Rose-colored Reflections

When toys just don't cut it ...

2011-05-31T16:59:00.000-04:00

Childhood calling

2011-05-31T16:56:00.001-04:00

One of the perks of parenthood is the chance to relive the best parts of being a kid.

I don't just mean the holidays, but the books, the toys and the excitement that comes with each day. My baby reminds me every morning how much better it is to wake up happy, as she throws her feet down in glee and flashes that gummy grin at the first sight of my husband or me. It's the best part of my day. To her, and that itty bitty mind inside, there's so much to soak up from her surroundings that she can't stand to be in her crib any longer ... but oh how I wish she'd just give me one more hour :)

I love her curiosity and fascination with new objects, which of course are never her toys. When she grabs my cell phone or reaches for my water glass, it's like she's saying, "C'mon Mom, I'm tired of the same old stuff." When she stretched her arm out for my frozen lemonade push-up pop, I reluctantly submitted to her taste buds - and probably some swollen gums - and worried that with each suck, I was somehow breaking a million mommy rules. Secretly, I enjoyed the moment almost as much as she did.

The first time I took Vera to the library, it was if I was eight years old again. As I roamed the shelf-lined aisles in the children's area, I felt a thousand warm memories rushing back. With each book I recognized, I pictured myself curled up in my little room with a paperback, soaking up each page so I could move on to a new story. I had such a thirst for reading, and as I read to Vera every day - while she tries to use the book as a teether - I hope I'm instilling the same love for literature.

For Easter, I took my time selecting just the right items for her basket despite knowing the only memory she'll have of receiving it will be the 44 pictures we took that day. I'm excited for next year when we can, very carefully, dye eggs and I can resume what my mother did when my brother and I were kids. She created a stencil of the Easter Bunny's foot and made tracks up to our door with powdered sugar. And, of course, left a chewed up carrot in the middle of the living room floor. She's always had a way of making things special.

When the extreme heat dies down around here, I'll lather Vera up in sunblock and take her out for her first summer dip in the baby pool, cherishing her small splashes and looking forward to when she can strap on water wings and kick around in a big pool. Next month, we're taking her up to the lake that's been in my family for generations. I hope over the years, she'll create as many fond memories as I was able to - diving off the dock, learning to ride on the Hobie Cat and feeling a bit frightened when it rises up at one end and enjoying an easy ride on the pontoon boat. Maybe she'll even learn to ski, an activity that was never my friend.

All of this has got me thinking ... maybe people become parents just so they get a second chance at firsts ...

Le Nursh

2011-05-31T16:32:00.000-04:00

This is the cheeriest room in the house. I think I will continue to add little accents ... until my husband starts to notice :) I love that Vera is already beginning to enjoy some play time in her sweet little nursery.

Memorial Day Cutie

2011-05-30T17:13:00.000-04:00

2011-04-19T16:16:00.000-04:00

Then: Leaving the hospital

Now: Visiting the doctor

My baby girl is three months and 19 days old, but I'd rather say she's 15 weeks. It makes it seem like these first few months are not going by as quickly as they really are. Friends told me time flies when you have a child, but I never wanted to believe it. Turns out they're telling the truth. I'm afraid to blink for fear she'll be a year old already!

Motherhood so far

2011-04-19T11:24:00.000-04:00

Is it okay to admit motherhood is not exactly what I expected? Granted, I've long set too-high expectations for everything in life, and I'm often reminded of this flaw when motherhood proves more than I can handle.

Before baby Vera arrived, I dreamed of cuddling her all day while still getting stuff done around the house and preparing a full course meal each night. I thought after dinner, my husband and I would enjoy family time with our daughter, playing with her a bit and then rocking her to sleep with a lullaby after she's been bathed, read to and in her teeny pajamas. Oh, and then we all awake in the morning, fully rested.

Oh, naivety, you've long been my enemy.

Reality check: In the first few weeks, I did almost live on the couch holding our newborn. I was afraid to put her down for naps in her bassinet over fears she would either wake up or stop breathing. And I was too exhausted to move anywhere else, having been up throughout the night to nurse and worn out from the colic that plagued our baby from 6 p.m. to 10 p.m. I didn't have the energy to think about making a grocery list or making dinner, which is why I'm still grateful for the meals I made ahead of time and put in the freezer and those our friends and my parents dropped off. I watched laundry pile up and cried grateful tears to myself when my mom came over and spent hours cleaning and cooking so I could sleep.

When I was pregnant, my sweet grandmother continually reminded me to be joyful so the baby would be joyful, too. I tried my darnedest and really thought I'd stuck to her request. I'm so thankful that God gave us a healthy baby; she has 10 fingers and 10 toes, the cutest smile and the prettiest pair of brown eyes you'll ever see, though deep down I'd hoped they'd be green. But I can't help but wonder why we've had to endure so much with her in such a short amount of time. I thought I was a happy, prayerful preggo.

In the hospital, when Vera wasn't sleeping, she was almost inevitably crying, especially at night. I can't tell you how many times we buzzed for the nurse because neither one of us knew what else to do. We learned she didn't like to be swaddled. She still gets mad when we put a shirt over her head and through her arms. And she's finicky about her swing. I thought those were Godsends!

I took her to our pediatrician at least three times in her first month. He diagnosed her with acid reflux and put her on medication, which still bothers me. And he chalked up our worries -- gassiness, tummy troubles, etc.-- to colic. Thankfully, in the past month or so, it only lasts about two or so hours. Like clockwork, Vera starts her uncontrollable sobbing right at 7 p.m. and doesn't quit until we can get her to sleep around 9:30. Our only reprieve is her 20 minute bath. It's exhausting, draining, frustrating ... we've tried everything we can think of, read about or gotten advice on. And I got my hopes up hearing colic goes away at three months ... Vera will be four months in 12 days.

Aside from the colic and reflux issues, she's also struggled with taking a bottle. I even went out and bought the newest, most-like-the-real-thing bottle and she still refuses to take it. All I want is to be able to leave her for a few hours now and then without having to rush back to nurse. I don't know how else to plead with her ...

I adore my daughter. I can't imagine my life without her. And I am not complaining about her. I'm excited about all the milestones she's hit and those to come. She gives me a new purpose in this life. During the day, she smiles and giggles and loves when I read to her. Granted, she does demand more attention than I imagined, so I often have her crying as my background noise when I'm trying to throw in laundry, clean the bathroom or get dinner ready.

But tonight, my husband and I hit a wall. We regret reading any books and online resources and listening to well-intentioned family and friends -- we unintentionally set too-high expectations for our first born. We tried to put her in a box. We wanted her to be 'this kind of baby' or 'that kind of baby' and didn't let her just be Vera, taking things day by day. For instance, I don't want to know at what age babies sleep through the night because every baby is different; and if Vera isn't falling in that "norm," we'll get upset or confused.

We want so badly to enjoy every minute of her life, but at times, we have to leave in her in her crib, crying, and walk away, too frustrated to do anything else.

I keep praying for God to at least take away the colic, to grant us some reprieve. Sometimes, I feel like He gave us more than we can handle, like he threw us all these crazy quirks of hers at once. But then I'm reminded of the verse that He doesn't do that.

I think I'm beginning to see His plan. I tend to react quickly to situations and have very little patience. I was listening to a radio program in the car the other day and these parents were talking about discipline and different approaches with different children. I think God is trying to help me gain more patience with Vera now so I'll be a better parent when she's older, so I won't react in a way I'll regret.

And I feel like I keep failing.

I never dreamed my patience would ever be tested with an infant. And I don't really think it should. It isn't as though they know what they're doing. They're just trying to figure out this new world. I feel like we are, too.

Dinner plans?

2011-04-11T12:32:00.000-04:00

A yummy find for dinner the other night. It's simple and quick -- great for those with a lot already on their plate!

Peanut Noodles and Chicken

1/2 pound linguine
2 Tbs soy sauce
2 Tbs lemon juice
1/2 tsp cornstarch
1/3 cup peanut butter
2 cloves garlic
1/2 tsp. sugar
1/4 tsp. red pepper flakes
1 tsp sesame oil
1 pound cooked chicken
cucumber to garnish

Cook linguine. Rinse in cool water.

Mix together soy sauce, lemon juice and cornstarch.

In a saucepan, combine the peanut butter, garlic, sugar, red pepper flakes and 1/2 cup of hot water. Whisk in soy sauce mix, heat and simmer. Remove from heat and stir in the sesame oil. Toss the linguine, chicken and peanut butter together. Top with sliced cucumbers and serve at room temperature.

What goes around comes around

2011-04-10T22:56:00.003-04:00

Once upon a time, there was a little girl who was very picky about the clothes in her closet and those in her dresser drawers.

There was some attire she preferred to wear ... and others she shoved to the back or hid at the bottom of the pile.

Sometimes, as she was getting ready for school in the morning, her mother would bound into the bedroom and, deaf to unyielding protests, select an outfit for her daughter - typically, one shoved the back or hidden at the bottom of the pile.

A bright orange, short-sleeved blouse with colorful flowers stretched across the top, was the girl's least favorite garment of all - but what her mother most insisted she wear.

One day, the girl secretly packed a second shirt in her backpack, hugged her mother goodbye and headed to the bus stop in front of her friend's house. But when she got there, she continued inside where she changed out of that flashy blouse and prayed for the bus's prompt arrival.

This tactic was employed each time the girl's mother picked out her clothes for school. And it seemed foolproof until the morning her friend's brother caught the girl coming out of the basement in a switched-out shirt. He was quick to tell the girl's younger brother, who didn't think twice about tattling on his sister.

I can't help but chuckle whenever I think back to one of my very first acts of rebellion. I don't remember the punishment I received, but I'm pretty sure it involved some sort of grounding and frequently sporting that orange shirt to school.

I share this story as my husband and I watch friends and family navigate through various learning opportunities with their young children. Some react instantly and often irritably; others approach situations more carefully as they look for teaching moments for both themselves and the child.

It makes me realize how intentional the two of us need to be as parents, though our baby is still cuddling snugly in the womb for a few more weeks.

I admit I've never given much thought to raising a little one, other than teaching her to be a kind, compassionate, loving child of God - and even knowing how to do this overwhelms me. I think I expected to make decisions and react to circumstances on a day-to-day basis, to cross that bridge when we came to it.

But lately, I've been hearing stories that make me sit back and think, "Would I have done the same?"

During a recent dinner, my friend's three-year-old emptied a plate full of chicken, piece by piece, onto the floor beneath her. My friend made the discovery after praising her daughter for her wonderful eating habits. In the moment, my friend was transported back to a dinnertime in her younger days when she did the same thing, only with hamburger. It's still one of her least favorite childhood memories.

So while she was still upset, my friend chose to handle the situation and the consequence differently than her parents. She sent her daughter to her room and then made her come back and clean up the mess. At bedtime, while reading a story, the little girl apologized, unprovoked.

Anecdotes like these give me inspiration for what kind of parents my husband and I can be and the tone we will set for our family. And they make me realize that these teachable moments are likely easier said than done.

I hope to view parenting not as a job, but as a ministry or service where we sacrifice our time, agenda and energy with a desire to raise children who will be blessings to those around them and however difficult it may be for us to let go, world-changers.

I want to be prepared now, however premature it may seem. To know how to reward obedience, to celebrate accomplishments, and every now and then, to discipline the slip-ups.

Like my friend demonstrated, I'd rather interact proactively with my daughter, not reactively. To think before speaking. To daily remember that nothing has a greater impact over a child than a mother and father. It's true for me and I hope it can be true for her.

And I hope years from now, when she's able to read over these archived columns, I've stood firm on these printed promises.

The great name debate

2011-04-10T22:56:00.002-04:00

I am admittedly indecisive when it comes to, well, everything. I could pay those closest to me to disagree, but it's tough to hide the truth.

When our weekend date night rolls around, I'm out of ideas. Movie out or a cheap rental in? A stroll around the outdoor mall or the nearby park? Ice cream for dessert or creme brulee?

On evenings when cooking isn't' on my to-do list - a phenomenon that happens much too often - I never know what to grab in its place: Chinese? Pizza? Carry-our from our favorite eatery?

I seem to need a second opinion on everything from what flowers and shrubs to plant in front of our house to the type of decor needed to dress up our living and family rooms to the gifts to buy for birthdays and holidays.

I even seek suggestions about topics I choose for this column. In fact, I was so unsure of what to write this time that you were almost reading, "This page intentionally left blank." Much to the amusement of my editor, I'm sure.

So you can imagine my ensuing panic when I realize I'd have to decide on the name our baby will forever bear.

I'm having a hard enough time making a commitment to a nursery theme, which is only a short-term setup until the preschooler outgrows the cutesy newborn trimmings.

A few weeks ago, upon learning my husband and I are going to have a girl, I stopped into a baby store on the way home from work, eager to purchase her first outfits. I couldn't wait to finally shop for my own little one after spoiling others' for so many years.

But after walking in and out of the same aisles, overwhelmed by purple and pink layettes, I suddenly felt the urge to reach for my phone and dial my mom.

Surprisingly, I'd forgotten how to buy baby clothes. I couldn't decide on pajamas with footies or gowns; dresses or sweater and pant sets; or whether I should stock up on socks.

Surely she could tell me what to choose and what sizes I would need.

She could make up my mind.

But then I stopped, put my phone away, took a deep breath and refocused. Though it may have taken me a while I finally settled on an assortment of pajamas to get our baby girl through her first few nights.

And then I celebrated my mini victory, my first motherly moment.

Unfortunately, it was short-lived.

Later that night, when I pulled out the "100,000-Plus Baby Names" book - by first mistake, considering I couldn't choose between pink and purple - I slipped back into the old habit. Each name I considered I also second-guessed. Would family and friends like it? Would it fit our daughter as a toddler, a high-school senior, a career woman? Would she be filled with resentment about her moniker and one day demand it be changed?

After momentarily brushing these thoughts aside, I made my second mistake - I sent my mom a text with my wish list that included a name and its meaning I've long adored, but worried its rareness wouldn't catch on.

And she vetoed every one.

Of course I did the same when her list arrived in my e-mail inbox.

Fortunately, this game, which my co-workers hear weekly updates about, has subsided for now. Though I'm not quite sure who is winning.

I reason that whatever name we decide on, it could always be worse. We're not going with a name that's off the 100 most popular list, so she won't have to go by her last name throughout her school years.

And we're certainly not choosing to be part of the wackiest names contest, which Hollywood seems to be leading. Somehow, I can't imagine our daughter wanting to be named after a flower or a fruit - see Bluebell, Dandelion, Fuchsia and Petal Blossom Rainbow - or with no rhyme or reason, like Diva Muffin, Ever Gabo, Freedom, Java, Mars and Moon Unit.

You can't make this stuff up, yet it seems a few celebrities did.

As new parents, choosing our baby's name will be among the biggest first decisions we make. And I realize it should be an enjoyable experience, not one steeped in uncertainty.

So this is one decision I've made, at least until tomorrow when I change my mind: when the baby's delivery day arrives, hopefully in early December, she'll have the perfect name waiting for her because it will be the one only she can carry. And it will represent the first of many decisions we'll be making for her.

A new journey awaits

2011-04-10T22:56:00.001-04:00

When the opportunity comes along every so often to contribute to this column, I cringe.

It's only because I never know what to write that isn't personal. I've been known for years to wear my heart on my sleeve. It emerges that much more when I put it down on paper.

Sure, I have my own opinion on issues, both local and abroad, about changing lifestyles and durable fads.

But it's hardly enough to fill a column.

It seems when my turn rolls around, I long for the chance to divulge some timely memories or an important occasions.

In the past, I've shared in this space stories about family - the birth of my niece; an anniversary trip with my husband gone slightly awry; grandparents' treasured wisdom - and my adventures from one military base to another as I grew up in the shadows of an Army battalion.

I suppose I view my openness as a way for readers to learn a little about the person whose byline they see each week. To laugh and reminisce with the face at board meetings, schools events and class celebrations.

And so, as I mark a major milestone, I'm following my ususl routine - sharing it with all ofyou.

For the past eight weeks, I've suffered from complete exhaustion. I fight to crawl out of bed each morning and keep my eyes open at my desk mid-afternoon. When evening rolls around, I've been rendered pretty useless. Laundry, ironing, cleaning and cooking are not nearly as much a priority as curling up on the couch for a long nap.

Just the thought of chicken or beef makes my taste buds quiver and my stomach turn. I've been living off cereal, Jell-O and fruits and vegetables, though once and a while, hot dogs and sausage are strangely appealing.

While most people keep a close eye on their waistlines during these summer months, I'll be watching mine steadlily grow.

I've heard of what's in store. I've read waht to expect. I know I'll soon be uncomfortable. I know everyday activities will feel nearly impossible to complete.

But within seven months, it will all be worth it.

If you haven't already guessed, my husband and I are expecting a baby.

Our first, and by my estimates, due around Christmas.

I admit this little miracle came as a bit of a surprise. I was a bit overwhelmed, and I couldn't decide if the tears streaming down my cheeks were due to happiness or nervousness - or maybe a little of both.

Yet, as I enjoy the last year of my 20s, I realize the timing of this new addition to our life is jsut right. God's plans always are.

I wanted a specal way to tell our parents, knowing our news would likely catch them off guard. Since buying a house six months ago, our priorities have been decorating and furnishing, putting up blinds and hanging curtains and paying extra care to a lawn long neglected.

Preparing a nursery was expected - a little further down the road.

I bought my mom and dad a small, baby-themed photo album and a bib that reads, "My Grandparents love me." I wrapped them separately and as the four of us sat around their kitchen table one night, I felt my heart was going to beat right out of my chest.

It took a few seconds for them to realize what they had opened, and then my mom, half crying and half laughing, squealed, "Are we going to be grandparents?!" It's a moment I'll never forget.

To tell my husband's family, we bought a blank baby card and addressed it to our niece. Inside, we scribbled, "Can't wait to meet you. Love, your cousin."

At their house for an early dinner one Sunday, we asked my sister-in-law to read the card aloud. The reaction from everyone was priceless.

Friends have bombarded me with excitement, well wishes and stacks of baby books. But it still seems surreal.
I've always had a mothering instinct. Just ask my younger brother, who's sure to begrudgingly agree. When we were chidlren, I was the one walking around our family cottage in the summertime with a little cousin on my hip. The older ones followed me around and nicknamed me Mother Theresa; the latter is my middle name.

When friends became mothers, I'd visit to dote on the newborn, but I never saw myself in their shoes.

Until now.

I'm trying not to get overloaded with information. There are hundreds of websites out there dedicated to pregnancy. They tell me what I can and cannot eat, how I should and shouldn't be feeling and what activites are safe and those I should avoid.

Each week, I get updates comparing the baby's growth to a piece of fruit. This week, for instance, it's the size of a kumquat. The sites tell me if I could peek into the womb, I'd see tiny nails forming on fingers and toes and peach-fuzz hair emerging, and vital organs in place and beginning to function.

I'm dumbfounded how a teeny person is developing, little by little; how a heart and brain, lungs and eyes, a nose and mouth have grown out of a microscopic cell. It's really remarkable.

I wonder if the baby will have my eyes and my husband's smile, or special features all its own. I hope it's helathy and happy - and that it doesn't one day grow up to resent how close its birthday is to the year's biggest holiday.

I worry what kind of parent I will be. Not that I don't have two amazing examples to follow. I pray I am patient and joyful; firm, yet forgiving; always around to wipe a tear, mend a broken spirit, share a hug and lots of laughs.

I want to inspire complete self-confidence and encourage dreams. I want to teach our little one about God's love and the importance of prayer. To live life wholeheartedly. To never regret, but move forward.

I can't wait to mark first sounds, first smiles, first steps.

I desire for our child to be so much more than I imagined I could be.

But most of all, at least in this moment, I want this baby to get here soon so our family journey can begin.

Disclaimer

2011-04-10T22:56:00.000-04:00

I wrote the next three posts as columns while at my last newspaper job. I've decided to use them as filler here as I work on my first blog entry of this new season. Hope they elicit a laugh or two!

Hello, world ...

2011-04-10T22:49:00.000-04:00

Vera Grace
December 31, 2010
6 pounds, 14 ounces

Starting over

2011-04-10T21:01:00.000-04:00

I'm reviving this blog -- admittedly long overdue considering the date of my last entry -- if for no other reason than to keep my writing skills from leaving me. I do, afterall, want to put them to use someday soon. It feels a little strange staying home, having spent every weekday for the past seven years with my hands on a keyboard, a notepad nearby. My job came with daily ups and downs, petty drama and a dream of something better. But the writing kept me sane. It's been an outlet for as long as I can remember, back when childhood pen pals would bear the brunt of Army brat frustrations.

I hope to use this format to chronicle the adventures that come with staying home, not the least of which is raising baby Vera. To ask questions and solicit advice. And to stir up that creativity that seems so lost on me now.

Here's to a fresh start.

A visit

2009-03-22T19:51:00.005-04:00

Gianna's grandpa from Philadelphia visited her this past week. And on his last day, she treated all of us by staying wide-eyed and smiley for two hours. I love her to pieces. I could take millions of pictures of her and never tire of it.

Reunion restlessness

2009-03-18T15:13:00.002-04:00

For the longest time, I was under the misconception that a certain event held every decade or so would somehow pass me by — that someone would drop the ball, forget entirely or be unable to find me.

But thanks to the wonders of technology and the networking prowess of Facebook, details are emerging and I have officially been invited, along with about 80 or so other members (out of more than 300) of the class of '99, to my 10-year high school reunion.

I got the notice about two weeks ago that a group had been started on Facebook to begin planning for the event. I resisted the invite to join for about a week, but was tempted to at least visit the page. I then found out I was one of about seven almuni who hadn't yet joined — compared to the 77 who had. And just like I was beckoned in those old high school hallways, peer pressure got the best of me and I accepted.

I laugh because I still see the same cliques involved in the planning — as if they never came unglued from one another after graduation. Many of them are Facebook 'friends' of mine — and that's probably the biggest understatement of the year. Sometimes I find the website a popularity contest: who has the most wall posts, the coolest photos, the most interesting status updates ... the closest, most meaningful relationships I have definitely don't happen there. I know, it's a good way to keep in touch. And it is, but it's almost impossible to keep up with everyone. Life is just so non-stop. But I digress...

Back to the reunion ... the reason I'm not looking forward to going is simple: I only went there for two years. I spent my freshman and sophomore years in Fort Knox, Ky., and then got ripped away from my co-Army brat friends to move to Michigan. Ironically, the house my parents bought happened to be right across the street from the one my dad and his family grew up in (and my grandparents would have been there had they not decided to move permanetly to their lake house a few hours west), which meant that my brother and I would be attending my dad's alma mater. He was ecstatic. I was going to be a Fraser Rambler.

I, on the other hand, didn't look forward to starting all over again with kids who shared construction paper, laughs and secrets on the playground and a lunchroom table in middle school. I found no way I would be able to break into their lifetime of memories and a find a place for myself.

Adjusting was difficult, but I found an outlet within my first day. I was allowed to try out for the school's top choir — they sang latin songs, did choreography and fancy shows — where makeup was done for you — and competed somewhere in the country each year — because I was in the state solo competition in Kentucky. The legendary instructor liked my voice and let me in, but a few months in realized he wasn't fond of my dancing: he moved me from being in a front-row triplet to a third-row duo. But I didn't care. I got to be picked up and spun around during one of the songs, an opportunity I didn't have in the triplet. I made it to the front row the next year.

My closest friends came from choir. We ate together, spent hours each Monday night rehearsing together and traveled to Orlando and Colorado Springs together. I tried a host of other ways to break into other areas in the school: tennis, NHS, the school newspaper, the school store with the 'popular' kids ... I even ran for student council vice president my senior year, which drew gasps from many people. How dare I try to unseat the three-year incumbent and rattle the four girls involved since freshman year??? (I gave the girl a run for her money, but ended up a class rep. I wonder if she remembers?).

A part of me wonders how many people would take note of me at a reunion — or if I was just a teeny dot on their timeline. On Facebook, the few people I say hello to now and then or catch up with are those from Kentucky who are now spread all over the country. I've attempted conversations with my fellow Fraser alums, but not much has come from them.

When I told my parents that reunion planning had begun, my mom gasped — partly because she realized how old I was and then how old that makes her. (Actually, my mom is only 50. I'll be lucky to not be in a nursing home when my one-day child is my age).

I can't believe it's been 10 years, either. I don't think I look much different, but I know internally — the emotional and spritual parts of me — I am. I've obviously grown up, yet there are days when I still feel like a child, when I still wonder what my life will one day be like. There are moments when I measure my success on the world's standards, much like I did when I was striving to be in the top of my class, to be involved in whatever it took to earn scholarships and glances from good colleges. I still live relatively close by, I don't have a glamorous job or work in a sparkling city like I planned ...

Fortunately, between my husband and one or two other trustworthy voices in my life, I shake my head, come back into focus and see the bigger picture. It's then I can see I'm on the track God set me on, the dreams he's put in my heart, the relationships he's set in motion, the blessings he's gracefully poured out and the the purpose he's given to my life — though I sometimes struggle with believing. I've acheived much more than I give myself credit for. That's the insecurity in me that flares up once in a while.

I suppose I'll muster up the will to go to the reunion, if nothing else to show off my handsome husband, the fact that I haven't gained 100 pounds and that where we are now is clearly not where we intend to stay.

And when I do, it'll be in a little black dress.... what else are they good for?

More Gianna

2009-03-04T09:27:00.005-05:00

I couldn't resist - had to post more pictures of my niece. I miss her so much already! Becoming an aunt has to be one of life's great joys. Her mom and dad come home today. I love watching them with her. They seem like naturals. And I am so happy for them.

Welcome to the world

2009-03-03T10:42:00.009-05:00

Here is my new niece ~ Gianna Marie. She finally showed the world her beautiful face at 9:21 p.m. March 2. She is a teeny 4 pounds, 11 ounces and is 18 inches long! I am completely in love with her and can't wait to watch her grow up! Though we are not Catholic, we have been named the baby's godparents, which makes being an aunt and uncle even more special.

In wonder

2009-02-20T15:16:00.001-05:00

The other night, my husband's sister and her boyfriend came over for dinner — actually, they brought a really yummy white pizza and we made the dessert, and by that I mean we attempted to replicate the ice box cake my husband's grandmother is known for.

I really enjoy our time together because she and I are finally developing a relationship. While I was engaged, it seemed she saw me as the girl stealing away her older brother. At my wedding shower — she was a bridesmaid — she left early, claiming she had to get to the airport to fly to New York for a modeling gig. I learned the next day she never went to the Big Apple. When she realized I wasn't all that bad and I grew some patience, we actually began to chat often, even sharing similar frustrations about her mother. It's one of the only few things we can relate to because we have so little in common. She was a model, worked at clubs, has a gazillion friends and was pretty rebellious and unreliable.

However, since finding out she was going to become a mom, she has transformed into a completely different person. I'm so proud of her and so excited for what this baby is going to do for her.

As a gift, she and her boyfriend were given the chance to see Gianna through a 3D ultrasound. Because it took so long for the baby to face them, the woman doing the ultrasound gave them a DVD to thank them for their patience, which usually isn't included in the price. They brought it over with them and let me tell you, I have hardly ever been as intrigued or amazed. We laughed because she continued to bring her foot up to her face, then her arm. Her tiny hands were already opened and a few times, she stuck out her tongue. Hilarious.

When the time comes for us to start a family, my husband and I aren't going to find out what we're having. We decided that a while ago, along with keeping the name to ourselves. It'll be hard to wait, I'm sure, but so worth it. I think there are just so few surprises left in life ... still, it was neat looking at my niece.

Anyway, watching the video, I learned something I hadn't before: babies open their eyes in the womb! Amazing. My sister-in-law said that sometimes, they will put a flashlight up to her belly and they can see Giana pressing against the light. The other thing we were awed by — babies being able to live nine months in fluid and then immediately begin to breathe when they come into the world.

It just reinforces the wonder of our Heavenly Father, the miracle that is life and the knowing all of the intricate details only he could have imagined and designed.

I know my little niece is going to be so beautiful. We could already see. We want her to be here so badly! Just three more weeks!

Young at Heart

2009-02-15T19:05:00.000-05:00

At least twice a year, my husband and I travel back to his hometown of Philadelphia to visit family. It's always a real eye-opener for me because there is just one pocket of the city I can relate to — and if I could afford a $500,000 rowhome, would live there with them. They indulge in local coffee shops, check out new exhibits at the art museum and enjoy expensive taste, strolling around stores in Center City, such as Williams-Sonoma and Banana Republic.

Throughout the remainder of the city, its residents are very simple and very laid back. They desire nothing fancy, but will pay for a great meal out — and trust me, there are some amazing, authentic places to pick from. They have their own favorite cheesesteak spot, are extremely loyal to their four sports teams — whose stadiums encircle each other — and have had the same friends and neighbors for the last 20-30 years. To back up that cliche, it does feel like the city of brotherly love, save for the car horns going off in busy intersections.

I fell in love with Philly the first time I visited three years ago. I love the skyline, the history and the attractions, and I thought it was so unique — as well as unusual — that the city is mostly made up of rowhomes that have no accompanying yards or driveways and that people can get away with double parking. Everywhere.

My husband — whose accent re-emerges as soon as we enter the city limits — was initially so excited for me to meet his grandparents. His 85-year-old maternal grandparents live a few blocks from the aforementioned stadiums in a rowhome that they added onto before moving in decades ago. They have their health issues, but you'd hardly know it. His grandfather can hardly see, but both he and his wife have impeccable hearing. They do their own housecleaning, laundry and shopping — someone drives them, of course — and his grandmother is an amazing cook. I could live soley off of her rice pudding — and pay the price - and my husband will only rave over her pasta sauce, er 'gravy.' Each day, she has a small glass of red wine, a routine that seems to have paid off. Five children, 14 grandchildren — spouses included — and almost four great-grandchildren later, they are still sharp, witty and aware. It amazes me.

I'm amused when we stay with them because the highlight of their day is watching TV, even when we are there. They have all of their programs figured out, from Judge Judy to game shows - Family Feud and Wheel of Fortune are musts - to CSI and Animal Planet. I don't completely blame them. Neither one can drive anymore and their closest child lives about a 45 minute drive away in Jersey. I don't know what I'd do in the house all day long. For Christmas, the youngest son bought them a little parakeet - after he bought his twin girls two of their own, whom they named Simon and Theodore. My husband's grandmother had to play along, naming her new bird Alvin. Her new addition is somewhat entertaining for her, though apparently she has long called animals retarded because they can't take care of themselves.

My husband's other grandmother lives fairly close by and I could spend hours with her. When we first met, it was as if we'd known each other for years. She, also 85, took the spotlight at our wedding almost two years ago when she flew out onto the dance floor once the band began to play "Tarantella." My adorable 75-year-old grandmother, who has always longed to be Italian, joined in and the two were a hit. It's hard for me to put into words "Grandmom" Rita, pictured left. She also lives in a rowhome and walks to get her groceries, go to church, get her hair done and visit the dentist. She's blunt, but sweet and I laugh at her mannerisms. She is the biggest worrier, yet constantly prays. Her husband died about 10 years ago and I think she still aches for him every day. While my husband and I were still engaged, she'd shake her fist at the sky and yell at her "Arty" for being gone. It's so sweet - and heartbreaking.

My point to all of these stories ... I want to know their secret for staying so sharp, so witty, so mindful - so young. I could carry on a conversation with each of them and they wouldn't miss a beat. I long to take something from them all so I'll have a special memory when they're gone. I hope they're around for years to come.

My first column

2009-01-14T10:00:00.003-05:00

Here it is. Feel free to think that it's a little bit hokey. We'll see how my readers feel about it tomorrow.

My resolution? Go against the grain
"If it bleeds, it leads."

In this around-the-clock industry of mine, it's that age-old adage
that keeps sad stories and tragic tales on the front page of every
newspaper and at the top of each nightly newscast.

I'm not sure who decided long ago that we needed a daily overdose of
disappointment and distress, but it seems inescapable, especially
lately with Wall Street's woes, a bailout for the Big Three and
record-high unemployment — which I was part of last month.

I often wonder if we remain in such a glass-half-empty mentality
because, subconciously, the mass media tells us to. They give gloomy
economic forecasts and, in response, shoppers seal up their
pocketbooks. Then they report that we're not spending money.

So in the face of downheartedness and worrisome reports of a
recession, I have come to a decision: I'm not participating.

It's a detox of sorts; a diet from the depressing. And while I'm not
much into setting New Year's resolutions — I believe you can start
fresh at any time of the year — this is one I am making.

I want to spend 2009 focusing on the hopeful, reflecting on the inspiring.

I want to hear about stories of promise, of neighbor encouraging
neighbor and stranger helping stranger. I want to dig deep and
discover successes I know are tucked in there somewhere, in between
statistics of childhood obesity and the latest political scandal: a
job that finally comes through; a family that steps outside of its own
struggles to serve others in deeper need; a charity whose donations
are surpassed; a faith that is restored; and a realization that
whether or not a prayer is answered, there is a bigger plan at work.

I want to celebrate daily accomplishments, even if they are as simple
as smiling at those who pass by me on the sidewalk and finishing the
56 ounces of water I lug around with me.

I want to take time to count my blessings, and to strive each day to
have an attitude of gratitude, even when the road gets a little foggy.

This resolution may not always be easy to stick to, especially when
we're so used to reacting to the worst. But I have a feeling that of
all the places to search for inspiration, the Pointes are a great
place to start.

So, if you're up for it, I invite you to walk alongside me in my
challenge of finding the extraordinary in the everyday, of searching
for happiness in simplicity, of tuning out the negative and turning to
the cheerful. Be surprised by joy. Dare to wonder what it would be
like in a world with less worry and more wit.

And don't laugh off what might seem like a lofty dream or an
unattainable goal. For as Mark Twain once said, "Don't part with your
illusions. When they are gone, you may still exist, but you have
ceased to live."

Baby gifts

2009-01-08T23:55:00.007-05:00

I've been trying to figure out what to buy my sister-in-law for her baby shower in three weeks.

Every time I visit her two registries, I become overwhelmed with all that's out there for babies: steam sterilizers, a bottle and food warmer (hello, how about the old-fashioned, bottle-in-hot-water method?), sleep positioners, a flat screen video monitor ...

And then there's this thing:

A newborn soothing center. Not sure how safe that is. But it says it was developed "with significant scientific research to address the multisensory needs of newborns" and has four "four unique seat positions mimic how you hold your baby."

What will they think of next?

Anyway, her color scheme is cute -- pink and brown -- and most of the items seem pretty practical. Except I cannot understand why she has registered for two Baby Bjorn carriers. She's only having one baby and only parent can carry the little one at a time.

Davin and I disagree about going in on something expensive with my mom. He wants to spoil his first niece, but I know that her side of the family and the father's side are both going to be very generous. And we'll have years and years to spoil little Gianna.

I'd still like to get her something sweet on the side, something meaningful. Maybe her christening/dedication outfit, since my sister-in-law has wisely decided not to have her daughter baptized in the Catholic church. Nothing against Catholics, as I have many family members who are, Grandma included. I think she's just realizing things as an adult that she just didn't stick to as a child -- or an adult, for that matter.

I'm for sure bringing a baby Bible as my book. And there was something on the invitation that my mother-in-law wrote out mentioning everyone bring an item for a baby wishing well. I have no idea what that is, nor does anyone else I've so far asked. Have you?

Interpretation

2009-01-08T23:40:00.007-05:00

Last night, I had a dream that I had fallen asleep for seven years. Miraculously, when I awoke, neither I nor my husband had aged at all.

Anyway, while I slept, Davin had built a big, beautiful house. Parts of it were covered in floor-length windows, and we walked atop wood floors and through hallways lined in wood paneling. One of the bathrooms had very tall, very wide cabinets and multiple sinks. One of the drawers I opened was filled with all of my makeup, perfectly placed, and I'm sure, by then, quite expired.

I remember passing a large, see-through refrigerator (I would never have picked that out) stocked with condiments, milk and other necessities that each seemed just right for a giant. Even the wine was in large, several-gallon jugs. Very strange.

Another oddity: his stepmother had been staying there and I distinctly recall urging Davin to make her leave, now that I was back.

He had put everything of mine away in one corner of the house -- where I guess I had been kept -- from the drinking glasses we had once used to my shoes.

I remember feeling very sad that my husband had been without me all that time, and grateful that he waited. When I awoke from the dream, my heart still hurt and I reached over and clung to him until the alarm went off.

I've been wrestling all day with the meaning of this dream. I rarely have ones this vivid or this peculiar. Maybe I'm just anxious to start first-house hunting, an exciting adventure we'll be embarking upon in the next month or so.

Hmmmmm...

I say

2009-01-02T14:30:00.003-05:00

At my new job, reporters rotate weekly writing a roughly 500-word column in the editorial section of the paper ... on anything. My first entry is due January 12.

It can be controversial, witty, entertaining, insightful ... or even a sob story. The only requirement is it be about something in my life.

You'd think I'd have a bounty of ideas, between this candid venue and my semi-adventurous life (at least it is in my eyes). But somehow, my mind is as blank as an empty page.

And I'd love some suggestions.

I suppose I could share about my Christmastime experience with my mother-in-law: how she broke down in the middle of Costco when my husband told her we weren't coming over on Christmas, but instead going to their Christmas Eve get-together — she refused to give up a night with friends, rather than start a new tradition with her growing family — and how that back-and-forth banter eventually led to our compromise (never again!) of going over to her set-to-music, Clark Griswold-esque home for dessert. And I could mention one the gifts we received: a 1500-volt electric bug swatter. Fabulous.

Hmmmm....

Or I could recount my surprise summertime trip to the Grand Hotel on Mackinac Island for our one-year wedding anniversary, and how, once we reached the ferry after a five-hour drive, realized we had left the garment bag hanging in the closet at home. A little back story: when you stay at the 150-year-old hotel, you have to be dressed 'in your finest' after 6 o'clock — men in a suit and women in skirts or dresses. That meant we couldn't go to the five-course dinner, couldn't dance to the hotel band or head up to the cupola bar for a drink. And we were there for three nights. After my very sweet husband let me cry on his shoulder and then calmed me down, we went on a mini-shopping spree for first-night outfits, and were also able to get my very patient mother to go into our apartment, grab the garment bag and ship it to the island. Fortunately, it was there by our second afternoon.

Maybe I could share about the excitment of becoming a first-time aunt and the anticipation of waiting for the baby girl who is almost here; the joy of newfound friendships, even those unwavering admist the rocking of a cruise ship veering off a hurricane's path; or the discovery of talents you didn't know you had.

It would be fitting to talk about New Year's resolutions that for the first time I am more than determined to keep, and I don't mean in the habit arena. Dreams I've stumbled upon and hobbies I want to better persue. Or perhaps, most importantly, the constant presence of God's hand, from blessings to frustration to complete vulnerability.

I suppose I have a wealth of moments and memories to share, or maybe a brief re-introduction to a community that has gotten to know me these past four years is all that's needed.

I guess a weekend's worth of brainstorming will tell.

Feeding the hungry

2008-12-20T11:09:00.011-05:00

The eve before the snowstorm, I bought a birdfeeder. And some birdseed to fill it. There's a neighborhood of sparows and cardinals living in the woods behind our apartment, and I wondered what they would eat once the snow (some nine inches) more than blanketed the ground that is their snack bar.

Because it was an inexpensive purchase, a good portion of the seed fell out as I was attempting to hang the birdfeeder off the deck.

And this is what that did.

It doesn't take much to make me happy.

Christmas classics

2008-12-18T22:53:00.001-05:00

During this season, I can't help but look back on the things that remind me of the wonderment I felt as a child ... a certain kind of cookie, a holiday carol, a nostalgic ornament or a classic movie.

Here are some of my favorites (movies), almost all of which I must watch during the season.

Hope some of these stir something in you!

"The Christmas Toy"
This 1986 made-for-TV Christmas special centers around a playroom full of toys, including Rugby, a self-centered tiger, Apple, a sweet-natured curly-haired doll, Balthazar, an aged teddy-bear, and Mew, a catnip toy mouse, among others. My favorite was Mew. The toys come alive when no one is around. On Christmas Eve, Rugby learns that he will be 'replaced' by a new favorite toy, and is determined to get inside the box of the new toy. Rugby and Mew go on an adventure to the living room, where Rugby opens the box of Meteora, a She-Ra-esque doll that causes havock. When Rugby and Mew go back to the playroom, Mew lags behind, and becomes frozen, just like the cute little clown doll, Ding-a-Ling. Tha'ts what happens when a human finds you out of the playroom.

"Miracle on 34th Street"

I love the parade scene and the journey the little girl makes to believe in something.

"A Charlie Brown Christmas"
Aside from the songs, I love when Linus reads an excerpt from the Christmas story.

"A Muppet Family Christmas"
The Muppet gang is joined by the Sesame Street cast (and even a few Fraggles!) at Fozzie's childhood farmhouse on Christmas Eve. A blizzard outside keeps everyone in, singing songs and watching home vidoes of the Muppets as babies, as Miss Piggy tries to get there. I laugh hysterically when the Swedish Chef thinks that Big Bird is the turkey dinner, and then later goes after a rooster who is flirting with Camilla, the love of Gonzo's life.

"A Muppet Christmas Carol"
Because I think the black and white version is too serious and a little creepy. It's hilarious when the rats get Bob Cratchet (Kermit) to ask Scrooge for another heap of coal for the fire.

"Twas the Night Before Christmas"

A take on the famous poem by Clement Moore, the story opens on the night before Christmas, but the reading of the poem must be stopped when two creatures in the house begin to stir: family men Mr. Trundle and Father Mouse. Their restlessness stems from the fact that Santa is angry at the residents of Junctionville, returning all their letters without even opening them. The reason? Somebody wrote a letter to the editor of the paper saying that he doesn't exist. In an attempt to fix the situation, Mr. Trundle, a clockmaker, comes up with a plan to lure Santa into town with a clock that will sing an enchanting song at midnight. When the clock doesn't work on its first test, the townsfolk lose all faith in him. Turns out the cause of all the trouble is Albert, a book-smart young mouse who thinks he knows the truth about Santa Claus.

"White Christmas"

This is the only non-cartoon movie on my list. I LOVE the dancing, the innocence, the costumes, the songs ... I wanted to be Judy, one of the sisters, just so I could dance and wear the twirly dresses, especially in this scene:

And this one. I wish I was as leggy as she was.

Update

2008-12-18T18:44:00.004-05:00

I got offered a job today! Hooray!

It's only been three weeks. I feel so blessed. I never actually pictured myself at this particular place, and because it's my former competition newspaper, it's even more amusing. It feels like I'm sticking it to the company that thought it would be better off without me. Just a little friendly competition ...

The pay is a little less than what I was making before, but we will be fine. It's just enough where I know I still need to rely on God to provide for us. He has shown me he has had a plan from the minute I walked out of my former employer's doors.

I start Monday, something I'm a little bummed about because I have enjoyed the time over these last weeks when I could read, clean, bake, and work out in the middle of the day. I tried waking up at 8 in the morning this week, and felt like a zombie! But, the sooner I get a paycheck, the better. And I get Christmas Eve and New Year's Eve off, in addition to Christmas and New Year's days.

I am extremely humbled: after I accepted the offer, it was revealed that the company had recieved some 80 resumes and from reporters from well read daily newspapers.

And they chose me.

I'm extra thankful that God placed me in a job so quickly, especially since it feels like the area around me is crumbling.

Thanks for all of your prayers!

More than you wanted to know...

2008-12-17T23:29:00.011-05:00

I wouldn't think about doing this, but it was put out there by my friend at Confessions of a Newlywed. Since I need something other than reading, working out and holiday baking to do, I thought, why not? Here goes:

1. I have no hometown ~ I'm an Army brat.

2. I am a complete perfectionist, from my writing to how everything is arranged in our apartment. Nothing can be out of place, not even slightly

3. I am extremely indecisive.

4. I never liked my middle name as a child. When I found out it was my grandmother's name, that changed.

5. Like my dad, I'm a sweet-aholic. I'd pass up salty chips for a cookie any day.

6. I hate being cold ... and I almost always am.

7. Sometimes I feel that because I moved so much for the first 18 years of my life, I have a really crappy memory.

8. I used to want to live in the White House. It still facinates me today.

9. I love, love, love coffee.

10. My favorite two flowers are hydrangeas and calla lilies.

11. I want three houses: one on the beach, one in the mountains and one near a city, maybe Philadelphia or Washington, D.C.

12. I am terrible at math.

13. I have a permanent retainer along my bottom five teeth.

14. I have to wear a retainer each night for my top teeth ... but only do so maybe once or twice a week.

15. I have no desire for children yet ... not because I'm not ready, but because there is still so much I want to do with just my husband.

16. I played the piano until I was in college. Then I stopped, and now my fingers find the keys a little foreign.

17. I really like my feet and toes ... and I get lots of compliments on them!

18. I will try almost any food, except those that are slimy, like mussels and clams.

19. I love shrimp!

20. I dont eat foot that touches or food that is mixed.

21. I love pampering myself ... or being pampered.

22. I take really good care of my skin.

23. I rarely burn.

24. I really wish I could be crafty. I have good aspirations that usually fall through.

25. I love getting snail mail, espeically Christmas cards!

26. I can't wait to get a house so we can get a golden retriever!

27. I regret not writing the children's book my dad and I talked about, detailing the crazy adventures of our second golden retriever, Blazer.

28. I always thought I would work in a big city, with some plush office.

29. I would love to work for a magazine -- such my writing style.

30. My only best girlfriend is my mom. I tried a few times with others, but got hurt too much.

31. I love to sleep in.

32. I used to hate red wine and now I can't get enought merlot or pinot noir.

33. My first alcoholic drink was watermelon pucker during my freshman year of college. Yuck.

34. I really dislike local news.

35. I have no problem having our one-day children believe in Santa Claus. But not the Easter Bunny. It didn't do me any damage.

36. I desperately want to visit Italy.

37. I have dreams and goals that only few understand and respect.

38. I think you should be allowed to have any aspiration and be loved for it regardless.

39. I want to take my mom to Martha's Vineyard.

40. I think Food Network chefs have some of the coolest jobs.

41. I don't think there is anything wrong with expensive taste.

42. I don't get this 'green' movement. It's suspiciously trendy.

43. I still can't figure out when to use 'who' and 'whom.'

44. I love wrapping presents.

45. I love elegance.

46. I laugh easily.

47. My grandmother is a saint.

48. I had a guinea pig named Squeaker in junior high and fought with my brother over cleaning his cage each week.

49. I have mastered two dishes: spinach artichoke dip and pumpkin cheesecake.

50. I love Pottery Barn, Crate & Barrel and Z Gallerie.

51. I'm a great listener.

52. I want to be a better encourager.

53. When I met my husband, I thought he was loud and obnoxious.

54. I didn't fall for him until five months later when I realized I was wrong -- except for maybe the loud thing.

55. I love Italian and seafood.

56. I don't really have a favorite restaurant.

57. When I was secretly searching for the stone I wanted in my engagement ring, I fell in love with the Asher cut.

58. It was so rare that my husband had to go on a very big search to find my very unique diamond.

59. I wasn't happy with my hair on my wedding day. And my veil fell out before I even got dressed.

60. I share my birthday with Flag Day, the Army's birthday -- and I joke that my dad just took out the 'r' to get my name.

61. My family means the world to me.

62. I think that trying to blend families (in-laws) can be one of life's biggest challenges.

63. I would love to eat orange and yellow peppers, cucumbers, tomatoes, grapefruit and pineapple every day.

64. I think that I honed my writing skills from being a pen pal for so many years.

65. I loved "Anne of Green Gables" and read every book. And saw the movies, too.

66. My first secular concert was Shania Twain. My good friend took me our senior year of high school.

67. I grew up listening to Christian music and never, ever regret it. The concerts were a blast.

68. I want a house with a wrap-around porch.

69. One of my dreams is to learn to ride a horse.

70. I love make up (Artistry is all I'll use) and can't leave the house without something on my face.

71. I love cereal. I have to have it each morning or my entire day is off.

72. I really enjoy Thai food ... especially Pad Thai. Yummm.

73. I love rain at night. So cozy.

74. I could live in skirts and dresses.

75. I'm uncomfortable moving away from my parents.

76. I don't really like talking on the phone.

77. I really wish I was just a few inches taller, especially so I can find pants that fit.

78. I can be a bit of a crier.

79. My first car was a cherry red Oldsmobile Alero. I got it my junior year of college. And got three tickets while I had it.

80. I love the opera, but I'm otherwise not very artsy.

81. I only like dark chocolate.

82. I don't like to make phone calls about a problem with a product, etc.

83. I'm a cleaning freak ... it's de-stressing.

84. I would love to open my own coffee shop.

85. I enjoy watching children's movies ... especially those from my childhood.

86. One of my biggest flaws is my procrastination.

87. I would love to learn to ballroom dance. Usually, I'm a wallflower.

88. I find my best outfits when I shop with my mom -- she always know how to find great deals.

89. I'm afraid of squirrels.

90. My dad was sent to the first Gulf War and then was in the Pentagon on 9-11.

91. I think there should be an age limit for driver's liceneses.

92. I cannont stand this global warming farce ... um, snow in Lousiana? Hellooooo!!!

93. I'm a homebody.

94. For the first time, I got up at 4 a.m. the day after Thanksgiving this year to go shopping. And I would totally do it again.

95. I think 'thank you' cards are an important afterthought.

96. My husband has the biggest heart.

97. I love taking pictures, espeically of nature.

98. I wish I had enough money to feed and clothe those in need.

99. I want to go on a mission's trip.

100. I don' t know what I would do or where I would be if I didn't have my relationship with Christ.

More decor .. because I'm bored.

2008-12-17T23:14:00.004-05:00

These are some of my Department 56 Dicken's Village pieces. I have about 13 quaint, detailed, lighted shops, taverns, toy stores and even a gazette. My mom began my collection when I was in ninth grade and they are my favorite thing to put out each Christmas. I especially love the little townspeople. They have so much character. This year, I got an early Christmas gift from my husband: the saddlery. The girl on the house actually moves around in a circle! I wonder if she ever gets dizzy ...

Deck the halls

2008-12-07T18:17:00.008-05:00

Some of our Christmas decorations:

A new chapter

2008-12-02T15:41:00.002-05:00

At the end of the day yesterday, I was coldly told that I was being laid off by the small, family-owned company that I spent almost five years with. It obviously came as a complete shock and I admit I did a lot of crying the entire drive home and throughout the night. That's the worry in me that I know God is going to cleanse me of through this whole process. Thankfully, I have some pretty stable people in my life, including my husband and parents, who can see the bigger picture.

I have been praying for the last three years that God would deliver me from that particular place. Granted, there were aspects I enjoyed -- mainly the amazing people I worked with in the communities I covered, and the girls I developed lasting relationships with in our little cubicle area.

But for the most part, I was quite miserable. I dreaded each new week and I didn't like the employee I had become. There, I felt lazy, prideful ... even rebellious because I had grown so tired of the pettiness, the lack of professionalism, the backstabbing.

I felt very out of place there last week, and Sunday night, realizing that I only had two stories to turn in for deadline, I had this overwhelming dread come over me. I prayed that God would either renew my mind or deliver me. And at 4 o'clock, he did the latter. Finally. It wasn't the way I envisioned leaving -- I always thought I'd be walking out door by my choosing.

I know deep down that this is a huge blessing and I know that God is going to take care of us. I am trying to realize the excitement of what he has in store for me just around corner. To even fathom that He has a bigger plan for me is amazing. I know it is going to be even better that what I've ever experienced.

When I woke up this morning, my husband had left my Bible open on the bathroom sink to Jeremiah 29:11, and a note of how excited he is for me. He's probably relieved that I don't have to spend evenings at dull council meetings, stressing out over low story counts or doubting my abilities.

I visited the umemployement office this afternoon -- I could barely find a parkng space -- and I now understand the worry that can grip those who have lost their jobs, especially those who don't have a spouse's income to fall back on.

Before I began searching for jobs, I wrote an email to my closest contacts over the years, about 25. I let them know what happened, how much I have enjoyed working with them, that I don't know how their areas of the community will be covered, and of course, asked if they could keep their eyes and ears open. I have gotten immediate responses in the past hour, and they have let me know that I was valued, I was appreciated and I will be missed. I'm overwhelmed by their kindness.

I have also recieved notes from friends offering up ideas and prayers. It means a lot.

I know that this is an important time in my life. I know God is going to be really changing me, growing me and giving me some time to renew my mind and my heart and evaluate what path I will embark on next.

Keep me in your prayers!

Favorite floats

2008-11-25T15:05:00.001-05:00

I can't begin the holiday season, or turkey day for that matter, without watching the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. It's the child in me that keeps me glued to the tube all morning long.

Sometimes I'm too lazy to get out of pajamas, but often, I get up early enough to primp for the day and settle in with a cup of coffee and some kind of breakfast pastry, as opposed to my usual breakfast of bran cereal. Yum.

Prior to moving to Michigan, I could watch the parade on NBC, but since moving here, the local affiliate insists on covering Detroit's crappy attempt at a replica: America's Thanksgiving Day Parade. So, that leaves me to watch CBS' coverage of the Macy's event, which is TERRIBLE.They spend more time with the camera on the two hosts — who talk up visiting soap opera stars — than on the floats themselves, and often pan over to some park for a Broadway song. I meant to write them last year, but never did. And now I'm frantically trying to figure out if NBC will be streaming the parade.

These are some floats that I cannot miss — they're too nostalgic.

If I knew someone with an apartment that looked down upon the parade route, I'd want to watch it from the window, with the play-by-play from the TV on in the background — kind of like my favorite Christmas movie, "Miracle on 34th Street."

The 82-year-old parade originally featured animals from the local zoo. When they added helium floats in 1927 and released them as part of the grand finale, they all burst over the Manhattan skyline. The following year, they designed balloons with safety valves that allowed them to float for days. They even stuck return labels on the characters in case they got away, and offered a reward for the return.

I think it's safe to say that most of the balloons have improved over time ...

... while some have remained parade classics.

To the beach

2008-11-20T10:52:00.003-05:00

We're off for a few days to Myrtle Beach ... I am relieved to get away from the stress of work and the chilly temperatures, and spend some time with some special people.

Our condo is right on the ocean, and I'm looking forward to the breakfasts we'll make, the laughs we'll share, the encouragement and hope we'll offer one another, and the renewal we'll receive!

Ciao!

Thankless Thanksgiving

2008-11-18T14:35:00.002-05:00

I must say, I feel a little sorry for the turkey, even though I'm sure he isn't minding that so many have completely sidestepped the holiday on which we eat him.

Thanksgiving is a little over a week away, but there's no sign of it anywhere, save for the few cans of pumpkin pie filling near the ReddiWip. I feel sad, frustrated ... maybe even a little irritated with a society that jumps immediately from trick-or-treating to gift gathering with no thought in between. I am irritated that there is already Christmas music on the radio, that lampposts have already been wrapped with festive garland, that shopping malls are already decked out in red and green, and that some homeowners already have decorated trees in their front windows and colorful lights carving their house out of the dark of night.

Don't misunderstand my rant. I love Christmastime ... the actual meaning behind it and the pretty accents thrown in: glittery decorations, ornamented trees and twinkling lights. When that first snow falls in November, it's hard not to think about curling up with a cup of hot chocolate beneath a glowing tree or popping in your favorite holiday movie. But I think Thanksgiving deserves a day not overshadowed by one glamorized by the retail world. Especially this year.

For some reason, I have become much more aware of my blessings this season. And I'm realizing I haven't been doing enough to help others less fortunate. I get so wrapped up in making sure my traditions return every year that the idea of giving up my parade-watching, coffee cake-eating Thanksgiving morning to serve in a soup kitchen or delivering baskets of goodies to needy families makes me uncomfortable. And yet the concept of serving was never intended to benefit the person doing good, but rather the person in need. Otherwise, it would be a completely self-centered act. I think the gratification that usually follows a good deed is in feeling that you are somehow being Jesus' hands and feet.

This past weekend, I attended the open house of an office building-turned-remodeled 14-bedroom transitional residence. Each of the rooms — they range from baby to teen to adult — is cutely and cozily decorated by dedicated volunteers who spent months pouring out funding, time and creativity. My parents and some friends put together one of the rooms and they could hardly hold back the tears Friday evening.

On the day I visited, it was particularly cold, filled with periodic snow squalls. It was a cruel reminder of how many are out there without a place to take refuge. I heard that there's already a waiting list for the shelter, which is aimed at getting people back on their feet by helping them find a job and put away savings. One elderly woman who could hardly walk came calling days earlier to find out if it had opened yet — only to hear she could only put her name on the list.

I'm sure there are thousands of stories out there like this one that will break your heart into pieces. It gives me quite the perspective when I'm staring into a packed closet each morning, worrying about what to wear, or trying to keep the cupboard and refrigerator stocked, or really disliking my job.

I know God has bestowed blessings upon me and my family for some reason and I'll be sure to thank him for them next Thursday — and each day, for that matter — as I'm watching my favorite pre-Christmas shows (Miracle on 34th Street and A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving) on the floor near my parents' fireplace with my husband and a cup of hot chocolate.

And I'll be sure to really listen when I ask what I can do for others.

Quote of the Day

2008-11-18T14:20:00.002-05:00

Love wholeheartedly, be surprised, give thanks and praise — then you will discover the fullness of your life.

—Brother David Steindl-Rast

Cake head

2008-11-16T21:23:00.011-05:00

I have a secret pastime: cooking shows. My mom always had them on in the background when she was baking or cleaning or decorating for whatever season we were in.

Unfortunately, neither her influences nor the half-hour culinary program had any effect on me ... just ask my husband. I pretend they have, however, and each time I bring out my mixing bowls, carton of eggs and cups of sugar and flour, I imagine that I am the expert giving the instructions. Cameras and all.

My husband and I haven't had cable since we got married and moved into our apartment almost a year- and-a-half ago. So, I've been void of those cooking shows. Until now. We got a great deal until our lease is up, and so I get to tune in to a few of my favorites, like Barefoot Contessa and Everyday Italian. I even like to watch Paula Dean, betting against myself how many sticks of butter she'll use throughout the episode. I sometimes stare in awe at how they can come up with new ideas, new twists on the old ... I can't fathom their creativity. But I do admire it — any every other kitchen conqueror.

One night, I was skimming channels and landed on something amazing ... something like I'd never seen on Food Network: Ace of Cakes. The owner of Charm City Cakes in Baltimore, Chef Duff, creates masterpieces with drill saws and blowtorches with the help of fellow rock musicians. Duff is one of the most sought-after decorative cake makers in the country. And it's easy to see why:

I'm not quite certain if people actually eat the cakes they order — they seem too spectacular to cut into and all the sugary details and fondant don't seem very appetizing. Actually, I'm sure they want to get their money's worth.

Anyway, check out the show if you haven't. It's amazing, if not inspiring.

Something funny for Thursday

2008-11-12T23:05:00.002-05:00

It gets funnier toward the end.

A salute ...

2008-11-11T11:14:00.011-05:00

... to all those veterans come and gone, and those around to receive thanks and gratitude — my late grandfather (Korean War) and my dad (first Gulf War) included.

Work in progress

2008-11-10T17:06:00.001-05:00

I'm trying to figure out how to fix this ... bear with me!

Dream job

2008-11-09T22:52:00.001-05:00

If I could do anything, career-wise, I would own my own independent stationary store. I've always loved buying boxes of cards, browsing rolls of wrapping paper and picking out yards of ribbon, whether I used them or not. I enjoy walking around Papyrus — but there are 400,000 reasons why I couldn't open my own — and recently, while walking around downtown Birmingham, spotted the sweetest shop and thought, "I could do this."

It would be so worthwhile to help people celebrate all of life's special moments. I think I would actually enjoy getting up and going to work each morning ... so much more than I do now. And I'd always be surrounded by pretty, elegant things.

Here's hoping one day, I'll have the capital and capability to follow this particular dream.

Per$onal $hopper

2008-11-07T15:01:00.007-05:00

I have had the most difficult time finding clothes for the around-the-corner winter season. I've never had such a problem. I've been to different malls and stores for the past three weekends, dragging along my very patient and generous husband. I even enlisted the assistance and opinions of a personal shopper who found me a new suit and a pretty purple purse ... but still no everyday outfits. So until I stumble upon a new wardrobe, I'm going to daydream about what I wish I could find and afford, especially in the dress arena. I'd live in them if I could— and if my job was glamorous enough.

Hurting

2008-11-06T23:15:00.004-05:00

In the tiny corner of the world I keep watch on each week, a certain evil is about to come lurking. I've heard about it, read about it and even seen pictures of it. But I never thought I'd have to come face-to-face with it.

In my years as a reporter, I've (thankfully) covered stories that have had no real controversy, due in part to the small, quiet communities I've been assigned to. Most articles are about fund-raisers for admirable causes, student accomplishments, school programs, city improvements and individuals' adventures. I have had the occasional tear-jerker and a few years back, covered the first murder in a community in 60 years. That was interesting — and tragic.

But today, I embarked upon a story that was both controversial and emotional.

In a few weeks, one of the school theater groups will be putting on "The Laramie Project," the story surrounding the death of Matthew Shepard and how his Wyoming town reacted. Shepard, a gay college student, was left to die after being brutally beaten by two men, who tied him to a post. Bicyclists 18 hours later found him and initially thought the 21-year-old was a scarecrow. He died a few days later from complications. I remember hearing about it when I was in high school, but never knew any details. I looked into what happened for my interviews with the student actors and it made my heart hurt and my stomach ache. I couldn't get the picture out of my mind for hours.

But here's the kicker: there is a protest coming, one that I can only describe as completely hateful -- and its sign-holders are coming in the name of God. You may have heard of this group. I don't want to mention them here so not to give them any more attention, but most recently, this so-called church has been showing up at the funerals of fallen soldiers, yelling that God is punishing them for the country's acceptance of homosexuality. Their Web site screams deception from someone other than Christ -- and they are completely deaf of it. There are Bible verses all over the page, ones that talk about God's condemnation of sin ... one in particular. The signs they bring with them yell "God hates America" and "God bless AIDS" and "God hates the World." I couldn't read much more. They are leaving out SO many hundreds of other verses about God's redeeming love, about His mercy and grace through Christ, about the fruits of the Spirit: LOVE, joy, PEACE, patience, KINDESS, goodness and SELF CONTROL. It's shameful.

So, my editor asked me to do a short piece on their impending visit -- and I admit I wanted no part of it. But, I got a comment from the school principal and then I found an email for the church. And about an hour later, I got a response. You can imagine my hesitancy opening the note. The woman is, for no better description, a nutcase. Here is an excerpt from her novel (I like how she addressed me, by the way): "Your evil parents taught you that God is a liar, and for that, the wrath ofGod is abiding upon this nation! When God said that homosexuality is an abomination they taught their children that God is a big fat liar, that it is in fact okay to be gay."

And one more: ""The Laramie Project" is just one more way to get the people to focus on worshiping and serving the creature instead of their creator who is God Blessed, forever. If you present a maudlin, sentimental sloppy agape, then you can cause people to trust in a lie. It is a strategy of his Majesty theDevil."

She is delusional. And she had two opportunities to 'preach' her hate to me because I had to re-email her after she ignored my initial question. GRRR.

Though I don't condone homosexuality, I have learned to extend the same grace and love that God pours out on all His people. His love completely covers my multitude of sins. I can't imagine being the target of such hate and my heart so aches for the gay community for it. What these people are doing is nothing of God. It is nothing of His character, and I really hope that non-Christians don't think all who follow Christ are the same way, out there with a deafening bullhorn. We're not. We're really not.

Sorry, but I have to say this: there's a special place in Hell for these protesters.

Quote of the Day

2008-11-06T16:05:00.005-05:00

Just felt like I needed to put this up today ... I honestly don't know why. This is one of my favorite songs, by Sara Groves, one of my favorite singers:

Loving a person just the way they are, it's no small thing
It takes some time to see things through
Sometimes things change, sometimes we're waiting
We need grace either way

Hold on to me
I'll hold on to you
Let's find out the beauty of seeing things through

There's a lot of pain in reaching out and trying
It's a vulnerable place to be
Love and pride can't occupy the same spaces baby
Only one makes you free
Hold on to me
I'll hold on to you
Let's find out the beauty of seeing things through

If we go looking for offense
We're going to find it
If we go looking for real love
We're going to find it

Loving a person just the way, it's no small thing
that's the whole thing ...

It takes some time, takes some time, takes some time...

Quote of the Day

2008-11-05T15:37:00.000-05:00

"I have seen something else under the sun: the race is not to the swift, or the battle to the strong, nor does food come to the wise, or wealth to the brilliant, or favor to the learned; but time and chance happen to them all."

~Ecclesiastes 9:11

"Whatever our differences, we are fellow Americans. And please believe me when I say no association has ever meant more to me than that.

It is natural. It's natural, tonight, to feel some disappointment. But tomorrow, we must move beyond it and work together to get our country moving again."

~John McCain, Nov. 4, 2008

Thinking thoughts

2008-11-05T15:35:00.006-05:00

I don't claim to understand the will of God. I can't see the bigger picture. But somehow, today, I am able to realize something: change is coming. It's historic, yes. And it's life-changing. But it's not something that the new president-elect is bringing about ... not knowingly, anyway. Rather, it's what been spoken of since creation's earliest days.

I've felt for the past month something stirring. Last night confirmed it. I really believe that we're on the cusp of the country we know, the world we know, even the church we know. I believe that in this election, God is pulling people closer to Him, and in the coming months and even years, we're going to feel that same desire that made the apostles risk so much. I think we're going to understand what it really means to be persecuted. Circumstances are going to rise — if they haven't in the last 15 hours — that are going to drive many of us to really strive to reach others for Christ ... to be (lovingly) bold, passionate, non-damning or oppressive, maybe even slightly urgent in offering true hope, real change and progress of the heart.

Last night, I saw something dramatic: humanity poured their passions into one unperfect man, one man they think will solve the problems of the entire world, rather than the perfect man who came to save the entire human race. I'm not discounting the glass ceiling Obama broke and what it means to African Americans. I do, however, think it's being slightly overplayed and discounting the accomplishments of those in this country who have already risen to such great heights: Oprah, Condoleezza Rice, Colin Powell, Thurgood Marshall, Bill Cosby, Halle Berry, Morgan Freeman ... the list goes on. People have become mesmerized with the words of someone they hardly know much about, save for radical associations and an extreme voting history they have somehow ignored.

I teared up as the evening wrapped up. Not because I didn't appreciate a dream that had been realized for some, but because I believe we're staring at the beginning of the end. I know with Christ, we shouldn't fear what's ahead, but walk with faith. Still I can't help but be afraid of some things: a country about to let its guard down to terrorists; an unbalanced Congress; the already spoken endorsements from Al-Qaida, Ahmadinejad, Castro and Chavez; universal health care (maybe we should have a baby now before we'll either be waiting in line to deliver or unable to pay our bills); radical Supreme Court justices; and the gradual disappearance of the presence of God on money and in our national songs because we don't want to "offend."

I'm going to end this now ... praying for healing, understanding, patience and trust. I refuse to fall in step with those marching with and for Obama, but rather will continue to seek the call of Christ, to change for him and find change in him, to serve the poor and hungry — even those in spirit — in his name and for his cause, and to place my hope only in him.

Feeling domestic

2008-10-30T22:18:00.003-04:00

Look what I made!

Happy Halloween

2008-10-30T20:35:00.005-04:00

I couldn't help but dig up some old pictures of my childhood costumes. Unfortunately, one of my favorites — my brother and I as M&Ms, complete with the white gloves — is missing. Mom made all of our outfits ... she always did great!

Quote of the Day

2008-10-29T11:23:00.002-04:00

"Our greatest strength as a human race is our ability to acknowledge our differences, our greatest weakness is our failure to embrace them."

~Judith Henderson

Halloween cartoon

2008-10-25T23:51:00.000-04:00

A good laugh

2008-10-24T16:34:00.003-04:00

Some funny photos to welcome in the weekend (although, the costumed characters don't look too amused).

Things I never tire of

2008-10-24T13:16:00.012-04:00

In no particular order ... my top 30:

*) Subtle nudges from God
*) My husband's smile
*) Thunderstorms
*) Compliments from my dad
*) A glass of pinot noir
*) Hearing my grandmother's voice
*) Sleeping in
*) A hug from my mom
*) A new tube of mascara
*) Walking on leaves during a stroll in the fall
*) Taking photos of flowers (especially hydrangeas) and other scenes from nature
*) Flavored chapstick
*) Orbit gum, either Spearmint or Maui Melon Mint
*) Hazelnut lattes
*) Writing stories on those who have unselfishly given back — and aren't seeking praise
*) Receiving compliments for something I've written, either here or for work
*) House cleaning — it's stress-relieving
*) My dad's chocolate chip pancakes
*) Anything my mom cooks or bakes
*) Singing praise songs in my car — alone :)
*) Hearing how well my brother is doing — I am truly happy for his successes
*) Wandering around independent stationary stores
*) Picking out wrapping paper
*) Flipping through wedding magazines for dresses, even though my day has come and gone
*) Reading over favorite Bible verses
*) My husband's devotion & mine for him
*) Picturing our some-day ... babies and all
*) Encouragement from friends
*) Making my spinach & artichoke dip — and the 'oohs' and 'ahhs' that follow
*) Uncontrollable laughter

Home is where the Army sends you, Part III

2008-10-22T10:30:00.000-04:00

It's been a long time since I wrote the last installment ... I've been too tied up with politics and the election that the next chapter of my childhood story got pushed to the back burner. When we last left off, I was living in Panama ...

After three years in the jungle, my family found out its next place of residence: the booming metropolis of Washington, D.C. — quite a contrast to our quiet quarters and the poor country just beyond the base's gates.

We lived about 20 minutes outside our nation's capital in Springfield, Virginia, renting a townhouse in a pretty neighborhood that was mostly made up of large homes. It amazed my brother and me because it had three floors (the third was actually a finished basement, but to two kids who had just come from a cramped, one-floor ranch, it was mansion-esque). My bedroom had a window seat that overlooked our back patio and the woods just beyond it (occasionally, our golden retriever, Blazer, would sneak up there, and I'd know because I would find his hair all over the pillow). I was in heaven.

For our first Christmas, it snowed — and for it to snow much in northern Virginia is pretty amazing. Still in our pajamas after opening presents, my brother and I dashed outside to let that white miracle fall upon us ... in the humid jungle, remember, we were riding our bikes on Christmas morning.

Now, before I go any further, let me preface that at this point in my life (seventh-and eighth-grade), I was bordering on dorkiness. You'll see why in a moment. I think this mostly has to do with that awkward transition from elementary school to middle school — and having to do it completely alone ... well, at least not with close friends I had known all my life. Anyway, don't judge — I'm being brave enough to reveal all of this.

After we moved, for some reason, I became very into Victorian decor: flowery wallpaper and bedspreads, anything pink, roses (I dislike them now) and hat boxes where I could store all of my pen pal letters. And I wanted it all in my bedroom. My mom made it happen, and my grandfather even made me a shelf with pegs from which we hung old-fashioned baby dresses. I also was into piano music, which made for the perfect backdrop to my imaginative world. I even wanted to change my name to Victoria Rose (stop laughing).

During this phase, my mom passed down some nightgowns of hers — they were actually more like long, sleeveless cotton dresses. I wore them all throughout the summer. One day, I stepped outside in one to greet my mom and grandparents who had just pulled up (they visited a few times during our two-year stay) and immediately regretted it. They (minus my grandma) had a field day, laughing until their stomachs hurt. If my grandpa was around today, I'd still be unable to live that moment down ... me and all of my Victorian greatness.

I was petrified on my first day of school ... I had really short hair, a mouthful of colorful braces (you'll notice I haven't posted any pictures of this – for good reason) and an insecurity I hadn't experienced before. The girl I left in Panama was cheerful, confident and pretty hyper. Where she went is still a mystery to me today.

My middle school, Washington Irving, was named like others in Fairfax County: after poets or writers of distinction. It had a famous rock from the '60s that today must have at least a thousand coats of paint on it. In its lifetime, New Year's welcomes have covered Christmas wishes, which have covered awareness symbols and class competitions. Yellow ribbons during wartime have topped peace signs from the early '70s. And goodbyes were sweetly spelled out at the end of another school year.

For those first few months, I mostly hung out with the girls I met on the bus ride to school. One of them, Erica, lived at the end of my street — her family had an enormous sheepdog on whose hair seemed to cling any meal her mother ever cooked — and the other, a red-headed, Kurt Cobain-adoring, grunge devotee named Nicole, in a neighborhood up the road.

On days when my mom picked out clothes that I didn't want to wear — one in particular was a bright orange blouse that bore the phrase, 'My name is Panama,' which kids in my new town would find not cool — I would sneak over to Erica's and change in the bathroom. My scheme worked for a while, until her annoying younger brother caught me pulling clothes out of my backpack and squealed to my brother, who then tattled to mom. I think I was grounded for a year (ok, maybe I'm exaggerating a bit).

At Erica's house, I also became addicted to Nintendo and Sony (I loved playing Sonic). We never had video game systems, so when I went over there, it's all I wanted to do. She quickly became bored with that.

The friends I made throughout both years were few, but the relationships were meaningful. I played the clarinet in seventh-grade — a mistake, because you could hear my squeaking during the winter concert — and left it behind in eighth-grade to join choir. My Vans-wearing friends and I got to go to Hershey Park — the air does smell like chocolate — to sing and perform with glittery top hats. I took a keyboarding class, looked forward to studying history and dreaded gym. We had a locker room to change into uniforms, which meant we were going to be doing a lot of moving. On days that we had to run the mile, our gym teacher would wear his silly bear head hat. Rumors would spread throughout the day if someone early in the morning saw it — I hated running those four laps. I had my first boyfriend in eighth grade — the funniest thing is Ben and I never really talked. We passed notes, but he was so incredibly shy that he clammed up whenever he stopped by my locker. Needless to say, that relationship didn't last too long. A kid named Jared moved to the neighborhood the summer before eighth-grade and we added him to our little gang. I think I had a brief crush on him, but he also had a smelly pet — a ferret that I could never warm up to. During those warm nights, we'd all grab our flashlights — including my little brother and his friends — to play hide and seek or capture the flag in the dark. The woods always made for a great hideout place.

In eighth-grade, one of my teachers assigned us to shadow a professional for the day. Now by this time, I was enamored with Washington, D.C. My dad worked down at the Pentagon and we'd done all the big tours: the Lincoln Memorial, the Jefferson, the Washington and the Capitol (do you know it has a little metro in its basement?), as well as the popular museums, including the National Museum of American History. My favorite section was dedicated to the White House (I wanted to live there) and the First Ladies. All of their inaugural ball dresses were on display. I'd go into a trance staring up through those glass cases, imagining what it would be like to spin around on such an historic floor.

Anyway, when I got the assignment, I knew exactly where I wanted to "work:" the White House. There was a number in the phone book (how about that!), so one afternoon, my mom called and asked if I could shadow the secretary to the president (at the time, it was Bill). I wasn't quite that lucky, but they did allow me to work with the woman who handled all of the mail the president received from children. Her office in the Executive Office Building was filled from floor to ceiling with letters. I don't know if I really had a specific task that day. Instead, she took me on a tour of the White House — I thought it was going to be the one that employees got, but instead I just cut in front of visitors in line. I wasn't terribly excited because we'd already done that, and at Christmastime. She did take me through the kitchen to get to the line, though ... ooooh. During my lunch break, I found a spot outside on the stairs that looked over the west wing of the White House. There were all kinds of media out that day, as well as the military color guard, and then I saw why: a limo pulled up and out stepped the president of Zimbabwe. On the other end of his handshake was the president himself. He looked much taller than on TV.

The woman I was shadowing later took me on a tour of the EOB and tried to introduce me to Al Gore, but he was tied up in a meeting (That's fine; he probably would have just taken credit for something during our conversation). Then, she was going to get Hilary to stop by. When she couldn't do that, they sent the next best thing: the stupid cat, Socks (nothing against cats here, people!). I tried to show excitement, reaching out to hold him. Then I realized that this cat might not be so dumb: in every way I tried to cradle him, he somehow wedged his claws into me ... my shoulder, my arm, my hair. When I got home, I declared to my parents, "He must have known I'm a Republican!"

I think it was the experience of being so close to D.C. and the White House that day that fueled a dream that I have long let go of: becoming the president's speech writer. I told my parents about it years ago and they still try to hold me to it today. Whenever I listened to W. talk or Clinton before him, I would always think, "I totally could have written that speech." One night, I caught a special on TV about the actual speech writer ... his small, windowless office is somewhere down in the basement of the White House. During the interview, he snuck out to Starbucks for a short time, and then returned to the dungeon — not quite as exciting as I imagined. I always pictured him as Michael J. Fox's character from "The American President."

We lived in the D.C. area once before I was in middle school, but I was too young to remember. That time, we were stationed on the military base, Ft. Belvoir. Then, after I graduated high school, my parents and brother were sent back and my dad worked in the Pentagon once again — until he retired in October 2001. I've gone back a few times since (during summers in between college breaks and for a wedding) and I've determined that it is my absolute favorite place to be — at least in this country. There is so much to do, see, be a part of ... the bustling city itself, Old Town Alexandria, preppy Georgetown, historic Williamsburg, and, of course, Pentagon City mall :)

Maybe I'll end up back there one day, after all. For good.

Quote of the Day

2008-10-20T13:45:00.007-04:00

"Mark my words. Mark my words. It will not be six months before the world tests Barack Obama like they did John Kennedy ... watch, we’re gonna have an international crisis, a generated crisis, to test the mettle of this guy. And he’s gonna have to make some really tough — I don’t know what the decision’s gonna be, but I promise you it will occur. As a student of history and having served with seven presidents, I guarantee you it’s gonna happen. I can give you at least four or five scenarios from where it might originate. And he’s gonna need help."

-Joe Biden, Democratic vice presidential nominee (yesterday)

So, Joe, does that mean that a McCain presidency will keep us all safe and out of another crisis???? You bet.

Oh, and JKF failed his testing: the Bay of Pigs invasion and a Vienna summit with Soviet leader Nikita Khruschev.

Today I'm loving ... hot apple cider

2008-10-16T13:48:00.002-04:00

I'm shivering at my desk and it's quite brisk outside. If I didn't have so much to do today, I'd sneak out and get one myself. Anyone want to deliver?

A fall walk in the park

2008-10-16T09:41:00.005-04:00

Quote of the Day

2008-10-15T18:45:00.000-04:00

In honor of tonight's debate: here are what some people are saying about the Democratic presidential candidate. If you ask me, it borders slightly on insanity ... or zombism.

"Not just an ordinary human being, but indeed an Advanced Soul."

-Chicago Sun Times

"He walks into a room and you want to follow him somewhere, anywhere."

-George Clooney

"I'll do whatever he says to do. I'll collect paper cups off the ground to make his pathway clear."

-Halle Berry

"Obama's finest speeches do not excite. They do not inform. They don't even really inspire ... He is not the Word made flesh, but the triumph of word over flest ... Obama is, at his best, able to call us back to our highest selves. "

-Ezra Klein

"A Lightworker — An Attuned Being with Powerful Luminosity and High-Vibration Integrity who will actually help usher in a New Way of Being."

-Mark Morford, columnist

"We just like to say his name. We are considering taking it as a mantra."

-Chicago Sun Times

"He communicates God-like energy."

-Steve Davis, columnist

"You'll have to measure time by 'Before Obama' and 'After Obama.' It's an exciting time to be alive now ... everything's going to be affected by this seismic change in the universe."

-Spike Lee

"Barack Obama is the Platonic philosopher king we've been looking for for the past 2,400 years ... He won't just heal our city-states and souls. He won't just bring the Heavenly Kingdom — dreamt of in both Platonism and Christianity — to earth. He will heal the earth itself."

-Micah Tilman, lecturer of philosophy at the Catholic University of America

"A light will shine through that window, beam of light will come down upon you, you will experience an epiphany ... and you will suddenly realize that you must go to the polls an vote for Obama."

-Barack himself

Chicken

2008-10-15T15:28:00.000-04:00

When I was freshman in college, Henry Hall, my dorm home for two years, hosted a blood drive for the American Red Cross. Somehow, I worked up enough courage and convinced myself that I would donate, dragging along a hall mate to hold my hand through the entire ordeal, my first.

"This is how I'm going to begin to make a difference in the world," I declared.

After all, you help save three lives with just one pint.

I remember nervously awaiting my turn: filling out the necessary paperwork, getting my finger pricked to ensure I had enough iron, realizing if that little pinch hurt, I was in trouble, etc... I sat propped up on one of at least 20 full stretchers — such thoughtful students! — with my sleeve rolled up and my heart beginning to slow— despite the blood-filled bags all around me and faces turning a sickly shade of white — when one of the nurses came over to stick me. Her eyes grew wide when she looked at my arm and saw what she was going to be working with: I have very healthy, hearty veins ... no poking or prodding needed here.

In went the needle and the tighter my grip became on my friend's hand. Then my A-negative flowed — not trickled — out.

"This isn't so bad," I thought, pinching the little red ball I was to squeeze to help along the life-saving process.

I glanced over at my nurse to flash her a smile of confidence, which caused her to come over and check on me. When she did, her eyes grew wide again.

"Don't squeeze the ball anymore, honey," she said, rushing over to another nurse.

They began to whisper and I looked down — the area where the needle was had turned black and blue. My hearty little vein was bruised. Still, I powered through and filled up my bag.

The experience was a little frightening, but a few years later, for a blood drive held by current employer, I tried again. It was a breeze. So much so, that I did it again the following year. But this time, after I finished and had sat down at the stopover table for a glass of juice, I felt my body going week.

"I don't feel so good," I said to the co-worker who had coordinated the event — and still does.

"You look a little pale, Amy. Drink some juice," she replied, a look of concern coming over her face.

A few seconds later, things got dark and I began to pass out. A few nurses rushed over and made me put my head between my legs. Then they moved me to a room to lie down on a cot and breath into a brown paper bag.

Since that ordeal two years ago, I have chickened out giving blood — both at the repeat drives at work and when the Red Cross itself calls to tell me about an upcoming event.

In two days, nurses will show up again at work — and I have yet to sign up. I am "doing my part" in making food for the donors and volunteers. Still, something inside is calling me to try again. I know they need me ... but I remain a little frightened. I long to wear the little sticker that brags about my blood donation.

I guess tomorrow will tell.

Election evaluation: health care

2008-10-14T13:59:00.000-04:00

I really think that political ads should prohibit attacks on the opposing party — that way, we'd all know the facts and in the end, the candidates would feel a lot less battered and bruised. Unfortunately, most people don't do their research and rather, go off of these ads when they head to the polls. That's probably more damaging than the election battle scars.

One key issue is health care. We all need it, yet many of us don't have it. It's a sad story, and strange to comprehend living in the most prosperous country. I've been trying to weed through the muck and find out both candidates' plans for health care. I want to try to be as brief as possible, but also as informative. And I don't want to bore or confuse anyone in the process. Whatever you end up reading, my stuff or someone else's, just get informed.

Please go check out the full articles from which I'm citing. Here's what I've found (I'll start with Obama's plan):

Excerpts by Robert Laszewski of The Health Care Blog~
Barack Obama’s health care plan follows the Democratic template — an emphasis on dramatically and quickly increasing the number of people who have health insurance by spending significant money upfront.

The Obama campaign estimates his health care reform plan will cost between $50 and $65 billion a year when fully phased in. He assumes that it will be paid from savings in the system and from discontinuing the Bush tax cuts for those making more than $250,000 per year.

Highlights:
Obama would make the insurance markets more competitive and efficient by creating the “National Health Insurance Exchange” to promote more efficient competition and he would set a minimum health cost ratio for insurers—not defined in detail. Reducing insurance company overhead is important but constitutes only a small percentage of costs and those overhead costs have been increasing at the rate of general inflation while health care costs have been increasing by two to four times the basic inflation rate in recent years. The biggest cost containment challenge is in the fundamental cost of health care itself.

It would clearly get almost everyone covered sooner rather than later. The real question is how would it be sustained. Are their cost containment strategies going to support a system that is affordable in the long run?

No.

The Obama cost containment proposal is only an incremental cost containment proposal that is layered over $100 billion of upfront spending to cover tens of millions of more people—far too little cost containment for the new massive injection of money, almost overnight, into the health care system.

Obama offers us a long list of good cost containment ideas—most of which he shares with McCain. Most have been underway in the market for many years with limited success. Undoubtedly, a government infusion of resources or requirements aimed at a more efficient system would have a positive impact but it is hard to see how they would be enough fundamentally alter things and bring the system under real control.

More likely, a $100 billion infusion of new health care spending by an Obama plan would actually increase the rate of health care inflation and ultimately create an imperative for more draconian government intervention in the health care markets Obama would preserve.

Cost containment is the big missing link here.

~~~~~~~~
Over the past month, three independent assessments of the candidates’ plans have been issued from nonpartisan organizations: the Tax Policy Center, jointly run by the Urban Institute and the Brookings Institution; The Lewin Group health consulting firm; and Health Systems Innovation, another consulting practice.

All have have found that the deceptions aired by the Obama-Biden camp are completely that - deceptive. Read the full article at National Review Online (http://article.nationalreview.com/?q=N2E0ODM2ODYyNTUyMWFiNDMzNTgyZDczMWVjNWEzNGY=here). It's author notes that the ads claim that McCain's plan would leave households worse off than they are today and “tax health benefits for the first time ever."

The author, James C. Capretta, continues: "Today, when an employer pays $9,500 for family health coverage, that’s $9,500 that can’t be paid to the worker as cash wages. Exempting that $9,500 health premium payment from federal income tax is worth a lot less than $5,000 for most workers. For instance, for a couple in the 25 percent marginal tax bracket, it’s worth $2,375. The McCain plan would give that couple $5,000 instead of $2,375. Moreover, with the tax credit in place, it doesn’t matter if the employer continues to pay for premiums or gives the worker cash income instead. Either way, the worker will come out ahead. The Tax Policy Center estimates that the average household would enjoy a $1,200 boost in income from the McCain plan."

Ads also claim that McCain's plan would unravel job-based insurance coverage. All three studies show that it actually reduces the number of uninsured, even as coverage through the workplace remains the norm. "HSI estimates the McCain plan would expand insurance coverage to more than 27 million people, or more than half of those currently uninsured. Much of this coverage would come from individuals using the tax credit to buy into the non-group market, but HSI believes even employer-sponsored coverage would expand, not contract."

Here's what the Wall Street Journal has to say about McCain's plan. Read it here (http://online.wsj.com/article/SB122333750424809705.html?mod=googlenews_wsj)
"McCain's proposal —to give every American the tax credit businesses get for buying health insurance — is the right prescription for what ails our health-care system.

McCain recognizes that a large part of the problem is that the tax code favors employer-funded health insurance. The system, which began as a response to FDR's wage and price controls, is built on tax breaks that allow employers to buy health insurance with pretax dollars.

McCain doesn't want to scrap employer-based insurance. He would keep part of the tax deduction in place. But he wants to fundamentally change the way the system works and instead give the self-employed and individuals a tax break for buying their own insurance. There are several advantages to this approach:

Choice. About half of those with employer-financed health insurance have a choice of exactly one plan -- and that plan is often designed to suit the needs of the employer, not the employee. In contrast, under the McCain proposal, families could opt out and join another plan -- perhaps offered by their church, union or trade association -- if it better suited their needs.

Portability. Presently, changing jobs means changing health plans and, often, family doctors. It also means that if a worker loses his job, he can also lose his health insurance. Under Mr. McCain's plan, job status wouldn't necessarily affect health coverage.

Labor mobility. By freeing workers of the need to stay in a job to keep their health insurance, Mr. McCain's plan would help create a more flexible workforce. A study by University of Wisconsin economist Scott Adams found that 20% to 30% of non-elderly men worry enough about losing their health benefits that they stay in jobs they would otherwise leave."

Quote of the Day

2008-10-14T12:21:00.003-04:00

He said it himself four years ago, and then two years later, started his presidential exploratory committee. Interesting.....

Date Night

2008-10-10T12:05:00.005-04:00

I look forward to it each week, either Friday or Saturday. Tonight, I'm in the mood for a nice dinner, a glass of Pinot Noir and a good laugh — in the midst of everything going on around us (just remember, God is in control). I think I've found the perfect remedy ... at least for one evening. Here's a sneak peak (or you can go watch it yourself).

Today I'm loving ... dessert

2008-10-10T11:01:00.008-04:00

It's that time again ... for sweet, comfort treats on chilly nights. Here a few that are making my mouth water. Bon appetit!

Chocolate Harvest Cake

Pumpkin Cherry Upside-Down Cake

Apple Cinnamon Upside Down Cake

Pumpkin Swirl Brownies

Quote of the Day

2008-10-08T20:03:00.004-04:00

“America, this is what a feminist looks like."

~Shelly Mandell, the president of the Los Angeles chapter of the National Organization for Women introducing Alaska Gov. Sarah Palin over the weekend in California.

Neat. Listen to the brief clip below for the complete intro. It included, "She cares about our children and she cares about women's lives."

Quote of the Day ... sort of

2008-10-08T19:50:00.004-04:00

Oh, how the tables turn. So Chris Matthews, now uber-Obama fan, what has the senator done?

(This is when Hillary was running against him in the primaries, just a few months back)

Today I'm loving ... wreaths

2008-10-08T16:12:00.005-04:00

I need a new one for autumn for the door to our apartment. Maybe I'll try to be crafty this weekend.

This one is made of candy!

Life worth choosing

2008-10-07T15:46:00.010-04:00

On Monday, my husband's sister found out she is going go have a baby girl. She sent us a picture (via cell phone) of the ultrasound and I couldn't help but gaze in wonderment. At barely four months old, her little body is already so developed ... her teeny arms, her tiny heart. It's amazing what technology allows us to see. I am so excited to meet her.

Then yesterday — ironically — I was reading National Review Online and came across an article that I originally thought was on Obama's faith. It instead mentioned that he had kicked off a "Faith and Family Values Tour" in late September. One part of this outreach has been to insist that the Democratic candidate would promote "abortion reduction" policies, or those that would reduce the number of abortions performed. The article's author, Douglas Johnson, says — and I agree — that Obama is actually "firmly committed to an agenda of sweeping pro-abortion policy changes that could be expected to drastically increase the numbers of abortions performed." See: the Freedom of Choice Act. It's a bill that "would establish a federal abortion 'right' broader than Roe v. Wade and, in the words of the National Organization for Women, “sweep away hundreds of anti-abortion laws [and] policies.” And, at a Planned Parenthood event in July 2007, Obama said, "The first thing I’d do as president is sign the Freedom of Choice Act. That’s the first thing that I’d do.”

Now, before I go any further, let me preface: I'm going to be bold here, because lately so many things have been weighing on my heart, and I think God has been putting them there.

I came across a blog a few weeks ago by a young woman, married and trying for four years to get pregnant. And there are many others like her — linked from her page — all in their 20's and in the same boat. They've spent thousands of dollars, praying and hoping for a miracle. They worry about every move they make, every suspicious feeling ... it breaks my heart. Each year, thousands and thousands of women discover they can't conceive. And each year, millions of women dispose of their unborn babies, 95 percent as a means of birth control (only 1 percent are performed because of rape or incest; another 1 percent because of fetal abnormalities; and 3 percent are due to the mother's health problems).

I don't think Roe v. Wade will ever be overturned — if it is, it should go to states to figure out — and maybe that's best so women aren't hiding out in an alley with a coat hanger.

But I also think that FOCA is a radical piece of legislature. It would do the following: 1)It will be impenetrable, even if Roe v. Wade goes away 2) it creates a 'fundamental right' to abortion throughout the nine months of pregnancy, including a right to abort a fully developed child in the final weeks for undefined health reasons; 3) it would permit the public funding (i.e. tax-payer dollars) of abortion care for poor women or counseling and referrals for abortion services; and 4) It would take away the need for minors to provide parental consent. The NOW's own Web site says "Parental consent or notification statutes have been used as a tool to deny access to abortion services for minors. When such laws deny or interfere with the ability of minors to access abortion services, they would violate FOCA."

Fabulous.
Of course, Obama doesn't have a problem with the last two issues:

He already voted once to block a bill to require that at least one parent be notified if a minor had an abortion in another state.

He told a group in April that he doesn't want his two daughters, if they "make a mistake," to be "punished with a baby." First off, we're all taught to learn from our mistakes — it builds character. And if they ever make a "mistake," he'll likely never know about it. The girls will know what's expected of them. Secondly, if Obama says he's a Christian and believes that God is the creator of all things, isn't he basically slapping Him in the face?

In July 2007, Obama made a controversial pledge to require private insurers to cover abortions: "In my mind reproductive care is essential care. It is basic care, and so it is at the center, the heart of the plan that I propose ... we’re going to set up a public plan that all persons and all women can access if they don’t have health insurance. It’ll be a plan that will provide all essential services, including reproductive services ... We also will subsidize those who prefer to stay in the private insurance market except the insurers are going to have to abide by the same rules in terms of providing comprehensive care, including reproductive care." After the speech, an Obama spokesman said that included abortions.

Also, he voted three times in the Illinois Legislature to stymie legislation designed to keep alive newborn survivors of abortions.

Just think about this: We cannot reduce abortions by promoting abortion, or by insisting that every program supporting women in childbirth and child care support it, or by making it easier, especially for teenagers.

I realize there are many important issues in the election — health care, social security, energy, family safety — and I hope we are all doing our research on the candidate's stance on them. But I still think that there are core issues that deserve attention ... core issues that could lead to a snowballing effect of others. The president will be appointing at least one new Supreme Court justice and could be appointing another three. I don't want such radical changes in FOCA to lead to even more, like taking God out of the Pledge or redefining marriage. I mean, is there something wrong with protecting values ... for future generations?

I think that we should have a deep love for anyone struggling with anything — and that would be each of us. I'm not talking about the nowhere-in-Scripture "love the sinner, hate the sin" concept, but rather the idea being compassionate, full of mercy and love. I don't think women who want abortions should be condemned. I also don't think women (or men) who don't agree with abortions should be condemned. However, I also don't think that the issue of abortion should be brushed aside or so plainly accepted.

I commend my sister-in-law for choosing to have her baby. The pregnancy hasn't happened at the most opportune time, but in the few years I've known her, she's never seemed so happy, so responsible, so driven to care for another. I know that God has a plan in all of it, something that we are just beginning to see.

I'll end with this.

Norma McCorvey gave birth to a baby girl in the early 70s, claiming the pregnancy was the result of rape. She gave the baby up for adoption, later confessing the rape wasn't true. She gave birth to two more children years later. In her book, "Won by Love," McCorvey reveals that she became a Christian in 1994 and came to the realization one day that "Abortion wasn't about "products of conception." It wasn't about "missed periods." It was about children being killed in their mother's wombs. All those years I was wrong. Signing that affidavit, I was wrong. Working in an abortion clinic, I was wrong. No more of this first trimester, second trimester, third trimester stuff. Abortion–at any point–was wrong. It was so clear. Painfully clear."

McCovery is also known as Jane Roe.

Today I'm loving ... toile

2008-10-07T14:01:00.003-04:00

We are still very (very, very, very) far from starting a family, but we will welcome a beautiful niece in March. So, I thought, what a perfect way to share my decorating desires for our one-day (far, far from now) nursery.

I love anything in toile — blankets, chair covers, pillow shams, you name it. I'd really like to wallpaper the room in yellow toile and accent it with black furniture and decor. Classic, but still cute.

Quote of the Day

2008-10-07T13:01:00.001-04:00

Only a life lived for others is a life worthwhile.

~Albert Einstein

Picture Page ~ the pumpkin patch

2008-10-04T20:22:00.011-04:00

We headed out to Miller's Orchards Saturday ... not too far from home, despite my original intention. Still, the brisk temps, staple fall snacks and "u-pick" crowds were just what we needed.

Donuts — yummy. Cider — tasty. Pumpkins — plentiful.

Happy weekend!

2008-10-03T15:29:00.008-04:00

Hope everyone enjoys the gorgeous fall weather! This is the first Saturday in weeks that I'm going to be able to hang out with my husband — the retail world usually hoards him — so we have big plans ... at the pumpkin patch. I want to find one miles away so we can get out of our tiny little corner of the world. I can already smell the donuts!

Today I'm loving ... relaxation

2008-10-03T15:24:00.004-04:00

These past few days have been dragging me behind them ... and I'm ready for my mind and body to rest.

Quote of the Day ... sort of

2008-10-03T12:17:00.001-04:00

Election 101

2008-10-02T22:51:00.009-04:00

Before the vice presidential debate began, I was watching (biased) coverage of students on campus who had gathered to cheer on the Obama camp. I saw a lot of these signs being waved in the air and it brought to mind visions of totalitarian governments around the country ... whose people are maintained by means of an all-embracing ideology and propaganda disseminated through the state-controlled mass media. The mainly college students hanging around seemed to be hypnotized. They chanted for change, change change ... but couldn't really iterate what exactly that change was — other than a charismatic face.

I have many reasons for not wanting Obama as the next president. Aside from issues I disagree with, I feel he's spiritually dangerous and misleading ... a wolf in sheep's clothing, if I may. His ideals seem to mirror socialism. And it's rubbing off. Look at the ridiculousness of these children singing about some man they know nothing about. Come on parents and teachers — these kids aren't young enough to make decisions like this, so don't force it down their throats. When I was that young, I was singing songs for Earth Day and about Jesus changing me and our world.

Everything is 'universal this' and 'universal that.' Obama preaches service to others, yet his contributions to charity and church for years were barely one percent of his and his wife's income. While he was an Illinois state senator, he couldn't make up his mind, and voted 'present' 130 times, rather than 'aye' or 'nay.' Walk the walk, Mr. Obama, don't just talk the talk. He's been in Washington, D.C for just four years, but he'll play the lack of experience card against his opponent's running mate. And in the Capitol, he voted 'no vote' or 'present' nearly 200 times — and often on important issues (you can read more at projectvotesmart.org). What has he really done?

Another red flag: the media's love affair. And most of them spew hate: just watch Keith Olberman and Chris Matthews. It makes me ashamed to be a journalist. And he's already got them in his pocket.

Anyway, there is so much research out there to do, so many lies to get through, so many hot-button issues important to some, but not to others. So I'm curious, for those of you who are considering a vote for Obama, please give me some insight, tell me your reasons. All I've heard, as I mentioned earlier, is he'll bring change — even from Hollywood hotshots.

I've got my journalist hat on and my curiosity is asking you: Why?

Seriously?

2008-10-02T16:52:00.002-04:00

I don't usually watch Fox, but this show came on after we watched a "Kitchen Nightmare" episode featuring a local restaurant. I cannot believe reality TV has come to this — well, maybe I can.

Gym entertainment

2008-10-02T16:00:00.005-04:00

The gym I finally joined a few weeks ago is a pretty simple place. It should be for just $10 a month. There are about three rows of cardio machines: treadmills, stationary bikes and my two favorites, the elliptical and the gazelle. There is also an extensive weight training area, with actual weights and several machines. I haven't ventured that way yet, mainly because the sweaty boys are intimidating and I can just use the weights at our apartment complex.

Anyway, about 15 TVs are spread in front of the cardio machines, each on a different channel. I bring my iPod to listen to, but often glance up at a few of the screens to keep my eyes occupied. I'm amused because amid "Seinfeld," "Hardball" and the local news, there is the Food Network. And around the time I'm there, two of the most unhealthy shows are on: "Barefoot Contessa" and "Paula's (Dean) Home Cooking." Both women, while very talented in the kitchen, serve up recipes packed with salt, butter, flour and sugar ... usually, they're pasta-based, battered in some fashion or coated in chocolate. My jaw drops as I watch the horror, however delicious it all is. Sometimes it makes me hungry since I'm there after work, but usually I chuckle at the absurdity of watching something so unhealthy while striving to be fit.

Yesterday, the television I was in front of while on the gazelle machine was tuned to a sports station covering a wrestling/boxing match. I stared up in amazement at A)why men would want to wrestle professionally and 2)why they would want the daylights beaten out of them while thousands of people look on. There was blood all over their face, their ears, lips and eyes were swollen ... gross. I don't get it. One guy had the other one pinned and was pounding his head, over and over. Soon after, he was getting kicked in the chest — repeatedly.

One of my husband's favorite movies is "Rocky." He loves the Philadelphia backdrop — his hometown — and somehow through Sly Stallone's awesome acting, the lesson of overcoming. Watching what I did, yesterday, however, I couldn't find the deeper meaning in getting pulverized, all the while trying to win a giant, glistening belt that you couldn't possibly wear anywhere ... at least not fashionably.

Am I missing something?

Tired

2008-10-02T13:38:00.005-04:00

Today, my mind is exhausted. Actually, it's been this way for the past week, so much so that I've not been able to add anything here, the one place that reminds me I'm a writer. I've long heard "Writers write, always," and never 'got' it — because I usually didn't enjoy it. Until I started this public journal.

Right now, my idea hat is brimming, but I just can't get my mind to form thoughts into words. I have a few theories why, namely stress.

My role as a reporter, though it may seem fascinating to some, can often lead to burnout. I think it's because we are under pressure to churn out six stories each week, and in my case, they are mostly elaborate features. The stress comes not only in needing to find these stories, but then having them done by deadline each week. I think journalists at daily papers have it easy. I see a name I recognize maybe twice a week. Seriously, do they work part-time? My dream would be to have two to three stories to write each month ... they would require research and in-depth interviews with sources across the country. I'd work out of my favorite coffee shop. Then the completed works would be published in a national magazine. They would make people think, cry, laugh ... change.

But alas, I remain at my little desk — which I've decorated for fall — chasing down people to talk to about a middle school's 50th anniversary, a church's new piano — c'mon, it's from Estonia! — and a toy store's relocation ... down the block. You see why I'm burned out ....

For the last two weeks, I've been pining to jot down my thoughts on this election circus, mainly the dishonesty, the deceit, the sheer meanness I've read and watched. But that all requires time to research, reflect and respond. But it will come soon — and I'll hold nothing back :)

In the meantime, I could use some encouragement ... to keep striving in this creative outlet because deep down, I really hope that those of you who stop by enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it.

Quote of the Day

2008-10-02T09:18:00.007-04:00

There are 33 more days until the presidential election. Let's all do this:

“Research is formalized curiosity. It is poking and prying with a purpose.”

—Zora Neale Hurston

Today I'm loving ... something warm

2008-10-02T09:17:00.010-04:00

Quote of the Day

2008-10-01T15:46:00.003-04:00

“If you are not discouraged about your writing on a regular basis, you may not be trying hard enough. Any challenging pursuit will encounter frequent patches of frustration. Writing is nothing if not challenging.”

Maxwell Perkins, editor

Witty Wednesday

2008-10-01T13:26:00.002-04:00

Just caught this commercial the other day ... and can't help but chuckle. So cute.

Happy Birthday, Mom

2008-09-23T10:59:00.012-04:00

My mom celebrated her 50th birthday Sunday — and by celebrate I mean did as little as she could to commemorate the milestone. Last month, we surprised her with a small party and she opened gifts, chatted and ate cake with a great grin on her face. But as Davin and I met her and my dad for dessert — because the German chocolate cake I attempted to make from scratch decided to stick to the pan and utterly ruined my gesture — she tried to downplay the inevitable. In turn, I endeavored to comfort her, telling her she’s the youngest 50-year-old I know, and certainly the prettiest.

But the truth is, she is much more than that. She defines the word Mother, and I don’t say this boastfully, but honestly. From the moment I took my first breaths, she has put herself second. I can’t count the sacrifices she’s made over the years, and as much as I’ve tried, I can never seem to repay her … but I haven’t given up.

The earliest memory I have is my mom rocking me during the night when I was 4 or 5. I used to get terrible ear infections, but somehow being in that chair with her soothed me. When I was sick from something else, I’d call out to her late in the night and she’d come running. Sometimes she’d crawl in my bed and rub my back, telling me stories about her favorite aunt, Marie, and sharing other memories from when she was a child. And then I'd fall asleep.

In a way, this is how it's always been ... figuratively, I mean. She's always come running when I needed her, whether I'd fallen and needed picking up or my world had come crashing down and I needed comforting ... and my tears wiped away.

We had our battles, of course. The first ones were over what clothes she had picked out for me to wear. Others were over boys that I shouldn't have dated ... and I learned the hard way. There were even some when we were planning my wedding.

I remember watching her put on her makeup and jewelry when she and my dad had special nights out, often for military balls. How I looked up to her.

Looking back, I know she has always meant well and always wanted the very best for me.

She gave up a career to stay at home with my brother and me. She'd send us off to school each morning and be waiting for us when we came home, snack in hand. She'd drive us to this practice and that lesson. She volunteered in our classrooms, bringing cupcakes and other goodies to my classmates and me, helped decorate bulletin boards and chaperoned field trips.

Somehow, she managed to keep the house spotless, the laundry washed, folded and ironed and the cupboards stocked. We don't have children yet, and I still have a problem keeping up with our household responsibilities.

No matter where we lived or for how long, our house always felt like a home.

My mom kept both of us looking our best, and that didn't mean dressing us in expensive, stylish clothes. To this day, I'm not sure she's ever bought anything at its actual price. When we lived in Panama, she sewed several of my outfits ... and bows and scrunchies to match. Even our Halloween costumers were homemade. One year, my brother and I were M&Ms ... I think I was a crayon, too, though my favorite was the poodle skirt, which I twirled around in endlessly.

Our birthday parties were planned well in advance and always cutely coordinated. My mom was the best hostess and she still is ... she's a much sweeter version of Martha Stewart.

I wanted for nothing, and yet we lived quite simply.

I was the loneliest my first two years of college because she and my dad lived 10 hours away. Saying goodbye after visiting for a few weeks was awful. My heart breaks even thinking about the possibility of us moving out of state one day, however good the opportunity we'd be given.

Over the years, we've become shopping buddies and each other's confidant.

She was my wedding planner, and even threw my shower, and I contend that a professional couldn't have done a better job. The night before, I went in to say goodnight and we had our cry, her whispering that she felt she was losing her little girl. I'll never forget that moment. I told my dad that just before we reached the end of the aisle, I was stopping to say one last goodbye to her as that single girl.

I still look up to her and still want to learn from her, like I did when I was a child. Though I need her less in some aspects, I need her more in others. I don't think I can possibly express all she means to me, but I'm sure she understands. She has an amazing mother, after all.

I wonder what kid of mother I will be. I've had the greatest example and in so many ways ... in the kitchen (though I should have paid more attention here), in serving, in patience, in caring and in loving.

I suppose that's the greatest gift I can give her — sharing all of her with my some-day daughter.

Quote of the Day

2008-09-19T10:27:00.004-04:00

Preface: There have been times in the past when I've felt the presence of that proverbial black cloud, hanging so closely above my head that I could reach up and touch it. In recent years, it hadn't visited, and I understandingly didn't grieve its absence. But then last week it came calling — in all of its down-pouring glory. In an effort to keep this a positive place, though, I am abstaining from advertising my recent quandaries, and instead offer up a hopeful, I'm-gonna-make-it passage because I'm learning that I cannot cry over things I cannot control:

“All of us have bad luck and blessings*. The man who persists through the bad luck — who keeps right on going — is the man who is there when the blessing comes — and is ready to receive it.”

—Robert Collier

(*I've tweaked the author's words, though, and replaced "good luck" with "blessings.")

Today I'm loving ... more fall fancies

2008-09-18T14:24:00.003-04:00

Quote of the Day

2008-09-18T11:01:00.004-04:00

“In life as in dance: Grace glides on blistered feet."

—Alice Abrams

Dance with me

2008-09-18T10:51:00.001-04:00

My parents are taking dance lessons.

I think it's the sweetest thing.

They just had their first class on Monday, where they learned the box step from an older fellow who's been dancing most of his life.

They say it's something they can do together once a week, taking a break together from the busyness life throws at them when they're apart.

I say it's romantic. They just celebrated their 29th anniversary. I just marked my first. It's hard for me to picture being by someone's side that long, experiencing life and all of its triumphs, all of its troubles. I wonder what it will be like to buy our first house, to see my husband become a father, to watch lines grow on his face — and mine ...

I think my mom probably wondered the same things, quietly. I want to be able to, like the two of them, not let the day-to-day wear on our relationship; to keep that spark faintly lit, even when kids come along, bills show up unexpectedly, plans get changed. That's probably why I still have wedding pictures on my desk, 15 months later. I never want to forget how emotionally overwhelmed I was that day. It was wonderful.

Because when laundry piles up, cleaning calls, groceries have to be bought, dinner needs to be made, meetings need to be attended ... it can be emotionally overwhelming, too. And then it's not wonderful. Still, we strive through the difficulty, all the while reaching for romance ... and finding it.

That's why the dance lessons seem so endearing, so intimate, so dependent on patience and trust to keep steps in sync.

It's the perfect metaphor of marriage.

Today I'm loving ... success!

2008-09-17T12:45:00.006-04:00

After much persistence, I'm finally getting what I want: a new work laptop.

I've had a heavy hand-me-down for the past two years, lugging it around to meetings and interviews, and it's been going out on me for probably the last year. Programs quit unexpectedly and often, with just the slightest bump, it shuts off. Meanwhile, new reporters to the newsroom or others who haven't been around as long as me have been given the light, little Mac iBook. And I've had it's grandmother.

But today, all of my nagging, er asking, has paid off.

Victory is mine.

Quote of the Day

2008-09-17T12:44:00.009-04:00

"The most essential factor is persistence — the determination never to allow your energy or enthusiasm to be dampened by discouragement that must inevitably come.

—James Whitcomb Riley

Today I'm loving ... inspiration

2008-09-16T13:01:00.001-04:00

... to grow

My faith, untangled

2008-09-16T12:43:00.002-04:00

When my parents married, my mom chose to leave behind the Catholicism of her childhood and attend a Methodist church with my dad. My brother and I were both baptized as babies in a Protestant church and that’s the type of service we attended while stationed on military bases.

Back then, we attended Sunday School before service — where we usually made a Bible-themed craft out of a paper plate and pipe cleaners — and sang out of hymnals, along with the organ and the robed choir. As a kid, the highlight of going to church was seeing friends or spouting out the Scripture verse I spent all week memorizing.

I can remember singing the songs, “Jesus Loves Me" or “Go Tell it on the Mountain,” and learning the motions to “Pharaoh, Pharaoh.” Santa Claus brought us many of our Christmas gifts, but it was stressed that the baby Jesus was still the real "reason for the season." During Easter week, my brother and I would sit at the kitchen table with our parents and each night open a Resurrection Egg. Each plastic egg contained some miniature visual from the week leading up to Jesus’ crucifixion and resurrection — a crown of thorns, a purple cloth or a goblet, for example — and we would read the corresponding Bible verse.

I only ever listened to contemporary Christian music and I never felt I was missing anything. I still really don’t. In sixth-grade, I got introduced to Steven Curtis Chapman and Michael W. Smith, watched McGee and Me and listened to Adventures in Odyssey. In ninth grade, I fell in love with the Newsboys and Audio Adrenaline — I went to a gazillion of their concerts — and some guy named Tony Vincent who I haven’t heard from since. (I apologize if these people and things are Greek to you … Google them if you have some time :)

I know I was taught all along about staple commandments: honoring my parents, telling the truth, being a peacemaker, not fighting with my brother, etc. I gave a weekly offering from my allowance. I had a student’s study Bible and a Precious Moments Bible — one Old Testament story told me I couldn’t hide from God and there was a little illustration of a Precious Moments child in a closet with a blanket over his head, trying … it made me wonder if that meant God could even see me in the bathroom.

I was told that Jesus loved me and died for me and my sins, but I never understood a) how HUGE that was and 2) that he hoped I would love him back. In high school, when Jars of Clay sang, “I want to fall in love with you,” I couldn’t comprehend it. And honestly, I still struggle with the idea.

Through no fault of their own, my parents and other adults in my life didn’t really talk about what it meant when I became a Christian at 11 years old. I knew I had accepted Jesus into my heart, but I thought that he was just hanging out with me all the time and that I needed to be a good daughter, student, sister and friend. Don't get me wrong, my parents were great examples of what it meant to love others — even when it was hard — and serve others , and to walk daily with Christ. But for me, it wasn’t until I was much older that I realized the two core commandments Jesus gave — love God and love others.

Along with this — and blessing those less fortunate — I also realized how much Jesus desired to have a relationship with me. I tried several times to build it. I would go a week reading my Bible, following along in a study book, and praying before bed. Often I would fall asleep in the middle of praying, realize it in the morning and feel guilty about it all day. And remarkably, I’d repeat the cycle later that night.

To shorten this a bit, I strayed away from Jesus in college and for a few years after graduation — I went to St. Mattress every Sunday — and instead became depressed with my relationships — or lack thereof — and a thankless, this-is-not-what-I-expected job. But a few years ago I came crawling back to Christ with a tear-soaked face and a hanging head, which he gently lifted and wiped. Then he whispered, “I missed you.”

When I came back, I saw something different: for the past few years, a generation has awakened to a realization ... things should be a lot simpler, like they were when Jesus walked dusty streets. There is less 'organized religion' and more non-denominational churches, like the ones my parents and I go to. Dress is casual, hymnals are out and praise songs are accompanied by an array of instruments. Activities for kids are vibrant, enthusiastic and stress loving God and others.

Church (which is actually people, not a building) isn't supposed to be about seeing friends — though it is nice to have that common-hearted fellowship — but coming to serve those who are seeking and to worship.

Christianity isn’t about being a good person or being moral or following certain rules. Anyone can check those boxes. Check out this verse: ..."small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it." Matthew 7:14.

There is also this one: "For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God—not by works, so that no one can boast." Ephesians 2:8-9.

I still think it’s important to make the right decisions (in what you read, watch, listen to, say) because then there’s this verse: "Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen."

And wow, do I have to slap my hand and start over with that one each day. Sometimes I'm a terrible picture for Christ ... gossiping, losing my patience, being unloving and unlovable.

The faith I follow, as I wrote earlier, isn’t about isolation from the rest of the world, but it is "being in the world, and not of it." My faith isn’t about judging others — we each have enough planks in our own eyes to get out first — but of picking each other up. It isn’t about following a routine or rules; it isn’t about being a ‘goody-goody or, even worse, an ugly repellent. Rather, it’s about intrigue, passion, acceptance and challenge … and walking that road less traveled.

I’ve vented repeatedly to my husband about getting this across to people. Then my dad gave me a book by Don Miller: “Searching for God Knows What.” He talks about, with wit and creativity, what it means to know who God is, not in the self-help Christianity many cling to or the kind that squeezes Him into a box, to be taken out only during times of crisis.

I’m only into the fourth chapter, but in the third, I came across what my mind had been trying to articulate.

Here are three excerpts that wowed me. They are long, but worth it, so please read.
“... if it is a story about humanity falling away from the community that named it, and an attempt to bring humanity back to that community, and if it is more than a series of ideas, but rather speaks directly into this basic human need we are feeling, then the gospel of Jesus is the most relevant message in the history of mankind."

..."Jesus was always, and I mean always, talking about love, about people, about relationship, and He never broke anything into steps or formulas ... I began to wonder if becoming a Christian did not work more like falling in love than agreeing with a list of true principles. I had met a lot of people who agreed with all those true principles, and they were jerks, and a lot of other people who believed in those principles, but who also claimed to love Jesus, who were not jerks. It seems like something else has to take place in the heart for somebody to become a believer, for somebody to understand the gospel of Jesus."

..."If the gospel of Jesus is relational; that is, if our brokenness will be fixed, not by our understanding of theology, but by God telling us who we are, then this would require a kind of itimacy of which only heaven knows. Imagine, a Being with a mind as great as God's, with feet like trees and a voice like rushing wind, telling you that you are His cherished creation. It's kind of exciting if you think about it . Earthly love ... is temporal and slight so that it has to be given again and again in order for us to feel any sense of security. But God's love, God's voice and presence, would instill our souls with such affirmation we would need nothing more and would cause us to love other people so much we would be willing to die for them. Perhaps this is what the apostles stumbled upon."

Today I'm loving ... these fall fancies

2008-09-15T10:27:00.016-04:00

Dried corn husk votives — who would have thought corn could make such a cute craft?

Better get to baking some bread!

Quote of the Day

2008-09-15T10:21:00.001-04:00

A reminder for those days of disagreement with others ...

"Have you learned the lessons only of those who admired you, and were tender with you, and stood aside for you? Have you not learned great lessons from those who braced themselves against you, and disputed passage with you?"

—Walt Whitman

Home is where the Army sends you: Part II

2008-09-14T15:18:00.002-04:00

It was not wanting to be separated as a family for a year — my dad was offered a tour in Korea — that sent the four of us to Panama (the country!) from 1990-93. When we reached our cul-de-sac-situated quarters on Ft. Clayton, my mom was thrilled to see that this time, the cockroaches were welcoming HER to THEIR world. My dad chased after one group with a blowtorch. And my brother and I stared in awe at what was our new backyard: a humidity-soaked, insect-flooded jungle ... dotted with pretty flowers.

At all times of the day, we'd see several different creatures come crawling or flying out: sprinkler-sipping iguanas, colorful toucans and this rodent-like fella (an agouti) and his family. We'd watch the noisy Capuchin monkeys swing from tree to tree, and look for the caiman crocodile that was rumored to live in the large pond across the road and down the hill from our house. And every once in a while, military police would show up at the end of our street to halt traffic and help a very slow moving three-toed sloth across that very busy road. I remember my mom telling me to stay away from them (the sloths) because their fingers, which were more like sharp claws, could rip your heart out. Now that I'm older, I'm sure that isn't entirely true — I've seen zookeepers holding the ugly little guys. One of the most interesting insect finds was the praying mantis who perched himself on our car one day — and the cutter ants that would take down an entire bush, piece by piece and in a straight line, like little workmen.

I didn't understand why we had bars on nearly all of our windows — until my 11th birthday when a man with a machete showed up, opened the side door (in the kitchen) and stuck a ball of masking tape into the lock hole so he could come back to an unlocked home when we were asleep. Fortunately, my dad pulled up and saw him, grabbed a baseball bat and chased him into the jungle ... then threw the masking tape-ball away.

Our school was on the base, along with the pool, the post office, our church, the movie theater that showed films that came out in the states six months earlier, my dad's office and the tennis courts where I had my first lessons. We'd leave the base, which overlooked the Panama Canal, to go to the commissary for groceries and the PX for clothes, electronics, jewelry, etc. Only with a group of people or with my dad did we go into Panama City. At stop lights, men would come up and wash our car windshield — even to our protesting — and then wait for my parents to give them money. When we'd go to the open-air mall, the women sales associates would literally be on our toes following us around, afraid we would take something. I guess that's why my mom did most of our clothes shopping when we went to Michigan for two weeks. And when we did go home during the summer, we either flew backwards for four hours in some crazy Army airplane, or sat on a bench in the back of a cargo plane and kept earplugs in our ears because the engines were so loud.

For family vacations, we'd head over to the Atlantic side for a few days. There were some beautiful ocean views near the place we stayed, and my brother and I would try not to drown in the water's crazy waves. We stopped in this one particular town, where we bought some birds and then tried to find the mountain range shaped like a sleeping princess -- there was a folk tale about her that I can' remember today.

Our first Christmas in Panama was so strange. We picked out a tree in a lot filled with others that had been shipped in. We were able to stand in our church's live nativity — I was an angel — for hours and not feel frost-bitten. And I rode my new bicycle up and down the cul-de-sac in shorts and a tank top.

For fun, my dad took my brother and I on a 'safe' jungle excursion somewhere way off the base. The one snake that I do remember seeing was actually slithering around the playground our neighborhood friends used to hang out at — the same place we'd bring a tape player to and listen to the Top Gun soundtrack. Wow.

There was some normalcy among the strange: I fell for the New Kids on the Block, even their Christmas album; got braces and color-coordinated the bands at different holidays; had a crush on my sixth-grade teacher, Mr. Lyle; was one of the 'Teas' in the Nutcracker at Christmastime; learned how to use the Dewey Decimal System; learned how to 'see' Bloody Mary and (fake) scream when I "did;" and cheered for a youth flag-football team — and then never again.

But of all the frightening things I experienced while living in another country — like no rain for six months — there was nothing more scary than sending my dad off to war (in the Gulf). We all worried, but no one like my mom. I wore a yellow ribbon to school each day and remember watching the news -- and their night-vision views -- of the all the bombings. Finally, after six long months, the phone call came: he was coming home.

Sure, it was a relief when we finally began packing for our new assignment in Virginia, but living in Panama was an opportunity I'll never forget - jungles and all.

Rembering

2008-09-11T20:21:00.006-04:00

**I would have posted this earlier, but I've been in bed all day with what I think is strep throat ... sadly, I saw nothing this morning on the morning shows about 9/11, just brief blurbs. Sad, sad.**

Seven years ago today, my heart held its breath.

Like everyone recalls, it was a beautiful morning. With a French vanilla coffee freshly dispensed from the dorm café’s fake espresso machine, I had settled at my desk inside the campus accounting office, ready to file reports, as was the usual routine each Tuesday. I occasionally glanced up at the TV hanging just beyond my seat that blared CNN Headline News, a station that tended to repeat itself every half-hour.

I was about two weeks into my third year at Western Michigan University, eager to become an expert in the journalism field, a major I had decided to change to the previous spring. I was thankful to be returning to my cushy job in the administrative building that paid pretty well and allowed me to work on my homework when my handful of responsibilities were completed. I was also thankful that if I wanted, I could go home on the weekends. It was a luxury I had not been afforded for my first two years of college because my parents had moved to Washington, D.C. after I graduated from high school. My dad was assigned to the Pentagon, and after that, he was going to retire. Over the summer, he and my mom found a home about 40 miles north of Detroit, close to my grandmother. My dad helped us move in, and then headed back to D.C. to finish up his career through October.

When I looked up at the TV that morning, it was only because I had heard a commotion. Our office was the only one that had a television, so employees from other departments and students in line to pay bills were staring up intently at the screen, watching the North Tower of the World Trade Center burn. I stood up and walked a little closer as the other viewers speculated about the cause. Then, there was the explosion in the South Tower. I know we all stood in shock as we realized that what was going on was far more than an accident. The crowd began to disperse about a half-hour later, and as they did, I caught a sentence scrolling down along the bottom of the screen that made my whole body go weak: “Fire reported in Pentagon.” I spoke up, rather loudly, asking if any of the women I worked with had seen that. Then the station flashed the picture. Smoke was billowing out of the building that was supposed to be untouchable. My boss, Liana, said to me, “It’s good your dad isn’t there anymore.” I gave her a blank stare, cried out, “Yes, he is,” and began to hyperventilate. Liana and my friend Jackie rushed over to my desk and walked me to the bathroom, splashing water on my face and trying to calm me. Then we went to Liana’s desk and dialed my mom. She was nearly speechless and didn’t want to talk to me. Since Flight 77 had crashed into the building, she had been bombarded with calls — and none of them were from my dad.

Inside the Pentagon, he had been walking to get a Starbucks when he felt the massive structure shake. He thought it may have been a bomb after briefly seeing what had happened in Manhattan. And then there were rumors about a plane. My dad tried to call my mom, but he couldn't get through. People began to evacuate and out on the lawn, my dad and a group of men had taken their shirts and soaked them in water to cover their faces, ready to head back inside the burning building to look for survivors. But the flames and the fumes were too strong.

The plane had hit the recently renovated section of the Army side. That meant that there were fewer people when it struck. Still, my dad knew a few who had been killed, mainly secretaries. One of the men who survived almost didn’t, and suffered terrible burns all over his body. He wrote a book. It was fascinating.

One thing my dad noted: when he was out on the lawn that day, everywhere he looked he saw a military chaplain. Everywhere. It turned out there had been a conference that week ... or God just knew there would be a need for some guardian angels.

Back at Western, I ran to my room and tried to get my little brother to come over and sit with me while I watched the news. We still hadn't heard from my dad. I laugh still when I remember his response: "Amy, I have to go to class. Dad would want us to go to class." Then classes throughout campus got cancelled. He came over, but stayed only briefly. I guess it was his way of dealing with the unknown.

My dad finally reached my mom around 11:30 that morning. And we all began to breathe again.

I still find my dad heroic for his attempted efforts that day — and all of those who tried with him. Today is a constant reminder to me of how easy it is to take people for granted ... and so I don't take this anniversary lightly. It's something I'll never forget.

Today I'm loving ... patience

2008-09-10T14:17:00.008-04:00

In waiting.
In understanding.
In life.

Quote of the Day

2008-09-10T12:33:00.003-04:00

Drag your thoughts away from your troubles... by the ears, by the heels, or any other way you can manage it.

—Mark Twain

Today, I'm loving ... a fall-flavored latte

2008-09-09T14:45:00.013-04:00

Even though I'm still dotting aloe on my slightly sunburned skin, I can't help but be in the mood for one of these. *sip* As I slipped into a pair of jeans this morning — for the first time since May — a flavorful cup of java seemed the perfect complement to today's cool temps.

Quote of the Day

2008-09-09T11:33:00.004-04:00

We are each of us angels with only one wing and we can only fly embracing each other.

—Luciano De Crescenzo

Shots from the sea

2008-09-08T11:50:00.024-04:00

A few photos from the girls' getaway, which I have to say was one of the most fun excursions I've experienced and also the most emotional, since I couldn't see or speak to my husband for three days. Absence really does make the heart grow fonder. Hannah rocked the boat Thursday night, which sent us to our bunks a little seasick. But the remaining days were sun-soaked and spectacular. You don't realize how small you are until you're out in the middle of the ocean. We docked in Freeport on Saturday, unable to visit our scheduled stop — Nassau — because of the coming storms. Still, we got in a swim in the salty Atlantic, sunbathed a little more and stopped in at a few shops. Some on the island were already boarded up, waiting for Ike to blow through. I counted my blessings in the taxi, realizing that most of Freeport's residents make their living selling jewelry or homemade goods, feeding tourists or driving them around. Our driver shouted to another, "You're a lucky man," as he loaded five people into his van. At just $5 a person, I wondered what they do when the season slows or storms come through. Then I felt guilty about regretting the purchase of an $80 Guess watch.

We ate too much, slept late, caught a few shows — one a tribute to '80s music – and shared a lot of laughs. But still, my favorite part of the trip was my husband's welcome home. There's really nothing better.

Quote of the Day

2008-09-08T11:24:00.005-04:00

"Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born."

—Anais Nin

Cruisin?

2008-09-03T15:42:00.005-04:00

Tomorrow, I head out into the open seas ... with a mix of emotions. I accepted an invitation from a friend in the springtime to board a cruise ship — a first for me — for four days of fun in the Bahamas. There will be four of us — just girls — soaking in the sun, the sand, the wind and the waves.

I will say that I'm not as excited as I should be because I will be without my husband — for the first time since we've been married. I'll also admit that I'm slightly nervous. There still isn't word about whether the trip will be canceled or rerouted due to Tropical Storm Hanna, which is supposed to strengthen back into a hurricane by tomorrow. And Ike, already a hurricane, is following close behind, trailed by Josephine.

So, if everything goes as planned, I'll be seaside — but hopefully not seasick — until Sunday, back home with a glowing tan, new friendships and memories I can look back on with a smile.

The merry go round

2008-09-03T14:25:00.007-04:00

Today marks day three of the national media circus, i.e. the coverage of the pregnancy of vice presidential candidate Sarah Palin's 17-year-old daughter.

It also marks day three of my embarrassment in sharing the title of 'journalist' with those leading the mob attack against a family that has done nothing but reiterate its support for the high school senior and request privacy — because after all, this has nothing to do with politics. It has everything to do with a news media that has let go of its roots and forgotten its real role: to inform. Not to analyze; not to editorialize; not to endorse. It's like a merry go round that it can't stop nor jump from. And the sad part is, so much of the American public is buying into the bias, encouraging news stations and Web sites to beat a dead horse — as long as its on the 'Right' side of the fence.

MSNBC and the Washington Post are titillating viewers with exposes on the daughter's boyfriend and Slate is running a “Name Bristol Palin’s Baby” contest; US Weekly has “Babies, Lies, and Scandal” on its cover; and the Today Show had Dr. Phil weigh in on the rise in teenage pregnancy. Seriously?! But somehow, it's applauded and awarded when it's the storyline of a movie (Juno) or when single celebrities have babies. Yes, then it's celebrated.

There is so much more going on in the world, in this country ... but the simple reality is the media is gunning for the election of Obama/Biden — and they'll stop at nothing, even if it means plastering the face of a teenager on the cover of every newspaper from here to Timbuktu.

Bristol should be commended for having her baby, not criticized. I'm sure the situation actually makes the Palin family more relate-able to so many families around the country who have been faced with a similar situation — in and out of the church — and loved the child and grandchild just the same. (By the way, parents can preach abstinence all they want — but they can't follow their children everywhere.) And the pregnancy doesn't make Palin an absent mother, nor would it prevent her from helping McCain lead the country. That's the dumbest argument I've heard yet. And do you know who's saying it? Feminists! Feminists who are supportive of working mothers! Being one hasn't stopped Palin from being a successful governor and it certainly wouldn't get in the way of a vice presidency. Does it limit the women who have been elected senators or governors or first ladies? No!

When did the right become so wrong?

Quote of the Day

2008-09-03T11:20:00.005-04:00

Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul.

-Emily Dickinson