Employment Means Grooming!

Settling back into a work routine has been amazingly easy. It's like riding a bike. After ten months out of work you'd think it would take some adjustment but the work systems I had in place prior to my lay-off have returned seamlessly. I've only been back three weeks and already those months off seem like a long lost dream. The one thing I didn't take into consideration as I prepared to return to the workplace was the grooming- day in, day out- you gotta look good! Well, at least clean and appropriate.

Women have it so much harder then men. Not in all cases, but most. Definitely in mine. Craig doesn't even have hair. When we travel, he needs a razor, deodorant and toothpaste. I have an arsenal of product I can't seem to live without. It's ridiculous- this quest to look good. And... it gets harder the older you get.

So now I am back at work and I have to groom EVERY DAY. For some this might not be an issue, but I am truly a closet slob. When I come home at the end of the day (and this was even in office environments where jeans were acceptable), I change into my favorite, softest, oldest clothes. In the summer this attire includes stretched out, faded t-shirts and drawstring shorts and in the winter faded almost to gray, black sweats and layers of long sleeved t- shirts and fleece. All of which are so old I can't recall when they were purchased and many of which have some kind of permanent stain.

While they are clean, they are not meant for viewing by anyone but my closest family. It took me awhile to even feel comfortable being seen in my "home attire" by my son-in-law. Yeah, it's that bad. Sadly, I began to feel so comfortable in these clothes that when I was living in the alternate universe of the unemployed, I did sometimes run a quick errand in said apparel. I'd think, "I'll be in and out, why change?" The entire time I'd pray I wouldn't run into anyone I know. I never did. I guess they were all working. You can get away with a lot during traditional work hours.

Interestingly, I do like fashion. Always have. In my teen years, I always wanted to be the first to wear the latest thing. This continued into my adult life. I like to look stylish. So, you would think dressing up would be a treat. And, it is occasionally, but this every day stuff is already getting old.

I'm anal about work clothes prep. I lay my clothes out the night before. I do this at the end of the day as I am changing into my home clothes. Not only do I choose my outfit, but I lay out all the accessories. This includes: jewelry, foot wear, scarves, etc. Doing this really does save me making decisions in the morning. It also allows me to grab a few more minutes of sleep. Very, very rarely do I change my mind about my chosen attire. What I lay out is what I wear. I even think down the road about apparel. If I know there is a specific activity coming up that requires
dressing up or down, I plan ahead.

In addition to clothing, I have to think ahead about my hair. I wear it curly. Curly means you have to let it dry naturally or it's just a big frizz ball. I wash my hair every other day- thank God. So hair washing day means getting up earlier. I love days I don't wash my hair. That means a pony tail. On those days I can literally do my hair in about 10 seconds. Hallelujah! 15-20 more minutes of sleep!

I do wear make-up but I have that routine down to a science. Takes about 2 minutes (maybe). Again, I forego make-up when I don't leave the house. In my period of unemployment, there were a lot of days I didn't leave the house. Glorious days of no make-up, my old, familiar clothing and hair in a pony.

I mourn those days already and fantasize about the day I no longer have to groom daily. I seriously think that when I retire I will be one of those women whose daughters shake their heads and say, "Mom, you can't go out like that."

I can't wait...

VSL

Life Changes

We got the call in the wee hours Monday morning that my Uncle Jack had died. It wasn't a great surprise, we knew the end was near. In recent days every time the phone rang, my heart would skip a beat and I'd think... is this the call? When it did actually ring, the hour was early enough that I knew no respectful person would be calling, meaning it could only be bad news. I knew, of course, what this call meant before I even opened my eyes. Coincidentally, this call came on the first day of a new job. A job that came to me after 10 long, long months. Death is funny like that. It doesn't wait until it's convenient. Death arrives in its time, with no consideration for others.

Honestly, between new job nerves and the early hour call with the terrible news, I really thought I might vomit from anxiety. I hated that I couldn't realistically go to the far away funeral. I felt torn. One week earlier and I would have been there in a heartbeat but I couldn't quite imagine asking for time off from my first week in a new job- a job that took so long to come my way.

I must digress...

It's amazing to me that I haven't found the time to write about this exciting change in my life. After 9 months of daily searches for the right job, nine excruciating job interviews and a harrowing week waiting for a phone call that would put me back in the work force, the call finally came. It was the job I wanted. It came a week later then I was told to expect to hear from them. I was in quite the gloomy state of mind, certain someone else had received MY call. I tried to tell myself it went to someone more deserving, maybe a single mom with four kids unsure where the next meal was coming from. It didn't really help but, hey, I needed somehow to accept I'd failed again.

And then the call came. It was just the best news. Right up there with those kind of calls that let you know someone is getting married, or having a baby or just got a huge promotion. It was one of those kind of calls. I was just ecstatic.

My start date wasn't scheduled until after Thanksgiving, giving me a week and a half to fit in all those things I would no longer be able to do- stay up late, watch terrible Lifetime movies, read in the middle of the day, lunch with friends, celebrate with family and enjoy the Thanksgiving holiday. I soaked it all up, knowing I would soon be back to accruing time off.

All the while I was so grateful. Grateful that not only did I finally land a job but this was THE job- working for an organization I believe in, great hours, better pay then I expected, a short drive from my house. It was all I had hoped for. I can't tell you how many people, over these past months, told me, "The right job just hasn't come along." I scoffed. What did they know? They had jobs. They didn't know what it was like looking in this economy.

Know what? I think maybe they were right. I half expected I would end up in some job that I hated but was necessary for our financial survival. Yet, I kept holding out hope I'd end up somewhere I wanted to be, doing what I wanted to do. To tell the truth, I really didn't want a single other job I had applied for. I wanted this one. So... unlike past jobs I was more excited then nervous. I was looking forward to it. Ten months out of work is plenty of time off. Plenty of time to reach a frame of mind that allows you to really want to get back to work.

Which brings me back to the present...

Today ends my official first week of work. With all the happy anticipation, I'd forgotten how hard those first days and weeks are. It is just flat overwhelming. You have to learn the people, their names, their titles. You have to determine the hierarchy, the departments, your physical surroundings and how to navigate your computer, set up your phone. Then there is the most insidious aspect- figuring out the culture and the office politics. And, of course, you've got to learn the job. Where to start? It feels like too much. Your head spins. It makes your brain tired. It makes your body tired. You find yourself floundering and feeling terribly inadequate. I told Craig last night, "I think I way oversold myself." First days in a new job are lonely.

But... this I know. It will get better. All new jobs start out hard and eventually you figure it out and things improve and with that comes peace of mind. I remind myself that I have ALWAYS learned my job. I have ALWAYS been a devoted employee. I have ALWAYS made close friends in the workplace. For my personal comfort, it is vital to me that I find that one person (at least one), that person I trust, the one I can vent to, the one who shares workplace information (I hesitate to use the word gossip), the one I can turn to when I am feeling baffled, when I'm feeling down. The one who cares who Vicky is. I won't feel entirely comfortable until this person is found.

I remember so clearly the first friend I made in my last job. I was a few weeks into it, still struggling, when something very unusual happened at our staff meeting. I think my mouth was hanging open when I looked up and saw a co-worker wink at me. That was it. I was in her office with the door shut by that afternoon and we remain friends until this day. And, the job before that, I had my soda break friend. Those breaks were essential to our sanity. She, too, remains a dear friend.

I have faith this job will be all I want it to be. I have faith I will connect with my co-workers. But most of all I have faith this will be my last job, 'cause it damn well better be. I am NOT going through this again.

Each day I become more comfortable in my new work environment. Today brought a couple real conversations. I created a timeline that eased my unease. I focused on priorities and learned a little bit more.

And, all the while, as I was trying to focus on the job at hand, I imagined my family laying Uncle Jack to rest. Today was his memorial service and I heard it was magnificent. Jack's career as a professor at his local university, combined with 40 years spent in the same small, West Virginia town drew a crowd. Five loved ones spoke, including my father. The church was full and while I celebrated small workplace victories, my family celebrated the life of my dear Uncle Jack. Oh, how I wish I'd been there. Life can just be so complicated.

Through all of this, here is what I know:

Change is a constant. I will survive this job. And, while my new life change in no way compares to my Aunt Judy's, she will survive her loss and we will both be surrounded with love and support. LIFE will go on.

I can do this, I can do this.

VSL

Feeling A Child's Pain

The dream woke me with a start. I don't often dream and rarely are my dreams so symbolic of events occurring in my life. Usually they are odd and their meaning unclear. This dream was different. It was startling and didn't help to alleviate my already heavy heart.

I was cradling my newborn baby girl. Under a little tuft of reddish hair, the features below were the features of a child with Downs Syndrome. I touched her cheek and felt surprise at the heat. My baby needed to go to a doctor. As is often the case in dreams, there was a strangeness to my physical surroundings. The landscape I walked on my way to the doctor was desert-like, void of grass, trees or shrubs, mostly brown. The doctor's office was a table set in the middle of these strange, barren surroundings.

I sat on a chair awaiting the doctor's arrival and realized I couldn't remember the last time I'd fed my baby. In that moment, I felt such deep distress at my neglect and feared my milk may have dried up. I unbuttoned my shirt, closed my eyes and pulled my daughter close. She clasped on and greedily sucked. Milk surged and I felt intense relief to be nourishing her.

The doctor examined my baby and I headed home, back through the dreary landscape. On the walk I wiped a smudge of dirt from my daughter's forehead and realized, my baby was several weeks old, and I had never bathed her. When I arrived at our house, Craig opened the door and with tears flowing and feeling absolute anguish and guilt, I handed her to him and asked him, "Why haven't we bathed our baby?" Then I woke up.

My cheeks were damp with tears. The dream left me unsettled, yet I knew exactly why it had come to me. This dream had everything to do with my not being able to make things okay for a grown child. Everything to do with not being able to heal heartache, to heal a child's innermost demons. Everything to do with looking back and wondering whether past decisions may have harmed this child more than helped. Decisions that may have inhibited this child from being able to cope in a grown up world, to resolve grief in a healthy manner.

No one tells you that once you have a child you feel their pain as intensely as they do. I sometimes think you feel it more. When your child is hurt, you hurt. When your child is betrayed, you feel betrayed. When your child is afflicted with their own compulsions and torments, you feel tormented.

When I say I feel his pain, I mean I really physically and emotionally feel his pain. Just as I felt the pain of my other children when life threw them curve balls, when their hearts were broken, when friends betrayed and goals seemed unattainable. I feel the weight heavily on my chest. I feel it in the rolling of my stomach. I feel it in my waking hours and in my dream state.

Raising my children was a gift. One that seemed relatively simple in the early years. I conceived them easily. I bore them easily. I parented with an ease that came naturally. That is, until years later, when I realized what worked for two wasn't necessarily the best for my third. The same expectations, rules, guidelines and instruction weren't as easily accepted by this child of mine. This child who makes his own life more difficult by the choices he makes. So... for years now, alternating with happiness, there has been grief and pain and frustration and love- always love.

And, now this child has had his heart broken and I can't do anything to ease the pain. I can't do anything but listen, comfort, offer steps that will move him forward and help him see that this too shall pass. That in life there are simply walks we must make alone and he is on one of these walks.

In the end, all we really want is for our children to be happy. When they're happy, we're happy. I saw this in my mother and in all the wonderful moms I know who would take the pain from their child if they could. No one ever tells you it will be this hard. They tell you about the joy. The joy that makes all the pain worth it.

So while I carry this weight, I know it will pass. It will pass when my child forges ahead and is happy again.

VSL

What Else?

Life has thrown us some serious curve balls in the past couple of years. I'm now nine months out of work and looking daily. It takes a toll on you. Your life is up in the air, resulting in an underlying anxiety you can't quite shake. Headlines, unemployment rates and job loss stories intrude daily, reeking havoc on your attempts to keep yourself calm and focused. In today's world you're lucky to get an interview and even luckier if you land the job. Fact is... there just aren't enough to go around.

So, while you struggle to live on a diminished income and hope that next interview is your lucky break, you just don't want to even contemplate that it could get worse. But, of course it can. And, for Craig and I, it did. My husband's employer announced last week they will close the facility he works in- late summer. We are fortunate we have some months to prepare but seriously, this is scary. Both out of work? That's not good... scary, scary stuff.

Best case scenario: Craig wraps things up with his current employer, gets his severance pay and lands a job that starts soon after ( with no lapse in health insurance coverage). In the meantime, I find employment, get settled into the position and life goes on, slightly battered but hopeful for the future.

Worst case scenario: Neither of us find employment. This goes on too long and we lose everything.

Craig and I are now in the same boat as millions of Americans. According to today's paper there are 15,000,000 of us chasing 3,000,000 jobs. Making matters worse, Craig and I are too young to retire and reaching the age less inticing to potential employers. It's strange to think your age may make a difference in your employment status. Anyone in their 50's knows you don't feel old. I know I am wiser, savvier and way, way more awesome than in my younger days.
I'd like to say I really don't think the worse will happen but after having lived through the loss of a young family member, I now KNOW the worse can and does happen. You don't feel safe after such a life-altering tragedy. The worst is happening all around this nation of ours. And, while, I'm not exactly a glass half full kind of gal, I would also ascertain I'm not a doomsdayer either. I guess somewhere in between optimism and pessimism is this uneasy feeling that life as we know it really could change.

My sister reminds me that one thing we have going for us is family. No matter what happens, none of us will ever be without food and shelter. We're covered. Family would always be there. I know this, and it's comforting, but I don't really don't want to put family charity to the test.

Despite these troubling times, it is intriguing to find myself so increasingly grateful for what I do have. Like many Americans, I've always wanted more. But when life interferes and material things become tenuous, you just want to hold on to what you've got, making you realize their worth.

Not long ago, Craig and I were considering moving to a final home, one that we've dreamed about for a long time. Now, the house I live in seems so precious to me. This house and the things in this house. All the little worse for wear, not worth anything substantial. But it's my stuff. Stuff I value and don't want to lose. No more yearning for the house with character, the car, the big screen TV, the fabulous trip, furnishings, clothing, etc. I just want to keep what I have. I just want to stay afloat and happily adjust to the idea that what we have is enough... more than enough.

My parents never lived rich. A minister and a teacher don't have the means to do so but they saved and invested their money wisely and by all appearances are living a pretty fine retirement. I wonder if my generation will be able to do the same? Will my generation survive the losses in retirement accounts, crippling job loss, a failing social security system? Will our homes be paid off? Will our debt be paid off? Will we be able to live out our retirement years visiting grand kids, traveling, pursuing leisure activities we'd put off during our working life? Or, will we work until we die?

Pessimistic contemplation, I know. But those questions are there, lurking right under the surface, poking up their nasty little heads pretty much all the time. And, while I don't often lay voice to these demons, I know many Americans are wondering the same things.

As we move through these next few months, my goals are to stay optimistic, hang out with family A LOT, be prepared for the worst and remain grateful for all I have.

One day at time. That's my motto. Most days this works just fine.

VSL

City Girl Hires a Farmer

For as long as I can remember I've known my mother's family has farm land in South Central Kansas and Oklahoma. Wheat land in the heart of America. And, as long as I've known known that, I've also known that this land means a great deal to my mother and her sisters. This land, near the small town of Kiowa, Kansas was home to them. For four little girls who spent much of their childhoods living in northern India, that meant a lot.

The land has been in my family since the great Cherokee Run, when a relative many grands back, ran for free land. The run was held in 1893 and was the largest event of its kind in the history of the world. Over 100,000 land hungry white men (and a few women) ran to stake their claims. And for several generations, my relatives actually farmed it. This ended during my grandmother's generation. While her mother (my great grandmother) also spent time as a missionary's wife in India, she was a farm girl at heart and yearned for home. My grandfather also had the mission bug and a 2nd generation raised their daughters in India, a country as unlike the farmlands of Kansas as one could imagine.

There were long awaited furloughs home and, for a four year period, during the war, my mother's family lived in Kiowa. Those days were among the best of my mom's childhood. Despite those periods, mom didn't land permanently in Kansas until she left India to attend college. Except for a brief time early in her marriage, spent in Colorado, where I was born, my mom has lived the rest of her years in the state she loves. Even so, she has never lived anywhere near Kiowa, as have none of her sisters. They all married men who don't farm and who took them far from their family homestead.

During my childhood, my grandparents (retired from service in India) lived in California, another place nearly as exotic as India to a Kansas girl. Despite living so far away, my grandmother continued to take great pride and had much affection for the wheat land that served her ancestors so well.

Over 50 years ago, a young man was hired by my grandparents to manage our farms and unbelievably this same man, now in his mid-eighties, continues to do so. In recent years it's become apparent that this can not continue much longer and it's time to pass on the management of our family farms to another.

My mother and the man who farms our land

This brings us to my generation. My mother has three sisters who between them bore 11 children. Ownership of any type of land or property gets trickier when it's shared among 11. The reigns have not yet passed to our generation but the transition has started. One of the four sisters recently sold her shares, bringing us to 9 future heirs. In all reality, this needs to be further reduced to make it practical and truthfully, at all lucrative for the remaining shareholders.

And once again, not a one of my generation are farmers. My cousins live all over the country. I have cousins who have never stepped foot on the farms. I also have cousins who have and, like me, this land has meaning. We've been taught this land is to be valued and cherished.

While I've lived in Kansas my entire life and even lived in small towns as a child, I've never lived on a farm. My adult life has been spent in cities. I am a city girl. I'm not even an outdoorsy city girl. I like roofs over my head. I'm kind of a homebody that enjoys walking the dog now and then. I do limited gardening and while I enjoy digging in the dirt, it's a flower bed, for pete's sake. A flower bed located in a city yard, surrounded by a privacy fence.

As the eldest grandchild, I am beginning to take on a role in the future of our farms. In doing so, I've found it necessary to educate myself. This is vital because I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT FARMING. I am educating myself out of fear... fear and necessity. Because someday, possibly soon, I will be at the helm of the corporation that oversees management of this family land.

Until recently I had only been to Kiowa a handful of times, primarily for burials of elderly family members. I remember a hot summer day when I was maybe 11 or 12 standing in the Kiowa Cemetery as my great grandmother was laid to rest. I didn't know her well. Sadly, she spent her final years in a nursing home in Hollywood, CA, close to her two daughters who lived nearby and very far from the home she loved so much. What I remember about that day was the heat and the promise of ice cream if we were very, very good. As an adult I stood at that same cemetery twice for the burials of my beloved grandparents.

It was during that time that I started to look around and began to understand the history of my family and what this land meant to those who'd gone before me. A seed was planted and it grew to become a genuine desire to save this heritage. Because this land now has the potential to be passed on to many, it has been thrown out that the smartest thing to do is sell it. And, we could... sell it in a heartbeat. There are potential owners waiting in line to get their hands on this rich soil. I am of the opinion that we should not go this route. That selling our land would be like selling a part of our history. A history that has never had a direct connection to my life, but a treasured history nonetheless.

This brings me to why I am sitting here writing in the first place. The time has come for management of the farms to be passed along to another devoted farmer. As land owners it's our duty to see this transition through and that means- We need to hire a farmer... WWWhat? That onerous task fell to my mother and me.

When I told my sister I was heading to Kiowa to interview farmers, she laughed so hard she had to put the phone down. While barely controlling her mirth, she said, "What the hell are you going to ask them?" Barely able to speak at this point, she threw out standard interview questions.

"Tell me your strengths and weaknesses." followed by peals of laughter

"How do you handle conflict in the workplace?" chortle, chortle

More questions flew from her mouth, followed by uncontrollable laughter. She was unstoppable.

While I too could not contain my own laughter, I agree she had a point. How in the world does one interview potential farmers, when one knows nothing (and I mean nothing) about farming? I recalled visiting our farms with my mom this past April and the entire time we toured our land, I kept thinking, " Where does it start and where does it end?" How do people know this? If it was up to me, I'd put a huge purple fence around it just so I'd know. Just so I'd know where it starts and ends. Farmers know this, they know this just by looking at natural boundaries- like tree lines and creeks and dirt roads. I suppose I would come to know this too if I spent any amount of time there. But, the point is, I don't. It's all just very confusing, entirely out of my realm of comprehension.

With trepidation, Tuesday last, off my mom and I went for the 5 hour drive to meet the men our farm manager recommended to replace him. We met in a bunkhouse- paneled walls, 1970's carpet, a sofa, table, fridge and bathroom. This is where our farmer spends time on hot summer afternoons, taking shelter during harvest. Or, on cool fall days, following a morning of planting. It was a manly man's hangout. A place to shower, have a beer and talk farm talk. I'm not particularly finicky, but I couldn't have felt more out of place.

Soon, the interviewees arrived and the questioning began. I am happy to report these were really likable, intelligent, educated men. All eager to take over the responsibility of farming our land. They were never condescending and mom and I learned more in that afternoon about farming than either one of us had learned in a lifetime. It was enlightening and encouraging and made me even more determined to hold on to this land.

Now, decisions must be made. Who do we trust with this land that has passed from generation to generation? Who do we trust to honor this land and how will we ever find another like the man who has tended our land for over 50 years? A man who loves it the way you love land that you've tilled and planted and harvested for half your lifetime.

In the end, the interview process wasn't laughable at all. Our questioning was direct and reasonably intelligent and the men who sat before us took it very seriously. This land, this soil of our ancestors is ours and while we don't have farming knowledge, we do, in fact, treasure it. I think they understood this.

VSL- Landowner

Anyone who knows me knows I am a city girl. Despite growing up in several small Kansas towns,

Well... We Did It!

Yep, that's right we cruised. For all those friends who have been telling us for years you've got to go on a cruise, I have to say it was... enlightening. By enlightening I mean this. I always take pleasure in trying new things and seeing new places. And, don't think for a minute I didn't appreciate the opportunity to get away and do something new. But this wasn't exactly my idea of great travel. However, I really do get why a lot of people love this type of adventure, and... adventure it was.

We started our trip by getting up at 3:30 AM to get to the airport and hopefully catch the first flight to Dallas. You see, my husband works for the airline industry and we fly standby. This means that whenever we travel by air, we just cross our fingers and hope we can actually get to our destination. This trip we were able to get on all the flights we had hoped to (except for the final flight home and than we made it on the next flight). It's always a little nerve wracking, but hey, free is free.

We landed in Miami around noon and were at our hotel by 1:00. Our balcony room looked right out on Biscayne Bay. Beautiful! We didn't explore much of Miami but our night's stay was lovely. At noon, the following day, we headed to our ship. Boarding was very well organized and we zipped right through the process. Now this is where my head started spinning. Stepping on the ship was like entering another world- a loud, crowded, partying world. It took the better part of two days for me to even find my way around this huge monstrosity.

(Our ship was the larger of the two!)

Day 2 we docked in Key West. Love that town. I've been there once years ago and remembered it fondly. Now I remember why. It's quaint, unique and has a particularly interesting history. Craig and I toured the town via the "Conch Train". I would strongly suggest doing this for anyone heading there for the first time. You get a great overview of the history, the gorgeous homes and an opportunity to view the lay of the land.

(Southern most point in US - Key West, Florida)

Day 3 was spent swimming in the warm waters off Cozumel, Mexico. I'd forgotten how relaxing it is to bob in warm sea water. It has been a few years since I'd spent any time in a warm ocean. Maybe the best thing I did.

(Lily white Vicky resting between jaunts in the ocean- Cozumel, Mexico.)

Day 4 was at sea. On this day, Craig and I separated for some time. That was cool. Six days of constant companionship makes one start to get a little testy. Craig watched the Chiefs game at the sports bar and then tried his hand at Black Jack. He won enough money to cover our tips and travel home!!! Yeah! Making this even more of a "budget trip".

(Sunset from the ship)

Here are the things I didn't like about this particular cruise:

- Noise: Imagine 3,000 partying people.

-Inside cabin: I actually had a bit of a panic attack the first night. Something about the pitch dark and the image of a bizzillion tons of ship on top of you and an ocean just right outside that could come flooding in at any moment. This only happened once. In daylight I was not worried about any ship disasters.

- Quiet Time: No where to quietly read a book, contemplate, relax and just be. Now... you could do that in your cabin but inside cabins are NOT conducive to hanging out.

-Partying: I wasn't that interested in getting inebriated, which seemed to be the number 1 occupation.

-Cheesiness Factor: Bingo, anyone?

-Cozumel: I've been to a couple Mexican resort towns and to Mexican border towns, as well as the interior of Mexico. I always felt like I stepped into another world, but the Carnival port isn't the real thing. It didn't feel like Mexico, it felt like a stage set. I was disappointed.

Things I loved about the cruise:

-The Ocean: Warm, balmy, ocean breezes and the smell... yum, love that fishy, salty smell of the ocean.

-Convenience: Who wouldn't like taking their hotel with them? No flights, trains or car rides between destinations. No moving luggage around. No navigating new and strange lands without a clue. You are moved from place to place and guided every step of the way. For those who have some fear of new places and strange lands, this is the way to go.

-Gluttony: It's seriously fun to eat about every two hours, simply because you can. The food output is outrageous. Some of it was a bit sub par but much of it was great.

-Chocolate Melting Cake: Apparently anyone who has been aboard a Carnival cruise is familiar with this delectable dessert. I ate one every day!

-People Watching: I was amazed at the diversity aboard ship. Europeans, every ethnicity, families, hard bodies, beautiful swim suit modelish girls, very large bikini clad women, lots of seniors, drunky mcdrunkersons (we actually saw a young women puke all over herself and on those seated near her at one of the comedy shows), all ages, sizes and shapes. While I sometimes felt overwhelmed by all the bodies and the talking and the music, it was truly people watching heaven.

-People Meeting: We met some lovely folks on this trip. We also met some not-so-lovely folks, but they sometimes make the best stories.

-Entertainment: We saw 2 great comedians, a high cost variety show, heard lots of good music and enjoyed Karaoke. We even danced in a conga line (now how cruisey is that?). Craig sang twice and even had two women dance on stage with him and slip him dollar bills. Funny, funny, funny.

-Positive Body Awareness: Now hear this... you do not EVER need to be overly concerned about your swim suit body on a cruise. Seriously, no one cares and there are ALL types (big, really big, small, young, old, really old, etc.)

-Spouse Time: Spending time with the husband... always a good thing.

In the end I am so glad we did it. It was a new experience, something that is as important as breathing to me. Would I do it again? Maybe. I think location would be the enticement- I'm thinking Alaskan or Mediterranean Cruise. Somewhere I've never been before. It also would be fun to travel with others. Craig and I sometimes felt kind of left out with all the families and groups in abundance. And a balcony room would be a must.

I'm just grateful for the get-a-way. Now... where to next?

VSL

Going Cruisin!

Craig and I haven't traveled this past year. It's been a rough one financially; with a job loss, a child's wedding, college tuition, etc. But I believe that traveling is good for the soul and so, despite limited funds, suggested we plan a trip to Colorado at the end of the month. My rationale was we survived the wedding hoopla and hadn't yet celebrated our 30th anniversary. We deserve this. We can watch our spending this month and do the trip budget style.

Although Kansas borders Colorado, we live on the other side of the state, making any trip to the mountains a minimum of 8 hours. Depending on where you plan to go, the drive can be upwards of 15 hours. Our plan was to visit my brother's horse ranch and then head to the closest mountain resort, which in this case is Estes Park. Estes is not one of my favorite Colorado towns but it's one of the closest and within an hour of the ranch. And, the Rockies are the Rockies, whether you're in Estes or Aspen. We thought we could pack a cooler with food and beverages, find a reasonably priced hotel and just enjoy the mountain air, sight see for wildlife, take a hike or two and then come on home.

We haven't road tripped in a long time. I was imagining books on tape, stops in funny little towns, eating at local diners and just enjoying some time away. The Rocky Mountains compete with any astounding scenery in the world. And, though Colorado is the home of my birth and I've visited many, many times, I've never been there in the fall. I was looking forward to this getaway.

Interesting how things can change when other options present themselves! A couple days ago, Craig decided to peruse an airline employee website for cheap cruise specials. And, boy, were they cheap. Cheaper than driving to our adjoining state with a cooler full of food. I was pretty surprised.

Now, I know, for many people cruising is the way to vacation. But I grew up in a family of travel snobs. Despite growing up in small town middle America, the maternal generations before me had spent much of their lives living overseas and had traveled the world. My mom's snobbery rubbed off on her children as well as my dad.

Growing up, we experienced many weekend getaways to unusual spots in the Midwest. Our summer childhoods were spent traveling to my Grandparent's in California. We didn't stop at the usual destinations on the way. We would find ourselves camping on Indian reservations and learning how the Navajo lived. Or, driving deep into New Mexico to eat in a hundreds year old restaurant, well off the beaten path. Before we flew the coop, they made sure we'd seen Europe. While many of my friend's parents took their offspring on cruises as ways to celebrate big anniversaries, my parents, took us through the southwest by train to one of their favorite American cities- Santa Fe, New Mexico. Anyone who's visited knows this city is definitely pretty culturally advanced.

You really couldn't have grown up in my mother's home without being a bit of a travel snob. Some of the places we never considered desirable vacation destinations were: Florida, Hawaii, Las Vegas, Orlando and anywhere on a cruise ship. All popular vacation spots in their own right. People have fabulous vacations in these very spots. I, myself, celebrated a cousin's reunion in Vegas and took my kids on a vacation to Florida. And, while these spots are fine and can be quite entertaining, as a result of my upbringing, they just aren't among my top desired vacation destinations.

So, when Craig suggest we try this cruise thing, I was hesitant. I am not a sun person, I don't love Miami. I've been to Mexico several times. I just wasn't sure this was something I preferred over the Colorado road trip. But... it is something we've never done, so we booked it. Everyone I know loves cruising. Why wouldn't we?

This is truly a last minute trip. We leave in a couple weeks and like the Colorado trip, we will be doing this spending as little money as possible. This is, simply put, a last minute getaway. Craig has limited vacation time, so we will only go for 4 nights. We will be sleeping in an inside room (I'd much prefer a balcony room). But hey, if we like the overall experience and want to take advantage of the cheap fares, we can plan further ahead next time and go for the room upgrade.

Because it's a short trip, we only go to one port, Cozumel. I haven't been there but I've spent time in other Mexican resort towns and so have a good idea what to expect. I like Mexico a lot. I love the people and the culture. I like staying in Mexican resort towns, getting pampered, eating and drinking too much. So, I'm pretty sure I'll like Cozumel.

A couple nights ago my daughter Paige and her BF were over for dinner. We were discussing traveling and threw out the question. Where are the top five places in the world you would like to visit? These are my choices:

I must see India before I die. My mother and her mother both grew up there.

I would like to experience the Galapagos Islands. The older I get the more I love sea life and wildlife. Both of which are in abundance on these unusual islands.

I want to eat amazing food in Italy.

I want to stay in a white washed seaside inn in Greece.

And, I'd love to visit either New Zealand or Australia.

(Hard to stop at five. If I hadn't limited myself I would add Africa and SouthEast Asia to this list.)


Makes me think about all the places I want to visit (or visit again) in the United States:

I must return to Maine, one of my favorite states in this great country of ours. Maybe a trip up the northern seaboard on our way to Maine. I haven't spent much time in the northeast.

I want to visit Savannah, GA., go on a ghost tour and visit plantations from a time past.

I would like to see San Francisco, then rent a car and tour wine country.

I want to go back to Yellowstone National Park. I remember a trip there as a child and the delight I had over seeing the bears and the springs and Old Faithful.

I'd like to go to northern Michigan or Minnesota and spend time in a cabin on a clear lake, reading, walking and cooking freshly caught fish.

I want to take Craig to New York City and show him all the sappy sites and see a Broadway show.

In the meantime, I'm going cruising from Miami to a Mexican resort town.

How cliche... (At least we don't have to do the diet thing, traditional for any kind of upcoming ocean trip- no time!)

VSL

Health Care Reform- A Moral Duty

I want to tell a story about a little girl who had the misfortune of being born into a family who lacked the parenting skills necessary to raise her well. Despite poverty, neglect and the lack of a loving, supportive family, this child was the first in her family to graduate high school and attend college.

I believe one of the reasons she was able to succeed was because she was enrolled in her local Big Brothers Big Sisters program and was selected by not one, but two loving, adult mentors. Her first Big Sister moved far away when K. was around 10 and she was then matched to a family, a family that continues to this day to provide love, support and encouragement. This family is my sister's and K. has become a part of our extended family. She has attended holiday celebrations, family events and mourned with us over the loss of my nephew, whom she considered a brother.

When K. was in elementary school she was diagnosed with Crohn's disease. Her little body had already been badly battered by this terrible disease. Due to a lack of insurance and proper medical care, K.'s pediatrician believes she has lost 15-20 years of her life. A loss that was not necessary had she had proper medical treatment. The details of this atrocity are many and I will spare you them but understand it is due to a health care system that is broken and unjust.

Wednesday night I sat with my husband to hear what our President had to say about Health Care reform in America. I support President Obama's Health Care plan. It makes sense to me. It seems rational. To tell the truth, I'm not sure it goes far enough. However, I do understand the need for compromise. At this point any steps forward would be better than the situation our country is in today.

I was appalled at the behavior by some of the conservatives in attendance. I believe that wherever your opinions lie, it is fundamentally important to respect the office of President of the United States. But, even more important at this time and place in our American history is Health Care reform. I don't think anyone denies it is imperative we fix this broken system. Not only for children like K. but for the millions of working Americans who have been savaged by our current health care system.

There is an undercurrent of hatred in America that is truly frightening me. A contingent of Americans determined to undermine our current administration whenever possible. There is no question our Health Care system is broken. No question that reform is imperative. No question Americans hurt and die every day due to insufficient health coverage. The issues lie with how this can be accomplished. President Obama is really taking a very middle road. He is not proposing National Health Care as some of the extreme left would prefer, nor is he giving into the pressures of the huge insurance conglomerates and the extreme right. I agree with Senator Kennedy that this is a moral issue, an issue of character and one we can no longer put off.

The United States of America is the only wealthy nation on earth who allows such hardship for millions of people. One in three Americans goes without insurance at some point in their life. Craig and I have been very fortunate that he has always worked for large corporations who provided insurance coverage options. Our children grew up having no idea that this was such a privilege. We lived in a kind of bubble of unawareness, passing through the years with prescription cards, free well child visits, minimal co-pays and the ability to undergo any health related tests deemed important by our primary physician.

It wasn't until our children graduated from college and their insurance was cut off that we became aware of how many in America live. And it scared us. It was imperative that they find jobs with benefits. For our eldest, Paige, this hit home when a month after graduation, she came down with a serious virus and had to go to the doctor. Several hundred dollars later she learned how important insurance coverage is and the hard fact that in America, unless you are rich, you can't afford medical care without it. Craig and I obtained catastrophic coverage for both girls during this interim and were fortunate that they both landed jobs with insurance benefits shortly after graduation.

After three semesters of college, our youngest decided college wasn't for him at this time. We explained to him the importance of insurance coverage, that if he drops out of school, he gets dropped from our insurance plan. We explained that if he requires a hospital stay it could prove to be devastating financially. Guess what? Young, healthy men don't really want to use their hard earned small incomes on something that isn't tangible.

Eventually, Craig and I decided we couldn't risk his being uninsured and we are currently paying his premiums. With my job loss, a wedding under the belt and bills to pay, it's a stretch for us but we just can not allow him to go uninsured. Like most parents, I WOULD DO ANYTHING TO SAVE MY CHILD'S LIFE. If my child was uninsured and needing expensive medical care and denied it, I'd be that parent out selling raffle tickets and conducting bake sales to provide quality health care for my loved one. I'd be that parent begging everyone I know for help. A bizarre scenario in a country as wealthy as our own.

It goes without saying that many of our nation's poor slip through the cracks. Medicaid fills some of their needs but typically we see them in emergency rooms. We all pay for the costs of these visits. An affordable public option would cut costs for all of us. I come from a family that believes in helping those less fortunate. Insuring the poor of our nation is a moral obligation.

What I am selfishly more concerned with is my world of middle America. It's the hardship stories of working Americans that scares me most. People who've worked all their lives and through no fault of their own are stricken with a prolonged illness that reaches an annual cap, leaving them bankrupt and financially devastated. I'm talking about those working Americans who lose their job or choose to change jobs and suddenly find themselves denied insurance due to a pre-existing condition. My 24-year-old working niece is unable to obtain insurance due to a pre-existing condition. Her parents have tried all avenues to get her covered. One serious car accident or diagnosis and all they've worked for could be lost.

The current American Health Care system spends 1.5 times more per person than any other country, but we are no healthier. This is a fact. Scare tactics that are being spread around our nation are a result of bi-partisan politics. They are the result of insurance companies pressures on their elected officials. They are the result of hatred for a new and different President. They are the result of ignorance and denial and immorality. They are so ridiculous, they don't bear repeating or defending. Any intelligent human being on this earth should recognize subversion when they see it.

Now here is the truth about the bill President Obama proposes:
-If you have insurance coverage, you will not have to change your coverage or your doctor.
-Insurance companies will not be allowed to deny coverage for pre-existing conditions.
-Insurance companies will not be able to deny coverage with annual or lifetime "caps".
-This bill will limit out of pocket expenses. (No one should go broke because you get sick.)
-Insurance companies will be required to cover wellness tests like: mammograms and colonoscopies.

Congress needs to set aside their differences and join together to create a bill that will effectively change our Health Care System. President Obama's goals are simple: provide security and stability for those who have insurance (no sudden bogus dropping you from your plan), provide insurance for those who don't have it (perhaps a public option) and a slow growth of insurance costs (which are skyrocketing).

My limited understanding of the Republicans obtuseness, their outrage, their unwillingness to move forward and compromise is that they want to see clearer guidelines for medical mal-practice included in the bill and they are concerned the proposal will cost too much. So compromise. Figure it out. It's been done before. Look at our history: folks balked at medicare and social security, yet I don't know a single senior American who isn't grateful for those government programs now. Programs for which I hope are still in existence when I reach 65.

Much of the change won't occur for four years but if this bill is passed, it will immediately provide coverage to those who don't have it. Think of the people you know, the friends, acquaintances and loved ones who are suffering due to lack of insurance. Call your congressman and your senator and plead with them to find a way to make this change happen. Past administrations have tried. I pray that this administration will finally accomplish it.

Let your voice be heard. (Loud and Clear)

Do it today.

VSL

After Thoughts On A Perfect Wedding

A friend once told me that her daughter's wedding day was the happiest day of her life. I thought that was a sweet sentiment but I'd seen the harried parents of the bride and been involved in the frenzy of activities surrounding a wedding and secretly thought the day might just be a bit overwhelming and probably pretty exhausting for the mother of the bride. It's not that I wasn't excited and it's not that I didn't think there would be some pretty special moments but I really was not prepared for the love fest that occurred.

You see, my daughter's wedding was pretty damn perfect. The universe conspired to create perfect weather, an orange full moon, country air, a wonderful mix of wedding guests and a bride and groom in love and enjoying every single moment.

Yes, it was hectic. Looking back I find myself wishing I had spent more time with those who had traveled far. I wish I could have been everywhere at once and been a part of every special moment that occurred. But even though it did pass in a blur, I was absolutely euphoric. My friend was right. My daughter's wedding day was definitely one of the best of my life and I can now anticipate the same for my other children.

This aftermath is strange though, I am feeling a bit unsettled, even a bit upset that it is all over. You would think I would be exhausted after five days of wedding festivities but I wish I could turn back the clock, do it all again, only in slow motion.

Some Highlights:

-Tucking my grown daughters into bed the night before, feeling gleeful and anticipatory.

-Waking the morning of the wedding with the excitement one feels as a child at Christmas.

-Craig singing "Going To The Chapel" as Ali left the house.

-Gathering at my sister's house while the bridesmaids had their hair done.

-High fiving with Craig as we drove to the church, feeling some disbelief that the day was actually here and the moment had arrived.

-The arrival of friends and loved ones at the church. Some I hadn't seen in years.

-My joyous walk down the aisle on the arm of my son.

-Ali and her father making it down the aisle without Craig breaking down. Ali beaming the entire way.

-My father officiating the ceremony in the same church Craig and I were married in 30 years ago.

-My eldest daughter singing The Lord's Prayer as the setting sun broke through the stain glass as though God was blessing this happy occasion.

-Giving my new son-in-law his first "Vicky Kiss" at the end of the ceremony. (I'm told I kiss hard when I am feeling especially affectionate!)

-Watching Ali and Paul arrive at the reception site via horse and buggy.

-The full orange moon shining on the reception.

-Dancing, Dancing, Dancing- young and old alike.

-Hugs and laughter and a beaming bride and groom.

We were truly blessed. Blessed with no real glitches, blessed with friends and family in attendance but most of all blessed with a new son-in-law who is truly stellar. It's strange to add a new member to the family. I knew I really liked him but it didn't really, really hit me until the wedding day. As I looked at Paul, I realized I just love him. I love him because he is such a great guy, I love him because he loves my daughter, I love him because he will be a forever part of our future, I love him because he will be the father of my grandchildren. It may seem odd to acknowledge that feeling because surely it's a normal reaction but I don't always think it's a given and I was thrilled to feel that in a deep and abiding way.

All in all it was a perfect wedding. And while I am sure most mothers of the bride feel the same, I'm just saying... this really was amazingly, intoxicatingly, blessedly perfect.

Sigh...

VSL

It's Wedding Week!!!

My daughter, Ali, gets married on Saturday. It seems like just a short while ago I was saying -my daughter is getting married in 6 months, then 4 months, then 6 weeks and now it's here. IT'S WEDDING WEEK! Despite a certain amount of anxiety and trepidation, I am ready for this glorious day.

I find it interesting how the natural progression of life prepares you for these huge moments. A daughter is born and she grows and grows. First come the sleepless nights of infancy. Those days you hope will pass soon, and they do. And in a blink of an eye, you've weaned her from the bottle, sent her off to Kindergarten, traversed elementary school, ached with her during those awful junior high moments, taught her to drive, celebrated her in a cap and gown, driven away from a dorm in a far off campus with tears in your eyes, proudly watched her land her first grown up job and cheered with her when she met the man of her dreams.

And even though it passes quickly, life does conspire to prepare you for all those stages. So having a daughter ready to walk down the aisle feels like the next step. I am ready for this. Ready to watch Ali in her gown walking down the aisle on her father's arm, ready to celebrate with friends and family and ready to welcome Paul into our family.

I think ahead to next steps for all my children- first houses, career moves and babies. Yes, babies. I already think about what those babies will look like, maybe they will have auburn hair like my daughters, Paige and Ali, or a face full of freckles and cat green eyes like my son, Evan. I know deep in my soul that my relationship with those little creatures will be like no other. I CAN'T WAIT TO BE A GRANDMOTHER! I've seen how the lives of my parents, my in-laws and now some of my friends have been so enriched by their grandchildren and I know mine will be too.

And so I move through these next few days, giddy with anticipation, joy and excitement. And, though, it's a new phase in Ali's life, it's my next step too and I welcome it with open arms. Craig and I will now be the proud parents of a married child. I will add this day to all those shining days I've celebrated in my life- my own wedding and the births of each of my children.

Today I am trying to take slow breaths and enjoy this week, this week that comes with all the festivities lying just ahead and an understanding that it too will be over in the blink of an eye.

My daughter is getting married on Saturday, Oh Joyful day.

VSL

Inertia

I so admire those people I know (and there are many) who accomplish whatever it is they set out to accomplish. Those people who just seem to make things happen. It's not that I haven't accomplished a great deal in my life. I have. It's just there is so much more I want to do and to say I've done. Mark it off my list! And when I think about all those things left undone, all those things I hope to do, I get so annoyed with myself. I just don't understand why, if you want it, you don't go for it. Yet, with me, any roadblocks seem to stop the momentum and I just feel stymied.

I know that most things worth pursuing take effort and don't just happen but when I find myself "stuck" it is my natural reaction to back off and just float. And, when I say float I mean the floating can go on for months or even years at a time, with me running on the same schedule, doing the same things, not really moving forward. The result can be a sense of dissatisfaction with the life you've created and a yearning for all those things you desire but seem so out of reach. When I think about it, I guess there is a laziness in settling and not stretching yourself. This is especially easy to do when you are employed full time, working 40+ hours each week and managing your personal life. At those times, there are simply not enough hours in the day. Well, at least that was always my excuse.

The thing is I am at a point in my life where I have the time to make things happen. I have the time to plan and research and analyze exactly what it is I want to see happen in my life. I get so angry at myself when I realize that 6 months of unemployment have slipped by and I've done nothing substantial to really move me forward.

Most mornings I wake up, stretch and think, "Do something." Within an hour or two I've slipped into the sameness of my days- pick up the house, let the dog out, fed the pets, read the paper, peruse the help wanteds, check my email, groom myself, etc. etc. etc. More often than not I do have some sort of agenda for the day- lunch with a friend, an errand to run, house cleaning, laundry, cooking, grocery shopping. These tasks fill my days and by evening I usually feel like I've done something and now I can relax and watch TV or read a book or maybe take a walk. All this is well and good but days slip into weeks and I find myself disgusted just thinking of the hours and hours I've wasted just livin' my life.

What do I want to accomplish?

- I need to find a way to make money that brings me satisfaction but is not all consuming.

- I need to write and get something published. All these ideas for novels float in my head and the most I do is create an outline and a summary but rarely do I feel energized enough to actually stick my butt in a chair and write.

-I need to find a way to serve my community.

-I need to find a way to update my house on a budget.

-I need to reach out to those in need.

-I need to spend as much time as I can with my parents and in-laws as they grow older.

-I need to find a way to travel to all the exotic places I yearn to see.

-I need to explore options for renewable energy on our family farms.

-I need to study and learn more about those very farms as they will be passed on to my generation soon, and being a city girl, I know nothing about farming.

-I need to create a healthier lifestyle for myself and my husband. We are on track in some areas and far off track in others.

Inertia... it's a really bad feeling, one that can overcome you with it's weight. It's SO easy to be distracted with the little things required to manage a household and your life. So easy to be distracted planning a major family event like my daughter's upcoming wedding. So easy, to drift and float and let the days run one into the other.

My middle aged self knows life is short. I am most likely more than half way through my life. Letting the days turn into months, then into years is really rather irresponsible. Yet, for right now, I CAN'T SEEM TO MOVE.

I do know though, if my past life has shown me anything, it has shown me that these times of inertia are often followed by brief periods of extreme change and activity. Enough activity to satisfy for a long time, enough activity to make one exhilarated and weary at the same time. I suppose I am just waiting for the explosion. I just wish I were more the type that makes the change happen, rather than the type that waits for it to find me.

I am ready.... FIND ME, FIND ME.


VSL

Moving KU Style

Last week was moving week for my son, Evan. He lives about 30 minutes away in a university town. Up until last week we were unfamiliar with the "rules" of moving in this college town. Apparently you move out the last day of the month but are not allowed to move into your new residence until the following day. Makes sense, the new dwellings wouldn't be available until the prior tenants had moved out. But somehow, this never occurred with Evan's sisters. They attended a different university and their living situations never required this two day move scenario.

Plans for the move began with the sudden realization that the end of the month was approaching and Evan was moving from one apartment to another. Had any plans been put in motion? No. Did Evan have any of the information we needed to proceed with the move? No. Was Evan even aware that he had to be out by 5:00 on the 31st and not able to move into the new place until the next day? No. The initial conversation, earlier in the week, went something like this:

"Hi Evan, hey do you realize you're moving this weekend?"

"Yes mother."

"So... What's the plan?"

"I don't know, I guess you and dad will bring the truck and we can move on Friday."

"Did you know your dad can't get off work on Friday?"

"Bummer."

"Let me talk to your dad and see what we can figure out."

"Okay"

All I can say is, he should thank God for his parents.

Call back (later in the day):

"Evan, we'll move you Thursday to your Aunt Becky's garage and then come back down and move you into your new place on Saturday."

"Right-on."

"Have everything packed by the time we arrive Thursday morning.

"Okay."

"Seriously."

"I will mom. Hey, there won't be room for my sofa or my recliner (both of which were garage sale items) so I think I'm just going to throw them off the roof."

"WWWhat??? No, no, don't do that. We'll see if someone in the family wants them or put them by the curb for scavengers."

"Okay." ( He and his buds threw them off the roof. However, they were still considered valuable and all his curbside crap was taken by other needy students within hours of their curbside placement.)

Thursday arrived and the move went quite smoothly. Evan was packed and really didn't have a lot of stuff. We got it all in his dad's truck, my car and Evan's car. One trip to my sisters... unload it and on to helping my niece move. Oh yeah... she didn't have any specific plans in place either and once again it was family to the rescue.

I was looking forward to seeing Evan's new place. He was pretty proud that it wasn't the dump his first place was. When I say dump I am not exaggerating. He had a 2nd floor studio apartment in an old, run down Victorian. The walls were pukey yellow, the blinds were falling down, some of the window panes were loose, the bathroom was hideous. The first night in that place a bat welcomed him home. There was mouse poop everywhere. I'm pretty sure Evan hadn't vacuumed or cleaned his bathroom in months. It was disgusting. I ended up cleaning the place in the hopes we would get the deposit back. I used a disinfectant on myself afterwards.

So... back to the new place. I guess I shouldn't have let my expectations run too high. There's a weird phenomenon that occurs when you are of a certain age. Acceptable living spaces while one is college age are considerably lower than at any other time in your life. The same space you wouldn't have wanted to grow up in or reside in as an adult is perfectly adequate during this period. It's better than adequate, it's awesome. I will admit though, there is something strangely satisfying watching them turn their noses up at our obvious alarm, only to watch post-graduation as they aim higher and higher for suitable abodes.

Despite the fact I found the apartment small, somewhat smelly and well worn, I was careful not to be too negative. I think the only thing I uttered was, "It's kind of small." To which Evan, offended, said, "You never have anything good to say about where I live." I kept my mouth shut after that.

Later in the day we paid our annual homage to Wal-Mart to stock his kitchen and purchase those essential items he trashed over the past year. Arriving back at the new place, we encountered roommate number #3's mother. Now let me give you a little background. Roommate #2 is a long time friend of Evan's, whom we'd met on several occasions. All I knew about #3 was that he was from a wealthy family and would be providing most of the furniture. Really great furniture.

#3's mom's name is Vivian and she hails from Dallas, Texas. She had been in Lawrence for four days helping her son prepare for his move. She was APPALLED with the apartment and said so in no uncertain terms. The space was too small for three boys, it had an odor, it was filthy and finally, "What was all this stuff in here?" She was referring to Evan's and #2's miscellaneous items and furniture that wouldn't fit in their bedrooms. Vivian made it clear she had a truck arriving at 4:30 with much more desirable furnishings and these things simply must go. Roommate #2's response (when Vivian was out of hearing range) was "We don't need a !*#@ interior designer." He was insulted to say the least and left in a huff.

I should add that Evan has two pets- a dog and a cat. Both of which will be living in this small, cramped space with three guys and all their stuff. Both roommates are okay with this. As a matter of fact, Roommate #2 also has a cat- so make that three pets, three guys, one small, smelly apartment. So, given this scenario you can probably imagine Vivian's reaction. It took her a minute to notice the fact that I had a puppy on a leash. Her response, "Is that your dog?" "Uh, no, it's Evan's." "Is it going to live here?" "Yep." That's when she heard the meowing coming from the kennel in Evan's hand. Let's just say she wasn't happy and she left, just walked out the front door. I guess she needed to take a few deep breaths, or something.

This was all happening about this same time that Evan's landlord arrived with lunch! Now, how often does that happen? It seems Evan's landlord owns a local Chinese restaurant and promised the boys free food when they deliver their monthly rent. Now that's a pretty good incentive at the end of the month when money is tight and the refrigerator is empty. Needless, to say the scene was pure chaos- small space, mad mom, sweaty mom, three offended young men, two cats, one dog and an Asian guy delivering fried rice.

Evan and I hightailed it up to his room. We needed some distance from this chaotic situation. Vivian's son was clearly embarrassed and not happy about mom's controlling ways. Evan and I shut the door to his room and both rolled our eyes at the same time. I suggested we just stay put until things calmed down.

As is often the case, everything worked out in the end. Boys, I have found, are relatively laid back and none of them were too up in arms over Vivian's condemnation of their space or their personal things. Later I learned the furnishings really were very nice, probably way too nice for partying college boys. I also learned she chilled out and ended up being actually pretty friendly.

In the end, I looked like the cool mom by not expressing my disdain over the boy's choices. And that is always a good thing. I'm just happy move weekend is over. Driving home we thought we should probably just go ahead and put the date on our calendar for next year. I'm pretty sure we'll be heading that way again and will find ourselves moving him into an even more awesome abode.

VSL

Awkward Tech Moments

New advances in technology can prove extremely useful. It's interesting how you lived without certain services and can't imagine living without them today. They become integrated in your life. Things like email, voice mail, social network sites, the Internet, search engines, caller ID, access to hundreds of TV channels, etc. It wasn't that long ago we didn't carry phones with us everywhere. Growing up, my house had one phone, located in a central location. There was no caller ID, no call waiting. We couldn't even imagine the convenience of email and search engines. All these service are part and parcel of our day to day life now. We've adapted quickly and as new technology arrives, it's hard to keep up. Seems just when I accept and master one thing, something new comes along.

While we come to depend on and accept these services as part of our lives, they can present opportunities to screw up. I don't know how many stories I've heard where new technologies have put people in awkward situations, broken up relationships, caused work stress or were just flat embarrassing.

I still cringe when I remember the time I left a work related message on a client's voice mail and ended the call with "Amen!" It's nauseating to hang up and know you can't take it back. What's been done is done. Worse yet was the time I was in heavy city traffic leaving a message for a coworker when a semi almost sideswiped me. Forgetting I was still on the phone I said "Thanks Dumbshit" and then a split second later realized the phone was still to my ear and my expletive was included in my message. Thank God it was to a friendly coworker. Later when we listened to the message, she had so thoughtfully saved, you could clearly hear the expletive followed by the inhale of my breath as I realized what I had just done. This particular coworker found it so funny, she saved it and when she was having a bad day or someone else in the office needed a lift, she would play it for them!

A couple weeks ago a former coworker asked if I'd heard about the email another former coworker had sent to their boss. Apparently this person vents via email... emails she never intends to send. But... you guessed it, somehow she pushed send and off it went to her boss. In this email she spouted every issue (past and present) she had with him. Oops! I can only imagine the sick feeling that came over her when she realized what she had done. The aforementioned email was followed by an "I'm so, so sorry. I never meant to send that..." visit to his office. Her boss forgave her but won't soon forget.

One of the funniest stories I recall happened years ago, when answering machines were just becoming commonplace. Another past coworker had a crush on a supporter of the organization he worked for. She was married, he was not. Never would this young man consider hitting on her. She was just his fantasy. One day he left her a work related message at her home. He ended it with "Love You." Again... sick feeling in the pit of your stomach.

My oldest daughter learned her boyfriend of two years was seeing someone else. How? via this young woman's myspace page. She was alerted to the fact by a mutual friend. Checking it out she saw this young woman's relationship status was "in a relationship". Pretty painful to see who it was with and the pictures that were posted as further proof. In days past she would have eventually found out the old fashioned way- word of mouth or a confession from her BF. Seeing it written in black and white, with photos was painful to say the least.

Daughter number two recently had a really sweet message left on her phone by a stranger. Ali had been fruitlessly trying to connect with a local minister to schedule pre-marital counseling for her and her fiance. After no responses via email, she left a message on the women's phone, explaining her situation and what it was she needed. A couple days later Ali receives a message on her phone. "Hi, this is so and so. You left a message for a Rev. Wilson on my phone. I am not Rev. Wilson. You have the wrong number but I do want to tell you that I am glad you are doing pre-marital counseling!!!" Funny!

In our harried lives, filled with lists and deadlines and crazy multi-tasking, it's no wonder we push send when we shouldn't, leave crazy messages we can't take back or share pictures of betrayal. I know embarrassing social mistakes were made back in the day but the chances of them being forever recorded to a phone or a computer are just one of the drawbacks of the these high tech times.

Life's Little Ironies

This past October I had my first surgery. Not long before the procedure I had been thinking how lucky I was that I had reached middle age without any serious health concerns. Although my parents are very healthy, active seniors, they both had health scares in their 40's and I had surpassed them both. I think it is not unusual for your body to show signs of wear and tear in middle life and I was feeling fortunate. Then came the dreaded colonoscopy that revealed a very large polyp that couldn't be simply removed.

I remember waking from the procedure and in that fuzzy state hearing the doctor tell my husband surgery was required. At the time it didn't really register. I just wanted something to drink and to go back to sleep. When the reality hit I wasn't overly concerned. I had been told the polyp appeared to be benign and I held on to that.

Because this thing growing in me was slow growing, surgery didn't have to occur immediately. At the meeting with our surgeon I asked if it could be put off several months so as not to interfere with a month long work related trip to Kyrgyzstan. The surgeon felt that would be fine. I left that day and gave it very little thought. I am possessed with the ability to compartmentalize. In other words I can easily bury seriously worrisome things and live my life. On the other hand, I will admit to sweating the small stuff- those insignificant things that make you crazy on a daily basis. Like work, or house upkeep, finances or family obligations.

Now I need to share a little story about irony because if ever there was an ironic situation, this was it. And when I say that, for the most part, I can suppress worry about really scary stuff, I am telling the truth. Did I worry about the possibility of cancer, or the anesthesia not working, or serious complications? Well, maybe, a little bit, maybe subconsciously but not in any truly nerve wracking way. What did I worry about? ......the farting. Okay, I'm being serious here. You see my dad had the same surgery in his 60's and I clearly remember the post surgery uncontrollable tooting. It went on for some time. I remember the giggling behind his back and all the fart jokes. I was mortified.

Me? I don't really find farting all that funny. I don't even like the word fart. Yet I live with a man who finds it VERY funny and farts often, often unnecessarily. I don't know how many times I've said "Seriously, you're how old?" And my kids find it funny. My girls, in their 20's now, can be very earthy, particularly my oldest. She hoots over a good fart and isn't at all embarrassed to let one rip, even in front of her boyfriend.

My Book Club friends, particularly Mary, had a good laugh at my concerns. Mary has this amazing laugh, a loud guffaw that makes everyone smile. She was in agreement with the rest of my family- farts are funny. So, okay, okay I get that I'm a bit prudish when it comes to this topic. But seriously, I'm even a little embarrassed to be writing about farts. I DO NOT want to be that person who can't control her bodily functions and toots every time she gets up from her desk at work (in front of all her young co-workers) or every time she bends over. AND...I didn't want to wake from surgery to uncontrollable farting and my family laughing their asses off.

Okay, now here is where the irony comes in. My surgery went fine, the polyp was in fact benign and I was not in significant pain BUT, you guessed it- I couldn't pass gas- my ticket out of this place of torture and pain. Little did I know that all my years of repressing farts and sending dirty looks to my husband would come back to haunt me.

The expectation was I would be in the hospital for 3-5 days. I had my heart set on three. Unfortunately my body didn't allow that, bloating up like a beached whale. I looked about 7 months pregnant. On day three, post surgery, my gastrointestinal system still wasn't cooperating. The nurse would ask "Have you passed gas?" To which I would answer "Well, maybe a little." That wasn't true. I lied. Never had I wanted to feel the urge more and still no farting occurred.

At this point it was determined this build up of gunk bloating my belly needed to come out. Thus, the gastrointestinal tube was put in... while I was awake. Any of you who have woken from surgery with this tube already inserted knows that it is uncomfortable and causes a very painful sore throat. What you don't know, because you were under anesthesia is that it hurts like hell when inserted. A tube gets shoved up your nose, passed your sinuses and runs down your throat into your belly. It took the nurse three attempts, with me trying to shove her away and pleading with her to stop. I believe I let the f bomb fly more than once. Once inserted, the relief that it's over quickly disappears as you realize your throat is on fire.

The days passed and disgusting green stuff pumped from my stomach out this tube into a canister and still my body wouldn't cooperate. In the meantime, every day brought more injustices to my body- daily shots that burned, blood drawn in the middle of the night, medicines pumped in my IV that shot pain up my arm. I WANTED OUT. Please, please cooperate body. I was only supposed to be in here three days!!!

In the midst of all this, I wasn't allowed to eat. In preparation for the surgery, I couldn't eat the day before and post surgery I lived on ice chips. On day 9 my surgeon became concerned about my nutrition. She was considering inserting a feeding tube. It sounded abhorrent to me, it sounded painful and I was sick of painful procedures. I didn't care about my nutrition, I wasn't hungry anyway. I didn't care about my health. I just wanted to know if it would hurt. Her answer, "It's a little uncomfortable." Okay.... Now Hear This...when a doctor says it's uncomfortable it means it's going to hurt like hell. I was now an expert at doctor speak.

So, I begged for one more day and I prayed. I prayed my body would heal. I prayed the bloating would subside and yes, I prayed to fart. And around 11:00 that night something woke me up. I remember looking at the clock and hearing the whirring sound of machines around me. It was quiet and dark and as I came fully awake I knew something significant was happening. I felt a peace wash over me and just knew everything was okay. I felt the rise of my stomach and could feel that it had softened and was not as distended. I slipped back into sleep knowing my body had finally healed itself.

The next morning my nurse confirmed what I learned in the night. Later still, talking to my parents, I learned my dad slipped out of bed around that time and was praying for me. I was touched and thankful for his prayers and the confirmation that prayer works and small miracles do in fact happen.

In 24 hours I was eating again and released from the hospital. I am happy to say I did not become the butt of family jokes and have been able to control my bodily functions.

I learned a few good lessons as a result of my surgery. Nurses, like all of humans, can be kind or rather cruel. Pain is a given when you endure surgery. Hospitals can be scary in the middle of the night. Morphine makes you testy. The love and care of family and friends is crucial. It takes prayer to heal and... Farting can be a good thing.

(No Craig, this does not mean I think it's cute when you fart.)

VSL

For Better or Worse

Recently my mom shared a phone conversation she had with my Aunt Judy. Judy and her husband, Jack, live in West Virginia, and have throughout most of my life. Because it is a long distance we only saw each other on rare, special occasions. Throughout my childhood, those occasions typically took place in California where my grandparents lived and later in Arkansas where they retired. In my adult life I saw them when they came to see my parents, who live nearby. I always look forward to their visits. They are very dear to me.

Uncle Jack was head of the sociology department at the small private college where he taught. He was always full of energy; an avid jogger, hiker and swimmer. He and my Aunt Judy traveled often and enjoyed outdoor adventures. Well, let's just say he did and Aunt Judy, as the dutiful wife, went along. So it was surprising that shortly after retirement and only in his mid 60's, Uncle Jack's health began to fail. His legs kept giving out and his hearing began to go. At first it was a minor impairment but as time when on, and doctors were baffled, it became a burdensome thing. Burdensome for Jack, but also, very much so for my Aunt Judy.

Long distance trips to doctors, being home bound and Uncle Jack's constant demands are now what my Aunt Judy's life is made up of. In the phone conversation my mom had with Aunt Judy, she asked how things were. Aunt Judy replied "My life sucks." As my mom relayed this to me I got thinking how marriage and the roles and relationships in those marriages change over time.

Judy and Jack are not the only seniors I am close to who have had to take on the role of caregiver and disabled. I know of many couples whose end of life stage becomes pure drudgery- chronic illness for one and over the top care giving for the other. I saw my paternal grandmother sit by my grandfather's side every day in the nursing home. She did this for years. His death was a relief and a release for her. It was like she was a changed person and all the garbage from their marriage tumbled out. No longer saddled with her ailing husband, she traveled, joined clubs, enjoyed fashion and spent time with family. She shared stories, thoughts and feelings like never before. Freedom was a such a release for her. It was like she was allowed to live for the first time in her life.

My parent's neighbor cared for her Alzheimer stricken husband for a couple of years until she could no longer handle the responsibility. Once he was put in a nursing home, she left for weeks at a time visiting family and friends. Her weekdays are filled with lunches out, afternoon matinees and shopping. My mom rarely sees her anymore. Freedom never felt so good!!

Even closer are my in-laws. They live nearby and have had a wonderful marriage, filled with respect and affection. It's my mother-in-law who fell ill. She was officially diagnosed with Alzheimer's a couple years ago. We all saw the signs for several years prior to the official diagnosis. My father-in-law, Harold, is her sole caregiver. One son lives in the same town and helps out as needed. The other two sons, visit often and are willing to be there on a moment's notice. But the day-to-day grind falls to Harold. It's hard to watch the healthy dynamics of a marriage disintegrate, when in the end, this person you are caring for is not the person you married. Harold loves Marge and he will be there until the end but it isn't easy and I imagine each and every day feels like a chore.

As my daughter and I plan her wedding and I feel the excitement and anticipation just oozing from her, I contemplate how life changes and relationships change. You start out young and starry-eyed and, sadly, often end up bitter and disillusioned. The only options to this end of life scenario are that one spouse dies suddenly or both go at the same time- a rarity. The fact is, if you live a long full life; more than likely one of you will end up taking care of the other as their health declines. And, often, in the end, that person feels unimaginable frustration, oftentimes anger and resentment at being absolutely stuck in this position, through no choice of their own.

It's rather a depressing scenario and there is no real solution. No matter how you've cared for your body, no matter what your genetic history, no matter that you've never been sick a day in your life; in the end, most of us end up needing care. As my lovely neighbor Helen use to say, "Growing old ain't fun, girl."

I know it isn't and I hurt for my senior family members living through these tough times. I know the love is still there, it's just buried under the tasks of getting through each day. In the end, when the ill spouse is no longer with us; the memories of that person in their younger days will win out and those end memories will be forgotten. But, for those doing the care giving, it can be a long haul until then.