Long Weekends: Blessing or Curse?

It's amazing how much a long weekend can disrupt an otherwise mostly-well-oiled routine. I mean, it's just one measly extra day, right?

For example: This weekend was a long weekend. We got an extra day because of the Labor Day holiday, so both kids were off school, and both hubby and I were off work. On this day, we were also invited to spend time with some dear friends of ours who recently got a small watercraft. Yes, I shall even call it a boat, as it is one. With some planning, we met said friends at the local boat ramp and, after a few false starts, managed to be on the water by about 11:00 a.m.

We enjoyed a lovely four solid hours buzzing around on the lake, towing the kiddos behind on a floaty-thing and reveling in their smiles and shrieks of laughter, and generally enjoying the day. Eventually, the aboard-boat snacks couldn't hold back the hunger, so we returned to the boat ramp, replaced the small craft upon its trailer, and headed to a restaurant where we proceeded to eat. A lot.

Fast forward to the next morning.

Kids slow to rise and get moving, so the proverbial Cattle Prods were removed from their safe spot and used liberally. (You do understand, we don't own cattle prods, right?) We left the house about 10 minutes later than usual only to find out that Boy-child had left his lunch box at school on Friday. When I asked him where his lunch was, he said, "In my backpack." I don't even want to know what he did, or did not, pack for lunch. I asked him where his trumpet was (he has band every day!), to which he responded, "Uh....I really don't know." REALLY!? Come on, kid! We called hubby, who said he'd bring it to the school later.

Girl-child, too, forgot her instrument (a viola) and called hubby to beg him to bring it to her.

Both kiddos forgot to brush their teeth, so we made them both go back inside and do that before they left the house. Which, I realize, added to our lateness, but tooth care is important!

Both kids were lethargic and quiet.

Both kids made mention of needing at least six more hours of sleep.

Both kids are going to have to deal with it and get through their respective days.

Welcome to adulthood, boys and girls.

For my part, I went to bed early-ish, got up as usual, got through my routine as usual, didn't forget anything, and, aside from being a bit later in arriving to work than I might prefer, I was still on time. This, friends and neighbors, comes from years and years of experience.

And...telling myself to "Do it anyway."

Even when I don't wanna.

TTFN
JMS

PS: I wish the kids would buy into my mantra!

My First Video Blog (Vlog)

Aren't ya proud?

TTFN
JMS

Parental Error in Judgement

I made a parental error in judgment the other night. Yes, I did. We are all fools, on occasion, are we not?  Ah...to really give you the proper insight, therefore, I must go back and explain how the error came to be. (Can you tell I've been reading Jane Austen again?)

Several weeks ago, I had a horrible nightmare. Truly, one of the worst I've had in a very long time. Without going into details about that particular dream, suffice it to say it left me feeling sick in my soul and supremely disturbed in my heart and mind. It stuck with me. I remembered every detail; every feeling. And I carried that discomfort around for a few days until I finally decided that the only way I could hope to get rid of that soul-sickness was to write about it. Put it all down on paper in a way that might take it from me and transfer all the ickiness (that's an Austen word right there) to paper.

Almost 12,000 words and 19 pages later, I succeeded. The disturbing nature of the dream was now gone from me because it became a fictional story, rather than a dream in which I felt I'd taken an intimate role.

I sat on this story for a while before I even said anything to anyone about it, but finally had one of my trusted friends read it. Her words were, "...it's creepy and chilling and awesome..." Honest and high praise from her as she reads more than I do. I was glad to know I was able to convey the feeling of it.

Fast forward to earlier this week, Boy-Child and I were discussing various things and he said something about a bad dream he'd had the night before. We talked about it, and I said, "Boy, I had a doozy of a dream a few weeks ago. It was so bad I had to write a story about it just to shake it from my system."

Well, I didn't think at the time (though I should have) that my book-loving son would want to read that story. He thought about it for a couple of days before he asked me to read it.

At first, I said no, because I knew it was creepy and I also because he has never slept really well and I didn't want to run the risk of my being the reason for his having a bad night. Which this story, I felt certain, would do.

He persisted. And I (here's my parental error) finally gave in and let him read it.

It probably took him 15 minutes to read 19 pages and 12,000 words. Far faster than I can read. When he was done, I looked at him and watched him visibly shudder. Oops, I thought.

"You OK bud?"

He couldn't look at me, but said, "Yeah, that was REALLY CREEPY, mom."

"I know."

He needed to go to bed shortly thereafter and told me he would be sleeping with his light on. I expected that, and so didn't really make a reply.

A little while later, he came in and said, "Mom, that story was really creepy!" I suggested he grab his ear buds and listen to music as he fell asleep. He thought that - along with his light - was an excellent idea, and so went back to bed.

Again, he came back to me and said, "I think I figured out why your story bothered me so much."

"Oh? Why?" I asked.

"Because the main character is you. It's creepy because it feels like it happened to you. I could see you in the character and that's what made it creepy."

I put my hands on both sides of his head, looked him directly in the eyes (knowing he was looking back; looking to make sure my irises hadn't suddenly turned black) and said to him, "Bud, I'm right here, soul and all. I'm OK, I promise. And so are you."

He said, "OK," and went back to bed.

Apparently, he was so convinced of my truly being OK, he was no longer even fearful, because when - about 30 minutes later - I went to check on him, he was fast asleep. Lights and music off. And further, he slept all night long.

The next morning, I asked if he was alright and he said, "Yeah, but I guess I probably shouldn't have asked to read it."

Probably not. But he's 13 now and is finally starting to understand actions and decisions and consequences. So, I suppose, even though I feel like I scared the crud out of my son and am a terrible parent, it is a lesson learned. For both of us.

TTFN
JMS

PS: My trusted friend, who had the distinction of being the first person - other than myself - to read the story, said that she could see me in the main character, too. Her words were something to the effect of, "...those who know you will really see you in this." Guess my son has excellent insight, too.

UPDATE 8/15/17: It's rough - I reread it after it had been posted and there are some spacing errors, as well as a few things I'd like to fix, but the story is out there now and you're welcome to go read it. http://www.creepypasta.com/becoming/ Good luck. Feel free to tell me how you really feel. My skin is thick.

Boy Scouts are stinky after a week at camp

I did a good job last week not saying anything about how Hubby and Boy-Child were gone all week long at Boy Scout camp in North Carolina.  It was just me, and Girl-Child, and I didn't want to give any creepers an opportunity to...well...be creepy. So everyone is home now and my world has returned to semi-normal.

When my boys are gone, and especially when Hubby is gone, I do not sleep well. The first night they were gone I was up practically all night. I think I finally fell asleep around 2:30 and was up again around 5:15. I remember seriously considering just throwing it to the wind and skipping church, but Girl-Child had to perform her Acolyte duties at the 11AM service, and it was Promotion Sunday (the day the kids who are rising grades move into their new classrooms; Girl-Child was moving up to YOUTH!) so we had to go to church.  I think I managed not to act like a zombie, but I sure felt like one.

Then, Sunday night, I let Girl-Child sleep in bed with me. But she kick and hogs the bed. She claims I steal covers, but whether I did or not (I claim not), I figure it's just desserts for only having 1/4 of the queen size bed. How a 10 year old can take up so much room is beyond me. She actually put her feet into the small of my back at one point and pushed. That was when I got up, shoved her over and said, "You have to move, or you're going back to your own room." She reluctantly relinquished a few scant inches and I climbed back in. Needless to say, on Monday night, she was back in her own bed.

So, you may be wondering what in the world I did with Girl-Child while I was at work all week? Well, I have wonderful, amazing, giving friends. One of whom graciously agreed to take her on all week. Not just to keep her at her home and keep her safe, but she fed her, did fun stuff, and was even up waaaay earlier than normal just to receive her at the door. I cannot express how much it meant to not only know that my girl was safe, but that she was with someone I trust implicitly. We were even invited to dinner on Tuesday night, which was a repast beyond expectation. Seriously, grilled steak and chicken, steamed broccoli, baked potatoes, grilled shrimp on skewers; wine. It was yum! They kept Girl-child overnight on Wednesday night - so I didn't see her from Wednesday morning until I got off of work on Thursday night. (A long time alone; and it was weird. I didn't really know what to do with myself.)

Oh, and I broke a toe kicking a chair. I didn't kick the chair on purpose; it did nothing wrong. My foot slipped as I tried to push my chair back and away from the dinner table, kicked the leg of another chair which was occupied. My toe was not was simply not enough force to make that chair move, so my toe went CRUNCH! And I went YIPE! Yes, yes - I assured my gracious hosts - I'm perfectly fine. I finished inner with grace and aplomb, hobbled to my car later, and went home to nurse my swollen, purple toe. It feels better now, but YOWIE! I don't like breaking toes. I've done it before and it hurts, by golly! It's much better now; a week later. But still twinges if I step wrong.  The swelling and bruising is mostly gone, except for a couple of spots. I expect I'll live to see another day.

The week passed slowly, with little decent sleep, and then it was Saturday and my boys were coming home! Girl-Child and I went to the Lavender Festival and had a blast. Picked up a Father's Day gift for Hubby, looked at all kinds of fun stuff, ate Italian Ice before lunch, bought a new outfit for her doll whom she adores (we get a new one every year; they're handmade by the vendor), I got a henna tattoo on my hand, Girl-Child filled a sand necklace, made a card for her daddy for Father's day, we saw lots of people we know and love. Then we went to visit some of our animal friends during an adoption event. And suddenly, it was time to go welcome the boys home!

Girl-Child made a sign - WELCOME HOME TROOP 129 - and we held it up street-side and waved furiously as the big yellow bus full of tired and stinky scouts rumbled back into the church parking lot. There was loud beeping and excitement and both Hubby and Boy-Child were pleased with their warm welcome.

I'm glad to have my boys home. We're back to our usual daily chaos, which, as much as the chaos makes me absolutely CRAZY, I miss it when it's not there.

TTFN
JMS

PS: Remind me to tell you about the time Boy-Child sliced open his hand and finger with a knife. That's a good story. (Ugh.) File it under, "At Least He Didn't Die," or "It Couldda Been Worse."

There's a SNAKE in the lobby!

Yesterday, there was a snake in my office building. In the lobby. On the handicapped ramp. It was itty bitty and terrified, it's little head covered in dust bunnies from skulking (can a snake skulk?) along the baseboards. Eventually, one of our guys carefully put a black wastebasket over it and called TWRA. Eventually, when they showed up, they identified the little guy as a common water snake (someone said it was a copperhead so no one was willing to go near it) and put it gently in a bucket labeled: SNAKES ONLY. Bye-bye little snake. Be free!

OK - I'm not a snake person really, and I probably wouldn't have touched it if you'd paid me, but it was a distraction. And I was clearly distracted because...

...well, let me back up a minute.

Prior to the snake incident, I'd been in my office filing. Truly, of all the activities which make up my job as an administrative assistant, I dislike filing the most. Good thing I love my job, eh? Anyway, having to wear a security badge all day, every day, whenever I'm on site, can get...annoying sometimes. The badge kept getting in my way as I was filing and finally, I'd gotten irritated enough that I yanked it off, tossed it on my desk, and continued filing.

I forgot all about it.

(Do you see where this is going yet?)

Shortly thereafter, our mail carrier poked his nose in my office and said, "There's a snake in the lobby!"

ME: A what, where?

HIM: A snake! In the lobby!

ME: You're joking, right?

HIM: No, Sunshine (that's what he calls me), I'm not joking. There's really a snake in the lobby.

So, of course, what do I do? I go to the lobby to check things out.

Like I said, I'm not much of a snake person, but I got distracted. Lots of people out there gawking at the snake, including my boss, a couple of other manager-types, my predecessor in my current position, among others. Chatter turned to questions about the possibility of other snakes. Where did this one come from? Were there others? Where there's one, there are usually more...right?

I said, "I'm going to step outside and take a quick peek around. If I see any more, I'll let you know," and proceeded to exit the building.

(Aahh! You've figured it out, haven't you?)

As soon as those building doors sealed shut behind me - like that second; that instant - I realized I'd left my security badge on my desk. Inside the building.

I was locked out.

CRAP!

Now what?

Well, initially I considered sheepishly banging on the door of the lobby and asking to be let back in, but, truthfully, my boss was still right there and I have enough pride to not want to look the fool in front of him. So I moved off to the left, ostensibly searching for more snakes, in case anyone should ask, and then I could just sort of follow them back in the building and no one would be the wiser, right?

But no one came out.

Of course, I would lock myself out of the building at a time of day when everyone was back from lunch and already settled into their afternoon work.

CRAP!

Now what?

In a moment of brief brilliance (I don't have those moments often), I remembered: K! I'll go ask K! Her window is on the lower level and accessible to me by a couple of steps through the landscaping. (I watched carefully for snakes.) I rapped a gentle shave-and-a-haircut on the glass and she paused, clearly wondering if she heard what she thought she heard, turned slowly around, saw me, and mouthed, "Where is your badge?" with a wicked grin.

I mouthed back: On my desk!

She mouthed: Ok. I'll come let you in.

After letting me in, she said, "You'd better have a good story for leaving your badge on your desk, you goober!" (or some variation thereof.) After which, I launched the "There's a snake in the lobby!" story.

It was an interesting day.

I love my friends. Thanks again for rescuing me, K!

TTFN
JMS

The Chasm of Christmas Commercialism

I have had a wonderful Christmas! Beloved family, amazing food, fantastic friends. I am truly blessed. Though now, I sit back in my chair and issue a sigh of deep, deep gratitude...

Really deep.

I am profoundly grateful another Christmas has come to a close. 

No more worrying about finances, or if something I ordered will arrive on time, or how I'm going to fit it all into the finite amount of time I have. 

No more thinking I've gotten my Christmas cards finished only to receive one from someone I didn't send one to and add them to my "Must Reciprocate" list for the following year - knowing I'll lose the list unless I put it someplace I'll be able to find it later. Except the following year is now this year and I've hidden my list so well I can't find it so now have to start all over again. (I wish I were more organized about such things, but I'm not, and I never will be. I am beginning to accept this about myself.) Thank you for not taking it personally.

No more questions from the kids about anything present/gift/Santa related.

No more trying to figure out where we're supposed to be, when, and what we're supposed to bring with us. (Sometimes I believe I need my own Personal Assistant to help me keep up with such things.)

I am - admittedly, and probably unfortunately - one of the millions of people who has fallen into the Chasm of Christmas Commercialism. (You like my alliteration?)  I worry an inordinate amount about what to get my kids, what to get my hubby, what to get other family members, what to get for people like neighbors, co-workers, friends! The list feels endless and suddenly I'm coming up against the dreaded point where I'm not done and yet my bank account is. It's a terrible cycle and every year I tell myself I'm going to start early and every year it's suddenly time to go through this all over again. I mean really! Christmas comes at the same time very single year so it's not like it should sneak up on me, but it does! Sheesh!

Does anyone else feel this chaotic during the holidays, or is it just me?  And if it's just me, is it because I'm terrible at organizing my life? Please tell me it's not just me.

***

I haven't discussed this with the rest of my family yet, but I have an idea for next year and I think it's a good one. Not only will it save me a TON of stress and worry, it will benefit others, too.

I think maybe I won't go into detail about it right now - allowing time for the idea to take root, and take shape, and grow into something tangible - but once that has happened, I'll follow up with you.  It could be a life-changing thing all around.

I'll just leave that here...

Happy New Year.  May your 2017 not suck.

TTFN
JMS

A light that burned too brightly, snuffed out too early

On April 23, 2015, I lost one of my dearest friends, Nikki.  The world lost a wonderful person and Heaven gained an angel.  If you follow my blog at all, you know that I typically don’t name names here – or I try not to – because I don’t want my ranting and raving and rambling to affect someone else and my opinions are my own.  That being said, my friend is now gone, and I am devastated.  Selfishly devastated for my own loss of a treasured friend, yes, but even more so, I am devastated for those she left behind: her loving husband and their three beautiful little children (ages 9, 6 and 2); her mother, who lived with them and their entire family.  To say that this is tragic would be an understatement.

As anyone who has dealt with loss and grief knows, there are many things that run through your head at once.  Disbelief coupled with hurt and overwhelming pain.  Unthinkable.  Unimaginable.  Indescribable.   The entire thing only serves to leave giant, gaping holes in those left behind. 

Nikki’s light burned so brightly.  She quite literally vibrated with energy.  I don’t think I ever saw her truly still.  She was a fabulous mother, a wonderful friend, and a beautiful, beautiful person inside and out.  I’m going to miss her terribly.  But more than that, now that I’ve had a very teeny tiny amount of time to think things through (sorry about the alliteration) is this overwhelming GUILT that I feel.  And I think – I know – it’s because I feel like I was a terrible friend.  I also know she would give me that patented Nikki look and tell me I was crazy and to get over it.  Then she’d probably roll her eyes or smack me (literally, but lovingly) upside the head.  I can’t help but think of all the times I forgot something important or wasn’t able to take her calls when she phoned, or couldn’t make it out to her house for a visit after they moved away from town.  I hope she does know I loved her; love her still.

And aside from this inconceivable loss, there are several other issues that are plaguing me on a personal level.  My own mother died when I was quite young.  Not as young as Nikki’s kids (I was 15, my brother was 11 and our sister was 7), but still, I know what it is to lose your mother.  I need to say here that I am in no way attributing Nikki’s loss to the loss of my own mother, but there are a lot of similarities here that must not go unnoticed.  My mother died and left behind an oldest girl, a middle boy and a youngest girl.  Nikki left the same.  And I’m wondering, now, in my own small way, if I was not meant to go through the loss of my mother, and all that meant for me growing up, in order to be here for Nikki’s sweet babies; to at least give them someone to talk to when and if they need it.  And believe me, if I had had someone I felt comfortable enough to talk to about all the (pardon me) crap that went on in my life after I lost my mother, I would have been a lot better off for it.

I’ve known each one of those kiddos since they were born.  The oldest (9) used to fall asleep in my arms at church every Sunday.  All three of them know me as Aunt Jennifer.  At one time or another, they’ve each been hugged by me, kissed by me, loved on by me, disciplined by me, taught by me, bathed, dressed and tucked in by me.  I’m not a stranger to them.  And as Nikki’s friend (and as Kevin’s friend) I hope that I will be allowed to continue to be Aunt Jennifer and to be there when they need a momma-figure. 

And that is something else, too.  In no way do I expect to take the place of Nikki.  No one else can be “momma” to those babies.  But Kevin is lucky that he’s got a TON of strong women to help him with the “momma” stuff if and when he needs it. 

I know I’m all over the place with this post, and I’m sorry.  I’ve had a few days to think about it and still don’t really know what I think.  I’m numb.  And if I’M numb, I can’t even imagine how Kevin feels.  Everyone is going to tell him that his kiddos are his first priority now, but really that’s not true.  He is his own first priority, because if he doesn’t take care of himself, he won’t be able to take care of his kids.  He’s got an amazing support system.  He’s got a community full of people who love him.  He’s got so many things to be thankful for.  But he doesn’t have his Nikki.  And I cannot even imagine that loss.  Losing a parent, while devastating, is not the same as losing a spouse.

So, however you worship, say a prayer for Kevin and the kiddos.  They’re going to need every ounce of support they can get.

TTFN
JMS

I'm a recovering Facebook addict

Hello.  My name is Jennifer and I have been Facebook free for almost two full months (since January 17^th) and, though I would very much like to say I don’t miss it, I must admit that I do.  Miss it.  Often.  Frequently. (“’Orphan’ as in a person with no parents or ‘often’ frequently?” Bonus points anyone?)

I miss so very many people!  I miss being able to keep in touch with family out of state.  I miss being able to use more than 140 characters.  I miss the enjoyment it brought me, seeing other peoples’ pictures, sharing in their joys, their sorrows.  Cheering people on, or up.

I don’t miss the politics, the nastiness, the speed at which rumors spread (so & so is dead!  Oh, my gosh!) only to find out through the smallest amount of sleuthing that said rumor is a hoax.  I don’t miss people “friending” me who I don't know from Adam.  I don’t miss all the inappropriate things, comments, pictures, and hey-look-at-me-selfies.  I don’t miss people (for whatever reason: religion, personal beliefs, sexual orientation, skin color) being persecuted or verbally bashed or simply hated.  What have we become? 

I want to feel like I still have friends, even if I don’t see them every day.  Because I’m interested in what interests them.  What makes them happy.

This whole giving up Facebook thing is much harder than I thought it would be. 

And yet…

Sometimes – for extended stretches – I don’t think about it at all.  So I ask myself, often and frequently, “Would I go back?”  It’s not like a drug addiction, right?  Or an alcohol addiction.  Those unfortunate addictions are not even in the same ballpark…are they?  It’s not like giving up cigarettes, either.  Been there, done that, got the t-shirt.  Still want one almost every day.

So, would I go back?  Maybe.  Someday.  If “they” banned politics and mean people and selfishness and toxicity and narcissism and inequality and hate.  Those are the reasons I left. 

And yeah, like I said, I miss parts of it.  I miss those I love, or like an awful lot, or even am vaguely interested in.  But I don’t miss the rest.  Come see me on Twitter, OK?  It’s not my drug of choice, but it’s a non-narcotic form of Social Media that I can handle.  Mostly.  (Twitter: @jshell73 #offonatangent)

TTFN

JMS

The Pecking Order of Stuffed Animals

It’s a still dark outside, bleary-eyed, heavy-headed, shuffling, door-jamb-holding, not-enough-coffee-in-the-world kind of morning.  And no, I’m not hung over.  What I am is sleep and caffeine deprived.  Plus, like everyone else (or, most everyone else) I am dealing with the loss of an hour in my day which, apparently, affects me more strongly in my middle-age than in my younger, stronger, thinner years.  I feel thoroughly abused this morning.

***

I officially have an eight year old.  Good grief, where has the time gone?  Yesterday, we spent a wonderful day celebrating girl-child’s birthday, which included lunch, a trip to Build-a-Bear, an afternoon on a trampoline in a friend’s back yard, and making pizza.   Her new bear (which is really a tiger, I am told) is “Izzy” and, according to girl-child, going to have some trouble making friends with the other animals...especially “Cathy” – the stuffed golden retriever she got from Build-a-Bear on her birthday last year. 

Cathy has been girl-child’s constant companion every day for the last year and is very obviously a well-loved friend.  Last night, girl-child made it very clear that Cathy tends to be a little jealous of newcomers and made a big show of introducing Cathy to Izzy and explaining that they needed to learn to get along.  Cathy grudgingly allowed Izzy to sleep next to girl-child last night as it was Izzy’s first night in the house.  I suggested to girl-child that she rotate nights snuggling with her stuffed friends, to which she replied, “We’ll see, mom.  Cathy will have to decide.”  

The jury is still out.

TTFN

JMS

Tidbits

Girl-child’s 8^th birthday is this Sunday and she wants to take a friend to Build-a-Bear and then to out for lunch (or maybe lunch first).  This is the same thing she did last year and she was absolutely thrilled with it.  I think her chosen friend is excited, too.  Girl-child was given the option of a party at the church or something a little more special; she chose The Special.  Boy-child’s 11^th birthday is the 26^th (yes – both my kiddos are March babies) and he wants to take a friend to Jump Jam.  He was given the same option as his sister and also chose The Special.  Lunch, too, of course.  Trying to get all that worked out, plus figure out when we can go up to visit the aunts and uncles and grandparents who want to wish them a happy birthday, too.  March is always a little overwhelming for me.  Plus, my sister’s birthday is the 30^th.  Sigh.  I guess I’d better get on that, too.

***

Planning to attend another girl’s night next Friday (the 13^th…woo) and we’re going to have a St. Patrick’s Day meal; Corned Beef and Cabbage (yum!).  We do a pot-luck meal, but trying to feed all of us is, as usual, proving to be difficult.  One is a Glutard (no – I’m not being mean, that’s what she calls herself!  She’s gluten-intolerant.); another doesn’t eat veggies, another is diabetic, I’m counting calories.  Sheesh.  But it always works out and there’s always a lot of fun and laughter.  (Just in case you’re wondering, I’m bringing spinach artichoke dip, which feeds the gluten intolerant, the diabetic and me.  Even the veggiephobe says she actually likes spinach if it’s cooked in something or in a salad!)

***

I was up and at ‘em this morning with a crick in my neck.  Painful, yes – but mostly just annoying.  Who likes not being able to turn their head left and right?  Not me, that’s for sure.

***

I made dinner last night.  Hubby helped.  The kids always ask for my ranch chicken so last night, it was made.  Both kiddos scarfed down three pieces of chicken (I use the smaller chicken tender strips) before hubby had even gotten to the table.  Plus steamed red potatoes and green peas and dinner was proclaimed by all to be a wild success.  Go me!  (Yeah – we all know how much I hate to cook – but that doesn’t mean that I can’t cook.  It used to be that I could burn water – truly, there are witnesses to this – but I’ve managed to figure things out.)

***

One week to go and then I’m taking a week off for Spring Break.  Not going anywhere.  However I believe I am renting a dumpster and throwing everything in my house away that isn’t nailed down or absolutely necessary.  I’ve already discovered they won’t deliver a P.O.D.S. to my house so we can’t just store stuff out of the way.  I suppose a yard sale this Spring is vital.  Anyone want a buncha junk?

TTFN

JMS

Ice, ice baby

So, an ice storm blew through here yesterday and left about a quarter inch of ice on my car and about 2 inches of it on the road.  My car doors are frozen shut.  Thank goodness I have already communicated with my boss, because it doesn't look like I'm going anywhere any time soon.

We're lucky where we are, though; we didn't lose power.  Tananda, who lives just south of us, hasn't had power since about 10:30 last night. She says thanks to camping gear, at least there is coffee.  She even covered the cold cat with her Jack Daniels t-shirt.  Now that, my dear readers, is luv.

The big road in front of my house has been plowed, but it still looks treacherous.  I have a vague inclination that I will be working quite a bit extra this week to make up for time lost.  Hubby says there's really no sense in trying to chip away at the external ice on the car, but I dislike being away from work when I should be there and there is stuff to do, so I'm feeling very unsettled.

Kiddos are thrilled with the time off, though. They were both completely entranced by the falling sky icicles yesterday and boy-child kept commenting on how many inches he thought had accumulated.  (I think I may have a little weather man in the making...along with a master gardener, an architect, and an environmental scientist.)

Anyway, I suppose now that it's nearly 10:00 in the morning, I need to figure out some way of getting to the office because I know at least one other person is there, so therefore the roads in must be passable.  I shall leave you now and attempt to make myself presentable for what is ahead of me today.

Here's hoping, if you're local, that you're not suffering too much.  I think about all my friends and family up North who have not just a quarter inch of ice and a lot of yucky roads, but feet and feet of heavy snow, with the threat of more to come.  (sigh)  I dislike Winter.

TTFN
JMS

It's not you, it's me

A very long time ago a friend “broke up with me” by telling me they just didn’t have time for one more person in their life.  I’m not referring to an ex-boyfriend here; I’m simply referring to a girl I considered a friend.  From what I can tell, I was the last person she took on as a friend, and therefore I was the first one she let go.  I was horrified by this break up at the time; offended and hurt.  I didn’t understand how someone could be so callous and careless with my friendship and end it – POW – so abruptly and with virtually no explanation.  And, while I don’t exactly agree with how she went about it, I do – later in my life and with much more experience under my belt – understand the power that drove her to do it.

OK, dear reader, please bear with me.

On the surface, I seem like a pretty outgoing, gregarious, social-butterfly.  I do care deeply about people in general and therefore try very hard to make sure that I don’t offend anyone – at least on purpose.  I have no doubt that I have offended people in my life, but not with any purposeful intent to do so.  To the best of my ability, my manner around others is usually warm and friendly.  However, I am not really outgoing.  Not really gregarious.  (Ok – I might occasionally cop to the social-butterfly thing, but that tends to go along with the caring deeply about people in general thing.)  I love just about everyone I know, but I have very few close friends so I choose them very carefully.  I guess I’m kind of a conundrum.

Suffice it to say that should you find yourself in my inner circle, my true inner circle, you may feel free to feel quite blessed and special, as you wish.  If you find yourself outside of my inner circle, don’t understand me to mean that I don’t like and/or love you.  But, though we may have a wonderful relationship/friendship, there is always going to be something holding me back from truly letting you in.

It’s not you, it’s me.  

You see what I did there, right?

TTFN

JMS

I’m Petting My Peeves Again

Under the category of Pet Peeves, I have officially listed the following: The telephone goes both ways.

Glossary of Terms:

Contactor – the person who reaches out, makes an effort to contact, or otherwise contacts another person or party.

Contactee – the person, persons or parties the above-defined Contactor reaches out to, attempts to contact, or actually contacts or connects with.

Huh?

Really?  You need me to break that down further?  Okay, how about this:

Contactor = You

Contactee = person you’re trying to reach

(I made these up.  Don’t bother looking them up in the dictionary.  Although to be fair, the official Wikipedia description for the word Contactor is: …an electronically controlled switch used for switching a power circuit, similar to a relay except with higher current ratings.  It goes on further…but I won’t.)

So, referencing my above-mentioned peeve, if you haven’t heard from someone in a while pick up the phone and call them? Please? This goes for phone, email, instant message, Facebook, text…pick your preferred method of contact.  Don’t whine about not having heard from someone when you could have physically contacted them yourself.

And I really don’t want to hear anything about, “Well, I didn’t want to bug you.”  If you need something…if you want something…CALL!  If you just want to hear the person’s voice…CALL!  You do not have to wait for that person to call you!

Good grief!

To reiterate, the telephone works both ways!  I know you can count so you know your numbers.   You probably have my number in your contact list or in your little black address book – if you’re still reliant upon ancient technology.

TTFN
JMS

Advice, Given & Received

A friend of mine said something to me the other day that resonated with me in a way very few things do these days.  We were discussing my anxiety over a certain project and she said, “You’re just anxious about [the project] because you care.”  (I’m paraphrasing.)

Holy moly!

Okay – so it may not be such a moment for you, but it was for me.  I do tend to get anxious about the outcome of things and she’s right, my level of anxiety is directly related to how much I care about the project or thing that I’m working on, or people the project will affect.  The more anxious or stressed out I am, the more I care about what I’m doing.  I never really thought about it in that way before, but…wow...I've definitely thought about it now.

It’s kind of wild (and maybe, if I am being honest, a little disconcerting) to have someone who isn’t me know me, in some ways, better than I know myself.  If this person were just about anyone else, I might have brushed it off and not thought another thing about it.  But my friend, being who she is, means that paying attention is practically a requirement.  This is a good thing.  It's folks like her who you want to listen to.

This probably isn’t going to really change anything – knowing my anxiety vs. care ratio – but it does fall into the category of Best Advice I’ve Ever Been Given.  And, though I suppose it wasn’t exactly advice, either, I am still putting it squarely in the BAIEBG column because it fits there.

Here’s another example of great advice given to me.

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away (sorry – don’t smack me) I worked in a jewelry store in Old Town, Alexandria, VA.  The store owner was brash and difficult and we butted heads…often.  I loved my job.  I loved the jewelry.  I wanted to love my boss, too, but she made it very difficult.

One day, a co-worker pulled me aside and advised, “You’ve got to listen to what she is saying, not how she is saying it.  Do that, and you and [boss lady] will get along just fine.”  (I’m not paraphrasing here – I actually remember this one word-for-word.  Hm…how odd that the above advice was given only yesterday -or maybe it was last week- and I can’t remember the exact words, but this thing that took place nearly 20 years ago, I remember verbatim.)

I don’t remember exactly what happened after except to say that my life got infinitely better after that sound wisdom was imparted to me.  Even now, as a much older adult, I occasionally have to remind myself of those words.  Listen to what they are saying, not how they are saying it.

It's good advice, don't you think?  I think it can be effective in both your personal life, and your professional one.

TTFN

JMS

Good Stuff Happening!

Oh boy.  There's been A LOT going on lately!  I don't even know where to begin.  Some stuff I can talk about and other stuff I can't, but honestly, it's all good.  

First of all, as stated in one of my last couple of posts, VBS is over for another year.  It seems like I live year to year in fear of, preparation for, or recovering from VBS.  It's always a TON of work and it's always SO much fun, and it's always SO exhausting - but the kids have a great time (and not just my own) so it's also TOTALLY worth it.

I posted on Facebook the other night that I'm still "reeling from all the good" and that's still very true.  

Good friends bought their first house and are moving nearby, which is not only awesome for them (new house, YAY) but awesome for me, 'cause they'll be so close!

I went to the endocrinologist the other day and he proclaimed me in good health.  "Don't come back for another year!"  That's always music to my ears!  Apparently, 2 years and a couple of months post surgery, my body is adjusting well to the lack of a thyroid.  Meds are good, no adjustments needed, and the ultrasound looked all clear.  So, yay me!

And something else going on with me (something good) that I can't really talk about online, but that a lot of you will know about already, or find out about soon.  (No, I'm not pregnant.)  But definitely a major life-changing thing coming up that I am totally excited about and which I am feeling most overwhelmed and humbled by.

Father's Day Weekend was great.  We spent some time at the zoo that Saturday with Hubby's sister and her hubby.  Excellent day, and I hardly even got sunburned!  (Another bonus!)  And even though Father's Day this year happened to fall on the twenty-fifth anniversary of the death of my beloved mother, I'm OK.  I think maybe the overwhelmingly positive things balanced the very negative thing.

TTFN
JMS

Thank you!

Ah…the moment when you realize that the thing you’ve been preparing for, for months and months and months, is over.  And then that other moment when you realize that you’re so tired you can’t really enjoy it!  LOL! 

What I mean to say is that Vacation Bible School at my church is now officially completed for 2014 and, though I am exhausted, I have nothing but good things to say!

I had an excellent (truly excellent) team behind me.  It would be nearly impossible to call them all out, but let me touch on a few:

Richard.  You headed up crafts for the second year in a row and did an amazing job.  Your entire team, without exception, came to me to let me know how well organized, fun, and creative you are and how they were proud to have been on your team. 

Emmily.  Your culinary creations are always sure to please, and this year was no exception.  You and your kitchen crew seriously rocked it…again! 

Paul.  My sound guy!  Thank you for microphones and music and putting up with my indecision with a smile and a goofy hashtag!  #youareawesome!

Patty.  The party.  Ah – what can I say about the closing celebration and party except that it was, as always, another resounding success.  You never cease to amaze me.  You and your entire team are to be commended for giving the kids just one more reason why VBS at Kern is the best in town!

Ashley.  Music is alway so much fun, and you make it even more so!  The kiddos absolutely adore you, and I do, too!  Thank you for making our Tribal Tunes awesome!  Something about hashtags needs to go here, too!  How about I copy Paul's: #youareawesometoo

Debbie.  I couldn’t do this without you.  I truly could not.  You are the glue that binds me together when I am about to come apart at the seams.  You are the needle and thread that sews up all my frayed edges.  You are the iron that smooths out all my wrinkles (and not the ones that are on my face).  You are the cheese!  (I just wanted to say that.  You aren’t really cheese.  Cheese-y, maybe, but not cheese.)

Tom. Who knew that Moses would be so popular?  You have an innate way of engaging kids and making them understand difficult, Biblical concepts in a fun way.  I see it every year, Plunger Man.  You rock!

Jamie.  You are my other half.  My better half.  The person I can count on when everything else is going wrong.  Thank you for your help and your constant trust in me.  I love you!

My Group Guides, all twenty-something of you, were SPOT ON!  THANK YOU!  We couldn’t have had such a successful VBS without you!

From the bottom of my heart, thank you – all of you! 

Normally, I would sign of with my usual TTFN JMS – but I think today requires something…more.

How about:

I love you all!

Jennifer

Tananda Dot Com - Surviving The Cube Farm: A Lesson In Office Etiquette (Cross Posted)

Apparently I'm quite prolific, because here is yet another article I've written posted to Tananda.com!

http://tananda.com/2014/06/surviving-the-cube-farm-a-lesson-in-office-etiquette/

Happy Prairie Dogging!

TTFN
JMS

Letting it Go: A thoughtful commentary on one person's experience with grief and loss

Oh, my.  By now, I’m sure you have heard the song Let it Go from Disney’s movie Frozen. Right?  What?  You haven’t?  Well, I’m sure a quick YouTube search will enlighten you.  I honestly don’t have time to type out (or even copy and paste) the entire song’s lyrics here.  Suffice it to say it is (in this person’s opinion) a song about giving up and just doing whatever you want, regardless of the consequences.

And kids (including my dear daughter) are singing it all over the world.

Now, don’t misunderstand me.  I’m not criticizing.  I actually like the song.  It’s…catchy.  It’s an ear worm that you wish, after three solid days of singing it to yourself, that someone could surgically remove it from your brain. (I think I’ve even seen a comic panel about this very thing; surgically removing a song stuck in one’s head.)  I suppose most kids don’t really understand what the song is about, and that’s probably a good thing.  But what about those kids who do figure it out?  Will there be behavioral consequences for parents to deal with?

Yeah – really not going there.  And, as much as I like the song, I also don’t like it.  Ugh.  That’s totally convoluted.

But what about that phrase let it go?  And I don’t mean within the borders of a Disney movie.  I mean out there.  In the real world.  What does it mean to let something go?

I tend to be a Let me give you my two cents worth kind of person and I hope that you’ll bear with me.  I somehow have equated this whole let it go fad to my own personal grief and long-standing sadness, so this is a difficult post for me.  It will be difficult, I think, for others in my small but adored circle of friends and family, too, but I cannot apologize.  This has been a long time coming.  I have a story to tell.

***

I’m coming up on the 25^th anniversary of the death of my mother.  She died, after a long, 7+ year battle with cancer, on June 15, 1989.  I was fifteen when she left this world.  I remember that day as if it happened yesterday and yet, I also have blocked it out and after 25 years I think the memory is a little fuzzier.  I haven’t decided if that’s a good thing.

All I can say is it happened on the last day of my Freshman year in high school and I went to school that morning knowing (like some people just know it’s going to rain or how others know when someone is lying to them; instinctively) that I would never see my mother alive again.  I remember feeling wooden, robotic, going through the motions of a fifteen year old girl on her last day of school.  Sitting in homeroom, I knew when Mr. Lagasse’s classroom phone rang, that I was the one the call was about. Sure enough, he turned around and caught my eye.  I started gathering my things.

Molly said, “What’s up?”

I said, “I’m pretty sure that my mom died.”

Who can really respond to that?  She knew darn well I was not joking in any way.  She was my best friend.  She remained silent.

A school resource officer came to meet me at the classroom and I remember being asked to clean out my locker but I don’t remember actually doing it.  Then somehow I was at home and there were people everywhere and someone asked me if I wanted to see her before the coroner came to get her body.

Ok.  I’m done.  I can’t go into that day any more deeply.  I’m struggling hard to maintain a modicum of composure right now.  So let’s move on, shall we?

***

What is grief?  Going to my source for all knowledge, the great and powerful Wikipedia, Grief is a multifaceted response to loss, particularly the loss of someone or something to which a bond was formed…a natural response to loss. It is the emotional suffering one feels when something or someone [an] individual loves is taken away. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Grief)

I feel like, while on one level that definition is accurate, it can in no way accurately describe how grief feels.  And grief feels different for each person.  Some people can let it go and move on with their lives, and others, like myself, do a good job of faking it but cannot let it go.  It is with me. Every. Single. Day. Of. My. Life.  Period. 

Even now, 25 years later, and after a whole lot of growing up, I still think of something I want to tell her and have been known, on a rare occasion, to pick up my phone to try to call her…only to realize that she isn’t there anymore.

I think the loss never leaves. That the hole it creates is always there, but we learn to fill that hole with other things so the loss (whatever it may be) seems less and less over time.  But sometimes, when we think about it directly, the hole magically empties of all other things and becomes that great loss all over again.  A giant, gaping  hole in yourself that you now need to work to fill again, with other, ordinary, everyday things.

So when I say, “I understand,” when talking with another person about their loss or grief, I truly do understand.  Again, every person’s experience with grief and loss is different.  But very few people have lived the very definition of the word.  I think I can honestly and accurately say I am one of those people.

I had a conversation with a good friend about this very thing the other day.  She is dealing with her own gaping hole of loss, having just lived through another anniversary of the death of her beloved father.  I said some of these same words to her and she encouraged me to write them down – to share them with others.  And I hope, in some way, they can help.  I’m not sure who they’ll help, or how, but maybe they will.

TTFN
JMS

Tananda Dot Com - Savvy Job Hunting: Tricks of the Trade (Cross Posted)

Check out my latest article on Tananda Dot Com!

http://tananda.com/2014/05/savvy-job-hunting-tricks-of-the-trade/

Happy Job Hunting!  May the Force be with you.  (Sorry, that just came out!)

TTFN
JMS

It's a good kind of tired

Spent the entire weekend visiting with amazing friends. It was very hard to leave. And wishing that they'd pack themselves up and move back to where they started (meaning back to around the corner from us) is silly. There were lots of tears from the kiddos as we drove away; missing their friends.

We'll have to do it again...soon.

TTFN
JMS