Frankenweenie Sweepstakes

This is message brought to you as because I'm a  Disney blogger. But who wouldn't love to win a trip to Disneyland? 

Frankenweenie Monstrous Sweepstakes:

Enter the Frankenweenie Monstrous Sweepstakes for a chance to win a spooktacular vacation for four to experience all the fun of Halloween Time at the Disneyland® Resort. Plus, don’t miss The Art of Frankenweenie Exhibit only at the newly expanded Disney California Adventure Park, where you can get an up-close look at the amazing world of Frankenweenie through sets, puppets, props and more. And for a limited time Guests will be treated to a special 4D extended preview of the film at the Muppets Vision 3D Theater before Frankenweenie comes to theaters in 3D October 5th!

Visit www.disney.com/frankenweeniesweeps to enter the Monstrous sweepstakes and you could win Halloween Time at the Disneyland® Resort for some frightfully family-friendly fun!

Dates:

August 23 - October 7, 2012

Entries:

Online: www.disney.com/frankenweeniesweeps

Mobile – Text EDGAR to DISNEY (347639*) to enter for a chance to win. *Msg and data rates may apply. If you’re under 18, get your parents’ permission first.

Prizing:

One (1) Grand Prize – A 4 day/3 night vacation for four to Disneyland® Resort and Disney California Adventure Park to experience the world of Tim Burton and Frankenweenie during Halloween Time.

Five (5) First Prizes – An Autographed Frankenweenie movie poster

"Like" FRANKENWEENIE on Facebook: http://www.facebook..com/Frankenweenie

FRANKENWEENIE arrives in theatres everywhere on October 5^th!

Monsters, Inc. in 3D

Our Little Sulley, c. 2002

My family just loves this movie. It's such an adorable story for all ages. We even had a mini Sulley in our family (my thing about Halloween costumes is well documented). If I couldn't buy it, they couldn't be it. But my daughter was thrilled that I could buy Sulley. And so it was. She was the cutest Sulley. I may be biased. But now Monsters, Inc. is being released in 3-D. All the story, an additional dimension. Here is a synopsis and a bit of trivia, courtesy of Disney Bloggers. 





“Monsters, Inc.,” one of Disney•Pixar’s most beloved and visually imaginative feature films ever, returns to 
the big screen to delight a whole new generation of audiences and fans alike, this time in stunning 3D. The now-classic Academy Award®-winning animated comedy adventure “Monsters, Inc.” is set in Monstropolis, a thriving company town where monsters of all shapes and sizes reside. Lovable Sulley (voiced by John Goodman) and his wisecracking best friend Mike Wazowski (voiced by Billy Crystal) are the top scare team at Monsters, Inc., the largest scream-processing factory. The main power source in the monster world is the collected screams of human children—and at Monsters, Inc., an elite team of scarers is responsible for gathering those precious natural resources. Believed by monsters to be toxic, children are strictly forbidden from entering Monstropolis. But when a little girl named Boo (voiced by Mary Gibbs) accidentally follows Sulley back into his world, he finds his career in jeopardy and his life in utter chaos. So pals Mike and Sulley plot to rectify the mistake and return Boo to her home. But when the trio encounters an unexpected series of complications, they become embroiled in a cover-up catapulting them into a mystery beyond their wildest dreams.

• “Monsters, Inc.,” originally released on November 2, 2001, was the highest grossing animated film at the global box office in 2001.
•  After 15 previous Academy Award^® nominations, Randy Newman finally won his first Oscar® for the “Monsters, Inc.” original song “If I Didn’t Have You.”
• “Monsters, Inc.” and director Pete Docter were nominated for the Academy Award for Best Animated Feature in the first year that category was established. The film was also Oscar nominated for Best Original Score and Best Sound Editing.
• Director Pete Docter went on to win an Oscar for Best Animated Feature for “Up” in 2009 and has also been nominated for Best Original Screenplay three times: “Up” (2009), “WALL•E” (2008) and “Toy Story” (1995).
• Co-Director Lee Unkrich made his solo directorial debut with “Toy Story 3,” for which he won the Academy Award for Best Animated Feature in 2011.
• Producer Darla K.. Anderson also produced “A Bug’s Life,” “Cars” and “Toy Story 3,” for which she was nominated for an Oscar for Best Picture in 2010.
• On June 21, 2013, Disney•Pixar will unlock the door to a prequel, “Monsters University,” that tells the story of how Mike and Sulley met in college, overcame their differences and became the best of friends.

Zombie Apocalypse Blog Survivors

My blogging friend Christy, author of the Ruminations on Love and Lunchmeat, recently nominated Fresh Daily Bread for the prestigious award:

Bloggers Who Will Be Saved During the Zombie Apocalypse  

She had this to say:

Fresh Daily Bread: Kim’s blog was one of the first blogs I started reading, and my own blog changed a lot as a result of reading it, realizing that blogs could be many things all at once.

I humbly accept the nomination because everyone knows that Lunchmeat without Bread is just slimy. We go together and I am happy to have her back during the Zombie Apocalypse. Part of the requirements for accepting the nomination include sharing 7 little known details about myself and nominating 15 other survivors. Since her blog readily admits it's not about math, I'm not going to expect her to count. Instead, I'll just let you know a few random facts as well as some of my favorite blogs.

What you never wanted to know about me will probably have you running for the hills. But I'm already designated as a zombie apocalypse survivor, so you have no chance. You may as well accept all this stuff you now know about me.

*Childbirth gave me hemorrhoids. I don't think I have to say anything else about it, but it did and I've had a constant reminder for almost 17 years now.

*I don't like seeds in my food. This means I won't eat rye bread unless it's seedless and strawberries and raspberries drive me crazy even though they taste good.

*I am not a cat person. I'm sorry to all my cat loving friends. Even better? Your cats know it and whenever I'm around, they find me and snuggle, weaving around my ankles, walking on the couch behind my head where I'm sitting and watching me shift uncomfortably.

*I usually ignore expiration dates on sour cream and yogurt. It's already sour and spoiled, right?

*I love opinion surveys. They are one of the few intrusive phone calls that will keep me on the line. You want my opinion? You're willing to take 10 minutes to hear it? I am so in.

*I cannot stand cell phones with their miniature everything and touch screens. I rarely remember to charge it, my kids make fun of me trying to text with it, and I don't even like to talk on it. The ear and mouth are not proportional to my face and that just bothers me. I don't like to give out my cell number because that means someone may actually try to get a hold of me on it. And unless they are conducting an opinion survey, I'm not interested.

*What? You want more? Okay. I had two kids, which apparently doubles the amount of hemorrhoids. But this isn't a post about that. It's just that for some reason that's what's got the majority of my attention today.

For the rest of the nominations?

Because I really am rather distracted today, I'd like you to just go over there------------------> to my sidebar and look at my handy little blogroll. Those are folks I enjoy reading for a variety of reasons and they bring a great deal to my blog-life. I like them all and want them around in the event of a Zombie Apocalypse, even if they bring their zombie cats. Though I'd prefer a case of Tucks or Prep. H.


I'd also like you to go over to the Circle of Moms and vote for my nominator, 

Love and Lunchmeat 

as a Top 25 New York Blog. Plus, she knows how to play euchre, which will keep us well entertained in the event of a zombie apocalypse.


Thanks again, Christy!

The Fahrenheit 451 Jacket Competition

Fahrenheit 451 

from Fahrenheit 451's Facebook page:

Big news, Fahrenheit 451 fans! In honor of next year's 60th anniversary of the book's publication, we are launching a contest to redesign the jacket. Check back to see other submissions as they come in. You have until November 30th to enter, so get to work! Open to US-residents 18 and over, please (sorry, international/young friends). 

Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury turns 60 next year. To commemorate the anniversary of this classic novel, we're holding a competition to redesign the book jacket. The winning design will be used for the first printing of the special 60th anniversary edition, which will be sold in stores across the country and online.

The winner will also receive $1,500 for the use of his or her work. See Official Rules for more details.

Limit three (3) entries per person.

We're looking for work that is original, inventive, relevant to the book's content, and well-executed.

We'll be accepting submissions from September 3rd through November 30th, and the winning design will be announced in January. Submit your own jacket design here, and keep checking this page and our Facebook page to see entries as they come in!

Browse the full submissions gallery.

Irresponsible

This post is inspired by a short Facebook discussion with longtime friend of mine. We are on different sides of the aisle, but our friendship goes way back and even was as recent as a dinner we shared last summer. I like my conservative friend a great deal, and I am sure it's mutual.

His post began regarding some comments by Samuel L. Jackson on his Twitter feed. They were stupid remarks, especially when broadcast out of context. While I don't want to give credence to what he said, I should be fair and share. He tweeted his disappointment that Hurricane Isaac missed Tampa and was headed for New Orleans. What a horrible sentiment.

Mr. Jackson, it's not an either/or choose your poison situation. Your remarks were thoughtless and insensitive to two cities. I do not buy into "joke excuses" as in, I was trying to be funny, as a way to justify a thoughtless remark.  The fact remains that you wished a horror that New Orleans is still recovering from on the city of Tampa that is currently populated by folks you disagree with. How you could joke that a hurricane would hit either city? You're not funny or relevant, in my opinion.

You see that is what we do when we disparage each other. But it's so much easier to latch onto a soundbite than it is to really dig deeper. My conservative friend decried the lack of media coverage regarding Mr. Jackson's remarks. My answer was simple:

• ... both sides make ridiculously stupid comments. However, there is a double standard when it comes to media attention or lack thereof. No one on the Democrat side came out against his statements.

  
  Okay, then I will. Little voice that I am, I will. I fell in love with New Orleans this summer, but that doesn't compare to my first love Florida. I think Southern cities rock. And it was irresponsible to diss either one on the basis of politics. I'll let you know when it's published. I don't pay attention to noise, so the fact that I don't zoom in on stupid is my "excuse" if you will. However, I will now that it's been brought to my attention. Who knows? my goal is to get folks talking. This could be a start.

I will. I will denounce it. I am a small voice, but I like to think I'm a reasonable one. Mr. Jackson was wrong. He was as wrong as Akin who said stupid stuff then tried to further suggest that homosexuality is cured by breastfeeding.

It's time to stop obsessing with the minutiae. We are ONE NATION. (some of us believe UNDER GOD but thank God (or not) that we are not required to believe that),  (this part we must believe!) with liberty and justice for all.

It's time to let go of the distractions and figure out the best way to walk forward. Somehow, I don't believe it's by arguing over thoughtless stupidity.

Let's debate intelligently, and see where that gets us.

I'd love your comments...

Raw umber and other childhood delights

Today, in honor of back to school season, The Smithsonian Institute posted a photo of a 1903 box of Crayola Crayons. Delighted to see the photo, I also reminisced about the joy of a new box of crayons and dug out a piece of Americana that I have saved for over 20 years.

In 1990, Crayola retired eight colors that were staples of my childhood drawings. I bought a tiny limited edition box of the retired colors. 

I have an irrational fondness for the color Raw Umber. Most folks will describe it as a dismal black/brown mud color. But to me it was much more. I grew up on a farm and we had acres of fields and gardens. Raw umber is the color of the soil after a good rain. Raw umber is the color of the ground the plow turns up as it is prepping a field for crops. I can remember chasing my father behind the plow with my brothers looking for night crawlers to sell in our front yard to fishermen who traveled to the many lakes and campgrounds near our house. 

We had a big hand painted plywood sign that declared:
  "NIGHT CRAWLERS 75¢ a dozen" 
 propped in our front yard and my brothers made their spending money selling worms.

I didn't really love hunting for worms or handling them, so if whenever I could, I would holler at the top of my lungs "BOYS... WORM CUSTOMERS!!!". My brothers would tease me unmercifully about how I pronounced werms, warms. They'd say we better go WARM them up.  

Apparently, though, my affection for raw umber became ingrained in my psyche. When I was 7, the age of reason, I was allowed to decorate my own bedroom. Sort of. I dreamed of a girly-girly room with a canopy bed and pinks and purples galore. As I poured over JCPenney and Sears catalogs, my bedroom vision grew. 

Mom told me I could design my dream bedroom and off we went to the wallpaper store. We started paging through the massive books and I "ooh'ed and ahh'ed" over the pinks and purples and Mom pooh-poohed them. Every time I pointed out something that I liked, she steered me to another page. She never liked the color pink, so I'm sure the thought of turning her daughter's room into peptol bismol nightmare was not what she envisioned at all. In a defiant act that can only be described today, I told her I wanted a brown room. Yes, Brown. 

And that is exactly what I got. Or more accurately, raw umber. My room was carpeted in raw umber shag carpeting, the walls were covered with a delicate white floral and vine print on a raw umber background. I did get the canopy bed, and it had a yellow and white gingham bedspread and white canopy. 

While as a child it wasn't what I wished for, I grew to appreciate the sophistication. I didn't tell my mother that I never wanted a brown room until years later. I was an adult and we were talking about decorating my own child's room. She said something about how she wondered if my daughter would pick brown. I said, "I hope not, and if she wants pink or purple, that will be the color she gets." At that point, I confessed the tantrum my 7-year-old self had when I wasn't allowed to look at pink or purple wallpaper. 

That earthy color probably defined not only my childhood, but who I am today. My adult home is decorated in earth tones of browns and greens, mostly greens. A vast portion of my wardrobe is chocolate browns, or maybe raw umber. My life is plenty colorful. I'm grateful for the grounding effect of raw umber. It wasn't really discontinued. It lives on in my memories. 

Disney presents: Steven Spielberg's Lincoln

It is part of my ongoing delight as a Disney blogger to share a sneak peek of the movie about of one of our favorite presidents by one of our favorite directors. I'm really excited to see this movie.

Who was your favorite president?

Steven Spielberg directs two-time Academy Award® winner Daniel Day-Lewis in “Lincoln,” a revealing drama that focuses on the 16th President’s tumultuous final months in office. In a nation divided by war and the strong winds of change, Lincoln pursues a course of action designed to end the war, unite the country and abolish slavery. With the moral courage and fierce determination to succeed, his choices during this critical moment will change the fate of generations to come. 

Starring Daniel Day-Lewis, Sally Field, David Strathairn, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, James Spader, Hal Holbrook and Tommy Lee Jones, “Lincoln” is produced by Steven Spielberg and Kathleen Kennedy, with a screenplay by Tony Kushner, based in part on the book “Team of Rivals: The Political Genius of Abraham Lincoln” by Doris Kearns Goodwin. The DreamWorks Pictures/Twentieth Century Fox film, in association with Participant Media, releases in U.S. theaters exclusive on November 9, 2012, with expansion on November 16, 2012.

 

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.