Wonderful Weekend

It all started with Daniel going to stay with my brother-in-law and sister-in law last night.

First, Keith and I had a scrumptious dinner at the Embers Grill...shrimp stuffed with crab meat (him) and chicken stuffed with sauteed arugula, roasted red peppers and prosciutto drizzled in a gorgonzola cheese sauce (me)... one of the best dinners we've had in a restaurant in a very long time. Then, we attended Married Life Live-- an event for couples that our church puts on. Music, conversation and a great message made for a fun evening. Then, we took our temporarily-childless selves to the movies to see World Trade Center...a moving film.

Today, Keith and Daniel spent some "guy time" together while I got a massage for ONE AND A HALF hours! I have never had a massage for that long...now I'm hooked! I laid there in sheer bliss and the massage therapist took a lot more time than usual--especially on my feet and hands. I was purring like a kitten. Then, I spent time with my friends at a yard sale across the street while the kids played. Tonight...we go out to dinner and see a play tonight at the local playhouse with our friends Melissa and Jimmy.

The time away from Daniel last night was good for both of us...he screamed "Mommy!" as he lept into my arms when we picked him up. Quiet dinner, movie, massage or not... that warm reception made every moment we spent away from him worth it (even though we pouted alot of the time because we missed him so much!)

I'm telling you-- I wish every weekend were this relaxing!

What I'm Listening To~~ August 18th

• One ~~Mary J. Blige/ U2
  
• Turn Me On ~~Norah Jones
  
• Purple Rain ~~Prince
  
• Live Like You Were Dyin ~~Tim McGraw
  
• Breathe (2am) ~~Anna Nalick

Death Row Update

I am pleased to report that the flora 'n fauna along my front sidewalk are thriving. With a little help from some recent rain and my reinstated late night watering habits, they are alive and well....so far.

Now, if only my golden retriever could traverse that area without her back paw yanking a plant out of the ground...such is the fragile life of a flower in the Death Zone.

Who Am I (Pens and Paper)

I am a lover of pens

and blank sheets of paper

begging for my attention

I am an office supply junkie

a list maker

one that finds beauty

in the patterns of light

cast on my floor

on a sunny afternoon

I am the talker

I am the listener

I am the broken

I am the comforter

I am...

me.

The Hardest Battle

to be nobody but yourself
in a world that is doing its best
night and day
to make you everybody else
means to fight the hardest battle
which any human being can fight

never stop fighting

~~e.e. cummings

Barren Earth

I imposed the death sentence today.

I did this by planting 36 marigolds, 18 begonias and 10 fall mums in the strip of barren earth that runs alongs my front sidewalk. I like to refer to this area as the "Death Zone."

Earlier this season, I planted 144 impatiens in bright blooms of white and fuschia. That was before the water restrictions imposed on our county. I tried my best to keep them watered during the "non-penalty" hours but it was very difficult. You must really have a heart for gardening to water manually between the hours of midnight and 6:00am on a Monday or Wednesday. My need for sleep soon outweighed my desire to have a healthy garden. Thus, the impatiens withered away. My garden was sad, pitiful even.

Tired of the wasteland that lay outside my front door, I ventured to Lowe's and stocked up on a variety of annuals to brighten this area once again. I moved my trays to the sidewalk and took out my trusty garden spade to begin the tedious process of digging the holes. The blazing sun simmered on my brow as beads of sweat rippled across my temples. My knees caked with dirt, I crouched down to delve into the awaiting soil. Soil? No such luck. My spade hit the rock hard earth with a "thud" and as I dug even deeper, the sharp scraping sound of metal against rock ended my hopes of a nice, relaxing horticultural encounter.

Pieces of granite-like rock emerged as I forcefully struck the soil hoping to find a soft spot. The solid red dirt was packed so firmly it was as if every particle had agreed in some underground union meeting to lock arms and not let the big, bad woman with the sharp shiny thing in her hand through. I cursed the ground, I cursed Mother nature and most of all...I cursed my need to have flowers in the midst of one of the hottest, driest summers on record.

But, my determination was stronger than my urge to throw in the towel. Soon, I got into a groove and the flowers were in the ground. In my own twisted little way, I apologized to each one as I inserted their tendril-like root systems into each unwelcoming slot. "I promise to keep you watered," I whispered, covering the edges with the extranneous clay/soil mixture.

I can't imagine living in an area where the dirt is black as soot and easy to dig into. That must make for a rewarding gardening experience. As for me, I shall continue my plight for a nice garden at all costs. Mother Nature and I may go a few rounds in the process, but I won't let that stand in my way.

For those of you keeping score at home:

Katie: 1
Rocks and Hard-as-Heck Clay: O

Stay Tuned....

A Grave Thought

I'm headed to Selma, Alabama for a couple nights and one thing I'm anxious to do is go by and visit my Mom's grave.

One thing my Mom always said about visiting a cemetery is that "our loved ones are not there, they are in a much better place." Sometimes I felt that she said that because we didn't live close to where her parents are buried and it made her feel better about not "tending to" their graves herself. Now as I've grown older, I understand what she meant.

It was extremely difficult for me to leave Mom's grave the day of the funeral. After everyone had said their goodbyes and wished us well, the biggest hurdle in my adjustment to her death came that evening. It was a cold, dark night in March 2003 and the rain was coming down in sheets. As irrational as it may seem, it took every thing in my power not to race out to the cemetery because I felt like Mom was out there alone "in the rain." Yes, it sounds a little crazy even as I type it, but it truly was one of the hardest nights of my life.

The dilemma that hit my sister and I afterwards was the upkeep of her grave. It is a beautiful location where the branches of old live oak branches bend down creating canopies of shade and a feeling of peacefulness. But, neither of us live there now and we cannot expect our Dad to make a weekly trip out there to pull weeds. So, we rely on the cemetery staff to make sure it looks OK.

I'm sure I'll venture out there today when I get to town and I'll probably have to pull a few weeds and dust away some old grass clippings. Mom would probably shake her head as to why I even bother. I do it out of respect for her memory. Maybe I do it just to be able to "care" for her even though she's no longer here. But mostly, I do it so I can take a moment to sit under that big oak tree, listen to the windchime hanging from its branch and talk to Mom about what's been going on in my life. I know she's always with me in my heart, but there is something about reading the epitaph etched into her headstone that makes me feel better. It says "Go Ye Now in Peace...." and as I start the car and slowly drive away, that's exactly what I do.....

What I'm Listening To ~~August 11th

• "Would You Go With Me" ~~ Josh Turner
• "Your Man" ~~ Josh Turner
• "Reason to Believe" ~~ Dashboard Confessional
• "Crazy" ~~ Gnarls Barkley
• "Does Your Mother Know" ~~ ABBA
• "A Song for You" ~~Donny Hathaway

The Gift of Life

While we have the gift of life,
it seems to me the only real tragedy
is to allow part of us to die--
whether it is our spirit,
our creativity,
or our glorious uniqueness.

~Gilda Radner

The Written Word

I once came across some postcards from the early 1900's, the faded ink holding on for dear life...it's bluish-purple tint barely visible on the slightly orange stain of century-old paper. The words scribed from one friend to another were nothing short of eloquent as they recounted a certain flower growing in their garden and a party they were planning to attend that evening.

What I wouldn't give to have lived in the days when "snail mail" (as we now refer to it) was the expected form of written communication. I'm as grateful as the next person for the efficiency and convenience of email. In fact, my ability to share this online journal was not even possible when I was in college; but, I do long to open my mailbox and discover handwritten treasures from friends or family...

In the land of email and instant messaging in which I now reside, we have developed all sorts of acronyms and symbols to make communicating that much quicker. My friend Melissa and I often sign off our instant messages with "ttyl" (talk to you later) and I frequently rely on the acronym "LOL" to convey when I find something humorous in my high-tech conversations.

But the letters of yesteryear were much more formal and gracious in nature. In stead of "ttyl", one would close with a phrase like "with fondest thoughts of you I remain..." I guess I could go the acronym route with that one and type "WFTOYIR" but it's not quite as catchy.

I do love to write so I'm guessing a lot of my friends who don't share my passion will not join my crusade to revive the art of handwritten letters. But, I won't let that deter me from practicing the art myself. You never know...the next time you look in your mailbox, you may be surprised to find a handwritten letter from yours truly. :-)

WFTOYIR,
Katie

I Choose Us

A quote from one of my favorite movies, "The Family Man," involves Tea Leoni telling her fiance (Nicholas Cage) "I choose us..." to try and persuade him not to go on a yearlong internship in London. It was a profound statement/plea declaring that she didn't care what kind of jobs they had or what kind of money they made...she chose their relationship over anything else.

Don't we have to do this every day that we're married? Perhaps our daily choices aren't quite as time-sensitive as deciding whether or not to board a flight; but, nonetheless, we still make choices every day that can impact one of the most important relationships in our life. Sometimes it's hard to "choose us" when work beckons or friends compete for our time. I am so guilty of not always making the wise choice in this area. Always known as a "people pleaser," I find it hard to say "no" because I am always so sure that I can do it all...fit it all in; thereby making everyone happy. It doesn't always work out that way.

So, when the pressures build and the rigor of life demands much of our time...it's important that we continually look at our spouses and declare that we do indeed "choose us." It doesn't mean that we don't spend time with friends or family...or put in a few extra hours at our jobs...what it means is always making sure that our significant other knows that their needs are as important as our own. Without this balance, the effects can be felt in all of the other important relationships in our lives...especially the one with our children. In order for me to be an effective and balanced parent, I need to be sure that I am focusing on my marriage to their father just as much as my relationship with them.

So, I hope my hubby knows that I didn't just "choose us" 12 years ago...I try to do it each and every day. It will always be the best choice I ever made.

The Bassinet

The room was cozy and was decorated with a couple couches and wing chairs--all anchored by a simple oriental-style rug. A ficus tree or two dotted the room making the feeling of this space surprisingly homey. Then I spotted it. Tucked over in the corner next to the window was a white bassinet complete with a snow white skirt as if dressing for its first cotillion.

I guess the purpose of the bassinet was lost on me at first. I just assumed..."OK, so we're at an adoption agency...maybe there are times when clients need the use of a bassinet." It wasn't until the midst of our discussion when our case worker pointed out that we were sitting in the room where placement occurs that it dawned on me. THAT was the very bassinet where we would meet our child for the first time. The weight of the revelation was breathtaking. She continued, "after you meet the birthparent in our upper conference room, you and Keith will be brought in this room to meet your child for the first time."

Wow. Suddenly, the bassinet took on an entirely different persona for me. It wasn't just a white contraption that families kept their child in during a meeting. No, this particular bassinet was more angel than furniture. It was a comforter of children about to discover the joy of a new family. It was a place of transfer...the transferring of hopes and dreams from one human to another. But, most important, it was a temporary place for my soon-to-be child to feel safe until I take him or her into my heart and home forever.

As we exited the room, I glanced over my shoulder at the white bassinet in the corner. "Goodbye, for now..." I whispered and then reluctantly turned to walk away.

My Curious Child

We played a theological game of 20-questions on the way home from the mall tonight. My 4-year old was grilling us on Heaven--where it is...who's there...when do we go...

In our best attempt, we explained how people get to go to Heaven and that most people go there after living a nice, long life. His response:

"oh, so you go to Heaven when you're really, really old and have nothing to do anymore?"

I could not think of a way to respond...so I just grinned and hugged him tight. Bless the brutal honesty of the 4-year old mind. It sure does keep life interesting.......

Brown Eyes

ah, the depths
of your brown eyes
if it is possible
to get lost
in someone's eyes
then I am in need
of rescue
my sweet boy

pools of milk chocolate
surrounded by mile-long lashes
gazing up at me
pleading for a popsicle
or one piece of gum

my eyes are blue
your dad's eyes are blue
so it goes beyond mere beauty
your eyes are exotic to me
I could not love you more

Is NASA in the Yellow Pages?

A good friend of mine is going to medical school to become a doctor. Nothing earth-shattering about that, right? Only, she is raising 6 children --one which she adopted shortly after we got Daniel.

This is remarkable to me. Through years of raising 5 kids (now starting again with a sixth), she has managed to go to school for her undergrad degree and is now doing her medical preceptorship by shadowing doctors to learn the tricks of the trade. In three years, she will begin medical school to complete this long voyage.

It made me think. Even at 35 years old, I sometimes feel like I've dug my feet in the sand--defined who I am and there's no going back. Sure I like to write and would love to someday be published...but to me, a market so consumed with tell-alls and fiction and cookbooks barely has enough room for a book of poetry from some unknown author. (I know, I know...it's a defeatist attitude) But, it made me think.......

I have always wanted to be an astronaut. What I wouldn't give to zoom through the stratosphere only to burst into orbit to experience a bird's eye view of Earth.

Anyone have the number to NASA?

Fostering Frustration

We inquired about a little girl in Indiana that is available for adoption. When I spoke with the caseworker, she said that the foster family hadn't decided if they want to adopt a child or not so they were just trying to keep her as a foster child in their home as long as possible.

Why in the world would they want to keep her from finding a loving home that will commit to being her family for the rest of her life?

Sometimes systems like this designed to "protect" children baffle me. How could it possibly be in her best interest to remain in limbo?

Tranquility

Floating, drifting
Gazing
at the night sky
its velvety deep blue
layered with
thin lavender clouds

the water supporting me
floats silently
and like me
soaks in the view
of the night sky above

one star pierces the darkness
a solitary diamond
in a sea of indigo
the ripples in the water
exquisite aquamarine
and varying shades of
silky turquoise

I am alone

I float
I think
I pray
I dream

In
my
tranquil
sea
of
seclusion. . .



**author's note: this is my 100th blog entry! If you are the first person to read this, congratulations! You have won absolutely nothing...well, except my gratitude for you stopping by!!! :-)

The Old Man

The old man
sat at the next table
hunched over
tattered John Deere cap
pulled down low
over his eyes

what is his story
I wondered
his tan hands
showed signs of wear
his posture appeared
slightly defeated

did he love once
only to lose her
after years of illness?
does he have children
that gather at Christmas
or do they simply
send pictures
once a year

he ate slowly
with no care for time
an occassional glance
in our direction
a slight smile
a friendly nod

for some reason
I want to know his story
his favorite memories
tales of love and loss
for his warm eyes
betray his cold exterior
they beg for conversation

I consider saying "hello"
but alas, our food arrives
a moment later
I glance over to the next table
and the old man is gone...

Mama Mia

Just got in from seeing the Broadway Musical "Mama Mia"--it was fantastic! Keith and I had great seats in the balcony and laughed throughout the show (a far cry from our unfortunate CATS experience last time--blech!) By the end of the show, the performers came out for an encore and the entire theatre was on their feet dancing to "Dancing Queen" and "Mama Mia"...one of the highlights of my recent memory is watching my husband grinning from ear-to-ear and clapping along at the end.

Gas to get to downtown: $20.00
Babysitter for entire evening: $40.00
Falling even deeper in love with your husband: PRICELESS.

Great Lyrics--#1

Van Morrison's "Into the Mystic" ...contains one of my favorite lyrics of all time:

"..and I wanna rock your gypsy soul........"

Wait, it doesn't quite read like it sounds. It sounded a lot better this morning as I was driving around curvy roads with the window down belting at the top of my lungs:

"...and IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII wanna rock YOUR GYP-sy so-oullllllll.... just like way back in the days of ol-old....and together we will flow....innnnnnnnnnnnn-to the mystic..."

Yeah, much better. :-)

Breathe

2 AM and I'm still awake writing a song
If I get it all down on paper
It's no longer inside of me
Threatening the life it belongs to

And I feel like I'm naked
In front of the crowd
Cause these words are my diary

Screaming out loud
And I know that you'll use them
However you want to

Cause you can't jump the track
We're like cars on a cable
And life's like an hourglass
Glued to the table

No one can find the rewind button

So cradle your head in your hands

And breathe... just breathe...

--lyrics to Breathe / by Anna Nalick

Yellow Curtain

window half open
yellow curtain dances
tattered
faded

peeling paint on the pane
milky layers of
white
ivory
white again

stain on the curtain
a battle scar
of family gatherings past
perhaps unruly mustard
or a feisty deviled egg

yellow curtain
oh the life you’ve seen

A Boy's Prayer--July 24, 2006

"...and thank you God for all the stuff you put at Wal-Mart. Amen."

I knew I gave birth to that child.

A Boy's Prayer-- July 23, 2006

These are but a few excerpts from Daniel's prayer tonight...a prayer that lasted a minimum of 5 - 6 minutes. It took everything Keith and I had not to giggle out loud at times because it was so cute....

here are just a few parts from tonight:

"...and God I love you and wish that you were here to play with me but you can't God because you are far away in a much bigger house, God and you have a lot of people there to take care of..."

"...God I hope you have fun with all the people that live up there with you now, God and please be sure to take care of them..."

"...and I know I can't see you right now, God but I will see you when I die one day..." (wow)

"Please watch over Momma tomorrow because I'm going to miss her when I'm at church school and also watch over Daddy because I'm going to miss him, too...and I hope we all have a good day tomorrow and that we're kind like you, God..."

"...Thank you for all our blessings and please give us all your sins, Lord... Amen."

Amen, Daniel.

Splat

It started out as a small drop of water at the top of the shower door.

I followed it with my eyes and watched it slide, ever so gracefully, down...down...down... weaving its way in between drops of different sizes--family perhaps--leaving behind a serpentine path on my door. Twist, turn, slither... down it went, merging briefly with another droplet before reaching its final destination--the floor of my shower.

Splat.

Is there a heaven for water droplets?

Visit to Florida

I'm in Tampa (actually Brandon, FL) visiting my sister for the week. It feels like such a different world here. The complex where they live feels like a nice resort with lakes and fountains, pools and palm fronds pressing against several windows. The world's biggest Wal-mart (or so it felt) is right around the corner as is a nice mall. It's just so funny to see the difference in housing--everything here definitely has that "Florida feel" to it.

Every afternoon, we have the rumble of thunder and bolts of lightning in the distance but we haven't experienced a downpour since being here.

It's just nice to spend time with them and funny to be doing it in a new setting.

Keith flies down tomorrow and then we'll be heading back Saturday or Sunday.

More later........

Afflicted

I think I have an issue.

Just recently, I have become acutely aware of the existence of germs. Not that I obsess about it, but I think about it when in public places. On a trip to McDonald's the other day, I sat with Daniel eating lunch and could not stop noticing how dirty most of the customers were. Granted most of them were construction-type workers, but the dirt covering them was unbelievable. Sweat rings on shirts, open toed shoes...Then I glanced around at all the surfaces--including the napkin dispenser with it's glop of dried ketchup that looked sorta like a birthmark--and I couldn't stop thinking about the germs that we come in contact with every day.

I won't go into detail like Matt Lauer did on a Today show special last year (a topic that temporarily freaked me out)...if I think about the subject with a medical-type scrutiny I could possibly become homebound. :-)

You know, I guess life is too short to become obsessive-compulsive about the germ thing.

Or, is life short because I don't worry about the germ thing?

Hmm...................

:-)

What A Difference...

I was looking back through some old photos of Daniel when he was at the orphanage and comparing them to now...

What a difference a couple years makes!

A Nice Visit!

Here are a few pics from our visit with my friend Cindy and her two boys, Ethan and Caleb when they came to stay a couple days ago.

It's neat to see our kids growing up together and learning how to relate much like Cindy and I have grown closer over the years.

We went to the pool, played and she and I even got some highly-coveted alone time to talk...imagine that!

It was a great visit and we can't wait to see them again!

Boys of Summer

This is a pic of my son Daniel (on the right) and his best bud Ethan at our pool yesterday.

These two are a picture of summertime!

Life on July 13

Good Things:

~~A refreshing swim and meeting new neighbors at the pool

~~Laughter and good conversation while cooking out with friends

~~Daniel going to put on pj's but coming out in 2005 Halloween clown costume

Not-So-Good Things:

~~Realization that summer's end is one day closer

~~$2.96 a gallon at the pump! Schwinn bike, here I come!

~~Didn't I just do all the laundry???

P-a-s-s-i-o-n

My friend Cindy and I were just sitting up late at the kitchen table discussing our interests and I discovered that I'm passionate about a lot of things. Maybe too many?

I LOVE geography and reading maps and anything related to travel. I'll get out a map and pick a state and study it...like Minnesota. Where are the major cities? Are there any major interstates or just one long straight one like in so many midwest states? Are there a lot of state park areas or possible scenic areas I might want to visit? Confession time: When I was in high school, (and this was pre-computer/internet-access for me), I once contacted every US state's travel/visitor's bureau and requested a travel package so I could get a state road map. Yes, there were atlases back then but that would have been too easy. :-) I LOVE maps.

Outer space. I'm intrigued beyond belief with the concept that there are zillions of galaxies like our Milky Way and how many planets are out there in those galaxies that possibly contain life just like us. I'm fascinated by the grandeur of it all...by the cadence of life and the orbit of the planets around the sun and how everything just works. It's like being a part of a great symphony yet not knowing how to read music. I'm curious about what is/could be out there.

I'm passionate about writing (obviously) and reading poetry and drawing and creating things, and folk art. I am fascinated by all things weather-related and am energized by the mere thought of an impending storm.

I am truly passionate about comforting others. I want to soothe souls and massage shoulders and wipe tears. I want to hold the hand of a sad friend as well as bring laughter to one who is feeling out of sorts.

And, I am passionate about music. I LOVE music. It evokes feelings in me that I seldom find elsewhere. Music can uplift me, transport me, and even put me in a somber, melancholy mood which I secretly enjoy sometimes. I can retreat into a set of lyrics much like others find solace at an exotic destination. I'm passionate about my music.

There are so many things I want to do that sometimes I feel overwhelmed by the possibilities. I want to write poetry and cards and children's books. I want to belt out an old standard on the stage of a smoky cigar bar just once. I want to start and run a permanent foundation to promote, and help finance, adoption of children. Of course, I don't have "Save the Whales" stickers on my car-- mine would read "Honk if you love Maps and Thunderstorms." Don't worry, I realized long ago that I'm a a freak.

What would your bumper sticker say?

Heart Attack City

My well-meaning husband awoke me today at 6:30 am with bottle popper/firework thingies that shoot confetti in honor of my birthday.

It was ex-TREME-ly sweet but nearly gave me a heart attack. He had this boyish grin as the distinct smell of gunpowder wafted in the air... OK, so maybe it wasn't gun powder but it was a close relative... :-)

Needless to say, it was a wake-up call that's for sure.

LOL

Bloom Where You're Planted

I'm a product of my upbringing. As a child, we moved 9 or 10 times. Although this sounds like a somewhat "rootless" existence, we found it exciting to get a fresh start, meet new friends and learn about new places. As a result, my sister and I are extremely adaptable people and I have quite a grasp on geography from our multiple moves.

My Mom would often joke that as soon as the carpet needed cleaning in a house, we'd pack it up and move. Sometimes, that's what it felt like (our shortest time in one spot being four months). That ache for change has found its way into my adulthood as I try to once again settle into our new town after being here a year. This last move was the hardest. Leaving a solid group of friends with children that were my son's friends was extremely difficult. These same people had seen me through the two most daunting periods of my life: the death of a parent and becoming a parent. It took quite a while for me to adjust.

The upside is that we've made some good friends here, too. Our neighborhood is terrific and we're convenient to every form of recreation you could imagine. But the itch is still there. Deep down inside I imagine what houses are on the market and what towns could be beckoning. I look down from the balcony in my office and see that there are a few spots on the floor. Is it time to pack up or is it time to clean?

One of my favorite sayings I came across in a newspaper column years ago is "bloom where you're planted."

Guess I'll be heading to Lowe's this afternoon to pick up the carpet cleaner.............

We're a Little Closer....

to becoming parents for the second time.

With a mound of adoption paperwork screaming out for attention on the desk in our office, Keith and I put Daniel to bed Friday night and went to work. It was 9pm when we started and we signed our names for the last time at 1:00am. 4 hours of filling in budget worksheets, outlining our assets, liabilities and plans for the future paid off as I attached the last paperclip on the last batch of documents.

We thought it was difficult to do the paperwork necessary for Russian adoption, but this is double. Not only are we doing all the financial and relationship surveys for our home study, but there were similar questionnaires to be completed for the agency as well. Do we want a boy or girl? (Either is fine with us) What medical issues will we accept in the birth parent background (8 tough pages on that) and a host of other items we had to have done such as fingerprints, septic tank inspection, pet vaccinations and such.

This could be a long process or this could be much shorter than anticipated...it all depends on when a birthparent chooses us to be the parents of the child they're about to give birth to. It could be months, it could be years...it's anybody's guess.

But, something happened on Friday night. Keith and I buckled down with a fierce determination to get the biggest step out of the way. As we dropped the packets into the mail this morning, we had a peace of mind that we have done all that we can do at this point. It's now up to us to wait.

So, that's exactly what we'll do................................

In a dusty, dimly lit room...

on the back side of the Wright Art Center at Delta State University, I fell in love with drawing. Or, should I say, I fell back in love with drawing. I have always loved to doodle. While in meetings, talking on the phone...juat about any time...if I have a pencil or pen and a piece of paper then I'm in business.

My friend Christina has recently taken a leap of faith and enrolled in school to study interior design. Not only am I proud of her for following her heart, but I am insanely jealous of her sudden need to go buy art supplies. Pens, pencil sets, art gum erasers with their characteristic scent...what I wouldn't give for an excuse to spend money on such things.

It also transported me back in time to my freshman year in college as a Graphic Design major. This was pre-computer kind of design (yes, I'm sure I've dated myself) and my favorite class was Beginning Drawing. I spent many an afternoon in a classroom filled with nothing but benches designed to hold art easels arranged in a circle around the "still life of the day." If I close my eyes I am there, art caddy at my feet, rays of sunlight pouring in through the dusty window in the ceiling and spotlighting an assemblage of objects we're responsible for sketching--an old tennis shoe, a sewing machine and some sort of fruit item.

The room is silent except for the sound of art pencil against sketch pad. There was a sweet tranquility that emerged each afternoon as a gathering of art students converged on one room and sat for 2 hours without uttering a word. The unmistakable smell of art gum filled the air as a white haired instructor slowly strolled by, surveying the scenes evolving on each pad of paper.

I miss those days. Sometimes the art professor would simply challenge us to explore the campus, pick a scene and sketch it for that day's lesson. I would delight in finding just the right tree to prop against as I scanned my surroundings for the subject of my choice. It was a libertaing experience for a college freshman trying on her new found independence.

Lately, I've been more tuned into what I can do with my pen (or, in most cases, computer keyboard) in the form of writing. I guess I should pick up my sketching pencil again one day and see where it takes me...

Life on July 6

Good Things:

~~My son Daniel offering to sleep with me tonight so he could "take care of me"

~~More rain to quench the thirst of a drought-ridden yard and flowerbed

~~Having a loving husband care about you enough to encourage your intake of fluids

Not-So-Good Things:

~~Having a husband force you to drink gallons of yucky Gatorade against your will

~~ Keith having strep throat

~~Me having strep throat

The Red Bicycle

As I strolled along
The brick walkway
Peeking into windows
Of quaint little shops
The red bicycle at the corner
Whispered "hello"
And beckoned me to stay

Although I could not oblige
I wondered about the history
Of the red bicycle
The life that it had seen
Before it became
The ambassador
Of that little cafe

Its paint well-weathered
The red bicycle had not lived
A pampered, garage-dwelling life
Its scratches and scrapes
A testament to its once-lively existence

Had it spent many an evening
Traveling up and down
Country roads
Lined with lush green fields
Dust a-flying, gravel spewing
Racing to make it home by dinner

Perhaps it had ambled along quiet streets
Passing rows of tidy houses
With neatly manicured yards
Delivering the morning paper
As the sun gently rose
On the horizon

Did the red bicycle ever
Proudly display
A shiny new horn
To honk at its friends
The blue and the green bicycles
As they swiftly passed by

No matter the tales of its storied past,
The red bicycle now takes
A well-deserved rest
Perched in front of the cafe
Sprigs of grass growing at its feet
Whispering "Hello" to passerby.....

The Written Word

While surfing the web recently, I came across a profile in which someone listed under the category career: "aspiring writer...aren't we all?"

Suddenly, I felt very small--a tiny fish in an enormous pond of people who love to write just as much as I do. That's one reason why I can't seem to take the leap and try to publish some of my work because I'm afraid it would fall on deaf ears (or at least on the top of some very tall stack in an "In" box somewhere.)

There's just one thing that keeps me going, though. Passion. There are a lot of things I love in life. My family, my friends, a good movie, the way the grass smells after a good rain--all of these things would be on the list. But, there is something that I eagerly anticipate each new day...the chance to experience something and write about it.

There are times when I'll see something that would seem ordinary to most; but to me, I find such beauty in it that I almost get this burning sensation inside until I can write it down on a piece of paper or blog about it. Sometimes, it won't be a new experience; instead, it's a memory that comes flooding back and I'm afraid I'll never remember again unless I write it down.

For me, it's not really about getting published (although I'll admit that is one of my biggest dreams.) I just know how life can change in an instant and it can be a security blanket to have memories in writing to fall back on.

When my Mom died a few years ago, my sister and father and I came across a big blue binder full of poetry and short stories she had written. That night, we laid on the floor and cried as we read through years of thoughts that she may have considered "insignificant" at one time...but, to us-- it was gold. She was no longer with us but her voice was. Her memories were. Her humor was there in print and that book has been an enormous comfort to me since that day.

One of the things I came across in the book was a Gratitude Journal Mom had started after being inspired by an episode of Oprah. It was dated July 16, 1997 and she shared the following:

"...Personally, my "public" goals have all been met. I manintained a solid, loving marriage. We have raised two daughters in an atmosphere of love and stability. They are each bright, successful, happy young women making places for themselves in the world. I have all this to be grateful for, and I am. My heart overflows everyday, thanking God for His bountiful grace and for the blessings He has bestowed upon my life."

I can assure you that my Mom had no idea how special those words would become on a cold, rainy night in March 2003. That is one reason I write. If something I observe or think about can be written down and one day inspire, comfort or simply make someone smile...then my life will have been well lived.

I Miss My Sis

My sister and her family moved to Tampa
So we packed and loaded the moving van
And mopped our way out the door
I sure do miss my sis


We've never lived more than 3 hours apart
And that was my first year of college
Before life got complicated
I really miss my sis

Our proximity was destined
The timing was necessary
As we leaned on each other through tragedy
More than ever, I miss my sis

Now the distance is 9 hours
She even sounds like she's far away
Starting a new life in a new town
Oh how I miss my sis

One thing's for sure
No travel time or distance
Can ever change this....
I dearly miss my sis

The Redhead & The Little Green House

A little green house on a tree-lined street
Became the home to a baby girl one day
A baby girl with her fiery red hair
And blue-blue eyes

The walls of one room in the little green house
Had been home to others before
But they became new again
With a coat of buttercup yellow paint
And the colorful letters A-L-D-E-N
Displayed proudly above a baby's first bed

The floors of this house had seen better days
But they lovingly embraced the two little knees
Of a red headed girl
Learning to move to and fro

Then the crawling turned into first steps
And the hardwood planks squeaked in delight
At her transition from infancy to toddlerhood

Lullabies were sung in this house
Hugs and kisses were given in this house
First words were uttered in this house
Like "ball" and "bubble" and "ditty dat"

But the redhead and the little green house
Soon had to go their separate ways
And while the furniture and toys were packed
Into a big orange and silver truck
The redhead ran and giggled
Under the branches of big trees
As the little green house looked on

There will be other houses for the redhead
And other rooms where sweet dreams will take place
And for the little green house
There will be others who will find
Safety and warmth within its walls

But somewhere down the road
This redhead little girl
Will grow to be a woman
And will bring her children
To see the little green house...
The place where
Her very first memories were made

And the little green house
Will smile as it remembers
The good times they shared
When a redhead girl
Called this little green house

With its bright yellow room

Her home...

--written for my niece Alden as she moves away from her first home.
Love, Aunt Katie

The Parenthood Interview--Part Deaux

"What kind of home did you grow up in?"
My younger years were spent in a two parent household and my sister and I were fed with a passion for poetry and music and all things comical...and were constantly surrounded by interesting people...

"How are you most like your Mom?"
Artsy, creative, passionate, dry sense of humor, dramatic and drawn to crisis like a moth to a flame

"How are you most like your Dad?"
Analytical, detail-oriented, a people person and as hard headed as they come...

"Tell me about your marriage"
Well, you know how there are people who just "fit" together? That's us. We're enough alike to be compatible and are different enough to keep it interesting. Except for his unfortunate affinity for older country music with an annoying twang, we're pretty much made for each other.

"Now, let's see...here is a brief list of some of the documents we'll need from you and Keith to complete your home study:"
~~Criminal Background Check
~~Complete physicals for each of you
~~Immunizations for Daniel and yearly check-up report
~~Federal fingerprints
~~Firearms clearance
~~Swimming pool disclaimer
~~Employment history/salary
~~Family budget
~~tax returns
~~Property deed
~~four letters of reference
~~letter from each side of the family

...and the list goes on......................................

This, folks, is my labor. Can I go ahead and get that epidural, please?

July 10, 2081

My birthday is on a Thursday in the year 2081.

Why is this significant? For absolutely no reason whatsoever. But, a strange feeling came over me when I was looking at a perpetual calendar site online and realized there were many years staring at me from the screen. . .and I would not be alive for most of them.

Ever had a moment of utter mortality awareness? That was my moment. Actually, the site would show you calendars all the way up to the year 9999--which was a little freaky in itself--but what shook me up a little more was the year 2081.

On July 10, 2081, I would turn 110. I know it would be no Guiness record or anything, but I'm pretty positive I won't be around on that day. So, looking at that date and knowing that I won't be here is a little spooky.

Those of you that know me, know that I am a Christian. So, I'm sure you're wondering why I wouldn't be excited to know where I WILL be on that day. I am. But, I am also human, and the thought of what will be going on July 10, 2081 (when I'm not around) intrigues me. My son will hopefully be 79 years old and reminding his grandchildren that his mother would have been 110 today. Then, maybe he'll climb into his Jetson-like hovercraft and go home to pack for his weekend trip to the moon, right? Who knows what the world will be like then. I sure don't.

But, is it just me or don't we all secretly wish that the world would not be able to function without us? Maybe that's a little eg0-centric of me, but it is weird to see calendar dates that I'm sure will be past my last day here on Earth.

Then again, who knows when our last day will be?

:: crickets chirping ::

:: crickets chirping ::

Pass the Kleenex, Please

Have you ever boo-hooed to the point of near convulsion but tried so hard to keep it in that you felt sure you might explode? Today's message at church was that powerful. It was the story of a girl named Holly and her relationship struggles with her Dad. From the moment she began to speak, I was drawn in by her humor and the way in which her story unfolded.

Bottom line: her on-again/off-again relations with her father and the healing they were able to go through shortly before his death to cancer 3 years ago made for a poignant story; however, what got me the most was the note she wrote to him in a book. She tried to recall the good times they had shared-- even though she was sure they'd been few and far between. As she jotted down favorite memories, they poured forth and she was able to weave together a lifetime of special moments. During the sermon, she reached for the book and slowly opened to the page where she had penned her innermost feelings. There wasn't a dry eye in the place. Halfway through the list, I watched as fellow church members dabbed at their eyes or tried stoically to blot away tears without being too obvious.

Having wished many times that I had been able to share such memories with my Mom before she died, I could not contain my emotions as she recited the special times she had shared with her father. Because Mom's death had been more sudden than expected, I have often dreamt of what I would have said to her or questions I would have asked her had I known it was the end. The raw emotion swelled inside me and, at the very moment I thought I would let out some sort of embarrassing burst of sobs, Holly injected a bit of humor that allowed me to exhale and cover what would have been an awkward display.

I guess I was envious. There are few things I wouldn't give to have had the forethought to provide my Mom with a comprehensive memoir of how she made my life wonderful. I'm sure (as many have told me) that she "knew"...but that's not enough. I never got to tell her that I'm sorry for losing her engagement ring as a child. I never told her that I really didn't resent her for being the "cool" Mom even though sometimes I wondered if friends came over to hang out with her instead of me. I never thanked her for instilling in me a love of all things musical and poetic and that, if it weren't for her, I would not have this inner desire to write down all of my thoughts. I never thanked her for sewing every prom dress I ever wore or for driving an hour to rescue me from a wardrobe malfunction before my big final marketing presentation in college. I loved the fact that she insisted on painting a fake fireplace in my first dorm room to make it feel more like home. I could have told her how much I loved the candles she lit when were coming for a visit or that silly box of "stuff" she insisted on sharing with us the moment we walked in the door.

I know she knew that I loved her. I have never doubted that. I just wish I would have let her know how much all the little things meant, too. All the seemingly unimportant, un-life-altering things that she did to make my life better.

I am changed by the message that I heard today. I no longer want to wait until another loved one is gone to let them know all the ways they have made an impact on my life. This is important stuff. We all want to know that we mattered.

Thank you, Mom...for the big stuff and the little stuff.

You always mattered to me.

The Good, the Bad and the Not-So-Bad

Raising a strong-willed child is the hardest thing I've ever done. Daniel is super-smart, funny, loving and thrives in the company of others. However, as we've gotten into the four year old stage (4 1/2 now) he has discovered every one of my buttons and delights in pushing them to see what happens.

A friend of mine and I were discussing how it doesn't make sense why children KNOW what consequence their actions will result in yet they misbehave anyway. Well, I can honestly say that many of my actions don't make sense and it doesn't seem to deter me, either. Let's see: "I want to lose weight. I know that if I eat that piece of cake it won't help me lose weight. MMmm, mmmm, yummy. That cake sure was good. " So, I can't wonder why my child doesn't grasp consequence when his 35-year old mother isn't able to.

But, nonetheless, it's still frustrating. What's equally maddening at times is how smart he is. Always one step ahead of me, he seems to anticipate my actions and plans a strategy accordingly. OK, so maybe I'm giving him a little too much credit, but I will tell you that my son knows what he's doing. Maybe he intercepted the mail and got the Parenting Manual that was addressed to me. You know, the one that comes with all children telling you exactly how to raise them and how to react in all sorts of situations. What? You didn't get one, either? Hmmm... look under your child's bed. I'm sure that's where Daniel keeps our copy. And, late at night, he pulls out his trusty doggy flash light and reads chapter after chapter, formulating ways to drive me batty. (and yes, I know he pretends to not be able to read but I bet that's just part of the master plan, as well. )

Back to reality (don't dial Georgia Mental Services just yet)...I love him with all my heart and love the challenges motherhood tosses my way. But you know what makes it all worthwhile? What makes it possible to withstand some arguing, and tantrums and not-so-nice glances in my direction? It's times like last night, tucking him into bed when he asks me to lie down with him...and we talk in whispers about his day and about his dreams and how much he enjoyed snack time at day camp and what his favorite book is, and he gently turns over, tucks his arm through mine, weaves our fingers together and drifts off to sleep.

Motherhood. There are bad times and not-so-bad times. But the good times, like scenes from a favorite movie I like to watch over and over again, are what I'll always choose to remember.

One

one MILLION times I've listened to the song "One" by Mary J. Blige and U2. Love it. Not tired of it yet. Am playing it right now. This is my song addiction of the week. (Over the past few weeks, former holders of this prestigious title include "I Will Follow You into the Dark" by Deathcab for Cutie and "Round Here" by the Counting Crows.)

Check it out. Mary J's part in the middle of the song is pretty powerful...

Must You Grow?

Because we did not start
From your earliest days
When cooing was all you did know
I wish I could keep you
Just the way you are now
So I ask almost daily...
Must you grow?

I have grown quite accustomed
To your little boy ways
As your little legs run to and fro
Although I get frustrated
And long for some quiet
I still ask myself...
Must you grow?

Your laughter and giggles
And enjoyment of life
Lift my spirits
When I'm feeling low
But as the days trickle on
I now must admit
It's exciting
As I watch my son grow...

Little Moments

Life is made up of a series of little "nuggets" of time. If you're lucky, you'll realize how special something really is while you're still in the moment. This happened to me yesterday. It may seem trivial to the outside eye, but to me, it was pretty special.

I love the series the Gilmore Girls. In fact, I love it so much that I have dedicated my NetFlix membership to catching up starting at Season 1. I'm now on Season 4 and my son is as hooked as I am. At four years old, he knows the characters by name and lamented the break-up of Dean and Rory right along with the rest of us. But my favorite part is when the theme song comes on. A duet featuring Carole King, the tune goes "If you lead, I will follow, anywhere, that you tell me to..." It's a catchy song that Daniel now knows the words to.

Yesterday, I popped in an episode so Daniel and I could watch as we ate hot dogs for lunch. Just to be funny, I picked up my hot dog and used it as a microphone to sing my part (the Mommy part) of the duet. Following suit, Daniel grabbed his hot dog and stood up to sing the other part. It reminded me very much of the scene in the movie "StepMom" when the kids are singing into their hairbrushes and dancing around with their Mom. We had such a good time. No, we weren't learning about the ABC's, global warming or how to tie his shoes. At that moment, we were just a couple of silly people singing along to a familiar song and having a blast.

Shortly thereafter, my duet partner ate his microphone so we settled in for our favorite show. It may not be the most glamorous of childhood experiences, but that's one little "nugget" of time this mother will never forget.

Don't Box Me In

I am a wife
and a mother
and a teenage girl
riding in the car
with the windows rolled down
Music blaring
people staring
Not really caring
what others think
Don't box me in...









I am the friend
I am the enemy
The most dependable one
The forgetful one
The organize for hundreds
but lose my keys
can I borrow an egg please
Cause I haven't bought groceries one
Don't box me in...

I am a sister
I am a daughter
I'm not unlike you
My closets aren't empty
Of skeletons and such
But I try to move forward
Without staring in
the rearview mirror
Don't box me in...

I am all these things and more
Music lover
Injustice hater
Ms. Got it all together
Ms. Procrastinator
I could go on
But maybe later...

Don't box me in....

The Prayer of a Four Year Old?

Daniel's prayer tonight sounded much like that of a forty year old instead of a four year old. I could not believe it:

"Dear God, please forgive us where we've failed you. The food was great tonight and I had a lot of fun today. God, I'm sorry your son died. I know it made you sad. And God, I know he must have hurt alot and you hurt alot and I wish I could have told him to just come down from there God...to just crawl down and put the bad people up there, God. Anyway, I love you and thank you for my blessings. Amen."

I have no words.

Life on May 27

Good Things:

~~walking three very hilly miles when I didn't feel like it and the sun was beating down on us

~~Daniel's giggle as he exclaimed "I wanna do it again, Mommy!" after swimming on his own with no floaties

~~Falling asleep on my husband's shoulder when I returned from the pool

~~Another DVD of Gilmore Girls arriving in the mail from Netflix


Not-So-Good Things:

~~Poison i-vey-ee-yay-ee-yay on my legs

That's about it.... :-)

The Crimson Moon

Tonight was one of the most enjoyable evenings we've experienced as a family in quite some time. On a mission for a different dining option, we hit the road for the short drive up to Dahlonega, GA and discovered a quaint downtown dotted with eclectic restaurants, couples out for an evening stroll and.....the Crimson Moon. Keith had found it online and suggested we give this neat little cafe/coffee house tucked on a side street a try.

We walked in to a small front dining area filled with tables and old couches and decorated with a mixture of stained glass, white tubular "Christmas" lights and one-word sayings such as "Laugh," "Dream," and "Sing" painted on the wall. Anyone who knows me well knows that I felt completely at home in this place and took to it instantly. At the front of the room was a small corner stage upon which live music was being performed. A couple guys, guitars in hand, played a relaxing blend of self-composed songs and even my four year old sat captivated by his surroundings. The food was great and the house specialty mango iced tea alone will be cause for my return.

Afterwards, we walked the quiet streets and commented on just how safe we felt. It was quite Mayberry if you ask me and we enjoyed every minute of our time there.

Crimson Moon, I have a feeling you and I will get to know each other pretty well.

Life on May 26

Good Things:

~~one of my daylilies bloomed today! Bright orange...what a nice surprise.

~~Lunch with my hubby-- a nice break in the day

~~The way my friend Kim says "helloooo" when she sees it's me calling


Not-So-Good Things:

~~Light-colored laundry

~~Dark-colored laundry

~~Any-colored laundry

My Favorite Things

The sun peeking over the horizon
The smell of freshly cut grass
And onions sautéing in a pan
The crisp scent of freshly cleaned clothes
(that I don’t have to put away)

My child’s innocent laughter
And his unending curiosity
The flicker of a candle
reflecting on the glassy surface
of a warm soothing bath
A new tub of butter
and brand new pens

That cold mountain creek
with it’s moss covered rocks
and the music the water makes
as it slithers down stream
A full tank of gas
Black and white pictures
Green apples in a bowl
Ice cold chocolate milk

Holding my husband’s hand
And the smell of my son’s sweet baby breath
As he kisses me good morning…

These are just a few of my favorite things.

There's a Special Place

I've traveled near
I've traveled far
Around the globe and back
But there's a very special trip
For which I do not pack

I journey right outside my door
Into the grass so green
Where shadows from the shady trees
Create places where I am not seen

As I survey the growth of lilies
Planted just this spring
And enjoy the sounds of friendly birds
And the wonder nature brings

There'll be no stamp on my passport
For my journey here, you see
But when it comes to "getting away"
Home is a good place to be...

A Boy's Prayer--May 20

Daniel's prayer tonight:

"Thank you God for all my blessings and forgive me when I'm bad and please, please God let me be a grown up quickly....very quickly God so I can use contact stuff and hold a big knife like my Daddy does at dinner. Amen."

Adoption Blog--part 1

Since we are starting the adoption process again, I thought I'd jot down some daily thoughts and feelings about what it's like. I did not do this, at least consistently, when we adopted Daniel and I wish I had. The biggest struggle this go round has been deciding which route to take--international or domestic, toddler or infant, boy or girl... Many of my friends have told me that I wouldn't get to choose gender or age normally so not to worry about it--but I do. Adopting Daniel at age 2 had its own set of challenges ("just add water and you have Insta-Tantrum!") but I did not go through the sleepless nights, colic, bottles, formula and the responsibility of a human being that cannot transport itself from point A to point B.

Yes, I'm a parent. Yes, my maternal instinct is in tact and in full use...but it would be a whole different ballgame with an infant and, truthfully, it's a little scary. Something in me doesn't want to be branded a "first time Mommy" as I bumble with how to care for a baby--because I've already climbed talk-back mountain (no relation to brokeback), tantrum hill, and a variety of other landscape features dealing with the ups and downs of toddlerhood. Shouldn't I at least get a T-shirt or something that says "yes, I look like I don't know what I'm doing but ask me how to fix a broken Wiggles guitar"? My learning curve would go right back to start--am I ready for that?

I'm all for "letting God decide" which is the child were are meant to bring into our home; however, we do have to make some decisions that would chart that particular course. If we go the domestic route and use one agency, they only place newborns from unwed mothers in Alabama. If we take another path, then we get into the foster care/state system and I think we've both decided we couldn't risk the child being with us and then taken away. Then there's international. We will not do Russia again...not right now with the adoption law changes and increased waiting times... China would probably be at least a year but probably longer and I don't know much about other countries like Guatemala, Korea, etc.

As for gender, Daniel has stated, quite emphatically mind you, that he wants a "bruh-der." We have explained that we might be getting a brother or a sister to which he replies, "ok, we'll get a brother AND a sister." (whoa, there partner....) That is one decision that we will leave in God's hands if we go the newborn route. We're open to either and I'm sure Daniel would be a tormenting (er, I mean great) big brother no matter what gender we are blessed with.

Today, I am mailing in our application for a home study along with the first payment (half of the $1200 fee). Thankfully, we have the money to get through this stage and will continue fundraising as we go along. It may be a long journey--or it could be shorter than we think.

For those of you who went through the last process with us, you basically know what to expect. For others, put on your seat belts and hold on...it could be a bumpy ride. :-)

Here we go......................

How in the World?

Did I get so busy over the past five days that I haven't even blogged once? I even set up a new blog for our friends traveling to Russia to adopt and forgot to make an entry myself.

I wouldn't stress so much about it except that I have been surprised when people I do not know come up to me and tell me that they enjoy reading my blog. Wow! Thank you very much to anyone who stumbles across my tiny slice of internet real estate and dares to come back again. I'm very flattered.

OK-- it's recap time:
*I DID walk those seven miles with my friend Kim...7.2 in fact! I must admit I was feeling it the last mile but, miraculously, the next time I wasn't sore at all. woohoo!! We continue to walk 2 or 3 miles here and there but plan to do the seven again next Saturday and each available one after that.

*American Idol...poor Elliott. I know he needed to go but he was the NICEST contestant they've ever had on there. And, when he starts crying and thanking his Mom--I just want to hug him. LOL I think Taylor should definitely win and I WILL be voting! (yes, I am a nerd.)

*Daniel's surgery on his tongue (he bit his tongue one night at dinner severed a saliva duct and had to have it repaired) --it went really well and he is back to 150% as always.

*Busy, busy, busy...tings have really been hectic of late and I'm doing well just to remember where my keys are (which, for anyone who knows me, is nothing new...ha)

*Promise to blog something each day. I enjoy doing it and it's exciting to know that other folks may be enjoying it, too.

More later...

Bodiford Out!

(ooh, that was bad-- I promise, no more cheesy American Idol references ever again.) :-)

For the Record--Part Deaux

OK...OK...so I DO like my friend Kim. We walked 3 miles and I felt really good when we got home. Tomorrow we're supposed to walk seven...SEVEN miles at the Greenway. The last time I walked seven miles was when I played tennis in college which was...let's see...a very, very longgggggggggggg time ago.

It will be a Mother's day gift to myself. Power of positive thinking. Right? Right.............Yep. Positive thinking.....pos-i-tive...seven miles.....well, I'm positive I'll be pooped afterwards!

For the Record...

I just want to say that I do not like my neighbor Kim. At least not right now when it's 6:58 on a SATURDAY morning, both of my fellas are tucked snuggly into our bed...the bed that I just had to drag myself out of to put on my walking shoes so Kim and I can go walking in our hilly neighborhood. OK, so it's not San Francisco--but it's close. I do not like her. I do not like her. I do not like her. Oops--it's 7:00am. Gotta go.

Life on May 11

Good Things:

~~ Fresh fruit instead of fries at Three Dollar Cafe

~~ Sitting in my home office with the window open and the wind gusting through the trees

~~ The way my husband looked in his new red shirt

Not-So-Good Things:

~~ My 4-year old pushing my buttons like he has a "how-to" manual

~~ A garage full of unsold yard sale stuff

~~ How does a family of three produce that many dirty towels in one week's time?

The End of the World is Near...

Chris Daughtry getting voted off American Idol? What is happening? It's a travesty of pop culture justice!

Catching Up

How did I let four days go by without blogging? Well, here are a few reasons:

*yard sale/adoption fundraiser on Friday
*Relay for Life event in Newnan Friday night
*Yard sale again Saturday morning (met $$ goal--yea!)
*House hunting with bro and sis-in-law
*Church Sunday--a great message on envy--yikes
*A visit to the bookstore and lunch at Chuck E. Cheese to
celebrate our "Gotcha" Day with Daniel! (May 6)
*Trip to the outlet store for some Spring clothes
*Laundry, laundry, laundry (oh! and more laundry)

Busy weekend, indeed!

Life on May 4

Good Things:

~~The unbelievable generosity of friends like the Clarkes in Corvallis, Oregon

~~Having a friend to encourage me to get out and walk when I don't feel like it

~~Sense of accomplishment at the top of the hill from "h-e-double-hockey-stick"

~~Keith is coming home from a business trip today!


Not-So-Good Things:

~~My calves exploding into flames in the middle of the hill that I walked this morning

~~A garage full of stuff to price for yard sale

~~Putting gas into a Ford Expedition at $2.97/gallon

Redemption

His grace extends to me
Covering my inequities
With forgiveness
Tempering my swell of self-doubt
And insecurity
With unconditional love
His arms held open for me
An undeserved, but welcome, embrace
I am in awe
Utterly unworthy
Yet eternally loved

Something's Afoot

Kim and I just returned from walking at the Alpharetta Greenway this morning. We agreed to meet at 7:00am...SEVEN on a Saturday morning? Am I crazy? It was terrific. The air was crisp and slightly "Fall-ish" as we made our way through the twists and turns of the peaceful trail.

As we made one turn, a deer appeared in the middle of our path so we paused. As we suspected, two or three more deer followed and eyed us as curiously as we stood in reverence. We were, afterall, in their home in the middle of the woods so we decided to give them their space. Soon, they made their way back into the forest and off we went.

As we walked, the smell of the honeysuckle vines perfumed the air with a sweetness only Spring can bring. It was such a pleasant atmosphere and all the other walkers, joggers and cyclists we came across seemed to be in a really good mood. 5 miles later, Kim and I returned to our car invigorated and ready to face the day.

Look out Saturday, here I come...

Like a Stone

And on I read
Until the day was gone
And I sat in regret
Of all the things I'd done
For that I've blessed
And all that I've wronged
In dreams until my death
I will wander on

In your house I long to be
Room by room patiently
I'll wait for you there
Like a stone
I'll wait for you there
Alone
--Audioslave "Like a Stone"

The Mermaid Chair

Just finished the book The Mermaid Chair by Sue Monk Kidd (one of my favorite authors...also wrote The Secret Life of Bees). I plowed through it in every spare moment I had this past week. Fantastic. Kidd's imagery transported me to the tidal marshes of coastal South Carolina. Loved it. Loved it. Loved it.

Sunshine and Sprinklers

Summer made its debut to me today. Yes, we've had the pleasure of sunshine-filled days and warm temps for some time now; however, the true feeling of summertime revealed itself to me with a little help from an Elmo water sprinkler.

My friend Kim and I had completed one of our regular outings--a walk through the up and down hilly streets of our neighborhood. The hot sun caused beads of sweat to form on my brow and my legs felt stiff as I pushed a 40 pound stroller carrying a 33 pound child. A child who insists on continually bending over to survey the underside of the stroller causing a weight shift that makes it even harder to push.

As we passed along the crystal clear waters of an enticing neighborhood pool, Kim and I agreed to head home and dress the kids in their bathing suits for the ultimate summertime rite-of-passage: playing in the sprinkler.

A couple hills later, we're home and have thrown some sandwiches together for an impromptu tailgate lunch in Kim's driveway. The kids proceed cautiously to the edge of the sprinkler's grasp. Moments later, they are having a ball trying to simultaneousy avoid and delight in the icy cold stream of water spewing from Elmo's mouth.

I glance around and the feeling is unmistakeable. It's summertime. The trees are thick with lush green foilage and the butterflies are dancing about--much like our kids--in a seasonal welcome party of their own. The fresh grass clippings adhered to our feet are proof that summertime has indeed arrived.

I take note of how blessed we really are. There is good conversation between friends, toasty sunshine to warm us and the unabashed giggles of childs play as we watch our kids frolic under the rhythmic arms of a dancing water sprinkler.

Life is good.

Life on April 23

Good Things:

~~Sod finally greening up in our front yard

~~"Business" coming in from my adoption flyer

~~Daniel having fun with other kids at the park

Not-So-Good Things:

~~My ongoing customer service Hades-- North Pole Air this time

~~Stressing about raising money for adoption

~~Wanting chocolate REALLY bad but knowing I don't need it

Where I'd Like To Be....

Let's see...it's one of those straw huts in a far off place like Tahiti or Fiji. It sits precariously over a pristine inlet of the Pacific Ocean and is surrounded by no visible signs of civilization. The cool breeze is rising off the water and gently lifting the curtains causing them to perform their own waltz...or perhaps a tango. The water laps at the support posts below and it tantalizes me into a dreamlike state. Each afternoon, a cleansing rain falls causing little droplets to splash upon the glassy surface of blue-blue water. I listen closely and swear I hear tiny "kerplunks" calling out to me. I respond and walk out the back door and slip into the ocean--it's salty embrace welcomes me...

Deep Sigh..........I must stop now. If I keep going, I will become very, very depressed.

Life on April 20

Good Things:

~~The excitement of an impending thunderstorm

~~Fresh strawberries atop an angelfood cake

~~Changing out Daniel's seasonal clothes (just looking at sweaters was making me hot)


Not So Good Things:

~~Kiwi Carpet Service (Want the Run Around? Call Kiwi)

~~Kiwi Carpet Service (Want your sofa ruined? Call Kiwi)

~~Kiwi Carpet Service (Want to be pushed to the brink? Call Kiwi)

Life on April 19

Good Things:

~~Ace voted off American Idol (how shallow am I?)

~~Pistachio Ice Cream Pie (low fat nonetheless!)

~~Clean underwear (Ace's demise actually ranked above clean undies??)


Not-So-Good Things:

~~Coming down with a cold

~~Surprise thunder claps that rattle the house

~~Mounds of clean laundry to be put away

The More I Know...

the more I find out that I don't know...or so the saying goes.

There are so many things in life that I have yet to discover. I realize that each time I fall in love with a new singer...or song...or painter...anything that becomes my temporary passion. Just when I think I have a firm grasp on my favorites in life, along comes something else that sweeps me off my feet.

Take Eva Cassidy, for example. I had no idea this musical artist existed until I saw Michelle Kwan skate at the Olympics while a stunning version of "Fields of Gold" played in the background. "Who is this artist?" I wondered. It wasn't until my friend Debbie clipped a Wall Street Journal piece about Eva (who died at age 35 of melanoma) that I found out who my mystery artist was. I now own all her music and count her as one of my favorite artists.

I guess that's the good thing about life. Just when you think you are surrounded by all the things you could ever love, something comes along that inspires you just a little bit more. What would life be without the hope of good things to come?

Life on April 18

Good Things:

~~The colors on the shish-ka-bobs that we're grilling: deep red tomatoes, dark green zuchinni, bright yellow squash and pineapple and perfectly purple onions

~~the book "Do Knights Take Naps?"--really cute kid's book

~~my son's smile when talking to the doctor...what a charmer!


Not So Good Things:

~~being up all night with my son's earache

~~the words "your son has pneumonia"

~~only junk mail in the mailbox

Life on April 17

Good Things:

~~passing clouds creating a light show of overcast, bright sun, over cast, bright sun

~~the smile on the face of my niece in the new picture sitting on my desk

~~an unsolicited "I love you, Mommy" from my son

~~ 24 comes on tonight


Not So Good Things:

~~TAX DAY...bye, bye moolah

~~the way leftover cereal sticks to the side of the bowl and hardens into an unpenetrable crust

~~ gruffy cough of an under-the-weather little boy

~~the broken record tune sung by the easter bunny that was lovingly given to my son by his aunt Jenny and Uncle Sean

The MidYear Meeting--Jacksonville, Florida

planning, conference calls
putting out a fire or two
It all comes together
Just in time, as always

jump on a plane
exit row is paradise
on a packed metal tube

Jacksonville, Florida
on a bright sunny day
high rises mingle with bridges
as the river meanders along
each ripple sparkling diamond-like
from the sun's unending gaze

lunch at the Landing
cold chicken in a pita
pigeons swarming about
the fountain in the pavement
entertains the lunch crowd below

more preparations
unpacking the necessities
badges in order, easels scattered about
curious attendees milling around
the behind-the-scenes glamour of meetings

so-so mexican for supper
more pigeons
jazz turned to rap on the plaza
a dripping ice cream cone
in my 4-year old's hand

signage forgotten
on the dining room table
is recreated late night
no Kinko's open

shhh, Daniel...go to sleep
please lay down, Daniel
mommy has asked nicely
no more chocolate ice cream
before bedtime

5:30 alarm
shower, iron, out the door
waiting at Kinko's
7:00 come and gone
so much for posted hours

the upside as I wait...
a crisp cool morning
office buildings awaken
one light at a time

registration begins
smiles, familiar faces
"how've you been?"
"here's your badge"
"we're glad you're here"

meetings ensue
putting up signs
taking down signs
grey easel stands
becoming extra appendages

too cold in the ballroom
call engineering
too hot in room A
call engineering
last minute speaker request
call audiovisual
need fruit plate for speaker
find the banquet manager

little details swimming everywhere
"pick me! no, pick me!"
they fight for my attention

schedule is winding down
packing up begins
keep this, toss that
bye, bye signage

"it was good to see you"
over and over
familiar faces depart
"see you in San Antonio..."

slip key in room 731
normally greeted by post-meeting silence
this time, "Mommy's here!"
want to crawl into bed
but a patient little boy
is ready for adventure

change clothes
take a deep breath
no rest, but no worries
only a short time left here
so to the unknown we venture

monday will come soon enough
more planning, more calls
as the cycle begins again....

Room for Two

Well, I found out that I have an enlarged heart this week. No, not anything to do with the ticker sittin' in my chest. The heart I'm referring to allows us to give and receive love and, after we got Daniel, I thought I had used it all up. That was before I had the privledge of keeping my niece Alden for the past few days. It has truly been a joy to have her here and it has impacted our family dynamic in many ways.

First, it's been an adjustment having "two" children. Many of my friends have shared with me the challenges of caring for more than one child and I now understand what they mean. Two children at different stages of discovery and boundary-pushing darting off into different directions--I'm not quite sure how mothers with more than 2 kids do it. God must bless them with invisible third and fourth hands...

Another way that having her here has changed me is I feel like my mothering "pilot light" has been reignited. Daniel has become so independent that, even at age four, he seems to know everything (at least in his little mind). That, combined with a fierce determination to prove that he can do everything "all by himself" often leaves me longing for little arms that reach out in need of Mommy help. Having her here has made me feel maternal again. Not that I don't feel like a mother to Daniel--quite the opposite. It's just that I miss his being dependent on me for the little things. But, as I watch him pick out his own clothes, help with household chores and learn new things each day...well, I'm proud of the "little man" he's becoming.

Finally, back to the heart thing. As anyone who has ever been a parent knows, it's hard to imagine loving anything or anyone else as much as you love your first born, or in our case adopted, child. But these past couple of days have enlightened me. My heart has expanded to fill the needs of both of these children and something about Keith and I playing on the floor with both kids simply felt "right." It was also nice to see Daniel feel just a tad of jealousy. It is a good thing for him not to be the center of all things occasionally...a trait that will benefit him as he grows older.

But most of all I have once again experienced the joy of baby kisses and little hands rubbing sleepy eyes and giggles and yes, even carrying a diaper bag again has been comforting--knowing everything I could ever need is within reach. If these past two days have taught me anything, they've taught me that my lap, much like my heart, is big enough for two........

Won't You "Lettuce" Eat Lettuce?

Ever since we've had him, our child loves salad. Try to give him french fries and he turns up his nose but stick a bowl of lettuce, tomato and cucumber in front of him and he digs right in. Now, if I adopted his eating habits, I'd be a lot better off. But, try getting a salad substituted for fries on a child's meal in most restaurants and you have to tack on an average of $2.00 to the meal.

OK, so we have a national epidemic of overweight kids who don't eat properly. So, when a parent tries to do the right thing and order a healthy alternative to fat-laden fries, we have to pay MORE? I'm not wanting the super-duper deluxe salad with all the trimmings. I simply request some lettuce and tomato. You can even hold the dressing in our case--he'll eat it plain. How much can that cost?? Not $2.00 by golly. I wonder what they'd do if I pulled a $0.99 head of lettuce out of my purse and asked for a sharp knife. I realize I'm lucky that Daniel prefers veggies to fried things...but, it's expensive enough eating out much less having to pay more to do it the healthy way.

The other night at an Outback (in Florida) I ordered Daniel the ribs and asked if he could get a small salad instead of the fries. "No," replied the server. "Oh, OK. Um, so how much would it be to get him a small salad? Just some lettuce and tomato?" I asked. She told me it would be $2.49 on top of the price of the meal and they could not take the fries off. I talked to another server and she arranged to have a salad brought to him "on the house" which was great but I had to make a "stink" to get the child some lettuce. Pretty sad.

And, you guessed it, when his plate came out it was loaded down with greasy french fries which he did not eat. So, the fries went to waste and that expense could have been spared just by dropping a few lettuce leaves and a piece of tomato on a plate and saving the french fries for another customer.

I'll get off my soapbox now. But it is very frustrating.

One of my Favorite Times...

... is a time like right now. It's 1:14am and everyone (except me) is sound asleep. It's pouring rain outside and all of the windows are opened a little and the attic fan is blowing gently through the house. The humming and whir of the fan is actually soothing and there is a slight breeze blowing.

I close my eyes and I'm sitting at the beach on a crisp April day with a cool breeze coming in off the water as it laps at the shore. I'm probably wearing a light jacket and shorts and I'm digging my toes into the sand as my hands huddle inside my pockets for warmth. The sound of a lone seagull is heard in the distance along with the hushed giggles of teenagers surely on a spring break vacation. I lie back on my blanket, look up at a perfect black sky dotted with millions of diamond-like clusters. I close my eyes and smell the salt on the wind and realize there is no place I'd rather be.

Then I open my eyes and I'm staring at a computer screen--realizing that my time at the beach is just a short-lived fantasy.

Guess I'll head off to bed now. Perhaps I'll find that blanket and a sky full of stars in my dreams...