I Read Too Much

Years ago, before my life took a drastic turn, I wrote a blog about a 30-day challenge.  The premise of that blog was to write something different every day for, well, 30 days!  I never got there.  I did blog many times over the course of that life change, but I never got to the challenge.  Despite that, I'd wager to say it was some of my most profound writing; personal opinion, of course.  Honestly, in the last several months I have felt the urge to write but am constantly fighting for the words to say, the things to share, the thoughts to come. It is almost like there is nothing left in me worth writing about.  It isn't that I am without problems or life events, it is just that they are all rather, normal.  Gasp!  My life is normal - I'm a normal human.  Anyway, before I get too much further into this aimless rambling, I thought I would give another go at this whole 30-day challenge thing. Before we begin, I have to admit Pinterest is a wonderful tool for finding random

The days that past were such a blur.  Even now, looking back, I can't for the life of me remember each little detail, but I do recall the beauty of it.  First, and foremost, I need to alert you to the fact we are about to embark on a full case of "sappy".  As in a sappy love story.  Man, I have waited so long for this kind of a story.  One of my own that is.  Trust me I've read a lot of others! In the days that followed December 20th it seemed like every dream I ever had finally come true.  Naturally it was the Christmas season and that alone carries a multitude of magic and love, but this year, even when I never would have thought it could be, my Christmas miracle finally came.  You see, from December 20th on we were inseparable.  It was almost like we'd never met before and we were just getting to know each other all over again. (You know how fun and exciting those first months are.) But at the same time there was the peace and comfort of knowing that each tho

I felt the fan's breeze this morning as I entered my room; not unlike any other day before it. Most days I don't pay it any attention because it's gentle breeze gets lost in the spans, while the other times I feel the cool wind as it makes my hair blow about my face.  Yet not today.  No, today the breeze brought to my attention the emptiness of my hands, the barrenness of my fingers. Over the years I had created a routine for myself, one where I would remove my wedding rings and my pink sapphire ring before putting on my lotion. The breeze would strike my skin, cool from the freshly applied lotion, and gently offer me a quiet reminder to put my rings back on.  In the beginning, those days so many months ago, when I no longer had rings to wear this routine would leave me sad and broken. Then many times throughout the day I'd touch my thumb to the void on my ring finger, serving another reminder of the loss I had been dealt. As with all things time had it's way of

My middle little, the one who is extremely sassy, drama-prone, loud to the nth degree, impressionable, and full of genuine love wanted to go through scrapbooks tonight.  This should have sent alarm bells off in my head the minute I walked back in from my walk/run tonight.  (Yes, I tried to run even with my injury, yes, yes, yes!) I tried every tactic I could think of to deter this.  I made up one condition after another.  It wasn't so much that I didn't want to spend the time with her; I just didn't want to go through those blasted books.  Those books that I poured untold hours, obscene amounts of money, and unmeasurable amounts of love into creating.  I USED to scrapbook.  USED to . You know, back when preserving family memories meant something because forever wasn't supposed to end. We started off somewhere in the middle of her toddler years.  I was never good at chronological order.  I made that a goal with the littlest little, but I'm like at 8 months.  Yeah,

I didn't get your last phone call.  I was too busy doing Heaven only knows what.  Life does that. It keeps you busy.  People will always tell you, mostly the older generation, that you need to slow down and stop and enjoy the simple things in life.  They are right.  I think it comes from a better understanding of what is truly important.  Because I missed that phone call.  The one that may have only taken a couple of minutes.  I didn't get to hear your voice for the last time.  I didn't get to say, "I love you grandma," for the last time.  You came into this world a chubby little blond haired baby on September 22, 1941.  You grew up like most kids in the depression, without much, but from the pictures we sifted through for hours and hours yesterday, you looked happy.  I think having siblings helped.  I saw you as a teenager in the 50's, a radiant beauty in the 60's, a bustling mom in the 70's, a proud grandma in the 80's, and a woman who enjoyed

I did it!  I finished one of my goals.  I took a giant step towards the first day of the rest of my life.  I finished my degree.  What started with small steps, one to two classes at a time, at a traditional college, ended with a runner's sprint to the finish line at a school with a program geared towards working adults/professionals.  All I can say is - where was this school all those years ago?!  Despite the time it took to finish this goal, I can say one thing with certainty; it came at the exact time it needed to, at a precise moment in time.  I knew this was going to be a year of many firsts.  Truth, I've already experienced a lot of them.  So far, this is my favorite!  And it isn't so much the completion of this goal that makes it so.  No, it is all the love and encouragement that I received for accomplishing this goal.  You really need to know - I am so blessed.  I have the most amazing group of people I get the honor of calling friends and family.  Because of them,

I see him, in my mind's eye, sitting there at the kitchen table like every day before reading his newspaper, drinking his coffee, and smoking his Winston.  The radio is softly playing in the background, turned to some county station that I am sure no longer flows on the radio waves.  The faint smells from the pot of coffee brewed earlier in the morning, while the rest of the house slept peacefully.  The gentle hum of the fridge that was undoubtedly older than I was, at the time. The roll top desk nestled against the north facing wall, under the sliding window, the telephone hanging prominently on the wall to the right of it.  The desk surfaces covered in an organized chaos that only made sense to the one person who managed its contents, my grandpa. Grandpa was a good man, strong yet soft at the same time.  He loved us all, but I find a small bit of comfort in knowing him longest.  I also weep at that fact for it made many more memories to hold.  I'll never forget the sunny da

...love and hugs and kisses and smiles and warmth.  A grandma is strength and softness and kindness and praise.  A grandma is a gift.  My grandma came to visit this past weekend.  It isn't often that I get to see her anymore.  You see, she can't drive these days and relies on those around her to get her where she needs to go.  I'd be that someone, but she lives in Chicago, and well, I don't.  Just like the rest of us, grandma is getting older.  I think the hardest part about seeing her so sporadically is that in my mind's eye she is still 50 years old and healthy as can be. When I was younger she used to live next door, this is where I spent most of my time.  I probably still would if she were closer. But I digress... Grandma used to have a sewing room.  I was never destined to be a seamstress like she was, but how I loved to tinker with the scraps she left behind.  I can remember one fine day, in 7th grade, where I was bound and determined to make my own dress, w

I'm sure there are thousands of bloggers world wide anxiously tapping away at their keyboards trying to put to word the joys, pains, lessons, and sorrows that 2011 held.  It is now 8:45 on the 31st, less than 16 hours until that infamous ball drops and all the country, or at least this time zone, will sing Auld Lang Syne and kiss the appropriate person next to them firmly on the lips.  It warms my heart to think of the promises the new year can and will hold, but also saddens me to know that another year is being closed and that the tome will be be placed forevermore in the memory banks of those who wrote it's pages.  This year saw many things for my family as well as for me, these include: 1. The start of this blog 2. My mad quest to read 150 books 3. My children all celebrating another year 4. The loss of our family dog, Dorothy 5. My youngest starting pre-school 6. My oldest starting her last year of Elementary school 7. A trip of a lifetime to Israel 8. Immense ne

Several years ago, circa late 1997/early 1998, I went on a group "date" with a bunch of friends and we watched a scary-ish movie with a song in it which lyrics stated "time is on my side, yes it is."  I can't help but to think, that though the memories of that evening are greatly shadowed and the people I shared it with are vastly dispersed from my life right now, that there was some truth in the matter.  I know this probably seems like a form of psycho babble, but work with me here. Time has a way of being on our side.  No, really.  I know that it flies and it is something no matter how hard you try you will never get back, but it is those moments you are given that are truly yours; they are essentially on your side.  For instance, this weekend, the sum of 48 hours, in no way held the adventure, the lure, the promise, of great memories being made, but it held in it time spent in my home, with my family, doing what families do. What does that picture look li