151

TThe family that excercises together is one...that hopefully lives longer.

Went to the bike path with my husband and son today. Proud to say the 11-year old ran 2 miles! 

And oh, by the way, I'm only behind them  because after I ran my 3 miles, I jogged back to where they were so I could take the pic :).

It's gonna be beautiful tomorrow. So get out there with your family and be active!

Day 150

Ah...success. It's such a nice feeling. But it's made even better when grown from loss and hard work.

This time last year, our sand volleyball team was...well...challenged. We had fun, but we didn't win a lot of games. And although the bottom line was to have fun, most of us were competitive enough to want more.

So we practiced. And we talked more during the game. And oh yeah- we moved down a level into a lower league too. But, all in all, we really tried to be a team. Instead of just bumping the ball back to the other side every time, we started trying to do the traditional bump-set-spike.

Tonight, I am happy to announce, that our team won the league championship for our competetive level. What a sense of pride and accomplishment, especially after going through so many games where we just plain got our butt whipped. I am so proud of how much better everyone on our team has gotten, not just individually, but as a team too.

But the best part of all of it is the free t-shirt. I know, I know, you are jealous of my florescent orange t-shirt, but you can't have it. Nope. It's mine. I have the sand between my toes and every other crevice to prove it...

So tonight's pic celebrates perseverance, teamwork, and having fun. We are the Bad News Bears of sand volleyball- bring on summer league!

Day 149

Last year, I deemed myself the Tomato Goddess. I only grew three plants, and was overrun with tomatoes by the end of the year. I canned, cooked, diced, and gave away more Lycopene than you can imagine.

But it wouldn't have been possible without the kindness of someone else.

I had tried and tried for several years to grow tomatoes in my back yard. I tried them in the ground and in pots. I tried different areas of my yard. But nothing seemed to work.

A friend of mine's mother is an amazing organic gardener, and I told her my brown thumb woes one evening when we were all out shopping. A few days later, she presented me with over three pages of handwritten instructions on how to grow tomatoes.

Three pages. All about one kind of plant. No wonder I hadn't been successful- this was way more involved than I thought!

Although it was three pages long, it truly walked me through every step of planting and caring for the tomatoes all summer long. And you know me....I love directions and lists. So I dug and fertilized and planted.

And became the Tomato Goddess.

This year, I took it a step farther and planted tomato seeds. I wasn't sure if it would work, so I planted a bunch of them. Well... it worked, and now I am handing out tomato plants to whoever will take one!

Tonight I pulled out my three pages of Tomato instructions and copied them for a friend who I gave a tomato plant to. Her son is chomping at the bit to plant a garden, and can't wait to get his tomato plant in the ground. He started asking about what other kinds of things he could plant and grow. Of course, Fruit Loops were at the top of his list, and he was a bit dejected when he was told that unfortunately Fruit Loops do not grow on plants...

So tonight's pic represents passing the torch. And the art of growing tomatoes. If anyone else wants the magical directions, just let me know :).

148

On my way to a meeting at noon today, I passed by the front window of the hospital lobby. There, in the small rock garden directly in front of the window, I saw what seemed to be a new statue.

But then the statue moved.

Upon closer inspection, I realized that what I originally thought was a new decoration was in fact a peacock. Sensing more movement, I turned to the right and discovered three more were slowly walking around the front garden.

Now where in the heck did 4 peacocks come from?!

Can peacocks fly?

Do they live in the wild?

Do you think they escaped from somewhere?

These were all questions that floated around the hospital throughout the day, as the peacocks became quite the hot topic. The wife of our open heart surgery patient showed us pics on her phone that she had taken. One of the cardiologists hurried down the stairs to take pics as well. Staff and visitors alike clustered throughout the day to ponder over these four majestic birds.

When I left today around 4:30, the peacocks were still there. They seemed content and undisturbed by having humans so close by. It seemed to be two males and two females, and the females were laying in the shade while the males pranced around. People had even filled their empty styrofoam cafeteria containers with water and placed them out there. 

I smiled as I snapped pics for my blog, and a complete stranger started a conversation with me about them. There were two kids pulling their mon's hand to go over and look at them. And I thought of the patient's wife who got a few moments of distraction from what was probably one of the longest waits of her life.

Who knows how those peacocks got there. But it sure was neat. They were almost surreal, or magical, with their feathery tiaras and bold colored feathers. 

So today's pic represents how sometimes unexpected visitors can be a blessing, and the mysterious ways of Mother Nature.

Day 147

Some days it's the little things that wind up making your day.

After picking up the 11-year old this evening, I asked him what sounded good for dinner. He looked hopefully at me and asked, "Grilled cheese sandwiches?".

" I think there's leftover pizza in the fridge- would you rather have that?"

He didn't even miss a beat- "No".

 Grilled cheese sandwiches, huh? I would usually consider that more lunch-appropriate, but I really had no solid argument against bread and cheese.

"Sure". 

He smiled and actually rubbed his hands together in delight.

Not much later, I placed a square of toasted bread and cheese on his plate. He took one bite, closed his eyes, and declared, "you make the BEST grilled cheese sandwiches in the WORLD, Mom".

I don't know why, but that one sentence just made my day. My grilled cheese sandwiches are nothing special. I use Kroger-brand American cheese and margarine- whoo hoo. I doubt he has even had grilled cheese anywhere else but our house. But for some reason, my grilled cheese made the top of the list.

Many of us have that one thing our parents make that others just can't match. I like all sorts of chili, but my Mom's is the only true bowl of beans in my book. Hers was thinner than most, and to this day I just can't get ecstatic about a chili that is thick enough to double as a topping. And I have never found banana bread to even come close to hers.  except for mine, of course- but only because she gave me the recipe and taught me how to make it. When my step-son was preparing to leave for 6 months overseas, we had him tell each family member what he wanted us to make for his farewell party. Guess what he requested of me...yup. Banana bread.

So today's pic represents the culinary standards that are set for us in our younger years. Be it Grandma's fried chicken, Dad's chili, or Mom's banana bread. Hopefully, when the 11-year old is an adult and eats some fancy-schmancy grilled cheese at a trendy restaurant, he'll appreciate it for what it is,  yet think in the back of his mind that it's just not quite as good as Mom's.

Day 146

I enjoyed my day off work today. I went to Cracker Barrel for breakfast, Tropical Smoothie for lunch, took a family bike ride, watched the 11-year old shoot his air soft gun for the first time, grilled burgers for dinner, and did a ton of yard work.

But several times throughout the day, I paused for a moment to give thanks that I was able to do all of the above.

As I get older, the significance and weight of our country's history bears more of my attention than years past. Having studied sociology and psychology a bit in school, I realize this is a rather normal thing for people my age. 

So as I lay in bed with my IPad, sunburn, full belly, and sore back, I pause one more time to give thanks. To soldiers, yes, but to so many others as well who sacrificed and lost so much so that I could live in a country that isn't perfect, but allows me to pretty much live as I choose. Thank you for going hungry so I could have a belly full of hamburgers and baked beans. Thank you for freezing in the snow so I could get a sunburn in my garden today. Thank you for walking miles and miles through a jungle full of danger so that I could ride a bike with my family today. Thank you using a real gun to do the unthinkable, so that my 11-year old only has to shoot BB's at a target and nothing more. And most of all, thank you for  selfishly giving the ultimate sacrifice, leaving loved ones behind, so that I can sleep in my bed with my husband next to me. Thank you.

Day 145

Most people have one or two ways that they relieve stress and/or just turn their mind off. Some like to pop those bubbles on packaging wrap. Others squeeze stress balls or do yoga. Before going to bed and in the winter time, I play Spider Solitaire on my I pad to turn my brain off, many times falling asleep cuddling my I pad instead of my husband...

But once it gets warm out, I pull weeds.

Yes, I also use Round-up at times, but there's just something about the manual labor of pulling weeds that I actually enjoy. It's something that I can put my whole mind and body into and pretty much zone out, digging and pulling with fervor. I use a huge screwdriver to help with the bigger ones with roots, a trick I learned accidentally years ago when I couldn't find the #$%*ing expensive weed puller tool I had bought.

And there's such satisfaction in the immediate difference pulling weeds makes. The garden goes from overgrown and unruly to  neat and orderly. It's a great upper body workout too, as well as a core and back strengthener- an afternoon pulling weeds will remind you of muscles you forgot you had the next morning!

So today's picture represents finding something that allows you to just turn it off for awhile. I planted some annuals as I went along today, which gave me twice the satisfaction as weed pulling alone. The only downside to this evening's session was that a HUGE (like as big as my head it seemed) spider crawled out of the hole I had just dug for a petunia- I jumped back and screamed like a little girl. I decided that was a sign that I should pack it in for the night. So much for stress relief...oh well. There are plenty more weeds to pull up tomorrow :).

Day 144

Today I went to get a pedicure with two young ladies that are sisters. I've known them since they were small children, and it's been a pleasure to watch them grow up. 

Isn't it funny how some sisters look so much alike, and others are completely different? My sister and I are opposites, one being white blonde as a child and the other brunette. My pedicure friends are a bit opposite as well, with the younger one standing flat-footed at 5'11" and the older at maybe 5'4".

But even though their height may cause strangers not to realize they are related, anyone who knows them will tell you they are thick as thieves. They have opposite interests, but are connected in a way only sisters can be.

So today's pic represents how you can be alike but different. See how their toes are shaped almost the same? And see how they picked out almost the same base color? But see how different their toe designs are? Alike...but different.

Day 143

When I was young, I loved listening to the radio. I was an 80's child, otherwise known as the M and M generation ( Madonna and Michael Jackson). It was Z-93 on the boombox and MTV on the TV whenever possible, except for homework and bedtime. For whatever reason, I've never been able to study or sleep with music on- I get distracted and wind up singing along instead of dreaming or writing my paper...

These days, most kids don't even own a radio. And MTV has more reality shows on than music videos. Even CD players have taken a backseat in the music playing business. Instead, Pandora, You Tube, and ITunes rule the airwaves.

Being a traditionalist (aka old), I haven't really grasped on to You Tube or I Tunes.

But Pandora is a different story. I love it. It's like having a radio that you can control. I remember being a young girl and lying in my bedroom for hours, hoping against hope that they would play "Like A Virgin" or "Beat It".

Now, all I have to do is switch my Pandora channel to Madonna, and I can be immediately transported to my jelly-bracelet years whenever I want. 

I have an eclectic taste on my Pandora list. Madonna of course, but I also have Rascal Flatts, Pink, Macklemore, Alison Kraus, and Justin Timberlake. Yeah- that's right. JT rocks.

So now instead of lugging my boombox around, I can put in my earbuds, strap my phone to my arm, and take M and M or JT with me anywhere I'd like. Gotta love Progress. 

Today's pic represents the age-old pastime of listening to music, be it record, 8-track, cassette, CD, or kn your phone.

Day 142

This morning I got up knowing that I was going to have to work out. Between my job and tornadoes (see yesterday's blog...), I haven't been able to exercise in several days. Add in a couple of donuts and birthday cake....well, let's just say I knew it would probably be ugly.

Today was a swim and run workout. It was also a "force" day, which means sprints both in water and on land are included in the workout. About 25 minutes into my swim, I had completed my sprints and was faced with another 20 minutes of laps at a steady pace. I was feeling sorry for myself, and was debating on finishing early as I stood at the wall huffing and puffing. I swear, if it was possible to sweat in a pool- I was sweating.

Then I heard a voice- "How's the water?"

I looked up to see a smiling woman in a full wet suit and swim cap- who could not have been younger than 80 years old.

"Not bad at all", I replied.

"That's the way I like it", she said, still smiling.

She then proceeded to get in the pool WITHOUT USING A LADDER, and started her laps. Now don't get me wrong, she wasn't winning any races with her pace, but she was swimming dad gum it. And I wasn't.

So I sighed a little and went back to it, finishing my 25 minutes as strong as I could. Then I got out, changed, and walked out of the locker room. Glancing into the pool on my way out- yup. There she was. Still going.

I came home and hung up my swimsuit in the laundry room, smiling a little at how I got schooled by an 80-year old. Then I laced up my running shoes and hit the pavement for an hour. No excuses today- and maybe by working this hard now, I will be the 80-year old in the pool one day motivating a young woman not to giv in and stop early.

Day 141

When we bought this house, we did so with full knowledge that my parents would be only a few streets away. We decided it would either be wonderful or some version of Everybody Loves Raymond. Almost eight years later, I can attest that it has been a blessing.

Especially after tonight.

On my drive home from work today, I noticed that the sky  was getting a bit ominous. I picked up the 11-year old and headed for the house, glancing at the sky. Mostly, I was glad that I wouldn't have to water my plants tonight. And there was a part of me that really hoped I could get the dogs out and back in before the sky opened up- nothing like a soaking wet 170 pound Mastiff to round out the evening...

Pulling in the driveway, I instructed the 11-year old to let the dogs out while I brought in the trash cans from the curb- the wind was starting to pick up and I didn't want them to wind up down the street. As I went into the backyard my eyes were drawn upward by the sheer oddness of the clouds- they seemed to be almost angry with one another , moving towards each other as if they were going to fight, and growing more ominous all the time.

Then, suddenly, the clouds formed a huge rotating circle RIGHT ABOVE MY HOUSE. As I started to move towards the house I noticed my neighbors had just pulled in with their kids and I screamed at them as I was pointing to the sky. We both scrambled our separate ways- them to their bathtub and me  into my house to grab my son.

Screaming for him to get his shoes, we jumped in the car and sped 2 streets over to my parents house- because they have a basement. My parents are actually out of town, and my aunt is house-sitting, so we all went down to the basement together and turned on the news.

The rain fell, the hail hit, but from what I could tell the funnel cloud never touched the ground. My poor son is a bit traumatized from the experience though, as I have to admit I was not the calming force that I am usually so proud of during disasters. I kind of freaked out. OK, I seriously freaked out.

After we got back home, I found myself regularly looking outside the patio doors towards the sky, now gun shy and a bit anxious about what the clouds may hold. That's when I noticed a bird sitting on the telephone pole.

Some people say you can tell when a storm is coming because there are no birds to be seen or heard. But you can also tell the storm is over when the birds start their melodies again. Opening the patio door, I heard birds and crickets both chirping away, as if to say, "All is well. The worst is over. So you can stop looking out the window every 30 seconds, lady".

So today I am thankful for having parents that live two streets over. I am thankful they have a basement. And most of all, I am thankful that they have a well-stocked bar in that basement. Because I sure as hell needed a drink after all that!

Day 140

My mom and I went exploring at a new local business called "This Old Couch". It is a locally owned shop that sells refurbished and vintage things for the house. I found it absolutely charming, and envision myself returning to see what new treasures abound.

But my favorite find was not even for sale. Hanging from the front door was what looked at first to be a pleasant spring bouquet of flowers. But upon closer inspection, I realized it was an umbrella that they had refurbished into a hanging vase for flowers. Ingenious! And cute!

I wish I was creative. Oh, I have my moments, but they are usually driven from recipes or instructions, or something I saw on Pinterest....I don't have a knack for looking at something and seeing it as something else. I can play the piano- as long as there is music in front of me. I can cook or bake- as long as there's a recipe in front of me. I can even draw- as long as whatever I am painting is sitting next to me to look at.

I envy those that are creative ad imaginative. What a special gift. So today's pic celebrates being able to create something without a recipe or directions, as well as being able to take something old and make it new again!

Day 139

At around 10 PM this evening, the 10-year old will officially be the 11-year old.

As almost every parent has said at some point in their life- Geez, the time flies. It seems like yesterday that I woke up in the middle of the night, angry because I thought I had peed in the bed, only to find out my water had broke.

He was born 6 weeks early, and had a bit of a rough start, but you'd never look at him today and believe he was a preemie. Of course, even 6 weeks early he weighed in at 6 pounds 11 ounces- the 90th percentile for that early of a birth...

Today he informed me that they are going to be watching a video at school about puberty. Crap. Is it really time for all that? My brain tells me yes, because he is starting to get an attitude and body odor. But my heart still has moments where I want to hold him and smother his face with kisses- something he would most likely be horrified to have happen these days.

So today's pic is of the 11-year old's birthday cake, a tradition that I personally am very fond of. Of course, he picked an ice cream cake which took over an hour to thaw out, and everyone wound up circling it like vultures towards the end. He blew out his candles, but it took him several tries- he asked if he got a wish for each of the attempts. Sorry, son. It doesn't work that way...but Happy Birthday anyway. I love you. And when you go to bed tonight, I am so gonna hold you and smother your face with kisses...

Day 138

We're done! Well, at least for 2 months or so....

Today was the last game of flag football, which is a bit sad for the 10-year old, and a bit joyous for me.

Two months that I don't have to worry about practices, games, making sure uniforms are clean and mouthpieces weren't eaten by the dog in the last week. No worrying if it's my turn to bring snack or standing in the rain praying for lightening.

Don't get me wrong- I love sports and I do enjoy watching my son play, but having two months in the summer to not have to worry about all the stuff that goes along with it is awesome. And I don't worry about him being inactive- he'll still go to outdoor summer camp and basketball camp, and my husband has plans to buy a tractor tire and make him push it around the yard...

So goodbye, football. See you on the flip side in a couple months. I know you'll be waiting, with practice five days a week, snack schedules, mouthpiece and cup guard rules, and (really) smelly laundry. Can't wait.

Today' pic represents a different kind of summer break- now if only the weather would cooperate...

Day 137

On days that I think my life is chaotic, I like to go visit friends of ours that have five children. The mom and I went to High School and played sports together, and our husbands and sons have also become friends now that we are adults. They have four handsome boys, and a daughter that will never have to worry about sharing a bedroom. 

Today I went over to pick up their oldest, who was coming to our house for the night. Pulling into their long driveway, the first thing you are greeted by is Rigby. Rigby is one of the two dogs this family has rescued, and gives our Mastiff a run for his money in size. He was happily chewing on two small children's winter boots, and was immediately ecstatic to have visitors. Noting the garage was open, and figuring Rigby likes to find "treasures", I picked up the boots and headed to the front door. 

Once inside, I handed the boots over and was immediately assaulting by sound. Five kids are loud enough, but add in four dogs....

Yes, that's right. Four dogs. Two that are officially theirs and two puppies that they are fostering. Fostering is how they wound up with their own two dogs, and a month or so they got another call.

Someone had dropped off 7 very small puppies at The Humane Society, and they needed help. Two of the pups were already dead when they were found, and the other five were not in good shape. They had been neglected and were starving, with bellies that were bloated while the rest of them was skin and bones.

And so, RJ and Elsa found themselves a foster home. 

As chaos reigned in the family room, I noticed that Elsa sat next to the couch, cool as a cucumber. I was intrigued, and sat on the steps to let all of the dogs get a better chance at sniffing and licking.

Elsa calmly came over, and I couldn't resist picking her up and putting her in my lap. She immediately pressed into my chest and melted into me like butter. And as three other dogs and five children took their circus outside, Elsa and I sat and gave each other googly-eyes. 

I don't understand how someone can mistreat a living thing. I just don't. But Elsa and her siblings are all doing great, thanks to volunteers like my friends who open their doors and their homes, even when they are already pretty darn full. 

So today's pic says thank you to those who have ever fostered or rescued.  Oh, and I'm taking my husband back tomorrow to meet Elsa. She would be a perfect match for our Mastiff....

Day 136

Dessert. I love it. Cake, pie, ice cream, cookies- it doesn't matter to me. I was probably a hummingbird in another life- drawn to sugar!

Of course, for someone training for triathlons this summer, dessert is technically the enemy. But I refuse to turn down opportunities for instant happiness just so I can possibly be a little bit less miserable on race day.

So when my husband asked me to stop for ice cream on the way home from work, I didn't argue. Five or six years ago, a Ritters Frozen Custard franchise moved in 2 min from our house. And honestly 2 min is pushing it-way too convenient! 

Tonight I will eat Peanut Butter Chip frozen custard. And tomorrow, I will run a little longer and probably a little slower- but it will be so worth it!

Day 135

A few years ago, my husband and I decided to plant a tree in the garden bed that sits directly in front of our main front window. The west side of our house gets nailed by sunshine all afternoon which raised the temperature of our front room considerably. Additionally, this area was one that I hoped to be a bit of a showcase as it was what everyone would see when they came to our front door- and the incessant heat drastically reduced the types of plants that could tolerate the constant heat.

Knowing we didn't want a huge tree, and hoping for something a bit ornamental, we perused the local nursery, where we found The Forest Pansy.

No, we didn't find a gnome in brightly colored clothes flitting around and giggling among the plants. We found a tree that displays showy purple flowers each spring, which look great against my chocolate-brown house. And to make things even better- this tree has heart-shaped leaves.

My husband is a paramedic and I am a cardiac nurse. We have been married for 15 years. So what could be better than to plant something alive that symbolizes so well what we are both individually and as a unit.

Each spring, our Pansy tree blooms small, intricate purple flowers. Those flowers then make way for small, waxy purple leaves. THe branches are long and graceful, arching down over our front walkway to greet friends and neighbors who come to visit. I walk by them and smile, especially on days with a clear blue sky, because I can stand underneath it's branches and look up to see nothing but the silhouettes of hearts everywhere.

Today's pic represents the joy of planting something that has personal meaning. Long after we are gone, that tree will remain as a symbol of two people who loved the lives they lived there.

Day 134

Last week was Nurse's Week. Oddly enough, I didn't capture what is such a huge part of my life in my blog during that time. In some ways I am proud of that, barbecue there have been times in my life when I feel my job has overwhelmed everything else. I have learned the hard way that no one thing should consume you, no matter how much passion you have for it.

But tonight, I am taking a moment to reflect on this special part of who I am, and why I love it so much. I was inspired to do so by a post which I have chosen as my pic for tonight. I have seen this little scrap of truth several times before, and it always makes me stop and say, "Yes. That's so it".

Of course there are hundreds of other sayings out there about nursing, some serious and some hilarious. The popular "postcard" style sayings on Facebook many times hit the mark accurately ("Happy Nurses Week to someone who has seen more penises and vaginas then a prostitute" being one of them...), but it is rare that a posting or saying truly captures the essence of such  a complicated profession.

Johnson and Johnson captured it in a commercial which promotes nursing. It is centered around a male nurse and small child who is obviously  undergoing some kind of treatment, as she is sitting in a hospital bed and has a scarf covering her bald head.

In itself, the commercial is awesome. But to the discerning nurse's eye- it's a beautiful description of what we do.  And the majority of people who see this video won't understand the intricacies behind it that I do. You can watch the video on You Tube by searching "nurse commercial johnson and johnson", then clicking on the 32-second video that shows the girl in a hospital bed.

First of all, it stars a male nurse. That's awesome. There's not enough of them, and this guy represents like hell. I love male nurses- they have a way of connecting with some patients that women just can't do. He starts his interaction with the girl by sitting NEXT to her, not standing above her, and asking about the picture she is drawing. Seems normal enough, but what you don't know is that he has gone through training to learn how to make patients feel at ease with body language and engaging in conversations that involve something other than hospital talk.

Then you see a flash of two syringes, obviously full of medicine. Again- expected. But again, you don't know the enormous amount of reading, learning, and testing that goes into a nurse being able to administer a medication like chemotherapy. ESPECIALLY in pediatrics. We give hundreds of medications each week, and we have to know everything about each and every one of them What are they for, how long will it take for them to start to take effect. What are the side effects and how could that change my patient's current condition for the better or worse. How do I make sure I reconstitute this powdered drug with the right kind and amount of sterile liquid to make sure I don't harm my patient? How fast can I inject this medication, and could it interact with any of the other medications my patient is taking? How fast can I titrate this IV drip and by how much? Is it in ml/hr or mcg/min or mcg/kg/min?

As he starts to push the drug through the small girl's IV, he starts to sing a song with her. Cute, yes, but a closer look will show you that he is glancing constantly at the IV site, syringe, and his patient. He is watching to make sure she gets what she needs in the right amount of time, that the IV site is stable and isn't blown, and that she isn't having any kind of reaction- all while singing a childhood favorite. Distraction while doing something unpleasant is something else we are taught. I can't tell you how many times I have had to have my fist in someone's groin for 30 minutes straight, attempting to ensure they don't bleed to death from the large hole the cardiologist put in their femoral artery- all the while talking about children, grandchildren, pets- anything I can to get their mind off the fact that they have 30 pounds of pressure in their groin...

I could go on and on about nursing, but to sum it all up, here is what I feel a nurse does:

We protect you. From getting sicker, from injury, from medications, from doctors, from yourselves

We listen to you. Not just to your heart and lungs. To your home situations so we know if you will be able to stay healthy once you get home. To your stories about family and life.

We care about you. No matter what. We have an incomprehensible love and respect for human life. We want you to get better and live the highest quality of life that you can.

So today's pic celebrates nurses everywhere- protecting, listening and caring for others.

Day 133

As a young girl, I had a period in which I was obsessed with stickers. I had multiple sticker books and would spend hours organizing them (I know-surprise, surprise) and deciding which ones to keep and which to trade.

But my favorite, by far, were the scratch-and-sniff stickers. Yes, those circular, slightly fuzzy, nothing-close-to-natural-smelling collectibles went for a high price on the sticker market. Why? I don't know, except that there was definitely something about a peach-smelling sticker that just made people happy.

Of course, not all smells make you happy. Believe me, after 15 years of being a nurse, I can attest to that! But there are definitely aromas that link our brains to memories and situations. There are whole billion-dollar enterprises that gain on this phenomenon- look at Scentsy and Yankee Candle for goodness sake. Those scents of Christmas cookies or baby powder rely on our brains' ability to link a smell with a positive memory.

Tonight I came home after a long day at work and immediately went into Mom/wife mode- doing laundry, making lunches, helping with homework, etc. As I rounded the corner of the hallway in the back of the house, I suddenly was hit by a familiar aroma. Instantly, a memory of my first house and garden that I loved came into my head as I walked into my bedroom and followed the scent. Sure enough, the lilac bush directly outside my window must have finally bloomed today while I was at work. It's heady aroma filled the room and drifted into the hallway with the evening breeze, conjuring a reminiscent smile as I thought about the huge lilac bush on my patio that I loved at our first home. My husband and I would sit on our porch swing and breathe in the flowery scent, marveling at the potency of it and talking about how we wished it would stay in bloom all summer.

But alas, each summer the colorful purple blooms would dry up and stay dormant until the next spring, when it seems they all decide to open on a specific day-much like a short-lived grand re-opening of a new store.

Today's pic celebrates this year's grand re-opening, and the connection between a scent and the past.

Day 132

Back when The Food Network was still in the infant stages, my family and I were big fans of The Emeril Lagasse show. Emeril, being a smart man, used to say that you can make just about anything taste good if you wrap it in bacon.

True enough.

But in Stephanie's world, everything can be made better wrapped in chocolate. I'd pass on a pig hands down if given the choice between pork and chocolate. If there was ever a Zombie acopolyse, I would be the one who hoarded the candy bars but would die of dehydration...

Yesterday was Mother's Day, and I decided to make homemade chocolate-covered strawberries that were also dipped in crumbled Heath bars. Yum. I ran out of Heath bars before I ran out of chocolate, so I made a few extra strawberries that were only covered in chocolate.

But then I remembered there was fresh pineapple in the fridge....So I dipped cubes of it into the magical brown liquid and set it in the fridge to chill.

Today was quite busy at work, and I came home tired and hungry. I opened the fridge and was instantly greeted with chocolate covered strawberries and pineapple- my mood improved right away. I had forgotten those little gems were in there and felt much like you do when you discover a $5 bill in your pocket that you must have left in there last time you wore those pants.

So today's pic celebrates a sweet surprise at the end of a long day. And yes, I have eaten chocolate-covered bacon. It's awesome.

Day 131

Genetics has always interested me. The way that physical attributes, skills, and even interests are passed down from generation to generation is something that I believe sometimes goes unrecognized.

My mom and I share genetic traits, and it so obvious at times that there is no way it could go unrecognized. We have the same thick, light brown hair. We are tall with long legs and big feet. I look at my hands and sometimes do a double-take, as they are so similar to the hands that raised me as a child.

We are both terrible liars- don't ever ask us to play a part in a practical joke. It's too much like lying- we suck at it. We have the patience of a saint and have had successful full-time careers while raising children. My love of lists? Yep- I learned from the best. We are both OCD when it comes to planning anything- we start planning our Thanksgiving meal in October together....

We love to read, are both relatively musically inclined, and love to garden. We could both happily ride in a boat all day, and find happiness in feeding other people.

But the scary part is how we both have the same taste in clothes, furniture, and other things. We have been known to go shopping and pick out the same blouse to show each other, and could both spend hours in TJMaxx or Pottery Barn. We have bought the same comforter for our beds- without being with each other or even knowing the other was looking for something new.

And of course, there is the infamous couches. Yes, we bought the same living room set. Again, having no idea the other was looking for a couch or had purchased one. My mom and step-dad came over one evening and all of a sudden they got this weird look on their face. "We just bought this couch and chair", she said. My husband and step-dad just looked at each other and rolled their eyes...

Yup, genetics are a funny thing. I'm proud of mine. And I know that I have passed some down to my son- he has my big brown eyes, patient demeanor, and he likes lists....

Today's pic celebrates the magic of genetics, and a daughter's recognition of the gift that it is. All I have to do is simply look down at my hands and I get to have an instant memory of the woman who I call Mom.

Day 130

There's something ageless about a bowling alley.

I mean, it's 2014, and you can step into almost any bowling alley and it will feel almost exactly the same as it did 20 or even 30 years ago. There are same types of tables where the chairs are connected to the tables. The same dark lighting. The same sound of balls hitting pins. You look up and down the alleys and see kids doing granny shots and adults fist-pumping the air after getting a strike or a spare.  There's always a bar and a snack area selling pizza and fried food. Linoleum flooring and carpet that has some kind of glow-in-the dark print on it.

And the shoes, of course. They are still the same, ugly, two-colored flat-footed can't-look-cute-no-matter-what-outfit-you-wear rental shoes. 

There's groups of teenagers, parents with young children, birthday parties, older couples that are actually good at the game, and the occasional couple on their first date. That's one of the great things about bowling- pretty much anyone can do it. Maybe not do it well, but at least have fun and be social.

I think the only thing that is different about bowling alleys these days is (at least in my town) that you can actually see all these things because there isn't a constant smoke haze in the air- smoking is not allowed inside any more. I can remember when my older kids were on a bowling league and I had one specific jacket I would wear because I knew I would come home smelling like a smokestack.

So today's pic celebrates the timeless game of rolling a heavy ball towards a bunch of white wooden pins. 

Day 129

"Is he dead?" asks the 10-year old.

"Nah. I just took him on a walk", I reply.

Our smaller dog, Rusty, is a pain in my butt most of the time. We rescued him as a puppy- someone had left him and his brother on the side of a road in a box. Your guess is as good as mine as to what breed he is- his brother looks nothing like him and they are most likely the product of two mutts, so I assume he is the Melting Pot of the dog world.

Rusty weighs in at about 25-30 pounds. Our English Mastiff, Ben,  is currently about 165 pounds. And guess who is the Alpha Dog.

Yup. Rusty. He is also at least 5 years younger than Ben, and I have yet to figure out who this combination wears out more- me or Ben. Rusty is a constant ball of energy, running in circles around Ben and nipping at his heels. Ben just calmly looks up at me with a look on his face that asks, "Why, Mom? Weren't we happy enough before?".

Unfortunately, Rusty is overly animated on evenings that both my husband and I have worked. The multiple holes chewed in my new couch proved that Rusty could not be trusted to be alone in the house, so he is confined to his crate during the day when we both work. I try to be patient and understanding on evenings such as this, knowing I would be crazy too if I was locked in a crate all day.

The warmer weather has helped lately, as I can more easily take him for a walk when I get home. This allows him to expend some energy in a more acceptable way, although he tends to pull my arm out of it's socket as he tries to pull me along.

This evening I decided to take him for a walk, but was wary of dark clouds headed toward the house. So instead of my flip-flops, I put on my tennis shoes and decided to give Rusty a "run" for his money...

The loop around my block is about half a mile, with the last half being uphill. That means the first half is down hill. Rusty and I started our sprint at full speed, his eyes shining, tail wagging, and ears pinned back as if he was in some way trying to be even more aerodynamic.

When we turned the corner and started uphill though, things changed. The research and training books I have been reading for triathalon all talk about how coming out of the gate too hard at the beginning will always catch up with you at the end. Well, it caught up with Rusty for sure- even got close enough to bite him in the butt I think.

By the time we got to our driveway, the first raindrops were just starting, and I was almost pulling Rusty behind me, something that has never happened before. We both collapsed upon entering the house, and I had a brief moment of guilt that maybe I had pushed him too hard. But the ensuing silence admittedly had me grinning and as I looked over at Rusty, he glanced back at me and seemed to say, "Holy crap, lady. That... was awesome".

Today's pic represents learning to pace yourself, and the joy a dog can derive from something as simple as a "walk" around the block.

Day 128

I am one of those. One of those people who still lives in the town she grew up in. In fact, I now live literally only one street over from the house I spent my childhood in. I've lived other places, love to travel, and honestly don't envision being here once all the kids are gone- but for now, my childhood hometown is also my adult hometown.

There are perks to this, especially if you are the sentimental type. I know all the nooks and crannies of the neighborhoods, and can remember when this town didn't even have a McDonalds or WalMart. Raising kids here has its advantages too. My son went to the same elementary that I did, and it was spooky and cool all at the same time when I went there to sign him up for Kindergarten. I will also know where to go looking for him when he becomes a teenager, as I am well aware of where all the hangouts and makeout places are within these city walls...

Today we took the 10-year old to flag football practice, located at one of the city's parks. This park does have an official name (Shoup Park), but most people know it as "the one with the slide". Sounds weird, right? I mean, what park doesn't have a slide?

Trust me- they don't have a slide like this one.

Shoup Park boasts a metal slide that is built into a hillside. It's at least 50 feet long, and is the main reason this is the most popular park in our town. It seems to be the perfect height for all ages, and you will see both  toddlers and adults lined up for their turn to go down.

Now, if you are really feeling adventurous, you would be amazed at how a single piece of wax paper can make this slide go from fun to fun. Suddenly, instead of slowing down and stopping at the bottom of the hill, you are ejected from the end much like when we all used to jump off the swingset into the air.

It's awesome.

How do I know? Because I myself have been done that slide countless times as a child. In fact, I probably have scars somewhere on my body from waxed paper trips gone awry.

There's something neat about watching little kids go down that slide as an adult, remembering how that was once you, and then your child, that was giggling and/or screaming on the way down. I'm sure a few people were wondering why I was taking pictures of the slide tonight, but I know there will be some people who read this that will have memories of this hometown staple, and smile as they remember flying off the end of it.

Tonight's pic represents having the opportunity to relive childhood memories, and to watch your own children make theirs in your footsteps.

Day 127

My parents have abuot 10 acres of land. This is great in many ways, including being able to see a lot of wildlife that most suburbanites don't get the opportunity to observe. It's not uncommon to see upwards of 5-8 deer at a time on the property, and many other critters are regulars. Much of our awareness of wht kind of animals habitate the land comes from what kind of...presents....the family dog brings to the porch. Hawks, snakes, squirrels, groudhogs, rabbits, as well as nighttime rangers like possum and raccoon all call this piece of land home.  Coyotes have started to make themselves known after the last year or so, and an extra eye is kept on the family dog when she goes out at night...

Baby deer are seen every year, and we enjoy watching them grow up, giving them names, and trying to figure out who belongs to who. But this year, a new batch of babies has captured our attention- rabbits.

The rabbit hole (yes there really is such a thing!) was discovered, of course, by the dog. In fact, the babies were discovered by my step-dad who said he happened to look over at the dog when he heard a noise and saw that she had a baby bunny in her mouth....the baby was saved and returned to the hole, which is truly only about 4-6inchies wide in diameter.

The hole is directly below the dining room window, and we watched diligently over the next few days to see if Momma Rabbit would return. We finally saw her Sunday night, uncovering the hole with her big back feet and squatting over the hole so the babies could eat without being exposed. Afterwards, she woudld use those same feet to kick dirt and grass back over the hole for camoflouge and go away, most likely to help decrease any unwanted attention to the area by predators.

I will admit that I myself have checked on the new babies every day, and even took a stick to try and uncover the hole and see them better. One of the babies jumped at the stick, obviously assuming it was mom and her milk- promptly scaring the bejeezus out of me and causing me to fall back on my butt in the dirt. Yeah, I'm a toughie....

Today when I went over to check on Peter and the Gang, I was greeted by an open rabbit hole and two little faces. Noses were twitching, but they were otherwise completely still, most likely awaiting further orders from Mom. Looking closer, I could see a third set of eyes in the backround, and I had a moment of wonder that all three of them could actually fit in there- I mean, I had two sisters growing up and we could barely be in the same room without arguing, let alone stuck in a hole!

I have a feeling the babies are getting ready to leave the nest. Who knows if I will ever see them again. But at least I got the opportunity to see how rabbits raise their babies, and I can only hope that, like any good mother,  Mama Bunny has warned them about the dangers of the world and to beware of ladies with sticks in their hand...

Today's pic celebreates witnessing new life, and that pivotal moment when it's time to leave the nest.

Day 126

About 10 years ago, I was struggling with the knowledge that I was leaving my 20's. And to top it all off, I was still getting zits. I mean, how is that even fair? I'm sure it was changes in my hormones, but it still pissed me off.

I decided to try a not-yet over-popular facial cleansing system- Proactive. At that time it was only available by mail, and you had to either pay a bunch of money up front and have it sent to you on a monthly basis, or try to gauge when you were gonna run out and order it at the right time. Neither option was great, but I found that the product worked for me, so I stuck it out.

Now, thanks to Jessica Simpson (Good Lord I never thought I'd say those words) and Adam Levine, Proactive is much more popular and in demand. So instead of having to wait for the product to come to me- I can go to it....

In the middle of the mall, there is something that is a cross between a kiosk and a vending machine. Inside are all of the Proactive products, lined up and waiting for the next customer. I simply swipe my debit card, punch in what I want, and an automated hand goes and grabs it off the shelf and dumps it in a bin where I can pull it out. It's like a mixture of a Coke machine and the famous claw game where you are trying to pick up a stuffed animal, except you actually get something every time.

Don't ask me why I think this machine is so cool. I have no idea. But I get a little kick each time I walk up to it. The only down side is that it is literally in the middle of the mall. Anyone and everyone can see you at the kiosk- I might as well have a sign around my neck that says, "I have zit issues!". Oh well- as long as they don't make a kiosk for feminine hygeine products or hemmhoiroid cream, I guess it's ok. Cuz that would be crossing the line, don't ya think?

Today's pic celebrates convenience and a zit-free face.

Day 125

As I sat at my desk this evening, pondering my day and how to add to my blog, I happened to look out the window in front of me. What I saw made me stop and ponder some more.

A few years ago I planted an oak leaf hydrangea in front of the window. It has done very well there, and grown quite a bit over the years. What you see is a prominent branch that is directly in my eyesight when I look out. What I noticed about this branch in particular is that it has some beautiful new leaves growing on it (yeah Spring!),  while at the same time is still holding on to some of  last years's leaves.

What a statement. How many of us hold on to the past, even as we try to move toward the future? I know I am guilty of this at times. Even when the past is dead and should be buried, we cling to last bits and pieces. Sometimes it's holding on to a piece of clothing or kick-knack from a past relationship. Maybe it's a pair of scrubs from a once-loved hospital you worked in. Maybe it's a wedding ring, or even a dog collar.

That doesn't mean we shouldn't forget the past- the good times, the bad times, and things we have learned. I have pictures of my hydrangea in full blood last year, beautiful and full. I want to always remember my first true dog, the basset hound "Flash", and The Dayton Heart Hospital, where I worked with amazing people and first truly learned what caring for people and being a nurse means.

But I don't want to cling to them in a way that actually detracts from the beauty each of those things possessed. I don't want to be sitting at the desk of life, minding my own business and suddenly have a dead leaf of the past block my vision. Moving on is part of life, and can bring even more beauty than the past if you let it. I love my Mastiff every bit as much as my basset hound. And I love the two jobs I have had since Dayton Heart closed it's doors. I have learned and grown and met people I never would have had the opportunity to do so had life not moved on.

So, I went outside and pulled the dead leaves off my hydrangea bush. And now, when I look outside my window, I only see the future, and the beauty it potentially holds.Do you have leaves to shed? I know I do, and I am thankful that my hydrangea bush helped me to see that.

Today's pic represents the circle of life, and how shedding, but not forgetting, the past can help make way for a fresh, beautiful new start.

Day 124

As I have said before, I have a weakness for donuts. I could care less about red meat or potato chips- give me a bag of Oreos or a dozen doughnuts any day.

There's a locally owned donut shop in Centerville, Ohio by the name of Bill's Donuts. The 10-year old and I have driven by it many times, and each time we say how someone-or-another told us that those donuts were the bomb, and how we have to try it one day.

Well, someday was today. We started planning it out last weekend. My husband worked last night, so the deal was I would wake up early, go get the donuts, and return home just in time for everyone to be there and awake.

Last night, I looked up Bill on the Internet to see what time they opened. If I was gonna drive 25 minutes for a donut- they better not be closed when I got there! I discovered that not only is this place open 24/7, but they have been around since 1960! 

As I walked in the door and was immediately assaulted by the smell of fried dough, I realized right away why they had to stay open 24/7. Lined up on the counter were no less than 30 boxes of donuts, already packaged and ready to go. And each of those boxes holds 2 dozen! Turns out, you can get on their website and order whatever you want and they will have it ready for pick up. 

That. Is. Awesome.

I stepped up to the counter and began my order.

14 donuts later (yes, I realize there are only 3 people at my house. I couldn't help it- I mean how is a girl supposed to choose?!), the friendly donut-lady rang up my total. I got 14 huge, homemade donuts for only $9.60. 

Huh. No wonder there are stacks of boxes on the counter.

As I was leaving, one of the ladies that worked there had moved over to a booth and was stacking even more boxes there- they had run out of room on the counter I guess...

So if you are in Centerville, Ohio and you love donuts like I do-

stop in and check Bill's out. You won't be disappointed. You can even buy a tshirt!

Today's pic celebrates supporting local, family-owned businesses, and of course, donuts. Needless to say, there are currently only 2 donuts left in the box. I doubt they will make it till morning...

Day 123

My husband drives a truck. I can still remember when he bought it and brought it home. He was so happy. He kept talking about how "big" everything was on it- the tires, the engine, etc. Finally, I could take it no longer. 

"Honey", I said. You do realize that although your truck is admitedly big, your penis is still the same size, right?".

That shut him up.

And so, the Penismobile was born. It truly is a good truck, and has seen us through bad weather and multiple summers of yard work. 

That being said, I don't drive the Penismobile very often. It's huge, and although I spent five years driving an ambulance, I still hate parking it in parking lots. 

But today, I got to drive it all day long. I had yard work to do, so I asked my husband to drive my Honda to work. And I have to admit- I loved it.

It started at the gym this morning. I don't wear my wedding ring when I swim, and on the way out I picked up a conversation with a guy my age. You know, weather and such. When he saw me click the locks on the truck, his eyes got wide. I just smiled and jumped in, trying to look like I knew what the hell I was doing backing out of the parking space...

Then we went to football practice. The 10-year old came out of the house and exclaimed, " Yes! You have the truck!" I guess my Honda just isn"t as cool or exciting to drive.

After football, the real work began. We went to my parents, where I dug up Hosta and Boxwood to haul back to our house and plant. I let the 10-year old sit in the back while I drove from one end of the property to the other, watching him grin like a kid should on a Saturday afternoon when I would hit a bump or give it a little gas.

I loaded and unloaded plants and dirt all afternoon with that truck. My body is aching, but my yard is coming along. And I definately would not have been able to accomplish as much as I did today with my Honda...

Today's pic represents a man's obsession with trucks and things that are big, and a woman's feeling of satisfaction knowing she worked hard that day. And maybe my husband's on to something- I have to admit that the feel of a Hemi underneath you is...empowering :).

Day 122

Jeans are as much an American Staple as apple pie or mashed potatoes. You would be hard pressed to find someone who doesn't own a pair. When we were recently in South Carolina, I learned that the dye used to make "blue" jeans- indigo- was one of the three major crops that made some of the richest men in our country. Back then it was used more for uniforms, but it is still a hot commodity today.

Styles have come and gone of course. Bell-bottoms, pegged jeans, and skinny jeans, etc. Everyone has their favorite brand- the ones that fit them just right. There are the mega producers such as Levi and Wrangler, but just about every store has their own brand now, hoping to catch a piece of the American Pie.

My personal favorite is GAP. They are one of the few jeans that fit my unusually shaped body. Plus, the style that I like- "Long and Lean"- just sounds sexy. And who can deny that a good jean fit can feel as sexy as a pair of high heels, right?  Before finding this particular style of jean, what used to sometimes be weeks of frustrated shopping and trying on countless pairs of jeans has now turned into the ability to pick up a pair of jeans without having to even enter the dressing room.

The only down side is that jeans from the GAP are not financially fiscal. So, I treat myself every year to a pair from the Outlet on Black Friday. This past November, I picked a lighter blue than my usual dark blue, and I was happy to bypass the line that snaked throughout the store to try stuff on.

Unfortunately, when I got home- the jeans didn't fit. Like, no-way-in-hell-is that-button-getting-through-that-buttonhole kind of didn't fit. How frustrating. I knew the colder weather had undoubtedly placed a few pounds back on the scale, but jeez that's such a deflating feeling. I debated taking them back, but instead decided to do what many women have done before- hang them back up in my closet, vowing that I would be able to wear them one day.

And there they have hung since that fateful November day, waiting patiently for me to have the guts to try them on again. Today, five months later, I swallowed my anxiety and took them off the hanger. Closing my eyes and quietly chanting, "Please go over my ass. Please go over my ass", I slid them on. To my surprise and relief, not only did my ass fit inside, but that intimidating button actually made it into the buttonhole.

Ha! I gleefully did a little happy-dance as I triumphantly ripped off the sale tags I had left on for five months. That makes it official, of course- once the tags come off, there's no going back.

So, today's pic celebrates jeans, an American tradition, and that triumphant feeling when a piece of clothing that at one time didn't fit makes it over your ass.

Day 121

When our oldest was a little boy, we could never get him to read on his own. He would be grudgingly pick up a book when forced to do so, either for homework or parent-induced reading time.

Until Harry Potter.

Suddenly, the same boy who would only read under duress, was reading at almost every available moment. I can remember having to go upstairs and check on him several times at night, knowing that he had stashed a flashlight under his bed so he could sneak in a few more chapters before falling asleep.

I became curious, and admittedly a little concerned, about what these books contained. I decided I better read them myself to ascertain what had so wholeheartedly captured my stepson. I opened the first page, expecting a light story about a boy named Harry- but it didn't take long to understand why my oldest was sleeping with a flashlight.

I enjoyed all of the Harry Potter books as much, or possibly even more so, then my stepson. I will forever be in debt to J. K. Rowling for helping my nonbeliever discover the joy of reading. 

The 10-year-old is much like his older brother, in that reading is something that he sees as having to do instead  of wanting to do. He reads his book for 20 minutes a day, as prescribed by his teacher, but usually nothing more than that. So when he jumped off the bus, came running home and said, " Mom! I finished my Land of Stories book today! Can we go to Target  and get the one and only Ivan?"

"Who's Ivan?" I ask.

"A gorilla."

"You want to go to Target to get a gorilla?"

As it turns out, Ivan is a gorilla in the book The One and Only Ivan. Whew. I mean, I know Target has just about everything but...

So of course we went to Target and got the book, because it's not very often that my 10-year-old asks to go there for anything other than video games or toys. Sure enough, he went out onto the patio as soon as we got home, and read on his own until supper. Looks like I'm going to have to hide the flashlights...

Today's picture celebrates the joy of getting lost in the written word, and a child's discovery that reading truly can be more than homework.