tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29344498527142081162024-03-13T11:02:48.406-04:00Katie's Cupcake DiariesMy daily life. The struggles, successes and things that make me smileUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger331125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2934449852714208116.post-78381758776431623172012-07-18T22:42:00.003-04:002012-07-20T13:14:49.774-04:00The Blank Cup Syndrome<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Wow, May 28th. Almost feels like a lifetime ago. I'm impressed at just how fast time flies past me and how thin a grasp I have on the time that does slow down. What is also impressive is my inability to commit to even the most trivial things. It's not that they are not important. I like this blog. I've had things that I've wanted to express but frankly, just not enough to commit to them. Not enough to parade them in front of my small readership. Perhaps some of those thoughts were too personal. Yes, there are some things that I keep just for me.<br />
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A few weeks ago I mentioned that I had received this great gift from a dear friend. A Starbucks mug that you write your very own statement on it with this porcelain pen then you bake it for a few minutes and voilĂ a custom made mug. Now if you know anything about me, you know how much I adore my coffee and the mug is just as important for the experience as the brew itself. That mug was given to me two Christmas's ago. I have yet to write anything on that mug! I drink from that mug every day. I literally use that mug for hours each and every day. It truly is my favourite. It is the perfect weight. Holds the ideal volume that I can comfortably consume before it gets cold. The handle fits my hand like a glove. Yet it's blank. Each day I ask myself what I should write on it. At this point I joke that it should say "I can't commit". <br />
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Days and months pass and I don't write the millions of things that I ruminate on, here in this blog. My Facebook statuses have largely dried up. I never really cared one wit for Twitter. My brain is busting with all that I have to say and yet...it's like I'm a font miser. I just can't make myself commit to a written word.<br />
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Doesn't bode well for the women who once had the ambition to write a novel. Likely the same reason why this trained artist can't commit to paint. Blank Page. Gaping up at me. Taunting me. Pinching me and proclaiming that no one would be interested in that thought. That thought is too provincial. That thought is too pregnant. <br />
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The cup sits in the sink taunting me. <br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2934449852714208116.post-63914613190524475612012-05-28T17:41:00.000-04:002012-05-28T17:43:13.966-04:00A Love Story!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I've been meaning to drop a line to the cosmic void for some time now but with life dragging me off in every direction, very little energy gets spent in creative pursuits. Then today, after an entire day of having but a few moments to myself and after another squabble with my youngest boy I realized something. My life with L is like a cute movie plot.<br />
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How so you ask? Well what's the basic premise to most romantic comedies? Boy meets girl. Boy loses girl. Boy gets girl back. It turns out that this exactly what happens on a daily basis between me and L. We start the day all dreamy and cuddly. I go into his room and open the drapes and then go tickle his toes and nibble on a cheek. Then as the day wears on and we brush against each other too often, patience wears on either side and...Bam! Hot tempers. "I hate you" and a "I don't love you", stomp, stomp, stomp.<br />
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After a while of cooling off and collecting our senses he usually comes sneaking back up on me with apologies or a nice request and lots of compliments. Wooing me back into being completely smitten with him. He's lucky his 5 year-old charm works on my no-nonsense mommy heart. In a few minutes, I'm as much in love with him as I ever was and the day ends on an incandescent note. Cuddles, stories and sleepy compliments. I go to bed missing him.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2934449852714208116.post-18560456449869621382012-04-24T18:01:00.000-04:002012-04-24T22:26:00.429-04:00My Visit<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It often happens that when I have a lot on my mind I don't write any of it down. That's why the blog as been so quiet. Just too much going on! Where has my head been? Well, pull up a chair and I'll tell you!<br />
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There were a bunch of changes that happened in the last few months. I've been doing a lot of house cleaning. Personal habits, unwelcome people, unwelcome thoughts. Change can be a good thing. Embracing it rather than fighting against it, is like tucking and rolling. If you're headed for a fall you might as well fall right and not get injured. That's exactly what I am doing. Pulling away from the things that have been eroding my happiness and productivity and rededicating myself to bigger, brighter things. Things that make me happy. Things that keep me busy and in service to my family, friends and community.</div>
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Today, as I was sitting at my desk waiting for inspiration. My desk really being my kitchen table with my laptop, coffee cup and planner. From my seat I can see out the big patio door into the yard. The yard looks pretty horrible. I neglected to put my garden away for the winter and I can see some patches of weeds that were dispatched last year in the frost but were never tended too. There are pool toys scattered about. I also see that I'll need to get another yard of sand to level the ground before I can put the pool up this season. Lately, whenever I look out this window all I see is the huge amount of work it's going to take to spruce up the yard. The deck that needs to be refinished. The ever so long list of regret for my procrastination. Today, I looked beyond it and saw something else.</div>
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Perched on the privacy wall, on the edge of part of my herb garden, a Robin. He was beautiful. He was grooming himself and singing. Taking a sip of water from an overflowing flower pot that wasn't put away a long with the rest of my straggly looking containers. I watched him for the better part of an hour. When I realized how much time had passed while I sat in wonder of this bird I realized that it didn't matter. I felt peaceful. As if it were no less important that I sit and watch the life that teams outside my window than the tasks I laid out in front of me. What I did in that moment was the nicest thing I did for myself all day.</div>
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<i>For in the true nature of things, if we rightly consider, every green tree is far more glorious than if it were made of gold and silver. - Martin Luther</i></div>
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<br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2934449852714208116.post-61348374376588990782012-04-01T00:06:00.000-04:002012-04-01T00:07:57.529-04:00I believe changes can happen<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I have only a few more days in my Lenten Journey for this year. What I have discovered so far is that nothing I <a href="http://katie-thecupcakediaries.blogspot.ca/2012/02/going-old-school.html">gave up</a>, that has been in practice for years, was easy-peasy to do so. I had found myself stymied a few times by links that I could not click. Then it was things I could not google. The pings of my Blackberry and the conversation notifications I couldn't entertain. I know that along the way I lapsed but instead of calling it a day, I started over. I considered it a process. One that taught me a few things. I might reveal those a little later but not just yet.<br />
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It's no secret that I'm pretty anti-technology. I still remember, all too well, the "2003 Blackout" Suddenly, my world, the center of the Canadian universe (Toronto) was stopped cold in its normally hectic tracks. The power went out and so did all the technology. A person couldn't even cross the street without scrambling to get out of the way of errant traffic. Wow! Talk about an eye opener. Sure it only lasted for a few days but having to reinvent an urban life without aid of any modern convenience was enough for me to vow to never get caught unprepared.<br />
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Earth Hour happened tonight. I'm still a little skeptical about its purpose but my children are at that fantastic age where they believe changes can really be made. It's infectious and couldn't resist coming up with a fun way to celebrate it. A huge bowl of popcorn and board games by candle light. Though I've been struck down with another school house cootie and couldn't sit at the table to play with the guys. I enjoyed them and an article on the Obama's Health Care reforms, the erosion of religious freedoms and the undermining of the constitution of the United States. The article had a lot of legal-ease and required me to re-read some paragraphs. Squinting in the dim light and watching the silhouettes of my boys. A pause in the play brought on a round of shadow puppets. Giggles and silly jokes. I loved it!<br />
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In the last few minutes before technically we were allowed to turn the lights and gizmos back on we snuggled on the couch and chatted. Talked about what we liked best about the last hour. What we thought it meant. What we'd like to do next time. We liked our time in the dark so much that the rest of the bedtime routine was done by candle light. A definite success.<br />
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Now the rest of my night is spent in a quiet peace. Matching the kids socks and sipping tea. Sometimes the best things in life are just right under a person's nose. Sometimes you have to give up the things that tie you down so that you can soar.<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2934449852714208116.post-59009361496270148282012-03-22T17:34:00.000-04:002012-03-22T17:34:40.300-04:00Fly, Fly Away<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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She's no longer an earthbound angel. Today she flew away. Blessed were the winds that touched her wings. Gentle were the heavenly trade winds that carried her up. Fly, fly away. I heard the birds were envious of her span. Sweet angel who touched the hearts of everyone who knew of her. <br />
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God rest your wonderful soul, Kaitlyn. </div>
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<a href="http://niemannpick.blogspot.ca/2012/03/all-done.html">Kaitlyn's Story</a></div>
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</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2934449852714208116.post-45966334047434645702012-03-18T17:13:00.002-04:002012-03-18T17:13:46.789-04:00Dreamy Days Like Today<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It's Sunday. I love Sundays. Nuzzling my face deep into the luscious smell of my son's still baby-scented hair during church. Sure I was supposed to be listening but sometimes God has his own way of speaking to a mother's heart. My youngest son is squirmy and silly. Keeping him reined in during mass means he sits for the most part, in my lap, wrapped tightly in my arms while I get to hug on him. I am not sure if he thinks of this as "me" time or if he thinks of it as punishment but I think of it often as a little slice of heaven.<div>
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Our traditional late day breakfast of pancakes and coffee served up to the most ferocious of appetites. Each Sunday I mutter at myself in wonder that I haven't put most of it together the day before. Why am I always starting from scratch when I know we're starving and impatient? My usual denial of the best laid plans. Artful procrastination.<br /><div>
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Sometimes K, takes the kids off for an afternoon activity or for a visit with their Nana giving me an opportunity for some peace and quiet. I usually spend that time planning or implementing meal preparations or baking treats for the kids lunches for the week ahead. Today is no different.</div>
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I'm getting an extra special treat today. The windows are all open and I'm enjoying picking at the oatmeal cookie dough while also enjoying a nice cold beer. My birds are carrying on a cheerful dialogue. Robbins are bobbing about in the back yard. This morning I spotted some herbs poking their sleepy tendrils up through the spring-time debris. The wafts of BBQ on the breeze and dogs giving each other the what-for from behind their perspective fences. The world is waking up all around me and it's a fabulous thing to witness.</div>
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I am so grateful for my time alone to cherish it outside of my normal chaotic rush. I get the chance to take a deep breath and linger. I get to imagine the smiles on my boys faces as they race up the drive to greet me with news of their happenings. I look forward to kissing my husband a welcome back and folding my family back into their home, under my wing.</div>
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But for the next hour, I'll just enjoy watching the sunlight stream across the room and fall into a big puddle of warmth on the hallway floor with that old wiener dog sprawled top side down, in the middle. He's dreaming lazy dog dreams of greatness. On a day like today, anything is possible.</div>
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</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2934449852714208116.post-78329602052394607382012-03-14T09:19:00.001-04:002012-03-14T09:20:26.078-04:00Tuning In<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This time of year always makes me so much more aware of what is around me and coming from within me. The weight of my relationships. The weight of my service to my family and the world. There is a line from my favourite movie that says "I love you. Not like they told you love is, and I didn't know this either, but love don't make things nice- it ruins everything. It breaks your heart. It makes things a mess. We aren't here to make things perfect. The snowflakes are perfect. The stars are perfect. Not us. Not us! We are here to ruin ourselves and to break our hearts and love the wrong people and 'die'. The storybooks are bullshit!"</div>
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That quote doesn't mean that I am disenchanted with my life. Just the opposite. It is because I am so grateful that I am drawn to examine that life. This time of year calls me to ask myself, how can I live this life better? What more I can contribute? How best can I serve someone other than myself? How to better understand my world and my role in it and ultimately, who I am because of it. Love is messy. How can I embrace that? What can I do with these jagged pieces of the world, to put them in order? How do I fit into that puzzle without becoming pierced by the sharp edges? How do I stay passionate and connected? How do I stay invested?<br />
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What would you do for love? How has it touched your heart?<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2934449852714208116.post-60351308289464731602012-02-25T20:37:00.001-05:002012-02-25T20:37:51.407-05:00Quiet<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Taking some simple time off has lead to some interesting insights. I spend a lot less time mindlessly surfing the net and being sucked into social media, than I had assumed. There's always been a degree of guilt associated with these activities for me. Perhaps I just thought I spent too much time on them. I've come to this conclusion after only a few short days into my Lenten Journey. <div>
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I had naively assumed that with the time I wasn't spending "surfing" that I'd have time to lavish on my family, get those dreaded tasks around the house started. Be on top of my work and still have time to take up a new hobby. I was so mistaken. I've only been afforded a few short minutes here and there. Sure you'd think they'd add up to some real time saved. No. Not even close.</div>
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This has been a very busy week. But aren't they all? I don't often get days when there isn't something that has to be accomplished under the gun. So where did all that surfing time come from? What had I been neglecting? Perhaps it needs more time to reveal the answer to that.</div>
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There is no background noise except the birds in the front hall having their endless conversations. The days when the kids are in school the house is very still. Only the activity at hand provides the back drop of atmosphere. I did take a short break to sit and have a cup of tea and do nothing. What an adventure that was. Clearly that requires discipline. I wasn't able to sit long at all without the impulse that I shouldn't just be sitting there. I had the need to multitask or it was wasted time. </div>
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In this quiet my thoughts explode. I can't seem to keep them in order. Wonderful ideas, the endless making of mental lists. A parade of memories stream in and out to their own beat. Then there are the unfinished arguments that get their exercise. It has only been a few short days but already I've worked through some niggling issues and feel a lot less harassed. </div>
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I'm enjoying this solitude. The first day felt awkward. Knowing there was something I wasn't "allowed" to do. Reaching for the computer or blackberry to realize that it was merely the need to break the habit. By the second day I wasn't even feeling the desire to check in. Each day gets easier. I wonder that at the end of the 46 days that I'll even think about it anymore. I wonder at why this doesn't seem to bother me. </div>
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Perhaps being so "connected" isn't a good thing after all. </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2934449852714208116.post-87759417851001426472012-02-21T20:30:00.001-05:002012-02-21T20:30:05.357-05:00Going Old School<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It's rounding up to that time of year again. Lent. With Lent comes my usual media fast. I've been looking forward to this for a long time. I say it often but technology is no one's friend. I often think that I was much happier before Facebook. I also don't need to be inundated with awful or absurd news all the time. Violent or ridiculous TV shows leave me feeling stressed and if I watch them before going to bed then I'm pretty much guaranteed to have unpleasant dreams or even a restless night. Not my idea of entertainment. I have enough stress to keep my shoulders about my ears.</div>
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My husband teases me all the time that all I ever watch is The Walton's, Romantic Comedies or Jane Austen. He laughs but there's method to my madness. No one dies a graphic despicable death. There are no serial killers waiting to jump out and steal a baby to bring it to bad ends. No profane language or "adult" content to shield my kids from should they wander into the room. If I watch that stuff then I tend to swear less. Yes, it's true!</div>
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The great thing about the media fast is that I get to spend that unproductive time doing things that will ultimately make me more efficient. That means more time for PROJECTS!!! I'm going to teach myself to crochet. Oddly, I thought I'd learned to do this as a child but if it's like ice skating, I've proven that, in fact, a skill can be forgotten. Deeply forgotten!</div>
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For me this time-out is coming at a terrific time too. My life is about to become really fantastically busy. The time I have left I'll want to dedicate to my family. It also resets my perspective. I had a conversation the other day with a loved one who said his marriage was taken over by technology. That his wife never spends any time with him. If she's in his presence then her iPhone is always in her hands and she is always distracted by incoming texts. He said he's watched himself get shoved out of the relationship. She doesn't even realize what that gadget has done. He doubts that if she were acquainted with how the wedge has effected their relationship, she still wouldn't be able to give it up. It has wormed it's way in and it's likely staying for dinner, forever. Sadly, it is drawing their relationship to an end. How horrible! I'm learning in advance from her mistake. I wouldn't ever want anyone to feel that they were pushed aside.</div>
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This is my opportunity to reboot the way I think about technology. So by and large any blogs I write for the next 46 days will be written out by hand then quickly transcribed during the few minutes I've allotted myself each day. I'll likely spend more time actually connecting with my friends rather than dashing off short facebook blurbs. If I don't connect with them much during this time than it's more time I've got to redirect my energy into my work, my home and my family life. I'll drag out some of my forgotten cook books if I want culinary inspiration. Don't get me wrong. I am not so bombastic to think that it won't be a big adjustment. I am expecting withdrawal. </div>
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I don't know what all this talk about sacrifice is? Really at the end of the day, it's not much of a sacrifice. Now if I'd been fool enough to give up coffee or *gasp* booze..... nah, I'm not that crazy!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2934449852714208116.post-85285168151020351722012-02-16T16:56:00.000-05:002012-02-16T16:56:41.166-05:00Life Moves Swiftly<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Sometimes I amazed at how things in my life can move so quickly. Not unlike water rushing past a broken dam. You move with the current or you can get dragged under. I love the way my swift moving life has taken me to places I couldn't have predicted. The movement of change cutting through some of the things I've assumed were strong enough to withstand change. I love the path I've been carried down even when it meanders in odd directions. I have never looked at change as if it was a bad thing because I've had it proved time and again that change brings wonderful new things. <div>
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The dam breaks and the water rushes past. No matter. No really, no matter at all. I'm surprised at how happy just a few unplanned changes to my life has suddenly made me. I was OK before but now I'm ecstatic. Odd, how that happens. I can't say what the wonderful things are but I can say that I'll be insanely busy for the next several months. I like busy. Busy is good!</div>
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I also like being reminded what is really important and what is not. It is not important to hold a place in your life for someone who is not worthy of the honour. It is not important to defend what you know is the right thing to do. The right thing is just that and nothing less. It's not important to give trivial matters more time than one would take to choose shoes to go with a purse. Which is great because I'm not all that particular about shoes (unless I run in them) or purses. What is important; my family; my friends; my word; my time and me. Yep, I said it. I'm important. </div>
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So when life starts to move swiftly without warning the first things I think about are the things that are important. After that perhaps then I'll worry about the dishes. Be sure of one thing, everything else ranks lower than the dishes on my "to be concerned with" list.</div>
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</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2934449852714208116.post-56935474361332027672012-01-31T17:08:00.000-05:002012-02-17T13:07:26.411-05:00The Upside of Anger<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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For a great while now I've been struggling with something that makes me really sad and angry. I avoid confrontations because I fear what I'll say or do. When someone truly deserves it, I hold it in because I don't like the what becomes of me. So I try to avoid drama in my life. To avoid it I try to make a concerted effort to treat people as I would want to be treated. I show loyalty and respect to those I love. Would go to the deuces to have someone's back. But yet it still finds me. More so, it may actually be that I have a way of overreacting to it. I'm sure everyone has their fair share of it in their day-to-day lives. For me however, it's fight or flight. I can go from zero to sixty, in no time flat. Likely have always done so but as an adult it's becoming more apparent and more shameful. <br />
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At least I feel shameful about it. At this late an age why is it that certain things and certain people still have the ability to run roughshod over me? The truth is that the person who likes to stir the pot ought to feel the shame but she only does it because she knows she can. She has gotten the better of me and that I'm afraid is my fault. She knows that I will not unleash on her. It makes me appear weak. She found the chink in my armour. Time to get new armour. <br />
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The things I'm learning from this:<br />
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<ul>
<li>Loyalty: A forgotten character trait. </li>
<li>Trust: Must be earned. It is no longer a given at the beginning of any relationship.</li>
<li>Actions: Speak the truth about one's character, before one can defend their actions with justification.</li>
<li>That standing your ground and having faith in yourself is sometimes the only thing you have.</li>
<li>That I'll be unleashing that ugly side of me in order to preserve the better side of me (but only to the truly deserving of it).</li>
<li>That in the face of adversity you can be fortified. I'm fiercer and more motivated to smash every single one of my goals now than I was yesterday. </li>
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So dear "frenemy" and "pot stirrer" thank you. Through your lack of ethics, lack of loyalty and your poor character along with your petty actions you've made me bigger, stronger and more successful than I would have been without you. I'm bringing my A game. What have you got? </div>
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Better not flinch!</div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2934449852714208116.post-63515814401713291092012-01-20T21:30:00.000-05:002012-01-20T21:30:27.060-05:00The World Outside Ourselves<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8-yazGGF9bE/TxohA1pgThI/AAAAAAAABY4/nebc5D-2foY/s1600/vigil.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8-yazGGF9bE/TxohA1pgThI/AAAAAAAABY4/nebc5D-2foY/s200/vigil.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Sometimes it's very easy to get so wrapped up in our own struggles that we forget that there are others in the world who have it a little worse. Sometimes a whole lot worse. When I was young I had a lot of hurts. Nothing was ever easy. I lived by the mantra that what didn't kill me made me stronger. I had always been torn between religion and spirituality and the "modern' world and what was "my" world. It was really easy to be secular because in my youth I didn't see the bigger picture. It didn't feel as if I had any community. I had no way of knowing that if I reached out anyone would care.<br />
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I've been following the lives of a family living with the truth that their daughter is battling for her life against a genetic disease. The normal lifespan for a child with this disease is 18 months. Years ago I would have viewed their plight as one of the saddest stories. I wouldn't have fully grasped what they were going through. I still don't. I'm not in their shoes, not by a long shot but I am a parent who worries endlessly about her choices for her children. I worry endlessly about how my parenting will effect them. Am I giving them all that I can? Should I have done something different? I'm not struggling with whether to hold back food to my dying child so that she can breathe better as she fades away. I can't even imagine what it would be like to gaze down into my sleeping child's face and know that one day the disease would take her away and knowing that time is coming fast.<br />
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Through reading their story I've had confirmed some things I always wanted to believe were true. That the love of a parent for a child is the strongest force on earth. Secondly, that we are not alone, not in our regular live-a-day lives or in the dire circumstances of losing a child, spouse or parent. There is a community out there. There are good people who are ready to help you stand stronger while struggle through your own personal hell. There are people who will arrange meals to be delivered so that you don't have to even think about nourishing your own body. There are people who will stand outside your home with lit candles to remind you that you matter. That they support you, that you still belong to the whole, no matter what. That there are more of these wonderful people than there are bad people.<br />
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Can it be possible to wear your heart outside your body and still survive? What doesn't kill you makes you stronger. My faith in humanity, community and love, is making me stronger though it hurts like hell. <br />
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We are all connected by a something much larger than ourselves. My faith has been fortified. My strength restored. All of my thoughts and prayers are with this family. They are far away from me but they are still out there, in the world beyond myself but my love and best wishes will reach them. I have faith in that.<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2934449852714208116.post-14154377349315600352012-01-16T18:51:00.001-05:002012-01-16T18:54:45.691-05:00The Power of Getting Organized<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-856eLVUR_eA/TxS3mXvoeSI/AAAAAAAABYs/5OgGzD4mnns/s1600/also-time-to-get-more-bathroom-cleaner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="145" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-856eLVUR_eA/TxS3mXvoeSI/AAAAAAAABYs/5OgGzD4mnns/s200/also-time-to-get-more-bathroom-cleaner.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>It seems January has been paying off in cold weather and organization. Perhaps being kept in on these frigid days is what is prompting the new spurt of getting it "together". A few days ago I sat down and mapped out the menus for the whole month. So far we've been on track and pleased with the results. The move toward 100% homemade foods has been a happy transition. Ok so I don't make my own pasta unless its gnocchi but I do make all my own breads and will be going back to making my own kefir and yogurts again. The idea is to minimize the unnecessary add-ins. You know, that special laboratory creation that is now what stores like to call bread or cheese spread.<br />
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There was push-back from the kids but after a week of "lump it or leave it", I am no longer creating two separate meals. Except for when I make pizza where I will make them just a four cheese pie rather than a special adult creation with onions and olives. It's a nice relief for me to be able to get a meal on the table without that feeling of juggling spinning plates. It's too much like my days in a commercial kitchen during dinner rush. I gave up the paycheck some many years ago....so revisiting the stress each night seemed so ridiculous.<br />
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My husband has even joined in and has cleaned out our walk-in closet. Now we can really walk in! It's amazing how wonderful the carpet looks in there. It's pristine, what with the fact that it hasn't been walked on in 4 years! Seriously, K did a fabulous job. I've got clothes hanging up that I only vaguely remember.<br />
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It doesn't end there. I've even got my work schedule mapped out pretty well. I was feeling incredibly burned out before Christmas. It wasn't the amount of work that caused it. It wasn't the work at all. It was the fact that I was fighting to keep all these spinning plates in the air that I just didn't feel like I ever had time for myself. Then when it was time to get something done, I'd just totally dreaded it. Even things that I liked! <br />
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I like this new map-it-out plan. It's been a slice of heaven this month even in the light that I've added in so many more tasks. Baking, cooking all these meals, working on old projects to clear them out. Fitting in the occasional run with a friend just to chat. Heck, once I'm done this post I'm going off to soak in the tub with wine. WOW! <br />
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You're likely wondering why I'm using up my time here...good point. Chow! <onward pruney="" to="" toes!=""></onward>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2934449852714208116.post-43378546555051409152012-01-07T19:46:00.000-05:002012-01-07T19:46:58.235-05:00On This Day in January<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-N8IejeDab0U/TwjcCGGHdAI/AAAAAAAABYk/wAoE7wNE-tw/s1600/blue+bird.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="156" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-N8IejeDab0U/TwjcCGGHdAI/AAAAAAAABYk/wAoE7wNE-tw/s200/blue+bird.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>We got winter weather shortly after Christmas but sadly it didn't last. We got that wintery blast that always reminds me of home (WPG) but it was a twelve hour affair, not that I mind that moving off to some place better suited. <br />
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Running at dawn down a country road in Durham Region I had many opportunities to take in the landscape. This time last year I was out in snowshoes embarking on a new winter sport. This year I'm wearing my fall run gear and enjoying 16K while looking at the mist hanging thickly over the stubble in the farmer's fields. I am enjoying this warm spell. I know full well it may not last. I know that spring is not around the corner thought this time of year I usually get cabin fever and start planning my gardens.<br />
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I felt so peaceful this morning that I was quiet and ran by myself for much of the run. Just taking in the moment. Wishing there were a way of capturing it without spoiling it. I was happy to be out running after taking an unexpected holiday from it. I was even happier that the weather was mild. In due time, I'll be out in my snowshoes. Today was a state of suspended animation. I was caught between two seasons. Serendipity.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2934449852714208116.post-13124892043065178102011-12-26T12:21:00.001-05:002011-12-28T15:06:11.065-05:00Holiday in Review<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4G9JqVDHFCY/TviZ6GyZOkI/AAAAAAAABXg/vmXNe_Kertc/s1600/turkey+leftovers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="157" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4G9JqVDHFCY/TviZ6GyZOkI/AAAAAAAABXg/vmXNe_Kertc/s200/turkey+leftovers.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Oh Boxing Day. In our house this is the day to stay in PJ's. Graze freely from the fridge and to process the turkey carcass. This year isn't all that different except we have the plague in our house. My eldest son was sick the Monday before Christmas, silly me, I assumed that the virus had passed and we'd be germ free for Christmas. Nope. Proved very wrong. We were on our way to having a very pleasant, albeit, subdued holiday when in our Christmas best at Christmas Eve mass, our eldest son was once again stricken with the "hum bug". <br />
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The church was standing room only. We arrived shortly after 4:15 for the 5 pm mass and found the church already at 80% capacity. We did score sweet seats a few rows from the front so that the kids could see the goings-on. The church filled in immediately after we sat down and Father Charles started the mass early because there was no sense in waiting since not a single soul more could fit under this church's rafters.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yMwsZA4laJc/Tviq0S0Wk-I/AAAAAAAABXs/OCyD77ckTCM/s1600/ill+for+christmas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yMwsZA4laJc/Tviq0S0Wk-I/AAAAAAAABXs/OCyD77ckTCM/s200/ill+for+christmas.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Just as the first reading was finished E looked up to my husband and said "oh no..." and gagged. Snatched out of the pew and climbing over my MIL my husband flew to the back of the church and cut through the crowd at the back of the church just in time to get him secured in the bathroom. Ten minutes later, we were all leaving church early to get E home and to the safety of the couch. <br />
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The only thing we could do was to proceed with our evening. Though at this point we were somewhat less buoyed This is a sad Christmas for our family. My husband and his mother are in a lot of pain. The loss of my father-in-law is being keenly felt this year. Even the excitement of the one remaining child at the table wasn't enough to keep the mood light. Still when you consider it, subdued is still far better than bleak and and still better than none. We did have the occasion to share some stories about past Christmases with my father-in-law that brought us all a smile and some laughter.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vg4D4l05T0Y/TvirSMZONRI/AAAAAAAABX4/SlOmpeKthC4/s1600/388445_10151071818400405_831640404_22058929_1053525045_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vg4D4l05T0Y/TvirSMZONRI/AAAAAAAABX4/SlOmpeKthC4/s200/388445_10151071818400405_831640404_22058929_1053525045_n.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>The Christmas rites still adhered to, as was right. We went to bed only to be up a lot during the night with our sick little dude. Christmas morning found us tired but still very happy that Santa had come. Good thing he brought some video games. E had no more energy than to lay on his side, on the couch, for the lion share of the day. My youngest came out of his room wearing his fireman hat and jacket all set to open gifts and that was exactly what he did. I had to share the picture with my friends. I was so sure he was in costume and set to put out the next pair of oven mitts that I managed to set on fire. The last pair were ignited when my gloved hand touched the top element of the oven when pulling out my duchess potatoes on Thanksgiving, giving a rather dramatic air to our holiday meal.<br />
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A mostly lazy day found the healthy of us having breakfast and occupied in play. I got to wrestle my turkey from the 32 quart water canner which I used as my brining vessel. I love that it's usually so cold in Ontario that it can be placed on the deck for ease of access, instead of taking up room in the fridge or having to navigate the garage. The bird once roasted was glorious and way too big for our needs since only two of us were eating and even still when the two had now seriously impaired appetites due to the spread of the kid cooties.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-iYjpKrtA0TY/Tviri30cF5I/AAAAAAAABYE/I3rqQLc20tE/s1600/383802_10151078096820405_831640404_22096615_1087803898_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-iYjpKrtA0TY/Tviri30cF5I/AAAAAAAABYE/I3rqQLc20tE/s200/383802_10151078096820405_831640404_22096615_1087803898_n.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>Today is a day of more industry. The process of making turkey stock and soup has started. Later, if there is time I will drag out my pressure canner and put up some litres of stock and some pints of turkey soup. Knitting is my biggest time filler. I am determined to get this project finished. I'll have to search the house but I'm sure that I only have three more skeins of this wool and that will mark the completion.<br />
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This week is dedicated largely to a few small projects that I never really had time for. The rest will be spent horsing around with my dudes. I hope that the plague lifts quickly. Still no snow. This is a big disappointment for me. I was really looking forward to spending some time on the toboggan and on the trails in my snowshoes. <br />
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The holiday winding down here. It wasn't an A+ holiday but it is unrealistic to think every year will be a Norman Rockwell scene. I reminded my husband that in time we'd sit back over another holiday meal and see this year's holiday with some humour. We'd laugh about the "hum bug". We'd chuckle at the picture of L in his fireman costume. The big brown marks the dogs Christmas chewy bones made. We'd remember where we'd come from, what we went through, and that we'd gotten through it as a team. That is what the comfort of family brings. Shared history.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2934449852714208116.post-7999952141864407252011-12-22T09:20:00.000-05:002011-12-22T09:20:45.880-05:00All I Want for Christmas<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YoCCwdI2sVw/TvM5GPQzwDI/AAAAAAAABXU/nwYrDS5ySu8/s1600/snowman+pic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="160" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YoCCwdI2sVw/TvM5GPQzwDI/AAAAAAAABXU/nwYrDS5ySu8/s200/snowman+pic.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>I hate being asked what I want for Christmas. I always draw a complete blank. I like to interpret that blank as meaning that I don't need anything more than what I've already got. <br />
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This morning I got up and got my usual cup of coffee and was poking through the facebook statuses when I came across one that said "how would you feel if you woke up today with only the things you thanked God for yesterday?" I paused with that thought. Yes, it's a good thought. What did I thank God for yesterday? Well I can tell you what I didn't thank God for...I didn't thank him for jewellery, botox or cars. Expensive purses or smart phones. A house that's too big to clean, in the time span of one morning. <br />
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I've got just what I need. I have the love a great man. Two wonderful kids. Enough food to eat and a warm disorganized house. Friends whom I love and respect. The skills to survive and make beautiful things from scraps that someone else might discard. The God's good sense to enjoy what is put before me without tearing it apart to make something that could never be, as good as, the real thing.<br />
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Other than that....all I've asked for is snow. I'd really like to have a White Christmas to marvel.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2934449852714208116.post-60229707490041907142011-12-13T20:09:00.000-05:002011-12-13T20:09:15.583-05:00What Remains<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TZZt6pNl9YQ/TufRUAhgHEI/AAAAAAAABW0/JnkUuTJmp_8/s1600/christmas+image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="141" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TZZt6pNl9YQ/TufRUAhgHEI/AAAAAAAABW0/JnkUuTJmp_8/s200/christmas+image.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>We are only 11 days away now. The excitment in my house is tangible. I know I've already said how much I'm enjoying this year. The credit belongs to my children. Their smiles are infectious. Over the last month I've been more preoccupied. Every now and then I get a flash of a memory that was long tucked away for safe keeping. Since having my children I've been trying hard to remember what it was like to be a child. Though for me, a lot of my childhood memories aren't Sugar Plum Fairy type of memories but if I work a little harder I can unearth a time when I had that innocent wonder-filled joy. <br />
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The Christmases I like to recall were the ones when I was very young. While I still believed in Santa. When my family was still in one piece and happy, well as happy as I could remember them ever being. When I thought the most wonderful sight I'd ever seen was the warm light of our Christmas Tree or the lights on my neighbour's houses. I can still remember the songs that would fill the house. My mother had a few Christmas 8-Track cassettes and they played in that endless loop. She would sing away with them and I'd try to follow a long as I could. I remember colouring feverishly in a Christmas colouring book with a new huge pack of crayons on the living room floor while my mother whirled around in a fit of housework and festive preparation. <br />
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There were the Christmas Cookie bake-a-thons. Then being bundled up in coats, hats and mittens and being driven up the street to where my Great Grandfather lived with is common-law wife. He hated us (and most people in general) and was as surly as a man could be. How Anne came to love him, I'll never know. She was one of the kindest people. We'd make sure his car wasn't there and then we'd go in for a very short visit and give her a tin of what we had just created. She'd give us a tiny Christmas treat in return. <br />
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I also remember once helping to clear the kitchen after dinners leading up to the special day and hear snowballs hit the kitchen window. My mother would say that was Santa's elf letting us know that he had been watching us being good and helpful. That we should make sure that we were good so that Santa would visit. Now I realize that my father must have snuck out the front door and circled around the house to throw that snowball at the window. My father's work Christmas Parties were fabulous. They were balls and each employee's child would get these very large presents. I do recall one year getting the most beautiful baby doll and coming home half asleep and having my parents discover that the cat had dragged down the Christmas Tree and broken her favourite nativity bulb.<br />
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I remember my mother's skilled hands preparing the big Turkeys. She would cook up a storm and it would be marvelous. The Christmas dinners were events onto themselves. The relatives that would flow in and out of the house over the three days surrounding Christmas. Especially, my Uncle Paul who would show up in Santa suit each year and give us a pair of handmade mittens as presents. I always loved when my Grandma and Grandpa Westlake would arrive. There is nothing better in the entire world than the hugs my Grandma would insist on. The whisker rub my Grandpa gave us. I don't really remember any of the presents they gave me but their just being there was what I treasured most because it is what I remember best. I do miss them horribly.<br />
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It has not been lost on me that my eldest son is at the same age I was when my family imploded. That at that very tender age nothing had that child-like innocence anymore. I marvel at how young my son is. I always remember me being older at that age (I know that's odd). I wonder what he will remember when he's old like me and has kids of his own. I have been making a very big point of making each Christmas something special to remember. Every season packed with so many things and events. I can't improve upon what I remember but I can guarantee that my boys have it better. I'm lucky, I get to build much better memories thanks to them.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2934449852714208116.post-16004500516041480782011-12-04T14:59:00.000-05:002011-12-04T14:59:26.995-05:00Where the Heart is...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5rYIfNAZHBg/TtvQFxttvFI/AAAAAAAABWs/6r-NJVHuR9g/s1600/christmas+spirit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5rYIfNAZHBg/TtvQFxttvFI/AAAAAAAABWs/6r-NJVHuR9g/s200/christmas+spirit.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>There are parts of the Christmas Season that even this newly reborn Christmas lover still strongly dislikes. Grocery shopping #1 and its horrid companion, the parking lot!!! Today was the day, though not the actual Christmas grocery shopping trip but more of a preliminary. We headed out as a family to get the job done because there are just some decisions that need to be made as a family and I find that the meals I make get eaten better by the kids if they help to gather the ingredients.<br />
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Husband usually takes the kids off on the "odd" job to get soap or toilet paper then comes back with them in tow to put the item in the cart and then get the next assignment. This keeps them active and well behaved and gives me the chance to get the other things on the list and to prowl the aisles to see what I've forgotten to put on the list.<br />
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Today he treated the kids to a few minutes in the toy aisle, as a reward for the hard work helping to get all the assigned items. Now, a few of you know that my husband lost his beloved father last December before Christmas. He's been very sad this whole year but as we come closer to the anniversary of the sad occasion he has been a little less patient and a lot more solemn. Trust that we understand and have been allowing him to set his pace and mood for the season. In truth, his muted mood has been well disguised by my insane Christmasy mood this year.<br />
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It was there, in that toy aisle that my husband found his Christmas Spirit. He said that he was just standing there watching the kids point out to each other one cool toy after another. They were going nuts he said. Then our youngest held up a Star Wars mask by the box and held it over his face while he played with a light saber that made the noise as he waved it about madly. I wasn't there but I could well imagine his expression as he watched his child "make due" with the unpurchased toys. I'm so happy we all went together. We managed to find something that wasn't on my list.<br />
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He's actually gone back to that store to purchase those things because he wants to remember that moment. The moment when his heart put aside the pain to find a moment that would have made his own father laugh heartily.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2934449852714208116.post-59216201343457550832011-12-01T11:02:00.000-05:002011-12-01T11:02:04.091-05:00*Arghhh* Harshing my Christmas Mellow!<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6HuxFzVnQ64/Ttekiu88X_I/AAAAAAAABWY/JDfpzb3Klv0/s1600/christmas-cookie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="158" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6HuxFzVnQ64/Ttekiu88X_I/AAAAAAAABWY/JDfpzb3Klv0/s200/christmas-cookie.jpg" width="200" /></a>I've got Christmas fever of that there is no denying it. I hum Christmas tunes all the time and when I think I'm alone I bust out at full capacity some of my very favourites. <i>Sorry neighbours and fellow drivers! </i> Cheerful while I shop. Opening doors for people who cut in front of me in their haste. Yep, they can't get to me. Even the school parking lot isn't putting a dent or scratch in my smile, though it still causes grey hair.<br />
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Yesterday it was snowing and I was on a mission to try and start the kids "list". I spent about 5 minutes just sitting in the car watching the snowflakes hit the windows and melt away. Marveled at how fast the world got a pristine coating of white. Suddenly, the world was full of cheerful promise. I just kept imagining how great it would be if we got enough snow for the kids and I to play in. I took a little trip down memory lane to all the times that I played for hours in the cold. Not returning back indoors until every inch of fabric on my body was soaked with melted snow. The smell of wet mittens on the furnace vents. Remembering the milk bags I used to use as boot liners because boots were never really water resistant. Have they improved that yet?<br />
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I was tidying up some of the boxes left from the Christmas tree decorations and poking about in the basement when I found another box of decorations. I brought them upstairs all excited until I took out my Christmas Frog and realized that I don't have a single place to put him. See, my house is cluttered. I have to confess that I'm not very good at organizing my stuff. So where ever I tried to put Christmas Froggy I had to shift a stack of books and papers. To put Father Christmas out I had to move my husband's netbook and the remotes. I'm still not sure where I'll put the rest of that stuff. <br />
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The clutter in my house harshes my mellow on the best of occasions. Christmas only highlights how much of a problem it is. In 24 days there will be more stuff coming in and fewer and fewer places to tuck it. So for the next 23 days I'm going to pitch out a box of stuff each day. Who knows it may be the best gift I give myself this year. Good thing is that I can still sing my Christmas tunes while I do that work.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2934449852714208116.post-4307175761575030302011-11-25T10:48:00.001-05:002011-11-25T11:12:53.888-05:00The Rumblings of Christmas Spirit<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IG8ATWEkC04/Ts-3altpXYI/AAAAAAAABWQ/WiFTWdvVn-U/s1600/christmas+spirit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IG8ATWEkC04/Ts-3altpXYI/AAAAAAAABWQ/WiFTWdvVn-U/s200/christmas+spirit.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>I'm not a Scrooge or anything. I'm not the most Christmasy person either. Truth be told its not my favourite holiday. I love decorating and cooking and the general merriment. Though, in my opinion, and likely from too much exposure to the media, it feels like its top heavy on consumerism. The gap growing each year between what that elusive true meaning of the season and what is now the new meaning of this Holiday.<br />
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This year to fight against my own cynicism, I'm doing things my way. The focus this year for Christmas is not what I'll be shopping for but rather what we'll be doing together as a family. Far away from the shopping malls. Oh sure, normally, I will not even listen to holiday songs until December 1st. I did however, find myself channel surfing in the car again this week and have left it on a Christmas carol or two. OK, so I'm a sucker for a song that takes me back to a time when Christmas was really special to me. A time when it was pure magic. Untainted by what I know now. I find the religious songs to be my favourite now. <br />
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To make this season special and to help distill a more spirited Christmas in my family's memories we've done the Santa Parade with the homemade gingerbread cookies and hot chocolate thing. I've never seen a batch of cookies disappear so fast! Tonight we'll head into town and be present for the Christmas Tree Lighting Ceremony. We'll sing Christmas carols and stop into Tim's for a hot chocolate. We'll tour the neighbourhoods to take in the holiday lights.<br />
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We've already taken a slew of Christmas books from the library and have been enjoying reading all the little tales of snowmen and mice. We've found some nice books about the first Christmas. We're working hard on our Christmas lists and Santa pictures. Thinking hard about those who aren't as fortunate as we are. Working on ways that we can help provide those people with a little something to make their holiday better. Always remembering that this holiday doesn't have a "sale" sign on it. That whether there are gifts under the tree, this holiday will find us. That we need to be able to keep this holiday in our hearts first before it can go all wrapped up in pretty papers and bows.<br />
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The Christmas Spirit is rumbling it's way to the surface. Warming my heart. Bringing back the memories of what used to be good. I'm lucky, I can revisit some of that magic through my children. Teaching them what is most important about this special time of year. Giving them the best gift of all, that isn't found under a decked out tree.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2934449852714208116.post-50081800648248510582011-11-17T17:54:00.001-05:002011-11-17T21:20:58.656-05:00Today it Snowed<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sNrMJGfSguw/TsWQAR7I1FI/AAAAAAAABWA/1TlxMARwjBg/s1600/snow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sNrMJGfSguw/TsWQAR7I1FI/AAAAAAAABWA/1TlxMARwjBg/s200/snow.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Fall has been dragging out as long as she can. She has blessed us with far more above seasonal days than we normally get. We actually saw an Indian Summer which melted into weeks of steely grey skies with wistful breezes to blow the leaves about. We've been fortunate. <br />
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Still it doesn't stop the kid in me from watching the sky. Wondering when those first snowflakes will appear. All day my friends just North of where I live have been reporting snow sightings. Each time I got the update through Facebook (while I was diligently working) I'd dart to the window and look out to see the spectacle just to find that Whitby was being blessed with more sunshine.<br />
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The big black clouds have loomed in the distance all day. Now with the kids home the speed of the household has kept me too busy to think about much more than just trying to stay ahead of the night time tide. Cooking, cleaning and entertaining excited children. Finally, a break. The kids upstairs playing. I snag some quiet. A hot cup of tea in hand and a pen poised to create a shopping list, I hear an ecstatic cry. "SNOW! Mommy it's snowing!" The rumble of little feet scrambling from upstairs to the main floor. More shrieking. <br />
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Assembled in front of the window with our finger tips pressed against the cold glass. A true snowfall. It was coming down heavy and being driven by a stiff wind. Snow. Finally.<br />
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I am lit up inside. Here's to new beginnings.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2934449852714208116.post-28293451195903698412011-11-05T16:06:00.000-04:002011-11-05T16:06:24.960-04:00Toyland<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xwQx0FGK_Ps/TrWPIdDIi2I/AAAAAAAABV4/xAvp65jswwQ/s1600/oh-i-got-about-6-of-those.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="174" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xwQx0FGK_Ps/TrWPIdDIi2I/AAAAAAAABV4/xAvp65jswwQ/s200/oh-i-got-about-6-of-those.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>The TV only needs to be on for five minutes in my house and the next thing I know I'm being followed all over my house by two boys chatting me up about the latest greatest toy they've seen on whatever TV show they conjured to market this rotten little piece of future landfill fodder.<br />
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Of course these toys are made of some of the worst offending materials ever manufactured by man and chemistry. Some have been nothing short of scandalous for being painted up with lead then aimed at children who haven't made it out of the mouthing phase. <br />
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Some of these toys last for about two weeks before being broken. Anything with small parts lasts just long enough to be sucked up into the vacuum. I'm still wondering why Lego doesn't include crazy glue with their larger more elaborate sets. The Death Star doesn't really look like the imposing weapon it's supposed to be after two days with my guys. It just gets torn down to a heaping pile of shapes. There is no talking Dad into rebuilding it even if we've kept the "Sears Wish Book" of directions it comes with.<br />
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Today I had to dash into Walmart to buy a toy for a child I don't even know. I called home while wondering the aisles to ask my son what he thought his friend might like. He rattled off every toy he's ever seen this boy play with and after naming every piece of sport equipment at leisure, I was still at a loss. Now with my boys we've discovered that the box the toy comes in can often be more fun than the actual toy but that wasn't going to cut it for this classmates birthday party. I needed a plan. I needed a clue.<br />
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I started polling the unsuspecting but overwhelmed mothers that were likely wandering those aisles for the very same reason. What do you buy the boy who is very athletically inclined but likely has all that stuff? Of course they looked at me like I was crazy. My hair sticking all out of my braid and my dirty wet run gear. I'm not even going to tell you how badly I must have smelled. If I said I reeked of desperation one might think it were true.<br />
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After another couple of minutes has passed and I've picked up and put down a few more things. After a while some of these crazy toys all start to look the same. Board games have gotten complicated too. What I wouldn't have done for a light up in the dark yo-yo at this point. Do they even make those any more? Close my eyes and grab. That's it. Done. A non-decision is still a decision. Perhaps I can blame the poor choice on the child.<br />
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Purchased. Wrapped. Gift sitting in the car. My son looks up at me and says "Mom did you get James the new Bakugan Sky Raiders?" <br />
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<i>Are you kidding me?</i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2934449852714208116.post-31321934355261305532011-10-30T15:07:00.001-04:002011-10-30T20:24:38.858-04:00I'm a Lucky Girl<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8n0MeRFIrAU/Tq2gYi4jcSI/AAAAAAAABVw/0fs6YGoP_9c/s1600/happy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8n0MeRFIrAU/Tq2gYi4jcSI/AAAAAAAABVw/0fs6YGoP_9c/s200/happy.jpg" width="196" /></a></div>I was watching a movie last night when really I should have been sound asleep. You'd think I'd be more eager to rest given how crazy my life has become but yet, I still fight that urge. Odd. Anyway, I was watching this movie where this woman's life is completely upended by her husband. She winds up being divorced. Then she goes on an adventure only to realize that it isn't just a trip to help her get over her hurts but it's a sign that her life belongs somewhere else. That her life has a different purpose. <br />
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I do believe in signs. I'm odd that way. Well anyway, in this movie she buys this old house and has to renovate it. Then as she's in the process of gutting and rebuilding this house she reaches new lows and wonders just exactly how dumb could she be to believe that fate had something better in store. She muses that when she had purchased this house, she dreamed of having a wedding in it. Filling it with family and friends. That's when a friend points out to her that she has all these things. She has what she wished for. It just took someone to frame it in a different light for her to see it.<br />
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When I shut off the TV and shuffled off to bed, I was thinking all that over. How its really funny that some prayers don't get answered and that some get answered so quietly that they are hard to see, especially, if one is having trouble seeing through some bit of trouble or confusion. <br />
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6:30 am I'm snapped back into consciousness by the cute little sound of L. singing a song and laughing at a knock-knock joke he told himself. Of course I thought he was adorable but I got up and whispered to him that he should be a little quieter and shut his door and went back to bed. Surrendering back into that warm dullness.<br />
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7:45 am I'm awaken by K, placing a cup off coffee on my bedside table and rubbing my back to get me to open my eyes. The countdown to our usual Sunday schedule was on. I had probably ten minutes to wake up and come down and join them in getting ready to get out the door. Not a shabby way to wake up, really. Isn't my husband fantastic? I think so!<br />
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Showered, dressed and presentable off we go. While we were in church my older son looked up at me and blew me a kiss. My heart skipped. How did I get such wonderful children? These perfect little beings. <br />
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After church, I had the chance to have breakfast and to throw on my gear and get out for a trail run with a girlfriend. The trails were so beautiful. The air chilly but once we got moving we were actually too warm. Soon, we'll just fantasize about that sensation. Everyone in the park was in excellent moods. We got to pet dogs and even managed to get off the beaten path. It turns out I know that park so much better than I would have given myself credit for. We had a great time. I love her company.<br />
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Now the Halloween preparations will be in full swing. Some pumpkin carving, pumpkin seed roasting and some decorations. A gorgeous dinner with a lovely bottle of red that I've been saving over the glow of some cheerful pumpkins. I'm in such a good mood I think I'll make my men an apple pie!<br />
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I'm a lucky girl. I know full well there are others in this world who do not have food, money or health. They may not even have family to hold on to for comfort. I am reminded today that I have all that I have wished for. I am reminded today that there is more outside of myself. <br />
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Beautiful things happen on sunny days. I'm looking forward to a nice new opportunities. Who knows what's on the wind?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2934449852714208116.post-76822771080898964582011-10-29T20:46:00.000-04:002011-10-29T20:46:21.360-04:00This Much I Know is True.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Jzr1fi1E_rU/TqyVsgGc1bI/AAAAAAAABUY/5QiLlnegf-Y/s1600/friendship.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Jzr1fi1E_rU/TqyVsgGc1bI/AAAAAAAABUY/5QiLlnegf-Y/s200/friendship.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><div style="text-align: left;"><i><b>Friendship is not something you learn in school. But if you haven't learned the meaning of friendship, you really haven't learned anything. - Muhammad Ali</b></i></div></span><div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"><br />
</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><div style="text-align: left;">There are some really spectacular people out there. There really are. I am so blessed to know a good deal of them. My friends inspire me. They may not know it but they make me a better person. I've learned so much from them. I've become so much because they've pushed me forward. Out of my comfort zone a good deal of the time. They've broadened my perspective, they've shown me support and allowed me to do the same. Through them I've had the chance to become a more rounded person. A more feeling person. I am uplifted.</div></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I have a girlfriend who it seems no matter what lands on her plate she is completely unflappable. She seems quite content to allow the forces of nature gently nudge her along. She is smart and determined and a natural leader. I love her passion for life, her love of her family and her savy. She's a natural. There is no artifice with her. What you see is genuinely what you get. From her I am learning to be patient and have faith.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I have another girlfriend who is a whirlwind. When we first met, I'm not sure we liked each other much. Then as time passed and I got to know her better, I was able to understand her better. I fell into easy company with her. Turns out we had an awful lot in common. She's a strong woman. I mean true grit kinda strong. She's also just raw energy all the time. She dedicates herself to her family in a way where I am just left in awe. I often times feel like I've had too much coffee after being in her company but I like it. She is honest with her opinions. She has a way of just cutting through it and telling like it is. She keeps me honest even when I don't want to be. She pushes me to keep up with her. She ups the ante. She's a smart cookie, opinionated and brutally honest. She doesn't seem to have any time for gentle ego stroking or white lies. I like this, a lot more than I would have thought. You never need to guess where you stand with her. She's teaching me to stand stronger and have more conviction.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I have another friend whom I just feel easy with. I joked once that I wish she'd adopt me. Though I don't want her to be my mom, I just want to be in her family. She's been such a good friend. There's this thing about her that is just so completely kick ass....She may start on a challenge that perhaps would not have been her first choice but once she is committed there is absolutely no holding this woman back from achieving her goals. This woman has fought through injuries, self-doubt and frustration to get the job done. I have never seen that kind of tenacity in a person before. If it were me, I would have found a way to justify just stopping...this woman doesn't know the meaning of quit. I hope I do not rub off on her that way. She is teaching me to persevere without giving up what makes me who I am.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I should stop trying to describe all the fabulous women in my life. This blog would get really, really long. I'd also be afraid of leaving someone out. Even the ones that have hurt me beyond anything I could have imagined, have made me a better person. Perhaps some might not like knowing that but while they were in my life, I loved them so much. I still do. I have tried to deal with the pain by wanting to think ill of them. To banish them from my thoughts or memory. I just can't bring myself to do it because that would mean I'd have to deny all the wonderful things that their friendship meant to me. I just can't bring myself to cut free parts of my life that way. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><span class="body"><b>We call that person who has lost his father, an orphan; and a widower that man who has lost his wife. But that man who has known the immense unhappiness of losing a friend, by what name do we call him? Here every language is silent and holds its peace in impotence. - Joseph Roux</b></span></i></span><span><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I also know that as I've been hurt by a friend or two, that I'm not innocent of doing the same to others. I can fully admit that I haven't always been the best person I could be. I'm not even close to being perfect. I have reacted out of sadness and anger. I have placed faith in those who took that trust and twisted it into something ugly. Resulting in hurting others. There have been times when I should have known better but allowed myself to do things that I knew I couldn't be proud of. I'm not sure how I will ever wipe clean the slate for that. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I do not believe that friendships are disposable. I also know that sometimes they just aren't forever. That of course, people will pass through my life. They will leave indelible impressions on me. All of this shapes who I have become. How I deal with the loss reflects upon how much that person was loved and how much they will be missed. Even in my pain, despite missing them horribly I can't deny that they have brought out the best in me. I honour them. </span></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b><br />
</b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><b>Since there is nothing so well worth having as friends, never lose a chance to make them. - Francesco Guicciardini</b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">When the time comes when my boys have their bonds and bumps. I want to be able to model how to be a friend. To teach them what that means. The joys and comfort and speak honestly, as well, of the pain. To show them that others often teach us more about ourselves then we could have imagined. That it's ok to put yourself out there. Never let the fear of being hurt keep you from experiencing it.</span></div><div><br />
</div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2934449852714208116.post-72702050408705728422011-10-24T20:11:00.002-04:002011-10-24T20:57:29.458-04:00What I Did on My 8th Anniversary<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b1Y3hZOQJlo/TqX62HgV7TI/AAAAAAAABS8/zMbHLWDeZ0I/s1600/Edited+Scrap+23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b1Y3hZOQJlo/TqX62HgV7TI/AAAAAAAABS8/zMbHLWDeZ0I/s320/Edited+Scrap+23.jpg" width="262" /></a></div>Eight years ago I managed somehow to wrangle a man into meeting me at the altar. He claims that he is pleasantly happy with the way things have turned out. As am I. We'd both say that though this is what we planned we never really imagined it would be quite like this!<br />
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This morning I was roused awake by a hurried hug and kiss and a "Happy Anniversary" and before I could even try to pull my eyelids open, he was gone. Making a dash with what I imagine was his umbrella, backpack and coffee cup, to work.<br />
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Struggling out of bed and into my robe, downstairs to make breakfast and herd my kids into the daily routine. That cup of coffee (made just for me) was like mother's milk. Into the groove, bags were packed. Kid's shoehorned into their jackets and off to school. All the way one or both made ridiculous knock-knock jokes. Not one of them had an actual punch line but that didn't stop the squeals of delight at their wit.<br />
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I did manage to get a little bit of work done this morning on top of consuming half a pot of coffee before tidying myself up and scarfing down lunch to head off to field trip hell. I volunteered to accompany my youngest to the Apple Orchard today. For some reason it's suspected that he would be unable to control himself on a school trip. Unnecessary foreboding. He was a total angel, needing a lot less redirection than the sum of his class. Odd. By noon, I was packed into an uncomfortable school bus seat with an obnoxious woman who stood up the entire ride taking pictures of her daughter...though cute, she seemed as annoyed by her shutter-bug mother, as the rest of us, were. I spent twenty minutes requiring jittery children to plant their butts on their seats. To stop pulling each other's hair. It was loud and oddly damp.<br />
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The orchard experience paid for itself in sleepy snuggles with L and apples which I furtively stuffed in my pockets. I also got a couple more laughs at the shutter-bug who loudly in a foreign language chatted on her cell phone for the entire time we were on the tour. The tour guide seemed to enjoy her loud squawking during her demonstration on how cider was made, on how to pick apples from the trees. This cell phone squawking, shutter bug even managed to bleat louder than the sheep before the class tossed the apple cores into their pen. Perhaps there should have been a chaperone for that mother rather than for my son? At least L didn't freely pick his nose and consume it.<br />
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The rest of the day was spent making a supper no one would really eat. In my family's haste to get to their evening activities their plates were barely touched. The Red Ninja and Red Angry Bird marched out into the night with a harassed looking Pirate. I'm pretty sure it was my husband. At least he look familiar.<br />
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The rest of the evening will be spent tidying the kitchen, doing a load of laundry and packing lunches. Putting wired and sugared up children to bed sans costumes. I will stare at the TV for a minute or two then call it a night. Hubby already sound asleep.<br />
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Eight years ago was the longest fastest day of my life. The eight years that followed flew by just as fast. It's true I never imagined life would be quite like this...I'd say it's even better! It's a good thing we had the forethought to celebrate yesterday with the notion that this day would be too full of living. It paid off.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0