It will be a real miracle if we stay in relationship after these past two weeks home together.
For years we have had an inside joke that Fred needs to stay out of my drawers. No, not my “pants” but my file drawers.
He just doesn’t get my system. It would just be so much easier if he asked me for something than root through the files on his own. Eventually he will call to me after I say “What are you looking for now?”
The Allstate file, he calls back.
It’s in the file marked “C”.
What??????? He questions like it doesn’t make sense.
“C” I pause, “for car”
Next day, where is the AT & T? Fred sighs.
It is in “U” for utilities.
Today, he wanted the Discover Card file, He yelled, “I already looked in “C” for Credit cards but it is not there. I found it in this file with no tab.”
I retorted, “Is it Orange???” ..... He will just never get my system.
Friday, June 24, 2011
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
EOY
End of Year.
For teachers June is long awaited for so many reasons:
No more pencils, no more books,
No more people’s goofy looks like
Pants on the ground, painted hair, or
Parents who look like “Hootchie mamas”that swear.
Colleagues who let their students rome around and
A box overflowing with the lost and found.
Zero Tolerance, Bullying what is that?
Baby showers, parties that make us so fat.
FCAT, PTSA, BTU, SAC, and NESS
Just chalk up another year at LCMS.
THANK GOD IT’S OVER.
For teachers June is long awaited for so many reasons:
No more pencils, no more books,
No more people’s goofy looks like
Pants on the ground, painted hair, or
Parents who look like “Hootchie mamas”that swear.
Colleagues who let their students rome around and
A box overflowing with the lost and found.
Zero Tolerance, Bullying what is that?
Baby showers, parties that make us so fat.
FCAT, PTSA, BTU, SAC, and NESS
Just chalk up another year at LCMS.
THANK GOD IT’S OVER.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Wicked
This is my birthday week. Fred took me to see the Broadway play Wicked. We had front row seats. It was a wonderful evening. I felt normal. I felt like Laurie. I felt Wicked in a good way.
It has been months since I have been able to think clearly let alone blog. Health issues hanging over my head has resulted in a bout of depression and pity party. My children both came to Florida and I was able to have a fleeting visit with them in hopes I could snap out of it. Instead of smiles and grandbabies kisses giving me joy I found myself sinking deeper. Depression sucks.
Finally about a month ago, my doctor insisted I start medication. I hate any medicine as I blame most of my problems on the side effects of taking so many. Three years ago I only took a vitamin. Now I take more than a dozen pills a day. But I said yes in a desperate attempt to get my life back.
When my mother came for a visit and had her stroke I became paranoid it could happen to me. I regret today I said yes to aggressive medication for my over 500
Cholesterol. This medication depleted me of vitamins and caused stomach problems, then more meds. All of which had a domino effect. The calcium depletion contributed to my wrist injury.
My injury seems to have triggered an auto-immune disease which I must learn to live with. My husband wants his wife back, my children want their mom back and I feel like I am climbing Mt. Everest every day I get out of bed.
But I have so many who love me. Their genuine daily concern for me is better than the little blue pill I take. Friends force me to go out to dinner with them or make time for myself. My girls call daily. My husband is steadfast and continues to put me first.
Sixty offers me hope.
It has been months since I have been able to think clearly let alone blog. Health issues hanging over my head has resulted in a bout of depression and pity party. My children both came to Florida and I was able to have a fleeting visit with them in hopes I could snap out of it. Instead of smiles and grandbabies kisses giving me joy I found myself sinking deeper. Depression sucks.
Finally about a month ago, my doctor insisted I start medication. I hate any medicine as I blame most of my problems on the side effects of taking so many. Three years ago I only took a vitamin. Now I take more than a dozen pills a day. But I said yes in a desperate attempt to get my life back.
When my mother came for a visit and had her stroke I became paranoid it could happen to me. I regret today I said yes to aggressive medication for my over 500
Cholesterol. This medication depleted me of vitamins and caused stomach problems, then more meds. All of which had a domino effect. The calcium depletion contributed to my wrist injury.
My injury seems to have triggered an auto-immune disease which I must learn to live with. My husband wants his wife back, my children want their mom back and I feel like I am climbing Mt. Everest every day I get out of bed.
But I have so many who love me. Their genuine daily concern for me is better than the little blue pill I take. Friends force me to go out to dinner with them or make time for myself. My girls call daily. My husband is steadfast and continues to put me first.
Sixty offers me hope.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
I'll Never Grow Up
Once a year the classic Peter Peter was on television. In the same way that every generation claims I Love Lucy we thought this play was our show. There was just something about the enchantment of Never Never Land, Peter, The Lost Boys and Wendy. Even the dastardly Captain Hook had charm.
Peter was the hero or should I say “my” hero. Wendy was a tramp, I didn’t like her one bit. Jealousy can be a green-eyed monster. She did have a gentle warm way with the Lost Boys though and I could relate to her mother instinct. After all, I was the surrogate mom to my own two little brothers.
No matter how many times you saw it before, watching the play, singing the songs, and waiting for the climatic ending was still a euphoric and amazing experience. However, the memorable part came when the credits were rolling. We seemed to all jump up simultaneously and get up on the chairs and furniture leaping from piece to piece as if we were “flying”. We acted out the kidnappings, the sword fights, walking the plank, Tinkerbelle” s illness and the Crocks last mistake.
It went off the air for many years and one day I saw where they were rebroadcasting the original version. It was the “80’s”. Wow, I couldn’t wait to experience it with my own kids. I talked about it for weeks before it was to air. But alas, it was a huge flop with Annie & Jaime. They couldn’t understand what the heck all the fuss was about. I had forgotten they were from the fast forward, violent video game, instant replay generation. I still remember the sting when they more or less said it was really lame. As they walked down the hall to their rooms, I jumped up on the couch and flew from chair to chair as I sang “I’ll Never Grow Up."
Peter was the hero or should I say “my” hero. Wendy was a tramp, I didn’t like her one bit. Jealousy can be a green-eyed monster. She did have a gentle warm way with the Lost Boys though and I could relate to her mother instinct. After all, I was the surrogate mom to my own two little brothers.
No matter how many times you saw it before, watching the play, singing the songs, and waiting for the climatic ending was still a euphoric and amazing experience. However, the memorable part came when the credits were rolling. We seemed to all jump up simultaneously and get up on the chairs and furniture leaping from piece to piece as if we were “flying”. We acted out the kidnappings, the sword fights, walking the plank, Tinkerbelle” s illness and the Crocks last mistake.
It went off the air for many years and one day I saw where they were rebroadcasting the original version. It was the “80’s”. Wow, I couldn’t wait to experience it with my own kids. I talked about it for weeks before it was to air. But alas, it was a huge flop with Annie & Jaime. They couldn’t understand what the heck all the fuss was about. I had forgotten they were from the fast forward, violent video game, instant replay generation. I still remember the sting when they more or less said it was really lame. As they walked down the hall to their rooms, I jumped up on the couch and flew from chair to chair as I sang “I’ll Never Grow Up."
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Deck the Halls or not ???
This year my hand injury limited any Christmas shopping. The doctor revoked my driving privilege and most of my free time was spent in physical therapy. I did manage to write a few checks and do the rest of my shopping on line but I missed the shopping frenzy.
So finally, I decided to venture out not to shop but just to look at the malls. There was a wanting to see the holiday decorations, trains for the kiddies, and large trees adorned colored lights with red bows and colorful bulbs but alas.... what a disappointment.
Both malls visited were winter wonderlands. There were huge white snowflakes, ice sicles, snowmen and silver bulbs everywhere but no red and green anywhere. Large colored gumdrops replaced giant red and white candy canes. Santa’s elaborate chair was there in a spherical shape clear bulb... no elves, no wreaths, and no tree just the photographer making big bucks.
It is bad enough that people have taken Christ out of Christmas but the worry about political correctness is just spoiling the whole season. Even the canned music was selective. You can be sure you didn’t hear “Away in a Manger”.
It is not like this in the north. In the past, when visiting my girls in Ohio and also NJ you see the spirit of Christmas in their shopping plazas and down town. Christmas carols are blasting from store to store. The main streets have lights aglow, wreaths and garland strung from pole to pole.
There must be plenty of people here in Florida who noticed the absence of red and green because the people who decorate their homes go crazy. It is almost like a subconscious “take this” in the developments. Nine out of ten homes look like the “Griswold’s” and they make up for the sterile malls. Because the weather cooperates the neighborhoods go all out with lights. I almost feel sorry for the one house with blue lights and a little menorah in the window.
The weather in Florida at Christmas is usually like a crisp fall day in north. It is probably closer to the real first biblical Christmas. You never miss the bitter freezing cold or snow. It is a time to enjoy a fire on my porch and sleep with the windows open. When our girls were little we often spent Christmas Day on the beach and Santa would come by in Bermuda shorts and give out candy canes. So these memories sustain me and I am not ready to put the “for sale” sign out and move.... yet the thought did cross my mind.
So finally, I decided to venture out not to shop but just to look at the malls. There was a wanting to see the holiday decorations, trains for the kiddies, and large trees adorned colored lights with red bows and colorful bulbs but alas.... what a disappointment.
Both malls visited were winter wonderlands. There were huge white snowflakes, ice sicles, snowmen and silver bulbs everywhere but no red and green anywhere. Large colored gumdrops replaced giant red and white candy canes. Santa’s elaborate chair was there in a spherical shape clear bulb... no elves, no wreaths, and no tree just the photographer making big bucks.
It is bad enough that people have taken Christ out of Christmas but the worry about political correctness is just spoiling the whole season. Even the canned music was selective. You can be sure you didn’t hear “Away in a Manger”.
It is not like this in the north. In the past, when visiting my girls in Ohio and also NJ you see the spirit of Christmas in their shopping plazas and down town. Christmas carols are blasting from store to store. The main streets have lights aglow, wreaths and garland strung from pole to pole.
There must be plenty of people here in Florida who noticed the absence of red and green because the people who decorate their homes go crazy. It is almost like a subconscious “take this” in the developments. Nine out of ten homes look like the “Griswold’s” and they make up for the sterile malls. Because the weather cooperates the neighborhoods go all out with lights. I almost feel sorry for the one house with blue lights and a little menorah in the window.
The weather in Florida at Christmas is usually like a crisp fall day in north. It is probably closer to the real first biblical Christmas. You never miss the bitter freezing cold or snow. It is a time to enjoy a fire on my porch and sleep with the windows open. When our girls were little we often spent Christmas Day on the beach and Santa would come by in Bermuda shorts and give out candy canes. So these memories sustain me and I am not ready to put the “for sale” sign out and move.... yet the thought did cross my mind.
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Who Knew?
When I was first invited to a “Cookie Exchange” during the holiday season I was curious and it sounded like a great idea. Little did I know the event would leave me traumatized? Who knew there were rules? Just “google” Cookie Exchange rules if you do not believe me. The first rule said “pick your theme and set your ground rules”. Rules like how many cookies to bake, no store bought items, bring an ornament to exchange etc.
Baking has not always come easy to me. I fancy myself a cook, “a little of this, a little of that” so following a recipe exactly is a challenge. Six dozen cookies were the requirement. It took me forever, Fred even stepped in to help me. Finally, cookies wrapped, I ventured out.
The first thing that signaled I was way out of my realm was the hostess face when she saw my cookies on a paper plate. She put them on the festive table where others had little bags with ribbons, or colorful boxes. Their recipes were tiny scrolls on green or red paper. Some were typed on little holiday cards. Mine were hand written on an index card OOPs.
Another rule broken, sorry, no one told me to bring a large container to take home my goodies so the hostess had to give me a brown bag. It was all just too much and on the ride home I vowed no more exchanges ever.
But I have decided to break that vow. This year I will host a no rule cookie exchange.
Bring whatever and however many cookies you want. I do not care if they are last year’s girl-scout cookies. Your choice if you want to share the recipe. No fancy plates, boxes or ribbons required. Let’s just live, laugh and love.
Baking has not always come easy to me. I fancy myself a cook, “a little of this, a little of that” so following a recipe exactly is a challenge. Six dozen cookies were the requirement. It took me forever, Fred even stepped in to help me. Finally, cookies wrapped, I ventured out.
The first thing that signaled I was way out of my realm was the hostess face when she saw my cookies on a paper plate. She put them on the festive table where others had little bags with ribbons, or colorful boxes. Their recipes were tiny scrolls on green or red paper. Some were typed on little holiday cards. Mine were hand written on an index card OOPs.
Another rule broken, sorry, no one told me to bring a large container to take home my goodies so the hostess had to give me a brown bag. It was all just too much and on the ride home I vowed no more exchanges ever.
But I have decided to break that vow. This year I will host a no rule cookie exchange.
Bring whatever and however many cookies you want. I do not care if they are last year’s girl-scout cookies. Your choice if you want to share the recipe. No fancy plates, boxes or ribbons required. Let’s just live, laugh and love.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Wooooooo Who!!!!!!
It is the little things that make you happy. These past two months I have been disabled with the use of only one hand. I did not know how many things that you need both hands; things like getting dressed, driving, lifting a pot of water, curling your hair, shaving under your arms, putting on deodorant and typing.
Today, I am typing with both hands. Yea. It is the first time I have written my blog since September. My hand injury really messed me up. This week I was given back some of my life but the single biggest monumental gift was it is Ok to drive.
I swear it was the exact same feeling I had the day I got my driver’s license and my dad took me to pick up my 1969 Cougar. You remember the day you got your drivers license and you were FREE... that feeling. Woooo who!!!!!
Driving to work with my car that was loaded with crap like trees, ornaments, and Christmas marionettes was like riding with the radio blasting and windows down in the 60's. It was easy to figure out my dismay these past months was a control issue. Waiting on a driver or leaving school before I was ready to go home was out of my control. Not driving was the first domino in my pity party.
After only two days I can see a light at the end of this tunnel. When I am at home I am allowed to take off the splint, this is why I can finally type. Evaluating and learning from this injury and my experience has been life giving. God tells us to slow down or else. I have learned to do on line banking, bill paying, and purchase items on line out of necessity. I have come to appreciate every little thing from brushing my teeth to shaving under my arms.
I no longer have the luxury of talking on phone on my trip home because I need my right hand for driving. I miss this but know it is imperative I am extra careful on the road.
There is much to be thankful for like my trip to see my grand kids and the fact I saw Jaime’s new baby Parker before I fell. My grandson calls me “Grammystein” after Frankenstein because of my long scar on my wrist. The name might even stick as he got a kick out of my new name all weekend.
But the real hero is Fred. He has taken me to doctors, dressed me, washed my clothes, cooked, shopped and listened to me whine and moan. He is going to take a trip north without me this weekend. He deserves the quiet sans Laurie.
Today, I am typing with both hands. Yea. It is the first time I have written my blog since September. My hand injury really messed me up. This week I was given back some of my life but the single biggest monumental gift was it is Ok to drive.
I swear it was the exact same feeling I had the day I got my driver’s license and my dad took me to pick up my 1969 Cougar. You remember the day you got your drivers license and you were FREE... that feeling. Woooo who!!!!!
Driving to work with my car that was loaded with crap like trees, ornaments, and Christmas marionettes was like riding with the radio blasting and windows down in the 60's. It was easy to figure out my dismay these past months was a control issue. Waiting on a driver or leaving school before I was ready to go home was out of my control. Not driving was the first domino in my pity party.
After only two days I can see a light at the end of this tunnel. When I am at home I am allowed to take off the splint, this is why I can finally type. Evaluating and learning from this injury and my experience has been life giving. God tells us to slow down or else. I have learned to do on line banking, bill paying, and purchase items on line out of necessity. I have come to appreciate every little thing from brushing my teeth to shaving under my arms.
I no longer have the luxury of talking on phone on my trip home because I need my right hand for driving. I miss this but know it is imperative I am extra careful on the road.
There is much to be thankful for like my trip to see my grand kids and the fact I saw Jaime’s new baby Parker before I fell. My grandson calls me “Grammystein” after Frankenstein because of my long scar on my wrist. The name might even stick as he got a kick out of my new name all weekend.
But the real hero is Fred. He has taken me to doctors, dressed me, washed my clothes, cooked, shopped and listened to me whine and moan. He is going to take a trip north without me this weekend. He deserves the quiet sans Laurie.
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