I wrote this back in August. I'm not sure why I never hit publish,but here it is.
For as long as I can remember, I've wanted to have children. Unfortunately, I have not had biological children, but I have been blessed with approximately 914 babies in the last 18 years. They don't live with me, they go home most days at 3:00 and I give up custody of them every June. I am a teacher and these are the only children I will most likely ever have.
The first came to me as innocent seven year olds. Some scared, some excited, all ready to learn and to be loved. We had great days - lots of laughter, learning and a few tears of frustration (their's and mine). I spent nine months watching them grow. They learned how to do double digit subtraction, write in cursive and began to appreciate authors. I cheered their accomplishments, became a surrogate soccer mom, comforted some as they experienced the death of a loved one for the first time, was an occasional carpool driver and disciplined (when necessary). I can't imagine that it's any different from being a parent to a seven year old.
I moved on from the seven year olds to ten year olds. We had great days - lots of laughter and learning and a few tears of frustration (their's and mine). I spent nine months watching them grow. As with the seven year olds, they continued to learn - how to infer, make a percent from fractions and decimals, and about their changing bodies. I cheered their accomplishments, became a surrogate volleyball mom, comforted some as they experienced the death of a loved one for the first time, watched as they attempted to flirt with each, encouraged them to overcome their fears and disciplined (when necessary). I can't imagine that it's any different from being a parent to a ten year old.
Every June I had to say goodbye to "my babies." Most stayed in the same school and moved up to the next grade. Some moved away (and I moved away). Yet, I have been fortunate enough to know where most of them are today through the beauty of social media. I cannot begin to describe the swelling of pride in my heart when I hear about their accomplishments. Just in the past few weeks, one student began medical school, another graduated from college, yet another begins his first year of college. Right now in my mailbox there is a wedding invitation waiting for me from a former student. My babies are getting married and having babies of their own.
In these last few weeks leading up to a new school year, I think back on all of the children I have had. I may not know where every one of those 900+ are, but for nine months of the year, 7 hours of every day I loved them as my own. Even though they are adults, I still think of them as my babies. Just the way parents think of their children.
When my new group of second graders begins in a couple of weeks I will get 24 new babies and I can't wait for the adventure and to see where they will all go from here.
Saturday, January 18, 2014
Saturday, March 23, 2013
My Last Hope
Katie called today. It makes my whole day when my phone rings with her mom's number and on the other end I hear a high squeaky voice say "Hi Aunt Mary!" (her r's are better it used to be Mawee). Some days the calls are to tell me her latest news, give me free 8 year old advice and sometimes it's just to see what I'm doing. Not today. Today she has made a decision for me.
After a shopping trip to Charming Charlie with her mom, she's decided that I need to get married. And soon it seems as her parting words were "make it snappy."
This is the only person in the world who was on my side when I said that I didn't need anybody in my life. This is the girl who for years now has said that I cannot get married. For a long time I wasn't even allowed to have a boyfriend. She was my excuse when people would ask me why I wasn't married - "Oh I can't, Katie won't let me get married."
One pair of white sparkly shoes and some jewelery and her whole mind has been changed. Now I must get married so that she can be flower girl. She wants to wear white sparkly shoes, have diamonds and wear a beautiful dress (let's remember that it's supposed to be the bride's day but she doesn't see it that way).
How funny to see her grow up and change her attitude about things. How sad to see her grow up. She's the closest thing I have to my own daughter. She is a beautfiul, kind hearted, brilliant, animal loving child. She doesn't have a mean bone in her body. Everything with her is kittens, horses, rainbows and peace. The one thing she never concerned herself with was boys. I fear that it won't be long now before those phone calls begin to come in. Probably from her own phone, not her mom's.
And I'll listen. And smile. When she's 16, it will still make my day to hear her voice. I can't wait for her to have all of the adventures that this life has in store for her.
I'd go on, but my eyes are welling up thinking about her at 16. For now I need to go get ready to go out because I have a date tonight. Katie wants me to get married so she can be a flowergirl and I always give her what she wants (and she knows it!).
Monday, March 4, 2013
Scared to "Death"
At my annual doctor's appointment on Thursday morning, I was told that their was an abnormal thickness in my breast. I heard her say it, but I didn't digest it. Things moved very quickly - "we'll move your mammogram up"; "if there's something questionable there an ultrasound will be done immediately."
With the mammogram scheduled for 8:30 the following morning I left. As I drove home, my day off - sushi with the boys, afternoon with the Godchildren, margaritas with my friends - didn't seem half as exciting as it had only an hour earlier. My very first thought as I pulled onto Greenville Ave. was to call Charlie, he'd say the right thing. Then I remembered. I couldn't call him, he was gone. I could talk to him but he wouldn't answer. Those thoughts brought back the flood of memories of the phone call when he told me he was sick. He didn't know much, but thought it was cancer and it didn't look good.
At this point I was sitting in a parking lot, using that MD I earned from Google. According to Google, it didn't look very positive for me. I didn't know what to do, I didn't know who to turn to. At some point, logical reason kicked in. I didn't know anything. There was nothing I could do until I knew what it was. I did my best to go on about my day as planned. I ate more sushi than I needed to, spoiled K and C with milkshakes at dinnertime when I should have gotten them smoothies (and then promptly left them on their sugar high with their parents), and went to Glorias for many needed margaritas.
Nothing in this world prepares you for the aloneness that you feel when you are waiting for news. The ultrasound over, the technician left the room (after taking careful measurements on the computer) stating that the radiologist would be in shortly. I layed on that table crying in fear. I was so alone. There was no one with me. All these thoughts went through my head - what would happen, how could I afford this, what would I tell my parents.
I was one of the lucky ones to leave that office last Friday. I have cysts, nothing out of the ordinary. How many women were not that lucky? What must have been going through their minds? How scared were they?
Whoever is reading this, please remember that life is so, so, so short. You're guaranteed nothing. Forgive the people you need to forgive, spend time with your parents, brothers and sisters, do the things you've always wanted to do but don't think you have time for. Don't wait until it's too late.
With the mammogram scheduled for 8:30 the following morning I left. As I drove home, my day off - sushi with the boys, afternoon with the Godchildren, margaritas with my friends - didn't seem half as exciting as it had only an hour earlier. My very first thought as I pulled onto Greenville Ave. was to call Charlie, he'd say the right thing. Then I remembered. I couldn't call him, he was gone. I could talk to him but he wouldn't answer. Those thoughts brought back the flood of memories of the phone call when he told me he was sick. He didn't know much, but thought it was cancer and it didn't look good.
At this point I was sitting in a parking lot, using that MD I earned from Google. According to Google, it didn't look very positive for me. I didn't know what to do, I didn't know who to turn to. At some point, logical reason kicked in. I didn't know anything. There was nothing I could do until I knew what it was. I did my best to go on about my day as planned. I ate more sushi than I needed to, spoiled K and C with milkshakes at dinnertime when I should have gotten them smoothies (and then promptly left them on their sugar high with their parents), and went to Glorias for many needed margaritas.
Nothing in this world prepares you for the aloneness that you feel when you are waiting for news. The ultrasound over, the technician left the room (after taking careful measurements on the computer) stating that the radiologist would be in shortly. I layed on that table crying in fear. I was so alone. There was no one with me. All these thoughts went through my head - what would happen, how could I afford this, what would I tell my parents.
I was one of the lucky ones to leave that office last Friday. I have cysts, nothing out of the ordinary. How many women were not that lucky? What must have been going through their minds? How scared were they?
Whoever is reading this, please remember that life is so, so, so short. You're guaranteed nothing. Forgive the people you need to forgive, spend time with your parents, brothers and sisters, do the things you've always wanted to do but don't think you have time for. Don't wait until it's too late.
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
The Greatest Man I Know
Those who know me well know that we (my sisters, brother, sister-in-law, mom and various aunts, uncles and cousins) call my dad Mister. It's a long story, but the name came about when I was around 4 and my sister Clare 3 because Mister would spend a lot of time lying in bed watching TV. His head on his pillow. He became Mister Pillow, but that name got shortened over the years. Sadly now I can't remember a time when I ever called him daddy, though I'm sure I did. There are days I think I should again, but I doubt it would be as endearing as "Mister."
There's a song by Reba McEntire called "The Greatest Man I Never Knew." In it Reba sings about her dad, he lived "just down the hall." He read his paper every day and he thought she hung the moon. Mister's room was always at the opposite end of the hall from me. To this day he reads his paper, every day. Sometimes more than one. Everything she sings about is Mister. I think Reba must have been living secretly in the third floor of our Philadelphia house or in the attic in Hollywood.
The thing that brings the song home for me is that he never said the words "I love you." My mom would say it. He never did. I don't know if it was his generation or if he just thought I knew so he didn't have to say it. I always wanted to hear it though.
One day I swallowed my pride and decided I'd say it (I never said it either). His response "I love you too." Now every Sunday when he calls he tells me that he loves me. Sometimes he even says it first.
Happy 81st Birthday Mister. You are the greatest man I know.
There's a song by Reba McEntire called "The Greatest Man I Never Knew." In it Reba sings about her dad, he lived "just down the hall." He read his paper every day and he thought she hung the moon. Mister's room was always at the opposite end of the hall from me. To this day he reads his paper, every day. Sometimes more than one. Everything she sings about is Mister. I think Reba must have been living secretly in the third floor of our Philadelphia house or in the attic in Hollywood.
The thing that brings the song home for me is that he never said the words "I love you." My mom would say it. He never did. I don't know if it was his generation or if he just thought I knew so he didn't have to say it. I always wanted to hear it though.
One day I swallowed my pride and decided I'd say it (I never said it either). His response "I love you too." Now every Sunday when he calls he tells me that he loves me. Sometimes he even says it first.
Happy 81st Birthday Mister. You are the greatest man I know.
Seeing Clearly
I wrote this back in June, but never posted it. It still seems like a good message (one I could use now). : )
I have shocking news for you. Many of you may be surprised by this, but I feel as if I need to let you know. I was a geek. That might even be putting it generously. I wore my hair in a pony tail for all of junior high. I had thick Coke bottle glasses and hideously crooked teeth. I won’t even get started on the acne that blossomed before everyone else’s (or so I thought). I moved to South Florida with my heavy Philadelphia dialect (“wooder” instead of “wah-ter” try that with my last name). I was teased mercifully. By the time I got to eighth grade, I felt that it was acceptable to be spat on. At least it made me feel like I belonged and then I was less than a geek.
Thirty years later (please don’t do that math in your head because I in my mind I’m 22), that junior high girl is gone, sort of. Gone are the crooked teeth (I still have to wear a retainer at night), the ponytail is worn only on really hot or bad hair days, the glasses have been replaced by contact lenses (most of the time). The Philadelphia dialect is slowly being replaced by a Texas urban twang (I can get my Philadelphia on when necessary though). The acne has been transformed to laugh lines.
However, the self conscious girl who was teased and spat on is still deep down inside me. She doesn’t come out often, but when she does, the only person who sees her is the one who reflects her in the mirror. The 13 year old girl in the mirror still wants to be accepted. She still wants to be pretty. She wants to be normal. She wants everyone to like her. She wishes she was thinner, smarter, and had whiter teeth.
We hear so much on the news these days about bullying. The latest story is the grandmother who rode the bus every day and the kids taunted her. She is a woman in her 60’s who was brought to tears by 13 and 14 year olds. Why does this go on?
They say that you hurt the ones you love the most. I know those kids in junior high didn’t love me. I was their entertainment. I doubt seriously that the kids on that bus give Karen Klein a second thought when they’re not on that bus. To them it was just fun.
I am 100% guilty for making fun of my friends. 100%. I do it. They make fun of me too. Usually it is just friendly fodder for conversation. As friends, we know how far we can go. But I wonder, am I really hurting their feelings when I say certain things. I have been known, on more than one occasion, to put my foot in mouth. Then someone ends up with hurt feelings and I find myself apologizing for something that I never meant to say in the first place (it’s a Sagittarius trait so at least I come by it honestly and half the time I don’t know that I’ve done it).
I try now to be more cognizant of it when I make fun of people. Especially people I don’t know. I am striving to find the best in everyone. Especially in myself.
I have shocking news for you. Many of you may be surprised by this, but I feel as if I need to let you know. I was a geek. That might even be putting it generously. I wore my hair in a pony tail for all of junior high. I had thick Coke bottle glasses and hideously crooked teeth. I won’t even get started on the acne that blossomed before everyone else’s (or so I thought). I moved to South Florida with my heavy Philadelphia dialect (“wooder” instead of “wah-ter” try that with my last name). I was teased mercifully. By the time I got to eighth grade, I felt that it was acceptable to be spat on. At least it made me feel like I belonged and then I was less than a geek.
Thirty years later (please don’t do that math in your head because I in my mind I’m 22), that junior high girl is gone, sort of. Gone are the crooked teeth (I still have to wear a retainer at night), the ponytail is worn only on really hot or bad hair days, the glasses have been replaced by contact lenses (most of the time). The Philadelphia dialect is slowly being replaced by a Texas urban twang (I can get my Philadelphia on when necessary though). The acne has been transformed to laugh lines.
However, the self conscious girl who was teased and spat on is still deep down inside me. She doesn’t come out often, but when she does, the only person who sees her is the one who reflects her in the mirror. The 13 year old girl in the mirror still wants to be accepted. She still wants to be pretty. She wants to be normal. She wants everyone to like her. She wishes she was thinner, smarter, and had whiter teeth.
We hear so much on the news these days about bullying. The latest story is the grandmother who rode the bus every day and the kids taunted her. She is a woman in her 60’s who was brought to tears by 13 and 14 year olds. Why does this go on?
They say that you hurt the ones you love the most. I know those kids in junior high didn’t love me. I was their entertainment. I doubt seriously that the kids on that bus give Karen Klein a second thought when they’re not on that bus. To them it was just fun.
I am 100% guilty for making fun of my friends. 100%. I do it. They make fun of me too. Usually it is just friendly fodder for conversation. As friends, we know how far we can go. But I wonder, am I really hurting their feelings when I say certain things. I have been known, on more than one occasion, to put my foot in mouth. Then someone ends up with hurt feelings and I find myself apologizing for something that I never meant to say in the first place (it’s a Sagittarius trait so at least I come by it honestly and half the time I don’t know that I’ve done it).
I try now to be more cognizant of it when I make fun of people. Especially people I don’t know. I am striving to find the best in everyone. Especially in myself.
Thursday, July 26, 2012
A Perfect Life
My life is perfect. I may not have everything that I want, but I have everything that I need. I have a family that loves me. I have the best friends that anyone could ever ask for. I don’t
know how I could ever be so lucky. What did I do to deserve all of this?
Sure there are many things that I wish I had that I don’t have and probably never will. Not all of it is material either. I wish I had had a child. It’s probably the biggest disappointment in my
life. It’s the one thing that I always wanted to do, and the one thing that I will never do. Well, more than likely never do. And it’s the one thing that people don’t talk about. Single, childless women – who wanted children – never talk about that disappointment. It’s like a taboo subject. How comforting would it be if we did talk about it to each other? At least then we wouldn’t feel so alone.
I really don’t spend a lot of time thinking about not having had a child. It’s a pointless thing. It’s like being upset because I never got Barbie’s Dream House (I really wanted one, but
had to settle for Barbie’s Townhouse instead). I focus on the kids I do have. My most precious Godchildren who I couldn’t love more if had bore them myself. The 500+ kids I have
taught. I am amazed at what they have become and at what they are doing. It warms my heart to know that I have had a part, however small, in the person they have become.
I just wish society didn’t make it feel so bad to be single and childless. I once had a friend, who is married with children, ask me “If you don’t get married, and have kids, who’s going to take care of you when you get old?” Every once in a while that question rears itself in the back of my mind. Who will take care of me? Am I supposed to call my 80 year old friends to come help me when “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up”?
I don’t advertise my faith a lot. I believe everyone has a right to their beliefs. For that reason, I don’t bring religion into a lot of discussions. For this, I feel I need to. It’s
really the only thing that helps me to accept the life that I have (which is wonderful). I believe that God has given me exactly what I need. I don’t always understand it or like it, but I accept it. This is the life I am supposed to have. Someday I’ll know why . . .
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
The Year of Mary
If you are a Seinfeld fan, you no doubt know about "The Summer of George." George gets fired from the Yankees and decides to enjoy himself all summer and become very active. Of course it's Seinfeld so this doesn't happen. George becomes so lazy that his muscles atrophy and he has to learn how to walk all over again.
Luckily, I have not lost my job, and I'm pretty good at being busy, but sometimes I can get into a rut. I can get grand ideas to try new things only to give up on them before I even start. I worry about stupid stuff that in the long run isn't that important. I'm trying to make everyone around me happy, while I neglect myself. And worst of all, I keep doing the same things over and over again hoping to get a new result. How many of us have done that? Come on, you know you have.
So thus is born, The Year of Mary. I am ready for new adventures. I've got some horseback riding lessons on the docket. I'd like to play tennis again. I need to write more. In my six and half years in Dallas I yet to be in town for the famed St. Patrick's Day Parade. That changes this year. I think I'll be IN the parade (how 'bout them apples?). Oh there are so many things I am going to do this year (sadly Money, Money, Money by Abba is playing as I type and I wonder where am I going to get the money for these adventures).
As I have these new adventures, I will try to update you on them. We'll see what happens. If anyone has anything to suggest for The Year of Mary, please do. I would love to hear your ideas!
Luckily, I have not lost my job, and I'm pretty good at being busy, but sometimes I can get into a rut. I can get grand ideas to try new things only to give up on them before I even start. I worry about stupid stuff that in the long run isn't that important. I'm trying to make everyone around me happy, while I neglect myself. And worst of all, I keep doing the same things over and over again hoping to get a new result. How many of us have done that? Come on, you know you have.
So thus is born, The Year of Mary. I am ready for new adventures. I've got some horseback riding lessons on the docket. I'd like to play tennis again. I need to write more. In my six and half years in Dallas I yet to be in town for the famed St. Patrick's Day Parade. That changes this year. I think I'll be IN the parade (how 'bout them apples?). Oh there are so many things I am going to do this year (sadly Money, Money, Money by Abba is playing as I type and I wonder where am I going to get the money for these adventures).
As I have these new adventures, I will try to update you on them. We'll see what happens. If anyone has anything to suggest for The Year of Mary, please do. I would love to hear your ideas!
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Hooples
About 23 years ago I met a group of friends who changed my life forever. To this day, we are still friends, we're still there for each other and nothing makes me happier.
According to Urban Dictionary, a "hoople" is defined as either a lazy character who prefers to work as little as possible, earning money on the side by running every scam going; he's also a gambler, but not a very good one or a person who drinks alcohol to excess to the point where it becomes his or her defining characteristic.
This was so us. Well maybe not the scam part, but we did drink often (we were in college) and we were pretty lazy (we skipped class a lot to play fooseball) and we sort of gambled back in the day on Rummy 500 and I don't think we were very good (some of the boys still play the cards, but they've graduated to poker and I'm pretty sure they still suck).
I'm not sure what brought us all together. Most of the boys went to high school together, so they already knew each other. A love of fooseball, music and desire not to go to class probably cemented our relationship.
I was the one of only two girls who could hang with the boys. Celeste was the other one. Other girls came and went, but Celeste and I have been able to hang for almost 25 years. These are the people that taught me how to play fooseball, pool, and quarters. Of course before they taught me how to play quarters, they had to get me to drink beer - which they did - at Rack 'Em - the scariest pool hall you could ever imagine (but the most fun ever).
Some of the guys were in a band. Every Saturday night, we'd go to the "Warehouse" where Midnight Liar would practice. After they finished, the rest of us would sing whatever songs were popular at the time (Bon Jovi, Warrant, Winger, Whitesnake). Sadly, the poor man at the convenience store was riddled on these Saturday nights with lines from "Raising Arizona" as we made our beer run. A favorite was "I'll be taking these Huggies and whatever cash you got." I'm sure he appreciated it. It was like something you might see in a movie. No one believes that you do these things in real life, but we did.
We each had a nickname or more than one. There was Fishbait, Murky, Mule, Factor, Berg, and Cackman (and some others that I can't say here). We still call each other by those names today. All names were given out of love and I don't think any of us ever had hurt feelings because of them.
23 years later, most of us are still friends. Some of us have had fallings out, but we usually end up back together, eventually. We have celebrated weddings and babies and mourned the deaths of parents together. We don't drink as much as we used to (we are getting older). I can't imagine any of us letting our kids go to a place like Rack 'Em. But those were some of the best times of my life, and I wouldn't trade them for anything.
Saturday, July 2, 2011
Just One of the Guys
In college, I always hung out with the guys (and Celeste). They were so much fun! We would play fooseball, drink beer, eat wings, talk about unimportant stuff . . . it was great. There was never any drama. The guys made fun of each other, said what needed to said and had each other's backs, no matter what. It was the best time of my life.
Tonight, I went out to meet some friends at a bar and for about two hours I was the only girl there. It took me back about 20 years and it was great! There was no pressure to impress, no flirting, just guy sillliness.
Don't get me wrong - I love my girlfriends, but still after all these years, I find that I am still "just one of the guys."
Tonight, I went out to meet some friends at a bar and for about two hours I was the only girl there. It took me back about 20 years and it was great! There was no pressure to impress, no flirting, just guy sillliness.
Don't get me wrong - I love my girlfriends, but still after all these years, I find that I am still "just one of the guys."
Friday, July 1, 2011
Say Goodbye to Hollywood
Six years ago, I began the biggest undertaking of my life. I left my secure, comfortable world in Hollywood, Florida and moved to Dallas, Texas. I knew exactly five people here - my great friends Joe and Sarah, their children (who were a year old at the time) and my ex-boyfriend who I only spoke to occassionally.
For those who knew me a long time, this seemed like an impossible idea. I am the child that moved from Philadelphia at age 10 and couldn't wait to get back after high school (I never went back to live but still love to visit). I am the only one of the four of us who didn't really go away for college (there's that one semester at USF, but I only lasted one because I missed Hollywood too much). I lived with my parents until I was 31 (although that was primarily for financial reasons). So it would stand to reason that I would live and die right there in good old Hollywood, Florida. Teaching school, working part time at the Y and visiting Rickey's on a regular basis.
Life had other plans for me.
From the first time I came to Dallas for Sarah's Oscar party in 2002, I felt like I belonged. That feeling only increased with every visit. So in September 2004, I asked my 3 month old Goddaughter if I should move to Dallas and she said "Yeah" (have I ever mentioned that she's brilliant?). The wheels were then put into motion. I decided that if I got a job, I'd come for a year, if I liked it I'd stay, if I hated it, I'd go back to Hollywood after a year. Guess which one won out?
I hate saying goodbye to people. The night before I left, I cried like nobody's business as I said goodbye to Alison and Jennifer (they laughed at me). I cried when I pulled out of the garage in my '97 Honda Civic with a car full of crap after saying goodbye to my sisters. But next to me was a new Boo Bear for my Godson and I knew I was making the best decision of my life.
For those who knew me a long time, this seemed like an impossible idea. I am the child that moved from Philadelphia at age 10 and couldn't wait to get back after high school (I never went back to live but still love to visit). I am the only one of the four of us who didn't really go away for college (there's that one semester at USF, but I only lasted one because I missed Hollywood too much). I lived with my parents until I was 31 (although that was primarily for financial reasons). So it would stand to reason that I would live and die right there in good old Hollywood, Florida. Teaching school, working part time at the Y and visiting Rickey's on a regular basis.
Life had other plans for me.
From the first time I came to Dallas for Sarah's Oscar party in 2002, I felt like I belonged. That feeling only increased with every visit. So in September 2004, I asked my 3 month old Goddaughter if I should move to Dallas and she said "Yeah" (have I ever mentioned that she's brilliant?). The wheels were then put into motion. I decided that if I got a job, I'd come for a year, if I liked it I'd stay, if I hated it, I'd go back to Hollywood after a year. Guess which one won out?
I hate saying goodbye to people. The night before I left, I cried like nobody's business as I said goodbye to Alison and Jennifer (they laughed at me). I cried when I pulled out of the garage in my '97 Honda Civic with a car full of crap after saying goodbye to my sisters. But next to me was a new Boo Bear for my Godson and I knew I was making the best decision of my life.
Billy Joel has a great song called "Say Goodbye to Hollywood." Every time I hear it I think about Hollywood, Florida (it's really about that other Hollywood). And the following lines are so true for me:
"Moving on is a chance you take everytime you try to stay together,
Say a word out line and you find the friends you had are gone -
Forever . . . forever
So many faces in and out of my life
Some will last, some will be just now and then
Life is a series of hellos and goodbyes
I'm afraid it's time for goodbye again."
I am so lucky to still have my wonderful Hollywood friends. And I'm just as lucky to have wonderful friends here in Dallas. Thank you to those of you in Hollywood (and the vicinity) that supported me six years ago when I moved and always welcome me back with open arms when I visit. And thank you to those of you in Dallas who do the same.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
I Love It/I Love It Not
I'm in a love/hate relationship (again) and it's tearing me apart.
Some days I love Facebook. Some days I hate Facebook.
Facebook is a great invention! How many of us have reconnected with old friends through Facebook? I helped to organize two reunions with groups of college friends and other fun events through the beauty of Facebook. I keep up with so many of my former students using it. I have become reacquainted with cousins - some that I haven't seen since 1980. I can see pictures of my friends, their kids, and find out all of their latest news. I can visit with Charlie and Fred whenever I want because they're still there too.
My friend Lorraine harrasses me on a regular basis to the point that I laugh myself silly. Without Facebook I never would have been able to help my former student Victor when he was in Dallas and needed a ride to the airport - heck I wouldn't have even known he was in Dallas. I enjoy sharing family news with my dad since "no one ever tells" him anything. I now share the silly musings of this blog because I "share" it on Facebook. I play about four rounds of Scrabble every day with my friend Larry in Florida.
And then there is the goofy side that I get share (and have missed). If you don't know what I'm talking about check out my photo album "Tastykake Art." If this teaching thing doesn't work out, I think I could be to Tastykake what Andy Warhol was to Campbells Soup!
Tonight in a magazine I read that a recent study at Kent State University found that "presenting yourself positively on the side (such as through status updates or photo albums) increases well-being and self-worth . . ." So Facebook must be a good thing right?
Facebook is soooooo much fun!!!!!!!!
Facebook is the bane of my existence. As Betty White said "Facebook is a huge waste of time." I've been done with school for over a week, by now I was supposed to have cleaned out the closets, scrubbed the floors, cleaned out the refrigerator, worked out regularly, and read lots of books. Eleven days after school has let out I have yet to clean out the closets, scrub the floors, or clean out the refrigerator (I have worked out, but I have the Facebook app on my IPhone which I take with me so I can listen to music, so . . . ) and I've finished one book that I was reading before school got out.
More times than not, I have felt slighted because I was left out of something and then found out about it on Facebook. And honesty, I could do without the comments people have made about some of the bad decisions I made in college (I think most of those have been removed - breathing heavy sigh of relief here). There are the junior high pictures when I was in my awkward stage (please don't go looking for them) that even I never wanted to see again which someone else posted.
Today in the "People You May Know" box a guy popped up that I met 10 years ago at a wedding in Texas (four years before I thought about moving to Texas!). He and his wife were nice people. I met them one other time after that . At some point I heard through our mutual friends that they had gotten divorced. Yadda, yadda, yadda. The wife and I became "friends" (acquaintances) on FB. Turns out now that all of my "new" Dallas friends (not just FB friends but truly friends that I go out with) are "friending" the husband, so in Facebook logic I must know him too.
This got me thinking. What if you had a really bad divorce, breakup, whatever? What happens to the Facebook friends? Do you stay friends? Does they become part of the settlement?
Anyway, I am going to make a solemn promise to myself right here and now. Tomorrow I will not get on Facebook at all until AFTER I accomplish one of the summer To Do tasks. I'll begin one as soon as I get done with my workout. ; )
Some days I love Facebook. Some days I hate Facebook.
Facebook is a great invention! How many of us have reconnected with old friends through Facebook? I helped to organize two reunions with groups of college friends and other fun events through the beauty of Facebook. I keep up with so many of my former students using it. I have become reacquainted with cousins - some that I haven't seen since 1980. I can see pictures of my friends, their kids, and find out all of their latest news. I can visit with Charlie and Fred whenever I want because they're still there too.
My friend Lorraine harrasses me on a regular basis to the point that I laugh myself silly. Without Facebook I never would have been able to help my former student Victor when he was in Dallas and needed a ride to the airport - heck I wouldn't have even known he was in Dallas. I enjoy sharing family news with my dad since "no one ever tells" him anything. I now share the silly musings of this blog because I "share" it on Facebook. I play about four rounds of Scrabble every day with my friend Larry in Florida.
And then there is the goofy side that I get share (and have missed). If you don't know what I'm talking about check out my photo album "Tastykake Art." If this teaching thing doesn't work out, I think I could be to Tastykake what Andy Warhol was to Campbells Soup!
Tonight in a magazine I read that a recent study at Kent State University found that "presenting yourself positively on the side (such as through status updates or photo albums) increases well-being and self-worth . . ." So Facebook must be a good thing right?
Facebook is soooooo much fun!!!!!!!!
Facebook is the bane of my existence. As Betty White said "Facebook is a huge waste of time." I've been done with school for over a week, by now I was supposed to have cleaned out the closets, scrubbed the floors, cleaned out the refrigerator, worked out regularly, and read lots of books. Eleven days after school has let out I have yet to clean out the closets, scrub the floors, or clean out the refrigerator (I have worked out, but I have the Facebook app on my IPhone which I take with me so I can listen to music, so . . . ) and I've finished one book that I was reading before school got out.
More times than not, I have felt slighted because I was left out of something and then found out about it on Facebook. And honesty, I could do without the comments people have made about some of the bad decisions I made in college (I think most of those have been removed - breathing heavy sigh of relief here). There are the junior high pictures when I was in my awkward stage (please don't go looking for them) that even I never wanted to see again which someone else posted.
Today in the "People You May Know" box a guy popped up that I met 10 years ago at a wedding in Texas (four years before I thought about moving to Texas!). He and his wife were nice people. I met them one other time after that . At some point I heard through our mutual friends that they had gotten divorced. Yadda, yadda, yadda. The wife and I became "friends" (acquaintances) on FB. Turns out now that all of my "new" Dallas friends (not just FB friends but truly friends that I go out with) are "friending" the husband, so in Facebook logic I must know him too.
This got me thinking. What if you had a really bad divorce, breakup, whatever? What happens to the Facebook friends? Do you stay friends? Does they become part of the settlement?
Anyway, I am going to make a solemn promise to myself right here and now. Tomorrow I will not get on Facebook at all until AFTER I accomplish one of the summer To Do tasks. I'll begin one as soon as I get done with my workout. ; )
Monday, June 13, 2011
Rising Up
Hello all 6 of my readers - haha! Which one of you is a dream analyzer? (Actually I know which one is and I look forward to your comments).
Last night (this morning if you want to be technical about it), I had a dream that I was on my way home from school (I was in school) and had a decision about which way to get there. I chose to go on the train, even though I was alone and unsure. As soon as I got on the train, a man came up to me and picked me up by the shirt with one hand and raised me up. High up, above him, above everyone else on the train. I was petrified because this guy scared me. It seemed to me that the other people on the train were scared of him too, but no one did anything to stop him. He put me down almost as fast as he picked me up though. I went to my seat where I was not bothered again, but comforted by a friend I haven't seen in a while (for those in the know Cackman - go figure).
I awoke from that dream to start my day, but I've wondered about it all day long. What did mean? Was this person trying to scare me? Is there someone out there who does scare me? Why did he let me go? Why was Cackman comforting me?
After much thought, this is what I think I got from it (but would love to hear from you too). These past six months have been a huge time of change for me. Relationships have changed, some have ended completely, some have grown out of a comfort of loss, there's been death, new relationships, a rediscovery of my religion, lots of things.
Last night I watched as my beloved Miami Heat lost the NBA Championship to the Dallas Mavericks. Those who know me know that I have been a Heat fan for years - going to games since the '88-'89 opening season with Rony Seikaly, Jon Sunvold and Ron Rothstein, had season tickets for a number of years, met Tim Hardaway (twice) and had a crush on 12th man off the bench Marty Conlon. Well last night as the Heat lost, I heard the taunts from many a Mavericks fan (and some who were not).
To me the rivalary was fun. It's just a game after all, the results of which weren't going to change my life. However, I felt like some of the remarks were just down right mean. I began to take what people were saying to me seriously. After a weekend that included other disappointments which I had no control over, these remarks would have put me over the edge. They would have added to the disappointment of being let down and maybe sent me reeling.
I am proud to say that they didn't. I think that's what my dream was about. I think it was God lifting me up as if to say "look how far you've come." Reminding me that I can rise above my disappointments on this crazy train of a life.
Last night (this morning if you want to be technical about it), I had a dream that I was on my way home from school (I was in school) and had a decision about which way to get there. I chose to go on the train, even though I was alone and unsure. As soon as I got on the train, a man came up to me and picked me up by the shirt with one hand and raised me up. High up, above him, above everyone else on the train. I was petrified because this guy scared me. It seemed to me that the other people on the train were scared of him too, but no one did anything to stop him. He put me down almost as fast as he picked me up though. I went to my seat where I was not bothered again, but comforted by a friend I haven't seen in a while (for those in the know Cackman - go figure).
I awoke from that dream to start my day, but I've wondered about it all day long. What did mean? Was this person trying to scare me? Is there someone out there who does scare me? Why did he let me go? Why was Cackman comforting me?
After much thought, this is what I think I got from it (but would love to hear from you too). These past six months have been a huge time of change for me. Relationships have changed, some have ended completely, some have grown out of a comfort of loss, there's been death, new relationships, a rediscovery of my religion, lots of things.
Last night I watched as my beloved Miami Heat lost the NBA Championship to the Dallas Mavericks. Those who know me know that I have been a Heat fan for years - going to games since the '88-'89 opening season with Rony Seikaly, Jon Sunvold and Ron Rothstein, had season tickets for a number of years, met Tim Hardaway (twice) and had a crush on 12th man off the bench Marty Conlon. Well last night as the Heat lost, I heard the taunts from many a Mavericks fan (and some who were not).
To me the rivalary was fun. It's just a game after all, the results of which weren't going to change my life. However, I felt like some of the remarks were just down right mean. I began to take what people were saying to me seriously. After a weekend that included other disappointments which I had no control over, these remarks would have put me over the edge. They would have added to the disappointment of being let down and maybe sent me reeling.
I am proud to say that they didn't. I think that's what my dream was about. I think it was God lifting me up as if to say "look how far you've come." Reminding me that I can rise above my disappointments on this crazy train of a life.
Monday, May 9, 2011
Music from Heaven
This weekend I made the trip to Winter Haven Florida to remember my best friend. What a memorial it was!!!!! There were a lot of laughs and lots of tears, but the one thing that was the most prevalent was love and music.
How lucky each of us were that were to be loved by one person so much. And how lucky are each of us to have a part of that love within us. My hope is that we all learn from that love and use it well. How lucky for us too that we have all been reminded of that love in these difficult days.
I said a few months ago that Charlie would go from being my George Bailey to being my Clarence. I don't know how many of us actually believe in angels, an afterlife in Heaven, etc. I always have, but my belief system has been strongly reinforced after the last few days.
It started well before I left Dallas for Texas, but on the plane, I was having a moment and my eyes began to well with tears. My ITunes changed songs to "I'm Coming Out" by Diana Ross. I laughed out loud remembering the last conversation Charlie and I had - when he was only awake about an hour a day - and the never ending joke that we have shared for the past 20 years. I was so close to Heaven in that plane and I know that Charlie put that song on to let me know that he was okay and that he is still with me in spirit.
As the weekend went on, others shared stories about a song they heard that reminded them of Charlie, only to change the song to hear another one. Each one started with tears and ended with laughter. That's what Charlie would have wanted. He would have wanted us to laugh, and so we did (usually while crying at the same time).
At the end of his tree planting service, a few of us stood in front of the magnolia tree planted in Charlie's honor and took a picture. How surprising to see that he showed up there too - to let us all know that he's still here!
I love you my friend and I miss you more than you will ever know.
Sunday, May 1, 2011
My Best Friend
I lost my best friend today. I fear going to sleep because I don't want to dream about him. I am being selfish and I always want him to be here with me. In some ways, it's like he is but it still sucks!!!!!!!!!!
Make sure you cherish each moment you have with those you love. You never know when they'll be taken away, and even when you know it's coming, it's still a blow.
I love you Charlie, thank you for always being there for me.
Make sure you cherish each moment you have with those you love. You never know when they'll be taken away, and even when you know it's coming, it's still a blow.
I love you Charlie, thank you for always being there for me.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
It's a Wonderful Life
As I've said here before, I told my friend Charlie that he was my own personal George Bailey because my life (and I have since come to find out many others) wouldn't be what it is if I hadn't met him some 20+ years ago.
The other day though, I was walking back from the pool (where I was working on my base tan over spring break - haha!) when I had an epiphany - my life is pretty damn wonderful! And I have spent too many years not thinking that.
I have a family that loves me, great friends, a job, a place to live, good food to eat, and I'm healthy - just to name a few things. Where do I have room to complain? Granted, some things don't turn out the way I want them to. Some things have most definitely not gone the way I wanted, but really, what the heck do I have to complain about? Seriously!
So in the upcoming weeks, months, years - when things don't go my way, I'm going to remember just how wonderful I have it! I know that will put everything into perspective.
The other day though, I was walking back from the pool (where I was working on my base tan over spring break - haha!) when I had an epiphany - my life is pretty damn wonderful! And I have spent too many years not thinking that.
I have a family that loves me, great friends, a job, a place to live, good food to eat, and I'm healthy - just to name a few things. Where do I have room to complain? Granted, some things don't turn out the way I want them to. Some things have most definitely not gone the way I wanted, but really, what the heck do I have to complain about? Seriously!
So in the upcoming weeks, months, years - when things don't go my way, I'm going to remember just how wonderful I have it! I know that will put everything into perspective.
Monday, February 14, 2011
My Funny Valentine
I decided back at the beginning of January that this year I was going to be my own Valentine. I was done waiting for Prince Charming to come sweep me off of my feet and take me to some expensive restraurant for dinner. I wasn't going to wait for pink roses or chocolate. I was going to be my own Valentine.
I think I'm definitely My (Own) Funny Valentine. Mainly because I went through with this goofy idea. And honestly, my figure is less than Greek (all those female Greek statues have tiny hips and feet). Plus most of the time when I say something it comes out wrong. It really does, ask me I can give you plenty of examples. Here are the lyrics I'm referring to.
Is your figure less than Greek?
Is your mouth a little weak
When you open your mouth to speak
Are you smart?
Last week I got an email from Cooking Light magazine with the subject line "Romantic Dinners for Two." Normally I would delete this right away, I didn't want another reminder of a lonely Valentine's Day. But not this year because I resolved to be my own (funny) Valentine!
The gods must have been smiling on me because the very first recipe was Scallops on Linguini!
Perfect! My two favorite things - scallops and pasta!
I went to the grocery store yesterday and got most of the ingredients. On the way home from work today I stopped at Whole Foods for the scallops and some French wine. Then came home to begin on my romantic dinner for two.
While the scallops were searing, I lit the candles in my Waterford Crystal candleholders, poured a glass of French red and set the table for one. I served myself and then sat down to eat with classical music playing in the background.
It was delicious! I even forgot to mix in the ginger and shallots (they were in a reserve bowl - oops). I did think to myself in the middle of my meal (at least I didn't talk to myself), that the ginger and shallots really added something to the meal! (Refer back to the lyrics that say are you smart).
I don't think I could have gotten a better dinner if I had gone out. Unless George Clooney had knocked on the door. Then those scallops would have been tossed to the wayside faster you can say "George Clooney".
Was it a goofy idea? Maybe to some. I did laugh my way through most of it - sitting by myself in candlelight. But now I can say that I have had a candlelit dinner for two (I've saved half for lunch tomorrow - my apologies now to the WE staff if it smells fishy) with romantic music playing in the background.
Erma Bombeck (I think) said to never wait until "someday" because someday may never come. Maybe I'm learning that lesson in a very hard and painful way, but I'm so glad that I'm learning.
Happy Valentine's Day!
Friday, February 4, 2011
It's a Wonderful Life
It's a Wonderful Life is my favorite movie. It reminds me of how important family and friends are in our life. It reminds me that we each have a guardian angel looking out for us, reminding us of just how wonderful our life really is.
We all have a "George Bailey." That one person who makes our life complete. The one person we who helped make us into the person we are. We all have a Clarence too. An angel that watches out for us and helps to see just how wonderful we are.
My George is about to become my Clarence. I'm inconsolable about it.
I have been fortunate enough to call Charlie Lyle my best friend for more than 20 years. Who'd have thought that day I walked into the Broward Community College South Campus Student Life Office that my life would be altered forever. Never have I had a bigger cheerleader, encourager, supporter, and playmate.
Memories have been flooding back the past few days: our stupid Fashion Center game where we tried to out store name each other; the only shouting match we ever had in the parking lot of the Rustic Inn; watching Leon Lett slide through the snow; "It's like being home in the trailer park"; his months in Umatilla; his little white Escort; the truck that talked; the laughter ; when he held my hand when I was in more pain than I thought I could bear.
Who's going to hold my hand through this? I don't know what I'm going to do without my best friend.
Oh I know he'll be here. He's going to be my Clarence. He's still going to laugh at me when I do something stupid, he's going to whisper words of confidence in my ear when I don't believe in myself. He'll be there every morning when I wake up, every night when I go to bed and every second in between.
My loss is nothing compared to his family's loss. He's going to be a very busy Clarence. There's a lot of us he's got to look out for. I know he'll get it done. He gets everything done. He's never let anyone down.
Everytime a bell rings, an angel gets its wings. "George" you got yours a long time ago. I love you.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Girlfriends are the Best!!!!
For years I was "just one of the guys." I spent the best part of my college years playing fooseball and pool and drinking beer with the guys. Those were the best years of my life.
Tonight though I am thankful for my girlfriends. It was a sucky day. Things didn't go the way I planned and I was mad about that. Unfortunately for my friend Laura, she called right in the middle of my personal stewing and was dealt the brunt of my frustration (it had nothing to do with her).
Even though I was not on my planned schedule I did follow through with one of my plans and went to the gym. After a great workout, I called Laura and apologized for lashing out at her. She's so good, because she said "Oh I didn't think you did that at all." We then talked for thirty more minutes about "stuff" and realized that we're really pretty normal.
After eating dinner, I saw some interesting information on Facebook. I knew I had to call my friend Deanna to confirm what I read. (Deanna and I worked together for two years, and she's one of the best teachers I know.) I talked and laughed with her for half an hour too, as she shared insights about her "normal" family and the invention of the "cup," among other things.
Then my friend Pam called from Colorado. We had a great time gossiping and solving "the world's" problems. If we ran the world, everything would be A-okay! But we really don't want to run the world we're just happy being cogs in the machine.
It is because of these three friends that my day has done a complete 180. I am so thankful that I have them and others who will listen to me bitch, laugh with me and tell me where the best pizza in the world is. I love my guy friends, but they would have been done the minute I started bitching and would never have lasted 30 minutes on the phone.
Now girls - who wants to play fooseball?
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Thumbs Up
Happy 2011!!!!
I've got a notebook called "100 Things to Do in My Life" - it has 61 things in it, but that's okay because I can still add to it.
Number 19 is "Host Fabulous Parties." I've put this off for some time because I live in an apartment and thought it would be too small for a fabulous party. But if I learned anything in 2011 it's that life it too short, so I decided to have a small fabulous party. I'd make pulled pork, baked beans, macaroni and cheese and cola cake! I was so excited!!!
I got up early on New Year's Eve, went shopping and cleaned most of the day. Yesterdy (New Year's Day), I got up early to put the finishing touches on the party set up. I had a timeline all mapped out in my head. 12:00 the pork was going in the oven. Well, the best laid plans . . .
I had to run to the store for more paprika for the rub, so I was off to a late start. It was fine though, because I knew this would be good pork!!!! I got the rub mixed, got the cutting board out, started cutting the fat off and sliced right across my thumb!!!!!
So many people told me it was a horrible way to start my year, but all I could do was laugh! Rub and blood!!!! I did manage to get the rub on the pork and the pork in the oven. And I am very thankful for my friend Patrica who came over to sit with the pork and straighten up while I was at Primacare.
In the end, things turned out fabulously!!!! And if this is the worst thing that happens to my in 2011 then it will be a great year!!!!
So Thumbs Up to 2011!!!!!
I've got a notebook called "100 Things to Do in My Life" - it has 61 things in it, but that's okay because I can still add to it.
Number 19 is "Host Fabulous Parties." I've put this off for some time because I live in an apartment and thought it would be too small for a fabulous party. But if I learned anything in 2011 it's that life it too short, so I decided to have a small fabulous party. I'd make pulled pork, baked beans, macaroni and cheese and cola cake! I was so excited!!!
I got up early on New Year's Eve, went shopping and cleaned most of the day. Yesterdy (New Year's Day), I got up early to put the finishing touches on the party set up. I had a timeline all mapped out in my head. 12:00 the pork was going in the oven. Well, the best laid plans . . .
I had to run to the store for more paprika for the rub, so I was off to a late start. It was fine though, because I knew this would be good pork!!!! I got the rub mixed, got the cutting board out, started cutting the fat off and sliced right across my thumb!!!!!
So many people told me it was a horrible way to start my year, but all I could do was laugh! Rub and blood!!!! I did manage to get the rub on the pork and the pork in the oven. And I am very thankful for my friend Patrica who came over to sit with the pork and straighten up while I was at Primacare.
In the end, things turned out fabulously!!!! And if this is the worst thing that happens to my in 2011 then it will be a great year!!!!
So Thumbs Up to 2011!!!!!
Sunday, August 8, 2010
My mom
I'm recently back from spending three weeks in Florida with my family. I had a great time! I'm so lucky to have a wonderful family, even when I don't always appreciate them all the time (do any of us?).
My mom and I drank together, laughed together until we cried, went shopping, watched "In the Line of Fire" and recited the lines word for word for the umpteenth time, and so many other things.
Unbelievably after three weeks, for the first time in five years, I wasn't ready to leave. I was sad to leave. I was going to miss spending time with my mom. Who would shop with me or laugh with me when I got home? Sure I have friends here but it's not the same as having my best friend.
All my life I wanted to be just like my mom. When I was little, I played house like nobody's business. I remember saying once that when I grew up I wanted to be a housewife, because that's what my mom did. Even now at 40, I strive to be like her. I make crafty things at Christmas like she does. I shop for bargains (most of the time), I say what's on my mind because that's what she does (always in a kind way). I still to try to play tennis, because she did (I started at7 or 8). I pray to Mary, because that's what she did. My mom made me everything I am today.
Today I was cleaning out my place - "cleaning like mom" I say because I throw a lot out or put it in a bag for Goodwill. While cleaning I came across a letter she wrote me almost 25 years ago when I was getting ready to go on a retreat. In it she wrote that she wanted for me all of the things she never had.
How funny, all of these years, I wanted to be her and she wanted to be me. . .
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