I am really happy to report that I've definitely made some progress with the running. I started this new exercise program / strategy less than a week ago. My initial goal was to be able to run the main loop of my 'hood in one stretch by the end of April ... the main loop is 1 mile. (There are 2 other sections that I can add to my distance: inner loop = .75 mile, extra loop = .75 mile.)
The first time I "ran", a lot of it was walking. I could only run about a quarter-mile at a time and had to do some intermittent walking. By Thursday, I was able to run the entire main loop ... woo! hoo!! In 4 days I was able to work up to running 1 mile. (That means I achieved my goal a month early ... either I didn't set a lofty enough goal or I'm just awesome! I'm pretty sure it's the former rather than the latter! :D)
Today, I ran the entire main loop and all of the inner loop--that's 1.75 miles!! I was really happy with that! My legs were hurting, but I was very happy!
I'll be doing my official weigh-in and measurements on Monday, so we'll find out if I see results there, too! I'll let you know. I can say that jeans that fit me a few weeks ago were a little baggy / loose this weekend.
I'm off to do some sit-ups and push ups now. :)
Saturday, March 31, 2007
Thursday, March 29, 2007
civic duty
Things are not always what they seem. Sometimes in life we find ourselves dealing with situations and events that seem innocent and innocuous enough at the time, but we realize at some point or another that our lives have been changed because of them.
May 2004 I was called for jury duty. I had never been called to serve on a jury before. I was actually excited. (I realize that most people don't get excited for jury duty, but I did.) An opportunity to fill a need in the community. Be a part of the system that seeks justice for all of us. I had no idea what I was getting into ... or how much my life would change because of it.
When I received an 8-page questionnaire in the mail that asked nearly 100 questions, I figured it was all part of the routine of picking a jury. Through the entire voir dire process (when the prospective jurors are asked their opinions regarding a variety of topics), I didn't realize the gravity of the trial at hand. When I was asked about my thoughts on the death penalty and life sentence, I just thought they were making sure they had people who would be objective and follow the guidance of the law--ensuring that they wouldn't be putting loony toons on a jury. When we were told that the trial had a change of venue because there had been too much local publicity regarding the crime and the defendant wasn't likely to get a fair trial, I figured it was because the small area of Cambridge, Ohio had little else to report on ... so they probably just reported the hell out of whatever it was. I had no idea that all of these were indicators of what the trial could possibly be about. I had no idea that my world was about to be rocked--to the core. I had no idea.
During the opening arguments, I quickly got the idea. The defendant, Marvin Johnson, had killed Daniel Bailey--the 13-year-old son of his ex-girlfriend, Tina. Marvin's attorneys conceded that. They didn't believe that he should be charged with aggravated murder, though, because they were going to argue semantics that Marvin didn't kidnap Daniel, as he was charged, because Daniel was already dead when Marvin gagged and hogtied him and dragged him to the basement. They also didn't believe that Marvin should be found guilty of rape and aggravated robbery (the victim of those 2 crimes was Tina). They would argue whether or not Marvin actually held the knife to Tina's throat while he sexually violated her, and the technicality of aggravated robbery because she was able to talk him into leaving the knife at the house while she drove him to the bank to get $1000. (It's not considered aggravated robbery--the more serious charge--without the weapon.)
As is the case with any trial, we were told NOT to discuss this case at all, with anyone--spouses, family, friends or other jurors--or to look for information regarding this in newspapers or on the internet during the trial. We were to hear all testimony and see all evidence before forming an opinion on the matters at hand. For me, that was hellish. I was dealing with the most horrific, violent, disturbing and unsettling event in my life completely alone. I felt isolated and empty. I couldn't share with my own husband or mom what was ripping me apart. I cried myself to sleep most every night of that trial, picturing poor Daniel and what he suffered at the hands of that monster ... and for his poor mother and all she must be riddled with--guilt for bringing that man into her family, for not keeping her child safe, the absolute heartbreak of losing a child, particularly in such a violent way, and for what must have been the most horrible moment of her life when she found her son--gagged, hogtied and bloody--and then tried to revive him herself. I still feel an absolute ache in my core when I think about the trial, and I still cry.
Through all the graphic testimony, photos and evidence presented, I was (and still am) able to close my eyes and picture the crime as if it were happening right in front of me, as if I were standing in the corner watching the entire thing happen.
I always knew that horrible things happened in the world, that there are terrible people who commit heinous crimes against others. Until that trial, all of that happened outside of my sphere of reality. I was aware that it existed, but I never lived it. Then, sitting in a jury box, I did. I sat in a courtroom mere feet from the most evil person I have ever encountered. It was at that point that my sphere of reality was punctured. The horrible, villainous events of that crime and every other felt like they were all happening to me in my world. That trial opened the floodgates of my emotional destruction. When I heard about soldiers who were being captured and beheaded, I felt like they were my sons being brutalized. I couldn't breathe. I mourned for each victim of crime like they were my family. I couldn't watch any form of the news without feeling overcome with sadness and devastation. I was overwhelmed with grief. I felt completely tormented.
It wasn't until months after the trial when most all of us on the jury got together that I realized I was dealing with something of grand proportion and out of my control. Several of us were reeling from our experience of the trial. Post-traumatic stress disorder. Depression. Anxiety. Disconnection from what we used to do and love. Inability to cope with setbacks or problems. About two weeks after our get-together, I went to the doctor and cried my way through the appointment. She prescribed an anti-depressant to help me. It worked. I was on medication for about a year.
I'm "fine" now. I am no longer overwhelmed by all of this, but I do still think about it. I check the inmate status of Marvin Johnson about once a month. I've searched the internet for information regarding his appeals. (I received an email from one of my juror friends yesterday--which is what brought this to the front of my thinking. Her daughter is doing a speech regarding the death penalty and found Marvin's appeal report from the Supreme Court of Ohio on-line.) I still feel sick and empty anytime I drive through Cambridge, Ohio. I will never serve on a jury again.
Deliberating the life of another person is incredibly daunting. Most all of us on the jury cried during the deliberation process. We shared opinions. We asked questions. We listened. We sat quietly and thought. We talked. We held hands and prayed. We hugged each other. We all struggled with the gravity of the situation. But we all agreed--imposing the death penalty is an act of affirming the value of life. When I voted in favor of the death sentence for Marvin Johnson, I was also voting for the life of Daniel Bailey.
Several of us from the jury went to the sentencing hearing in June (2004). We drove together to Cambridge and talked a lot about what an impact the trial had on us and our lives. After the hearing we met and talked with the judge, the bailiffs, the prosecuting attorneys and the lead detective on the case. They were all very grateful for our dedication and service to the community. We met Tina Bailey that day, too. She also thanked us for our service in bringing justice for her son and family. When I hugged her that day, I knew that, indeed, my life had been forever changed.
May 2004 I was called for jury duty. I had never been called to serve on a jury before. I was actually excited. (I realize that most people don't get excited for jury duty, but I did.) An opportunity to fill a need in the community. Be a part of the system that seeks justice for all of us. I had no idea what I was getting into ... or how much my life would change because of it.
When I received an 8-page questionnaire in the mail that asked nearly 100 questions, I figured it was all part of the routine of picking a jury. Through the entire voir dire process (when the prospective jurors are asked their opinions regarding a variety of topics), I didn't realize the gravity of the trial at hand. When I was asked about my thoughts on the death penalty and life sentence, I just thought they were making sure they had people who would be objective and follow the guidance of the law--ensuring that they wouldn't be putting loony toons on a jury. When we were told that the trial had a change of venue because there had been too much local publicity regarding the crime and the defendant wasn't likely to get a fair trial, I figured it was because the small area of Cambridge, Ohio had little else to report on ... so they probably just reported the hell out of whatever it was. I had no idea that all of these were indicators of what the trial could possibly be about. I had no idea that my world was about to be rocked--to the core. I had no idea.
During the opening arguments, I quickly got the idea. The defendant, Marvin Johnson, had killed Daniel Bailey--the 13-year-old son of his ex-girlfriend, Tina. Marvin's attorneys conceded that. They didn't believe that he should be charged with aggravated murder, though, because they were going to argue semantics that Marvin didn't kidnap Daniel, as he was charged, because Daniel was already dead when Marvin gagged and hogtied him and dragged him to the basement. They also didn't believe that Marvin should be found guilty of rape and aggravated robbery (the victim of those 2 crimes was Tina). They would argue whether or not Marvin actually held the knife to Tina's throat while he sexually violated her, and the technicality of aggravated robbery because she was able to talk him into leaving the knife at the house while she drove him to the bank to get $1000. (It's not considered aggravated robbery--the more serious charge--without the weapon.)
As is the case with any trial, we were told NOT to discuss this case at all, with anyone--spouses, family, friends or other jurors--or to look for information regarding this in newspapers or on the internet during the trial. We were to hear all testimony and see all evidence before forming an opinion on the matters at hand. For me, that was hellish. I was dealing with the most horrific, violent, disturbing and unsettling event in my life completely alone. I felt isolated and empty. I couldn't share with my own husband or mom what was ripping me apart. I cried myself to sleep most every night of that trial, picturing poor Daniel and what he suffered at the hands of that monster ... and for his poor mother and all she must be riddled with--guilt for bringing that man into her family, for not keeping her child safe, the absolute heartbreak of losing a child, particularly in such a violent way, and for what must have been the most horrible moment of her life when she found her son--gagged, hogtied and bloody--and then tried to revive him herself. I still feel an absolute ache in my core when I think about the trial, and I still cry.
Through all the graphic testimony, photos and evidence presented, I was (and still am) able to close my eyes and picture the crime as if it were happening right in front of me, as if I were standing in the corner watching the entire thing happen.
I always knew that horrible things happened in the world, that there are terrible people who commit heinous crimes against others. Until that trial, all of that happened outside of my sphere of reality. I was aware that it existed, but I never lived it. Then, sitting in a jury box, I did. I sat in a courtroom mere feet from the most evil person I have ever encountered. It was at that point that my sphere of reality was punctured. The horrible, villainous events of that crime and every other felt like they were all happening to me in my world. That trial opened the floodgates of my emotional destruction. When I heard about soldiers who were being captured and beheaded, I felt like they were my sons being brutalized. I couldn't breathe. I mourned for each victim of crime like they were my family. I couldn't watch any form of the news without feeling overcome with sadness and devastation. I was overwhelmed with grief. I felt completely tormented.
It wasn't until months after the trial when most all of us on the jury got together that I realized I was dealing with something of grand proportion and out of my control. Several of us were reeling from our experience of the trial. Post-traumatic stress disorder. Depression. Anxiety. Disconnection from what we used to do and love. Inability to cope with setbacks or problems. About two weeks after our get-together, I went to the doctor and cried my way through the appointment. She prescribed an anti-depressant to help me. It worked. I was on medication for about a year.
I'm "fine" now. I am no longer overwhelmed by all of this, but I do still think about it. I check the inmate status of Marvin Johnson about once a month. I've searched the internet for information regarding his appeals. (I received an email from one of my juror friends yesterday--which is what brought this to the front of my thinking. Her daughter is doing a speech regarding the death penalty and found Marvin's appeal report from the Supreme Court of Ohio on-line.) I still feel sick and empty anytime I drive through Cambridge, Ohio. I will never serve on a jury again.
Deliberating the life of another person is incredibly daunting. Most all of us on the jury cried during the deliberation process. We shared opinions. We asked questions. We listened. We sat quietly and thought. We talked. We held hands and prayed. We hugged each other. We all struggled with the gravity of the situation. But we all agreed--imposing the death penalty is an act of affirming the value of life. When I voted in favor of the death sentence for Marvin Johnson, I was also voting for the life of Daniel Bailey.
Several of us from the jury went to the sentencing hearing in June (2004). We drove together to Cambridge and talked a lot about what an impact the trial had on us and our lives. After the hearing we met and talked with the judge, the bailiffs, the prosecuting attorneys and the lead detective on the case. They were all very grateful for our dedication and service to the community. We met Tina Bailey that day, too. She also thanked us for our service in bringing justice for her son and family. When I hugged her that day, I knew that, indeed, my life had been forever changed.
Monday, March 26, 2007
Run, Jen, run!!
I have been working pretty steadily since January 2006 to get back in shape and be a much healthier person. To accomplish this, I have been working out a lot and eating much better than I had been (goodbye buffalo wings, sniff, sniff). The local YMCA offers some really great classes ... and I take a few of them. Generally I make it to the gym somewhere between 3 and 5 days a week--1-2 hours each day. I'm taking some pretty intense classes (bootcamp, cardio kickboxing) that are helping to whip me into a solid level of cardio fitness. I've also been taking some strength training classes to help me build muscle and tone up what I've got. I have seen some progress (20 pounds overall which has brought me down 2 sizes), but I've been stuck for a long time now at the current "plateau".
Plateau is a misnomer. It sounds pleasant, scenic even. Solid ground. Comfortable and flat. In no way does it convey the complete frustration I feel that I am stuck here. I think it should be called a trench. Or a gutter. Or a ditch. Or a bunch of shit. There are days that I feel like I might as well eat all the wings, fries and ice cream I want to, if I'm going to be nailed to the scale where I am now.
Adding to my frustration just a little is my husband's success in this department. He has lost 15 pounds since January 1st. (I'm very happy for you, honey ... and I think you are looking maaaahhhvelous, baby!!) So, in less than 3 months, he's lost nearly the same amount of weight I have .... but it's taken me over a year to do it!! And I'm busting my ass in the gym, which he is not!!
I'm going to try switching things up a little bit ... see if that helps. You know, change up the work out to shock my body into dropping the chub. So, today I jogged around my neighborhood. (I'm using the term "jog" very loosely here.) I feel like I should issue an official apology to the few women who were outside talking while I went galloping by. I absolutely SUCK at running. I can't run very far (talking maybe a quarter mile) and I feel miserable and get cramps in my sides. I have to give myself little incentives ("run to the next street and then you can walk for a little bit") to make it. I have set a little goal for myself: I want to be able to run the entire perimeter of the 'hood by the end of April. That's a lofty goal, considering that I ran maybe a third of it today--in sections ... that wasn't even a straight run.
I'll post on this topic again ... if I make progress. So, if I never mention jogging again, know that I failed miserably. Sigh.
Plateau is a misnomer. It sounds pleasant, scenic even. Solid ground. Comfortable and flat. In no way does it convey the complete frustration I feel that I am stuck here. I think it should be called a trench. Or a gutter. Or a ditch. Or a bunch of shit. There are days that I feel like I might as well eat all the wings, fries and ice cream I want to, if I'm going to be nailed to the scale where I am now.
Adding to my frustration just a little is my husband's success in this department. He has lost 15 pounds since January 1st. (I'm very happy for you, honey ... and I think you are looking maaaahhhvelous, baby!!) So, in less than 3 months, he's lost nearly the same amount of weight I have .... but it's taken me over a year to do it!! And I'm busting my ass in the gym, which he is not!!
I'm going to try switching things up a little bit ... see if that helps. You know, change up the work out to shock my body into dropping the chub. So, today I jogged around my neighborhood. (I'm using the term "jog" very loosely here.) I feel like I should issue an official apology to the few women who were outside talking while I went galloping by. I absolutely SUCK at running. I can't run very far (talking maybe a quarter mile) and I feel miserable and get cramps in my sides. I have to give myself little incentives ("run to the next street and then you can walk for a little bit") to make it. I have set a little goal for myself: I want to be able to run the entire perimeter of the 'hood by the end of April. That's a lofty goal, considering that I ran maybe a third of it today--in sections ... that wasn't even a straight run.
I'll post on this topic again ... if I make progress. So, if I never mention jogging again, know that I failed miserably. Sigh.
Friday, March 23, 2007
knowing your kids ...
This week I earned another "Mother of the Year" ribbon. I have many in my collection.
It seems no matter how hard I try sometimes, nor how good my intentions may be, I do very stupid things as a mom. Some days I wonder how I can know my children so well, yet be so oblivious as to how I should take care of them. Am I trying to ruin them or scar them for life??
On Sunday, the kids played outside all afternoon. I had started a little fire in the backyard and the kids roasted marshmallows. They jumped and jumped on the trampoline. Everything seemed fine. Once we came in the house, though, things changed. Austin came down with what seemed to be a flu bug. He was miserable--headache, tired, achy, feverish with a sore throat. I took him up to his room and got him into some warm, comfy pajamas while he was limply lying on his bed, shivering like a maniac--teeth chattering and all. I gave him some ibuprofen and offered him a fudgesicle to help the sore throat. He only ate half of it and wanted to lie down. I tucked him into bed with me in the guest room so I could keep watch over him.
Tim took care of Maya that night so I could tend to my poor, sick little guy. It's terrible for me to say, but I sometimes like it when my son is feeling ill. While I enjoy his usual energy and silliness most of the time, there are days that I just wish he would slow down a bit ... take a chill pill ... relax. That happens when he's sick. He transforms into an incredibly docile, sweet and loving child. It's a nice change for me. For a little while.
So, Austin was not well enough to go to school on Monday or Tuesday. By Tuesday evening though, things were getting better. I figured the bug was about done. He was chipper, jumping around, goofing with Maya, playing like he felt pretty darn good. I knew I'd send him to school on Wednesday. Yeah! Well, Austin came out of his room about an hour or so after I tucked him in (Tuesday night), saying that his ear was really, really hurting. Crap! More ibuprofen and a heating pad, but he was still pretty uncomfortable. Poor guy. Once the ibuprofen kicked in, though, he seemed o.k. and slept fine the entire night. Super! I'll send him to school with medicine in his system and call the pediatrician for an appointment once the office opens. Good plan, right? Not by Austin's figuring. He didn't think he should go to school. He said he still felt "yucky" and his ear was hurting. I figured he was just wanting to stay home and lay around for another day, so I made him go to school. I told him the plan that I'd call the doctor and come get him from school for the appointment. He still resisted going, but I insisted he'd be fine.
The doctor's office had an open slot for us at 3:00. That was a little later than I was hoping for ... at that point, Austin would have practically been in school all day. Oh well! If he felt "yucky" and needed to come home, he'd go to the nurse, right? Wrong. I forgot something really important. Austin handles pain and illness like his dad. He doesn't tell me about not feeling well until he's really, really sick. (He was out jumping on the trampoline, running around and roasting marshmallows all the way up to the point he was ready to collapse with exhaustion and discomfort as he came down with all of this.) Well, by the time I picked him up and we went to the doctor's office, he was nearly in tears his ear hurt so much, and he was back to being achy and tired. He whimpered and cried through the appointment and while we waited in the pharmacy for the prescriptions. My poor little guy was miserable again ... and then he said it--what I was feeling so guilty about at that moment: "I think I wouldn't feel so bad if I could have stayed home and rested one more day."
I almost heard the flourish of trumpets as I received my latest "Mother of the Year" award--practically handed to me by my weeping, sick son. I am a parenting genius!
It seems no matter how hard I try sometimes, nor how good my intentions may be, I do very stupid things as a mom. Some days I wonder how I can know my children so well, yet be so oblivious as to how I should take care of them. Am I trying to ruin them or scar them for life??
On Sunday, the kids played outside all afternoon. I had started a little fire in the backyard and the kids roasted marshmallows. They jumped and jumped on the trampoline. Everything seemed fine. Once we came in the house, though, things changed. Austin came down with what seemed to be a flu bug. He was miserable--headache, tired, achy, feverish with a sore throat. I took him up to his room and got him into some warm, comfy pajamas while he was limply lying on his bed, shivering like a maniac--teeth chattering and all. I gave him some ibuprofen and offered him a fudgesicle to help the sore throat. He only ate half of it and wanted to lie down. I tucked him into bed with me in the guest room so I could keep watch over him.
Tim took care of Maya that night so I could tend to my poor, sick little guy. It's terrible for me to say, but I sometimes like it when my son is feeling ill. While I enjoy his usual energy and silliness most of the time, there are days that I just wish he would slow down a bit ... take a chill pill ... relax. That happens when he's sick. He transforms into an incredibly docile, sweet and loving child. It's a nice change for me. For a little while.
So, Austin was not well enough to go to school on Monday or Tuesday. By Tuesday evening though, things were getting better. I figured the bug was about done. He was chipper, jumping around, goofing with Maya, playing like he felt pretty darn good. I knew I'd send him to school on Wednesday. Yeah! Well, Austin came out of his room about an hour or so after I tucked him in (Tuesday night), saying that his ear was really, really hurting. Crap! More ibuprofen and a heating pad, but he was still pretty uncomfortable. Poor guy. Once the ibuprofen kicked in, though, he seemed o.k. and slept fine the entire night. Super! I'll send him to school with medicine in his system and call the pediatrician for an appointment once the office opens. Good plan, right? Not by Austin's figuring. He didn't think he should go to school. He said he still felt "yucky" and his ear was hurting. I figured he was just wanting to stay home and lay around for another day, so I made him go to school. I told him the plan that I'd call the doctor and come get him from school for the appointment. He still resisted going, but I insisted he'd be fine.
The doctor's office had an open slot for us at 3:00. That was a little later than I was hoping for ... at that point, Austin would have practically been in school all day. Oh well! If he felt "yucky" and needed to come home, he'd go to the nurse, right? Wrong. I forgot something really important. Austin handles pain and illness like his dad. He doesn't tell me about not feeling well until he's really, really sick. (He was out jumping on the trampoline, running around and roasting marshmallows all the way up to the point he was ready to collapse with exhaustion and discomfort as he came down with all of this.) Well, by the time I picked him up and we went to the doctor's office, he was nearly in tears his ear hurt so much, and he was back to being achy and tired. He whimpered and cried through the appointment and while we waited in the pharmacy for the prescriptions. My poor little guy was miserable again ... and then he said it--what I was feeling so guilty about at that moment: "I think I wouldn't feel so bad if I could have stayed home and rested one more day."
I almost heard the flourish of trumpets as I received my latest "Mother of the Year" award--practically handed to me by my weeping, sick son. I am a parenting genius!
Monday, March 19, 2007
Austin's lost tooth
About a month ago, Austin had a loose tooth ... the kind that was barely hanging on, begging to be removed. I wanted to pull it. It would have required almost no effort for me to do it, but he got nervous and didn't want me to. He hasn't had any horrible "tooth losing" history or anything. We've never tied a tooth to a string attached to a doorknob or car bumper. I haven't tricked him by telling him I'd only wiggle it while I was actually planning to yank it out. I don't know exactly why he felt so nervous about it. (Maybe it has something to do with being afraid of getting "big" ... I mentioned that in a previous blog.)
Daddy didn't really help my efforts at all. He was on Austin's side. He said I should just leave it alone. It wasn't bothering anything to leave it in. Well, that's not actually true ... it was bothering me. It was so loose it blew in the breeze of his breath when he talked. I wanted to pull it so Austin could eat more easily and so that I wasn't watching it flap in the wind. We went back and forth for a few minutes. I left the tooth alone, against my better judgement and desire.
So, with Austin nearly done with his lunch, he exclaimed, "my tooth is gone!" He was very excited. Yeah! See, Mommy, you didn't need to pull it. It would come out when it was ready!! I said, "good for you! Let me see it." (You know where I'm going with this, right?) He didn't know where the tooth was, and he didn't know exactly when he lost it ... and by exactly when, I mean in exactly which bite. Austin had eaten his tooth. Seriously. He ate the thing. Apparently, my son doesn't chew his food very well, or just isn't very discerning while eating. He did say that he felt something hard in his mouth while he was eating ... and, rather than take it out of his mouth to see what it was, he just swallowed it. Nice!
So, nearly a month later, Austin still hasn't written a note to the tooth fairy to explain what happened ... and the tooth fairy hasn't visited yet. She's still waiting for the letter ... and she'll feel really vindicated if the note includes something along the line of "I should have let my Mommy pull that tooth. She knows what she's talking about." But, as most tooth fairies know, those admissions don't come very often ... and especially not in writing!!
Daddy didn't really help my efforts at all. He was on Austin's side. He said I should just leave it alone. It wasn't bothering anything to leave it in. Well, that's not actually true ... it was bothering me. It was so loose it blew in the breeze of his breath when he talked. I wanted to pull it so Austin could eat more easily and so that I wasn't watching it flap in the wind. We went back and forth for a few minutes. I left the tooth alone, against my better judgement and desire.
So, with Austin nearly done with his lunch, he exclaimed, "my tooth is gone!" He was very excited. Yeah! See, Mommy, you didn't need to pull it. It would come out when it was ready!! I said, "good for you! Let me see it." (You know where I'm going with this, right?) He didn't know where the tooth was, and he didn't know exactly when he lost it ... and by exactly when, I mean in exactly which bite. Austin had eaten his tooth. Seriously. He ate the thing. Apparently, my son doesn't chew his food very well, or just isn't very discerning while eating. He did say that he felt something hard in his mouth while he was eating ... and, rather than take it out of his mouth to see what it was, he just swallowed it. Nice!
So, nearly a month later, Austin still hasn't written a note to the tooth fairy to explain what happened ... and the tooth fairy hasn't visited yet. She's still waiting for the letter ... and she'll feel really vindicated if the note includes something along the line of "I should have let my Mommy pull that tooth. She knows what she's talking about." But, as most tooth fairies know, those admissions don't come very often ... and especially not in writing!!
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Which is best? Maple? Oak? Ash?
Kids seem to have an infatuation with climbing trees. I suppose that's part of why tree forts are such a hit for kids ... a grown-up free zone AND they get to climb a tree to get to it. I haven't been able to figure out exactly why this is so exciting or intriguing. Personally, I have absolutely no interest in climbing anything ... I am ridiculously afraid of heights.
My kids don't have any fear of climbing a tree--and, as a matter of fact, they will see random trees and ponder the "climbability" of them ... sometimes asking if they can verify their hunches. (I usually say "no" ... not just because I'm a party pooper or buzz kill. It has everything to do with my fear of heights and the issue I'm about to share.)
So, climbing is all fun and happy for them, but my kids are afraid to come back down a tree on their own. I don't know how many times they've been outside playing and one of them will come running in with a plea for help for the other ... "Mommy! Austin's halfway up the tree and he's stuck. He needs your help." Well, as long as the child up the tree is within my reach, I can be of help. If they get higher than that, they are S.O.L. unless Tim's home. (That could also stand for Stuck On a Limb .... either expression works.)
It's only happened once ... that they were too high up the tree for me to rescue them. It was one of the beautiful days last Fall, luckily on a weekend, and Austin came in and said that Maya needed me. He had no sense of urgency, no concern in his voice ... he almost seemed annoyed that he had been sent in to fetch one of the parental units for his sister. I didn't figure it was a pressing matter, so I finished up what I was doing and casually headed for the door. When I looked out, I saw Maya about 20 feet off the ground, at the top of their favorite climbing tree. (When I say "top of the tree", it should be noted that I literally mean TOP of the tree ... you know, where the branches are thin and weak ... not good for someone to be climbing and standing on.) I hollered for Tim ... something along the lines of "Tim!! Tim!!! Tim!!!!!!! Hurry up! Maya's all the way in the top of the tree!" Clever wording, huh?!
We both grabbed shoes and hurried out the front door. Maya was very nervous, slightly teary-eyed and ready to let go, if Daddy would catch her. Tim surveyed the situation and determined that he would need to go up and get her, he wouldn't be able to guide her down verbally, she was too freaked out and showing a lack of patience in all of it. So, up he started, all the while telling her to stay where she was and hold on. Once he finally got up close enough to her, she nearly lunged for his arms ... slightly before he was prepared for it.
Worth noting that I'm on the ground, looking up at all of this, terrified that the branches will break or that she'd come tumbling out of the tree before he can get there. My lack of emotional stability (read: state of terror) didn't translate into helpful communication. I remember telling Maya that she needed to hold on and that Daddy was on his way, trying to sound comforting and calming to her. Apparently I wasn't very effective in doing that since Tim turned to me at one point and said, "Jen! Easy!! Just calm down." So, I tried to breathe more and talk less.
At that point Maya was in Tim's arms and they would have begun the descent. One problem: Tim realized that he was in an awkward position in the tree and wouldn't really be able to maneuver down while holding Maya. He asked if I thought I'd be able to grab / catch her from that point in the tree. "Yes. Definitely. I think so." Being the practical and safety-oriented person he is, he wanted to know which of my answers was the official one: "definitely" or "I think so" ... because those are quite different. It was "definitely" ... I could grab her from there. So he slowly and carefully lowered her toward me. She was mostly dangling--because she wasn't doing very much to position her feet on any branches or hold on to anything--with her legs still about 6 feet or so off the ground. I reached up as much as I could and was able to get my hands on her. "Do you have her, Jen? Do you have her? I'm not letting go until you're sure you've got her. Tell me when you've got her." Once I said I was sure I had a secure hold, he let go and Maya dropped into my arms. She was smiley and slightly giggly, asking if I had seen how high she was. The fear and trepidation were gone for her the instant she hit the ground, and she seemed to see the event as exciting again--like she felt on the way up the tree.
I suppose that's what the kids are thinking of today, as they're outside climbing that same tree right now ... "isn't this fun?" No, kids, it's not fun for me at all.
My kids don't have any fear of climbing a tree--and, as a matter of fact, they will see random trees and ponder the "climbability" of them ... sometimes asking if they can verify their hunches. (I usually say "no" ... not just because I'm a party pooper or buzz kill. It has everything to do with my fear of heights and the issue I'm about to share.)
So, climbing is all fun and happy for them, but my kids are afraid to come back down a tree on their own. I don't know how many times they've been outside playing and one of them will come running in with a plea for help for the other ... "Mommy! Austin's halfway up the tree and he's stuck. He needs your help." Well, as long as the child up the tree is within my reach, I can be of help. If they get higher than that, they are S.O.L. unless Tim's home. (That could also stand for Stuck On a Limb .... either expression works.)
It's only happened once ... that they were too high up the tree for me to rescue them. It was one of the beautiful days last Fall, luckily on a weekend, and Austin came in and said that Maya needed me. He had no sense of urgency, no concern in his voice ... he almost seemed annoyed that he had been sent in to fetch one of the parental units for his sister. I didn't figure it was a pressing matter, so I finished up what I was doing and casually headed for the door. When I looked out, I saw Maya about 20 feet off the ground, at the top of their favorite climbing tree. (When I say "top of the tree", it should be noted that I literally mean TOP of the tree ... you know, where the branches are thin and weak ... not good for someone to be climbing and standing on.) I hollered for Tim ... something along the lines of "Tim!! Tim!!! Tim!!!!!!! Hurry up! Maya's all the way in the top of the tree!" Clever wording, huh?!
We both grabbed shoes and hurried out the front door. Maya was very nervous, slightly teary-eyed and ready to let go, if Daddy would catch her. Tim surveyed the situation and determined that he would need to go up and get her, he wouldn't be able to guide her down verbally, she was too freaked out and showing a lack of patience in all of it. So, up he started, all the while telling her to stay where she was and hold on. Once he finally got up close enough to her, she nearly lunged for his arms ... slightly before he was prepared for it.
Worth noting that I'm on the ground, looking up at all of this, terrified that the branches will break or that she'd come tumbling out of the tree before he can get there. My lack of emotional stability (read: state of terror) didn't translate into helpful communication. I remember telling Maya that she needed to hold on and that Daddy was on his way, trying to sound comforting and calming to her. Apparently I wasn't very effective in doing that since Tim turned to me at one point and said, "Jen! Easy!! Just calm down." So, I tried to breathe more and talk less.
At that point Maya was in Tim's arms and they would have begun the descent. One problem: Tim realized that he was in an awkward position in the tree and wouldn't really be able to maneuver down while holding Maya. He asked if I thought I'd be able to grab / catch her from that point in the tree. "Yes. Definitely. I think so." Being the practical and safety-oriented person he is, he wanted to know which of my answers was the official one: "definitely" or "I think so" ... because those are quite different. It was "definitely" ... I could grab her from there. So he slowly and carefully lowered her toward me. She was mostly dangling--because she wasn't doing very much to position her feet on any branches or hold on to anything--with her legs still about 6 feet or so off the ground. I reached up as much as I could and was able to get my hands on her. "Do you have her, Jen? Do you have her? I'm not letting go until you're sure you've got her. Tell me when you've got her." Once I said I was sure I had a secure hold, he let go and Maya dropped into my arms. She was smiley and slightly giggly, asking if I had seen how high she was. The fear and trepidation were gone for her the instant she hit the ground, and she seemed to see the event as exciting again--like she felt on the way up the tree.
I suppose that's what the kids are thinking of today, as they're outside climbing that same tree right now ... "isn't this fun?" No, kids, it's not fun for me at all.
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Spellcheck ... knot ass grate has sum thing
Ass a tea chair, eye half all ways maid mi stew dents no hoe two spiel--eve in in a for in lank wedge . Off ten, them wood tail me eye wuss may king to mush off an oar deal a bout hit--half tar awl, spiel chuck wuss a bowl two tail theme if they're wuss a miss take, write?!
May bee ewe cane fig you're oat that eye donut a green wish thatch eye deed a. Its him pore tent two no how too spiel ... mother ways, ewe wood hand up seaming knot vary in tell I gent.
Dose in correct graham her hand spieling brother ewe two?
Eye thing that hiss awl eye cane due four now. Righting like these max me tried.
(all sew, ever e were din these blog ass bin chucked by spiel chuck ... there awl write)
Yuck!
May bee ewe cane fig you're oat that eye donut a green wish thatch eye deed a. Its him pore tent two no how too spiel ... mother ways, ewe wood hand up seaming knot vary in tell I gent.
Dose in correct graham her hand spieling brother ewe two?
Eye thing that hiss awl eye cane due four now. Righting like these max me tried.
(all sew, ever e were din these blog ass bin chucked by spiel chuck ... there awl write)
Yuck!
Monday, March 12, 2007
I am one lucky chica.
People say that we are lucky to have one, two or even three good friends--really, truly good friends. The kind of friends who love you for who you are--mistakes, quirks, shortcomings and all. The kind who know your past and how it has shaped you into who you are and how it affects the decisions and choices you make in the present. The kind who let you lean on them when you need it and trust you enough to know that they can also lean on you. The kind who you can talk to about anything or you can sit quietly when you need to. The kind who will let you cry it out when you're hurting and who will goof and laugh with you when that's where your heart is. The kind who will be honest--whether that means agreeing with you or not--when you're working to sort out something of importance. The kind of friends that make you feel so grateful and blessed to have them in your life.
It seems that most people cycle through friendships. It brings to mind the somewhat sappy, although pertinent, email that goes around about friendships that we have for a season and a reason. Some people come into our lives for periods of time when we share a common bond ... and then usually those friendships wane as circumstances change. We develop new friendships during various stages of life, seeking people with whom we can connect, losing touch with others as our lives enter different phases. This is common ... and logical.
I have come to realize recently that I have an uncommon situation--a very fortunate situation for me. I have several good friends in my life that I have known for a very long time--a few for the majority of my years. Several of these people who have come into my life during different "seasons" have remained a part of my life--and we continue to be incredibly close.
I can't imagine how different my life would be if it were not for the great friends I have. I am truly blessed to be surrounded by such good people ... such good friends.
I am one lucky chica. :)
It seems that most people cycle through friendships. It brings to mind the somewhat sappy, although pertinent, email that goes around about friendships that we have for a season and a reason. Some people come into our lives for periods of time when we share a common bond ... and then usually those friendships wane as circumstances change. We develop new friendships during various stages of life, seeking people with whom we can connect, losing touch with others as our lives enter different phases. This is common ... and logical.
I have come to realize recently that I have an uncommon situation--a very fortunate situation for me. I have several good friends in my life that I have known for a very long time--a few for the majority of my years. Several of these people who have come into my life during different "seasons" have remained a part of my life--and we continue to be incredibly close.
I can't imagine how different my life would be if it were not for the great friends I have. I am truly blessed to be surrounded by such good people ... such good friends.
I am one lucky chica. :)
Thursday, March 8, 2007
The glory of a good PB & J sandwich
Yesterday the kids had another snow day--the 7th one. That's the 7th time I've had the fun of hearing Austin say "Yyyyeeeesssssss! WoooHoooo!" to that news. It brings an easy smile when you see someone reacting with such joy. He loves the idea of getting to stay home and do whatever he wants to do. Let's be honest ... who doesn't enjoy an unexpected opportunity to just chill out at home, relax, read, sleep, play or whatever else might float your boat!? It's fun for all of us.
The kids really made the most of the day--playing matchbox cars together, reading, playing some GameCube, watching some TV, coloring and playing boyfriend / girlfriend--which I found out means that you love each other and want to spend all your time together, unless one of the people needs to go to the bathroom, then they can have privacy. :)
For Austin and me, the best part of the day was lunch. Around 12:30 Austin told me that he and Maya were hungry and wanted to know if they could eat. I was buzzing around the house with laundry and other little chores, so I told them they could start making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and I'd be in to help in just a few minutes. I figured they'd have enough time to get out the bread, peanut butter, jelly, plates and knives ... maybe start spreading one of the pieces of bread, but not much more than that. Well, apparently I've underestimated how quickly they can assemble a sandwich when they're really hungry. When I walked into the kitchen, Maya was nearly half way through eating hers and Austin was sitting at the bar with his very tall sandwich on a paper plate in front of him. He had prepared his "favorite peanut butter and jelly sandwich" in a way that let me know immediately that he was all in for treating himself to quite a special lunch. (It is worth noting that the "favorite PB & J" includes both creamy and crunchy Jif along with strawberry and blackberry jellies. It's quite a masterpiece!)
So, I mentioned that he was sitting with his very tall sandwich in front of him. I would estimate that it was a good 3" high ... LOTS of peanut butter and even more jelly--he had been quite generous and kind to himself! He waited to eat this magnum opus until I could eat with him--so that we could enjoy our special, snow day lunch together. He offered to make a sandwich for me too, but I graciously declined ... after all, he had been very patient waiting for me knowing that the ultimate PB & J creation was ready for him to eat. As he picked up this colossal sandwich, a goodly portion of the jelly immediately oozed out of it, dropping onto his plate. He was amused. I quickly grabbed a slice of my bread and held it under his so that I could use part of his jelly. (I suppose that's a mommy thing to do ... let's not waste it, right??!) He was happy to share with me and seemed genuinely perplexed at my suggestion that he be sure to lean over his plate while he ate the rest of the sandwich. He ate every last bite and even licked the extra jelly off of his plate.
He enjoyed his sandwich immensely. Indeed, part of what made the sandwich so satisfying was the blending of the two peanut butters with the two kinds of jelly. But I think more than that, it was that he was proud that he made it himself, really doing it up, just like he would want it to be ... it was the PB & J of his dreams that had just become a reality.
Without even tasting it, I can tell you that it really was the best sandwich ever ... and what better day to have it than on our 7th snow day! Life is good!!
The kids really made the most of the day--playing matchbox cars together, reading, playing some GameCube, watching some TV, coloring and playing boyfriend / girlfriend--which I found out means that you love each other and want to spend all your time together, unless one of the people needs to go to the bathroom, then they can have privacy. :)
For Austin and me, the best part of the day was lunch. Around 12:30 Austin told me that he and Maya were hungry and wanted to know if they could eat. I was buzzing around the house with laundry and other little chores, so I told them they could start making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and I'd be in to help in just a few minutes. I figured they'd have enough time to get out the bread, peanut butter, jelly, plates and knives ... maybe start spreading one of the pieces of bread, but not much more than that. Well, apparently I've underestimated how quickly they can assemble a sandwich when they're really hungry. When I walked into the kitchen, Maya was nearly half way through eating hers and Austin was sitting at the bar with his very tall sandwich on a paper plate in front of him. He had prepared his "favorite peanut butter and jelly sandwich" in a way that let me know immediately that he was all in for treating himself to quite a special lunch. (It is worth noting that the "favorite PB & J" includes both creamy and crunchy Jif along with strawberry and blackberry jellies. It's quite a masterpiece!)
So, I mentioned that he was sitting with his very tall sandwich in front of him. I would estimate that it was a good 3" high ... LOTS of peanut butter and even more jelly--he had been quite generous and kind to himself! He waited to eat this magnum opus until I could eat with him--so that we could enjoy our special, snow day lunch together. He offered to make a sandwich for me too, but I graciously declined ... after all, he had been very patient waiting for me knowing that the ultimate PB & J creation was ready for him to eat. As he picked up this colossal sandwich, a goodly portion of the jelly immediately oozed out of it, dropping onto his plate. He was amused. I quickly grabbed a slice of my bread and held it under his so that I could use part of his jelly. (I suppose that's a mommy thing to do ... let's not waste it, right??!) He was happy to share with me and seemed genuinely perplexed at my suggestion that he be sure to lean over his plate while he ate the rest of the sandwich. He ate every last bite and even licked the extra jelly off of his plate.
He enjoyed his sandwich immensely. Indeed, part of what made the sandwich so satisfying was the blending of the two peanut butters with the two kinds of jelly. But I think more than that, it was that he was proud that he made it himself, really doing it up, just like he would want it to be ... it was the PB & J of his dreams that had just become a reality.
Without even tasting it, I can tell you that it really was the best sandwich ever ... and what better day to have it than on our 7th snow day! Life is good!!
Wednesday, March 7, 2007
Rites of passage
I'm having so much fun watching my kids grow up, little by little. And I'm learning so much along the way.
I found the infant stage to be sweet in a lot of ways, but more than that, I enjoy my kids as they're getting bigger ... being independent (able to feed and dress themselves
), developing opinions and a sense of humor, learning about the world and the people in it. This is what's really exciting to me as a parent. The ideas they conjure up, the plans they make, the stories and pictures they create, the new adventures and experiences for them ... are just a wondrous opportunity for me to see the world as I want it to be--innocent, exciting, simple, colorful, full of possibility.
To an adult, the idea of losing a tooth is mundane, even trite, but to a 6 year old it's monumental. It represents an important rite of passage, the exciting process of becoming "big". For some kids, that's a scary idea. The fear of the unknown can be overwhelming sometimes--for those of us in the adult world, too. For others, it's downright exhilarating. These changes represent a world full of possibility, opportunities for happiness and fun.
Each of these new "sacraments of youth" serves as a reminder for me to put things into perspective. As I enter into uncharted territory or am dealing with events in my life that are stressful, frustrating, challenging, daunting or scary, I need to remember that these are all just part of this life of change ... this process of becoming "big" ... my own rites of passage. With each of these new adventures and adjustments--whether big or small, exciting or nerve-racking--comes the possibility and opportunity for good things to happen--happiness, growth and fun ... and maybe, just maybe, the chance to meet the tooth fairy!
A girl can dream!
I found the infant stage to be sweet in a lot of ways, but more than that, I enjoy my kids as they're getting bigger ... being independent (able to feed and dress themselves
), developing opinions and a sense of humor, learning about the world and the people in it. This is what's really exciting to me as a parent. The ideas they conjure up, the plans they make, the stories and pictures they create, the new adventures and experiences for them ... are just a wondrous opportunity for me to see the world as I want it to be--innocent, exciting, simple, colorful, full of possibility.To an adult, the idea of losing a tooth is mundane, even trite, but to a 6 year old it's monumental. It represents an important rite of passage, the exciting process of becoming "big". For some kids, that's a scary idea. The fear of the unknown can be overwhelming sometimes--for those of us in the adult world, too. For others, it's downright exhilarating. These changes represent a world full of possibility, opportunities for happiness and fun.
Each of these new "sacraments of youth" serves as a reminder for me to put things into perspective. As I enter into uncharted territory or am dealing with events in my life that are stressful, frustrating, challenging, daunting or scary, I need to remember that these are all just part of this life of change ... this process of becoming "big" ... my own rites of passage. With each of these new adventures and adjustments--whether big or small, exciting or nerve-racking--comes the possibility and opportunity for good things to happen--happiness, growth and fun ... and maybe, just maybe, the chance to meet the tooth fairy!
A girl can dream!
Tuesday, March 6, 2007
Thinking about my Nana
It's been nearly 10 years since my Nana died. Some days it feels longer than that, other days it feels incredibly fresh. I miss her terribly ... I wish I could talk with her, listen to her stories about her life and experiences, share thoughts and ideas, pick her brain for parenting advice, hear her take on what's going on in the world--she was so intelligent and wise.
I would also love to hear her gleeful, completely giddy giggle again ... her unabashedly joyful expression for the success and happiness of others. I can see her as easily as if she were standing in her kitchen, wearing one of her dreadful snap-up smock / apron vests, hands clasped together in front of her chest--as if she were collecting all of her joy. She would begin the release of her happiness with an almost raspy laugh that was always the same (starting with a long, drawn out, exclamatory "Haaaaaaaah!", then followed by several shorter, always genuine and heart-felt bursts of excitement ... "Ha! Ha!! Ha!" ... each one higher in pitch than the last, until the final giggle was more of a squeal). God, I miss her!
Nana defined family for those of us in the Schario clan. Love honestly, be tolerant, think and dream, help each other, be strong and kind. We're a large, motley crew .... smart, sarcastic, busy, hard working, feisty, opinionated and often foul-mouthed. We're also thoughtful, kind, caring, generous and fantastically close with each other. We don't have to talk or see each other often ... but when we do, we fall easily and quickly right back to where we left off. For all of our differences--and there are many--we all share a strong bond with one another ... a bond that grew from the loving heart of Kathleen. She gave us all an amazing gift--the strength, tenderness and capacity to love ourselves and each other. We learned from Nana that family isn't defined by marriage or divorce or your surname ... family is defined by how you love each other.
A few months after I was married, Nana and I were talking on the phone, chatting on about all sorts of things--good books, the problems with and excitement of teaching, spring weather and family stuff. And she said something that struck me as incredibly simple and amazingly profound, so I grabbed a pen and wrote it down. In sorting through the many different relationships of all of us in the family, she said, "all I've ever wanted for my family is that they're strong enough to stand up for themselves and that they're gentle enough to love the person they're with when they need it most." Nana gave us the forum and opportunity to do that--to be strong and gentle, to be outspoken and listen, to reach out to each other and to ask for help.
I feel her around me so often--sometimes I just have uncontrollable urges to sing a little "deedle deedle dee" or maybe "swing swong" ... or when I see my daughter (who we lovingly named Maya Kathleen for Nana) devouring book after book ... or when I burn something that I'm cooking. There are times that I'll be in the middle of something, and I just feel her with me. I sense her warmth, love and support.
I'm so glad to have had such a wonderful woman in my life. I cherish my family so much ... and I am incredibly grateful to her for giving me the amazing gift that is to be a Schario.
Happy St. Patrick's Day, Nana!!
I would also love to hear her gleeful, completely giddy giggle again ... her unabashedly joyful expression for the success and happiness of others. I can see her as easily as if she were standing in her kitchen, wearing one of her dreadful snap-up smock / apron vests, hands clasped together in front of her chest--as if she were collecting all of her joy. She would begin the release of her happiness with an almost raspy laugh that was always the same (starting with a long, drawn out, exclamatory "Haaaaaaaah!", then followed by several shorter, always genuine and heart-felt bursts of excitement ... "Ha! Ha!! Ha!" ... each one higher in pitch than the last, until the final giggle was more of a squeal). God, I miss her!
Nana defined family for those of us in the Schario clan. Love honestly, be tolerant, think and dream, help each other, be strong and kind. We're a large, motley crew .... smart, sarcastic, busy, hard working, feisty, opinionated and often foul-mouthed. We're also thoughtful, kind, caring, generous and fantastically close with each other. We don't have to talk or see each other often ... but when we do, we fall easily and quickly right back to where we left off. For all of our differences--and there are many--we all share a strong bond with one another ... a bond that grew from the loving heart of Kathleen. She gave us all an amazing gift--the strength, tenderness and capacity to love ourselves and each other. We learned from Nana that family isn't defined by marriage or divorce or your surname ... family is defined by how you love each other.
A few months after I was married, Nana and I were talking on the phone, chatting on about all sorts of things--good books, the problems with and excitement of teaching, spring weather and family stuff. And she said something that struck me as incredibly simple and amazingly profound, so I grabbed a pen and wrote it down. In sorting through the many different relationships of all of us in the family, she said, "all I've ever wanted for my family is that they're strong enough to stand up for themselves and that they're gentle enough to love the person they're with when they need it most." Nana gave us the forum and opportunity to do that--to be strong and gentle, to be outspoken and listen, to reach out to each other and to ask for help.
I feel her around me so often--sometimes I just have uncontrollable urges to sing a little "deedle deedle dee" or maybe "swing swong" ... or when I see my daughter (who we lovingly named Maya Kathleen for Nana) devouring book after book ... or when I burn something that I'm cooking. There are times that I'll be in the middle of something, and I just feel her with me. I sense her warmth, love and support.
I'm so glad to have had such a wonderful woman in my life. I cherish my family so much ... and I am incredibly grateful to her for giving me the amazing gift that is to be a Schario.
Happy St. Patrick's Day, Nana!!
Monday, March 5, 2007
I'm a blog virgin
This world of blogging is all new to me. It's kind of exciting--trying something new, learning as I go, broadening my horizons ... but it's also a bit unnerving. What if I stink at this? Do I actually have anything interesting to say? Will I get lost in the blog-o-sphere? I suppose I'll have answers to those questions and others soon. But until then, I think I'll tiptoe into the blogging pool.
I'm not really the kind of person to dive right into the deep end of any new "pool" ... I'm more likely to wade in slowly, checking the water, gauging the temperature and activity level as I go. (You couldn't accuse me of being an adrenaline junky, that's for sure!) But, once I've adequately surveyed the situation and feel I've got my finger on the pulse of things, I'm ready to go--full steam ahead! *you might consider this a warning ... you could very well be reading the blog equivalent of the Titanic here!
So, considering that this is my first blog ever, I'm not going to type until my fingers fall off. Actually, this just might be it for now--I'll play it safe and be conservative this time (and this will be one of the FEW times you could ever call me conservative!!) ... especially until I figure out how to edit and add other blogs!
Wish me luck ... I'm going to put on my floaties now! :)
I'm not really the kind of person to dive right into the deep end of any new "pool" ... I'm more likely to wade in slowly, checking the water, gauging the temperature and activity level as I go. (You couldn't accuse me of being an adrenaline junky, that's for sure!) But, once I've adequately surveyed the situation and feel I've got my finger on the pulse of things, I'm ready to go--full steam ahead! *you might consider this a warning ... you could very well be reading the blog equivalent of the Titanic here!
So, considering that this is my first blog ever, I'm not going to type until my fingers fall off. Actually, this just might be it for now--I'll play it safe and be conservative this time (and this will be one of the FEW times you could ever call me conservative!!) ... especially until I figure out how to edit and add other blogs!
Wish me luck ... I'm going to put on my floaties now! :)
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