Finally, the boy smiles...

Thank you everyone for your advice. Both Mr. A and I appreciate it. Mr. A understands that the whole friend thing is causing problems now but promises to remember how important it will be in future years. He also promises no naked girls in the house. In his words, "That's what outside is for." Thanks Marcia.

But my eldest son finally has a smile on his face for another reason. Last night was the Scholar Athlete Awards at the high school in which athletes with a 3.5 GPA or higher are honored. Mr. A was also recognized individually. He won the award for male athlete with the overall highest weighted GPA. He even beat out the seniors. The look on his face as he accepted his award let me know that this totally made up for all the bumps in the road that he's experienced in the past month.

In addition to the individual award, the boys swim team had the highest average GPA in the state of Florida. I would like to think that my son being on the team had something to do with that.

As we said our good-byes and left the clusters of parents and students milling about outside the auditorium, I heard, "Bye A___!!!" from a very perky young lady. Mr. A waved, shouted a good-bye, and smiled even wider. Turns out that the young lady was a freshman volleyball player that Mr. A escorted at the pageant last week... and she's not in his circle of friends.

Dear Abby

Last night Mr. A went on a bike ride with me specifically to talk about girls. It was a beautiful evening. We enjoyed some quality mother-son time. Mr. A even provided roadside assistance when my chain came off.

Unfortunately, I was unable to provide much assistance to him. I stumbled in the advice department. I didn’t have the magic answer. I couldn’t kiss him and make it all better. At the end of our bike ride he still felt crummy and I felt miserable. He didn’t get his solution and I felt like I had let him down.

This is Mr. A’s problem… Over the past two years he has liked a few different girls. One girl he dated for about four months this school year. They are no longer dating. There have been three other girls. With each of the three girls he has spent the time to get to know the girl before he asks her out. But every time the girl says that she’d rather be friends. Ouch.

Mr. A told me that if it had happened twice it would be a coincidence. But three times is a trend. The only common thread is him. He wants to know what he’s doing “wrong.” The first girl he’s now best friends. The second girl he’s really good friends. Now he’s in the process of also becoming really good friends with the third girl.

I suggested that he ask his best friend. He did. She said that once the girls become friends with him they don’t want go out with him because he knows all their secrets. What?

I think I’m just as baffled as Mr. A. I did tell him that in the long term he’s approaching relationships in a good way. A relationship isn’t all about hormones. But that really didn’t console him especially when he keeps getting his feelings hurt.

Does anyone have any advice for a lovelorn 16-year-old and a mom who really doesn’t have all the answers?

Spin Cycle: Roles

This is a re-post from October 27, 2009.

Back in 1997, the boys and I moved to Florida and I bought a house exactly two miles from my parents' house. Ever since then we've been living the extended-family lifestyle. We have had our share of ups & downs over the years but it has definitely been worth it.

The relationship between the boys and their grandparents is wonderful. I truly believe that the kids have kept my parents young and the boys have learned a lot from the Silent Generation. Sure, sometimes I get caught in the middle but I really enjoy watching their interaction.

By the way, how did my parents turn out to be the coolest grandparents ever?

When the boys and I met my Sweetie we also met his parents who lived only 45 minutes north of us. After we were married, our extended family grew some more. The boys suddenly had two sets of really cool grandparents to spoil them.

Then a few years ago, Florida became a magnet for our relatives. My sister-in-law and her family moved down here. The boys finally had a cousin living close by... only 45 minutes south of us.

That's also when holidays started getting a little tricky.

Two years ago, my sister and her family (the hellcats) moved to Florida. They live about an hour north of us. That's when holidays became nearly gosh darn impossible. Our house is centrally located but it's also happens to be the smallest out of all of them. Plus my sister-in-law's in-laws live locally as well. So just add another 17 people into the mix.

Now for the newest immigrant. Today my parents are bringing my aunt from Chicago to Florida to live in an assisted living facility (ALF). The ALF is literally within bicycle distance from our house. The boys are looking forward to visiting her and playing cards. But unfortunately, her mind is on a steady decline. Hence, the move.

All this family close by is a blessing but it also brings a lot of stress. My aunt's move painfully reminds me that one day I will move from the role of child to caregiver. Some days I wonder if my parents over estimate me by choosing me as their medical surrogate.

Thanks for the pressure M&D! It's not like I'm trying to raise two teenage boys here!

Which brings me to my point... the boys and I wouldn't have made it this far in life without my parents. I know when the time comes for me to take care of them, I'll be ready and I'll make them proud.

I guess that's why I'm the responsible daughter.

To read more Spins on the roles we take on, visit Sprite's Keeper.

A Bicycle Named Buffy

Part Two of the PLRH Wellness Program includes bike riding (yoga is Part One). This is very exciting for me because up until recently I haven't been on a bicycle in many years. Back pain and then my subsequent spinal fusion prevented me from getting on my old trail bike. Ergonomically, it just didn't work for me any longer.

Then my husband suggested a beach cruiser bicycle - the type of bike that tropical resorts loan out to guests. I agreed and the hunt began. My new bike is actually a hybrid. That means it's the beach cruiser style but also has the brakes and gear shifter on the handle bars. The gears are so important in Florida because there are so many hills.

Now when the weather is clear (ie low pollen count) my Sweetie and I go for a bike ride around the neighborhood before we cook dinner. Sometimes one of the kids tags along too. The sensation of riding a bike is timeless. If I clear my mind as the breeze brushes my face I can imagine that I have my beach towel around my neck and my flip-flops in my hand as I glide down the hill to Pines Lake.

I really enjoy my new bike and our new activity. Now all I need is a basket for the back and I can ride around scaring little children by cackling and saying, "I'll get you and your little dog too!"

Namaste

Saturday I was introduced to yoga with a private lesson. Yes, a private yoga lesson does sound very pretentious but I assure you that there was a good reason for it. My physician suggested that I try yoga as a way to improve my balance after my spinal fusion. But there were concerns on both our parts about finding a good instructor. I didn’t want to jump into a class at the YMCA and accidentally injure myself with an improper posture or something like that.

Through various channels I found an instructor that specializes in working post-op with orthopedic patients. She even has experience with spinal fusion patients. We finally connected on Saturday. We definitely connected. The instructor’s energy and enthusiasm was infectious.

I loved my first yoga experience. The one hour session flew by. My body felt wonderful! My instructor told me that I was a natural. Me? A natural? I’m not a natural at anything on dry land. I’m a natural at swimming and that’s it. But as the session progressed I found that the way my body moved as a whole I could understand how the yoga movements related to swimming motions. It was an a-ha moment for me. I never had a physical a-ha moment before.

One of my favorite parts of the session was the few minutes of meditation at the end. Then the final Namaste. Namaste is the Sanskrit word for “I bow.” I bow to you to honor you. I honor all that is good in you. This was first time I ever performed this exchange with someone and I truly felt it.

My instructor was so pleased with my ability she said that I could move right into a beginner’s yoga class. That was great news because I could afford only one private session. I selected a Saturday morning class she leads that incorporates both yoga and meditation. I can’t wait to attend.

Oh, the best part… I woke up Sunday morning and I wasn't sore at all!

Photo Challenge: Week 17

This past week was so hectic that I wasn't able to get out to shoot photos. There were many opportunities if only I had my camera with me. ABC lesson learned... Always Bring Camera. However, I was able to snap some boy portraits Friday night at dinner.



I really like this photo of G-Man but that just might be because I'm his mother. I can't decide if I like color or black & white better. Please let me know what you think!





This little boy was so cute with his bright yellow cast and his feet dangling above the ground.



Comptemplative Teenager

Family Dinner

This past week was hectic! Both at work and at home. All of us went in different directions. By Friday afternoon I realized that we hadn't had dinner as a family three nights in a row. This is kinda a big deal beacause we always eat dinner as a family. To catch up my Sweetie and I decided to take the boys out for dinner. Can anyone guess the restaurant?

I like the blue of the server's shirt with the terracotta walls.



A PLRH Family portrait! I've wanted one for years! Maybe next time I'll get one with faces.



They looked exhausted.



Yes, the week was that hectic.



The funniest thing about this photo is that neither one of us knew the other one was making a goofy face.



As normal as we get.

...and world peace

My Sweetie and I attended the Miss Insert-Name-of-High-School beauty pageant this week.

I’ll explain our reason for being there at the end of the post.

Let me start off by saying I’m so glad that we don’t have daughters! The outfits that some of the girls wore didn’t leave much to the imagination as my father likes to say. One outfit in particular definitely wasn’t age or lifestyle appropriate.

The entire pageant was painful to sit through. Out of the five seniors competing for the crown only one of them had any skills during the talent segment. Two of the singers really should have opted for a different talent.

The final segment was question and answer. The girls picked a random question out of the fish bowl and answered the question with a well-rehearsed statement. At the end of each answer, my Sweetie and I muttered under our breaths “…and world peace.”

All through the pageant, when I wasn’t silently texting Marcia about current events (gossip), I continually thought how degrading it was for the girls. Granted, while we’re not in the Deep South, we’re still in the South and pageants are BIG. Pageants are family tradition for some girls.

While enduring the awful singing I tried to find something positive about pageants. I finally realized that the girls on stage were gaining incredible self-confidence and practice in public speaking. Another thing about the contestants – they were all different shapes, sizes, and colors. They were fearless when it came to combating the stereo-typical beauty pageant image. I applauded them all whether or not they could sing and no matter their hem length.

So why were we there? Because Mr. A was one of the escorts for the young ladies. He was done-up in a tux with royal blue tie and vest to match his eyes. Our presence wasn’t required but it was really nice to see my eldest dressed in something other than a t-shirt, cargo shorts, and flip-flops.



Have a great weekend everyone!

Spin Cycle: Quotes

I live with a family of movie quoting geeks. That might sound a little harsh but it’s better than what I really wanted to call them. They can quote entire scenes without breaking a sweat. It boggles my mind how they do it. But it truly is a fun form of entertainment.

While G-Man may seem like the biggest offender with quoting Ferris Bueller and throwing commercials in for good measure, all three of my guys are guilty of quote slinging. As I sit here and think about it, Blackadder must be the most quoted movie, TV series, or commercial in the house.

Not familiar with Blackadder? Well, it’s a four-part series of a BBC sitcom from the 1980’s. Each series is set in a different historical period with Blackadder (played by Rowan Atkinson) as the main character. My favorite series is the fourth, Blackadder Goes Forth, set in the trenches of World War I. Only Rowan Atkinson and the BBC make life in the trenches pee-in-your-pants hilarious.

When discussing a new exhibition at the museum with my family I’m guaranteed to hear:

“I know from long experience all my men have the artistic talent of a cluster of color-blind hedgehogs in a bag.”

An entire scene performance by my guys might sound something like this:

Mr. A: Right. Now all we have to do is fill in this MP application form."Name"...Baldrick. First name?

G-Man: Er... I'm not sure.

Mr. A: Well, you must have some idea.

G-Man: Well, it might be Sod Off.

Mr. A: What?

G-Man: Well, when I was little and I used to play in the gutter, I used to
say to the other snipes "Hello, my name's Baldrick." And they'd say, "Yes we
know. Sod off, Baldrick."

Mr. A: All right, "Mr S. Baldrick."

As for myself, I usually only quote Forrest Gump.

"I gotta pee."

For more quotes in the Spin Cycle, visit Sprite's Keeper.

In Need of Blogging Material

My everyday life (past & present) is the inspiration for my blog.

Well, guess what I’m stuck.

No, life hasn’t suddenly gotten boring. In fact, just the opposite has occurred. This week is one super busy week for us at the PLRH house. We’re all going in different directions. However, instead of spurring on the creative juices all the mayhem has caused them to stop!

Sure I could type up a placeholder of a post saying that I’m overwhelmed and that I’ll get back to this blogging thing next week. But I don’t want to. I’ve gotten in the habit of writing daily. It is now part of my routine and I enjoy it. I crave it.

So now I’m asking for help. Does anyone have any blog ideas? Prompts so to speak. Is there anything you’ve wanted to ask me? Is there anything that you would like to know about me? C’mon! Be my muse! Please!

The Power of the Internet

The internet is a marvelous thing. We no longer need a big and bulky phone book to look up a number. Our children no longer need rides to the library so they can use the encyclopedia to research a school project. The internet has made those almost obsolete along with cook books and check books. But the internet has many more surprises to be revealed.

Through the internet, I’ve met a great online community of bloggers. These bloggers are smart, witty, thought-provoking, passionate, down-right hilarious, loving, and caring. I’ve been lucky enough to meet Gropius in the physical world. We’ve dined, gone to baseball games with the families, and had a fabulous girls’ weekend. We’ve even fantasized about having a Bloggy Buddy get-together in Florida. However, we just haven’t worked out the logistics. If you’re interested in attending (or planning), let us know!

In addition to my bloggy buddies, I’ve reconnected with some old friends through the internet. My sister’s college boyfriend (who also happened to be one of my swim coaches in high school) found me through Classmates.com. I know it sounds a little creepy but he was a good friend of the family. I’ll admit that I was a bit surprised when someone I hadn’t spoken to in 22 years suddenly emailed me.

Then about this time last year, my friend and I were talking about our first serious boyfriends. We suddenly decided to look up our respective boyfriends on Facebook. I found my college boyfriend and sent him a message through Facebook. He actually wrote back. In truth, I thought he would have blocked me! But as it turns out, we’re better friends now than we were college. The whole parenting thing that’s our common ground.

Finally, the ultimate connection I made on the internet… My Sweetie. Yep, we met online. But that’s a story for another post.

Thank you Al Gore for inventing the internet!

How does the internet enhance your relationships with other people?
Have you reconnected with friends after many years?
Would you ever look up and old boyfriend?
Anyone ever try online dating?
Is anyone up for a Bloggy Buddy retreat in Florida?

The One-in-a-Million Splinter

Only someone in my family could get a splinter that requires a visit to the Urgent Care Walk-In clinic. Last Saturday that someone was me.

I used my thumb to push open the clasp on Molly’s leash and I felt a quick stab. I look down to see blood on my thumbnail. A splinter had gone in the side of my finger, through the layers of my nail, and out the top of my nail. At first I thought it was a metal sliver from the clasp but later it turned out to be a piece of cypress mulch. Either way, I knew that I needed a tetanus shot because I hadn’t had one since I moved to Florida.

At the Walk-In clinic the doctor tried to pull the splinter out. That didn’t work. Then he decided to drill through the nail to get at the splinter. Thank goodness that worked because the last option was to remove half my nail. The worst part of the episode was the numbing injection in the tip and side of my thumb. I would have rather gotten the other side of my nose pierced!

I left the clinic with a divot carved in my thumbnail, a tetanus shot, a prescription for antibiotics, and kudos from the doc for the most unique splinter he had ever seen.

Above photo: You’ll notice a round bandage on my right hand. That’s from the skin biopsy. While the biopsy on my back came back clear the one from my hand came back as actinic keratosis (precancer). If a scar forms, its name will be Paloma.

Between my nose piercing and my right hand my morning routine has increased by half the time due to wound care!

Have you had any minor but unusual injuries that have required you to go to the ER or Urgent Care Clinic?

Photo Challenge: Week 16

This week is a study in orange. I noticed that I'm surrounded by the color orange so I decided to share it.

Some kind of catus flower.

(description provided by Pops)

Hibiscus

A glamour girl's camera bag.

A tote to carry all of my non-camera stuff.

MK Blouse

Oranges!

Registration

See this young man? He brought his high school registration paperwork home yesterday.

ACK!

Sorry, I just experienced a blip of a Mom Moment.

Spin Cycle: Words

G-Man was born at a military hospital in rural Louisiana.

Pollen, allergies, and asthma take on whole new meanings in that state. We lived in an old townhouse with a leaky roof and mold growing in the walls. My asthma came into full bloom while I was pregnant with G-Man and it only set the course for things to come.

The poor little guy had his first ear infection at one week of age. As soon as one course of antibiotics finished, another ear infection would pop up. This continued for an entire year. G-Man was too young for ear tubes so the only thing we could do was endure.

At G-Man’s four-month check-up I mentioned to the doctor (who wasn’t our regular family practice doctor) that he didn't coo or babble. The doctor told me to be thankful that I had a quiet baby. What?

I started to do my own experiments and I discovered that when G-Man had an ear infection he didn't respond to any sound. I knew he could hear because he passed his hearing test at birth. Also, when he was infection-free he would react to sounds.

For a whole year G-Man heard the world as if he was underwater.

Then we moved to Florida into a new, clean house. G-Man's ear infections went away. I stopped worrying.

But he never started talking. A child learns most of his speech in the first year of life. I hoped that G-Man would eventually catch up. Nope.

At three years of age, I had G-Man evaulated for hearing and speech. He could hear perfectly. No permanent damage from the ear infections. However, the only sounds he could make were vowel sounds. He was a smart kid and could understand everything that was said to him but he couldn't talk.

Through the public school system G-Man started speech therapy with Miss Tina. She asked me my biggest concern. I told her that I was afraid that if G-Man ever got lost he wouldn't be able to tell anyone who he was or where he lived. She said that a parent had never told her that before and she had never thought of it either.

After a year of speech therapy with Miss Tina, G-Man progressed by leaps and bounds. One night while at Applebee's he was able to order his own dinner like a big boy and the server understood him! She understood his WORDS!

I cried on the spot.


For more Spins on Words, visit Sprite's Keeper.

Decisions

Life requires us to make decisions all the time.

Some are big.
Which college should I attend? Should I take the job? Live in the city or the suburbs?

Some are small.
Should I wear my hair up or down? Goobers or Raisinets? Mac or PC?

Some decisions are life altering.
Should we have children?

Some decisions are not.
Black boots or brown boots?

Some decisions are made for us by the universe.
Our siblings or the gender of our children.

Back in December I made a life altering decision with the full support of my husband and children. Unfortunately, my parents don’t completely understand my decision. Perhaps they don’t even realize that was my choice to make.

I am the youngest of three siblings. My brother is eight years my senior. He’s married, still lives in New Jersey, and has a daughter and a son. My sister is six years older than me. She’s also married, lives about an hour away, and has two daughters.

My mind is packed with wonderful childhood memories. I truly loved my childhood. The name of my blog reflects that. Of course, nothing is perfect and my childhood wasn’t. My family had its ups, downs and near misses. But overall I was really happy!

However, there’s one glitch.

I never had a sister.

Yes, physically I have a sister. But I’ve never had a blood-relative who’s emotionally a sister. No late night giggles, no sharing of secrets, no boy talk, no hugs, no affection. Oh, I wanted a sister and I tried so hard to be a good sister. I thought that if I just tried a little bit harder, then she would be a sister back to me. It didn’t happen.

For many years I thought the age difference caused a chasm between us. Deep down I knew that never was the case because my brother and I have a great relationship. Finally, I chalked it up to my sister and I just being wired differently.

Then my sister and her family moved to Florida. That’s when more unsettling things occurred.

My sister refers to my Sweetie as, “Erica’s second husband.” Sweetie says it doesn’t bother him but it bothers me.

The true breaking point was the behavior of my nieces. The girls are currently ages 8 and 10. The youngest never met my ex-husband and the oldest was just shy of two years old the last time she saw him. A couple of summers ago the girls ganged up on G-Man. They threw rude questions at him.

Where’s your REAL dad?

Yea, where’s your REAL dad?

Why isn’t your REAL dad here?

Doesn’t your REAL dad LOVE you?

Bear in mind this was TWO YEARS after my Sweetie legally adopted the boys. I put a quick stop to the nonsense and informed the girls that Uncle S is the boys REAL dad. Those two girls forced an adolescent boy to tears. Anyone reading this would know that the girls were only repeating something that they heard at home.

Ever since that awful day, gatherings with my sister and her family have been unbearable. Unbearable for me. Only slightly tolerable for my Sweetie. And the boys? Well, they're still hesitant.

So what’s my decision?

I’ve decided to stop trying.

I’ve decided to stop trying to be a sister to my sister. I’ve tried for forty years and it hasn’t gotten me anywhere. Life is too short to endure a painful... a hurtful relationship. In truth it isn’t even a relationship. It takes two people to be in a relationship and I was the only one who ever participated.

I made a decision to choose.

I choose love over hurt.

I choose my husband and our sons over my sister.

Bling!

It did it. I finally did it.

I got my nose pierced.



I feel exotic.

I’ve wanted a nose piercing ever since I was seventeen. The girl who sat next to me in my senior English class was of East Indian descent and one day she came in with her nose pierced with a diamond stud. She was already an attractive young lady and the diamond nestled in the natural curve of her nose only enhanced her beauty. As I told her that I admired her new jewelry, other classmates came in and ridiculed her. She put them in her place with a sharp comment about her culture.

Well, I knew that I could never claim East Indian heritage but my desire for a piercing stayed with me through the years. Every time I went on a job interview I was thankful that I didn’t have my nose pierced. I know it never would have been accepted when I worked in real estate.

My interest was renewed again last year when my dear friend, LHB, went to India for five weeks. She expressed an interest in a nose piercing too. I told her that I would do it with her when she returned. Alas, we both chickened out. I backed out because my Sweetie asked me several times not to do it. In fact, he even suggested that I get a tattoo instead.

Then over the recent few weeks I’ve ask anyone I saw with a visible piercing where they got it done. Their answers usually included the phrase, when I was in college. So I started researching local piercing studios. I believe my determination this time came from the fact that my skin cancer biopsy came back clear.

I found a studio and without telling my guys I left my house Saturday to run errands. My first stop was the piercing studio. I looked like such a suburban mom when I walked in wearing my Life is Good shirt, khaki shorts and carrying a Vera Bradley purse.

The girl who did my piercing was fabulous and so professional. We chatted about everything from my back surgery to Great Danes. My spinal fusion came up because my nose jewelry is titanium… the same metal as the rods and screws in my back. I selected a blush colored crystal for my jewelry that compliments my skin tone.

No, it really didn’t hurt. My eyes watered but that was it. I think getting my ear lobes pierced was more painful.

I was nervous by the time I got home after my errands. What if my Sweetie really didn’t like it? What if the boys thought I was weird? Well, no reason to worry. My Sweetie loves it and thinks it’s very sexy. The boys think it’s cool. G-Man likes it. Mr. A texted all his friends and I’ve reached an all new level of coolness with his circle of friends.

Saturday night as I was falling asleep I suddenly realized that I didn’t tip the piercer. I tip my hairdresser and manicurist so wouldn’t I tip my piercer as well? I felt awful! So I got up and wrote her a thank you note and included a tip. The Crane stationery I used should really round out the suburban mom image, don’t you think?

So far, only my mother has been stunned. She couldn’t believe that it was real and went all the way through. She must have asked me that four times. Finally, she told me that she still loved me and a nose piercing wouldn’t change that. Then she added that now she knows what to get me for my birthday – new jewelry!

The comments I’ve received from co-workers have included: bold, unexpected, and very natural looking. Overall, I’m very pleased.

Do you have any non-traditional (something other than ear lobes) piercings?
Do you have any tattoos?
Do you regret getting a piercing and/or tattoo?
Would you consider getting a piercing and/or tattoo at this point in your life?
Would you approve of your child getting a piercing and/or tattoo?

Photo Challenge: Week 15

Morning at the Pond

I pass this pond every morning on my way to work. I was finally able to capture the trees' reflections when the pond surface was like glass.

Purple Wildflower

Yellow Wildflower

Bok Tower Air Plants

I purchased this hanging bundle of air plants at the Bok Tower Gardens gift shop. At the time it was all green. I had no idea these red/purple/yellow flowers would bloom!

I've Been Tagged!

Krista at Picture Imperfect tagged me to play a game. Here are the rules:

1. Go to my first photo file folder and select the 10th photo.
2. Tell the story behind the photo.
3. Tag five more bloggers to do the same. Since I'm not big on "tagging" my fellow bloggers, I'm going to leave this open to anyone who wants to participate.



This house was designed by Frank Lloyd Wright and is on the Frank Lloyd Wright Walking Tour in Oak Park, Illinois. Last December my father, brother, and I went to Oak Park for a week to close out my aunt's condo and settle some affairs. One afternoon my brother and I needed a break from cleaning closets so we picked up the walking tour at the end of my aunt's block. I remember that it was the coldest day we were there. The temp was around 15 degrees and windy! Our eyes were tearing and we got windburn on our cheeks. It was quite the brisk walk!

Randomness

I have all of these little tidbits floating around my brain. Individually, none of them are enough for a blog post. But maybe by mashing them all together I can create a semi-interesting post.

• The biopsy for the spot on my back came back benign. Woo Hoo! Luigi is no more. I haven’t heard about the spot on my hand yet but I’m not too worried.
  
  
• The weather is currently beautiful… 78 degrees, clear blue skies, and a light breeze. I WANT to be outside but the thick, yellow Live Oak pollen chokes me every time I step outside.
  
  
• I really miss spring in New Jersey. I miss tulip trees, cherry blossoms, azaleas, crocus, that perfect yellow-green shade of new leaves, and sleeping with the windows open.
  
  
• G-Man has really taken to his new golf coach and is eager to practice his drills at the driving range. However, the head snapped off his driver last week. Apparently, this happens to all golfers from time to time. The good news is that the Easter Bunny was able to find a really sweet, lefty Callaway driver on clearance… 70%off! Lucky little punk.
  
  
• My family is ridiculously hooked on the (new) Battlestar Galactica TV series. We have all the season box sets except Season 4.0. It's currently on order from Amazon and won't arrive until Tuesday! We want to know who's the final Cylon! (If you know, please don't tell)
  
  
• I never liked the color pink as a child. But now that I live with all boys I purposely buy items in pink so I can easily identify it as mine. Such as: my Sigg bottle, iPod, cell phone, and lunch bag.
  
  
• On Easter weekend I saw a car carrier full of cars with Ontario plates heading north on the interstate. I was so excited! Soon tourist season will be over and we can go out to dinner at the last minute.
  
  
• I got my first pedicure of the season! The color is OPI's Done Out in Decco. But I can’t show it off because I sprained my ankle while taking a photo. Now I have to wear tightly laced shoes. Besides that, my foot is all purple, green, & brown with icky bruising.

• My Sweetie suggested that maybe the people who find my blog because of "dick-lexia" aren't truly impaired. Perhaps they just have trouble typing with one hand.
  
  
• I would love to spend the weekend with my Sweetie at the Vinoy (restored 1920’s hotel) in St. Petersburg. My second choice would be to sleep all weekend. But instead we have plans to do yard work. Yippee.

Have a great weekend everyone!

Spin Cycle: Appearances

Appearances can be deceiving. Not intentionally. Anyone could make an incorrect assumption about another person simply based on that person’s appearance. I know because I’ve had many inaccurate assumptions made about me over the years. Just as I’m sure I’ve done the same to other people unknowingly.

Here are a few incidences that come to mind…

Disclaimer: While growing up my parents never allowed me to dress inappropriately. To that same tone, my guys have all promised to have an intervention if I start dressing too young for my age. Also, I happen to be very fond of wearing my hair in a ponytail.

• When I was 12 years old, I helped my sister move into her college dorn and I was mistaken for a college student.
  
  
• My brother and I don't look anything alike and have been mistaken for a married couple.
  
  
• I bought my first new-to-me car at the age of 20. The salesman told me that I had to be old enough to have a driver's license in order to buy a car.
  
  
• While an Army wife, I was mistaken for an active duty soldier more than once because I was physically fit.
  
  
• On several occasions Mr. A and I have been mistaken for brother and sister. And I only get carded for beer or wine at the grocery store when he's with me.

Then there are all the redhead assumptions that I won’t even get into because that’s enough material for another post.

Has anyone ever made an incorrect assumption about you based solely on your appearance?

For more great Spins on appearances, visit Sprite’s Keeper.

College Anxieties

In middle school Mr. A announced that he wanted to attend the US Naval Academy in Annapolis, Maryland for his college career and become a Naval Officer. This didn’t surprise me at all. By that time, I already knew that he would thrive in a military career. His personality is well suited for that type of structure. My Sweetie and I told Mr. A that if he was still interested in the Academy by the time he got to high school, we would help him as best we could to prepare and apply.

During his freshman year in high school, Mr. A announced that if he didn’t make it into the Academy, then Notre Dame would be his “back-up” school. I choked when he said this because earlier that week I had read an article listing Notre Dame as the second most expensive university to attend. I asked who would pay for it. He calmly answered, the Navy. Mr. A had done his research and found that that Norte Dame has a large Navy ROTC program. I apologized to my son, commended him on his planning, and secretly wondered whose child he was.

Fast forward to present day. Mr. A’s desire to attend the Academy and become a Naval Officer is stronger than ever. He is driven and works very hard. Mr. A is on track with the application process but since nothing in life is guaranteed, he has to have a back-up plan. That plan is Navy ROTC.

Mr. A needs to apply for his Navy ROTC scholarship this summer. Over the weekend, he reviewed the application and discovered that he is required to apply to five schools. What? Five? He asked me which schools should he pick. I suggested that we look through the list of schools and check out their respective Engineering programs. We ended with a list of 13 universities. Then I suggested that he prioritize them by what he thought to be the most important criteria. As per his nature, Mr. A proceeded to make a spreadsheet.

As he did that, I internally had a “Mom Moment.” Yep. I freaked out a tad bit. Okay, a lot.

In my mind I had him attending the Naval Academy… A small, controlled, well-disciplined, higher-learning environment. At the Academy the Brigade of Midshipmen (student body) is made up of only 4,500 men and women. Notre Dame, the "back-up" school, is a relatively small, Catholic university with lots of rules. The other choices were possibly University of South Florida or the University of Florida.

Suddenly, Mr. A is throwing around names like MIT, Carnegie Mellon, Cornell, Michigan, Arizona, George Washington, Cornell, Auburn, and Rice.

Wait! Stop! This is happening too fast!

Some of you may think I’m a little odd that I’m comfortable about my son attending the US Naval Academy but I get anxiety ridden at the thought of a traditional college. The Navy is tradition in our family and I’m very proud of my son for wanting to serve his country. He wants to study engineering and the service academies are far and away the best engineering schools in the world. This is Mr. A’s dream and the entire family supports him.

My “Mom Moment” was caused by the change of plans. Sometimes I don’t do well with change. I may need a little extra time to adjust. Once I thought about the whole college thing, I realized my anxiety was caused by the fact that all of the additional universities on Mr. A’s list were outside MY comfort zone. None of them were schools that I would have personally attended.

But they aren’t outside Mr. A’s comfort zone. Now that I’ve had a few days to think it through I know that Mr. A will select the right five schools for him. Just in case the Academy misplaces his application.

Do you ever impose your own comfort zone limits on your children?
Do you encourage your children to do things that are beyond your comfort zone?
Do you encourage your children to step beyond their comfort zone?

Photo: Bancroft Hall, US Naval Academy, 1980, Library of Congress

If I were...

I saw this on Uncommon Blonde and I thought is was a fun and creative way of expressing how I perceive myself.

If I were a month, I’d be September (end of summer & beginning of fall).
If I were a day of the week, I’d be Friday (full of possibilities).
If I were a time of day, I’d be twilight.
If I were a planet, I’d be Earth.
If I were a sea animal, I’d be a sea otter.

If I were a direction, I’d be North.
If I were a piece of furniture, I'd be a sofa.
If I were a liquid, I’d be fresh water.
If I were a gemstone, I’d be a sapphire (true blue & loyal).
If I were a tree, I’d be a willow.

If I were a tool, I’d be a Phillip’s Head screwdriver (straight forward).
If I were a flower, I’d be a cherry blossom.
If I were a kind of weather, I’d be partly cloudy.
If I were a musical instrument, I’d be a tin whistle (evoking emotion).
If I were a color, I’d be navy blue.
If I were an emotion, I’d be happiness.

If I were a fruit, I’d be a cranberry.
If I were a sound, I’d be the wind through the trees.
If I were an element, I’d be water.
If I were a car, I’d be a Volvo (safe & reliable).
If I were a food, I’d be birthday cake.
If I were a place, I’d be a lake shore.

If I were a material, I’d be batik.
If I were a taste, I’d be peppery.
If I were a scent, I'd be sea air & honeysuckle.
If I were an object, I'd be a quilt.

Photo Challenge: Week 14

Rose with morning dew

I was so thrilled when I was able to catch the morning dew on the rose petals.



Marble planter detail

This shot was taken completely by accident but I'm very pleased with the outcome.



Tropicana rose

I really like the background.

In the light
I finally got a chance to play around in PhotoShop. I tried the same effect with a photo of G-Man but he looked so alien without his freckles that I didn't like it.

Spin Cycle: One of My Favs

This week for the Spin Cycle we're to pick a favorite post from our archives. Here's a post I wrote about my Sweetie exactly one year ago.

My Sweetie aka The Craziest Man on the Planet Who Loves Me Just the Way I Am

Just look at that smile - you know he's a great guy!

In 2002, seven years ago this week, my Sweetie and I went on our first date. Before I agreed to our lunch date I was very upfront with S. At the time, I was in the middle of a drawn-out divorce that I had planned and prepared for two years. Yes, I’ll say it again, I planned for my divorce for two years. I had two young sons ages 5 & 8 that I needed to provide for and I wanted to keep my house. All of that requires planning and resources.

S was a bachelor. He had never been married and no kids. Why was he interested in me? I wasn’t even looking for a romantic relationship. I was living day-to-day and felt like a I had a fingernail’s grasp on my sanity.

Our lunch date lasted two hours. I was reserved, restrained, reticent, and all those other restrictive words. He was nervous as heck and couldn’t stop fidgeting. After lunch I thought that was the end of it.

That evening I kept replaying the date in my head and found myself smiling and wondering about the strange sensation I kept experiencing. Then it finally dawned on me! I really liked this guy and I was happy. I had to tell someone! My mom was in Amish quilt country and incommunicado so I actually called my sister. Something I never do.

On our third date, I fell totally head over heels in love. Within a month S was in the same category as my children… someone I couldn’t live without. One year later we were engaged. How many people take their children with them while shopping for engagement rings??? The following year in 2004, the boys walked me down the aisle and my Sweetie & I were married.

My Sweetie sold his house and moved into ours so we wouldn’t have to change the boys’ schools. I think we had at least two of everything! We had lots of garage sales and then bought “our” own things.

S jumped into fatherhood with both feet. He’s a natural. In May 2006, he legally adopted the boys and we finally all had the same last name. We celebrate that special day every year on May 30th.

The adoption process was painful and long. We had to do a “diligent search” for my ex-husband. There are about 27 items that the State of Florida requires. (I’m not kidding) After the divorce, I bought him out of his portion of the equity of the house. As soon as he got that check, he dropped off the face of the earth. No alimony, no child support, no visits, no phone calls, no letters, no birthday presents, etc… Now you know why I planned my divorce for so long. I had to be sure that I could stand on my own financially.

In the long run, the absence of that other person has been a blessing. My Sweetie is the boys’ first, true, and only dad. And what a wonderful dad! As the years go by, I see the boys pick-up my Sweetie’s expressions and mannerisms. If I hadn’t been there personally, I would swear that they were both immaculate conceptions.

S is the Love of My Life. He is my anchor. He is crazy for taking on an “instant family”. He is my partner is raising two wonderful young men. He is my WOW!

For more favorites, visit Sprite's Keeper.

It's That Time Again

The past six months have flown by and it’s time to visit my dermatologist again. Ugh. Some people get “white coat syndrome” when they go for their annual physicals. Not me. Instead I get anxiety attacks every time I go to the dermatologist and I go often.

I have yet to make it through a full-body screening without getting something scraped, punched, frozen, or burned off. I could be the poster child for the Skin Cancer Foundation. I have every single predisposition for skin cancer, spent every waking moment outside as a child (sans sunscreen), lifeguarded for five years, and have a family history of Melanoma.

What really scares me is that my parents’ first cases of skin cancer presented when they were each in their 60’s. My first incidence of skin cancer was in my mid-30’s. Huge age difference! Then to add to my anxiety, my dermatologist told me honestly that I will eventually develop Melanoma. The key to survival is early detection.

So in an effort to alleviate some of my anxiety I’ve decided to name my scars and any suspicious spots. I’m not going to bother naming the little marks from biopsies that came back clear. Don’t worry, I’m not completely off my rocker. All I want to do is laugh and not be so stressed.

My Sweetie calls the 2.5 inch scar on the back of my knee from an excision of a pre-melanoma spot five years ago “Near Miss.” So I’ve decided to call it Missy for short. The half-dollar sized scar on the back of my neck/shoulder from the removal of a basal cell carcinoma is called Winifred. No particular reason other than the name popped into my head. The nick on the top of my right ear from another basal cell carcinoma is Leonard because Spock would be too cheesy... even for me. Now the suspicious spot that’s been on my back for several months is named Luigi. Once again, no reason for the name.

Today Luigi meets the dermatologist and I’ll find out if I’ve been worrying with or without cause.

Do you get nervous about going to the doctor (any kind) or dentist? Do you wear your sunscreen? Did you ever use baby oil or olive oil to sunbathe?