Solitude

I can't believe it's been so long since I wrote.. but life gets busy and well...meh.


Since last I made an entry there have been some pretty big changes in life.  When I embarked on this country adventure I was well aware that my prince charming had two dogs.  I accepted them and cared for them and grew to love them. 

Pooh was Lynny's princess, she was a lovey chow mix,  he brought her home as a puppy and loved her unconditionally. She and I got along very well.  She grudgingly accepted me as long as I brushed her and gave her pizza crusts regularly.

Tigger was Lynny's rescue puppy. He rescued him from neighbors who were mistreating him.  Poor little Tigger ended up with some emotional issues as a result.  He was always afraid there wouldn't be enough food or cuddles... so we made sure to give him lots and lots of both.  He ended up being very loving.

My cat, Boo never really got close to the dogs, though he and Pooh had a kind of silent understanding.. he would allow Pooh to sniff at him..and he would endure the injustice.  Tigger liked to chase him.. until he couldn't move so well anymore.

Over the past months... we've lost all three.  Tigger's health had been declining slowly over the past year,  when it got to the point that he couldn't move anymore... It was time.  Lynny was up north and was devastated that he couldn't be there for him, but I made sure he felt loved and protected up until the end.

Pooh wandered around the house seemingly lost for a few months, but I think her heart was broken.  Tigger had been her constant companion for the past 10 years..  she was lonely and her health too became bad.  Lynny was home and he noticed how she had deteriorated since last he saw her...  He decided it was time.  He held her the whole time... broke my heart.

Just two weeks ago I gave Boo a bath(yeah..I know but sometimes even cats need one)  I had given him many over his 8 years.  I used the same products I always used... he was pissed off at me, just like he always was after a bath.  He was sunning himself in front of the living room window then he made a weird sound and tore off across the living room...leaving me and Lynny stunned.. he bonked his head on the coffee table, fell over into a seizure and died.  It was over in 2 minutes.  I was in shock...we tried to revive him. but it was no use. 

And now... its just me and Lynny.  The house is very quiet without all the little paws.  Lynny is on a jobsite and for the first time in 30 years... I have no children, ex husbands, pets or boyfriends to care for.  For the first time in a long time.... I have only myself to care for. 

I know there will probably come a day when we will maybe rescue another dog... maybe two. I cant do it yet.  I have 3 pieces of my heart missing now and it still hurts a lot.  I need this time to just take care of me...and learn how to be in solitude.

Every damn time.....

I don't remember the exact day it premiered, but some 10 years ago I watched the very first episode of Grey's Anatomy.  I saw the relationship between Derek and Meredith start.  I grew to know and care about the denizens of Seattle Grace Hospital(now known as Grey-Sloan Memorial).  I have watched every episode and have been caught up in the spell that Shonda Rhimes and company have woven with their words and pictures.

Unless you have been hiding under a rock for the past week, you know that Derek Shepard, brilliant neurosurgeon, died last week.  It was a brilliantly written episode and it was absolutely heartwrenching to watch the last few minutes as that was when all the monitors stopped beeping and Dr. Shepard took his final breath.  I watched this week's 2 hour long episode and they rehashed a lot of Derek and Meredith's relationship as well as his untimely death. . 

Every time he takes his last breath.... I'm transported to another hospital room.  This happens anytime there is a death scene in a hospital.  It happens every time.  Everyone suffers loss.  Everyone loses people they love.  It's the natural order of things.  It's the way things work.  I still remember the smells and sounds of that other hospital room.  I still feel it in my chest when she takes her last breath and tears still slide down my cheeks.  I remember having a last conversation with mom.  Just the two of us.  I was the only one talking.  I told her it was time to go... her work was done.. we would all be ok.  There was no more she could do, we would all miss her, always, but it was time to let go. Time to rest.   She passed a few hours later.

I remember how tired I was later that night.  I remember not sleeping, so I talked to Lynny.  We weren't 'official' at that time...I can't remember what we were,  but he said he would leave the job he was working in upstate Illinois, and be with me.  It would have been a six hour drive  That impressed me.  I thought..."this is a good guy.  He's a little rough around the edges, but when it matters, he's the guy you want on your side".  I fell into a dreamless sleep after that.

I told him not to leave work, I didn't know what the arrangements were going to be.  I should have taken him up on it.  It would have been nice to have someone to lean on. 

I know there will come a day when I won't feel it.  I know that.  But when that happens, will that mean that I've become cold, cynical and apathetic to the pain of another? I'm not looking forward to that day.  It's much better to live fully and feel a little pain.

I'm back....and reading Fifty Shades...

I would like to begin by saying that reading, any reading, is a good thing and should be encouraged.  When the 'Fifty Shades of Grey' series by E. L. James came out, I didn't pay it a lot of attention.  The books were fan fiction novels written with the Twilight series novels by Stephenie Meyer as a template.  I had read the Twilight series and I liked them, but wasn't really interested in reading them again... in another form.

I have always loved reading and books, from the moment I discovered that letters formed words and words formed sentences and sentences could be formed into whole paragraphs and stories.  Stories can take you to whole other lives and explore the world without ever leaving your house, and opening your mind to new ideas.  How can you NOT like that?  My sister never got the reading bug, because she had some difficulties with spelling and reading, so it was a real struggle for her.  I always hated that and felt she was missing out on one of the real joys of life.  This is where Ms. E. L. James and her books enter the picture.

My sister was so enraptured by these stories, she tore through them in no time at all.  She moved on to other books by other authors and finally caught the reading bug.  I think it's wonderful that finally she's found the magic of the written word like I have.  Her experience is not unique, as billions of women the world over have finally discovered the joy of reading, and apparently erotic literature.  

I have no problem with erotic literature, PUHLEEZE... if you could only see the bookshelves of the home I grew up in. My mother had books that would have made Ms. James blush, many of which found their way into my teenage hands when I ran out of stuff to read. Erotic literature, romances, bodice rippers, whatever you choose to call them have been around for a long time. I confess to a rabid teenage crush on Fabio, the cover model for a lot of mom's books. I'm over it now.  I think.

So, back to the Fifty Shades books. My sister told me how much she loved them and I naturally had to read them to see what had finally lit her literary fire.  Well, all I can say is... ugh.  The main character, Ana, irritated me from the first page .  She is incredibly naive and whiny for a modern day college student with a 4.00 grade point average, and her relationship with Christian Grey(misogynistic, control freak) is dysfunctional and abusive yet framed as romantic and sensually adventurous.  The books aren't all that well written and that irritates me too, but I think the main appeal is that the subject matter- Dominance and submission are so mysterious to a lot of the women now reading these books. I have heard that the movie is a little better...  I may have to watch it just because the actors cast in it are yummy to look at.  I won't be paying full price... I'll wait for the DVD, thanks.

Ladies, in the name of all that is literary...read some GOOD erotica, please??  D. H. Lawrence, Anais Nin, Henry Miller, Bertrice Small, these people KNOW how to write.  They build great stories and interesting characters and the sensual scenes... um... grab some ice to cool down with, because you're gonna need it.  My friend, James Lee Nathan III has some great stuff on Leanpub.com. Look him up and you can thank me later.

Please read responsibly...  erotica is NOT reality, it's not meant to be.  As long as you keep that in mind, you'll be ok.

More Time.....

Four years ago(give or take a few days) my mother died.  I had planned a very profound post to mark the occasion, but the words that had always been there for me, failed me.  It seems I've already used them all up and now I can't quite capture the things as accurately as I once did.  The point I want to leave you with is this.  You don't have enough time.

When mom was in the final stages of her cancer battle, we all(me, sis, mom) sat around her kitchen table and we talked about life, and death and how hard the battle had become.  What we didn't know at that time was, she had already stopped fighting.  This was in February or March. 

Did you know that there is a lifetime maximum amount of chemotherapy that a person can have?  I didn't.  Mom had fulfilled her lifetime maximum for chemo sometime in the previous months. We knew none of this, of course.  She and her doctor were now into the pain management and maintenance part of her cancer, which was now terminal. She opted not to share the information with the rest of the family...but I knew.  I knew that time was running out.  In my head I figured she had until Christmas.  How I came up with that ...I'm not sure. It just seemed like the furthest date from where I was, so therefore it was more comfortable to me.

After that it seemed like we visited mom every month... either I or my sister would make the trip down for a weekend... sometimes we both would.   She was fading before our eyes and still telling us it was the treatments that were weakening her.  There were some scary incidents where she passed out and then there was the time that she lost her way going to bed one night.  She couldn't remember which bedroom was hers and she stood in the hallway and cried because all she wanted was to sleep.... but she couldn't remember which room was hers.  Her husband heard her crying...and asked her what was wrong.  He told her everything would be ok, and he got her into bed.  In the morning she didn't remember the incident.  Must have been her medication, we all thought.  She was in the hospital a couple weeks later.  I can't even remember why. My daughter and I came down to visit and she assured us she was fine, just her medication needed regulating.

In June the whole family came down to visit. There was a wedding and luckily my children came too.  It would be the last time they saw her.  She didn't go to the wedding.  She didn't get off the couch all weekend.   

We had planned another trip down  a few weeks later, the weekend of July 17th... but my aunt called my father and bonus mom and told him we needed to come sooner.  We left the next day. 

Nothing in this world can prepare you for the end stages of a life.  She had been responsive the previous day, but fell into a coma overnight.  When we got there she was unresponsive, laying on her side with a respirator.  She looked like a baby bird.  Her hair was like soft feathers on her head, her once deep green eyes were not fully closed, they were the slitted eyes of the deeply asleep...but the color was a cloudy grey.  I expected her to be sitting up in bed, chastising us for our unnecessary worry. Not this. 

The death you see on television and in the movies is not what its really like.  Its not a pretty process.  Its a natural process that everyone will go through.  There was a very nice ex-hospice nurse that took my sister and I aside and told us what the next days would bring.  Signs to look for, things that a human goes through.  She told us that sight is one of the first things that a person loses, hearing the last.  So we talked to her, said our goodbyes, had private conversations with her...  We stayed in her room with her.. trying to stay awake.  I passed out on the other bed in her room(the hospital refused to put another patient in with her because they knew that these were her final hours and they gave us that privacy).  at 1 o clock in the morning a nurse came in to take blood and it agitated mom... she whined and moved a little in her sleep.  It woke me, and my sister was livid.  Why did they need to cause her that unnecessary pain?  we couldn't stand it.  It was over quickly but we found the nursing supervisor and asked her if anything like that was necessary.  she apologized profusely and said that no further incidents like that would occur.  They would just check vitals and keep her medicated, pain free and comfortable. 

Family members came and went, said their goodbyes.  None of us had a real meal so the next day a bunch of us went out to the cracker barrel across the street for dinner.  We checked with the hospice nurse and she said we would be safe to leave for a bit.  A few more family members stayed behind.  We had a really nice dinner...strangely enough we told stories about her growing up and heard some stories and mom would have loved it.

My aunt had made arrangements for her pastor to come and visit with us when we got back to the hospital... As many family members as would fit in the room formed a circle around mom... and the pastor led us in a prayer.  We held hands and the room got very peaceful and warm and there was a big gush of air...and it was over.  All I could say was... "but I thought there would be more time..."  But there wasn't any more time.  

Her time was over and I thought about all the time that I had wasted..  All of the times I let someone else tell me what was important to do with my time and how I should spend it and all of the times I let someone else ruin the plans I had to visit with her and the things I missed out on with her because of that someone. 

I can't believe I let myself be manipulated and controlled like that. Never again did I let that happen to me.  I wish someone had told me what I will tell you now.

Don't do it.  Don't give up on something you want to do some day.  Don't wait.  Don't let relationships die because you don't have time.  Don't let someone come between yourself and your family.  Don't think there is more time to make things right or heal a hurt or tell someone how much they mean. There isn't any more time.  

It runs out long before you're finished counting the grains of sand in that hourglass and then...it's just over.

pimpin some joy

So, I realize I've not posted in a long while. Since June of 2013 to be exact.  Well, it's a new year and a lot has been going on in my life and world and that's my story and I'll be sticking to it.  Never fear, I'll update you I promise, but right now I want to bring attention to something other than myself.  

Since some recent life changes, I now have a longer commute to work. During my commute I listen to a couple of different st. louis radio stations.  My musical tastes are eclectic so I tend to bounce back and forth between classic rock, to alternative, to pop and usually settle on country in the morning because it seems to have less commercials and more actual music.  The station I listen to 93.7 THE BULL airs a show called the BOBBY BONES show.  The crew of the show have all been going through some health issues lately and one of the cast members has a mother that is undergoing cancer treatment.  This woman has faced this horrible disease head on and has decided that no matter what comes... she chooses JOY.  Period. 

This philosophy has inspired the crew to create a hashtag on twitter, #pimpinjoy.  Post your good deeds or ideas for good deeds using that hashtag.  They even had #pimpinjoy week where a lot of country stars came into the studio and played new music and shared some good deeds and that sort of thing.  It's all about inspiring joy in others and just choosing to look towards the light.  No matter what.  All in all, not a bad message. Pay It Forward, with attitude and a twitter handle.

They've been sharing stories about people paying for the person behind them in line at fast food places and at Starbucks.  People adding money to parking meters and giving extra large tips to their servers at restaurants, rescuing animals, helping the elderly, all sorts of good things.  The whole thing gives me hope that maybe, just maybe this world can be saved after all.  

In that spirit I'll share with you what I did today.  I was out running some errands and exploring my new environment.  I found a little diner and decided to have lunch.  The place was not all that busy and it was just me and one other table.  The other table was a woman of about my age, maybe a little older and an elderly woman that I found out was her mother.  It was quiet in there, just a television for background noise and it was relatively easy to pick up pieces of their conversation.

The mother was an Alzheimers patient who was living in a nursing home. She and the daughter were spending the day together and the way the daughter dealt with her mother was really something.  No matter how many times her mother repeated questions or asked for clarification of answers the daughter was incredibly patient and sweet.  while I sat there I thought of what I could possibly do and I remembered that it was still officially #pimpinjoy week... so I took action.  I asked my server to bring me their ticket and I bought their lunch along with my own.  I'm not a rich person.... this isn't something I do all the time.  I just figured it was something I could do today to make someone else feel like the world is a little better place.  

It made my smile a little brighter for the rest of the day too.  SCORE.  

It's not just food...it's way more important...

I've made no secret of the fact that I'm trying to eat healthier and have added more physical activity to my life.  When you're trying to be a healthier person, your relationship to food gets complicated.  Most trainers will tell you to think of food as fuel for your body.  It's not a reward, it's fuel.  Nothing more.

Sounds like a great idea, right? I just can't do that.  I'm Italian, and as such food is way more than that.  Italians tie their whole family experience to food.  You don't feel well? Have some pasta, you'll feel better.  Something to celebrate? Have everyone over for a meal. Someone died? I'll send a lasagne.  Cooking for someone is taking care of someone.  It's nurturing.  It's also bonding.  A lot of the best conversations of my life have happened while cooking and cleaning up...not to mention the actual meals themselves.

My dad's family(the Italian side of my heritage) lives in Pennsylvania and even though we didn't get to visit often, when we did come into town it was an event.  The whole family would gather at Aunt Mame's house and there would be Holiday soup(italian wedding soup) and pasta and veal parmigiana and bread and people I didn't know pinching my cheeks and telling me to" eat...Eat... you're so skinny!.. Anthony...what are you feeding this child? What do you mean you don't want gravy on your pasta? That's just not right...."

So now, I continue the tradition.  I make up events to cook for my kids and their friends.  When TrueBlood is on HBO we have Truebloodfests.  I make dinner... we all watch the show, make snarky comments, discuss life.  When Walking Dead is on ...it's Walkingdeadathon.  Same process...different show.

Food is so much more than fuel.  Its the whole experience of nourishing your body and nurturing your family.  Cooking is texture and taste and smell and experimenting with all those things.

Love and cooking should both be approached with reckless abandon.

Caprese pasta salad

ok....so THAT didn't happen, but THIS did.....

I realize that I haven't been doing a very good job of keeping this up to date. Well, a lot has happened since last we met.  The house thing.....eh..didn't happen.  Alas, it was just not meant to be.  Between the two of us...I think me and 'The Accomplice'(at this point...he's more than a BoyFriend and more like a partner in crime)dodged a bullet on it.  It was a beautiful place, it had glorious potential, but I think we were a little ambitious in our aspirations.  eh, it happens.  

So, we adjust our sails and sail on.  While he searches for another likely abode, I have developed a deep need to punch stuff.  I kickbox at least 4 times a week.  I had begun my journey into better health with Pride Fitness... and I enjoyed it and all the people there, but I needed more.  I found Bodyfit kickboxing and I go 4 nights a week now, and Saturday mornings too.  You may not see the changes above....but I do.  First of all, the picture on the right is the first time I've ever liked a full length picture of myself. Wanna know why?  Because it shows how strong I am, it's not a passive picture, I'm an active participant.  

Change is so much more than what's on the scale.  Change is attitude and finding the strength to work at it every day and knowing that eventually...you'll get where you are meant to be.  It's a slow process, and that's ok. I'm in this for the long haul, I'm not looking for a temporary fix.  I signed up for the Warrior Dash on September 28th, 2013....that's a couple days before my 49th birthday.  I 'm not going to be the fastest participant, and I'm ok with that.  I am going to be a participant... and that's the important part.  

Participate in your life. Don't just let it happen to you. MAKE it happen FOR you.

Thisclose

You know...it's really hard when you get so close to getting all the stuff you worked so hard towards...and then it looks like it's not gonna happen.   As I've previously posted..the BF and I had found a place and we're in the process of trying to make it our own.  It's such a frustrating process anyway and with the recent financial industry debacles...it's even that much more so.  The hoops that the BF is being made to jump through and the mountain of paperwork he's having to provide is just staggering.

It's not looking good.  Not at all.  I guess I'm just used to not getting what I really want....so I don't get as invested as quickly and I settle for something else. Makes it less disappointing, but you end up thisclose to the thing you REALLY want...and you get the thing that is almost what you want....but just not quite.

He doesn't do that. He doesn't give up.  He's got the focus of an eagle. He figures out what the thing is- and that's it. Even though it's looking like the fat lady is singing....he's busy trying to find an alternative solution to shut her up.  I've never had anyone who wanted so badly to make a life with me, that he didn't take 'uh, I don't think so' for an answer.  I hope it works....

Big Changes......scary stuff

Making a big life change is scary...you know what's scarier? Regret.

I haven't written in awhile...and I won't bore you with excuses.  It's just not been a big priority.  Other stuff is.  The boyfriend and I had been talking about getting a place together.  There were a lot of negotiations. Did a lot of research, took some road trips to explore possible towns and abodes.  Well, we finally found a place that met both of our requirements.   Acreage and privacy for him...neighbors, community and a reasonable commute for me.  The picture is from our future backyard.... pretty awesome, huh? Plenty of room for his two dogs, my cat and all his electronics.

When you make the decision to shake things up a bit....things move pretty fast.  I've been working out.... but I admit I kinda slacked off again during the holidays. As fresh motivation  I signed up for the Warrior Dash which takes place September 28th, 2013... it takes place a couple days before my 49th birthday.  That should be interesting.   So, I'm trying to train for that, eat healthy...blah...blah..blah..  :)

Then there is the profile I did of my buddy,Mark   Click that to see it.

Anyway, there are big plans for the future.  I want to create a fitness trail around the perimeter of the five acre property.  He wants to make a game room out of one of the outbuildings.  There are renovations to be made and a life to build.  Pretty exciting stuff.  Can't wait to have morning walks on the trail, show movies on the side of the barn and have friends over for dinner and sit out in the gazebo and sip wine and read under the twinkling christmas lights I want to string.

I've never lived more than twenty minutes from where I grew up, and this will be an adjustment.  Life is a pretty big adventure.  Let's do this!

right place....right time.

I'd been warned.  Since the day I got my driver's license at 16. I gave the same warnings to my own children when they became drivers.

NEVER pick up hitchikers. NEVER.  EVER.  They're usually always axe murderers or rapists up to no good.  Usually.

I've ignored that warning exactly three times in my lifetime and every time I came away safely, uplifted and feeling like it was the exact right thing to do at that point in time.

This is not a practice that I am advocating, and its not a situation that I am planning to repeat in the future. I just know that every once in awhile.. the inner voice tells me (LOUDLY) to do something and if I do it...something good happens.

The first time was back when my son was about 8 years old.  It was a very hot summer day and we were out running errands and enjoying the air conditioning in our car.  I was on my way to Walmart and there was a young man walking along the road.  I knew him from when I used to work at a bank.  He was mentally challenged and he used to come in and do his banking with his father.  His father was trying to teach him how to be an independent adult.  His father had passed away a few years ago and now Tim was on his own. He never got a driver's license and he lived close to the stores and bank so he could walk or ride a bus anywhere he needed to go.  He was limping and he looked to be headed in the same direction we were going. I felt the need to pull over and help this man escape the heat. I looked at my son and I said " I know him, I used to wait on him at the bank...he looks like he needs a ride. Doesn't he?"  

I pulled over and asked Tim where he was going.. "I'm headed to Walmart to get a prescription and catch the bus.." I told him to hop in. He did.  I dropped him off at the door and he hobbled on his way.  My son and I got what we needed and as we were leaving I caught sight of our friend getting on his bus. 

The next time  I chose to follow my inner voice, it was about 10 years later, again it was a very hot day. One of those southern Illinois days that's notorious for melting asphalt.  This time it was a young mother, with a child of approximately 3 years of age clutching her hand.  They were walking away from an overheating car along a very busy stretch of road.  I pulled over and asked her if she needed any help. Her face immediately relaxed and she asked if I wouldn't mind dropping her off up the road about 5 miles away at her mother's house.  It was on my way, I knew the neighborhood.  She was very grateful.   I waited till she let herself into the house, her son grinned and waved at me as they walked in.

The last time was just a few weeks ago.  It was after 9pm on a Wednesday night, it was a chilly that night and it was starting to rain and I had to run out and get my daughter some cold medicine because she was at home sick, and desperately needed some chicken noodle soup and Nyquil...and that's what moms do.  I was coming out of my apartment complex and headed towards the highway when I saw a young man balancing a laundry basket on one hip, and dragging a wheeled basket behind him.....  I knew the closest laundromat was only a few blocks away, but what a miserable night to have to walk there.  I pulled over and asked him if he needed a lift up the road.  He gratefully loaded his laundry into the back seat and sat beside it.  I asked him... 'you're not an axe murderer or anything, are you?" he laughed and said...  "nah, just a poor college student".  I dropped him off at the laundromat and he said 'thank you...I really appreciate this...".

I know it's not much in the grand scheme of things, but you never know what little things you can do, how they ripple out like a pebble dropped into still water. I spent maybe an hour out of my life, total, on those three little events. An hour out of my life, that's it.  How much of a difference did I make in those three lives? Probably not a lot, or any at all, really.  But someday, that little boy might remember how a stranger helped him and his mom...and he might do the same for another young mother and her kid.  Tim might remember that some people can be nice to him and the world isn't always so mean.  Maybe that college kid will help someone else.  You never know.  Those little things just keep rippling out and before you know it...it is a really big ripple.

Having PRiDE.....

The PRiDE Circuit is a form of torture devised by an evil genius(I say this in jest...he's really a great guy and a fantastic motivator and trainer)named Todd (look him up on Facebook under PRiDE fitness). The circuit consists of: kettle bells, weighted sled pull, weighted sled push, farmers walk, rope swings, heavy bag carry, medicine ball toss, pull ups, cable push ups, cable pull ups, jump rope, BIG tire roll,jump rope, keg toss, turf climb, planks, sledge hammer,plyometric jumps, medicine ball SLAM, heavy bag punches, tire obstacle run and various other things he throws in for 'fun'.  

The Pride crew is a group of 30 - 40 strangers and friends who gather on Tuesday nights at 6 pm and Saturday mornings at 9 am in the evil genius' yard.  90 degree weather...30 degree weather...snow...slight dampness... doesn't matter.  PRIDE knows no season.  

You see....here's the thing, that picture up there...^^ yeah, that's me.  I'm fat.  No...really...I am.  I get it.  But this is the body I have and I haven't been very good to it.  I'm trying to change that now, and it's going to take some time.  That's ok, though, I have plenty of that.  Well, you know...until I'm OUT of time, at which point I'll be dead and it won't matter what I looked like in jeans anyway.  Right? 

So, my friend Carrie, who is aware of my trying to make healthy changes says to me.. "hey...come with me to 'THE CIRCUIT'.  it's a lot of fun, it only costs $5 a session, great group of people.  TRUST ME".  So, I did.

I've never been an athlete and traditional sports do not interest me.  The Evil One pairs us off into teams.  Usually a novice with someone who's a bit more experienced at the circuit.  The "circuit" is set up so that you do each exercise for 30 seconds, then you move on to the next station.  I can do anything for 30 seconds.  If something is too tough for me, I modify it into something I CAN  do.  The key is to just keep moving.  The WHOLE circuit is performed once through, then there is a very short break and you do the WHOLE circuit over again.  By the end of the session, you are dripping with sweat, out of breath, every muscle in your body(most you forgot you even had) are screaming and you feel more alive than you have in your life.  

The first time I went I got through it with a minimum of mishaps....ok, I did trip on the tire obstacles and landed on my butt.  I wasn't quite able to make it over the turf climb, I kinda landed on top of it and looked like a beached dolphin.  The turf climb is a ROLL of artificial turf that's roughly the size of a 4 foot high hill..the object is to run at it, plant your foot and toss yourself over.  It has become my personal Matterhorn.  

Todd really is an evil genius... he's assembled the greatest bunch of people and every one of them is supportive and motivating.  The very first time I went, people I'd never met before were cheering me on, telling me what a great job I did on this or that, encouraging my efforts on the turf climb, instructing me on the proper technique for tossing an empty beer keg.  The whole experience makes you want to go back for more.  How sick is that??  I find myself looking forward to Tuesday nights and Saturday mornings. Pretty crazy, huh? I've devised my own home circuit that's not quite as challenging, but still keeps the body moving and makes me sweat, that is the whole point, anyway.  

I've been doing "The Circuit" for a little over a month now...roughly about 10 sessions.  I'm making progress... a little bit more every time.  I have made it over the turf climb a few times.  There was a celebration the first time.  Everyone was very congratulatory.   That's how the PRiDE crew does things...   

Some Women....

This piece was SUPPOSED to have appeared in a Motorcycle E-zine....but apparently not, so I re-tooled it. 

Some women appreciate the fire-engine red sole of a beautiful Christian Louboutin high heel shoe, others find the imaginative creativity of Dior couture clothing to be more to their liking, there are even those who can be seduced with fine jewelry and diamonds. Not me.  I've never gotten the knack of using a curling iron, can't wear mascara to save my life and I never learned to walk correctly in high heels.  All it takes to get my heart pumping and make my breathing erratic is a v-twin engine, some chrome, and handlebars all riding on two wheels.

I have come to the conclusion that my love of all things chromed and two-wheeled is genetic. I've always had a love of speed and the wind in my face and I wondered where it came from. As it turns out, I got it from my parents.

Way back in the late fifties my dad was a young man in the Air Force, stationed in Japan. He and his friends would rent motorcycles on the weekend and go sight seeing. When he came back stateside and was in Arizona, he and his buddy would trade vehicles sometimes if his buddy had a date. The buddy would take dad's car and he would get stuck with the other guy's Harley Davidson. Awwww, poor Dad. While he was in possession of the Harley he would pick my mom up and they would go out exploring the desert with other couples and their bikes. When mom and dad got married, the moto fever went dormant for a few years. They settled into life and became parents.

It was awakened in me when I was about 6 years old. The whole family was out east visiting dad's family in Pennsylvania. My uncle had recently gotten a Corvette and he wanted to take me for a ride. I was buckled into the passenger seat and off we went. I don't remember this, but from what dad told me, when uncle Harry buried the needle in the speedometer, I begged him to “make it go faster!” A few years after that, on yet another family trip, Harry took me for another ride. This time on a motorcycle. I don't remember what the bike looked like, but I remember the wind in my face and the countryside racing by me. This must be what heaven is like. Somewhere, there is a picture of me on Uncle Harry's bike, but I can't find it.

When my parents divorced, dad got another bike, it was a beautiful 1972 Honda Goldwing. I get shivers remembering that bike. Dad would take me and my sister for rides on it. I dreamed of a day when I would be able to be in control of a machine that beautiful. Time marched on, I grew older, dated, married, became a young mother and the dream again went dormant.

When the kids got older my husband bought a Honda Nighthawk. It was a thing of beauty. I lusted after it like a hungry person lusts for a crust of bread. I fell in love with riding all over again. The plan was that he would teach me to ride. It never happened. We got divorced instead and the dream again went to sleep.

In June of 2008 mom was diagnosed with Lymphoma. She had fought this disease once before and we knew that this time it was not going to be an easy fight. During the course of her treatments I learned a hard lesson about how precious life was and how important it was to pursue your dreams when you had the chance.

I made plans to take a motorcycle safety course and get my license. The state of Illinois offers the classes for free. You register through the local college and take the three day course. They provide everything, the bikes, the helmets and all you have to do is show up and get instructed. At the end of the course you take the written test, the road test, and if you passed both you get a certificate which you take to the DMV to get your certification on your driver's license. I took the course in September of 2009. Unfortunately, I didn't pass the road test. My instructors were very encouraging and told me that “for a person that has never been in control of a bike before, you did amazingly well. Get some practice in, get more comfortable riding ,and then take the course again, you'll pass!”

I decided to get a bike, practice on it and then take the motorcycle course again in the Spring or Fall. I found "Blue" on Ebay. I watched the motorcycle auctions, and saw what the prices were like. I figured if I could find a bike cheap enough(under $700.00) I'd buy one. I had my income tax windfall coming in. Why not help out the economy and spend it foolishly?? I never really thought I would find a halfway decent bike. 

I watched "Blue" for 3 days, never bidding. "Blue" is a vintage(used) 1981 Honda CM400C with a beautiful blue metallic tank. She has some miles on her(but so do I) she has a great leather seat(OK..mine's not leather), perky headlights (no comment). She's been through some stuff, but she would be good for me to have some adventures with. I can't explain it, I had to bid on her.

When it got down to the final hour, I made my move. The auction was due to end in 20 minutes and I set a maximum bid of $650.00. I waited and I watched. I was the high bidder. HUH??? SERIOUSLY??!! I kept refreshing the screen - 5 minutes....4 minutes....3....2....1. OH MY GAWD. I just bought a freakin motorcycle for the grand total of $611.00!

Being a modern girl, I sent out email notifications and texts. The response was overwhelming and positive for the most part. Dad was strangely silent on the subject, at first, then he admonished me to be careful and respect the stupidity of other drivers, as well as my own inexperience.  I practiced on BLUE and took the course over again.  This time I did get my license.  Blue and i had a few adventures, saw a few sunrises and a few sunsets and we explored the backstreets and country roads around my small little town.    I always knew she would not be my last bike, she was only the beginning.  I really needed something bigger than a 400 CC engine to accomplish all the stuff I want to do. There were some mechanical problems involved and it just wasn't worth the investment to fix them.  I sold Blue to someone who restores old bikes for the sheer love of it(and to make a bit of profit when he re-sells them).  I have hopes that Blue ended up with someone who would appreciate her.  I'm on the lookout for a bigger bike, I'll know it when it finds me.

In the meantime, I am currently....(sob) bikeless.  I guess I will have to just content myself with being the passenger on the boyfriend's Victory Kingpin.. oh... the horror. (grin).

The Status Quo

Status Quo- The existing state or condition.   

I admit it, I've been a little lazy.  I was just going along, feeling all content and happy.  Living the dream as it were.  I had made some goals for myself, but I had just sort of half-assed it.  I didn't fully commit.  I did some of the work, part of the time. I didn't do ALL of the work All of the time.  This was brought to my attention recently by a conversation with my love.  

 He was trying to be supportive and was asking me how my 'program' was going since I hadn't mentioned it in awhile.  I was a little hormonal at the time(don't judge me!!) therefore, I didn't take the direction the conversation was going very well.  I took it to mean that I was not enough as I was...that in order to keep his love I had to become this person that I thought he had in his mind.   Remember that last sentence... THAT I THOUGHT HE HAD IN HIS MIND.  This was not the case.  All I wanted to hear was " No honey... you're beautiful just as you are.  If you want to change, do it for you, not for me." Since he wasn't adept at mindreading, he didn't know that's what I needed to hear. 

 Instead, he told me that he wanted to make sure that I wasn't going to be happy with the status quo.  That if I wanted to change, I would take positive steps to make it happen and not just play at it. He wanted the beauty that he saw in my soul to be reflected outward.  For ME, not for him.

It's a process.  It won't happen overnight. It won't happen in a week. It won't even happen in a month, but  It will happen.  I'm doing more about it now, I'm not just playing at it, I'm actually DOING SOMETHING every day to make it happen. He doesn't have a person in his mind that he wants me to become.  That was all in my brain, not his. Maybe if I wouldn't THINK I knew what someone was thinking and maybe ask them what they're thinking, a lot of misunderstandings and hurt feelings wouldn't happen.  There's a radical concept.

The key here is to remember that the number is not the total. The number is just that.... a number.  It can be high....it can be low...but it will never change who I am.  I'll still be the me he fell for - just the packaging might change a little.  For the better.  :)  

Let the record show that, he did tell me he thought I was beautiful, that even if he doesn't say it, doesn't mean he isn't thinking it.  That's all a girl really wants to hear.   

Just leave a note.

I joined this event on Facebook the other day. It intrigued me. It was called "Piercing the darkness-leave a note". The project was simple, and anyone could do it. All you had to do was write a simple note and leave it somewhere for someone else to find. The idea was to write something encouraging or positive and hopefully make someone else's day a bit brighter or just send out a little good karma to the universe.

I wrote my note, and I planned to leave it on the shelf at Walmart when I got a few groceries tonight. Things didn't quite work out as planned.

I wrote my little note on a yellow post-it note and stuck it to my list of things I needed to pick up at the store. I drove to the store after work and was getting out of the car when the wind picked up and whipped the post it note right off the list in my hand. I watched the note flutter for a few minutes and then I figured that the universe had someone special in mind for my note. I hope so. My note says simply this-

You, YES I mean YOU are more amazing than you realize..

You really are, you know.

This Mortal Coil

This time of year naturally makes me reflective. Of late, my thoughts have turned to mortality and the nature of death, dying and how we handle such events. This is my second Christmas without my mother and a couple friends lost loved ones or dear friends and these things have made me think deeper thoughts than normal. I promise this is NOT going to be a morose piece. Just stay with me, I promise this chain of thought will have a happy, or at the very least, upbeat, ending.

I was deep in thought one night when I received an email from a dear friend. A friend of his had recently passed away. He was a relatively healthy 51 year old man who went into the hospital for a routine shoulder surgery. Just a few days before he was admitted to the hospital the two men had talked and joked with each other. The man died on the operating table. My friend was still dealing with his shock over the event and told me that in his mind, there are 4 types of deaths:

1.Older people. We expect old people to die, so when they do, it's not really all that much of a shock. Of course, it still hurts when it happens, but it is somewhat expected.

2. People with terminal illnesses. Again, we expect this and sometimes, it's even a blessing.

3. Random chance. When someone gets run over by a truck or struck by lightning, it's just dumb (bad) luck. There is no reason why he or she was the one killed; it was just a case of being at the wrong place at the wrong time.

4. The "Huh, what?" category. These are the deaths that defy explanation. A person goes into the hospital for a routine procedure and unforeseen circumstances happen and they are just gone.

We messaged a bit more about life events, the holidays and that sort of thing, wished each other peace and went on our merry ways.

Another friend of mine recently lost the love of his life right before Thanksgiving. There was a very touching, yet simple, memorial and ash scattering ceremony. I thought that it was very personal, and classy and just absolutely perfect considering the love story these two people shared. It was very uniquely theirs and it was just exactly what the dearly departed would have wanted. We all have ways of dealing with our grief and feelings of loss when someone is gone from our lives. There are candles lit, prayers said, grave blankets bought, memorials engraved, ceremonies performed, but not one of us really knows what is on the other side. I choose to think there is peace and warmth and love on the other side. You may disagree and that's fine, I'm not trying to sway anyone here. I'm just giving an opinion.

When my time comes, and I really am hoping for a category number 1. type demise, this is what I want. I don't want to be memorialized in marble and I don't want to be buried. From dust I began and from dust I wish to be returned. Don't spend a lot of money on a container, I won't be in it for long. I want my ashes scattered from a lookout point at Pere Marquette Park – preferably one with the absolute best view of the river . I want anyone who wishes to participate to gather on the third weekend of October(when the fall colors are at their height). Wear shades of red and gold and brown, play the song “this ain't goodbye” by Train and release me into the foliage overlooking the bluffs. Then I want everyone to have a lovely meal, maybe some pasta, salad and ice cream. Sit around that table and tell the absolutely most embarrassing stories you can think of about me, laugh, maybe cry a itsy bitsy bit and remember me fondly. When its all over, the participants will be left with a memory of a lovely afternoon with a friend. I can think of no better tribute than to live on in the memories of my friends and loved ones.

I did promise you an upbeat ending and here it is. I have a mission for you. In this newly minted year, make it a priority to do these things. Take some chances, love unconditionally, laugh loudly, taste the ice cream, feel the snow and rain as it touches your skin, give your enemies forgiveness, let go of old wounds, keep the promises you make, and do something you've always wanted to do. Just try to live each day as if it were your last...or close to your last because one of these days, and none of us knows exactly when, you'll be right. You'll never regret it. I promise.

into the wild blue yonder....with sis.

Once upon a time...there was a man, his name was Brian. He fell in love and proposed to a woman named Marcy. They planned a beautiful wedding in the great state of Texas. I, being a close friend of the groom, was invited to this momentous occasion.

I received the invitation in September for the October 29th wedding and since my boyfriend was not sure of his work schedule, I invited my sister to go with me. This would mean a few flights and a 4 day mini-vacation in San Antonio, Texas.

This was going to be a totally different trip than the trips of our youth. First of all, there would be no parents to monitor us. We were going to be completely unsupervised!! This could go several different ways and bail money might be involved, but the plans were made anyway.

Don't get me wrong, I love my sister, and I'm pretty sure she loves me, but we haven't spent 4 days alone together since....um...well...ever. I was actually looking forward to this and so was she. I spent the night at her place the night before the trip and we set off for the airport at 4am the next morning. When she suggested the timing I kinda thought she was nuts. As it turned out it worked out perfect. We made it through security with no problems and I was almost disappointed that I didn't get felt up by a TSA agent.

We made our connecting flights, our baggage fit in the overhead compartments, we didn't have to put up with misbehaving children or overbearing seatmates. Our traveling went amazingly well.

I wasn't sure what to expect at the wedding festivities, but my sister and I were treated like members of the groom's family. We were called the 'plus twos' because I was like a bonus family member and Kris was MY plus one. We were at the rehearsal dinner, the wedding, the reception and the brunch the day after. It was like a family reunion for a family that we didn't even know we had.

Things I learned in San Antonio:

1. Boy, those Texans do love their turnarounds and one way streets.

2. If you're getting on the highway, you best do it fast because you will get run over.

3. If I think I'm going the right way, the GPS says I'm going the right way and my sister tells me to take the next turnaround and go back... DON'T DO IT.

4. According to my sister. I snore. Loudly.

5. Without the distractions of children and husbands and significant others, my sister and I genuinely like each other for the people we've become.

When all was said and done the trip was a huge success. I got to see a treasured friend celebrate his love with a marriage ceremony, I can now truthfully say 'I remember the Alamo.' and I got to know my little sister a little bit better. I think mom would have liked that.

The 'Fun' Part(Alton Telegraph- 10-9-11)

On the first day of October in every year since 1964 an event is celebrated that is of absolutely no import to anyone but me.Well, that’s not exactly true. My family and children help me to commemorate it. That makes me....um...NOT young anymore. This is fine, after all that is the natural order of things. I’ll take it over the alternative every day of the week. I’ve spent this day in the company of my only daughter. We went over to the Galleria, had lunch, I got a makeover. There were a couple of phone call serenades from my boyfriend who is working out of town. It’s been very nice. It’s so funny how people are about aging, though.

While we were at the mall and the makeup artist was doing my face, we talked about how it was my birthday and I told her my age. "Oh…we don’t talk about ages! Never!" And I replied… "Why not? I’m proud of it. I earned every one of these years." And it’s true.

The lessons of my youth are now being put to practical use. All that stuff that I was told "you’ll understand when you’re older," I totally get that now. It’s like everything is starting to click. The complexities of male / female relationships are finally a little easier for me. I’ve learned that you can be a strong, independent woman, be part of a relationship and still not lose your identity. The childbearing years are over for me, and even though I treasured the babies I had, I really love seeing how my kids interact with the world on their terms and I really love the way our relationships have developed.I’m not just "Mom." I’m also someone that they like to be around. This is way more fun than I ever imagined. I’ve reached the point where I’m no longer the girl I used to be, but I’m well on my way to becoming the old woman I always hoped I would end up being. I am right, smack-dab in the middle of what I like to call....the "fun" part.

The fun part is different for everyone. Some people look fondly back at their childhood as the best years of their lives. Others seem to live perpetually in high school, reliving past glory days and festering old wounds. That just seems so sad to me. It seems like such a waste to spend your whole life looking backwards. Why not enjoy where you are now and look forward to the road ahead? It can be anything you want it to be.
Someday (not today!) I get to be a cool grandma. I’m not going to be one of those cookie-baking, ornament-making, knitting type grandmas, either. Oh no. I have plans for the kind of old lady I’m going to be.

A few years back, it was Social Security day and I was a bank teller. Direct deposit was not as prevalent then as it is now, so the lines of customers who were waiting to cash their monthly checks was pretty impressive. Seeing so many senior citizens in one place at one time made me and several of my coworkers think about our own lives and what the future had in store for us.
At lunch a group of us were discussing our respective futures. A few people said they would be grandparents or world travelers, maybe "snowbirds" that would spend their winters in warmer climates and their summers in this area. I decided then and there that the traditional role was not going to be my destiny.

I would start a senior citizen motorcycle club. We would be known as the Silver Foxes (so named for our gorgeous silver hair). We would ride through the drive through at the bank when we got our Social Security checks. We would rev the engines of our custom motorcycles, wearing our leather jackets, while waiting in line to cash our social security checks. Then we would probably hit a few yard sales and maybe go to lunch.

At the time the prospect seemed rather fanciful and I got a lot of laughs. You want to know the really funny part? I got my motorcycle license last year around this time; all I need now is the motorcycle and jacket. If I didn’t dye my hair, it would be silver. All the pieces are falling into place; I’m just waiting until I can assemble the rest of a respectable group. I’ll be taking applications in a few years. It’s going to be so much fun.

The Fondest Wish

Last Wednesday I stayed home from work because I was sick. Nothing major...just a flu bug or something. Obviously, I survived. : ) So I went back to work Thursday morning, Not exactly bright eyed and bushy tailed...but hey I was there. I went into the kitchen on break to grab a cup of coffee and there on the little breakroom table sat 3 cellophane wrapped fortune cookies. Lunch on the day of my absence must have been chinese. I have never been able to resist a defenseless fortune cookie. I have even stooped so low as to wheedle fortune cookies away from their rightful owners....all to get a glimpse of my own selfish future. tsk tsk.
      Anywhooooo, when I broke open the treat the fortune read " Your fondest wish will come true" and of course the obligatory lucky numbers. WOW. Fondest Wish. Hmmmmmm. Well, since this brain works a little differently than that of most humans, I didn't immediately wish for lottery fortunes or anything obvious like that. I started thinking about all the things I'd wished for in the past...the ones that came true as well as the ones that didn't.

      When I was 6 ,I wished with all my heart for a puppy....instead I got my sister.. I'm kinda glad that one worked out the way it did. When I was 10 I wished to be able to play "ARMY" with the boys at recess and NOT be relegated to the role of 'Nurse'.. I wanted to have a gun too...dang it! Well, three years later I got my wish. Dad signed me up to be on his company's rifle team. Got a bunch of trophies too. *grin*

      At 15, I suffered a massive crush on one of the most popular boys in school..I wished to be thought of as more than just the shy girl who sat behind him in math class and seemed to say something funny every once in awhile. Ok, I'll admit it...I wished he would kiss me. That one didn't come true. Well, not for many, many years anyway. It was worth the wait...my 15 year old inner self was quite thrilled about the whole thing.

      There always seemed to be something to wish for, something just beyond my reach. As if wishing for something really made it happen. I know its really more a consequence of working towards a goal and circumstances working in my favor. Still I wished. The wishes became less superficial and selfish as I got older and my life's priorities shifted....and I wished for things for the people I cared about. That my children would be healthy and happy and grow up to be the kind of people I would want them to be. That my parents would find happiness and be healthy. That my sister and brother in law would have the life they wanted. That Mom would not be in pain anymore, that we'd have more time. Most of these wishes came true....

      And now, this wish. I'm in the unique position of having nothing to wish for. I'm happy, independent, in a healthy relationship. I don't have a lot of money...and that's ok, I don't need a lot. What I do have is way more than what a lot of people have and I'm grateful for it. When I told my boyfriend about the fortune he said " That's pretty cool....what is your fondest wish??" I smiled to myself and said...." Just for us to be happy.."

      "sounds like a good wish to me...." he said. Yeah....I think so too.

Magnificent Obsessions

I thought I was the only one who had an obsession. I was sooooo wrong. I was five years old when I discovered that if you arranged letters a certain way...it made words. If you arranged words a certain way...it makes whole sentences. When you string a whole bunch of sentences together, you can express yourself and your thoughts. Books became my obsession because they contained all those wonderful words and sentences strung together to create whole worlds I could lose myself in for hours and days on end. Until I finished the book. This is my obsession. My parents accepted it. People I've loved have either accepted it...or hated it. Bachelor #1 never quite understood because reading was a struggle for him. Bachelor #2 was jealous of anytime spent reading. If I was in another world, obviously I was paying not enough attention to him.

When you can find someone who accepts you for your obsession...its an amazing, wonderful thing. Seems like you can search your whole life for that and never find it.Several of my friends have found that person who knows them and their obsessions..and accepts them. Paul and Julie have that. Heck they even share an obsession for vintage decorations which they change for every season. Halloween and Christmas are AWESOME, but all the other holidays and seasons are equally represented. Of course, Paul does have one other obsession...bicycles. It took over their garage to the point that it has become a side business. Julie has a fixation of her own too, wine and shoes.

Darrell collects old coins...and when I say old, what I really mean is ANCIENT. I went to he and his wife, Carrie's house once and made the mistake of asking about a recent coin show. I ended up with a total history of a coin that was probably minted when Ceaser walked the earth and I even got to hold it. I haven't discerned yet what Carrie's fixation is, but I think it might be organizing football team schedules. NO, I think that's just a necessity in dealing with her husband and son's sports.

Lance is a totally different kettle of fish. His fixations range from rabid political debate to sports, baseball particularly. But....He does have a bike collection. Only Schwinn's for some strange reason. hmmm, go figure. I haven't heard about any new acquisitions lately, I think because his wife, Michelle, threatened bodily harm.

Now, the BF is a unique case. He's not fascinated by anything small like coins.. He loves arcade games and pinball games. He collects them. When I first saw his living room...I must admit it threw me for a loop. Not a lot of people have pinball games and arcade games in their living room. Then, I had to put things in perspective..he's single, it's his house, he's a guy. Why not? I faced my own obsession and realized that if MY fixation was out in the open, it just wouldn't be pretty. The only reason no one knows is because all my books are in a HUGE plastic storage container in my basement, and in my leather storage trunk in my living room, and in the wicker storage trunk I use as a side table and on my bookshelves.

We also share an obsession or two. We have a love of going out on adventures, mostly on two wheels. Wind in our hair, music cranking loudly.

But here's the thing...not only does he accept my "book problem" he texted me today that he had found something really special for me. For most women, you would buy flowers or candy, right? Nope..not for me. My guy got me: a Libre E-reader. It's pre-loaded with 100 books!! Classics that I haven't read but have been meaning to all my life. I nearly wept. That's never happened to me before. Someone got me something that I never even knew I always wanted. How cool is that when someone 'gets' you? Pretty freakin awesome is what it is.

four words.....

Just four words. They've come to mean a lot to me lately -'Wish you were here'. Always before I could be perfectly happy left to my own devices. Of course, there were times when I would wish for the company of a significant other. I just didn't stress over it, I just would lose myself in a book or become wrapped up in a movie and the longing would pass.

You can tell that you've met someone important in your life when the times when you wish for their company become more often than the times when you don't mind your own solitude. You find yourself wanting their presence as witness to the most mundane things. You need them there with you when you're not at your best to remind you that you're worthy of this relationship. After a rough day at work, you just want someone to commiserate with who will offer you solace and support.

Laughing at a movie is not as much fun alone, a shared guffaw holds far more joy and the sound is much sweeter. Cooking your favorite meal is great, but when you really want to nourish the person you care about with it, the charm is quickly lost and the food itself just doesn't taste the same.

I knew that being in a long distance relationship was going to be a challenge, and it has been and that's okay. I think he's worth it...and I hope he would think the same of me. I know there will come a time when we will be in the same zip code. The time that we do spend together makes it all worth it, and it's not like we live across country from each other. It's only a couple hours by car and compared to others who are in the same kind of relationship... we're very lucky. We still manage to spend a few days together every other week. Some people don't get to see the object of their affection for months on end.

yet..when I'm watching a favorite movie, reading a favorite book, needing a hug after a long day, when I'm waking up in the morning and when I'm just falling asleep.. "wish you were here".