My husband and I were jolted out of our reverie yesterday evening by the news of the death of an acquaintance of ours, a very promising bluesman in Memphis by the name of Corey Osborn. We had seen Corey perform on numerous occasions, had numerous friends in common, and his death came as a shock to us. You see, Corey was only 23. Corey had been driving on an unfinished part of Tennessee Highway 385, and was found dead at the scene. His vehicle had rolled several times before coming to rest in the opposite direction of where he was headed... home from work. He had just called his parents to let them know he was driving home, but never made it. Visitation is tomorrow from 5pm to 7pm. God rest him.
I suppose it was fitting then today, when I did something stupid (like trying to open a window in the office) and knocked over my grandfather's coffee mug and the lamp on my desk. Both were broken in the process. It seemed to be a message for me. I worked feverishly gluing the mug back together, and when completed, it only vaguely resembled the keepsake I remember seeing in my grandfather's hands so many times and that I fought so hard to save. Oh, it still looks like a mug, but it looks like it has been through a war. It will never hold anything in it again, but will remain dear to me nonetheless and will be up safely out of reach on a shelf, in a place of honor.
Looking at the mug made me think of the hearts of Cory's parents, Scott and Lisa Osborn, shattered beyond belief, and never again to be the same. They too are battered and broken, and will gradually glue their hearts back together, but they will keep their memories of their beloved son safely tucked inside, and will somehow find the strength to hold together.
It also made me think of my own family... that of my brothers and sisters and my parents, my grandparents, aunts and uncles, and cousins that, in all likelihood, I will never see again. It's saddening. Somehow you all go on, and forge your own lives after someone disappears from view, but I wonder sometimes if anyone feels the loss of family the way I do. I lost a great portion of my family at a young age, and although I haven't written about it and, won't in a public forum, it still plays an enormous role in my life today.
With the passing of my father last month, it closed a chapter for me. I suppose all the cleaning out of my house has something to do with purging my soul. My husband and sons have told me "you never get rid of anything". I'm doing so now. It's not that I don't love the family I grew up with or cherish some of the things I'm forced to live without... but that's just it... I have to live without. But... age brings maturity (I hope) and with that maturity may come acceptance. I certainly hope so. I'd hate to have to live with shattered hopes and dreams like Corey's parents. We all have to learn to let go.
Nazdrovie'
Paczki Puta
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Secrets Of The Filing Cabinet
There I was... minding my own business... and getting ready to tackle emptying the roll-top desk so it could be moved. I really wasn't ready to go through it just yet. I just know it's going to take either a bulldozer or a blowtorch to get rid of some of the stuff we have in it, so I decided to try something smaller... the oak filing cabinet. In cleaning out the filing cabinet, I found a plethora of old memories, just waiting to be dusted off and tossed out. I cannot believe I kept these things this long... just more testament to the packrat I had become. I decided to start by taking the drawers out. Easy enough, I thought. I'll just have someone with more testosterone than me remove them. Ugh... what a mess. I cringed as I began to go through the accumulated junk. Wait a minute... maybe some of it wasn't junk!
I found the boys' old school records... pictures of them when they were in school... report cards. This is a no-brainer. Keep... keep... keep. Boxes of old Christmas cards that had yet to be used. Okay, I can keep those too. I'll just use them up. Who am I kidding? I hardly ever write Christmas cards because I just never get to it. Last year was the first time in memory that I actually got to the Christmas cards along with the rest of my routine during the holidays. So I kept them. I had an awwww moment when I found a card to the boys in my mother's handwriting. I read it and almost cried. Okay, I'm keeping that too. I found things that were addressed to the boys... a couple of letters from and an article about a monk that I used to go to for counsel and that I insisted Jason go to see when he was going through an angry spell as a youth... schoolwork that Rhys had done when he was very young... a prayer card from my Uncle Dick's funeral. I kept all that. A letter from President George H. W. Bush, addressed to Jason, with 2 photographs and his signature. I insisted that Jason keep that. He wouldn't, so I did.
What I didn't keep amounted to a sizable stack resembling a small mountain. There was a stack of brochures from Vermont. Once upon a time, Steve and I had toyed with the idea of moving there. I think it was around the year 1895. Chunk. Brochures from Gatlinburg. We visited Gatlinburg about 7 years ago and loved it. We always said we were going to go again, but we haven't made it yet. Chunk. Brochures from Seattle. Who am I kidding... with the amount of rain and overcast sky they have, I'll never make it past a week. Chunk.
Then there were items that were from very specific periods in my life. All the cards and letters from Mary Kay Ash, when I was a promising consultant and rising star selling the Mary Kay line of cosmetics. True, Mary Kay is/was a famous lady and did a remarkable thing with her business, but did I really need to keep all of this? Chunk. Pictures from when I WAS this budding consultant... keep. I can't believe I was that young or that thin. An old resume showing me as an administrative assistant long before I took up my screwdriver to become a computer tech. Keep. You never know, I might decide to do that again since I'm making a career change right now. Old "funnies" that used to be circulated around offices before the days of computers. Chunk. An old brochure and a letter from Moats Resort. DEFINITELY keep. A program from the 1999-2000 season of Opera Memphis, my last year as the Wig and Makeup Designer. DEFINITELY chunk. I don't know who most of those people are anymore. And they wrote such nice thank-you cards. All of which I chunked.
Then there were the instruction manuals from appliances I hadn't had since the Ice Age. Oh please, why am I keeping these? Okay, you got me. I was never THAT bad about wanting to keep those. That was Steve's phobia... that we would get rid of an instruction manual we would need. I got rid of most of them. I got the stack down to a respectable pile and put the keepers back in the drawers.
Maybe someday I'll go through it all again and get rid of more. But then again... the roll-top is tomorrow. God help me.
Nazdrovie'
Paczki Puta
I found the boys' old school records... pictures of them when they were in school... report cards. This is a no-brainer. Keep... keep... keep. Boxes of old Christmas cards that had yet to be used. Okay, I can keep those too. I'll just use them up. Who am I kidding? I hardly ever write Christmas cards because I just never get to it. Last year was the first time in memory that I actually got to the Christmas cards along with the rest of my routine during the holidays. So I kept them. I had an awwww moment when I found a card to the boys in my mother's handwriting. I read it and almost cried. Okay, I'm keeping that too. I found things that were addressed to the boys... a couple of letters from and an article about a monk that I used to go to for counsel and that I insisted Jason go to see when he was going through an angry spell as a youth... schoolwork that Rhys had done when he was very young... a prayer card from my Uncle Dick's funeral. I kept all that. A letter from President George H. W. Bush, addressed to Jason, with 2 photographs and his signature. I insisted that Jason keep that. He wouldn't, so I did.
What I didn't keep amounted to a sizable stack resembling a small mountain. There was a stack of brochures from Vermont. Once upon a time, Steve and I had toyed with the idea of moving there. I think it was around the year 1895. Chunk. Brochures from Gatlinburg. We visited Gatlinburg about 7 years ago and loved it. We always said we were going to go again, but we haven't made it yet. Chunk. Brochures from Seattle. Who am I kidding... with the amount of rain and overcast sky they have, I'll never make it past a week. Chunk.
Then there were items that were from very specific periods in my life. All the cards and letters from Mary Kay Ash, when I was a promising consultant and rising star selling the Mary Kay line of cosmetics. True, Mary Kay is/was a famous lady and did a remarkable thing with her business, but did I really need to keep all of this? Chunk. Pictures from when I WAS this budding consultant... keep. I can't believe I was that young or that thin. An old resume showing me as an administrative assistant long before I took up my screwdriver to become a computer tech. Keep. You never know, I might decide to do that again since I'm making a career change right now. Old "funnies" that used to be circulated around offices before the days of computers. Chunk. An old brochure and a letter from Moats Resort. DEFINITELY keep. A program from the 1999-2000 season of Opera Memphis, my last year as the Wig and Makeup Designer. DEFINITELY chunk. I don't know who most of those people are anymore. And they wrote such nice thank-you cards. All of which I chunked.
Then there were the instruction manuals from appliances I hadn't had since the Ice Age. Oh please, why am I keeping these? Okay, you got me. I was never THAT bad about wanting to keep those. That was Steve's phobia... that we would get rid of an instruction manual we would need. I got rid of most of them. I got the stack down to a respectable pile and put the keepers back in the drawers.
Maybe someday I'll go through it all again and get rid of more. But then again... the roll-top is tomorrow. God help me.
Nazdrovie'
Paczki Puta
Friday, November 28, 2008
Our First Aquarium
In the process of making our spare room into an office/study, there were some major changes to be made. The walls had to be painted, the carpeting installed, additional internet access obtained, the computer desk and bookshelves moved. As of this morning, all those tasks were accomplished. The biggest move, however, was to come today.
Moving our 55-gallon aquarium from the living room to the office was a major undertaking. The water had to be drained, but a small amount (several gallons) had to be preserved so the ecosystem could be duplicated. The large landscaping stones and driftwood had to be removed, as well as all the plants. When the water level was low enough, I gave Jason the go-ahead to capture the fish and put them in a smaller vessel until everything was in place, the water cured and the temperature an even 80 degrees. Some of the fish didn't want to cooperate, so it became necessary to mound up the pea gravel to cut off an avenue of escape. One of the fish thought he was pretty smart, jumping the levee we had built, but the errant swimmer was finally caught and moved to its temporary home. The behavior of that fish prompted Jason to recall the times when he had found a flopping fish on the floor of the living room and rescued "Flipper" to return him to his aquatic habitat. The very same thing happened to me as a child, when my father brought home our very first aquarium.
It was a 20-gallon aquarium, set up in the basement of our first home in Calumet City, Illinois. It was a brand-new adventure, and as Dad was setting it all up, he was telling me about how important it was not to make sudden changes in water or temperature, and to feed the fish regularly. I don't know whose idea it was to get the aquarium, but I know who had to take care of it... ME! But I loved it. There was a bottom filter, with two tubes, one on each side, and at the top of the tubes were extensions with bits of charcoal. There was a grid-like top to each of the extensions, so air could escape. The air resembled playful bubbles to me! I loved watching them.
Dad wanted real plants in the aquarium, and did all he could to get their roots plants firmly in the gravel. There were also some stowaways that came with the live plants. Snails were a common site, and if you couldn't dispose of them, they would multiply rapidly and eat the plants! My Dad used to take the snails and crush their shells between his fingers and then deposit them back into the tank, where they became free food for the fish. The first time he did that I was horrified! How could he do that, knowing they would be eaten? It was then that I learned the law of nature. The strongest survive. And Dad was always on the side of the fish anyway.
When all was ready, Dad disappeared to the pet store, returning with fish of the most beautiful colors! He explained that in order to reduce the shock to the fish, we had to let the bag float at the top of the aquarium for a half hour, while the water in the bag was allowed to become the same temperature as the water in the tank. I couldn't wait! It was so exciting to see the project come together. The magic moment finally came, and the fish were released into the tank. I sat for hours watching them. (Looking back on this, it wasn't a bad way for my parents to get me to settle down for a while.)
In the mornings, I couldn't wait to get downstairs to the aquarium. It was my job to feed the fish every day, so I would hurry down the stairs and watch them eat. There were quite a few mornings when I found find a half-dried up swordtail on the floor. As I ran crying to tell my father about the fish, he came and put it back in the tank. In a few minutes, the fish came alive and swam away! Of course, putting the fish back in the water didn't always work. Swordtails are notorious jumpers and we didn't have a top to the aquarium, so there were always a few casualties along the way.
This memory surfaced while my family and I were putting our aquarium back together in the office, and I tucked this away in my heart, noting that this was something they would always remember, just as I remember my first "fish tank", and the care of it made my love of the aquatic world grow.
Nazdrovie'
Paczki Puta
Moving our 55-gallon aquarium from the living room to the office was a major undertaking. The water had to be drained, but a small amount (several gallons) had to be preserved so the ecosystem could be duplicated. The large landscaping stones and driftwood had to be removed, as well as all the plants. When the water level was low enough, I gave Jason the go-ahead to capture the fish and put them in a smaller vessel until everything was in place, the water cured and the temperature an even 80 degrees. Some of the fish didn't want to cooperate, so it became necessary to mound up the pea gravel to cut off an avenue of escape. One of the fish thought he was pretty smart, jumping the levee we had built, but the errant swimmer was finally caught and moved to its temporary home. The behavior of that fish prompted Jason to recall the times when he had found a flopping fish on the floor of the living room and rescued "Flipper" to return him to his aquatic habitat. The very same thing happened to me as a child, when my father brought home our very first aquarium.
It was a 20-gallon aquarium, set up in the basement of our first home in Calumet City, Illinois. It was a brand-new adventure, and as Dad was setting it all up, he was telling me about how important it was not to make sudden changes in water or temperature, and to feed the fish regularly. I don't know whose idea it was to get the aquarium, but I know who had to take care of it... ME! But I loved it. There was a bottom filter, with two tubes, one on each side, and at the top of the tubes were extensions with bits of charcoal. There was a grid-like top to each of the extensions, so air could escape. The air resembled playful bubbles to me! I loved watching them.
Dad wanted real plants in the aquarium, and did all he could to get their roots plants firmly in the gravel. There were also some stowaways that came with the live plants. Snails were a common site, and if you couldn't dispose of them, they would multiply rapidly and eat the plants! My Dad used to take the snails and crush their shells between his fingers and then deposit them back into the tank, where they became free food for the fish. The first time he did that I was horrified! How could he do that, knowing they would be eaten? It was then that I learned the law of nature. The strongest survive. And Dad was always on the side of the fish anyway.
When all was ready, Dad disappeared to the pet store, returning with fish of the most beautiful colors! He explained that in order to reduce the shock to the fish, we had to let the bag float at the top of the aquarium for a half hour, while the water in the bag was allowed to become the same temperature as the water in the tank. I couldn't wait! It was so exciting to see the project come together. The magic moment finally came, and the fish were released into the tank. I sat for hours watching them. (Looking back on this, it wasn't a bad way for my parents to get me to settle down for a while.)
In the mornings, I couldn't wait to get downstairs to the aquarium. It was my job to feed the fish every day, so I would hurry down the stairs and watch them eat. There were quite a few mornings when I found find a half-dried up swordtail on the floor. As I ran crying to tell my father about the fish, he came and put it back in the tank. In a few minutes, the fish came alive and swam away! Of course, putting the fish back in the water didn't always work. Swordtails are notorious jumpers and we didn't have a top to the aquarium, so there were always a few casualties along the way.
This memory surfaced while my family and I were putting our aquarium back together in the office, and I tucked this away in my heart, noting that this was something they would always remember, just as I remember my first "fish tank", and the care of it made my love of the aquatic world grow.
Nazdrovie'
Paczki Puta
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Our Thanksgiving Without A Dishwasher
This morning, we awoke to no power in the house. The situation quickly remedied itself before it affected our traditional holiday meal, but it brought to mind a Thanksgiving about 5 years ago, when clean-up took an unexpected turn.
That Thanksgiving Day had started like any other Thanksgiving Day. I got up early and started preparations. The pies were done the day before, the turkey was stuffed and roasting in the oven, sweet potatoes cooked and candied, and all the other assorted vegetables, rolls and cranberry sauce were prepared, the table set and water glasses filled. We have a tradition of passing a "blessing cup" before the meal, when everyone has a chance to say what they are thankful for that year and takes a sip out of the cup. (I actually remember a year not too long ago when all I was thankful for was that the cooking was over.) We dug into our meal, with all the assorted goodies mounted so high on our plates that one wondered how you were going to eat all that you took. "Take all you want, but eat all you take" is the motto at our Thanksgiving table.
We were enjoying our meal, with several different conversations going on at the same time, and everything went off like clockwork. It was a successful gathering... UNTIL... we tried running the first load of dishes after the meal was over. As the water began draining from the dishwasher, the kitchen sink began filling with the discarded water. Our first clue that something was wrong was when I went into the kitchen to find the floor flooded with the water that had spilled over the edge of the sink. We were able to catch the event before it got too far out of hand, and proceeded to soak up the excess water with any towel at hand while Steve quickly diagnosed the problem as a clogged pipe. Since our children had a habit of shoving everything they could down the garbage disposal, his diagnosis was not far-fetched.
Several attempts at unclogging the pipe were unsuccessful. Usually there are 3 or 4 loads of dishes on Thanksgiving, and our children could not fathom not having a dishwasher or even a sink to do the dishes in. Thinking that there was no way to clean up the kitchen, Jason said "Well I guess dishes will have to wait until tomorrow." HAH! Mom to the rescue!
I quickly had the family take all the dishes out to the backyard, where the washtub lay waiting. Several buckets of hot water were brought out to the washtub by bucket brigade, and the hose was at the ready for rinsing. All of us were out there, washing, rinsing, drying and carrying the dishes back into the house to be put away. In an hour or so, all was under control. All the dishes, pots, pans, silver and glassware were back in their appropriate spots in the house. The boys were astounded, saying "how in the world did you know what to do?"
I just smiled my mother's satisfied smile.
Here's hoping that all your holidays are wonderful, filled with happy memories and your loved ones lift one more glass to remember those who are not able to be with us.
Nazdrovie'
Paczki Puta
That Thanksgiving Day had started like any other Thanksgiving Day. I got up early and started preparations. The pies were done the day before, the turkey was stuffed and roasting in the oven, sweet potatoes cooked and candied, and all the other assorted vegetables, rolls and cranberry sauce were prepared, the table set and water glasses filled. We have a tradition of passing a "blessing cup" before the meal, when everyone has a chance to say what they are thankful for that year and takes a sip out of the cup. (I actually remember a year not too long ago when all I was thankful for was that the cooking was over.) We dug into our meal, with all the assorted goodies mounted so high on our plates that one wondered how you were going to eat all that you took. "Take all you want, but eat all you take" is the motto at our Thanksgiving table.
We were enjoying our meal, with several different conversations going on at the same time, and everything went off like clockwork. It was a successful gathering... UNTIL... we tried running the first load of dishes after the meal was over. As the water began draining from the dishwasher, the kitchen sink began filling with the discarded water. Our first clue that something was wrong was when I went into the kitchen to find the floor flooded with the water that had spilled over the edge of the sink. We were able to catch the event before it got too far out of hand, and proceeded to soak up the excess water with any towel at hand while Steve quickly diagnosed the problem as a clogged pipe. Since our children had a habit of shoving everything they could down the garbage disposal, his diagnosis was not far-fetched.
Several attempts at unclogging the pipe were unsuccessful. Usually there are 3 or 4 loads of dishes on Thanksgiving, and our children could not fathom not having a dishwasher or even a sink to do the dishes in. Thinking that there was no way to clean up the kitchen, Jason said "Well I guess dishes will have to wait until tomorrow." HAH! Mom to the rescue!
I quickly had the family take all the dishes out to the backyard, where the washtub lay waiting. Several buckets of hot water were brought out to the washtub by bucket brigade, and the hose was at the ready for rinsing. All of us were out there, washing, rinsing, drying and carrying the dishes back into the house to be put away. In an hour or so, all was under control. All the dishes, pots, pans, silver and glassware were back in their appropriate spots in the house. The boys were astounded, saying "how in the world did you know what to do?"
I just smiled my mother's satisfied smile.
Here's hoping that all your holidays are wonderful, filled with happy memories and your loved ones lift one more glass to remember those who are not able to be with us.
Nazdrovie'
Paczki Puta
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
I Should Have Known Better Than To Turn My Back
It has become my practice, as of late, to take some time away from my computer every evening in order to spend time with my family before everyone settles in for the night. Then I usually come back to the office to write about whatever is on my mind. This is my time for solace, my time to gather my thoughts before moving on to a new and exciting morning. This evening was no different... at least until I returned to my computer.
When I came into the office, my son Jason was in tow, and immediately he began laughing. At first, I didn't see what was so funny. Then I found the source of his amusement. Our cat, Lexie, had decided that my keyboard was a nice, warm place to lie down. I was tempted to laugh as well, but instead, just shooed her off the desk. However, when I turned to look at the screen thinking that everything was just as I had left it, I found I was gravely mistaken. It seems that Lexie decided to try her "hand" at writing. She had synchronized my bookmarks, close several windows and opened others. As I began correcting her "errors", I burst out laughing, realizing that she had tapped on a Notepad window I had open: "xdzuyjhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhqaFGGGGGGGGGGGGVVXCCCCC". What a way to end the night!
Lexie has been a constant source of amusement over the years. She adopted us as her family when I visited the Humane Society one afternoon 10 years ago. We had just been through the euthanasia of our cat of 17 years, Ginger, and we were still side-stepping a cat that wasn't there. Our home was in mourning, and when I first saw Lexie, she was in a cage that was marked with the name "Sprinkle" on it. Lexie is a pure white cat, with large black spots on her head and back, and a small black spot on her nose. (I was tempted to call her "Booger", but wisely chose not to inflict such an awful name on her.) I had wanted to get a younger cat, possibly a kitten. But as I bent down to a lower cage, she grabbed at my hair. I looked up and Lexie turned her head on its side, sticking her paws between the caging, non-verbally saying "play with me". I was sold. A cat this playful had to have a home... OUR home. Ginger was so sick for so long, it would be nice to have a healthy animal in the house. As I was driving home, I called ahead to say "I'm bringing home a surprise", but it turned out that Lexie decided to announce her arrival ahead of time by emitting the loudest "MEOWWWWWWWW" I had ever heard while I was on my cell phone. Needless to say, my cover was blown. There was a cat on the way, and everyone knew it.
Lexie was not what my husband expected. While Ginger was a brown tabby, Lexie was this completely different-looking feline. Steve's response was not what I had expected. "Why did you bring THIS cat home?" My heart sank. I just knew that Lexie was the right medicine for our low spirits. But how to convince him? It turned out I didn't HAVE to convince him. Lexie did it for me. As Steve sat in his favorite chair that evening, he had Lexie on his lap, petting her softly as he did for Ginger so many times. And even though he was still mourning the loss of Ginger, I knew I had done the right thing.
Lexie has been an extraordinary animal and very good company when I needed it. She has always been very playful, but over time we noticed that she never responded to her name. She also didn't respond to sudden loud noises. Sadly, we realized that our sweet baby was deaf. She did, however, respond to some instinctive sounds, like birds, so her deafness was not complete. It was as if a light bulb had gone off in my head. Lexie was so playful BECAUSE she couldn't hear well. It was a blessing in so many ways. She couldn't hear us yell at her when she would knock something off a shelf or climb on the birdcage, so she wouldn't be jaded by our raised voices, but she also couldn't hear a car coming or other dangers. We have had to keep a close eye on open doors, so she wouldn't instinctively run out and get hurt. Most of the time, we don't have to do much more than watch the door. But there have also been times when she would follow us into the backyard, and unless we watched carefully, she was up on a fence post in one graceful leap. She has always moved like a lion, with a full-shoulder gait reminiscent of the king of the jungle, and she pounces without warning, showing herself to be a true hunter.
Lexie... playful companion, aspiring writer, and queen of the jungle.
Nazdrovie'
Paczki Puta
When I came into the office, my son Jason was in tow, and immediately he began laughing. At first, I didn't see what was so funny. Then I found the source of his amusement. Our cat, Lexie, had decided that my keyboard was a nice, warm place to lie down. I was tempted to laugh as well, but instead, just shooed her off the desk. However, when I turned to look at the screen thinking that everything was just as I had left it, I found I was gravely mistaken. It seems that Lexie decided to try her "hand" at writing. She had synchronized my bookmarks, close several windows and opened others. As I began correcting her "errors", I burst out laughing, realizing that she had tapped on a Notepad window I had open: "xdzuyjhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhqaFGGGGGGGGGGGGVVXCCCCC". What a way to end the night!
Lexie has been a constant source of amusement over the years. She adopted us as her family when I visited the Humane Society one afternoon 10 years ago. We had just been through the euthanasia of our cat of 17 years, Ginger, and we were still side-stepping a cat that wasn't there. Our home was in mourning, and when I first saw Lexie, she was in a cage that was marked with the name "Sprinkle" on it. Lexie is a pure white cat, with large black spots on her head and back, and a small black spot on her nose. (I was tempted to call her "Booger", but wisely chose not to inflict such an awful name on her.) I had wanted to get a younger cat, possibly a kitten. But as I bent down to a lower cage, she grabbed at my hair. I looked up and Lexie turned her head on its side, sticking her paws between the caging, non-verbally saying "play with me". I was sold. A cat this playful had to have a home... OUR home. Ginger was so sick for so long, it would be nice to have a healthy animal in the house. As I was driving home, I called ahead to say "I'm bringing home a surprise", but it turned out that Lexie decided to announce her arrival ahead of time by emitting the loudest "MEOWWWWWWWW" I had ever heard while I was on my cell phone. Needless to say, my cover was blown. There was a cat on the way, and everyone knew it.
Lexie was not what my husband expected. While Ginger was a brown tabby, Lexie was this completely different-looking feline. Steve's response was not what I had expected. "Why did you bring THIS cat home?" My heart sank. I just knew that Lexie was the right medicine for our low spirits. But how to convince him? It turned out I didn't HAVE to convince him. Lexie did it for me. As Steve sat in his favorite chair that evening, he had Lexie on his lap, petting her softly as he did for Ginger so many times. And even though he was still mourning the loss of Ginger, I knew I had done the right thing.
Lexie has been an extraordinary animal and very good company when I needed it. She has always been very playful, but over time we noticed that she never responded to her name. She also didn't respond to sudden loud noises. Sadly, we realized that our sweet baby was deaf. She did, however, respond to some instinctive sounds, like birds, so her deafness was not complete. It was as if a light bulb had gone off in my head. Lexie was so playful BECAUSE she couldn't hear well. It was a blessing in so many ways. She couldn't hear us yell at her when she would knock something off a shelf or climb on the birdcage, so she wouldn't be jaded by our raised voices, but she also couldn't hear a car coming or other dangers. We have had to keep a close eye on open doors, so she wouldn't instinctively run out and get hurt. Most of the time, we don't have to do much more than watch the door. But there have also been times when she would follow us into the backyard, and unless we watched carefully, she was up on a fence post in one graceful leap. She has always moved like a lion, with a full-shoulder gait reminiscent of the king of the jungle, and she pounces without warning, showing herself to be a true hunter.
Lexie... playful companion, aspiring writer, and queen of the jungle.
Nazdrovie'
Paczki Puta
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
My Busia and Dzia Dzia
After hearing from Uncus last night (who was crying like a baby, watching the DVD of old family movies I had sent him), it brought to mind his parents, my grandparents... who we called Busia and Dzia Dzia (Polish for Grandmother and Grandfather).
Busia and Dzia Dzia were the best people I ever knew, and they were responsible for me feeling as good as I did about myself, when there were seven other siblings that demanded my parents' constant attention. They were from old Polish stock, and I was their first granddaughter.
Busia (Sophie) was a crusty woman, but in her younger days, she had dark wavy hair, and was a real knockout. She once showed me a picture of herself when she was 19 years old. If I had dark wavy hair, we could have been twins. The resemblance was uncanny. I was 18 at the time.
Busia was the eldest daughter, and she had a younger sister, Anna. Their parents, Mary and Felix, came straight from the old country, and when they didn't want us (grandchildren) to know what they were talking about, they would speak Polish to Busia. I always wanted to learn Polish just so I could understand what they didn't want us to know. Busia worked hard and played hard. She used to work on an assembly line in her younger days, and lost a thumb when her hand caught in the conveyor.
When other people would say that they wouldn't know how to exist without their thumb, Busia was busily sewing doll clothes for my Barbie. She would still do all the things that life required of her, including cooking, cleaning house, making clothes, crocheting and fishing. She was one of the best fishermen I had ever known, overshadowed only by Dzia Dzia.
Dzia Dzia (Joe) was the love of my life. I adored him and the feeling was mutual. He came up hard, often referring to himself as the black sheep of the family. I never understood why, or how someone with so much love to give could ever be so ostracized by his own family. Dzia Dzia was the second of eight children, with 3 brothers and 4 sisters. (Hmmm... there's a similarity here. I was the second of eight children, with 3 brothers and 4 sisters also.) Dzia Dzia loved to go hunting and fishing, and was good at both. But he loved his family even more than that. He had 3 children, who brought him 16 grandchildren, over 20 great-grandchildren (at this writing) and at least 3 great-great-grandchildren thus far. He would have loved that. He worked at a steel mill for most of his life, and although I never understood how he could stand the smell, I guess it was a small price to pay to keep his family afloat. It was just after the Great Depression, and times were hard. You took whatever job you could get and were thankful to have it. Many Poles in South Chicago made this their way of life.
But along with working hard, Dzia Dzia also believed in playing hard, and family was all-important to him. Family gatherings were big on his list of how life should be lived. We often took family vacations together, where we would all gather at a fishing resort in Minnesota, with Busia's parents, her sister and her husband, their children with their spouses and the grandchildren. I am blessed to have known such fine times and to know what it is like to "rough it" in a cabin on a lake, with nothing to do except relax, go fishing, and visit with family. Evenings at the resort would consist of the adults getting together for their card games and booze parties. Stories about the "one that got away" would get larger with each telling, and on special nights twice a week, the adults would get together for a sauna and a swim afterward. The bracing cold of the water was just the refreshment needed after the searing heat of the sauna. What were the grandchildren doing all this time? We were shuttled off to bed, so the grownups could make merry. Good times.
Birthdays, Christmases, Easter and all our assorted religious events required a party, and of course, the entire family would attend. I remember having Christmas Eves at Busia and Dzia Dzia's house, and we had to fast all day and could not eat until the first star came out. They relaxed the rules a little for the grandchildren. We were hungry and didn't care who knew it! When the time came, after working all day in the kitchen making all our Polish delicacies, the women would bring dinner down to the basement, where all our hungry mouths watered. But we still couldn't eat until the aplotek (Christmas wafer) had been broken by the heads of the family, and then shared with everyone. Each person would take a bit from someone else's wafer, wish them a Merry Christmas, and give them a hug and a kiss. It's a wonderful tradition that my family and I continue to this day. After the aplotek, we were finally given the go-ahead for dinner. Grace came first, but then we dug in! On the table, there were always 10 items for the Wigilia dinner. It is a meatless dinner, and includes fish (caught while on that fishing vacation and frozen for the trip home), pierogi, kapusta soup, assorted vegetables and desserts. After dinner, it was time to open gifts. The adults saved this for very late in the evening, right before they left for midnight Mass. The grandchildren all had to go home. (It was much too late for us to be up because Santa Claus was still coming that night!) These sights, scents and sounds will be in my memory forever, as I try to uphold these traditions for my own children.
It was from these traditions and these two very good decent people that I learned that even if you work hard, you should play harder. Watching them helped me to understand that life was not a bowl of cherries, but if you work it right, you can turn those cherries into a pie, filled with love and a little spice.
I will forever miss them.
Nazdrovie'
Paczki Puta
Busia and Dzia Dzia were the best people I ever knew, and they were responsible for me feeling as good as I did about myself, when there were seven other siblings that demanded my parents' constant attention. They were from old Polish stock, and I was their first granddaughter.
Busia (Sophie) was a crusty woman, but in her younger days, she had dark wavy hair, and was a real knockout. She once showed me a picture of herself when she was 19 years old. If I had dark wavy hair, we could have been twins. The resemblance was uncanny. I was 18 at the time.
Busia was the eldest daughter, and she had a younger sister, Anna. Their parents, Mary and Felix, came straight from the old country, and when they didn't want us (grandchildren) to know what they were talking about, they would speak Polish to Busia. I always wanted to learn Polish just so I could understand what they didn't want us to know. Busia worked hard and played hard. She used to work on an assembly line in her younger days, and lost a thumb when her hand caught in the conveyor.
When other people would say that they wouldn't know how to exist without their thumb, Busia was busily sewing doll clothes for my Barbie. She would still do all the things that life required of her, including cooking, cleaning house, making clothes, crocheting and fishing. She was one of the best fishermen I had ever known, overshadowed only by Dzia Dzia.
Dzia Dzia (Joe) was the love of my life. I adored him and the feeling was mutual. He came up hard, often referring to himself as the black sheep of the family. I never understood why, or how someone with so much love to give could ever be so ostracized by his own family. Dzia Dzia was the second of eight children, with 3 brothers and 4 sisters. (Hmmm... there's a similarity here. I was the second of eight children, with 3 brothers and 4 sisters also.) Dzia Dzia loved to go hunting and fishing, and was good at both. But he loved his family even more than that. He had 3 children, who brought him 16 grandchildren, over 20 great-grandchildren (at this writing) and at least 3 great-great-grandchildren thus far. He would have loved that. He worked at a steel mill for most of his life, and although I never understood how he could stand the smell, I guess it was a small price to pay to keep his family afloat. It was just after the Great Depression, and times were hard. You took whatever job you could get and were thankful to have it. Many Poles in South Chicago made this their way of life.
But along with working hard, Dzia Dzia also believed in playing hard, and family was all-important to him. Family gatherings were big on his list of how life should be lived. We often took family vacations together, where we would all gather at a fishing resort in Minnesota, with Busia's parents, her sister and her husband, their children with their spouses and the grandchildren. I am blessed to have known such fine times and to know what it is like to "rough it" in a cabin on a lake, with nothing to do except relax, go fishing, and visit with family. Evenings at the resort would consist of the adults getting together for their card games and booze parties. Stories about the "one that got away" would get larger with each telling, and on special nights twice a week, the adults would get together for a sauna and a swim afterward. The bracing cold of the water was just the refreshment needed after the searing heat of the sauna. What were the grandchildren doing all this time? We were shuttled off to bed, so the grownups could make merry. Good times.
Birthdays, Christmases, Easter and all our assorted religious events required a party, and of course, the entire family would attend. I remember having Christmas Eves at Busia and Dzia Dzia's house, and we had to fast all day and could not eat until the first star came out. They relaxed the rules a little for the grandchildren. We were hungry and didn't care who knew it! When the time came, after working all day in the kitchen making all our Polish delicacies, the women would bring dinner down to the basement, where all our hungry mouths watered. But we still couldn't eat until the aplotek (Christmas wafer) had been broken by the heads of the family, and then shared with everyone. Each person would take a bit from someone else's wafer, wish them a Merry Christmas, and give them a hug and a kiss. It's a wonderful tradition that my family and I continue to this day. After the aplotek, we were finally given the go-ahead for dinner. Grace came first, but then we dug in! On the table, there were always 10 items for the Wigilia dinner. It is a meatless dinner, and includes fish (caught while on that fishing vacation and frozen for the trip home), pierogi, kapusta soup, assorted vegetables and desserts. After dinner, it was time to open gifts. The adults saved this for very late in the evening, right before they left for midnight Mass. The grandchildren all had to go home. (It was much too late for us to be up because Santa Claus was still coming that night!) These sights, scents and sounds will be in my memory forever, as I try to uphold these traditions for my own children.
It was from these traditions and these two very good decent people that I learned that even if you work hard, you should play harder. Watching them helped me to understand that life was not a bowl of cherries, but if you work it right, you can turn those cherries into a pie, filled with love and a little spice.
I will forever miss them.
Nazdrovie'
Paczki Puta
Monday, November 24, 2008
Uncus and The Big Payoff
I don't know about you, but there are times in my life when something I have done pays off in a big way, just exactly as I had hoped it would. I'm not talking about money. This has to do with doing something out of the goodness of your heart, just because you want to do something special for the ones you love.
Anyone who has been following my writings knows that I had been working on a DVD of old family movies and got it completed last week. This DVD was very important to me, as self-proclaimed Keeper of The Flame, to preserve family memories before they are gone. With the help of my wonderful sons, I created this DVD, duplicated it several times, created a cover and a label, and shipped out seven of these beauties to my very nearest and dearest relatives, all of whom would not otherwise have had access to them.
I received a call from my uncle today (whom I call Uncus), saying that two of my cousins, to whom I had sent copies of my labor of love, are coming to see him for Thanksgiving dinner, and are going to bring their copy of the DVD so Uncus can reminisce with them. You see, these two cousins of mine have no memory of their father, who is present throughout the DVD, in living, breathing color. Uncus is going to tell them about their father, which is one of the best payoffs I could ever have. The other payoff, even larger, is that Uncus will not only be able to share with my cousins about their father, but also about his own parents (my and their grandparents). They have few memories of my grandparents, who I consider to be the best people I ever knew.
To know that this is going to happen in 2 short days is the biggest payoff I have ever had, and well worth all the trouble I had to go through to make the DVD happen. My heart is warmed by it, and I will die a happy woman knowing that this is going to complete the circle for three very dear people.
Nazdrovie'
A Very Happy Paczki Puta
Anyone who has been following my writings knows that I had been working on a DVD of old family movies and got it completed last week. This DVD was very important to me, as self-proclaimed Keeper of The Flame, to preserve family memories before they are gone. With the help of my wonderful sons, I created this DVD, duplicated it several times, created a cover and a label, and shipped out seven of these beauties to my very nearest and dearest relatives, all of whom would not otherwise have had access to them.
I received a call from my uncle today (whom I call Uncus), saying that two of my cousins, to whom I had sent copies of my labor of love, are coming to see him for Thanksgiving dinner, and are going to bring their copy of the DVD so Uncus can reminisce with them. You see, these two cousins of mine have no memory of their father, who is present throughout the DVD, in living, breathing color. Uncus is going to tell them about their father, which is one of the best payoffs I could ever have. The other payoff, even larger, is that Uncus will not only be able to share with my cousins about their father, but also about his own parents (my and their grandparents). They have few memories of my grandparents, who I consider to be the best people I ever knew.
To know that this is going to happen in 2 short days is the biggest payoff I have ever had, and well worth all the trouble I had to go through to make the DVD happen. My heart is warmed by it, and I will die a happy woman knowing that this is going to complete the circle for three very dear people.
Nazdrovie'
A Very Happy Paczki Puta
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Return From Deliverance
Due to extreme exhaustion (painting and the stress that goes along with my house being a wreck), I am reposting this from my blog on myspace. It was originally posted on April 8, 2006.
After a wonderful breakfast at our usual Saturday haunt (Brother Juniper's for those of you who are familiar with the area) my SO (significant other) and I decided to trek into the unknown country in search of property to build our house on. We set sail in the old 4 wheel drive sleigh down I-40 into Arkansas. MY SO wanted to check out a piece of property that he had known as a teen. There was a lake there, and in his youth, it seemed like an idyllic place to have a home. I was game, so off we went.
As we left Memphis, we saw the familiar sights of the downtown area, the Mississippi River, the dogtrack and the last Walmart for miles. We were optimistic and talkative on the trip. I saw the last vestiges of civilization growing smaller in the distance and felt a bit uneasy, but decided that we were going on an adventure, and I was going to give this a shot. I'm ready to handle anything... or so I thought.
Any of you that have been through this portion of Arkansas... the portion between Memphis and Crowley's Ridge, know that it is not the most picturesque part of the state. But knowing this didn't dampen my enthusiasm. We had printed off a map of the area before leaving Memphis, but it didn't give a whole lot of detail about the area... but it looked like serenity on Google Earth... lots of trees, some rivers... very little development. What Google Earth didn't show was a lot of unmarked roads, watering sloughs that were mistaken for creeks, and the "antique" vehicle graveyards that we were to come upon. I kept thinking to myself that this is the way it is in the country... certainly no civilized person would live this way. And surely it would get better as we got close to Forrest City. Boy, was I wrong.
After we missed the cut-off, we decided to turn around and see if we could find it. As I said, the roads are mostly unmarked in this area, so we found ourselves turning the car around again. We had narrowed it down to one of two roads... and we slowly took the first one. As we rounded the corner, we slowed the car... and noticed a pole on the ground with a street marker on it. Upon close inspection, we could read the name of the road... Good Hope... the road we were looking for! The fact that the marker was down on the road made us laugh, but it should have given us a glimpse of what was to come.
There were some houses on the road... nice, middle-class houses... a good enough distance away from each other to be respectable. We had to find another crossroad. Again, the roads are not always clearly marked, so we had to guess which one to take. We guessed right... and turned again to our supposed utopia. The first home we saw was very nice... a sweet A-frame up on the hill. It could have been the first piece of what the original owner of the land envisioned to be a beautiful homestead. It went downhill from there...
We saw some homes that were nice, although neither they nor the lake were impressive. It was what we were about to see that neither one of us was prepared for. Another turn took us down what I can only say reminded me of the hill country in Deliverance. It was where old trailers went to die. It was worse than that... it was where perfectly respectable people (us) were uncomfortable in their own skin... and made us feel as if each of the... oh let's call them "residents" shall we... were eyeing up our 14 year old car as if it was a prized pig they were about to chop up for parts on Thanksgiving. We looked around, then looked at each other, laughed nervously, and said "let's get the hell OUT of here!" As we continued to attempt to find the original road we came in on, I looked to the left side of the road. Here on the "lawn" of one of these semi-permeable dwellings I saw a complete dashboard and windshield (broken of course), which made me wonder what the story was behind the rest of the missing vehicle. I wasn't curious enough to get OUT of my vehicle to find out! I was too afraid that I might run into someone who thought I had a "real purty mouth".
We finally did find our way back out of that area... and found ourselves back on I-40 and headed back in the direction of Tennessee at last (thought I'd never hear myself saying that). On the way back, I took notice of all the things I didn't let completely enter my consciousness during the trip out... the bus graveyard... the Volkswagon beetle graveyard... the shack that once served as a grocery store which was now a "atfish eafoo" restaurant, which was proudly displayed on the building. There was a house that had a very nice white split rail fence all the way around the property... a very sizable area... and the owner had his very own gas station. Characters, I thought...
But never was I so glad to see the sign proudly proclaiming "WalMart this exit"... I'm home!
Nazdrovie'
Paczki Puta
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Opa! Or... How Rhys Was Introduced to Greek Food
In the course of ripping our house up today (in the name of improving it), we decided to take a well-deserved break and go out to get something to fill our famished stomachs. The boys fought us on going to this little Greek restaurant, Pyramids, which by the way, is right in our neighborhood and so conveniently located to our house that I insisted they go. I won them over by telling them it was an all-you-can-eat buffet, and the desserts were like none they had tried before.
Of course, I insisted they try the lamb. Neither of them had taken lamb onto their plates, but like the dutiful mother that I am, I cut a piece or two off the precious bits I had on my plate and said "EAT!!!" Mind you, these are not children I'm chiding. These are grown men, 23 and 20 years of age. They looked at me as if to say, "if we don't try this, she will nag us into oblivion", which, I'm sorry to say, would be the truth. Fortunately, they loved the lamb. We went through the buffet, like kids on a playground, trying each new thing and quickly discarding it to taste the next. It would have been a perfectly delightful experience... but then... evil in the form of a screaming child came in the door.
At first, we tried not to pay any attention to this monster. But after a short period of time, during which we were trying not to choke on our food, I turned casually to see if I could find the source of the trouble and give a glaring eye to Satan's parents. I forced back a smile when I saw his young mother, draped in a Middle Eastern headwrap and her husband (very non-descript to me, I'm sorry to say), attempting to make the unruly monster sit down and eat dinner. But the tirade continued. It seems that the creature wanted to play the video games that were in the restaurant (on the other side of the wall from where we were sitting, but still within piercing earshot) and made no bones about letting the world know that he was going to get what he wanted. To our sons' stunned looks and comments about child-rearing, Steve and I shared our experiences that entailed the times we had to remove them from whatever restaurant we had gone to, due to their tantrums. Yes, my angelic children were once brats. When they asked how we stood it, I merely said, "I beat it out of you." Jason replied, "thank you". I smiled a mother's satisfied smile.
We went on with our meal, but after one especially ear-splitting shreik, I said to my family, "I wouldn't be allowed to live after that one". The young mother must have heard my comment, because she finally got up and told her child that he could play the game later, but he had to eat now. The demon's reply was, "but I like that game, Momma". She won the battle after allowing a few more volleys of "no, you eat" and "but I want to play the game". At one point, she even stuck something in the child's mouth to his gruesome protests. I couldn't help but laugh. I was remembering the time when we had gone to Cracker Barrel for breakfast, and a young girl was running back and forth between the tables. I followed her with my eyes, and gave her a more glaring look each time she passed within inches of our water glasses. The child made the mistake of pausing briefly while looking me in the eyes, and with the voice of authority, I said "go sit DOWN!" Her mother shot daggers at me during the rest of our meal and their exit, to which I say if you don't want ME to parent your child, then YOU do it! But I digress...
The rest of the meal went smoothly and we tried the various desserts. After a new plateful of delicacies and a bowl of lentil soup, Rhys confidently proclaimed that he had had enough and he would enjoy visiting that establishment again. Got him!
There's that satisfied smile again.
Nazdrovie'
Paczki Puta
Of course, I insisted they try the lamb. Neither of them had taken lamb onto their plates, but like the dutiful mother that I am, I cut a piece or two off the precious bits I had on my plate and said "EAT!!!" Mind you, these are not children I'm chiding. These are grown men, 23 and 20 years of age. They looked at me as if to say, "if we don't try this, she will nag us into oblivion", which, I'm sorry to say, would be the truth. Fortunately, they loved the lamb. We went through the buffet, like kids on a playground, trying each new thing and quickly discarding it to taste the next. It would have been a perfectly delightful experience... but then... evil in the form of a screaming child came in the door.
At first, we tried not to pay any attention to this monster. But after a short period of time, during which we were trying not to choke on our food, I turned casually to see if I could find the source of the trouble and give a glaring eye to Satan's parents. I forced back a smile when I saw his young mother, draped in a Middle Eastern headwrap and her husband (very non-descript to me, I'm sorry to say), attempting to make the unruly monster sit down and eat dinner. But the tirade continued. It seems that the creature wanted to play the video games that were in the restaurant (on the other side of the wall from where we were sitting, but still within piercing earshot) and made no bones about letting the world know that he was going to get what he wanted. To our sons' stunned looks and comments about child-rearing, Steve and I shared our experiences that entailed the times we had to remove them from whatever restaurant we had gone to, due to their tantrums. Yes, my angelic children were once brats. When they asked how we stood it, I merely said, "I beat it out of you." Jason replied, "thank you". I smiled a mother's satisfied smile.
We went on with our meal, but after one especially ear-splitting shreik, I said to my family, "I wouldn't be allowed to live after that one". The young mother must have heard my comment, because she finally got up and told her child that he could play the game later, but he had to eat now. The demon's reply was, "but I like that game, Momma". She won the battle after allowing a few more volleys of "no, you eat" and "but I want to play the game". At one point, she even stuck something in the child's mouth to his gruesome protests. I couldn't help but laugh. I was remembering the time when we had gone to Cracker Barrel for breakfast, and a young girl was running back and forth between the tables. I followed her with my eyes, and gave her a more glaring look each time she passed within inches of our water glasses. The child made the mistake of pausing briefly while looking me in the eyes, and with the voice of authority, I said "go sit DOWN!" Her mother shot daggers at me during the rest of our meal and their exit, to which I say if you don't want ME to parent your child, then YOU do it! But I digress...
The rest of the meal went smoothly and we tried the various desserts. After a new plateful of delicacies and a bowl of lentil soup, Rhys confidently proclaimed that he had had enough and he would enjoy visiting that establishment again. Got him!
There's that satisfied smile again.
Nazdrovie'
Paczki Puta
Friday, November 21, 2008
Chaos and Transition
Oh my God... what have I started?
When I began this idea of redecorating my former bedroom into an office, little did I realize the chaos that would envelope the rest of the house. We have 5 days to live through this phase and I just hope we make it out alive.
You know how it is when you come from a Polish immigrant family and you're always afraid to get rid of something because "you might need it later"? That's me in a nutshell. Never letting loose of anything, including socks with holes in them. I always say "I can darn those socks, and then when we get a snow or ice storm, we'll have warm feet." Uh huh. That's the way things were in the old days when I lived in a suburb of Chicago. But I'm in Memphis now. Snow storms are rare. Socks go for $5.00 for a pack of 10, so what am I actually saving by holding onto these hole-y socks? Or the cough drops that seem to be melted into the end tables that came out of that room... ? Am I going to "need" them any time soon, or can I carry my happy butt down to Walgreens and get some more if I really have to? And tell me why, oh why, do I have so many plants in there? Am I afraid that the species will die out if I get rid of just ONE of the 10 philodendrons that I keep propagating?
Okay, you got me on the philodendrons. They're pretty and they provide oxygen to the house. But you get my idea. My house is full of things I haven't used in at least 10 years, don't look at, and absolutely won't get rid of. I found out how bad it had gotten while cleaning that room out. And we haven't even emptied the closets yet. Oh Lord, I hate to think of what's in there. I have shoes I'll never wear. Clothes I'll never fit back into (nor do I want to wear them again). Half-finished craft projects that are just sitting there taunting me.
All of this has made me realize just how much of a packrat I had become. I think decluttering your house is a 12-step program of realizations.
1. Admit that you're keeping things that should have gone out with the Crusades.
2. Realize that in a civilized world, you'll never again have to hang that glow-in-the dark Bobby Sherman poster.
3. Know that nobody needs more than 2 bellydance costumes. (I'm not even gonna explain this one.)
4. No one is going to pay top dollar for your coffee mug collection.
5. You CAN have too many baskets.
6. Knick-knacks are expensive dust-catchers.
7. So are mini-blinds... except for the expensive part.
8. Why are you saving all those little ketchup packets from Sonic?
9. There are beings living in your closet that shouldn't actually be there.
10. There's a reason you can't find anything.
11. You're never going to find the missing piece for that 1500-piece jigsaw puzzle.
12. More is not necessarily better.
Okay, RESOLVED: This is going to stop now. If I don't live up to that resolution, just pack me up with that old showgirl lamp and ship me off to the 1950's.
I'll keep you posted.
Nazdrovie'
Paczki Puta
When I began this idea of redecorating my former bedroom into an office, little did I realize the chaos that would envelope the rest of the house. We have 5 days to live through this phase and I just hope we make it out alive.
You know how it is when you come from a Polish immigrant family and you're always afraid to get rid of something because "you might need it later"? That's me in a nutshell. Never letting loose of anything, including socks with holes in them. I always say "I can darn those socks, and then when we get a snow or ice storm, we'll have warm feet." Uh huh. That's the way things were in the old days when I lived in a suburb of Chicago. But I'm in Memphis now. Snow storms are rare. Socks go for $5.00 for a pack of 10, so what am I actually saving by holding onto these hole-y socks? Or the cough drops that seem to be melted into the end tables that came out of that room... ? Am I going to "need" them any time soon, or can I carry my happy butt down to Walgreens and get some more if I really have to? And tell me why, oh why, do I have so many plants in there? Am I afraid that the species will die out if I get rid of just ONE of the 10 philodendrons that I keep propagating?
Okay, you got me on the philodendrons. They're pretty and they provide oxygen to the house. But you get my idea. My house is full of things I haven't used in at least 10 years, don't look at, and absolutely won't get rid of. I found out how bad it had gotten while cleaning that room out. And we haven't even emptied the closets yet. Oh Lord, I hate to think of what's in there. I have shoes I'll never wear. Clothes I'll never fit back into (nor do I want to wear them again). Half-finished craft projects that are just sitting there taunting me.
All of this has made me realize just how much of a packrat I had become. I think decluttering your house is a 12-step program of realizations.
1. Admit that you're keeping things that should have gone out with the Crusades.
2. Realize that in a civilized world, you'll never again have to hang that glow-in-the dark Bobby Sherman poster.
3. Know that nobody needs more than 2 bellydance costumes. (I'm not even gonna explain this one.)
4. No one is going to pay top dollar for your coffee mug collection.
5. You CAN have too many baskets.
6. Knick-knacks are expensive dust-catchers.
7. So are mini-blinds... except for the expensive part.
8. Why are you saving all those little ketchup packets from Sonic?
9. There are beings living in your closet that shouldn't actually be there.
10. There's a reason you can't find anything.
11. You're never going to find the missing piece for that 1500-piece jigsaw puzzle.
12. More is not necessarily better.
Okay, RESOLVED: This is going to stop now. If I don't live up to that resolution, just pack me up with that old showgirl lamp and ship me off to the 1950's.
I'll keep you posted.
Nazdrovie'
Paczki Puta
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Dad's Hidden Talent
In surfing the internet today, I was reminded of something that my father used to do when I was very young and the world was still a magical place for me. I was looking for the music from the movie "August Rush", which Steve and I watched last night and has quickly become one of my favorites. In the process, I came across some harp music on YouTube. I have long wanted to learn to play the harp, and sometimes I wonder if I will ever have the money to pursue this dream of mine. But I digress... If you've ever been on YouTube, you know that when you watch one video, others are suggested for viewing.
So there I was enjoying the harp music, when I noticed another video of a gentleman playing the harmonica. That brought back a favorite memory of asking my father to play the harmonica for us. When Dad was young, he was smart, handsome and talented. And he knew it. He used to love to entertain us. Anything to make you laugh. He would play "You Are My Sunshine" and the theme from the Woody Woodpecker show on the harmonica. I don't remember any other songs he played, but I know there were more. Dad would play and play... and we loved every minute of it. I wonder how many of my siblings would remember that. He knew my love of music, and I remember him teaching me how to play the harmonica. "It's a matter of inhaling and exhaling at the right time," he told me. "Just practice and you'll get better". And I did. I never got as good as he was though. He would move his hands and make the music sound like it had a vibrato. I loved it. I wish he had kept it up in his older years. I guess life's stresses took precedence over making music. It's a shame. The music should never leave your life.
The music died on October 26, 2008. I will miss it, and the one who brought it to life for me. So Dad, this one's for you.
Nazdrovie'
Paczki Puta
So there I was enjoying the harp music, when I noticed another video of a gentleman playing the harmonica. That brought back a favorite memory of asking my father to play the harmonica for us. When Dad was young, he was smart, handsome and talented. And he knew it. He used to love to entertain us. Anything to make you laugh. He would play "You Are My Sunshine" and the theme from the Woody Woodpecker show on the harmonica. I don't remember any other songs he played, but I know there were more. Dad would play and play... and we loved every minute of it. I wonder how many of my siblings would remember that. He knew my love of music, and I remember him teaching me how to play the harmonica. "It's a matter of inhaling and exhaling at the right time," he told me. "Just practice and you'll get better". And I did. I never got as good as he was though. He would move his hands and make the music sound like it had a vibrato. I loved it. I wish he had kept it up in his older years. I guess life's stresses took precedence over making music. It's a shame. The music should never leave your life.
The music died on October 26, 2008. I will miss it, and the one who brought it to life for me. So Dad, this one's for you.
Nazdrovie'
Paczki Puta
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Various Stages of Disarray
In the process of purging my life of negativity and replacing it with positive energy, I decided it was finally time to start replacing carpet in the house. Coming up with money for this project is difficult at best. We have decided to start with the room I used to call my bedroom. This room is being made into an office, so we can have all our work-related activities in one area of the house, instead of having it spread throughout.
The first major hurdle (that of convincing my husband to let go of the money needed for this project) has been accomplished. We have found a nice indoor/outdoor carpet at a carpeting outlet, and they will install it for us at the whopping price of $400 inclusive (this is my Christmas present). Finding a decent/livable carpet for a good price (installed of course) was a hurdle in itself. Do you know how much carpet costs these days? There's no way we could afford to do the rest of the house right now. Not to mention the disarry (hence the title of this article) that would ensue in the rest of the house.
Just to give you an idea of exactly what it is going to take to make this ONE room happen...
First of all, we had to remove the mattresses from the bedroom I am now sleeping in. Then the newer mattresses (purchased for me when I got sick) had to be moved to the bedroom and the old ones disposed of. All the bedding had to be cleaned (I seemed to have picked up some allergies to certain fibers now) or replaced. I still have to repair the bed ruffle (today, I promise).
The hide-a-bed had to be re-assembled into a couch, which meant we had to find the hardware for it, put the old sofa mattress back in it and fold it up. That hide-a-bed has never been easy to put back together, but for some reason, it went back in remarkably well.
Now comes the real carnage...
We had the room measured and now we have a firm date of November 25, before noon, for installation of the new carpet. What that means is that we have to move everything out of the room (into the living room, no doubt), tear up the old carpet and pad so I can clean the concrete with bleach (to remove any organisms that decided to take up residency) and paint the walls and ceiling. I also have to arrange for the internet cabling to be moved that afternoon, so our main access point is in that room. I am hoping to have that appointment scheduled for Tuesday afternoon, after the carpeting is installed.
Another point that is going to have to be addressed is the moving of our 55-gallon aquarium. It is going into the recessed area of the new office, which was once reserved for our entertainment center and all the accumulated dust bunnies that have manifested themselves behind it. The aquarium is now full of water, rocks, plants and fish, and it will take some doing to get it all dismantled, cleaned and moved, and then re-assembled successfully in the chosen spot. I figure it will take 3 days minimum for that alone.
The computer desk(s), file cabinets, etc., will all have to be moved into the office and set back up. All plants have to be pruned and/or re-potted, and any repairs to the sofa will have to be made.
The sofa is going into the living room, where I hope to once again have a conversation area for the family to gather in, and a place for us to have our movie nights. (Usually Sunday night is reserved for whatever movie we have decided to watch, complete with soft drinks and popcorn.) I am dearly looking forward to that again.
When, you ask, is all of this to be done by? Thanksgiving... yeah RIGHT!!! I'm hopeful that some of these things can be done ahead of time, like dismantling the aquarium. I have to wash all the pea gravel that is in it along with the rocks and plants before I can put it all back in. The water that is now in the aquarium will have to discarded, and the eco-system will have to be rebuilt over a period of about a week. I have a place for the fish... an older (smaller) aquarium I kept just for this purpose.
Once all of this is done, it will be time for us to decorate for Christmas, and get on with the bustle that comes along with the holidays. I am also looking for a job at this time. (I'm feeling strong enough to handle it, I think.)
What a mess... pray for me... pray that it all goes according to plan, and pray that we make it through this with our sanity intact.
Nazdovie'
Paczki Puta
The first major hurdle (that of convincing my husband to let go of the money needed for this project) has been accomplished. We have found a nice indoor/outdoor carpet at a carpeting outlet, and they will install it for us at the whopping price of $400 inclusive (this is my Christmas present). Finding a decent/livable carpet for a good price (installed of course) was a hurdle in itself. Do you know how much carpet costs these days? There's no way we could afford to do the rest of the house right now. Not to mention the disarry (hence the title of this article) that would ensue in the rest of the house.
Just to give you an idea of exactly what it is going to take to make this ONE room happen...
First of all, we had to remove the mattresses from the bedroom I am now sleeping in. Then the newer mattresses (purchased for me when I got sick) had to be moved to the bedroom and the old ones disposed of. All the bedding had to be cleaned (I seemed to have picked up some allergies to certain fibers now) or replaced. I still have to repair the bed ruffle (today, I promise).
The hide-a-bed had to be re-assembled into a couch, which meant we had to find the hardware for it, put the old sofa mattress back in it and fold it up. That hide-a-bed has never been easy to put back together, but for some reason, it went back in remarkably well.
Now comes the real carnage...
We had the room measured and now we have a firm date of November 25, before noon, for installation of the new carpet. What that means is that we have to move everything out of the room (into the living room, no doubt), tear up the old carpet and pad so I can clean the concrete with bleach (to remove any organisms that decided to take up residency) and paint the walls and ceiling. I also have to arrange for the internet cabling to be moved that afternoon, so our main access point is in that room. I am hoping to have that appointment scheduled for Tuesday afternoon, after the carpeting is installed.
Another point that is going to have to be addressed is the moving of our 55-gallon aquarium. It is going into the recessed area of the new office, which was once reserved for our entertainment center and all the accumulated dust bunnies that have manifested themselves behind it. The aquarium is now full of water, rocks, plants and fish, and it will take some doing to get it all dismantled, cleaned and moved, and then re-assembled successfully in the chosen spot. I figure it will take 3 days minimum for that alone.
The computer desk(s), file cabinets, etc., will all have to be moved into the office and set back up. All plants have to be pruned and/or re-potted, and any repairs to the sofa will have to be made.
The sofa is going into the living room, where I hope to once again have a conversation area for the family to gather in, and a place for us to have our movie nights. (Usually Sunday night is reserved for whatever movie we have decided to watch, complete with soft drinks and popcorn.) I am dearly looking forward to that again.
When, you ask, is all of this to be done by? Thanksgiving... yeah RIGHT!!! I'm hopeful that some of these things can be done ahead of time, like dismantling the aquarium. I have to wash all the pea gravel that is in it along with the rocks and plants before I can put it all back in. The water that is now in the aquarium will have to discarded, and the eco-system will have to be rebuilt over a period of about a week. I have a place for the fish... an older (smaller) aquarium I kept just for this purpose.
Once all of this is done, it will be time for us to decorate for Christmas, and get on with the bustle that comes along with the holidays. I am also looking for a job at this time. (I'm feeling strong enough to handle it, I think.)
What a mess... pray for me... pray that it all goes according to plan, and pray that we make it through this with our sanity intact.
Nazdovie'
Paczki Puta
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
IF - for girls
My mother gave me this for my 8th grade graduation. I always thought there was great wisdom in these words. IF - for girls |
And never yield to deal in whispers, too; If you can bravely smile when loved ones doubt you And never doubt, in turn, what loved ones do; If you can keep a sweet and gentle spirit In spite of fame or fortune, rank or place, And though you win your goal or only near it, Can win with poise or lose with equal grace; If you can meet with Unbelief, believing, And hallow in your heart, a simple creed, If you can meet Deception, undeceiving, And learn to look to God for all you need; If you can be what girls should be to mothers: Chums in joy and comrades in distress, And be unto others as you'd have the others Be unto you - - no more, and yet no less; If you can keep within your heart the power To say that firm, unconquerable "No," If you can brave a present shadowed hour Rather than yield to build a future woe; If you can love, yet not let loving master, But keep yourself within your own self's clasp, And not let Dreaming lead you to disaster Nor Pity's fascination loose your grasp; If you can lock your heart on confidences Nor ever needlessly in turn confide; If you can put behind you all pretenses Of mock humility or foolish pride; If you can keep the simple, homely virtue Of walking right with God - - then have no fear That anything in all the world can hurt you - - And - - which is more - - you'll be a Woman, dear. Nazdrovie' Paczki Puta |
Desiderata
I received this from a dear friend at the beginning of the year.
It's time to read it again.
Desiderata
It's time to read it again.
Desiderata
-- written by Max Ehrmann in the 1920s --
Go placidly amid the noise and the haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible, without surrender,
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even to the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons;
they are vexatious to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain or bitter,
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs,
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals,
and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love,
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment,
it is as perennial as the grass.
Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be.
And whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life,
keep peace in your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.
Nazdrovie'
Paczki Puta
Go placidly amid the noise and the haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible, without surrender,
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even to the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons;
they are vexatious to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain or bitter,
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs,
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals,
and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love,
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment,
it is as perennial as the grass.
Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be.
And whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life,
keep peace in your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.
Nazdrovie'
Paczki Puta
A Matter of Health
During the last 2 years, I have been dealing with a cough that wouldn't go away. I finally had the necessary tests done, and the verdict was something that I can't accept... a lung fungus that will never heal.
I went through taking all the poisons (medications) that the doctor wanted me to take to combat this "never healing" fungus. They made me sicker than the disease. So I stopped. Cold. But I didn't give up. I decided to go on a holistic approach to killing this thing. I have long been a believer in holistic medicine, having used it to help me several times in my life. After all, if you had a choice between taking rat poison (anti-coagulant) or drinking a glass or two of wine every night, wouldn't you choose the wine? Thought so.
I started this with a complete body and parasite cleanse. It's just a series of herbs that help your organs to push out all the creeping crud that accumulates in the body. I am in Week #2 of the cleanse, and am feeling better than I have felt in a really long time. It hasn't been harsh on my system either.
The idea of doing a body cleanse came to me after talking to one of my cousins (thank you Amy), about how she did the same thing before her cancer surgery. She said she never felt better, and the meds she had to take after the surgery worked so much more effectively than if she hadn't done it at all. It made a lot of sense to me. I don't want to end my life having to take more and more medications just to function normally. Since that is what was happening, I concluded that the crap is building up in my system, making it less effective than it would have been otherwise. I'm sleeping better now, eating less (I'm just not hungry), and am stronger physically than I had been the last few months. I am actually cleaning house now! (Pick your jaw up from the floor...) It's still a little rough going, but I am SO much better than I was just a short month ago. Maybe soon I'll be able to get back on my workout program. Oh hell... housework IS a workout!
I haven't gone back on the meds for the lung thingy. I'm going to try a homeopathic remedy after the cleanse is over. I'll keep you posted.
Nazdrovie'
Paczki Puta
I went through taking all the poisons (medications) that the doctor wanted me to take to combat this "never healing" fungus. They made me sicker than the disease. So I stopped. Cold. But I didn't give up. I decided to go on a holistic approach to killing this thing. I have long been a believer in holistic medicine, having used it to help me several times in my life. After all, if you had a choice between taking rat poison (anti-coagulant) or drinking a glass or two of wine every night, wouldn't you choose the wine? Thought so.
I started this with a complete body and parasite cleanse. It's just a series of herbs that help your organs to push out all the creeping crud that accumulates in the body. I am in Week #2 of the cleanse, and am feeling better than I have felt in a really long time. It hasn't been harsh on my system either.
The idea of doing a body cleanse came to me after talking to one of my cousins (thank you Amy), about how she did the same thing before her cancer surgery. She said she never felt better, and the meds she had to take after the surgery worked so much more effectively than if she hadn't done it at all. It made a lot of sense to me. I don't want to end my life having to take more and more medications just to function normally. Since that is what was happening, I concluded that the crap is building up in my system, making it less effective than it would have been otherwise. I'm sleeping better now, eating less (I'm just not hungry), and am stronger physically than I had been the last few months. I am actually cleaning house now! (Pick your jaw up from the floor...) It's still a little rough going, but I am SO much better than I was just a short month ago. Maybe soon I'll be able to get back on my workout program. Oh hell... housework IS a workout!
I haven't gone back on the meds for the lung thingy. I'm going to try a homeopathic remedy after the cleanse is over. I'll keep you posted.
Nazdrovie'
Paczki Puta
Creating DVD's - A Labor of Love or Beating My Head Up Against The Wall?
I did it! Finally. I kept a promise I made to myself to put our old family movies on DVD, not at all an easy task and most likely to challenge your sanity. I finished it all yesterday. With the help of my wonderful sons, I was able to find 2 computers (out of our 5) that had the capacity to do what I needed it to do.
First, was the task of trying to figure out how to take a very old vhs tape and copy it to a computer. This old movie was taken from 8mm movies that my father had originally shot years ago. (We won't say how MANY years. Let's just say that I remember the signing of the Declaration of Independence!) We tried to copy the footage several different ways. At first, it seemed that it would be an easy thing. After all, I had the cabling necessary to hook up a vcr to a computer. That wasn't enough though. It needed a go-between. So I tried hooking up our old video camera to the vcr. It's too bad that we couldn't figure out where the cables hooked up to the camera. That would have made it easier. But we couldn't, so we used Option #3... using a gamebridge as a go-between from the vcr to the computer. Bingo! That worked, but it took us 4 days of trial and error, and several dozen cups of hot chocolate, and it also put my son, Jason, out of a computer for a few days. If any of you know my son, you'll know that he lives and breathes his laptop and the programming he does on it.
After we had captured the video file(s), we had the daunting task of trying to get the file burned to a dvd. It seems that most of our computers didn't want to cooperate, and that made this even more difficult. The files were larger than the ordinary dvd. I tried several programs to get the files to compress just right and gave up when I found out there WAS such a thing as an 8.5GB DVD disc! After finally getting an imaged burned (again after more chocolate), we had to make sure it would play on a dvd player. Just because you burn a dvd is no guarantee that it's going to play. We had success after another day or two. We copied that dvd, and burned enough copies of it to ensure my sanity in case something catastrophic were to happen to the original. I did the fancy label on the dvd and put them in a case, again with a fancy insert. All in all, a job very well done. I just wish I'd done it sooner. The quality of the vhs tape had gone down considerably with age.
Note to self: Don't wait. Time slips away before you know it and then all you've got is... well... nothing.
Nazdrovie'
Paczki Puta
First, was the task of trying to figure out how to take a very old vhs tape and copy it to a computer. This old movie was taken from 8mm movies that my father had originally shot years ago. (We won't say how MANY years. Let's just say that I remember the signing of the Declaration of Independence!) We tried to copy the footage several different ways. At first, it seemed that it would be an easy thing. After all, I had the cabling necessary to hook up a vcr to a computer. That wasn't enough though. It needed a go-between. So I tried hooking up our old video camera to the vcr. It's too bad that we couldn't figure out where the cables hooked up to the camera. That would have made it easier. But we couldn't, so we used Option #3... using a gamebridge as a go-between from the vcr to the computer. Bingo! That worked, but it took us 4 days of trial and error, and several dozen cups of hot chocolate, and it also put my son, Jason, out of a computer for a few days. If any of you know my son, you'll know that he lives and breathes his laptop and the programming he does on it.
After we had captured the video file(s), we had the daunting task of trying to get the file burned to a dvd. It seems that most of our computers didn't want to cooperate, and that made this even more difficult. The files were larger than the ordinary dvd. I tried several programs to get the files to compress just right and gave up when I found out there WAS such a thing as an 8.5GB DVD disc! After finally getting an imaged burned (again after more chocolate), we had to make sure it would play on a dvd player. Just because you burn a dvd is no guarantee that it's going to play. We had success after another day or two. We copied that dvd, and burned enough copies of it to ensure my sanity in case something catastrophic were to happen to the original. I did the fancy label on the dvd and put them in a case, again with a fancy insert. All in all, a job very well done. I just wish I'd done it sooner. The quality of the vhs tape had gone down considerably with age.
Note to self: Don't wait. Time slips away before you know it and then all you've got is... well... nothing.
Nazdrovie'
Paczki Puta
In The Beginning...
Here I am, starting a blog. Who in the world came up with that word...
Here I will write about the events of my day, my thoughts, or the way life is unfolding. I will even insert a few witty comments (as supplied by my witty family) here and there, and will definitely post memorable events.
At points, you will see that I am moving my blogs from another place to here. Please bear with me. I don't want to lose those blogs or the slideshows I made to go with them.
Feel free to send comments or items of interest you would like to see posted here.
That said... enter at your own risk!
Nazdrovie'
Paczki Puta
Here I will write about the events of my day, my thoughts, or the way life is unfolding. I will even insert a few witty comments (as supplied by my witty family) here and there, and will definitely post memorable events.
At points, you will see that I am moving my blogs from another place to here. Please bear with me. I don't want to lose those blogs or the slideshows I made to go with them.
Feel free to send comments or items of interest you would like to see posted here.
That said... enter at your own risk!
Nazdrovie'
Paczki Puta
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