On the Road - the worst didn't happen.

Yesterday my family was involved in an accident. Despite a car with much damage we came through it relatively unscathed. Today I am hurting from my hips to my head. The accident has triggered a flare of my Fibromyalgia. But it is a pain which will ebb quickly. I am grateful for the safety of seat belts which worked exactly as they should. I am grateful for the police officers who responded and ensured that we were all okay. I am grateful. Memories and Flashbacks. I know what can happen. I have seen the worst. On August 6, 198o, shortly after my high school graduation and before my 18th birhday I had an accident which has tortured me ever since. I was on my way to work that morning. I didn't make it. A few blocks from my apartment I was in a crash with another car which was driven by an elderly woman. I do not rememer the aciident. I do not rememer the morning. My first memory is of regaining consciousness in my car surrounded by emergency vehicles. Through my windshield I could only see the hood of my car and a person hosing down my engine. Through the passenger window I saw another car. But I couldn't see a person in that vehicle. It turns out she was there and they were able to rescue her from the wreckage with the jaws of life. They loaded both of us into an ambulance and took off with sirens blaring. I watched her die. Her heart stopped and the paramedics administered blows and shocks to her chest with no success. She died. I was released from the hospital with few physical injuries but great mental ones. Since that awful August morning I have suffered intense fear when I witness the remnants of accidents and I am skittesh in cars most of the time. I have suffered flashbacks. I am scarred. Tortured at times. But yesterday I saw that accident coming and while it scared me it didnt do more. I did not suffer a flashback. I didnt struggle with the tears that are always on the surface. I wasn't tortured by my memories. I cannot explain why I escaped these horrible memories, but I am grateful. And for the first time in nearly 30 years I feel a measure of freedom from those memories. I am grateful for that even more than I am for my physical health.

Book Challenges for 2010.

Are any of you avid readers? I have found many book challenges for 2010, and signed up for 6 or 7 of them? I have a friend who will join me in at least some of them but I am inviting you to join me. I would love the opportunity to read your thoughts and reviews of books you read next year and to share mine with you. I have set up a book blog specifically for this purpose. It is entitled The Best Gifts Have Spines and Pages, and you can find it here: www.spinesandpages.blogspot.com

What does THANKFUL really mean?

I know most people ask themselves this question in late November, but I find it to be even more applicable to my life now. So, here it is: What does THANKFUL mean? The dictionary says: thank-ful (thangk-full) adj. 1. aware and appreciative of a benefit; grateful 2. expressive of gratitude: a thankful smile Coloquially, in my mind it incluedes: 1. I am glad that I have it. 2. I am happy it makes my life easier. 3. That person makes me feel good. Today. 1. I am thankful for the home we have to shelter our family when so many are homeless. 2. I am glad for my husband's job which he loves and excels at. 3. I am happy to own such luxuries as a dishwasher, soft cotton towels, a hair dryer, and my new iPhone. 4. I am happy to have two children and a husband who are good, honest, compassionate and loving people. 5. I am thankful for books, Christmas music and ornaments which all have stories ahout our life together. 6. I am grateful for my friends and extended family who all give to me far more than they take from me. 7. I am grateful for my faith. There are a million other things -- small and big, and I am grateful. For what are you grateful today?

Childhood Dreams Realized

I am currently engrossed in a wonderful book written by one of the queen's of the scrapbook world. The Big Picture by Stacy Julian. One particular layout struck my fancy today. She titled it Shattered Horse Dreams. It had one small picture of herself as a child on a horse. The rest was journeying. She wrote that she always dreamed of owning a horse when she grew up until she fell in love with a man who was an asthmatic. The layout was delicious; it portrayed the dreams of her child-self and the contentment that her life has actually brought to her life. There was no regret in her words. It simply illuminated a small glimpse into her childhood. This layout provoked the question: What were my childhood dreams and have I realized them? If you look to my School Years books in which my mom kept my school photos, report cards, memorabilia and in which I wrote my desires, you will see my childish scrawl writing my hope to be a 'stewardess'. Every year it was the same. I wanted to fly! I never considered the possibility that I might be a pilot (or have any other aircrew job). I was a girl. 'Girls' were 'stewardesses'. What mattered was that dream of travelling the world for my job. I am not a flight attendant, and I never even tried to achieve that position. What I did was far better. I flew! Yes, I certainly flew. But I did it while serving my country and in a position with much more knowledge of flight than I would have had in that long sought after job. I only served four years and I still regret it today. Except... now I have a dream realized AND a new dream formed and realized. The dream of motherhood. I think it is time for another dream...

Chanukah, Friends and New Inspiration

This week has been full of life Outside My Window and that fills my heart with happiness. Monday brought the noisy din of happy 10 and 11 year old Girl Scouts to my home. It was our last meeting for 2009. The first half of our school year has passed quickly and we are looking forward to cookie sales the first week of January. I was also surprised by a knock at my door that day. I walked to my door expecting a UPS driver and instead was stunned to see my friend who has moved to New York. We only had a few precious moments but it was wonderful just the same. Tuesday I had a couple of hours with a friend and chips and salsa. The latter was yummy, but the conversation was even better. Together we discovered a mutual passion for books and have decided to join an online book challenge in 2010. (Maybe I will do more than one.) I followed that up with a treat for myself: a new haircut which I love! Wednesday evening was my monthly book club meeting. Pattie, Jamie, Krista, Marilyn, Sara and two newer members. They bring intelligent, insightful and sometimes silly conversation into my life. And then tonight our friends invited us to share the last night of Chanukah with them. The meal was wonderful and because she too is a scrapper I poked through two of her newest albums and discussed with her some online classes she has previously taken. I left with new motivation to challenge myself in my art. Five days full of love, friendship, shared passions and an opportunity to learn more about the beautiful traditions of Chanukah. It cannot get much better.

Forensics and New Evidences of Maturity.

Owen is on the brink... a boy of 13. No longer a child. Nowhere near manhood. On the precipice of true adolescence. Each day is a new experience; a new struggle. Sometimes the growing pains prove to be difficult for me. I find that his 'attitude' sometimes causes me great frustration, and often I react in anger. It is that word again. React. I wish that more often I would breathe, think and act rather than react. Thus the growing pains. It is not only my son who struggles with them. It is me. I am being forced to grow as a parent, and sometimes I do it only by being dragged into it while kicking and screaming. But yesterday my son provided me with evidence of maturity. It was a good day without those pesky growing pains. So, what happened? Forensics. The first tournament was yesterday. Owen competed and won the 6th place trophy. But, although I am proud of that win, it is not the evidence of which I speak. The first round was a difficult one for Owen. He forgot parts of his piece and fed the wrong lines to his partner. I watched him with a pit in my stomach. I left feeling sure their chances for the podium were gone, and sure that round 2 would be much the same. In the past Owen has struggled to change course once it was set. When he performed badly once it was certain to continue. If things began poorly, they continued poorly. So I was sure he would follow that path. Here is the wonderful evidence of maturity; of the path he is following as he grows: Owen performed well in the second round. He set aside his disappointment and he performed. This is a difficult feat for adults. So it is lovely to see from my child The road to adulthood. The growing pains will continue. I may even encounter them tomorrow, and if so I hope I will act. I hope I will avoid the folly of reacting. But in this moment I am content to revel in the beauty of yesterday.

Snow Days and the Struggles of a Friend

Today's view Outside my Window is a literal one. I am snuggled in the warm cushions of my loveseat still in my flannel pajamas and glad not to be out in the cold. Today's high temperature is to be MINUS 1 degree. And the wind chill puts us at minus 11! What??? We are in Colorado now, not Michigan. So today I will not be seeing much outside the walls of my home, and it leads me to ponder my own thoughts. So, here is another glimpse Inside My Heart. I have a friend. She is a woman I know only a little; she is in my little world but I have not had enough opportunities to get to know her. She is a lovely woman and she is facing some difficult and trying health concerns. The worst of it is she is undiagnosed. Most people do not know the anxiety of having serious health complications which affect every aspect of life. Even fewer know wht it means to have those problems and not know the reason. Undiagnosed. This status is the worst there is. Most of us can learn to face whatever it is that we must face. We are told the worst and once the shock ebbs we learn to cope. But, when we do not know what it is we are facing we do not cope well. It is a status of limbo. Fear and anxiety take hold and our minds conjure pictures of the worst outcome. Beyond that we often face a crazy thing from others. As time passes and we continue to live without a diagnosis people begin to think we are 'making it up'. They treat us as though we are a bit crazy, and cease to have compassion. So not only do we have these horrible symptoms of illness; our world shrinks and we feel as though we no longer have anyone who (whom?) we can trust and on whom we can rely. I worry about my friend. I believe that she is starting to feel this frustration and is facing it with few people who understand. She is on my mind and in my heart. I 'get it'. I know those feelings. I know that awful word. Undiagnosed. So, today I am pondering... how do I best help my friend? How do I help her face the fear and feel that she is not in this status alone? How do I best share my 8 years of experience with her? Ideas are welcome.

The wonderful world of OTHER PEOPLE'S blogs!

It has been an eventful weekend following a slothful week. And lately I am not a blog writer but a blog stalker. I am having a great deal of fun reading blogs ... of those I know and of those I don't. I have found an entire universe of blogs dedicated to scrapbooking and another one dedicated to reading. I have found sketch challenges for scrapbooking and already utilized one sketch which has allowed me to get one layout closer to finishing my 2008 album which I have been working on forever. And who knew there would be reading challenges to take on for the coming year? I am going to challenge myself this coming year to read more, write more, think more, do more... All these wonderful blogs have entertained me and given me inspiration for my two favorite hobbies. However they have also led to what I referred to above ... a slothful week. I am going into this week with a strategy. I will dedicate certain amounts of time to blogging by setting a timer and when it goes off I am done. I will accomplish one layout for that never ending book of 2008. I will set aside a sum of time each day to do those everyday chores. And I will finish decorating my house which looks as though Christmas exploded inside it. Hmmm... can I really do this? Or will I find myself lost in another blog written by some talented person I will never meet? I hope I do not discover a third universe of blogs to follow. I wonder... is there a universe full of 40+ women in love with their childhood idol and writing about those silly 70s? The weekend... well it was filled with Girl Scouts, church and a poor sweet daughter.

Emily got it right again:

Had I Not Seen the Sun by Emily Dickinson Had I not seen the Sun I could have borne the shade But Light a Newer Wilderness My wilderness has made --

My view today. A sunny December.

December dawned and we were graced with sunshine. Sunny days (not necessarily warm days) are the days I live for. I have always been affected negatively by gray and cloudy skies and my mood instantly lifts when the sun is out. If you ask me for a short list of favorite pop songs one instantly comes to mind: "Walking on Sunshine" by Katrina and the Waves. If that song plays I drop everything, raise the volume, dance and sing. I am happy. December started with sunshine. Snow will fall and gray skies will arrive, so my question is how do I keep my view sunny? I like lists. I like them too much. I even wrote about my endless lists. So, here is the funny thing. I am writing another list. My list of things to do to keep my view sunny. 1. Make the house a place of holiday celebration so that I love being inside even if the shades are closed from the world. 2. Spend quiet moments alone in contemplation of my faith, my love, my goals, my belief system, and the things which lead me to have a positive attitude. 3. Sing along with my stereo or iPhone at least once a day. 4. Complete my 2008 scrapbook before the end of the month so I can have a sense of accomplishment and pride that I get whenever I finish a scrapbook project. 5. Open the blinds, curtains, windows and doors whenever the sun is out. 6. Seek my favorite memories and write them. What things would you put on your list of things to do to improve your view?

Grateful.

This is a short list of the things for which I am grateful. 1. The health and happiness of my children. 2. The love of my husband, which has been tested in so many ways over the years. 3. My extended family -- both the one to whom I am related by blood and the one to whom I am related by marriage. The latter has accepted me in spite of my crazy ways and have taught me that the word family encompasses far more than I realized. 3. A comfortable home in which I have created my nest. 4. The things for which I am often ungrateful, and treat as an expectation rather than a privilege. (Indoor plumbing, clean and safe drinking water, accesible information, electricity, soft towels and sheets, good tennis shoes, and so much more). 5. My camera, my Kindle and my iPod Shuffle. These items are treasured more than I think they ought to be. I love them. 6. The ability to scrapbook, which is my favorite creative outlet. 7. My mother-in-law who has been equal to my own mother in her ability to make me feel cherished and cared for. 8. Our computer. 9. The three babies I lost, as they taught me more than I can explain. 10. The Gospel. I rarely talk about religion but my faith is important to me and has been a great source of comfort through the last 7 years of health problems. Have a wonderful Thanksgiving. Please share some of the things for which you are most grateful.

Motherhood and the moments which remind me.

A glimpse inside my heart. Last night my first-born child competed with 34 other kids in the school Geography Bee. It was one of those experiences in life when I realize how difficult it can be to hold the title "mom". I sat with Greg and Cora surrounded by families of the other kids, and with each question the tension rose. Not for Owen -- but for me. It is difficult to have no control over what happens next for your child; to worry that he will end up with a broken heart. I remember how devastated I was to lose as a child. I know that disappointment is normal, but sometimes disappointment feels heavier when you are a child. That weighed heavily on me while watching my son last night. I needn't have worried. Owen was composed and smiling, and I could see it in his eyes that he could have answered any of the questions posed to the other kids as well as those that were his to answer. Still, inside my head was a running tally of how many questions he got right as compared to the other children. There is some kind of strange thing that happens in these moments and you find yourself cheering against the kids who aren't your own. It isn't something which I enjoyed. However it was also one of the experiences in life which heighten the love of one's child. Owen enjoyed the process. I could see him thinking about each question. I could see the smile on his face whenever he knew the answer. And I could see that he is not only a bright child, but he also enjoys the surprises which life brings. He is compassionate and despite being happy to rise above the competition he empathized with the other children who were disappointed. In the end Owen came in second. He missed the final question in the championship round and ironically the answer to the question was "Greece". If you know my son you know this answer would seem to be his 'Least Likely to Miss' question. Is he disappointed? Of course. But he is also happy. His reaction is exactly the one I would have hoped for him to have. He is a good kid and I am proud once again to be his mom.

Snowy Sunday Haiku

My friend Denise has inspired me over the past year to revive my love of Haiku. For those of you unfamiliar with this style of verse, it is a Japanese form of poetry characterized this way: It has three lines. The first has 5 syllables, the second has 7 syllables and the third has five syllables. Traditionally Haiku was written about nature. I have followed that path today. This snowy Sunday, clouds hang low hiding the peak. Peaceful, quiet day.

Love of Books Re-KINDLEd.

I have a love affair with books. I don't just read them; I devour them. You will rarely find me without a book. There are many times when I know it is not likely I will have an opportunity to indulge in the pages of whichever book I am reading at that moment. It doesnt matter, because the idea of not having a book with me when one of those moments surfaces is hideous to me. So, everywhere you find me you are sure to find a book. But as I have grown older my eyes (which have always been bad) also grew older. Last year I found that I needed trifocals. Unfortunately I have not adjusted well to that change. And as a result of being unable to see, my passion for books faced crisis. Yes, you can buy recorded books, but have you checked out the price? Have you seen how small that section of the library is? No, it wasn't a viable option. And so I continued to read... at a much slowere pace than ever before. Then came Kindle! Mine is named Trixie and she has reKindled my affair with the written word. I love my Kindle. Why? I will give you my list. Yes, this is sort of a commercial - sorry for that. But of all the things I own, the Kindle is my favorite, so I have to share it with you.

1. I can carry many books at once. Last summer we went to Rocky Mountain National Park. Due to my foot and ankle issues I knew I would be unable to hike as much as my family. So I packed my Kindle. The first day we chose a trail knowing I would hike in about 1/2 mile, and that Greg and the kids would hike another mile before turning back. I gave Greg my Kindle and he tucked it into his backpack. We arrived at my desitnation and I made myself a comfortable place to sit. Greg dug out from his backpack more than 40 books -- all in a package that weighed less than a poiund! I will say though, that I didnt read very much. I was too busy sharing my Kindle with passersby.
2. I am reading books from genres new to me. Many authors sell their books for very low prices to gain new readers in the e-book world. Who wouldnt download a book for a penny?
3. I can read the classics for free! You can find hundreds of books for free... the classics and much more.
4. No more hand cramps. I tend to read often in bed or on the couch and my hands soon cramp from the weight of the book. The Kindle is incredibly lightweight and in the past 7 months I have not had a single hand cramp.
5. No more lost pages. The Kindle remembers where I left off last.
6. Oxford dictionary and Wikipedia. When I need to look up a word I simply place my curser in front of it and the Kindle automatically opens the dictionary to that word and provides me the definition! If I want more, I can go to Wikipedia in a flash.
7. Immediate download of books.
8. I can listen! If I am washing dishes and in a good place in my book, I just turn on the Text to Speech option, and Trixie reads to me!
9. No eyes strain. I can change the font size to a larger size that is friendly to my old eyes, and the e-ink technology is fantastic. My eyes are never sore, even after hours with the book.

Yep, I am blessed to have back my obsession, my adoration, my immense loveaffair ... with books!

ReKINDLEd!

Possesions Past (and Future?)

I am not entirely sure why, but recently I seem to be finding many memories of childhood hiding behind every door.

As I begin shopping this holiday season I am recalling the moments in my childhood when I was surprised and elated by Christmas gifts that I had secretly yearned for. I was unusual in that I never told anyone what I wanted despite my mom’s efforts to cajole a list out of me. I believed it would be greedy to ask for things I wanted. The irony in that is my most desired items were quite inexpensive.

Many children crawl beneath their trees carefully unwrapping and re-wrapping the gifts on which they located their names. Some did not go quite so far, but they did seek to know if they had the largest gift, or if their beautifully wrapped packages rattled. My brother was among that group. I cannot say I did not sneak under any trees. I certainly did. But I did not look for large gifts or gifts that rattled. No, I felt the edges of each gift hoping to find… spines! Yes. I hoped that I would receive books. I still adore books though I read more of them on my beloved Kindle now than I do on the variety that I sought all those years ago.

For several years I followed a particular girl detective. Her name was not Nancy. The girl I followed had blond curly hair, freckles, three brothers, and several friends. Her name was Trixie Belden. She lived in New York on a lovely little farm known as Happy Valley Farm. I adored Trixie and read her books so often that I could still tell you the stories. Unfortunately those beloved books found their way into the trash after I entered the Air Force. If you see any of her books in the little antique shops or used book stores… look for the 70s version (not the icky paperbacks from the 80s). If they are in good condition I would reimburse you in a heartbeat. For those who are knowledgeable, these are the “Uglies” editions. They may have been ugly or cheaply made compared to earlier editions. But they were mine and I loved them.

Oh, there were other gifts I adored. Of course anything that involved Donny was a big hit, as you must have figured out if you read an earlier post.

But I also loved the Spirograph, the loom on which I made multitudes of ugly potholders and my first Brownie camera. I do still have that last item. When I decided the Spirograph would be something my kids loved I began the search. I was sad to learn that they no longer exist. Well, actually they do exist but they are a horrible imitation of the original. So, now I am on the hunt for the original Spirograph too. What were your favorite toys and possessions of childhood?

Cooking and Creativity

I have never been our family cook. That is Greg's domain. He is a fabulous cook who learned from the best cook I have ever known - his mom. However at times it does make me feel like I am a slouch, when he has to come home from work and then make dinner. And, I have noticed a certain quality in the (mostly) women I know who arre in charge of their family meals. They are both organized and creative. They use the best of both the left and right hemispheres of their brains. Today I decided to give it a try and I hope I can continue to expand my knowledge of the art and science of cooking. I hope that all my friends and family will share their knowledge with me. But tonight I will share my first success! We had two heads of cabbage in our refrigerator which we needed to eat. So, I made a salad which I found on the internet with one head. Then I took the other and lightly steamed large leaves of cabbage. I then cooked turkey sausage with carrots, and rice. Finally I made an easy Asian sauce which my CSA farmer taught me how to make, and spread it on the cabbage before rolling it up. Everyone in my family loved them, it was very healthy and I felt great. It was a win. Now, would you help me earn my next one please?

Yes, I Can -- Air Force memories

I grew up with a love of aircraft. My dad had served in the Air Force before I was born as a crew chief, first on B-57s and then on the U2. His job was fascinating to me and I loved to hear is wonderful stories about his time on Eniwetok during Atomic Bomb testing and the crazy things that happened with the U2 before it even had markings. (Think SR-71 Blackbird in the '60s and '70s.) I don't remember when it started, I only recall that I always loved flight. Every year I filled out the survey in my School Years book and one of the questions asked "What do you want to be when you grow up?" Of course it was multiple choice and had different answers for boys and girls. The boys were given the following choices: President, Fireman, Police Officer, Pilot and Doctor. While girls had these choices: Nuse, Teacher and Stewardess. For those of you younger than I a stewardess is a flight attendant. I always checked this box. However, this the first important question to which I was told, I couldn't do it because I was "too...", In this case I was too female. Later - in junior high - CB radios were widely popular. My family owned a home radio as well as car units. We joined CB clubs and you could often find me running radio control. I absolutely loved that radio and nearly every night you could find me on it for part of the evening. It was the first thing I ever loved nearly as much as I loved flight. With my passions in mind it should not surprise you to know that I was thrilled when I was sworn into the Air Force with the job of radio communications. Off to boot camp I went, on November 16, 1981. (This is another story but is also another example of "you can't do that".) That was followed by Tech School where I trained for my job. Another 8 weeks later and I was accepted into school to be an Airborne Communications Systems Operator. To get there I had to achieve a 98 percent grade in the first tech school and have an instructor recommend. But the moment I knew that job was available I set my mind to it. What could be better than a job which combined my two childhood passions?

Training was wonderful except for one thing, most aircraft were not open to women... especially those that were most interesting. The Strategic Air Command had many planes open to women -- at certain bases. But the Tactical Air Command had the more sexy aircraft. They had planes which would allow me to travel the world. Planes which were sleek; which were what I now would term 'hot'. I wanted to fly in the Tactical Air Command. If there were ever a time when I felt defeated byt the "you can't do that" mentality of the world, that was the time. You cannot change your gender.

Soon our class received our orders. Most of the men received orders to go to Tinker AFB in Oklahoma. They would fly on the E-3, AWACS. They would travel the world and spend their lives living out of a flight bag and eating exotic foods. I received orders to Offut AFB to fly on a C-130. The adage among fly-boys was Awful Offut, and "fly around the flagpole'. Where would I travel? Certainly not to Saudi Arabia or Iceland. No, I would fly missions from my home base with far fewer days TDY. I was extremely jealous.

I began a campaign -- I call it Beg the Higher-Ups to Change Policy. I wrote letters to the President and Congress. I talked to flight instructors, recruiters and everyone else who was in the know. Would that accomplish anything? Of course not. I was female. A girl. A 19 year old girl! But I was determined and so, if nothing else, every person who knew me (or even met me more than once) would know that I wanted to fly in the Tactical Air Command. Specifically, I wanted to fly AWACS.

Then a minor miracle happened. TAC opened its doors to women on certain aircraft. And AWACS was one of them. I received new orders the same day! Maybe the person making assignments did not want to hear me beg again. I will never know and I don't care. I had the orders I wanted. I was no longer "too female", and I was thrilled.

I would arrive in Oklahoma in June 1982 as the first female assigned to an air crew on AWACS. There are many more stories to go with that assignment, and many of them do revolve around me being "too female" but that was a handicap which I overcame, and those stories will be told another time.

What was my answer to flight?

"Yes, I Can!

Yes, I can -- the first in a series

I believe. There are many things I believe in. I believe in the enormous capacity of my heart to love. I believe that people are more good than bad and there is vast generosity everyday. I believe in kindness, hope, honestly, loyalty and effort. I believe that I can do my best, or not, and either way it is my choice. But one particular phrase has is my philosophy of life. “Yes, I can.”

"You're too..." Throughout my life, I have been told about the things I couldn’t do. Usually it is phrased something like this: “You’re too young, too old, too female, too quiet, too loud, too smart, too friendly, too, too, too…” Once in a while they say “Don’t get your hopes up.”

These are the ways people try to be polite but discouraging; they think they are doing me a favor. No, they don’t step forward and say “You can’t do that.” But, really, they are saying, “You can’t do that.” It isn’t very encouraging.

Encouraging myself. But, Mark Twain once said, “Keep away from people who try to belittle your ambitions. Small people always do that, but the really great make you feel that you, too, can become great.” I agree with Mr. Clemens. I believe life is too short to live amongst small people. It is important to surround yourself with people who are amazing and to let them encourage you to be your very best, as well. I also believe that sometimes that is impossible and that is when you must encourage yourself. I believe anyone can do anything they want to do and this includes me. I have done it many times I have done the things that people warned me I was “too …” to do. In this series I am going to explore some of my “Yes, I Can” moments. Please share with me some of yours.

Skeletons in your closet

Halloween is nearing and with it comes a slew of memories surrounding the spooky holiday. Over the years I have eaten tons of the sugary stuff, uttered the phrase 'trick-or-treat' with the hopes of scoring something especially good, stuck my face in ice water chasing an elusive apple, and worn multiple plastic masks with holes through which I could peek while hopefully avoiding tripping over branches, roots and other children. Halloween is filled with child-friendly ritual. Now I am the mom and my job is to purchase said sugary stuff and toss it into plastic pumpkins and pillowcases thrust forward eagerly by princesses, pirates, and all manner of cute and ghoulish pint-sized characters. As we make our plans for Cora who has borrowed a lovely Pocahontas costume this year, I am remembering. Every year I hoped to dress as a Princess. Not any particular princess, and certainly not a Disney princess. Costumes weren't so specific in my childhood. (Although one year my brother was the most adorable Casper the Friendly Ghost.) I simply wanted to wear a frilly pink dress with lots of lace and a glittery crown. I wanted to fee beautiful, and in my mind that costume was the magic ticket to be the fairest girl on the block. It did not matter that October 31st in South Dakota meant covering myself head-to=toe with warm coats and other woolens. When I was 7 or 8 my mother was hospitalized in the days leading up to Halloween. As was true for most children of the day, moms were generally responsible for the purchase of costumes. The day snuck up on us, and as it turned out my dad completely forgot it was Halloween. When he stopped to visit my mom after work she questioned why he was not at home dressing my brother and I for the annual begging of candy from the neighbors. My dad rushed to the nearest store seeking costumes for Bob and myself, finding one in each appropriate size. I was not a princess. The pretty pink dresses had sold out long before that fateful Halloween eve. Nope. I was a skeleton. A skeleton does not lead a girl to feel pretty. But it was worse than that. I was in 2nd or 3rd grade. I had knock-knees, glasses, and I was horribly skinny. My constant accesory was a book and I got perfect grades, but I had no ability to do anything physical. I was always the last pick on the playground and the kids taunted me by labelling me a skeleton. And now I had to dress as one? What kind of crazy irony was that? I sobbed my heart out and my poor dad now had a wife struggling with a sick heart and a heart-sick child. Somehow he got me out the door to fill my pumpkin with that beloved sugary stuff, and I came away with my only real 'story' to tell my children about Halloween-past. There must be a photo somewhere...

Random thoughts

Some random thoughts that have passed through my mind on this particular Sunday... 1. I love the movie "The Sound of Music", and prefer the mountains to the beach. But, I cannot sing, even when I am on a mountain-top. I wish that I were a singer though. 2. If I write about my thoughts will it cause my friends and family concern because they see how little I really do? :) 3. Why eat spaghetti noodles when you can have spaghetti squash? 4. I wish that I could tour the country and the world with my family and experience the sites known to the locals rather than the tourists, so we could experience the culture of each location. 5. If I write another post about music, or about another childhood memory, will that bore you to tears?

Our view out the window today.

The early morning view in our neck of the woods. I love where we live. I have been a resident of SD, IA, TX, MS, OK, MI, NY, and CO. There is something to love at each of these places. But this is the first place I have lived where I hope to stay the rest of my life. The view alone makes this place heaven on earth.

First Loves, Crushes and Celebrities

Do you remember your first love? How about your first crush? More aptly, do you remember your first celebrity crush? You were probably about 9 or 10 years old if Cora and I are any indication. For her it is a crush on three cute, dark haired, teenage boys known by their last name. You must know who I am talking about... right?

That's right. Cora's first crush is on three boys named Kevin, Joe and Nick. They are cute, but... well, my first love is much better. He was also cute, dark-haired and wildly popular with the pre-teen and teenage girls. The odd thing is he is now 51 and a grandfather but he is still a cute, dark-haired boy. And I love him. Yes, I know I wrote that in the present tense.

My best memories of childhood revolve around him. I papered my bedroom walls with pictures that I carefully removed from issues of Tiger Beat and 16, which I purchased with money I earned from babysitting. In the 70s that was generally between 50 cents and 1 dollar an hour. At Christmas time I would visit with cousins that I hadn't seen in months and we would argue over who was cuter: Donny Osmond, David Cassidy or Bobby Sherman. The answer, of course was Donny Osmond! Sheesh, everyone who was smart knew that!

Donny and his brothers defined an entire generation of girls which at that time we referred to as Teenyboppers. It was the 70s. It was an era hip-huggers, bell bottoms, peace sign belts and fringe reigned supreme. If something was good it was "groovy". Oh, and boys looked like... well, girls. But we didn't care. That was probably because we couldn't see. Our own hair was long, straight and parted in the middle so that it generally hung in front of our eyes. And, no we didn't constantly braid it like Marsha, Jan and Cindy on the Brady Bunch. Ok, so Bobby Sherman and David Cassidy also had great songs that made my little heart go pitter-pat. But there is no song as great for a little girl as "Puppy Love". In fact, Cora now has it on her iPod. I had it on a 45 record which I bought with $1.00 that I earned from my uncle Chuck. The technology has changed but the emotions of a little girl listening to the high, clear tones of that boy have not. Actually though I loved the songs "The Twelfth of Never" and "Sweet and Innocent" even better. I knew he was singing those songs to me. Heck, even the Ouija board said I would marry him. Talk about a shock when he married a pretty blonde girl from Utah named Debbie. What happened? He was mine.

I remember when The Osmond Brothers came in concert to Denver. I would have happily died the day after the concert if it meant I would get to go see him sing. Unfortunately a ticket to a concert was not in my family's budget, so I had to skip it.

Many years later -- 1996 to be exact -- I was living in Detroit with my husband. I was pregnant with my first child, due in the summer. I learned that Donny was touring with the Broadway show Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat and they would be in the city that September. I immediately purchased tickets. My parents-in-law, Greg and I would go, and I would finally see Donny live! We hired a babysitter for the first time and drove downtown to a beautiful old theatre where I looked at the marquee and it said.... starring Sam Harris. What??? I did not want to see Sam Harris. I especially did not want to see him in a loin cloth. There is nothing wrong with Sam Harris. In fact, he is a talented guy. But I was there to see Donny (in a loin cloth at that)! I enjoyed that show and that date, but it was horribly disappointing. I would have to live another 12 years for another opportunity. But last September I flew to Las Vegas met my friend Debbie there and we saw Donny & Marie put on a fantastic show. I was thrilled. And yes, he did sing "Puppy Love" and "Sweet and Innocent"! We bought the best tickets. We sat right there in the front row where I could practically reach out and touch him, and followed that up with a meet and greet. We stood in line with a bunch of other children of the 70s for our chance to shake their hands, maybe even grab a hug, and say our hellos. I knew what I wanted to say. I had it all planned out.

Debbie and I got to the front of the line and walked up to my first love. I said "hello". I do remember that. But I don't remember anything else. I was in shock, completely overcome, star struck. Debbie talked to them both sharing things about herself and complimenting them on things she had seen. She laughed, and even leaned over and kissed my love on the cheek! When our moments were over I walked away feeling exhilarated and deflated at the same time. I had not told Donny that he got me through some very tough moments in my childhood like I wanted to. I had not told him that I too suffered from anxiety. I had not told Marie that I loved her on Dancing With the Stars. Or, maybe I did. I don't remember.

A year has passed and I am ready to go again. So, what do you think? Are you interested?

So, back to Cora. Will she still love The Jonas Brothers when she is 47? Somehow I doubt it, though I know she will have good memories of childhood that center around them. But she is not completely taken with them. She doesn't spend all her allowance buying nothing but Jonas paraphernalia. Besides, the fact is that nobody else is Donny Osmond. Not Bobby Sherman or David Cassidy; not even the Jonas Brothers. They just don't make them like Donny any more, even if he is a grandfather.

Can a square peg fit in a round hole?

Nearly 16 years ago I met my husband. At the time I was 31 and he was only 24. Those numbers never bothered Greg. He thought nothing of it, but they worried me. Twenty four sounded very, very young. But my heart knew something my mind could not accept immediately: I fit into his heart and he into mine. Quickly thereafter we were engaged (six weeks to be exact), and I began meeting his family. First I met his parents, his brother and fiance', his other brother, and his paternal grandparents. We arrived at his parents' home and I was immediately overwhelmed. The house was larger than any home I had ever seen. It was obvious that our financial backgrounds were drastically different. Yet that home was warm and comfortable and inviting. I realized that I could be comfortable there. His dad was active in the political community and it was obvious that we also came from very different political backgrounds. His mom was (and is) the best cook I had ever met. Her home was immaculate. She baked her own bread and arranged her own flowers and decorated her own cakes and ran her home like a well-oiled machine. I had never met a woman who was so good at what she did in her home before. It was obvious that the families we grew up with were completely different. But my heart knew something which my mind couldn't: I fit into their home and they into mine. Later I met the maternal side of his family. I learned that his grandma, cousins, aunts and uncles were a tight-knit, close and loving group. And they were much like his parents. The men were succesful, funny, intelligent and conservative. The women stayed home with their kids and made impecable homes. They were also bright, funny and educated. I had not grown up with the idea that I would, or could, stay home with kids. I did not grow up expecting to get an education after high school. As I grew older the prospect of being a stay-at-home mom became less likely. It was not something I had ever expected, planned, known or even wanted. I was a lawyer, a woman who expected to work outside the home for the rest of my life. I did not have the tools to be a good stay-at-home mom. I honestly had no idea how to make that work. My mom was not a cook or a baker. She was not organized in our home and did not know how to arrange flowers or throw parties. I was a square peg in a round hole and I wasn't sure I would ever fit. But that family hugged me, laughed with me and loved me. I have never stopped feeling like a square peg, but I have learned that sometimes a square peg does fit in a round hole. My heart knew something that my mind struggled to accept: These lovely people fit into my heart. Now I am a stay-at-home mom and still feel a bit inept. I don't know how to organize myself in my home, so it always is in a state of partial organization. I am not a great cook. In fact, Greg does most of our cooking. There are no perfectly arranged flowers or fresh baked loaves of bread in my home. I have no driver's license so I am not able to drive my kids to their activities and if I am honest about that I don't relish the idea anyway. My kids are loved immensely by their dad and by me. I think they are beautiful human beings and I am proud of my part in raising them. But I do miss thinking about legal ramifications of certain business and tax arrangements for large companies ... I miss working. And I know that I am not the best stay-at-home mom. It isn't the job I expected to have or trained for. I am a square peg in the round hole that is this job and this family. But, my heart knows something that my mind never trained for: Somehow I fit.

Endless Lists

My life is a series of events all of which I procrastinate. I am a fantastic list-maker. I write everything down in detail. For example currently I need to call my doctor to ask that he write a prescription which has no more refills. This morning I wrote it on my very lengthy to-do list. I realize that in the moments it took to locate my list and write the words "call doctor to refill prescription - need a 30 day scrip and a 90 day to mail order" I could have called said doctor. So why do I write lists instead of doing the chore? What could I be doing right now? Dishes, laundry, dusting, putting away a bunch of paperwork, organizing Girl Scout things. Oh, and that phone call! What WILL I do right now? I will probably continue to work on getting this blog up while I think about doing the dishes and laundry and dusting and all those other things that are on my list. Do any of you have this problem? How do you solve it?

Why Blog?

My life occurs inside my home, but the view out my window is spectacular. I am seldom out in the world which leads to much introspection about what it means to me to be a wife, a mother, a friend, a child of God, and a woman. I have considered starting a blog for a while now but never knew where to even begin. Should I write about my family and share their stories? A family blog seems to be the most common blog I have seen among the people I know. And yet, as the author I felt that perhaps this was an opportunity to share myself. So, I have decided to share life Outside My Window and Inside My Heart. The Things I love, ponder, question, and detest. The things I accomplish. And of course, the stories of my family. I hope you will enjoy these musings.