GYN</span>. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Anywho</span>, doctor believes it is not malignant but still have to have the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">mammys</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">grammed</span> and checked out further. JUST what I needed right now. NOT!</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">There are other things - minor in comparison - but there's more. Don't have the energy to go into all of it now.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">And today is the most wonderful Mom in the world's birthday.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">Love you Mom! Hope it is a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">fantabulous</span> day for you. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">Lord knows you deserve it!</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">Love,</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">Your WYSIWYG daughter</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span>t_colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07255590452727957539noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16655741.post-2876452681038376952009-01-17T17:29:00.002-06:002009-01-17T17:32:10.570-06:00Life Lesson #237<span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"><em>IF</em> you have given birth to three kids -</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;">THE old fashioned way - utilizing the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">VaJayJay</span> -</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"><em>IT</em> is a <em>VERY</em> good idea to go pee <em>BEFORE</em> you gallop on a horse across the pasture.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">I'm just saying...</span>t_colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07255590452727957539noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16655741.post-40038255715891799382009-01-11T08:54:00.013-06:002009-01-11T18:02:30.937-06:00Lost and Found and Lost<span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;">I have just returned from a trip to Mississippi I never wanted to make.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;">I helped bury a friend this week.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;">My parents have lived in the same house for going on 33 years. All those many years - they have had the same neighbors. And we have always said they are the best neighbors money <em>CAN'T</em> buy. You could not special order better folks to live next door to for 33 years.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;">And that's a long time to live in one place. My parents home, the neighborhood and our neighbors are <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">integral</span> components of my Sense of Place. When my spirit goes home, this is where it goes. The houses, the dirt, the trees, and especially the people tie me to who I am. It was <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">disconcerting</span> when Katrina came through and wiped out many of the trees I had played in as a kid.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">Losing a <em>person</em> from this place is devastating to my inner compass. I ache for myself, to be sure. But I also ache for his mother, father, sister, step daughter, and bride. Yes, he had been married less than a year to his soul mate when he was taken from us.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">DW</span></span> was five years older than me. We were never best buddies in the secret-telling sense. He pestered the life out of me as only a big brother type can. I remember <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">whacking</span> him with a hairbrush during one of his pester sessions and BREAKING the hair brush. He just laughed at me. (He knew my Mom was going to KILL me.)</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">But when it came down to brass tacks, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">DW</span></span> was the one who beat up the neighborhood bully for bothering me. I knew he loved me - in a aggravating ingratiating way.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">We grew up. Went to college, moved away, got married. Me, to a fantastic man. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">DW</span>, on the other hand, did not have that same fortune in his first marriage. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">When I had babies, his Mom and Dad told me they would like to adopt my k<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">ids</span> as their own. I was beyond flattered and THRILLED. Due to various circumstances, they believed they would never have biological <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">grandkids</span></span>. And mine would fit the bill. So they became Momma G and Poppa D. I was in Mississippi when Smith was born and Momma G was in the delivery room with us. She was the one insisting I <em>"Hurry Up!"</em> Apparently her third grandchild was not getting here quick enough...</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">Poppa D picked Savvy up at daycare that day and brought her to the hospital to meet her new little brother. And when we tell the story of when Brother was born - that's her line, <em>"Poppa D brought me to the hospital!"</em></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">Through the years, Momma G and Poppa D kept me updated on <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">DW</span></span> and where his life was taking him. They were pained over his relationships, his lack of direction for his life, and various other challenges. They never once expressed disappointment in him to me - but always a strong desire for life to be better for him.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">DW</span></span> loved his parents silly. One would be hard pressed to find a bigger <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Momma's</span></span> Boy. In the early 90's he gave his mother one of his kidneys without batting an eye. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">And simply put - he thought his Daddy walked on water and could do no wrong. I have no doubt there were many years where the only thing that pulled him through was the love and support of his parents.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">And I know - at the same time Momma G and Poppa <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">D kept</span> me up on <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">DW</span></span> - they were telling him of my challenges, <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">missteps</span> and triumphs. At one time I know he was reading this blog to keep up with me. He even told me how much he enjoyed it.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">A few years ago, his marriage to the first wife came to an end. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">And not long after, I got word that a new woman was on the scene. And Momma G and Poppa D really liked her. I was told she hadn't really wanted to go out with <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">DW</span> at first. <em><span style="font-size:100%;">(THIS I could understand!)</span></em> But go out they did and it wasn't long before Cupid had his way with them.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">In my life I have seen men (and some women) with untapped potential wandering aimlessly through life until they met the right person. And that <em>right</em> person doesn't necessarily make the <em>lost</em> wanderer a better person, but serves as the catalyst for bringing out the best in them.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">And this is how it was for <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">DW</span></span> and J. He was always kind, gentle, funny, charming <em><span style="font-size:100%;">(choke),</span></em> and brilliant. But he was the wanderer. Lost in his life without serious purpose or a real sense of direction. Falling in love with J gave him purpose, direction and a reason to be the man he was predestined to be.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">But we will never know how this love story should have ended.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">In January of 2008, he went for his yearly physical. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">That was the beginning of the end. The disease he was ultimately diagnosed with has no cure and is very rare. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">Realizing that time was precious and nothing is certain, they married in May, 2008. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">DW</span></span> left J on Sunday, January 4, 2009. Before their first wedding anniversary. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">I am told his passing was peaceful and he was surrounded by people that loved and adored him. He was aware up to the very end and his last I love you was for his mother. He had previously told J he loved her and did not want to leave her. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">I hurt for Momma G, Poppa D and J. For his sister and step daughter too.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">It's not natural for a parent to outlive a child.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">Or for a bride to bury her groom.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">and my sense of place is rattled. altered forever.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">I love you <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">DW</span></span>...</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">always did...</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><em>but if you tell anyone, I'LL deny it!</em></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span>t_colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07255590452727957539noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16655741.post-69823734595478507622008-12-17T09:35:00.008-06:002008-12-17T10:10:05.979-06:00Here Comes Santa Claus<span style="color:#ff0000;"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;">Sometime back around Thanksgiving Hubby came home from work to tell me that My Santa was no longer at the same mall. He had left. <strong><em>My</em></strong> Santa. Gone. MIA. AWOL.</span></span><br /><div align="left"><span style="color:#ff0000;"><br /></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;">So being the resourceful Mom that I am, I Googled Santa Claus.</span></div><div align="left"><span style="color:#ff0000;"><br /></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;">Found him. You can run - but you can't hide.</span></div><div align="left"><span style="color:#ff0000;"><br /></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;">He moved. New location. Outdoors - so now he can bring his Reindeer. Yep, real live reindeer.</span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="color:#ff0000;"><br /></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;">So if you are looking for The Big Guy - he is no longer at <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Stonebriar</span> Mall but at the Village in Allen. And he is just as wonderful as he always was. I LOVE this man. seriously. I tear up <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">every time</span> I take the kids to see him. He makes ME believe in Santa. LOVE LOVE LOVE him!</span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="color:#ff0000;"><br /></span></div><div align="left"><span style="color:#ff0000;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">See for yourself...</span><br /><br /></span></div><div align="left"><span style="color:#ff0000;"></span></div><span style="color:#ff0000;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280785036238917970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgBHePIOgeZF-Mxvx3NWfIh58eG13GXSKZeZs4TCkMv4P3ojfNkzwBocnDFrN6PbZvfFus2g-njUgejrpBbTvbxMvKU9y__hreUgAranYZraYhUAZqlncl8k56kbWjSdLmr118/s400/100_0062.jpg" border="0" /><br /></span><div align="center"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;">Next in line to see The Big Guy! With life-long <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">BFF's</span> kiddos.</span></div><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"></span><br /><span style="color:#ff0000;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280785745484060706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiUqAgog0_BFBcD4Vox-FmvAbF-9EXfSwtF_4lv1LCcx9_WQOFZyYO1k1MdEL8g-G2qhFffEeg5BB2ytzlD-k481D2gP4OSsFugXQGaOMOrHusCenYeFLwbpHU50uUTN2fA_O3/s400/100_0063.jpg" border="0" /></span> <p align="center"><span style="color:#ff0000;"><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;">Here's Santa!!!</span><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280786218307766818" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqgFGfBsAT2BGT0VqXky-0TpQxzSNYz4hbV3DcIZdnejPkwJ7_-Sm7A_k81ahmJfYpTwaaUfxFQxkvlZ2LL83qkB_L-m90HAcVuSuPdDlUGMSm5C12n3EmXQ8Ys_T8cIrt2HAP/s400/100_0076.jpg" border="0" /></span></p><p align="center"><span style="color:#ff0000;"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;">Enjoying the Post Santa Glow...</span></span></p><p align="center"><span style="color:#ff0000;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280786716740059330" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEOeegBUxEIL5v8JyHXAsgVuhsBbqDZWApz6GvjLq6_j1S5GDZ6Ao4N79eAvxsDv_K0AesWkvujJobn4wGXvJfYuAGkoL6zhgnXFSxwUJXmPY8Y0cuMOMCCYmCvvLbHuOJHekl/s400/100_0071.jpg" border="0" /></span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;">And they have this cool kid-size Christmas Village. </span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"><span style="font-size:100%;">(Savvy is caught in the act!)</span></span></p><p><span style="color:#ff0000;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280786967099666114" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkr7ICkjCY9t55zO7AuDH9IJQt_0UahRlb1G8s2s1Klv1hyphenhyphenTR-nvPhl5Y-VlfLeAvDrr-cB_ynLEPnZ9F-8UztYucY9BOX8ezFw9MU45RtjO2jCpc29BiPpZJ9r_PKj-7Uy__Q/s400/100_0072.jpg" border="0" /></span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;">Exactly where my girls need to be - the BANK!</span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280787357333442034" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq2QP6aezu_EOTdyqQW_e7_RHMeoTo_h4tNTODfpyKr6SZq8GUTJsk2oNuKvLyhHcw27McjJ9cjvd0KrIvXTRTsr1tBp6r4JexMjxqYLcVQY9DX7mNcVVjJ03NZebzV7OFw-19/s400/100_0084.jpg" border="0" /></span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;">Don't forget the reindeer.</span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"></span> </p><p align="center"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"><em>Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!</em></span></p><p><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"></span> </p>t_colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07255590452727957539noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16655741.post-85125900552208570182008-11-10T09:17:00.003-06:002008-11-10T09:58:58.596-06:00there's a new man in my life<span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;">my mother introduced me to him.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;">I don't know what she was thinking. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">she, of all people, knows what an addictive personality I have.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;">He is already causing problems with my marriage. I don't pay enough attention to my hubby because I am constantly distracted with my new love.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;">But I cannot stop myself. I <em>am</em> addicted to him. Cannot get enough.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;">He's a home-boy from Mississippi which doesn't help matters. Common Ground. I automatically feel a real connection with him.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;">And my biggest turn-on ever - intellectual men with big vocabularies. <span style="font-size:100%;">(I know what you thought I was going to say! Shame on you - this is a family blog)</span></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">And he is a master with his hands. Few compare.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">what's a girl to do? All I can think about is getting my <em>hands</em> on <em>him</em>. I look for him whenever I go out. Hoping to catch site of him. So I can take him home with me once again. Once, twice - it's just not enough!</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">It is too long between each experience. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">But I just can't do this right now. The timing is awful. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">Three young kids - all in school. Homework, lunches to pack.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">I will have to wait until the holidays and next summer before I can start a full-out obsession and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">immerse</span> myself in him.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">and his work.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">he's a writer. an author. a musician. and downright sexy.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"><a href="http://www.gregiles.com/index.html">Greg <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Iles</span></a>. And if you haven't read him yet - I invite you to become obsessed too. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">Just remember he was mine first.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span>t_colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07255590452727957539noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16655741.post-36927523775980526092008-11-06T14:40:00.006-06:002008-11-06T14:49:57.347-06:00i got a new camera<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidUn3EVbj_17aepYdphpE_LphqGnmlr6NU2rMDLoeJgVYMU32XSUczbLqBU11Rz4P2T7IidAl4mFFKRRqLY9szFX-icGRKY0HIp27VHGdNCtPgEmFyUZylwxkYGXq-PeKAe7eg/s1600-h/019.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265648754074757826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidUn3EVbj_17aepYdphpE_LphqGnmlr6NU2rMDLoeJgVYMU32XSUczbLqBU11Rz4P2T7IidAl4mFFKRRqLY9szFX-icGRKY0HIp27VHGdNCtPgEmFyUZylwxkYGXq-PeKAe7eg/s400/019.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSxNq3NbFsWgLLlnyACeA90lvNwey7NZzBKoNPdPPeN7172a5LEZG7Mg1BKCJXl9nEx2x-6HLdYLqwiKfhJhiUzkCWuf2qQM-nepx5Is4vnj33UphXmYxSiPih8gzo5TlCtgJu/s1600-h/016.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265648395362595890" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSxNq3NbFsWgLLlnyACeA90lvNwey7NZzBKoNPdPPeN7172a5LEZG7Mg1BKCJXl9nEx2x-6HLdYLqwiKfhJhiUzkCWuf2qQM-nepx5Is4vnj33UphXmYxSiPih8gzo5TlCtgJu/s400/016.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp9cJ4c7BAqnWHdR3KnY52tS6pnj4pMfh5GOvdDEP10NiiZt3u5BAHc8nxEIVMCzPLfXaW1f47-nRyqTVYS6hyp_8ReDTcnXCkd-vZabqgZ9SLLzXDgdDDvgir5oVHyzv_BQXE/s1600-h/012.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265647997898754946" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 336px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp9cJ4c7BAqnWHdR3KnY52tS6pnj4pMfh5GOvdDEP10NiiZt3u5BAHc8nxEIVMCzPLfXaW1f47-nRyqTVYS6hyp_8ReDTcnXCkd-vZabqgZ9SLLzXDgdDDvgir5oVHyzv_BQXE/s400/012.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcIYM6BytODzkkuhkt8QlX_Ogcpjvit93f96lV22z1AV3siTSzqSq11Eqeu9HIRmljC5YhVsdL4BAKsD2RWGni06_u1ni09z1WJDmJRDurgsOz8IQwn8EOVVuo8xSICjh5qbOt/s1600-h/017.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265647598410467714" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcIYM6BytODzkkuhkt8QlX_Ogcpjvit93f96lV22z1AV3siTSzqSq11Eqeu9HIRmljC5YhVsdL4BAKsD2RWGni06_u1ni09z1WJDmJRDurgsOz8IQwn8EOVVuo8xSICjh5qbOt/s400/017.JPG" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br />Purty cool, huh?</span><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div></div></div>t_colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07255590452727957539noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16655741.post-62336066044042801782008-11-03T16:07:00.001-06:002008-11-03T16:07:23.277-06:00The Results<script type="text/javascript" src="http://widgets.clearspring.com/o/48f7b94a8845f8a3/490f761a29f24acd/4905331bc4942126/7ff3f094/widget.js"></script>t_colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07255590452727957539noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16655741.post-6624489164184082732008-11-03T08:28:00.003-06:002008-11-03T11:50:04.988-06:00Do I LOOK like I'm having fun?<span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;">My van was totaled.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;">There, I said it.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;">Everyone is fine. no serious injuries.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;">THANKFULLY!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">But this was the van we had ONE more payment on.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">New <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">au</span></span> pair was going to pick son up at school and drove into a tree.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">Ouch.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">Not exactly sure what happened - just know it was 30 yards out of the driveway and she was messing with the radio.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">Did I mention we had one more payment?</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">Bless her heart - it scared her to death. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">Hell, it scared me to death!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">We have been having a rough adjustment period since she got here. I think my kiddos are more than she bargained for. (truth be told, they are more than <em><strong>I</strong></em> bargained for!)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">But she is really trying. She does want to be here.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">It's just a lot at once - for ANYONE!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">I went to Houston this past weekend for a dear friend's 50<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">th</span></span> birthday party. I physically had to split the kids up so they would be taken care of and would not KILL each other.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">Savvy to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Mema's</span></span>. Smith to Uncle J and Aunt M. Sam at home with Daddy and new <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">au</span></span> pair. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">one payment left ...</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">i am dwelling, aren't I?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">Chin up. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">Shoulders back. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">Onward...</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span>t_colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07255590452727957539noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16655741.post-61707023516235566912008-10-16T13:26:00.003-05:002008-10-16T13:52:11.175-05:00<span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;">We are almost through week three with the new <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">au</span> pair.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;">She is darling, sweet, cute, funny and trying very hard.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">It is completely different than the last go 'round.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">Due to my potential audience, I will not go into a lot of detail.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">But we are all working very hard to make this a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">successful</span> year. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">Okay, let me restate that...</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">The new <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">au</span> pair, Hubby and I are working very hard to make this a successful year. My three kids are still well on their way to making the grown ups batty.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">On the <strong><em>Milestones of Life</em></strong> front, my four year old son is riding the school bus to school in the mornings. This was not my plan <em>or</em> idea.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">I have been taking Savvy and Smith to school every morning - although the bus comes by our house. However, when the new <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">au</span> pair got here, I could not get all three kids to school on time so we had to do some finagling of schedules. New <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">au</span> pair and I would drop Savvy and Smith off at the cousins' house and they would ride the bus from <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">their</span> house to school - with the older cousins. That would allow new <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">au</span> pair and me the time necessary to drive Sam to school in Dallas.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">So now, new <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">au</span> pair can drive to Dallas with Sam on her own. And I was going to go back to taking the other two to school every morning. Mainly because I did not want my four year old son on the bus.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">But Savvy decided she wanted to ride the bus in the morning. Okay, if she got up early and was ready - she could ride the bus. Easy enough.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">She did this for two days and I took Smith to school those days.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">Yesterday, Savvy, in her best snake-oil salesman tone, convinced Smith he wanted to ride the bus with her.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">At this point she then tells me that after the bus picks her up, it goes and picks up older cousins. (who I <strong><em>know</em></strong> will look after both of them.)</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">My biggest concern was that the older kids on the bus would pick on him. And Savvy would not stand up to them on his behalf.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Their</span> cousin, a Sr. in high school, is #2 in the state of Texas in ALL classes for weight lifting. I am not so worried about any one picking on my kids with big buff cousin around.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">So now, with a combination of pride and grief, I walk both kids to the end of the driveway and put them on the school bus each morning.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">and tell myself it is going to be okay.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">that they are supposed to grow up and be independant.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">that this is my ultimate responsibility - to raise self-sufficient kids.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">just didn't know i was going to take such a big leap this week...</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">sniff, sniff...</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span>t_colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07255590452727957539noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16655741.post-1192579774912268712008-09-19T18:04:00.015-05:002008-09-23T16:05:13.508-05:00Raise Your Arms, Watch Your Knees<div align="center"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;">& Exit to Your Left Please!</span><br /></div><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><div align="left"><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">If I had a dollar for every time I said that between 1984 and 1988 - I would be considerably richer than I am today.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;">The summer after I turned 16 it was time to get a summer job and the small Mississippi town I grew up in didn't offer a lot of choices. I have always been one to dream big so I decided I wanted to work at Six Flags Over Georgia.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Cool. So I took the Amtrak train to Atlanta. One of my Mom's childhood friends picked me up and took me for an interview. I got the job. FABULOUS! Now, where in the heck am I going to stay. My Mom's friend lived too far from the park for that to work.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;">So my brilliant mother came up with an idea from her youth. She grew up in the Georgia Baptist Children's home in Atlanta. Most summers the 'orphans' (as they called themselves) went to visit with a family somewhere in Georgia.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;">So Mom whipped up a letter about her daughter wanting to work at Six Flags and was looking for a family that lived near Six Flags that would take on a boarder for the summer. I am serious. We sent the letter to several churches in the Six Flags area. We got one call. As we quickly <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">discovered</span> - it only takes one call.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;">The family I met and lived with for the next FIVE summers is my family. by choice. I am still in touch with them and their beautiful, talented kids. (they read this sometimes and I want them to know I LOVE THEM TO ABSOLUTE PIECES!)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Meeting them and having them in my life all these years has been the best benefit of those summers at <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">SFOG</span></span>.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;">But about the job. It was a real world case of <em>Country Come to Town</em>! </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Small town girl meets big city kids. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;">They smoked, cussed, drank and had sex. Well maybe not all of them - but they were a lot more mature and sophisticated than I was.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;">I had crushes on all the guys and wanted to be like all the girls. Seriously.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;">And it was not all fun and games. We worked 8 hour shifts - often in the blazing hot Georgia sun on black <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">asphalt</span>. I worked rides - there was NO AC. I had the absolute best farmer's tan for years. I think I could still find tan lines from those summers! On Saturdays, we could deal with upwards of 40,000 guests in the park. Trust me - that's a lot of people. Concert nights were nothing less than controlled chaos and brought out ALL the freaks.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;">My Mom used to tell me when I was growing up, "<em>Honey, you have to watch out for the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">weirdo's</span> out there. They look just like you and me - but they are <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">weird</span>."</em></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;">After my first concert night I called my Mom. <em>"Mom, you are right. There are <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">weirdos</span> out there - but they don't look like me and you any longer!"</em> Remember this was 1984. I saw kids with piercings in places most people hadn't even dreamed of piercing yet. I thought I was cutting edge then b/c I had one ear pierced twice. One chick had on a halter top of duct tape. wrapped in cones around her boobies. (imagine taking that OFF!)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Chains, spikes, colored hair, leather...</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Oh yes, I got a lot of <em>'exposure'</em> in my formative teenage years.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;">And then there were lost, snotty kids. Parents who did not want to follow park regulations - even when it was for their own kid's SAFETY! I saw first hand what happened when you put a kid on a ride they were not mature enough for. Broken teeth, bloody noses, vomiting, black eyes - you name it. I <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">escorted</span> my fair share of those to First Aide. </span><br /><br /></div><p><span style="font-family:Verdana;">In spite of all the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">challenges</span>, those were the very best summers of my entire life.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Verdana;">I grew up. I learned how to deal with the public - on a very large scale. I learned how to be a part of team and work with others. I learned responsibility - being the operator for one of those multimillion dollar rides is nothing to sneeze at. Not only are you responsible for the ride - but for the lives of the folks riding it. Their safety is your number one responsibility. And back then - we didn't have Start/Stop buttons. The coasters had hand breaks. You started and stopped those trains on skill. not computers. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:Verdana;">I remember one day, a guest had caused a problem; I called in security. They were <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">escorting</span> Mr. Problem out of the park and he came at me physically. I was operating The Great American Scream Machine, a gigantic wooden coaster with two trains on. my supervisor was in my ear - "t_<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">cole</span> - concentrate on the trains. take care of the trains. security will take care of you." And they did - and I learned how to work under pressure.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Verdana;">I got to meet a few of the headliner acts that came through. Let's see, I guess the biggest was Duran Duran. I actually saw girls fainting and crying - like those old Beetles films. I was borderline <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">hyperventilating</span> myself. The operations director - also a friend - told me to leave the area. I looked him dead in the eye and said <em>'not on your life</em>.' He laughed, let me stay and I got to meet the boys.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Verdana;">Also met Bill Medley of the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Righteous</span> Brothers, Richard Marx and Glass Tiger. Waved at President Jimmy Carter from the train. I know there were more - but they're not coming to me.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:Verdana;">But the absolute very best part of the job was not the superstars met but the folks I worked with every day. We worked hard and we played harder. Not before nor since have I known a more energetic, fun-loving group of people. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:Verdana;">It was hot. We were sweaty. The park was crowded and noisy. Best of all, we were immortal, hormonal teenagers working in an <strong>amusement park</strong>. It was a larger than life adventure for us every day. You can't bottle that.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:verdana;">Through the power of the internet and SFOG alumni groups on networking sites, I have recently been in touch with a few of these (once) teenage co-workers. It has been so rewarding to hear that for the most part, they remember it as fondly as I do. </span></p><p><span style="font-family:Verdana;">You can't go back. Nor am I trying to. I started at SFOG when I was 16. My last summer I was 20. I went from being an awkward teenager to a worldy young adult in those years. Growing up at SFOG is a permanent part of me and my life's history. Those folks and our shared experiences play a part in who I am today.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:verdana;">and I wouldn't have it any other way...</span></p>t_colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07255590452727957539noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16655741.post-69656680892027630862008-09-18T12:25:00.003-05:002008-09-18T12:37:26.254-05:00One week left...<span style="font-family:verdana;">Until the new <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">au</span> pair arrives. Also from Germany.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I have finally leveled off on the emotions and quit crying <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">every time</span> <em><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">au</span> pair extraordinaire</em> text messages me. I am finding my way without her. It still just sucks. And reminds me greatly how much she added to our family. </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">But on we go.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">My Mom came out this week to help and next week Dad will be here. Last week the in-laws pulled <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Grand Kid</span> Duty. God bless them all...</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I am worried about the expectations thing with the new <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">au</span> pair. I mean, how do you top perfect?</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I know, I know, different is okay. And the local coordinator told me I need to wipe the slate clean - start fresh. No expectations. okay. makes sense.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">But come on, people. I am human. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;">But I am trying. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;">I need my kids to try too - so they don't have her run screaming for the first flight out of Texas in the first 24 hours...</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;">This is going to be so much fun.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;">I <strong><em>am</em></strong> smiling, dammit...</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span>t_colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07255590452727957539noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16655741.post-84983084140368102092008-09-06T17:49:00.004-05:002008-09-06T18:19:56.532-05:00Bye Bye Most Wonderful Au Pair in the Universe<div><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;">I am completely inconsolable.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;">My <strong>MOM</strong> gave me permission to cry all day long if I want.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;">And I want.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;">Our <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">au</span> pair left today.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;">I have hurt all day long. could not put words to it. and i was thinking about her and memories of our year and i remembered her introducing hubby and me as her <em>Host Parents</em>.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;">Host <em>Parents</em>.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"><em>Parents</em>.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;">THAT'S IT!! my child has left home</span> !<br /><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">and even worse, it's my <em>favorite</em> </span><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">child.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">When I could finally put words to my emotions, I told the Hubby. He said that can't be what I'm feeling. If one of our kids had left home, we would be partying! (And he has a point)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">But I have an empty place. If you had told me a year ago that this 18 year old <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">womanchild</span> would come into our lives and make such a huge difference in our qualify of life - I would not have believed you.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">But she did. It was not an easy job. And it certainly was not often fun.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">But she stuck with it and almost always went above and beyond what was called for.</span><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243051806095357602" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0-akRBSeu8AJTuUpdsAc-f7LlsSv7Mhavxv1wxPeLziv_M-QnCoy9jpJXwvymQVwBLGYmlIiaIVDSL7rT6FHaYJfLv0D8m5stMtuZwE3-04gYNsg5Io2UFsYPVSPpM3Gw_3pq/s400/mississippi+041.jpg" border="0" /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;">When I was 12, I started going away for the summers. Camp, boarding school, summer job at <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">SFOG</span>. And I always hated the good byes at the end of the summer. I would more often than not come home crying. My Dad always told me if I had not had a great time and if I did not care about the people I had befriended, it would be easy to leave. And he was not telling me <em><strong>not</strong></em> to have a good time. Or <em><strong>not</strong></em> to develop attachments to my friends. I always thought he was telling me that this is all part of it. It's how you know that you really care. That there was something pure and good in the experience or the relationship. And that something or someone has meaning in your life.</span></div><br /><p><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">Daddy said the same thing to me today...</span></p><br /><p><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;">I have had a wonderful year. And I love her to pieces.</span></p><br /><p><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;">and my child has left home.</span></p><br /><p><br /></p>t_colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07255590452727957539noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16655741.post-57923545814266928082008-09-05T10:38:00.003-05:002008-09-05T11:28:43.881-05:00pandering to special needs<span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;">i watched her speech the other night. she said that parents of special needs kids would have a friend in the white house if her ticket were elected.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;">and I thought about that...</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;">and i resented her implying that after being the mother of a special needs child for five months or so she knows what my life is like and can relate. Let's talk again when you have been the mother of a special needs child for nine plus years. </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;">And then I watched this...<br /></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><br /><p align="center"><object height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/P2oVFWaEPu8&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/P2oVFWaEPu8&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object></p><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">blechk</span>!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">i too am a woman of faith. i also believe my children are gifts from God and i am privileged to be entrusted with their lives and up bringing.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">However, I have never for a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">nano</span>-second considered Sam's challenges and disabilities to be a blessing of any sort. I would not trade her for anything. And I would <em>like</em> to believe there is some purpose to her differences, but given a choice, i would take her without the challenges over what she now faces any day.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">I would also like to believe that divine intervention brought her to us because we are equipped to provide what she needs. In our home, that is mostly true. but i know for fact this <em>intentional divine placement</em> is not true for millions of special needs kids. they are born into all kinds of families. they are abandoned, incarcerated and institutionalized.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:130%;">so i guess, at this point in the game, i would have to say I'm just not buying what you are selling.</span>t_colehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07255590452727957539noreply@blogger.com3