Time Capsule

30 years ago – (Montreal, Wi) It was this week 30 years ago that I skipped school to go skiing on a Tuesday afternoon. I would end up having an accident and tearing my ACL (anterior crusiate ligament) and MCL(medial collateral ligament – both hold the knee together). I was just 11. ACL reconstructions were forthcoming, so I was to spend the next 16 years of my life living with a substandard knee. It tremendously impacted my life. I also entered the 7th grade that fall – a tremendously difficult time for every young person.

25 years ago – (Montreal, WI) It was 1984. I was a junior heading into my senior year of high school in the fall. My family planned a spring break trip to sunny Florida. I was busy planning for college – going away. I played the Wicked Witch of the West in the play “The Wizard of Oz.”

20 years ago -(Eau Claire, WI and Montreal, WI) I was a college senior, trying to get all my credits together for December graduation. I spent the summer in my hometown where nothing good happened. I went out every night. Worked an internship at a local paper. Was on the stage crew of the musical Grease, and led a life of irresponsibility. A last gasp, I think.

15 years ago – (Green Bay, WI) – It was probably the worst time of my life. I had made many mistakes and was now having to decide how to deal with them. I had a long road of heartache and more mistakes ahead of me before I would come out of the forest.

10 years ago – (Richmond, VA) – We were planning our wedding. I celebrated the 20th anniversary of my knee surgery by training for and running a marathon (4:23:38) and going downhill skiing for the first time (and probably last) since my accident.

5 years ago – (Williamsburg, VA) – I was 8 1/2 months pregnant with Bump, not knowing that this would be my last week of work and pregnancy as my little boy would be 3 weeks early. My husband was still on night shift, which really made life difficult. I had no clue about motherhood. While I loved my little boy, I floundered in a sea of uncertainty.

Today – (Williamsburg, VA) – I feel like the fog has finally lifted as my children are moving beyond those baby days and my husband is finally on day shift, I feel like I have my feet on the ground. I’m a human being again. My life is mundane it seems, but I’m grateful for so many things. I’ve learned to appreciate the simples things, the little things, the things that really matter at the end of the day. While I know there are more struggles ahead for our family, I look forward to every day.

 

The Secret in the Bottom of the Glass

I find myself to be much contemplative these last six months or so. Sometimes my thoughts are lost in a place with the me I used to be. And the funny thing is, that me of long ago is always holding a beer. Always.

On February 1, it will 7 years since I last tipped back a glass bottle and pour the cool malty beverage between my lips. I can still taste it in the back of my mind. I smell it in my dreams sometimes. I see the amber liquid in the glass with the perfect amount of foam. I remember how to pour it from the bottle just right. It’s so not far from me, yet it is.

And when I stopped drinking on that long-ago winter day, I just stopped. It wasn’t because I decided to. In a stream of events, there seemed to be no time to drink and by the time 6 weeks had passed, I knew that by some miracle of God, my addiction had vanished without the bat of an eye.

What an amazing gift.

For alcohol and beer had so defined my 20s. Anyone who knew me at that time no doubt saw me with bottle in hand, on a bar stool somewhere, or acting totally outrageous. I made beer. I talked beer. I lived it. Beer and I were one. If I could have made it my middle name, I would have. What a sad life it truly was.

While I don’t feel the temptation to drink necessarily, I haven’t quite reconciled that piece of my life. While I have long left it behind, I wonder what I have taken with me, what have I regrown as better fruit, and what has been transformed by the Grace of God. In the years since my babies had been born, I felt that I lost my identity to some degree in the constantness of motherhood. As my boys grow, I find more and more that I can again have an identity besides being “Mom of Two Baby Boys” with no time for anything else.

But what is it that I truly am?

And having already lost that piece of me on that February day long ago, that thing that most defined me, I am sometimes just at a loss of how to start over. Or maybe restart is a better term – to restart my life. What do I want?

It’s like trying to put together a puzzle that I’ve done before, except with different pieces, knowing the picture will not be quite the same. And I don’t know what it will look like, so where do all the pieces go?

Or maybe it’s just my own version of a mid-life mini-crisis.

I think the thing I miss the most about drinking was that I felt like I was in control, even though I wasn’t. Beer was always ground zero for good times and bad times. I could drink alone or with friends. It made me more socially acceptable, (I thought) and maybe gave me that self-confidence that an introvert like me lacks in social situation.
There were always people to drink with at any rate, and that I could handle. I could hover in a safety net of shallow relationships and feel accepted.

And what is the secret at the bottom of my glass? No matter how much beer I drink, I’m still me. Now, I have the chance to see who that really is.

It’s another gift.

 

Books Read in 2008 – Adding 3 More

I haven’t kept track anywhere, but I got the reading bug, and for posterity sake, I’m trying to chronicle my readings. So here’s what I have for 2008:

Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver
Same Kind of Different as Me by Dan Hall
The Friday Night Knitting Club by Kate Jacobs
The Story of Best Friends Animal Sanctuaryby Samantha Glen
The Homeschool Book of Answers by Linda Dobson

By Lisa Samson
The Church Ladies
Club Sandwich
Embrace Me
Quaker Summer
Strait Up
Women’s Intuition

by Barbara Samuel
The Goddesses of Kitchen Avenue
Lady Luck’s Map of Las Vegas
Madame Mirabeu’s School of Love
Piece of Heaven

By Laura Jensen Walker
Reconstructing Chloe
Dreaming in Black and White
Daring Chloe

By Neta Jackson
Yada Yada Prayer Group #1, #2, #3, #4, #5, #6
Where Do I Go?

By Elizabeth Berg
Never Change
Say When
We Are All Welcome Here
A Year of Pleasures

By Jane Kirkpatrick
A Mending On the Edge
Love to Water My Soul
A Sweetness to the Soul

By Linda Evans Shepherd and Eva Marie Everson
The Potluck Club
The Potluck Club Takes the Cake
The Potluck Club Trouble’s Brewing
Potluck Catering -The Secret’s In the Sauce

By Jodi Picoult
Change of Heart
The Pact
Perfect Match

Wow, that’s 39 titles – and probably only 3 of them were read in the early part of the year with my big reading starting in June and turning on and off until the end of the year.

There were also a handful of books I tried to read and gave up on – just couldn’t get into them.

My favorite….Piece of Heaven and the Story of Best Friends.

And the best part of all these reads – from the library – every last one of them!

 

I Never Get Tired of This

Here’s your chance to see my whole family and our special holiday dance! I love it. Even Gil laughed…

Check it out here!

 

Want to Talk?

Hi, it’s me. It’s 12:37 AM. I’m awake. Very awake. Strangely awake. Thank you steroids. I can’t see how these guys take them. Yikes. One pill and I am so wired. I think I’ve solved my caffeine problem and since I don’t have a stove to make coffee… (We only have a plunger pot – maybe I’ll be buying a regular one tomorrow!) Maybe that’s why they get roid rage…they can’t sleep!

 

Whew! That Felt Good.

That last post was a total and complete RANT. And if felt so good. It’s been bugging me for the last six months – and more so since the Nobel Peace Joke was awarded.

The thing about be “green” is that some act as if because you have some amount of environmental concern and consciousness, that you’re totally on board with their whole agenda. You’re one of them.

I’m not. Just so you know.

I’m also planning a short review of Serve God, Save the Planet. Most of the reviews I have read offer a similar perspective, and well, I think to stimulate discussion and thinking on topics there has to be the other side of the coin. If I felt the same way that everyone else did about this book, I probably wouldn’t even write about it. But all voices should be heard – you make up your own mind.

 

Still Not Green

I wrote a post a while back about how I was not green. Well, things around here as of late might lead some of you to believe that I’ve changed my tune.

I haven’t.

I don’t believe in man-induced global warming. I don’t believe in sterilization and abortion as means to control the population so we can “save the planet”. I believe that we all have a responsibility to do our part. I believe that God created the heavens and the earth, and me and you – a spark of lightning didn’t cause the first microorganisms to be created – and man evolved from that. I believe God has a plan. I believe I am part of that plan.

The world is full of choices. It’s full of decisions that are labeled as different things by different groups. While using cloth grocery bags might be considered green by some, it could be thrifty by another (the bags will pay for themselves in roughly 6 months as my grocery store offers a 5 cent per bag credit). Other forms of green activity carry other labels. And other activities are considered over consumptive, luxury items or just plain selfishness.

Whatever.

It’s a balance my friends.

My mother-in-law lived through the depression. She would save old containers from foodstuffs to store leftovers in. I could open her fridge and find coolwhip containers and peanut butter jars full of foods. She used her plastic grocery bags as garbage bags – never owned a box of them in her small apartment. She would put her used paper towels in the top rack of the dishwasher to dry, so she could use them again. She rarely used her dishwasher – only at the occasion of 3 or more dinner guests. Every things she owned was used until it was done – it could no longer be fixed or utilized for something else.

Does it sound familiar? She wasn’t green. Instead, she was grateful for all that God provided and did her best to conserve and use everything. Sure, it helped that she lived through a time where there was nothing and she had to make due. Sure, she raised 7 kids (6 boys) on Long Island during the 60s without a husband. (She never went on welfare, either.) Instead, she scrambled, she saved, she prayed and somehow, they all made it through. She did, too. But until her dying days, days where she could have afforded to throw her paper towel away, or run her dishwasher every day, she chose not to.

All that said, I’m not her either.

Instead, I’m in the middle. I love this earth that God has given us. Yes, there is more that we can do, I can do. We all have a responsibility to find those things that help. I’ve found my things. They are not outside of the realm of what I’m capable of based on my daily life. I push myself a little. But let’s face it, if the recycling truck didn’t come to my door, I wouldn’t bring my stuff to green bins somewhere and dump all the glass in one, all the paper in another and all the plastic in yet another.

No, I will not hold a sign in protest of companies or countries that don’t play nice with the environment. I won’t judge my neighbors for whatever they are doing or not doing. (Although I may wonder.) I won’t give up my mini van, my dishwasher or my ice machine. I think Al Gore’s Noble Peace Prize is the biggest joke of this century. I will never vote for Hillary Clinton.

Instead I will pray and believe in God. I will use resources wisely – even my aforementioned mini-van, dishwasher and ice machine. I buy used whenever I can. I don’t litter and often pick up trash that others have left behind. (Gil started me on that one.) I get books from the library and used bookstore. I use my cloth grocery bags and put my son in cloth diapers. I hope that someday I can do more – not necessarily for the planet, but for the people of the planet. Maybe sew quilts for a linus group, donate time at a homeless shelter, help out those in need – real need. We are a resource on this planet as well – let our minds and hearts be renewed in Him!

 

Vacation Hangover

I’m back, back from vacation. My parents flew down and then accompanied us to the Outer Banks of NC, a beautiful little town called Duck. Bump loved the beach and jumping in the waves. Zach thought the house was the vacation. And me, I didn’t get much of a break. My mom helped out a lot, but the responsibility, the boo-boo kissing, bedtime story reader, and comfort person was always me, me, me. In some ways it was much more draining than being at home where my two are often distracted by their favorite toys. Plus, at least one of them woke up during the night due to strange surroundings and had to be taken care of by me. Any attempted naps were usually disturbed by little feet running on the floor above me, or a husband errantly entering the bedroom in a loud manner.

Today I have what’s called vacation hangover. I just feel out of sorts. I had a huge headache this morning despite sleeping for 10 hours last night. This afternoon, I feel blah. I’ve pretty much put away all of our stuff and got the house in semi-order. But despite all the sleep, I’m out of gas this PM and looking forward to early bedtimes for us all.

More stories from vacation to come.

 

The Real Thing

Can you guess which ones are real and which are mock crocs?????

Yes, I finally got a pair of real crocs, just in time to find out I have a bunion and need to wear loose fitting shoes. In the past 3 weeks, they have evolved into my everywhere shoe. I love them.

I am hung up as to what to do with the mocks. I really haven’t worn them much in public because they didn’t fit right and were not as comfy as the real thing. And in light of what’s going on with my whole foot situation, I’m pretty sure that outside of wearing them to get the paper, they won’t be the preferred footwear that my podiatrist-to-be-named-later recommends.

What’s the difference, you might ask.

Well here’s my take.

1) The real thing has a much thicker arch area which is also much more solid.
2) The mocks have an odor.
3) Someone else thought that the mocks footbed lining is a little more nubby, but really once you get used to it, it’s not significant. But the front part of the footbed slopes down at a greater angle and is thinner.
4) The real crocs are actually wider across the front – probably from the thicker material.
5) Crocs more comfy hands down.

I’m holding off on adding anymore crocs to my life until after my foot problems are fully realized, but I’ll probably get a pair of these and these. I may only wear Crocs and running shoes going forward.

I like to wear my crocs around the house, too, as I have some footpain walking bare feet and the crocs seem to cushion that. Gil also has a pair of these. He’s not as sold yet, but does like them.

I am one of those people who tries to nickel and dime everything and I often end up spending more to get the real thing. This was one of those times.

Get the real thing. Ugly, but comfy and convenient. The Crocs website also has a sizing chart that you can print out to check your size. I bought mine at Shoebuy.com which offers free shipping and return shipping and better prices than Zappos.

I don’t know why I waited so long.

The real Crocs in the above photo are the tan ones and the little blue ones are Bump’s. He’s already picked out a new style for his next pair.

The running shoes are Saucony Grid Stabil Generation 5s – the shoes that I ran 13.1 miles in on Sunday.

 

Different

I’ve always had an incredible feeling of being different. 10 years ago I took the MMPI and was told by the psychologist who administered it that my personality type was shared by only 5% of women my same age range. I was a rare find. Daily, I don’t think about it much, but when I come into contact with a group of people, I have to fight some things just to make it through the encounter – particularly groups of women.

Enter a shower for my niece-in-law (daughter to one of my sister-in-laws, but not to Gil’s brother). I know her, barely. I’ve seen here here and there for the last 8 years. She’s having an out of town wedding, so this was our side of the family’s official shower. It was small – less than 10 people, and all people I know well, but the differences in our lives are so apparent to me it’s startling.

Probably the key indicator for this was just looking at everyone’s shoes as we sat around. I had run 13 plus miles in the morning, so I wore a pair of mock crocks (that perfectly matched my outfit). While Gil’s sister wore sneakers, I faced a sea of perfectly pedicured toes in high heeled strappy sandals. Honestly, I can’t even wear shoes like that because of my past knee problems. Thanks M, for wearing the sneakers anyway.

The differences are many. Homeschooling is a HUGE one. In fact I don’t even mention it anymore, nor the fact that Bump is getting ready to try reading and some other learning exercises. He knows many, many things already that some 3-year-olds wouldn’t know. It’s not a big deal to me, because he struggles in other areas that their children excel in – like swimming, social skills, being away from mommy. But ultimately, my perspective offends others. And I’ll admit, I need to polish my social skills because I really don’t spend that much time chit chatting it up since my best friend skipped town.

Ultimately, I end up being more of a fly on the wall – listening and not being able to relate to perspectives of my husband’s family. Some if it is the Christianity. Some of it is having grown up regionally in a different part of the country. Some if it is just broken me and all the dreaming I do.

I did have one moment in the sun, as I gave the bride-to-be a handbag for her gift. She loved it. That was what it was all about anyway – blessing her as she starts her new life. So heck with the rest of it.

One note I will add is that so many women these days are intimidated by sewing on a machine. Seriously, they all say – “I could never do that.” The truth is, I am a clutz and very uncoordinated – which is why my sewing projects always seem more “handmade” vs. professional. But if I can do it – so can you. It’s all mental obstacles. Which most of life is. Maybe even my social skills!