Home Remodel Part Two

I helped my husband build a two foot concrete wall around our patio this weekend, leaving two 40 inch spaces for new screen doors. We're getting our patio screened in. But, dear hubby wants to do the concrete work himself. Like I mentioned in my previous post, he doesn't know what he's doing.

But he said he'll learn as he goes.

Uh huh. Well, he did. Sort of.

I can honestly say, it's the best wall I've ever seen built. Then again, I've never seen a wall built before.

To be truthful, it turned out a whole heck of a lot better than my wild imagination had doomed. The wall is straight. Pretty much. It's level. I'm taking hubby's word for that. And, it's the same height all the way around. That was the last thing I asked him to check before he called it done.

I did help too. Although, he wouldn't let me carry concrete blocks. He wouldn't let me slop mortar. But, I was in charge of the cement mixer we rented from Home Depot.

Did you know Home Depot rents portable cement mixers? I didn't.

I do now.

I never mixed a bag of mortar in my life, but I sure learned out this weekend. Just add the water a little at a time. Best tip I can give you.

Hubby's woes started early. He almost called it quits after laying the first few blocks. Nothing cooperated. The straight line. The block. The mortar. The lifting. Those darn blocks weigh something like 40 pounds each. I guess that's why hubby didn't want me lifting them. And the fact that if I dropped one it would crack our pool deck.

Oh, did I mention that this wall borders our pool's cool deck? And, guess who was in charge of making sure all the mortar didn't stick to the cool deck? Me, of course. Hubby didn't make it easy either. He slopped a lot of mortar around, not caring much where it went. Cool deck. Patio tile. Wherever.

I put myself in charge of cleaning tools after we were through for the day. Trowel. Shovel. Levels. Little pointy thing. The little pointy thing helped make sure the distance between the blocks remained constant. Don't know what it's called. Just called it the little pointy thing. And, it didn't work very well.

Or, I should say, hubby didn't use it very often. He said he could "eyeball" it and knew how far to put the blocks.

Uh huh.

That's why at the end we had to put in nearly an inch or so of mortar between blocks because we ended up with more space than blocks. But, who's pointing fingers? Not me. But, hey, we're done. The wall is up. No more concrete.

Ri-ight.

Our patio roof used to be held up by four by four cedar posts. Well, hubby cut those down and put up these post shorer things that hold the roof up. Yep. I learned what they were because I had to order them. Didn't have a clue what I was talking about, but I managed to order 4 of them.

Silly me, I thought we were going to replace those cedar posts with new four by four posts. Boy was I wrong. Hubby enlightened me today. "We're going to have to rent the cement mixer again," he tells me.

Guess why?

The posts are going to be replaced with concrete blocks. All the way up to the roof. Hmmm. The roof is higher than my hubby is tall. I can see ladders in the future, or would he stand on the new wall he created? Hmmm. Only time will tell.

But, I must admit. If this new screened in patio turns out like I'm imagining now, it could really be something. I'm getting excited about it.

Uh, maybe I should go back to thinking doom and gloom so I'm not disappointed?

The remodeling continues.

A Lesson in Home Improvement

My husband and I are making changes to our house. We bought it in an "At is" state, and have slowly made changes over the years. This year, we're screening in the back patio. Our goal is to have it done before Hurrican Season.

I wanted to hire a contractor and pay to have them do all the work. My husband said, "No, don't do that. I can do it for a lot less."

Now, has my husband ever screened in a patio before?

No.

But, he said he'll learn as he goes.

Uh, huh.

His plan is to build a block wall about 2 - 3 feet high all around the patio with concrete.

Has he ever done masonry work before?

Nope.

But, he said he'll learn as he goes.

Uh, huh.

Do you think we'll be done by Hurricane Season?

Well, we have two months. That should give hubby plenty of time to get the block wall finished so I can bring in professional screeners to finish it up.

You didn't think I was going to let him do everything by himself, did you? We compromised. And, he agreed, when it comes to screens, let the pros handle it.

After the screening is finished it get to replace my sliding glass doors with French double doors. One double pane of glass, with the blinds in between the glass. I can't wait.

Who's going to put in the double doors? We haven't agreed on that yet.

But, we will. I'll keep you informed.

The Movie, 300

I saw 300 last night. What an absolutely awesome movie. Overall, it was incredible. The movie is based on Frank Miller's graphic novel about the Battle of Thermopylae in 480 B.C.

Historical accuracies are scattered throughout the movie. From the moment we see them examining the child king and determining if he meets their standards or he would be thrown over a cliff onto a mound of lost souls to the training and fighting style of the Spartan soldier.

Zack Snyder directed the movie and he must have been divinely inspired. The movie is that magnificent. The use of narration to tell the story, along with the actual scenes made the realism more clear. You truly believe this was how the battle developed and how King Leonidas ruled.

Speaking of King Leonidas, the casting for this character was perfect. Gerald Butler was King Leonidas. Right down to the most minute detail. From the braid that hung from the back of his head, to his stoic glare, to his commanding presence among his men. I do not believe any other man could have done a better job.

All of the casting seemed to fit the characters very well. Each actor melded with their character and made us believe they were Spartans, Persians, and man made gods.

While the movie does portray a brutal battle, I don't believe there was any gratuitous violence. The images of men fighting with all their heart, body, and soul to protect what they truly believe in - Sparta - transcends the actual acts of intense violence. The images may linger, but so will the depth of passion they invoked.

The Spartans weren't without their sense of humor. The occasional remark made by King Leonidas only made him more human. I found his method of negotiation amusing and just.

I love a good movie soundtrack, and 300 didn't disappoint. The scenes and music together pulled you into the moment, suspending your belief, engulfing your senses, making you forget for a while that you're sitting in a movie theater with dozens of other people.

Give yourself a treat. Go see 300. Hurry before it finishes its run in the theater. It's a must for the big screen. Lose yourself in Greek history.

March Madness

It's the college basketball finals and someone's killing the girls in the Bellair Landing apartment complex and leaving unusual calling cards -- a mascot doll from the losing team.

Laurel goes undercover to break the case but she finds more suspects than she can count and not enough clues. With an overprotective captain breathing down her neck and looking for any excuse to pull her from the case, Laurel doesn't have time for a relationship. Just her luck, she ends up with not one, not two, but several suitors. Which one is the killer?

Read an excerpt of my novella, March Madness.

Buy March Madness now. Click Here.

Life's Embarrassing Moment

I was chatting with some women on another forum, and the subject of "most embarrassing incident in High School" was suggested. I didn't have to search my mind or try to remember a long forgotten memory. I knew immediately what my most embarrassing moment was. It haunts me still today.

My most embarassing incident in High School happened when I was sixteen years old. I "blossomed" late in my teens. I didn't start my period until I was sixteen. Way later than most girls and after two of my younger sisters did. I was always embarrassed that I started late and never let on to anyone that I knew less about periods than anyone else. I pretended to others that I knew what they were talking about. I had a terrible fear that people would think less of me if they found out I didn't know something.

One afternoon, right before our Debate Team had to leave for the weekend to compete, I felt a sudden urge to go to the bathroom. It was winter and I was wearing a wool skirt. Imagine my surprise and horror to discover I had started my period. At school! Totally unprepared. I had no sanitary supplies with me at all. I sat on the toilet frozen, afraid to get up. Not knowing how to stop the bleeding and what to use. I contemplated my options. There weren't many. I could go out and find someone who could help me with my "problem" or I could stay in the bathroom and hope everyone forgets I exist. I opted for the latter.

After what seemed like an eternity, one of the girls on my Debate Team came into the bathroom looking for me. She asked me if anything was wrong and I mumbled something about starting my period. She assumed that I meant it was one of those monthly occurences, not a monumental moment in my life. And, I wasn't going to correct her. She asked me if I had any tampons, and I said "no", only half knowing what a tampon was. She offered me one under the bathroom door with the question, "you do know how to use this, don't you?" with the emphasis on "you do". Well, what do I say to that? Of course, I knew how to use it. If my life depended on it, I'd say I knew how to use it.

I didn't. But, I wasn't going to ask, so I tried the best I could to use it in the way I thought it would work, then left the bathroom and joined my team as we boarded a large van. I took a seat by the window and kept to myself marveling at the fact that I had just started my period and I was finally a "woman". A woman with no one to share the news. The experience was all mine and mine alone to endure. No one would find out, ever.

During the long ride to the school we were competing, I felt a pain and a pressure in my vaginal area, and could never get comfortable on the cloth covered seat. All through the trip I scooted one way and then another on my portion of the seat. Lifting one butt cheek and then the other trying lessen the discomfort. I discovered why I was having so many problems when we stopped and debarked. I looked down at the seat and was horrified to discover a large blood stain. The tampon didn't work. I'd bled through my underwear, my skirt, and onto the seat. I hurried off the van, hoping no one else would see what I had done. I distanced myself as far from my group as I could, always keeping my front facing the group.

As discreetly as I could, I attempted to pull the back of my skirt toward the front so I could see how big the stain was on my skirt. It was huge. My skirt was plaid, blues and grays, so the dark red showed through well. As it dried, it turned a rusty brown. The cloth stiffened. I searched my mind for a solution. Could I get my suitcase and hurry to the bathroom and change? Would my coach hold a debate for me? I didn't dare ask. I wasn't in any hurry to explain why I needed the time to anyone.

Besides, there was no time to go to the bathroom. Our coach rushed us through signing in and sent our teams to various rooms for competitions that were to start in a few minutes. I was rushed here and there, until I finally entered a room where my teammate and I were to compete. The room was quiet. The judge sat in the first row. The other team already seated. A few people sat in the audience. I froze at the door.

How was I to concentrate? What was the resolution again? Was I for it or against it? Could everybody see the horrible stain on the back of my skirt? How was I supposed to stand up in front of everyone and argue my points? A hundred questions rushed through my mind as I followed my teammate to our seats. The judge set the timer, the debate begun.

I competed as second negative. Somehow, I managed to walk sideways to the podium, make my points, and walk quickly back to my seat all without incident. Did anyone see the stain? God, I hope not. I drifted in a blur between statements and rebuttals. On automatic pilot I answered. The only coherent thought in my brain was the blood on my skirt and how much more was I bleeding?

Somehow, at the end of the competition, our team had won. Do I remember any of it, not a second. Only the moments when I thought all eyes were on my stain. No one mentioned it.

After the competition, we loaded back into the van and our coach dropped the girls off to one house and the boys to another. They were people's homes that volunteered to house the out of town debate teams. Finally, I was able to go to the bathroom. To my inexperienced mind, I discovered that the tampon had only entered at the tip and didn't stop the flow of menstrual fluid at all. No wonder it hurt and I was in pain. I panicked again. I was in a strange house with strange people and once again needed help.

This time, I calmed myself and searched the bathroom. Hoping to find something other than tampons, as I didn't want to experience those twice, I opened doors and drawers. I found sanitary pads and gratefully and without asking, used one and took several for later. I hid my skirt from the other girls, not knowing if anyone had discovered what had happened to me. I didn't see any whispering or pointing, so I thought I'd gone unnoticed. I knew that if someone had discovered what happened, teenage girls wouldn't be able to keep it quiet.

However, the next morning, the adults were inquisitive. We were all asked if everyone was "okay" and whether we needed "anything" or wanted to "talk" to someone. Was I going to raise my hand? Are you kidding? The adults had found the stain on the bus seat, but no one owned up to it, least of all me.

We had one more round of competition that day, then we went home. Our team made it to the state finals. We'd done well. Proud of our accomplishments, I let that feeling flow over me as we traveled the roads back home. Thanks to the sanitary pads, the ride back was much more comfortable.

When I got home, I hurried to the bathroom as quickly as I could. Tearing open the cupboard door under the bathroom sink, I fumbled through Ajax, rubber gloves, toilet paper, and soap until I found what I was looking for. The tampon box. I read the instructions carefully and discovered I'd definitely improperly inserted the tampon.

My announcement that I had started my period to my stepmother was met with a resounding, "it's about time." A box of sanitary napkins were tossed at me with an off-hand comment along the lines of "use these." My initiation into womanhood.

My most embarrassing moment. I've never told anyone about what happened on that debate trip.

Until now.

Happy Valentine's Day!

It's always nice to receive flowers and chocolates, especially on Valentine's Day. But, I hope that you don't forget the true meaning of showing the one you love how much you care about them. Don't wait for that one day of the year, use every day as a way to demonstrate how much your love grows for that special someone.

Don't get me wrong, I love roses and chocolate. And, knowing that my husband took the time to order flowers for me makes me feel very special. But, I didn't have to wait until Valentine's Day to know how much he loves me. He shows me every day. It's in his touch, his voice, and his eyes. It's in all the things he says and the things he does. Even in the things he doesn't say. When he hands over the remote control to the TV and lets me run the nightly programming, I know that he loves me.

And, I don't forget to show him, either. I pour my love into every meal I make. Even the ones I order for delivery. We take care of each other. We're there for each other. The night isn't over until we've kissed goodnight. The day starts when I feel my husband's kiss when he leaves for work in the morning.

Roses and chocolate make a great gift for Valentine's Day, but I'll take the man who proposed to me for every day use.

What about you? What would you rather have?

Trust in the Wind Book Trailer

Following up yesterday's post about my book trailer for Not Without Anna, here is the book trailer for Trust in the Wind.

Not Without Anna Book Trailer

I'm crashing into the 21st century by trying new technology this year. One of the things I've decided to try is the new book trailers that have been developed. They're like movie trailers, just for books.

My first book, Not Without Anna, now has a book trailer. You can view it here.

If you like it, let me know what you think by leaving a comment. Thanks!

Happy New Year, 2007 - Resolutions, Really?

Here we are, standing at the threshold of a brand new year. Exciting goals and resolutions stirring within us, eager to get started. Before you buy that case of Slimfast or fork over a thousand dollars for the new piece of gym equipment, stop for a moment and consider your intentions.

Establishing a resolution means you resolve to do something. You establish a goal. You intend to accomplish this goal, don't you? Then let's set our expectations to a more realistic level. We'll add a little logic.

For example, your resolution is to lose weight. Do you know how much weight? Do you even know how much you weigh now? Do you know how much someone your age and size should weigh? All of these are important questions to help you establish a realistic goal. My suggestion is that you make an appointment to see your doctor and discuss your weight issue. Decide together what a realistic weight loss goal is for you and develop a strategy, a plan if you will, that will hold you accountable to your doctor for the weight you want to lose. Learn new eating habits and set up a reasonable exercise regime. Then set small attainable goals for yourself throughout the year.

What other resolutions do you want to accomplish this year? Do you want to contribute more to your community? This can be a double edged sword. The more you contribute to outside activities, the less time you have for personal activities. Before you scan the papers for all the community clubs and start signing up for each one, sit back, take a deep breath, and look at your situation logically.

Evaluate your life as it is now. Write down what you do and the percentage of time you spend on each activity. Then review each one and determine if you can cut some time from any activity and still be happy with your participation. Remember to include work, commuting, house chores, TV time, computer time, and time you spend with your family. If you find some extra time, see where you can best place it during the day. This means, where in your day can you use that extra time? Is it after the kids are in bed? Extra time before you get ready for work in the morning? A longer lunch if you're able? Or did you determine that you could get a couple hours free on a Saturday or Sunday afternoon? Whatever the answer, you've now established that you have free time to give to your community. Now, go back to that list of community clubs and volunteer activities and appraise them carefully. Where do you think you could best add value? One you've found a fit, then feel free to volunteer your help. Now you are doing more for your community.

Do you get it now? Arbitrary and vague statements to say you've created your resolutions set you up for failure if you don't have a logical, realistic plan to carry you through to success.

My resolutions? Well, I have a few. They're quite attainable.

1. Love my family
2. Spoil my dog and my parrot
3. Dote on my new grandson
4. Finish my current work in progress manuscript
5. Lose ten pounds by continuing my healthy eating habits and regular exercise
6. Add more friends to my network
7. Vow to never give up chocolate

What? Did you really expect me to give up chocolate? Let's be realistic, okay?

Merry Christmas

Christmas waves a magic wand over this world, and behold, everything is softer and more beautiful.

-Norman Vincent Peale

Decorating for Christmas

Decorating for Christmas is something I look forward to and dread at the same time. I look forward to it, because I like the feeling of knowing the holidays are near and seeing the Christmas tree lit up and the nativity scene shining in the lights. I like wrapping presents and the anticipation of waiting for them to be opened. All of those things evoke warm feelings inside of me.

What prompts the thud in my stomach and the dread in my heart is decorating outside the house. Let's just say my husband likes to be creative. Dangerously creative.

I don't mind the inflatables staked out in the yard. I think they look great when they're full of air. I love the animated bear and deer as they nod and swing their heads when lit in all their glory. Even the spiral Christmas trees that line the sidewalk look pretty. It's the rest of the decorations.

The lights.

What to do with the lights.

We have a lot of lights. Strings and strings of lights. Mostly clear, but some colored ones as well. My husband likes to use the clear ones. He'll stretch the strings across the front yard, one next to the other, making sure not to touch or cross wires. Then he'll have me plug each one in to test them to make sure they're still working. They usually are, minus a bulb or two. All of this is fine, until he walks out of the garage with the big ladder.

Not the step ladder. The big ladder. The one that can go eighteen feet into the air.

He usually has a plan around this time. He'd have been thinking about it for a few days, deciding where he was going to put the lights. He wouldn't tell me his plan, though. It would give me a head start on trying to talk him out of it. No, he waits until the day he's putting up the lights to spring it on me.

It starts out like this.

Him: "I'm going to finish decorating."
Me: "You mean put up the lights?"
Him: Yeah, I'm going to put up the lights."
Then there's a pause.
Me: "Please don't fall off the ladder."
Him: "You're no fun."
Me: "Most holiday accidents are from men falling off ladders while decorating for Christmas."
Him: "I'll be fine."
Me: "I'm too weak to carry you from the yard to the car and drive you to the hospital."
Him: "That's why God invented 911."
Me: "Please don't fall off the ladder."
Him: "You might want to stay out here."

And, so it goes. By this time, he's placed the ladder where he's going to climb. One year, it was against the house up to the roof. He laid out all the strings of lights in an outline of the house's roof. I have to admit, after all the scares of watching him slide across the roof and walk the peak, the house looked very pretty.

Until the squirrels chewed through the wires and blinked out half the lights. Then it just looked like the lights were haphazardly tossed on the roof in any which place.

But, this year he had something special planned. Something that he'd been talking about for years, but I'd managed to talk him out of it so far. This year he wasn't listening.

The ladder went up against the large oak tree in the front yard.

Me: "You're really going to put lights in the tree?"
Him: "I've got it all planned out. It'll be easy."
Me: "Please don't fall out of the tree."
Him: "You're not going to climb up this ladder, no matter how much you think you should."
Me: "Yeah, right."

He coiled up all the lights that were strung across the yard and placed them just so on the ladder and branches of the tree. This way they'd all be within reach while he was up in the tree.

My job? Stay away from the ladder.

I looked up at my husband as he balanced himself in the crook of two very large branches as he took note of his surroundings. He grabs the first set of coiled lights and tosses them onto a higher branch.

Him: "Oh."
Me: "What?"
Him: "I didn't think about that."
Me: "Think about what?"
Him: "How I'm going to wrap the lights around the branch. It's too big for me to grab from my other hand."
Me: "Oh darn. Guess we'll have to stop."

Not hardly. My resourceful husband wasn't going to be swayed so easily. Determined, he thought and then offered up me as the solution. I was to stand under the tree and catch the lights as they were tossed over the branch, then toss them back up to him.

And, so it went. He draped strings of lights around branches, dropped, and I tossed back up. Then we plugged in more strings and continued our drape, drop, and toss ballet.

Up one branch, then over to another. He stretched higher into the tree. I swallowed the lump in my throat. Finally, he was done. He climbed out of the tree and down the ladder. The big moment had arrived. Plugging the lights in. That was my job.

Him: "Oh no! %@#&, some of the lights aren't working. Two strings are out."
Me: "But they worked when we tested them."

Of course, that was no help at all. My first thought was, well, we can just take them all out of the tree but then I had visions of my husband climbing back into the tree and I quickly tossed that idea aside.

Dear husband had other ideas. He was going to find the errant bulb that caused the lights to not work.

Him: "All I have to do is find the bulb that is out but it's not going to be easy because the filament is so tiny."
Me: "Maybe they don't work because there's a bulb missing?"

I'm delegated to finding replacement bulbs. Easy enough. But, they don't match the light bulbs from the other string. Great. Ever resourceful, my husband pulled the bulb apart and fitted it into the new socket. He places the bulb in the empty socket and we sigh with relief as the string lights up. One down. One to go.

Once again, my husband starts scrutinizing the light bulbs looking for the one that could be broken. But, luck was on his side. He twisted a bulb, and viola! The string lit up. It was only a loose bulb.

My husband was happy. He'd put lights in our tree.

Him: "I'm not sure how I'm going to get the lights down."
Me: "Really?"
Him: "Maybe they'll stay up there." Pause. "Maybe I'll cut them down."
Me: "Maybe the squirrels will eat through the wires."

Come on, squirrels.

Happy Thanksgiving

When a person doesn't have gratitude, something is missing in his or her humanity. A person can almost be defined by his or her attitude toward gratitude.

-Elie Wiesel

Holiday Stress

Before the holiday stress starts, now would be a good time to put together a plan for handling the stressful issues that come up during the holidays.

Cooking, cleaning, decorating, gift buying, parties, family, they all can add to the usual stressors of the day.

Give yourself permission to cut out stress by saying "no". Let someone else do the cooking this year. Clean the rooms necessary and let the others go until after the holidays. Decorate if you want, and as much as you want. Only if it isn't stressful. If you don't want to decorate - don't. Don't be pressured to doing something just because everyone else is.

Gift buying can be a major stressor. Just managing the shopping is enough to give anyone an anxiety attack. Make things easier on yourself. Give gift cards. Or, ask people not to give you gifts and tell them that you will not be giving gifts this year. Donate to a favorite charity instead.

Parties can be fun, but they can also be a place where inhibitions disappear. Watch the alcohol and sugar intake. Leave early, it's okay. You don't have to be the last one at the party. Go with a friend who can be there for you if you have a panic attack or anxiety attack.

Families can be families. With all the drama that goes with them. Holidays and forced togetherness can be a set up for confrontations. Walk away. Don't let yourself get sucked into an argument. It's not worth it. Even if you are right, and your sister did pull the head off your favorite doll when you were six years old.

Give yourself permission to relax this holiday season. Take time for yourself. Make time for yourself. It's important to your mental, emotional, and physical health.

Have a happy and peaceful holiday season.

Contest Winner

Congratulations to our winner, Karen Snyder of Olympia, WA. She won the gorgeous pair of paperback earrings that I was giving away for my birthday. I hope you enjoy them and treasure them for years to come. Congratulations!

How much do I love my dog?

I have an American Eskimo named Jack. Jack Frost. He's the greatest. He's three years old and is becoming an adult. He's gone through a lot with me. I don't know what I would have done if he weren't with me. We're inseparable. I even take him on vacations with me. He's a great traveler. Finding hotels that accept dogs takes a little research work, but it's worth it.

I stay at home all day and Jack is with me. He'll spend time under my desk or sleeping on the bed. Wherever he feels most comfortable. We take walks in the neighborhood where he thinks he owns the place.

Do you want to know how much I love my dog? I created a blog just for him. You can see it here at Jack's Blog.

Take a peek at his blog and see if you can resist his loveable little face. Maybe you can leave him a bone while you're there. Jack barks his thanks!

United States Marine Corps - 231 years old

Once a Marine. Always a Marine. That's what they tell us. That's what the instill in us through boot camp and beyond. It's been twenty-five years since I wore a Marine Corps uniform. But, I still feel that sense of pride and privilege on this special day. The USMC birthday.

Do I ever regret joining the Marines? Not for a minute. Being a Marine was one of the best things that happened to me in my life. They taught me how to stand on my own two feet and be proud of what I can accomplish, and most of all, they taught me to respect myself.

I think boot camp can help a lot of young men and women find faith in themselves. It can teach them self respect, respect for others, and give them a sense of pride. I would support our government if they chose to implement mandatory service for our young people. After high school graduation, too many times, our young people are cut off from the support of their family and their community and set adrift to try and make it one their own. Mandatory service could be their life line.

The skills that are learned in the Marine Corps boot camp will last you for the rest of your life. These are skills that can't be taught anywhere else. They must be experienced. Lived. Ingrained until they are second nature.

Most of all, I think the best thing that you can learn in the Marine Corps is pride for your country. Pride in your country. Pride in yourself. As an individual. A Marine.

Happy Birthday to Me Contest

Did you ever have one of those birthdays, that just seemed like you hit a major milestone? Well, the one I have coming up, is a major milestone for me. I'm going to be forty-five. Five years from FIFTY! And, I just celebrated my oldest daughters 25th birthday. In the words of Kitty Forman "I'm so freakin' old!" But, I'm not going to let it get the best of me. I'm going to meet it head on and do something different. I'm going to give away the presents.

So, Happy Birthday to me! Well, it's not my birthday yet. But, in celebration of my 45th birthday, I'm giving away a pair of paperback book earrings to one lucky reader. They're gorgeous and made by Tibetan artisans. I saw these earrings and just knew I had to give them away to one of my readers. You deserve the best.

The contest is easy. Just send me an e-mail to vicki@vickimtaylor.com with the subject line "Earrings" and include your name, address, and e-mail address. I'll have the drawing on November 16, 2006, my actual birthday. Good luck!

When It's My Turn To Go

Last night, I went to a viewing for my neighbor. She died a few days ago. It reminded me of the one and only other time that I'd been to a funeral and that had been my grandfather's when I was about fifteen or sixteen.

A very serious affair, they'd cordoned off all of the grandchildren into a separate alcove with a curtain. I remember sitting there with all of my cousins, and a aunt whispering to us that if we wanted to cry we could, it was okay. She even handed out tissues to everyone. Once the funeral service was over, they made all the grandchildren stand up, form a line and walk past the open casket. A shiver ran through me then, and it ran through me again as I write this.

Last night, was also a somber affair. Lights were low and voices were hushed. The open casket commanded the front of the room, while rows of chairs were set up in the middle of the room. In the back, photo albums lay spread open on the tables for people to browse through and see the deceased in happier times.

I really didn't know anyone personally. I had gone at the request of another neighbor. I'd only met the woman a few times and we talked about various mundane things. I remember her daughter and children living with her for a while as their house was built just down the road. They girls were so small, and full of life. At the viewing I hadn't recognized them. They were teenagers now. I introduced myself as a neighbor to the grieving family and told them I was sorry for their loss. What else could I say? I had no memories that I could share with them. But, it was interesting listening to their memories as they tried hard to remain brave and stoic.

When I returned home, the first thing I did was go to my husband and tell him that I do not want a viewing when I die. I reminded him that I wanted to be cremated and only a memorial service for my friends and family to gather and remember the good times we shared and smile and be happy for me. Then, I want my ashes scattered along the beaches of the Florida Keys.

I want my family and friends to have happy memories of times we've shared. I'd rather that, than having them take one last look at me as I lay in a casket, stiff and cold. Made up and polished into an unfamiliar expression; no smile on my face. No dimples showing as I grinned. So, no somber moods or hushed voices at my memorial. Laughter and happiness only. That is my final wish.

Summer Goodness

It's summer here in Florida and hot. Hot and muggy. So, I thought I'd share a sure fire way to cool off.

Key Lime Pie.

If you can keep a secret, I'll give you my favorite recipe. Right here. Right now. Shhhhh.

Key Lime Pie

Ingredients:
1 graham cracker crust (make or buy)
1 1/2 cans condensed milk
1 8 oz pkg cream cheese
1 c. key lime juice (don't substitute. Get the real stuff.)
1 pkg Dream Whip (make and set aside in refrigerator until needed.)

Blend together condensed milk and cream cheese until smooth and fluffy.
Add key lime juice 1/4 cup at a time. Blend well after each addition. Taste before adding next 1/4 cup. Most people will stop after 1/2 or 3/4 cup juice.
Garnish with Dream Whip (Do NOT use Cool Whip.)

Let sit in refrigerator for at least 2 - 3 hours before serving.

Enjoy!

Life Goes On

In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on.

-Robert Frost


Life does go on, doesn't it? How many times do you hear that in your life time? When you were a child, and maybe you didn't get the pony your heart was set on for your eighth birthday. Or when you were fourteen and the most popular boy didn't ask you to the school dance.

The disappointments were sometimes devastating, but life did go on. As time passed, the hurt faded and healing occurred. Eventually, the pain of the event grew less, until you hardly ever thought about it again.

My family experienced one of those moments this month. My daughter discovered she was pregnant and we all rejoiced with happiness. This would be the first grandchild on both sides of the family so many plans were made and talked about.

But, it wasn't meant to be. Only a few short weeks into the pregnancy, my daughter lost the baby and miscarried. For her it was anguish; for us bitter disappointment at the loss of so much potential. We mourned for our lost family member, the tiny child that would strengthen the bonds of our families. We mourned for my daughter, having to lose something so precious. And, we mourned for each other. The loss affected each one of us so differently.

However, each day the sun rose and each evening it sat again. The days passed. Life went on. The world didn't stop to honor our grief, even though we expected the whole world to understand. The dark days passed and the light grew brighter. Now, we can talk about it without tearing up.

And, best of all, my daughter is talking about getting pregnant again.

Life goes on.