Can You Solve This????

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.

Over the Hills and Everywhere...

"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!

They Grow Up Fast...

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.

Let Me Get This Straight...

...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...

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...

"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?