Post-Birthday Celebrations

Birthday celebrations are behind me and a whole new work week is in front of me.

It was a great weekend.

Darian and Jared came home Friday night and we celebrated Darian's birthday with chicken pot pie (minus chicken plus "vegetarian" chicken) and cheesecake (a "cheater' recipe that doesn't have a lick of cream cheese) with strawberries. And since, of course, I forgot to buy candles--and I threw away the #8 candle I used on Savana's cake...well, we happened upon a little fake candle that has this tiny flickering light and operates on a battery. But it was fun and we took lots of pictures and laughed a lot and just enjoyed the fact that Darian turned 20 and she was home and Jare was home and we were all gathered around the table together.

Sunday was Roy's birthday and so I made a Dutch apple pie that really was as good as the reviews said. Roy bar-b-qued burgers and I made potato salad that always reminds me of my Aunt Lois as it's her recipe and it's, at least to us, the best potato salad ever. We were going to take the whole clan out to a movie as the grand finale but...everybody between the ages of 19-22 had to study and so Roy and I opted for Walmart instead. We rarely shop Walmart these days but...there are some things that one can purchase there that are so much cheaper than Food Lion. So off we went for a birthday celebration a.k.a. grocery shopping. But it was genuinely fun and relaxed and it took us an unusually long time.

By the time we finally pulled into the driveway, Drew was at the house as he'd come over with Guerin and so they helped us haul everything in one load. Shortly thereafter, Darian and Jared loaded up and away they went, waving until they drove around the bend.

I hate it when they leave, Mom, Jace said. But he wouldn't have had to say a word because his face said it all.

Last night, just before Darian left I was sitting on the living room floor folding clothes and I looked up at Darian who was standing next to me and said, "Next year? We are simplifying birthdays. I think we'll just combine all three into one celebration."

She laughed. "Right, Mom. I was just telling Rachell how you always say we're going to simplify and we never do. Next year won't be any different."

And she's probably right.

And that's okay...because soon enough, all of these birthday celebrations will just be memories, pictures in a "birthdays" album on my computer. Before too long these girls are going to fly the coop, leaving me picking up the phone for a birthday conversation and saying I'm so sorry I didn't mail a card! as mailing cards is definitely not my strong point despite my good intentions. And then I'll smile at Roy and say Remember when we had to cram all of those birthday celebrations together? Gosh those were fun days...

And so, most likely I'll continue the tradition, one year at a time, for as long as I can, until time does its thing and leaves me smiling wistfully...Those were the days.

And most likely? I won't have to say a word because my face will say it all.

Believe It

This past Sunday Roy and I went shopping for an electric "gas" stove. (Roy always shakes his head when I call it that, proclaming that it isn't a gas stove. I say--but it looks like a gas stove! He says--it's just a stove. But? This is my blog so I get to call it what I want.)

When we first moved here, one of the things I absolutely loved about this house is that it had an actual gas stove. There is a gas tank behind the house--it's quite old and delapidated but it's a tank--and I could not wait to fire it up once winter hit. And so, as soon as the days began to get a little chilly in the mornings, I called the gas company and they came out and filled the tank. I enjoyed about one weeks' worth of flickering fires emanating coziness and warmth in my living room and then? Well suddenly that was that. I couldn't get it to fire up for the life of me.

Frustrated, I asked Roy to come help me and he tried...and tried...and said, It's out of gas.

That's impossible! 

But he was right. The tank had a leak and so, the school agreed to fill the tank after the company came out and fixed the leak. Once again, we had the ability to create that perfect picture of the adorable family you see in magazines gathered around the gas stove: mom is knitting and the kids are lying on the floor with books in hand while Dad has his feet propped, reading the newspaper and the cat is curled up with a smile on its face.

Yeah.

Pretty much that's us.

Believe it.

And so I happily went about my mornings once again. As soon as I got up, I turned the gas stove on and it warmed up our living room in no time as I contentedly went about my early morning routine...for one week.

And then? The gas stove went out.

And this time we learned that the gas tank was just plain defective. It had leaked again. And so, frustrated and annoyed, we hung up our hats on the idea that we got to be the perfect family snuggled around the gas stove. Clearly it wasn't going to happen.

Our weather is just beginning to get a little cool in the mornings. Fall is in the air. It's time to switch out short-sleeved shirts for sweaters and sandals for boots. Caramel apples and simmering soups and colorful scarves are headed our way. And so, I said to Roy on a whim this past weekend, Let's get an electric gas stove so we can be that perfect family!

Because all it takes is a cozy fire in the livingroom, you know.

And of course, Roy is always game for a shopping adventure if it doesn't involve clothing. And so off we went. But tragically, Home Depot hasn't received their shipment yet. Christmas trees and Christmas decorations line their aisles. (Christmas season seems to be getting earlier and earlier these days.) But their "seasonal" items haven't, otherwise, quite transitioned to the fall/winter items.

And so we left empty handed.

But that's okay. I've taken the measurements. As soon as that shipment comes in, I'll be there like white on rice. I have dreams to fulfill.

Because this is what my days are going to look like this winter:

I will be knitting on the same bag I've been attempting to finish since last winter (Laurie! I need help!!) while Roy reads his Pontiac magazine with his feet propped up and my kids are lazily lying on the floor reading their books quietly without arguing while Sparti and Bax are curled up around the fire, contented smiles on their faces.

Believe it.

Celebration Seals' Style

September is the month of birthdays. Savana was born on the 18th, Darian on the 26th, and Roy on the 28th. By the time Roy's birthday rolls around? We're all tired of celebrating and out of money so he gets a happy birthday! with a slap on the back and we call it a day. Ok, it's not really that bad. But he definitely gets the short end of the stick.

Savana has been celebrating her birthday all week, complaining But it's my birthday! anytime she doesn't want to do something. For instance, if I say, "Hey, could you help me empty the dishwasher?"

But it's my birthday!

Do you think you could water those plants outside?

But it's my birthday!

That sort of thing.

It's really cute.

And so, Tuesday was deemed Shop for Savana's birthday day. Roy picked me up at work and we headed straight for Target as they tend to have a little of everything and the main thing on Savana's list was a straightener. And then we headed to the grocery store so that I could make her a lemon cake and a Thai curry dinner. So by the time we got home and I whipped up a homemade birthday cake, my day was at an end and I gladly sank into bed.

Yesterday I walked in the door and went straight to the kitchen to get started on dinner. Savana had done some shopping as well and created these beautiful raw spring rolls (I'm really not sure what they are called) but they were absolutely delicious served with a sweet and sour sauce. Guerin joined us and we had a traditional birthday dinner Seals' style. The only thing missing was Darian. We considered setting a plate at the end of the table and taking a picture of it in her honor, texting it to her with the words The only thing missing is you.

But we were starving because...

Roy spent the entire day working on his trans am as the door was difficult to close. And so he took the entire door off and fixed it. He's weird like that. Who takes off the door of the car? Anyway, he was so frantic to get it done that he skipped lunch.

Roy. Skipped. Lunch.

Breathe that in for a minute. Roy never skips a meal. In fact, one of his catch phrases is I can't eat pancakes for supper because that's breakfast food and then I'd have to eat two more meals to finish up the day. Skipping meals is not in the vocabulary.

Meanwhile, while he's skipping lunch, I'm sitting at work anticipating his arrival because he's on break and so I just know he's going to show up even though he told me not to count on it and so I keep checking my phone, expecting to see the classic text from him: Here. But actually it would look more like this: lkasoikhe3kj. Because he hates texting and doesn't want to take the time to spell out the word on his phone that is older than the hills.

And that's because every time it's his turn for a new phone one of us is frantic for it and so he happily gives it to us but now he has a grudge and holds it over our heads, especially if someone dares to make a comment that his phone is a bit...out of date.

I digress.

Savana hadn't eaten all day either in anticipation of the big birthday dinner so she was cranky as all get-out by this time. And Jace? Well, he'd forgotten his lunch. Every morning I pack his lunch and stick it in his backpack but this particular morning I left it in plain sight on the table, expecting that he would figure out that he needed to stick it in his backpack. And of course, I reminded him as I headed out the door. But he didn't listen, obviously, shockingly, and so his lunchbox remained on the table and Jace went to school without it.

How much longer, Mom? No, seriously. How much longer? 

So the thought of postponing dinner for even thirty seconds for the sake of taking a picture to send to Darian was out of the question. And so, we all just looked at that empty chair for a quick moment, thought tenderly of her, and then dived in.

While we were eating, Jace said, "Why can't Darian come home? She could just tell her teacher that it's her sister's birthday."

He was dead serious.

"Professors aren't that understanding, Jace."

"Well, I don't know why," he said, clearly disgusted.

After we'd consumed way more food than we should have, we did a quick clean-up as that's my rule: clean kitchen before dessert. And then? Time for dessert. And in typical me-style? I'd forgotten to buy candles.

When do I not forget the candles?

And so, I scrounged through the bottom drawer where I keep odds and ends in search of a candle, any candle, please let there be a candle as what's a birthday without a candle? And there, underneath the Saran Wrap, was a number eight candle, complete with a few years' worth of dusty accumulation.

But it was a candle.

And so I precariously propped it on top of the cake, lit it, and we all sang a quick happy birthday to you...while Savana basked in all of that attention before making a very very long wish for pete's sake is she ever going to blow out that candle?? It's going to start dripping!

And then, while she dined on lemon cake topped with fresh strawberries, she opened her gifts in a verrrryyyy eternal fashion, careful to tear the tape just so so that the paper isn't torn in the process. And seriously, why? It just gets tossed in the trash. But that's what she does. Every single time.

So a million pictures later, the gifts were opened, the kitchen was cleaned, and we all headed out the door for Best Buy as Roy needed speakers for the trans am.

And that is why, by the time we finally got home at 9:00 yesterday evening, I toppled into bed, exhausted from the day's festivities.

And that is also why, after we repeat all of the above for Darian, Roy gets the short end of that stick.

Because seriously, folks...after two days of celebration Seals' style, I just don't have any energy for more.

Digging Deep

When Jared and Darian were home a couple of weekends ago, they wanted to watch a movie on Saturday night. We'd already spent a couple of hours playing Clue and it was getting close to 10:00 and so, as we sat in the living room perusing titles, I looked anxiously at the clock and said, "How about an episode of Friday Night Lights?" I really don't have the ability to stay up late these days and I figured there was no way I was going to stay awake for an entire movie.

Jared shrugged and said he'd give it a try but, honestly, I wasn't too hopeful he would like it as it's a drama. Anyway, I went to bed after one episode and he and Darian sat on the couch and watched a second while I headed for bed. And that was the end of that.

Last night I got a text from Jared: Thanks a lot, Aunt Vonda. You gave alcohol to an alcoholic.

Accompanying the words was a picture of the first season's titles of Friday Night Lights and his current episode was highlighted. And Jare? Well, he'd clearly watched at least half of the first season--maybe more.

Oops. Sorry about that, Jare.

We all have our vices. 

...Soda movies coffee cell phone games Facebook Youtube workaholic gossip anger junk food ...

The list continues. 

Sometimes it's easy to focus on the vices of others, or even the vices of ourselves and become fixated on those things. Or? It's easy to just become consumed and let those vices take over our lives. Piper is a prime example of a vice taking over his life. He's consumed with a tennis ball. The weird thing is, our dog Sam was consumed with tennis balls too. He'd go absolutely nuts over them. One time I got the bright idea of filling a bag with tennis balls and then dumping them all at once in our yard. Oh my word he went crazy, scrambling around the yard and picking one up, spying another, trying to fit it into his mouth as well, dropping both and heading for yet another...round and round and round. He was the prime example of hysteria. Piper isn't quite there yet, but nevertheless, he's a little bit nuts when it comes to tennis balls.

I have plenty of vices, frankly. I can easily become consumed with my cell phone, allowing it to entertain me for hours. And potato chips and dip? Don't even get me started.

I used to condemn myself for those sorts of things--my thoughts filled with angry accusations of why can't you get it together.

But I've realized, in my old age, that life is, in my opinion, more of a journey than a catalogue of black and white. When we look back at our lives, it's a road map filled with mountaintops and valleys...and then smooth sailing highways. It is a culmination of experiences that brings wisdom and empathy for others and a worldview that becomes more defined the older we get. And hopefully, hopefully, that worldview just gets kinder and kinder along the way.

And so, dear sweet Jared, it's all about finding some balance in one's life. Sometimes we just have to take a deep breath, dig deep, and make the choice that makes one's life better in that moment, recognizing that it isn't so much about being bad or good...it's about creating a future that is bright and welcoming.

And you, my nephew, are well on your way.

The Bucket List

Yesterday we got up at the crack of dawn, not the norm for a Sunday, and I made breakfast burritos and packed lunches for everyone so we could head out the door at promptly 8:30. Savana helped Guerin with trash (as he works on a trash crew) and as soon as they got home, they showered and stuffed themselves as quickly as is humanly possible.

We left a little before 9:00. Pretty good for the Seals'.

We arrived at the racetracks in Charlotte a little before 11:00. I have never attended the drag races before so this was a first for me. I had absolutely no idea what to expect. But, this was on Roy's bucket list so we bought the tickets a few weeks ago and have anticipated the "big day" for quite awhile now.

It was incredible. Oh my word we had fun.To say it is loud is an understatement. Thankfully, Roy came prepared and had ear plugs for all of us. We watched those cars race and we laughed and cheered and stood up to see who got across that line first for several hours. But then, sadly, just before the finals, gray clouds started to gather above us and then the rain began. The event was cancelled around 4:00 and so we threw our jackets over our heads and perused the booths in the big lot in front of the stadium as none of us were quite ready to head out just yet.

On the way home, Roy said, I've crossed more things off of my bucket list in the past six months than I have total for the past ten years.

I love the idea of a bucket list. I have one, too--sitting over in a small notebook on the bookshelf here in the living room. I used to have one on my laptop that was quite extensive. I added to it on a regular basis...but then my laptop crashed, taking all of my saved documents with it. So I started a new one, hard copy style.

About an hour away is this 4-hour-zipline experience that looks phenomenal...
--a professional sporting event
--a symphony
--swimming with dolphins
--flying in a hot air balloon
--visiting Alaska
--writing a book...

Living with purpose. Diving into life headlong.

It's time to let go and see what life has to offer as, really, that's what life is all about.

Changing Seasons

Last night we got the real McCoy thunderstorm. Thunder rattled the house and lightning lit up the sky and rain pummelled down. Jace and I sat in the living room together and just grinned at each other.

It's a perfect Friday night, Mom.

Sure is, Jace.

Yesterday as my co-workers and I took our walk around downtown Asheville, we noted how autumn is in the air. The trees are beginning to turn just a bit and the air has a briskness to it that it didn't have before. My word, I love fall. Sweatshirts and lit up gas stoves and chili with cornbread and the promise of the holiday season just around the corner. What's not to love?

This morning in my Inbox was an email from University of Phoenix. It was a bonified email--not an advertisement--and the person that sent it was asking if I had any continuing ed needs. A couple of years ago, I took some classes for my ELL certification. And so I sent her a quick reply, stating that I now work for the government and won't be in need of those types of credits--at least not anytime soon. And maybe...not ever.

Thursday nights Roy has caf duty which translates into a free meal for the family. I love Thursday nights as it gives me an opportunity to talk to staff and students and eat free food that I didn't have to cook and walk away without washing dishes. It's a beautiful thing. And so this past Thursday I ended up sitting at a table with Kara whom I taught Freshman English a couple of years ago. Kara is adorable--I've loved her from the start. We had a bit of a rocky beginning but once we got past the first week...oh my...she is a gem. Originally when I sat down at her table, it was alive with chatter and laughter as several of us squeezed together while we ate smothered burritos that were, I must say, divine. And then everyone started leaving one by one until it was just the two of us sitting across from each other.

"So what's your job?" Kara asked.

I gave her a really brief explanation that makes my job sound like the most boring job on the planet, and then she said, "So do you like it better than teaching?" And she looked at me with those big brown eyes that melt my heart.

"It's not that, Kara. I just needed a full-time position."

"Yeah. I understand," she said, blessing me with her gorgeous smile. Kara is a beauty.

This morning when I sent the email back to the rep from the University of Phoenix, I considered briefly sending her the email address for the person that took my place as I know that she's interested in getting her ELL certification now. But then I thought better of it as, really, it's not my place.

Life is all about change. Changing weather; changing careers; changing seasons. Days blend together, not one the same as the other, and yet, little by little, subtley,  each creates a different shade. I just read an article the other day--something that came in my email--about how the key to a successful life is learning to deal well with change. Change is force that, like gravity, is always present.

Every morning when I get in my car and drive off this campus at 7:00 a.m., I can't help but smile to myself. How blessed I am indeed. I love my job; I love where life has taken me and where I'm headed. There was a time when I couldn't imagine not being a teacher. It's what I went to school to be. I loved it, I lived it. It stole my heart.

But now?

Well, now I am no longer a teacher. But life is still ablaze with beauty. It's just a different sort of beauty.

It looks like today is going to be a beautiful day. The sun hasn't completely woken up the sky yet but it's getting there. The crickets are chirping and my flowers and plants are bursting with color from the rain. When I look out my sliding glass doors, I can still see the lush foliage that, soon enough, will be traded for the baren dead of winter.

The seasons are changing, and I, for one, can't wait to wear my Fish Creek sweatshirt and sit outside on my porch, roasting marshmallows over an open fire.

The Simple Life

After work today I went to Sam's Club--swung by quickly as it's a hop, skip and jump off the freeway. I needed two things. Literally. Cat food and dishwasher soap.

And that's what I got...plus some raspberries (they were only two bucks!) and some croissants (they'll make the best sandwiches for all of the packed lunches at our house!) and some fresh mixed veggies (Roy loves these) and some fruit popsicles (At least they're semi-healthy...) and ... well, you get the idea. By the time I headed out the door with my overstuffed grocery cart, I'd clearly crammed in far more than two items.

So as I drove home, I contemplated the fact that my cupboards are already bursting and yet...I now have to fit in even more stuff. Once I finally pulled into the driveway, a little over ten hours after leaving it, I called Jace and together we hauled in all of the goods. He was, of course, starving, and so I threw the freezer items in the freezer and then juggled all of the boxes on the countertops so that I could quickly throw together homemade tomato sauce and fresh ravioli that I'd picked up at Sam's on the last trip there. For the next fifteen minutes, I emptied the dishwasher and rearranged the refrigerator and made a list of things I placed in the freezer and sorted through mail and threw away papers that have sat on the kitchen table for far too long and strained the ravioli and dished up a plate Jace! It's ready! and thought about sending him off to eat by himself since the table was such a disaster and then, on second thought, decided to join him because, of course, that's what good mothers do and so, finally, at almost 6:00 Jace and I sat down together, in the living room, on the couch.

Yeah. That's family dinner at the Seals' home.

A few minutes later (as it doesn't take Jace long to consume a plate of ravioli and green beans), I headed back into the kitchen to finish my project. When we first moved here four years ago, we bought a little freezer as we desperately needed one. I'm not sure how we survived so many years with just a refrigerator freezer...but we did. But anyway, it's a disorganized mess. No--really. It's a disorganized mess. No matter how many times I organize it? 24 hours later I can't find a thing. And so, for the who-knows-how-many-times time, I took everything out, stacked it on the dryer, placed all of the frozen fruit together (for Savana's smoothies) and then placed all of the breads together on one side (It's embarrassing how many loaves I found stashed at the bottom) and threw away some stuff that I didn't recognize and...well, my freezer, at least for today, looks a whole lot better. And there's even space for more!

That seems to be the MO around here: more.

And then I finished clearing off the table. I picked up the pens and opened the door of the hutch to place them in the container that holds pens only to realize...there's no room left. Are these pens breeding? When did we get so many pens?

And by the door? About 12 pairs of shoes...

By the gas stove? A stack of polo shirts that Jace has outgrown and some boots that are so trendy and cute but awkwardly sized so nobody wants them and a box of homeschool material that will never get used--at least not at our house--and a bag of stuff for the Wii that never gets used anymore, either.

When we first moved here four years ago, we came from a rather small apartment. The guy who moved us said I've never seen a man with so much stuff or a family of 5 with so little. And it was true. Roy, of course, can fill a truck simply with what he packs into a garage. It looks impressive with all of the shelving and drawers and such. But there is a lot of stuff.  Yet we as a family had learned to live with a lot less as we had to in order to fit. And honestly? I loved that apartment. I loved the coziness of it.

Anyway, then we moved into this rather large house--and now? Well, we've moved into it rather nicely.

We need to de-stuff.

Ronald Reagan said, Live simply, love generously, care deeply, speak kindly, leave the rest to God.

I love that quote. I think it's a great mantra to live by. But I think I need to get back to the live simply part. I need to eat more peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, clean out my closets, and haul some boxes to Goodwill.

I need to stick to the list.

Simply Amazing

I am almost finished with Friday Night Lights. It's a television drama about a high school football coach and his family who lives in Dillan, Texas and oh my word I love that show. It's so real to me. It has been my almost-nightly escape for several months now as I discovered it early this past summer as my sister Lori told me I should watch it.

She was right.

But now I only have two episodes left so I'm not sure how I'm going to handle not having Tim Riggins and Tammy Taylor in my living room every night before I head to bed. They've been such good company.

I am amazed at the talents of others. These people can act and make me believe that it is all for real. And the producer of the show? He's the same guy who produces Parenthood, another favorite of mine. I definitely plan to find out what he is producing next so that I can follow it from the start. He has, in my opinion, a unique way of creating a show that makes it stand out from the rest.

Yesterday at lunch we had this Lunch & Learn that I attended with two of my co-workers. Buncombe County has a health incentive that runs for six months and during the course of six months, one has to accumulate 150 points in order to earn an additional lump sum of money at the end of that time period. One of the ways to earn money is to attend Lunch & Learns. Anyway, yesterday's topic was Emotional Spending which, really, isn't my problem. We've lived on a tight budget for so many years that I've never given myself the freedom to engage in retail therapy so much. But Emotional Eating? I got that one down. It's my gift. Anyway, at one point during the seminar, the lady who was leading out passed out magazines and had us find advertisements that clicked with us. I ended up with a Popular Mechanics magazine--not exactly my magazine of choice--and so I began to peruse it, checking out colorful ads of oil for cars and Goodyear tires and men's running shoes.

Nothing tempted me.

But then I saw this really cool watch that had all kinds of fancy gadgets and had a good looking man wearing it and climbing some rugged cliffs.

Ah. Success.

I could buy that for Roy and he will be my James Bond.

I looked over at Heather, my co-worker, who also had a Popular Mechanics and whattayaknow...she had settled on the same ad! Clearly she's not a lover of Motorola or Goodyear either.

And then the lady began to talk about how these companies have become so sly in their advertising methods. They know exactly what to do to appeal to us, even unconsciously, so that we spend our hard-earned pennies on their products.

And again I thought people are so intelligent, so capable. How in the world did they figure that out? And of course it's a bit conniving and manipulative. I get that. But still, the intelligence behind it all is astounding.

We have so much capability at our fingertips. We are only as limited as we think we are. That, to me, is one of the beautiful aspects of teenagers. They are bursting with dreams and possibility. But one doesn't have to be 17 to dream. We all have gifts to share with the world, and if we take the time to figure out what we want, well...it is just a matter of giving it all we've got and making our dreams reality.

My stepmom, Jo, is a phenomenal gardener. When she and Dad visited a couple of summers ago, one of our favorite things to do in the evening was ride around campus in our golfcart checking out all of the flowers and trees and such. She knew absolutely every one of them. Who knows that stuff?? Jo. And if you are ever were lucky enough to see their home, you would know from the moment you looked at it that she has a gift for creating a piece of paradise in her little corner. She has taken the barren, red dirt of windy Oklahoma and turned it into a slice of heaven...despite the heat and wind and dust. It's beautiful.

I am a firm believer in dreaming big, in imagination, in the pursuit of our own definition of amazing. Life is too short to do otherwise.

This past weekend, I was telling Jared how I love being mindless for a bit of time each day--sitting blankly in front of the television and letting it entertain me. He looked at me curiously and said, "Why?"

I simply laughed.

He's right. All those hours wasted on mindlessness could culminate into something grand if I chose. And maybe, when I finish this last episode of Friday Night Lights I'll spend some some time pursuing  one of my own dreams that I have tucked away in the corner of my imagination.

Maybe it'll even turn out to be simply amazing.

Reflections

I had the most amazing weekend. Darian came home on Friday evening, bringing my nephew Jared with her, and we had a whole 48 hours of fabulous together. We ate a lot and lazed around a lot and talked and laughed a lot and played Clue and and just had a generally grand time. But of course, as it always does, time flew by and now they are on the road back to Southern while I watch the minutes on my clock tick ever closer to bedtime.

...Sigh...

But the good news is, Savana is still home. She is currently at the table in the dining room studying while I write this. Jace is in bed--exhausted from a full day of playing. And I know that Darian and Jare are chasing their own dreams there in Tennessee and that so many good things are going on for both of them. They are both exactly where they should be and I can't expect anything more than that.

Some time over the weekend--I have no idea when or even where--I read a quote that says this:

The world is a mirror, forever reflecting what you see in yourself.

That quote made me stop. It gave me pause, wondering What exactly do I see in myself?

Sometimes, sadly, I don't like what I see. I've noticed the past couple of years that I have little tolerance. Now I'm not really sure if that's because I'm in my mid-40's...or if it's just the real me shining through. The I've spent the past 20 years of my life raising a family and taking care of others and being nice and smiling when I didn't mean it and saying yes when I really meant no and saying no when I really meant yes and pretending and now...well, now I'm over it and I'm just a little more real. A little more willing to speak my mind.

Today I was talking to a girl from Verizon and I found myself getting just a tad bit frustrated. It's a long story and I'll spare the details as they aren't that interesting...but I was surrounded by Jared and Darian and Savana at the time. So as I am talking, and clearly annoyed, Savana looked at me, her eyes wide, and said, "Bring it down, Mom. She's a real person on the other side of that line."

Jared said, "My mom's the same way I don't ever let her talk to people for me on the phone because she gets annoyed way too easily. It's embarrassing."

I put my hand over the phone so that the girl on the other end (her name was Kristen) wouldn't hear me and said, "Maybe it's a genetic thing."

And then? Well, I tried desperately to lower my voice, to find a bit of calm inside of me--you know, picture rainbows and waterfalls and sunsets in my head--so that I could finish out the conversation with a bit more kindness.

The other day on Facebook someone posted a quote by Meryl Streep. It goes like this:

“I no longer have patience for certain things, not because I’ve become arrogant, but simply because I reached a point in my life where I do not want to waste more time with what displeases me or hurts me. I have no patience for cynicism, excessive criticism and demands of any nature. I lost the will to please those who do not like me, to love those who do not love me and to smile at those who do not want to smile at me. I no longer spend a single minute on those who lie or want to manipulate. I decided not to coexist anymore with pretense, hypocrisy, dishonesty and cheap praise. I do not tolerate selective erudition nor academic arrogance. I do not adjust either to popular gossiping. I hate conflict and comparisons. I believe in a world of opposites and that’s why I avoid people with rigid and inflexible personalities. In friendship I dislike the lack of loyalty and betrayal. I do not get along with those who do not know how to give a compliment or a word of encouragement. Exaggerations bore me and I have difficulty accepting those who do not like animals. And on top of everything I have no patience for anyone who does not deserve my patience.” _ Meryl Streep

And when I read that? I thought Ah. She's over 40, too. 

I don't totally agree with everything she says. But I think the part that stands out the most to me--the part that resonates within me, I suppose--is how she's learned to be real. She's learned that it isn't worth pretending anymore.

My sweet nephew Jare and I were talking over the weekend, and he made a comment about how he used to feel frustrated about certain aspects of himself. But now? Well, now he says he's learning to embrace those things because it's just part of who he is.

And I say Go you, Jare. I'm so glad he's learning to accept himself before the age of 20. It took me far too many years to learn to be nice to me. And if there's anything I've learned in my life time, it's that life is a whole lot more fun when we like ourselves, when we're good to ourselves inside of our heads.

When one hits the mid-40's there are a lot of cracks about getting old. Just the other day, Roy and I were talking while Savana watched us. I turned and looked at her....like What? She kind of laughed and said, It's so weird watching your parents get old.

Thanks, Savana.

But the truth is, I like my 40's. I like not having to work so hard for the approval of others. I like feeling a whole lot more authentic about who I am.

But if the world is a mirror, and the world reflects what I see in me...well, I want to see tolerance. I think tolerance for others--no matter who they are or what they believe in or what they stand for--is of utmost importance. And of course that doesn't mean that we should tolerate abuse of any sort. Certainly not. But we should tolerate differences--slight or otherwise.

And so, I am happy to be where I am these days. It's a good place. But when it comes to tolerance, I do believe I need to dig a little deeper. I need to stop a bit more, think before I speak.

I need more pictures of sandy beaches and rugged mountains and fluttering butterflies.

I need the mirror of my heart to be the voice of tolerance because that's a world I believe in. That's the me I want the world to see.

Living a Happy Life

I love cats. I remember stages of my life based on the cats we had at the time.

Whitey and Pepsi and Brutus and John and Johnny and Cody and Bear and Ebony and Ivory and Bax and Sparty.

Dad knew my love for cats at an early age and so he always made sure that we got a beautiful one, a unique one. When we moved to Cushing when I was in the 6th grade, my cat Brutus ran away. I wasn't too traumatized by that as Brutus was rather mean. Dad travelled to Oklahoma City quite a lot in those days, and one time he told me I could go with him and we'd find a kitten. He bought a newspaper and while we stayed in the motel, I scoured it, circling ads for free kittens. It had to be free, it had to have long hair, .and it had to be pretty. Those were the stipulations.

Somehow we happened upon this man who was giving away a litter of manx kittens and the mama. We took two male kittens--long white hair with big blue eyes and no tail. They were gorgeous. I loved those cats. They both came to a rather tragic end a few years later and that's when Cody came into my life. By this time Mom and Dad had split and we were living on the outskirts of Oklahoma City. Dad must have gone on a cat search unbeknownst to me and he found this cat lady that had all kinds of cats in her house. Beautiful, long haired cats. And so one day when I went to visit him he surprised me with a half-persian kitten. He was stunningly beautiful. And so, I named him Cody and then, a few weeks later, realized that he was a she.

The name stuck.

About the time I graduated high school, Cody got feline leukemia, and thus ended the reign of my childhood cats. My sophomore year of college, Roy was the assistant dean there at Southwestern and so he had an apartment. One day we were walking through the mall and we passed a pet store. We stood at the window and laughed as this playful kitten pounced on his sleeping siblings over and over and over again. Finally we left and circled back around awhile later. The kitten was still pouncing. And so, ten dollars later, we came home with Bear.

Bear lived a good long life, but by the time he was in his teens, he was riddled with arthritis, could barely make it up the stairs of our home. He was such good buddies with Sam, our dog. And so, when Sam got throat cancer and we had to put him down, we took Bear in too. The thought at the time was to stay pet-free for awhile, but the girls, who were about 3 and 5 then, were devastated. One day as we were driving home from Madison, we looked in the backseat and there they were, big crocodile tears rolling down their cheeks. We miss our pets!

And so we headed to the Humane Society to pick out a kitten. The girls immediately latched onto a cute little black and white female who had short hair and was sweet as sugar. Meanwhile, I pulled a long-haired, black kitten out of a cage and she promptly crawled up to my head and curled up.

Ebony and Ivory.

Poor Ivory didn't quite make her second birthday as she just didn't have street-smarts. But Ebs lived a good long life and she was always my cat.

And now? We have Bax, the Where's Waldo of campus. He's all white, blue-eyed, short haired, and deaf. He's quite a character--probably because he's deaf. He doesn't mind vacuum cleaners and he loves to sleep in the middle of the road. Somehow he has managed to survive to live almost 4 years now so I guess he's got good luck on his side.

And then there's Sparti--short for Sparticus. I've always named our pets so Roy claimed he got to name this one. It wasn't my name of choice. I wanted Oliver. But, I compromised (I'm nice like that). And so, Sparti it is. He's a good one--and he loves me.

I'm not sure why I'm such a cat lover. It's funny to me how people either love cats or dogs but not generally both equally. I really like dogs--absolutely. But they just aren't my preference. I love cats' independent spirits and their lazy ways. I can relate to how they like to curl up in front of a fire and nap the day away.

How heavenly would that be?

They go about their lives as though they own the world. They're quiet and graceful and confident. All traits that I admire.

Not too long ago I watched this video that was basically a study on Do cats bond with humans? It showed how a dog's owner left the dog in an empty room and had a stranger enter. The dog was anxious, nervous, pacing. Then they performed the same experiment on a cat. Once the owner left, the cat? He couldn't have cared less. He was, in fact, more interested in the stranger than he'd been in his owner.

And so the person performing this study concluded that cats don't have the capability of bonding with humans as dogs do.

I don't buy it.

Sparti loves me the most. Given a room filled with people, he always chooses me. And Bax? He absolutely chooses Roy over me. It's the darnedest thing. Bax loves to ride in the golfcart. If he sees it coming, he trots over, meowing all the way. And then when Roy stops the golfcart, Bax climbs on, makes himself comfortable, and hitches a ride. But if I am the driver and the lone passenger in the golfcart, he trots over, looks up and realizes that it's yours truly, and then promptly turns and walks away.

And yet, every single morning at 5:15 a.m. I turn on the porch light, open the front door, and peek my head out to call Bax in. Of course, I don't actually call as that would be pointless. (He's still deaf.) But he's always waiting there patiently--despite the fact he could come inside via the cat window. And when he sees me, he takes a few steps, then stops. Looks around. Looks at me. Takes a couple more steps. Stops. Looks around. Looks at me.

Come on, Box! I say, rolling my eyes, exasperated. And finally--finally--he makes it up the stairs. But when I reach down to pick him up so I can get him in the house, for pity's sake...he acts startled, looks at me with fear in his eyes as though I might kill him.

At last I get him in the house and then he proceeds to trot off to the kitchen, meowing all the way, in anticipation of the can of tuna he knows I am going to feed him.

You're welcome, Bax.

One time we watched a show on Animal Planet that talked about the ten most vicious animals that simply kill for the sake of killing. The number one animal?

Cats.

But regardless, I think we humans can learn a lot about how to live a happy life by watching a cat:

...endless, endless patience
...the beauty of a long nap, sprawled out on our backs without a care in the world
...the importance of grooming and presenting one's best self
...being content with the simple things of life--a cool breeze, a fluttering leaf, the rays of sunshine
...savoring each moment as if it's possibly your last.

Here and Now

Last night Roy and I went for our usual golfcart ride. The sun was just beginning to go down as we set out and by the time we got home...total darkness. But it was so much fun riding up the hill and talking to so many sweet people who live along the way...Stella and Gary and Jason and Kevin...

Ok--Kevin doesn't live along the way but we did bump into him and chat for a minute.

Earlier I went for a walk down Holcome Cove Road, just Piper and me. My phone was almost dead so I didn't have music to entertain me. Just me and my thoughts. But after sitting all day--as I do way too much of that with this job of mine--it felt good to get out and move.

As I was coming around the corner, just getting back on campus, I ran into Mike and Kim Stollenmeier walking down the big hill by the boys' dorm. And so, I waited for them to catch up and we walked back together.

My word--we are surrounded by such good people. People with good hearts and kind spirits and people that give just for the sake of giving.

Once we were all settled in for the night, Jace came into the living room and said, "Mom, I can't wait for Academy. I was talking to Jacob tonight and everything he said just sounded so fun."

Jacob, of course, is a friend who lives up the hill who started academy life this fall. Jace adores him. (All kids adore him, I do believe.) And they have been hanging out together in the evenings some and running their remote control cars together.

Anyway, when we originally ran into Jason on our little golfcart ride, he and Roy started talking about very boring things that I had no desire to hear...guy stuff like airplanes and such...and I happened to see Gary stroll across his yard. And so I hopped off and walked over to ask how his year is faring. Since Gary taught at academy before, just like me, we began to discuss teaching and why teachers love to teach...that sort of thing. And then Stella came over and joined the conversation.

That's scary ground for me--talking about teaching. Sometimes I fear I will miss it, that I will wake up one day and yearn for the classroom. It's all I have known for literally my entire life. I grew up in a public school setting (and both of my parents were in education so I heard the lingo all of the time) but by the time I was a freshman in high school, I'd switched over (with my mom) to an Adventist system and I've been there ever since.

But I must say, I feel so free. I have no stress in my life. I can't remember--honestly can't remember--ever feeling like this before. Even in the summertime, when the bounty of sunshine and swimming pools and flower gardens is right outside my window, there is a knowing that it's just a short reprieve. But now? I go to work, time flies by like none other as I have a list to do a mile long, and then I come home to my life. And I rarely experience stress--not like the stress of teaching, anyway.

It's so weird.

Honestly, I don't even think it's sunk in yet.

But last night as we were talking to all of these people over the span of an hour or so, and then as I was talking to Jace about the beauty of academy life, I couldn't help but feel so thankful for where we live, for my job, for Roy's job, for the friends who surround us. I feel so grateful that Jace has a little haven to grow up in where he can run a remote control car or ride a dirt bike or have the space to practice soccer. That he has so much to look forward to once he hits his high school years. That he will be guided by dedicated teachers who will encourage and provide direction when it's needed.

And? I am thankful that if I ever have that burning desire to chat with teens, well...they are virtually right outside my doorstep.

The best of both worlds.

I have no idea where my future will take me. Who does? But for now, for today, I am grateful that my here and now is living in a white house on a hill nestled in the mountains in the outskirts of Asheville, North Carolina.

It's a good place to be.

Something to Wonder About

Yesterday I got my nails done. I took my Nook and hung out at the salon for an amazing hour (or more) and enjoyed the sheer bliss of being pampered.

Sometimes when I go to these salons, I feel ill at ease. The girls are so young and I wonder about their lives. Are they happy? Is this genuinely their vocation of choice? Why do they work such long hours? But the first time I went to this particular salon, the girl that painted my fingernails began to talk to me. She spoke English quite well and informed me that she actually attended Fletcher Academy. She had come over from Vietnam to live with her aunt and her aunt had scoped out various local schools and happened upon Fletcher. And so she proceeded to tell me how she was saving money, working long hours, and planning to head to school in a year. She was vibrant and young and happy. She laughed with her co-workers and they all seemed quite content.

And so, that has become my salon of choice. And honestly, maybe they're all just fine. I really don't know...I just wonder.

I wonder about a lot of things.

Roy and I went to see a movie last night and one of the scenes portrayed girls in a strip bar. It showed nothing--just let the audience know the setting--but I couldn't help but wonder about that. What's it like to be someone who works in a strip bar? Is that really the job of choice? Is there job satisfaction? Are you happy?

Savana attended a local event yesterday in Asheville where they served free beer. And so she came home laughing with stories of people doing really silly things as the general audience became more and more drunk as the afternoon progressed. And I wondered about that, too. What is the point? Especially when the next day you're going to be so miserable! Why put yourself through that?

Those are the obvious things to wonder about. But sometimes I wonder about things that are closer to home. I wonder why people react the way they do, or say the things they do. I wonder why I do the things I do because, well, sometimes I don't make much sense either.

So much goes into who we become once we are adults. If I were born in another country with a completely different set of surroundings, I would be a totally different person. That is inevitable. I find that interesting; baffling.

Who would I be if I were born in Iran (or is it Iraq or is it either one) to a family who was part of the Taliban?

I can't imagine. And yet...it happens. Every day.

I remember when we lived in Missouri we lived near an Amish community. It was so interesting driving through their peaceful setting and passing horse-drawn buggies filled with giggling children and somber parents riding down the road. They owned several little stores there and I went to one of those on a fairly regular basis. They had really cheap canned goods and homemade bakery items that were quite delicious. Anyway, one time when I was there, a lady came in and she saw me--the only "English woman" in the store at the time. She came straight over to where I was standing and began to speak so loudy about these Amish people and how weird they were. But what she didn't know is that the girl who ran the store was a few feet away behind a wall that she couldn't see. And I so tried to hush her...SSShhh...she's right there!....but she prattled on, laughing hysterically. I was so uncomfortable that I tried to walk away so as not to be associated with this woman. But the girl came out and saw us together, heard her talking--and I was so deeply embarrassed.

At the time, we worked at Sunnydale Academy. This small academy is about five miles out from a small town called Centralia. It's in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by open fields on all sides, but a major road runs by it. As one drives by the academy,  one can see this little community of houses and school buildings and people milling about. One particular time I remember walking outside and a pickup filled with people was speeding down the highway. But suddenly it slowed down exponentially and one of the people in the cab rolled down the window. And then, they all craned their necks, peering quizzically at this weird school in the middle of nowhere. A commune of sorts. Once they were past us, they roared on and I couldn't help but laugh.

They looked at us just like we looked at the Amish.

Life is all about perspective and so much goes into that. I am so thankful for my own life--for the bounty of riches I enjoy. And by riches, I am referring to so much life has to offer: my amazing man and my incredible kids and good food and faithful friends and a place to call home and adorable pets and a car that runs and devoted parents and living in the USA and growing up on the plains of Oklahoma and the Internet and so much, much more.

Life is filled with questions and things to wonder about. Sometimes I create my own things to wonder about as I, too, can be baffling. We all can be at times. But I am so grateful to have the gift of life and all that it offers. And sometimes, life throws curveballs.

One of my sweet friends, Katie, was just diagnosed with stage 3 lung cancer. The prognosis isn't good. That's something that gives one pause in the midst of buying groceries and preparing for the next day of work.

That's something to wonder about.

But I have today. I have today to make the most of my life...and when it comes down to it, that's all that I can do. That's all any of us can do...one day at a time.