Susie Parker!

Tending Gardens...

2010-08-05T09:14:00.006-04:00

It's been awhile. I almost forgot how to blog. A lot has happened since my last post - I believe in that one I had just announced the happy news that my daughter had become engaged way, way back in March 2009. Eons ago. As I write this, her wedding is just a hair over two months away.

When last we met, my son was preparing for his wedding in June. Justin and Stephanie have now been married one year and two months. They had a beautiful ceremony on Wrightsville Beach and a lovely, quiet reception in our backyard.

A lot has taken place in the past seventeen months. It's been a wonderful period of time. We've all grown in our individual ways and I'm not going to even attempt to pack it all into a synopsis, rather, I think I'll just write the first things that come to my mind because trying to recount history sounds more like an assignment and I've decided that writing should be more fun than that.

So here we are in early August 2010. It's hot here in the South and I love this time of year, though June and July are absolutely more favored months because there's more of summer to be spent. By August, we start hearing about fall and those silly "back to school" advertisements run ad nauseum. I used to dread that time of year. I never looked forward to relinquishing my summers. I gave them up kicking and screaming. I still feel like that. I'm not one of those people who can whole-heartedly enjoy Fall because of the looming winter that follows it. Summer fits me so much better.

This summer in particular, I have thrown myself into gardening. Flowers and vegetables have captured my attention. I have spent more time this summer with my hands in the dirt than ever before in my previous 50 years of life. I find myself entranced, mystified how you can pop a small seed into dirt and wind up with something as miraculous as a cucumber, tomato, cone-flower or daisy. It's incredible to me. I know it's been going on since forever, but for some reason I am new to this garden party and I just can't believe how crazy cool it is. Sometimes I walk out in the back yard and I just look around at an area that I seeded maybe six weeks or two months ago and I am thunderstruck to discover there are plants, blossoms, edible veggies where there once was a few weeds and black dirt. It's just nothing short of a miracle to me. I mean that with all sincerity.

Every evening after dinner, I grab a cup of coffee and Cassie and we do a walk about - making a wide circle through the back lawn...always stopping first at the "black eyed Susan" triangle which flanks the west end of the pool, bedazzled in yellow petals and dark chocolate centers, growing almost as if in a perfect sphere with some purple wave petunias garnishing the edges. Cassie seems as wide-eyed as me as we peruse the petals.

Then we amble over to the "true garden" behind the proper fence and through the morning-gloried gable. Inside there, tomatoes, cucumbers, peppers, mint and yes, big, beautiful canteloupes sit among the weeds and atop the soil. WOW. I can't help but whip out my Android and snap some shots of the bounty. I remember when those things were tiny seeds scattered in soil and they didn't show much promise at all or elude in any way to what they were destined to become. Who knew? Well, God of course. But I sure didn't. Even though I knew that planting can sometimes result in a harvest, I just didn't think it could happen to me. Not to any ground I clumsily tilled and dug around in. I considered myself to the far left of amateurish status and in a way I still do...viewing myself much greener than whatever tint my thumb might be, but there's the evidence and gosh darn it, stuff's growing all over the place in ways I can barely fathom. And I got to be the lucky girl who stuck the seeds in and had fun getting my hands dirty. Now, I'm starting to eat cucumbers and tomatoes that have emerged from that plat. Seriously - I stare at it all and I am incredulous. Baby, I'm amazed!

It's both a source of pride and a lesson in humility, all at the very same time because in reality, hands and elbow grease are merely tools...like rakes and shovels and sprinkler systems. Gardening has both empowered me and reminded me of my place, all at the same time. I didn't create the miracle of life at all, but I sure got lucky enough to get my hands in it!

How did it take me 50 years to figure this out? I don't know, and I don't really even care; I'm just glad I arrived at all.

It touches every single sense I have - I get to feel the dirt with my hands, smell the flowers and fresh produce, see the results with my eyes, listen to the crunch as I bite down on a ripe cucumber and taste the finished product. All of that from a seed. Is that mind-boggling or what?

It is addictive. Some evenings I have no intention of getting dirty and I may innocently reach down to pull just one weed or pluck a spent flower, and then before I know it, I'm on my knees regardless of what I'm wearing, and I am pulling dollar weeds and crab grass to beat the band and then I just give up and if I start out with a lot of concerns or worries, they wind up with the pulled weeds and my mind magically clears. There's nothing more to it - it just happens and no pharmaceutical company can compound or design a drug that can impart anything close to the feeling of clearing a patch of flowers or veggies of weeds and it's calming effect on one's mind...on one's soul. Side effects? You may have to use a nail brush and gritty soap to remove a little debris. No prescription required.

It's just plain good for you. It's so good for me that I have now decided that when this crop is finished, I am going to plant a fall garden - and in making that decision, I have ordered seed catalogs, a garden book from The Farmer's Almanac and a lot of googling of "best plants for fall planting in Zone 8". I've decided that just because summer will be shutting down, my garden doesn't have to and I'm not about to give up the great effects this summer of tending the garden has bestowed upon me. No way. I've got plans to plow it up and set new seeds and be dazzled all over again.

And that is what I'm up to these dog days of summer. I get up, I go to work, I get excited around 4:00 and I look forward to coming home, eating a bite and getting into my old shorts and t-shirts and playing in the dirt. If the rain precludes my plans, I just assume that God has decided that my crops need an extra drink and I need a rest...its become one of my healthiest obsessions. It bespeaks calm and it seems to spill over into many other areas in my life and I am grateful for that. A garden seems to produce more than beauty and nutrition...it's feeding me in other ways and satisfying hungers I didn't even know that I had.

Green is good. God is great!

Can You Solve This????

2009-03-22T11:21:00.012-04:00

I love puzzles. I love any kind of puzzle. I'm so weird I even love math word problems.

This will be a decidedly short post and because I love puzzles, I'm going to post one - see if you can solve it... :-)

John and Katie

PLUS (+)

One Engagement Ring

E Q U A L (=)

KATIE AND JOHN ARE ENGAGED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Needless to say, we are excited, thrilled and happy for both of them. We love them both and wish them all kinds of happiness.

This means that my little family has TWO (count 'em two!) engaged couples - one wedding on the calendar (Justin and Stephanie - 21 June 2009) and the promise of another wedding (TBA).

We officially, and with great affection, and excitement welcome Stephanie and John to the Cook/Parker clan. I will officially be the grandma to three grandcats (Boo Radley, Olive and Soprano), and I am looking so forward to having a new daughter-in-law (Stephanie) and son-in-law (John).

Empty nesting was an adjustment, but it's turned rather exciting. I love the nests my kids are creating and the special people they have chosen to nest with.

I couldn't possibly be more happy and pleased. As any Mom will tell you, when the kids are happy - I'm happy!!!!

Today is about the endless possibilities and mystery of love.

Forty Nine Years, in a New York Minute

2009-03-12T22:01:00.024-04:00

And that's exactly where I spent my 49th birthday - in New York City, visiting my beautiful daughter and her handsome and very tall boyfriend. We celebrated with a dinner at Les Halles, my favorite French Restaurant on the Upper East Side of Manhattan, along with John's fabulous Aunt Melanie, who treated us to this sumptuous feast. Les Halles is the same restaurant where Katie and I shared a meal with my favorite French writer and best buddy Michel a couple of years ago. We remembered that fun evening with great fondness, as we went about the business of making new memories.

Michel, being the charming man that he is, sent me the most beautiful daisies on my birthday so that when I arrived back home, they were waiting for me - he knows they're my favorite flower - and they were exquisite. Michel is family, after all these years, and he's working on a book that I can't wait to read. He's promised us a visit after he sends it to his publisher. We're going to hold him to it.

Turning 49 was a piece of delicous chocolate cheesecake, complete with a candle and singing.

It was 12 degrees when my plane landed at La Guardia. To my southern sensibilities and skin, it felt positively Arctic.

John and Katie's new apartment is on the Upper West Side, just a couple of blocks from the Time Warner Center and dangerously close to Border's Bookstore. Before my send-off to NYC, my office surprised me with a cake, candles, singing and two extremely generous gift cards with instructions to use them on my trip. I didn't disappoint them and Borders was the better for it, as was Barnes and Noble, and several other establishments.

Katie and I spent my actual birthday walking around Manhattan, seeing "He's Just Not That Into You", drinking hot coffee in very cold and wintry Central Park, and eating delicious food. And giggling - we giggled a lot. Made keen, obtuse observations, and in a way it was like hanging with a best friend, who just happens to be my daughter.

On the day after my birthday, we made our way to the Barnes and Noble near Lincoln Center where she hung out with the cookbooks and I drifted off to biographies and nonfiction. We lugged our loot to a sitting area just across from LC, and while Katie perused her baking book acquisitions, I sat back and took the opportunity to do what I love doing most in Manhattan - watching people. There was much to see, as there always is. NYC never disappoints and is always lively and over-stimulating.

It was a delightful way to spend a Saturday Afternoon and, thankfully, the temperature rose above freezing. Hardy NY'ers were positively basking in what they considered "mild" conditions. Me? I was gloved, wrapped in a scarf and ensconced in the faux fur coat my best friend Sharon lent me because living in Wilmington, I refuse to own outerwear that's more substantial than my leather jacket. I would have frozen solid without Sharon's generous contribution to my comfort. It's just one of the many reasons I adore Sharon.

We dropped back by K & J's apartment long enough to collect John and headed for a late lunch at the Olympic Torch Diner. But before venturing out, we ventured up - to the roof garden of their apartment building which happened to be on the 57th floor. It was breezy for certain, but what an incredible view! As sunset enveloped the city, the lights twinkled before us, like scattered stars - some static and others in a sort of Brownian motion. What a sight it was - the Hudson River to the left and Central Park to the right and everything imaginable in between.

However, at that haute height, the only noise to be heard was the wind whistling a very icy tune. I still can't imagine that my daughter lives up there and has made that town her own in the almost three years she's been a resident. Amazing. It constantly amazes me. She thoroughly thrives up there, as does John. It's like they've always been there, so comfortable and at ease in a town I always liken to semi-controlled chaos.

I'm so happy for them because they're so happy! I miss having her in town, no question about it, but taking queues from my parents, I choose to revel in their joy and right now, their joy is in the 18th floor apartment that is surrounded by glass buildings and busy streets and throngs of people; if that's where they find happiness, where they thrive and live and have carved out an inestimably interesting life with a view that won't stop, well, then that makes me happy, too! And very proud. So very proud of both of them.

Katie has grown into such a lovely, capable woman - the young girl who was always wise beyond her years has matured into an insightful, thoughtful, creative, accomplished adult. Watching the metamorphosis has been captivating, enchanting...a precious gift from a young lady who has generously given me ever so much along the way. As she has expanded her horizons, she's exponentially expanded my heart and my mind. Can you tell I'm proud? I make no apologies for this gushing - she can back up my accolades in a way that words can't come close to expressing in any sort of adequate form.

On Sunday Morning, 8 February, I packed up my suitcase and Katie rode the elevator with me downstairs and she gave me one final wonderful "Katie" gift of the weekend...she allowed me the comic thrill of watching her hail the cab that would start my journey back where I belong - in the land of iced tea and warm southern breezes. I love watching the NY side of her...so determined, full of chutzpah, certainty and with a confidence her very southern mother couldn't possibly manage.

Just before I got in the cab, headed back to La Guardia and the commuter plane that would deliver me back to my corner of the US, we snapped two photos. No tears, not even the hint of them did I feel. We had a spectacular visit, shared so much fun with Katie's seamlessly ascerbic and amusing turns, but it was time for me to head home to the much more decidedly genteel land of tea, Andy Griffith reruns, cats, a dog , so many cichlids and two parents I enjoy so very much, and it was time for her to return to her epic pace of ordering groceries from Fresh Direct (just a click of the keys and the cupboards are restored!), baking sinfully rich and mouth-watering desserts, and the quiet (it's all relative!) life she lives on the 18th floor of a very tall building in a very large city with a very tall boyfriend, two cats and a red kitchen-aid mixer. It's good we know our place, eh? :-)

I've been working like crazy since my return,. I've been slammed at work and I've enjoyed every minute of it. Every single minute. I am also typing this from a new Toshiba laptop that my parents bought me last week and I'm loving that, too. It's lightning fast, has a 17" screen and I can load my huge spreadsheets on it, have five applications running and never miss a beat. It's great fun and we're still getting to know each other, but I'm feeling a delicious synchronicity.

There is, however, excitement in the air! Upon my return from Yankee Town (NYC), I was informed by my beautiful daughter-in-law to be, that she and my son had set a wedding date! Yes! June 21st, on Wrightsville Beach, my son Justin and his lovely fiancee Stephanie will officially TIE THE KNOT! We're all very excited for them.

On April 3rd, I will be catching another plane and this time I will head North by Northwest to a town I haven't visited for over 12 years - Charleston, WV. I'm flying up to spend four days visiting my son because I haven't seen him since August and I need a Justin fix! I can't wait to see Justin and Stephanie. I'm looking forward to a tour of my old hometown courtesy of my 22 year old son and his soon-to-be-bride. I have talked with his boss, who happens to be his father, and he has agreed to let the fellow off for a few extra hours to entertain me. I'm looking forward to this trip and by the time I return on 6 April, before you know it, Katie will be coming down to visit and help prepare for the wedding - at which she will not only be the sister of the bridegroom, but will also be the official photographer!

We have much to celebrate, to be grateful for and sometimes when I think of my family, my friends, my town, my animals, my books, the ocean, and the list goes on, I am struck - literally - by just how blessed each of these days of our lives truly are - they are so inextricably intertwined, but in the best way possible, because somehow they are fashioned in a way that allows us to be close, even as we each chase our own dreams, realize our respective goals, struggle and learn and make our way on paths that feel bathed in dappled-sunlight and I know intrinsically that this light must absolutely originate from the center of heaven. It really does feel that way and I am in awe of every single second of it. It occurs to me that I wouldn't understand how precious all of this is, how illuminated these paths are, without having walked down a few dark wrong curves and you know, I'm grateful for those, too. For the lessons they impart, a determination they stoke, and a perspective that would be impossible to understand by any other means.

Spring is in the air, daylight lingers later into the evening now, and though I don't own a sailboat as of this writing, I appreciate these days of fair winds, and following seas.

Brrrrrrrr, Brrrrrrr Birthdays

2009-01-25T10:57:00.018-05:00

Thanks to a perfectly orchestrated plan and the cooperation and eager participation of an office filled with similarly sneaky people, not to mention a wife who went the extra mile to deliver the birthday boy, we managed to surprise Mr. Richard Early. He thought he was simply having lunch with his lovely wife but, lo and behold, when he walked into Longhorn Steakhouse this past Friday at 1:00 PM, he found his entire staff around the table, eagerly awaiting his arrival. Everything went off like clockwork.

He was COMPLETELY surprised. I kept reminding him all week that this was his LAST full week of being 50 - his real birthday is Tuesday, January 27th, - but he suspected NOTHING on January 23rd and the look on his face was PRICELESS. We were fortunate to also have as fellow conspirators, his three children (Caitlin, Keegan & Liam) and grandson, Ty.

I just have to say that this man absolutely deserved this surprise celebration and I believe it was evident by everyone's willing participation just how much we respect and enjoy working with Rich. He is easily one of the most delightful chiefs I've ever worked for and his crazy personality and sense of fun and mischief make going to work everyday seem less like work and more like an adventure. We are truly blessed to have him at the helm as a fearless and funny leader. He has created a progressive and positive work environment and because he loves what he does, he's made us learn to love it as well. It's a privilege to work under his direction. He definitely had this party coming to him.

After the midday celebration, I stopped at Romanelli's to pick up an order of prime rib, lasagna, salads and not one but TWO decadent desserts and arrived home for yet another birthday celebration! My Daddy turned 84 yesterday and what a great birthday he had! He spent the day yesterday fielding phone calls from far and wide and the first one to ring in his birthday was his favorite grandson, Justin! At 12:01 AM Saturday Morning, the phone rang and it was Justin and Stephanie calling in to wish him happy birthday and what a great way to start any birthday.

Though yesterday was generally gray and drizzly outside, the mood inside the house was warm and filled with love and good wishes. My dad enjoyed calls from his sister Clara in WV, his former boss and good buddy Harry Burke in Scottsdale, Arizona, and Katie rang in yesterday evening from Manhattan to wish her Pops a happy birthday. Daddy also received e-mails from family and friends and a very special and unexpected note from Stephanie came in yesterday morning that meant so much to Pops. It was beautifully written and made his birthday even more special.

So what do you get for the man who has everything? Last Sunday, I searched around the internet, contemplated, googled and finally decided on an Aerogarden - a hydroponic indoor gardening system that grows plants indoors or starts seedlings for transplantation into an outdoor garden. Of course, I got the coolest one they had - the Aerogarden Pro Series - and I also ordered some seed kits to go along with it. I thought it would be great fun for our master gardener.

The Aerogarden arrived on Thursday afternoon and it really is an impressive technological marvel and, while my Dad was just kind of staring at it (though he did have a lot of fun with all of the paper it came packed with), he didn't quite know where to begin in setting it up. However, my Mom swooped in and was immediately reading the booklets, assembling the parts and examining the seed kits and had the whole system set up in the kitchen in no time flat. It became obvious to me that I had ordered my Mom a present for my Dad's birthday and while I know he'll enjoy taking care of the plants once they are ready to be set out in the outdoor garden, he really had very little interest in tinkering with the system indoors. I was still glad I ordered it because Mom and I are having a great time planning what to plant next and marveling at the seeds which are already showing signs of germination.

What to do?

First things first - yesterday morning I placed an order for a strawberry shortcake with "Apple Annie's" - a local bakery which specializes in rich, high-caloric desserts. I headed out about 1:00 PM yesterday to pick up the dessert I ordered but, as I was waiting for them to box it up, I spied a chocolate mousse pie that I had ordered on Mom's birthday back in December. Well, I figured, since she inherited the Aerogarden, she should really have her own birthday pie, so I bought that one too!

After that confectionary acquisition, I found myself walking into Office Depot because there were a couple of things I knew my Dad wanted for his computer. After perusing the aisles and careful deliberation, I walked out with a cool wireless keyboard and mouse, and a 320 GB Maxtor backup drive which I felt would be a little more interesting to my Dad than an Aerogarden.

I arrived home with both desserts, computer presents, a card and walked into lots of smiles. Yes, this was a present more in keeping with my dad's interests and, after he delighted over his techno presents, we officially transferred power of the Aerogarden over to my Mom who was pleased with both HER new toy and the chocolate mousse pie. We had plenty of leftovers from the big dinner the night before and so we ate well and, after dinner, I hooked up my Dad's keyboard and mouse, and I will install his backup drive later today.

All in all, Pops had a wonderful birthday and Mom had a wonderful "Pops" birthday as well! As for me, I just sat back and enjoyed their "joy" and realized, as I often do, just how BEYOND blessed I truly am to have both of them for parents. They have such a contagious love for living that honestly, it is IMPOSSIBLE not to feel it when you walk in this house. They are such a living, thriving blueprint for our family, in how to squeeze the very best out of every day, every situation, and to zero in on the positives and quickly discard the negatives because life is just too short and time is so very precious. When you're surrounded by this much positive energy and zest, you can't help but "catch it" - it's positively contagious.

But for as warm and wonderful as these two people are, it was no match for the sub-freezing temps that arrived Tuesday Night, along with a rare flurry of snowflakes. When I arrived home early from work on Tuesday (Rich made us all leave at 4:00 due to the impending icy roads), I realized this house wasn't so warm and around 7:00, it was obvious we weren't getting any heat. Of course - this was the coldest night of the winter (thus far).

I put in an order for a technician but no one would be checking our heating system on Tuesday Evening so I consulted with my Dad and we determined it was time to fire up the Vermont Castings woodburning stove in the living room which, given our "southern exposure", doesn't see a lot of use in southeastern North Carolina.

Fortunately, we had a stash of wood in the shed beside the pool house, but I quickly noticed that the patio and deck around the pool were now sporting a thin layer of ice, as was the grass. I told Dad I would go out and bring some wood in and he could start a fire. I did NOT want him traipsing around the patio or grass because I was scared to death of him falling on his thinly padded behind (he weighs a whopping 142 lbs...not a lot of fat on those bones!).

While I was busy looking for a jacket, that man was stealthily making his way to the woodshed and I ran outside, still pulling my jacket on yelling at him to "STOP! HALT! - Don't Move!". Of course, he completely ignored me and went about filling a wheelbarrow up with wood. I finally caught up with him and I sternly informed him that he had no business out there in such slick conditions. He gave me a wry look and, implementing his "selective hearing", he just smiled and kept filling the wheel barrow paying absolutely no mind to my admonitions whatsoever. He was having NONE OF IT! I finally started laughing because I might as well have been talking to the grass or a wall. No amount of begging or pleading was going to stop this guy. I'm sure I looked mighty silly out there waving my hands and yelling for him to cease and desist.

He parked the wheelbarrow by the sliding glass doors just outside the living room and then began loading the wood stove with kindling and as the fire began to light - the living room immediately began filling with smoke because we couldn't figure out how to set the damper. My resourceful Mom quickly stepped in and fiddled with the levers and in no time the smoke cleared and the fire blazed and the house began to warm up.

However, as wonderful as these woodstoves are, they really consume the wood and one has to be vigilant and ready to toss in more food for the fire. The next morning, around 7:00 AM, my Dad climbed the stairs and brought me a HOT cup of coffee and told me he had tended the home fires all night - making sure the fire never went out and even made another trip to the woodshed to fill up the wheelbarrow again. Good grief! I was thankful I didn't find him sprawled out in the backyard with broken bones while I was sleeping snuggly in my bed oblivious to his daredevil ways. It's challenging keeping tabs on these senior citizens!

Thanks to Dad's hypervigilance, the house stayed warm until the service technician arrived around 11:00 AM Wednesday Morning and diagnosed the problem as a worn out thermostat. After replacing the old one with a much nicer new one, the heat clicked on and warmth was restored. If it hadn't been for our woodstove and Dad's West Virginia "know how" with fires, we would have had to check into a hotel Tuesday Night, no question about it.

As I listened to my Dad talk about getting up Tuesday Night to periodically check on the fire, and watched as he tweaked it from time to time, I swear I think he almost enjoyed taking on the task and it must have brought back a lot of memories from his childhood and young adult years when the only way to heat a house was a wood and coal burning stove. I believe it turned out to be a source not just of warm heat, but also a chance to relive some warm memories.

Once again, it was just another opportunity to turn what could have been an annoying malfunction, into the perfect chance to reminisce and relive times in the past, how things used to be and lots of "remember when?" moments that accumulate when one has been granted the gift of living well year after amazing year. I believe he was rather proud of himself - demonstrating he could still keep the family warm and safe when modern heating technology failed us - and he did it well. So very well. Even a cold, wintry Wilmington Night bears gifts - you just have to be willing to recognize it. The ability to do so is perhaps the most amazing and useful gift of all.

In less than two weeks, there will be another birthday - #49! I'll be spending that weekend in Manhattan and I look forward to spending time with Katie and John in their busy Upper West side neighborhood! I'll be flying up on 5 February, turning 49 on 6 February and will return to Wilmington on 8 February. My friend Amy, a native of the great North, has made it her mission to ensure that I'm appropriately layered and has loaned me a warm scarf, leather gloves, a thick leather jacket and a woolly hat. Otherwise, I would probably freeze to death - I have no idea how to dress for such conditions - even though I grew up in West Virginia, I don't recall how one dresses in response to arctic conditions. Thank you Amy!!!!!!!!!!

Looking forward to warmer weather - we can't wait to visit Justin and Stephanie hopefully in March or April. I miss those two SOOOOOOO much but my goodness, we hear great news of their work, the building of the business, and how they are learning to thrive in the cold weather and snow of West Virginia. Justin sounds like an excited young boy when he tells me about the latest snowfall and, from all reports, they are doing extremely well and enjoying their work with Tim and Jennifer. We miss them both so much, but we're really proud of what they're doing and happy about the new adventure they've set out on together. I'll post some photos of them when I FINALLY GET THEM!!!!!! .

In the meantime, work is great at NorthStar, the days are getting longer little by little, and before you know it, spring will have sprung. I'm ready for warm sunshine and long swims but, in the meantime, I'm enjoying these days of winter more than I ever have before. This is a winter of sweet contentment and I am very grateful for all of it.

Five Years, Fine Friends, Countless Blessings...

2009-01-12T23:34:00.003-05:00

Today was a very precious day for me. It started out sunny and just kept getting better.

One of my best friends in Wilmington dropped by my office with a beautiful plant in a huge tea cup and saucer. What a perfect present - I am, after all, a confirmed teetotaler. I believe Sharon was the prototype God used when he was compiling His list of attributes that should go into the creation of exactly what a friend should be.

My VP went out for lunch and offered to bring me a sandwich because I was snowed under with work. He returned a short while later with a sandwich and a gorgeous orchid. He's a pretty wonderful person.

I went to a meeting tonight and I received lots of hugs and hand clasps. I picked up my five year chip. It serves as a reminder of so much more than five years. The past five years have been filled with more blessings than I could possibly merit and grace beyond my imagination.

After the meeting, a very special friend patiently waited for me to finish a business meeting, and then took me to one of my favorite restaurants to celebrate this miracle of a milestone that started five years ago on a day that felt like the darkest hour the universe could deliver. No surprise I guess, I read somewhere that it's always darkest before the dawn, and even though I was in no shape to realize it at the time, my "dawn" was about to begin.

Five years ago my Daddy told me that it would be OK, that I would rise up from the low place I found myself inhabiting. I found it impossible to believe, but I had to believe this man I revere and respect and trust so much, was telling me the truth. I clung to the hope that he was right. As it turns out, he knew what he was talking about and, one day at a time, the fog began to lift, my vision began to clear and my focus returned.

When I finally put down the bottle, I picked up a white chip and, with the help of God, I also picked up a real life. A sober existance.

So many times today, as I shared with my friend Steve over an incredibly delicious prime rib, I was frequently startled today as my mind replayed the events of that day five years ago. I didn't know you could get from where I was then, to where I am now. I had tears in my eyes five years ago, mostly from sheer desperation and fear. I had tears in my eyes this evening, too, but they sprang from immense gratitude and a measure of thanksgiving that just feels huge.

Learning to live life on life's terms can be frustrating, confusing and sometimes downright annoying but I have to tell you, it's just the best gig going and I just have to say that the good days have far exceeded the not so good moments.

To my daughter Katie, my son Justin, my amazing parents, my sponsor, my faithful friends both inside and outside the Fellowship, I just want to say a huge, heartfelt THANK YOU, for holding me in your prayers, holding my hand when I needed it, encouraging me when I felt small and inadequate and cheering me on through every one of those "steps". "The Promises" Bill Wilson wrote about in the Big Book aren't fiction. It's about "AMAZING GRACE", and it saved me, in every way a person can be saved. Life isn't perfect - it never has been and it never will be but I can tell you this without reservation...

Life is good.

Christmas Memories in Real Time...

2008-12-29T23:32:00.002-05:00

It is late just now. I have a million swirling thoughts, observations and lots of feelings and impressions that are percolating inside of me, but haven't attached themselves to the proper words quite yet. They are steeping, like fine jasmine tea in a tea pot and they are even more ethereal than the exotic aroma of delicate jasmine pearls.

Last week was just all good stuff, from every conceivable angle. All of it. We so enjoyed our visit with Katie Jane from the moment my Dad and I picked her up in Cary, after she and John flew in from New York City, until the last, lingering moments for a few extra snapshots captured in our kitchen, when it was time for them to head back to Cary Saturday Evening, in preparation to fly back to NYC on Sunday Morning.

As Katie and John headed for the northland, I headed upstairs as soon as their car left the driveway and I spilled a few tears. Extrication, even after a joyful time, can be searingly painful. Yet even as my eyes were leaking tears, it felt wrong because it nearly felt like I was complaining and honestly, upon quick reexamination of the past week, I could think of nothing to complain about at all. Not one thing. The fact that the week flew by simply meant that it was just that great because everyone knows that great times fly by.

There's so much in life, in all of our lives, where our current realities are intricately tied to "back stories", which we generally refer to as 'history'; If you've lived any length of time at all, you carry your own "back story", and that history or "herstory", if you want to be gender specific, in some way colors every experience that follows - sometimes boldly, but more often than not, subliminally. It occurred to me that even the rough times in the past years, were valuable because in many ways those times have been essential in that they enhance the wonderful moments and how could we truly appreciate the fine moments without recognizing them for the gifts they are? It would be impossible, wouldn't it?

Christmas 2008 was brimming and rich in sweet times and remarkable not because we did remarkable things; in fact, we did nothing out of the ordinary at all and yet, all of that "ordinariness" made for an extraordinary time. I'm so grateful for things ordinary and extraordinary. For peace. Love. Quietude. More love. The absence of worry and the warmth of contentment which emanates from family, friends, cats and a really fine dog.

There are so many to be grateful to and so much to be grateful for. The essence of the season was more than palpable - having little to do with elegantly wrapped presents, (although the presents were great!), but due much more to elegantly wrapped experiences, time spent together, soaking in each others' company and understanding what an inestimably precious gift it is to know just how blessed we are, in real time, to be sharing our home, our lives and our time with those we love so much. That was Christmas for me.

I hope your Christmas was something like that, too. If it was, then you must know how blessed you are, too.

Over the Hills and Everywhere...

2008-12-07T11:23:00.013-05:00

"Yes, I was a seeker,
I sought Him both night and day,
I asked the Lord to help me,
He showed me the way.
Down in the manger,
Humble Child was born.
God sent us salvation
On that Christmas Morn..."

I guess I took a break from blogging, but certainly not from living. I can't exactly put my finger on the exact cause of my blogus interruptus, but there have been a few legitimate contributing factors.

When last I tapped out an entry, we were days away from an election. November was closing in fast. I was pleased with the outcome, at least nationally, and as I've watched the transition begin, I am sincerely impressed with the manner in which the president-elect is assembling his team, reaching out across party lines and also his affect of graciousness. This morning, I watched Tom Brokaw's interview with Barack Obama on "Meet the Press" and, again, I am amazed at manner in which his brilliance is co-mingled with equal parts of common sense and compassion. I truly do feel as if our ship of state is in supremely capable hands with this man at the helm.

The day after the election, Katie and I found ourselves on the phone for our daily lunchtime chat and then suddenly, after dissecting the election results she asked me, in a rather bewildered tone, "what are we going to talk about now?". We both laughed, realizing that we had been completely immersed in primaries, debates, sound-bites and "Palin-tology". Fortunately, however, it didn't take us long to realize that we could easily move onto other topics and our conversations have remained as lively and stimulating as always. I never doubted that for a second. We've never been at a loss for words - I love listening to her extrapolations and considered points of view and perspectives.

Speaking of Katie, she's been quite busy herself up in madcap Manhattan. Since my last blog, she's managed to find a new position - she's now assistant director with a progressive preschool on the Upper West Side of Manhattan which was only five blocks from her apartment until...she and John regained their gypsy ways and MOVED! John and Katie now live in the West 60's, near Columbus Circle and Central Park, and not only have they moved on, but they've moved up - to the 18th floor! NO MORE STAIRS and more square footage including......a dishwasher (and I don't mean John.). I'm told the kitchen is all stainless steel, high-tech appliances, hardwood floors and a terrace.

It was from this terrace that Katie had the odd and interesting experience of looking DOWN on the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade floats as it passed by their street. She reported that she didn't realize the balloons weren't as tall as she had previously thought as they drifted past Thanksgiving Morning. I'm still waiting on interior photos...ahem.

However, in a display of nothing but pure, parental pride on my part, Katie had this photo published in "Gothamist". (Taken from the kitchen window of their new apartment...nice view!). It should be noted that everything she has learned of photography she did NOT inherit from me.

Additionally, Katie has shared with us that she has been stepping out on John, but she's been completely upfront about it. Ignoring the wise adage never to date anyone at work, she's crossed that line and can frequently be found in the cozy company of a younger man. She did send me a photo of him and, admittedly, he's a handsome fella, having just celebrated his one year birthday. John is taking it as well as can be expected, admirably so, hoping I'm sure that it's a fleeting fling, but some days it's all Katie can seem to talk about. John must be a very strong, devoted man to stand by her like this. :-)

Justin has been doing great, too! He and Stephanie moved into a new townhome in Milton, West Virginia (home of Blenko Glass!), and both of them have been working hard with his Dad in preparing for the opening of the shiny, new "Direct Buy" store in Cross Lanes, West Virginia. They had their grand opening last Saturday and by all accounts, things are going great.

Justin doesn't check in every day with chatty phone calls which means I call him at least every other day for updates and news. He was wildly excited by the first snowfall a few weeks ago and stayed up extra late just to watch the flakes fly. This is the first time my West Texas born son has lived among mountains and it's been quite a new experience for him and North Carolina born and bred Stephanie.

Stephanie's Mom and Grandmother visited in late October for a long weekend and took in "Bridge Day", marveled at the fall colors, visited Hawks Nest, Charleston and Huntington. I spoke with Steph's grandma the week after she returned and her first comment was, "I had no idea how beautiful West Virginia is! I want to go back soon!". Needless to say, I believe she was quite impressed. I know the kids enjoyed their North Carolina visitors immensely.

In the time since I last blogged, Stephanie and Justin have added another year to their age - born exactly two weeks apart, they are now the ripe old age of 22. Apparently Justin is carrying on the male Cook tradition of enjoying the companionship of older women, even if that older woman is only older by two weeks! My Dad frequently points out that he, himself, married an older woman - my mother being one year and one month older. He has never let her forget it and, fortunately for my Mom, she simply ignores it knowing she can outdo anyone in this house with both hands tied behind her back.

And then, of course, there has been work. Lots of it! This has been a busy time where I work and we're growing fast. For as dismal as this economy has been, and continues to be, it's been great for our business. We have been accelerating in production which means that I have been hovering over and tinkering with all manner of Excel spreadsheets. They are growing longer and longer and longer which means sales are climbing at a very nice pace.

Last Monday evening, I was invited to have dinner with our president, George, out of Greenville, SC, and my boss Rich, here in Wilmington, along with my friend David, who is a manager at the Greenville office. In fact, when I first interviewed for this position back in June, George and Rich were present at what I affectionately refer to as "the first interrogation". I told them this past Monday Evening, over escargot (they made me take a bite), duck, scallops and my own filet mignon, that if I had realized that the true nature of my work would be almost specifically accounting and so overwhelmingly statistical in nature, I would have thanked them for the opportunity to meet them, given each of them a warm handshake and gracefully pulled myself out of the competition. I knew the title of the job was "Operations Manager" and "Branch Office Administrator", but that struck me as rather vague and, quite candidly, I just assumed I would be pushing paper and typing a few letters and maybe, on rare occasions, filling out a check request. Ha! Was I ever wrong.

Who knew there were 22 column spreadsheets, complete with formulas and functions to figure out, just waiting for me to fill in and that I would find myself juggling New Business Reports, Issue Reports, Profit, Loss, Expense and Production Reports and that , the totals on each of these were tied into each other and must be reconciled weekly and monthly; that each columnar total had to be accurate in order to tie in to concurrent reporting and that monthly totals had to be broken down by product, type and agent! I had absolutely NO IDEA what I was heading into and thank God I didn't.

Fortunately, when we started, we were an office of three: Rich, Robert and me. The production was easy to track and the totals were more than manageable giving me the chance for some very real and serious "on the job" training. Another facet of all of this is that I was put in charge of recruiting and it's funny now, 8 agents later, but it took me a while to realize that each person I was interviewing could potentially result in longer spreadsheets, more tracking, more Excel spreadsheets! Oy! In fact, with each new hire, my work increased exponentially. The correlation between recruiting and the increased accounting load took a little while for me to understand - here I was, looking for people who would inevitably make my work more complex and numeric. How crazy is that? Well, duh, of course that was the point! I just didn't initially, back in what I now refer to as "the salad days", quite understand the machinations of it all.

So of course now, when I interview people at a first briefing, I size them up and, as I chat up the really sharp applicants, realize that a sterling criteria can be distilled into one simple question: Which one of these people possess the ability to make my work even MORE overwhelming and elongate my "new business report" to quadruple digit rows? Putting aside fear for my own private sanity, I realize it's my mission to facilitate in the hiring of the folks who have the potential to provide me with the greatest headaches and, every now and then I glance at the one hallowed spot among the agent mailboxes that houses the extra large size of Advil that Rich has placed within convenient reach of my desk. As Rich always says with a smirk..."I'm a giver...".

Now, what has been truly amazing and unfathomable for me, this person who has always preferred the currency of words, is how much I have grown to enjoy my work. I know, I'm stunned by it myself. I can't believe how much I have been fascinated by how this business has grown from day one. I have come to discover and covet the giddy, satisfying buzz one feels when all of my columns reconcile TO THE SECOND DECIMAL POINT. I have found myself playing with mathematical functions on the Vista Version of Excel and learning how to correspond those totals to other spreadsheets automatically and being astonished when they work just like they're supposed to. It's some crazy stuff I'm learning!

Now, I write this as the daughter of a man who has spent his entire career and retirement reveling and basking in the joy of numbers. My father was an accountant for several coal companies throughout his successful career. My dad adores numbers. He is an Excel spreadsheet genius. My Dad has one of the sunniest dispositions I have ever encountered and I don't recall ever finding him in a low mood. Ever. He can find sunshine in almost every situation. He's just a really happy guy and always has been and he smiles quite easily and often. I must tell you, however, that when he opened up a file I sent him, sharing with him the sort of work I do, this man's face lit up in mega wattage. He looked up at me and said, "Wow, this is what you do? My goodness, you have a GREAT job! If I were younger...".

He's been proud of my writing. He would always compliment my newspaper columns which he read faithfully for the five years it ran. He was always pleased to see me published in "Wilma", "Greater Wilmington Business Journal", and enjoyed reading my work in "PC Magazine" both online and in the printed magazine however, I have rarely seen him light up as he did when he truly discovered the scope of work I am doing. I think my conversion from Microsoft Word to Microsoft Excel has made this man ecstatic. I laugh at him as I send him updated versions of my new business report, so proud is he that back in October he actually printed one out and taped the entire thing together which took 13 sheets of paper and gave me to display in the office. I don't think he ever printed any of my articles and taped them anywhere. Who knew that a spreadsheet held such power? I do believe that, as far as my Dad is concerned, "I HAVE ARRIVED". I believe he probably imagines that my new-found fascination with this genre of work is probably due to a recessive accounting gene (from his contribution to my DNA), that has FINALLY, at LONG LAST, awakened xeroxed itself.

Now, here's the part that kind of has me a little concerned. Most people claim that they "leave their jobs at the office", as well they should, right? Historically, without someone pointing a gun or a paycheck at me, I would never voluntarily open an Excel Spreadsheet up at home. It's like I could find 10,000 other things to do on a computer without ever considering opening a blank spreadsheet on one of my home computers. I haven't confessed this in print before and maybe it's the reason I haven't blogged because I know I have a tendency to turn this blog into a bit of a confessional but hey, it's good for the soul, right? Here's the issue and it's not easy to write about but, well, I have been keeping track of my finances, receipts, expenditures, the whole ball of wax. I now save ATM receipts and I log them, along with gasoline purchases, even freaking small Dunkin' Donut receipts aren't safe from my control and reportage. Frankly, I'm a little scared. A mere year ago I would throw those things away and never think twice and now, almost every evening I find myself fishing out receipts in my purse from purchases made that day and it's kind of freaking me out. I mean, I try and play it cool and still maintain the facade of the crazy blond, spreadsheet unencumbered ditz, but it's getting harder and harder to hide my new hobby.

I think I'm turning into my Dad. I look in the mirror and I look the same, but I can't deny the fact that I update my personal finance spreadsheet on a daily basis. I know, I know, admitting you have a problem is the first step, right? But the thing is, work, my family, they're all enabling me! Should I add another "AA" to my repertoire? Is there, in fact, an "Accounting Anonymous"? I don't think I have time to add another 12-Step group to my schedule. This may well prove to be an addiction I may have to make peace with.

Speaking of AA, I was elected the Intergroup Rep from my home group a few weeks ago which means that I attend a meeting at headquarters every other month to report back to my home group the goings on at our local main office. It didn't sound like that big of a deal so of course, I accepted the role and figured it would basically involve keeping up with information such as new meetings in the area, methods of reaching out to the community, etc., Sounded harmless enough, right?

On the third Thursday of October, I arrived at my first meeting at Intergroup, and took my place among the other home group reps and, upon being warmly greeted by the head of Intergroup here in Wilmington, was handed an agenda and some accompanying papers that were to be discussed. I sat down in my chair, opened up the papers to see that it contained, what else, a spreadsheet with budget information and Intergroup assets, expenses and all manner of pertinent financial information and a proposed budget for next year. I just sat there, after leaving four minimized spreadsheets on my work computer amid my cluttered desk, thinking I was in a "safe place" at local AA headquarters, to be hit with budgets and expenditure forecasts? Egads, I thought. I can't get away from this stuff! Even AA isn't a safe haven for a burgeoning numbers addict. I had to laugh. There I was trying to be a "normal" recovering alcoholic and they hand me paperwork to facilitate my newest addiction. I shared this experience with a couple of trusted AA friends who wisely offered, "Susie, this is probably God doing for you what you couldn't do for yourself...". Figures.

On January 12, 2009, I will celebrate (God-willing) five years of no longer taking a drink. Now...I take a number. What a crazy world, isn't it? Sobriety remains full of surprises and I continue to be grateful for each one of them. One day at a time, of course.

Between work and work, I have turned my attention to rearranging the upstairs of my home. Since Justin moved in July, I have gained incredible amounts of square-footage. There is so much space up here now. My kind and generous boss, Rich, graciously gave me a beautiful and very heavy desk and I love it. After he and his lovely wife (and Bobby) delivered it one Sunday Afternoon, my Mom and Dad came up to see it (it's a really nice desk), and as I was contemplating how to get it into what used to be my old office, my Mom brilliantly suggested, "Why don't you use it in the loft - leave it right where it is?". I thought about it for two-seconds and realized it was pure genius. It offered me plenty of room, quick access to my beloved books in the built in shelves, and freed up another room because I wasn't really using the loft for anything. My Dad helped me set it up and it fits perfectly and I don't know what to do with all this space!

Of course, change begets change, right? And so I soon decided that I would turn what used to be my office into my bedroom so that necessitated more moving (and sore muscles) and that, of course, meant that I became a fan of Craig's List. In fact, I tell people that my house is now decorated in "Early Craig's List". Let's see - in the past few weeks, I have snagged a stained glass window which overlooks the open space that used to house that dreadful bird aviary, an almost new barely used Sharp flat screen TV, a 3 year old Kirby G-6 Vacuum that originally cost $1200 that I got for $100 and has ALL the attachments and sucks out dirt you had no idea was lurking in places you can't imagine! And yesterday, my Craig's List surfing resulted in an antique pie safe that my Dad and I secretly picked up and surprised my Mom with for her birthday which is December 13th - when she'll celebrate being a spry 85 years young. She loved it and it looks GREAT! Craig's List is like sports shopping and I enjoy it immensely except for one thing - the spelling drives me nuts on there and one word in particular makes me scream - people advertise tables that one eats at as "dinning room tables" and my gosh, do you have any idea how prevalent the misspelling of that word is? I want to shout - there aren't THREE N'S in there people! I know it's a crazy pet peeve, but what about spell check? Spell check is our friend and I'm hardly flawless but how can you look at "dinning" and NOT see something amiss? Sometimes I have to take a walk after seeing so many ads for "beautiful dinning room table - it will look great in your dinning room!". What in the world is a dinning room? Moments like that, I just have to get up and take a walk or clean an aquarium or I can be found muttering...DROP the DOUBLE N!

Speaking of aquariums, the fish are thriving and multiplying and every week I have a pair of pink convict cichlids that multiply some more. If anyone reading this in the Wilmington, North Carolina area would like about 100 baby pink convict cichlids and knows how to spell the word "DINING (as in DINING ROOM TABLE), I would be glad to set you up. These pink convicts are proliferate and they're such GREAT parents. Really, it's fascinating to watch them - they will fight off intruders (including my hand which has been bitten many times when placing fry food in the tank) with a remarkable, primitive ferocity. The parental instinct in these fish is incredible. They will scoop the babies in their mouths, dig sand caves in the corner and spit them out. Of course, even pink convict babies don't listen and within about ten seconds, they sneak out of the safe place and will wander back out into the open tank but, ever vigilant Mom and Dad race in and corral them right back home. It's fascinating and a lot of fun to observe.

And here we are in December. How in the world did that happen? Where did this year go and I know it's redundant and I say it every single year but my gosh, in the words of John Mayer, "STOP THIS TRAIN". Time is flying by so very fast. We were at our neighbors yesterday morning for their annual neighborhood Christmas Brunch where all manner of soups, sweets and neighbors catching up with neighbors was bountiful as it always is. It's always so much fun to see these wonderful people in our neighborhood (even if most of them were McCain supporters) who we see walking around during the rest of the year, gardening, mowing, raking or watching their kids move away because we all have kids who have grown up, but never really having the chance to truly catch up with what's been going on. The Freshwaters afford us this opportunity every December and we all look forward to it. This year, it was BYOB (bring your own bowl). We had a fantastic time and my Dad enjoyed hugging all of our female neighbors and ignoring their respective husbands. He's such a flirt and always in his glory.

This is our ninth Christmas in this town and I moved here with adolescent kids who have grown up and moved North (and who still delight in calling me at odd hours to report that "MOM, it's SNOWING RIGHT NOW!", always to get the response from me, "I'm so happy it's you...and not me!". But still, I revel in the enthusiasm with which they greet it and then I wonder to myself, how in the world did I raise kids who like cold weather and frozen precipitation? Was it something I ate during my pregnancy? Did I watch Rudolph too many times? Was it the ice cream I scarfed down? How did these Southern bred kids become Yankees???? (I know, Justin lives in WV, but as far as I'm concerned, that qualifies him for a Yankee if, for no other reason than climatological data).

Unfortunately, Justin will not be able to make it in because his boss told me that he has to work the day after Christmas. Of course, his boss is his father and from what I can tell in talking to both of them, they're having a great time working together in this mammoth business venture! It's fun to hear them speak of each other in a way that implies they are truly working closely and well - father and son. Pretty cool. Quite a blessing, indeed. From what I can tell, there's a lot of mutual respect going back and forth between them. I love that.

Katie, however, will be arriving on December 23rd and we can't wait! We'll certainly miss Justin and Stephanie, but we'll enjoy having Katie and John visit. I haven't seen her since her visit in May which feels like years ago! She may be all grown up, but she's still my little girl. I definitely need a Katie fix!

Sometimes, especially now that I don't see either one of these kids everyday, when I do see them, I just find myself studying them, fascinated at who they've grown into being, amazed and even more grateful that God configured so perfectly to place them in my life. I can't begin to adequately articulate how much I've grown to admire and respect both of them and who knew that the tsunami of love that one feels for their child at birth, can grow to such expansive, infinite proportions? And it keeps growing in ways no one can probably explain because it's just massive. Isn't it? I mean, you know how you don't think you can love someone any more than you do at certain times, but the great thing about love, is that it reaches so far beyond what you were sure was the limit - the bar constantly continues to be raised and it intrisically exceeds itself. For me, it's such a keen reminder of God, the largess of something intangible, so overwhelming as to render itself impossible to quantify. There is no scale to it and, apparently, absolutely no limit at all. Then again, that's what this season is all about isn't it? It's where the light first became lit, the source of everything that is good and valuable and most precious to each of us with the advent of that birth. Because of that humble beginning, I have all of this incalculable love. I need to remind myself to remember that source of this season more often. I would have nothing without it. I wouldn't even "be" at all.

I'm grateful. I'm just so grateful. I'm even grateful for people who sometimes insert extra "N's" in "dining". I'm just that grateful.

If you're reading this, I'm grateful for you, too.

A few weeks ago, I received a call from my dear, sweet friend Michel in Nantes, France. We had such a great talk and it feels like I've known him forever. We were talking about our respective kids, the two Thanksgivings he'd shared with our family in the past ten years, and what was going on in our lives. His work sounded most decidedly much more intriguing than mine - he had just finished translating Zbigniew Brezinzki's latest book from into French, along with even more stimulating projects. He has always been one of my most valued and trusted writing supporters and my respect for his opinion and talent is boundless, along with being such a trusted, special friend. Michel asked me why I hadn't been writing much (at all) lately. It was a legitimate question and I shared some things with him that had evolving inside of me in these past few months.

Quite a few years ago, the ever astute Michel made the remark that I was "becoming the person you were raised to be", after what was really just a lull in a tumultuous time. His remark struck me at the time because I knew that whatever I might look like on the outside, on the inside I still wasn't close to being who I was raised to be. I guess his remark lingered in my head because I knew innately there was such a disparity between the truth of that statement and my own reality at the time he made it.

In fact, I was spiraling - I remember wishing that I was even close to becoming who I was raised to be, but I was at least honest enough with myself to know that, in fact, I wasn't even in the same neighborhood of any of that. I still had quite a few years to fall before I could begin to get up and assess the situation. I had much more damage to do (mostly to myself) but even given the point where I was at that time, Michel's statement sounded an alarm in the very deepest part of my (then) fragile being. I wanted to be able to say with clarity and honesty that yes, indeed, I am very much close to being the person I was raised to be...

At the time, it felt like a hopeless dream of a goal.

During these past few months, my parents and I have keenly missed Justin, as we did Katie when she first flew the coop. The absence created by his relocation was nothing less than a very real adjustment. He'd never really lived away from home and you'd be surprised how seeing the same guy for almost 22 years can become a habit. It was so quiet after he moved and I think, in some way, that we each stayed "up" for each other almost as much for ourselves. Of course, it required that indispensible but impossible to rush commodity of time. Time takes time and it never allows itself to be rushed.

So many changes have taken place since January 12, 2004 - the day after I took my last drink. Relationships have changed in a variety of positive ways but perhaps the relationship that changed most profoundly was the relationship with myself. In those first days, weeks and months of sobriety, you run the gamut of feelings toward yourself - and a lot of it is of the "self-loathing" variety which you have to walk through and then out of and you have to accept the fact that you have been sick, very very ill, because of the disease that's been chipping away at your whole being. And then, as time moves on, you learn acceptance and at some point, perhaps when you're not even paying attention, some threshold is crossed and lo and behold, you start to truly believe that you're actually an OK person - and then you learn that you truly can depend not only on others, but most of all, on yourself. You discover that you can be trusted probably long after many others close to you have granted you another chance. It's often said that we can be our own worst critics and I believe that's often the case, at least it has been with me many times.

Plunged into the quietness of this house after Justin moved, I've spent more time around my Mom and Dad. I've often said that I want to be just like them when I grow up and I really do because they've managed to grow up without losing their youth, their playfulness and impishness, their sense of wonder with just about everything - and even though they've been around on this planet over 80 years, they still retain that wonder. My Mom can point out a flower in the yard or the first tomatoes or cucumbers on a plant every year and she does so as if it's the very first time she's ever seen such a thing - with a genuine expression of pure awe at something she's witnessed many times before.

My Dad is exactly the same way - he can be genuinely dazzled by a meticulously cut yard, a sudden growth spurt of a plant, or even the way Cassie comes inside after it's started raining and voluntarily holds each paw up to be dried off and how she likes her face wiped in a very specific fashion. These are the kinds of things that positively capture their attention and how wise they are not to overlook them, to take notice of these seemingly small things that maybe aren't so small at all.

I have observed in these past few months how both of them find deep joy in their routines, how this couple who lived through losing their oldest daughter back in 1973, managed to rediscover joy in the details of everyday life - how these routines, putting one foot in front of the other, sustained them until the magic and wonder of life resumed its proper place allowing for things like tomatoes blooming and leaves turning to captivate them once again. They haven't simply spent all these years living - they have lived well and from what I can see - there's a huge difference in those two things. It is their continued joy in each day that has made such a huge impression on me these past few months. "Living well" is such an art and it has absolutely nothing to do with money at all but has everything to do with Grace. Grace has so many excellent definitions but the one I'm probably thinking of just now is this: "a virtue or excellence of divine origin."

When I spoke with Michel a couple of weeks ago, I tried to explain that what I was experiencing, didn't lend itself well to writing just yet, but that I knew in time it would. And I believe it will, but lately, I have felt like a sponge of sorts, enjoying the new routines I've established, finding joy in things I never would have imagined containing anything fascinating or remarkable. In a way, the things I've previously thought to be unremarkable, have proven to be the most remarkable. The point of it all that has eluded me for so very many years, is the simple lesson that joy and wonder can be found everywhere if I'm willing and determined to see it. It really is just that easy.

Back to Michel's long ago observation, that I was "becoming the person my parents raised me to be", well, it occured to me that in fact, it appears as if I had found that path and was, at the very least, heading in the right direction with as sturdy a compass as I've ever felt in my pocket. Not only does my compass feel reliable, but I have learned to depend on it and trust both my compass and me. There's a lot to be said for heading in the right direction...

The other night I was having dinner with my parents and my Dad always begins dinner with an elegant "grace". After he blessed dinner, they were discussing how much they missed Justin and Katie but then, my Dad looked across the table at me and said, "But you know what? I sure have enjoyed the three of us being able to spend time together." And then my Mom suddenly remarked that she was "so proud of me". I have to tell you, that no matter where I have been published and regardless of where I might be published in the future, I can think of few remarks that could make me feel as grateful as I did in that moment. It was a deep sense of gratitude and what a keen reminder of a Higher Power, who made the culmination of that moment and that remark remotely possible.

If you think about it, that really is "Go tell it on the mountain" stuff. For now though, given the absence of mountains, I'll just blog about it.

Merry Christmas!

Opie, Andy, The Fonz & James Taylor...

2008-10-25T01:45:00.001-04:00

How cool is this?

See more Ron Howard videos at Funny or Die

And then, of course, my main man...

Gravitas, Sophistry and Presidential Timber vs. Kindling

2008-10-19T09:32:00.007-04:00

Gravitas...

In a campaign steeped with so much surreal sophistry, I have been searching for gravitas. I was eager to watch "Meet the Press" this morning. Distinguished former JCS and Secretary of State Colin Powell was the featured guest. I was anxious to hear what he had to say because technically he's a registered republican like me and also, I have the highest respect for this man. I've always thought him to be a reasonable, brilliant and sensible gentleman who would, in my opinion, have made a fine president in his own right.

As Tom Brokaw lead him up to the $64,000 question, Powell offered a studied assessment of both Sen. McCain as well as Sen. Obama. His points were concise, topical, thorough and I personally agreed with just about everything he said.

I've always personally put a lot of stock in Powell's opinions because he's seen things from within the inner circle of government and the military. Like a lot of Americans, I feel as if I can trust this man's view because of the positions he's held and, frankly, I always thought Bush threw him under the bus.

These are some of the most challenging times America has ever faced. No matter where you find yourself on the political spectrum, most of us can agree that our plate isn't simply full, stuff is spilling off of it in huge dollops. Our plate can barely contain its contents at the moment.

I've had serious and deep conversations with people I highly respect in these past few weeks, people I have known for years and put a lot of stock into what they believe., their opinions and views. Anyone who reads this blog or knows me personally understands that my own parents top that list. I can't think of two humans I respect and have more faith in than Barbe & Maxine Cook and I say this because in my 48 year history with these folks, they have been right something like 99.99999% of the time with a negligible margin of error. It is, in fact, uncanny how often they are correct on a myriad of subjects. These aren't knee-jerk, radical or prejudice people. In my estimation they have managed to be progressive without ever abandoning their beliefs or ideals. I would trust them with my life and have on several occasions. On a few important occasions they have, in fact, taught me to be more open and thoughtful in my approach to pivotal situations in raising my kids and they've gently guided me from being too rigid or judgmental. They have lead me not by preachy sermonizing, but by their impeccable example and graceful guidance. My parents may not be perfect, but they're just about as close to it as I've ever known.

I've also had talks with others that I respect including close friends and even my exhusband, Tim. I have a long history of observing his compass and I have known him for twenty-nine years. I respect him, too, even if I don't agree with him on everything.

I've searched for answers, read volumes of text and listened intently to interviews, all three presidential debates and one vice-presidential debate. I have practiced as much objectivity as I possibly can and in doing so, I can't help but continue to feel strongly that Barack Obama is the better choice. It's tough for me, coming from a predominantly conservative background.

I must say, however, that McCain's selection of Sarah Palin did make it easier and she continues to validate my initial feelings about her as being someone about as qualified to be vice-president or president as my dog or three cats. I continue to look at her biography and recent campaign performance as comic book in nature with even less substance. I can't for the life of me figure out what John McCain was thinking in choosing her. I read one headline out of the UK this morning that asked the question, "Is Sarah Palin Presidential Timber" to which I immediately thought, my gosh, she's not even presidential kindling.

Honestly, I believe that at his core, John McCain is a good man, a decent, respectable man who is inarguably an American hero in every sense of the word. He has served his country far more brilliantly than his own campaign staff and advisers have served him. Having said that, I just don't think McCain was well-qualified to be the next president because Bush's "legacy" has been too painful and the thought, there mere idea of four more years of a continuation of his policies is more than many of us can stomach.

Like I said, I was deeply torn before McCain chose his running mate but with his choice of Palin, I pretty much realized not voting for McCain wouldn't be as difficult as it might have been had he chose a more appropriate and well-qualified running mate. A pistol-packing hockey mom might make a colorful friend to grab a cup of "Joe" (and not Joe the unlicensed plumber who owes back taxes) with, but to consider this woman who uses phrases like "palling around with terrorists" or sometimes reverts to a syntax only Yoda could understand and appreciate, is beyond horrifying. I'm not in the slightest bit elitist, but I would prefer our national leaders to be articulate and knowledgeable and yes, even have more than a page or two of stamps in their passport. I don't necessarily fault Sarah Palin as much as I do the McCain Camp for inserting her in a position she is completely ill-prepared or qualified to assume. It kind of strikes me as the type of non-forward thinking that landed us in Iraq: Yes, doing so made a huge splash and bold statement, but once we situated ourselves there and whoops, didn't find any WMD's, what do we do now? In a sense, Palin's selection was big on "splash 'max" factor'" but after the ripples receded, what does she bring to the table? It turns out that her "international vision" is restricted to the horizon looking West across the Bering Sea where, on a clear day, you can see maybe not forever, but sometimes catch a glimpse of Russia.

That is literally and figuratively short-sighted and very scary. We're in a high-tension situation that doesn't allow us to affect short-sightedness. We need the ability to see as far and wide as we possibly can - even further than the tip of Russia from across the Bering Sea. As Secretary of State Powell said this morning, we need someone "transformational". In this race, for me at least, that translates Barack Obama and Joseph (Joe the Senator) Biden. Someone who doesn't look as if he's going to blow a blood vessel from sheer, barely controllable rage, but who is deliberate, studied and forward thinking, who doesn't spout off in anger or legislate based on emotion.

So I was grateful for Powell's thoughtful assessment of both McCain and Obama this morning. It was well-presented and elaborative and while his endorement may not be the clincher for a lot of folks, it did comfort me and validate my feelings. No matter where you are in your thinking on this election, it's worth listening to Brokaw's interview with Powell.

This has been such an internal struggle for me - this crossing party lines on a presidential level, grappling with my hopes and dreams for the future of my now grown up kids and, someday, their own children and what I hope and pray their future looks like. It's interesting how our vision changes with our station in life. I now find myself thinking of grandchildren that might appear at some point in the next five or seven years. I want it to be as safe and dream-laden as I feel it's been for me.

It's never been perfect and of course it won't ever be, but it's been such a stellar country to call home and there is such a profound pride in being an American. We're such a diverse country and independence courses through all of our collective veins. As Americans, we're not simply encouraged to dream, but it's tacitly expected of us to be dreamers, to reach for our own stars and we're told from birth that because we're Americans, ANYTHING is possible and, as evidenced by our myriad achievements, many of those dreams evolve into a personal reality. We're Americans. We do great things a lot of the time. What a history we have and yes, we're in a tough spot right now, but we've been in tough spots before. I don't know if I fall into one of those geographical areas that Sarah Palin has determined to be "real America", but I think "real America" isn't just in a few pre-determined locations but everywhere there are Americans. We take it with us. How arrogant of Palin.

I was talking to my manager Friday and noticed he had a "YES WE CAN - NC FOR OBAMA" yard sign. I remarked on it and he said I could have it - he has one in his yard. Me, with a sign like that here on McCain Street. Even my pro-McCain parents have remarked on the other signs on our street touting the republican nominee, saying they don't think much of placing yard signs regardless of their choice. At first I found that odd and then, after a little reflection, it was quintessential "Barbe & Maxine". It's how they are about everything - not showy or "in your face" and certainly not pushy at all. They don't need to post signs just as they never force-fed anyone their beliefs, religious or otherwise. They live what I have come to refer to as a "quiet calm". It's why they have a plethora of friends far and wide. It's also why their family, both immediate and extended, respect and adore them. I grew up watching them "walk the walk" and rarely heard them talk much about it. Truly, my parents embrace "to be rather than to seem". Never offensive or obtrusive and never, ever in your face. Rare are the people who can effectively comingle idealism with common sense. For my parents, it is like breathing. Seamless. Remarkable.

When I told my Dad about the sign in my car, he looked at me and I quickly said, "Of course, I'm not going to put it in the yard...it's going in my office upstairs.". That was a close one! And that's where it will go - on the wall of my office as a memento of this election. A reminder of this moment in our history as we prepare to make even more of it. I want to remember this time when my political beliefs, feelings and thoughts have felt so challenged. Someday, I want to tell my grandkids of this election and they will be bored with it I'm sure, but maybe they'll look at that sign someday and say, "What's up with that old campaign sign, Grandma?". I will smile and launch into a story of the time way back in 2008 when I wasn't exactly sure what was what and who was who. By then, the Obama-Biden presidency (if they win as expected) will be one for the history books and I hope, I dearly pray, that my hunches and feelings and hopes and dreams will maybe even be exceeded.

On this Sunday in late October, days from this historical election, it is leap of faith. Regardless of how it all goes, let's hope for a safe landing on the other side and because we're Americans, on 5 November, we'll rally behind our next president and get to work with him, whoever he is. That's what we do.

That is who we are.

The Facts...Just the TAX Facts...

2008-10-13T21:48:00.005-04:00

This little fact box wasn't part of a paid campaign advertisement. It appeared in Sunday's (October 12, 2008), Parade Magazine.

It's interesting and maybe it's something to think about...

October 12, 2008

How Much Would You Pay in Taxes?

Sens. Barack Obama and John McCain both say they’ll cut federal taxes if elected. Here’s what their proposals would mean for you.

	Obama	McCain
If you make...	you'd save...	you'd save...
less than $19,000	$567	$21
$19,000-$37,600	$892	$118
$37,600-$66,400	$1118	$325
$66,400-$111,600	$1264	$994
$111,600-$161,000	$2135	$2584
$161,000-$227,000	$2796	$4437
If you're in the top 5% of earners...	you'd pay an extra...	you'd save...
$227,000-$603,400	$121	$8159
$603,400-$2.87 million	$93,709	$48,862
more than $2.87 million	$542,882	$290,708

*Source: Tax Policy Center. Numbers have been rounded. For complete details, go to TaxPolicyCenter.org.

If your annual salary is less than $112,000, you’d pay less in taxes under Obama’s plan; if your salary is higher, McCain would cut your taxes more. “While the aggregate tax cut is bigger for McCain, a larger number of voters get more money under Obama,” says Alan Viard, a tax-policy expert at the conservative American Enterprise Institute. “Obama is choosing to emphasize tax cuts for the middle class, whereas McCain’s strategy is to keep rates lower at the top as a way to facilitate long-run growth.” For example, a person with an income of $1 million could see his taxes increase under Obama by as much as $94,000, whereas under McCain’s plan he could save about $48,000.

— Rebecca Davis O'Brien

So I guess you could conclude that if you are middle class and keen on paying more taxes, I'd say McCain is your guy. If you're in the top five percent of wage-earners or you're a trust fund baby with more money than you know what to do with, McCain would seem a prudent choice.

If you're middle class and struggling and living paycheck-to-paycheck like many of us, well, you do the math.

Warm Reminders of Roberta, Thoughts on Cause and Effect and a Happy Birthday Shout-Out!

2008-10-05T11:56:00.015-04:00

Of Palin...and an Exceptional Parrot

One year for Christmas, I believe it was 1993, Tim bought me an African Grey Parrot. She was a mere eight weeks old and was still being hand-fed which is really the perfect age to establish a close bond with an African Grey. In terms of sheer intelligence, African Greys are the "Einsteins" of the parrot world. They're vocabulary and gift for mimicry is simply astounding. Not only can they repeat complete sentences, they can do so in a voice that will make you swear it's the person they are imitating.

I remember many times in Florida, hearing Roberta scream in a voice that sounded more like Justin than Justin, "Mom! Come here Mom! Quick!". I would race down the stairs more times than I care to admit, knowing full well Justin was in school, thinking..."Oh no! Is Justin OK?". I mean, her mimicry was dead on! Roberta would also take great delight in calling the family dog, a big lumbering yellow lab named Blossom, who would fall for Roberta's tricks, same as me. Blossom would scamper from wherever she was, thinking one of us was calling her, only to find a room devoid of any human family members, and a parrot perched on top of her cage, looking innocent, though I always figured Roberta must be thinking..."what a stupid dog! fell for it again, did you?". Roberta probably thought the same of me.

I must confess something; Roberta had a Republican handler, though she didn't have index cards.

Did you watch the vice-presidential debate Thursday Night? Were you one of the lucky ones to catch a wink or a shout-out? I have to give credit where credit is due. I can't imagine how Sarah Palin pulled herself together amid such low expectations and managed to stand up there before a huge television audience and, at the very least, form complete sentences in a quasi-coherent fashion. I have to give her credit for showing up, no question about that. She didn't look terribly addled and certainly seemed to warm up to the bright lights, even though she dodged or simply refused to answer most of the questions. Ms. Palin was poised, showed some style and even some down home "Joe Six-Pack" humor, but I don't think you win debate points for that.

Aren't we just finishing up with a "regular, Joe Six-Pack" kind of guy? Hey, I voted for Bush and I have to tell you, that didn't work out so well, did it? It feels to me like "Joe Six-Pack" turned out to be "Bud Extra Light". I dunno, I think we've had enough of that. It hasn't worked out so well, has it?

And one more thing, watching the VP debate brought back fond and affectionate memories of Roberta, my smart, feisty little maverick of an African Grey. Most of the time, I'm sure Roberta had no clue as to what she was saying, but we, "her handlers", used to coach her and feed her lines and, let's give a parrot credit where credit is due, she would pick up a great deal of her repertoire by passive listening to rote phrases. When we moved from Florida, we gave Roberta to our vet tech who loved that bird. It was sad saying goodbye to her. We never got around to teaching her how to wink or send "shout-outs", but I'm betting she could have mastered that as well. What an awesome parrot. Darn right you betcha she was!

One of the things that make me so unnerved to consider the very real possibility that Sarah Palin might wind up as commander-in-chief, are index cards. What will happen if, when she's conferring with world leaders, she looks down and doesn't have the right note card? If our collective well-being lies in our leaders being experienced, educated and have an solid understanding of foreign and domestic affairs, I would like to think they have more to lean on than an index card. A "house of cards" is a flimsy defense. It doesn't convey a level of comfort for this writer. Frankly, it's something that's scared me for, how long has she been at this, five weeks? Like, yeah.

Another point that struck me in the VP Debate, is Ms. Palin's dismissal of the importance of determining the causes of global warming. She wasn't as much noncommittal as she was totally incurious in discovering the key practices that have imperiled our environment. Gov. Palin was reluctantly agreeable that we needed to discover ways to protect the earth and try and reverse some of the damage that's already been done, but to completely find no valid reason or desire in discovering the exact causes of environmental devastation made me happy that she's not in charge of something like cancer research.

Can you imagine if the world of oncology was interested only in treating the symptoms of a disease without discovering the etiology? What if there was no cancer research? We would have made absolutely no significant gains in lowering mortality rates, survival statistics or improving quality of life. It is from research and cellular detective work that new weapons of cancer destruction are created - learning how to use monoclonal antibodies, harnessing the body's own biological immune system which allows us to move away from bombarding fragile systems with toxic chemicals and radiation. The face of cancer treatment has changed significantly because of research and ongoing discovery. Many treatments are now tumor-specific because researchers have studied the disease process and it is only in adding to this knowledge that gains will continue to be made. Specifics matter. Points of origin teach us essential information so that we don't repeat past mistakes. Knowledge is power.

The same principle is true for just about everything. We can't repair this economy unless we look deep into what has created the recession; sloppy lending practices, a Wall Street that fed corporate CEO's scurrilous salaries and bonuses; teaching our kids to live on a "credit and carry" basis, rather than pay for it as you go and if you don't have the cash on hand, you don't really "need" it. The line between our "needs" and "wants" has become unforgivably fuzzy.

When I was a little girl, and even after I wasn't such a little girl and had my own family, I would watch as my Mom would be putting away the leftovers, and I would laugh almost in a punkish, glib manner, as she would save even 3 or 4 tablespoons of leftover corn, beans or even spaghetti sauce. I'd think, "how silly she is. saving a few bites of something when all she has to do is just open a new package next time.". I could never understand (and certainly didn't bother to try), why my parents saved EVERYTHING (and I do mean EVERYTHING). Things in our home weren't replaced until they were completely and totally inoperable and even then, they would be deconstructed to their essential parts with the thought that "this piece or part might come in handy someday...". I remember being chastised not too long ago for idly tossing away the empty inner plastic wrapper that had contained cereal, only to find that my Mom had fished it out of the trash and washed and rinsed it because "it makes a great wrap for vegetables or cake. you can do all kinds of things with these great wrappers! Better than those expensive Ziploc bags!". I'd shake my head again and again, never quite getting it.

In fact, my parents are children of the last "great depression" and obviously, it wasn't all that much fun and anything but "great". My mom and dad recycled long before it became fashionable and not because they were scratching for money. It made good sense to them and, as is often the case they were, and are, right. I remember years ago when my Mom got a new dining room table but rather than get rid of the smaller one, she simply had my dad saw off the legs of the older, smaller one, sanded and painted it and was proud as punch of her newly appointed coffee table. And it is still our coffee table. I would never have thought of doing that and to my parents, such DIY money-saving tricks are like breathing. They learned from the school of "how many uses can we think of for this?", employing creativity, cost efficiency and style, not to mention the satisfaction of knowing they are being prudent stewards of their money and the earth.

For far too long, we've become a nation that thrives on consumerism and now our consumerism is beginning to consume us, but to those who have lived through tough times before, this new economic downturn was never a matter of "if", but more a function of "when".

Guess what? It's "when".

I never fully understood that growing up under the tutelage of Barbe & Maxine Cook would teach me such incredible life lessons, but I am profoundly grateful. I remember last year when my Mother beamed as I created a pot rack from an old bicycle wheel. In some small way, I imagine she must have been thinking..."there may be hope for her after all.". I believe I got a gold star that day.

Now, the upshot of tough times is that it causes us to change and, generally speaking, this is usually for the better. While we may be a country of rampant consumers, we're also an inventive lot, and that will no doubt serve us well in the coming months and years. Human beings generally don't change their ways unless they're in pain or, at the very least, feeling a modicum of discomfort - this is true of alcoholics, addicts and yes, even out of control spenders with an addiction to credit. We learn things when we face tough situations and some of the greatest gifts spring up from those times. America is in the middle of a redirection which is probably long overdue. If we can get out of our own way, work hard and think before we act, we'll probably be just fine.

However, I will submit to you, that if Maxine Cook were to find herself the winner of the North Carolina Lottery tomorrow (which would never happen because she's never bought a lottery ticket in her life) and presented with a check for 29 million dollars, I would bet the farm that it wouldn't change her habits one bit. She'd still save the cereal bags, those last few bites of vegetables and though she might buy a new piece or two of furniture, you can be certain she would find a useful purpose for the one retired. That's as basic to my parents nature as their goodness - it is who they are. Living around these two is a daily eduction and I'm a pretty blessed daughter.

Take Me Home...Road Trip!

We held a formal family council this weekend and came up with the idea of visiting Justin and Stephanie for Thanksgiving and yes, that means we will be spending the holiday in West (by God) Virginia. I can't wait! Well, mostly, I can't wait to see my son, but also, I can't wait to walk around downtown Charleston with him, revisiting my old haunts, seeing the streets I used to know so well, walking on the grounds of the capitol, looking at all that has changed and what has remained the same, in the company of my favorite (and only) son who will turn 22 six days before Thanksgiving. We're all looking forward to it. Now all I have to do is figure out who I can get to come in my house and take care of my six aquariums and 3 cats. Cassie may be going with us, though she doesn't know it yet. I have to check with Justin on that but I can't bear the idea of leaving her behind and besides, she's never visited WV. Cassie, like Justin, is from Amarillo, Texas so I'd like to show her that part of the country. We shall see.

On the automotive front, the car is still in the sick bay of Aamco and release isn't slated until at least Tuesday or Wednesday. I'm over the initial shock, I guess, but that doesn't mean I'm happy about it. What can you do? You grit your teeth and what I do is think of all the things that could be worse and, as it turns out, there are many things that could be far more distressing. My family is healthy, we're all fine and still very blessed in the things that count most. I keep reminding myself of this. I know it's true.

Not to belabor the point but there was one moment in the debate, however, which I didn't find "adorable" or cute. Remember when Senator Biden was talking about his family, and understanding what it was like to sit by the bedside of a child, not knowing if he would live? Biden became emotional when he described this, clearly overcome from the recollection of that painful memory. When it was Gov. Palin's turn to respond, she launched right into lauding the maverick ways of John McCain. There was absolutely no reverence or even one kind word of empathy regarding what her opponent had just shared.

The next day, I wondered what the press would have had to say if the roles had been reversed and it was Gov. Palin who had opened up in the debate with a similarly personal and painful moment from her own past and what if Biden had ignored it and launched into peppering Sen. Obama with a flurry of accolades. You can bet it would have made a ripple in the MSM (mainstream media). He would have been labeled cold, uncaring or worse.

I guess those mavericks don't have time for much compassion. It's kind of a shame, really, because it seems that in a time when the economy is tanking and we're in the middle of a dangerous war, with so many Americans forced to live without health insurance from their employers, that we could use all of the compassion we can muster. Times are hard and it doesn't cost one penny to care about each other. That's the kind of "bail-out" that has to come from within. Congress can't fork that over and it shouldn't be in short supply, but apparently it is.

Republican, Democrat, Independent or undeclared, no matter where any of us fall on the political spectrum, we're in for some interesting days as election day nears. What we learn in the next 30 days, in terms of plans, campaign tactics and tone, will be paramount in making an intelligent, wise choice as each of us head into the voting booth. It's a real soul-searching time for Americans on so many fronts. No matter who's side we eventually land, let's pray that whoever inhabits the White House has the wisdom, Faith and spiritual guidance to lead us back to where we need to be, and can coalesce us into a united front on the right path.

And one last thing - today is the birthday of one Tim Parker! Happy Birthday to you and best wishes for an exciting new year!

Transatlanticism, Transmissions in Tumult, My Blog Becomes " Exhibit 18A", and a Messy Political Landscape...

2008-09-28T13:27:00.029-04:00

5:50 PM Update:

VERDICT: I have to type this fast because I'm going to lose consciousness again...
Aamco called with the final diagnosis on the Lincoln...

It would seem as if 4th gear is shot. I need a new transmission. Holy freaking cow...
$ 2, 1 5 0 . 0 0
Yes, you read that right...
Two thousand one hundred fifty big ones.

$2,150 smackeroos. Oh, and it won't be ready until Monday Afternoon.

Add to that the $540 that went into that car last month for window regulators.

One word: OUCH!!!!!!!!!

I'm going to drown myself in jasmine tea and cry now. I'll resurface later.

Automotive Update: On Monday Morning, my Lincoln LS was examined by Atlantic Car Care, here in Wilmington. If you want a quality, honest, and reputable place to take your mechanically challenged car...this is NOT that place.

I took my car in because the transmission light was flashing on the status window. I called to check on the results of what I thought would be transmission diagnostic tests only to be told they hadn't check that "part" out yet, but it would seem the car needed new front and rear rotors, brakes and brake pads...all of which would run around $900. What any of that had to do with my transmission, I have no idea, but I wasn't interested in sticking around to find out. I told them to prepare the car for me to pick it up and, though they did nothing to repair anything, they did see fit to charge me $165.00 for diagnostics on an issue unrelated to my request.

I decided to take the car for a ride to Karl's Automotive (who made a $540 repair on it last month, but at least they actually made the repairs I asked for! Atlantic Car Care definitely took me for a ride. I can't NOT recommend them enough.

After being robbed by Atlantic Car "Care", I felt much safer with my car on Karl's lot. I talked with him this morning where he reported that he replaced a "speed sensor" and they were going to road test it to see if that took care of my transmission alerts. Unfortunately, the only thing that took care of was the "check traction control" light and even more unhappily Karl, who is a great mechanic and one of my neighbors, doesn't work on transmission. He recommended Aamco which is right now next door to his shop and he offered to take it over and explain the findings - apparently two "codes" reported problems with the transmission. I can't even begin to tell you how much I am dreading to hear the final report on that. I am immobilized without wheels and from fear of the reparations. Oy vey!

I almost sold this car last month on Craig's List but after getting the window regulators replaced, I thought...no, I'll keep it...it will probably be just fine now. I was...ummm...obviously wrong. I'm starting a pool on what the final tally for this "fix". If you're right - you win the car! If you lose, you win the car! . I'll update after with the total after I get the bill and finally stop crying. I can't fault Karl - he really is a top-notch mechanic but for the love of everything holy - stay away from Atlantic Car "Care".

It should also be noted that in no way do I blame my friend and neighbor from whom I bought the car. I know for a fact that this car ran fine when it was in her possession and I also know that she and her husband take care of their cars. I've lived beside them for over 8 years and you get to know people in that length of time. So of course, the travails of this Lincoln are not the result of a "shady" deal.

Personally, I have a theory - I think that car just misses my neighbor and resents not being in her driveway so it's taunting me with it's transmission. :-) In reality, she sold it to me for a fair price and had no crystal ball that she could have ever foretold the repairs lying in wait. It's no one's fault at all. I thought I should mention that since many of my readers are aware that I purchased this Lincoln from the folks next door. The "folks next door" are upstanding, ethical friends They're very good people. We love having them next door. I just wanted to set THAT record straight, lest anyone get the wrong idea.

Besides (I keep reminding myself) this isn't the END of the world. It's annoying, frustrating and EXPENSIVE, but at the end of the day, it's still just a car...a cantankerous one, to be sure, but in terms of a catastrophe, this doesn't qualify as one. As long as everyone is fully-functioning, healthy and happy, in the grand scheme of things, that's what matters most, right?

But can I just say it one time? Dang that stinkin' Lincoln! I miss my PT Cruiser...

OK - onto other topics. It hasn't been boring. This much I can say for certain.

First, let's start with a travelogue. Katie's was far more interesting and exciting than mine. Katie and John enjoyed a wonderful holiday that began in Paris for a glorious string of five days, included a passage aboard the Eurostar and ended with a flourish in London aboard the London Eye. They had an incredible time. Included in the dream vacation was dinner with our friend Michel and his daughter Anne and niece Nolwenn in Paris. All reports from the principals involved speak of a fantastic visit. Katie and John landed safely back in NYC following "the best time ever!".

[All photos courtesy of Katie Jane Parker.] You may see more of Katie's photography if you click here: Katie's Photo Stream. I have been blown away by her work and her photos of the trip were incredible. I have already put in orders (hints) for Christmas prints. I'm very proud of her talent - I just wish I knew where it came from!

While Katie was tripping through the French Countryside and the romantic avenues of Paris, I was traveling to Raleigh courtesy of a subpeona and for as much as I did NOT want to be there, much less take the stand, I'm glad that I did and I dearly hope that my testimony assisted in some way for a woman who merits more than any court can ever grant. If justice was ever due, the plaintiff in this case earned it. If you've followed this blog or you're a super close friend of mine, you know who I am referring to and if you have absolutely no clue what this is in reference to, you'll just have to trust me on this when I tell you that the old adage of "what goes around, comes around", was never more clearly illustrated than in that courtroom. I have no idea what the final verdict was, the decision of the judge or any idea of how things were eventually settled.

I can tell you that I was nervous to the point that my father actually drove me up to Raleigh as I didn't think I could handle the fear of facing downtown Raleigh traffic AND the unknowns of making a 45 minute appearance in court. I'd never testified before. I was very scared and apprehensive. My dad certainly lightened the mood on the drive up there and made it as pleasant and comical as possible. He easily elicited several smiles out of me ,as he generally does. "All you have to do is tell the truth. Piece of cake!". But I'd never been front and center in a courtroom on the 8th floor of the Wake County Courthouse or any courthouse for that matter. However, for as scared out of my wits as I was from the day the subpeona arrived to the moment I walked into that courthouse, as soon as I crossed the threshold, the fear completely and totally dissipated. Definitely a God thing. Had to be.

The plaintiff's attorney was very kind and gracious, and for as awkward as all of this was, I realized that if my testimony could assist his client in any way possible, by doing nothing more than giving an honest account of my own experiences, than it was a good thing. It was the right thing to do.

Having said that, I must tell you, it's pretty surreal to see your blog framed in a thick binder and labeled as "Exhibit 18". I mean, that almost qualifies as an "out of body" experience. I was instructed to read certain passages (to myself) and then comment on them. And I did and oddly enough, the voice that emitted from me was without a hint of a quiver or tremble. I don't know where my fear and trepidation escaped to, but I felt an unbelievable calm. I also dearly hope that in some small way, it helped assuage any unintentional pain or unpleasantness "the plaintiff" may have suffered through my unwitting involvement in this debacle.

I'm just so glad that's over - all of it. I'm grateful to be as far away from that sad insanity that landed me there in the first place. I can't even begin to tell you the relief I felt as my father and I drove back to Wilmington from Raleigh that afternoon - talk about a weight being lifted from my shoulders! And I survived...with a lot of help and good wishes from friends and famly. I hope that nice lady in Raleigh finds a peace-filled soft landing as well. I hope, as a result of the proceedings, she lands well and I have a hunch that she has.

Four days after Katie returned to NYC from London, Justin and Tim took off in the opposite direction for Amarillo. Ah yes - back to Justin's roots! Tim's last hospital gig had been in the West Texas town of Amarillo and he had left many thing in storage before setting off for his new entrepreneurial gig in West Virginia so, as things are gearing up for the opening of his new business, father and son flew to Amarillo, loaded a huge moving truck and had an interesting road-trip back. For Justin, it was back to his roots - he was born in Amarillo and is our token Texan. I thought it was pretty cool that he and his father could share that trip back in geography and time and maybe relive some memories and, by all accounts from both of them, I believe they did.

As much as I miss my son, as do his grandparents, what a unique and exquisite opportunity this is for him to reconnect with his Dad. I believe they're learning a great deal about each other - what makes the other one tick and who they are as individuals - their similiarities and unique differences. Tim was generally working non-stop during Justin's growing up years and usually geographically displaced from the cities we lived in so their times together were sparse and most probably those brief windows of opportunity during summer and Christmas vacations didn't lend themselves to any real adequate "getting to know you" time. However, given that they are working closely together, living in the same house until Justin finds an apartment, and now spending great chunks of time together, it seems they are discovering all kinds of things about each other and it's great fun hearing about it from both of them.

As for West Virginia, I personally am excited for Justin to experience October and the first part of November in the Mountain State. As most people know, I am no fan of WV topography or climate, and am even less enamored with mountains and landlocked geography, but I must say that Fall is when West Virginia seems to shine. I do remember crisp fall days, looking up at a nearly indescribable palette of color that appeared as brushstrokes across the mountains and ridges and valleys and I remember, even as a kid, thinking to myself how expertly and creatively appointed God must be. How He must have the most ginormous box of crayons and He knew how to use them. Even for the ocean lover that I am, the bountiful beauty of October in West Virginia wasn't lost on me. I can't wait for Justin to see that and knowing his sense of, and appreciation for, artistry, I am confident he's going to be blown away by it all.

I am nothing if not a cheerleader for all that is coastal North Carolina. Put me before an ocean, and I need little else to find some inspiration, save a large jasmine iced tea. Justin's never lived in an area where Fall goes full-throttle. In West Texas, it was negligible at best because the trees were mostly tiny and sparsely scattered across the High Plains, bowing humbly to the expansive sky that elicited one's attention and made for it's own kind of beauty. One early memory of my first autumn in Amarillo was my noticing on weekends how so many of my neighbors spent hours and hours tending saplings on our street, trees that wouldn't pass for twigs in my native Charleston. Sure, they might deliver a handful of golden leaves but never in the quantities that would require any homeowner to purchase a leaf rake and never ever enough to create a voluminous pile of crispy leaves just begging for someone to jump into them.

My son will find a different facet of fall this year, a kaliedescope of color, and I can just imagine the awe he will experience, seeing it all for the first time at the tender age of 21. I know his soul, and I'm betting this will be one of those "moments" that graciously visit us in life. I can't wait to hear what it looks like through his sweet eyes.

Speaking of kids, I must say that I miss my Katie. She's doing well, sounds happy and it's absolutely true we enjoyed a great visit this past May, but I find myself missing her quite a lot. It's hard to believe my daughter is twenty-five years OLD! I rarely laugh as long or as hard as I do when I spend time with her. She's so completely comedically absurd and at times, she's much like what I would imagine the cast of SNL must be like. Sardonic, bitingly witty, droll with a wry, intellectual spark that fascinates me. We talk often but it's not quite the same as seeing her facial expressions. She can drive me to giggling fits with a look and given the political season we are in, she's been exceptionally entertaining - squarely on her game.

I hear the pundits every evening, promising that McCain's transparent ploy to capture the female vote hungry to get a woman into office, will only backfire, that "American women are too smart to fall for this", but it's still a great fear. Call me crazy, but I just can't fathom that our national security could rest in the hands of a woman who appears to earnestly believe that her state's proximity to Russia somehow qualifies as foreign policy experience.

Here's a very serious question - If you manage to shatter the glass ceiling, as so many conservative women and "Hilary hangers-on" are crediting Gov. Palin with, what good is it if you land in a sound-proof room and find yourself muzzled? Does it count as a gain or gaffe? She doesn't even qualify as a cheerleader because, well, they have to make a noise. She's not allowed. Three interviews since she was nominated at the Republican Convention four weeks ago...that's messed up.

The "Sequestering of Sarah" by the McCain Campaign, preventing her from only the most scripted campaign appearances, shadowing her every move and barring her from interviews, press conferences or any opportunity to speak her own mind, is stark proof that she is nothing more than a manniquen for a campaign that appears to be both imploding and exploding before our very eyes. It's unconscienable to me that McCain could have selected this poor woman and somehow expected the rest of us to think it was a good decision. What in the heck was he thinking or, more disturbingly, was he thinking at all? If Ms. Palin can't be trusted to take questions from Katie Couric, how in the world can she be seen as credible enough to deal with world leaders at a time when America is in such precariously dire straits? And to be fair, don't you imagine Ms. Palin feels as used as the rest of us feel hoodwinked? I wonder how she feels when she sees Joe Biden being interviewed, IF the closet they have her locked away in has cable access? Why isn't she furious with her rigidly guarded solitary confinement? What does it feel like to have Tina Fey accurately portray your missteps without even having to embellish a single word?

I would love to see her prepped for an interview by her myriad of handlers, and then, when the tough, pointed questions are asked that anyone running as a vice-presidential candidate should be able to deftly field - imagine this: I would LOVE to see Ms. Palin take a deep breath and pause (for effect) and say, "You know what? I've had it. I am sick and tired of being McCain's token female. I'm done with this. [Looking straight into the camera and for once not fumbling for an answer or even the right word...] - "I have come to realize that I am not qualified for this position and there is absolutely no sense in pretending that I am. The Maverick made a mistake. I can handle being governor from an obscure, sparsely populated state, but I am out of my element and this is simply beyond my capacity and thank you for your gracious welcome, fellow Americans, but I am no longer willing to be the butt of the joke, the lead-in skit for SNL, and I am returning to what I am familiar with, what I know how to do and resuming my life in Alaska. Oh, and Senator McCain, after the treatment I have received from you and your handlers, watching you make one erratic move after another and being made to feel like I have to be shadowed and muzzled and on a very short leash for the past five weeks, I have decided to vote for Barack Obama, thank you very much. It is my hope that I can forget this nightmare, the denigration I have suffered and the calamatous assualt to my integrity. It was ill-advised for me to accept the invitation to be your running-mate and my family and I are catching the next plane out to Anchorage with the remaining threads of our dignity. Find another pawn, sir."

As far as I can see, that would be the perfect "out" for her. No nonsense, no BS, no veiled illusion to family responsibilities...just the truth - you know..."straight talk" which, in Ms. Palin's case, would be infinitely more promising than "no talk". I can't imagine this woman, who I truly don't believe is a dummy, but is in no way in a position to take on the responsibilities that she's been recommended to tackle, can be pleased with her isolation and MANdate to be "seen, but not heard." How can she be OK with that? What's going through her mind and how is she dealing with this oppression?

As far as I can see, McCain never had it in his mind to nominate a woman fully-suited to the office of vice-president. I earnestly believe he simply wanted an attractive, wide-eyed marionette with a double X chromosome. It's not only a slap in the face to women, but it's a powerful slam to Ms. Palin's intellect. How can she operate under such conditions? I can't help but believe that the VP debate this Thursday will be like watching a slow-motion train-wreck and who believes this is going to end well for Gov. Palin?

Then again, the same man who selected her told us not ten days ago that the "fundamentals of our economy are strong", that he couldn't appear on the Letterman Show because he had to head straight to Washington and assist with the 170 billion dollar bailout negotiations, when in reality he headed straight for a taping with Katie Couric; this is the same man who did eventually make it back to Washington and managed to stall negogiations that had been running well until he brought his presidential campaign entourage for as many posed photo-ops as possible in the hopes of making him appear essential and "commander-in-chief ready", when in reality, he did nothing more than make things worse and delayed the urgent business. at hand. The same man who suspended his campaign when in reality, he tried to stealthily crank it up a notch - hoping we wouldn't notice the subliminal sleight of hand gear shift. And maybe, most telling of all, the same person who found it impossible, in the span of a 97 minute debate, to have the simple, decent courtesy of looking Senator Obama in the eye, opting rather to ignore his physical presence on the stage in an illustration of arrogance that backfired and made him look like the angry little man he appears to be - anything but presidential.

Seriously - doesn't McCain look as if his head is going to explode sometimes? I mean, like he's going to just spontaneously combust when he's ruffled? Like he's silently counting to ten before the steam whooshes out of his ears? His temper is supposedly legendary and I just don't feel comfortable at the thought of him losing it at the wrong time. Maybe that's just me...

If that's the mark of a maverick, I want no part of it. Sen. McCain honestly didn't need to remind us twice during that debate that he "never won any congeniality awards" during his tenure in Washington...really...most of us wouldn't argue that point. I certainly wouldn't. That's one of the few statements I don't need to run by "factcheck.org".

All of this would be highly entertaining political theatre if the stakes weren't so devastatingly high and we weren't in such a massive mess. Frankly, it's too desperately serious to be terribly amusing. We're in a very tight spot. We honestly don't have time to guffaw for long at ill-conceived VP choices or shake our heads in amazement at bizarre news interviews. It's become too painful to fill up our cars at the gas pump, excruciating to worry for our friends and neighbors who have no health insurance and this world is becoming much too dangerous of a place, where unfriendly nations are kicking around nuclear proliferation programs, probably laughing among themselves that we might install a "babe" in office who's foreign policy experience begins and ends with the fact that she governs a state where, on a clear day, she can see Russia. It's not nearly as funny as it is horrifying.

No matter how you slice it, we're in such a mess...we're just not in a "good place". I hope we can collectively find ourselves in a better place when the dust settles, regardless of how the election turns out. Our ship of state is listing something awful.

God Bless Us One and All...indeed. Might be a good time to break out into song...something perhaps along the lines of that old Titanic standard..."Nearer My God To Thee..."

Let's see, I guess the other news is that I now have a new iPod. I think I am in love with it. I found a GREAT deal on an iPod Touch, brand spanking new and still in its sealed box and now fully loaded with my music. I discovered it on Craig's List and not only does it deliver my tunes, but has 8GB, wifi, gps and does everything an iPhone can do except make calls and take photos. It's amazing and I am in love. With the iPod.

My fish...oh my goodness. Do I ever have fish and have they ever gone forth and multiplied. My pink convict cichlids are overseeing a huge brood of 5 day old fry and what amazing parents they are. I watch as they corral the babies, scooping them up in their mouth and replacing them back to the nest. It's amazing, really, because most fish will eat their young as soon as they appear, but not these parents. Truly, they are a study in animal instinct and sometimes I watch them in complete and utter awe. I am truly enjoying tending these aquariums and in the year since I set up my 55 gallon tank, I have learned an enormous amount. It continues to be a very fun hobby.

And then, there is my poor little Lincoln LS. It is sick again. I had two whole weeks after the last repair of smooth driving and then it happened..."Check Transmission" appeared in the status window. Oh geez, maybe it's just a bad sensor, like "check traction control" which still appears often. The car seemed to be running fine, so for a week or so, I just pretended it didn't mean anything until...I started feeling the power receding as I was driving down College Road. Not a good sign. Not a good sign at all. I took it to the mechanic yesterday (Saturday) and I guess I will hear the diagnosis tomorrow and yes, I am dreading it. Oh man, am I dreading it, but what can you do? It's still a great looking car, and when it runs, it runs smooth, except of course, when it doesn't. I am hoping this will not be a big $$$ repair but anytime the word "transmission" is involved, I feel a little nervous. We shall see.

On one final note, I did borrow my dad's van yesterday and my Mom and I visited a garage sale down the street. We came back with a coffee maker and a beautiful brass chandelier. It was GORGEOUS! Apparently my Mom didn't like the one in my dining area anymore than I did, but we'd never talked about it until I saw her examining the one at the sale yesterday and when I saw her whip out her wallet, I thought...Wow! And then my next thought was..."I really hope I don't get electrocuted when I replace the old one for the new one.". I've always wondered if a blond should realistically play around with electricity but, well, what the heck. My car was in the shop and I had nothing better to do so why not give it a try?

As amazing as it may sound to those of you who know me, I successfully and safely took down the old one and carefully installed the new chandelier without incident. It looks GREAT! It's even on a dimmer and it honestly looks so much better than the clunky glass one we had. I held my breath as I flipped the breaker back on after my handiwork, making sure the pets and grandparents were out of spark range should something blow but, well, it worked. Go figure!

I think I may be the son AND daughter my parents never expected :-)

Rainbow Roses, Fishing and Lunch With The Ladies...

2008-08-30T20:26:00.017-04:00

It has been a nice, funny, fishy, festive, fortuitous, frisky week.

My daughter turned 25 this past Tuesday (26 August). I keep telling her she doesn't look her age but you know how some women are about stuff like that. Seriously, she's been a joy to me since I first laid eyes on her back in 1983. Happy Birthday Katie Jane Parker! You are so very loved. Here's to many many more.

When I got home on Tuesday, my Dad asked me who I received flowers from. I had no idea what he was talking about and figured he was just pulling my chain. Sure enough, there was a long rectangular box waiting for me and it had the unmistakable shape a container that might be harboring long stems. I love those boxes!

They were gorgeous and so welcome, so cheery! Now, I'm typically a daisy kind of girl, but I have to say that these roses were just stunning and they came in such festive colors. They were sent by a dear person who lives across the pond in Northern England. The guy who surprises me now and again with packages of sumptuous jasmine tea, weather stations, books and several Greer Garson movies. Thank you kind person. You truly made my evening. It was completely unexpected - I mean, I haven't chatted with him in MONTHS! I think he has this internal radar that seems to know when I need a boost or something.

Sunday evening, I joined a friend for some surf fishing and had a blast. I even found a very cool chunk of coral in the waves and it's now sitting in one of my aquariums. We stood on the jetty Sunday Night, right around low tide, and it was a stunning evening. The water was warm, the breeze was light and the ocean was just as it always is - glorious. I didn't catch a fish, but I did catch a funny crustacean (he put up a good fight, but I let him go.). My friend caught a small flounder - too small to keep - and after he detached the hook he handed the fish to me and I threw him back in and suggested he go out and grow a bit and stay away from hooks.

The weather has been so tropical this past week. We've had some of the hardest rainshowers mixed in with periods of intense sunshine and high humidity. The tropics are popping right now and just about everywhere you go in this town, you hear people discussing the systems making their way from Africa toward our shores. As I type this, Louisiana is on high alert and we're hoping they aren't facing a repeat of three years ago when Katrina made an unwelcome, devastating visit.

Thursday Afternoon, my best buddy Sharon called and said it was time for lunch with the girls. I immediately accepted and she told me that our friend Ann was up for a good time, too. Today, we lunched at Airlie Seafood Restaurant and we had the BEST time! I was a few minutes (several) late because my Mom and I were checking out the bargains at Vintage Values and I snagged some steals! Of course, I took my loot to lunch and my friends couldn't believe what I managed to find. I couldn't either. I'm not generally gifted at bargain hunting but this must have been my lucky day.

OK, yesterday was my lucky day, too. My sweet boss closed up shop and set me free at noon, and I headed for another store and made out like a bandit. I basically managed to capture about 12 outfits for under $40. Most of them still had the tags, designer names I could never have afforded at retail and fit as if they were made for me. Incredible!

My bargain hunting wasn't simply confined to frilly dresses and suits. I went on Craig's List last night looking for an iPod (I miss mine so much!) and while I didn't find a great deal on those, I did discover a Marine Elipse System 12 Aquarium which generally retails for around $160, that was going for the amazing low price of $25. I went over to pick it up first thing this morning and met the sweetest young couple who are preparing to move to Sweden. Not only was this aquarium in good as new shape, but they tossed in another smaller one, rocks, plants, filters, a net,, a heater a gravel vacuum much nicer than the one I have, food, water conditioner, an expensive pH testing kit and an algae scraper. I hit pay dirt!

This has truly been a lucky weekend for me in terms of purchases. I'm still keeping a keen eye out for the iPod, but I'm so pleased with my fish tanks and not a minute too soon - my African cichlids have went forth and multiplied so I was in serious need of a tank for them to grow without fear of being consumed by their relatives.

But back to lunch. Lunch was sooooo much fun. It went on for almost two hours and we laughed, ate great food, giggled, gossiped and ate some more. We all had shrimp and then Sharon declared we would have a large, chocolate dessert - three spoons please - and is anything better than good friends and a shared high calorie confection and great iced tea? I can't think of too many things that top it.

What an amazing gift these friends of mine are. Sharon is one of the first friends I made when I moved to Wilmington and she's been so steadfast, loyal, lovely and God must have used his finest "friend" template in creating her. I loved her the first time I met her almost seven years ago. I adore her even more now. She also brought me the gift of Ann - as she introduced me to this wonderful woman over a year ago and my goodness - the three of us are like three peas in a bucket. My spirit soars after time spent with these ladies. We're all three blond and so we speak the very same language. We can even finish each others sentences.

Next Saturday, Sharon has decreed, (because Gerald has a golf tournament), that we shall lunch again and THEN, the three of us will go have pedicures because Sharon said so. No discussion. No excuses. That's the deal and that's that. Sharon is slightly more mature than Ann or myself so she made it clear that no cancellations would be honored. Hey, who would want to get out of that? We all thought it was a fantastic idea. No arguments from Ann or me. We're blond, yes, but not completely stupid.

The three of us had our cameras on the table. We took pictures. And of course, every pose had to be snapped by three different cameras. And then, our very kind and patient waitress took over when it was time to snap a group photo. Three times. We definitely gave her a great tip because she did a great deal of photography work. Plus, tomorrow is her birthday. She didn't even charge us for dessert because she said we were "fun". All I know is that I left with a huge smile on my face, chocolate in my tummy and an iced tea to go. Thank you Sharon, Ann and God for arranging my life that I have these angels in them.

I did make time this past week to get a much-needed haircut! Actually, very little hair was trimmed, but it definitely needed some reshaping and so I visited Joseph Zell & Company and had a wonderful reunion with two young ladies I used to work with when I managed the spa downtown. It was so cool to see Chelsea and Brandy and we had a lot of catching up to do! Joseph Zell is kind of pricey, but they provide a spa-like service - they SPOIL you from the moment you walk into the salon. The shampoo includes a massage and you never want it to stop. The ambiance is elegant and everyone in there is at the top of their game. I've received a lot of compliments on the trim and my hair is so smooth, so lush. I'm not certain what they put in the shampoo or maybe it's the conditioner, but my gosh, I think my hair is addicted to it. It was a glorious way to spend my lunch hour on Thursday. I highly recommend it.

I am so thrilled to have a three and one half day weekend (and get paid for it!). Sharon was laughing at lunch and asked Ann to guess what I loved most about my new job...Ann tried to come up with stuff but never quite hit it. Then I showed it to her - MY INSURANCE CARD!!!! Man, that is priceless to me. I "heart" my insurance card. Having gone without any for a few months, it is even more precious to me. It's unnerving, mentally, to deal with not having health insurance. You imagine the worst possible scenarios any one of which could lead you to financial destitution if you survived whatever it was that was sending you to fiscal ruin.

Let me tell you - it's one less thing to worry about. I'm grateful. I am extremely, overwhelmingly grateful. Now of course, I hope I never truly have to use it, but I have to tell you it is a huge comfort to know it's in place.

Tomorrow I'm having brunch at The Oceanic, heading over to the 11:00 AM Wrightsville Beach Meeting and then walking on the beach and looking at it, wondering how much it's mood is likely to change in the next few days should T.S. Hanna decide to make a visit on our coast. I will think of Justin - how much I miss him but how pleased I am that he's working with his Dad. I will think of Katie and hope she's having a wonderful first week of being 25. I will smile as I replay today's lunch. I will feel grateful that I had the opportunity to go shopping with my Mom. I will smile as I remember the crazy things my Daddy says to me on any given day. I will then conclude that I am absolutely one extremely blessed woman and though I'm never eager to bid summer so long, it's been a good one - filled with gifts, great company, unexpected presents and lots of smiles and opportunities to say thanks. And then, I'll probably come home, dive in the pool to get the sand off of me, turn a few flips in the pool, look up at the stars and the odds are great that I will be smiling.

Playing For Keeps

2008-08-19T23:43:00.006-04:00

For several months, I have been getting "Hallmark Magazine" in the mail and I have no idea why. I've never subscribed to it, and don't know how I managed to get on their subscription list because, well, I'm just not really a "Hallmark" girl. I guess in my mind I equated it with a brand of domesticity I've never really had a yen for.

Leave it to my mother. She called me over to look at something and when I saw what she was holding, that silly magazine, I thought..."what in the world would be of interest for me in there?". I mean, I'm much more likely to have my nose stuck in "Cruising World" or "Latitudes and Attitudes" but that "homemaker magazine" has something I might find interesting?

She knows her daughter well. Here's what she shared with me...

I have tons of Lincoln Logs. Pieces left over from many sets of "Monopoly", "Sorry", checkers and backgammon stones and even an old backgammon board that's beautiful, one that Justin used to carry around as a brief case - the one his Dad bought me when we were dating. Now I discover that I can make art of these "treasures". Yes! Oh what I'd give for an old tin Chinese Checker board. Oh well, my imagination is running full-throttle. How cool to have a few of the things my kids' toys hanging on the wall in a rather eye-catching way. What fun!

This should keep me out of trouble until my ship comes in, right? :-)

They Grow Up Fast...

2008-08-19T20:18:00.009-04:00

Justin and Stephanie came in for a fast weekend visit. Justin came in to visit with his friends, but we managed to sneak a little time in with him.

His Dad reports he's doing very well. Justin has memorized the script and has closed on three sales in one week. Not bad for a former cook!

I talked Justin into pretending that I was a prospect and show me how he handles it. I was amazed. If I'd had the hefty membership fee, I would have written a check on the spot.

What I loved most, was that Justin told me that his father had pulled him aside more than once and told him how proud he was of him - of his ability, his work and his dedication to learning his new role in a totally foreign (to him) industry. The light that flashed in Justin's eyes as he relayed his father's pride in him obviously meant a great deal to our son. He spoke warmly of it. I'm so happy he's spending time learning from his Dad. This is a very good opportunity for both of them on so many levels.

In fact, Tim called me late the other evening to share with me his impressions of Justin's work and I detected the very same brand of pride. They're working together as men, who happen to be father and son, and I am so pleased for both of them.

Of course, we miss him like crazy, but this is such a good time for him to spread his wings beyond Wilmington. My friends have been at the ready with lots of phone calls, lunches, coffee, meetings, dinners and my parents have been extra funny and attentive because they know this a challenging transition. I appreciate all of it. I'm blessed to have the loving support. I'm a lucky Mom.

Katie is doing well, too. She's about to launch a new website on a topic she is passionate about and loves. In fact, one of her photos got picked up this morning by "Gothamist". (Way to go, Katie!!).

John and Katie spent last weekend in Litchfield, CT at John's Aunt Daria's country home. Next week, Katie will experience a big transition - she be busy turning 25 on August 26th! That's a significant birthday - a quarter of a century. I love teasing her about it. On 5 September, Katie and John will fly to Paris, France for seven days and then onto London for three. She's so excited and I'm certain John is, too. What a great time to be in Paris and to be there with someone you love. Magic.

Things have fallen into a bit of a manageable routine. The house is quiet, but it's OK. It's a time to reflect on how much fun it's been to raise these two kids and consider the next phase. But for now, I like remembering all kinds of warm memories and Justin and I made a new one this past Monday Evening - we shared a platter of snow crab legs on the pier at The Oceanic, went for a walk on the beach and yes, my dress got wet and I couldn't have cared less. Justin laughed and grabbed my purse before it got knocked over by an incoming wave. He wasn't quite fast enough to save my iced tea. After that, we went to Barnes & Noble and then took in a movie. Just the two of us. It was wonderful to share his company for the evening, walking around Wrightsville Beach with a young man who's taller than me, who opened the doors, made me laugh and behaved like a gentleman.

Can you tell I'm kind of crazy about these two kids?

Today at work, I spent about 45 minutes holding the two week old son of one of our newest employees. He was so precious. My eyes actually welled up when I thought of my own "babies", and then realized how fast these tiny packages grow up and all of the adventure packed inside of such innocent forms. Whew! I smiled as I handed little Christian back to his father, thinking to myself...you have no idea what you're in for.

Don't blink and hold on tight.

Cruising to Calm...

2008-08-10T21:25:00.018-04:00

I'm happy to report that the Inderal or, as my Dad refers to it "Enditall", has resulted in a much more reasonable heart rate. I've dutifully kept a record of the past three days and my beats have returned to well within normal levels. In fact, I'm positively Zen! It's so strange, really, but my body feels like it's made a pretty positive readjustment. I'm actually sleepy at night. Strange for me.

I've also stayed out of the pool this weekend to give my ears a rest. Fortunately, there have been some really good movies on TCM, and I've taken a little extra time to tend to my cichlids, angels, mollies and other assorted tropicals. Friday, on the way home from work, I stopped and purchased the requisite feeder guppies, goldfish and brine shrimp as well as a couple of gourami's and a pink convict cichlid and the fish are doing well. In fact, my tanks have never looked better.

One year ago today, I had a car wreck and my PT Cruiser was effectively totaled. My gosh, so much has changed since then and most of those changes have been positive and healthy. I promptly ended an ill-advised engagement in the days following the accident - an engagement that should never have happened in the first place, no question, but thankfully I finally got wise and took care of business.

In fact, I haven't truly dated anyone in the past year. I've been out with friends, gone out to dinner, movies and even concerts, but not in a romantic sense at all and that, too, has been a good move. For one thing, I've had a lot of things going on and I just haven't met anyone in the past year that I would want to cultivate that sort of relationship with and I'm glad that I didn't because if I had, it would have taken time away from my family and this year was a pretty big year for family. I'm glad I was able to hang with my son during his last year here at home and also, not seeing anyone allowed for uninterrupted time with Katie during her visits home and my visit to NYC. I adore my family and I unapologetically covet the time I spend with them.

Not seeing anyone also allowed me to make a lot of cosmetic changes in my home. I painted several rooms, moved some things around, and definitely put some more "personal" touches into it. It's certainly not as noisy and busy as it once was when the kids lived here, and I miss the noise and activity, but that couldn't last because they had to grow up and move into their own spaces - continue their own adventures and journeys into who they are destined to become.

I've grown much more interested in aquarium-related activities and I enjoy fiddling with my fish. I now have five aquariums up and running. It's fun learning their behaviors and watching them grow and stake out their territory in their watery homes. They're much more interactive than one might imagine. They eat from hands and flock to the front of the tank if they believe I'm harboring food. The cichlid tank in particular is a fascinating place to gaze.

And could someone please tell me what John and Elizabeth Edwards were thinking this past year and a half? Have you been following his political disintegration? Can you possibly imagine if he had been the Democratic nominee and this had come out? And for as much as I have marginally admired Elizabeth Edwards in the past, I can't help but wonder where her brain was in all of this? Like his dalliance was never going to see the light of day? How in the world could she stand by and allow him to toss his hat in the ring knowing that he had tossed his pants somewhere else? That strikes me as a bizarre brand of dangerous and blind ambition and it makes me wonder if she wanted the power, the office and the attendant trappings as much as he did. How in the world could she tell the rest of us he was fit to lead us, after the risks he took on a very personal level with their family? I really think Maureen Dowd nailed it in her NY Times Column yesterday. Check out her column, so appropriately entitled, "Keeping it Reille".

I imagine it feels VERY real at the Edwards house these past few painful weeks. Just goes to show, you never meet anyone worth very much in a bar. What a cautionary tell-all that turned out to be?

I try to avoid making across the board, generalized pronouncements, but doesn't it seem as if attorneys are particularly predisposed to a virulent form of narcissism? Do the classes attorneys are required to take in law school sort of propagate such behavior and are the ones who don't make the cut, people incapable of becoming pond scum? Could it be said that if you failed to make the grade toward a legal education it's only because you have too firm of a grasp on reality? I can't help but wonder. Makes me curious as to what kind of plumbing system they use to service the water coolers in America's Law Schools - and at what point do so many of them truly lose their souls? I know that's not very nice to say, but it nearly feels valid.

I know that many attorneys have told me that law school is a grueling, difficult experience and demands a lot and, for a few I guess, it requires that they make the ultimate transaction - they appear to sell their soul and deteriorate even further into politicians. How sad for them.

Oh well, from having tended several tanks in the past year, lest we forget that even the most beautiful of tanks function better with a bottom-dwelling plecostomus or two to keep things clean and eat matter that the community fish wouldn't touch. I guess it's kind of the same with many lawyers. They serve a purpose and are sadly essential, but they do the kind of work that many of us wouldn't have the heart, or stomach, to take care of and attend. Although, well, now I feel guilty. I'm not so sure it's fair to compare my beloved plecos to lawyers. I really like those fish. Perhaps a better comparison would be carp. Yes, much better.

Anyway, it's been a peaceful, calm weekend here at the ranch. The ear is on the mend, the heart rate is behaving and it's still summer. All I need is a sailor and a sailboat. I think I'm ready for a little adventure.

Let Me Get This Straight...

2008-08-09T10:42:00.007-04:00

...you're telling me that three pots of coffee and several large iced teas a day might result in too much caffeine?

I found this nugget of wisdom courtesy of a stubborn case of swimmer's ear. Yes, I've been turning too many flips in the pool to make up for lost time. My pool officially became swim-worthy last Friday so I had a lot of time to make up for and, well, I worked hard to get in as much swimming and flipping as I could. Any reasonable person would do the same right?

I noticed Monday that the hearing in my right ear was fading in and out and noises started sounding more like gurgles. I tossed it off as a fluke and tossed my business clothes off right along with it and ignored the percolating annoyance as something that would go away in a day or two. I spent a couple of hours Monday evening in the water and by Tuesday Morning, as I was driving to work, discovered that I couldn't even listen to Sting on my cd player. Clearly, this was getting serious.

Wednesday, I spent my lunch hour at the CVS on Wrightsville Beach, perusing the aisle featuring over-the-counter remedies that promised to dry up my ear and restore my hearing. When I got back to the office, I administered the drops and waited for everything to clear up only, well, everything didn't clear up. The gurgling became more intense, so much so that I even cut my swim time down from 2 hours to one and applied the drops both before and after my swim. They didn't work. Someone mentioned that perhaps if I stayed out of the pool for a few days and gave my ears a chance to dry out, it might resolve, but I thought that sounded rather radical and I dismissed it instantly.

By Thursday Morning, I realized the time had come to seek professional help. I had googled the daylights out of "swimmer's ear". I thought google was good for everything. I guess nothing is perfect, not even Google.

I called and requested an appointment with my physician's office. As it turns out, my doc was out Thursday Afternoon (probably swimming), but I could see the PA. Of course that would be fine - it was just a simple case of swimmer's ear and I had no doubt that a PA could easily take care of it. Besides, I had my shiny new insurance card and it's always less painful going to the doctor when you know it won't break the bank. I had researched my benefit package and without a doubt it's the best health plan I have ever seen. I'm impressed with it and I hope it gets very little use but, well, let's face it - it's a huge comfort to know I am covered.

I made the appointment for 3:15 and skipped lunch, thinking I would pick something up after the visit. In the meantime, I tossed back a few cups of coffee, an iced tea and some nuts. I was so preoccupied with trying to hear, that hunger took a back seat.

However, as I was sitting in the waiting room, after checking in with my favorite ladies at the front desk who are always smiling and truly can make you forget you're in a doctor's office, I was directed to the "PA" side of the office and met another very kind staff member who took my information, updated my new insurance info and even complimented me on what great insurance it was - only $10 an office visit, she commented in admiration. "Yeah, pretty cool, huh?". I never thought I would arrive at the place where health insurance benefits would be on my top ten list of things to shoot for but, given the cost of healthcare today, it's a pretty big deal.

After a few minutes, I was called back for the obligatory weight and vitals check. We sailed through the weighing in and I was directed to a seat for my least favorite part of any exam - pulse and blood pressure. I tried to prepare them that the values would probably be higher than what they were accustomed to seeing and not to be too excited if my pulse was 100 and my bp was a tiny bit elevated. It's just how I'm wired and I get high-wired when I'm surrounded by white coat types. She smiled and started pumping up the dreaded cuff.

I was watching her face as she pumped and when she released a little air and pumped again, I knew I was in trouble. Again, I reminded her that my vitals "show off" when in the presence of medical professionals. She excused herself and within a couple of minutes returned with another more serious looking nurse who commandeered the cuff and resumed the pumping. The other nurse was busy on the computer looking up my chart and medical history. I was now flirting with full-borne panic and wondering how weird it would look if I told them my ear had miraculously recovered and apologized for taking up their valuable time. It was a very small room and when the third member of the staff entered, it was becoming a little too crowded for me.

"OK, what's the problem?", I reluctantly asked the really tall nurse with the officious manner.

"Honey, your blood pressure is 160/100 and according to your chart, it's never been that elevated. Let's see what your pulse is."

Oh boy, I knew I was in trouble now and they didn't seem at all concerned with my ear which was probably just as well because by now, I could hear my heart beating in there, amidst the gurgling. I was starting to feel trapped.

The tall nurse was now shaking her head, walked out as if she was on a mission and returned with a pulse-ox meter and placed it on my shaky finger. Great, just great. My pulse was 170 and they were not at all pleased with it. I told them I had a history of panic disorder, was on medication for it, (though I had not taken it yet that day), and that honestly, as soon as I left the premises things would slow way down.

The three of them eyed me suspicously as that stupid meter started tapping too fast and too loudly for my taste. So much so that I took it off and handed it right back to them and told them I would take my meds right then and there and they would see that if they just calmed down, so would I and we could all be pals again.

They seemed kind of stunned that I removed their medical equipment and, quite frankly, so was I. But I felt secure in doing so because I know me and I know how my resting pulse can reach most people's targeted heart rate in less than 60 seconds and besides, I hadn't eaten anything (stupid move) and my plummeting blood sugar and all of the caffeine swirling in me wasn't helping anything at all.

The tall nurse walked out and came back in bearing a can of orange juice and peanut butter crackers, while the other one was perusing my 8 year medical history and notes penned by my primary care physician who insensibly picked THIS AFTERNOON to be out of the office, leaving me to scare these fine people who were in a dither and hadn't even gotten to the original point of my visit.

Finally, blessedly, the PA walked in and sized up the situation and my growing panic. I'm sure I had already flashed the obligatory "deer in the headlights" visage and if I hadn't been so hungry and shaky, I would have bolted straight away.

She smiled, introduced herself and a calm fell over the room. I finshed up the OJ and crackers and again, repeated my spiel on how I just naturally have a rapid resting pulse and that the blood pressure numbers were probably tainted by hypoglycemia and caffeine saturation. She listened intently, and let me finish my tired tale - the only thing I didn't offer in my defense was "and the dog ate my homework", but if it would have worked, I would have blamed Cassie in a NY, hyper-heartrate minute. Cassie would have understood - she's loyal like that.

As a welcome change of pace, she moved from the cardiac craze and actually started quizzing me about my water-logged ears. Finally we were getting down to business. She first peered into the one that was only marginally impaired and when she got to the problem ear, she nodded in compassionate understanding. "I bet that's pretty painful. There's even some blood in there. How's it feel?".

Well, it felt clogged up, but it wasn't really so much painful as it was annoying. Everything sounded muffled and distant. I missed my hearing. I missed shaking my head without feeling half the pool was trapped in there.

My new best friend the PA returned to her computer and in a matter of a couple of minutes faxed a couple of prescriptions to my neighborhood CVS. Relief was on the way!!!! Yippee - I could blow this joint.

Not so fast. As she was typing longer than the epistle of my episodic ear inflammation would have required, I asked her if she was writing a book? Did a case of "swimmer's ear" really merit so much typing?

"No, this is about that other issue - I have to document your bp and heart rate and add it to your chart.". Then she stopped typing and looked at me and very kindly, non-threateningly turned to the topic of tachycardia. Tachycardia is defined as a rapid heartbeat of more than 100 beats per minute. At my current rate of 170 bpm, I more than meet the criteria.

"Listen, I realize that folks get tense in a doctor's office and there's no question that when you are presenting with a pair of swollen, infected ears - that, too, will elevate one's vitals. But 170 is extremely high. You didn't come in here with a severed limb or raging infection. You came in with swimmer's ear and there is no rationalization for those vitals.".

Of course, I knew she was right. And now that the OJ and protein had kicked in, I found I was able to listen more intently about this tacky tachycardia. And, to be honest, my heart had been beating faster, at increasing intervals, in the last few months. It had been an eventful spring and summer - new job, new routines, offspring relocation, nocturnal parental falls, one failing feature after another on my car and a $540 bill to get it repaired this past Monday, and trying to find a new routine in this suddenly quiet, empty nest.

This kind PA listened to it all and she appeared to be around my age and could relate to my rationalization, and I completely admitted that I consume way too much caffeine. I owned my caffeine consumption.

She said she wouldn't be able to sleep that night unless she offered a possible solution. As long as it didn't involve more tests and I could get out of there, I was all ears - even if they were waterlogged. Besides, I trusted her and she had cleared the room out and got rid of that pulse-ox meter. I told her I was open to suggestions.

She offered that she didn't think there was anything "organically" amiss with my ticker, but she said even the most healthy heart muscle gets tired of sprinting for no good reason and mine needed a rest. I could buy that. She asked me if I would be willing to cut the caffeine intake and mix the caff with decaf, keep a two week, 3 times a day record of my pulse, and try a very low dose of a beta blocker.

And before I knew it, I found myself promising that I would cut the caffeine in half, measure my pulse and yes, I would even be willing to swallow the medicine. She made a very thoughtful, reasonable pitch for it and she empathetically made a great deal of sense. Besides, I did have great health insurance now so, well, sure. No excuse not to. She even gave me her personal number in case I had questions or concerns which I thought was very kind. This visit was beginning to look up after all.

She promised me I would feel better and my heart would thank me and she said I could still get in the pool, but to keep my head out of the water for a couple of days. I knew that was pointless. I can't get in the pool without being underwater. I didn't even walk near it yesterday - too much temptation. Today, however, will be 48 hours and I will be back in business. I can hear again! Well, sort of. OK, it's much, much better.

Which brings us to the medication. On the way home Thursday evening, I picked up my scripts and again, thanked God for my health insurance, and brought the meds home. I immediately administered the ear meds hoping for a fast resolution but, I will admit, I couldn't bring myself to take the beta blocker Thursday Night. I had to google it first. I googled the heck out of it.

Inderal LA 60 mg. Overall reviews were positive and impressive. Hardly any negative press to be found and I tried to avoid focusing on those as to do so could become a self-fulfilling prophecy and I know how powerful the mind can be. However, I still wasn't ready.

Last night, my Mom asked me if I could tell any difference yet from taking the Inderal. I told her I couldn't detect any difference at all and then I mumbled, "probably because I haven't taken it yet...". My Mom's hearing is just fine and she caught my mumble.

"Susan - take the medicine! You're so silly. Take it right now. It's safe!".

I wanted to believe her and she's got a great track record for being right. I went upstairs, took the capsule from the bottle and slowly walked downstairs for a glass of water. My Dad was sitting at the table and of course, I love my Dad, but his hearing isn't quite perfect.

My Dad asked my Mom what the name of the medicine was and she told him it was called Inderal.

"End it all? Suz, did you take that "end_it_all" yet?".

I was in mid-swallow and I almost choked - giggling - which was probably his primary purpose. My Mom was just shaking her head, having reaffirmed yet again that she lived in a house with crazy people. Funny...but crazy.

So after I took my "end it all", I went back upstairs and waited. For what, I'm not sure, but I'm pleased to report that the pretty purple and pink capsule didn't "end it all" and I woke up after a really good sleep. My pulse is a healthy (for me) 88 and my ear feels much better.

In other news, the newly-relocated WV couple, known as Justin and Stephanie, seem to be settling in quite well and apparently they both report that West Virginia isn't as bad as they feared it might be! Justin shared with us that it's cool enough at night in them thar mountains that they have found it necessary to don a sweater and jacket. I assured them that if there had been in Wilmington this past week, they would have found no need for either. It's been oppressively hot and humid and even my 33,000 gallon sparkling clean pool has felt like warm bathwater. It's still water though, and I love it. It centers me.

Justin has been busy learning the ropes of his new position and will be heading to Roanoke on Monday with his Dad to get some realtime experience in opening up a huge Direct Buy store. It's interesting and fun hearing his stories when we connect on the phone now.

My other offspring, Ms. Katie Parker and her tall boyfriend John, are flying to attend a wedding in Virginia this evening. It will be a quick trip and they will return to Manhattan tomorrow afternoon. On 4 September (less than a month), she and John will take off, first class, for a ten day vacation that will find them in Paris for 7 days and London for three. She's been looking forward to revisiting Paris for a long time and to do so with John will be extra special for her, I'm sure. She can't wait to show him one of her favorite cities and, I do believe, she's going to try and get up with our beloved friend Michel, who lives in Nantes, but frequents Paris quite often. I hope they have a great time. I can't wait to hear all about it.

I'm now six weeks into my new position as Operations Manager at Senior Solutions NorthStar and I'm still learning new things everyday, but I just have to say I work with some of the kindest, sweetest and comical people I've ever been associated with. From George, the enigmatic president of the company in Greenville; Rich, our VP here in Wilmington, who hails from DC and LOVES to surf, adores his wife and is patient, affable and always smiling,; Bobby, our 30 year old manager who is originally from Philly and has the most enthusiastic, compassionate personality and Ryan, the talented, knowledgeable young man who trained me in Greenville, who shares my love of cichlids, gadgets and kindly reminds me he is always as close as a phone call away when I have questions and need guidance.

I have managed to land in a business that not only challenges me, but provides a very essential and vital service to those who are senior citizens, and those of us who hope to be. In a short amount of time, our little office has grown into more than a collection of co-workers; these people are so much more than that and it feels as if we're growing into a sturdy team, a family, and by doing so, work feels less like work and more closely resembles a mission. It's a blessing when one finds oneself in such a situation and I enjoy the people that I work with, respect their talents and knowledge and I manage to learn new things every single day. I feel deeply blessed to be there and I must thank my friend David for alerting me to the opening back in early June. David has done many kind things for me in the almost five years I've known him, but exposing me to this position and company has to be one of the best. I'm deeply grateful. Thank you, David C.

Finally, as I mentioned earlier, the car has been repaired. I no longer have to fear oncoming rainstorms because the windows are finally functional again and the door handle has been replaced. The "status window" still says, "check traction control", but after the $540 price tag of repairing those issues, and being assured by the mechanic that the traction control is really OK and that it's a faulty sensor, I can live with the message window, which would have tacked an addtional $140 to the repair bill. It's a great treat to have the windows go up and down again and be able to open the car door without having to roll the window down first. Hey, it's the little things, right?

Where has the summer gone? On one hand, it feels like it's been a long one. This summer has certainly been filled with changes, challenges and twists and turns and at the same time, it seems to be flying by and how can it be mid-August? I have no idea how we got here, but we're here, we're hanging and at the end of each day there's a long, unending list of things to be grateful for and smile when recalled.

I need to send a "shout out" to my friends who have called, left voice mails, text-messaged and e-mailed me to let me know they were thinking of me this first week with Justin now living in West Virginia. I have a great family and an incredible and growing posse of friends and my gosh - more blessings than I can count. I'm happy to say I haven't had too much time this past week to feel sad and I haven't been lonely at all. I can't imagine where I would be without the special people in my life. Each one of them display love, compassion and kindness that many times just blow me away and are stellar examples of the truest epitome of what friendship is all about. Thanks to each one for this exceptional gift.

Everyone of us will come across times in our lives where we need hands to hold, warm hugs, the heartfelt kind, the sense of knowing that we're not walking alone, no matter where it is we're being directed to walk. Now of course, my recent experiences haven't required very much of me in terms of being serious or even terribly frightening, but if we're alive, those times will visit each of us now and again. Not only have I been comforted and felt loved through the rough patches, in my life, but I've learned something more - by sheer example of those close to me - and hopefully I've gathered knowledge on how to be there for these same people when they travel through their own unavoidable valleys. I've not been at all disappointed and, by the same token, I hope not to disappoint my angels by sending them to voice mail, not returning calls or ignoring them at a time when they might need me.

Every single day reminds me that maybe some of the most important lessons my teachers and parents taught me pertained to the essential magic and inestimable values of friendship and I swear, it seems that every single day there is an instance in my own life or someone's life close to me, that sort of validates that - sometimes in small ways, many times in profound ones. The code of the "playground" kind of follows us all through life. Play fair, take turns, be kind and always share. Always share with a glad heart. You can't go wrong remembering those things but you will wind up in a miserable place if you don't practice them. Thanks to my parents for teaching me that lesson- it's timeless.

Sun On The Moon...

2008-08-03T11:08:00.010-04:00

Friday around noon found Justin, driving his black Mustang Cobra; Stephanie behind the wheel of her Ford Escape; Jennifer steering the Sebring and Tim, riding high in the Budget rental moving truck, pulling out of our driveway bound for Hurricane, West Virginia. I'm relieved to report that they safely made it to their destination at around 10:00 PM later that night and I'm sure each one of them were worn completely out.

I got a call from Tim at around 9:00 AM Thursday Morning asking for directions to the rental truck office and also for Stephanie's cell phone number because Justin's cell phone wasn't picking up. At 9:00 AM, I wasn't surprised so I gave him Steph's number and thought to myself, "Uh-oh, Justin isn't even halfway packed up!". I finally got Justin on the phone about an hour later and he was scrambling. It was showtime! This was happening NOW! I have to tell you, I was glad to be at my office because I knew Tim and Jennifer were in for a LONG day.

They made it to Justin's apartment with the truck and waded right into sorting, packing and organizing things to be moved. I dropped by Justin's apartment after I got off work and I spotted Tim in the truck arranging Justin and Stephanie's possessions, Justin making trips back and forth with lamps, paintings, cd's, cushions, you name it, he was carrying it. Shortly after getting a sweaty hug from my son, I spotted Jennifer coming downstairs carrying her adorable white dog, Charlie, because he needed a potty break. It was obvious she had been working diligently as well and, though she had to be exhausted, she looked pretty good for a woman who had hit the road very very early and hadn't stopped, not to mention she had to keep up a level of benadryl in her system because she is severely allergic to cats and Justin and Stephanie's "baby", Soprano, was in the middle of the madness.

I followed Jennifer up the stairs to the apartment and she and Justin began packing things up in the refrigerator and freezer for me to take home. My favorite flavors of ice cream! Vegetables! More ice cream! All kinds of juices and even MORE ice cream. I hit the creamery jackpot!

Now, I have to tell you, Justin didn't seem too keen on having "two mothers" giving him directions...I don't think he found it nearly as funny as Jennifer and me. We were both laughing, but he wasn't laughing so much and I could swear his jaw was clenched. He had just about reached his limit of his usual civility. We finished bagging things up and Jennifer helped me carry my cache to the car. More than that, she reassured me that everything would be fine and I can't tell you how much that meant to me. She had been through telling both of her daughters "goodbye" - Melissa is in college in Colorado and her oldest, Faye, is in school in Canada, so Jennifer could easily appreciate how tough this whole "youngest child leaving home" stuff is.

I can tell you one thing, Justin is blessed to have a stepmother who cares enough to swoop in and help pack his things up and assist in moving him to another state. She was in the middle of it, allergies and all, and someday I hope he can look back on her investment in his future and truly appreciate just how much she has contributed. I've never been anyone's stepmother, but I can't imagine taking on that role nearly as well. My kids are unquestionably blessed to have her love.

About an hour later, Justin, Jennifer & Tim stopped by (Stephanie was spending her last hours in town visiting with her Mom and Grandma), and the three of them were dragging. Justin was heading for the shower and I had a Bunn commercial coffeemaker that was in perfect working order, but just gathering dust in the garage (we drink a lot of coffee around here but not THAT much), and my Mom had called me at work and suggested that I see if Tim and Jennifer might want it for their new store. I took them in the garage to look at it and Jennifer said it would be great for the breakroom so we were happy to make a small contribution to their new venture.

My Mom had just pulled a homemade peach cobbler out of the oven and, although they were going to have dinner at Kiva Grill (Justin's former employer), we gave them a "to go" dish so they could have dessert when they got back to their hotel later that night. It smelled heavenly and goodness knows they earned dessert after all their hard work. I had told my parents that watching Jennifer arrange things and direct Tim and Justin around the apartment as they were gathering things up, it made me wonder if SHE was related to my Mom. I mean, no one could ever confuse me for organized and I'm much more accustomed to being ordered around than doing the "ordering", but Jennifer was a carbon copy of how I remember my Mom during countless moves. She was on the ball, energetic, rolling her sleeves up and digging right into it all. I was impressed but, well, when I see things like that, it brings up the nagging, niggling question, "Am I adopted and they just haven't gotten around to telling me yet??".

After visiting for a bit around the kitchen table with us, Jennifer and Tim headed for their hotel and a shower before dinner. I knew this would probably be the last time I'd see them before they pulled out because I'd be at work the next morning by 8:30. Tim kindly reassured me that everything would be fine, he and Justin had a lot of work ahead of them getting the store ready, and that I didn't have anything to worry about. I hugged Jennifer and thanked her again for working so hard and she promised me she would remind him to call his mother often, and I know she'll look out for both Stephanie and Justin. It is an immeasurable comfort for us to know they are being well cared for and loved by family. That's such a gift and eases a great deal of anxiety.

After everyone left, and before Justin took off for dinner with Tim, Jennifer, Stephanie, her Mom and Grandma, I hugged my son and told him how much I loved him. I also told him what a golden opportunity this was for both him and Stephanie. Yes, it's going to be an adjustment and he's going to have to learn and PRACTICE the art of compromise and accommodation, because he and Stephanie will be living with Tim and Jennifer for a few months until they can get their own place and, let's face it, little annoyances can get blown out of proportion when you're living in someone else's home and I say this because I know it's happened here before Justin and Steph got their own place. We had our moments! But the love within a family can smooth just about anything out and I know that Tim and Jennifer want our son to succeed just as much as he does. If they can keep that in mind, the inevitable skirmishes will fade out quickly. Plus, there is a LOT of work to be done. Tim's "Direct Buy" will be opening in mid-September and he and Justin will be heading to Roanoke in a week to assist with the opening of that store to help out the owner who is heading to China for the Olympics. It will be a great "dress rehearsal" for them and a lot of invaluable "on the job training" for Justin, not to mention, he will be spending a great deal of time around his father, learning from him, finding out what makes him tick, and vice versa.

It's a unique opportunity - a chance to grow a business and, even more importantly, an exquisite time to strengthen the ties between a father and son. I have great faith that they'll be successful on both fronts and we wish them as much success as possible.

Friday Morning finally arrived, no matter how much I was hoping it wouldn't. Justin had spent the night on the sofa bed in the living room, and as I made my way downstairs after getting ready for work, I first slipped into the kitchen for a cup of coffee. My dad was at the kitchen table and he invited me to step out into the back yard for a minute. He wanted to show me something. I grabbed my coffee and followed him outside and there, gleaming before me in the morning sunshine, for the first time this summer, was the cleanest, clearest my swimming pool had looked in a year. For the first time this season, it looked swimmable! I looked back at my dad and said, "God really knew the exact moment I would need this pool, didn't he?". My Dad totally agreed. I could barely believe it and you have to admit, the timing was incredible.

I walked back in the house, noticed it was just about time for me to leave and I walked into the living room and just then Justin turned over and raised up. I bent down, took his face in my hands and told him that I loved him, I was proud of him and that I knew he would do well. I told him I would miss him terribly, but he would be insane not to make this move and take on this challenge. He hugged me and kissed me on the cheek. No tears from either of us. We both had work to do and it was time to get on with it. (Unfortunately, I didn't get the chance to tell Stephanie goodbye - she spent the night with her sweet grandma, but I hope she knows she left with my best thoughts and heartfelt wishes. I believe she does.)

I walked outside and got in my car, so proud of the fact I had gotten through that without a teardrop, and low and behold, my car window refused to budge. I kept pushing the button but no response. And then, after I stopped pushing, the window just fell down into the slot. Like the rear window behind it, apparently this window's regulator had burned out as well. I just sat there and shook my head and I had to laugh. Now I had two windows that needed new regulators, a front end that was held up by a bungee cord and that damn "check traction control" light that refused to go off, not to mention that the driver's side passenger door can only be opened from the outside. Ha! It was way beyond time to call the repair shop. Oh well, at least the swimming pool was clear, right? Thank God for that.

I held out hope that it wouldn't rain before I got home Friday Evening because if it did, my car was going to get rinsed on the inside and me, right along with it. Friday was interrupted now and then with booms of distant thunder, but rain never materialized and by 5:00 PM, I breathed a huge sigh of relief - no rain, no wet seat, I was home free!

I pulled out of my parking spot at work, drove about a mile down Oleander, headed to Pet Supermarket for a few live brine shrimp and feeder goldfish for my cichlids, and as soon as I crossed over the intersection between College Road and Oleander, I saw this mammoth sheet of rain headed straight for me and my hopelessly inoperable window. I knew I was about to get wet but I was wrong. I got soaked. Of course, I had worn a silk suit on friday which doesn't lend itself well to raindrops. I maintained my course, pulled into the pet store and walked in dripping from head to toe. I was already wet, might as well get some fresh food for my fish. I got a lot of stares in the freezing pet store and a few curious looks. I smiled and said, nonchalantly, "my car windows are on strike." and just shrugged and ordered 50 brine shrimp, 50 feeder guppies and 2 dozen feeder goldfish. I walked back outside, slid into the seat of the car and continued to get soaked all the way home. The "sun shower" stopped just as I pulled into my driveway. Perfect.

I went inside and my dad followed me out with scissors, plastic and packing tape to cover the window until my appointment with the mechanic on Monday Morning at 8:00 AM. As my neighbors, Kathleen and Richard, were pulling out of their garage, they graciously offered to let me park the car in their garage, but since the skies were clearing up, I just decided to take my chances and leave it where it was in my driveway. I appreciated the offer but held out hope that maybe it would stay dry over the weekend. So far, so good.

Justin called me around noon on Friday, telling me the caravan was on I-40, WV bound. Tim called me a short while later, telling me everyone was in line on the road and halfway to Raleigh. I smiled...remembering the James Taylor song my kids sang to at the top of their lungs about a thousand times growing up, whenever we took to the car. A song they swear they will never be able to forget, not that they want to. It was their childhood anthem...

"In line, in line they're all in a line.
My ducks are all in a row.
They do not shift,
They do not move.
They have nowhere to go..."

But these ducks had somewhere to go - West Virginia to be specific. These ducks are headed into their future and I hope with all my heart it's as sunny and bright as it portends to be from here...

After Dad and I finally got the hole covered up where a window was supposed to be, I headed outside to the backyard to make sure that the clear swimming pool I had seen earlier in the day was not simply an apperition. There it was - sparkling, crystal clear. My parents had followed me outside to stare at it with me.

I noticed the skimmer needed a couple of chlorine tablets and I headed into the pool shed, still in my sopping wet, silk pantsuit and as I stepped on the platform of the shed, in my sandals, my feet flew out from under me because the surface was slippery thanks to the recent rainshower and I fell flat on my face. My parents ran over and I looked up, sunglasses askew on my head, silk pantsuit now not only wet, but covered in dirt, and I said, "Good grief! This has been a heckuva day!". We quickly assessed the damage - my right hand has an ugly broken blood vessel and is bruised where I caught myself, so is my elbow which also made impact, but the rest of me seems to be fine...a little sore, but none the worse for wear. When I finally stood up, I laughed and said, "Well, today is the first day that my health insurance kicked in. Good to know!". Fortunately, I didn't need it for that spill and, even more fortunately, I must have inherited my Mom's strong bones. I hit that platform HARD and it's good to know my bones can handle my occasionally clumsy ways.

I made my way upstairs, after replacing the chlorine tablets, peeled off my messy, soppy outfit, took a quick shower, grabbed some iced tea and fed my hungry cichlids and particularly my ravenous pair of Oscars, several live shrimp, goldfish and feeder guppies. It got my mind off the pain.

Later that evening, I received a text message from Justin. "I'm 300 miles from home.", it read. I thought, no, you're about 175 miles from your new home but no, that's not quite right. This will always be home for him, I realized. This is where he grew up - at least the last 8 years of it.

After a blown window, a backyard tumble and a cichlid feeding frenzy, not to mention a night of watching "Shark Week" on Discovery, I fell asleep before midnight. My Dad woke me up after 11:00 PM to inform me that Justin had tried to call me - they had made it. My ducks had made it safely to WV. In a row, no less. Thank God. I went downstairs, grabbed a fresh peach, a glass of tea and said a prayer of thanks to God. And then, I went right back to sleep.

Saturday Morning, I spoke with Justin and Stephanie and they sounded tired, but fine. Stephanie gave me a comical recap of her first driving experience in tunnels and real mountain roads. She had me laughing hard as she told me about her fear in driving through Walker Mountain Tunnel, flashes of Princess Diane which immediately increased her anxiety in the middle of driving through that long tunnel at night. Then, she told me that her Ford Escape was really struggling because she had it in overdrive. She reported that after she disengaged it from overdrive, it ran like a charm. She's a great story-teller and I'm begging her to blog all of these things so that she can smile and laugh at what all of this felt like in the beginning. [Note to Stephanie - if you're reading this (and I know you are), BLOG already! I want to know what this new adventure looks and feels like from your perspective and that's a great way to share it.]

Yesterday, rather than mope around and nurse maudlin thoughts, I grabbed a book, a large tea, a couple of peaches and my sunglasses and I went outside to the patio, threw my stuff in the chaise and walked to the edge of my pool, at the deep end, and I swear I felt like giggling. It was still clear and sparkling. Seconds later, I dove into the crystal sunlight dappled water and had a glorious session of swimming and turning flips. Heaven! Sheer watery chlorinated heaven! My muscles loved it, my bones enjoyed it and my mental state soared. I stayed out there most of the afternoon and I have the tan lines to prove it. I plan on doing some more of it later this afternoon.

We miss Justin and Stephanie, just as we missed Katie when she flew the coop and landed in Manhattan. However, things are just as they're supposed to be. What's the point in having wings if you never use them? Katie and Justin are doing just what they were raised to do - take a chance, chase and discover life - and sometimes, you have to chase life to different states, toward foreign shores and a few of us have even been known to chase it on sailboats that get mixed up in tropical storms. You just do it!

We're proud of all of them and we expect great results.

Countdown...

2008-07-30T12:02:00.008-04:00

"So, help me if you can
I've got to get
back to the house at Pooh corner by one.
You'd be surprised there's so much to be done,
count all the bees in the hive,
chase all the clouds from the sky.
Back to the days of
Christopher Robin and Pooh."

And that is exactly where I am today. Wednesday. In two days, my son will move to West Virginia. Today I am thinking of him, remembering mental snapshots, and about every ten or fifteen minutes, I get this HUGE lump in my throat. You know, the kind that reminds you that tears are a breath away if you're not careful. I don't know how much longer I can go on being careful. I want to cry. I really do and I'm not a person given easily to tears at all. There have been times when I wish that I could cry, but today, tears are threatening at every turn.

I already miss Justin. I was on my way home from work this past Monday, to collect three cats and take them for their vet appointments and rabies vaccinations, and suddenly this car appeared beside me, honking, and there was Justin. At the intersection of College and Shipyard. Smiling. Laughing. Passing me by in the dust.

He beat me home with minutes to spare. We started corralling the cats and he drove Felix, Magellan, Princess and me to the vet and took each one in, separately, handling it all with great finesse. I laughed and only suffered three small puncture wounds on my arm because Magellan was a little nervous.

As I was waiting to pay the bill, one of the staff asked me how I was going to handle having Justin move away. I looked at her and smiled and said, "not well.". She laughed. I couldn't have been more serious.

This is going to be tough. I mean, I have a HISTORY with this kid! I knew him before anyone else, except for God. He used to swim inside of me, punch my ribs and do somersaults and it took 2 1/2 days of back labor to coax him out. We know each other well.

Sunday Night, at about 10:00 PM, he cajoled me into going to see "Stepbrothers" at the movies. He didn't have to twist my arm. We rode in his Cobra Mustang and I don't believe he went below 70 the entire way. He whipped that car around, changed gears effortlessly and I held on for dear life. He looked over at me and with an impish grin said, "Mom, we need one great last adventure before I move, right?".

We have had some seriously crazy adventures, Justin and me. The movie was silly and funny and perfect for people grappling with serious stuff like moves hundreds of miles away. On the way back home, he said, "Listen, you got the best deal. You had me for the first 21 years!".

It's true, I have been privileged to be close for 21 1/2 years. I am just so grateful for that. But at this particular moment, it's not soothing my separation anxiety.

I can't even fathom, this Wednesday before his big move, how much I am going to miss him. I am grateful for e-mail and cell phones and text messages, but that's not the same. It's just not the same at all. I want hugs. Justin has always been the affectionate one, the sensitive touchy feel guy, introspective, never arriving or leaving without a generous and heartfelt hug and kiss on the cheek. That's hard to do from West Virginia. What am I supposed to do?

I know what I'm supposed to do. I'm to be grateful that this is a very positive, happy opportunity. He will, after all, be under the bright tutelage of his father. He will learn so much and be among family and have the chance to explore a whole new world (Justin was born in Amarillo, Texas - the only one among us who is not a native WV'ian). He will also have Stephanie with him, who is now his fiancee. He will be in my old stomping ground, the area where I was raised and spent the first 25 years of my life.

It's not like he's going into the service. He's not bound for Afghanistan or Iraq. He's not headed to a medical center in a faraway town for a bone-marrow transplant or an experimental clinical trial. He is heading into a great future. I'm beyond thankful for all of that, truly I am. But I have to tell you, I am selfish. I am just so selfish because, left to my own devices, I would keep him close to me and I can't do that. I raised both he and Katie to grow up, spread their wings beyond their comfort zone, find passions and then have the tenacity and guts to take on the world. I didn't raise shrinking violets and neither of them are remotely timid.

We've lived all over the US. I've taken them on vacations to many unique places. A few years ago the three of us hopped a plane and visited France for a week. We've shared a cruise together. Poked around the Islands of the Bahamas. We've witnessed space shuttle launches, opened and closed Disneyland (California), Disney World (Orlando) and Euro Disney (Paris). We've ridden space mountain more times than I can count. We've jumped into pools, streams, fountains and oceans in our clothes. We've brought home strays of every species imaginable and raised mice for the snake collection he once proudly tended, until he discovered skateboarding which he ultimately gave up when he happened on Mustangs which coexisted nicely with his awareness of girls.

Together with Katie, we made up stories on dark stormy nights and read Edgar Allen Poe. We've walked the floor with ear infections, waited anxiously in emergency rooms for stitches and I've been called for school conferences more than once because he wasn't "doing his best work". We cried together when my marriage broke up. We've argued over both stupid and really serious things. We've slammed doors, screamed at each other and said things in anger we never came close to meaning.

I've been suckered into all kinds of schemes and scenarios and bought what he was peddling more times than I can count, even with a calculator. I've stayed up all night worrying when he didn't come home at the hour he promised and I've been filled with rage when he didn't tell me the truth. Justin has also personally, on even more times than I can count, exhibited a level of compassion both toward me and others, that has literally taken my breath away. Out of all those things, what I remember most keenly are the times when he's taken my breath away. Those times far outnumber everything else.

I am proud to say though, I really did stand my ground when he wanted to adopt a caiman and I was always firmly against adding a ferret to the family. You pick your battles, right?

You know, they never tell you this stuff when you are about to give birth and you lumber into Lamaze Class. They cover such inconsequential things - contractions, labor, transition, epidurals, what to take to the hospital, how to bathe the baby, when you can expect to light a fire and burn your maternity clothes and stuff like that.

From where I sit, with a daughter who will be turning 25 on the 26th of August and a son who will be hitting 22 on the 21st of November, that pre- and -post natal era feels like it lasted about as long as it takes to blink my eyes. Of course, at the time, it seemed urgent, serious and some of it was terrifying to consider.

What they don't tell you in Lamaze class and, to be fair, what is impossible to convey, is the heart investment of the entire experience. I never knew I could deeply love and cherish anything (and I've had some great dogs!) as much as I have adored every facet of being a Mom. I mean, part of me wishes I had known all this stuff back in the day, but in reality, it would probably have been far more of a hindrance and I'm sure God knows it and worked all the logistics of the process out, but I have to testify that no matter where I go, what I do, whatever I may achieve or own or brush up against, it will never, ever come close to what raising a little girl and a little boy has given me. It is, in fact, an entity all unto its own. It is so intermingled into my being, the sheer depth, the strength and resilient durability of the parental bond.

God surely knew what He was doing in THAT department because there have been a few times when I thought...what the heck are we doing here and does someone have a manual or is there a service that could finish raising these kids until they're the more reasonable and responsible age of, oh, say 30? God knows that love paves over the pot holes and rough patches, and God knows He is right.

But "those" moments breeze by and before you know it, the kids are back in your good graces and you find yourself ecstatically devoted and signing on for the next exciting and improbable chapter of the craziest book in the world. And the most unbelievable part of it all is when you're on the page where "Kids grow up and move to a new town", you tearfully, wistfully pine, you so seriously wish you could start that book over and write it all again. Even the hair-raising parts which are generously sprinkled throughout.

This...is going to be tough. Painful. Definitely hard to swallow.

This is...life. Wouldn't you just know those two would pick the times I said, "You've got to try! You can be ANYTHING and go ANYWHERE if you just set your head to it and if you want it bad enough!"

That's just so like them. Selective listening. You really can't trust them.

I feel as though I resemble my kids when I would take them to the pediatrician for vaccinations or flu shots. "Wait, I"m not ready! Wait, please, wait! Give me a minute...not yet!!!!!!". And of course, the needle had to break the flesh and deliver it's payload. It was always going to sting, sometimes a little and sometimes a lot, and no amount of preparation could change that.

No, no, no, no, no! I am not ready for Justin to move. But if he postponed it a few days, I wouldn't be any more prepared in a week, two weeks, six months or a year. It's going to sting, but we have to get on with it. His future is calling and it's time to answer the damn phone, load up the moving van and head for those ridiculous hills.

People ask me if it was like this when Katie left home, when she made her way to Manhattan in May 2006. In a way it was and in another way it wasn't. You see, Katie was born with a plan. Spend anytime around Katie and you just realize that she has a list, steely determination and a fierce independence and no time for tears. I love my daughter with the same passion that I do my son and I have a great deal of respect for the way she tackles the streets of NYC, new jobs, her fear of flying and any obstacle silly enough to get in her way. She's amazing and it's not that she doesn't have a heart, she simply doesn't wear it on her sleeve.

Justin and I, however, aren't like that at all. Our entire shirts are covered in hearts. It's just the way we are. Sometimes, I am stunned by just how much like me he is, not simply in appearance, but in temperament, mannerisms, thought processes, behavior and quirks. That apple didn't far fall from this tree.

I want to walk outside and scream at the very top of my lungs, to no one in particular, "MY SON IS MOVING AWAY AND I AM REALLY GOING TO MISS HIM AND I AM HURTING BIG-TIME RIGHT NOW!!!!!", but I haven't been at this office all that long and people might talk. Besides, he just called and we're having lunch at his old work place in a few minutes. I can't be late. He's buying!

I'm sure I'll cry on the way back to my office, and I'll cry tomorrow at random times and don't even ask me about Friday. This weekend is going to be rough and I know that. My friend Sharon called me yesterday, "just to check on you. I know this isn't easy.", and she does know it because she's watched one of her sons move to San Diego and the other one to Lake Tahoe. She knows the landscape of where I am headed and she will be right there and cry right along with me and then she'll talk very sternly and tell me - "Enough - let's go to the beach and eat chocolate and drink tea.". Good friends do things like that. I love her. I love all of my friends. I'm crazy about my family. I adore my cats. I have the best dog in the entire world. My kids? They not only have my heart, they are my heart.

Sniff...

Beyond all this missing stuff, trust me, it's not lost on me how spectacularly blessed we all are. For as much as this is going to EXCRUCIATINGLY "sting", and you better know it will, I also know that these tears spring from good things. They spring from love, hope, golden opportunities, and at least a thousand or so blessings. I mean, if you have to cry, this is as happy of an event as you could hope for to sob over. There isn't any undue worry or fear. I know deep inside, that this sadness is of the happy variety and I must keep that in mind. No one is sick, estranged or at wits end or the thousand and one issues that can come up that truly can rob you of your sanity, serenity and sleep. I'll adjust and we'll slide into a new "normal", carve out a new groove - grateful for all that we have, always mindful of how well off we sincerely are, and hopeful for a bright future. We'll make new memories in different cities. <I practice sounding convincing when I say this. So far, I'm not really buying it.>

But in the meantime, I really do plan to cry a bit. I can sense Katie rolling her eyes and I expect a call at some point next week from her telling me to knock it off, grow up and get busy writing. She's not heartless, she will at least allow me the weekend to wallow. And then she'll say something really wise like, "How do you expect to meet a sailor with red eyes?"

Good point.

It's "Shark Week" on the Discovery Channel. I should be happy, right?

Headline News...

2008-07-24T22:49:00.004-04:00

OK, this will be quick because I'm tired and ready to hit the bed but these have been some busy times in the Cook/Parker Home.

Here's the scoop! (Pssst...there are some new photos on the flickr site - click on the moving pictures on the right sidebar).

Someone became engaged in this family and for once, it wasn't me! Last Friday (18 July) Justin presented Stephanie with a ROCK and she said YES!

We welcomed and enjoyed company from West Virginia on Tuesday and Wednesday.

I just returned from The Pilot House in downtown Wilmington and a lovely engagement/farewell dinner hosted by Stephanie's lovely grandmother. She and I have made plans to get together after next weekend, following the kids' move, so we can cry and miss them together. They haven't even left yet and I already miss my son. I fought back tears a couple of times tonight.

My Mom is on the mend, but let me tell you, that fall left her with some serious bruises and after seeing the latent bruises I can only imagine she has bones made of steel. What a feisty lady she is. How blessed we are she bounced back.

I'll write more later, but for now, I am ready for sleep. These are busy, emotional, heart-tugging days. We're so excited for Justin and his new adventure working with his father in West Virginia, but we're all going to miss him tons.

I'll fill in the blanks this weekend.

The Things That Matter Most Really Aren't...

2008-07-13T14:09:00.006-04:00

...Things At All. They aren't even Lincoln (POS's) LS, iPods, or swimming pools.

Last night or, rather, about 3:00 am this morning, I was asleep when I woke up to see my Dad's worried, searching eyes. Not a good sign at 3:00 am. I was awake instantly, bolted upright and said, "What's wrong?". I mean, nothing can be right when someone wakes you up at 3:00 am, right?

He told me in a quiet but anxious voice that my Mom had fallen going to the bathroom and could I please come downstairs. In a flash, I was down those stairs and walked into my parents room to see my Mom rather slouched in her chair, eyes closed and cradling an arm that was dripping blood from two angry looking lacerations; open, harsh wounds on her delicate tissue paper thin skin. I walked over and asked her what happened?

"I fell. I fell and hit my arm. I couldn't see and it was dark.", she whispered, mumbled really, in a weak voice without opening her eyes, head tilted to the side.

I asked her if she could move or if she thought she might have broke something, other than the painful looking skin on her arm.

"No, well, I don't think so. Need to lay back. Could I have a cold cloth on my head, please?".

I heard my Dad rifling around in the drawers of their bathroom, searching for bandages and antiseptic. I ran to the bathroom and found a wash cloth and ran cold water through it. My Dad brought a towel to lay beneath her bleeding arm.

Mom told me that the cloth wasn't cold enough and could I please put some ice in it? I raced to the kitchen and grabbed five ice cubes and wrapped them up in the wet cloth. My heart was beating fast and my mind was racing at a thousand possibilities always arriving at the same question..."What should I do next? Should I call 911?".

I walked back in, my dad was standing close to my Mom, gently stroking her arm and asking her if anything was hurting. It was at that moment that my heart made a giant leap into my throat at the sight of both of them. As scary as this whole scene was, it was just laden with a gentle sweetness that completely epitomizes their relationship.

Devotion is intangible but theirs is so sturdy, so strong and durable, that you can nearly reach out and touch the current that courses between them. It's effect was pervasive inside that room last night. It softened the rough, sharp, scary edges of an event that no one wants to confront at any hour, but is especially foreboding at 3:00 am.

Mom welcomed the icy cloth I delivered and we slowly eased the chair she was sitting in back so that her feet were propped up and her head could rest without slipping to the side.

Again, I asked her if she thought it might not be a good idea to get this checked out at the hospital.

"No, just let me lay here for a few minutes and we'll see. I don't want to talk...just let me lay here for a few minutes."

Dad had brought me a chair to sit beside her and he had settled into his desk chair. I looked over at him but his eyes were fixed on her.

I held her hand. I felt so privileged to sit beside her, even as my mind groped for something more that I could that might have offered her relief and comfort. She's not had much experience being the "patient". In truth, I have had scant experience being the caregiver. We were both assuming unfamiliar roles, but I believe we were doing the best we could at that moment.

Every few minutes, I would ask her if she was feeling better? She would tell me that she thought so, just give it a little while.

As I sat there, in the low light of their bedroom, I looked around at the trinkets, the photos, the books, word puzzles, momentos and then my mind would come back to, "Should I let her lay here or should we really be on our way to the hospital?". I just didn't know what to do but I hoped that what we were doing was enough. Of course, I prayed. Mostly my prayers were for guidance, comfort for my Mom and some kind of form of wisdom to know that what we were doing, at that moment, was the right thing.

Felix, our black, quirky cat walked in the room, followed by Cassie, who looked around as they were assessing the situation and knew something wasn't quite right. Felix looked up at my Mom and then walked over to my Dad and rubbed alongside his ankles. I think he was offering my Dad the only comfort he was capable of expressing. Both animals settled down in the floor, side by side, at the foot of my Mom's chair. Their eyes were inquisitive yet compassionate.

And I sat there, for well over an hour, stroking my Mom's hand, readjusting the rag on her head, asking her if she was feeling better, if she needed anything - maybe a sip of water? Tea? My dad sat quietly at his desk, facing us, drawing on his pipe, fingers interlocked on his lap.

After about half an hour, Mom asked me to wring the cloth out. It was getting drippy. My father got back up and started looking again for bandages but seemed only to find the 1 inch square band-aids which wouldn't begin to cover the angry gashes on her arm.

"Barbe, they're in the wicker basket at the top of the cabinet. You can't find anything...", she said in a rather bemused fashion. It was at this point that I finally decided we had made the right decision not to call 911 right away. She was coming back to us and taking charge. If she was able to direct our fumblings, Miss Maxine was assuming her position. I welcomed those words and my Dad, without missing a beat, smiled and said, "Well why don't you just walk in here and get the band-aid yourself!". Again, these were good signs at what was now 4:40 AM. I finally breathed a sigh of blessed relief.

I walked in the bathroom and found the shelf, the bandages and the peroxide and went about the business of attending to Mom's arm. She had finally opened her eyes and was watching as I poured small dollops of disinfectant and we both studied the scrapes as they bubbled and fizzed. I asked her if it was stinging? "No, not a bit!", she chided, as if I was somehow implying she was a wimp or whiny old lady. Again, this was a good sign.

After I bandaged her arm, she finally decided she was ready to make a try for the bathroom which had been the original target of her nocturnal wandering about. Daddy fetched her cane and I took her arm and together we made our way slowly to the bathroom. As I stood in there waiting for her, I quickly flashed back to when I was a little girl, and how many times she had taken such impeccable care of me, in so many situations, nursing me through tonsillitis, bronchitis, many bouts of the flu, pneumonia, a car wreck just last summer, and how capable she always seemed to be; how secure she always made me feel, by virtue of her sheer, stable, loving presence. What a gift she's always been. What a gift she continues to be.

Those midnight moments bring life into perspective with blazing speed. As stressful and scary as they can be, such times deliver clarity into what matters most in this life, as nothing else can. When I finally returned to my own bedroom last night, I thought about what had just happened, and the thoughts that had been razzing my brain prior to my middle of the night wake-up summons.

I had been irritated with machines, prior to my 3:00 am wake-up call. The front end bumper of my car was loose and making contact with the pavement. Not to mention the fact that in the last few weeks, in addition to the rear driver's side window which refuses to go up or down, the door handle to driver's side no longer works which means I have to roll my window down and open my car from the outside. Add to this the "check traction control" light that announces itself in the "status window" of the dashboard, the broken drink holder in the console and the fact that the sun roof window didn't close all the way last week leaking water onto my iPod, thereby completely rendering it inoperable, has made me feel a complete and utter distaste for my car and daily I find myself pining for my old PT Cruiser which got great gas mileage and even though it was lacking in many of the bells and whistles that come with my Lincoln (POS) LS, I honestly enjoyed driving it so much more.

So last evening, as I was sitting here surfing the net, I was filled with contempt for the Lincoln, the iPod (which I REALLY miss!!!!), and wondering how so many things could go wrong on a car in such a short amount of time. I wasn't exactly in the best of moods. I would have gone outside for a late-night swim, but my pool isn't completely cleared (however it is definitely on the mend after Friday's latest round of work by Pool Specialists!), so last night rather than swim, I stewed. Completely pissed off by the breakdown of the gadgets and machines I rely on every day. I felt like I was drowning in a sea of mechanical glitches.

But early this morning, there were no thoughts of a broken iPod, the dragging front bumper of a Lincoln LS, or a murky pool. My focus was instantly narrowed to what is precious in my life and what is precious is family, close, dear, dependable friends, and even the concerned countenance of a loyal dog and cat. That silly car in the driveway, the cloudy 33,000 gallon pond in my backyard, and even the busted iPod don't even register on the "matters most" meter. Those things can be repaired and replaced and will never cross my mind at the end of my days. What will transcend that threshold are the mainstays who bear the monikers of Justin, Katie, Mom, Dad, Stephanie and so many close buddies who make my life feel golden more times than I possibly deserve.

No one would ever volunteer for the 3:00 AM wake up call that I experienced last night, but attached along with the attendant angst, is the reminder of the volume of love that situates itself in my life, and as the vital signs return to normal and the world is illuminated courtesy of the dawn of yet another gift of a day, gratitude remains long after the tide of terror washes back out to sea and the storm moves out.

After a few more hours of sleep this morning, I walked downstairs to find my parents happily chatting over cereal and coffee, reading the newspaper, sun streaming in through the large windows.

"Good Morning!", my Mom almost too cheerily announced! Ah yes, she was back in the saddle - a little bruised and bandaged, perhaps, but "not nearly as sore as I thought I'd be!", she almost smugly added.

I guess the lingering result of last night is that it gave me even more reasons to be grateful, to be reminded of the fragility, and in awe of resilience and durability, that is life.

Life is, in fact, so much more than good, even if your car is crumbling and your iPod is a thing of history.

Life is absolutely amazing.

Unrealized Nightmares...Unmerited Blessings

2008-07-07T22:22:00.014-04:00

I went to Greenville, South Carolina last week. I left on Monday Evening, after I had studied the myriad of interstates that would carry, and possibly confuse me, between Wilmington, North Carolina and my forecast destination. It's 312 miles between here and there and my major stumbling block, the area where my eyes kept returning to, was the Interstate bypass that would (hopefully) take me around Columbia, South Carolina. That was my least favorite part of the route, at least visually on the map, because I don't do well at all when I'm on multiple lane freeways in heavy traffic. Such driving is terrorizing for me. I know that because I've had all of my most impressively horrific panic attacks while trying to bypass large metropolitan cities in both light and heavy traffic. It can be distilled in one fourletter word. Fear. Pure, unadulterated fear.

But I had a plan because we're nothing without them, right? I would leave around 6:00 PM from Wilmington the night before I would need to arrive in Greenville. Given that there were 312 miles separating me from my target, I surmised that if I left at 6ish in the evening, it would place me and my car and my terror well past rush hour and hopefully in the lightest, most manageable traffic possible.

In the hours leading up to my dreaded departure, if you had seen me that day, you might have thought I was being remanded to the gallows. That I was facing incarceration and, in a sense, I was - I was becoming imprisoned by my own over-inflated, but nevertheless paralyzing, fear.

I walked about the house slowly. I would pace from my suitcase to the dryer, with a deliberate and defeated gait, robotically depositing the clothes I had mindlessly selected to wear on the off chance I survived my journey. Just in case some blazing eighteen wheeler didn't overstep his lane and crush my car and take me out with it in a fiery ball of cataclysmic devastation. If there was even the slightest possibility I would make it unscathed to Greenville, at least I would have clothes to wear as I trained for the job that would be waiting for me should I twice defy the unfathomable odds and arrive back safely on Wednesday Night to Wilmington.

Frankly, at the time, I would have told you that my odds of winning the powerball were much more favorable than my surviving the roundtrip tour I was preparing to embark upon. My mind was playing some very Un-empowering tapes and someone (me) had tripped the switch on my mental tape player to "repeat".

I finally bid my parents what I secretly felt could possibly be a final farewell and trudged to my waiting car. I would imagine that people being taken to death row probably had a more sunny countenance than the one I secretly wore. Death row inmates face capital punishment. I, however, was staring toward the capital of South Carolina and its eight possibly lethal lanes looming in my immediate future.

I walked out of here with the weight of the world and every agonizing mile punishing my psyche, deeply entrenched in the dangerous and dark recesses of my overactive and often times inaccurate imagination.

I pulled out of the driveway, waving at my parents, who were smiling contentedly, never once realizing the deep danger that the interstate bypass of Columbia was holding in wait for their only remaining and ridiculously panic-stricken daughter. I dug deep within myself and managed a smile, almost feeling sorry for them because I didn't think they stood a chance of seeing me alive again. How sad, because two days later, on July 3rd, they would celebrate their 62nd wedding anniversary and what a bleak stain my impending doom would lend to their very special day. They were just so clueless and didn't understand the monumental obstacles that my mind had managed to manufacture.

The first few miles I had to literally fight with myself not to make a U-turn and turn my car around and run back home to my perceived safety zone. Honestly, I absolutely had to beat back the impulse as I made my way toward the Cape Fear Memorial Bridge and crossed the great divide that would separate the men from the boys, and me from New Hanover County.

I hate bridges. I abhor them. I have always had a fear of steel spans. Normally, just the prospect of crossing the Cape Fear Bridge would have been enough to reduce me to a hyperventilating, sweaty-palmed, heart-palpitating and trembling mess, but given that Columbia was on the dusky horizon, I reasoned that I had bigger fish to fry and so I had to put my fear of bridges on the back burner of the stove I use to create mountains out of anthills. No one can reasonably nurture more than a couple of unreasonable phobias at a time, so my fear of bridges had to rescind it's top stop in favor of rapid-fire freeway traffic.

But before I made it over the bridge, I took a side street on my way downtown to Market Street and found myself parking where that major thoroughfare (by Wilmington standards) terminates and I parallel-parked in a spot that faced the Cape Fear River and the USS North Carolina which is moored on the Brunswick County side of the river and is one of our major tourist attractions in this town I love so much.

I sat in my car, window rolled down, watching the tourists smiling on their way to or from dinner, small historic maps in hand, pointing at this structure or that sight, completely oblivious to the terror lurking inside of the white Lincoln LS which was, I must say, expertly tucked into a tight parking spot. I saw the horse-drawn carriage amble to the right of my car, as the horses dutifully trudged their course while the tour guide recited all manner of interesting and historical facts about Wilmington.

It was just another sultry summer evening in a sleepy, southern town teeming with tourists who had probably spent most of their Monday at our area beaches and had driven downtown for a nice meal and a little southern ambiance courtesy of our moss strewn, tree-lined streets and sweeter than iced tea charm. Stupid, clueless tourists. They had no idea the fear contained in the innocuous looking automobile, lurking just beneath the surface of the tousled, wind whipped blond hair of a 48 year old woman who wished for all the world someone would tap on her window and tell her that she didn't have to cross that bridge or merge into the lanes of the freeway that was supposed to take her AROUND Columbia, South Carolina.

I sat in that car, almost frozen in fear, mapquest print-out in my lap, staring absently out the window and wishing, dreaming, that the governor would call and say it was all a mistake - I could still have the job, the salary, the medical, dental and vision benefits without having to drive those looming, doomed 312 miles to Greenville; that someone as clearly bright as me didn't require training or need to make an appearance in a town so far away and INLAND, and that I could just learn everything on the fly and forget this whole silly Greenville madness.

I waited. I sat there for at least 20 minutes knowing that no one was really going to knock on my car window and tell me that it was fine, that I didn't have to go, and that I could simply turn around and return to the safe harbor of my home, my family, my dog and my two cats and my 50 or so fish contained in five aquariums who really needed me to look after them, but oh how I wished someone would have. At the time, I would have given anything for a reprieve, a stay of interstate transit, or a simple change in plans that would allow me to stay home and not venture outside my comfort zone which extends to about ten miles in every direction from the epicenter here at 326 Nottingham Lane.

It never happened. That call never came.

I took a deep breath and knew it was time to face my fears and plow through the list of turns, merges and highways and snap out of it. I wanted to call my Dad and ask him what I always ask when I'm feeling especially shaky and scared..."Dad, do you think I can do this? Do you think I'll be OK?".

I know it sounds completely ridiculous and I always know exactly what he's going to say, but I swear I can't tell you how comforting it is to here his response when I ask him that question. He chuckles in a manner that makes me believe that's the silliest question he's ever heard before in all of his 83 years been asked. His voice is tinged with a durable confidence I hardly ever feel, as he exudes the utmost belief in me and whatever it is I'm afraid to do, whether it's boarding a flight for NYC or Manchester or Paris or sailing or about to give a talk to a recovery group or go in for a root canal or sit for a test or drive to the center of downtown Raleigh or embark on a very long drive all alone. His words always empower me. They make me believe I can do things that my mind tries to trick me into thinking that I can't possibly deal with or handle. It's amazing really, the power of hearing him say that I'll be fine, just fine, and that it won't be any trouble at all and that I will just fly through whatever is looming on my horizon without the slightest hint of a glitch.

It's so comical in one sense. How many times did I hear him express his confidence in me when I was growing up and filled with all kinds of angst over just about everything and what a difference his belief in me meant on more occasions than I can count? I guess it's because as I was growing up and navigating childhood and adolesence and dealing with so much uncertainty and fear after my sister died when I was 13, my dad and my Mom were accruing a track record of being right about 99.9% of the time and guiding me with so much love, so much devotion, wisdom, kindness and compassion.

Late Spring of 1973. That's when most of my biggest fears were born - in the days, weeks and months following the completely unexpected death of my 23 year old sister. I was thirteen at the time, which is a hard age when everything is going perfectly, but my gosh, the day following May 25, 1973, it seems as if I caught every fear and phobia imaginable. And somehow, even in the deep and horrific pain of losing their first daughter, my Mom and Dad managed to guide their second one through the scariest period of my life and to this day I have no idea how they did it.

After having two kids of my own, and understanding the depth and magnitude of love one feels for their children, it's even more inconceivable to me that they had the wisdom and capacity to steer me through what felt like hell. But they did it. They did exactly that. They never gave up on me and they never allowed me to give up on myself, through every bump, stumble and fall I've ever dealt with in life. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't find my parents' strength and the power of their love and understanding, to be a force even unto its own. They have always been my rudder, the artificial horizon by which to fix my position, to navigate when life feels so disorienting and foggy that I have to rely and depend on my instruments because the weather is such that visual flight rules do not apply.

It is, in a word, uncanny. I am, in another word, blessed.

And they were also, a few days ago, as they celebrated their 62nd wedding anniversary. Justin and Stephanie joined us and my handsome, sturdy son "manned" the grill and graciously feted us with sumptuous, done to perfection steaks, baked potatoes and, for dessert, Stephanie and I snagged two big hits - Strawberry and Rhubarb pie and Dutch apple pie. It was such a great evening and a very special, intimate celebration for two exceptional folks.

Oh, and in case you're wondering, even though I didn't call my Dad on the way to Greenville for a pep talk, I just replayed one of his many encouraging "talks" in my head and, with a sturdy predictability, I could hear my father's voice in my head telling me it was really going to be JUST FINE! "Nothing to it!", I'd hear him say with a wry smile in his voice, exuding the confidence I often find myself running so short of, forgetting more often than I should, that I do come from sturdy stock and that I am stronger and more capable than I believe myself to be most days. I wish I could get those good tapes to kick in automatically without the fear taking hold, and some days I do better than others, but I guess that each time I face what I perceive as an obstacle or challenge, well, maybe something is strengthened that I'm not yet aware of and perhaps it serves a larger purpose. I don't really know why I let myself get into such a state from time to time and allow myself to become flooded with torrents of self-doubt but I guess the good news is that most times I don't allow it to paralyze me or render me immobile. There were times in the past that it used to have that power and in the past few years, I have at least managed to walk through most fears even if I was shaking just a bit so, well, that's progress, right? Yeah, it's OK to say that.

And, as you might imagine, Columbia proved to be "much ado about nothing". By the time I arrive there, it was nearly 10:30 PM, so the rush hour was long finished and put to rest. Only a nutty blond with exhorbitant fears could be found on the highway at that absurd hour and very little traffic was to be found. From Columbia to Greenville, I pretty much had the highway to myself and arrived in Greenville at around 1:30 AM. I know, I know - most rational people would be afraid to be out driving alone at such an hour - I mean - it would be reasonable to fear that the car might break down, that one might suffer a flat tire or engine trouble alongside an empty interstate in a mostly rural part of a southern state. To be afraid of those things would be prudent, rational and completely logical. For me? Those fears never really cross my mind at all. No, I'm more afraid of all of the things least likely to happen, bypassing the events that have a far better chance of causing me trouble. Go figure. If you do, let me know. I sure can't figure it out but, then again, maybe it's because I'm an Aquarian, and just a little crazy. The only physical pain to report from the trip was contained in the fingers of both of my hands, not unusual given the strength of the grip with which I held onto the steering wheel.

Happy Anniversary Mom and Dad and thank you so very much for being exactly who you are, and still taking the time to gently teach me so many things I should have figured out decades ago. Katie, Justin and I love you both so much. As Fred Rogers would say, "just for being you...".

Happy Summer!! Goodbye to a Faithful Feline and Hello to a New Job!

2008-06-24T03:09:00.013-04:00

This will be a very fast update, with details to follow later in the week. Things have been hopping since my last update. Some events have been wonderful, but one in particular was very sad.

We had to say goodbye to our beloved cat Sylvester. He was nearly 17 years old and was in a great deal of pain. On 7 June, Justin bravely took him to the vet and he was put to rest. We all said good bye and I know, I know, it's a cat we're talking about, but Sylvester wasn't just any cat. To know Sylvester was to love him. We knew him and we adored everything about him.

It still seems so odd not seeing him around here, but he's not suffering now. Sylvester was our first cat, and joined us when he "chose" Katie as she and I visited a pet shop in El Paso, Texas. He was a gentle, smart, social and very kind feline. He convinced me that I wasn't simply a "dog" person, as I had erroneously and originally thought prior to meeting him. I was so sure I didn't like cats at all, but Sylvester enlightened me and gently taught me otherwise. Sylvester, in his own characteristically understated manner, changed my life. I loved him. We all did. With every soft purr, kneading motion of his paws and slow caresses on our ankles as he'd make contact with us, we knew he loved us right back. Gosh, I miss him that cat.

I need to send out a special thank you to three people with regard to Sylvester. Katie, thank you so much for talking me into adopting him back in Texas. You and Sylvester were so right - I was a cat person and he was destined to become part of our family. I know you loved him and he enjoyed watching you grow up, as the rest of us have. You were such a kind and faithful companion to him. I know you maintained such a special place in his heart.

I also must mention Stephanie. Steph, thank you so very much for tending to him in his final months. You were kind, compassionate and so sensitive to his physical and emotional needs and pain. You went far beyond the call of duty and I know he loved you for it. I know it was especially hard for you and I understand you had a very strong bond with him. Your care allowed him some extra pain-free months and you should be proud of that. We're very grateful to you and pleased that you are part of our family. You know, Steph, we miss you, too. You can come around and visit even when your boyfriend is at work or busy. This is still your home, too, kiddo.

And finally but by no means last, a special thanks to my Dad, who is the keeper of the litterbox. What a thankless job, but you sure are dependable! Thank you for all of your housekeeping duties. Also, thanks for taking extra care with Felix during this transition. I know he's become quite attached to you. Princess may have lost her husband, but Felix lost his best friend, and he's trying to deal with that so I know he loves every extra minute he spends on your lap while you work on the computer. I think you have a new best friend! Felix has great taste, obviously.

After the passing of Sylvester, Justin returned to the house and took Princess to live with him at his place. He felt that she should be with him, now that her husband was gone. Sylvester and Princess were adopted six weeks apart, so their bond was deep and intertwined. I'm sure Princess is enjoying living with her "father", and I know Justin and Stephanie are taking great care of her. And yes, Princess will be moving to Charleston, WV late next month when Justin joins his Dad in his new business venture.

Two weeks ago I received a call to interview for a new position in a completely different industry. I went to the first interview and met three very nice men who took turns asking me a lot of questions as they perused my resume. Later that evening, they invited me to a second interview the next morning. Fortunately, that went pretty well, too, and within two hours, my new employer rang my cell phone and offered me the position. I officially start on 1 July and I'm looking forward to it. I will be heading to Greenville, South Carolina on 30 June for three days of training, as this is where the company is headquartered. I'll return to Wilmington on 3 July, which will be a very special day because it will be my parents 62nd wedding anniversary. There is just so very much to celebrate and I'm grateful for all of it!

Of course, as excited and thrilled as I am with my new position in a few days, it will be difficult leaving my present one. I have enjoyed working with Sherry so very much. We have had so much fun most days that it hardly qualified as work. Sherry has taught me a great deal and spending my days with her has been a very special time for me. We can nearly finish each others sentences and not a day goes by that doesn't find us laughing about all manner of occurrences in our work days. Though I will no longer be working with her, we have made a serious pact to stay in touch on a daily basis and she has promised to keep me informed as to the more curious things that happen at work. Besides, she won't be completely rid of me. I have agreed to continue to install the SCRAM (Secure Continuous Remote Alcohol Monitor) ankle bracelets and will see clients and do installations on Saturdays. I find it hard to make a complete break because I enjoy working with our clients. Anyway, working with Sherry one day a week will make it easier for us to keep a weekly lunch date and really catch up with each other.

Finally, I am happy to report that the swimming pool repairs have been made and it is holding water well! It's being chemically shocked right now, but the major repair has been completed and I can't wait to take my first dip in it which will hopefully be later this week. It's SUMMER - and that means flips in the pool! I will be so excited to literally be "back in the swim" of things. Hey, it's skinny-dipping season!

By the way, I was given a brand-spanking new copy of the "hot off the presses" latest edition of "Insider's Guide - North Carolina's Southern Coast and Wilmington" by its esteemed publisher (and all around nice person), Jay Tervo. If you haven't acquired one yet, treat yourself to a copy. It's beautifully turned out and brimming with information, tips and facts for both tourists and even locals will learn a thing or three about the town we are privileged to call "home".

It's so strange to be writing these days. I've had scant time to really pen much of anything though my mind has been swirling with a million details, observances, thoughts and feelings. Lately, it seems like with so much going on, I find I'm keeping more and more things to myself. So many huge changes are taking place in my life right now - in all of our lives, in fact. My son is preparing to move to West Virginia at the end of July. My daughter has been happily ensconced in Manhattan for over two years. We're now two cats short and this house seems to be growing in size and echoing in silence. Not too many years ago, there was always noise, music, chatter, comings and goings of my son and daughter and their posse of friends. I remember summers filled with the sounds of my son and his buddies on their skateboards in the driveway. I'd peer out the window every ten minutes or so, wondering if I might need to make a quick run to the emergency room because someone didn't land properly as they surfed on the concrete. It's just so quiet now.

It's almost too quiet. The air is stilled as we slowly grope our way through new transitions, the ones where teenagers are now twenty-somethings who grow up and move into new adventures which predictably take them far from this house, but never, ever far from our thoughts, prayers and hearts. I guess on an intellectual level, you always know the time will come when they grow up and become admirably independent, and I am absolutely proud that they have. I'm also grateful for so many lively memories from raising these two offspring of mine, but lurking just beneath my pride and awe, is a lingering whisper of a wish that I could do it all again and again and again. These transitions take some acclimatization, I suppose, and the key feature to any acclimatization is the passage of time. I'm sure we'll get our sea legs soon, but some evenings, I miss Katie and Justin so much that it literally defies description and words are rendered useless; literally inadequate. Maybe that's why I find it so hard to write lately. The translation of the depth and sheer force of these feelings into mere words is difficult.

I guess growing up gets tougher with age. Separation anxiety can strike without warning. Thank goodness for e-mail and cell phones and particularly unlimited mobile-to-mobile minutes.

I'm still keeping a keen eye out for a sailor - if you see one with a nice boat who's in the market for a crazy, wild-haired, adventurous first mate, send him my way. But only if he's nearly perfect, great looking, sane, financially secure, interesting, brilliant, youthful and skilled. I don't think I'm really asking for too much...just something reasonably close to almost perfect.

Karen...Bobbi...I hate to put pressure on you both, but we're in late June now. What's the hold up, ladies? Shouldn't you both have "e-maled" me some prospective resumes by now? No rush...just hurry!

It finally happened!

2008-06-03T21:11:00.009-04:00

Today was a very special day. I FINALLY met someone who's name has been a household staple since I was about ten years old. This afternoon, I had the great pleasure of meeting the man (THE MAN!) my father worked for (the BOSS!) when my father was a treasurer for Hawk's Nest Mining Company in Montgomery, WV. (Photo right: Harry Burke, Susie and Barbe.)
Mr. Harry Burke in the flesh. What a guy! He'd heard my name in conjunction with my Dad no doubt sharing some of my antics as I was growing up, back in Charleston, West Virginia, when Mr. Burke would visit the office from "headquarters" in Chicago, Ill., where he held the position of Chief Financial Officer with F. H. Prince. I'd heard his name when my Dad would share at dinner that "the boss", would be visiting the mine. We "knew" of each other, Mr. Burke and me, but we had never shared the same space.

Mr. Burke and his companion, the lovely Marsha, were in Hampstead this week visiting his sister, Janet, and so my parents were invited to drive up and have coffee. Last year when they were in town, I missed out on their visit to our home because I was on my way to Fayetteville to meet Katie's train, however, my son had recorded the event with photos and I did blog about it. (Click here to read about last year's visit).

This year, however, I was in town and ducked away from work early in order to finally have a face-to-face with this iconic figure. I felt instantly that I knew him so rather than a polite, stiff handshake, we dispensed with all that and went straight for the hug. What a precious moment for me.

As I sat this afternoon in Janet's lovely Hampstead home, and enjoyed the company of these friends, so many childhood memories flooded my consciousness. Mr. Burke and my Dad have always had a special bond and, separated in age by only a couple of weeks (my Dad will insist that I state for the record that he is the younger of the two), they have maintained their friendship through over 22 years into retirement, even though most of that time Mr. Burke and my dad have lived on opposite sides of the country. However, throughout those years, they have kept the lines of communication open and humming in frequent, lengthy phone conversations and through the magic of e-mail.

My Dad was sharing a story of when he first met Mr. Burke and casually mentioned that he was just 47 years old when he met this man for the first time and it occurred to me that he was a year younger than my present age of 48. It's amazing to me that I was no more than ten years old when I first heard of this Mr. Burke fella.

Today was indeed a sweet gift and extreme blessing. I'm so glad these friends could enjoy a visit and have the chance to relive their interesting history, in person, over a delicious dessert and fine coffee. I'm also thankful that I had the opportunity to share some time with these two special men. It was a warm afternoon, and it wasn't simply because of the weather. This afternoon was a very special honor for me.

Let's do it again next year, Mr. Burke!

Getting Better Every Day!

2008-06-01T14:04:00.011-04:00

"Sick as a dog, but having the time of my life!" Gomer Pyle - "The Andy Griffith Show".

I guess going out on a date with two younger, crazy men was too much for me. The morning after I had dinner with David and Chris, I woke up feeling like I had a tennis ball stuck in my throat. Fortunately, that didn't preclude me from having breakfast with my wonderful friend Sally, or going to work for a few hours, but by Saturday Night last week, I was clearly, without question, in the throes of bronchitis.

So how did I spend my Memorial Day Weekend, the unofficial start of summer? In bed, feverish, drinking tea, coughing and sneezing my head off. Not how I imagined, that's for sure.

Sunday Afternoon, feeling extremely sorry for myself, alone and having only my trusty dog Cassie by my side, I was laying in bed when in dropped my friend David with all manner of meds, a gallon of tea from Smithfield's, and the time to keep my mind off how horrible I felt. He even inducted me into the Blackberry Pearl fellowship by programming my phone and teaching me all of the fun things it can do. He was great company and made a very nice nurse even though I think he told me to quit complaining and "check this out!", as he would enlighten me to cool features of the Blackberry.

When he got bored with my sneezing and coughing, he would go back downstairs and visit with my parents, who made him a banana-split and were probably relieved that they didn't have to deal with me. Every now and then one of them would venture upstairs to see if I needed anything, not that I think any of them had any designs on bringing me more coffee or soup, but it did make me feel less alone and fortunately the movie line-up on TCM (Turner Classic Movies), was to my liking.

Also on Sunday Afternoon, my friend Wayne dropped by bearing a pot of daisies, soup, a beautiful wicker basket, a card and, best of all, the latest "hot off the presses!" issue of "Cruising World" magazine so I could salivate over sailboats I'll never be able to buy. Hey, it's good to hold onto your dreams, right?

Monday Afternoon, it was more of the same. David dropped by to check on me but was mostly interested in visiting with my parents, but when he did hang out with me, he fired up the laptop and as I was struggling to breathe, he was looking for property in Oriental. He saved about eight possibilities and now and then he would get excited and say, "Look at this one! It has a dock!", and then he'd go right on creating an organized spreadsheet of his real estate possibilities while I watched Claudette Colbert and Joseph Cotton in "Since You Went Away".

Other friends called and checked on me, thinking I would be seaside, but the only water I got close to was the shower which I would run as hot as the water would go, because that was the only thing that allowed me to breathe easy for a few minutes. David wound up his visit by driving to Smithfield's on a chicken wing run (for me), but he chose to dine with my parents downstairs at the table because my Mom was serving spaghetti. From the sounds of it, they all had a very nice dinner. I ate alone upstairs in bed but Cassie was kind enough to stay with me. A good dog is hard to find and loyalty, particularly in times of need, is a precious gift, indeed.

I stayed in bed most of Tuesday and didn't go to work, but work came to me in the form of a visit from Sherry Tuesday Evening. She brought dinner over and hung out with me upstairs and we watched a couple of episodes of "The Andy Griffith Show" and caught up with each other. As she was getting ready to leave, Justin appeared with a homemade casserole and I was so happy to see him! He took her place on my bed and we chatted, well, he chatted and mostly coughed. This house still feels so empty without him and yet it struck me just how grown up he is. My son made something for me to eat at his place, and brought it to me. What a sweet guy he is. His company helped me immeasurably.

Wednesday I did make it into work in the late morning, but before starting work, Sherry and I met at La Costa for lunch before going to the office. She wanted to "ease" me back into "pre-audit work mode". She's nice like that. I wish I could have tasted the guacamole and refried beans and rice, but I could smell the cilantro, so that was definitely an improvement.

My health almost took a nose-dive on Thursday, as I read about Karen's weekend in Canada and turned an unattractive shade of "envy green", but she wrote me a nice note which took the edge off and returned me to my normal color. It was a good save and I was happy she had such a nice time during HER holiday weekend. She is still on the look-out for a seaworthy boat (and a guy to go along with it), for me, but progress is slow and I understand these things take time. I'm trying to be patient KAREN!!!!

Friday Morning, I had the experience of installing my first SCRAM ankle bracel et. I was trained and certified to do this back in March, and March was a long time ago, so I was a bit nervous but fortunately I had the kindest, sweetest, most patient client for my first experience and really, it went quite well. He had a great attitude about the whole thing and was eager to take this next step in illustrating to the NC DMV his commitment to staying sober, so his positive attitude and cooperation made him an ideal candidate to allow me to test my technical skills and fortunately, we were successful!

Sherry and I are both working like maniacs getting ready for our 12 June audit and we are so ready for this to be over! We're going to celebrate in some form or fashion after it's finished, we just haven't figured out how yet.

My friend David (in Michigan) tells me he's going to put together a sailing program for us and I can't wait to hear the details on that. I'm ready to be on the water, in spite of the fact that one year ago today, I was spent twelve nerve-racking hours sailing in Tropical Storm Barry with a lunatic captain and a boat that felt like it was going to break apart with the next wave. I look back on that now and I can't believe we were able to crawl into shore in one piece, but thanks be to God we did and it was nothing short of a miracle. I'm also grateful that it didn't diminish my passion for sailing, even though I emerged bruised and more than a little battered. I can't wait to get back on the water on a viable boat with a knowledgeable captain who doesn't have a death wish and understands the importance of safety and weather forecasts.

I have relived the memories of one year ago today, but not in a dark way. I realized that tropical storm notwithstanding, I discovered a passion on that erstwhile sail. In hindsight, it probably wasn't the wisest thing to take off sailing in international waters with someone I knew so little about, but for me, that trip was less about the person and more about the water. The water, from the second I was invited on that trip, was the magnet for me. I wanted to finally know about sailing and though I wasn't really bargaining on a sail in such dangerous and dire conditions, I learned a great deal in those ten days. It has fueled a thousand dreams and if I'm lucky, it will be the catalyst of a few thousand more.

One of the interesting things about feeling unwell, even if it's just being laid up in bed for a few days with a bout of bronchitis, is that it reminded me of how much I missed feeling fine. Most of the time I feel great and like most of us, I take that for granted. The string of days, weeks and months when my health doesn't dip below the barometer, I just whiz through my days taking so much for granted. Only when I became congested, had a little difficulty breathing or smelling the coffee I enjoy every morning, did I think about how exceptional it is that most days I can do just about anything. Great health should never be taken for granted. You can't buy, barter or trade it. It is, in fact, a blessing and one I want to try really hard not to forget about or allow to go unnoticed. I need to thank God even before I pop out of bed each morning, that I appreciate the fact that I am waking up pain free and clear-headed.

A few weeks ago I bought a book - "The Last Lecture" by Randy Pausch, a former Carnegie-Mellon professor who was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer over a year ago. Groping around for something to read, I remember that book and in less than two days, I finished it. I highly recommend it. It's an amazing book and it's filled with lessons, reminders of what is important in this life.

This afternoon, as I perused Dr. Pausch's website for an update, I saw that he had participated in the commencement address this weekend at Carnegie-Mellon. If you have a couple of minutes, I highly recommend watching this. If you find yourself in or near a bookstore, do yourself a favor and read "The Last Lecture". It isn't at all sad or maudlin. It's inspiring, funny and laced with a gentle, exquisite poignancy. It is also a challenge. Perhaps it is true that we need to recapture those childhood dreams of ours, dust them off and look into using them as a foundation for new adventures, regardless of our present age.

All in all, it has been a pretty good week, bronchitis notwithstanding. I am grateful to God, my family, my ever-present and crazy friends and yes, I am also grateful for my faithful dog Cassie and her kind company when I took to my bed. It is practically summer, my favorite time of year, and there are all manner of reasons to celebrate. Life is exceptionally sweet and I am uncompromisingly grateful.

And yes, I really am becoming quite addicted to my Blackberry. If you're in the market for a way cool phone that can do practically everything but make tea, you should absolutely check it out. Before long, you'll wonder how you ever got along without it.

Oh, and a loyal dog. You really need a loyal dog - maybe more than you need a Blackberry Pearl. Cassie is over ten years old, but she still retains her sense of mischief, silliness and fun. Those qualities are incredibly attractive whether you're a dog, a cat and I know I'm drawn to people who have a natural exuberance, a feisty, fun and adventurous nature. The world seems populated with grown-ups who act way too grown-up. Maybe we all just need to kick back and get in touch with our inner puppy more often. Cassie reminds me of that often. Here's to jumping into the ocean, regardless of what you're wearing.

Happy Summer!!

Friday Night Fun...

2008-05-24T01:27:00.004-04:00

It's not every Friday Night that I get to have dinner with two nice guys. I must be doing something right...or perhaps it was just my usual dumb luck?

We were surrounded by some rather strange diners, but we had a really interesting (and delicious!) meal - It's a wonderful thing to be outnumbered by males! I rather like the lopsided nature of that sort of mix.

Not only was I in fine company, but while David configured my new Blackberry and set up my e-mail account on my phone, Chris extolled me with tales of sailing on the northeast coast. Pretty cool stuff, indeed.

There are caveats to being single - it's hard to double date like this when you're "attached".

However, Karen G., in the Great State of Washington, you are still in charge of due diligence and finding me a sailor. With a boat. Who is single, fascinating, energetic, fit and seaworthy. My nautical future may well lie in your capable hands. No pressure. :-)

And a post script to David Rowe in Michigan/Toronto - you really need to head south but I have to tell you - I think we definitely need to look into sailing that great loop you were speaking of on the phone today. I hope you don't mind if I bring Cassie and Magellan (Libby will love her!). I'll definitely have to talk you into that. It's on my growing list of things to do.

My Wires Got Crossed But I'm Reconnected...

2008-05-18T14:36:00.026-04:00

While enjoying a perfectly lovely lunch at Bluewater this past Thursday with Katie, Sherry and my friend Wayne, I placed my Motorola Razr Phone on the table. It was warm out and the scenery was beautiful as it always is on Wrightsville Beach, however, while we were dining, something happened: Condensation was the culprit. The sad truth is that my Razr got soaked from the drops of water that slipped off our iced tea glasses and onto the table, pooling around my cell phone. Corrosion occurred and that's never a good thing. My phone was rendered dysfunctional. Don't you just hate it when that happens?

What I hated even more is that this necessitated a trip to Alltel which can take longer than time spent in a dentist's chair leisurely enduring a root canal.

My recent visit on Friday took three hours. Not fun. That said, it was cheaper than a root canal.

Naturally, I had to decide on a new phone and I am now the proud owner of a Blackberry Pearl. I'll pause at this point for you to be suitably impressed.

You should be finished by now. I'm trying not to let it change me too much, but it's pretty heady. At some point, I even plan on understanding the applications and what this phone can and cannot do. Any phone that comes with software and it's own USB cable definitely has my attention and maybe even a modicum of my respect. I am not intimidated though - I'd never give it the pleasure of seeing me sweat - I cooly eye it in a kind of "you think you're so smart?" sort of way. With a little applied logic and a few mumbled obscenities, I generally figure things out. It's good to have a system.

Unfortunately, Alltel couldn't transfer my stored contacts to my spiffy new ultra cool blackberry. The next best option was that the young man who took care of me, I'll call him "Larry", as that is what his name tag suggested, would e-mail my contacts to me. True to his word, Larry did e-mail me, however I am sad to report that my contacts were not attached. Where my plethora of contacts are is anybody's guess. My alltel rep took my broken former cell phone and I left without it believing I would see my contacts in an e-mail. I am not happy about this, as you might imagine. Larry, if you're reading this, I'm still waiting. I'm becoming impatient.

I am not, admittedly, a person who enjoys spending a great amount of time on the phone, but I do have a circle of friends that I enjoy keeping up with and I have no idea what their cell phone numbers are. I assign names to my contacts and never took the time to remember their numbers. DUH!

So here is my request. If you are someone that I enjoy a friendship with and we have talked in the past year, I would appreciate it if you would e-mail me your phone number so that I can store it in my new phone. I had a rather large cell phone contact list and I have cordial relations with 99% of my formerly stored contacts. You know who you are.

The other 1% (and you know who you are) were stored in there as well so that I could avoid taking calls from the handful of people I don't really have any interest in talking with and it makes it easier to ignore the call if I know who it is that's calling me. I lost those numbers and "warnings" as well, but if you're reading this and feel you are probably in that 1% portion of stored contacts that I avoid answering - no need to send me your phone number. By the way, if you are in that 1% selection, why in the world are you even reading this anyway? It might be something for you to think about.

Now, on a more positive note, my 'preferred contact list' includes good friends such as Sally, Amy, Rick E., Tim, Steve K., Michel, Mike F., Sharon, Billie, Tom F., Kathleen C., Tom and Myra, Susan and Don B., Alistair N., Ruth J., Jimi Z., Jason M., Mary Ann M., Erik R., Bruce B., Nina G., David C., Cheyenne W., Bobbi L., Glen E., David R., Fast Eddie B., Jules L., Mitch N., and a few more that aren't springing to mind at the moment. If you are on this list, PLEASE e-mail me your cell phone number so I can get you back in your proper "stored" position. I would say call me, but I have a real aversion to answering my phone when I'm unsure who is calling me, but I am finding it necessary at this time and frankly I do it with great trepidation because there are some people who I don't really want to get stuck on the phone with for an hour or so and I don't say that to be unkind, it's just the truth. Of course, I have the essentials - my parents, Katie, Justin, Pizza Hut Delivery, Papa John's, CVS, Dr. B., and Salon Beyond Basics.

Note to Michel in France - when you called Thursday, (in addition to driving, drinking tea and being newly reblonded but you have ridden enough with me to understand that), I was completely unable to answer the call because, while I could hear that someone was ringing in, I couldn't push my own answer button. It was frustrating because I could see it was you calling, but I just couldn't answer the call! Call me back this week so I can store your number and catch up!

I am happy to report that my air conditioning is a cool running machine and I am so grateful to Tom for dropping in last Saturday Night and making some logical suggestions and also to Jason for spending most of last Sunday charging it with freon and working so hard to repair it. It is a great thing to have fine friends and I am richly blessed in that department.

Now, as to the swimming pool, it is still a work in progress, but I believe progress is being made. Pool Specialists came out and are trying to affect a repair of a leak in one of my returns. We're waiting to see if their remedy worked. It's swimming season and I'm in need of some aqua therapy!

We enjoyed a wonderful week with Katie in town. Right after I arrived home from work on Monday, Katie and Justin's dad, Tim, pulled in the driveway and, soon after, Justin walked in. It was great having everyone in my kitchen and catching up.

Monday Evening, Justin prepared dinner for his Dad and Katie in his new apartment and they had a wonderful time being together. When these kids grow up, it's a special treat to get everyone in the same town at the same time and this was a golden opportunity. Tim looked great - I hadn't seen him in something like four years.

After the kids and Tim headed for Justin's apartment, I was able to make my home group Monday Evening and I had a warm and wonderful time reconnecting with my homies and finding out what everyone has been up to. I enjoyed sitting next to my buddy Steve even if he did poke me to introduce myself as a visitor, given how long it had been since I'd visited Rule 62. It was a very special meeting. But then again, I've never been to one that wasn't.

Tuesday Evening, Tim graciously invited me to join him and the kids for dinner at The Oceanic. Katie and I met them at the restaurant around 7:00 (I had already scheduled a trim and re-blonding and it's hard to get appointments!) and we had a really nice evening. It was most generous and kind of Tim to include me as the last time we'd all had dinner was quite a few years ago and under completely different circumstances. The meal was great but the company was even more fun and of course, we took photos before we left the restaurant. It's so strange to imagine these kids are all grown up. Though we have parented from two distant cities as Katie and Justin were growing up, Tim and I both affirmed that we had been blessed and were quite pleased with who Katie and Justin have grown into being. We relived some sweet memories, laughed a great deal and I couldn't have been more proud and even more grateful that we are all close and care about each other as we do. That is a priceless blessing for sure. Such a "GOD" thing. Powerful!

On Wednesday, Tim returned to West Virginia, where he is working hard in preparation of opening up a Direct Buy Store in Cross Lanes. It's a HUGE project and an exciting time for him and, as it turns out, it's going to be an exciting time for Katie and Justin. I was shocked to find out that Tim had extended an invitation to Justin to join him in this new venture. It looks as if Justin will not be lingering long in his new apartment because his father is going to buy him out of his lease and move both he and Stephanie to Charleston to work with him. Not to be left out, it would seem as if Katie is going to work remotely from NYC for her Dad as well. So I guess you could deduce that I was out with one seasoned entrepreneur and two budding aspirants on Tuesday at dinner.

I'm telling you, it was a big news week!

Naturally, this is going to be a big adjustment for everyone, but it's a crazy fantastic opportunity for Justin and Katie. It is going to be the first time that my son has moved away on his own big time. Gulp! My gosh, I'm going to miss him like crazy, as are his grandparents, but there is no way he could or should turn down a chance like this. I guess I might have to actually make a trip north to Charleston at some point in the future and, to be honest, I've never missed West Virginia for two-seconds, but now I'll have family there and I guess I'll be buying some Dramamine at some point for those twisty roads in order to visit my son. He's worth it.

Thursday was hectic. Sherry very kindly gave me the day off so that Katie and I could cram as much time as possible on her last day here. We had lunch at Bluewater with Sherry and our new friend Wayne (a native of "that" state), and then we went shopping and hung out until it was time to drive to Fayetteville late Thursday Night for Katie to make her 1:00 AM train that would deliver her back to Manhattan and John. As you can imagine, I was dreading the goodbyes.

Fortunately, Wayne kindly offered to drive us to the train station and, because of the late hour of departure, I was happy to accept his invitation. Wayne made a great chauffeur but unfortunately, he didn't get lost and we did arrive at the Amtrack Station in Fayetteville in plenty of time for Katie to make her connection. It was hard to say goodbye. It always is, but Wayne was great at keeping the mood light so it wasn't a tear fest by any stretch of the imagination. I behaved but I hugged her quite a few times. Hey, we had a delightful week together and she's happy, healthy and doing so well and her life is now in Manhattan with John and their two cats. I am just so proud of her even if she did have to grow up and move away from home and get all independent on me. It happens.

Except for a small detour around Clinton on the way home, Wayne expertly navigated us back home and I arrived back in Wilmington a little before 4:00 AM. With Justin now moved out, this house has expanded and grown obscenely quiet. Cassie welcomed me back inside and I made my way to bed. Katie sent me some funny text messages on her trip north (my phone could receive text messages even in its altered state). I smiled with every one she sent. And after a couple of minutes, I just wanted to cry again because I missed her so terribly. I still do. Indeed I do.

Friday Morning Katie arrived back in NYC and I sat at my desk and relived the week and wondered how it is that time flies so fast when she's home yet seems to crawl between visits with this sprite of mine. I don't know how that works, but it's painfully true and unfortunately reliable. Oh well, they come, they grow and then they go. It's life. It's good stuff (yeah, right). Life goes on for all of us and the sun still shines.

I went into work for a while yesterday and then hit Barnes and Noble because a book or two are the recommended treatment for the post-Katie blues. After that, my friend kindly treated me to dinner at The Bridge Tender and it was scrumptious. After dinner we went outside and sat by the ICW and traded West Virginia stories. In fact, we closed the restaurant! I got home about 2:00 AM - still stuffed but otherwise in good shape.

So that's all the news that's fit to print! I miss Katie and I'm already in preparation to miss Justin in a couple of months. I like to get ahead of schedule on a few things and realizing my baby is going to be way way out of town will be a challenge for me. However, what a comfort it is to know he's going to be working alongside his father, learning so much and getting to know Tim even better. He'll be well taken care of and in very good hands and of this I have no doubt.

Transitions are happening everywhere and I feel like I'm caught up in this wild vortex, but these are positive changes although I reserve the right for a little maternal sadness now and then. I'm sure we'll survive these relocations and have new stories to share when we do get together about life, adventures and living our collective lives in different cities, yet inextricably intertwined by the love that binds us all.

Note to self: I need a sailboat...this house is really too quiet. My kids have either flown the coop or are in the process of filing flight plans. It's time to take to the sea.

I've just got to find a boat with a ship-shape guy.

(Karen - yes, you Karen G. - I'm assigning this project to you. I'll expect full and detailed reports on your much anticipated and expected progress :-)

Happy Mother's Day...And I Am Just That...A Happy Mother!

2008-05-11T12:37:00.007-04:00

OK, so the air conditioning in the house decided to go on the blink (on a Friday Night, of course, long after the service people had gone home). Naturally, it was like 100 degrees here yesterday.

The swimming pool would be a nice diversion, if it didn't look like a swamp or bad science experiment. It hasn't been confirmed, of course, but there may be alligators in there. We just don't know and no one is courageous enough to get too close, least of all the two pool companies I've called to check it out. They swear they'll be here on a certain day and they don't show up. What is it with pool techs?

The ABS light came on in my car and won't shut off. So now I have a rear driver's side window that refuses to go up and down, and an ABS light that tells me I probably don't have any traction. This makes Katie very nervous to ride with me but I just tell her to be quiet and get over it. My gosh, she lives in Manhattan and riding in a car that may or may not have traction should be a piece of cake, right?

My son moved into his new apartment last Wednesday. I started steaming the carpet of his old room on Friday Night. I am still, as of this writing, steaming the carpet in a quest for the water to go from black to a nice muddy color and hopefully, someday, clear, which will signal for me that I got all of the dirt out of it. Hope springs eternal.

We're under a severe thunderstorm advisory. We're excited because the rain we received overnight cooled the house down to a bearable 80 degrees. Though it still feels like a sauna, it's trending in the right direction.

And do you know what all of the above issues are? Luxury problems. I was in a bit of a snit last night, feeling as if everything was breaking down and dysfunctional, but my Dad came over to me and patted me on the head and said, "Suz, it can all be fixed. It will be fine. Look at the sunny side.".

My Dad is right. My Dad is almost always right. Compared to so many people facing real challenges, mine don't amount to a tiny hill of beans. It is Mother's Day. I have my son and my daughter in the same town. We still have the gift of sharing my parents company, wit and wisdom.
Katie and I had a lovely visit with Justin in his sparkling, well-appointed, tastefully decorated apartment yesterday afternoon. We had tea. We were all laughing and together and enjoying soaking up each other's company.

This morning Katie and I burst into my Mom's room and wished her "HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!!!!!". My Mom smiled her beautiful smile. We laughed, we talked, and then we laughed some more. Oh my goodness we are just so very blessed.

Today is Mother's Day. It is warm, humid, stormy and my family is together. Machines break down, pools turn disturbing colors and sometimes carpet takes a lot of work to get clean. However, the most overriding feeling I am taking from this day is that I am blessed beyond measure and I am just filled with gratitude.

It's nearly impossible to go more than five minutes without a smile in this house. There's generally a cat engaged in doing something cute, a large blond dog napping on her back without a care in the world. The fish are swimming in all five aquariums that are running. Nice words are spoken, memories are relived, iced tea is flowing and blessings spring forth.

I may be too warm, longing for a nice cool swim, and sometimes I wonder why my ABS light won't go off in my car but I know one thing for certain. I feel like the luckiest Mother on the planet. Life is good and I love my family.

Thanks be to God. Oh, and Happy Mother's Day!

It's About Time...And A No-Nonsense Celebrity Endoresement...

2008-05-03T00:53:00.006-04:00

...for a quick update!

Spring is in full bloom here on the coast - and I couldn't be happier. We are gently sliding into my favorite of all seasons - hot, humid, bright, shiny SUMMER! Yeah, baby!

Next week will be a busy one.

But first, some BREAKING POLITICAL NEWS!!!!

Check out this video: Beware: Celebrity Endorsement

OK, so I love Tom Hanks. I thought this was a very respectable, no frills, well-done endorsement that nearly slid beneath the radar. North Carolina's Primary is this Tuesday, 6 May, and it will be interesting, to say the least, to see how the two democratic candidates fare in this southern state that I call home. I have my own preferences on how I would like to see things shake out and I am cautiously optimistic, but in this primary season that has proven to have more twists and turns than a mountain road in West Virginia, nothing is a sure thing. I'll be glued to MSNBC this Tuesday Evening and will probably be engaged in swapping text-messages with my daughter as she watches from her home on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. I'm sure we'll have more than our usual lunch-hour catch up call. I even have dinner decided for that night - I'm going to stop on my way home from work and order a mansion salad with blackened mahi-mahi and two servings of blue-cheese vinaigrette dressing to go. Of course, there will be coffee and probably a quart of jasmine iced tea to go along with it. Tuesday is already shaping up to be a real nail-biter.

But back to news closer to home...

On Wednesday, my son moves into his first apartment. I already miss him but, let's be realistic, it's only two miles away so hopefully it won't be TOO traumatic for me. As for Justin, he's way past excited.

We had a nice lunch today at Henry's and during the course of our meal, I acquiesced the love seat which currently sits in my office (at home) in exchange for his agreeing to take Sylvester and Princess with him to live in his new apartment. So not only will I be out of kids, but my cat population will be cut in half. I'll still have Magellan and Felix and, of course, my big, blond dog Cassie. And of course, with five aquariums, I'll have PLENTY of fish, however, Justin casually mentioned that an aquarium would make a nice housewarming gift. I think there was a hint in there somewhere.

On Friday, 9 May, I will drive to Fayetteville and collect my Manhattan-based daughter, KATIE! She's riding the rail (Amtrack) for a week-long visit. I have been put on notice not to arrive unless there is a LARGE, fresh sweet southern iced tea in the car. Since I don't like to live dangerously, the tea will be ready for her when she arrives. I just can't wait to see her! We're all excited!

How Katie can stand to be on a train for eight hours is beyond my comprehension. She loves "train people". She tells me they're a great group - all of them members of her "I hate flying" club. Nevermind that she could be in Wilmington, on a direct flight from La Guardia, in about an hour and thirty minutes and actually be sitting in our kitchen drinking FRESH iced tea in the time it takes that silly train to get from Penn Station to Philadelphia. I no longer even make a case for how the trip from the airport here in Wilmington is about fifteen minutes (even in Wilmington traffic!), and that the dull trip from Fayetteville to Wilmington is a whopping two hours of some of the dullest scenery I've ever been witness to. Factor in that Amtrack is rarely on time - she herself coined it quite colorfully, "A railroad of lies", due to it's inability to stay on schedule. That matters nothing to Miss Katie. As a card-carrying member of the "Infrequent Flyers Club", she only goes "wheels up" when there is no other alternative, as she will do later this summer when she and John fly to Paris for a week's vacation. But I guarantee you, if it were possible to ride a train through a tunnel beneath the Atlantic, Katie would be first in line for a ticket.

Of course, it doesn't really matter how she gets here or where I have to drive to collect her because, in the end, it's all about seeing Katie and having her in our midst for a glorious week. As I drive to Fayetteville Friday Afternoon, I will remind myself that the trip back to Wilmington will be far more interesting with her delightful and ascerbic company and I'm sure we'll sing to her iTunes, gossip, exchange news and views and, well, it doesn't get much better than that, so of course, I'll be right there in unlovely Fayetteville to meet her as she steps off that silly train and into my hug. Even with gas currently topping out at $3.60/gallon, she's more than worth a tank of liquid gold. You can bet everything you own that I'll be more than thrilled to be her chauffeur.

On Sunday, 11 May, Tim will be coming down and he will be able to see both kids at the same time in the same place! I guess it will be a family reunion of sorts. He will be staying at Justin's new apartment and Justin's excited to host his first house guest. I know both kids will enjoy catching up with their dad.

As for me, I have been working, working and WORKING and loving it. Sherry and I have been moving furniture, rearranging desks, hanging art and making the office feel more casual and down right beachy! Yes, it's still a drug and alcohol assessment office, but it feels more "fun" and while most of our clients are never happy to find themselves forced to consent to a clinical evaluation of their substance abuse, we really do try and make it as painless as possible. I'm lobbying for the addition of an aquarium to the waiting room. I think I'm wearing Sherry down (and plying her with chocolate) so it could happen.

I am happy to announce that I have health insurance! Thanks to Vicki, who patiently steered me toward the best choice, I can now afford to get sick and/or injured, but she advised against it. Even with health insurance, she felt it's still best never to have to make use of it and, quite frankly, I have to agree with her. But I do have to tell you, it's one less thing to worry about at night right before I fall asleep - wondering how I'm going to afford some looming catastrophic illness without health insurance. I'm so blessed that David C. steered me to Vicki. She's been so fun and wonderful to visit with during our many conversations, and several sets of phone tag, that not only did I find a trustworthy broker, but I made a new friend in the process. Not a bad deal at all!

In other medical news, my mother is still in the midst of testing, evaluations and attending various appointments to determine the best course of action for her degenerating spine but, in between all of that, she still has managed to keep fresh iced tea at the ready and there's always wonderful food in the kitchen. I guess it's true that you just can't keep a good woman down. My mother is not only a good woman, but a dynamo. I hope it's genetic.

My father has been busy working on the lawn and the yard looks like velvet. He replaced a couple of sprinkler heads, with the assist from our wonderful neighbor Tom, and so now the sprinklers are back in action and spraying in the right direction, at the right time. I also have a pool specialist trying to find the source of the leak in our pool so hopefully it won't be too long before that problem is taken care of and I'm so ready for a nice long swim.

No luck yet on finding a nice sailboat that comes equipped with a knowledgeable, handsome captain, but hey, it's early in the season. I'm keeping my eyes open and you never know when the right boat might come along. I remain optimistic.

So that's what's been going on in our neck of the woods. I wish I could tell you that I had found the perfect man and been on a string of dazzling dates, but the truth is, my life has consisted of working and tinkering with my aquariums. I haven't even managed to do any real writing in the past few weeks. I have, however, found time to enjoy some fun lunches with friends, make some great AA meetings recently, and I always love meeting our clients.

Actually, I feel so blessed. For the first time in something like FOREVER, even at the end of a long day, I come out feeling so amazed I get to work with a wonderful woman who teaches me something new every single day, and there is this deep sense of peace because I truly do believe that the work we do means something. It's a sense of satisfaction I've never really known before, but for as painful as it often is to have to confront diseases of addiction, miracles can, and do, happen. Seeds are planted.

The clients I see after attending 20 or 40 hours of treatment are often vastly changed from the downcast folks who arrive in our office for their substance abuse assessment and prepare to attend, generally with much trepidation, their first class. Smiles appear and people share during our group sessions of positive changes and they report to us some of the early gifts that living sober can and does deliver. For many of these people, it is essentially a life or death proposition. No one is hopeless. Miracles are possible and probable if we stay the course. Love is a powerful force and in some form or fashion, this is illustrated to me every single day. What a gift. What an abundant, priceless gift.

Bar (N)one - Hillary Rises To A New Low

2008-04-15T01:01:00.011-04:00

Hey Hillary - the regular people just called. Sorry hon, you didn't make the cut, but not for a lack of giving it a sporting, college try. But it's not all bad news - you're still a top contender for the Darwin Awards. Keep your chin up and keep chugging.

Hillary Clinton likes to play games. This past Saturday Night, she played the ever popular "I'm a 'regular person'" primary game, with a bunch of guys at a bar in Indiana". She gave a vivid depiction of a desperate adult caving into peer pressure, not wanting to disappoint the folks gathered round her, chanting in unison, "Hillary! Hillary! Hillary", in typical "Animal House" style.

There was, of course, a positive in all this. Upon closer inspection of the photo, it appears Ms. Clinton is wearing an American Flag lapel pin, so now we know something more about her than we did prior to this alcathon: Even when she's engaged in frivolous festivities, hanging out with the regular guys, she's patriotic about it and I don't know about you, but I believe this is cause for all of us to sleep a little better at night.

Kind of makes you extra proud to be an American doesn't it? Indeed.

I found myself embarrassed for her, which is a far cry from being inspired. There is nothing to admire. There is also no excuse.

She really should know better. She had it all wrong. Most "regular people" don't behave as she did on any given Saturday Night. I bet with a little cajoling by the crowd, they could have easily enticed her into popping off her pantsuit, which might have earned her footage on the next series of "Girls Gone Wild" videos (or would it be "Old Women Gone Ornery", given the AARP affiliation?)

Thankfully, that didn't happen. However, I would wager that if an uncommitted superdelegate had teased her to go topless, that blazer would have been history faster than any of us could say, "I can't drink you pretty".

I fear for West Virginia and North Carolina when she "hits" those states. There are active "white lightning" stills in them thar mountains and goodness knows they love their guns...I can just picture her kicking back with moonshine and trading Bosnian war stories, sitting with the boys on the bank up some creek without a paddle.

Does anyone know where the fat lady lives? It's long past time for her aria.

Hillary, there is no inspiration to be found in your newly debuted barroom broad fantasy. You laid yourself out as a glowing example of a very cheap one. You must be so proud, you regular person you.

I mean, we just don't have enough high-profile politicians willing to take the time on a Saturday Night in order to show us "regular people" how to do shots and behave like an ass, do we? There's nothing like a public display of someone folding to peer pressure.

Watching Hillary Clinton casually knock back a shot of whiskey followed by a beer chaser only confirmed for me what I always knew to be true: this woman would do anything to elicit a vote. I found her barroom behavior offensive, inappropriate and wildly undignified.

Hey, Hillary Clinton does shots, so it must be OK, right? Is this her answer to "anti-elitism"? And also, who picked up the tab? According to your recently released tax returns, you could more than afford it, but you probably wouldn't want to offend any of your new "regular people" homies. Best not to flaunt too much of that pocket change.

Wrong. Horribly wrong. Unconscionable. Despicable. Sick. Unfit for print and too pathetic for publication.

Ms. Clinton was not engaging in social drinking - she cranked it up a notch, as only she can. Ms. Clinton was "social-binging". Way to go, Hillary. What a fine example you set for every young person unfortunate enough to have caught a glimpse of your Saturday Night antics when you bellied up to the bar.

Hillary has transformed herself from the subject of a "Saturday Night Live" skit, into a real-time, real-person joke. Only she's not very funny. Just mostly pathetic with an extra dollop of offensive for good measure.

I guess anything goes and quite frankly, I wish she would. Go. Like yesterday.

Check out this article on the Huffington Post. I was pleased to find that I wasn't the only person disgusted by Ms. Clinton's inexcusable behavior The Huffington Post - "Clinton Downs a Beer and a Bump To Impress the Cool Kids and This Dad's Not OK With That".

Just when I'm sure it's impossible to think less of this woman, she goes and does something that, quite literally in this case, lowers the bar. This time, she managed to do it IN the bar. I hope the phone in whatever room she spent Saturday Night recovering in didn't ring at 3:00 AM because I can't imagine her head was in a very clear place. As for Ms. Clinton possessing anything resembling a social conscience, I can only surmise it must have bolted long before she bellied up to that bar.

Hillary Clinton gives "regular people" a bad name.