New Year's Resolutions er Changes

It's that time of year when I take stock. What would I do differently? What character flaws do I want to improve? If I could spend my life doing exactly what I want what would that look like and more importantly how do I get there? Soul searching; and I've been doing it for weeks. So in an effort to be accountable, and who better to be accountable to than the coffee girls, here are the changes I'd like to make in 2010. I intend to:

Be present in the moment more. I spend most of my life doing rather than being and thinking about what needs to be done next rather than in the moment. 


Give myself some slack. I have high (and unrealistic) expectations for myself and what I can accomplish. When I don't achieve my goals I feel like a failure. I am going to break this pattern and learn to love and accept myself.


Live healthier. I could write a blue streak about this failure of mine. Instead I will say that working on my feeling like a failure and worthless will be a major part of the plan. The rest will be organization, healthy food choices, the Wii, walking and writing in a journal daily.


Meditate every day. I need the quiet space in my head to think clearly.


Take my meds and check my sugars daily. No gasps from the coffee girls.


I hesitate to write this one because I've said it so many times and haven't succeeded. Yet I am in a believer in intentions so I'd like a less stressful more creative and fun job. Learning how to deal with work stress and still maintain a healthy lifestyle will be a huge challenge. 


I am determined to succeed. Let the new year begin!

Being A Boss

Say an employee says she wants to make me aware of something that might be coming down the pike. She has put her son on the waiting list for a daycare center (not ours) and if he gets in she won't be able to work until closing anymore. We have openers and closers; she is our closer.

Later while in my craft room this conversation rears its head. I'm thinking wait a minute - her scheduled hours are 9:30-5:30 and just because she her sone might be attending another daycare does that mean I have to change her hours?

Could I walk in to my bosses office tomorrow and say I have to pick Maisy (my cute canine kid) up from daycare at 4 so I won't be able to work until 5:00 anymore. Does life work like that? Or is this employee expecting something that hasn't been given?

Then I think a bunch of ways to work through this situation being nice - like see if other staff want to close so she can get her son, and then it dawns on me that I need to tell her I might not be able to accomodate her request. Which I wonder, makes me too hard as a boss and then the whole tug of war starts between my need to be nice and my need to run my program.
So which side needs to win - the nicey nice or bitchy boss? And is there room for both in the land of bosshood?

Ohio, the Buckeyes and home....

Tonight, I'm watching the Hawkeyes from the University of Iowa battle the Wolverines from the University of Michigan. Football runs in my blood.

I was born and raised in northwestern Ohio - "the flatlands", as my friends from Pennsylvania like to sneer. Along with the flat lands came football. Soccer fields were nowhere to be found and basketball was for the tall kids, but football - everyone played football. My brother and his friends played backyard football and then high school football. Football was on TV every Saturday and Sunday afternoon at my house. My dad loved a good football game, though he had to get up and leave the room if the game got too close. It was hard on his blood pressure.

By the time I was fourteen, I had a favorite NFL team - the Miami Dolphins. I didn't understand all of the finer points of football then. I picked that team because I liked their uniforms. My dad got a chuckle out of that, but I think, secretly, he was just glad one of us girls had taken an interest in the game.

I moved to Kentucky for my college years. Basketball is huge in Kentucky the way football is huge in Ohio. I couldn't understand all of the excitement over basketball. It made me homesick for football and so, I embraced both football and home by becoming a fan of the Ohio State Buckeyes. "Fan" is maybe not quite the right word....?

• Before my daughter was three, I taught her to respond with the word "Boooooo....!" when asked what we say to Michigan.
• I bought a truck last year. I told the salesman I wanted red, white or gray. I'd even settle for green or black, if that was all he could find, but under no circumstances did I want a blue truck.
• I actually attended a Penn State - Ohio State game a few years ago, in Happy Valley, wearing a red sweatshirt. Stupid? Brave? I don't know - I just couldn't abandon my team that night.
• I am a fan of the Ohio State Buckeyes and anyone playing against the University of Michigan. (Thus, tonight's game.)

My husband is fond of saying, "You can take the girl out of Ohio, but you can't take Ohio out of the girl." In a way, he's right. I haven't lived in Ohio for twenty-six years, but it's the only place that will ever really feel like home. My kindred spirits are there. I can walk into the supermarket at home and folks will embrace my love of OSU, rather than tolerate it. There are other reasons that Ohio will always feel like home, of course, but no other reason as highly visible as all of us decked out in our red.

Excuse me. There is only two minutes left in the game and it's 28-30 in favor of Iowa. I'm going to go cheer them on - all in the name of the Buckeyes, of course....

Top 10 Things I'd Like Right Now

In no particular order and most are only needed for a few hours.

1. A massage.
2. A shoulder to lay my head upon; might include some crying.
3. A person who can do yard work.
4. Merry Maids...my door is always open.
5. My boss on vacation for a week.
6. Fourty-eight hours to call my own.
7. Deep dark delicious chocolate.
8. 4 STARS.
9. A cook who will fill my freezer with delicious home cooked meals!
10. The time and money to have all of the above.

I wish...

Last night on FaceBook, I posted the following....

"Kathy wishes for a whole mess of things right now."

When I posted that, I had a restless feeling. A feeling that winds were changing - that life was going to be different. Many things were running through my head - some trivial - some not.

I wished that I didn't have to get up early this morning, drive for an hour, and do a training. It was an absolutely gorgeous sparkling fall day - the kind of day that you want to spend outside, with your family, so you can squeeze out the last drops of summer. But I had to work. Nothing I could do about it. It was a fact of my life and a requirement of my job. Still didn't stop me from wishing for it.

Several people in my life are going through tough times. I wish that I could make things better for all of them. One mom is struggling with teen-aged daughters who seem to be ungrateful, possess an attitude of entitlement, and see her as "the bad parent". Twice during the last week, she called me in tears. I'm 350 miles away. Another friend is having a hard time at work. She's trapped in a job with little support from her supervisor or her staff. She's fighting the good fight - and doing most of it alone. A third friend recently placed her father in a long-term care facility. Her father isn't adjusting as well as the family would like. It must be so draining for her to know that someone she has loved and looked up to all of her life, now doesn't understand "why she would do that to him". Other friends are facing difficult financial situations, the loss of children who are moving to college or getting married, or relationships that aren't going well. I wish I could make things better for all of them.

My children are both facing major transitions in their lives. My daughter will graduate from college in a few months and plans to move far, far away. The fear and heartbreak I'm experiencing must take a back seat to supporting my lovely, talented, and brave daughter as she seeks to make a life for herself and find her way in the world. It takes an unspeakable amount of courage to give your children their wings. That sounds so easy to say, but it's so very difficult to do. I wish she wouldn't move, but more than that, I wish I had the courage to actually feel what I'm telling her I feel. I miss my little girl.

My son is planning to begin college in a few months. Thankfully, he is only moving a short distance away and I will still be able to get my "mother fix" now and then. Still, for the first time in twenty-three years, my house will be void of children. I wish that didn't have to happen. My son has fought the academic fight all his life. Now, he has the opportunity to attend college and the pride I feel is boundless. I have so many hopes and dreams for him. I also have two wishes. I wish him every success and I say that with conviction. This boy deserves to succeed. But....I also wish he was four years old again and snuggling on my lap. I miss that boy.

My mom is now in her seventies. She is managing a 2500 square foot house, 3 acres of lawns and gardens, and still sewing twenty-six pairs of pajamas every year for her grandchildren. She is 300 miles away. Almost daily, I worry about her being in that big house alone. I wish I could be with her more often. I wish I could do more for her. I wish she would move here, but I know that wouldn't make her happy. She's lived within the same square mile all her life. Again, it still doesn't stop me from wishing.

I wish I could talk to my dad again. He died in 2004. I still can't get my mind around that word.

My friends, God bless them, said things like: "Do you have a wish I can grant? If so, let me know. I'd be glad to help you," and "I hope all your wishes come true! You deserve them," and "Let's throw all our wishes together and get out our wands and see what we can make happen!" Aren't they wonderful?! I wish everyone had friends like mine...

The VMA's My Way

Janette Jackson - fierce, Madonna not so much. Kept wondering what was in her cheeks; ping pong balls, inflatable balloons that adjusted when her lips moved? If there was a VMA for frozen in time, her face would have won.

Russell Brand: After watching him charm Sheri Sheppard on The View, I was smitten. All the sex jokes, not so funny. Thinking maybe the adult film industry would be a better career than comedian. Loved the vest and t-shirt and how you handled the EVENT of the evening.

Which brings me to Kayne. Bit of advice the next time you hear yourself saying "I'll let you finish speaking" take your own advice and shut up. Taking the moment from Taylor Swift - unforgiveable. Had I been in charge of the VMA's I'd have made you stay after and clean the whole place up.

Beyonce: I get it, your young, beautiful and talented. Can't help but wonder if the words to your song (put a ring on it) would have had more impact if you weren't gyrating your lady bits in front of millions at the time. All I could think about was the old quote why buy the milk when you can get the cow for free.

Lady Gaga: Extra body parts aside, your outfits have become a cliche. Lady Gaga equals crazy outfit. Wear jeans and a t-shirt sometime to really shock the heck out of us. And I get your whole life is performance art, but the spouting blood was truly tacky. And did you really feel it was necessary to change your outfit from accepting the award to talking about it? And do you travel with a suitcase that doubles as a changing area? Just wondering is all.

K-Stew I'm proud of you. A girly dress and shoes - leaving the hightops at home. Next time work on the hair. R-Patz if I say anything negative I'll get hurt, but you could take a lesson from Taylor on dressing. It's true, every girl is crazy for a sharp dressed man. Last night I was Team Jacob all the way.

Pink you were the belle of the ball. Your song was awesome, I didn't have to look at all your lady bits on display and you are one heck of an athlete. Thank you for giving the show a much needed dose of class. Pink and class in the same sentence; who'd have thunk it.

The Courage of Orphans

Every year we visit my Dad's family and every year I learn something new that reminds me of the strength of the human spirit. My Dad was one of five children, the youngest boy and the next to the youngest of the five. When he was 6 years old his mother died. He remembers very little of his childhood. His only memory of his mother was seeing her naked lying on a bed with people in the room taking care of her. She died three days later.

Her death set off a series of events, which have become the missing puzzle pieces in my Dad's life. What we've learned so far is the my Dad along with one of his brothers stayed with an Aunt while the funeral was held, eventually they came back home and their new life began. We learned my grandfather was an alcoholic long before his wife died, his disease grew worse after her death. He left the care of his children to his oldest son who was 13 at the time! Today's 13 year olds are busy with sports and video games. My Uncle was taking care of himself and his four younger siblings.

By everyone's accounts this was a fun time in their life. They were free to roam without adult supervision. They fished and learned how to survive on fish for food. They hopped on freight cars and road the rails into the nearby towns. On many occasions they were brought home by the police. No matter how many times they tell the stories of this period of their lives or who tells them, there father is absent from the tales. He was in a bar drinking.

The next piece of the puzzle has never been restored. What I do know is that my father, his brothers and sister were taken to an orphange. How this transpired is a mystery. My father at 6 spent one night in the orphanage with his 8 year old brother before his brother was moved to another building never to be seen again. I was scared says my Dad. I think this is an understatement.

Due to a twist of fate or destiny, a young man was shot and killed in a hunting accident. This young man happened to look exactly like my father. A minister talked to the grieving family about a boy who looked like their missing son. My father spent a summer with this family. At the end of the summer they asked him if he would like to stay; my dad at 7-8 years old wasn't sure what to do but knew he didn't want to go back to the orphanage. He stayed. A decision that haunts him in much the same way as his older brother is haunted by the fact he couldn't keep the five of them together.

After 66 years my uncle is still haunted by the fact his brothers and sister ended up in an orphange. He feels he failed. At 79 years of age, his face still shows the pain of his failure. I tell my Uncle I admire him because I do. When I think what it must have been like to lose his mother, then have to raise, feed and care for his brothers and sister; I am amazed. What I need to tell him is thank you. Thank you for giving my father the only happiness he knew in childhood.

I would like to write that once my father was adopted he got a fairy tale ending; the loving son in a loving family. He didn't. His new father was an alcoholic who used to make my dad dig ditches on a Saturday only to tell him to fill them in on Sunday. While his new mom accepted and loved him, his new father never let him forgot he wasn't his real son. My father often wonders if staying in the orphanage would have been the better choice.

My Uncle must have done something right because all five of them got and stayed married. They all raised children, two went to college, three served in the service, all worked - three with their hands and two with their heads. My Uncle became a volunteer fireman for 20 years. None were alcoholics, none abandoned their children and all of them love to garden.

And I after all these years understand what courage looks like. It looks like a 13 year old raising his siblings, it looks like an 7 year trying to decide whether to stay with strangers or go back to being a stranger in an orphanage. It is the Aunt who took their four year old baby sister in and cared for her. It is this Aunt who made sure to take the three remaining boys out of the orphanage to watch my father get confirmed. It is his adoptive Mom who never hid the fact he was adopted and let him continue to have a relationship with his brothers and sister. It is my father for overcoming the obstacle of being unloved, unwanted and scared and learning how to love and care for my mother, brother and I. Courage is my Dad and I am very proud to be the orphans daughter.

September 11

You didn't get through today without being reminded of that awful fall day in 2001. This is my 9/11 story:

I was working as a long-term substitute in second grade. The elementary school in which I was teaching is located in northwestern Pennsylvania. In a minute, you'll understand the significance.

The weather in northwestern PA was as beautiful that day as it was in New York City - a clear, bright blue sky. I remember taking deep breaths of the fresh air that morning and thinking about how summer was too quickly fading away.

At about 9:20 that morning, a call came over the school's intercom system. The principal asked one teacher from each grade level report to the cafeteria regarding a matter of national security.

There were three second grade classes in our wing and mine was the overflow class. I had only 12 children in my room, so consequently, we were like a little family. Because my class was so small and it was easier to shuffle them to another classroom, I was elected to go to the cafeteria.

Once we were all assembled, the principal told us what happened. Of course, the early reports stated only one tower had been hit. She told us we were permitted to tell the children, in terms they could understand, without frightening them. On the way back to my room, my eyes filling with tears, I thought about what I should say to the eight-year-olds who would know - by the look on my face - how serious this was. I pulled myself together, called my fellow teachers out into the hall and explained what I knew. Then, it was time to tell the kids.

By this time, I had managed to hold off the tears fairly well, so I was able to calmly tell them what had taken place. I told them some people had flown a plane into a very tall building and we were worried about the people in the building and on the plane. They soberly listened to what I had to say and then hands started popping up. I answered their questions as truthfully as I could, but the one question that has stayed with me all these years was this one:

"Was my mommy in that building?"

In their little eight-year-old minds, New York City was only fifteen minutes away and the World Trade Center was a place where their mommies or daddies might work. It struck me that while I was telling them what happened and answering their questions, some of them were sitting there, sick with worry, thinking about the fate of their parents. I wanted to hug all of them as I quickly reassured them that no one's mommy or daddy was in the building.

Lesson plans gathered dust as we talked and worked together to try to make sense of why someone would do this to innocent people.

Over the next few weeks, I taught them a number of patriotic songs and, at the end of the day, they loved to stand at the open door, lined up for the bus, and sing for all they were worth. Patriotism was born in those children that day. One small bit of good that came out of the horror and awfulness.

Hug your children. Pray for your loved ones. Never take for granted the many blessings you have in your life. And.... remember 9/11.

DH's - they'll surprise you!

Every once in a while, someone you thought you knew really, really well will surprise you.

I have been married to my DH for 27 years. We've had some pretty rough patches in those 27 years - one recently. But yesterday, he totally caught me off guard.

My friends know this about me - I can't get enough of Robert Thomas Pattinson. (Yes, I do know how old he is. Stop asking.) For awhile, I tried to convince myself that it was because he personified Edward Cullen, but.... I've been forced to admit that was only a cover for my obsession. While I love all things Twilight, I do not get Robert mixed up with Edward.

So, yesterday, as we were preparing to go out to dinner to celebrate my birthday, I noticed a brightly wrapped package on the kitchen table. Curious, I picked up the package and asked if I could open it. It was shaped like a picture frame, but that didn't make sense to me. I was accustomed to jewelry boxes, chocolates, or gift cards - none of which fit the shape of this gift. I carefully peeled back the tape, commenting on how much I like that particular wrapping paper with it's vibrantly colored balloons. He mentioned that he couldn't find a bow that matched, but figured the gold one would work. All the while, I'm trying to guess what on earth is in this package.

Finally, I had it open. It was, indeed, a picture frame. I flipped it over and found this picture of Robert staring up at me:
It's an autographed, 8 x 10, framed picture of Robert - my Rob!! And my wonderful DH had purchased this for me. I couldn't believe it. I laughed and clasped the picture to my chest, and hugged my DH and then looked at the picture again. I simply couldn't believe my DH would buy me such a gift, let alone go to all of the trouble of tracking it down for me.

Hmmm....maybe the old boy is not so bad after all. We just might have another 27 years in us...

Home is Where Your Friends Are

Last night we had dinner at Kathy's - she cooked, we ate, celebrated her upcoming birthday and continued hatching our secret plan. It was a lovely evening, with laughter and friendship. While driving home I pondered - I tend to do that while driving. Here's my ponderings.

How welcoming and homey Kathy's place was. She had lit candles, fall flowers on the table, the table set and welcoming. Her son might not have appreciated the "girly" feel, but I did. Kathy took the time to make sure we would feel welcomed, comfortable and at home. I think our society has moved away from these niceties, I know I have. Kathy's home reminded me to make an effort; to show I care.

Good conversation is blast. Last night we made our way to the living room, got comfortable and talked with one another. Kathy's son (twenty something) joined us (old ladies) and found our middle ground and the conversation continued. It was great to hear a 20 year olds thoughts and even better to realize I am happy at, gulp, 50!

Being polite and being old don't always mix, or don't ever ma'am a woman who still thinks she 18!

Laughter among friends is the best medicine. I realized as I was going to my car, I was happy and upbeat. I haven't felt that way in weeks and the last few days it had gotten worse. Laughing, my friends, good food and talking all did the trick to turn me around.

Friends are for talking and I realized that I need to do more of this. I tend to store everything inside and keep plowing away until I'm worn, the way I was this weekend. I'm going to work on sharing my feelings - be forewarned you guys!

You Say Leader I Say Soda Bottle

Without a doubt the funniest moment of last night went something like this:

Lonnie: "I am a born leader."
Lisa: "Speaking of leaders."
Me: " This is going to be about soda bottles isn't it?"
Lisa: "Yes, I saw this neat idea on ....

Leader, liter? Its all in the way you look at things. Lonnie at this point looked perplexed while Lisa and I started laughing. Things got even funnier when Lonnie wondered how we went from leader to liter - which sent us all into laughter again. I still can't think about it without laughing.

And that is what our group is all about; fun, laughter, support and friendship.

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