Day 59

Today was my mothers last day of work. Ever. She worked as a civilian for the Air Force for 30 years. That's a long time to stay in one place!

That's also a large part of your life to suddenly just be kind of..well, gone. I'm

 Sure it will take some time to adjust, but I couldn't be happier for her. 

She was given a certificate and a medal (who gets a medal when they retire?!) for her years of service. I hope they truly appreciate who she is as much as I do. Congratulations Mom- Happy Retirement!!

Day 58

My husband was raised in a very small town in Indiana. I was raised in Suburban

Ohio. Neither of these are areas in which fresh fish- aside from catfish- are abundant. When I first moved to this town, we didn't even have McDonalds, let alone any seafood restaurants. 

But these days, it's only a short 5-15 minute drive to find almost any type of delicacy- Italian, Thai, seafood, American, Chimes, even Moroccan. And we have not one but TWO McDonalds.

Krogers has always been here since I can remember, but a Kroger Marketplace now stands where our small grocery used to. And of all things to sell in a grocery store in Ohio- we have sushi. It's not the best I've ever had of course, but on a weeknight that you don't feel like cooking- it beats McDonalds, that's for sure.

So tonight's pic represents neighborhood cuisine progress and a simple yet tasty weeknight meal :).

Day 57

After work today, the 10-year old asked if I would take him to Target. Well twist my arm....
I am searching for finishing touches for the newly remodeled bathroom, so off we went.

In the end, he was much more successful than I with the shopping trip, as he found what he was looking for and all I found was a bag of candy to share at work. We went to the cashier and each paid seperately, as his purchase required the use of his own money. His total was $7.95, and he carefully counted out eight dollar bills.

Receiving his nickel in change and saying thanks to the cashier, we started to walk outside. He made a comment about how he only got a nickel back and maybe he should give it to a hobo, even though it was just a nickel. I told him that would be five more cents than the hobo would have had before. Just inside the last set of doors, he bent over and placed the nickel on the ground. Alarmed and upset at first, I asked him what the heck he was doing- I assumed from his previous remark that he didn't see the value in "only" a nickel. He simply looked up at me, a little confused at my alarm, and told me that he was helping someone else have a lucky day, since there aren't really any hobos in our town.

Oh. Of course you were. Silly me...

So the next time you look down and see a penny or a nickel on the ground, pick it up and be thankful that you are now just a little bit richer than you were the moment before. Better yet- purposely go ahead and drop a penny or nickel somewhere noticeable once in a while. Chances are you won't miss it, but you may make someone else that you never even meet feel lucky and a little bit richer.

Day 56

In my college years, I taught at a daycare. I know some people may think the term "teach" is loose when talking about 18-36 month old toddlers, but that is exactly what I did. I had to create an age-appropriate daily lesson plan based on the daycare's theme, and had responsibilities of ensuring they understood certain concepts (colors, counting, etc) before they could "graduate" to the next class.

Aside from the lesson plan, there were many life lessons that were taught in my class. A large portion of my kids were with me 5 days a week, 8 hours a day. So I played a huge part in teaching them how to use a spoon instead of their hand, how to put boogers on a kleenex instead of their finger, and the most important skill of them all- how to pee in the toilet.

Ahh, potty training. It is a skill that we adults many times take for granted, as it is now so second nature we can do it with our eyes closed, squatting on one leg, or at the same time we are carrying on a conversation with the guy at the urinal next to us. But like any other skill, it comes easier from some than others. And as any good teacher would do to help their students, I used positive reinforcement... in the shape of M&M's.

Forget the Klondike bar- you would be amazed at what a kid will do for a single M&M. I kept a clear jar of them on top of the toilet, and you got one of your color choice if you peed in the potty- and you received five M&M's if there was anything extra in the toilet when you were done. Additionally, the child would receive verbal praise in front of their peers- "Hey everybody, Jamie got an M&M!". This was especially cute when one of them would triumphantly emerge from the bathroom and get a high five from another 2-year old.

Today at work we started a renewed interest in meeting a specific goal for our surgical patients. I was so happy and impressed with the staff's engagement and sure enough- we peed in the potty on our first try. So I promptly went to my office and grabbed a bag of candy and brought it out for the entire staff to share in the victory. I also announced over our speakers that the Nurse and Respiratory Therapist had met their goal and everyone should congratulate them. There were high fives and fist bumps, and as the next shift came to work they were already asking about how they could earn candy too. I felt like the giddy preschool teacher again, watching as my toddlers gained pride not only in themselves, but with each other.

So today I celebrate the power of positive reinforcement, and the "sweet" rewards of success!

Day 55

Community. It's been around since the very first village was formed. The women watched the children while the men went out to hunt. The women of mid evil times watched each other's bastard children while they....worked.....

In today's world, carpooling is the term we most often use. We take turns driving each other's kids around, dropping them off at school or practice. 

But sometimes it's more than carpooling. I've been known to call a girlfriend in a pinch if I have to work a night shift and ask if the 10-year old can spend the night. I've done the same for my friends as well, taking in one or more children for the day or weekend to help lessen a load somewhere else. One of the biggest reasons I used to drive a Minivan was so I could fit all of my kids plus the extras inside one vehicle.

So although I only have one kid left at home, there's always room in the back seat for more. Today's picture represents how it takes a village these days to raise children, and I'm so thankful to have a community of friends and family that I can rely on. A big Thank You to all my "village people"!

Day 54

Another sports season has passed. How do I know? Because the infamous end-of-season trophy was given to the 10-year old today. Basketball is about done, and their team ended the season with a winning record. There is no tournament for this league, and so everyone gets one of the same small participation trophies.These same trophies have been given out for generations- I can still remember the excitement about getting mine when I was small.

Hopefully this type of "everyone's a winner" trophy doesn't hurt more than it helps though. There is a lot of buzz out right now about how kids today lack "grit". In today's world, many kids- especially those in suburban neighborhoods- are not being allowed to fail.

What's wrong with that, you ask? I thought the same thing, and the more I read about it, the more I felt guilty. I have always been a bit of an enabler- not in an overly bad way, but more in the line of being over-motherly (aka Smotherly). Simple things like putting the 10-year old's clothes away or making his lunch for him are things I have had to force myself to make him do. When he is struggling with homework, I catch myself wanting to help too much, which in turn teaches him to rely on others instead of himself.

When it comes to sports, I feel that I am much less of a Smother.  I have always been the type of parent that is just fine with a coach yelling at my kid if he screws up. My husband and I both played sports, so we know it's part of the package. I'm also not unrealistic about my son's abilities- he's not the worst, and he's not the best. So if he complains about not getting more play time- I simply tell him he hasn't earned it and needs to practice harder. But my husband and I are always willing to practice with him. I was also never the parent to play a board game with one of my kids and purposely let them win- even at the age of Candyland. Not only am I competitive...but I really felt like they needed to understand that sometimes you win- and sometimes you lose. If they started to get a bad attitude when they hit a "chute", I would tell them to suck it up or we would put the game away- nobody wants to play with a sore loser.

Letting your kids "fail" is one of the hardest things to do as a parent. We instictively want to swoop in and save the day. We don't want our kids to fall, or miss a goal, or have negative interactions with others. But the reality is these are true life lessons that they need to learn- the sooner the better. If you never lose, you don't learn how to use that anger and frustration to work harder towards a goal- and the sweetness of a victory after a failure is twice as nice. Learning how to deal with negative interactions- whether from a coach or a peer- will help them as young adults when they are thrown into a world where their parents aren't there to protect them. And making their own lunch and folding their own laundry will teach them responsibility, respect, and allow them to have life-skills later on in life.

So don't be afraid to let your kids slip, stumble, lose, or fail. Stand by their side as they pick themselves up, brush themselves off, and keep moving forward without whining. It can be rough- on both of you- at first, but in the end they will have "grit" that will help them be successful in life.

Day 53

Back when my oldest 2 children were young, we lived in an older neighborhood that wasn't quite inner-city, but wasn't the suburbs either. We had great neighbors, and I loved our little house. There were kids around, but you didn't usually see too many of them as the yards were small and streets were busy.

But every once in a while, my husband and I would grab both our kids and the neighbors' and walk down to the neighborhood play area. There was run-down playground equipment, a field with old, crooked soccer goal posts, and a backstop with what I supposed passed for a baseball field.

We would start with the 6 of us, taking turns swinging a bat and the rest of us fielding. Both kids and parents played baseball/softball throughout their years, so it was a good way for all of us to do something active together. But more times than not, about every 15 minutes or so a kid would show up on their bike, or walk over from a yard and stand to watch us. We would always ask the child to join us, and their faces would range from fear to delight. Many of them didn't have gloves or hadn't been shown by anyone how to throw a ball, but my husband and I had learned over the years to pick extras up at garage sales and we bought a tee for those who struggled with a moving target.

I always loved those dusty, sweaty afternoons. It felt so good to know that we had helped some kids that usually didn't play outside (or maybe even play at all) have an afternoon of outdoor fun. My kids also learned how to make friends on the spot, and sometimes got a dose of reality on how good they had it in life.

Today my husbad and the 10-year old got the chance to play a pick-up game. This time it was football, and there were about an equal amount of adults to kids. But just like before, people who had never met before suddenly found themselves on a team together, laughing and joking as they slid in the mud. 

There was also familiarity with the past as people walking by with their dogs or riding their bikes would stop to watch for a bit, smiling at what is unfortuantely an all too unfamiliar sight.

An hour and a half later, they slowly walked back to their cars, after shaking hands and slapping backs. Only a few of the dads were limping, which I considered a small victory. My husband didn't limp, but there was definately blood mixed in with mud on his shirt, and his gait told me there was Advil in his future. But both he and the 10-year old were smiling, as there is nothing more fun for boys than football and mud.

So today's pic represents a lot of things- male bonding, the magic of a pick-up game, and an old time favorite pair (football and mud). Now I am going to go check on my husband- he is moaning loud enough in the shower that I feel the need to make sure he is alone...

Day 52

My head is pounding, so tonight is short...

Just finished watching the final episode of Dexter. Why is it that I can feel bad for a serial killer? It was the same way with The Sopranos- I knew they were bad guys- but still I rooted for them, cringing when they almost got caught burying bodies. 

And yet, when my husband asks me to watch The Walking Dead, I tell him no. Too gory and unrealistic. He just stares at me...

So goodbye Dexter. I've enjoyed watching your twisted character evolve over the years, and in the end truly feel bad for you. 

Day 51

Today my head was full of memories. I got up earlier than usual because I wanted to see the night shift before they went home. Bleary-eyed (literally), I started my day like I normally would by going to the bathroom and taking a quick peek at Facebook on my phone. I realize that may be more information than you wanted- but I'm just trying to set the stage...

The first post that came up was from a nurse that worked for me when I was a manager. She was always such a level-headed and professional young woman, who was the first to help and last to complain. It was a long post, very well written and focused on what she felt the key components to being a successful manager and staff nurse were. There was a common theme about leadership in both of these roles, with a focus on teamwork. She said that nursing is not INdependant, but rather INTERdependant, and stressed the importance of helping each other.

Her post stuck with me throughout the day, poking it's way into my brain at quieter intervals (yes, including the bathroom again). I found myself today in a situation where I had a choice to make, and was struggling with which fork in the road to take. I am not a manager anymore, as I have chosen to teach and hopefully grow a new set of staff without what I consider the "hassles" of management- payroll, disciplines, evaluations, etc. I work with wonderful people and have a great boss, but at times struggle a little with remembering I am not the boss anymore.

So when I was faced with a complex situation in which I could stay quiet and mind my own business, or follow my gut and jump into a situation that would most likely get uncomfortable....I thought of my nurses' post and made my decision.

At the beginning of each month, I post a new quote outside of my office door. It's become a tradition, one that I know others look at because they will let me know if it's a few days into the month and there isn't a new one up. As I walked out of my office to follow-thru on the choice that I had made, I was suddenly face-to-face with February's quote. At the bottom I had handwritten- "Therefore you don't need a title to be a leader. Be a leader".

It was humbling, and a little embarrassing, that I had struggled to follow my own advice. But I closed my door with a little more purpose and self-assurance that I was "doing the right thing".

Leaders, like heroes, come in all shapes and sizes. Some have titles, and some don't. I saw a picture once that had an Egyptian Pharoah sitting on a throne which was being pulled by men as he pointed forward. Underneath was the word "Manager". The next pic showed the same Pharoah off his throne and at the front of the line of men, pulling his weight while at the same time looking back at his men and pointing forward. The word underneath was "Leader".

Today's pic is dedicated to all the leaders out there- both formal and informal. May you get  blisters on your hands as you help pull your team towards a goal, for it will be that much sweeter once you reach it this way. Go ahead- be a leader.

Day 50

Today is Day 50 of my blog. If you have 50 posts and 4 of them are about dogs, 6 are about family, and 16 include the word "list"...how many posts are left?

Word problems. Blech. The most dreaded part of Math for me growing up as a child. I don't mind math particularly, but prefer the kind that just has numbers, with an occasional "x" or "y" thrown in. Math doesn't come naturally for me like some- I have to work at it. I was actually going to be a doctor when I first went to college- until I got to Calculus that is. After 2 tries and 2 epic fails (literally), I decided that if I couldn't pass Calculus I probably shouldn't be a doctor...

My youngest is in 5th grade now. One of the funny things about being a parent is that just when you think you don't have to do homework anymore because you're an adult..."Hey Mom can you help me with this Math question?". 

Usually the answer is yes. But lately it's been leaning toward...maybe. Not that I won't try, but darn it, 5th grade Math isn't what it used to be! Our school district has changed how they teach Math (something called Singapore Math I think), so although he and I may come up with the same answer we go about getting it completely different. So that makes trying to explain and/or help a bunch of fun, let me tell you.

But I like the idea that there is more than one way to find an answer. Just because one person does something one way and another person gets there from a different path doesn't mean one person is right or wrong. Except maybe when it comes to folding towels- because there really is only one way that should be done...There may be quicker or more efficient ways to get a job done, drive from one location to another, or reach a goal. But maybe some people like the scenic route versus staying on the highway. 

So instead of getting frustrated (ok maybe I got a little frustrated at first, but I backed myself off) I took the time to show the 10-year old how I got my answer, and he showed me how he got his. He seemed to understand what I was showing him, but Singapore still has me a bit confused...I am going to have to get him a tutor by 7th grade to help him with homework at this rate. They don't teach Calculus in middle School do they?

Tonight's pic represents the age-old tradition of homework at the kitchen table, and the learning (and re-learning) that happens for both parent and child.

Day 49

Siblings. We love them. We hate them. We are proud of them. We are jealous of them. I think maybe they are a preparation for marriage- you learn how to cope with annoying behavior, scream and fight at the top of your lungs, yet at the end of the day sleep together in the same room with all forgiven.

My two dogs are no different. And although they don't come from the same blood (obviously...), they remind me so much of my two oldest kids at times. The older two are only 2-3 years apart, so that was just the right amount of age difference when they were little to absolutely drive one another crazy...

"He's touching me"..... "No I'm not!"

 Oh how I wish I had a quarter for every time I heard that. The oldest would dance around his little sister, just out of reach and every once in a while stick his finger out like he was going to poke her. My little dog does the same thing- runs in circles around the Mastiff, nipping at a heel, then an ear- all the while the Mastiff looking at me with eyes that say, "He's touching me!".

Then there's the time the oldest accidentaly hit his sister in the forehead with a baseball bat. She came around the corner at the same time he was practicing his home run swing. I was in the kitchen and all I heard was an unfamiliar "THUNK"....followed by a long pause.....then the screaming began. When I raced out of the kitchen, my step-daughter (I think about 7 or 8 at this time) was holding her forehead and crying, while the oldest held a baseball bat in one hand and a look on his face that was a cross between "Oh shit I just accidentally hurt my sister" and "Oh shit I'm in so much trouble". The other day the mutt and Mastiff were playing, and all of a sudden the mutt yipped. I looked over and the Mastiff had the mutt's entire head in his mouth. He looked like the cat who just got caught with the family's pet canary in his mouth. I know he didn't mean to hurt the mutt, but sometimes sibling rough-housing gets rougher than you meant it to. Most people who grew up with brothers or sisters have at least one scar on their body related to an even with a sibling- my husband's revolves around a motorcycle and a meat freezer...don't ask.

But at the end of the day, if someone even THOUGHT about threatening or being mean to his sister, my oldest would go on the defense of the same person he swore 10 minutes before that was the most annoying presence in his life. They are bonded in a way siblings just....are. And so are my dogs. They don't have very many moments in which they actually cuddle- usually they are tolerant of each other, but keep to their own space.

I thought this pic does a good job of showing that although siblings don't always get along, every once in a while there's one of those bonding moments that reminds you that your'e family- no matter your differences.

Day 48

It's been a rough winter around here. Just when we think we have gotten through a snowstorm- another one rears up and laughs in our face. I am sure the grocery stores in this area have made more money than usual , as everyone seems to be in continuous apocolypse mode.

But animals in the wild don't have it so easy. They don't have warm homes to come into when their paws and hooves get cold. The ground has been covered with snow for weeks, eliminating the ability to find dry ground to lay on and knocking out food resources for many of them. And there just isn't a local Kroger that the wildlife can go to and pick up eggs and milk.

Unless you are a deer near my parents house. Then you have it made. My parents own 10 acres of woods and field in the middle of town. They even have a little stream running through it. This combination results in the fact that there are always animals around, especially deer. It's almost routine to be driving up the driveway and spot one or two somewhere on the property. They grow all sorts of beautful plants, flowers, shrubs, and trees and the deer just love to peruse- it's like a buffet for them. Once winter hits, many of those food sources go away, but the deer still hang out to some degree. Some of them even have names, they come so frequently. My parents can tell which babies belong to who, and my step-dad mentioned that he has one of the little ones almost coming right up to him.

Tonight I was over at my parent's house and happened to look out the window. The house is at the top of a hill and affords a great view of most of the property. I was stunned to see upward of 20 deer spread out from one end to the other. Some were alone, milling around, while others pranced and galloped together like it was recess. There were 2 bucks that I could see, and several that looked quite young. I couldn't believe how they could run around and play when it was literally freezing rain out there. I would never survive as a wild animal- if survival of the fittest doesn't include plumbing and someplace warm and dry I would definately be screwed.

I mentioned casually to my step-dad that at least they didn't look like they were starving- they were all healthy sized and obviously happy as they enjoyed the last few hours before darkness set in. He chuckled and mentioned that they should look fat, as much corn as he had put out for them. When I turned to look at him questioningly, he said that he had laid out over 50 pounds of corn for them this winter. Well...no wonder there were 20 deer in his backyard. It made me smile- he's such a good guy.

As I continued to watch playtime, I noticed a deer that had hopped the outer fence and was walking up toward the house. There are several birdfeeders near the top of the hill, and this deer had figured out that she didn't need to fight over the corn when there was a birdfeeder she could have all to herself. I could tell she saw us at the window, as she would pause every once in a while and look right at us. But then she would kind of shrug like we weren't all that interesting and delicately put her tongue into the birdfeeder for a snack. Pretty smart for a wild animal.

The wind is howling ourside my window as I write this post. So tonight I am thankful for my parent's kind hearts that have helped to fatten up the local wildlife so that they can hopefully stay a little warmer. I hope all of you are safe and warm as well!

Day 47

I have two dogs. One is little, and one is very big, which means we buy dog food on a regular basis. A lot of dog food. On a very regular basis. My big dog goes through 5 cups  a day, so a large bag of food usually only last 2 weeks or so. And of course he is allergic to everything except the really expensive stuff. Of course.

With all of us suffering from a touch of cabin fever, my husband, the 10-year old, and I decided to take a little road trip. The dogs needed food, and the local pet store would be a nice chance to maybe pet a bunny and browse the organic treat section (I'm on a new mission to actually get the little dog to behave and listen to me...). I know- exciting times. But beggars can't be choosers this time of year.

The pet store had both rabbits and ferrets out that you could pet. The 10-year old immediately decided he HAD to have a rabbit, and my husband began to make friends with one of the ferrets. Suprising even myself, I wandered to the wall that contained...vermin. You know- mice, rats, and hamsters- but cleaner and cuter than what you may see on the street so that you forget that they are...vermin. Supposedly rats are making a come back as pets, so I spent some time watching them and trying to get warm and fuzzy about them. But I just can't get past the tail. It's just....I don't know. Creepy.

There were some cute hamsters on those always-present wheels that were fun to watch. There was one cage in which 3 hamsters were all on the same wheel, scrabbling over each other like the Three Stooges. I guess it's a little pathetic how entertaining I thought that was, but again- beggars can't be choosers.

But the real show stopper was in one of the mice cages. Huddled in the back corner, a mother mouse laid on top of what seemed to be mountain of baby mice. At first I thought she was suffocating them, but shortly realized that she was actually feeding them.The babies writhed and wriggled, trying to push and shove their way to a teat. As I looked closer yet (it was like a car accident- I couldn't look away) I saw that Mama Mouse was nibbling on something. Again, I was alarmed, assuming she was nibbling on one of the babies- I mean she's a wild animal right? But no, I realized MM was not eating her own young- she was just calmly nibbling on a piece of mouse kibble.

Wow. What a profound moment. Not only did I feel bad for assuming she was a Mommy murderer, I had to take a moment and wonder at how ironic it was to see a mouse do something so....human. I mean, talk about multi-tasking! She was no different than me, helping with homework while cooking dinner at the same time. Or any mother of a toddler who washes dishes with a child slung on their hip. And no mother of small children actually eats dinner like a "normal" human being- sitting down to a hot meal only comes only a few times before the age of 4. Being the mom of one baby was exhausting- I can't imagine wht it would be like to have...I don't know, there looked like a dozen or so. I mean- my nipples were sore from just one kid breast feeding....

So although today's isn't Mother's Day, I celebrate and salute the multi-tasking, cold-food-eating, don't-even-think-about-touching-my-nipple moms out there. I'm thinking about sending this pic in to Hallmark to use for a Mother's Day card- any suggsetions on what should be written on the inside? :)

Day 46

Girl's Night Out. Three little words that signify freedom. Freedom from men, from children, from having to watch what we say in case it isn't "ladylike".

We will do anything for it. We had a girl's night at a friends house in December, and it was one of the first (of many) snowstorms we had this winter. I kept waiting for the phonecall that it had been cancelled, but it didn't come. It took me twice as long to get there than usual, and I passed at least 2 cars that had swerved off the road (one into a telephone pole...). I fully expected to be one of the only ones to show up- but lo and behold all but one made it. Damn straight. Who knows when a golden opportunity like that will come around again? There was a lot of laughing about how NOTHING was stopping them from going out that night- several of them even car pooled together.

And it's not like we do anything wild and crazy. Most Girl's Nights at my age involve sitting around some sort of table with alcohol and food that we don't want anyone to know we eat- chips, cheese, brownies, cheesecake, chocolate. These are the staples at least,  sometimes rounded out by a veggie or fruit tray. We talk about kids and husbands, work, and our wild youth. Everyone keeps their clothes on, and minus a one-time showing of Magic Mike at my house there are no naked men involved.

But I can't tell you how priceless it is to be surrounded by women who you may not have even met until that night, but you can instantly relate to. You can ask and give advice- whether it's about your kids or work or even sex. Yes guys, we do talk about sex. We probably talk about it more than you do. We definately talk about it in more detail than you. I know- I worked in a firehouse for 5 years. You wouldn't last 15 minutes with us.

Tonight I got an impromptu invite to a Girl's Night Out with a couple of friends. I couldn't get my boots on fast enough. I didn't even mess with my hair or freshen my makeup- margaritas don't care what your hair looks like. Upon arriving, I realized that there were a lot of women there that I hadn't met before. I was a little nervous at first, but 15 minutes and half of a margarita later, we were all best friends. As we left the restaurant, there was singing and hugging, and even a little dancing that got us some applause from a stranger. I smiled all the way home, and my face still hurts from laughing almost constantly for the last couple of hours.

Today's picture represents the power of female bonding. Thank goodness for girlfriends and margarita glasses :).

Day 45

Valentine's Day. A unique holiday, in that it can evoke such a wild array of emotions. Most holidays have one or two general "feelings" associated with them. Christmas- happiness and the age old anticipation of the guy in the red suit. Fourth of July- pride in our country and relief that Uncle John didn't burn the house down with his illegal fireworks.

But Valentine's Day.....there's love, of course. But there is also quite a bit of other emotions out there floating around that Cupid will have to duck and roll around:

Depression- Nobody loves me

Anticipation- Will tonight be the night he pops the question?

Anger- I can't believe he/she forgot Valentine's Day

Nervousness- This is our third date. Should I wear my sexy underwear?

Jealousy- Why would he choose her over me to go out with tonight?

Confusion- Um, honey the card in your handwriting on the roses you sent said, " Jane- Last night was great". My name is Nancy...

Obsession- How many pieces of clothing and jewelry with hearts on it can I wear in one day?

And then there's always acceptance. Acceptance of the fact that you know your husband loves you but you have been married too long for Valentine's Day to still have that sparkle-factor. I came home from work yesterday and my husband made a point to tell me that "tomorrow is Valentine's Day. I got you a card". He seemed very proud of the fact that he remembered to get a card the day before the holdiay, so I gave him a bit of a "What do you want? A freaking cookie?" look. He obviously did not catch my meaning because he went on to ask, " You forgot didn't you?" with a smug look on his face.

I didn't answer him, instead continuing to stare at him blankly. Mostly beacuase I was speechless. But also because I knew that if I did say anything, it would not be nice. And you know what they say- if you can't say anything nice....

This morning  I waited until both my husband and 10-year old were both out of bed, then I brought out their Valentine's Day gifts. That's right. Gifts. Not cards. Now it was his turn to just stare at me blankly. 

I found this stuffed pig that sings "Hunka Hunka Burnin Love" and dances when you squeeze his hand. The pig is wearing a chef's hat and apron that says "Kiss the Cook". I thought it was just perfect for my husband since over the last year or so he has truly become the one who cooks the most in our family.

I did also get him a card, but I didn't sign it. Instead, I simply wrote a sentence inside that said, "Now apologize for assuming I forgot". He did.

Today's picture represents a holiday that has brought couples together and torn them apart, invoked passion and desperation. I hope yours was filled with love and happiness, and that you got more than a card :).

Day 44

Today I am grateful for a toilet. Yes, that's right. And for once it's not because I ate sugar-free Gummi Bears or drank too many margaritas.  I was overjoyed to come home from work and find that my husband had installed this white, porcelain chamberpot in the bathroom we are remodeling.

Why, you ask? Have you ever shared a bathroom with a 10-year old boy and 6'4" grown man who eats 3 tons of protein all day? Not fun. My bathroom is super-tiny, with a standing-room only shower. Which is fine for one person, as well as the occasional nocturnal visit from my husband. It is NOT built for 3 people.

My son has clogged the toilet 3 times. I have sat down to an empty toilet paper roll twice. I have almost fell into the toilet in the middle of the night multiple times because the seat was left up. There are towels everywhere, and there is definitely pee in places it shouldn't be....

I love my husband and son. But I don't love sharing a bathroom with them. And in all honesty, they are glad to be out of my bathroom too. The 10-year old mentioned he was thrilled to have his "Poop Chute" back. So today I praise the Porelain God for a very different reason than in my past.

Day 43

Hot caffeine. Java. Go-go juice. Liquid energy. Joe.....Coffee. That amazingly wonderful but necessary start to the day. It comes plain or flavored, caffeinated or decaf (though I never understood why...). People tailor it to their own tastes, adding cream, milk, powder, sugar, or other spices. But in the end, it is not the flavor that people are after- it's the energy boost.

I didn't start drinking coffee until I started living with my husband. And at first, I was a "froo-froo" coffee drinker. Lord knows how many calories I used to put into my body drinking cappuchino from Speedway or caramel macchiatos from Starbucks. But like any true addict, I progressed to needing something stronger and now drink straight coffe with a touch of creamer.

Unless I am having a really rough day or had a really rough night, I keep my consumption to one cup each morning. But that one cup is absolutely necessary. I am....not a morning person. At all. I am foggy-headed, bleary-eyed, and cranky purely because I hate getting out of bed. Especially since it's been so cold outside. Add a touch of Medusa-hair and morning-breath, and I could probably give the girl from Exocist a run for her money.

It's amazing though how that one small cup of liquid can turn me from Dr. Jekyll to Mr. Hyde. I closed my eyes this morning as I took the first sip, savoring that lovely feeling of the warmth going down my throat. I know it's psychological, but I swear I could almost instantly feel my neurons starting to fire. Even by halfway through the mug, I can tell that my mind and body are truly waking up. This is a good thing, as I am usually using a very hot curling iron to tame Medusa at this point.

I guess there are worse things to be addicted to. Like lists, or sugar, or...crap.

Today's picture represents morning rituals, and the power that 16 oz of brown murky fluid can hold over a human being!

Day 42

Have you ever needed to do something that you just weren't very good at or have much experience doing? Maybe it's changing a flat tire, or learning a new language. Maybe you need to cook a meal for a date you wanted to impress, and aren't exactly Emeril or Rachel Ray material. Maybe you have to do something new at work that you haven't done before or been trained on. I think most people have been in this type of situation, and it can be frustrating, scary, and possibly a bit embarrassing.

For me, learning to swim as an adult fell into this scenario. Now, don't get me wrong- I have always been comfortable around and in the water. I could tread water in the lake with a beer in my hand all day. But swimming laps had never been something I needed or really wanted to do- until I decided to start triathalon.

So now I needed to learn how to swim in the lap lane instead of the "family" section of the pool. It was so hard at first, in so many ways. Physically, what looked like should be simple and easy wasn't. Just getting from one end of the pool to the next had me wheezing. I had always thought of swimming as a leisure activity...not. I was also very clumsy- I would swallow water and have to stop halfway down the lane, gagging and hoping nobody saw my epic fail. They did. I never had to actually have the lifeguard jump in and save me, but I know in my heart they paid special attention when I was in the pool...

I got to where I dreaded swim days. And that in turn resulted in less effective workouts. I didn't feel I was progressing, and was unsure what to do next. So I did what I have done in the past when faced with a new challenge- dig in and push forward doggedly until the goal is complete.

But it wasn't pretty. I had to swallow a lot of pride. And water. I would go to the pool, and if there was someone there that was a good swimmer, I would sit and watch them, focusing on their arm movements and how the hell they were actually getting a full breath of air and not water when they turned their head. I would get in the pool and watch them under water, trying to figure out how to kick my legs. I got on You Tube and watched videos called, "How to swim the freestyle", which were amazingly helpful. This resulted in prolonged showers, where I would practice in slow motion the moves I saw on the computer.

I tried to go a little bit further without gagging or stopping to wheeze each time I swam. And eventually, I got better. As I was in the pool today, I realized that what started as a frustrating, scary, and embarassing necessity became something I actually look forward to.

When I'm in the pool, there are no cell phones, no alarms, nobody asking me questions or wanting my attention. It's literally just me. The water blocks out almost all sound, and all I can see out of my goggles is the line at the bottom of the pool. Swimming also takes a lot of concentration, especially as I still consider myself a beginner and learner. This allows my mind to block out everything except the swim- no work, no money worries, no "did I check everything off my list today?' thoughts. It's a total focus on how my hands are hitting the water, am I turning my hips enough, and concentrating on keeping my hips high in the water so that my lower body doesn't drag. I never thought I'd say that I actually enjoy swimming, but it has turned out to be the sport I love best in the triathalon.

So today's picture represents how something that is unfamiliar and intimidating can be turned around with perserverance and a little humillity. Don't be afraid to swallow some water or embarrass yourself in order to accomplish something- you may be suprised at how things turn out.

Day 41

If you are really sick and trying to die in the hospital, we have a whole lot of technology and equipment at our fingertips to help you. We are fortunate to live in a time when all of these things are available. 

That's the good news. The bad news is that a lot of that equipment has to be...well, inserted into you somehow. Sometimes through a naturally existing orifice, and sometimes through one we make for you.

 In a critical care unit, many times these procedures happen at the bedside and under duress. Your patient is not doing well, the family is freaking out, the doctor is yelling at you to get equipment, and  chances are you haven't eaten or peed yet that shift. And now you have to perform and assist with a high risk procedure that you may not have done for 6 months or more. Like helping "crack" a chest back open in the patient's room after open heart surgery. Or inserting a large catheter into a chest or femoral artery. No pressure...

There are many professions out there that have to perform under duress. Police officers, firefighters, airplane pilots, and the military to name a few. Fortunately, high risk situations don't necessarily happen every day, but we still have to be ready. So they drill. Cops go to the shooting range. Firefighters burn down old buildings on purpose to practice. Airplane personnel practice scenarios over and over again. 

So today, I started a new project at work where we drill certain Bedside procedures. I'm always looking for ways to get people engaged and enthusiastic about learning, so I sat and thought of how I could get staff interested. In the end, I printed off a fake name tag that said "Dr.Little" and affixed it to my existing badge. Then, I cut out a big paper circle and taped it to some gauze that I wrapped around my head like a sweatband- voila! A makeshift doctor's old-school headlamp.

As I walked onto the unit, I got some odd looks, but as I introduced myself to staff as Dr. Little and explained that I wanted to insert an arterial line into the patient in (empty) room 38, they began to look interested. I made them do the entire thing, from gathering equipment, to assisting me with getting sterile, to handing me sutures at the end. 

They did great. Not that there isn't room for improvement, but by the end they didn't need me- the educator- there at all. They were helping each other- running to get a supply or giving advice on  tricks they have learned over the years. 

So next time you get on a plane, drive by a firehouse, see a cop on the road,or go to a hospital, take solace in the fact that we are doing our drills and ready to perform under duress. Dr. Little will be sure of it! 

Day 40

I have never been much into fairies. I was more of a Transformers and building blocks kind of girl, with a touch of Strawberry Shortcake. But if there was such a thing as a Laundry Fairy, I would wear a tutu in homage without batting an eyelash. Maybe even a tiara.

Laundry- it's the true never ending battle at my house. Just when you think you've got it licked, another pile shows up out of nowhere. I literally have a sign on my laundry room door that says, "The Laundry Room- where Mom hangs out".

There are only three people in my home- I can't imagine what it's like in houses of multiple children. They would definately have to wear their underwear more than one day, that's for sure. My kids know nothing gets me hotter than throwing clothes in the dirty laundry that were worn for only an hour or so. And my 10-year old does it ALL THE TIME. He wore sweat pants OVER his shorts today to his basketball game. He took them off when we got there and did not put them on afterward. Upon arriving home, the first thing he does is throw the pants on the floor in the dirty laundry. Not even in a basket. Seriously?

It doesn't help that my husband changes clothes more often than a woman shopping for the perfect pair of jeans. It's not his fault really, but it adds up. He comes home from work and takes his work clothes off..laundry. Then he goes to the gym to workout....laundry. Then he takes a shower and has his actual outfit that he will wear out of the house on errands and such....laundry. And of course, the obligatory "comfy pants" and old sweatshirt that he wears in the evening around the house...laundry. Throw in my work and workout outfits from the day and Sam's contributions, and blammo- the dirty laundry basket is overflowing on a daily basis. Sometimes I think it 's a competition to see how much and how high we can stuff the thing before someone gives in and hauls it down the hall to the laundry room.

I try to do a couple loads during the week so that the pile in the laundry room is below eye level by Saturday. But washing laundry and folding laundry are two seperate beasts. Therefore, the counter in our hallway is almost continuosly covered in clean, unfolded laundry. And let's fce it- most of us have a surface somewhere in our homes that wasn't originally designated to store clean laundry, but that space gets repurposed at least once a week. Maube it's the top of the dryer. Maybe it's the recliner or couch in the living room. Maybe it's the dining room table. And if you are lucky enough to actually have a space in your laundry room to store and fold clean laundry....I hate you and your ability to hide your "clean"mess. Showoffs.

So today's picture represents the happines found from being able to actually see the countertop on my hallway counter. I spent a good chunk of my day today washing and folding...crap. I gotta go. The dryer just beeped.

Day 39

"Let's redo the bathroom". It's a simple sentence- only 4 words. New floor, a little paint, new toilet, vanity, and mirror. No wall removal, or plumbing and electrical changes. Piece of cake, right?

Wrong. So very, very wrong.

I have spent the last 12 hours laying ceramic tile. I chose tile that actually looks like wood flooring, so the process is a bit different than traditional square tile. It's a cross between laying tile and wood flooring- both of which I have done in other areas of our home. My husband has done the majority of the revamp- demolition, painting, new lighting, and floor prep. But laying tile requires patience and exact measurements- and this is where my ying is to his yang. So I decided to tackle the floor today while he is at work, decreasing the chance of him trying to "suggest" how I "might want to try it this way...".

Twelve hours. Our bathroom is skinny and broken up into 2 areas, so there was a lot of cutting involved. By 1 PM, I was ready to start with thinset. That's when the torture started...

I am pretty sure I invented some new yoga moves and had some plumber's crack going on today, as I  tried to balance precariously between bathtub and wall. I am very sure I invented some new cusswords. I was the female version of the father in A Christmas Story when he's trying to fix the furnace in the basement.

I have been on my knees all day (yes, you can insert a snicker here...). My legs and kness are so stiff that the  thought of just bending them to sit on the toilet had me pausing to reconsider if I really had to go. My back is sore, I have thinset in odd places (including up my nose, which once hardened is a bitch to get out by the way), and my hands are shriveled up from being wet all day.

But...it's done. And I did it all myself. So when I walk past or into that room, I will have a sense of pride about it. And if you happen to come over to my house, feel free to comment on it :). I'll admit that although I'm exhasted, it was a bit empowering to actually do something like that. Who needs a man to do home improvement? Not this tough, modern woman. So what will tomorrow bring? Framing a wall? Hanging trim? Learning how to put down a wax ring for a toilet?

Screw it. I'm gonna go get a manicure. That thinset was hell on my nails...

Day 38

I want you to stop and think about a woman you know that has or had a heart condition. Chances are, one comes to mind pretty easily. That's because heart disease is the Number One killer of women in America. NUMBER ONE. One out of every four women will die of heart disease. Holy crap.

The numbers are so high because of several reasons:

- Women do not have the typical "chest pain" symptoms that the majority of America associates with having a heart attack. We get nauseated, sweaty, or have arm and/or shoulder pain. We may be short of breath, but rarely do we get actual discomfort in our chest. This leads clinicians down other paths aside from cardiac, possibly wasting precious minutes that our heart muscle is not getting what it needs.

- Women are worse than men about going to the doctor. Yup. We "shake it off" or "get our soldiers marching". We tell ourselves it will go away, we're too busy, we're overreacting. We make sure our kids get their annual physicals but neglect to do the same for ourselves. I am totally guilty of this myself- I haven't been to the doctor for a physical in years (and years...)

- Women tend to worry more than men. I know- surprise. Over time, this can lead to an enlarged heart and what is called Broken Heart Syndrome.

- Women are traditionally physically smaller than men. This means that we have smaller arteries, which in turn means they are at a higher risk of getting clogged.

The good news is, there are many things we can do to help prevent heart disease. Most of them you have heard before, as they are in general good health practices...

Don't smoke.

Keep your blood sugar under control.

Keep your blood pressure under control.

Exercise a minimum of 30 min per day, 3 days per week.

Eat a low cholesterol diet.

See your doctor every year (yes, Stephanie that means you...)

I know it sounds simple but....1 in 4 guys. And I definitely have more than 4 girlfriends out there who I want to enjoy drinking wine and trashing men with until I'm old and senile. 

February is heart month in many ways. And today was National Wear Red for Women Day. I wore my red sweater proudly, along with this pin. And Monday I am gonna make a doctor's appointment. Really. I swear.

Day 37

I am 5'10'' tall. My husband is 6'4". Our son is one of the youngest in his class (we sent him to indergarten at the age of 5 instead of 6), and remains about the second or third tallest in his grade. Oh, and did I mention that our last name is Little....

They say that people tend to have dogs that are similar in appearance and personality to their owners. We didn't start out that way. My first dog as an adult was a bassett hound. He was the runt of the litter, and the only one with a light tan and white coat. We named him Flash (I have a soft spot for Dukes of Hazard) and he was the love of my life for nearly 15 years. And although he and I definately shared some personality traits (patience, slow but steady pace, wheezing upon climbing a set of stairs, and fear of spiders), I can't say that he was the personality epitome of the Little household.

And then we got Ben the English Mastiff. He is named after the Big Ben clock in England. We had done a lot of research on the breed, but I had never actually met one in person. I will never forget the day that I went to the breeder's house- I rang the doorbell and what sounded like a thunderstorm erupted from within, and two of the biggest animals I had ever seen in my life bounded to the door. I swear I almost peed myself. Ok, maybe I did pee. A little. It was reflex.

Once I got over how big they were, I realized their gentle demeanor. The puppies were only 6 weeks old and already almost as big as my basset hound had been. The 10-year old (then only 5) and I sat on the floor and played with all of them, trying to decide who would be the next Little. And then I noticed one puppy sitting quietly watching the big screen TV. I could tell he was really looking at it, because his head would move left or right with the action on the screen. Taking this as a sign of intelligence, I proclaimed that he was "the one".

Five years later, Ben weighs in at around 175-180 pounds. He is protective but gentle, playful but patient, and leaves turds the size of my old basset hound in the backyard. Where Flash had relatively been MY dog, Ben is OUR dog, and I would say his physical and personality traits are much closer to his human beings than our previous canine. He is always the center of attention wherever he goes, whether on walks or when visitors come to the house. People have been known to regularly take pictures of him or with him when they come over (selfies or putting their small children next to him so that his size is apparent in the pic), sending them to friends and family with captions such as, "Holy moly look at my friends' dog!"

Ben loves it when my husband is at work. Because that means he gets to sleep in bed with me. Some mornings I wake up and he is curled at my feet, and others he has his head on my husband's pillow like a human. He's so big, there have been several times I have scooted closer in the middle of the night or as I first wake up, subconsciously thinking it's my husband- only to discover morning dog breath and receive a sloppy kiss that definately has less finesse than my husbands...

 

This morning was one of those mornings. The alarm went off, and I turned to catch a few more moments of snuggle time with my hubby. Instead, I found this face. I swear he asked if I wanted to spoon.

Today's pic celebrates how dogs are truly part of the family. I love this dog, all 175 "Little" pounds.

Day 36

Growing up, I was a bit of a tomboy. I can still remember my mother being furious with me after coming home with ANOTHER pair of pants (cordorouy, of course...) with holes in the knees from playing. And under those holes in the pants were scratches and bruises, a relatively constant existence in my younger years.

I still have the scars on my knees from one fateful summer day in the backyard. Wearing nothing but my Wonder Woman underoos and tennis shoes, I was running along the backyard sidewalk pretending to be flying in the Invisible Plane. Unfortuantely, I tripped on a crack in the sidewalk and ....well, flew alright. My aunt found me first, bloody and screaming, with both knees full of dirt and asphalt.

Now, just about everyone can think back and remember what their parents used for ailments and injuries when they were a child. Maybe it was cod liver oil. If so, I'm so sorry. Maybe it was Hydrogen Peroxide- again, sorry. At my house, Phisoderm and Neosporin ruled the roost. I can still remember the green Phisoderm bottle uder the bathroom sink, and the giant tube of slimy medicine always present in the cabinet. I still carry Neosporin in all of my own bathrooms, and never go on vacation without it.

Once I became a teenager, and skinned knees were fewer and farther in between, my go-to cure-all switched from Neosporin to Ibuprofen. It has since continued to be my partner and savior from pain and misery. It helped me through countless months of "I swear my uterus is falling out" cramps. When I broke my big toe 5 weeks from gradutaing nursing school, it allowed me to limp through those long clinicals on my feet. It has eased sunburns, sinus headaches, overzealous dental hygeinists, pinched nerves, overdone workouts, and let's not forget hangovers...I've never taken a prescription strength pain pill in my life, instead relying on my friend Ibuprofen to get me through wisdom teeth removal, a uterine ablation, and post partum pain when I could have sworn someone took a baseball bat to my hoohah when I wasn't looking...

Today I shoveled the driveway for an hour. An hour of physical excercise in itself is not what made me sore. It was the damn ice that killed me. It was so hard and thick that I wound up literally taking a garden hoe to it in order to get the ice to break up enough to shovel. That was definately a first, and I am sure I had some neighbors and passer-bys wondering what in the hell that crazy lady was doing hoeing her driveway in the middle of a snowstorm.

So this evening I am relying on my old pal Ibuprofen to allow me to actually stretch out straight in my bed tonight and hopefully be able to get out of bed in the morning. Cheers!

Day 35

I have a weakness. Aside from Harrison Ford, that is. I have a horrible sweet tooth. I could care less about meat- I could easily survive on peanut butter, hummus, and cottage cheese. And I have never had a knack for salty snacks- I don't eat chips, popcorn, or pretzels. But sugar....oh, sugar. How you light up my taste buds and make the world instantly a happier place.

Growing up, sweets were not a regular part of our diet.  We never drank pop, cookies were Fig Newtons at our house, and we didn't have actual ice cream- it was frozen yogurt at best. I'm not complianing- I think growing up with this type of eating attitude has helped me in many ways. But a part of me wonders if I am now overcompensating for not eating junk food as a child. Or maybe that's just an excuse to eat Little Debbies...

When I went to college, I didn't know what to do. There was junk food everywhere at my disposal. The cafeteria at my dorm had little healthy choices, and I didn't really know HOW to eat healthy. It had always just happened because I either ate what was on my plate at home or didn't eat at all. The result was not a Freshman 15...it was a Freshman 40-50.

I moved back home my third year of college and joined the Fire Department. Between my mother's healthy cooking and Fire School (think of  wearing a navy blue uniform under a snowsuit in the summer for hours every day), I worked off my first two years of dorm food (ok, and maybe some dorm beer calories as well...).

Since then, I have relatively stayed the same size, aside from pregnancy and a short period of time where I thought P90X was the greatest thing alive. But my penchant for sugar remains. It is a daily battle of wills, especially when I am alone where peer pressure is not abundant. Traveling alone to Florida? Nobody will know if you eat 2 Milky Ways and a bag of chocolate covered raisins on the 2 flights down there. ..Staying in a hotel room by yourself? Noone will know that the box of Oatmeal Pies you bought at the store next to the hotel are for you and you alone- in one night.

I fought off the little devil on my shoulder (who looks strangely like Paula Deen at times) for both of these situations, but was faced with another dilemma tonight when I made cupcakes for my son. Chocolate cupcakes. Now anyone who bakes knows that cake, cookie, and brownie batter tastes almost more delicious raw than baked. Which is why every kid in America wants to "lick the bowl". I swear, my older 2 kids could hear a hand mixer start up from the next state over- doesn't matter what they were doing, they were always standing next to me by the time I finished mixing, waiting for their obligatory blade to lick clean.

But tonight, I finished mixing the batter, and when I turned off the machine noone was there. No kids. No husband. Just me and the mixing blades full of delicious, raw cake batter. What's a girl to do? Should I call for the 10-year old and share with him? Or should I quickly rinse them off so that their calories do not invade anyone's body. Of course not. I licked those puppies clean so fast you'd have thought I was falling off the wagon. Which I was of course, as I still had my workout clothes on from the gym....Licked the damn bowl clean too- even used my fingers to be sure I didn't leave any behind. I wish I could say I'm ashamed, but I'm too gluttonously happy at the moment to feel anything else.

Tonight's picture represents guilty pleasures and flashbacks to childhood memories. Don't tell the 10-year old- I will deny it to my grave! :)

Day 34

A few years ago, my mom gave me a box full of stuff that she had saved over the years. That stuff was actually a treasure trove of old report cards, art projects, pictures, etc. I found my Kindergarten "report card", and as I read through it I was amazed at how my Kindergarten teacher could have been describing me at my current age.

Now, remember that Kindergarten was a lot different back then. Much less structured and more touchy-feely. There are three things I distinctly remember from that year- taking naps, fighting over who would get to ride the tricycles at recess, and not being able to use scissors. I was the only left-handed kid in the class, and I can still remember crying in frustration because I couldn't get the damn scissors to cut my art project. I also remember that the next day, my teacher had a special pair of left-handed scissors just for me. Looking back now, I'm sure she bought those with her own money. I don't even remember her name, and I wish she knew that I still remember her kindness after all these years.

Report cards were hand written then, and my teacher wrote out quite a bit, making it very personalized- something you rarely see these days. She had mostly positive things to say, and again I was intrigued at how my base personality was rooted in before I even started first grade. She wrote that I was a bright student- picked up on things fast but had trouble at times with questions that were not "black and white". I enjoyed problem solving, and planning (lists!)

She spoke about my patience and leadership attributes. I guess I used to get my work done before others frequently, and would be sure that those others around me didn't need help. I didn't mind taking time to explain things to my fellow Kindergardeners that were struggling with 2+3 or how to spell "cat". I also was always ready to lend a hand in passing out papers, cleaning erasers, or whatever else needed to be done to keep things running smoothly. 

Socially, I didn't know a stranger, and I asked a lot of questions. My poor mother used to probably dread taking me in public, afraid of what I may say or ask. She swears I asked an obese lady when her baby was due, but I'm sure she's lying...

I liked to teach others. My mom caught me one afternoon in front of the TV- unfortunately, an educational program on the delivery of a baby was on. My mom passively turned the channel, hoping I wouldn't make a big deal out if it. The next day she got a phone call from my teacher, as I guess I took it upon myself to get up on the table and explain/demonstrate to my peers where babies REALLY come from..

All in all, I'm still that same Kindergartener. I am patient, love to help others, problem sove, plan (lists!), and I love meeting new people. But most of all, I like to teach. It gives me such satisfaction to see that "lightbulb" turn on above someone's head when they finally understand something they've been struggling with. 

A year ago or so, my Associate Manager got me a USB port as a gift. Not just any USB Port. A USB port in the shape of Yoda. I had been training and grooming her for a couple of years at that point, and I lovingly referred to her at times as my Padawan. So I was touched that she would give me a short, wrinkly, green alien as a gift. Cuz let's face it, Yoda rocks. When it comes to teaching, loyalty, knowledge, patience, and leadership- Yoda is the whole package. He sits on my desk as a symbol and reminder of the kind of person/teacher/leader I want to be.

Today's picture represents the importance of having a mentor, and how at 5-years old we can already be a "mini-me".

Day 33

They say absence makes the heart grow fonder. I think that is true in many ways.

While in Florida I found myself stopping and noticing simple things that on a regular basis I take for granted. Like sunshine. And green grass. And flowers. The smell of meat on an outdoor grill. 

But even though I was only gone from Friday morning till Sunday evening, and as much as I loved the warm weather...I missed my boys. 

I love traveling. I love seeing how and where other people live, eating new food, meeting new people. And as many new and different things that I experience, there are also things I am happy not to have where I live. Like Hurricane Evacuation Route signs. And really big bugs...

So tonight I am grateful to be back home on our couch that fits all three of us, with the dogs at my feet and a football game on TV. I guess one of the nicest things about traveling is coming home.

Day 32

What a day! I have scrolled thru all my pics and have had such a hard time deciding which one to use and talk about. In the end, I have decided that my day was filled with too many Positive interactions to choose just one. So I will tell you about all of them...

I woke up this morning at 0600, determined not to let any part of a warm day slip past me. I made coffee in my hotel room and walked out to the beach. It was extremely humid and foggy, giving it a beautifully mysterious aura, and I felt like I was the only one out there. I drained my cup of coffee and filled  it back up with seashells to take home, periodically stopping to just listen to the magical, rhythmic sound of the ocean. I saw a crab scuttling across the sand, and someone had taken the time to arrange a bunch of the dark brown seaweed on the beach to resemble Jesus, complete with sideburns and beard. At least I think it was Jesus- I guess it could have been Elvis...

Then I changed from flip-flops to running shoes and took off down the strip. It's amazing how much faster an hour jogging goes by when you are surrounded by new landscape. I saw all sorts of beautiful and typical beach scenes, from surf shops to strip clubs, beautifully manicured lawns to beer cans and used condoms. ..at least I am assuming it was used- I barely missed stepping on it. Yuck.

I bypassed the free breakfast at my hotel (calories!!) and instead wolfed some trail mix down in my room and prepared for the beach. On my way out to the sand I ran Into a little boy and his grandmother. He was walking in front of me rather slowly and the woman apologized. I told her there was no need for apologies and she told the 3-4 year old to wish me a good time at the beach. He promptly winked at me and blew me a kiss- I returned the favor and proceeded back to the beach with a smile on my face.

I basked in the glorious sun for 3 hours, watching surfers and vacationers brave the cold water. I met a lovely retired rcouple from Nebraska who became my best friends in a matter of minutes. We talked on and off for the time I was on the beach, and I learned all about their family and their 50-year anniversary coming up.

 

The surfers were amazing. I saw them As young as around 4 years old up to at least 65- tons of them taking advantage of the previous day's storms which had brought higher than usual waves. I read my Janet Evanovich book and soaked in the rays- and I have the sunburn to prove it!

Heading back to the hotel, I strolled thru the pool and decided that a cool drink was just what I needed. One Piña Colada from the poolside bar later, I collapsed onto my bed, telling Siri to wake me up at 2 PM.

Well, Siri must have heard "3" instead of "2", and I woke up with a start at 2:30. Fortunately the people above me were.....loud....and I woke up in time to prep for the wedding. An hour later, I had the honor of watching my closest cousin exchange vows with her best friend right on the beach- she was beautiful and we couldn't have asked for more perfect weather.

The rest of the evening was spent traditionally, with a DJ playing music, wedding cake, and tossing of bouquets and garter belts. I watched my stepdad and 70-year old uncle  cut a rug on the dance floor and spent time with a cousin I hadn't seen outside of Facebook in over 10 years. 

So I feel like I am justified in being tired as I write this post. It was a full day- one filled with happiness, love, new discoveries, tranquility, family, and sunshine.  That's what today's pic represents- tomorrow, it is back to reality.