On Target

Want to help some kids? It’s easy. Taft Elementary school can receive up to $10,000 in Target GiftCards® for books or any supplies we need. Wouldn’t that be great? All we need to do is vote for Taft school each week until September 8. It’s part of Give With Target®. For every 25 votes Taft school receives, Target will send a $25 gift card.

Taft Elementary is a school I where I volunteer a lot of time. It's in the inner city of Youngstown, Ohio in a blighted neighborhood. When I saw the Facebook app to help donate to different schools, I noticed that nobody had even once clicked for my humble little Taft. It's a great school with wiggly young children, eager to learn. They come from walks of life most of us will never experience, but they never fail to have a smile when I come to their classroom.

Here are a few excerpts to stories I've told about my adventures there. Let's help their teachers get some supplies, because I know any teacher out there can tell you they buy them out of their own wallet.

from The Value of Teachers, October 19, 2011:

The building is only 4 years old. As I was walk in, I notice two smashed windows held together with duct tape. I'm not sure if it was a gun or rock or what exactly was used to smash the windows. I can only hope it was after school hours. There are signs all around the block "school zone" no shooting/drugs/etc.

As if. We're assuming those doing the shooting have respect. In the past month alone, there have been 3 random shootings in this neighborhood. Admittedly, I'm nervous driving through there, but I think if everyone is afraid to go in, the children will never see a way out.

While I walked out, I see the flag on the flagpole hanging upside down. I've got a really strong patriotic streak, and I almost marched back into the school to tell them that the flag was hung wrong, but then I realized how busy they really are. The school doesn't have time to fix the flag. But it just made me sad. I've heard an upside down flag is a sign of distress. That certainly is the truth regarding this district.

When I was driving away, I saw an elderly gentleman walking along the sidewalk. He was wearing dress trousers, a fisherman's type of hat, a cardigan sweater, and was carrying a single golf club over his shoulder, presumably as a weapon if needed. Either that or his golf league had one last round and he was walking to the course. I'm gonna guess option A.

from Stopping the Leaks, February 12, 2011: 

One sad reality in today’s world is that only about 70% of high school students will actually graduate. That statistic is closer to 55% at inner city schools, in crime ridden areas with high poverty levels.

... as I drove through the tired neighborhood filled with boarded up homes that surround the school where I was volunteering.  I reminded myself that my car had an alarm as I parked it and tried to put aside my concerns. I wondered what it must be like to walk these streets where most of the sidewalks were heaped with snow, unshoveled, every day to school.

I walked into the classroom and it was stacked with crates and papers in a state of complete disarray. The teacher explained in an exasperated voice that the roof leaked in her classroom and that the contractor and the architect were fighting over whose fault it was and instead just kept replacing ceiling tiles. My first impression was how sad it was that such an investment was being wasted. Then I realized the investment wasn’t the building but the 21 little people whose bright eyes stared back at me with enthusiasm and energy.

Well, actually only 20 of those 21 eyes. One little guy was sound asleep, head down on his desk. As I went around the room introducing myself to each child and asking what they wanted to be when they grew up...

When I got to the sleepy guy, his table mates said, he always sleeps. I glanced at the teacher and she nodded her head in agreement. I felt sad that he would miss our fun and educational time, but neither did I want to disrespect the teacher who dealt with him on a daily basis.

Apparently, it was acceptable to let him sleep. I wondered momentarily about a second grader whose parent(s) didn’t make him go to bed, or perhaps even worse, who for any variety of reasons didn’t feel safe sleeping in his home.

My children excitedly announced that they wanted to be police officers, fire fighters, nurses, veterinarians, singers, soldiers and teachers. Typical second grade dreams. I had to pause for a moment when one little boy told me he wanted to be a gang maker. I asked him to repeat that and explain to me what he meant. He said you know, like video games, I want to invent video games. I blushed at the mistaken conclusion I had reached.

I haven’t been able to stop thinking about what it must be like for someone who deals with it every day and the kids who have seen more in their seven years than most of us ever will see. I hated to think that statistically, only about half those children will even finish high school. I hated to think of the violence and crime that surrounds their world, as I only have to look on the front page of our local paper for proof. I hated to realize that my hopeful game maker, with a few bad influences, could indeed become a gang maker instead.

I want to keep the faith. I want to believe we can make a difference. I think it takes the naïve enthusiasm from someone who hasn’t lost their hope, whose spirit hasn’t been dampened from leaks. I want to think about a building that is solid from the inside out, where leaks aren’t ignored by bickering about where to cast blame. We can stop the chaos one leaky drop at a time. 

This is why I urge you to help this special school. 

Find out more and vote at Facebook.com/Target

First Date

I'm nervously anticipating a first date today around lunch time. As a married woman with two children, this first date is even more nerve-wracking. But as nervous as I am, the thrill of a new romance has me giddy. The implications of a first date are a bit overwhelming at my stage of life, but believe it or not, my spouse actually knows about this first date and reluctantly approved.

I actually won the date at a charity event. It was a raffle item at the recent Relay for Life walk. I nervously dropped my ticket into the jar, wondering what on earth I would do if I actually won. Imagine my surprise when I did. I felt like the proverbial dog that finally caught its tail. Now what? I actually have to follow through on this date. I claimed my prize and then quickly tucked it away trying to figure out a suitable time for the first date.

I've nervously wondered if I actually would follow through considering I already have everything I need for such a date at home. But rather than let my date wonder why I never called, I decided to finally make time for this first date. I picked up the house and invited my date over today. I'm nervous but committed. My date arrives around 12:30 today.

My first date is with a local housecleaning service, operated by the Beatitude House. I'm really excited to meet my date, which is part of local foundation. According to Green Clean's trainer and superviser, Mary Kohut,

... the two guiding philosophies of the company are to clean with environmentally friendly products and to give women an opportunity for bettering their lives. 

“We are all about improving the lives of women and children and this is allowing us to give women meaningful employment while offering them the chance of company ownership and profit-sharing,” 

I'm just excited about my first date. I hope it goes well.

Gratitude

This Magic Moment

Angry Bird Pizza

Yesterday afternoon, I had to run to the grocery store for a few items. I realized I didn't have any cheese to make an "angry bird" pizza that had me smiling all morning. How a bird with a scowling face could make me smile... well, it just did. I don't even have little ones, I have teenagers... but the angry bird pizza was something I was compelled to make.

I didn't really need to go to the store, and I kept reminding myself that my busy teenagers were not as likely to be amused by the angry bird pizza as I was, but I still took the drive.

I'm apt to do that sort of thing these days, as I straddle the line between young mom and empty nest. I see my beautiful young adults stretch out before me, planning their futures, while I just cheer them on. But in a quiet place in the back of my mind, I remember the days when something as simple as an angry bird pizza could make their day. I remember painting shells and rocks, spreading a plaid blanket on the grass on a summer day and calling it a picnic, filling a blow up pool at the bottom of our backyard swingset slide.

Before I sound maudlin, I want to reiterate, that while I remember those days fondly, I also anticipate the joy they bring me as young adults and the excitement of the future. But nonetheless, I had it in my mind that angry bird pizza was just what I needed and set off to procure the ingredients. I figured it was a perfect panacea for a slight case of "they are growing up/that means I'm getting older" blues that afflicted me.

I got to the store with little other purpose than cheese and pepperoni, when I spied a young father pushing a cart that looked like a fire engine. Actually, I shouldn't say I saw him, but rather I heard him, as well as his young boys. They were making "Vroom vroom" and siren noises as he pushed the cart around the store. I felt like I had been rolling channels and was compelled to stop. The dad was preoccupied with his boys so I hope he didn't notice me watching, but my internal smirk at my silly need for angry bird pizza became a genuine smile as I watched the young family. I watched the boys zooming down the aisles bringing colorful boxes of joy to their dad, cocking their heads asking if it was okay and then slowly walking back to put whatever enticement caught their attention back on the shelf.

I heard them excitedly talking to their dad amid gleeful traffic sounds to accompany the fire engine cart navigating the aisles. They were loaded with energy and giggles. I couldn't stop smiling and finally at one point, our carts passed and I said, "Nobody could possibly be unhappy hearing your boys!" He smiled tiredly and politely agreed.

Then it hit me. Sometimes it takes a stranger's words to impact a moment. Sometimes when we see our lives through their eyes, our angry scowl becomes a smile. Our furrows become joy. Our eyebrows rise with glee. We know, that the moment we seek is now.

P.S. I didn't wind up making an angry bird pizza, but rather filed away the idea for when I have my niece and nephew visit. My angry bird was too busy smiling to be brought down by a scowl.  

33,309 Strong

The Minis and I just returned from our national church youth gathering this past week in New Orleans. I cannot think about anything else until I share some reflections and observations with you. I appreciate your indulgence.

There is an amazing energy that radiates when you gather such a high number in one geographic locality. The youth gathering is highly structured (as it should be when turning that number of teenagers loose in a city that is well known for crazy debaucherous stunts).  As a chaperone, I will admit, seeing The Big Easy as a chaperone for a teenage youth gathering was not how I envisioned my first trip there. There truly was no down time. I came in with an idea that we'd have time to explore what the city had to offer. What I learned was the city was waiting to see what we could offer it. That shift in perspective was mind boggling, but welcome. 

The theme of our gathering was Citizens With The Saints (or #CWTS if you're a Twitter sort). We were not there to take, but rather to give. Sometimes that gift was labor, sometimes it was monetary, and sometimes it merely was listening. Each group attending the gathering was required to spend a day in service around the city. It was interesting, as no group knew where they'd be assigned prior to the project. Our national church surveyed the non-profits in the area and  asked, "what do you need, how can we help, tell us what you want?" Once that information was gathered, it was a number game. We were assigned days as well as times of service, with one requirement. Show up and do what you're asked.

And we did.

We learned that our assignment area was "Community Care" and told to make sure we packed gloves and wear closed toe shoes. Expecting to weed city gardens and the sort, I stashed extra gloves in my suitcase, figuring I had the "just in case" covered.

We arrived at the Superdome, at 6:30 AM, ready to go. We had no additional information, so we waited patiently. We clustered with our bus assignment and waited some more. Papers were passed around for us to fill out and that was our first hint. We were assigned to something with the Park System in the state. We loaded a bus with other groups from around the nation, including Colorado and Minnesota. Our Colorado group was a bit subdued, thinking about the tragedy that befell their area the previous day. But we had a purpose.

The park ranger kindly explained that State Parks were also destroyed in Hurricane Katrina. They lost their cabins and invasive plants took over their forest. After getting a brief botanical education, we were released to create a new hiking path in area of the bayou, the swamp lands. The soil was muddy, the bugs dense, and the trees, hindrances.

Yet, it was our project and we attacked with vigor.

We ripped out trees (invasive, non native trees) and pulled up weeds. We swathed a path. We laughed when one of our girls ripped a tree out bare handedly, yet shrieked a moment later when she couldn't identify a bug flying by. We had to cut our work short as lightening and thunder were in the vicinity. We loaded the bus and drove back to the Superdome. The water in the streets had reached flash flood heights. We disembarked from the bus into knee-deep water.


We marched with joy. Our insides were exhilarated. We sang, danced and marched with not just purpose, but JOY. Pure unadulterated joy. We smiled at the trials and tribulations we logged, as we stood face to face with nothing more energetic than... JOY!

Every day, we took a recap... best/worst moments of the day. We also asked our kids to share any God moments they had (on the off chance those God moments weren't part of the best/worst summary). As the week progressed, there were more and more God moments as well as best moments.

This tale isn't intended as a chest thumping "I'm a Christian" moment, but rather as a reminder that when we spend time reflecting on our beliefs and practicing what we hear, those God moments find us. Those moments are always there, as is God. We just have the chance to see, hear, and live them.

We can take that energy and love out to the world. In fact, I challenge my group, as well as anyone else reading this to inhale that God moment. Feel it and share it. Take it out to the world. When you're sent into a task knowing nothing more than "Care for the Community" grab onto it with two hands. Grab onto it with gusto. Hold that moment with all you have and remember it. Cherish it and reflect... because...

That's how God talks to us.

Oh Brother(s)

I am the luckiest woman in the world. When I was not quite two years old, I became a sister. I became a sister not to one sibling, but two. My younger twin brothers. 

Today is their birthday(s). When we were kids, by virtue of being the only girl, I pathetically tried to play the games they played. I played football, baseball, whatever it took. I was a tomboy, albeit a clumsy one. I had a few moments of victory as the oldest. I embarrassingly started a secret club and part of their initiation was that they had to eat a piece of dog food. I don’t know why I did that to be honest, but at the time it seemed an appropriate abuse of power.

As we grew up, our family unit struggled. Our parents divorced and we found ourselves moving out of state after our dad remarried. We were thrust into a lot of new situations that we tried to make sense of, and all the while, found comfort in each other. I can remember my dad telling us, friends will come and go, but you will always be brothers and sister.  His way of reminding us that we were forever.  While my attempt to join their sports world was grasping, we soon were found in a world of youth groups and school clubs. We didn’t have a lot to work with, as far as interests went. By high school, indeed, my brothers gravitated to sports endeavors, while I went the academic route. But our family ties stayed intact.

We moved again the summer before I graduated from high school. I was a senior and they were sophomores. I was scared, as I tried to figure out a place I fit in during my last quarter of high school. I’m so grateful that they didn’t shun me while the spent the next year figuring it out. But no matter how different we were, I knew that while I was in the halls of that new place, they would still be there for me.

Right after I graduated, one of my brothers and I both got a job at the same grocery store. That solidified a bond because we discovered that we could both have the same friends and that realization made life a lot more comfortable. My other brother and I bonded over working our way through college. I can still remember going to visit him and how he made breakfast for me and whatever friend had made the trip with me. We bonded over that.

We were bonded by blood but have become further bonded by life experience. One brother is a family guy, the other is a hard working businessman. The two are not mutually exclusive, but rather the primary thrust in their lives. The businessman is indeed devoted to family and the family guy has a good head for business. I remain their mother hen, spouting advice that I know they don’t need, but I don’t know how not to give. A lifetime of experience as I reflect and think of them today.

They are separate people, but they share a day.  One year, at a church retreat, one brother talked about how great it was to have a twin. I listened to his words and realized that while maybe I was a bit jealous, but I also loved that they were that close to each other. We bonded in so many ways growing up, swimming in the pond, the bionic man, hiding the granary, telling stories (S) on late summer nights, sleeping on the porch or the backyard tent, playing kickball… all of it. My life is woven with them.

I am so proud. I love being their sister. I love them. I am proud to bask in the world that is my brothers.

D & D, I hope your day is wonderful.
I Love You.
~K

Pixar's Brave Trivia

This is a great chance to share with my readers the cool Pixar Insider notes, part of the reason I love being a Disney blogger. Enjoy!

TRADITIONS – All of Pixar’s films feature some hidden gems and “Brave” is no exception. In fact, these time-honored traditions are all featured in one set.  There’s also a tribute to longtime Pixar story whiz Joe Ranft in the same location.

• Visible somewhere in every Pixar film to date, A113 is the classroom at CalArts that has been “home” to John Lasseter, Brad Bird, Pete Docter and Andrew Stanton.
• Each Pixar film pays homage to “Toy Story” by featuring the infamous Pizza Planet Truck.
• Pixar films always tease a character from the next Pixar release.

LET YOUR GUARD DOWN – Actor John Ratzenberger, Pixar’s “lucky charm,” has had a voice role in every Pixar film. “Brave” is no different – Ratzenberger plays one of the castle guards at the entrance to the great hall. And the second of the hall guards is voiced by none other than “Brave” composer Patrick Doyle.

ANCIENT DELIVERY – The Witch, an eccentric crone disguised as a woodcarver specializing in whittling wooden bear figurines and conjuring haphazard spells, showcases her mysterious and inexplicable knowledge of the future with a carved figurine of the infamous Pizza Planet truck, an iconic delivery vehicle that’s appeared in nearly every full-length feature film from Pixar Animation Studios since 1995’s Toy Story. Disney•Pixar’s Brave is in theaters now.

NO MONSTERS IN THE CLOSET – A carving of Sulley, the lovable blue monster slated to return to the big screen in 2013’s Monsters University, appears on a piece of wood in the home of the Witch, an eccentric crone and woodcarver in Disney•Pixar’s epic action adventure Brave, in theaters now.

Mommy Blogging?

I finally realized today why that designation makes me bristle so much. I am a parent of teens. I didn't really start blogging until five years ago when they were 9 and 11 (versus 14 and 16). I don't feel like I can claim the mommy blogger title accurately, since I have very little to say about diapering or baby food. The simple fact is, the days when that was my biggest decision are no longer significant. I used cloth and nursed until they could eat. Diapers were something I dunked in the toilet then wrung out and baby food just didn't hit our horizon. I was weird then, and while it seems that more moms today are doing this stuff, it's so scattered that their only community may indeed be an online one. I know when I was diapering my children with cloth I was weird. Or cheap. Or something like that. But I'm so over it. I have nothing relevant to add to the discussion because while in the day, it was monumental, today, it's the past. I am not a "mommy blogger" in the respect that my children need an adviser more than they need a mommy.

I think.


I still think I have something relevant to say. I may not be wiping noses, but I've not stopped being a parent. I am still mom and still the first source of all things answerable. It's amazing how much more often I have to humbly answer "I don't know" versus, "I said so". I always swore I'd never b.s. my children. I wanted to give them the best I could and inspire them to places past what I could give them. As we approach their first and last year of high school, respectively, I realize they have exceeded me in many places. I am so proud of them. 

Yet, they haven't exceeded me in seniority. I am here longer so that must count for something. Come to think, it counts for a lot. The things I have left to teach them have very little to do with coloring in lines, wiping their behinds, or memorizing the ABCs. I'm prepping to talk to them about what live without parents is like. I want to explain how different the world is when you're on your own.

Yesterday, my OldEnoughToDrive child took it upon herself to go for lunch somewhere. It wasn't an expected place and at first my heart lurched. We didn't discuss this trip. I realized how I must have sounded to her. Really? You need to know each mile of my travel? As if that would help me what?

So yes, I'm a mommy blogger. I don't diaper my children or arrange their food in smiley faces. I don't create craft projects to keep us busy on a summer day. I do love them and guard over them. I smile when college offers come in. I encourage when a new opportunity unfolds.

I am their mom(my) and I couldn't be more proud.

Changing your Fate: Disney's Brave

Hello, Readers!

A few months ago, I became an approved Disney blogger and receive updates on their new releases as well as games and activities to go along with the movies. This is a trailer for the Pixar film, Brave, which will be in theaters June 22nd. Summer movie season is upon us, and our family has always enjoyed the Pixar films, including favorites like the Toy Story series, Monster's Inc., Cars, and Finding Nemo. 

If you'd like to continue to see posts like this when a new movie is coming out, please leave a comment in the space below. 

I've included a few links to print out activities. 

Coin Archery

Wisp Maze

What does home mean to me?

This question was posed by a local non-profit that I follow, the Neighborhood Housing Services of Greater Cleveland. As I read the question, I realized there was so much I had to say regarding home that a simple "like" on Facebook was inadequate.

I've had the privilege of living in many homes. As I try to remember them, I also try to figure out what they have in common. Here is the list of homes I remember.

• As a toddler in a suburban home where we walked to the park, post office, and doctor's office
• As a youngster on a small family farm where our schoolmates gathered because our yard was huge for sports and we had a pond for swimming
• As a teenager in a South Florida city on a cul-de-sac where coconuts grew in our yard
• As a high school senior in a walking suburb where I lived so close to my school that our home was often a meeting spot
• As a young college kid living in a dormitory at a commuter university, surrounded by international students as well as kids who just had to get out
• As a close to graduation college kid flexing the wings of independence in my first apartment, a basement level flat with ground level casement windows to greet walking by friends
• As a young college grad ready to get married, in an upscale suburban apartment community
• As a newlywed investing in our first home in the city with walk-ability, classic charm, convenience and affordability
• As a young parent, expecting our second child, chasing the suburban dream, moving to a planned community in the suburbs complete with golf, pool, and tennis
• As a relocated family, realizing that our planned community had a cost that didn't match the benefits, moving back to a suburban home sans planning

Repeatedly, the only commonality I can recognize in the assorted places I called "home" is that "I was there." But home is more than a residency question. Sure I was there, but what else made it feel like home? What made where I lived "home"? 

It was comfort and love. Living somewhere without either would have kept the place from being home, and relegated to to mere shelter. I have moved many times and in many communities. I can honestly say that they didn't always feel like home, especially where I live now, where I didn't know a soul for several years and where my children didn't grow up. But now I realize, I have both comfort and love and that my faraway town has become home. 

Shelter is where home starts. We take care of the most basic comfort first, then we add on. We acclimate, we assimilate, we make it home. 

A few years ago, I read The Glass Castle. It's a fascinating true story of young Jeannette Wall's life. As a child of transient parents, her childhood was spent one step ahead of the bill collectors. Yet, as her story unfolded, even in horrid conditions, I found myself feeling a sense of home in some of her locations. I even understood her mother's sense of home squatting in a vacated NYC building.

So when I consider, "what does home mean to me?" My answer is simple. Home is where I find comfort, security, and love.

What does HOME mean to you? 

Endless Love

I was inspired today by a Facebook friend's post. She shared,

"A couple of weeks ago, a very lovely woman who had been our hospice patient died with her lifelong love by her side. In her final weeks, he'd stayed relentlessly by her side, still in love after many decades, unwilling to be apart from each other even for minutes. This morning, we received word that his heart gave out--or, perhaps, won out; he has gone to be with his love again. ♥"

My friend's touching post had me thinking about my own grandparents and then when I realized that this coming weekend would be their 79 year wedding anniversary, I realized I needed to tell their story. I've written about them before. They were the most incredible couple I've ever known. Yes, I'm biased. This is my blog, I can be.

It's hard to believe that Grandpa has been gone over ten years. I still hear his voice and see my favorite gentleman patting my arms, encouraging me, and reminding me why manners matter. My grandfather was a dapper, stately man. When he passed away in 2002, I gave the eulogy. Some excerpts...

... I thank you all for the honor to try to share with you what I know about the man I am proud to call Grandpa...

Grandpa, the devoted husband to his wonderful wife of nearly 69 years. The man who still opened doors for Grandma and held her hand. The man who taught our family what romance is. The man whose marriage is held as a measure of success by all of us. The who found love at first sight with Grandma, and nearly 70 years later had love at EACH sight... with a love and devotion that was apparent to anyone who saw them together. 

The man who taught us all what love, life and family is. A man many are proud to call friend, but a select few have the privilege of calling family. Just last week, the youngest member of the family, my daughter, was talking about one of the characters in her storybooks. She was explaining to me, "He isn't such a bad guy." I looked at her and knew... it was in her blood, spanning the generations; she was speaking the way her great grandfather would. If we all learned anything from Grandpa, it was to give the other guy the benefit of the doubt. I smiled when I realized some legacies are so strong, they become a part of us forever. 

This week, each of us felt a piece of us go with Grandpa. But an even bigger part of him stayed here and is within each of us. Grandpa's legacy lives on. We are proud members of his family, with him as the rock. A man who lived 95 years and never wasted one minute of his time with us. To quote Grandpa, "Ain't that a son of a gun?"

At his funeral, Grandma insisted that everything be red roses. Grandpa was a consummate romantic. He never let a single milestone pass without giving his bride red roses. It was a source of joy and frustration at times. They were wintering in Florida one year and Grandpa said he needed to run to the store for a minute. As the hours ticked by, he didn't return. Everyone was panicked and worried, pacing, wondering where he was. A few hours later, he pulled in the driveway, carrying a dozen red roses. It was Grandma's birthday, and he had been driving around trying to find a florist, because he couldn't let her day slip by without the roses.

After he left us, Grandma carried on. I'll never forget her grief as they closed the casket, begging him to come for her soon. Our matriarch found new strength. She made up her mind to live the rest of her days with gusto. They had moved into an assisted living facility a few weeks before Grandpa died so she was in a comfortable place. I believe with all my soul that is why Grandpa could go. He knew his bride was safe.

A few years ago, as the Christmas season drew closer, Grandma began a slow decline. She always said she didn't want to outlive her husband. She was going to be 95 the coming year. She then said, she wasn't sure she wanted another Christmas without him and she didn't make plans as she normally had to celebrate. But we held out hope. She had come back from a stroke earlier in the year. Her doctors and therapists were amazed at her strength as she was determined to eek out every ounce of quality from her remaining days. They were in awe at the effort our 94 year old grandmother put into her recovery and yes, she came back from a stroke, completely. It was incredible.

Our own wishes drowned out Grandma's. She told us repeatedly that her journey was ending, but we just weren't ready to let her go, I suppose. She tried to help us understand. Then, on Christmas Eve, 10 minutes before midnight, she joined Grandpa. I believe he was standing at the pearly gates, holding a bouquet of red roses, asking her what took her so long.

I gave the eulogy then also, and here are few of those excerpts:

We comfort each other knowing that every minute of Grandma’s 94 years was spent living life to the fullest. We remember the spunky, strong matriarch of our family, and yet, we shed tears. I’m sure part of our sorrow is more about reckoning with our own mortality. I know I’ll never sit on Grandma’s lap again, but I haven’t done that for 30 some years, thank goodness. Perhaps it’s about our own aging that has us struggling today. 

The wonderful thing about Grandma was she gave each one of us a very special piece of herself to carry on her legacy. love of fishing, fresh baked bread, water and swimming. farm life. golf. laughter, family traditions. incredible sense of style.  Those are just a few things I could think of, I’m sure you can think of many more. Each one of us carries forth a special gift that grandma gave us with all the love she had. She taught us traditions, had open arms, and loved each one of us unconditionally. 

She surprised all of us after Grandpa passed away. We never imagined the sort of strength she would find without Grandpa, yet I never felt he was far away.  She kissed his picture nightly, her Dapper Dan. She kept him alive for each of us, not just with her good spirits, but with the same love he gave her for 69 years. That love she gave us was evident yesterday at the funeral home, as the room was filled with our own friends and family. 

I think Grandpa has been all over heaven looking for just the right red roses, and he finally has her bouquet. He came to give them to her. They spent Christmas together smiling at the family they created, and look forward to watching us for many more years to come. 

Thank you, Grandma. Of the things you’ve left behind, the love, the things you taught us by word and deed are the most important gifts you’ve given us.  Those are the things we most treasure. We strive to carry your example for the rest of our days until we see you again.
We all love you so much; give Grandpa a hug from everyone. 

This Sunday would be their 79 year anniversary. They brought so much to our lives. It is an honor to be their grandchild.

The Gift of Listening

When was the last time you truly listened?

Sometimes listening isn't always auditory. Sometimes it's visual. Even with extra "listening devices" I again ask, when was the last time you truly listened?

I was lucky this past week. I am a volunteer teacher for our local Junior Achievement. I clear my calendar on a regular basis to make time to help this program. If you're not familiar with JA, take some time and learn about the program. Junior Achievement is a real world application of everything our children learn in the classroom.

It's not about memorizing facts but rather about figuring out how to use what they learn in a way that will help them further their education, consider starting a business or participating in the opportunity to influence change. Junior Achievement shows our children a way to use what they know to be strong and independent adults. Junior Achievement's ongoing educational programs gives our young people the tools to understand what comes next.

I am so confident as a Junior Achievement teacher that I can almost do the lessons without the book. I know the material inside-out.

You can imagine my surprise when one of the student letters I received began this way:

"you've taught us so many things. I need to teach something to you." 

At first I thought, "oh how cute" but my thoughts were a bit dismissive. Yeah, my jaded mind thought, "what can a second grader teach me?"

Turns out, quite a bit. I humbly read on.

"you must know to leave without fear. You need to learn to say goodbye."  

I silently smiled at my young teacher. I was washed over by her wisdom. I don't know why she felt so compelled to teach me something, and I'm not so arrogant as to believe her teaching was because it was our last class. It was deeper than that. She had something to tell me.

My little student wrapped up her note with a rapid departure from her advice, quickly moving to a marketing place.

"I also wanted to tell you that I want to be an artist if I become one you have a free picture and [sic] autograph"

The universe turns.

What was the last time you LISTENED?

Older?

I read a touching essay and poignant reminder how quickly it goes.

This stark reminder is from a young Yale student, who died this past Saturday. Ms. Marina Keegan wrote,

"I plan on having parties when I’m 30. I plan on having fun when I’m old." 

She says 30, then says old.

I pause. A part of me wants to scream, "WHAT?"
30 isn't old.
Instead that way-past-30-voice silenced me and said, but 22 is young. In Ms. Keegan's own words,

“We’re so young. We’re so young,” she wrote. “We’re twenty-two years old. We have so much time.”

I don't chase youth. I don't need to be young. I need to be me. I need to be the mom who makes her teenagers cringe on occasion. I need to think I'm cool when I'm not. I need that moment of hilarity when I mess up yet another lyric to another song and my teenagers burst into laughter at my ineptitude. I need them to have their language, while I retain mine. I need to hear a recent college graduate tell me "I'm so glad we'll have someone to be "the mom" in our group."


There is a slice of me scoffing, perhaps even denying my age. The refrain is familiar. I look in the mirror and stretch, tug and pull at myself analyzing if indeed I "am my age".  I whisper defiantly that I "don't look it" but when I'm brutally honest and true, I do. I look my age and I act it.

And I am happy about it.

The alternative doesn't work well for me.

She sells seashells...

... by the seashore.

For most of my teenage summers, we vacationed in New Jersey at the shore. We stayed in a centrally located community about halfway between Atlantic City and Newark, close to the ocean. We ate delicious seafood, walked on the boardwalks and listened to Springsteen on boom boxes. I felt like a character in one of the songs I listened to over and over, spending 4th of July at Asbury Park and watching Atlantic City start to make a comeback. Time stood still in the small beach bungalows and sandy streets.

The shore today is characterized by mass media depictions of spray on tans, lots of glitter, big hair and even bigger biceps, but that's not all the state has to offer. Speaking as a Jersey aficionado, the history and beauty of the state is a well kept secret. From parks and gardens, to entertainment to world class universities to Edision's historical Menlo Park, there is more to New Jersey than any Situation or Housewife.

For the past several years as the media has stereotyped New Jersey, I've wanted to defend my borrowed home state where I learned to love music, academia, and good food. One of the things we liked best about visiting Jersey was the ease of traveling around via the trains or highways. Central Jersey is conveniently located to both NYC and Philadelphia. We took several day trips to see Broadway shows,  go shopping, or walk the cobblestone streets of Philadelphia.

I love the enduring friendships that carried me into adulthood. People are always surprised when I talk about the friendliness and welcoming attitude, but pride goes a long way and we were lucky to befriend natives who shared the true treasures of their home. My memories of the state are fond and the opportunities endless.

This post has been brought to you by a sponsor. If you're interested in sponsoring a post on one of our blogs, please read more here. 

Shades of Grey: Book Reviews

Shades of Grey I recently finished the BDSM/erotica/romantica trilogy. It's been called "mommy porn" by many, though that categorization makes me bristle. I don't have a problem with women enjoying their sexuality or however they choose to express it. While I personally don't find the particular kink appealing, I have no issue with the fact that others do. Different strokes for different folks. Or in the case of BDSM, different strikes? But truthfully, the fact that I read the entire series makes me bristle a little, because I found it distasteful from the first book. Yet I kept reading the entire trilogy, looking for a clue to the massive appeal of the series.


I have to tell you, it's not a prude thing why I didn't care for it. I can deal with the gratuitous sex scenes. I think they became rather diluted due to overkill, but all that aside, it wasn't the sex that bothered me. Write about sex all you want, it's why Anais Nin and Henry Miller are considered icons in the genre. Great authors can pen great erotic scenes and sex is an essential part of humanity. It pleases me to know that erotic writing is being accepted into mainstream literature a bit more easily.


All that aside, I didn't care for the Shades of Grey series. The underlying message suggests that breaking the rules is acceptable if you're filthy rich. Stalking is cool if the guy is wealthy. In fact, it's desirable and makes the woman feel wanted. Talking a woman into doing something she didn't want to do is okay if you reward her decision with expensive gifts. I found the whole premise beyond disturbing for several reasons. For those of you familiar with the story, take a little journey with me, please.


Suppose the guy was a homeless vagabond. He searched out where the object of his obsession worked. He went to her place of employment where he bought rope and ties and masking tape all the while thinking how delightful it would be to tie her up and keep her in his secret play space, while he flogged and did with her as he pleased. Still as romantic or sexy once you strip away the fancy clothes and palatial surroundings?


That simple shift makes all the difference, doesn't it? The story goes from being romantic to being disturbing. While the tale had hints of the hit movie Pretty Woman in it, with the fun shopping, the fancy surroundings, and the complete disregard for any sort of budget, the cost seems to be rather high, even if not in currency. The suggestion that rules of decency can be ignored if  you purchase the woman designer clothing and shoes cheapens the whole idea of romance and honestly, even lust. Sex becomes nothing more than a commodity. And while sex sells, I hate the thought that women would sell out.


A rose by any other shade, still is a dingy grey.

Countdown to Summer

As the school year wraps up, families are counting down to summer vacations and the opportunity to getaway. One of the most convenient ways to comparison shop is by using an online booking agent. Such sites have become so competitive and popular that many of them now also offer online coupons.

We're a big fan of coupon shopping in our home. Some statistics about coupon use is that less than 10% of coupons printed are ever redeemed.  Coupons are not just for grocery stores, but also online shopping sites as well. Smart consumers know that with a few minutes of searching, they can find big savings. Online coupons generally come in the form of a special promotional code. We've listed a few reputable sites that offer coupons for the Expedia website. These coupons range from discounts on airfare, hotels, theme parks, rental cars and even gasoline cards.

It is important to know that if a deal sounds too good to be true, it probably is. Here are a few tips to spot a real offer from a bogus one. Legitimate offers generally will have an expiration date, will offer a discount (not free) and will require you to make a purchase. As always, check the fine print on the offers for restrictions and expiration dates.  By following the instructions, there are many travel discounts to be found online. Here are some of sources we've discovered! Happy Travels!

• Best Online Coupons

• http://www.geekalerts.com/expedia-coupons/ 

• Deals2 

• Expedia coupon code 2012 

Finding the Right Person

One of my favorite questions I ask when I am getting to know someone knew is how they met their spouse/boyfriend/girlfriend/significant other. Almost everyone has a story how they met and nobody's story is uninteresting. For example, I tell folks I met my spouse because I was dating his friend. That never fails to elicit a few eyebrows and inquiries. It's not nearly as scandalous as it sounds. His friend and I had broken up but still were friendly and we attended a party together. I had met my spouse a number of previous times when I was still dating his friend. In fact, I tease him that he had flirted with most of my friends before he took on me. We hit it off and the rest, as they say nearly 22 years later, is history.


Another couple I know worked together, yet another met when he wouldn't stop badgering her to go out, and as she puts it, he wore her down. Even stories like that charm me, because the end result is positive. Some couples are high school sweethearts, while others meet in nursing homes. Other couples meet through common interests. Anything that brings two people together is a step in the right direction.

I recently had a conversation with new friend who met her beau on an online matchmaking site. She lowered her voice and said she was a bit embarrassed by how they met and I said, "Don't be embarrassed, be happy you found someone whose company you enjoy! Does it matter how you found each other?" The opportunity to choose who you want to spend time with on your own terms is imminently appealing.

Probably the only way to meet someone to date that has me skeptical are the television shows turn meeting the right partner into a competition or game. At some point, the pop culture/reality aspect of it comes off as rather contrived. It's so much more natural to meet someone from a comfort level that you determine, doing something you enjoy doing, in a place that you enjoy being.

In the spirit of this post, I invite you to share how you met your significant other.
Don't be shy... how did you meet?

Growing Up

fabric growth chart 

After a day celebrating mothers around the nation, many mothers are reflecting where the time went. Nearly 17 years ago, I cradled my newborn in my arms holding her tiny little foot against my index finger and noticed her foot and my finger were the same exact size. Today, I only look at my finger and then down at her size 7 1/2s and then eye to eye with her and know, my little girl is now a young lady.

We annually marked and dated a wall in our laundry room with hash-marks indicating how much our children had grown. We marveled at the progress and then one day, we found out we had to move. We no longer were going to mark the walls and in all likelihood, someone would be painting over our precious hash marks. In an effort to preserve that memory, we traced it and then transferred it to the wall in our new home.

How to make a growth chart can be much more attractive and portable than hash-marks on drywall. The fabric growth chart shown on the right can be customized to any decor and moved wherever the family lives. The Ribbon Retreat is a fabulous resource with easy tutorials for a myriad of personal crafts and gifts. To make it even easier, Ribbon Retreat offers all the fabric and ribbon to create their projects, with several ongoing sales and specials for both wholesale and retail customers. They regularly receive new fabric and ribbon to please any crafting person.

In accordance with FTC disclosure laws, Fresh Daily Bread has been compensated for this post. We only review companies and products we believe would be of interest to our readers and all opinions expressed are solely ours. If you are interested in sponsoring a post on this blog, click here. 

An Open Letter to all Teachers

I just learned that this week is "Teacher Appreciation Week". Why only a week is my first question, but we'll move past that.

I am the parent of two children, 8th and 11th grade. I love teachers. I love the ways they open/close/expand and shrink my children's minds. I love that they make them think, even if that thought is occasionally negative. I even love when my kids hate their teachers, because it gives them a chance to learn how to deal with difficult folks. It also gives them someone besides their mother to hate. Let's face it, moms get a lot of that while watching their child grow.

Yes, I love school and I love the people who make it happen.

You see, while I never wanted to be one of "those" parents, I am heavily involved in the school day of my children. By "those" parents, I mean the sort that teachers whisper about in the lounges, during their breaks. The parents who micromanage their child and the way the child learns. I've made a concerted effort to hand off my child and trust the teacher. It's worked out well. I have been for a collective 22 years of school. (I figure that based on starting school at age 4 (preschool) for each child, ages 14 and 16). I have met over 100 teachers who were responsible for my offspring for several hours each day.

It baffles me to no end when folks gripe about teachers. I want to hug teachers and tackle them with joy. I am grateful that I am given a reprieve. That is not to imply I'm anything close to an un-involved parent, but rather that I am a partner with the teachers. I love knowing that someone who isn't me is helping open my child's mind. I don't want a mini me who doesn't quite get complicated math formulas, or whose eyes glaze over during chemistry lessons. I want them to learn from many folks who teach in many ways. I want them to spend time with someone who isn't me.

At the end of every school year, especially in elementary school, I've given the teachers a framed poem:

What Do Teachers Make?

by: Author Unknown

The dinner guests were sitting around the table discussing life. One man, a CEO, decided to explain the problem with education. He argued: "What's a kid going to learn from someone who decided his best option in life was to become a teacher?"  He reminded the other dinner guests that it's true what they say about teachers: "Those who can...do. Those who can't...teach." 

To corroborate, he said to another guest: "You're a teacher, Susan," he said. "Be honest. What do you make?"  Susan, who had a reputation of honesty and frankness, replied, "You want to know what I make?"

"I make kids work harder than they ever thought they could."

“I make kids believe in themselves when no one else will.”

"I make a C+ feel like a Congressional Medal of Honor and an A- feel like a slap in the face if the student did not do his or her very best." 

"I make parents tremble in fear when I call home" 

"You want to know what I make? 

"I make kids wonder."

"I make them question." 

"I make them criticize."

"I make them apologize and mean it." 

"I make them write." 

"I make them read, read, read." 

"I make them spell definitely beautiful, definitely beautiful, and definitely beautiful over and over and over again, until they will never misspell either one of those words again." 

"I make them show all their work in math and hide it all on their final drafts in English."

"I make them understand that if you have a dream, then follow it...and if someone ever tries to judge you by what you make or what you do, you pay them no attention."

"You want to know what I make?! I make a difference."

What about you?

Thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. 


My colleague, Kris, has issued a challenge. Tell us your thoughts on teachers. Share the link here. Let's really appreciate the folks we trust with our children. 

Get an Ivy League Education for Free

reprinted from : How to Get an Ivy League Education for Free - Fastweb

Occasional rivals, Harvard and MIT, team up to offer free online courses.

By Kathryn Knight Randolph
May 04, 2012
Do you have $55K laying around for one year of classes at Harvard or MIT? Didn’t think so. These Ivy League schools are not only the most difficult to get into; they’re also the hardest to pay for. But not anymore.

This week, Harvard and MIT announced that they’re teaming up to provide free online courses, though a program called edX, for anyone around the world, regardless of age, income or ability to get through the grueling admissions process at either school.

The edX FAQs state that the classes will include “self-paced learning, online discussion groups, wiki-based collaborative learning, assessment of learning as a student progresses through a course, and online laboratories.”

Unlike other free online learning collaborations, students of edX will actually be graded on their work and can receive credentials or certification based on their success in the class. However, in order to actually receive the certification, students must pay a small fee. Furthermore, the certification won’t be provided under Harvard or MIT’s name, which means that unfortunately, their name will never get to appear on your resume.

Though Harvard and MIT have been getting a lot of attention this week over their announcement to partner up on online learning, they’re not the first. In fact, Stanford, Princeton, University of Pennsylvania and University of Michigan also announced a very similar partnership this month, as reported by the New York Times.

But there is a big difference between the two programs. Harvard and MIT aren't just hoping to provide greater access to higher education; they’re also hoping to research more about the process of learning in general from the online courses.

Even now, edX developers are able to “track how long students spend working on an exercise or watching a short lecture video to see which tasks or lessons require more fine-tuned learning. Students in a course could be given one of two tests to see which measured learning better,” according to a press release from Harvard.

The estimated $60 million project will receive funding from each of the two schools, grants, and philanthropy and will eventually invite other schools to provide their courses through edX as well, as stated by Harvard. The New York Times reports that Harvard and MIT classes will become available on the edX platform during the fall of this year.

Would you take any of the edX courses offered by Harvard or MIT? Why or why not?

Learning for Life

Today, my eldest child returned home from taking a rigorous standardized test. She was distraught because she didn't see a page of questions. She has the opportunity to take the test again in a year but was concerned that she would no longer know the information in a year. I asked her if she actually understood the topic (as it's one of her best ones) or if it was just memorized and crammed. If she knew the answers, she'd still know them in a year. However, if she merely was memorizing them long enough to get a passing grade, she may not retain the information. She just kept insisting that since she wouldn't have the same class next year, she would not remember anything about the topic.

At this point in my life, I've forgotten many things I once knew. My younger child had a math problem that I could solve but couldn't explain it the way she learned it. I knew the solution, but not the way to explain the right formula. Since I couldn't give her the formula, having the correct answer was not helpful. I honestly begin to wonder how well our schools are doing at teaching versus drilling.

Lowell Milken, a trailblazing education advocate explains,

"Nothing is more important for our future than education because it touches on just about everything we value as individuals, citizens and productive human beings."

With all the pressures on both students and teachers, many families are exploring alternative ways to educate their children. Learning is a lifelong activity from preschool to post high school education. Increasingly, the lessons learned in the earlier years remain applicable our entire educational career. Success in life begins with a solid early foundation. Some alternatives to traditional public schooling include Montessori, charter schools, private and parochial schools,  homeschooling and online academies are becoming an attractive option to transform test takers into learning. Exploring the options is the first step to truly making certain no child is left behind.

Geekishly Nerdy or Nerdily Geekish?

I really love all the infographics I've been finding lately. 

From: MastersInIt.org

The times are a-changin'

From: BestEducationDegrees.com

Help fund local charities with a click

The following write-up originally appeared on my Examiner page. 

Today's article is about a different, but no less important kind of green, the kind that comes in the form of donations. A Facebook voting contest sponsored by retailing giant, WalMart, has pledged to bring $1 million to the winning city's charities and $50,000 to the next 20 runners-up in a unique Fighting Hunger Together campaign. 

As of 7:30 a.m. this morning, Youngstown-Warren, Ohio area had taken the lead to receive $1 million donated to the Second Harvest Food Bank of the Mahoning Valley and Catholic Charities Diocsese of Youngstown. 

According to a report released by The Brookings Institution last November, the Youngstown metropolitan statistical area has some of the most densely concentrated poverty in the nation. 

The nominated cities were selected based on regional unemployment rates as a criteria because according to WalMart, 

 Unemployment plays a role in an individual or family’s ability to put food on the table. In places where unemployment rates are highest, the food banks, soup kitchens and other hunger fighting organizations are being accessed more than ever to help Americans make ends meet.

Votes can be cast once every 24 hours and the winning community and the 20 runner-up communities will be announced on April 30, 2012. Organizations selected to receive grant dollars to fight hunger in the winning communities will be announced May 15, 2012. Anyone with a Facebook account can cast a vote the community of their choosing. 

As a personal aside, regardless of your opinions about the contest sponsor, I urge you to consider the good the money can do for an area that has been struggling for years. Our area's charities could really use the boost. 

Anticipation...

It took me a while to decide if I wanted to post this on my public blog. I don't want to seem ungrateful. However, it's a funny story and I'm still giggling about the whole process. I hope you get a chuckle, too! 

I am helping with a fundraiser for one of the charities I volunteer for. About a month ago, I sent off a number of donation requests to several high profile organizations, including sports teams. The response has been amazingly positive. I was mailed a signed football from a pro sports team (GO BROWNS!), two box tickets to a ballgame (GO INDIANS!), 4 tickets to Walt Disney World (yeah, really!) and then an unnamed pro hockey team, not only approved my request, but contacted me via phone to inform me of as much. The same city's football team doesn't respond to unsolicited donation requests. I understood, they are a very successful business that can pick and choose who they donate to.

The community relations person for the team asked me to make an appointment to pick up their donation and had me spell my name twice for security purposes and reminded me to make sure I had a photo ID. It was explained that I would be on a list at the main reception area, to check in there, then they would send me on the elevator to the donation/community relations department. My anticipation was high, with such an incredible amount of filters, I could hardly wait to see what they were donated. Would it be club seats? Signed merchandise from one of their very famous players? What sort of donation must they be making to require such high security measures?

I couldn't drive to pick up the items for nearly a week after I received the phone call. The suspense was killing me. But I had my appointment and even received a confirmation call about the pick up date and time.

This morning, filled with excitement, I drove 75 miles each way to pick up the item. I paid to park and walked into their palatial offices, thrilled they were donating to our event. I was handed a bag with their logo and not wanting to seem too immature, I simply thanked them and walked out of the office. I didn't risk opening whatever valuable merchandise may be contained within while walking to my car, but I just tried to be patient until I was back in my car and could check what was in the bag.

...
...
...

(I know the anticipation is killing you, too, isn't it?)

I opened up the plastic drawstring bag to discover a pile of giveaway junk. Yes. Really.

There was a folding cardboard zamboni filled with corporate logos. A t-shirt and baseball cap. A cardboard 11x14 sign welcoming back a prodigal player. A video about the arena where they play. And a picture of some players complete with corporate logo across the bottom. A stretchy bookcover with the sponsor's logo.

I realize beggars cannot be choosers. I realize a donation is exactly that, it's what the organization wants to giveaway. But would a donation of a marginal value been too much to ask? According to Forbes magazine, while profits are down, the average NHL hockey team is worth $240 million, with an annual aveage revenue of about $103 million. I think they could have done better. Instead of breeding good will, I have sour grapes. I really wish they had just said, "we don't make donations". I feel like I got an entirely new understanding of the term, "cheapskate".

World Book Night 2012

A few months ago, I signed up as an ambassador for World Book Night 2012. It just was such a cool sounding program with so many amazing books, I was compelled to participate.

For those of you who don't know, World Book Night is a very unique literacy initiative. From their site:

What is World Book Night? 

World Book Night is an annual celebration designed to spread a love of reading and books. To be held in the U.S. as well as the U.K. and Ireland on April 23, 2012. It will see tens of thousands of people go out into their communities to spread the joy and love of reading by giving out free World Book Night paperbacks. 

World Book Night, through social media and traditional publicity, will also promote the value of reading, of printed books, and of bookstores and libraries to everyone year-round.  

Additionally, April 23 is UNESCO’s World Book Day, chosen due to the anniversary of Cervantes’ death, as well as Shakespeare’s birth and death.

The selection process was fairly simple. We filled out applications with our top three books we could share passionately with non-readers. We had to explain how we would share the book and where we would go to do so. We were encouraged to find a non-traditional venue and folks who wouldn't normally read.

I initially coordinated the giveaway at a friend's ice cream store, mostly because the pace is slow and relaxed and people are already doing something they enjoy (eating ice cream). But just as I was setting up, I received a phone call about a meeting I needed to attend and had completely forgotten about in my excitement for World Book Night. So I took my books and went to the meeting, where I graciously explained why I was late and then shared some of the books with the folks at the meeting. By the time the meeting was finished, the ice cream store was very quiet. I looked around the corner and saw a bustling laundromat, which was filled with a captive audience of folks waiting for their clothes to dry.

I walked in there and started talking to folks sitting at tables and chairs about the book I was giving away and why they would enjoy Stephen King's The Stand. While it is a daunting looking book (over 1400 pages!), the story is so compelling and the characters well developed that it's a perfect book to have as an ongoing read. I re-read it just last month in preparation for World Book Night and still found myself riveted. It's a timeless story of good vs. evil in an apocalyptic world.

The Stand wasn't the only book to choose from. Thirty books were available, including a selection by Maya Angelou, The (very very popular) Hunger Games, A Prayer for Owen Meany (which a fellow book lover friend of mine was chosen to give away), Lovely Bones, My Sister's Keeper, Friday Night Lights. Many of the books were also made into movies. There is something magical about sharing the "real" story with someone who has only seen a movie. For example, some of the television adaptation of The Stand was incredibly well done, but other parts, not so much. A book is like having a treasure map to all the hidden secrets of a tale.

The other books I had applied to giveaway were The Glass Castle, a memoir of a young woman who will astound you with her resiliency or The Lovely Bones, which I found to be an amazing story of healing in the face of something completely unforgivable.

I've also shared a photo of one of my happy recipients. I would love to hear how well she liked the book!

Practice reduces imperfection

I don't expect to be perfect, hence the title of this post.

A few weeks ago I announced my full presence. I've shared my attempt to live aloud and it was met with a meager amount of praise. I've tried to speak my mind both vocally and written(ly?).

The results are in. It's working.

I wrote a story about my childhood that I'd always been nervous to share.
Today I reviewed a product and was brutally honest that it wasn't the greatest thing I ever received.

Sometimes, it's not always about deception. Silence is not deception, per se. Neither is it honesty. It's that place of imperfection that exists wherever we dare not.

But today, I dared. The other day, I dared. I dare myself to speak up with my face, my name, and my soul attached. I dared to live authentically.

I'm breathing in the oxygen of truth.
My lungs are full.

Fresh. Daily.

Based on my blog title if the next word is not Bread, then something else of sustenance.

I've been thinking about hunger/nutrition/food a lot lately. I've heard a lot of noise about cutting the SNAP program. SNAP is an acronym for Supplemental Assistance Nutrition Program. Most of us know SNAP as Food Stamps.

It really bothers me when folks are indignant about feeding each other. A friend of mine once said "food should be like air, it should just be something that is there".

I couldn't agree more with that sentiment. As a nation, we have crossed the place of everyone for themselves. That ship sailed. It's not a world of foraging, hunting or gathering. From an anthropological standpoint, we simply are no longer there. Society has changed the way we organize our days.

Our world is a place of localized gathering. We go to stores in an orderly fashion with a list and agenda. We are no longer the wild creatures seeking food, but rather the food is brought to us in exchange not for brawn or strength, but for paper symbols of currency. For most of us, that is.

While Darwin may have suggested survival of the fittest, often times, our less fit are children. Writing experts tell us frequently to write what we know. I cannot purport to know hunger. I can purport to know and have lived with charity.

When I was 12, my parents separated. For the next several years, while they tried to untangle two lives tangled, and figure out finances of two households, not one... I was the recipient of free school lunches. I never thought that would be my life, and looking back it seems almost surreal. I grew up in a comfortable home, with all the amenities.  My life was so comfortable, that at one point, as I handed in my lunch ticket, the classmate who helped in the lunchroom looked at me and with the zero tact of a junior high aged kid said, "you get free lunches? I thought you were rich." I didn't know what to say. What I mostly remember is skipping lunches as often as I could. Trying to make it from the time I left for school, until I got home so I didn't have to endure the humiliation of that free lunch ticket.

For three years, I carried that card. I can remember family members buying us new clothes for the holidays, having no idea that we were on "government aid". I can only imagine the thoughts of those around me, as I hear it echoed so often today. "The kids have brand new [cell phones/video games] and yet they suck off the government." Those words sting. I travel back to my time of getting free lunches in my own new clothes. I didn't know then what folks must have been thinking, but I hear it today and it breaks my 12 year old heart. I felt so stupid as it was, getting free lunches. To think I was reviled and hated because it was a way to make sure I had something to eat in the middle of the day... I still shake my head.

I was a lucky one. My time was temporary. It ended. I wonder about those who see no end. Those whose parents work two or three jobs wondering why they never get ahead. I wonder what it must be like.

And in a tiny slice of my brain, I remember. I know what it was like.

That is why food should be like air. It just should "be there".

Here I Am

I've blogged for several years now, in several different venues.

When I first started blogging, I used a pen name and kept it fairly anonymous, not sure if I wanted to broadcast my musings to the public at large. I have an irrational fondness for that hidden venue where I shared everything from my morning mood to recipes to political opinions. I was able to tell naughty jokes without worrying that someone would be offended or angry. I never had to worry about the repercussions of my voice on the folks I love. But it was also a security blanket of sorts.

Contrast that to a public venue such as Facebook. I have seen controversy and battles. I've been asked how I can be friends with "someone who thinks like that" and I've found myself in the middle of two or more friends when they disagreed. I've learned more about my neighbors than I thought I needed to know, and witnessed more than I felt I wanted to witness. I didn't want to feel awkward, but found myself knowing that they had a fight with their spouse, or were angry with their children, or had a falling out with another friend.

I tried to keep my anonymous voice separate from my known voice, but eventually there was crossover. There were folks I wanted to know better and in a more personal way, and before long, a lot of my "secret underground friends" were part of my public world.

I've decided that the dual world is difficult to navigate. Additionally, anonymity sometimes can be a safety net, but for others it can be insidious. Agendas are easier to keep hidden when you're anonymous. I've decided that I'm going to try to live out loud. I'm not going to blog anonymously anymore. The first step was to tell an off color joke in a place it may not go over.

Last night, at a church dinner, a bunch of us ladies got into a girl talk session about our body parts in the kitchen. We talked about gravity working on them, and about being too small or too large, we just were making silly girl talk. I told a joke. I said that my spouse gave me a handful of toilet tissue when I complained about having a small chest. I remarked that I was an adult and would NOT stuff my bra. He said I didn't have to stuff it, just rub it on my chest, since it worked so well on my behind.

The laughter was deafening. When it died down, the wife of a church leader asked, "And when is the funeral?"

Perhaps it's time for us to learn less about compartmentalizing and more about integration.

What about you? Do you have a private outlet?

Keeping Up

Thanks for the guest post by Jo Levy

Two weeks ago we had the most embarrassing thing happen. I went to drop off the kids at school on a Monday and there was no one there! Apparently I did not get a note and failed to look at the calendar the school provided at the beginning of the year and did not realize there was a school holiday! After talking to the teacher the next day I learned that there is a great calendar on the school website that lists this information and more. It sounds like we are going to need exede packages wild blue as soon as possible! I did not realize how much information we were missing out on from the school until the teacher showed me the website. In addition to the calendar there are educational ideas and activities we can do at home to help keep up with their classmates and important information about outside activities that are available in the community as well. I had no idea I was such an uninformed parent!

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The Waiting Game

As the days become longer and warmer, Spring is as close as our next thought. I'm itching to see things grow and bloom, but my gardening zone advises to wait until May to begin planting outdoors, once the threat of frost has passed. It's not easy being patient when the birds are singing, the sun is shining and the grass is greening.

I've been combing over seed and plant catalogs dreaming of my garden this year which in addition to vegetables and herbs will also have some companion flowers. Some will be for cut arrangements, but others to thwart the invasive insects who have designs to chomp the tender little seedlings. To assuage my impatience, flower deliver can bring the love of the outdoors and garden into my home without risking a gardening disaster.

It's worth the time to properly care for the plants and ensure a beautiful garden. Over the weekend, I did do some prep work, tilling the soil, mixing in a winter's worth of compost and gazing lovingly at the earth, waiting for the day I can put my seeds and seedlings in the ground for a season of growth.

Do you garden? What do you like to grow; flowers, vegetables or herbs?

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Bursting Into Song Randomly...

For newcomers, I confess I'm a huge fan of musical theater. I love the opportunity to suspend my belief that people burst into song randomly. In fact, I think the world would be hugely improved if we did!

It occurred to me to catalog the shows I've seen, some on Broadway, some in Community Theater, some on a High School stage, and even a few on television (though it really defeats the purpose of live theater, so that category has an asterisks).  I'm lucky enough to have children who love performing so some of the listed shows, I've seen multiple times.

I know I've missed some... but this is my somewhat inclusive list.

• Wizard of Oz*
• Godspell
• Man of La Mancha
• Guys and Dolls
• Damn Yankees
• Rent
• West Side Story*
• Annie Get your Gun
• My Fair Lady *
• Jesus Christ Superstar
• Big River
• Dreamgirls
• Chicago
• Caberet
• Jekyll and Hyde
• Oliver!
• Fiddler on the Roof
• Sound of Music
• Phantom of the Opera
• Les Miserables
• Anything Goes
• Bye Bye Birdie
• Once Upon a Mattress
• Seussical
• Hairspray
• Footloose
• Oklahoma
• The King & I*
• Gypsy
• In the Beginning
• Annie