the green house

In the year 2000 my husband and I were married. Two years later we became homeowners. 15 years later we still occupy the same house. Since move-in, we have painted, replaced a roof, furnace, plumbing, electrical, and gutted bathroom and kitchen. We have added flowers, deck, patio, pond, and fence. Countless redecorating and repairing. It never ends. Welcome to home ownership. Upon first sight of our future home, I was drawn to it's big front porch, perennial gardens, wood floors, and dare I say dry basement. Believe it or not, that's a big deal. It had good bones, what seemed like privacy, and the perfect size for my husband, myself, and our 200 lb dog. It even had a fence albeit a chain link, but enclosure none the same. That quickly changed. I do not remember exactly when the house next door started to become a nuisance. I just remember one day suddenly feeling I needed to put some distance between the 2 properties, hence the new 6' privacy fence. Since then, the green house to the north of us has been a revolving door of bad language, bad manners, ill-behaved children, thieves, ex-cons,unemployed foster parents, cable stealing relatives(theirs not ours), countless pets, drug dealers, and Catholic charities. That last one, I still have PTSD. The loudest dirtiest neighbors who left the entire house infested with cockroaches which of course decided to venture to my kitchen drawer thus giving me a mini nervous breakdown. I don't do well with roaches. I'm not one of those who can live in warmer climates or big cities because my irrational fear runs deep.Once I had a 2 inch Florida stowaway in my suitcase and lost my ability to breathe. Rats, mice, snakes, spiders, no problem, but one of those skittery hard-shelled creatures enters my line of sight and I'm done. Anyways, I digress. We have seen all sides of humanity move in and out of the house next door. They never stay long so I try not to worry too much about any of it. Until recently or rather the past 2 years. I believe it was then our current crop of deviants took up residence. I don't recall which came first, worse or more worse, but in any case there they were in all their tank top wearin' party in the driveway, curse at anything and everything, berate your woman, list goes on glory. The fights and police and arguments over spending all the check on weed or not letting me see my kids, etc. etc. The troubled violent tween yelling obscenities every time he went off his meds. I only know that last fact because the foster mom likes to have all her colorful cell phone conversations in the driveway. They all spend a lot of time in the driveway which resides on the other side of my fence. We tend to use the front porch. So now that you have an idea of what I live next to I want to introduce you to their animals or pets if you will. The word pet brings to mind something you love and take care of not these poor animals desperate to get away. This I know because we can't seem to keep them out of our yards. I am constantly dealing with animal waste and all it's loveliness. There is currently one female Pitbull(from downstairs)and one striped feline(from upstairs). For some reason these 2 forlorn ragged animals use our yard as their escape opting to hide in my garage or under the porches or as their personal litter box leaving excrement where we walk or hidden among my flowers. Poop is a nuisance. A big stinky pain in my ass. It makes me crazy. Today I caught her highness leaving a big deposit in my yard before she slunked away nipples dragging on my walkway. I can ignore a lot of things. I can ignore the loudness, the drug deals while I pot plants outside or even the tween destroying something against my fence, but poop, poop as they say is a game changer. Ugh, I hate that expression, but for this, it suits. For the moment I have taken to shoveling and flinging the offense back into their rented yard. I have dropped mothball sachets all over my yard so now I look crazy and my yard smells like an estate sale. For now this is my cowardly passive-aggressive way of taking on the green house. See, I don't want my property or belongings messed with. I don't want to make any trouble, I just want the animals to stop crapping in my yard. Have a little neighborly respect. Unfortunately, respect is not something my neighbors are familiar with or practice. Still I hope for the best. If the owner of the dog would ever come out of his rental than I would try to peacefully speak with him. Seeing that he never does except at 4 am to do bong hits with his customers, leaves me with my current course of action. I don't think this will stop anything, but it gives me a little peace of mind. Venting or rather ranting to you lovely readers gives me peace of mind. I write this with the hope that balance will restore and karma will win. I write this in hopes of a shit free yard. I write this to all future homeowners, may you take a closer look at your potential neighbors before you offer up your dollars and sign the papers. Good night world, I'm going to have a glass of wine.

Journeys

Wow, here we are, 2017. Yikes, this past year has certainly been a ride! I can NOT believe I haven't written since March. You probably thought you'd heard the last of me, but no, you won't be rid of me that easily. When I started this blog I was in the midst of utter despair. I needed an outlet to vent my feelings of frustration over, well, life, hence Kids, Careers, and Crappy Economy was launched. If you've managed to follow along all this time then you know the struggles my husband and I had with our careers and parenthood in a time of deep economic depression. Depression? WTF? The Depression was during my grandmother's time not mine! It was a cruel twist of fate and circumstance that lead us through too many years of angst and worry. That's where my writing came in. I would feel so hopeless that life and the way I wanted it was going to forever elude us. Writing was one of the many ways I coped or at least tried to cope with a succession of what felt like failures on our part as individuals, parents, entrepreneurs. Fast forward to the present( because no good ever comes from ruminating on the past)and there is peace or some semblance of it anyway. I have climbed my version of Everest and I am at the pinnacle looking down on a whole new journey because life doesn't stop when you've achieved one goal; there is always another on the horizon waiting to be conquered. Finally achieving financial peace and I don't mean wealth and material goods. I mean old fashioned paying all the bills and realizing you can still go get $3 tacos and a margarita because life is good and you finally feel calm because the only thing you ever wanted was to not worry about stability. Not having a store rent and utilities to pay anymore has greatly added to my financial freedom. Crunching numbers and realizing I can not only make it on my terms, but go farther than I thought possible doing what I do without the safety net of a storefront has opened so many new doors. So many new adventures, relationships, achievements this past year. Just looking back, even at the hardships because the hardships only pushed me to be better, learn more, try new ways, etc. Without the challenge, how does one learn? So I look back at 2016 and I think, it wasn't a bad year, it wasn't a good year, but it was most definitely a challenging year. Doors opened and doors closed. One major door closing was the passing of my mother-in-law. The sheer suddenness of it took us all by surprise. Honestly, I thought she was going to torture me for the next 10 years. Joking, only joking. I miss that woman something fierce. Small yet mighty with a heart big enough for her family and then some. The bravest strongest woman I knew. Gone. I have no one to call or fight with every morning. So many greats lost this past year. It's funny because I had no intention of writing a 2016 recap. I'm still not sure where I'm going with this post. I sat down to write because I was feeling particularly frustrated with my 8 year old and his homework and his absolute need to procrastinate over everything just to torture this mama. My husband and I try to raise our child the way we were raised. We are trying to teach him the important things like independence, respect, kindness, communication, logic, rules, ACCOUNTABILITY.  This is a household where we use the word no. Trying to make an 8 year old boy learn and understand how to think for himself and take initiative is positively maddening. I'm not talking big issues either, I'm talking about starting with the little things like brushing teeth and getting in the shower on his own or getting dressed for school or remembering spelling words. Knowing to do these things without us asking is all I dream about. I could go on and on about this subject, but then dear readers, I fear your attention may wander and you will click the back button only to send my words whirling through cyberspace. So, I am going to shut it down gently. 2016 is over. We are in a new year. It is a strange year with even stranger things looming on the horizon. I will not let that uncertainty deter me from my journey. I will continue to work hard and try to be a good role model for my child and love these 2 men with all that I have and all that I am. That is really all I wanted to say. Happy new year World. Peace.

detour

Wow, once again we made it. I am always surprised when February ends and we suddenly find ourselves in March. With the worst of winter over and my usually gray city awash in the first of the Spring sunlight, we are that much closer to summer. Everything feels less heavy, less cumbersome. The sun rises earlier so we feel that little bounce in our step returning. For me, this has been a winter like no other. Previous years had me depressed, stressed, worried. Money, money, money, the root of all evil had me always in its grasp. This year, no. Taking all of January to close my shop of 18 years kept me busy as the proverbial bee. My days were filled in wool sweaters and dirty jeans as I moved countless carloads of furniture, etc. to my garage, attic, basement all the while selling to last minute customers intent on getting that final deal. Too busy and too cold to even think, I moved on automatic refueling with lots of strong coffee. The day I wrote my final check and turned in the key was the day I felt new life pour into me. Free, liberated....now what? My first thoughts were to find work. A girl still has to shop and I didn't want to tie up our income with my junking expenditure. Securing a two day gig in a bakery proved not only to be profitable, but back breaking. For two days I worked with a crew of bakers pumping out that Fat Tuesday treat paczski. I filled, sugared, trayed, and boxed hundreds of these special jelly doughnuts. About midway through my second day I was dreaming of wine and a hot shower while hundreds of people waited impatiently in line. Listening to the employee chatter, singing countless pop songs with my young coworkers, and watching the last of the orders filled gave me the hugest sense of accomplishment. The wad of cash handed over at the end wasn't bad either. My second part-time gig came in the way of a local deli/butcher shop. Running in to grab lunch for my dad and I while emptying the store, I had a chance to chat with the owner and since he needed help and I needed income, I was hired. Don't let anyone ever tell you one can't find work while wearing your son's Darth Vader hat. Unsure of what the Hell I was getting myself into I forged ahead. My first day was spent learning the ropes and the lottery machine. That fucking lottery machine. The hardest part of my sandwich making, meat wrapping employment. I never thought something so dumb would be my undoing. Let's get this straight right now. I DON'T play the lottery. I DON'T buy instant tickets. I think it's all senseless and stupid. Well, apparently I'm the only one because here they come with their own special lottery language and they throw words at me like "kicker" "powerball" "draw" "midday" " rollingcash". WTF. Seriously, I look at these people and tell them I have no idea what they just said to me. It's all Greek, this weird lottery lingo. I'll go back to making sandwiches or weighing ground chuck or even pricing the fancy pickles, anything but the lottery machine. I marvel at how much it stumps me. My new coworkers aren't going to stay patient forever, but this machine, well, sorry kids. I mean I freeze in front of it. Anyway, I digress. Oddly enough I love this job. I don't know why. I'm comfortable in food service. There's no stress, well, except for the aforementioned. I love my coworkers. The young butchers are all so proud of their job. They love to talk about their trade. There's no whining or complaining, the job just gets done with no drama. Being a part of this local establishment keeps me in the loop so to speak and I am able to stay in touch with my patrons and keep them informed of my next adventures. This job has saved me. If I didn't have it, I don't think I'd have left my bed this winter. I am not one to sit still and not having a job has never been an option. Having a few shifts a week has been rejuvenating, not one hint of seasonal depression, just that lightness in my step. My third part-time experience was working for a liquidator friend this past weekend. Needing an extra body for a huge estate sale, I was available on a Friday to stand in the basement all day and itemize customer's purchases. I have to admit it was slightly torturous as I watched a few wanted items leave my grasp yet I still scored some good finds at a great deal. Helping shoppers and being behind the scenes was a fun change as opposed to the manic frenzied buyer I usually am. My boss was a doll and my coworkers lovely. If asked, I'd do it again in a heartbeat! All these part-time opportunities gave me a chance to spend some quality time in my home. Always so busy with the shop, the last thing I felt like doing was decorating my own abode. The extra downtime was nice for a change and I was able to finish some projects, secure some fantastic finds(for me not the business), and make my home lovely and fun again. I forgot how much I missed decorating and the satisfaction it gives. We still have a long to do list, but thankfully it's a little shorter. As I look back at the past few months I can't help but smile. I knew I was closing the store and I knew I had a plan, but having a plan doesn't always work the way we expect. I've never been afraid of hard work or too proud to work a job different from my norm. I can thank my dad for this. He never let me sit idle and always made me "go pound the pavement". This hiatus from my so called vintage life has been restorative. It is hard to close a chapter and not know what's around the bend, but taking this detour has cleared my head and made the future look so bright I just may need shades. I feel like a completely different person and am so ready to tackle my career and come at it with a more peaceful, positive attitude. Last year I thought I had all the answers, but it wasn't until I stepped away from all that I knew and dusted out the mental cobwebs, was I able to see clearly once again. Like Spring, I am just warming up. Good afternoon world.

changes

So, here we are, January. A belated happy new year to all. This morning I sit in peace and quiet listening to the furnace tick on and off. An occasional car passes on the frozen street. Yes, winter is here. After months of glorious "warm" temps, the cold and snow have descended. The barometric pressure has dropped so there's a constant tight band of pressure encapsulating my skull. Coffee has me jittery yet I sit reflective in the silence. I had a few subjects I wanted to touch upon for this post, but after hearing the news of the death of David Bowie, I feel strangely subdued and a bit a.d.d. This post may end up one long free association. I am never one to think too deeply about the death of a celebrity. Why? I didn't know them, they didn't know me, so why bother with all the emotion? Seems like a waste of energy. David Bowie was different. Perhaps it was his incessant ability to reinvent himself, adapt to the times. He was always ahead of the game. Ziggy, Starman, Thin White Duke, all monikers for a changing persona. Maybe I feel so damned sad because his music has always been on the periphery of my life no matter what age. In the seventies it was there on the radio during my childhood and in the eighties it was the pop music background to my teenage years. When my husband and I started dating it felt like Bowie was always with us. Hunky Dory, Ziggy Stardust, always on the c.d. player as we began our lives together. Now, who will fill that void? David Bowie was timeless, you thought he'd never die. I remember seeing him in the early nineties, an outdoor concert in the middle of summer. I remember the warm evening and the excitement over seeing such a legend. It was supposedly the last time he was to perform his old hits. That concert I will forever hold in my memory. The strange news of his death coupled with the near closing of my store has me feeling a bit off this morning. I feel unsettled, adrift in a sea of ch ch ch changes. Expediating the closure of my business has me excited yet a bit fearful of my pending unemployment. I was going to try and hang in there until the end of this cold month, but the process has moved along more rapidly then I anticipated so I believe one more weekend then I bid adieu to my brick and mortar. It is time. I do not need to drag this out any longer then necessary. I have to admit, as unsettling as my unemployment may be, I feel positively giddy at the notion of freedom. Last year, this time, I was in a different place, my mid life crisis hadn't revealed itself yet or maybe it was there underlying all my big plans. Last year I was trying to reinvent, reboot my stalled career and instead the answer was there under my nose the whole time. Change is hard and we don't always see or want to see the obvious solution to the problem. Just like an alcoholic giving up the booze, I couldn't see my life without my shop. Now, I realize the death of an icon and the closing of my shop are far removed yet I can't help but notice a few parallels. For years this rockstar changed his image time and again to appeal to a changing audience all the while maintaining his creative integrity. As I mentioned in my previous post, this was common in my career to meet the demands of a progressively younger consumer. I was never afraid to change the shop to suit the times. If you don't move with it, you're a goner. I always worked my job with my heart first and then my head. I believe this is how one finds their niche. Anyone can sing or sell vintage, but remaining true to yourself is what sets you apart from others. You never heard Bowie copy someone else's style, he didn't need to, he had his own. Now, for all I know, he probably suffered from his own share of insecurities as do we all. Pushing through those doubts made him the star he was. Taking the time to push through my own doubts and insecurities to see to the other side has been liberating. An uncertain future, yes, but I promise it won't be boring. R.I.P. sir. Good afternoon world.

brick and mortar (a tale of small business start to end)

It all began with a box of garage sale finds, some pretty teacups and such my mother found for my new apartment. The teacups were peach with a pretty opalescent luster. They weren't expensive, but to me they were gold. To me they were the start of a new beginning in my very first adult apartment. My mother was thrilled and I'll never forget her excitement. Unfortunately she was less thrilled when the boyfriend of that moment moved in, but that's another story. To this day I still have the teacups, the boyfriend long gone to jail or wherever he belonged. Such began my love with vintage. It was at that moment gazing upon my treasures, seeing my mom's excitement that I began to hate anything new and fell in love with all things old. Years of junking and a part-time job in a little antique store lead me to my first retail space and my fate was sealed. How does one cram almost 20 years in business into a few paragraphs? My career in this business feels as ancient as the hills. That first feeling when the lease is signed, key in hand, and the world your oyster. At first I worked full-time waiting tables and part-time at my true calling. I was always hesitant to let go of my stable employment and the safety net of financial comfort it gave me. My first space was a shared space, an absentee "partner" if you will who would come and go leaving boxes of dishes or expensive antiques for me to display. I would open the shop only to have that creepy feeling that someone was in my space. My decision to move stemmed from a need to be on my own, no creepy silent partners or ugly Mission furniture left for me to tend to. The next space though close to the first felt miles away from that tiny spot. This new location was mine all mine. I had huge windows to display my wares and boy did I! A background in art was finally put to good use as I transformed those windows week after week to showcase my old junk. The more effort I put into my business, the more I resented working another job. Slowly as the years went by, I cut back on evenings at the restaurant in order to pursue my destiny(yes that's a bit dramatic, but then so am I). I worked like a dog to gain personal and financial success. I built up a solid loyal customer base. I added more hours, an employee or two. During the holidays I would stay until all hours of the night just to make sure everything was beautiful and perfect. As the years went by I began to notice though I had achieved personal success, I had yet to find that brass ring. Part of the problem was my location. Though cheap, it came with a big price, a changing neighborhood. The street had become a joke of sorts with most of the other antique shops closing due to declining business and the sort of "customer" that became the norm. Trying to still make a go of it, I would have days with no business and when someone did finally wander in, it was usually the sort of medicated, shuffling, muttering types looking for a captive audience. In tears, I knew it was time for the next change. Once my decision was made, my new final location happened within 24 hours of my decision to leave. Luck was on my side and the new improved space came with lots of fresh traffic, wonderful neighbors and finally that sense of community and family so important to small business. I was home. My old Italian barber neighbors immediately took me under their wing and they became my friends and confidantes for ten years until their untimely death not long ago. The copy shop owner and his kids became like extended family, raising our boys in our shops and standing around shooting the shit. My new customers came with their stories, their dogs, their children I've watched grow into teenagers. They became my life support. My shop became not just a way to earn a living, but a kind of meeting place. Under that roof we discussed politics, religion, love, family, furniture, daily conversations to feed your soul if the mood fit. Over the years I added an ever changing stock of rotating inventory, remodeled, reinvented, changed the name, started doing more shows to boost my image, get my name out there. After one particularly disappointing show I fell into a slight depression, mid- life crisis I guess. I spent months soul searching, trying to figure out just where I was going with all this. After running a fast track for so long and being consumed by my calling, I lost interest. Dried up and got disgusted. My job had become just that, a job. Economic crisis had spurned a new way to shop retail. Today's young customers are thriftier, pickier, bending to social media to fit in, be part of something big. Trending events to boost our city's economy and produce a young generation of "makers", "creatives", and yes, vintage dealers. I was now the dinosaur tethered to a $1000 a month rent not to mention utilities and inventory. On top of that I was trying to help maintain household expenses. By the end of the day there was nothing left for me. All my hard earned money eaten up by expenses and groceries. Eighteen years I ran that hamster wheel, always running to catch up, get ahead. My store never did bad business, it always came through when most needed, but at this age, I'm done struggling for my art. I am ready to be free of financial burden. I want to travel, give in to this wanderlust that has hounded me my entire life. Most importantly I want to breathe, be with my family, reboot and recharge. The shop has long since served its purpose. It gave me a sense of satisfaction and reward. I raised my son there in order to forego expensive day care, albeit at the cost of my sanity a few times yet still with fond memories. It helped our income. The relationships I garnered and nurtured over the years never to be forgot. So,once again, I'm taking that leap, jumping off that proverbial cliff. At the end of January my little shop that meant so much for so many years will be closed. I am sad to lose my community. Brick and mortars are so important to a city's survival yet it is a changing world and I have to once again change with it. It's time to go where the crowds are rather than wait for the crowd to find me. Sad, yes, but so excited for a newer more free future, a mobile future. A way to travel and be with my family and sell my old junk. So, my dear customers, never fear. This is not a good-bye, this is a big fat HELLO to a big fat new adventure. I have no idea what the future holds, but isn't that part of the fun? My eyes are open and I'm jumping...goodnight world.

pizza

So, it's summer. No school for three months. Life is starting to settle into vacation mode or it will once this gray sky moves on out. No lie the past year has been stressful and right when you think all is well, well, there's another stress. Yeah, because it's called life. Whoever said life would be easy was a big fat liar. Anyway, I can't complain. I have a pretty nice life. If I didn't stress over money on an hourly basis, I may be able to enjoy mine. When stress comes a knockin' I don't run for the fridge and it's contents, no I run to the gym or the lake or an estate sale. Well, maybe that's a teensy lie. When I'm feeling like the world has it out for me, I call the pizza delivery guy or get out my flour and yeast and concoct my own greasy luxury. I am downright weak in the knees, twist my arm, I have no control when it comes to pizza. Some people like to dab theirs with a napkin to reduce the grease pool settled on a pound of cheese, I say leave it alone. The shinier the better. I'll eat almost anything on a pizza as long as it's not tiny hairy fish or green peppers or black olives, yuck. You can top mine with lobster, chicken, bbq sauce, all kinds of shrooms, what have you, but my favorite, absolute favorite is plain old New York style pepperoni. Suh woon. Honestly, I think I only exercise so I can eat more pizza. Fifteen years working in a pizza/Italian place did not help my addiction. So many choices and God bless crappy servers who can't ring in the right order because then there would be pizzas lined up in the kitchen with no customer to claim them. Oh, is this a mistake? YES!! Pesto sauce, feta cheese, hot banana peppers, caramelized onions, and of course PEPPERONI! Tables, who has tables, there's free pizza! I swear I lost ten pounds when I left that job. The origin of pizza is not clear. Some say it was some Italian guy Raffaele Esposito in 1889 who invented the margherita pizza to impress a king and queen. Pizza was also known as peasant's food because it was inexpensive to make. Huh, another reason I love it. Some say pizza really took off when Italian immigrants settled in America and migrated from city to city. Either way, whomever invented this simple delicacy deserves a big fat greasy kiss. Pizza, a mere concoction of whatever you want becomes a delicacy the instant you shove it in your mouth and sigh with contentment. No need to dive the deepest depths of our oceans or scour the bowels of the jungle searching for an edible delight. Nope, just call up your favorite local pizza joint and the minute that aroma hits your nose, you'll get my drift. Pizza has turned many a crappy day around with it's silent splendor. Paired with wine, pop or beer takes it to a different level. Add pajamas, movie, and a couch and you have the perfect night in. Extra cheese? Yes please! So there you have it, my absolute weakness, addiction if you will. I have never been able to resist the lure of pizza in all it's gooey, greasy, cheesy, oreganoey goodness. They say money will buy you happiness, I say go buy a pizza, it's easier and it certainly makes me happy. Oh, and don't even get me started on donuts. Good afternoon world.

just beginning

Well, we made it. Kindergarten is officially over. Tomorrow my little man will stand on a stage and graduate from his first year of "real" school. Frankly, I am relieved. This has been a hard year for our child. Kindergarten is not like when we were kids. Kindergarten used to be fun, joyous. Now, it's a mixture of pre-k and first grade.Confusing. Oh, there's still play, but now there are lessons and homework mixed in with the Legos and recess. Reading and writing and arithmetic all before first grade. Expectations have been set so high kids can't just be kids anymore. Even childhood has to be faster, better, more efficient. We raise our boys like girls. We expect them to sit still, be quiet, behave. My child doesn't sit still unless he's tired or sick. Oh, and don't even think of packing anything for lunch with nuts because someone else's kid who's allergic might eat something they're not supposed to. I swear we spend so much time looking out for everyone else's child we forget our own charges. I must admit, I had an "old school" view of kindergarten. I was not prepared for all the homework, sight words, math, book reports. It took my husband and I some serious readjusting of our own life to become used to this new regime. Not having a child until almost 40, we didn't realize how much school had changed. I'm already shaking in my shoes at this supposed "new" math. What does that even mean? What was wrong with the old way of learning math? Why do we think we have to "fix" everything when it all worked just fine for us. I know how to add, subtract, etc. All these people changing a system that isn't broke. They all know how to read. They all know how to multiply and divide yet it's not good enough anymore for their overly entitled kids. I'm so confused. I want school to be a positive experience for my child. Behavior charts and phone calls from the teacher. Puhleez! So much pressure for someone so young. Kids fuck up, that's what they do. That's why we as the parents are there to show them right from wrong. Take responsibility for your actions. Own it. When Sully was acting up, we had the conference, we talked to the teacher, we changed our ways and it worked. Together we had him coming out from under his desk and finishing assignments. He stopped disrupting group. He started listening better(well to everyone else but us). All these new expectations placed upon teachers and children to supposedly fix a system that was just fine in order to make more money. Cut more corners. Test kids to death to show how inefficient teachers are. Place blame everywhere, but at the core of the problem. All of this makes my blood boil. Because of this new way our kids are becoming spoiled, narcissistic, and require instant gratification at all times. We blame teachers for our shortcomings. If there is anyone to blame, it is us, the parents. We are the center of our child's universe so it only stands to reason if they're screwing up, start with the home. My husband and I take full responsibility for our child's actions. We give him a long leash yet work with him everyday to be a better person. Do unto others...I like to think we are doing a good job. We try to be the best parents we can and still we are learning. Parenting is not easy and I don't think it gets easier, unfortunately. Every age has different problems. It's how we the parents address these problems that can make the difference. We had a long road this year and all too often it was easy to blame the teacher, but the teacher was merely doing her job. Working together we helped Sully acclimate better to his new routine. Passing the buck doesn't help anyone least of all our children. I don't have warm and fuzzy feelings about this past year and as I stated I am extremely relieved it's over yet I do have a new respect for this woman who was in charge of my independent and immature wild child while he was in her care. So tomorrow  is graduation and we bid adieu to this learning curve of a year. Tomorrow I will cry like a baby over my baby moving onward because this has been a long year for a little man and we are only just beginning. Good afternoon world.

a new season

Today started like every day, get up, grope for coffee, wake my child, more coffee then off to school. This morning was especially beautiful and warm. A perfect spring morning. After school drop off as I was on my way to grab my board, the sky commenced to turn an eerie shade of blue violet and gray. Taking a chance, I proceeded to collect my board and glide onto the mirror-like surface of the lake. There was no noise just absolute calm, well, wait a sec, there was a pair of clamoring geese irritated I'd disturbed their peace. Ignoring their squawking I continued on my way. The past few weeks have been wrought with a lot of soul searching and today was no different. Gliding along on the perfect lake, I reveled in that peace and let my mind drift where it pleased. So much has happened in the past few months, it's hard to wrap my brain around. So much excitement. For so long I felt stagnant, left behind and now it feels like everything I've been working for all these years is finally paying off. The problem with all these little successes is one gets greedy, impatient. I've been shown a door partially open and now want to fling it wide and yell "I'm in here, come and get me!" I want to see this through, see where it's all going. I've always been that way, can't enjoy the journey because I want to get to the destination. Right there lies the problem. I feel like I'm racing time. Lately I've really noticed it. I'm only 44 yet that feels like 100 to me. I've been spending too much time on regrets. I try to live without those preferring to chalk it up as experiences. I don't like having regrets because it only makes me feel my age more and that time is flying and I need to catch up hence my anxiety. My husband and I recently had a "discussion" over my inability to let go of the past few years and our unstable lifestyle. Everything is good now so why can't I say goodbye to yesterday. I'm not one to ruminate on the past, I move on and keep going. This is not normal behavior for me and if I continue it will affect my marriage. The fact remains that those years were tough. I feel traumatized by those years like a soldier coming home from war. I understand it's a completely different level, but roll with me here. No, I wasn't shot at day after day, but the constant rejection and struggle left it's mark on my psyche. A recent disappointing business venture brought all those feelings back and I've spent a lot of time on the lake trying to let that go. Not everything can be a win. Owning a business is filled with risks and this was one that fell flat. Do I give up? Absolutely not, not in my nature. When that door closed wouldn't you know another opened so off we go again. The last discussion with my husband really got me thinking. I can't keep hurting him with my refusal to move forward. We are happy and stable and that is all I ever wanted. Just like spring shedding winter's choke hold, I too, am shedding that old life and welcoming this new one.Today I am stopping to smell the lilacs and listen to the birdsong. No more "what could have been" thinking. I'm not dead and life is what happens while you're living it. This is a growing season and I intend to grow big and tall while living this glorious life...in the present. Good afternoon world.

inspiration

I don't know if it's the weather change and the return of my business or an upcoming buying adventure across country or just plain old spring fever, but this crazy brain is on overdrive! Lately I feel inspired by well, just about anything and everything. I feel like I eat, drink, sleep all matters creative. If I'm not scouring the planet for old junk, I am displaying my finds. My recent appearance on a design show has me coveting anything interior related. Our recent home renovation(still not finished)has me looking at furniture in a new light. I am ready to purge all my belongings and start fresh yet my inner hoarder is struggling. With the emergence of spring, my yard is getting the stink eye, so ready am I to finally finish outside projects. I am inspired by travel and the senseless abandonment it brings. My wanderlust is at full tilt waiting for my road trip next week. All I can say about that is girlfriends, old junk, cowboy boots, and margaritas under the Texas sky. I am so excited I could positively burst! I would also like to thank American Express for the business capital to make it possible or I might be anxiously chewing off all my fingernails right now. Writing is also inspiring in the way it forces my brain to creatively arrange words on a screen in order to convey all these random thoughts boinging around in my brain like freshly dropped super balls. Writing is a creative outlet I never even entertained until an overwhelming need to scream turned into a blog of four years. Screaming to a silent audience is actually quite cathartic and I wish I had realized my ability sooner rather than later. Better late than never they say. Social media is also another source from which to draw inspiration. There is an entire world of color, travel, design, craft, food, etc. just waiting for the click of your finger. After being stuck inside the past few months with not much in the way of inspiration other then social media, it's no wonder my brain feels on fire, awake, alive! That winter pall has left my body and all I see is possibility. My brain is short firing in bursts of color. My poor husband can't keep up with my vocal musings free associated in his direction. Every inspirational meme seems to be speaking to me and I am soaking it up like I plan to soak up the sun. Dream big. I am! Just do it. I am! Be the change you wish to see. I am! It is just so nice to feel again. Being so cold for so long left me dull and unmotivated. I don't even care that it still lingers because in exactly one week I will be in warmth. It may be muddy and soggy or dry and dusty. Either way I don't care because I have 6 days to roam free with no schedule or agenda. Six days to suck up all the inspiration I can and channel it back into my business and home. So lookout y'all, I'm bringing more back from this adventure then just freeloading cucharachas, because when inspiration strikes, ya gotta ride it like a wild pony or you'll get trampled. Good evening world.

strength

After being tagged as a strong woman in my girlfriend's post for Women's Day yesterday, it got me thinking about strength and from where it comes. What do we do as women to be strong, stay strong, get strong? From where do we draw that power? Are we born strong? I don't think that is always the case. I know I was born independent, but I wouldn't say strong. I used to be timid and crowd following. I wasn't outspoken or able to stand up for myself. I never rocked the boat. Now, well now is just a different story. Now, I'm older. With age comes strength, at least for me. Being your own boss and the confidence that takes makes you strong. There were so many times over the course of so many years where I thought I would give up and just throw in the towel. So many tears over money and jobs and parenting. So many times I wondered what the heck I was doing toting this little child around while trying to keep a business afloat while holding my breath through my husband's job search, all while trying to work a second job. I remember one particular afternoon hearing my husband's voice as he answered his phone to another rejection and feeling my immediate need to flee. I ran to my car and drove off leaving them behind. The only place I could think to go was to my Italian barber neighbor. In tears I blew into the back of their shop where Paul in his infinite age and wisdom sat me down to hear my woes. In his calm demeanor he told me,"Robin, you have to get up off the mat." So like a man, simple and to the point, no bullshit. I went to Paul for cold hard truth and he gave it to me. From that day on, whenever life doesn't work out to our expectations, I hear Paul's voice in my head. You see, life shoves you down and to come back swinging only makes you stronger. I am stronger because I keep fighting. I fight for my family and I fight for my business. The two things I have in this life that I feel are worth fighting for. Strength can also come from people. Who you surround yourself with says a lot about your own personality. I don't surround myself with shrinking violets. Shoulda, woulda, coulda, are not in my vocabulary anymore and I don't want to hear other's excuses on why their life is falling short of their expectations. I surround myself with strong personalities(God help me), creatives, teachers, entrepreneurs, and yes, fighters. I have friends fighting for love, notice, success, self-worth, motherhood, health, and if any of these people had ever given up, they wouldn't be who they are today. One can also draw strength from their family. Your family has been with you from the beginning. They may be intrusive or not say the right thing. They may not understand you or the person you've become through the years, but they are always there. In that, there is comfort and from comfort one can draw strength to keep on keepin' on. As far as my own little family goes, I am lost without them. My husband is like the Rock of Gibraltor. He is unfailing in his quiet strength to hold me, calm me, talk me off the ledge, what have you. As long as I have his arms around me and he tells me everything will be ok, then I know it will be. As for my little firecracker of a son, his endless six year old enthusiasm keeps me going. As I've said before, child's play can turn your whole outlook around. This life is a gift and to waste it feeling sorry for ourselves, drowning in self-pity is positively toxic. I have spent too much time bitching and moaning about the injustices served upon me. I hate that person. The only good thing I can say about that person is she kept me going, convinced me to fight. If your life feels flat or falls short then get up off the damn mat already and put your dukes up because if you don't someone or something will come along and knock you right out. Good evening world.

hibernation

Leaving the cozy womb of my home this morning after a few days of being housebound I felt like a bear emerging from a long winter's sleep. My eyes blinking from the glare of the snow I shivered as I ran to my car. Completing my errands I raced back to my robe and pajamas and the warm cocoon of aimless laziness for just one more day. Tomorrow I go back to early mornings, the gym, work, and one more big bill. Tomorrow reality comes back like another blast of arctic wind. Today I continue to hibernate. Today I will forage in the kitchen scraping together another meal from the remnants of my pantry. Today I will park myself in my new old chair and finish the mystery novel that has captivated me for the past 24 hours. My husband a little cranky and restless because he has to teach tonight is taking care of the chores my lazy ass can't seem to conquer. Hey, I went out in the cold to run errands AND I even managed a work out yesterday letting my punching bag know who's boss. That's enough for me. Downtime at home is not something I embrace very often so accustomed to being on the go at all times. Race here, race there, grocery store, bank, school, you get it. Ice cold snow days are a dream come true because they force me to slow down. Taking pleasure in little things like lying on the floor putting endless Lego structures together or watching hours of Mythbusters and HGTV is heaven. Being that my six year old is obsessed with science and home renovation right now makes me giggle and of course I never mind turning off the annoying cartoons. Having no real plans for this Valentine's Day other then closing my store to spend time with my own valentines found us at Target buying Legos we had promised our little big man. Waiting thirty minutes for him to pick out just the right set then surviving his meltdown due to hunger, all I could do was laugh until my husband, done with his cigarette, sauntered back into the store where I waited gritting my teeth and cursing his name under my breath. Shopping with my husband is like having two children because he tends to wander off and I spend half my time trying to find him. Being left in line with the tired spoiled one I looked longingly at my bottle of wine making it's way down the conveyor belt and tried to keep my spirits up for the sake of the holiday. Hazardous roads due to the blizzard made for a tense twenty minute journey home. Sending our child to his room with a snack and his new Legos, my husband and I had a minute to breathe and regroup from that fun little outing. Giving in to the snow, I opened my wine early and we sat at our kitchen counter talking about everything and nothing. Once our dear one became human again, we were able to salvage the day and enjoy the togetherness of our little family. Homemade pizza and a movie and all was right on this snowy day. Yesterday the sun came out in full force and my squirrels were at the back door begging for their meal. I enjoyed digging in to my new book and my boys played some Minecraft. More fattening food for dinner and some late night Scrabble with my man rounded out our second day of hibernation. Turning off my social media and all the pictures of other's exotic sunny locations had me thinking. It may not be warm. It may not always be sunny, but it is home and for these past few days with my little family, it is where my heart is. Good afternoon world.

february

The title says it all. My absolute LEAST favorite month. I loathe February even more than I loathe October. I always have. February always rolls around with no fanfare, no drum roll, nada. Oh sure there are lots of reasons to celebrate in February, Valentine's Day, Black History Month, President's Day, none of which seem to incite any reaction in my already blah brain. Last month I was near nervous breakdown with the weight of my financial responsibilities due to a kitchen remodel, Christmas, and store expenses. Unable to see the forest through the trees, I finally stumbled out of that monetary mess only to have February waiting on the other side like the Grim Reaper on the banks of the River Styx. Okay, maybe slight dramatic exaggeration, but you get my drift. As we muddle through the icy bitter Cleveland winter, we tick off the months in anticipation for the big thaw, warmer days, and the arrival of Spring. February is the gateway to all things sunny. If we can get through then Spring is waiting on the other side and March and April aren't so bad. We will have survived yet another long cold winter by our frozen lake. Complaining about the weather is positively useless because it does no good other then to spurn more negative thinking. That was yesterday. Super cranky all day and cold to my bones I was Negative Nelly. Today, the sunrise was pink, the sun made an appearance and I am all unicorns in my crazy brain. Blogging and baking and dreaming of puppies and new adventures is how I'm surviving this frozen morning. Sitting in my warm kitchen, smelling the cookies bake and listening to the squirrels chatter outside my back door sure is a nice way to start my day. And then I looked outside. Sigh. Sleet. All one can do is laugh. Frozen mix will not get to me. This will be today's mantra. So, here goes another sheet of cookies into the oven. More writing. In these cold months that seem to drag on and on, it's the small things that get us through. I may sound like Martha Stewart with the baking, but Martha was on to something. Martha survived cold winters by baking and selling pies. Look at her now. So today I will channel Martha. Baking, decorating, crafting, doesn't sound half bad to me. I could go break up the ice in my driveway, but Martha's way is more fun. My words of wisdom may be sparse today because my writer's block is not unlike the ice in my driveway yet if I have sparked even one of you to go do something other then think about your cold feet, I've done my job. For me, work awaits and today I'm finishing all the tasks my cold cranky self refused to acknowledge yesterday. Good morning world.

blah

Here we are, January. Blech. After so much excitement and hullabaloo the past two months, I now sit here feeling restless and bored. In a rut or a mid-life crisis. Do people actually have those anymore or were they merely a byproduct of restless husbands and wives in the eighties. I remember so many Lifetime movies about just that subject. Anyway, such is my mood today. Wandering Target this morning buying food and more food when I really wanted to spend my gift card on me, I couldn't help but sigh and feel dejected, letdown. I hate when I feel this way. It does nobody any good. Least of all, my family. My temper is short and everything pisses me off. Wrinkle cream, that was my one purchase to make myself feel better. One tiny thing to placate my irritable nature. What I really need is a good injection of Botox right between my eyes, but wrinkle cream was cheaper. See where this is going? Feeling old and broke rather than positive and ambitious. I feel as if my vacation just ended and reality has hit, that re-entry thing I wrote about a few months ago. I need to do a Taylor Swift and shake, shake, shake, shake it off, shake it off yet here I sit complaining to you kids and drinking wine way too early in the day. Oh well, just a mood. Tomorrow I will use all my mental tools to combat this winter depression. Honestly, I have not one thing to complain about yet human nature is never satisfied. I am not satisfied. I spent six long years obsessing and worrying over my husband's career and now he's settled so I feel like a lion out of a cage. I want to take on the world, move my business a little farther into the future, try new things, new adventures with new friends. I am overcome with excitement about the future yet here I sit anxious over the same old, same old. I told my husband yesterday that my life would be easier with a credit card and the minute the words were out of my mouth I was instantly reminded(by the dreamkiller himself)that life would not be easier and I would be in debt up to my eyeballs. I really hate when that man is right. Ooh, it irks me so. Truth be told though, he's right. I would be in debt, my wanderlust taking over all my senses and we would be in Florida right now. At least I would be tan. Oh vanity, you evil bitch. So, I'm not in Florida, I'm in Cleveland and right now the Cle is depressing me. Half melted snow and half warm temps. No commitment to anything, just have to take it as it comes. Oh, it's kinda warm today, great, oh, but it's snowing tomorrow, grand. Right now you're probably like oh quit whining. Yeah, I know, but sometimes it feels sooo good to just get it out and then I feel better. If not I'll pour more wine. Lately I have decided to "just do it" as Nike says. I have realized there are things in life I want and I'm tired of dreaming about them. I am pursuing my life with a vengeance. Unfortunately this way of thinking goes against everything I've been doing the aforementioned six years. It is causing me great anxiety because it goes against a more cautious, practical nature I've developed over these tough years. The economy had me questioning every purchase, cup of coffee, even a magazine was an expenditure. Now, I still feel cautious yet I fight it with all my soul. I am, in a nutshell, fighting myself. I need to remember that life is actually working out just fine. My best laid plans will happen, I am making damn sure. January is just a roadblock, a time to get my thoughts straight, recharge. Tomorrow I will stalk the lake, eager to try out my new winter wet suit. If conditions aren't right I will come home and go crazy on my punching bag. I need to get back to exercise because at this age, wine doesn't just go to my head. Exercise is good for me, without it I end up at my trusty laptop bitching to a silent audience. So thank you dear readers for once again letting me clear my head. Now, I am going to pour more wine, play some Jenga with the little big man, and eat something fattening because tomorrow I start all those God forsaken resolutions and ain't nobody got time for more of my complaining. Good night world.

reflections

Quiet, oh so quiet. No sounds of running feet or clattering pans. Once again here I sit in my big bed with my old coffee next to me trying to condense the happenings of 2014 into a ten inch column. Big man and little big man off to school today while I lounge in my thrift store robe. 2014 was not a good year, it was not a bad year, it was a mixed up year that began with so much sorrow and ended with so much happiness. Looking back, remembering icy cold temps and polar vortexes, I shiver just thinking about it. Today the wind blows strong yet there is just a dusting of snow on the streets. For that I am thankful. This year I will happily take a pass on all things snow related. Last January was spent in a frozen bubble while February brought the passing of the first of my friends. April came about with the loss of the second. Two great men gone and missed everyday. Life is still not the same without my Italian guardians, but life goes on and my memories are strong. I try not to dwell on their passing because I still tear up when thoughts of them creep into my heart. May brought another show, another chance to sell my wares and have fun in the country. The paddle board also made it's spring debut breaking out of it's winter hibernation for the first of many lovely happy hour paddles with friends. The end of May brought heartbreaking news with the death of another friend, this one much younger. The passing of my friend's husband rocked our world and taught us once again that fighting depression can be a losing battle. With June came the end of school for both boys and an impromptu road trip to the Sunshine State with my bestie. For the rest of summer, my son and I were sun-kissed and water-logged while my husband balanced on scaffolding 3 stories high painting old victorian houses.Vacation came and went in a sandy blur and back-to-school was on the horizon. Fall approached with kindergarten and new career possibilities for my husband while I relished my free time and spent every waking moment on the lake. October crash landed with stagnant business at the shop yet a new permanent position as a high school teacher for my husband. Ahhh, here is where the worm began to turn. Winter came with an early blast of cold and snow and a career opportunity for your's truly that blew me away, an appearance on a design show with a hunky host. In case you hadn't heard, you can watch my national television debut on Fix It and Finish It, Monday January 26 at 9:30 a.m. on CBS. There. Shameless self-promotion done. That stressful, whirlwind, so much fun experience will be forever burned in my memory. Here's to many more where that came from, wink, wink. The weeks leading up to Christmas were filled with events, home renovation, friends and family. So much good time spent laughing over good food and cocktails with the favorites in my life. Christmas arrived with my house full of family and love, all lit by the glow of my old Christmas lights. Perfect. Finally, the end, New Year's Eve. Yuck. I hate New Year's Eve. I don't know if it's because the holidays are officially over or the pending anxiety of January and winter. Our celebration was simple this year. My men and I met my girlfriend and her boys at our favorite Mexican spot. Margaritas were drained, teenagers embarrassed, and my husband shaking his head at the normality of it all. After getting our son off to bed, it was just the two of us. Right where we started almost 18 years ago. So much has happened in all these years together. Ups and downs. All spent side by side. Our child now old enough to join hands, us a family, as he likes to say. The three of us, ready to conquer our world, side by side by side. We have come out of the dark and into the light. My heart feels peaceful. My head buzzing with the possibility of new opportunities and adventures. Life is good, life is bad, and life sure can be mixed up yet love is the one constant in our life and this love continues to propel us forward. Cheers 2015 and Happy New Year! Good afternoon world.

renovation

The smell of fresh paint and sawdust still lingers. Scent of pine tree wafts up my stairs. Such is life during a holiday renovation. Old walls came down and up went new ones. Cabinets were assembled while appliances were installed. Big slabs of butcher block were laid upon fresh white cabinetry. Stainless steel sink with my fancy new faucet finally tucked into place and new pipes delivered water for the first time in three weeks. Every single wall besides my son's room and the bathroom were layered in a warm white paint. Garbage pick rug unrolled and cleaned only to be rolled back up and delivered to which it came. There is still hope for that rug, I haven't given up yet. On that I am thankful for overly ambitious friends who plucked it from my tree lawn, hauled it to an open space, and cleaned it even better then the professionals. My nose will do the final smell test tomorrow when I retrieve it from his domain. Now I sit on my antique bed half buried in the week's discarded clothes relaying the process to you lovelies. When I first mentioned the plan to my husband, he thought I was nuts, but it was doable. When I mentioned the kicker, "Oh, and we're having your family for Christmas dinner so it all has to be finished," he was ready to drive me to the asylum, seeing that I had lost my mind and all. See, his family incorporates about 20 people with fiancees, extended members, and giant nephews.Well, here we are just 3 days away from our or I should say, my deadline and it's finished. I should specify that the whole kitchen did not need to be complete, just "phase one". Phase one encompassed new appliances, new walls, cabinets, counter, and sink. Phase two will follow after the holidays with the obligatory subway tile, upper cabinets, vintage refrigerator, and chalkboard stairwell leading to the basement. Budget constraints and Christmas did not allow for everything to be finished in it's entirety, but we are cool with this. Actually relieved. Starting a new job, running a business during the holidays and the aforementioned hundred other activities thrown in there was exhausting with a remodel piled on. We did it though with only one major meltdown, blow out argument that had me chasing my Midol with a styrofoam cup of red wine before noon. It was to be expected. I am bossy. I expect everyone to move at my pace and get very irritated and impatient when it doesn't happen. My husband didn't appreciate me conversing with him as if I were his foreman. I'll tell ya, and men don't hate me, but if women were contractors, the shit would get done in half the time. My husband is a saint. He put up with my bossy ways and only showed me his Irish when I pushed him too far. As I said, it was to be expected. Now as he stares at his new kitchen or turns on the extremely quiet dishwasher, he beams with pride. He was awesome in his ability to work long hours teaching, help me move my furniture and bust out the renovation in about 2 weeks. I painted, cooked, tried to clean up the many messes, took our child to and from school, and ran the store. I was happier being out of the way, well except to offer my to do list that he really appreciated. Not. So now we can breathe a bit, enjoy Christmas. The tree is up, grabbed from Home Depot along with some pipes. My big bulb colored lights shine joyously amid my dozens of vintage Shiny Brites. Vintage white plastic reindeer grace my mantle under a swag of paper chain. We are going simple this year choosing to enjoy instead the food and arriving family on the big day. Cookie baking and mass and a quiet dinner with my boys takes up my Christmas eve. We renovate our home, we renovate ourselves. My son made due with the mess, never complaining and enjoying the Christmas music and movies we played to distract from the construction. His behavior in school even seemed to improve. Crowded around a table together we were tired yet close. I learned a lot about patience and manners while on this dirty journey. I didn't always practice either in the kindest ways, but I have learned again that my husband is my champion. He may move at his own pace yet he always comes out on top and for this I am so grateful and if I could hashtag blessed just once, this would be the time. I don't need fancy presents to remind me how loved I am, I have only to look at my new kitchen. Good night world.

wow

Today is one of those Mondays where I wish I could crawl back in my bed and sleep away the frantic, stressful morning. Unfortunately too many cups of seriously crappy coffee makes this an impossibility for I am wired like an electric fence and you better step back. I feel like I would sizzle and snap if you touched me. Gazing out my window at the early snowfall, I reflect back on the past few weeks. In a nutshell, wow. I feel like God got so sick of our bitching and complaining and said "Give them what they want so I don't have to listen to them for awhile!" Of course he said this in a giant booming voice complete with thunder crashes and lightning. Seriously though, what a ride. As I stated in my last post eons ago, my husband has found a career. Officially a high school teacher, he races out of the house every morning, coffee thermos and computer in hand. My heart swells with pride when I see how happy and peaceful he finally is. During the interview process my nerves couldn't take anymore so I decided to tear our entire house apart. We have been living with a sub par kitchen and identity crisis bedroom for so long I decided now or never. I have also decided to paint the interior of my entire house. My child demanded a real live Christmas tree this year and evergreen just does NOT work with key lime walls so white it will be. I will miss my aluminum splendor this Christmas, but change is good and who am I to deny a child a live tree? The upstairs hallway is also missing a corner linen cabinet that fell 3 feet short of the floor, stopping in mid wall for no apparent reason other then to annoy me the past 11 years. That too got a taste of my sledge hammer with my six year old cheering me on every step of the way, "Go mama, go mama!" So here we are, new career, a kitchen with no walls, holes in my hallway, half-painted bedroom and then I get a phone call. The t.v. producer I had been conversing with via email called and welcomed me on board as a designer of a room on an episode of a morning design show, former Calvin Klein model as the host. WHAT?!! I am not a designer. I sell old junk for a living. Well, apparently my customer thought differently and recommended me for the position. Holy crap, I'm going to be on t.v.! After a whirlwind week and a half of endless emails and texts from my lovely young producer and countless trips for paint and accessories and furniture, film day arrived. Now to quiet the butterflies in my stomach and hope I don't look fat or old on the small screen. Arriving at the pre-film meeting I finally got to meet the gorgeous host. With a dazzling smile and an infectious enthusiasm he took away all my nerves. Working side by side all day I forgot the cameras were even there. Not being a designer by trade and I mean with a degree, I was nervous I would fail. Faced with budget and schedule constraints I thought how the heck can I even pull this off? Growing up my entire life around design with my interior decorator mother and artist uncle, I relaxed, stopped thinking about the small things, and just did what I know how to do. Watching it all come together and hearing the homeowners cry with joy reaffirmed my faith in my ability. A few kind words and hug from the host didn't hurt either. Besides the fact that filming a t.v. show is all kinds of fun and I would definitely do it again, the one lesson I learned from this experience is I am happy right where I am. There is nothing more satisfying then digging through piles of dirty junk, estate sales, flea markets, dusty attics and damp basements. Lugging my haul back to the shop and somehow artistically blending decades together in a small space is where my knowledge of color, scale, and proportion truly comes into play. In my space I'm the boss and that is just how I prefer it. Now that the t.v. show excitement has simmered down, I am able to focus or I should say forge ahead into the holidays. With barely a second to breathe I am on to the next adventure. Life certainly doesn't slow down to wait for you to catch up and boy, I am running. This holiday kick off has me at our local holiday market. A big event well advertised and curated. The event lasts 3 days and I basically have 3 days to get my act together. Sipping afternoon bubbly with my favorite gypsy girl didn't help my productivity this afternoon, but it sure was lovely. Following that we are upon Thanksgiving and the big Black Friday event in my own brick and mortar. Christmas comes complete with Santa and a parade to my hometown the first Saturday in December. Three big holiday weekends all in a row only to be followed by my whole house remodel that we have to somehow bang out in a month. So yes, I am busy. Do I mind? Absolutely not. I have worked hard and waited a long time for my life to find me and now that I'm in the thick of it living that life, there is no slowing me down. Good night world.

growing up

Feeling particularly edgy this morning I decided to ignore the angry sky, grab my board and hit the water. A gusty south wind did little to ruffle the surface of the glassy calm. My lake the color of army fatigues made barely a sound as my paddle propelled me forward using only my body as the motor. Just me and the birds. Enjoying the gloom and the repetitive motion of paddling I once again felt the tension leave my back and shoulders. As I changed direction and headed downwind, the city a blocky silhouette in the distance, I felt the breath leave my body. A great big audible sigh of relief. After so many years of worry and stress our life is finally on track. My husband has found his career. This week begins his new life as a high school computer teacher. All the years of tears, frustration, worry, stress, anger are merely a bad memory. My husband says "Don't worry, you'll just find something new to worry about." Well once again the man is right. I don't know how NOT to worry. Ebola, money, flesh eating bacteria, the trifecta of worries in my crazy brain. My edginess this morning was brought on by slow business and the next three weeks waiting for that first paycheck and praying the store pulls through. Every October I go through this. Business screeches to a slamming halt and I have to sell my soul to make anything happen. The bills pile up and the estate sales always seem to be the BEST SALES EVER when I'm broke. Well, after my time on the lake this morning I realized, it's only three weeks. I've waited longer than this for our life to gain momentum so I suppose I can make it through three lousy weeks. In the meantime I'll just keep working and paddling. So now that my husband is all settled it is time to focus our attention on the little man. After many stressful years and running from job to job and job interviews and arguments and worrying about the future we realized we had spent so much time having our child adjust to our life that it was now time to afford him the same courtesy. As parents you think you're doing the right thing in that moment. You try to be the best parents you know how even though you don't know what the heck you're doing. They say kids need structure and schedules. We thought we were giving him that. After one too many notes from the new kindergarten teacher and a phone call, we realized maybe we weren't being the best parents we could be. Love was never the problem. Sully has never been without love. He is our heart. His former teacher said every family has a level of stress and to not beat ourselves up too much. Well, too late. He is our everything and we had been so consumed with creating a better life for our little family that we let a few things slip through the cracks. Frayed nerves and tired bodies made for sub par parenting or so we felt. It's hard to back peddle and change the habits of the past six years, but this is just what we did. We have established routines, family dinners, less television, and in general just more time spent together. "Us a family" as Sully always says. Well whatever we were before, we are more so now. There is a new level of patience and understanding from both of us. I am more calm or at least I'm trying and will be now that our situation has changed for the better. Peace has ensued and wrapped around us like a warm quilt. The Peter Pan lifestyle has been left behind and in its place is a new found sense of maturity and adulthood. Growing up is never easy whether you're age 6 or 44 yet it is a normal rite of passage. Like a young tree we are now able to grow and spread our branches because we are finally rooted and there is so much light coming in and most important, there is love, oh so much love. Good afternoon world.

silence

No phone. No cohorts with whom to converse. No boats or the mosquito buzz of jet skis. Just quiet, peace and quiet. The water slipping past my board and a far off dog or two were the only sounds on my lake this quiet beautiful morning. After I reached my destination a little farther down the rocky coast, I set down my paddle and stretched out like a cat enjoying the warm fall sun. Floating and day dreaming my morning away was as close to heaven as I could imagine. My two boys were right where they were supposed to be and I had nothing on today's agenda other then my nemesis the grocery store. Procrastinating, maybe, but then it was my day off so there I lie, not moving a muscle. It's funny, as I grow older, this appreciation for absolute silence. I suppose all those days working in the din of a busy restaurant with pans and plates clanging and banging around me had something to do with it. All that chatter from coworkers and customers alike. Then I had a child. A child spends the first year crying and screaming and we had our ears glued to the baby monitor for every sound. To this day the sight of those walkie talkie monitors make me cringe. Nothing like being in a deep deep sleep only to be awakened by an infant's yell. Nervous was how I spent that first year. As a child grows we are introduced to a whole new bevy/cacophony of sounds. My child especially liked to "yodel" this very high pitched singing akin to the Vienna Boys Choir. He is also a talker, like his mama his dad would say. There are also numerous burps and farts. Admittedly I love a good loud burp or fart so I guess there again he is like his mama. I also have a revolving door of neighbors that take over the double rental next door. A constant barrage of yelling and swearing by a lowly sort. Not to mention the constant cars coming and going from the rental across the street. So yes this is just life. Daily percussion. It could be worse. It could be gunfire or bombing or screams of anguish, but these screams are just for one of the many children next door. I'm sure I've even contributed to these daily sounds being that I have a loud voice. Again I attribute it to yelling over people and noise from those restaurant years. Quick aside, prime example, as I sit at my counter writing, my little man feels the need to bang and scrape the plate across the bottom of our porcelain sink. No reason, just clang, clang, scrape, scrape, ugh, just put it in the dishwater. So you see, I have a low tolerance for noise or I should say, I have developed a low tolerance for noise. Years of migraines have also attributed to this being that every little sound makes me cringe in pain. I also have spent the past 20 years talking, a lot. Unavoidable in my careers of choice. Now, in my defense, I know I sound a bit like an old curmudgeon. In fact, I sound a bit like my father. Growing up, the first thing my dad would say upon entering a room where the t.v. was on was, "Can we turn this down a bit?" Every day, like clockwork. So I suppose a bit of that has rubbed off as well, I mean it IS genetics and we do turn into our parents no matter how hard we fight it. Now I am not so rigid as to not crank up the bass in the car or turn up a good song. I also love music while I'm working. Anything from sexy Lana del Ray to Billie Holiday. I especially appreciate the louder, raucous early years of Modest Mouse. As for my morning, I'd like to say I carried that sense of absolute calm throughout my day, but alas the total of this week's groceries had me quickly sliding into a slump. From peaceful to frustrated. Oh well, it worked for a little while. Life is all around us, loud and nasty, messy and chaotic. Finding the time to block it out for even a little while can be positively restorative unless, of course, you end up spending all your earnings on groceries that is. Good night world.

popular

Cheerleader, football players, movie stars, rock stars, these are the types of people that come to mind when I think of the word popular. Looking back on my high school days, I'm not even sure if we had a "popular" crowd. Our cheerleaders certainly weren't the creme de la creme and I don't remember our football team being aces either. If I remember correctly the cool kids were the ones smoking and partying. I had my go at cheerleading, but found it wasn't for me. I then turned to making money, that was more my speed. Landing my first retail job showed me a whole new world of "popular". Mall life was a bit like high school with new crushes to be had, new cliques to identify, and new friends to make. My first retail job was at Express. My managers were the coolest twenty something chicks and I aspired to be like them. They would slip me sips of their Chi Chi's daiquiris and margaritas at our after work hang outs. We would eat nachos and gossip about other mall employees and customers. I loved mall life! I got to wear cool clothes, hang out with the older "cooler" crowd, and get free records from the guy at Record Mart who had a crush on me and took me to see bands like the Cure and Howard Jones. In the years and jobs that followed there was always a clique or pecking order and establishing your place was the first order of business. As I got older I realized all one had to do to find their place was just be good at your job. If you were good, people left you alone. Today we have social media. A cyber monster based on friends and followers in which to gauge our self worth. A veritable playground for narcissists and egomaniacs. It is also the best advertising and marketing tool for businesses. In today's high tech world social media is a must. It is a way to buy, sell, and communicate. Unfortunately it has established this false sense of reality. All of a sudden we have all these "friends". Have you ever walked by one of your "friends" and they never even noticed you or looked at you then went right on with their business? It's a surreal feeling to know everything about this person yet when met face to face they don't recognize you. Instagram is another monster only this one demands followers. So instead of friends we have make believe "disciples". All these people clamoring to worship pictures of your life and swooning over the little snippets you allow to be seen as if we've suddenly become deities when we weren't looking. I mean really, it's not that often we show our "real" life through our devices. Who wants to see selfies of age lines or gained weight or messy houses? "Friend" or "unfriend"? To follow or not follow? We check and recheck our status and base our identities on how popular we've become through social media. Instafamous! It's all so funny to me. When I first learned about Facebook I stayed far far away. I was worried about everyone knowing my business. Business being the operative word. When my young employee started posting pictures of my little shop and my wares, I was tickled by the response. All of a sudden I had a whole new world to conquer that had never heard of me. The economy being as it was or still is for that matter, this was my solution to lagging sales. As my "friends" grew so did my income. Then along came Instagram. This was an even more direct way to boost my business. Hashtags opened that elusive portal to other vintage dealers, decorators, crafters, and collectors. I use this venue to primarily promote my business especially in my own city. I love having followers from all over yet they're not likely to just pop into the store and buy something. Interpersonal communication being so important in this techy world, I make a point to meet and greet my friends and followers when possible. Pictures are great, but don't always show the real person behind the camera. Communication and relationships are key to me. It's how I've always run my business or done my jobs. I enjoy my brick and mortar because with it I'm a part of the community. A real community not born from images. I've established my place in this town. I have personal connections with most of my customers and value the conversations and face to face stories of their lives. With my social media I am able to connect with people near or far yet I am most partial to my local customers. They are the ones walking in the door on a regular basis and keep me around year after year. Without them I am sunk. So yes, social media is fantastic. It is necessary to growing any venture. I am even guilty of a selfie or two. Do I base my self-worth on how many friends or followers I have? Of course not. Do I use this instrument to make life better for my little family? Absolutely. Do I care about being popular or famous? Not a bit. I enjoy what I do and strive to always do it better. Don't get me wrong, I do enjoy this socially acceptable voyeurism, yet in this false reality it is nice to remember that life is real not filtered. Good night world.

monday

Monday. A new week. A new beginning. After so much emotional stress last week and an unforeseen incident that left us reeling, I am ready for a new start. A fresh new mindset in which to slough off last week's insanity. Life is hard. That is the first rule of Buddhism. No, I'm not a Buddhist or devout church goer or new age crystal bearing hippie, but I am spiritual and take solace where I find it whether that be any of the aforementioned. Buddha had it right. Life is also beautiful. When I awoke today to the cool misty morning I felt re-energized as if someone had plugged me in and charged me while I slept. I am determined to move forward no matter how many of life's fun little challenges are thrown my way this week. After dropping the little man at school, I had my girlfriend come get me and we started the day with some thrifting and breakfast. Driving around, getting stuck in endless construction, we laughed and talked about nothing. As the sun rose higher, so did my spirits. Determined to face down my evil procrastination demons today, I made endless phone calls, mailed bills, filed late taxes, scheduled with my therapist, and took control. The water called yet I ignored it's siren sound in order to tackle what I left ignored all summer. Today I enjoyed the peace and quiet of my home and the breeze through the screens. Instead of focusing on all the work and demo about to take place I let it's happy colors and clean rooms soothe me.  I went to Target and bought a new book, temporarily resisting the urge to dive in so I can get some laundry done. Dishes to do, clothes to pick up, dinner to be made, child to bathe, all these chores I welcome with open arms on this sunny Monday. Today my solace comes not from any deity, but in the simple tasks that complete our everyday life. Writing to you my dear readers also clears the mind as I've stated numerous times. All day I've had itchy fingers aching to sit down and type on this old lap top. Once again writing has helped settle my crazy brain. My post simple, my mind clear. I am leaving the heavy stuff behind on this beautiful beginning of the week day. Yes, life is hard, but on any given Monday we are offered a chance to wipe the slate clean. Good evening world.

letting go

After hanging up on yet another particularly volatile argument with my sister I sit in reflection writing and wondering where it all went so wrong. For as long as I can remember my sister and I have been at odds. I don't understand why. I have wracked my brain trying to put it into perspective. Out of respect for her feelings, I have an idea yet cannot share these innermost musings. This situation saddens me to my soul. I watch other sisters share a relationship born of love, understanding, and most of all communication. I believe this is the core of the issue, the lack of communication. Ironically that is my sister's profession yet when it comes to personal life, falls short. Through the years I have worked many jobs, but the one constant was waitressing. Working as a server for so long one learns to communicate with many walks of life on all levels. There is no more direct line of communication than in restaurant work. One must be able to relay orders to a kitchen, a bartender, a bus person, other servers, a manager, and most importantly their own tables. One little blip in the chain and there went my tip. Supporting myself this way I could not afford to allow any ripple in the lines of communication. Needless to say I made it my job to learn how to communicate. With so many years of relationships under my belt including my own marriage, communication has never been an issue. When it comes to my own sister it is an issue. To be fair, there are two sides to every story in every relationship. There wouldn't be discourse if there wasn't another with which to argue. I am bossy, sarcastic, opinionated, a tease, and extremely independent. I don't like unrealistic demands placed on my lifestyle nor do I like feeling as if I have to explain my every action. I can be selfish and mean. I am also loyal and loving to those I feel warrant my affection. My friends are like my family and I love them fiercely and deeply sometimes holding back my words out of respect for our relationships and the love I feel for them. We all do this when it comes to loved ones. Family is also extremely if not more important to me. Marrying a man who is half Lebanese I was introduced to a culture I knew nothing about. The unconditional almost clannish love these people have for their own blood brings tears to my eyes. No one is more welcoming then my husband's family even if all is not harmonious on the home front. My mother-in-law and I have our problems, but there is never any judgement and we always talk out our issues and I love her as much as my own mother. Plain and simple we are there for each other not unlike my own family yet my own family feels I've been swallowed up by all this and have forgotten my own blood. This couldn't be farther from the truth. Of course I am immersed in my husband's clan because we all live in the same city. Crossing state lines to visit my own parents or sister can be costly and sometimes inconvenient. The past six years have done a number on my emotional state what with trying to raise a child, keep a business afloat, and wait for my husband's career to take off. Due to my work constraints, there hasn't always been time or money to drive or fly just for a visit. This does not mean I love them any less, it just makes it difficult to see them and I always end up having to over-explain my reasons while feeling guilty and frustrated. Here is where the situation gets sticky. My sister feels somewhere through the years I have wronged her. The time and distance have taken their toll. When trying to explain and explain myself, her old resentments continue to surface and I am always mud in her eyes. I have tried continually to skirt around her extreme sensitivity and firecracker temperament. For the past 20 years I have beat my head against a wall trying to find a common ground on which to communicate. If I offer advice I'm against her. If I ask questions about her career I'm not supportive and don't know what I'm talking about. If I disagree with any one thing she says I am met with the stinkeye and cold shoulder. I can't tease or joke like I do with in-laws or friends because again, I'm against her. The tantrums over the years have made me feel cold and distant and hesitant to be in her company. I try to live life simply and enjoy the small things without the drama that takes over one's younger years. There is nothing simple or small about my sister. She is intense, hard working, complicated, quick to explode yet extremely loyal and loving to friends and family. Somewhere in there one would think we could work this out. I long for her to be a part of my life, of her nephew's life. I am tired, oh so tired of being the only one liable for the strife in our relationship. Today I asked her why I am always to blame. She didn't think her behavior warranted any reflection. Here lies the big problem. As stated above, it takes 2 to tango. I have prayed that someday my sister would wake up and realize I am not the blue-eyed monster she makes me out to be. I have prayed her insecurities would not play such a big role in our relationship. Unanswered, my prayers fall on deaf ears and nothing changes. Because of this I am letting go. I cannot continue this relationship this way anymore. I love her, will always love her, but the constant drama and tears is exhausting. I'm numb. My words in this post will only anger her more yet I too feel wronged, jipped out of a bond that I've never known. Maybe someday....Good afternoon world.

haircut

Well, it is that time of year again or as one mom put it, "the most wonderful time of the year!" This is the time of year when our dear little charges dressed in their brand new clothes with their brand new giant backpacks reminiscent of turtle shells wave good-bye to their parents and head into those hallowed halls otherwise known as freedom, er, I mean school. This is the time of year when I can barely contain my tears as we near the red brick building. This year will be no different. This year we finally enter kindergarten! We are moovin' on up to the second floor. After an extra year of pre-k, my son is graduating to real school. He is ready. We are ready. This time of year is always bittersweet for me. I dread the end of summer. I nearly cry when the pool closes only to be drained and remain a bleak empty concrete hole for nine months. The light changes. Days shorten and leaves fall. Winds pick up and my beloved lake will turn gray and frosty. I hold on to summer until I'm too cold and chicken to venture out on my frosty lake with board in tow. But we are not there yet. It is still warm with plenty of sun and paddleboard time left. With my son joined to my hip at every waking moment this summer, I am looking forward to a little me time. Those few glorious hours I don't have to worry about child care and can race off to run or paddle or treasure hunt for the shop. Whatever I want! My personal freedom. Don't get me wrong, I love my child more then life, but this summer has been challenging. Age 5 was tough. The constant arguments over getting dressed, getting a bath, getting in the car, getting his hair brushed, etc. etc. Fiercely independent and taking no prisoners. No being the operative word. The main word of his vocabulary. He wields that word like a finely sharpened saber aiming at me every chance he gets. Even now as I write I am interrupted by a thud and a "don't come down here", yeah right, like that's going to happen. As I trudge down the steps I find him climbing out the window seeking his independence. Lord, all mighty this little big man is going to put me in my grave. Boys. Never take your eye off them. As you can see, I'm ready. Ready for someone else to take over for a little while. Time for Catholic school. Time for conformity at it's finest. My husband and I have our reasons why our son will spend his school career dressed in uniform and playing by different rules. Rules that even at our age would have trouble abiding, being fiercely independent and strong willed ourselves. This was my husband's path and so it will be our son's. Free spirits don't like rules yet such is life, play the game. The hardest part of this whole business is not the uniform or the religion, but the haircut. This I hate. Who cares how long your hair is? The Catholics care so therefore we cut. After almost 6 years of long blond surfer tresses the hair had to go. I was dreading this moment. His hair was his personality. Wild and defiant yet beautiful. I was fearful if the hair went so would that spark that defines him. I likened it to Sampson. At that my mother-in-law scoffed at me and said if I made it a big deal so would he. Well, I have to give credit where it's due because she was right. As my girlfriend prepared to cut and my son peered at me from under his locks with those steely blue eyes, I held it together. If he saw me upset it would only go to Hell in a hand basket from there. For an hour my brave child held still while my friend razored and snipped and snipped and snipped. When at last his face emerged and I saw the brilliant smile as he flipped back what was left of the front, I saw a boy. My baby was gone and I was left with this tiny version of my husband. At that moment the tears came. He flung the smock to the floor, stood taller and flashed me my husband's grin as he went about his six year old business. Hugging my friend, my anxiety gone, I realized he was ready to fly and I was the one holding him back. Growing up is hard, especially for this mom. So freedom, I mean kindergarten, here we come! Good evening world.

gay

No, I'm not coming out. I'm quite happy in my heterosexual lifestyle. Homosexuality is not normally a subject I would even try to conquer. I mean really, I'm a straight white girl. What could I possibly know on the subject or even hope to offer? I do know that with all the beautiful things happening in my city by the lake, maybe a straight white girl perspective can be heard. As a child of the eighties it was a traditional, conventional, Republican world in which I lived. My neighborhood, white middle class. I had not a clue about love between same sexes. I remember the movie Making Love coming out and my father snorting and walking away from the television. I had no idea why he was discontent and all I could think about was how cute Michael Ontkean and Harry Hamlin were. I was not allowed to see the movie, it was quite forward for that time. In fact, to this day, I don't think I've ever seen it. I remember the commercial previews and seeing the men kiss on my small screen. What I do remember most vividly is seeing the kiss and thinking hey, this is new, so raging were my hormones. The lack of any other reaction to TWO MEN KISSING was apparently foretelling. All I could muster was a hmm. A few years later or maybe the same year, I was infatuated with vampires. At the time The Hunger was the big thing. Watching the love/sex/blood exchange scene between Catherine Deneuve and Susan Sarandon, I was again left with that hmm what is this feeling. To me it was sex, but different. It didn't strike me as weird that it was TWO GIRLS KISSING. At that age hormones weren't picky, they just liked sex scenes, much in the same way I would sneak the teen sex movies when my dad wasn't looking or seek out the sex scenes in my grandmother's hidden Harlequin Romance stash. Okay so now I've painted this picture of a sex crazed teen girl, but hey we've all been there. That innocent, not really innocent lusting after sex or whatever came close without going all the way. Through my years at Kent State I had brushes with gay people, but still pretty clueless and naive on the whole matter. I hate using the words "gay people" because I feel it places the men and women in a category that sounds distasteful or calls more attention to the situation. I suppose it's the same with "straight people" making us sound all high and mighty or something other than just what it is, a label for a grouping. It is hard to know just what is a politically correct way of addressing this group, so quickly we offend these days. I tend to just call them my friends. No differentiating there, I could be talking about anyone. It wasn't until I entered the restaurant business where I became fully schooled on all matters gay. So many different personalities and walks of life came through those doors and I don't mean the customers. Working so close, side by side, in a fast paced environment, there was no time to give any thought to sexuality. Nobody cared. The only thing that mattered was getting through the shift, counting your money, and running for your cocktail. Restaurant people tend to hang with each other every night after work. There is that we just went through Hell camaraderie that bonds you together and goes hand in hand with flowing drinks. So gay or straight we were all one, all in the same boat, enjoying our late night libations after hours of hard work. In short, it didn't matter to me. If you were cool I liked you. I never cared with what sex you coupled. Sooo many years later I am out of the restaurant business. I have a child now and married the cook in the kitchen. He is now a teacher and we live a normal nuclear life. Having just returned from vacation, the first one without any of my boys around us, I reflect upon past years and the company we've kept. One year my husband was surrounded by three men, our child, and myself. He just shrugged his shoulders and loved that the living room got vacuumed. I opened another bottle of wine and Sully loved having all these men to play with. So many "uncles". I can't describe the joy I feel knowing in my house, whether home or on vacation, this child will know no lines, no bias. This is a new world in which we're living. It will be fought with hatred. At the risk of sounding preachy, I do believe that love is love and this is what will keep us moving forward. The display of love Cleveland has provided recently has me near tears. Such a big step so long in the making. So cheers to you friends because gay or straight there is no difference. Good afternoon world.

re-entry

There is something to be said for a vacation that renews your senses and erases all your daily anxieties. Every year at this time, we throw suitcases in the car and race like bats out of Hell to make the trek to "our" beach house down south. We don't really own it, though I wish we did. For one glorious week every summer we pay the steep rent to live on the beach and escape reality. If you've been paying attention to past posts you will notice I've written a few times on this subject. In fact, four years ago yesterday, this little writing adventure of mine was launched. It is never easy leaving the sun, sand, and surf. This year was no exception. The car was packed to near bursting as we stuffed luggage, toys, towels, my son, my friend, her dog, and my husband and I into our vehicle. Leaving just a little porthole out the back window we pushed off at 9:00 p.m. and drove overnight to reach our serenity. The week was filled with the usual sun bathing, wave riding, vodka lemonades, piles and piles of fresh shrimp, and most important good friends. As a new widow, my friend used the time to heal, read, and get a good tan. We talked, we cried, we ate and drank. The next day we would do it all over again. Nightly trips to the grocery and shrimp shop were the only interaction with other humans with the exception of a marsh exploring 4 hour paddle board trip. Actually, there wasn't much human interaction there either, just the three of us, the water and a few sting rays. What lurked under the surface was best not thought of, let's just say it was motivation to not fall. As we departed in the pouring rain on Saturday, I took one last look at my beach and the usual sappy tears fell from my baby blues. If only... Well, we are back and so is reality. No human interaction for a week makes one all freaky feeling when faced with daily human activity. Coming home to the problems with my trashy neighbors had my anxiety right back staring me in the face. The wafting smell of eau de dog shit has me unable to sit on my front porch. Yesterday I found the idiots walking around MY backyard searching for their errant feline. I'm sorry, but you are trespassing on my fenced- in property and I'm sure your parole officer wouldn't like to hear that. Home is a place of respite. It's where our heart is and all those cliches. I am tired of feeling nervous when I return to my respite. Here's where I insert the big sigh. Like I said, leaving the beach is hard, but so is re-entry, a term my mother-in-law coined to describe that helpless wandering just back from the best vacation ever feeling. Re-entry is the reason I started this blog and am still writing to you lovelies. On a more positive note, yes the neighbors are awful. Is it forever? I highly doubt it. Bad neighbors are like gypsies and soon enough they will find another sucker landlord and destroy that rental and so on and so on. All the appropriate authorities have been notified so I am no longer alone in my quest to move them on out. It is also still summer which means more pool/lake-filled days until school starts. Birthdays, kindergarten(finally!) and a new career for my favorite man take us right into autumn. It has been a long hard road to get to this point and now that we are here, life is too good to let it be spoiled by a situation that is temporary. I will view it as balance and then run for my paddle board or my computer where I can release all my worries. A new phase of our life is about to begin and I am excited for the next ride because life is always an adventure and there is always the beach to go home to. Good evening world.

swim lessons

Shimmery turquoise water beckons. Red-suited young adults with teen swagger gather in a group for tonight's instructions. The pool manager with the tiny voice attempts to yell directions at clusters of confused parents and wiggly children. So begins each evening of my five year old's swim lessons. Finding his group, my little man proceeds to cannonball off the side, ready to begin. As he resurfaces, his long hair slicked back from his face, he joins the other bobbing heads clinging to the wall. From my perch on the sun-warmed concrete I can only see said heads as they dip under the water's surface only to reappear sputtering water and wiping their noses. Their arms, not quite coordinated yet, flail in circles as they practice over arm techniques. Clinging to half-sunk kick boards they attempt to push their way across the pool. Lifeguards continue to call out directions while corralling stray children back to their group, not unlike herding a bunch of loose cats. As the lesson progresses I continue to hear my child's name over and over. Looking up from my book I see the look of surprise on my child's face as he realizes(again) he is at swim lessons and needs to listen to his instructors. Welcome to my world I want to say to these exasperated, water-logged, been in the sun all day teenagers. Enjoying my freedom on the pool deck I am able to have one solid hour of uninterrupted reading time. Peering over my pages every so often to view my child's progress I am filled with a burst of pride for this free-spirited, independent child who has fallen head over heels in love with the water. Now for some parents this may cause a bit of apprehension, but for this water baby I am thrilled! When summer arrives I spend every possible moment in or around water. It calls to me. I feel hot and dry and cranky until I get to water. Nothing quenches my soul like the cool blue. It erases all my anxieties and as I slip under the surface or jump into the lake, I am free. This I am happy to pass along to my little one. He is my summer buddy, my partner in crime when it comes to all things aquatic. Trying to coerce my husband to join us at the pool is like dragging an anvil yet this child of ours yells with glee and runs for his bathing suit. In a few short weeks we will be at the ocean. Together we will run and jump into the salty spray. Dodging waves I will grab his hand, never to let go as we are knocked over by their force and spit back out again. I will look at my little man and be happy in my heart that no matter what lies ahead or how many disagreements we have about getting dressed or picking up toys, this water thing, our thing, is just between me and my summer love. Goodnight world.