Tales from the mother ship...

Susie Parker-Perry
Originally uploaded by susiewrites.

Oh My Gosh - Forty Freaking Six Years Old! It's 2:39 and I opened my first card that came in the mail - but I got home so late last night from work, I didn't open it until late this evening - just a few minutes after midnight. It was from my wonderful, special, mother-to-be friend Mary. Sweet, sweet, Mary. Thank you so much for remembering me and it really did look as lovely as a daisy!

I got my first wonderful birthday hug from my most favorite and wonderful daughter. And then I got hugs and an E-mail "Happy Birthday" from my parents.

More tomorrow...I mean, later today.

I LOVE birthdays, except for the part where you have to get older. I will let you know how it turns out.

OK, so I might get in trouble for posting this because I haven't requested permission, but I'm going to take my life in my hands and do it anyway. If you see no further posts from me, you will know that this was not a wise decision on my part, but hey, what is Katie going to do, kill me on my birthday?

A couple of weeks ago, Katie came home with an assignment from her English Class - to write about people who have influenced her life. I thought of a thousand different people she might choose for her subject matter, but honestly, that I would be in the line-up never crossed my mind. Katie knows and has been influenced by a plethora of people - many far more interesting and accomplished and talented than I could ever begin to hope to be.

When she casually mentioned that I was one of three women she chose as the subject of her essay, I was completely blown away. I was humbled. I felt unworthy, but so extremely thrilled and grateful. Katie and I have come a long way in 2 years - a tough two years. A lot of fence-mending took place. If you would have told me 2 years ago that I would be cast in a positive light and complimentary manner for ANYONE'S college English paper - I would have laughed and then cried, because I couldn't think of too many positive things that anyone could write about concerning me and still remain non-fiction.

This is probably the finest birthday present any mother, but particularly this one, could ever receive, and forgive me my dear Katie, but I just have to share it. I don't think the other two female subjects will mind, because I know they're pretty honored as well.

Here is what my incredible, precious daughter wrote, in her own words.

Katie Parker

English 111 – D23

January 30, 2006

Three Feisty Women: Life Lessons

Many people have called me a "difficult" woman, and this isn't entirely inaccurate. If stubbornness and confidence make me difficult, then I will take it as a compliment. My mother will say I was difficult from day one when I was born and refused to breathe, but I disagree. I am a product of nurturing, not nature. I come from a long line of feisty women and have crossed paths with many hard-headed females. This isn't to say that my father or grandfather weren’t tremendous forces in my upbringing, but they were not cut of the same cloth as the women in my family. The woman I am, is because of my relationship with three of the most "difficult" people one could ever meet: my mother, my grandmother, and my co-worker, Vanessa.
My mother is first and foremost responsible for my feistiness. It has taken years for me to be able to admit that I am almost exactly like my mother. My parents divorced when I was 11, and although my father has always been part of my life, my mother is the one who raised my brother and me. My mother worked at various jobs to support our family, spending her nights working on her dream of becoming a writer. She finally found success when she landed a job writing a column on single parenting. My mother fought for that column, despite a lack of professional writing experience and no formal training. That column was everything my mother had dreamed of, and she would not take no for an answer. Watching my mother attain her goal taught me that my dreams are worth fighting for. Without the influence of one of the most persevering women I have ever known, I wouldn't be so adamant about attaining my own goals in life.

Although my grandmother can be a very challenging woman, she instilled in me that a good heart is vital. Growing up, we always had lots of pets. My grandmother is not an animal lover. When she thinks nobody is looking, however, she talks to our animals and makes sure they are happy and healthy. To this day she will not admit this fact. My grandmother always had high expectations of me, and although she devoted her life to being a housewife, she wanted me to be more. When I dropped out of college after a year, she began her quest of making sure I returned to school. Everyday she told me how important it was to graduate from school, not to please my family, but to please myself. Had she not pushed me every day, I probably would have avoided going back to school a lot longer than I did. My grandmother taught me that it's okay to be difficult on the outside, but not to allow it to affect your kindness; and that with an education my dreams will be that much closer to reaching.

One of the most influential people in my life is a co-worker named Vanessa. She is incredibly intelligent and assertive. In November of 2004, a fire started in my apartment, through no fault of my own, causing extensive damage. My landlord was livid and expected me to pay for the damages. I came into work despondent; I had lost my home, and now I was going to have to pay for it. When I told Vanessa of my plight, she had her husband look into my legal rights to find out what I had to do in order to avoid paying for the damages. Their advice was what I needed, and I managed to get out of paying for the fire. Without Vanessa in my life, I would never have learned to stick up for myself when I know that I'm right about something.

Society sometimes has a tendency to look down upon assertive women, often labeling these women as “bitches.” When I think about the strong women in my life and myself, I realize we are much more than a simple label. Hopefully our society will one day realize that strength is not a negative quality in a woman.

Katie and I live together, laugh together, and even work together! She is still my daughter, it's just that now she has evolved into being, in addition to more than I could ever have hoped for in a daughter, one of my very best friends. My partner-in-crime. And still the person who can make me laugh most in this world.

I don't know what exactly I might have done right to deserve this kid, but I'm just grateful that God decided to allow her to come into my life and allow me to grow up right along with her.

I love you, Katie.

Mom

P.S. That whole thing about my mother, Katie's Grandmother, being a closet animal lover is absolutely true. Tonight, Katie told me that she had dinner with her grandparents on Saturday Night and that she was a bit puzzled by the whole experience. She sat down to a pizza my Mom had popped in the oven. However, she saw my Mom doing something at the stove and figured there might be more to dinner than just a frozen pizza. Well, there was, but not for any of the humans in attendance.

When Katie asked her grandmother who was going to get the chicken she was obviously preparing - my mother nonchalantly answered, "Cassie, of course.". Katie found that a bit odd. Was it a special occasion? "No, but Cassie likes to have good food mixed in with her dog food - she won't eat her dry food otherwise, so I always fix her something special for dinner.". Katie said this was told to her as if it was a silly question to even ask. Well of course it's for Cassie - God forbid Cassie would have to eat a frozen pizza when she could have fresh off the stove chicken!

I think that means my mother just came out of the closet. Officially. I guess after 82 years, she is finally embracing her animal-loving side. I think it also means that Cassie has eclipsed the humans in this house in terms of "pecking" order and I guess that literally makes her "Top Dog". Well, when you're 82 years old, you really shouldn't have to defend your actions, even if it means you cook dinner for the dog every night while the humans try and get by on cardboard pizza.

What a crazy house we live in. It really is a zoo and the animals are running the show.

It was just one of those days...

...when you just have to laugh and reconfirm your conviction that "truth IS stranger than fiction".

Today consisted of sheer madness, but we laughed a lot in between the waves of wackiness. We always find SOMETHING or SOMEONE to laugh about. For instance, two different, unrelated clients brought two different, unrelated very small dogs. One of these dogs was placed on an empty, expensive, leather stylist chair and the dog seemed to behave as if she was expecting some kind of special conditioning treatment or trim. This tiny dog had this small, pink stuffed pig toy that she proceeded to drop every few minutes - it was fascinating to watch as its "Mom", who was sitting under a dryer as her color processed, would pop out of that chair and run to retrieve the toy and place it back on the seat beside the dog. I watched this for about 20 minutes and every time it happened, I could only roll my eyes. The dog looked rather indignant when the client was having her hair rinsed and unable to see that the dog had, yet again, tossed its toy to the floor. The poor thing had to go a good ten minutes without it's pink pig toy. It never uttered a sound - not even the hint of a growl, but that dog still managed to express her displeasure with our lack of subservience - when we noticed it had peed on the pillow right before "Mommy" picked it up. Now wasn't that too cute? NOT!!!!!!

Let's see, what else. We had one client bring her Mom along for a hair extension consultation - she would require a full head PLUS a pre-coloring so that her natural hair would match her newly bonded hair making the total cost around $1650. And of course, there was a sense of urgency. The young lady, who I would guesstimate was around 21, was set to go on a cruise to Grand Cayman and Cancun in four weeks. Was this for a study program? Oh no, Spring Break! Parteee!!!!! They discussed. The stylist laid out all of the maintenance requirements and restrictions required to keep the extensions looking like new and they read over all of the paperwork and after about ten minutes, they bellied up to the desk and laid over $750 as a down-payment. It turns out that Mom just couldn't say no. C'mon now, how can a self-respecting young lady honestly sail to Grand Cayman without 9 inches of straight blond hair? NOTE TO Katie: Thank you so much for being practical and quite reasonable.

Believe me - I see some things that could curl your hair - which is what a lot of our clients pay good money for; to have their hair curled if it's straight or to have an expensive technique known as "Japanese Hair Straightening", i.e. thermal ionic reconditioning, which permanently straightens hair and takes a minimum of five hours and runs around $100/hour. And then, there are those who feel they simply can't live another day without an extra 4 - 6 inches of hair and, in this instant gratification society we enjoy in the US, for $1500, our stylists (all SoCap Certified), can expertly apply keratin bonded hair SoCap extensions that come in every hue of every color, every texture, and I swear if you were to see someone walk out with our expertly applied extensions, you would NEVER in a million years guess that the person who's head they are attached to didn't grow them.

While the prices at our salon are competitive, it never fails to amaze me that people just walk in and plunk down $1500 to have long hair or $750 to have the hair they already have straightened. Hey, don't get me wrong, I'm glad they do and so is the man who signs the checks! But I guess if you have your heart set on something, you can find the money to get what you want.

Now, I have to be honest, I'm way too noncommittal to ever fork over that kind of money for straight or longer hair because I know that as soon as I'd do it, I would immediately decide that I wanted shorter hair with waves. Having said that, if I truly wanted longer hair, I'd find a way to get it. Gee, I remember back in the day when people who wanted long hair had to actually grow it and wait however long that might take.

Which made me wonder, what would I be willing to pay a fairly large sum of money for that might make someone else say in wild amazement, "Why would anyone pay THAT much money for (fill in the blank)?

Hmmmm...with me, it would probably involve Brite Smile, because I have an unhealthy obsession with preternaturally bright, white teeth. Who cares that my teeth ache after peroxide-based whitening treatments - I pop two advil and sign on for more. I have no idea where this fixation with really white teeth comes from, but I do know that whenever I quiz my friend Vanessa about how she came to possess such amazingly perfect, gleaning teeth, I'm pretty sure she's holding back on me, "I don't do anything out of the ordinary!", swearing that her million dollar smile is simply the result of genetics and clean living. Oh sure Vanessa, like I really believe that!

Or maybe I'd be inclined to spend a hefty amount of money on a new computer and finally break free of Microsoft and take a bite out of an Apple, more specifically, a Macintosh. Yeah, that's the ticket. My daughter LOVES the ibook we bought her for Christmas and is thrilled with her ipod and pretty much rates Bill Gates right down there with all things evil. I do know that Mac's have far superior publishing-based software programs and I must admit that I have been toying with the idea, especially since one of my two Dell Dimension 2350 towers has been in the computer hospital since this past Monday. So far, I have been informed that my registry is screwed up and a lot of my files are positively corrupt! Ouch! I didn't realize I had done anything untoward, but I guess you just never know. I enjoyed reading the Time Magazine profile on Bill and Melinda Gates and I was impressed with a lot of what I read, but when my desktop icons failed to load when I fired up my left Dell tower last Sunday Night, I became rapidly disenchanted with all things emanating out of Redmond, Washington. Microsoft is quickly becoming a four letter word or, at the very least, it inspires me to break out with quite a few choice ones.

But I guess if I just had $1500 lying around, simply BEGGING to be spent, it would eventually wind up belonging to a bookstore, in exchange for as many books as that money could buy. I admit it - I am almost powerless when I walk into Barnes and Noble or surf Amazon.com. I grow weak and one field of interest and all of the books attending it, bleed over into another interest and another and before long, I am mentally calculating the shelf space left in my office and how many books I could reasonably buy without squeezing them in so tight that they are in danger of becoming fused together. Yes, it would probably be books, with a little put aside for lumber so that my husband could erect more book shelves in my office. Or his office. Or our bedroom. Or maybe replacing our exotic finch collection with volumes on "Exotic Finches And The Eclectic People Who Clean-Up After Them And, More Importantly, Why Do They Do It?". Or maybe, "The Dummies Guide To Meal Worm Farming - It's Not As Much Fun As It Looks - What You Need To Know Before Buying That Ranch". Hey, I'd probably buy those books. Wait a minute - I could write those books!

On a positive note, I was more than thrilled to see the first piece I have written since my "Single...With Children" column, published! I had the great privilege of interviewing the regional director of the "Self-Help Credit Union" and I learned so much and thoroughly enjoyed the time I spent discovering who he is and what he does, that I would have (almost) done it for nothing. He was a joy to meet and a pleasure to describe.

I was invited to do two more interviews in the next week and, as you might imagine, I said "yes" before I was completely sure what I was saying "yes" to! I guess maybe I should play it cool and be a little more aloof, but I swear I can't do it. I love writing and meeting new people and describing their lives. I'm actually enjoying the fact that I have a deadline looming! How crazy is that?

OK, OK, OK, so I'm not making enough to "quit my day job" YET, it's a beginning and I am completely beyond grateful.

Now, if you have a little space left on your prayer list, I would ask that you visit the site of a very special little girl: Christi Thomas. I have followed her site for a couple of years, and things have been extra difficult for Christi and her family in the past few weeks. Now, don't visit her site thinking you are going to be sent into a horrible spiral of depression because that won't happen. If you read the journal or a bit of her history, you will risk exposure to inspiration - discovering a family embracing life, living one day at a time - which is all any of us really have, and still finding things to be grateful for and never failing to give thanks to God, for another day, another hour and even another minute. You will smile, you will laugh and you may immediately feel your priorities being reorganized and whispering thanks for all that is good and precious in your life and the lives of those you love the most. It's definitely worth the read.

After reading a few of the recent entries from Christi's blog, and trying to imagine the stress and difficult decisions that have been made, and the decisions that are waiting in the wings, it seems so silly to covet things like hair extensions, straightening systems, hi lites, low lites, spray tans, glycolic peels (and I LOVE glycolic peels and hydra microderm abrasion treatments!), spending time wondering what is the most effective mode for producing teeth so white that you literally need sunglasses just to look in their direction, or even giving too much thought to the pros and cons of changing computer operating systems (Should I stay with Microsoft or walk on the wild side and take a bite out of an Apple?). As fun as any of those things might be or, more pointedly, "seem" to be, I can't imagine a single one of them would be items that would stand out as stellar moments when my end comes near and it's almost time to go. You know, the stuff that dreams, and maybe even last thoughts, are made of.

It is in considering what might "make the cut" and fall into the precious memory file when the sand in my hourglass has nearly slipped away, and wondering how my time might be better spent in making more deposits into my precious memory bank account. Should I be presented with a small window of time to reflect before that final crossing, what components of my life would be worth recollection? Having never been in that situation, and hoping I don't have the chance to find out any time soon, I still think it's worth some consideration and a couple of questions; Is what I'm doing today something I can look back on with pride and satisfaction and feel really good about or, are my present actions something I would never want to revisit and have the potential at some point in the future to make me cringe?

Right now, as long as I'm upright and breathing, I have some choice in the matter and it is within my power to go for the gold or the frivolous. Since I don't know how many more grains of sand remain to pass through, I can't help but think it might be prudent to give the remainder of my time more forethought and maybe even toss in some purpose.

I wonder if this has anything to do with the fact that on February 6th, I will turn a whopping FORTY-SIX YEARS OLD!!!!!!! Kind of freaks me out to think that in four years I will be eligible for membership in AARP. I remember when I used to think 35 was old and 40 was really old. My most overwhelming feeling though, as sorry as I might feel for whatever birthday cake I may be presented with and the number of candles it will be enlisted to support, is that I'm just so thankful to be around to celebrate another wonderful year of life.

Money can buy longer hair, colorful hair, straight, wavy or curly hair, all manner of skin treatments, trips to Paris, dinners on the Eiffel Tower, the best champagne that can lead you to the worst places, newer, faster, futuristic looking computers with a mouse that can click on just about anything your mind can dream up, and then some. But money can't buy extra days for a sick child, or one more year and the chance to load down a birthday cake with even more candles. I want the chance to add a lot more candles.

I love many of the things that money can buy, without apology. But I love the things that money can't buy, even more.

Happy Birthday, Daddy -

"To become a father is not difficult, but to be a father is." ~ Unknown

I always teased my friends, that my Dad was the clone of one Mister Fred Rogers, except, of course, that he smoked a pipe which I don't think Mister Rogers ever did. Other than that, there were always such wonderful similarities between the two men. Both were gentle, loved children and always had time to listen to whatever problem might be weighing on their offspring, or whatever other young people might come to visit for advice. Even if it was during a period of the year when my father was busy closing out his "end of the year" accounting, if someone needed his counsel, or maybe just an ear or even a place to vent their frustration, it was common knowledge that my Dad's room was always open. Even if the angst that needed to be discussed happened at 3:30 AM.

If I had to pick just a few adjectives to describe this amazing, humble, wise and witty guy that I refer to, more often than not, as my Daddy, I could never truly capture his essence with mere words. You'd have to know him to appreciate how special he is, and many, many of my friends, co-workers and even the mailman have had the pleasure of meeting this guy and it never fails, when anyone leaves after having spent time in his company, they come out with a smile and are better versed in computer technology and probably know more about our family tree and my Dad's vast store of genealogical facts on so many families that belong to people who have sought his guidance in trying to track down a stray branch or two.

In my almost 46 years on this planet (February 6th - yikes!), I can honestly say that, though I have seen him on very rare occasions, quietly annoyed or disappointed, I have never seen him express anything resembling anger. That's a rare thing indeed, when you consider that he was half of the team that parented me! Oh, I'm sure I gave his gentle spirit a run for it's money from time to time, but something always told me that, in the end, to disappoint my Dad, to live with the knowledge that I had let him down, was usually enough to keep me from taking things too far. There are a few special people in this world who you just never want to see unhappy or sad, because seeing them content and at one with the world, seems to bolster the rest of us, challenging us lesser mortals to see if we can take a peek through the lens through which they view life, hoping to catch whatever it is they have that makes being in their company, one of the finest gifts life has to offer. Growing up, the worst punishment, the thing I feared most when I knew I'd done something that wouldn't please my parents, was dealing with the fact that I might have let my Dad or Mom down.

My father's nature isn't the result of some pain-free life where things always went smooth as silk. He lost his Mother to breast cancer when he was just 18 years old and faraway on a ship in the South Pacific. Because he was in the process of changing ships and hadn't read any mail for about six weeks, when he finally got onboard the ship he was assigned to and his mail caught up with him, the first letter he read was from a sister who wrote of the family having just returned from his mother's funeral. There he was, alone on a new ship, bobbing on a vast ocean, knowing absolutely no one on board. My Dad didn't even have a bunk to sleep on because the man he was replacing hadn't taken off. I asked him how he handled such news under such lonely circumstances? He told me he found the ship's chaplain and talked with him for a bit, and then he found a corner, alone with his duffle bag and letters, where he read them again and he cried. Every time I imagine my Dad as that young sailor, I get a lump in my throat and I feel tears threaten.

But he moved forward. His sunny disposition stood him well and he went on to meet my mother and on their third date, he proposed. She accepted and they married a few months later after he was discharged from the Navy. Whatever magic was exchanged between the two of them must have been some powerful stuff because, after over 59 years of being married, they still light up when the other one walks in a room. They dote on each other. They still joke and trade good-natured barbs and sometimes as I'm sitting upstairs working on something, I can hear their voices emanating from their bedroom downstairs and I hear the conversations about people they used to know, or maybe some interesting find my father has dug up on his on-going genealogical search.

Sometimes I wonder, after over 59 years, haven't they said everything that can be said? How do they find new things to talk about and laugh? Ahhhh, perhaps therein lies the secret to their marital success - they still treat one another as if the other one is the most important person on the planet. Their affection isn't merely for show because it happens even when the only people in the house are our four cats and dog. They share each meal together. They hold hands when they bless their food. They have somehow mastered the challenging concept of give and take and resolving any looming conflict before it is tucked away only to fester and become an issue later. Festering isn't just bad for splinters.

I grew up thinking everyones parents behaved this way. My childhood was right out of an episode of "Leave It To Beaver" and my parents could have easily passed for Ward and June Cleaver. It wasn't until after I stepped outside the cozy confines of my own home that I realized that many people don't behave this way. There was never any shouting or yelling or slammed doors in our home. The only time I ever heard a voice raised was when my Mom would call my Dad in from the yard to let him know supper was ready and that he had worked long enough. Of course, this meant that I had to learn all by myself how to fight and scrap and be completely disagreeable at times. They sure never bothered to teach me any of that - but somehow I got a pretty good outside education, because I can be fairly difficult and maybe even a little high maintenance from time to time, attributes that can be assigned to neither of my parents. In all fairness, the negative aspects of my persona were not as a result of their parenting. I should come with a disclaimer stamped on my forehead. I can get a little scrappy sometimes, as Katie, Justin or those in my inner circle will readily attest. It's something I work on and though I don't tease myself into believing I will ever be as pleasant and agreeable as those two old-timers downstairs, it's certainly someting to strive for. Progress...not perfection.

Throughout the 59 plus years of my parents union, they have made many moves. I am sure they were born with just a bit of gypsy blood coursing through their veins, because we moved so many times during my childhood - Dad would get settled in a job and then the phone would ring and a better offer would be put on the table, more money, a company car, from a competing coal company and before you could say "But I like it here!", the moving van would be pulling up out front and away we would go. I did seem to inherit that facet of their personality and have taken the tradition to new heights and several different states.

My parents have lived through the loss of my sister, who died unexpectedly in 1973 at the very young age of 23. They mourned, along with her husband, when they lost their oldest daughter. They celebrated a couple of years later, as their son-in-law took a new wife and they graciously welcomed Mary Jane into the fold and let me know in no uncertain terms that she was to be treated with kindness and as a member of our family, because that's how my sister would have wanted it. What an amazing example they were to me - as they have been so many times and they taught me the most important lessons by example, rather than lecture. They lived what they believed and that's pretty powerful.

My parents were there for me when I got married, gave birth to my daughter, Katie and my son, Justin, and when my father retired in 1986 from Hawk's Nest Mining Company, they pulled up stakes and moved to Amarillo, Texas. Why Amarillo? Because that's where their grandchildren were growing up and they weren't about to miss any of that. They followed along to San Antonio, San Angelo, Cleveland, El Paso, Fort Lauderdale, Charleston, SC, back to Amarillo and finally here, to Wilmington. That's a lot of moves in retirement, but they never missed a birthday, a special school function or just the day-to-day stuff that go with raising kids and being doting grandparents.

They saw me through a marriage that started unraveling, and they were right there for me when the final thread was pulled and the divorce was final. They didn't allow me to take time off to feel sorry for myself - they convinced me that my life was anything but over and that I had kids who needed me and I'd better suit up and show up because kids don't take time off from growing up until their parents decide they have it all together. My parents loaned me some of their strength and grit, until I could recover my own.

And just like everything else, they were right there for me when my alcoholism reared its nasty head. As with every other bump and challenge, they loved me right through that and they told me they knew I would be successful with a conviction and sincerity that it helped me believe that I really would be OK. I can't imagine how I could have gotten through those scary first few weeks without their love and support and encouragement. My Dad even attended a few AA meetings with me in those early months and we had to laugh - but then I got a little worried. Most AA meetings are held in churches and my father has a long-running history of falling asleep in church. I could just see him nodding off and maybe even falling forward and then trying to convince the group that he really wasn't the one that needed to be there!

My parents seem to hold to the belief that things will eventually resolve if you just let the person going through the tough spots know that you care and will be there for them, no matter what. Before joining AA, I thought that was a bit too simplistic and their methods never appeared in any of my advanced psychology classes or textbooks. After dealing with my own challenges of divorce, recovery, periods of fear and always second-guessing myself, I have come to realize that their ideas and belief systems work better than the most expensive psychotherapy or latest psychological modalities for treating high anxiety and stress. My parents seem to intrinsically know that generous amounts of love, can see almost anyone through almost anything. Everything is possible if there is love.

I'm almost 46 and still to this day, the thought of disappointing or doing anything to hurt my Mom and Dad is something I want to avoid at all cost. I've seen their track record and I know their advice is 99.9% on target. They've just proven themselves right way too many times for me to question their judgment or advice. They are always my first and second opinion and what they offer always makes the most sense and, of course, it works.

I am such a blessed woman. I still have these two amazing people in my life and I can't imagine landing with better parents. God most certainly was looking out for me when he placed me with them - though he must have had a sense of humor to make such a selection for them in the form of me.

Happy Birthday Daddy. Thank you for sharing so much with us over the years. Thank you for always being there for your family in every way possible. You are one of the coolest 81 year olds on the planet and it's no wonder that women are still trying to take you from my Mom. You can't really blame them, but thank God you are wise enough to know that no one could take care of you, as she does all of us, as well as Mom. Every person in this house is better off because you are always ready with a smile, a joke, a laugh and every now and then, a smart-ass remark or two.

We love you both.

Susie, Katie & Justin

Two Years And Too Many Blessings To Count...

"Well, what is essential about you? And who are those who helped you to become the person that you are? We just don't get to be competent human beings without a lot of different investments from others..." ~ Fred Rogers, Dartmouth College Commencement Speech, May 2003.

On January 12, 2004, I was what is typically referred to as a "bottom". At the time, I was so sure it was the worst place I could ever imagine finding myself. No question, I was at a place that was miserable and unhappy and the landscape looked pretty damn desolate. The good news is that the only place I felt my life could go was up because I couldn't see how things could go much deeper.

I didn't want to be where I found myself. Alcohol had slapped me around and I was at that point where you hoist the white flag and admit you've been licked. As bad as it was, I couldn't have been in a better spot. Normally, admitting defeat isn't something any of us strive for, but there are those rare occasions when admitting you just simply weren't going to win over an opponent isn't a bad thing at all. It can save time and, in my case, it can save live(s).

There's no shame in such an admission of defeat. The shame would be to continue trying to fight something that is bigger, more powerful and deadly than anything you have in your arsenal. The wise thing is to recognize that your ass has been kicked, but good. I made that admission, and I gave up...which shouldn't necessarily be confused with giving in. I didn't give in to alcohol, I gave in to finding a way to get better - The answer, for me, was at the beginning of the alphabet and it began and ended with an "A". While I'm sure there are other routes to sobriety, I'd stake my life on Alcoholics Anonymous, because it saved my life and it continues to make things better.

On January 12, 2004 I had to admit to my parents, my daughter, Katie, my son, Justin and hardest of all, myself, that I was an alcoholic. It was such a painful, embarrassing thing to have to do, but it was also essential. I can't speak for what any of them were thinking at the time, because I was too overwhelmed trying to deal with what was in my head, much less what was running through their minds. I think we were all sort of shell-shocked. At least, I know I was.

My then 17 year old son, Justin, took me to my first AA meeting and I was beyond scared to death. I didn't want to go but something told me I couldn't afford not to and I was compelled to give it a try. I had no idea what to expect. The conversation between us on the drive to the meeting was very stilted. I mean, how awkward can it be to have to take your Mom to an AA meeting? How awkward it was to have to ask your son for a ride! I felt so heavy on the way to the church where I attended my first meeting - like everything was weighing so heavy on my shoulders and I just couldn't see a silver lining in anything. I was doing well to deal with the moment I was in and I wasn't dealing all that well with just one minute. I know that inside I was trembling as I got out of his car.

One hour later, I felt like the weight of everything I had been carrying while, not quite taken off my shoulders, was certainly much more manageable and I had something I hadn't felt in the longest time - I felt hope, and it didn't come from a bottle of expensive wine.

I can look back on that first meeting and smile because I know where it lead me and continues to take me and I know it's safe to believe in what the twelve steps can do if we follow a few small suggestions. The results can be nothing less than miraculous and I do feel like a living, breathing, smiling, laughing, blessed miracle.

The first few meetings were a little foreign to me, but my gosh I was astonished at the many people I was meeting with 1, 2, 5, 10, 20, 30 years PLUS of sobriety under their belts. In AA, they say, "Stick with the winners!", and I saw lots of winners.

Over the course of the next two years, I have been through more changes than there is room to write in this small space. I've had to explore how I got to that low point that brought me into the rooms of AA, and I had to go back and revisit some very painful things in order to make peace with my past. Such a process is known as a "Fourth Step" and it's one of the most talked about, dreaded and delayed steps of the twelve. I know I put my fourth step off for a time - but eventually, with the gentle encouragement of a good sponsor and the right direction, you find your way there and you do the work that will take you to the other side and the other side is worth the work necessary to take you there.

I did my Fifth Step, which is deeply connected to a Fourth Step, at a restaurant downtown (Yes, it really was named "Hell's Kitchen!"). On a warm, summer evening in July, my sponsor listened as I went through my past and owned my part of all the things that I could remember that were instrumental in my evolution as an alcoholic. This involved a lot of writing, a lot of honesty and the rose-colored glasses had to be tossed out. I'd dreaded this step for the longest time, but my very wise sponsor knew it was essential that I get this out of the way sooner rather than later. She was so very right.

Like so many other people who spoke of fretting and dreading their fourth and fifth step, and then spoke of the peace in finally going through the process, once again, I realized first-hand that it was true. Good things come from hard work and honest introspection and apparently it's true that "Confession is good for the soul", because, as stated in the Fifth Step, "Admitted to God, to ourselves and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs".

Each step seamlessly paves the way for the next one and some how, some way, it all works if you work it. I don't believe in magic. I do believe in divine inspiration and I am one of those who do believe that AA is a divinely inspired program - for me, there's no other plausible explanation for it. I continue to believe in it, to work the steps and the steps continue to work.

Huge changes followed my joining the club. It was, by no means, easy street because most of it has been hard work, but the rewards have been mighty and numerous.

As I mentioned, January 12, 2004, I had to sit before my son and daughter and admit to them that I was an alcoholic. My son was initially compassionate. My daughter couldn't make eye-contact with me for several weeks and then there was a level of anger and resentment that both she and I had to work through on our own and, at times, collectively. I felt like a failure - as a daughter, a mother and a former wife. Katie felt that I deserved to feel like that and I know, though she never verbalized it, she couldn't have been proud to have me for a Mom in those early months of 2004.

It took a while for things to work out - there was no instant fix and all of the credibility, respect and trust I once enjoyed, didn't automatically return simply because I was suddenly attending AA meetings and falling asleep with a Big Book in my hands every night. It took work. It took time. It took love. It took God. But eventually, it really did start to return. I had to give my family something to believe in and that meant staying the course and apparently changes were happening inside of me that even I didn't notice but, after a while, my family started noticing them. I changed from the inside out and that takes longer to process than peroxide.

This past January 12, 2006, I attended my Thursday Night meeting at what is now my "home group". The first time I walked into that meeting two years ago, I felt like a stranger in a strange land and I was both. Now when I walk in that room, and many others, I see friends and smiles are exchanged, jokes are shared, laughter is easy and it is like walking into the living room of a warm and inviting home where I feel loved and I know that I am welcome. I am among my AA family who are, in many ways, as much a part of my life as my biological family is.

As I sat there this past Thursday, I couldn't help but remember the events that had taken place two years ago to the hour and how, at just about the same time as this meeting was about to begin, I was facing my son and daughter and telling them that basically their mother was an alcoholic. I could barely say the word back then. I was ashamed of it and I hated making that admission. I have absolutely no problem whatsoever saying it now - and I'm not in the least bit ashamed of saying I'm an alcoholic.

A few minutes after the meeting began, I looked up to see none other than Katie and Justin. My heart absolutely soared and I felt so happy. You have to understand that an AA meeting might feel like home to me, and while I now enjoy an enormous measure of support and kindness from both of my kids, sitting through an hour long AA meeting just isn't their "normal" scene. But there they were - my ducks, my ducks were all in a row; Justin sitting beside Katie sitting just one seat away from me. I felt goosebumps - only this time, the really good, happy kind.

After the discussion part of the meeting was over, it was time to hand out chips and my very special, wonderful sponsor took over. "Is anyone celebrating 30 days of sobriety? 60 days? 3 months? six months? One year? How about 3 - 7 years? 7 - 20 years? 20 - 70 years?" She purposefully skipped over 2 years - she said some very lovely things and I got up and accepted my 2 year medallion to warm claps, clasps and a big hug from my sponsor. As she was hugging me, I looked over her shoulder and I caught the eye of both Katie and Justin, who were smiling and clapping and I was so grateful to share this golden moment with these two precious kids of mine. I had tears in my eyes - the joyful kind - the grateful tears of someone who was given a second chance, a lot of love, tons of support and the Grace of a very loving, generous God.

Before I left for my meeting that same night, my parents called me into their room. I joked and asked them if I were grounded because they looked very serious! My Daddy, who has kept a diary of every single day of the past almost 46 years, opened his 2004 diary up to January 12, and he read from his diary about what a difficult day it had been on me and our family - and how worried both he and my mother were about me.

He looked at me and said, "You know, two years ago, you thought it was the end of the world, didn't you?". Indeed I did. That's exactly what I felt like. Bleak, dark and pretty much hopeless. He told me of how hard it was for he and my mom to see me at such a low place and, being a parent, I can only imagine how they felt because I know how I feel if something, anything, makes Katie or Justin sad and scared. I felt both of those things that day. I wasn't simply Katie and Justin's mother - I was Barbe & Maxine's daughter. They were so very worried and concerned. Alcoholism truly is a "family" disease and yes, sadly, the family can sometimes suffer as much, if not more, than the patient.

"But it wasn't the end of the world, was it? Your Mom and I want you to know how very proud we are of you and how far you have come. You have done so well and we love you very much.". And with that, he handed me the keys to his 2005 minivan which had less than 8,000 miles on it and told me not to even think about arguing the point. He had been to the dealership and bought a white 2006 Chrysler Town & Country moonbeam - an almost identical replica of the one they just gave me. "Don't argue with us! We both want you to have it - you're all we've got, we love you and we are going to do this. Period. End of discussion. Now get out of here, you'll be late for your meeting.".

I was stunned. I was beyond stunned. And yes indeed, I am blessed.

Thank you Katie, Justin, Mom, and Dad I love each and every one of you with all of my sober heart.

And a special thanks to Bill Wilson and Dr. Bob, for giving people like me, a place and a way to grow and get better. Most of all thanks to God, for making them both such hopeless drunks that they had no place else to turn except toward a Higher Power.

The Big Book said that things would get better. The Big Book was right, and so was Fred Rogers when he observed that we don't get to be competent human beings without a lot of different investments from others". My kids, my parents, and yes, even my former husband Tim, my sponsor, and so many wonderful friends present and past who, through the years, took a chance and "invested" in me. I'm going to try very hard and work diligently to give each of them more things to be proud of and less reasons to cringe. I want them to have a high return on their investments in me. I want to make them proud and serve as well as I am capable.

Katie, thank you so much for this card and this challenge - to "do one thing every day that scares you.". I've had a few experiences of doing just that. Remember when Christopher Robin said to Winnie The Pooh, "Promise me you'll always remember: You're braver than you believe, and stronger than you seem and smarter than you think." That is so brilliantly simple and stunningly true. Most of the time, the hardest, most frightening part of all, is believing it..fortunately, that doesn't make it any less true.

We Interrupt This Blog For The All-Important WORD OF THE DAY!

What's life without a lot of interesting words and isn't it convenient that the English Language has so many fantastic choices?

Though English can't be categorized as one of the "romantic languages", I love it all the same. While it may not be as provocative as French, or as sensuous as Portuguese, I'd still stack our American Brand of English against just about every other contender save the French and those crazy Brazilians.

Maybe I'm just prejudice, but I love all of our choices, our regional accents and eccentricities and how lucky we are to share the same core of language within our vast country, yet still have the ability to infuse a bit of regional touches and tags. I'm not terribly fond of what I hear coming out of New Joisey, but the rest of New England, including the zany, loopy properties of a proper LooongIsland . It always makes me smile as do many natives of that tiny strip of island bearing the same name.

So I have decided to start 2006 with one of my most favorite websites - and it delivers...literally! Everyday in my E-mail box, I get an E-mail from "Dictionary.com" with, what else, The Word Of The Day! It's like a gift to start off my day with and even though I have seen or heard most of the offerings, I always learn new applications and derivations that I was completely unaware of. I make it a point to use it a few times, either in conversation or writing, and before you know it, I have a new word in my growing collection of words that I love to use and mostly understand.

Check it out - WORD OF THE DAY. By the end of the year, your vocabulary could be 365 words more powerful than it is right now. You can use all of these new words in proper context to impress your friends, dazzle your dogs, confuse your cats!

Oh, I have much to write, but I have to write for a while and it doesn't involve a blog. I have so much to share and I miss my blog - but I intend to uncover some discipline in the next few days and write of all of the events of the past few days - a complete overhaul and reorganization at work, my son's new pool table and how it may be impeding his search for a new job, trying to understand how one of my coworkers, in reading his bio, seems unable to write or spell past a third grade level and wondering how he's made it through life without knowing how to type or understanding the magic of spell check. I also need to write about our New Year's Eve in Charleston, South Carolina and why the Rutledge House Bed and Breakfast somehow lost a bit of its charm since the last time we stayed there...personally, I think it's Norm. Norm is about as people friendly and interesting as a very sour, dour, piece of cheese that even the French wouldn't find appealing. I want to write of the recent WV Mine Disaster and the rollercoaster ride those families rode as they waited to greet their family members following unexpected news of a rescue of survivors, only to have their hopes completely dashed, save for one. I want to write about what a classy gentleman Homer Hickam truly is and how proud he makes me feel to be a fellow West Virginian, even though most of the time I generally outright lie and pretend that I'm really from West Texas. Listening to Homer Hickam's wise commentary and observations throughout this horrible mine explosion debacle, has made me feel a sense of pride in being a mountaineer that I wouldn't have believed possible.

I want to write about what it feels like to be a mere week away from collecting my two year sobriety chip. I want to express how much it will mean to have my kids in attendance as I collect that blue plastic chip that looks so inconsequential but marks a two-year sea change in my sober, albeit small, life. I want to make my kids finally feel maybe a little proud to have me for their Mom - I'd settle for one-eighth of the pride I feel to have them as my children - my very grown-up children.

Mostly, I want to write. I simply want to write. My day job is impeding my inspiration and sometimes I feel as if my desire to focus on what I love doing best, waning and, along with it, any talent I might have once thought I possessed. I come home from work and I feel so completely spent and depleted that the last thing I want to do is spend time in front of my computer wondering exactly when my mind started evolving into mush. Years ago I used to believe it was continuous episodes of watching "Sesame Street" when I noticed one day that I turned the program on and my pre-school kids were out of the house. It never bothered me to find myself tuning into "Mister Rogers Neighborhood" on days the kids were involved in other activities because I always felt better for being in the presence of Fred Rogers. It was true when I was 12 and it's still true at the age of 45.

No, it wasn't "Sesame Street" that turned my mind to mush. Personally, I think it's either the CFC's that fly out with the hair spray, or maybe it's that smelly perm solution. I haven't truly pinned it down just yet. Maybe, I'm just tired. Maybe I need some hope. Maybe I am nursing some regrets - wistfully looking back on all the time I wasted when I could stay home and hone my craft and wishing I had the chance to do it all again.

I wonder if regret honestly serves any purpose with positive results? Should I be regretting that I sometimes have regrets?

Maybe I need to find something to hang onto that will allow me to believe that my present situation won't evolve into my "forever". I don't think it will, but there are days when I get a little scared. I'm human. It happens.

I could use some inspiration and, for as much as one can find on the Internet, I think inspiration is borne from other sources and most of them probably spring from within.

And yes, I want to write about spring. I need some spring.

Right now, I probably need some rest.

More later. There's so much more.

The Gap Kid Who Had Other Ideas...

Like most parents, I had this preconceived notion that I would probably produce "Gap" Kids. You know, the kind that gravitate toward navy blue plaid skirts, button-down collared oxford shirts, knee socks and Bass loafers with no visible scuffs. I figured my kids would pop out in preppy mode.

I should have known when Katie popped out and refused to follow the rarely mentioned, but essential rule that she would actually breathe upon arrival in the delivery room, well, after I got over the terror of her delivery room prank, that I was in for an interesting adventure. I mean, she was two weeks late, and you would think, at the very least, she wuold have the decency to do the one thing that is expected of every baby that crosses the great divide between inutero and insanity; Was it really too much to ask that she just...breathe?

But that would set the tone. Katie has always done things her way. It made no difference to her if I had been waiting for 9 long months to hold her and do all that stuff the baby books alluded to. Katie had her own ideas - right from the start. In a rare display of consistency, she has remained faithful to that tenent. She has strong ideas and principles and she's not afraid to defend them.

My daughter easily mastered the rudimentary skill of breathing, but she has taken my breath away on more than a few occasions in the finest way possible. Mostly, I'm just in awe of her resolve, her powerful presence and the confidence with which she lives her life. Laid-back is not an adjective I would ever use were I asked to describe my daughter. There simply aren't enough descriptives.

Yesterday at work, I walked in to find several of my coworkers huddled around the computer monitor. Did something happen? Was there breaking news? What was the object of everyone's attention? As it turned out, one of Katie's friends had pulled up Katie's "My Space" site and, apparently, Katie had uploaded some new photos. Some I had seen before, but there were a couple that were new to me.

There was Katie - staring back from the monitor. It was a beautiful photograph and I finally understood the reason for their gaze. Katie works part-time at the same place I do, though she has been with the same group for four years. This is her territory, her turf and although I work there full-time, much to our collective chagrin, Katie can run that place with her eyes closed and both hands tied behind her back. She knows what I'm looking for before I ever ask for it. I may put in more hours than she does, but there's no doubt in anyone's mind that she's the brains behind the operation.

I am grateful for my job and I've learned quite a lot. It couldn't have come into my life at a better time and it is because of the kindness of a dear friend that I am there at all. But it's hardly career stuff. Truth is, I'd rather be writing. However, sometimes economics rears it's ugly, uninvited head and wouldn't you just know I've grown accustomed to having a roof over my head and, after five years, I kind of love my house. I have never lived in the same place five years, so somehow it's become home. Given that my mortgage company expects to be paid every month, Dan and I have had to pool our resources for those silly little essentials like food, shelter, petrol and insurance. Of course, I only ask him about six times a week if he can promise me that we might be in a position where I could write full-time, next year. Lovely man that he is, he always smiles and says "Absolutely. Of course you will. This is just temporary.". He realizes that this answer will satisfy me for a few hours, until I ask him yet again.

Can't blame a girl for trying.

In the meantime, I work in the world according to Katie. Almost imperceptibly, as we (well, she, not me) grow older, I feel our relationship moving more toward that of trusted friends, and perhaps what we have between us has less to do with authority - though, to be perfectly honest, I think any position of authority I might have imagined was more illusion than fact - something that Katie allowed me to feel.

From early childhood on, my no-nonsense daughter had her own ideas about how things should be. More often than not, she was exactly right. Maybe I managed to nudge her in the right direction, and talk her onto an airplane or two - which was fortunate and practical because, much as we might have wanted to, we couldn't stay in France forever.

At 22, barely 5 feet tall and maybe 108 lbs., Katie has grown into a beautiful, dazzling young lady. So lovely, in fact, that her co-workers and friends stop in their tracks to closely examine her photos on a computer at work. Of course, I had to go along with the consensus. My daughter is exquisite, both physically and maybe even more incredible in terms of intelligence and that force of a true spirit that seems to cast a glow on things both internal and external.

I could not rightfully take any credit for all of the accolades, even as I tossed in a few of my own. Katie was at class as we were fawning over her latest offerings and it was a good thing, because Katie would have broken such non-sense up in short order and reminded everyone that it was a salon and day spa we were running – not a photography class. And to be honest, for her to make such a statement would have been vintage Katie, the Katie we have all come to love and hold so very dear – the tiny, yet powerful, pixieish little “tornado”, (she has the tattoo to prove it!), has so much more going on than meets the eye.

My daughter is a lover of art, writing, all things history, European and otherwise, music, sociology, psychology and philosophy. She loves exchanging ideas but she doesn’t like plugging in formulas or memorizing math computations. Math just isn’t her bag. She hates air travel as well, but she doesn’t all that to hinder her desire to discover the world. Though only 22 years old, she’s already visited France, the UK and Ireland, where she was installed as an au pair and lived with a wonderful family and their three children. It was a great experience and the opportunity to live with an Irish family and work within a new culture appealed to Katie on so many levels.

My daughter loves shopping at thrift stores and consignment shops, wears heels that I would easily break my neck in, and changes the color of her hair more times than a chameleon changes color. This daughter of mine, when she agreed to be my maid of honor, surprised us all (shocked, really) by having certain strands of her hair tinted fuchsia. Now I have to ask you, how many people do you know who could pull off fuchsia hair, not to mention a beautiful skirt of the same color, and look good doing it? Clearly, this is not the stuff of Gap. I’m not sure The Gap even acknowledges the color of fuchsia. It seems too removed from khaki. No, Katie is not a Gap girl. We like it that way.

Katie has been my anchor. She has told me that Justin's not nearly as "out there" as many of her friends near the same age. She tells me his actions and decisions are pretty typical. She looks me straight in the eyes, especially when I feel most addled, and says, "Mom, Justin is going to be just fine. You'll see.". And of course, I cling to those words and her prediction. Knowing Katie, I think if she truly were concerned, as close as she and her brother are, she would shoot straight with me. At least, I'd like to think so.

The bond she shares with Justin runs deep and they truly are each other's best friends. It pleases me, this close relationship they share, and makes me wonder what it would have been like had my sister lived, but of course it could never have been quite the same. There's only 3 years and 3 months that separate Katie and Justin - and there were ten years between my sister and me. I'd still have loved to have had a sibling or two. Sometimes it's so puzzling to me when I hear of people who say they "no longer communicate" or have nothing to do with their sisters and/or brothers. I find that so sad. What could be so horrible that you couldn't work through it and get on with the fun of being siblings and sharing funny stories about what a dysfunctional childhood you had? Oh well, there's a lot I don't understand.

On August 26th, 1983, I was presented with a beautiful 6 lb., 14 ounce daughter and gosh I've loved helping her grow up, just as she's helped me grow up on so many occasions. Katie didn't turn out to be The Gap kid I always imagined. She's way too quirky for that cookie-cutter nonsense. Me? My closet could have a Gap sign hung on it because The Gap is well-represented, as are Doc Martens of every shade and style.

I go out of my way these days to avoid my favorite store because it's just too hard to peer through the windows and imagine what it used to be like wandering the aisles and touching the t-shirts in all of those luscious colors. Fortunately, most of what they sell is pretty timeless (i.e., boring), so at the very least, no worries about being "trendy", but then again, I never was. I hope someday I can visit and buy a few things, guilt-free. Until then, I have only to walk to my closet and, if I try really hard, I can simply pretend I'm in a fitting room with a lot of familiar looking clothes. For now, it's more important that I make sure I have a closet and a house to shelter my collection. You know, that dreary part of being an adult that requires one to have priorities. :-)

I guess this is my way of saying a huge thanks to Katie for keeping it real and never allowing life to get boring. I guess it's just like in the song James Taylor sings,

Once you tell somebody the way that you feel
You can feel it beginning to ease.
I guess it's true what they say about the sticky wheel,
Always getting the grease.

I know it sometimes seems as if I'm all caught up in trying to figure what's going on with Justin and that's because, well, I kind of am! I can remember few times you've been the "sticky wheel" so there you go - that's why you haven't received any grease, but please accept my gratitude for being everything I could possibly want in a daughter - and please feel free to keep reminding me that it's all going to be just fine.

I love you tons. We all do, more than you will ever know.

And The Little Child Shall Lead Them...

Justin and Cassie beside new tree-2-1205
Originally uploaded by susiewrites.

"There is no normal life that is free of pain. It's the very wrestling with our problems that can be the impetus for our growth." ~ Fred Rogers

"It's all about friends, it's all about love and having someone you know you can trust. We're in this together, it's all about us... Hold onto to the good things..." ~ Shawn Colvin

And so it is...the season of hope...so much hope and I've got a well-spring of it. I still stumble, I occasionally fall, but I do know how to get back up again. Sometimes the road is clear and free of debris and feels just like a golden path really should. Other times, things appear so murky and obscured in fog, but I just have to hold on and trust my compass - discard that artificial horizon and trust that I'm still upright and making progress.

I am grateful for many things, even though I still feel twinges of fear as my kids navigate their way toward maturity and adulthood. I just have to trust they'll find their way and remember that I'm still finding my own. Making more meetings helps because the energy exchanged with others in recovery is so palpable and potent and most times I walk out of an AA meeting feeling as if I've been given a spiritual booster.

Last Saturday, Justin asked me if I would be interested in tree shopping. Yes! Yes! Yes! We needed something light, fun and seasonal.

First stop - depositing my paycheck. Justin drove to the bank and as he approached the drive-thru, it was then I realized that I had left my check at home. Oh well, it could wait. We were hungry with fajitas on our mind. We needed a Chili's fix and pressed on.

After lunch, we realized that we were in the same plaza as K-Mart and the Optimists Club had set up a tree lot. First we trekked into K-Mart and after about five minutes, Justin was ready to bolt but not so fast. I made this guy, I like to think of it as "encourage", walk down every aisle of Christmas decorations...though I tried my best to skip anything hinting of Martha Stewart. We're not huge fans.

After spending a small mint on lights, ornaments and one poinsettia, it was onto the tree lot. Nevermind that we had a perfectly adequate 7 1/2 foot artificial tree that was only 3 years old and barely used. Justin and I love live trees and I have no idea how we ever came to possess an artificial tree in the first place, but we didn't let that stop us from walking through a forest of recently cut evergreens and finding about ten that we found to be perfect.

Finally, we both wound up staring at this gorgeous 10 foot Frazier Fir and it had our name written all over it. Justin ran and alerted the guy in charge and before we could change our mind or wince at the price tag, the gentleman had the tree on the really cool contraption that nets the whole thing up and was asking which vehicle would be taking it away. Fortunately was driving his Blazer.

A very long Christmas tree
Originally uploaded by susiewrites.

After lots of rope and a little adjusting, the tree was soon atop the truck and off we went - headed for home and an evening of decorating - "Christmas Vacation/Griswold Style".

Justin had already fished out the lights from the garage and found the video - so after a bit of rearranging, a few photos and some popcorn, Justin built a fire in our Vermont Castings Wood stove, hung six stockings on the brick wall behind the wood stove and directed us to find our places - sitting amid boxes of decorations, warm with the glow of the fire and even warmer in the glow of being a family.

.

I hardly ever make it through a movie without eventually falling a sleep, but after I finished some popcorn, I looked around and I felt completely blessed. Everyone in that room wanted to be there - Justin coordinated the entire evening. I ran upstairs at one point to retrieve a battery or bulb or something, and I overheard my son make a comment downstairs that stopped me in my tracks.

"You know, if we had more evenings like this, I'd never think about getting high. I love nights like this - it's the best. We should have more evenings like this...".

I wasn't sure I heard him correctly, so when I came back downstairs, I asked him what he had said a few minutes earlier. Justin repeated his statement without reservation or hesitation. I looked around at the mass of clutter, the boxes, the strings of beaded garland, the half-decorated tree and felt the heat of the fire he built which, by now, was putting out so much warmth we had to open one of the patio doors.

Our living room was hardly photo-op material - "Southern Living" or "House Beautiful" wouldn't give us the time of day, but who needs a second opinion? I took it in because it contained three of the most precious things in my life; my son, my daughter and our animals. So what if there was scattered, mismatched decorations, a couple of cats eyeing the tree, or a coffee table with empty soda cans and spent bowls of popcorn? This evening, this gathering, this ritual, I wouldn't have taken anything for it. This was an early Christmas present and I can't imagine anything close to the treasure, the gift, really, of being with people who make my life completely crazy and rich beyond anything I deserve.

I guess Christmas isn't really a ten foot Frazier Fir, or shiny ornaments or brilliantly colored lights. It's looking around the room and seeing people who, merely by their presence, make you feel as if your heart could surely burst - because of the love exchanged that makes up for mistakes, miscalculations and missteps that are part and parcel of being human. And even though you know that there will still be times these people you hold so dear will get around to driving you nuts and worrying you into gray hair and wrinkles, you wouldn't trade them, or moments like a special evening, for anything the world could possibly offer.

Katie. Justin. Pops. Granny. Princess. Sylvester. Tabitha. Cassie. Even weird Felix. I love you more than you will ever know.

Yes, Justin, let's have more of these evenings. The next time I tell you that I have to do one thing or another - nag me until I get the point and remind me to thank you.

Christmas tree 2005

Christmas tree 2005
Originally uploaded by susiewrites.

With an aviary above and cats down below - It's a toss-up as to what might wind up in this tree...There is never a dull moment in this house. Oddly enough, it all feels perfectly normal and I love it all. Hey, before the season's over, I might wind up in that tree.

The Gang's STILL here :-)

Justin - Thank you for sharing your birthday with us and having dinner tonight with your adoring family. We love you so much and we hope that this next year is filled with many happy moments, accomplishments and lots of opportunities to stretch your mind and laugh and smile. I'm so very proud of you. We all are. I thank God that he found a way to give me such an exquisite present, and I am honored to be your Mom.

Susie, Katie and Justin - Sea World - San Antonio, TX

Susie, Katie and Justin - Sea World - San Antonio, TX
Originally uploaded by susiewrites.

Hey Nineteen, Justin! Happy, Happy Birthday my favorite son. A few hundred days have passed since we did the Sea World Texas adventure and I have no idea how time could have flown so fast because it seems as if you should still be this impossibly blond, impish, irascible, charming but full of mischief little guy that I couldn't take my eyes off of, because to leave you to your own devices, all manner of chaos could easily break out, and also because, you captivated my heart, "from the moment I first saw you...the second that you were born. I knew that you were the love of my life, quite simply, the love...of my life.", in the words of Carly Simon.

Since your humble beginnings as a young tumbleweed in Amarillo, Texas, you have grown up and staked out such a huge claim in the hearts of those blessed enough to share your bloodlines, or to this particular Mom who knew I was in for a wild ride when you chose to offer me two full days of intense back labor before making your grand entrance on a Friday Night in Northwest Texas Hospital.

I clearly remember the first time we locked eyes and I knew you had me wrapped around your finger.

I remember so many times I have tried to discipline you, to affect a stern voice or steely serious demeanor, only to melt into a smile or a laugh because you would always fix me with a grin and for the life of me, I would find it impossible to be as strict as we both know I should have. You had the uncanny ability to talk yourself out of trouble and right into another scheme destined to land you right back in hot water. We've gone a few rounds, haven't we Justin? I think the count would clearly illustrate that you bested me more times than not.

While you have certainly sprouted up and filled out in impressive, sinewy muscles and flat abs, the real measure of your growth, of anyone's for that matter, is how you have grown on the inside.

Justin, I always loved your white blond locks, those ocean blue eyes and adorable nose, but it is your heart I find myself most in awe of and so dearly precious. You try, at times, to make us believe it's temporarily disconnected, but we know better because we know you.

It would be impossible for you to comprehend, to really know deep down inside, how dearly loved you are by those of us who know you best and get on your nerves the most. The word "adore" simply doesn't touch the feelings and high regard felt by your Pops, Granny, sister, Dan and me.

The other evening when you and I were experiencing a not-so-easy detente, I racked my brain as to how I should approach you. When you and I knock heads now and again, I feel so empty and sad and I wish so much for the little guy who used to think I had the answer for everything. Of course, it was inevitable you would realize this was not the case and you found out in some important ways that I am profoundly human.

I remember a time about 23 months ago, when it was you pacing the floor and wondering if I was OK. It should never have been that way, but now and again it was and I will always hate that I put you through that angst. But you loved me through a very challenging time and you never turned your back on me. I want you to know that I would never turn my back on you. I want you to know that you have a permanent place in my heart.

So you have seen me stumble and you had a ringside seat for the fall, but it is because of the brand of love you afforded me that I was able to get back up and get better. When it was my turn to pick up that coveted blue one year chip last January 12th, the thing I remember most is that you were right there beside me and I couldn't have felt more proud because I know that particular venue wasn't exactly "your scene". You joined me anyway. You made that night so extra special.

We have grown, you and I, and it is because of the challenges and stumbles and occasional bad decisions that being human affords us the opportunity to make. Most of the time, we learn from them and move forward much better people.

You are in the middle of a period in your life where you are invited by your peers to try everything. The problem is that everything isn't always a wise decision and I know that you, just as I did, have to make some of those painful mistakes to figure out the right way to live your life. You are navigating uncharted territory and most of the time you get it right. However, even during those times we find ourselves in the role of adversaries, and even when it feels as if my primary role in life is to rain on your parade, I think you know deep down inside what is right and what is wrong, and that all I want for you is the very best because you are one of the very best parts of my life. If I seem over-protective, it's because I am. I'd take a bullet for you any hour of the day. My role is still that of maternal GPS and though you might prefer I turn the switch off, there is no switch and I'd break it if there was. I'll never ever stop looking out for you.

I hope you have a wonderful birthday. I hope this next year is full of great things and I know you have the tools to create positive situations and realize some incredible dreams.

I want you to know that when I first laid eyes on your 19 years ago this day, I didn't think I was capable of loving anyone as much as I loved you. Nineteen years later, it's only grown, as has my respect and admiration for all that you are and my hopes and best wishes for all that you are destined to be.

I love you Justin,

Mom

Susie & Justin 10/17/05

Susie & Justin 10/17/05
Originally uploaded by susiewrites.

Friday Night I decided to move my "home office" from a small room to a larger room. With two computers, a printer, about a thousand peripheral devices, cords that looked more like angel hair pasta than USB wires, two subwoofers and 8 speakers, two bulletin boards with twice the photos on them than they were ever meant to hold - highlights of my past ten years that just demanded to be captured - files, both virtual and hard copy, and books, books and, did I mention books? Well, this was no small undertaking. Not to mention it involved moving a Queen Size bed and a couple of bureaus and half of my daughter's wardrobe, to the smaller room, before moving "Command Central", to the larger room. I started at about 4:00 PM and called it a day at a little after 4:00 AM Saturday Morning.

All of the equipment, furniture (my desk comes in three pieces and literally looks like an Air Traffic Controller work station - and sometimes it feels like one), were moved and in place, but the floor was littered with things that hadn't quite found their home.

I cleared out my chair and surveyed the damage, and nursed what had to be my 10th cup of coffee. I should say SAVORED my tenth cup of coffee because this new office is impressively appointed with a Bunn Commercial coffeemaker with not one, not two, but THREE burners! Oh yeah baby, it's beyond cool, I mean, it's not the same as an "E Ticket" at Disney World, but it's not shabby either. With a coffeemaker of that magnitude, just add a couple of alcoholics and a resentment or two and we could have a kick-ass AA meeting in here!

Around 1:30 AM, I heard the familiar sound of the slamming of the side door and knew that either Katie or Justin had wandered home. It turns out it was my son.

I knew eventually he would find his way upstairs and it was worth staying up to see the look on his face when he went in the room formerly known as "the office" to surreptiously snag some online time. His eyes grew big as he walked into the room now known as "the office".

Rather than back away from the mess, my son pulled up a stool and we talked. I had found some old school photos of him and I was teasing him about his cute little self from years ago (he's still cute, but not nearly as innocent). We talked of the past, when he was small, places we had lived, visited, dreamed of and different adventures. He studied the photos and said how odd it was that he could remember exactly what he was thinking when a certain picture was snapped. I've never met a photo of my kids I could possibly throw away. These are the frames of our lives.

Justin told me what he had been up to and I loved listening to him - he could have been speaking Slavic, but I would have been as fascinated. He shocked me by telling me he had been to Barnes and Noble earlier in the day, and bought a copy of "Chaos - Making A New Science", by a guy named Gleick. My son was speaking to me of metaphysics! Come to think of it, Slavic may well have made more sense to me.

Obviously, he's searching. He's trying to figure out why we're all here, what our purpose is, how we came to be and possibly get a handle on where we may be going. It's exploration and I certainly realize you have to weed (sic) through a lot of stuff, read, touch, feel and you can do that for years - decades, and still come up confused, but you have to try. Justin is trying. I think I was more stunned to discover he was reading up on metaphysics than he was to find that my office had been relocated.

About 2:30 AM, we heard another slam of the side door and realized it had to be Katie. I told Justin to quickly go close the door to what was my old office and come back, shut the door and wait for her to be surprised.

We heard her trudge up the stairs and open the wrong door, realize her bed had been moved,and then she opened the door to where we were lying in wait to see her face. "What the @#$%?", she asked in wide-eyed wonderment.

Surprise!

She was for sure. Seeing that Justin had settled in, she dropped her things and joined us, plopping on the floor. We brought her up-to-speed on what we had been speaking of and she respected her brother's new topic of interest. She opined, as Katie always does, but patted him on the back for taking on such a complicated read.

After about ten minutes, Katie put her hands up in the universal sign of, "Shut up, I have something to say!", and observed, "Do you realize that this is the first time in months it has just been the three of us in the same room, chatting about nothing in particular, and no one is in trouble or the focus of a lecture?".

We took notice, and we laughed. I offered to become "The Mom", but they advised against it. We continued to talk, and laugh, and talk some more. Some of what was said felt like TMI (too much information), and I could have done without some of the details, but hey, I'll take what I can get when it comes to spending time with my almost all grown up kids, even if it's at 4:00 AM and we should all be in bed asleep. I was met with my own admonishment for getting in bed so late/early, but I'll take the static and snatch up the first chance I get to do it all again. Such moments are sweet and precious and I live for those rare opportunities. If they happen to come at 4:00 AM, what can I say other than my kids come by it genetically and inherited my screwed up bio-rhythms. Sleep wouldn't have been nearly as interesting and there's always time to grab some Z's, but there's not always the chance to see what's going on with Katie and Justin. We even shared a hug goodnight and I finally left Katie to check her online websites, and Justin headed downstairs to bed where he had only 3 hours to snooze because he was due to be at work by 8:00 AM.

Yesterday was spent putting things away and catching glimpses of the floor that was just beneath the rubble. Plants were placed under light-friendly windows, more old photos were perused and memories were tickled, and a lot of coffee was ingested. I'd woken up early Saturday Morning with a screech, so I was a little sleep-deprived myself, but even taking that into consideration, I still got a lot accomplished, though probably not as efficiently as I should have.

I'm back online, things are humming along, and it's been a beautiful day in the neighborhood, even if it is a late October afternoon in Autumn.

Mellow. The mood has been most decidedly mellow and understated. Understated can be a good thing. I don't mind a generous helping of understatement. I've spent most of my today putting more things up and discarding a few things I no longer need.

Today has afforded me the chance to linger over the tangible accroutrements that define and recall the personal spaces in my life, both literally and figuratively; The places I have lived, visited, items that serve to remind me that I've loved and enjoyed most all of this life of mine, chaos included. Even the stuff I could have done without taught me lessons I couldn't do without and maybe could have only learned by living and making the mistakes. As long as the lessons are learned, the mistakes become invaluable tools and suddenly sport a modicum of merit. There has been a lot of merit in my life, and I hope to merit lots more, and stay away from the recycle bin.

Progress...Not Perfection. Not Even Close...

"...Many of us exclaimed, 'What an order! I can't go through with it.' Do not be discouraged. No one among us has been able to maintain anything like perfect adherence to these principles. We are not saints. The point is, that we are willing to grow along spiritual lines. The principles we have set down are guides to progress. We claim spiritual progress rather than spiritual perfection." Taken from page 60 of "The Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous", Fourth Edition.

Thank you AA! Whew - as if I could possibly come remotely close to spiritual perfection. I fall so far from the mark many times. Some days I'm good and some days I am not so good.

In an earlier post, I wrote a few unnecessary remarks. It was one of those times I wasn't being so kind and I wasn't even tickling the "spiritual perfection" spectrum. I allowed the not so spiritual side of myself to take over the keyboard and have it's way.

This was brought to my attention by the person about whom my unkind remarks were directed and for that I must apologize. Regardless of what I may think, feel or believe in my heart to be true, being unnecessarily mean-spirited doesn't fall under the realm of "spirituality", even if it does share the root of the word.

After reading a recent E-mail, I realized that my words were hardly fashioned to serve anthing resembling a positive purpose and diminishing someone else certainly doesn't leave me shining any brighter. In fact, it's a tarnish that I don't need and, after a lot of thought, prayer and some soul-searching, I have gone back and deleted those unnecessary sentences - realizing, after giving things the proper forethought that I should have before ever writing them. While I can't pretend that I never wrote those words, I can certainly go back and use that invaluable key that is the equivalent of an electronic eraser. DELETE. And so I have.

It's a wonderful thing to simply go back and delete words and disarming a post of its venom. How easy it is to simply delete things in cyberspace. If only if we could so easily erase past actions and words spoken in haste that hang in the air and zap those around us with a painful sting. I've said and done many things in the past that I wish so much I could retract, but I can't. And just as The Big Book reminded me that none of us are perfect - even you non-alcoholics who might be reading this - The Big Book also provides me with encouragement - and as stated in "The Promises", it illustrates how even our misdeeds can be used for good - "We will not regret the past, nor wish to shut the door on it. We will comprehend the word serenity and we will know peace. No matter how far down the scale we have gone, we will see how our experience can benefit others."

I guess good ole Bill W. must have guessed we could get so mired down with the business of regretting that we could sink into a kind of ineffective state of torpor, if we spent a great deal of time regretting all of the things we may have done - and in a way, time spent in a state of regret is basically time that's as wasteful as actually doing "the next wrong thing". In the end, it doesn't help anyone at all.

So we are prodded to pull ourselves up, lean on the good stuff (and yes, there is some!), and see what we can do with the experiences that make us wince, and spin them into something useful by sharing what we have done and where we have been, with someone who may be feeling far more hopeless. It's a tool that comes in handy and I must say that there have been many times I have found myself feeling better about me, and life in general, after hearing someone share the stuff they aren't particularly proud of. OK, sometimes it's just a flat out - "Wow, s/he did THAT? I didn't even go THERE. Maybe I'm not a complete waste of space!" [Side note: When someone is sharing a particularly painful and embarrassing past experience, it's best not to reveal that you are enjoying a "You did what???" moment. Try and contain those and save them for when you are alone and out of sight of the person who just bared his/her soul to you in an attempt to make you feel significant...]

If you look at the negatives and are seriously determined to walk a better path, those past experiences evolve into a useful tool that can make someone else feel as if they have half a chance and, for many of us in AA, half a chance is just about all we have going for us when we crawl into the rooms.

Besides, a lot of regret can turn into an unattractive and pointless exercise in self-pity and more of that stale "it's all about me!" business that we really need to rid ourselves of. I am constantly amazed at how very forward thinking and exceptionally timeless this program is and I am thankful for it only on a daily basis.

To the person that I offended, I offer an amends and a generous dose of delete. While I most certainly don't and, let's face it, never will see eye-to-eye with you on everything, there was absolutely no need for me to turn a blog into an assault weapon. There are enough of those around and we've both lobbed a few of them across the lines and throughout the years. Here's hoping for more peace.

I'm so glad I met that Bill W. guy. :-)