The Countdown Has Begun

If you're anything like me, it's not the Big-0 birthdays that seem to matter the most. It's the nines. The last gasp of a decade, the last chance to make changes to take into the 0. Well, another nine is upon me.

What have I done with my 40's? Am I where I planned to be? 

Am I happy with the choices I've made in my life? Am I content with my progress so far? 

What do I plan to accomplish in the last year of them to start my 50's in a better place? 

-----All great pondering thoughts, if I dare say so myself. 

So, some big life changes since my last blog (and the reason it's been a lengthy silence).

1. I divorced the grumpy spouse after 20 years. It was a good thing, long overdue. No hard feelings on my part. We had grown apart in every sense and we weren't happy. I wish him all the best. 

2. The youngest chose to go to public high school, so my homeschooling days are over. It hasn't been easy, some serious changes in his life too. With the help of dedicated tutors, he is adjusting. 

3. I got my real estate license! It's a new career, but in a field I was very familiar with from my days as a closing paralegal. [I had contemplated going back to work for closing attorneys, but the hours aren't conducive to being a single parent.] Being a realtor allows me a lot more flexibility and I love it! 

4. I've met someone new and fantastic. We are proceeding very gently into a new relationship. He adores me, and that's a refreshing change I am enjoying far more than I ever thought I could. 

With new love, comes extended family to blend. More to love, I say. This particular birthday has come with some unhappy losses. My boyfriend has lost both his mother and stepfather within a day of each other, the last on my 49th birthday. It's hard to feel celebratory while picking out urns. We'll get through this, but it is a bitter reminder to live each day to the fullest and to seek the happiest people to spend them with. 

The holidays are upon us. There is much strength in gathering with our loved ones and remembering the good times with those who have left us. There is peace in knowing they are reunited. 

I'm working on being my best self at 50, so there will be posts going forward to keep me accountable and to reconnect with my love of writing. I hope you all had a terrific Thanksgiving. 

Frivolous things aka budget busters

I have an affinity for stuff. It's uncanny. I can walk around my house, looking at things that need to be done (the endless renovation) and be instantly updating my mental shopping list. I did some yard work earlier this week, therefore I now want a Collapsible Wagon. Why? Because it would be super convenient when picking up yard debris and hauling it to the compost pile. Sure, we already have a metal wagon (two, in fact) but those take up so much space that they get stored outside (or off-site)...often with heavy things on them...so they aren't available for hauling the debris without moving other stuff. And it would be great for camping too. Not that we camp...but we could. Especially if we had a folding wagon. So you see my problem.

Speaking of camping, there's an Instant Cabin Tent that I want too. You know, for that one time a year my family goes to the races and might want to stay overnight. Or for sleepovers. Not that my son has people sleepover. But if we had one, he could. And if we get the cabin, we might as well get the cots, the folding camp kitchen, the solar shower, the portable potty. Of course, then we'd need a place to store all that...like a new shelving unit for the garage. This is what I call the "exponential wanted item," it starts with one thing and becomes...the entire REI catalog.

The list goes on. A cordless dustbuster. We aren't lacking in the vacuum cleaner department. We have a Kirby with all the attachments and three shop vacs. They just aren't convenient for the stairs, which are the center of my house and the first thing you see when I open the door. The stairs really should get vacuumed daily...but I hate to vacuum. The perfect gift for me would be the robot vacuum (this one), but it doesn't do stairs either. So I almost need a dustbuster, really.

I'm not talking about the well-planned and thought out remodeling list. Those are things that are integral to the final look our house will have when I'm done renovating. Things like lighting, new ceiling fans, the remaining components of our entertainment center from IKEA...those are actual, justifiable wants. I have a whole Pinterest board dedicated to them.

This is different thing altogether. This is some kind of super-procrastination-rationalization-consumerism thing. And it's a problem. I can't walk into IKEA or Costco without instantly acquiring things that I didn't need until I saw them. Things that now require storage space in my home, something this house is seriously lacking. Now the things that should be making my life simpler are spilling out into the way of living and spawning guilt when they aren't utilized to their full potential. By that, I mean the new wagon will require that I reorganize my side of the garage (again). Yet I'll feel guilty next Spring when I realize that we still haven't gone camping, despite me buying the instant cabin on Black Friday. Because what says "Thanksgiving" more than a place to let 8 - 12 teenagers sleep in your back yard, with a folding wagon full of snacks and a cordless dustbuster to control insects? I can't think of anything. But if I do, it's going on the list.

A Little "Extra" Work

My loving, supportive husband often laments my rather extensive wardrobe. In all fairness, it is everywhere. Maybe even excessive. Okay, maybe it overwhelms three closets in my home, multiple dressers, various storage bags and bins, even some off-season storage in the attic. I could never quite convey why I needed so much, only that I get an amazing deal (95% off) on new items all the time and tend to keep everything that fits. I can't really explain my thinking either, but I just seemed to know that it would all come in handy. As a homeschooling, DIY furniture refinisher, it was hard to justify the vast array of clothes I was compiling. Everything from upscale party clothes, office attire, brand-name casual wear, fancy pocket jeans, workout wear, scrubs, shoes, purses, scarves, coats...it really is more than any one person could possibly need or ever wear.

Imagine my surprise when I spent a few days looking online for casting calls for my middle son, the "background actor," and found several that fit myself. This was something I had done briefly back in MY twenties and hadn't even considered since until they were making a movie just down the street. The booking asked me to bring four wardrobe choices for each potential role they were casting the first day. That meant TWELVE full sets of clothing (with accessories, shoes, etc.), for just one job. I loaded up and headed off, into mind-numbing traffic that is the daily commute in Atlanta.

Two hours later, while others were being turned away or dressed in ill-fitting studio wardrobe items, I was deemed "perfect" and sent to hair and makeup. The first job back was pretty frustrating. I wound up not being used in the scene and sent home short of eight hours (a bad day). The second job, however, hit it out of the park. Fourteen hours on set, used in the scene beside the principal actors, and obligated for several more days to complete the episode - all in my own clothes and makeup. I was asked back for location work, wound up being used as a stand-in (cha-ching). Suddenly my clothes hoarding has a purpose. From bar scenes to offices, from random pedestrian to funerals, with a flashback, some period costumes, driving my SUV on camera to the potential biker chick (for a film, fingers crossed), I get to dress up and play out all the MANY sides to my quirky personality. And they pay me. Most of the day is spent sitting around waiting for other people, reading a book, making new friends, letting someone style your hair to look like a millionairess, AND they feed you.

Extra work here in Atlanta is somewhat seasonal, right now being a busy time, so I am taking all the jobs I get offered. The hardest part for me is not being able to talk about the exciting things that happen until the episode actually airs or the trailer is released. Pesky confidentiality agreements. I am having a blast, doing something that comes very naturally and making a few bucks. It's a new chapter in my life. No idea how long it will be or what the ending might look like, but I am enjoying the ride.

Adventures in Trolley Riding

Our family crest comes with the motto, "It seemed like a good idea at the time." 

Let me preface the story with some background information. This trip was intended to celebrate the end of another year of homeschooling, to spend time with my sister and her family who live in another state, to enjoy my "home" state of Florida beaches and theme parks and to commemorate the youngest becoming a teenager. I had grand plans, packed to the gills with fun, yet on a modest budget. Thus we begin...

My online search for bargain getaways netted me a 7 night stay at a posh resort for a pittance. Thank you, timeshare ownership! The only slight problem was that it was Friday to Friday and my sister's trip was Sunday to Sunday. Scramble mode ensues. The hubby springs on me that he will require both trucks during that time, and offers to pop for a rental car (if reasonable). Logging back in, I find an amazing deal, but there's a catch. It's a one-way rental. Picking up in Orlando and returning to Atlanta, I can get 9 days with unlimited mileage for less than $10 a day. It was too good of a deal to pass up, so I took it.

My parents live just a few miles away from me and are joining my sister for 7 full days of Disney merriment. So mom and I conspire to stretch the vacations to 10 days by piling in together. Easy enough, right? We can ride down to FL in dad's SUV on Friday. The 4 of us will stay at my resort (a lovely studio suite) for 2 nights, then they check into their Disney hotel on Sunday. On Saturday, I will pick up my rental car for the little and I to get around Orlando and get back to Atlanta. When we check out on Friday, we'll head to the Disney hotel and crash with the parents for 2 nights. It's a win-win.

To recap: eight of us will be in Florida for 7-10 days, but not all together. You see, the previous fall when my sister started planning her trip, I had planned to go and take the grandkids (5 extra people) using my timeshare exchange (a 3 bedroom condo). That plan fell apart when my oldest changed jobs shortly before Christmas. My youngest announced he did not want to spend "7 days at Disney" if they weren't going, he just wanted to go to the beach. So in January, I began searching for beach condos on his birthday week (later) and making plans to just spend one day at Disney all together on our overlapping weekend. Beach prices for Memorial Day week weren't horrible, but it was more than I wanted to spend for just a room for the two of us. I was beginning to think we would have to postpone our trip until July. I searched again in March, and kept seeing this almost too good to be true great deal in Orlando. It was the same week as my sister's trip and the price difference left money for theme park passes, restaurant dining and day trips to the beach in our (suddenly needed) compact 1-way rental. Finding the 7 day (3 park, unlimited use) passes to Universal/Islands of Adventure/Wet 'n Wild online sealed the deal. 

Plans are made, booked, and confirmed. The folks get their "magic bands," pre-coded with their fast passes to rides each day. My sister is every bit the obsessive-compulsive planner that I am (perhaps worse). I begin buying gift cards in March (4 times the fuel points discount!) for all the places we might eat during our 10 days so that I can avoid the sticker shock when the credit card bill comes in a month after vacation (lesson learned). This also ensures that we'll eat on budget, because $25 at some places means lunch, not dinner with drinks and dessert. I did splurge on the Disney gift cards, because that was one day that I did not want to worry about what things cost. It turned out that we were pretty well over theme park food by Tuesday and we wound up using them at Planet Hollywood for a splurge meal the last Friday at Downtown Disney. That was an awesome day.

So those who know me, know that I have borderline hoarding issues. [It's okay, I own it. It's true. I do have WAY too much stuff.] Packing was definitely going to be an issue. I like to travel in my own SUV (or the big truck), hauling my scooter, and loaded down with everything I might need to have a good time. My parents are booked at a Disney hotel, which is a room with two double beds and a refrigerator. They have 6 days of Disney tickets and the "meal plan." On their "off day," they have a special dinner planned, but otherwise they just need theme park clothes, swimsuits and one nice outfit. The youngest and I are staying in a timeshare, which means we have a full kitchen, a bedroom, a pull-out couch and a table, with several pools, a lake, nice restaurants, a spa, fitness center, and a golf course on property. Our plans include 2 non-consecutive days at the beach, which means boogie boards and beach towels. I reluctantly accept that I can rent chairs and an umbrella on the beach, rather than bring half the garage our EZ-up canopy, sand toys, beach mats, marine cooler, and folding chairs. Very, very reluctantly. [sigh] There was simply no room.

I bought a luggage carrier for the roof rack of dad's standard SUV (no third row), which worked out perfectly. It allowed me to bring virtually all the groceries we needed for our week with us, (bought only bottled water, bagged ice and some souvenir travel cups at the local 24 hour Walgreens when we arrived). I brought my boxed wine, my Starbucks blonde roast coffee, specialty creamer and stevia drops, his favorite sodas and snacks (stocked up with double coupons), breakfast bars, protein bars, lots of fruit, even the protein powder for my smoothies. I debated bringing my blender (chose not to in hopes that the kitchen would have one), and regretted it somewhat. Yes, I like my morning routine - even on vacation. I packed a full week of workout clothes for the same reason, but neglected to factor in that walking all day (from open to close), at theme parks is a workout in itself. So I wound up bringing home LOTS of clean clothes (again). Shush.

[Tangent] Years ago, we took the older two boys on a cross-country RV trip to the Grand Canyon. Best. Trip. Ever. In planning for that, I discovered REI and outfitted the 4 of us with hiking gear including this amazing invention - the Camelbak (hydration backpack). The name brand one is pricey, so the boys got standard daypacks and I added the Platypus hydration bladders to them. We were hiking the Grand Canyon at the end of July, so I was told this was the smartest plan AND "they are great at theme parks too." Fast forward a couple years, we took the boys to Animal Kingdom in July and used them all day, saving us a fortune on bottled waters, sodas, snacks, etc. Over the years, those packs have paid for themselves many times over. 

The youngest and I each have hydration packs, which carry 2L of ice water in the bladder, snacks, poncho, bandaids, our Subway sandwiches, chips, cookies and one waterproof box for the phones and my wallet. All of this was going with us. There's a pool bag with sunscreen, beach towels, his mask and snorkel. I have a suitcase (not carry-on sized), a separate overnight duffel bag for the two nights at their hotel, a bag of shoes, and four large reusable bags of food items. Youngest had one rolling carry-on bag and an extra pair of sneakers. There's a soft-sided picnic cooler, plus dad's small cooler. There's a travel pet carrier, loaded with gifts for my niece and nephew, which will hold the puppy (Coco) we were picking up on the way home. She was my mother's day gift to my mom that my dear cousin graciously kept an extra 3 weeks so we could avoid boarding her for vacation.

I get the over-packing gene from my father, who had to be chided into removing the "emergency" ropes, tarp, four blankets and full set of golf clubs from his vehicle the night before we left. His suitcase was as big as mine, and he also brought a large bag of full size bathroom items (think value-sized shampoo and conditioner), another of snacks, another of shoes, his boogie board(?) and a box of random tools. Mom makes up for thrifty packing (one suitcase, one backpack) with her random gift items for the family, pushing her to slightly more stuff than the youngest. The roof rack carrier went up, got loaded, strapped down, and everything fit. Bright and early (5 am), we hit the road. For reference, I make this trip in roughly 7 1/2 hours with my boys. Dad has this quirk about stopping for gas whenever you reach the 1/2 tank mark - which would be fine - but then he only puts in $20 worth of fuel. Over and over and over. It makes me a little crazy, I'll admit. He also insists on eating at Waffle House before getting onto the interstate. Mind you, we did not get gas then because it had not hit the 1/2 tank mark. That happened about 45 minutes later. So we stopped again.

Shortly after the gas stop, we made a rest area stop in south Georgia and switched drivers. I drove from there to Gainesville where dad declared it was time for lunch (at maybe 11:30). We got gas again. He drove from there to the turnpike so that I could "work the GPS" (my phone), although it gives turn-by-turn directions without me touching it. He repeatedly asked which exit he was looking for, then suggested several that we were passing, although he'd never been to the resort we were staying at. The GPS took us right to the check-in desk. Finally. 4:30 pm. (so nearly 12 hours later). 

I got checked in, got room keys and two parking permits. The room was ready, so we drove to the building. One very loaded down luggage cart got wheeled into the elevator and we headed up to the top floor. The room was nice, the golf course view was great. I got unpacked before we went to explore the pools, lake and resort offerings. I signed the guys up for the golf academy the next morning and we planned dinner nearby at the pizza buffet, less than half a mile from the resort. Upon leaving the pizza place, dad sought out the cheapest gas station to "fill up" (meaning another $20), and drove 3 miles out of the way to save 5 cents a gallon. Ironically, had he turned the opposite direction, there was another station with the same price almost across the street from the pizza place. [I know this is boring, but I wanted to explain why I wound up on a trolley.] I gave my parents the bedroom, so the youngest and I made up the pullout and turned on a movie. I neglected to locate my earplugs, so I laid awake for nearly an hour after the movie listening to my dad snore like a chainsaw.

Saturday morning. The guys have their free golf lessons and games, so mom and I attempted to find me an alternative ride to the airport to pick up my rental car at 5 pm. My GPS showed it to be roughly 15 miles from the resort, but over 30 minutes in traffic each way, meaning a good hour and a half wasted. I was eager to avoid another gas stop-and-go trip with dad, and I didn't want them to give up the free round of golf to take me. Dad doesn't let mom drive his SUV (who knows why), and she doesn't play golf.

First stop was the Hertz desk in the lobby. It was open on Friday when we arrived but busy, so I left without speaking to anyone. I was told that wasn't manned anymore, but that I could call the number on the sign and make an appointment. I tried the concierge (a separate desk) to inquire about an airport shuttle - but was told they didn't have one. Nor did they have any kind of shuttles, although I had by then seen numerous passenger vans with the resort logo driving around the resort. I took a card for the Hertz rep and we ran into the guys on a lunch break between their lessons and the open course time. I informed them of our plan to go on a nature hike to test out the shoes we brought and they left to get lunch. The nature trail turned out to be a muddy mess with downed tree limbs, so we backtracked and walked to the resort entrance. [TA-DA!!!]

The I-ride trolley had been my backup plan if I couldn't find a cheap enough rental car, so I had researched the price for a weekly pass ($12 each) and which resorts and attractions it went to along International Drive. Our resort, the Marriott Grande Vista, was located very close to Sea World and Aquatica, but the trolley would take us to the entire length of I-drive if needed. The Orlando bus system (LYNX), intersects at the Convention Center, so I knew I could take the bus to the airport. On paper, the trip would take roughly 60 minutes and cost me $4. That seemed a whole lot better than ruining the guys day and...well, the rest.

While standing at the trolley stand, I noticed on the map that my timeshare (Westgate) has a property just down the road. I knew from my previous stays that our timeshare offers shuttles, so I convinced mom to walk with me down to the Westgate Leisure resort to see if that was an option. It turned out to be a bit further than I expected since the office was ALL the way at the very back of the property, roughly 1.5 miles from our building. We made the walk, found the office and everyone there was super friendly. They had daily shuttles to the theme parks, but nothing to the airport. One employee offered to drive me after he left work that evening, but I thanked him and declined. He did convince me to sit through a timeshare tour on Sunday morning in order to save $100 on my theme park passes though, so it was worth the hike. 

As we walked back, we saw the pizza place from the night before and the 7-11 with the cheap gas, which gave us a good laugh. I called the Hertz card number (my rental was with Hertz), but got an answering machine for another resort. At that point, we made the executive decision to ride the trolley to get my rental car. As a senior, mom would ride for 50 cents, bringing the total up to $5, but I was still not willing to let dad drive me. We had told the guys that we would meet them at the pool after our hike, but when we got to the room, they were just eating lunch. We took the youngest to the pool, and dad offered to skip golf and drive me to the airport. I was sure that the trolley would be fine, so we left about 4:15 and said we'd call about dinner plans on the way back.

The trolley picked us up within about 10 minutes of arriving at the stand. It was a jolting, jarring ride for several blocks in heavy traffic. Then we stopped for nearly ten minutes to load a single guy in a wheelchair. None of the equipment seemed to work properly, and even once he was finally loaded and strapped, it took a very long time to get going again. Traffic got worse. People changed lanes like lunatics in front of the trolley, causing the driver to slam on his brakes more than once. We stopped to let the wheelchair rider off, took slightly less than 10 minutes. It was 5:00. We make the fateful decision to take the first I-ride trolley stop that intersects with the bus line we need to the airport. That was a mistake.

People came and went. Cars dropped off riders in the bus lane. People stepped of buses to wait for connections. Business people in expensive suits and heels walked by. Mom and I passed the time with conversation and people watching, but eventually I checked my phone. 6:45 pm. We had been standing at that bus stop for nearly two hours waiting for a route that runs every 30 minutes, allegedly. We saw one bus with the correct route number coming toward us, made a left turn at the light rather than a u-turn. We waited, certain it would circle through the hotel complexes behind us and come back. It did not. The crowd had gotten large and grumpy. A bus pulled up in the lane beside us marked "garage" and announced he was out of service with a bad tire. His fumes continued to pour out for 5 minutes or more, then he drove away promising a replacement soon. Several buses had passed while he was parked there, but the driver never suggested that we could walk down to the next stop or take another route for so many blocks and transfer. A 42 bus drives past our stop in the center lane while a few waiting passengers flail limbs and almost dash into traffic to get his attention. He does not slow down. Within a few minutes, another comes along and stops. It was now 7:15. I assumed (incorrectly) that the ride might now be quicker as "rush hour" would be over. Wrong again.

Between 7:15 and 8:55, mom and I experienced the transition from execs, to hotel workers, to landscapers, to staggering bums carrying 4 tall boys in a ripped grocery sack. Our bus nearly hit two cars. We drove past two active crime scenes, one with fire trucks, another with an apparent body in a car. The bum got off, but the smell of him lingered. The driver tried to stop people from getting on, but those stops had apparently been stranded as long as we had and got on anyway. A young man shared that he was 2 hours late for work because of it. At this point, we were over-tired, dehydrated, and a bit delirious. We were sure the guys had given up on us and gone to dinner, but my phone had no reception in the parking garage of the airport. We stepped off and headed for the closest restroom. Ugh.

Mom and I were laughing at everything, too tired to care. I spotted the Hertz counter and a nightmare...maybe 50 people lined up...with luggage...with carts...with small children in carseats...and I was suddenly not laughing. I was actually on the verge of a postal moment. In the distance, I saw the small sign that read "Gold Plus Rewards members use the counter across the street on the 2nd floor." I connected to the airport wifi and quickly scanned my emails for the confirmation. BINGO!!! I was Gold Plus!! THANK GOD for free internet memberships!

For the first time of our vacation, I was completely wowed. I stepped off the escalator to a Hertz Gold counter with two workers and only one customer. The gentleman asked for my name, and I offered my driver's license and insurance card. He shook his head and said "show that to the agent at the exit. You're in A103."

Stepping out of the office a minute later, the A row was in front me. 103 had the lights on and the keys were in it. The instructions on the wall said proceed to the exit with your ID. A lovely girl glanced at my license, confirmed my rental dates, offered me more insurance, offered me prepaid gas and printed a receipt. She explained the Sunpass sticker on the windshield and said, "have a great time in Orlando." We pulled out of the airport and onto the Beachline expressway. I drove through one toll plaza and TWELVE MINUTES LATER took the exit for the resort. We were almost hysterical as we stopped to call about dinner. It was 9:21 pm, FIVE HOURS after we left to go 15 miles. The guys had been watching a movie that just ended and had not eaten. Mom and I laughed all the way back to the room. I'm pretty sure the people at the drive-thru window thought we were on something. I blame the bus fumes. I even ordered fast food dessert - something I never do. Sitting at the stop light to International Drive, I did the math. 12 miles in 5 hours = 25 minute miles. I can walk a mile in 25 minutes.

The good news? Both of us decided our shoes were theme park material. I will probably be loyal to Hertz for the rest of my lifetime. I did not buy a Marriott Vacation Club. I got a great deal on my Universal Passes, plus a $100 gift card, for touring a timeshare I already own. My youngest and I had an absolutely fantastic time in Orlando from that point on. We rode everything but the kiddie rides at Universal and Islands of Adventure over 4 days. We went to Disney World with extended family, rode our favorite rides, saw some new shows and the fireworks every night. We spent two days on the beach, in the surf, catching waves. The boy bought the new boogie board he wanted and used it both days. We saw old friends from my high school, an old friend from my childhood, the house I grew up in, my schools and my first workplace. The boy got past his fear of the big roller coasters, even riding one without me the last day. We had good meals, bought souvenirs, played video games, got soaked on water rides and relaxed in the resort hot tub. The weather was perfect 90% of our visit, only getting really hot the last two days when weren't at theme parks anyway. It never rained, so the ponchos are still in the packages. The drive back was uneventful, right up until we turned the rental car in. Little Coco got car sick on the youngest 5 times between the airport and our house. I couldn't help but laugh when she missed the napkin and got his shorts the last time. She's too darn cute to be mad about it.

I have to give huge thanks to the wonderful people who made this trip possible: my hard-working husband, my wonderful parents, my awesome sister and her husband, my fantastic mother-in-law, our terrific friend Bob, my amazing friend Kim, my friendly salesman Mitch, Hertz Gold Plus employees in both airports, and all the loyal theme park workers that make it magical for us all. I am truly, truly grateful.

A few days after our trip, my sweet boy turned 13. I know the days of him wanting to travel with family are numbered. I'm so very grateful that I had these 10 days to be fun mom (not teacher-enforcer mom). I wish we'd been able to see more of the cousins. I wish it had worked out to take the grandkids. I know I will get to make that trip soon enough, but it won't be the same. My youngest is coming to the age of needing a friend along (or a girlfriend), of wanting to be anywhere but where we are, of seeing us only as financial backers and rule enforcers, of wishing we weren't so embarrassing. I know. I've been through it before, twice. Somehow I fear it will be harder this time. A little sadder. I want to cherish the days we have left, of silly jokes, of cartoons we know all the dialogue in, of wonder in new things learned, of snuggles and hugs and wanting me near when they don't feel well. I am so proud of my grown sons, and I'm lucky to have them close to me, to be near enough for the big occasions in their lives, my grandchildren's lives. I know that's the next chapter. I'm just not quite ready for the goodnight hugs to end.

A Chapter Closes

8:00 am on September 11, 2001. I was sitting in my recliner nursing a three month old YS and watching Good Morning America, as I had every day since his birth. The news report came in about a fire in the World Trade Center, cameras showed a huge plume of smoke emanating from the building. They went live to the scene, watching fire trucks arrive, firemen run in, people streaming out. I watched live as the second plane struck the second tower. My life was forever changed in that instant.

I remained glued to the television for the next 20 hours or so, not believing what I was seeing. We were under attack by a foreign aggressor of unknown origin. Instinctively, I wanted to be armed. I wanted to suit up and drive myself to Ground Zero. I wanted more than anything to reenlist. For a soldier, there is no greater calling than my Nation on her knees. I ran through the options in my head for days. What to do about the baby? The older boys could manage fine without me when the time came to deploy and seek our justice for this. But this tiny, innocent new life was a problem.

My spouse did not (probably still doesn't) understand my emotional attachment to this day, these events and the months that followed. He never served in the military. He was in law enforcement, small and local, and saw his duty to protect and serve people he actually knew. I respect that too. But it's not the same, and I can't express the gut level disappointment I felt for not being able to rise to the occasion when my country needed me most. I trust that God has a plan for me. This crossroad came with a clearly marked sign to follow, yet I still struggled to accept my place was at home, as a mother, without a gun or a uniform.

I took an oath when I was 17 and honorably served my commitment on Active Duty in the United States Army. I followed in my grandfather's footsteps, becoming the fourth generation to serve. Honor, duty, country - those were more than words in our family. My grandfather retired after twenty-five years in the Army, fought in WWII and Korea, and served in missile silos during the Bay of Pigs. He went to work for a defense contractor after that, continuing his life of trusted secrecy and military pride for another twenty years. I loved him dearly and learned my patriotism on his knee. My father served in the Navy during the Vietnam War. I officially now qualify for some "Cold War Era" service ribbon which they are supposedly mailing to me. I guess that means I can finally join the local VFW.

Leaving the politics of war aside, I will say that I never understood the Iraq mission. I spoke openly against it when it began, casting my clear doubts as to the ability to complete our mission in Afghanistan and against those men that attacked us by starting a new conflict. History will judge the men who made such decisions, and as a soldier, I respect that the mission is not ours to choose. Questioning the politics as a voter in no way erodes my deepest respect and unconditional support for the men and women carrying the orders out, at home and abroad. I briefly saw that it may have been a good thing I didn't reenlist, as I would no doubt have felt the same way in uniform and spoken openly about it.

It took nearly ten years for our justice to see daylight. The mission to find and apprehend the mastermind responsible for our generation's greatest tragedy has finally seen success. I applaud all those who contributed to this goal, including the Commander in Chief, both past and present. When faced with the daunting task of deciding the life or death of unknown hostile subjects in foreign countries, they did not waver in doing what was right for our nation at the time. I salute them.

For me, it seems like a chapter of my life has finally closed. The thorn piercing my soul has been removed so that it can begin to heal. I still wonder if I would have done it all differently without my youngest "surprise" child. In my heart, I know that I would have gone wherever they sent me and done my best to protect the country I love so much. Whether I would still be serving, I can't say. I guess I will never really know.

I am blessed with three healthy sons. I fully expect one of them to carry on the family tradition of service for their generation. I would prefer that all three did, to see what I have seen, to feel the pride and comradery, and to truly know that the world is bigger than themselves. The oldest is now a parent, so it's less likely that he'll make that sacrifice now. The middle certainly needs the discipline and structure, though I wonder whether he could follow orders long enough to see the purpose and grasp the ideals at this point in his life. The youngest, my child of the millennium, feels the duty to serve the most. It helps that he has veteran grandparents on the other side too. He's little, so when he speaks bluntly of doing ROTC in college and then joining as an officer to "make the real bucks," I have to chuckle. He's like an old soul sometimes.

I pray that we have seen that darkest days on our soil and that we can come together as a nation, of all parties, races and religions, to heal united from our tragedy. I hope that our children are never faced with another day like September 11th. I wish that they could know how it felt in that moment, if only to prepare them for the battles ahead. I vow to never forget those that gave their lives, both the innocent victims and the courageous heroes who went in to save others that fateful day. I look forward to the completion of the World Trade Center Memorial and a family trip there to experience it with my grandchildren. I seek a future in which these memorials grow few, the atrocities grow rare, the fear subsides, and hope and faith can thrive again. May God bless America.

A Year of Saturdays

Six weeks into the year, I am sitting with my calendar marking a few important dates and trying to schedule some "me" time. 2011 has 53 Saturdays and I have numbered them beginning with New Years Eve (12-31-11) so that they count down to it, our Saturday #1.  We have 46 of them left to go. Looking at the big picture, I am struck by a goal not to let this year slip by so quickly.  Or rather, to be cognizant of the balance between pure fun and reasonable home and family responsibilities.

January is gone, with its bitter weather and cabin-fever inspiring weeks of chores, projects and snow storms. February is plowing along, with teasing sunny days and free time to be outdoors with the youngest son (YS). Already, two Saturdays this month are consumed by family outings that are pure fun. This coming weekend had been set aside for a much-needed spring cleaning, as the grumpy spouse (GS) insists that we pare down the storage function of our spare rooms. So I think maybe the rest of the year should strive for that ratio too.

What will I do with the remaining 44 Saturdays? Well, #44 is our Anniversary weekend - so a date night with GS is in order. I am planning to run a few 5Ks this Spring with YS to further my fitness goals. We will be in Florida for nine days in July, a combination trip as one weekend will include GS, one won't. There are random birthdays, holidays, parties and sports to factor in too. But I am serious about keeping one Saturday a month as a project/work day, one as "other obligation" and two for pure fun each month.

There are budget restrictions to be met, so theme parks, cruise ships and air travel are virtually impossible options. I have asked YS to compose a wish list for fun weekends that include both mom/me time and whole family outings.

Camping is again on the top of his list, and this year I think I'm going to have to bend my "mom doesn't sleep on the ground anymore" rule. After three years of active duty in the Army, the VAST majority of which was spent "in the field," on assignment or training up for deployment, I feel I have earned the right to sleep in beds. In fact, I have insisted upon it for nearly two decades. But since buying an RV is not in the budget, I suppose I will make do by replacing the air bed the oldest "borrowed" five years ago never to be seen again.

Camping equipment has come a long way since my military days. There are reasonably priced coffee makers, portable stoves and camp kitchens, which are all now on my shopping lists. The tents are larger, simpler and lighter than ever before, and we own a nice three-room one. The beds and sleeping bags have improved greatly too. And I do love being out in nature. I even saw portable toilets, solar showers and a washing machine, though I have no intention of "roughing it" enough to need those.

Two locations have made the definite list, one state park near home and one in a mountain area. The state parks have some really nice little cabins that I will be checking on (i.e. BEDS and showers). The mountains are still a vague idea with the priority being on the available hiking trails. It's been years since we've gone camping, but this is the year I am reviving old traditions. We will also spend a night or two at the lake for July 4th, likely in the same tent. After factoring in YS' love of baseball (Spring and Fall), motorcycle races, and GS' fishing habit, I think I may be covered until nearly the holidays again. And maybe we'll even find the money to squeeze in a theme park or two along the way.

Let's face it, the years seem to go by quicker than ever and before we know it, there will be Christmas music playing on the radio again. Don't let 2011 sweep by for your family without at least giving it a little thought. So what will you do with your next 46 Saturdays? 

Keeper of the Flame

Be careful what you wish for...because you just might get it. In my efforts to get my household to go greener, eat cleaner and be overall healthier, I have discovered some down sides. I know you are reading this saying, "Well, duh. If it was that easy, we'd all be doing it."  So please take this not really as my list of complaints (though they might sound that way), but as observations from the front line.

I am a grown up recently re-committed to a healthy lifestyle. My spouse however, has come reluctantly on this journey because frankly he has no choice. He doesn't cook and doesn't shop for food (at all, ever). So whatever I buy, I have to plan, prepare, cook, store and reheat without the slightest interference (or help) from him. Since our youngest son (YS) still lives at home (for another decade), he's just a passenger either way. The little often volunteers to "help" with dinner, which is sweet even if not truly a benefit. I am learning to be more patient and use my teaching voice, so there's that.

Let me start with snacks, or as I prefer to call it, Battle #1. For me, snacks come in fantastic little pre-packaged servings bought in a convenient bulk package. I call them "fruit." Occasionally, they might also be veggies or nuts, but those require a second step. I have to put them into the snack cup. For my grumpy spouse (GS), snacks come in jumbo bags and jars, or are magically prepared in the kitchen and appear on plates. These include chips, crackers, four kinds of nachos and "real" popcorn. The first two come ready to serve, the latter means MITK (mom in the kitchen) time. YS adds things like fruit gummies and brownies to that list, respectively. I am buying a healthier version of those chips, but they refuse to give them up. So I will soon be resorting to memory loss...

 Battle #2, breads and starches. GS grew up on farm land, hence he believes in the traditional meat-and-potato meal. He eats vegetables, but thinks they should be boiled beyond recognition with butter and salt. Or covered in cheese, dripping with dressing, and wrapped in bacon...you know, for flavor. I prefer raw or steamed, and believe it has to have a color to have nutrition (crazy, I know). GS counters that butter yellow is a color, therefore by putting adequate amounts of butter in the mashed potatoes or on the white bread, there will now be nutrition. They have learned to eat red potatoes (skin on), boiled, quartered and sprinkled with dill. They tend to "yellow" them a bit on the plate, and I let that slide.

I only buy whole grain breads, but am beginning to bake my own at home. There is apparently something of a learning process to bread-making despite the wording on the boxed mix. The dogs have thoroughly enjoyed my failures. It makes me sad that I missed out on learning this from my great-grandmother when I had the chance. So far, her recipe has turned out one edible loaf from three attempts. Unfortunately, it was the first not the last, and I have no idea where I am going wrong. 
Time to resort to professional equipment and a how-to book, both of which are now on my anniversary gift list (March). By that I mean I have added them to the cart on our Amazon account, and GS just needs to click "checkout" and enter his password to have it shipped in time. And the one success loaf has them salivating over the idea of fresh bread daily.

Battle #3, going green. We had a hail storm two years ago and got a new roof. I insisted on the energy star rated one, and he agreed. Our subsequent summer electric bill went down a little. So we shrink wrapped the windows to correct drafts for winter. Well, actually, I shrink wrapped all the windows on the front of the house. GS put pink foam house sheathing in the back windows and the garage, and on the garage door. Electric bill goes down a little more. They extended the tax credit for insulation, so we installed the pink roll stuff on all the attic walls. Then I read that radiant barrier is what we should have installed, so I tell him.

It was my idea, so I am not complaining. GS is simply not the type of person you want to do home improvement projects with. He has no patience, communicates in four letter words and grunts and frequently throws tools (not at anyone). For an hour or two, that is no big deal. But imagine the joy of installing 8,000 square feet of what is essentially thick aluminum foil to the rafters and walls of your attic space with a staple gun and a step ladder on Christmas Eve.

The coworkers from hell. GS also suffers from a touch of "keeping up with the Jones'." Not in flashy things (luckily), but in man stuff. So when someone at work bragged about his wood stove fireplace insert, we had to have one. He must have called me ten times that day to find them on the internet and get prices. Skipping over the banner day we had installing it, the stove is here and working. EPA approved and energy efficient, it converted our unused pre-fab fireplace (visual: covered with pink foam held by duct tape), that was a complete waste of fire wood into a sauna furnace.

This winter has been unusually cold for Georgia. GS, being a native Floridian, believes that there is no such thing as too hot. Therefore, the stove should be operated at prime temperature 24 hours a day so that the electric heat never comes on. To accomplish this, one must tend the fire throughout the day. It stays roughly 400-600 degrees inside the firebox by keeping it stocked with dry, aged firewood and glowing with hot coals. This is now my job.

Fire wood is heavy, dirty, and attracts bugs so storage should obviously not be inside your house. For years, I have wanted a storage building beside the house to clear certain items from the double garage. GS insisted there was no room for such a thing, and he didn't want the motorcycle, dirt bikes, lawnmower and such getting stolen from a detached shed anyway. Then he got a boat. Somehow the boat cover I bought him wound up in the attic, as it was too much hassle taking it off at 4 am. I came home one day to find that my garden gazebo from the opposite side yard had been turned into a boat enclosure in the very spot where the building should have gone. This was rationalized by the fact that I did not use it all the time (false) and that it would "kill the grass" being up year round (it's moss). Since we also own a portable EZ Up, GS insisted I can just put that up over my lawn furniture when I'm actually out there (unless he's using it, or has loaned it to one of his buddies). Anyway, the gazebo was destroyed by the recent snow storm, so this summer I will finally get my building, sort of, because his wood needs a space.

In the meantime, we have a landscape trailer that has become the wood bin. Not because GS took that to go get the wood, mind you, but just because it's there. So he unloaded the wood from the truck bed onto the trailer. To keep it dry, it must be tarped. We have a two-story house, and the fireplace is upstairs. So each day, about a hundred pounds (feels like) of firewood must be moved from the "storage area" to the fire.

Would it not have been easier to erect a log rack on the back deck and enclose it, you ask? It would have, yes. But that apparently is not the manly way. Besides, then the wood could be stacked (ONCE) on the deck (upstairs) rather than onto the trailer to be un-tarped, carried in arm loads through the front door, up the stairs, through the living room, out the back door and THEN stacked in a trash can on the back deck. There's a logic to this, I am sure, but darned if it doesn't elude me. Did I mention that the boat parking, wood storing side yard has NO grass and becomes a mud hole when it rains?

The stove itself should have come with a thermostat that attaches to it magnetically. It is vital to keep the temperature in a certain range to prevent dangerous build up in your chimney and a potential house fire, or damage to the stove. GS neglected to order one as the website recommended, insisting it wasn't necessary (coworker said so). After reading in the owner's manual that it was extremely important, he tried to find one at the local hardware store (sold out). So, he instead found my Starbucks thermometer in a drawer and attempted to use that. You know, the kind you hang on the milk frother cup when you make cappucino so you don't get scalded milk. It's plastic, with a little metal rod, and reads from 100 to 200 degrees. Yeah, he "accidentally" melted that a little, but he'll get me another one. Days later, the meat thermometer was located and now sits prominently atop the stove. I am to keep the fire "between hamburger and beef wellington."

My GS needs reading glasses, but resists using the pair I bought him. The meat thermometer doesn't have the word "wellington" anywhere on it. There are numbers to the left (internal meat temp) and words to the right that correlate to those ranges. But what he means is to keep the gauge over and above the temps pointing to the right side words, between hamburger and beef Well done. If it gets up to Rare, you should open the door and let it cool off.

Somehow after graduating from high school at 16, serving in the Army and getting my degree in Criminal Justice, I foolishly thought that my life would be more meaningful by now. Yes, I raised two kids already, with one to go. Yes, I have worked in my chosen profession and made good money. Yes, I love volunteering at the schools, courts and charities. I really love owning my small business. Sure, I know that this is temporary. The weather will turn warm and this job will go away until next year. But for now, just call me the Fire Master.

I have to go, the beef wellington has simmered down toward hamburger. Then the organic vegetables have to be prepped for roasting. The stale bread needs to be toasted, then turned into crumbs to shake and bake the organic chicken. Then I have to let the puff pastry rise overnight for my dark chocolate croissants... Somebody remind me, what was I thinking when I made this resolution?