The Edge of Reason

Current Events

Currently, there are four topics of conversation in my house:

1. Prom. Even though it is months away, my counters are covered with teen magazines featuring prom dresses. Alyssa is on the hunt for the perfect dress, and she has Post-It Notes on at least fifty pages as she tries to narrow it down to her idea of perfection. Recently, my researching daughter has discovered that there is such a thing as a Prom Journal (yeah, they actually make these... it is like a wedding planner, only it is set up for planning a perfect prom night. I wish I would have thought of this idea. It is bound to be a money maker considering that today's teens spend hundreds of dollars on their proms). However, I hesitate to run out and buy her the Prom Journal, considering that whatever it contains or suggests can only mean more prom talk, which I fear I may tire of come June.
2. The Red Hot Chili Peppers. Tonight John is attending his first concert. He is going to see the Red Hot Chili Peppers perform at the Verizon Center in downtown D.C. He is out of his mind excited. The good news bonus was when he heard on the radio that Gnarles Barkley was going to be the opening act. I'm not sure if John knows what to expect from his first concert, but based on personal experience, I am guessing that he will remember this night for the rest of his life. To this day, I can still recall my first concert with clarity. Rock concerts are one of life's great moments, and I'm happy that John will be able to experience this moment with the guys in his band - that is going to make it all the more exciting. Teen boys with big dreams. That's what growing up is all about, and concerts are a great way to celebrate being young and having dreams.
3. Exams. It is exam week at the high school. During a normal semester, exam week is stressful. Add to the stress a snow day, and all hell breaks loose. Snow days tend to mess with the exam schedule in a major way. In our school district, it is set up so that the high schoolers take two exams a day for four days in a row. They are released early during exam week, with the intention that they will utilize the extra hours at home to study (Alyssa does, John doesn't). On the Friday of exam week, the kids have a no-school day as the teachers grade the exams and enter the scores into the district's main computer system. That's the plan. That's how it has always worked. That is why John was allowed to attend the Red Hot Chili Pepper concert on a Thursday night... there was no school scheduled for Friday. Well, the best laid plans, and all that jazz. Winter finally decided to make an appearance on Sunday, and Monday was declared a snow day, which in turn postponed exams for a day, which meant Friday was in fact an exam day. "AWE CRAP!" That's what John said on Monday morning (fearing I would not allow him to attend the concert on a school night). "AWE CRAP!" My response was the same as John's (realizing that I would have to make a difficult parenting decision). "AWE CRAP!" Is what Alyssa said, too (having spent the first nine years of her life in Wisconsin and thinking that a piddly inch of snow was a ridiculous reason to cancel school). NOTE: Refer to number two of this list to find out how I handled the difficult parenting decision. I'm such a push over.
4. CHA. I leave for Anaheim on Friday morning. After working on the Luxe debut for over six months, it is time for us to put on a show (has it really been that long since I told Jennifer Lynn Moody that I would be thrilled to join the team? Wow, that went fast.). I am filled with emotion as I prepare for this trip. I am honored to be a part of the Luxe team. I am also anxious to experience the thrill of a new company debut. But most of all I am feeling excited and nervous all at once, and that has made for little sleep and a lot of adrenaline. Which is the sole reason I have not updated the blog for an entire week. I spend every waking minute talking with my kids about one of the first three items on this list, or working on Luxe into the wee hours of the morning - and we all know that I can't spill the beans before Sunday morning when the doors of the show open in Anaheim. But I'm dying to. It's killing me not to be able to share. In fact, I finally caved in and did share some of the things I'm working on with my mom, my sister, and my sister-in-law. They are not scrapbookers. They have no vested interest in Luxe other than the knowledge that it makes me happy, thus they think very highly of the company. Sharing with them was safe. Plus, it took away much of the temptation I have felt in wanting to share with my scrapping pals.

I'm happy to report that Mom, Jenny and Debbie each gushed over the products. They loved the designs, they loved the colors, they loved the samples, and they loved the projects. Yes, they are probably biased, but still... I know them well enough to know that if they questioned the quality or the designs in any way, they would have told me. And so I am feeling good about things. Sharing with my family was most certainly the right thing to do.

And since I shared with my family, I thought it would be fun to share a little sneak peek with my extended family - those who visit the blog and who are friends both old and new. This is all I can post for now, but I have jpg images ready to post as soon as I arrive in Anaheim and the product is revealed.

Until then - enjoy the sneak. I'll be checking in from California on a much more regular basis. I know I'll have a lot to write about!

Ode to January

January is the month when I reevaluate, reconsider, and realign my way of thinking. It is also in January when I take a deep breath and want to crawl under the covers until the weather warms up and the sun begins to shine. January is an odd month because it arrives after the excitement of the holidays and before the rebirth of the earth in spring. As far as months go, January is not one of my favorites.

I imagine that there are others in the world who approach January the same way I do - it is a month to survive and endure. This is the month when I do only what is absolutely necessary and not much more. January and me are at a stalemate: no one wins; we both just hang on. And so with that in mind, I thought the following guidelines might be applicable:

When I received this darling cartoon from my friend Randi, I couldn't help but laugh because it actually made me stop and wonder, "Would I recycle and delete the things I do in my home every day? Would I willingly give up taking care of the place of refuge I have created for my family?" The answer in January would be yes. The answer any other month of the year would be a resounding no.

As I thought about this today, I came to the conclusion that if I truly had the choice to do away with my routines (including the mundane and not so exciting task of facing January)... if I really could recycle and delete my daily chores, my belief is that I would choose not to delete, but rather to save and archive instead.

And when it comes right down to it, that's the way women are. We hold on to our routines because routine offers security, and as women, we know that security is worth sacrifice. And in my opinion, sacrifice is another way of showing that we care. Therefore, we carry on and sludge through snow and ice, we get up in the dark of the morning and we stay up late at night to tend sick children, and all the while we muddle through the month of January with the same determination that we have every other month of the year, because we all know that January, too, shall pass.

Years ago when my kids were little I had a housekeeper, and even though she tended to the surface needs of the house twice a week, it was my loving touch that made our house a home. It was my hands that gently arranged the pictures after they were dusted. It was my hands that folded and placed the clothing just so in the drawers. And it was my hand that turned the knob on the dishwasher each night, and unloaded the cups and plates in the mornings. That was my routine, and because it was my routine, it made me feel as though all was right in my world. Additionally, my routine silently said the words, "I love you," to my children because it offered continuity, which in turn gave them the security of knowing their world was a safe and loving place in which to reside.

And so I raise a toast to January, because this is the time of year when I am once again reminded that without the routine of my often mundane and sometimes mindless personal touch, my house wouldn't be a home at all - it would just be a dwelling empty of love. And when a person takes time to stop and think about it, I doubt that hitting delete would be easy - even in January.

this is about nothing in particular

Whew! I am finally coming up for air. It's been a crazy week and I've been swamped - swamped with new Luxe product (it is all so beautiful), swamped with the issues of a rebel son (he is still struggling to find his way), and swamped with new toys (I shop when I am stressed). Therefore, this entry is about nothing in particular because I'm too tired to contemplate anything thought provoking. Instead, I'll just share a few random thoughts regarding the past few days.

Regarding the shopping: In the past week, I have purchased the EK Success Curvy Cutter System - the best cutting system I have ever owned! I have also purchased the Scotch ATG 700 adhesive dispenser - the biggest dry adhesive tool I have ever laid eyes on. And in keeping with my desire to document the Luxe adventure from the beginning, I also purchased a new point and shoot digital camera that will fit in my purse. My justification for the camera purchase was the thought that I will probably never again have the opportunity to work with a company from the ground up, and I consider this to be a personal journey worth documenting. Additionally, my digital SLR is just too cumbersome to lug around when I attend industry events, not to mention the inconvenience of taking a large camera bag through airport security. So... after I mentally justified the purchase of another camera (the fourth in five years), I went shopping. The camera I chose has got to be the cutest camera ever made. And powerful - wow! It is absolutely true that great things come in small packages. This camera has all the bells and whistles that my DSLR does, and more. I am having so much fun playing with the multitude of settings. So... what did I buy, you ask... I bought the Canon PowerShot SD900 Digital Elph (the link includes the specs and a review). This little camera is a 10.0 mega pixel wonder. I could not be happier.

On the subject of taking pictures, I've been taking a lot of them in anticipation of the debut of Luxe Designs, thinking that it would be nice to use current photos for class projects and sample pages. Unfortunately, I did not have my new little toy when I took the following pictures. Had I owned the new camera, I would have been able to use the Children & Pet setting, alleviating the dog's demon eyes.

These pictures include some of the out-takes from a photo shoot Alyssa requested so that she could showcase her new Tiffany tag necklace. Yes, that is what was in the Tiffany blue box on Christmas - a tag necklace to go with her tag bracelet. Apparently, tag jewelry is all the rage and it is considered to be trend-setting in style if it has the actual Tiffany tag attached (after buying her the bracelet, I am now coveting one for myself).

In other news, I attended a Welcome to the Neighborhood party on Friday night, held in honor of the newest couple on the street. In my neighborhood, parties mean one thing: karaoke, and anyone who knows anything about me, knows that karaoke is one of my all-time favorite activities. Unfortunately, the party was well attended by the pre-teen set and the karaoke microphones were in high demand by giggling girls. Because the kids were having so much fun, the adults did not get to sing, but rather spent the night as karaoke groupies. Still, it was a fun night, and it was nice to meet the new neighbor, who, by the way, is an avid scrapbooker. She is planning on converting the exercise room of her new home into a scrapbook studio. That is my kind of neighbor. She's only been scrapbooking for six months, and she is already branching out to altering canvas and books. I think I am going to get along with the newest girl on the street just fine.

And with that, I will wrap up this entry about nothing in particular and hope that I can turn off my brain long enough to get a decent night's sleep. My hours are all messed up due to creative idea overload. Really, that's not a bad thing, but every now and then, I do need to slow down long enough to go to bed.

Something BIG

The first time I met Jennifer Lynn Moody was last summer while on a trip to Chicago. We met in a hotel lounge at midnight the night before the CHA summer show began. It had been a crazy day for both of us due to all sorts of travel fiascoes, and what was intended to be an evening get together turned out to be a midnight dash, as that was the earliest either of us could meet. In spite of the late hour, the meeting was important to me because I wanted to thank Jennifer in person for the support and compassion she had shown regarding John's struggle with autoimmune deficiency disease. She's walked in those shoes, and knowing she is leading a busy and active life was a gift to me during those first months of John's diagnosis.

And so although we were in Chicago on business, the personal meeting was just that... personal. We were able to spend a short half-hour together that night, and during that time, Jennifer shared with me that she was working on something BIG. I wished her well, not knowing what BIG was, but knowing with certainty that whatever she did, it was going to be great, because that's just the way she is - she dreams big and she knows how to make things happen.

It wasn't until September that Jennifer and I hooked up again. This time it was via an email correspondence I received from her. In the email, she asked me if I would be interested in working with her and her team on the BIG project. The word work sent me in a tizzy - I was retired. Had she forgotten that? I didn't respond to her email that day. In fact, I turned off my computer and started to pace. And then I started to think. And then I started to pray. And then I began to ponder. And then I prayed some more. And all the while I paced - back and forth, back and forth. My head was spinning. And as the day came to an end, I went to bed with thoughts of something BIG on my mind.

When I woke up the next day, it was with a sense of excitement. It was also with a great sense of trepidation and fear. When I met Jennifer last summer, it was personal. My intention was never to network. I was not looking for a job. I didn't even know what her BIG project was. And then the email.... what was I going to do about the email? The offer alone was BIG. Was I was actually considering going back to work? That wasn't in my plan. It wasn't something I'd previously considered. Retired meant retired, and that was that. Or was it? Did the Lord bring Jennifer into my life for reasons that I was not aware of? It was with that thought that I bowed my head and said another prayer seeking guidance and direction. Later that day I responded to the email, telling Jennifer that I was interested in hearing more. And so it was - I took a leap of faith and I said yes to Jennifer's offer. And in doing so, I put my fate in God's loving hands, believing with all my heart that I was making the right decision.

The decision to get back in the game, and once again be a part of the industry I love, has been one of the biggest blessings of my life, because that decision has given me direction when I otherwise would have lost myself amid the problems with my child. The decision has allowed me to stretch and grow. And best of all, the decision has allowed me to combine everything I have done in the past and use that knowledge and experience to contribute to something BIG. The thing is... what I didn't know when I said yes, was that BIG really meant HUGE.

Which brings me to the present day. Here we are on the brink of debuting Luxe Designs. These past few months have been filled with hundreds of hours of behind the scenes work. And finally it is time for the BIG show. Never once have I looked back after saying yes - which is not to say that I have not experienced moments of fear, because I have. I have also questioned my qualifications and my abilities; and every day I wonder if I am ready for something BIG. Because since taking that leap of faith, every day has been a wild ride... and the feelings of inadequacy are there. Thankfully, those feelings are overshadowed by excitement, and anticipation, and pride. And when it comes right down to it, that is what life is all about: leaps of faith that allow us to be a part of something BIG.

Today as I was leafing through the February issue of Creating Keepsakes Magazine, I stopped when I came to the Luxe ad. It was then that it hit me: I really am participating in something BIG - and that something BIG is my life.

Following is a picture of Luxe Designs first print ad. Also included is a picture of my business cards - because really... business cards are tangible and when I look at them, I still have to pinch myself.

And finally, I would like to announce that Luxe Designs now has a blog: Living the Luxe Life. I'll often be blogging there, as well as here, this year. In addition to the Luxe blog, the Luxe website is now live, and if you haven't stopped by lately, I invite you to do so. The site contains all sorts of fun facts about our team, as well as offering Luxe gear, an idea gallery (to come), and product sneak peeks (if you know where to look). We will be updating the website frequently in the weeks and months to come, and I am sure you will enjoy what we have to share.

The Luxe icons in my sidebar are also new. They are what we at Luxe refer to as clickables (I just love that word. We made it up!). The icons are active and will take you to the noted location when you click on the image. I designed them for the Luxe team, because part of my job is working on fun projects like clickables. It's a pretty great gig, if I do say so myself. And even though I am a very small part of the something BIG, I am having the time of my life living Luxe. And in the end, enjoying the journey is what life is all about.

the silence of the monster

Looks can be deceiving. On the surface, he appears to be a normal teen. And for the most part, he seems like a normal teen: he likes rock 'n roll, he loves to go to the mall, and he is crazy about girls - all normal interests for an almost fifteen year old kid.

But what this picture does not show is the silent disease that John fights everyday. Depression is like that - it is invisible to the naked eye. And even for those who are living the nightmare, it can silently eat away at the core of one's spirit. Depression is a monster, and it is robbing my son of a normal life.

It was one year ago this month that John's immune system crashed and he was taken to the hospital. Since that time, we have spent hundreds upon hundreds of hours in doctor's offices seeking answers and advice. In addition to what has often been daily medical appointments, John has had over seventy-five blood tests in the past year. Thankfully, the professionals were able to diagnose the problem and give John's illness a name: Autoimmune Deficiency Disease. Once a diagnosis was confirmed, we were able to move forward with treatment. The treatments are not fun, nor are they a sure fix. However, the treatments have strengthened John's immune system and his health has vastly improved. So seemingly, all should be going well as we enter this new year.

Unfortunately, John's illness has taken a toll on his emotional well-being. Because now it is not the immune system that is the monster. Instead, the monster known as depression has become the beast. For the past several months, John has undergone intense therapy and counseling. He has been prescribed all sorts of medications. He has acknowledged his problem and he has made a valiant effort to seek help. And still, he struggles each and every day of his life. This week, he lost hope and he threw in the towel. Basically, he gave up the fight and emotionally checked out as he once again threatened to harm himself.

What scares me the most is that I didn't see this coming. I had no idea that John was feeling overwhelmed. I thought that he was happy. I thought the medications were working. I thought that we were making great strides in the battle of depression. I was wrong. And that scares me. It also makes me mad. In fact, I am so mad that I am having a hard time thinking straight, because I'm mad at myself, I'm mad at John, and I'm mad at the world: all those wasted hours and days of therapy. All those nights of concern. All the intense pain for this child. It just makes me so mad. This is not the life I wanted for my son, and it is not the life I envisioned for myself.

Some may question my anger; which is what I've spent the past two days thinking about. And after much reflection, I have concluded that anger might be a process I need to go through in order to start thinking clearly. I think that maybe I need to emotionally remove myself as an overprotective mother, and instead, put myself in the position of a warrior. Because the truth is, John is literally fighting a battle for his life. Thus far, he is safe and he has not been successful in his attempts to harm himself. According to the professionals, John is trying to manipulate everyone around him, using depression as the means to the end. But depression is a silent monster, and if I am unable to help John conquer this disease, he is going to lose the war. And even though I have been assured that John is not a clear and present danger to himself at this time, my gut tells me that this could change in a heartbeat. One tiny little incident could tip the scales and crush his spirit.

As his mother, my heart breaks, because I am helpless in my ability to fix this. I see John making poor decisions. I watch him fight the system. I am witness to his rebellion and anger. He is acting out, pushing limits, and rejecting help. Right now, all I want to do is shake some sense into him. I want to somehow get it through is head that he is stronger than this monster. But how does one do that? Every day I talk to him. I write him notes. I hug him. I kiss him. I hold him when he cries. I pray for him. I have sought professional help. I have agreed to medication. I have stayed up nights, and cried during the days. I have not kept this a secret. I have turned to anyone and everyone who will listen. I have done everything I can think of, and still, John is losing this battle. And now he is mad. He's moved from sad to mad. He's gone from following the rules, to breaking them all. He's stopped trying to help himself, and is now hell-bent on self-destruction.

After twenty-four hours of psychiatric appointments and evaluations on Tuesday, I have concluded that anger may be good. Because what this indicates is that if John has the strength to get mad, he also has the strength to overcome. What he has yet to realize is that passion is life, and the passion of anger can be as strong as the passion of love. My prayer is that somehow, this concept will touch his heart and renew his spirit. Because I know that the anger I initially felt has given me cause for hope; over time, my feelings of hopelessness turned into feelings of strong will. And strong will is what this child is going to need to win this war.

Depression is a war of the spirit. It is a battle raging inside the heart. And my belief is that this war has just entered a new phase... because anger can be a powerful tool when it comes to fighting for a life. This monster has seen it's last days of silence. Now I am angry. Now John is angry. And I believe our anger is going to turn into a very loud roar.

A special note to everyone who has reached out with prayers and support: Thank you. Thank you for not judging me. Thank you for your kind words of comfort. Thank you for unselfishly sharing your stories. And thank you for your unconditional friendship and never-ending love. I have carried this burden alone for too long, and I am thankful to those who have given me strength so that I no longer feel as though I must handle this on my own. Prayers are a powerful thing, and strength in numbers can only aid the cause. And so, from the bottom of my heart, I thank you.

The Bird Feeder Project

I have a thing about birds. Namely: I don't like them. Specifically: they scare the heck out of me.

Several years ago I was asked to create a page for a Simple Scrapbooks article written by Amy Sorensen. The subject of her article was two minute journaling. The subject of my page was fear - my fear of birds and an event where I tried to overcome this fear. Today, when I look at these pages, I still experience the trepidation I felt when I took the pictures used for the article:

I don't remember a time in my life when I was not afraid of birds. When I was a small child, my parents had friends who owned a Canary that sat in a birdcage on a table in their kitchen. I remember being afraid to visit their home. And I distinctly remember feeling relieved when they had a cloth draped over the birdcage when we arrived. And so based upon this early childhood memory, my guess is that I've been afraid of birds for most of my life.

One summer when my kids were very small, I was outside hanging the wet laundry on the clothesline in the backyard of our Wisconsin home. While I was hanging the clothes to dry, I was attacked by Yard Sparrows. At the time, it seemed like one hundred birds were swarming and buzzing around me. Many of the birds flew into the wet sheets and then angrily circled around my body and dive bombed my head. I quickly dropped the clean clothes, yelled for the children to go inside, and ran for the safety of my screen porch. I can remember sitting on a bench in the screened enclosure where I promptly proceeded to hold my head in my hands and cry my eyes out after this experience. What I also remember about that day is that no one believed me when I repeated my nightmarish adventure. Shortly thereafter, our air conditioner broke. When the repairman came out to our home to repair the unit, he too was attacked by the Yard Sparrows. Needless to say, he was unable to fix the air conditioner that day. Thereafter, my story of attacking birds was received with more respect.

And so it goes that my phobia of birds has grown through the years. I believe my fear to be based upon both vague childhood memories, as well as vicious attacks after I became an adult. Therefore, one can only imagine my initial reaction when Alyssa brought home the following assignment from school last week:

Bird Feeder Project
Directions: Over the winter break, you will need to set up a bird feeding station in your yard or outside one window in your house. The purpose of this project is to collect data on the feeding habits of some of our local bird species.

I have spent years trying to keep the birds away from my back deck. The fact that my daughter was assigned a project that would invite these feathered creatures so close to my kitchen literally freaked me out. Knowing my fear of birds, Alyssa and John had quite a laugh over my initial reaction to this assignment.

But what they didn't anticipate was my reaction to the darn squirrels. Being the good mom that I strive to be, I embraced Alyssa's Bird Feeder Project and I agreed to allow the bird feeding station to be placed on our back deck. Immediately following the attachment of the bird feeder, three squirrels ran along the deck railing and proceeded to jump onto the feeder. How on earth would our local bird species ever feed at the bird feeder if squirrels ate all the food? Thus began my War on Squirrels.

I've spent this week yelling at the critters. I've tried chasing them. I've tried blowing a whistle at them. I've even tried to teach our boxer dog to chase them, but Buddy's as dumb as a stump and he has no interest in squirrels at all. My latest attempt to scare them away has been using an empty water bottle filled with beads - I shake the bottle until I can't shake anymore. And still, the squirrels return. The funny thing is, my kids are more entertained by the War on Squirrels than they are with the feeding habits of the birds. I wonder if Alyssa's teacher would accept a log on the habits of squirrels, because at this point, we know more about squirrels than we do about the local bird species.

Following is a pictorial of a day in my life, keeping in mind that, once again, I had to overcome my fear of birds (and now my newfound disgust of squirrels) to step out on my deck to actually take these pictures. Note the final picture in the series. That is what happens when squirrels land on the bird feeder. To date, Alyssa's Bird Feeder Project has provided much entertainment for the family. It has also provided a lot of food for the squirrels. The project has actually drawn several new bird species to our deck. So in the end, I suppose the Bird Feeder Project could be considered a great success.

{pink} hugs, music and answered prayers

Pink makes me happy. I love pink. I have a pink (okay, it's actually called blush) bedroom. I have pink floral wallpaper in my kitchen. I have pink flowers embellishing my cell phone and my computer. I have a closet filled with pink clothes. And now I have a brand new iPod with a wonderful pink case. How happy does that make me? Very happy. I smile every time I look at it. And when I hook the iPod to my hip pocket, I dance like a crazy fool with that pink case bouncing on my butt.

Yes, I love pink. And so when I brought in my mail on Tuesday, a day when I had reached one of the lowest points in my entire life, and I discovered this lovely pink card from Kathy R. laying in the stack, I just had to smile. In spite of my tears and sorrow - the pink card made me smile. When I opened the vellum envelope and saw that she had painted the word Hugs on the cover, I could physically feel Kathy's touch across the miles. It was as though she was right there in my kitchen giving me a hug and patting my back. And when I look back to the moment I opened the card, I am still filled with an overwhelming feeling of love and support.

In the past twenty-four hours, I have been witness to small precious miracles that have filled me with an all-encompassing sense of peace and comfort. I am flooded with emotion when I consider the multitude of prayers that have been answered. So many people lifting their voices in my behalf. I am humbled, I am thankful, and most of all, I am blessed beyond measure. Never in my life have I experienced answered prayers in a physical sense. This week, I did. The burden I've been carrying upon my shoulders since January was lifted. It's gone... the sense of responsibility is still there, and I'm sure the burden will be heavy again, but right now, at this moment in time, the burden is gone and I am at peace.

Today I am happy - really, really happy. I feel like my old self - the Kelly that I have grown used to, the person I've grown to love. I'm dancing and singing again. I'm smiling. I laughed. And I feel strong.

I'm happy today because it's Thursday, and Thursday is my favorite day of the week. In my world, it's known as Grey Thursday because all day long I look forward to watching Grey's Anatomy on television. During the day, I post on the message board, I listen to the soundtracks, and I re-watch the previous episode. Truly, I dedicate Thursdays to Grey's Anatomy. And I don't feel one bit guilty about it either, because I believe that everyone should be allowed one guilty pleasure in life. Grey's Anatomy is my guilty pleasure.

My happiness is also because I started the day off with breakfast out with my girlfriends. What a wonderful way to start the day. My girlfriends are a gift. And the fact that they would take the time to lift me up, touched my heart. And yet, I know that is not the sole reason for the happiness I feel.

I'm sure I feel a sense of peace because I was able to speak with my mom yesterday and she told me that she was trying to schedule a trip out east so that she could spend time with me. I have to admit, just knowing that she is trying to come fills me with a sense of relief. It's a light at the end of a long tunnel, and because I now know the light is there, I am able to continue moving through the darkness.

And finally, I know that part of the happiness I feel is due to music. Music is my solace. It fills my soul with gladness and joy. I have loved music since I was in the third grade when I asked for a clock radio for my birthday. Back in the 60's, that was a big deal, as clock radios were a relatively new thing. Not surprisingly, I received a pink clock radio on my very special day. Today, when I close my eyes, I can still see that pink radio lovingly displayed on my nightstand. I was so proud of that radio. I listened to music playing from that little box for hours on end. I will never forget the day in 1971 when my name was spoken by the DJ at Portland, Oregon's AM station KGW. I was sitting on the floor, leaning up against my bed, drawing on a piece of paper: "Today's Super Person of the Day is Kelly Cardon. She likes to ride horses and she is an artist." I was ten at the time. My prize for being Super Person of the Day? A case of Dr. Pepper and a month worth of horseback riding lessons! I can still hear the words today. It was one of the proudest moments of my life.

Last week, I received an email from my good friend, Barbie. In the letter, she shared a personal experience with me. She told me that in order to cope with the stress, she had to find an outlet - something that was solely her own, and something that allowed her to step away from the problem, if only for a moment. She ended her letter by saying [paraphrasing], "My wish for you is that you find your outlet, something that is solely your own and uniquely you." After reading the letter, I called my sister and we discussed what exactly I could do that was my own. We disregarded scrapbooking because I associate so much of that with deadlines and work. We disregarded photography and Photoshop because I've dedicated the past year to those things, and they are not fresh and new. Finally, we came up with the iPod. I've wanted an iPod for a very long time, but I have never been able to justify such a selfish investment. Jenny and I decided that the iPod would allow me to escape like nothing else could at this time.

That very day, I purchased an iPod. And it was the best gift I could have ever given myself. The music has become my escape. And in that escape, I am able to find peace and comfort, which is probably why I have begun to sing and dance again - something that is so me, it is rather frightening. My kids have to remind me not to sing and dance in the grocery store and at the airport. It's just what I do. And I've missed that part of me. And so thank you, Barbie. Thank you for the inspired advice. I love you for taking the time to share your story with me and for offering words of comfort and healing.

Today I received a letter filled with inspiration from my friend Cathy in Washington. The words she wrote touched my heart and spoke very clearly to my soul. She shared this scripture with me:

Isaiah 42:16

"I will lead you by ways you have not known, along unfamiliar paths I will guide you; I will turn the darkness into light before you and will make the rough places smooth. These are the thing I will do; I will not forsake you."

Everything happens for a reason: a pink card that literally touched me, Grey Thursday, a phone call from my mom, breakfast with the girls, music on a new iPod, and letters from long distance friends. I know that these are answered prayers in the form of small precious miracles poured down upon me. That is the only explanation. And in my world, that is God holding me in the palm of his hand.

24 Hour Round Up

Because I am having a difficult time forming a coherant thought today, I decided that a bullet style entry was a good way to summarize the past twenty-four hours:

• Product testing is really messy. And it's sticky. Alyssa really gets into product testing, I should have hired her to take over this gig. She likes getting messy. Note to self #1: when the sample packaging says, "wear gloves and protective eyewear," follow the instructions. My favorite Create sweatshirt may never be the same. The testing, however, was an interesting way to spend an afternoon.
• Yesterday was the first Tuesday of the month. That means Book Club. I love book club. I didn't read the book, but I enjoyed a night out with the girls. For dinner, we had Bison Pot Roast. Note to self #2: Bison is not food to fear. It is very tasty and really scrumptious.
• I think I am slowly going insane. Here is an example of how my mind is working these days:

Last month I found a big industrial sized staple in my food. I can't stop thinking about this, because for the life of me, I can't remember WHERE the heck I was eating, and I can't remember WHAT the heck I was eating. In fact, that staple may have been in a prepackaged food item that I was cooking. I just can't remember. And I so wish I could remember, because I really need to follow up with whomever is in charge of this food (be it a restaurant or the food packaging place) - what if there are more staples out there?

I'm not kidding when I say that this problem with John's emotional well being is totally and completely clouding my vision on everything else. Really... think about it... I found a large STAPLE in my food, and I did nothing about it. Not only that, I can't remember the details of this find. And for the record, I found the staple when it was in my mouth... I almost ate an industrial size staple and still, I did nothing about it.

Behavior like this is beginning to scare me. What if I would have swallowed that staple? Who would have taken care of John then?

• Speaking of John, he did not come home from school today. I had a small meltdown, then I had a major panic attack, and then I freaked out and called the school. Apparently, he stayed after school to meet with a teacher. It would have been nice if he had told me before I put an APB out on him. Which brings up the question: because he is in such a fragile state, can I punish him for neglecting to call me? Or... do I praise him for acting responsibly by meeting with his teacher? Lately, I don't know how to handle these situations.
• Does it sound too needy if I admit that I want my mother? And by that, I mean, I WANT MY MOTHER. I want her here. Next to me. With me. Beside me. In my house. Holding my hand. Telling me what to do. Making it all better. Telling me that she loves me. Okay... that does sound needy. But still, I wish she was here right now. I'm in need of some serious mothering.
• And finally, because I use my blog as a way to document my life, and because some of those who visit this blog are not involved in the scrapbook community that is my world, I am going to cut and paste the information that I shared on the 2Peas message board regarding John's medical appointment. My gratitude extends to every single person who has kept us in their hearts, and I want to make sure that my words of thanks are heard.

I am humbled by the support and love that has been shown during my time of need. Thank you does not begin to express my gratitude.

John's appointments went as well as could be expected. No answers, but no alarming news either. He needs to have more tests before the Neuro Doc will even begin to discuss the head trauma and side effects. We begin the testing on Monday.

But let it be known, I cannot stand this doctor. However, he is the best of the best, and since Pediatric Neurologists are few and far between, we are very fortunate to have been accepted to his practice. But blek on his bedside manner... he actually scolded me in front of John. I almost started crying. I felt like shouting these words at him:

"Do you have any idea what we are going through? John is dealing with suicidal thoughts, he is failing his classes, he's having difficulty coping, he has lost all social skills, his memory is fuzzy, he has autoimmune deficiency disease, he receives IvIg treatments every 21 days, and he has weekly blood tests in addition to a kazillion medical appointments - this is a child who is in the depths of despair... and you have the audacity to scold me because I did not follow up with you via email?"

Instead, I just calmly told him that I would make a note of follow ups in my daytimer and that this would not be a problem in the future. Inside, I was a quivering mess, and I'm still steamed over his rude behavior. That I could do without, considering I have a few other things that are stressing me right now.

The psychology appointment went well - better than expected. So that is more than encouraging. It is the lifeline I've been hoping for. The topics addressed were peer pressure, grades, and accountability. Deep stuff for a 14 year old who is barely coping, but these things are the root of the problem, and so they have to be talked about and addressed. I was only in on the appointment for 15 minutes. The other 45 minutes belonged to John. Since John was not filled with rage and anger after the appointment (he is usually ready to punch a wall when these appointments are over), I think things went well.

Again, I thank you for your prayers. I am blessed beyond measure to have so many wonderful friends, and I am grateful for your love and support. I believe in the power of prayer. And I feel every one of your prayers. I am thankful to those who took the time to lift their voice for us.

[Coolio]

Here's a little sneak peek at one of the new promo ads for 2007. Most people will recognize Donna Downey and Stacy Julian and Cathy Zielske. But hey! Who's that in the lower left corner? Yeah, that's me. My pal Wendy is directly above me. Ten years of friendship and here we are... still making memories together.

Memories make me smile. And this memory makes me smile a lot!

it's the little things that make life grand

I had a birthday today. And it was awesome. I'd love to share all the moments that made the day special, but alas, the day is done and I've been up for almost 30 hours without sleep. "Why?" you ask. Well the reason is clear: I spent more than ten hours with John in hospitals and doctor's offices last week. And Murphy's Law simply states that "any person who enters a medical facility feeling well, will leave that facility filled with germs and everything nasty." Thus, the explanation of the virus I picked up. And so I was in bed for two full days - sleeping and shivering. There were not enough blankets in my house to keep me warm, and when I was not shivering to death, I was in a dead sleep. And that is the reason that I have been awake for 30 hours. Once the virus ran it's course, I was more than caught up on my rest. Which is why last night was spent watching the entire first season of Veronica Mars on DVDs. It was a television marathon, and I enjoyed every single minute of those middle of the night hours. Unfortunately, it's now the middle of the next night and I am exhausted. But I've decided, if a person has to ring in another year of growing older, Veronica Mars is a very nice person to do so with.

This is a visual representation of my day. The georgous floral arrangement was sent to me from the team at Luxe Designs. I have to admit that I was surprised that Luxe would send me flowers. I mean, really... I've never received flowers from people that I work with before. The Big Manufacturer certainly never sent flowers. Heck, sometimes they forgot to send the checks (I was good at reminding them though, and in the end, all was well). And so to receive flowers from Luxe Designs was a GREAT way to start off my new year. I have such a good feeling about this opportunity. The people are fantastic. The company is awesome. And the product - well, suffice it to say that the product is out of this world.

Alyssa gave me the framed picture by the flowers. Sometime while I was sick, she snuck onto my laptop and made a disk of the file. She then took the disk to her boyfriend's house and asked Matt's mom to have prints of the pictures made at Costco. They did all this in secret, and I had absolutely no idea that she was cooking up a such a lovely black and white photo for me. I actually cried when she presented the gift.

I spent most of the day talking on the phone. I always cherish those times when I am able to talk with my mom, my sister, and my brother all on the same day. It makes me feel so loved and connected to my family who live so very far away. Truly a birthday gift that I treasure.

Some ladies from my church stopped by with a cake and a gift. I was touched that they would take the time to bake me a cake and offer a gift. The feeling of love lingered long after they left my home.

My day would not have been complete without connecting with my friends in the industry who live all over the country and in foreign lands. I am so blessed to call these talented women my friends. I received virtual cards and tags and messages all day long. My computer was a very happy place today. And because these women were so generous with their time and talents, my birthday was made all the more memorable and meaningful.

And so begins another year of the adventure that is called My Life. I am blessed. And I know that 45 is going to be every bit as good, if not better, than any of the previous years I've spent on this journey. If I could choose any way to spend my day, today would have been the perfect script, because in the end, it really is the little things that make life grand.

Mother Nature's Paintbrush

Two weeks ago I received an email from the marketing manager of Free Press, a division of Simon & Schuster. This wonderful person asked me if I would like to receive a free review copy of a recently released book. Being the book lover that I am, I could not resist the offer. Additionally, I was very curious to see what this book was all about because the title and the topic intrigued me. Three days later, the book arrived at my doorstep. Unfortunately, I was in the middle of project deadlines and preparing for a quick trip to Dallas to meet with the Luxe team (which deserves an entire entry in and of itself), and so I was unable to sit down and devour the book immediately.

Finally, today, I was able to open the book and take a peek at what was inside. And all I can say is WOW. I've not yet finished the book, and therefore I am unable to give it the credit it deserves by writing about, or discussing it. But I plan to do so in the next few days because this book has captivated me in a way that has struck a chord. This is a book that I want to tell everyone about because it is that good. And I will - I will write all about it just as soon as I finish savoring the message.

As I was driving my teenagers all over town this afternoon, running from store to store, trying to find just the right everything for the upcoming high school homecoming dance, I found myself looking at things differently. And the reason I was seeing things in a different way was due to the message of this book that I am reviewing. I love that! I love that the written word can impact how I perceive the world around me. I also love that after reading only two chapters, I am viewing my surroundings with a greater sense of awareness.

After the shopping excursion, I found myself gazing out my kitchen window. There was sunlight shining on only a handful of tree branches. I noticed that the branches that were tinted by the sun were the only branches in the forest with leaves that had begun to turn. Every other tree and branch is still green and lush and full, because fall has barely begun, and there is just now a hint of color in my region. And yet, the sun was shining on the one tree that had changed color. After reading only a small portion of this book, my thought was, "Mother Nature's paintbrush," because that is the kind of book this is. And that is what I wish to share today.

I took a picture of the canvas Mother Nature splashed with hues of bold red and vivid gold. These colors will last only a few weeks and then they will be gone for another year. But for the next month, I have the pleasure of seeing the portrait that Mother Nature paints just once a year. And in my mind, knowing it is there, and appreciating the beauty of what is, becomes the true art of living.

Lost in Space

That's how I feel right now: Lost in Space. I'm attempting to be an understanding mom to a teenage son who is filled with angst and misery (I'm failing miserably). I'm working on a couple of tight deadlines (fun projects). And I'm heading out to Dallas for a meeting with Luxe Designs this afternoon (exciting things are happening). Needless to say, my life has not been lacking excitement.

But in spite of the busy pace I've been trying to keep up with, I had to take the time to post this comic strip because I saw it shortly after I realized that I had lost some pictures, and it pretty much summed up the experience. And yes, I said, "lost some pictures." Unfortunately, I needed those pictures for an assignment I was working on. The pictures were the final part of the project. The project requirements were not fulfilled without the pictures, and the mailing deadline was the day I discovered that the photos were literally lost in space somewhere on my computer, and on back-up disks, and in 4x6 prints. Poof. Gone. Where'd they go?

So please tell me that I am not the only one who feels this way. Seriously, things were much easier when I used film and negatives, combined with an old fashion alphabetical filing system that sat on a shelf. 

what to do when we can't do a thing

As the oldest of four siblings, I have an innate desire to protect my brothers and my sister. I've been playing the role of protector since I was fifteen months old when my first brother was born. From that moment on, I became a protector and a comforter to those whom I hold dear to my heart. I can't help it. It's what I do. I know no other way. I mother my children, and I tend to do the same with my brothers and my sister. I mother. I don't even think my brothers and my sister know I feel this way. But I do. I feel very protective of them. I always have, and I always will. Like I said, it's who I am and what I do. I'm the oldest and it comes with the territory. I feel as though I've earned the right to mother them a little, being that I've been doing it all along. I don't know... it's just the way it is.

And so, on the subject of siblings and the way I feel about mine, I need to write this down so that I will remember this moment and these feelings, because I'm still upset, and worried, and really, really angry.

This weekend, I received news that has rocked me to the core. My reaction has been much stronger than I expected, and I find it very telling that I am as upset as I am. Tonight I am still reeling from what I was told happened to my brother on Friday.

<--- This is my brother. His name is Lon. He loves to sail, and he adores his son. This picture captures his personality, and his love for Casey, and his passion for the water better than any words could ever describe. Not to mention he was capsizing when this picture was taken, and that alone cracks me up. I need to post the picture, because I need to "see" him to remind myself that he is going to be okay.

On Friday night, Lon was riding his bicycle home from work and he was hit by a van. The driver of the van drove away, making it a hit and run accident. The cars behind the van pulled over to the side of the road and helped Lon to the hospital. He was pretty battered and bruised. He thought his arm was broken. But worse than that, he banged his head - badly.

There are so many things wrong with this story; so many things that have upset me. I don't know how to deal with the anger or the sadness or the worry. And so I write as a way to honor him, and to make him real, and whole, and well.

What keeps running through my mind is who the heck hits a person riding a bike and drives away? I mean, really... there is absolutely no excuse for driving away. What kind of person would do that? Seriously, I want to know WHO DOES THAT? And although my sister-in-law claims that the driver may not have known they hit my brother, I'm sorry - I'm not buying it. I've hit a dog while driving before, and believe me, I knew I hit a dog. There was a big bump. Additionally, I've hit a squirrel while driving my car. Same thing - BUMP. A person knows when they hit something. Sheesh, I know when I drive over a fallen tree branch, for crying out loud. I am so angry that the driver did not stop. Seriously, seriously angry. I see red every time I think about it. I find it deplorable, despicable, and truly evil that someone would do such a thing.

And I'm really worried about the head bump. My brother is a world renowned geneticist. He is a scientist who discovers and studies genes that cause disease. His discoveries have helped hundreds of thousands of people. He is involved in the International Genome Project. He is a freaking genius. His head, and what it knows, saves lives. He is a big deal in the medical and scientific communities. He has been interviewed by Tom Brokaw, and he is pals with the forensic scientists from the O.J. Simpson trial, for pete's sake. I mean, really... he is this big famous person who is involved in this whole other world that I am completely oblivious to. And even though I am oblivious to exactly what it is he does, I know that my brother is a valuable asset to our society - to our world for that matter. He is currently working on a huge cancer research project. The world needs my brother. And so when I heard that he suffered head trauma, I literally fell apart - not for myself, but for what he has yet to discover for mankind.

I keep thinking to myself that Lon is so many things to so many people. He is a husband, a father, a son, a brother, a friend, and a truly good person. And he's funny. He's really, really funny. Not very many people know that about him, because he tends to come across as this rumpled genius with his head in the clouds - really, he's a mess (no offense, Lon, but you are a bit rumpled and messy). He can't read a map and he blunders his way through life outside of academia, but he's funny. He makes me laugh, in spite of the fact that his vocabulary is so stinkin' huge that no one knows what he's talking about half the time, he's just funny. I have a great appreciation for his sense of humor because I am one of the lucky few who have enjoyed it from the beginning. I can't imagine life without my brother's sense of humor. Really, it's something I consider a gift.

And finally, what I feel to be the most sad part of this story is that the accident happened while Lon was in England. He and his wife recently moved from Oxford, England to the states, and he is still working at Oxford for part of the school year. He was there, and she was here. He's all alone, far away from home. And that breaks my heart. I feel so badly for him that he's alone. And my heart aches for Debbie, his wife, because she is an ocean away and she can't do a damn thing to help him. I can't even begin to imagine how difficult this is for both of them.

All in all, a truly awful event. One that has left me feeling helpless. And angry; I'm still furious when I think about someone hitting my brother with their van and then driving away. This accident serves as a reminder of how very much I love my siblings. And even after all these years, I still feel like the protector - the one who should have answers and be able to make things right. But I can't. All I can do is love and pray and hope and wait.

And so today, and in the days to come, my prayers are with my brother, Lon, the funny one, the brilliant one, the father, the son, the husband, the brother, and the doctor who none of us can afford to lose. He means too much to all of us. And I want him to get better. I want him to be all right. And I want him to return home in one piece - the piece that is exactly the same as it was before he left. That's all I want, and that's what I'm praying for.

Changes

Several weeks ago, my kids held an intervention. Clearly they have been watching too much MTV, because they knew exactly what an intervention was and they handled the meeting with much dignity and great sincerity.

The reason for the intervention, they informed me, was to let me know that they were concerned about my well-being. They continued by telling me that they were worried about my happiness. And then they gently told me that they felt smothered, and that they were tired of me living vicariously through them. Thankfully, they were kind enough to tell me how much they appreciated the interest I showed when it came to their lives and their decisions. But the bottom line here, was that my kids wanted me to make some changes because I was, in essence, driving them crazy. They were very direct when it came to the words, "Get a job."

And so it was that I sent my teenagers back to school this year with the words, "Get a job," ringing in my ears. I spent the first several days after the intervention pondering what my kids had said to me. I spent the next several days in prayer and careful consideration. And finally, I applied for two jobs - jobs that I thought were a perfect fit. Jobs at the hospital, working as a unit secretary at the new Birthing Center in our area. Days passed and I heard nothing in regard to the job applications. And with every single day that went by, I was asked the question, "Did you get a job yet?" Which was always followed by sighs of disappointment when the answer, "No," was uttered.

I will admit that I am not one who takes to change lightly. I can do change very well - but only once I've had time to digest and contemplate what the change will require. Which is why it took me almost two weeks to actually fill out a job application. A job means change. The question was, "Am I ready for change?" By the time I filled out the applications, I felt very strongly that change was necessary. And I didn't take this lightly, because I left a job that I loved in order to be with my children. A job at the hospital seemed like a nice compromise - working with babies while I raised my teenagers. I honestly thought I made the right choice.

Boy, was I wrong. God had another plan for me. A plan that took me totally by surprise.

During my life, I have stumbled upon great fortune when I least expect it. And always, the great fortune takes me by surprise and takes a while to become accustomed to. Take for instance my job with The Big Manufacturer. I turned down that job three times before accepting the position. THREE TIMES, I said no. And on the fourth time, I felt as though the the job was tailor made for me at that time in my life. And it was. It was a perfect fit. For several years, I worked that job and enjoyed each and every step of the journey. And just because there came a time when the fit was not so perfect, doesn't mean that I made a bad choice in the first place. The same is true with leaving that job. Just because I felt the need to leave at that particular time, for those particular reasons, does not mean that those reasons are applicable at this moment in my life. Things change. And so must I in order to be happy.

Change is in the air. I think I'm ready for it. In fact, I invite change into my life at this moment in time. It's taken a while for me to reach this conclusion, but I'm there... I'm ready to make some changes. Which is why when I was invited to participate in a new manufacturing venture project, I recognized good fortune for what it was: a blessing in disguise - an opportunity I could not pass up. A new perfect fit. And so I said yes. I want to be a part of this team. I welcome the challenge. And I am ready and willing to make the change from smothering mother, to Kelly, the woman who has something to offer outside these four walls in which I reside. Because the truth is, when my kids said, "Get a life and find a job" what they really meant was, "Do something for you, because our days are numbered and we don't want the responsibility of your happiness resting on our shoulders." I get that now. It's taken a while for me to understand the intervention, but finally, I hear what my teenagers were saying.

This new project - it's exciting. It's big. And it's something not to be missed. Oh, and it's a bit of a secret. Luxe Designs. That's where you want to go. Hit the link and sign up for future reveals and mailings. Truly, you won't want to miss out on one minute of the fun. The journey is going to be amazing.

Change. It's a good thing. Even when it is unexpected and totally unprepared for.

Oh, and by the way, my time out is over. I'm back in business, so I'll be around!

"Time Has Come Today" [Grey's Anatomy, Season 3, Season Premiere]

My self imposed blogging time out is still in effect. However, I had to come out of hiding for this event, because it is THE EVENT of the season. And as Dr. Derek Shepherd would say, "It's a beautiful day to save lives. Let's have some fun."

I will admit that one of the reasons I've been in time out is because I've been spending a whole lot of time bonding with my Grey's Anatomy Season 2 DVDs. And the Grey's Anatomy Soundtrack Volume 2; I've bonded with the music too. If you don't own these treasures yet, run, don't walk, to the nearest store and buy them. They are seriously the best media available. Seriously. I've danced, I've cried, I've laughed, and I've sang as I've listened  to the music. And watching those shows again - oh my heck. It just doesn't get any better than that.

I should be ashamed to admit how many hours I've spent watching last season's episodes. But then I discovered that there are many, many people who are doing the same thing. Therefore, I am not ashamed at all. Instead, I am proud to say that I have discovered a way to squeeze in viewing time without becoming a vegetable on the sofa: I put the DVDs in my computer, I put my headphones on, and I pretend that I am working as I watch each and every episode for the fourth, fifth and even six, seventh and eighth time. Heck, my family doesn't even know what I'm doing. They think I'm busting my butt designing pages and working deals. And the funny thing is - while I've been pretending to be working, I actually have sold a page (digi, no less - how ironic is that?). And I've managed to work a couple of deals - or, I should be honest and confess that the deals actually fell in my lap. I didn't actually have to do much work at all. Okay, I did no work. The deals just happened. I've been on a lucky streak. Bonus!

So... the time has come. It's Season Premiere Day. And I could not be more excited. What is it about this show that has me all tied up in knots? It could be the music. Or maybe it is the chemistry between the characters. I am pretty sure that the awesome writing has a lot to do with it. But most of all, I think it is the directing. Yes, the directing. It's the way the camera moves and pans and captures the scenes. It's the colors and the texture and the feel of each scene. Peter Horton is pure genius. His directing is art in it's finest form. And I think that is why I love this show. It is art on screen. Combine the visual artistry of Peter Horton with the writing artistry of Shonda Rhimes and crew, and, well, for me, that is a masterpiece. And the music is the icing on the cake. The cast is the cherry. And when I sit down and watch this show, I become one with that which is known as Grey's Anatomy; I am a part of Seattle Grace.

So that's where I've been - gearing up for a new season of Grey's Anatomy. It's a big deal in my life. And yes, I agree with everyone who is thinking, "she really needs to get a life." True. But what fun would life be without guilty pleasures? Grey's Anatomy is my guilty pleasure.

And speaking of guilty, I am guilty of selfishness. Yes, that's right. I've been selfish. On Tuesday, September 12, I bought the Grey's Anatomy, Season 2 DVDs (purchased at 8:30 a.m. on the day of release I might add, as I went to Target without my hair combed and with no makeup on to ensure that I would be one of the first in line to buy these treasures, fearing that they might sell out before the end of the day). Alyssa was almost as excited as I was that these DVDs were in our possession. And that was fine. I don't mind the fact that my daughter loves this show. Not a problem. The problem only arises when 1) she asks me if she can borrow the DVDs and loan them to her boyfriend for the weekend, huh? And 2) I had a real problem loaning DVDs to Alyssa and Matt after I watched the UNCUT version of the steamy sex scene in the Season 2 finale. Man-oh-man, that scene is erotic. And the last thing I want is for my 16 year old daughter to watch it with her 18 year old boyfriend. Not going to happen. Not on my watch. Thus, I became the most selfish mother in America.

When Alyssa asked me if she could borrow the DVDs, my mouth dropped open. The audacity of her - to ask me such a thing the very week that I got the whole UNCUT versions of this show. My husband burst out laughing when Alyssa asked the question. He said, "Are you kidding? Your mother walks around the house carrying the box from room to room. She has slept with the box." True story because on the first night I had the new DVDs, I fell asleep in my chair holding the box and when he woke me up, I was clutching it to my chest. He continued by saying, "And now you think she is going to let those disks leave the house? Good luck." Sadly, he was right. I was too selfish to share my new DVDs. And so we compromised: Alyssa was allowed to take one DVD to Matt's house, but she was told to bring it home that same night, because previously, she had loaned my Season 1 DVDs to Matt and I didn't see those for six full weeks. Not good. Not good at all. Like I said, I take my Grey's Anatomy very seriously, and loaning out my DVDs is a serious infraction of the rules.

And so it goes, a new season of Grey's Anatomy, which I expect will include a serious dose of feel good television, with a healthy dose of love and laughter. What more could a person ask for? Really, I'm easy to please. And this show pleases me immensely.

I imagine my self imposed time out will end soon. I'm getting the itch to write again. I finally have new things to say and good news to share. There for a while, I feared I was becoming redundant and rather boring. Like I said, I really need to get a life. Thankfully, I think I've found the solution and I foresee many good things in my future.

It's all good. And it all begins tonight with the Season 3 premiere of Grey's Anatomy. Yeah, I'm exited.

{things to come}

Update coming soon. I promise.

I've been in a self-imposed blogging time out. This has meant keeping my fingers off the keyboard for a few days. I'm currently working on an updated entry because I actually do have some things to share. Good news things. Kelly kind of things. Life in general sort of things. Things. The update will be all about the things in my life. And some of those things are really, really good things!

In the meantime, I couldn't resist sharing this quote from a newpaper article:

The image was lifted from the 2Peas NSBR board (a very scary, but oh so funny place to hang out). The quote totally cracked me up. Who knew that there was a dress code for Wal-Mart shoppers?

[just another day to remember]

Alyssa and John headed back to school on Tuesday. After two years of separation - John in middle school and Alyssa in high school - they are once again attending the same school. And all of a sudden, today I realized that these next two years will be the last years they live in the same home and attend the same school at the same time. I am relatively positive that they will not go to the same college. Alyssa wants to attend a small Virginia state college. John, on the other hand, aspires to go out of state to a larger, well known institution. Thinking about these things this morning led me to a startling realization.

When we woke up this first day of the school year, it was pouring down rain - buckets and buckets of rain were falling from the sky. It was dark and dreary and really, really wet outside. Rather than have the kids walk to the bus stop in the miserable weather, I offered to drive them to school. And that was when things went south. I would have been fine if they would have ridden the bus. But noooo.... I decided to drive them to school today because I didn't want them to get wet in the rain. Subconsciously, I think I must have wanted to witness them walk into the building. I'm not sure. But I tend to do things like that. I am forever holding on to my children as tight as I can until the very last possible second. Additionally, I like visual images. And the image of seeing Alyssa and John walk into the school together was much more enticing than the image of seeing them walk out the door.

When we reached the high school, I watched my children, who are not children at all, walk into the great big building that is the high school. And as I pulled out of the parking lot, I began to cry uncontrollably. I was shocked by my reaction. I had no idea I would be so sad to see my babies attend high school together. All this time I thought it would be one of the best days of my life.

I was wrong, and I was an emotional mess all day long.

It wasn't this difficult for me when Alyssa started high school. But that was two years ago. And at that time, I still had six new school years ahead of me. Two years goes by quickly. After today, only three more Back to School days remain. For some reason, sending John to high school was much more difficult than sending Alyssa to high school. I think it is because he is my youngest. I also think it is because I'm not quite ready to let him go. I like him exactly how he is. If he grows up, I fear that I will no longer be needed. And if that happens, I am afraid I will lose my identity. Because for over sixteen years I have been Mom. Somewhere along the way, I lost Kelly. I know I need to find myself. But in the meantime, I am in a constant state of confusion.

Tonight, I am feeling sad, because my kids are almost grown, and all too soon they will be gone. Each day seems to be shorter than the last, and each night I wish there was a way to slow time and relive the moments. But of course that is impossible. And so I write. I write to record the gift of being a mother. And when the day is here when my children are no longer in my care, I will pull out my notebooks and remember, because these truly are the best days of my life, and I never, ever want to forget how special every single moment has been.

flying kites

I woke up this morning feeling melancholy. At first, I couldn't figure out why I was sluggish and a bit out of sorts. But it didn't take long for me discover the source of my emotions: kites... kites are the reason I am feeling off today.

By today's standards, these pages would not be considered trendy or stylish at all. And still, I love these pages, even though they are six years old, because looking at the pictures is a walk down memory lane. For if today I could be anywhere I wanted to be, it would be there - in the very same place, with the very same people, doing the very same things that we did six years ago. These pictures were taken on the beach by my mom's house, and for me these pictures depict home, and family, and tradition. 

For nineteen years, August meant vacation and kites. It was tradition to head to the coast to watch the kites soar. Box kites, tail kites, animal kites, multi-connection kites, little kites, big kites, fancy kites and simple kites... they all flew proudly against the sky of the Pacific Northwest. I never tired of looking at the kites as we walked the boardwalk and ate elephant ears with cousins and friends alike. Year after year, we watched those kites in the sky. Sadly, after having attended the Washington State International Kite Festival for nineteen years in a row, these pictures are the very last I took. We have been unable to enjoy the last six kite festivals due to the kid's school schedule. And still... every year in August, my heart flies west longing to join the kites in the lofty breezes that come from the Pacific Ocean. If I were to follow my heart, today I would be flying a kite.

As I look at these pictures, I am reminded of the many summer days spent on the beach gazing up at the colorful sky watching hundreds upon hundreds of kites soaring in the sky that is my home. And when I close my eyes and let my mind wander, I can almost fell the ocean breeze and smell the salt in the air; I can almost hear the waves crashing on the shore, and I can almost see the kites in the sky, because it is a tradition, even if only in my heart. And today, my heart is with the kites.

"the use of aroma to enhance a feeling of well-being"

aro·ma·ther·a·py - Pronunciation: &-"rO-m&-'ther-&-pE, Function: noun
Etymology: French aromathérapie, from Latin aroma + French thérapie therapy
: massage of the body and especially of the face with a preparation of fragrant essential oils extracted from herbs, flowers, and fruits; broadly : the use of aroma to enhance a feeling of well-being
- aro·ma·ther·a·peu·tic/-"ther-&-'pyü-tik/ adjective
- aro·ma·ther·a·pist/-'ther-&-pist/ noun

Aromatherapy is a term created by RM Gattefosse, a French chemist. It is the art and science, although not a medically-approved one, of using aromatic substances, usually essential oils, to cure common ailments. It is also popular as a stress reliever.

Etymology is the history of a linguistic form (as a word) shown by tracing its development since its earliest recorded occurrence in the language where it is found, by tracing its transmission from one language to another, by analyzing it into its component parts, by identifying its cognates in other languages, or by tracing it and its cognates to a common ancestral form in an ancestral language.

Alyssa is taking an etymology class in high school this year. When I was in high school, they didn't offer etymology. Heck, I didn't even know what the word meant until last spring when she told me she was signing up for the class. It was then that I secretly looked the word up in the dictionary so that she wouldn't think I was illiterate - and it's a good thing I did, because I thought etymology was the study of bugs.  She would have gotten a lot of mileage out of that faux pas. But then, as my kids like to remind me, I attended high school eons ago and apparently I have forgotten most of what was taught. Gee, I hope they are wrong. I like to think that I didn't learn about etymology because we did not have the opportunity to study it in the first place; or rather, if we did study it (and I vaguely remember learning about word origins) we were not told that what we were learning was called etymology. But then, we didn't use aromatherapy as a form of stress relief back then either, so maybe my kids have a point.

Because I think that the word aromatherapy sounds way cool, and because I want to believe that this technique actually works, tonight I decided to burn candles and turn down the lights. Who knows, maybe there is something to this whole aromatherapy idea, although I have yet to figure out how citrus scents wafting through the air are going to soothe my soul and calm my nerves. But then I will be the first to admit that there are a lot of things I don't know, and so I figured aromatherapy was worth a try because I really like the part of the definition that says, "the use of aroma to enhance a feeling of well-being." For some reason, I find that to sound rather exotic. And if nothing else, I had a soothing atmosphere thing going on. That has to account for something.

Today John received another IvIg gamma globulin infusion. This was the third procedure and instead of taking seven or eight hours, as it has in the past, today he only had to be hooked up to the tubing for four hours. One would think that having gone through these procedures before, I would be used to them. I'm not. They still undo me. And regardless of how mentally prepared I think I am prior to the nurse poking him with a needle, drawing blood, and then hooking him up to the IV, it always takes me by surprise to discover that these infusions are still so unsettling. It takes every effort on my part to pretend I am feeling cool, calm and collected. Today I found myself actually sitting on my hands so that I wouldn't fidget. John, on the other hand, is the one who is cool, calm and collected. He has a very laid back attitude and he just seems to suck it up and deal with it. In that regard, we are blessed.

As the IvIg was being infused in John's bloodstream, I started thinking about what I was doing last year in August, because I knew that whatever it was I did last year, it was not nearly as awful as sitting in a room watching my son be treated for autoimmune deficiency. What I remembered was that one year ago I was still living on the high of my recent departure from working for the Big Manufacturer. One year ago, I was still under the impression that my life would offer hundreds of precious moments with my teenagers and endless relaxing days playing with my paper and pretties. That was before John got sick. It was before Alyssa fell in love. It was before I realized that my husband was never going to stop being retired. It was before reality set in and I became aware of all the curve balls life can throw. One year ago, I was delusional - that's the conclusion I came to today.

Delusional does not have a very nice ring to it. I should look up the etymology of that word. I'm sure that the history of it's origins are not very nice. But regardless of the sound of the word delusional, the truth is: I was living in La La Land last year. And when I stop and think about La La Land, I realize that it's not a very nice place to be. For what fun would it be to live a life that does not offer challenges? And although I would never wish for my son to have fallen ill, I have been blessed with many, many poignant moments with John in recent months - moments that would never have occurred had he been well; moments that I will cherish for all of my days. And if I were to continue living in La La Land, Alyssa would not yet have fallen in love. And even though I am afraid that her heart may someday be broken, I have had the opportunity to see her blossom before my eyes. She has found someone who loves her deeply, and she has taken the chance to offer that love in return. And the truth is, if one is to live a full life, falling in love and broken hearts are part of the journey.

My La La Land was not very realistic because in that land of Oz that I was in last year, my desire was to freeze the moment and never let my children grow up. Today as I sat on my hands trying not to fidget, my thoughts led me to the discovery that although this past year has been filled with many trials and much tribulation, it has also been a year of growth - growth for my children, and more importantly, growth for me. The journey has led me down many paths that I had not anticipated, but it's been a journey filled with blessings. And I am a better person for overcoming the obstacles and for continuing my quest.

Tonight as I lit the scented candles in my home, I did so thinking that I was searching for an enhanced feeling of well-being. But when I think about it, I found my enhanced feeling of well-being today as I sat on my hands trying not to fidget during John's IvIg procedure. What aromatherapy offered me was a soothing atmosphere in which to process my thoughts and realize that I'm in a good place right now. It's not the place I thought I would be, but it's the place I was meant to be all along. And the only way I would have ever come to this conclusion was by taking the time to slow down and process the journey.

I find this to be an amazing discovery; one that I would have never found had I not tried aromatherapy as a way to unwind. And so my take on aromatherapy is this: aromatherapy may sound like a lot of hype, and maybe on the surface it is exactly that - hype. But if one approaches it with an open mind willing to contemplate the ordinary - extraordinary discoveries may be made.

finding {perspective}

I believe in the power of positive thinking. I also believe in affirmations. And I think that self talk works wonders. But there are times when these tried and true tools aren't enough. It is then that I turn to music; specifically, music combined with a good, old fashion power walk. I always feel like Forrest Gump when I pull out my disc-man and headphones and take off at a phenomenal pace - a pace that makes makes my sides burn and my body sweat. And yes... I realize I am stuck in the twentieth century: I don't own an iPod. Always during these emergency power walks, I tell myself that I cannot live another day without one of those wonder toys. And always when I am finished, I realize that the disc-man still serves its purpose, because the purpose is to blast music into my brain - the method be damned.

Tonight I took off in desperate need of something - anything to work off the mad and the sad and the frustration that had building throughout the afternoon. It took three tours of our little community, and three different listening sessions of K.T. Tunstall's Eye to the Telescope before I calmed down. That's over five miles of walking. Five miles of hurt. Five mile of tears. Five miles of mad. Five miles of sweat. And five miles of pent up anger. Eventually, I slowed my pace and took the time to really listen to the words of one particular song. And it was only then that I began to calm down and reminded myself that I am... so many things. And although I have perfected none of the things I am, I am doing okay. In fact, I'm doing the best I can. And when I really stop to think about it, the best I can is pretty darn good.

I made these pages in May 2005. The bookmarks that are slipped inside the pocket are reminders to myself of who I am. The words written on them are declarations of me. Today it took a power walk and the words of a great song to bring it back into focus.

The song I refer to is Suddenly I See, lyrics by K.T. Tunstall. I interpret this song to say that she sees herself - the person she has wanted to be all along. If my interpretation is incorrect, I apologize only to the artist.

Her face is a map of the world
Is a map of the world
You can see she's a beautiful girl
She's a beautiful girl
Everything around her is a silver pool of light
People who surround her feel the benefit of it
It makes you calm
She holds you captivated in her palm

Suddenly I see
This is what I wanna be
Suddenly I see
Why the hell it means so much to me 

And I feel like walking the world
Like walking the world
And you can hear she's a beautiful girl
She's a beautiful girl
She fills up every corner like she's born in black and white
Makes you feel warmer when you're trying to remember
What you heard
She likes to leave you hanging on a wire

Suddenly I see
This is what I wanna be
Suddenly I see
Why the hell it means so much to me

And she's taller than most
And she's looking at me
I can see her eyes looking from a page in a magazine
She makes me feel like I could be a tower
Big strong tower
She got the power to be
The power to give
The power to see yeah yeah

Suddenly I see
She got the power to be
The power to give
The power to see yeah yeah

Suddenly I see
This is what I wanna be
Suddenly I see
Why the hell it means so much to me 

Suddenly I see
Why the hell it means so much to me

There's something about blasting music into the brain while calling all endorphins into action. It puts things into perspective. And perspective is exactly what I needed today.

[reflections of love]

It is difficult to describe the feelings a mother has when she kisses her children goodnight and softly sweeps the hair from their face as she bends over and gently pulls the blankets up to their chin. I have always considered this nightly ritual a gift. And through the years, I have learned that this gift is a golden treasure. I cherish this gift more than any other because it is one that can only be enjoyed for a few short years. Time is running out when it comes to opportunities for me to perform this nightly ritual. And because I know that my nights are dwindling and my moments are few, I treasure the gift all the more. And although I don't have words to describe the feeling, I do know the emotion that I experience each time I kiss my children goodnight: comfort, serenity, peace, and love.

Today as I waited in the airport for Alyssa's return flight, I found myself standing beside a lovely Amish family who were also waiting for a loved one. And as we waited, I watched the interaction of the mother with her children; five little blondies anxiously awaiting the arrival of someone they loved. I could see that the mother was anxious, yet she was outwardly very much in control. I'm sure her children had no idea that their mother was feeling anything but excited, because she took the time to answer each and every question they asked about all things airport related. I was so impressed with her patience and calm. And being witness to such apparent and pure love had a calming affect on me.

As the security doors swung open, a teenage girl of about sixteen walked into the baggage area. She had to be the big sister. And she was beaming. The smallest child quietly walked up to her and raised her arms. The big sister bent over and scooped up the baby, holding her close as she bent over to hug and kiss the other children. As I stood back and watched this private family reunion unfold, I was overcome with emotions, because next to me stood the mother. She had her hand on her heart and tears in her eyes as she watched her small children reunite with their sister. The love that flowed from her was palpable. And as I silently rejoiced with this mother, tears filled my eyes for I knew exactly how she felt. At that moment, I realized that motherhood is a sisterhood of sorts; one where no words are necessary.

After the Amish family went on their way, I was left with a heart overflowing with gratitude for the gift of motherhood. It was all I could do not to bawl like a fool when Alyssa walked through the doors a few minutes later. And as I lovingly enfolded my daughter in my arms, I said a prayer of thanksgiving. My heart was singing, "She's home, she's home, she's home!"

Tonight I want to take all my memories of Alyssa's homecoming and put them in a bottle. I wish I could always remember the stories she shared, the smile on her face, and the fullness of my heart. But memories are fickle and often we forget the little things... the touch, the smell, the look, the moment. I will forget the long absence and the feelings of emptiness while she was away. My hope is that Alyssa will remember her trip with clarity and that she will cherish the time she spent with her Grammy and Poppy, her Aunt Jenny and Aunt Debbie, and her cousins - those once removed siblings who will always be a part of her childhood.

As much as I missed secretly sneaking into Alyssa's room each night to touch her cheek and pull up the covers, I know that by letting her go away, Alyssa was loved by the women I love the most - my mother, my sister, and my sister-in-law. And if I was not there in person, these are the three I want to do the kissing, the tucking, the caring, and the loving of my children.

And so tonight I thank my mom, the woman whom I set all my standards by. Thank you, Mom, for loving Alyssa as much as I do. You are right - she is our blessing and we are rich. And I thank my sister, the little girl who grew up to become my closest confidant. Thank you, Jenny, for treating Alyssa like a queen - she adores you. And finally, I thank my sister-in-law, the person who has always been like a sister to me. Thank you, Debbie. Your outpouring of love for Alyssa raised her self-esteem a million notches, and your sense of style is going to cost me a fortune! And for the record - Alyssa was not home for more than ten minutes before she said, "Mom, when can we go shopping?" To me, these words were music to my ears because they meant that my Alyssa was back!

She's home. Those words are beautiful. And tonight, I will perform the secret sneaking, tucking, kissing ritual once more. Tonight I feel comfort, serenity, peace, and love that only a mother can know. Tonight, I am blessed.

UPDATED @ 3:00 a.m.
Thank goodness for the giant dose of warm fuzzies that I felt earlier as I reunited with Alyssa. NOTE TO SELF: Remember to grab the warm fuzzies and savor them whenever possible because the reality of motherhood is this: Big kids = BIG sick.

I've just spent 90 minutes steam cleaning John's bedroom carpet, cleaning his toilet and bathtub, mopping the bathroom floor, washing sheets and scrubbing walls. Football practice has begun and John's system is having a difficult time adjusting. He fell asleep at 11:00 p.m. and woke up 2 hours later puking his guts out. He hurled in two rooms, hitting not only his bed, his floor, the toilet and the bathtub, but he also managed to spray the walls. THIS IS THE REALITY OF MOTHERHOOD, and right now, it [literally] stinks. I think it is safe to say that all mothers have had nights like this. And whenever it comes around to being my turn again, I find it comforting to remember that every mother on the planet knows what it's like to feel so sorry for the sick child, while being utterly disgusted by the gross factor. Reality... not always a good thing.

I'm not ready

Alyssa has been gone for over a week. I miss her so much that my heart aches from longing. She's gone on trips before, so these feelings are nothing new. And every time she's away, it's always the same: I miss her and my heart aches. What makes this absence different is this time I have had a glimpse of what my future will be like. For when she returns, her plate is full. She won't have many hours at home - not more than sleeping in her bed and maybe eating a meal or two at our family table.

In the past, she would return from her summer holiday and we would settle into our nice, comfortable routine: daytime meant Alyssa off to school as I putzed around the house. In the afternoon, she would arrive home and we would talk about her day. Then we would run errands together, because I always saved running errands until she got home - being that she loves to run errands. After our jaunt around town, she would do her homework as I made dinner. To end the day, we would watch our shows side by side on the sofa. Then we would say goodnight, knowing with certainty that we would do it all over again the next day. It's been like that for so long that I can't remember a time when she wasn't my afternoon buddy. But now she is a junior in high school. She no longer wants to be my afternoon playmate. She has things to do, places to go, and people to see.

And that is exactly the way it should be. It's time for her to spread her wings - wings I've lovingly given her; wings that I now must trust her to use wisely. She wants to explore, and it is time that I send her off with hope and faith, believing that her adventure will be filled with delightful discoveries. This is her season of change. And I'm okay with that. It's time.

But just because I know it's time, doesn't make it easy to let go. And as I type this, I am crying... crying like a baby... crying because it's the beginning of the end of the best years of my life. Years that I have cherished with every fiber of my being. And I'm not ready. Let me say it again: I'M NOT READY. If I could, I would shout those words from the roof tops. Because I need to say the words. I want to scream and shout and cry the words. I want to turn back time and start all over. I want to spend time with Alyssa again and again and again. I want the words to go away. And most of all, I want someone to tell me how does one prepare to let go? I don't know how to do that, not when I've held on tight for so many years. I'm not ready.

Which leads me to the question, "What about me?" Because after this stark realization hit me this week, I've been left wondering, "What am I going to do without her?" And I'm scared. I feel completely lost. I wish I would have never realized that seasons are changing and the summer of my contentment is over.

And so it is that I have spent the time while Alyssa has been gone reflecting upon changes. Which is how I've come to conclude that it is time for me to move on. It happens in life. Sometimes we are ready and sometimes we aren't. Yet regardless of our preparedness, the time comes when transition and changes must occur. And for me, that time has arrived. And I'm not ready. I've been hiding from the fact that it's time that I begin searching for ways other than motherhood to fill my days and satisfy my needs.  But now that I've opened my eyes, I realize that it's not fair of me to expect, nor to want, to live vicariously through my children. And that's what I've been doing for the past year.

Oh, I could use the excuse of John's illness to say that I had no choice. And maybe I didn't. But I held on to that far longer than necessary. He's getting better. And in a few weeks, he won't have weekly medical appointments. Those will soon be a thing of the past as well. He will continue to receive monthly infusions, but if his health continues to improve, life will go on in spite of the once monthly inconvenience. And then what will I do? The kids will be in school for almost ten hours each day. I don't need ten hours to keep a house clean. Nor do I need ten hours to play with my paper and pretties. Because what I've discovered is that when someone has nothing but time on their hands, the things that used to be fun become less enticing. Another thing I've learned is that loneliness sets in very quickly. And if I'm totally honest, that is what I'm most afraid of. I am forty-four years old and I am afraid of being lonely. I'm afraid of being unwanted. I'm afraid of being useless. I'm afraid of becoming invisible. And I refuse to let that happen. I have too much to offer, and too much to live for.

And so this week I begin a new chapter in my life. I'm not ready. And I don't want to. But it's time. And when it is time to do something, then it's time to do it right. I've spent all day working on my resume and gathering documents. I've done job searches and researched positions and salaries. It's time for me to go back to work. There... I said it. I don't like it, but I've said it. It's something I must do, lest I suffocate my children and lose my soul. Neither of which would be a good thing. And so tomorrow I begin looking for a job. I think I'll start small. Maybe something part time. I have some pretty firm requirements on my end: no weekends, no nights, and no travel. Because if I wanted those things, I would pick up the phone and call the Big Manufacturer begging for my old contract work. Who knows, maybe with my requirements, no one will want me. Maybe nine years working as a secretary twenty long years ago won't account for much. Maybe they will think I'm old as dirt and will want to hire someone younger and better looking. But you know what? I've decided that I have something to offer, and if I look hard enough and have enough faith in myself, I just might find a job that helps me become ready for the final farewell I eventually must say to my children. And really, that's what it's all about - transition. It's a time of transition for my teenagers and it's a time of transition for me. And when it's time to make changes, the best thing to do is  put on a happy face and confront the changes with a positive attitude.

And that's exactly what I hope to do. Only right now, I think I might cry some more, because I'm very much afraid of change. And really, I'm just not ready.

ON STRIKE!

I really don't have much to write about lately. It's that time of the year when the days are long, the weather is hot, and everyone begins to feel sluggish. It's also the time of year when kids need to go back to school, but just don't know it. Every August, I find myself longing for the routine of fall. And every fall, I rejoice in the beauty that is Back to School. Sadly, it's not Back to School time yet. My kids still have three full weeks of vacation. Which means I still have three full weeks of chaos and disorganization in my life. After experiencing said chaos for the past two months, I'm beginning to feel a little antsy.

And so today I went on strike. I do that every now and then. I announce to the family that I am checking out. And then I do whatever the heck it is I want to do. My family doesn't like it very well when I go on strike. But as far as keeping sane goes, a strike every once in a while is a good way to manage my sanity. Unfortunately, my strike didn't last as long as I would have liked it to. But still, I was able to eek out some ME time today, which is really what a strike is all about. And since I don't have much to talk about lately, I thought I'd post the two projects I did while I was enjoying the strike.

I think I'm going to go on strike again tomorrow!

the real me - raw and unedited

A peek into my mind:

• The laptop is staying at home while I head off to Chicago. Sadly, this will be the first trip in three years that I have not taken the computer with me. But it is on it's last leg - held together by rubber bands, and I fear that if I take it with me on this trip, it will die. Therefore, no pictures or blogging from Chi-town. Sad, sad, sad.
• We have ants. I'm leaving Jeff to deal with this problem while I am away. Whatever he does, I don't want to see it or know about it... I just want the ants out of here. We have fought these darn ants all summer long. I'm really getting tired of seeing them on my kitchen counter each morning. No matter what we do, they just keep coming back. How much bleach can the counters take in one summer? Part of the problem is the dogs - we can't put real poison on the floor, or else the dogs will lick it and die. That would not be good.
• It's difficult to watch So You Think You Can Dance while trying to design a name tag to wear in Chicago, because watching television and mixing paint colors are not a good multitask combination - the paint dries if I watch television. And to make matters worse, not only did I miss most of SYTYCD, I also discovered that I should have been creating a badge HOLDER, not the actual name tag itself. Live and learn. I'll be the dork at the show. In the past, I've always worked the shows, so this was never an issue. This time, I'm attending as a freelance designer - it's a whole different ballgame. And I'm starting the first inning with a strike out. Not good. Not good at all.
• *sigh* I love So You Think You Can Dance. I have a secret crush on Benji. If he doesn't win, I may actually cry. I really, really want him to win!
• Why did I wait to wash my white pants until this afternoon? It is after midnight and they are still wet. I just now, at midnight, hung them out on the deck to dry. I sure hope that the sun comes up and cooks those suckers before I leave on my trip. I hate packing damp clothes. I've done that before, and they always end up wrinkled and smelly. Dry baby, dry.
• John has turned into a teenage rebel. It's been the summer from hell. Yesterday, he finally agreed to attend a football camp next week (after much coercion on my part, considering he's already missed two camps this month). And so today I tricked him into meeting the coaches when I dropped off the football forms - meaning I pretty much manipulated the meeting to happen. A mother's gotta do what a mother's gotta do, and in this case, it's manipulation I'm using. I'm banking on this freshman football experience to help him figure things out and find a better attitude. I sure hope these coaches are good with angst ridden fourteen year olds. It's a job I would not want to have.
• I got lucky this week: John's beloved Angela is out of town. Seriously, I'm doing the happy dance. It's been a good week all the way around, other than he and Alyssa almost killing each other today in the car. I had to pull over while I was driving (no kidding, they are teenagers, and they are still duking it out - give me a break). Needless to say, they both lost the use of their cell phones. I made them turn them in and then I removed the batteries, just to be safe, because with a teenage rebel in the home, one just never knows. It's been pretty quiet tonight at our house as they contemplate their punishment and figure out how to get these phones back (I've already decided to give them back before I leave in the morning).
• I can't believe I have typed this entire entry with wet fingernails. Even more than not believing that I risked a good manicure to make an entry, I can't believe I haven't bunged it up yet. I probably just jinxed myself.
• I'm wondering how many frozen pizzas Jeff will cook while I'm gone. It's a good thing Alyssa had me take her to Safeway today so that she could stock up on Lean Cuisines. Her biggest complaint about my travels is that she gets sick and tired of eating pizza every night. John, on the other hand, thinks that Jeff's idea of cooking is just great.
• The Chicago trip is shaping up to look pretty darn good. Thursday night we are going to play tourist at the pier. Can't say that I've ever been to the pier in Chi-town before, so that should be fun. There are eight or ten of us going, which means we will have our own posse. Really, who could ask for a better kick off to CHA than that?
• I need to take some Tylenol PM right now so that I can sleep tonight. I really don't want to snooze on the plane - that would mean bedhead when I land. Bedhead is not the way I want my hair to look when I meet people for the first time.
• I will be meeting Barb Hogan and Jenidallas this weekend. That is going to be the highlight of my trip. Well, that and having a sleep-over at Janet O's house. The sleep-over is pretty tough to top. I'm very excited.
• I so wish I could take the laptop with me. I will never remember it all by the time I get home.
• I've gained five pounds since my last trip to Chicago. I hope no one mentions this annoying fact. I'm a Curves slacker this month... what can I say?
• I just re-read this list of thoughts. It made me realize that I really need a vacation.
• Chi-town - here I come!

And to everyone who is reading this:

• I'll be back on Monday night. Happy weekend to all.

[in a nutshell]

My sister claims that she always knows when something going on in my life, because it is during those times that I don't update the blog. For the most part, she is right. But this time, that is not the case. And so for Jenny, and anyone else who has figured out that I am usually silent when in crisis, here's a recap of the past few days:

• Saturday - I had nothing to say, thus no entry. I was boring. I think I was still recovering from all the shopping Alyssa and I did at the Circle and Dot Sale on Friday. I did get 5 inches cut off my hair on Saturday, and have a new look to wear to Chicago this week. I'm still trying to decide whether or not I like the shorter style.
• Sunday - I had too much to say. It was a very long weekend with the teenagers. And when I have weekends like that, I try to keep the misery to myself.
• Monday - I was going to write. I even had a topic in mind. But then I decided to run away from home. I was gone until 2:30 in the morning. And all I can say is that I have the best neighbors in the world. We had a blast.
• Tuesday - Here I am. I'm happy as a clam because our summer finally arrived and we had some good heat. It reached 100 degrees today. Even for me, that is too hot. But since we haven't had many hot days, I have no complaints. To beat the heat, I took the kids to Wal-Mart. What is it about that store that excites kids so much? Me - I go there to buy things like tampons and laundry soap. Alyssa - she heads straight to the cosmetics. John - he stops at McDonalds first (why are there MickeyD's in Wal-Marts?), and then he makes a beeline for the electronics. I always spend too much money at Wal-Mart. And when the kids are with me, I spend even more. And this is why I only go to Wal-Mart once every three or four months. I've been lucky because I hadn't been there since November. An all-time record for staying away from The Money Sucker Store.
• Wednesday - Yikes! I absolutely must think about packing for the Chicago trip. I leave in 36 hours and I have a list a mile long that needs taken care of before I head out. Things like football camp registration for John (nothing like him waiting till the last minute to tell me that it starts on Monday), football forms need dropped off at the high school, Alyssa needs to be taken on a few errands, and of course there is laundry to do and clothes to pack. As for groceries, well, I'm thinking that those left behind can figure it out on their own. I don't have time to do meal planning.

So there you have it - my week in a nutshell. All is well, other than one rebellious teenage boy, one totally smitten and in-love teenage girl, a husband who doesn't realize I'm going to Chicago this week, and me - the one who is slowly losing her mind.