My First Front Porch

Going through old pictures (again) this am, I stumbled upon a photo of the house I grew up in Allenhurst, New Jersey, which my siblings and I refer to as “404” (the address). When I look at this house, I am overwhelmed with many fond memories. Of course, there are those that are not so warm and fuzzy (memories), but nevertheless, they are a part of my life.

There are those who say the “house” is merely a shell, and what makes the shell a “home” are those who live inside. I believe this as well, however, our “shell” had an extension in the form of a wrap around porch, and that’s where many of the great memories I have were formed.

The porch was huge (I’m not the best at math or configurations, but if I had to guess, I would say it gave us a HUGE amount of living space). Our parents collected most of the porch furniture from garage sales, and after cleaning it up and adding new paint, we had just about brand new stuff. It was old, mostly wicker, but it all added “charm” to the porch. And most was very comfy. And there was always room for one more. Always.

The bulk of the porch faced the lake we grew up on (yet more tales I could share) so the summer breezes that rolled off the lake added to our comfort, especially during the heat of the summer. We hosted many parties on this porch, including my sister Sue’s wedding (quite honestly one of the most relaxed and fun weddings I have ever attended).

This porch seemed to draw people to it like a magnet. Whether it was family, friends, the neighbors, or the cop on duty that day (my dad was also a cop so it was not uncommon for that person on duty to drop by to say hello), there was always something going on. We also had many meals out there, and food always seemed to taste better out there. Even a cold bowl of cereal was fun.

Watching a summer storm from this old porch was even fun. We felt safe there, like no harm could ever reach us (as if the rails of the porch wrapped themselves around us, protecting us).

They say a house has character and that character is an extension of its owners. I think that is true. My parents always extended open arms to those who came to sit on that porch. As inviting as that porch was, so were my parents to those who came to sit and visit with us.

I can remember vividly the tinkling sounds of my mom’s wind chimes that were scattered around the porch frame. I can still see the American flag blowing in the breeze. I can hear the laughter of the occupants. I can smell the fragrance of summer. I remember the love that enveloped that house like the porch, whose wrap around structure was more than a piece of shell. I miss that porch.

National Cancer Survivors Day

On June 1, 2008, over 12 million American cancer survivors, and those who have supported them, will be honored, when our country takes the day to celebrate National Cancer Survivors Day. Here at home, we will celebrate Jim’s getting through his diagnosis and subsequent treatment of thyroid cancer. He is a survivor. And we are thankful to those who helped him get through those times, whether it was through prayer, treatments, or simply kind words of encouragement.

I have written periodically in my blog how much I ‘hate’ cancer. My life has been touched throughout the years by many who have been diagnosed with cancer; both survivors and those who have eventually succumbed to it. Family, friends, and patients.

In the early years of my nursing career, I spent time working on an oncology unit where I met many wonderful patients, many who I still remember today. As a young nurse, this was not an easy floor to work on, and not merely because of the workload, but as a young nurse you have the drive and motivation to ensure all your patients lived. But sadly, many did not and that was a hard reality lesson for me. Many of those patients taught me things about myself that I have taken with me throughout my life, both personally and professionally.

It’s been written that “conventional medicine identifies survivors as those who are in long-term recovery when, in fact, from the moment of diagnosis, everyone touched by cancer is in survival mode. This is true not only of patients, but also their caregivers, family members, and loved ones.” I agree completely.

I have long been a supported of two cancer organizations; the American Cancer Society and the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society (specifically the NJ Chapter). I do what I can, when I can, so that when and if my family and friends are diagnosed, I know I have already helped to make a difference. And when and if I might be diagnosed, I know I have already begun the fight. Help make a difference. Help celebrate those who have survived or those who are just starting the survival of their life.

Remembering: Memorial Day

I am a firm believer that many Americans have long forgotten the real meaning behind Memorial Day. Many think it’s a day to honor and memorialize all of the dead and not those who fell protecting our country. Sacrifice. Even the tradition behind the day has fallen to the wayside. Graves are left unattended and not marked for the day. Even towns that had parades and small graveside celebrations have dwindled. “Costs.”

I try my best to remember those who should be thought of on this day, starting with my own family members. I have a long list of relatives who fought the “War to end all wars,” WWII, and the Korean War. My dad, my uncle, and Jim’s dad dedicated a part of their lives to the military service, both incidentally the US Navy. Their graves have small American flags placed to signify their service to our country.

I even know a person who died during the Vietnam War. I was in third grade and my Sunday school teacher Mrs. Brower received notification during our Sunday school time. I remember feeling frightened, and then worried about her. Her son Donald was a gifted kid who went off to war never return again. I think of him every Memorial Day. I may know more who died during this time, but he is the only one who left such an impact on me.

My flag is out, and flying in the breeze. I buy a poppy every year. I give to Veterans when I can. I like living in America. It’s honor for me to have known those who served to protect us, and ultimately sacrifice themselves for me. For all of us. For America.

And so Summer at the Jersey Shore Begins...

OY Vey! The summer season at the New Jersey shore is now officially open for business, which means the "bennies" have arrived! The traffic gets thicker and the area more congested with summer tourists. Oh sure they do bring in extra cash, but…

Despite the extra annoyances living at the shore during the summer bring, I wouldn’t like, nor can I imagine living anywhere else during the summer months. I like that I can drive a few minutes and get to the beach and the boardwalk. Okay, maybe not “minutes” during the summer, but I can get there faster than someone living near Trenton or North Jersey!

I like that I can go from the beach to the local grocery store all damp and sandy and no one notices me. I blend right in. Unlike the beanies who stand out on any given day. (see picture) Being a local, I know all the quiets spots yet undiscovered by the "bennies." So when I want time alone on the beach without the entire hubbub they bring, I head to my secret place and pray that it is never discovered. Or I avoid the whole traffic mess and stay at home on my deck, which has not yet been discovered by any group of tourists! Yet.

So the summer at the shore, which is not like the official start of the season of summer, has begun, but so has the count down until the "bennies" go home again, and the peace and quiet of the New Jersey shore can be seen and heard again, without the noise of traffic congestion.

From the Urban Dictionary (http://www.urbandictionary.com/) the definition of “bennies” is as follows:

“The stupid tourists from up north, they increase traffic, pollute the beach (they say it is the locals fault), and all round cause havoc.”

The Roaring 20's

Once upon there was a girl who lived a simple life. She lived during the time of the “flappers” which was a period of time that redefined modern women. Flappers were defined as a new breed of young women who wore short skirts, bobbed their hair, listened to the new Jazz music, and flaunted their disdain for what was then considered acceptable behavior. The flappers were seen as brash for wearing excessive makeup, drinking, treating sex in a casual manner, smoking, driving automobiles, and otherwise flouting conventional social and sexual norms. And as you can see from her picture, she was a lovely flapper type, and knowing my grandmother she no doubt helped to define that period of time quite well.

But I love the idea that women took a positive stand in our country. The right to vote became a reality and women pushed themselves into working roles in their society. Young women especially, began staking claim to their own bodies and took part in a sexual liberation of their generation. The 20s gave birth to the ‘feminine mystique’. With this formulation, all women wanted to marry, all good women stayed at home with their children, cooking and cleaning, and the best women did the aforementioned and in addition, exercised their purchasing power freely and as frequently as possible in order to better their families and their homes. I like the idea that my grandmother’s generation took a stand for all women, helping us to be seen and heard.

I love the idea of being a flapper, but I love the sound of Jazz even more. I can easily see myself sitting in a jazz cafe, waiting to be asked to do the fox trot or the Charleston. Men wore dashing pinstriped suits and had a cool air about them. And of course, there were the downsides to the 20’s; drinking, gangsters, the rise of communism, and the beginnings of the KKK.

If there were one period of time I could visit, it would be this era. I’d like the chance to hang with my grandmother as she danced her way through the 20’s and the opportunity discuss with her how she felt about women’s rights, and in general what was going on in the world. If only.

Migo the Library Dog

This week, Migo, our youngest Golden will take his Therapy Dog exam. I believe he is ready. It has been a long 8 weeks of training, but worth every second, especially when you see how people respond to dogs. Medical research shows that animal therapy promotes shorter hospital stays, decreases blood pressure, and dramatically improves sense of well being. In most cases, patients excitedly anticipate their furry friends' visits; thus giving children, adults and the elderly even more reason to feel happier, healthier and more alert.

I have always been a believer in the power of animals to help heal our spirits, and in some cases, the human body. The stories are never ending; enhancing the quality of life through the human-animal bond. I know on a personal level how my dogs make a difference in my own life. As a natural stress reducer, animal therapy is an excellent method of incidental physiotherapy.

So Migo will join his sister Madison, our other Golden, at the local library to provide a service in which children will read to them. I love this program and love sharing my dogs with the local children. The kids respond favorably to the dogs and that’s what pet therapy is all about. I’m glad I am a part of something so positive.

Patience

We have had a really slow start to warmer weather in my area. At times it has been frustrating, especially for those of us who want to feel the heat radiate down to our bones, that have been cold and hurting over the long cold winter months. And for some of us, we simply want to sit and relax as the sun warms and begins the process of browning our faces.

We have had an abundance of spring rain, which while it has helped the process of helping the grass begin its new growth, has been somewhat annoying as it has kept us indoors; a place we want to break free from after a long winter. But the upside of all of this has been that plants have been slow to bloom fully and after doing so, have kept them longer. So we have been able to enjoy the colors and smell of spring a wee bit longer. Perhaps this is one more way Mother Nature encourages us to slow down?

It’s not a bad thing, and although I especially yearn for summer days, it might be best that I take each season a bit slower. So it is with this in mind that I will appreciate spring more and wait patiently for the heat of summer days. There’s no need to rush.

Caitlin: Home at Last!

My girl is home, safe and sound and she is as happy as we are, now that she is home. I cannot express how good it is to have her here. I like sharing that morning cup of Jo with her, and look forward to our shopping trips and days at the beach together.

She is unpacked and settled in, and life goes on.

=) =) =)

Pass the Popcorn

Most people, if not all, have their favorite movies. I’m not an exception. I have several that I adore and could easily watch over and over again without getting bored. Being a ‘chick’ I do love many of the sappy ‘chick flicks’ and never tire of them either. I love the classics, as well as the new stuff. I do not like sci-fi films. Never had, never will.

My all time favorites are as follows and are listed in no particular order of preferred films:

Gone with the Wind: Ok, I know this is a popular among many, but who doesn’t love that heat between Scarlett and Rhett?
Dr. Zhivago: The story involves General Yevgraf Zhivago searching for the love child of his brother, poet and doctor Yuri Zhivago, and his mistress Larissa ("Lara") Antipova. Who isn’t a fan of Omar Shariff?
The Thin Man (all of them!): I love the zaniness that goes on between William Powell and Myrna Loy!
Jeopardy: Barbara Stanwyck stars in this “taut thiller which takes woman-in-distress concept to one of the most frenzied extremes."
Ever After: Who doesn’t love that Cinderella gets her prince?
Practical Magic: I love Aidan Quinn! He’s magical!
The Bourne Series: I admit it. I have a ‘thing’ for Matt Damon.

The list goes on...

The point here is that we all have those favorite movies, classics or current, that we love to cuddle up to, especially on dark, gloomy rainy days. And when we have someone special to watch with, it is all the better. Pass the popcorn.

Dear Mom and Dad (and siblings)...

During the time period I lived in Germany, I sent many letters home to my family (and friends, of course). My letters were filled with so many things; most, simple tales of what we were doing at the time. The letters detailed what we did over the span of our five years in living, working, and traveling overseas.

Many of the envelopes sent home were also filled with small pieces of artwork done by Caitlin and Daniel for my parents and siblings. At the time, what I thought were simple letters home, now have become important keepsakes. I had no idea at the time, my parents was saving each letter. Each letter, each piece of artwork served as a link to me, Jim, and their two grandchildren.

When I returned home from Germany, my mom handed me the large box in which each letter was placed after she had read them over and over again. I placed each letter and much of the artwork in large binders, according to the date sent home (would I do it any differently, being the overly organized person I am?). Periodically, I read through the binders and relive not only what we were doing at the time, but my journaling (I was blogging before blogging was hip) of how I was dealing with being so far from home. My simple correspondence home has become a rich account of so many emotions I dealt with away from my family.

My letters are also filled with my humorous accounts of working with the military and all the antics that went on in the army clinic where I work, learned, and made life long friendships. They are filled with colorful descriptions of all the places we visited throughout Europe (Frommers has nothing on me). As my memory fades of that time period, I know that I have my letters to go through, taking me back to an incredible life experience, and I have my mom to thank for saving those valuable letters.

Happy Mother's Day!

It is with today’s blog that I honor my mom who has, over time, been at the very heart and soul of our family. There are so many words that describe my mom; courage, strength, patience, selfless, faith, love...the list is endless (and, yes, even annoying at times).

She grew up in small family, which included one younger brother, her dad (a mason) and her mom (predominately an executive secretary). She had the typical childhood, growing up during the depression, and working her summers at the shore as a lifeguard. She graduated high school and became a beautician. During this time period, she met my dad, married and eventually began her family (a total of five children). To say her life was easy would be wrong. She worked hard raising the five of us, and battled most of her married life with a man who never really fully appreciated her worth. Thus her strength, patience, faith, and the ability to laugh when times get tough. To say she came through the tough times like a war time hero would be right. Her kids are her strength. And I am quite sure we taught her patience too.

My mom is now 72 and she lives a quiet life with one of my brothers. She loves being “out on the farm” and loves her church and church family. She is a very devout Christian and appreciates what she has, and when possible shares what little she does have with others who need it more than she does. I am proud of my mom. I try to honor her each and every day I live my life by being the person she raised me to be. This, I believe, is the best possible way any of us could honor our mothers.

"The future destiny of the child is always the work of the mother." – Napoleon Bonaparte

"All that I am or hope to be, I owe to my angel mother." – Abraham Lincoln

A Calendar Girl

Besides having all the usual jobs I have listed on this blog, I also serve as the traffic cop here at home. I am in charge of ensuring (for the most part) where people need to be, and when and where on a daily basis (not jobs, thankfully they know that). I do this with the aide of a very active calendar and a very somewhat organized mind (yes even at my age). The key to being organized (at least for me) is my calendar. Without it, I’m lost. Without, there would be many appointments forgotten. (And I am not the only one)

I started years ago using a simple wall calendar, but after time, those little boxes never seemed big enough. It’s hard to cram four people’s whereabouts into tiny blocks. Then I graduated to carrying around a calendar book, and that worked well, but after a while I found that I would forget my book, and this is not so good when the orthodontist wants to book your kids life six months ahead. So, then I added a smaller purse size calendar book, and would carry that back and forth, adding and deleting to the larger book at home (You begin to see a potential problem here, don’t you) This went on for some time.

After a few years, I then graduated to a huge desk calendar (the kind my first grade teacher used with the very BIG blocks) and found while I could be very organized, it did take up a lot of counter space in the kitchen. BUT I do admit of all the calendars I have ever used, this was the best method. I also continued with the purse calendar just to be sure I had everything recorded.

Then (thanks to my sister Gidget) I discovered the Outlook calendar which nicely records each entry and then subsequently spits out a copy for my wall, and purse at the touch of a button. THIS was the ticket. It worked for about a week, and then I found I had to have something with bigger blocks. So as of today I have not one, not two, but three working calendars in progress. One in Outlook (on the PC), one in my purse, and lastly one on the counter in the kitchen (just in case someone calls me and I cannot reach my purse or my laptop). I’m covered. I’m organized. I’m me.

The Perfect Role Model

A very good friend of mine recently found herself in the media spotlight after being denied ‘light duty’ in her role as a police officer secondary to her high risk pregnancy. The attention it got was country wide; with various groups getting involved to make certain she was provided the safest job to ensure her and her baby’s safety. What is unfortunate is that there was not a policy in place to prevent the major mess that occurred, which ultimately brought so much attention to my friend, and the town in which she serves as a police officer.

What I found so horrible, and sad, were the comments by so many that women do not belong in police positions. Why do we as a society still have so many backward thoughts to roles woman can perform in regards to occupations? Certainly our military has proven that women not only do well, but excel in various positions against their male counterparts. Studies by the military have shown that, with training, most women's strength can be greatly increased, permitting them to perform the heaviest tasks required. So why do many (and not just men) still have the mentality that women are not strong enough, big enough, or even smart enough to become valuable members of police forces? It makes no sense to me.

Thankfully, my very dear friend was provided a position within her police department which allows her to remain on the payroll, and stay safe (her baby too). And I would like to mention that throughout this very nationally-made-public-ordeal, she maintained professionalism and told me that her male counterparts (her Chief excluded) rallied around her to show support. Perhaps this mentality should spill out to others who feel women have no place working in male dominant roles. Kudos to you Sonia. YOU are a hero to many (myself included) and a wonderful role model to other women.

Happy Nurse's Day!

To my readers who are nurses, Happy Nurse's Day to you!

The Florence Nightingale Pledge

I solemnly pledge myself before God and in the presence of this assembly, to pass my life in purity and to practice my profession faithfully. I will abstain from whatever is deleterious and mischievous, and will not take or knowingly administer any harmful drug. I will do all in my power to maintain and elevate the standard of my profession, and will hold in confidence all personal matters committed to my keeping and all family affairs coming to my knowledge in the practice of my calling. With loyalty will I endeavor to aid the physician, in his work, and devote myself to the welfare of those committed to my care.

Swinging the Day Away

Luke, our five-year-old Golden, loves to swing on our porch swing. He always has. In fact, so much so, that when the swing is up and it’s a beautiful day, he goes over to it, and through his cries, lets us know he wants up. Of course, when he is done, he cries to get help to get down off of the swing. He’s usually good for a few hours. But what better place is there to take your morning nap?

Of all our dogs, Luke has the most laid back personality. In fact, it’s been said that even when he moves forward, he is in reverse. He hardly barks, never causes much trouble around here, has a gentle soul, and the sweetest disposition. He was known to move bushes around when he was younger, but has since out grown that hobby (thankfully).

Now that summer is here, his days are spent swinging life away. We could all stand to have a few days like that. I know I could. Take time to spend and hour or two on your porch swing...or some place where you can rest, and think.

"I think dogs are the most amazing creatures; they give unconditional love. For me they are the role model for being alive." ~ Gilda Radner

Classical Music Appreciation 101

I enjoy listening to classical music. It’s something I have always enjoyed, but the older I have gotten, the more I appreciate each piece for its compilation. There’s a certain art to really ‘listening’ to these musical art forms. Many people find it boring, but I think once one has the ability to really understand classical music over the more popular forms of music, one can then appreciate it more. I think the difference between popular music and classical music can basically be summed up as the difference between magazines and works of literature.

I have my favorite works such as Vivaldi’s Four Seasons, Opus # 8, Strauss’s Blue Danube, Opus # 314, and Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker Opus # 71. I love so many, but these are among my favorites. I used to play the music for background noise. Yes, I said noise, but after beginning to look for new pieces, and really listening, I found that the best way to enjoy classical music is to just sit and listen to it. Focus, but not too hard.

When Daniel took his Music Appreciation class, he and I went too see the NJ Symphony. He had to dissect each piece, and in doing so, we found it was not so easy to enjoy the piece. The assignment led us to believe that in order to enjoy each piece, you simply had to really listen, and understand why the composer wrote what he did, and what message he wanted to send to the audience.

I believe that understanding and appreciating music is a hard thing to define. What does “understanding/appreciating classical music” really mean? There are two ways to look at interpreting the classics. The first is identifying that the classical music world has an abundance of terms associated with it, such as melody, rhythm, harmony, and so on. It’s the technical side of the music. The second important aspect of classical music is being able to understand the emotions and characteristics each piece reveals to the listener. There should be some connection between you and each piece. How does it make you feel? Sad, happy. I believe, this link, between you and the classical piece, is what makes listening to it more pleasurable. Find that link, and really connect to the classics. It’s well worth your time.

The UPs and DOWNs of My iPod

Technological gadgets. Who doesn’t like them? We can do almost anything, anywhere, and at anytime, thanks to the advances in our techno world. Like listen to music. And not just any music, but our favorite tunes, and even TV shows, and movies, all with the tiny push of a button. My iPod is my favorite gadget. That is when I can get them damn thing to work. Actually, the iPod is fine; it’s the loading of it that stumps me.

I am currently on my third iPod because I outgrew the first two iPods faster than I could load music on to them. My new one allows me to upload TV shows, movies, podcasts (I have yet to really explore this option), and music (lots of it). The thing is, every time I go to iTunes to download, and then upload things, somehow I get into trouble. I even once deleted the entire library of music, which left me frustrated and feeling the urge to smash my iPod (I didn’t though).

So thankfully Caitlin and Daniel, and yes, even Jim, are patient with me. To a point. I do see the eye rolling and hear the sighs. Then comes the question, “How do you deal with technology on the job?” I am not sure. I guess it s good thing babies download without much help, usually, or there might be problems. And there’s a difference between an iPod and, well, girlie parts. Thankfully.

So when the problems arise, I no longer get frustrated. I bear with the eye rolling and the heavy sighs and ask for help. I know you told me a million times HOW this is done, but I cannot seem to get it. Some times moms need extra help. And I thank you. Again.

Toxin Free Coffee

Who doesn’t enjoy the smell, the sight, the taste, and even the feeling of the heat as your fingers curl around that first morning cup, mug, or even a paper cup of fresh, hot coffee? I know I not only love it, and crave it, but I am addicted to it. Sweet and light!!

I have been a coffee drinker for as long as I can remember. I got really ‘hooked’ on it when I used to work nights. That huge paper cup of coffee courtesy of 7-11 started my shift (something had to jolt me back to life). That first sip was and is like a jolt of electric current used to jump start a battery (in my case, an old battery). The thing is though, until recently, I liked my coffee somewhat sweet and light. I used Sweet and Low© for years and then discovered Splenda© and life was sweeter and less sugary, but I had no idea that I was ingesting something not too safe. (Ok, I will admit that for quite some time Caitlin has warned me about ingesting “toxic chemicals.” But I did not listen to her.)

So, as of this week, I am off that nasty “toxin” and will now only use the real stuff, but in very limited amounts. Initially it was hard to lose the sweet in my coffee, but after a few days of weaning off of it, I can now just add a wee bit of cream and my morning java is perfect. And it should be. After all, it is about the coffee and not the additives (the good ones, and not the bad ones).

Holocaust Rememberance Day

There are a few places I remember visiting very vividly when living abroad, and the Dachau Concentration Camp was one of them. Jim and I visited what remained of the camp on a bleak and rainy day in 1985. I can remember my first reaction as I walked through the gates (like so many millions before me) that read “Arbeit Macht Frei” (work makes you free). I learned about the concentration camps like the rest of us through school, but I remember thinking as I walked around, “Wow, this really happened.” In my head, I knew it had, but the feeling of reality was just so overwhelming.

Many of the pre-existing buildings were gone, but models remained to depict how the people lived there (live is loose term). What I committed to memory were the crematoriums. When we entered the buildings that housed those ovens, I saw tiny candles lit, each one placed by people who had come before us. There was a box of candles provided so that we, too, could light a candle. I remember lighting the candle and setting it among long stem roses that had been left behind as well.

It was at that moment that I found myself feeling the loss of those millions of people that had died during the holocaust. Nothing else the entire day had affected me as strongly as that very moment. I remember feeling overwhelmed. My eyes watered, and I didn’t want to move forward. But we did continue our walk around, taking in all we could. The emotions I felt, we felt, are hard to put into words.

When we had seen the entire camp, we headed back toward the main gate, and as we did, I turned around and walked backwards, soaking in every image that I could before I finally had to leave. I reached the gate and, putting my hand on it, I stopped. And then I did something that millions were unable to do. I walked out of Dachau; I walked out, leaving the camp behind but keeping its memory, along with the memory of those six million murdered human beings, in my heart, never to let myself forget, never to allow something like the Holocaust to ever happen again.

So it is with this in mind that every year on Holocaust Remembrance Day, I remember. I cannot forget. I won’t forget. My candle is lit to remember them. All of them.

Holocaust comes from the Greek to be burnt whole - a sacrifice consumed by fire.

Life In Grenada...4 days left (this semester)

So in four days, Caitlin will be back on US soil, and I am thrilled! It is hard to believe her first semester in Vet school is about to end. She is looking forward to getting home, and can be proud of her first semester accomplishments (We all are!). But of course, being the long range planner she is (and should be), she has found her next place to live upon returning this fall.

She will share her new digs with a "Jersey Girl" who is also in the same program. It's a two bedroom apartment within a two story home. She will have neighbors down stairs. It's cute, totally refurbished, and CLEAN! It comes complete with cable and internet access (the joys of being home). Her landscaping will be done for her (nice). Her home will include a balcony, in which she cannot only have a place to air dry her clothes (no dryers), but a place she can sit and ponder life with Migo. What could be better? (for all of us!)

I love that fact that Cait has become so independent living out of the country. But even more I love that she has a place to call home right here with us. I cannot wait for her to come home!

BIG Harvests from my TINY Garden

Being the gourmet cook that I am (said tongue in cheek); I absolutely love having fresh herbs on hand to use in my recipes. I have always had a small plot of land to grow my herbs, and also have various small pots of them in my outdoor kitchen. Because the price of food has drastically risen, I have added an additional herb garden, so that my herbs can grow in one place, and I can add more tomato and pepper plants where the herbs used to grow. The additional space is needed now more than ever to grow more tomato plants.

Last year, I was able to harvest enough tomatoes from my tiny garden to make 20 quarts of tomato sauce which helped get us through the cold winter months. And who doesn’t like homemade sauce? This year, with the addition of more tomato plants, I hope to get more quarts made after my fall harvest. I also plan on raiding my brother’s garden, like last year (thankfully he and Heidi love to share their harvest).

The soaring food prices have led many of us to rethink how we buy our food and options in ensuring we have plenty on hand (hopefully). My little garden harvest will provide me with an opportunity to provide not only something extra to have on hand, but something homemade, fresh, and hopefully very delicious to put on the table over the winter months. The work over the summer to ensure a good harvest will make it all worth it in the end.

The Real Meaning of Collections

I have been a collector of various things throughout the years. I have collected bears (this was to date my biggest collection of items), David Winter Cottages, kitchen angels, German lichthauses, Lladros (a collection of three), Kaiser Porcelain, various pieces of Delft pottery from Holland, and most recently, Willow Tree angels. My collecting abilities started at an early age, and have continued as I have aged. However, my tastes have changed (thankfully).

I love each and every piece of all my collections, but the piece I love the most is loved not because of the piece itself, but my adventures in getting the piece. The piece of Kaiser Porcelain (shown) was bought on 1984 during a trip to the Kaiser factory in Staffel Stein, Germany. It was my first bus trip after moving to Mannheim, Germany, and it was on this trip I met our very dear friends John and Mary.

Being new in the area, and a mom of two little ones, I did not have the chance to get out much. This particular bus trip was made possible by my husband’s military unit, the 191st Battalion, as a “get to know one another” event. I was given a day of reprieve from being “mommy” by Jim and climbed aboard the bus in hopes of having not only having a day of rest, but having hopes of meeting new friends. I got that and more.

It was apparently evident that I was the new kid in town, and not more than 5 minutes after boarding that bus did I feel welcomed and a part of what would become a very large and caring family away my home in the states. Mary and John (John was one of the captains of the battalion) took me by the hand and shared their day with me. Mary knew I had two little ones and knew me to be a good mom (I always found it interesting how the wives knew more about things then their husbands), and she assured me I had to have this particular piece of kaiserware. So with her suggestion (more like strong advice), I bought it (and more that day) and brought it home.

Each time I pick up this piece to dust it, or around it, I am taken back to that day, and am reminded of two very dear friends that we remain in contact with today. Most of my pieces in each collection remind me of special people or special times, and that to me is so much more important than collecting things just to collect them.

The Memorial Garden

As long as I can remember, any family pet, no matter the size or species found its final resting spot on the grounds of our family home. Growing up, we had an area under the two gorgeous dogwood trees that served as our sacred grounds. We even had tiny grave markers with the pets names painstakingly chiseled into the stones or rocks. Heaven forbid anyone move them or go near them with the lawn mower.

As kids growing up, our parents always ensured each pet had the ‘casket’ and proper funeral. I can remember my brother John finding a tiny robin that he tried in vain to nurse back to good health, but God had other plans. We buried the bird, and every day, until my mom found out, he went out and dug up the bird, and wondered why it did not go to heaven. Finally, it did make it out of the ground and “up to heaven.”

My kids went through many pet deaths, most of them gerbils, but I always made sure they had the finest of caskets (usually a deodorant box lined with a silk), and a suitable send off. The funerals were never elaborate, but they did help each kid get through the loss. However, the loss of these tiny pets in no way prepared us for the loss of our first family dog, Tyler.

When Tyler died, I had his body cremated and his remains returned to us for burial. When we moved into our current home, I set aside an area in the back, which has come to be known as our “Memorial Garden.” Along with Tyler the remains of Brady and Iggy (Cait’s iguana) are buried here. It’s a place I like to sit in the quiet and think about not only these lost pets, but lots of things. Having a place where have that connection to our pets has proved to be valuable to all of us.

Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.

When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge. There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together. There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.

All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor; those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by. The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.

They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent; His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.

You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.

Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together....

Author unknown...

Positive Life / Career Influence

“When I was just a little girl, I asked my mother what should I be...?” Okay, so I am not Doris Day, but the conversation did take place, and at the time, my mother strongly urged me to become a nurse. The dialogue went something like this:

Me: I think I might want to be like Aunt Lorraine.
Mom: You mean a nurse?
Me: Yes. I like watching her do things at work. (This was something I got to do often as a kid...more later on this)
Mom: Well it is a highly respected profession. It’s got better potential and so much more respect than a secretary or teacher get at their jobs.
Me: Then that’s what I will do.

Over the years I have joked with my mom that those girls who became those ‘nonrespected’ secretaries get to have pretty clothes, better pay, one hour lunches, and they never have to clean up crap (literally). And there are a great many times I have to seek out that respect factor (especially from the doctors). But the truth is, I love what I do. Nursing is in my blood, and very much a part of who I am.

My Aunt Lorraine was an incredible nurse. She was the kind of nurse who held her patient's hands, placed a cool cloth to the forehead, and continually sought to ensure her patients were well cared for, and always comfortable, even those in pain. I can remember visiting relatives as a kid when they were in the hospital, and at the time, it seemed like Aunt Lorraine worked on every unit! I’m sure my memory is fuzzy, but I got to see her in action a great many times, and it was through these times, my desire to become a nurse grew. Her white uniform was always pressed and her nursing cap looked like a little upside-down muffin wrapper. Her smile was contagious and I can still hear her laugh. She was the nurse I wanted to become.

There have been some many times in my nursing career that I wanted to throw in the cap and trade in my uniform (or scrubs) for a more respectable job. But every time I felt this feeling, this urge to quit, my thoughts would turn to my Aunt Lorraine. There have been so many times that I have truly felt her presence in my life, guiding me through my career, as well as the rough times I have had as a nurse (and there have been so many).

I believe that she has been such a positive influence in my life, and nursing career, and I am forever grateful. I only hope that I am the kind of nurse she was, and one that she would want me to be.

“Infants emerge into the world with the help of a nurse's gentle touch. A newborn baby reaches out to her nurse in an instance of this early, reassuring contact across the borders of the human body, personal identity, and generations of time.” (unknown)

They're Baccccckkkk!!

My first hummingbird has arrived back to my yard this am! (It might have been sooner, but this was the first sighting for me) and I am more than thrilled. I have been enjoying these little birds for a few years now, and I wonder each year IF they will return to my yard. My worries are gone.

One of the girls I work with, is also a fan of these cute little creatures, and she recently shared with me that I could put out one of my feeders now and not wait until May. I always assumed I had to wait for warmer weather, but she assured me they follow the flowers, and NOT the migratory patterns of birds. So I listened to her and she was right! Two weeks ago, I put out one feeder filled with the sweet liquid they love to feed on, and I waited. And waited. And waited some more.

I'll keep the one feeder up for now, but by mid May, my yard will have four more feeders. I love watching them each day, especially when they become comfortable enough to dive bomb the dogs, who I am sure, see them as a huge bug they just have to have. Silly birds.

Welcome back!

A Dog Named Brady

Once upon a time there was boy dog named Brady, who had a crappy life, for most of his dog years. He lived with many owners for various reasons, but collectively they had little time or money to care for him. So as it happens to many dogs out there, he was sent to a doggy rescue organization (thank you God) only after several attempts by his owners to end his life prematurely.

We first learned about this sweet boy through Caitlin who was working (thank you God) at the time the owners tried to put him to sleep. The vets decided he was not a candidate and referred him to the Golden Re-Triever Rescue, Inc in New Jersey. Immediately following his placement in a foster home, we contacted the organization and asked permission to provide Brady with a home. Of course, being the great organization they are, this was major process to go through, just to adopt him. But we knew we had to have him, so we filed the paper work, endured the lengthy screening process (home inspection included), and eventually Brady found his way into our home (He had found his way into our hearts long before he had even left his last home).

Brady was an eight year old Golden who had a few health issues and because his last owners could not afford his meds, he came to us in a rather untidy state. His fur was missing in many spots, he had horrible skin which left him itchy and red, not to mention sore, and he did not smell pleasant. So we got him immediate care, got him washed up, and back on the right meds, and on a proper diet (he had more allergies than I could ever list here). We provided him with extra love and soon learned that he loved to be loved.

Within a short time, he was back on track, and was beginning to look a bit more dapper. Unfortunately, within a short time, his health began to fail again, and he started having seizures. After a brief stay in the hospital, he was back at home, and again on track. At his age, we were told that if the seizures returned, the chance of a tumor in the brain was probably the reason. And at that time, we would have to make a major decision as to how to move forward with his health care.

Brady lived with us for six months and in that short amount of time, we came to love him as if he had lived with us a life time. When it was time to make the decision, we knew we would eventually have to make, it was not easy. My heart still aches today for that sweet boy. But I know that we gave him the best six months of his life and when he got to heaven, he looked dapper (his hair had grown back and he had a healthy coat). I know that he and our first Golden, Tyler, are there playing together, and that makes things a little easier for all of us. It’s so easy to love a dog. Always consider a rescue.

The Daily Crossword Puzzle

As we grow older, most of us begin to notice small memory lapses - an unrecognized face, a forgotten name (usually one of the dogs or kids), a missed appointment. We become concerned about our mental health, constantly on the lookout for changes in our memory and reasoning capabilities. I am certainly no different. And with Alsheimer's the "hot disease" out there now, I am more careful.

So every morning, without fail, I complete the crossword puzzle in the daily paper. It’s exercise for my brain and solving crossword puzzles constitutes one of the most delightful, yet powerful ways of pushing my brain and staying sharp. Research has shown that if we challenge our aging brains, we can remain mentally sharp. Intellectually stimulating activity is known to have the potential to stave off Alzheimer's and other brain diseases, and crossword puzzles in particular are well-suited to this purpose, as they involve a daily burst of sustained mental activity. Studies have found that older people who regularly flex their brains almost halved the risk of developing Alzheimer's (the studies are ongoing). I can hope that holds true for my aging brain, because some days I can’t remember where I parked the car or what I ran upstairs to get that I needed.

I used to blame this lack of metal function on menopause, which is a part of the aging process (as you all know) and not my random stupidity. Initially, it annoyed me, but as I watched others struggle with this, I began to find some humor in it. It’s often to fun to run into the supply room at work with other nurses my age, only to stand there together and ask each other what or why we might be in there.

I’m an advocate for using the brain. Lord knows we have to in order to survive. Adding a daily crossword puzzle not only stimulates my brain, but it’s an exercise that provides me with a quiet period of time before I begin what might be a hectic day. It’s like a daily pill; a pill that will help my brain stay as healthy as possible, for as long as possible. And some days I need all the help I can get (just ask my kids).

Sharing Recipes

Apparently if one shares a recipe, it better be their own, or the news media gets involved.

Thankfully, I went back through my blog, and each time I have shared a recipe I did indeed give credit where credit is due, unless it was MY recipe to share. This does the beg question though; at what point does a recipe become your own? Unless I suddenly develop a major ability to come with my own recipes (No one would expect me to suddenly become Julia Child), I normally look for something I like, and then change it to suit my taste preference. My alteration(s) in a recipe might be changing the spice or changing the way it might be served (something over rice versus pasta). Nothing major is ever modified and usually I’m nervous about changing anything, although I have gotten braver over time in the kitchen (It cannot hurt to use cinnamon over nutmeg, could it?)

Personally I find no embarrassment in admitting I have used a cookbook (and I would imagine my family sleeps better knowing I do). I like sharing things I find, and like it when I find something someone shares a dish I might like to try. This is how I have developed in the kitchen, and finding a new recipe I like, and being able to pull it off, is like finding a diamond in the rough. Really. And I don’t care if I’ll ever be as good as Julia was in the kitchen.

Non-cooks think it's silly to invest two hours work in a two minutes enjoyment; but if cooking is evanescent, so is the ballet. ~ Julia Child

Ribbons and Flags

Everywhere I look these days there seems to be a ribbon campaign of some sort. Colors, stripes, patterns, you name it, and there is probably a ribbon to celebrate the cause they represent. The ribbons adorn people’s clothing, book bags, and dirty cars. Some are new, many are dirty and damaged.

I, too, own two such ribbons. The pink one, which should prompt people to remember to support breast cancer research, and the yellow one, which reminds us to support the troops. Now I can proudly say that I have supported breast cancer research monetarily through various ways. Typically it has happened when I have purchased something in which a percentage of the monies go to the Susan G. Komen Foundation. It adds up over time. Believe me. I have also done my part to support our troops by sending items of need to them trhough various local organizations.What I do wonder is how many people are doing their part to support such campaigns or are they simply dressing themselves or the cars up with the ribbons? Are you using the magnet or ribbon because “everyone else does?”

Then there’s the American flag. Think back to the flag waving days Americans experienced after 9/11. We raced to the flag stores buying every flag and yellow ribbon we could get our hands on. We proudly displayed the flags from houses, cars, boats, etc. You couldn’t go anywhere without being reminded you lived in a great country, and that we were truly proud to be living in that great country. Our American Pride swelled. Today, sadly, many of those flags fly tattered and dirty or have become non-exisitent. What happened? Where did those people go who raised those flags?

I do ask though, who really benefited / benefits from the sales of such flags and ribbons? After 9/11, people waited in lines hour longs just to buy a flag. Flag stores and factories in my area worked around the clock, making headlines, just to mass produce such flags. I would imagine the ribbon mass producers of today are making out like bandits, and places outside of the US, like China, are loving our patriotism and “fights for the causes.” Why wouldn’t they? Those ribbon and magnet sales help their economy.

Wave a flag because you feel good and proud about being an American. If you haven’t put up a new flag ion a long time, take the time to do it again. You’re your American pride. Adorn yourself or your dirty car with a ribbon because you are passionate about helping the cause, not because it’s cool to do so. And for Pete’s sake, replace that damaged and dirty flag with a new one. Your dirty ripped flag hanging from your home annoys me. Fix it. Please.

Apron Girls

I just wanted to take this opportunity to let you know that I have been invited to share my journaling with another blog called “Apron Girls.” Their site is an accumulation of people and posts that wish to provide the reader with a “little place to share our homemaking ideas, questions, and fun.” I look forward to sharing with the writers and their readers, hopefully, adding to their site in a positive way.

Please check them out! Thank you.

My Baking Cupboard

I realized this weekend, while looking for a particular spice, that while I am more confident in my baking and cooking skills, my organizational skills of baking and cooking supplies has dwindled. When I lacked self-confidence, my supplies were neat and organized. In fact, all my spices were alphabetized, making me appear more proficient (well except to those who really knew). Now, not so much (the organization).

I love baking, so my supplies are abundant. In fact, I have a whole cupboard devoted to baking supplies (which in itself might be startling to some). I have things that are not found in local markets that I brought back from countries I have visited. I have used them a few times, and now they sit, unused, or used only slightly. Some have even become outdated (how many times can you use Rosewater?). So I found myself in the much needed position to clean and purge this cupboard.

This task was not going to be that easy. I mean, would there be a way to salvage something that might be outdated for a few years? How bad could a spice taste that might be four years old? And could I really part with the 1/4 teaspoon of cinnamon that remained in one of the four bottles of cinnamon I have in the cupboard? Did I really have to throw away the three remaining mini size cupcake wrappers? Couldn’t I find something to do with the five party skewers that remained in the damaged package? It wasn’t going to be easy, but it had to be done.

So after an hour of rearranging, and much deliberation in my head (I know, scary), my baking cupboard is clean and tidy and the old is gone. There’s much to be said about a clean, and well organized cupboard. Thankfully I have proven I can bake, so my organized cupboards will not depict a different story. And I have room for more stuff to accumulate!

Now my junk drawer is another story...

Lawn Care Basics: 101

What would spring be without beginning the four step lawn maintenance program, especially if one has an obsession with a green lawn? Not good, I assure you, and if one is late in starting the first step, and the neighbors have already begun, even worse. So begins the season with a lawn nut. I’m not kidding.

The lawn is always priority for Jim. I love a green lawn too, but I would prefer to be standing in cute little straw hat, sipping iced tea, while telling the lawn maintenance people what needs to be done. I have even suggested that to Jim. I tried the “You are older and you work hard all day, so why not let someone else tend to the lawn for us, uh, I mean you.” He didn’t bite. He finds what many call tedious when referring to pulling weeds “very relaxing.” And mowing, while we have a lot, seems to calm him. I don’t get it. But then I find raking calming and he thinks I am nuts. We are even. Almost. I do not wait for leaves to fall.

I can remember several times wondering where he was at 6pm (he usually arrives home by 5pm) only to find him outside, on the front lawn, in a suit and tie, pulling weeds on the front lawn. Apparently when he pulls up in the driveway, he looks out over his lawn hoping not to see any weeds. There simply is not time to get into work clothes with the weed starring him in the eye. It’s like a shoot out in the O.K. Corral. And heaven help the poor little weed just sitting there among the green blades of grass. Most get yanked, while others are sprayed with a killer spray, only to be yanked after suffering for a day or two. (I know they do not feel, but...)

We do have a lot of work around here and at our age (yes, I am aging) it gets to be a chore and not so much fun anymore, but the rewards are good. We do have a lawn that is green and plush and one people can be envious of, except our neighbors who along with Jim have become lawn nuts too. His lawn competitiveness is leaking outward. But that’s ok. One pretty lawn next to another pretty lawn only adds to the neighborhood.

"Signs You've Hired the Wrong Kid to Mow Your Lawn"

10. He shows up with a pair of manicure scissors and a Ziploc
9. Turns a goat loose and says he'll be back in three weeks
8. His nickname: the Unamower
7. On the side of his mower you notice stenciled silhouettes of 13 cats
6. Stops every 15 minutes to smoke some clippings
5. Using your riding mower, leads the local police on a three-hour low-speed chase
4. He's always trying to impress you by stopping the mower blades with his head
3. He somehow manages to mow the hood ornament off your Lexus
2. Every week he tries to match your lawn to Dennis Rodman's hair
1. No toes

The Kid Turns One

The kid made it to age one! As any mother would ask, “Where did time go?” It seems as if we just brought the little darling (said tongue in cheek) home. The truth is, while he has tested every one of us, every day, he has truly added to our little pack.

Happy Birthday Migo!

Thank you Saint Francis for watching over him. (Lord knows he needs extra watching).

My Yang and Yin

Several years ago, Caitlin (and I believe my sister Gidget, although my memory is fuzzy about her), dragged me into the world of Feng Shui. I cannot remember why the subject first came about, but at the time, I was not in a very good Feng Shui way. According to Caitlin’s sources, living any where near a prison, a hospital, a nursing home, cemeteries (and in an Amish community, they are just about on every property), and railroad tracks was not a good thing. We lived within a short distance of all five, which left us surrounded by a vast amount of negative energies (and when I say this is the last thing we needed at that time, I am not kidding).

Even the layout of the house was all wrong. Doors were misplaced allowing the “bad Chi” to enter without knocking. Window placement was off. Our home was not big which did not render me more than one way to place the furniture, which according to the book did not help matters (heaven help you if your chairs are not in the right place). We were in a Feng Shui crisis situation. It also seemed that our Yang and Yin were in a horrific state as well. And even after reading Caitlin’s books on Feng Shui, it seemed there was little I could do to turn the negatives into positives (except blow up the house and start all over, but because we were renting, this was not a viable option). So I surrendered to the bad, and promised myself the next house would be filled with more positive energies (I hoped, I prayed).

Since that time, we have bought our own home, and I (with Caitlin’s education) have made every attempt to ensure a more positive Chi environment. The balance between my Yang and Yin are important, so changes in my home have been ongoing to ensure the positives. For example, the bamboo plant placed in the south eastern most corner of my house promises us good fortune (who doesn’t want that). Our outdoor kitchen which allows us to barbecue was placed facing the east which has helped bring good grades and personal development to Caitlin (or any daughter, she just happens to have filled that spot). (Perhaps building the kitchen got her into vet school and not her hard work?) =) I have tried to arrange furniture in a more positive way, and many of the doors and windows are in a good position (which is good since I am not going to blow up a house I own).

Even my wind chimes are placed accordingly, which is why I am sharing my story. I bought some new wind chimes yesterday and before I placed them, I read my Feng Shui book to validate their position in the yard. I know some of you might not think it important, but I do want to fully enjoy the tinkling of the chimes, and not have to worry that they are pushing bad Chi in our direction. It's also important to place metal chimes in one area and bamboo ones in another. So with that in mind, the chimes are now hung, the tinkling is heard throughout the yard, and positive energy is flowing all around me. And my Yang and Yin are feeling pretty good, and that leaves me feeling good about things.

Laughing in the Face of Cancer

Cancer sucks. It really does. It has affected so many of my family and friends. In fact, I am hard pressed to find anyone whose life has not been affected by it.

My dad died of it when he was only 66. A young 66 at that. He was initially diagnosed with chronic lymphocytic leukemia and fought a three-year long aggressive battle to defeat it. Unfortunately it won. At the time of his death, he also was diagnosed with TWO other forms of cancer. It seems one kind was not enough. I still wonder why he had to face several cancers. It does not seem fair.

Several years ago I was sitting in my doctor’s office when she found a mass on my thyroid. After many tests and a surgery to remove the right lobe of my thyroid, the cell was identified and although a rare cell, it was not malignant. The time between the initial finding and the final pathology report was rough. During this time, I thought of my dad on daily basis. If it was to be a malignant cancer, would I be as strong as my dad? Thankfully I was not to be tested.

Several months later, a lump was found on my husband’s thyroid. He was not, it seemed, as lucky. His cancer was malignant, and has since had his entire thyroid removed, and gone through radioactive Iodine treatments, which while easy to deal with, are no less annoying. Thyroid cancer is one the easiest cancers to treat so his “prognosis” was good and he is cancer free today. Despite the good news, the whole ordeal did take its emotional toll on all of his, especially my kids. Cancer robs us physically and emotionally. It sucks. And there is no real way to deal with it except day by day, and even hour by hour.

I have a few friends who are dealing with the diagnosis of cancer and potential cancer (they are awaiting tests results) at this time. They are all facing it in different ways. No one way is right. No one way is wrong. But they are different. I have a friend who uses humor to talk about it (and in quite an amusing way I might add). Her strength is admirable. I honestly marvel at how she deals it with it, and humor has been proven to be so effective in dealing with health issues, so she is dealing with it in a healthy way. I do hope that her and all my friends do not have to endure any lengthy battles. I want those who are waiting for test results to get good news, but if not, I hope they all find a way to face it using some form of humor. And for those who have been diagnosed, I hope they can find a way to laugh in the face of cancer. Cancer sucks. I know it first hand, but using humor does help. I know that too. Even my dad laughed along the way from time to time. And that not only helped him, but his family as well.

“The art of medicine consists of keeping the patient amused while nature heals the disease." ~Voltaire

"We cannot change the cards we are dealt, just how we play the hand."
~Randy Pausch

Happy Birthday Caitlin

Happy Birthday Caitlin!

We all miss and love you so much!

Mom, Dad, Dan, Lexy, Luke, Maddie, and

Migo.

Way to Go Jillybean!!

If two of New Jersey paper's (Asbury Park Press and the Star Ledger) have recognized my niece’s softball accomplishments, then I would be remiss if I did not mention her (again) in my blog. The opening game of Howell High School girl’s softball season was nothing short of incredible. It was one of the many exciting softball games I have witnessed, and hope to witness again.

Albeit the freaking cold weather (the wind whipping around was adding to the low temp), we were all having a good time, until they went into that extra inning. Our initial reaction (okay, it might have been only me) was “How much longer do we need to sit out in the cold?”

But then...

It was the bottom of the eighth inning, we were down by one, two men were now on base...JillyBean is now up at bat....one strike....two strikes...a huge amount of determination....one big power hit...the ball goes over the fence...Howell takes the game! There are many words to describe how we felt (her mom, dad, brother, Bubbe, and aunts, friends, and fieldmates) about that moment. However, I will choose to use one of Jilly’s favorite words...AMAZING and I will add AWESOME!!

From the Star Ledger...

“Jillian Friedman, a sophomore designated player, hit a three-run home run over the left field fence with two out in the bottom of the eighth inning to give Howell a 9-7 victory over Freehold Township yesterday in Howell.

After both teams scored twice in the seventh inning, Freehold Township (0-1) took a 7-6 lead in the top of the eighth on a run-scoring single by Brooke Witcher. Howell's uprising in the bottom of the inning began when Kelly Mormino reached on a one-out bunt single. After a second out, a base hit by Taylor Germaine moved Mormino to second base. Friedman, who finished 3-for-5 with four RBI, then delivered the game-ending home run.”

The Truth About Reality TV

I admit it...I am a reality TV show watcher. How could I not be? It seems every time I turn on the TV, there are more and more new versions of reality TV shows to entertain me. (Ok, the word entertain is debatable). If it isn’t stars trying to dance and sing their way into our living rooms, it’s a handful of people having volatile screaming matches at each other, while the cameras monitor their every move. Either way, every single reality show, no matter how dimwitted or intriguing, is a guilty pleasure that the majority of the American population, including me, watches each week.

I do have my favorites, and they are in no particular order:

Big Brother: I love the bitchiness that spews forth from the contestants (and this is one show I share with my niece, Jillian)
Top Chef: It features cooking and the occasional guest judge, Anthony Bourdain (what’s not to love about this?)
Hell’s Kitchen: Again, cooking, and potty mouth Gordon Ramsey (He makes me chuckle as he degrades the wannabe chefs)
American’s Next Top Model: I have no idea what intrigues me so much about this one, except that Tyra serves as good role model for young women (This show helps me to perfect my ‘model’ behavior) =)

I cannot deny it...reality television is like an addictive drug to me. Initially I am curious, so I try it. Then before I know it, I am hooked, and I am taping every episode. No matter how stupid or obnoxious these worthless pieces of drivel are, I watch them. (although I do learn various ways of preparing food, so maybe NOT so worthless) But why?

Perhaps we like reality television because these people on the shows are kind of like us. These shows also give us a means to live vicariously through the "characters" on the show. (I wish I could sing and dance like her...perhaps in my next argument I should add that line) That may be a general aspect of entertainment, but with these reality stars, it hits closer to home. Most of the time, these people are not people we aim to be, but since they are commonplace, their nonfictional significance is more within reach. (I could only dream of looking like Tyra) These people we watch are not celebrities encased in the "holier than thou" bubble of Hollywood. In essence, they are like us. These people are nobodies that have turned into a "somebody," so their dramatic episodes are a bizarre type of voyeurism that we indulge in. They may be irritating as hell, but at the end of the day, reality TV is a form of therapy to escape our own version of reality. And perhaps that isn’t so bad after all.

Batter Up!

Spring means so many things, but for many of us, it means one important thing, the start of baseball season! I have always been a major Yankee fan, simply because I was raised in a family of Yankee fans, so it comes by naturally. My nephew Joshua is a Yankee enthusiast, as is his sister Jillian. Sharing a Yankee tidbit with these two is always a learning experience for me. Just when I think I have a handle on the game or a player, these two are always quick to update or challenge me. So I learn my way through the season every year.

Two years ago, I thought about switching teams. We were down in Baltimore and with the impending move of Fort Monmouth to the Baltimore area (Jim’s job might potentially move there); I thought I might want to consider making the change. Joshua was appalled. How could I do this? Easy. You simply buy an Orioles tee shirt and declare yourself a fan. Isn’t that how it is done? I mean that’s how I became a Roger Clemons fan (although, look where that got me). Stupid Steroids.

Not having any clue to who was who on the Orioles Team, I went into a sports shop in Baltimore (smart, eh?) and found the most popular tee. I was drawn to Rodrigo López; this had to be the player I had to follow. He was their starting pitcher, but has since left the Orioles and now plays for the Colorado Rockies. So much for that short lived following of Lopez. However, I have decided to maintain my following of the Orioles, perhaps because almost everyone around me roots for the Yankees, and I like to be different in a sea of Yankee fans. And they are somewhat a local team (If you drive fast). I know they are considered underdogs, and this season does not look as promising as they might hope to be (their words, not mine), but they are thinking ahead and are hoping the 2009 season might be the one season they shine. I’m going to root for them all the way through the season. Now all I have to do is get a new tee shirt. Hellooo Guthrie!

Clemons who?