Monthly Archives: October 2012

So many love/hate relationships, so little time. Gratitude Experiment: Day 62

I must preface this post with the fact that when refer to ‘love/hate’ relationships, I’m using the word ‘hate’ for effect.  It’s not one of my favorite words.  But this is how I describe relationships with things that I love but that also cause me great angst at times.

Top ten (in no particular order)

1. Friendly neighbors.  Love em, really I do.  But when I am in my sweats (I work at home) looking scary and am clearly running head-down out to put the trash at the curb or a letter in the mailbox, I don’t want to chat (unless I know you well). Even with my friendly neighbor who I think is mowing his lawn in his robe this morning.  For real.

2. Having teenagers.  Love my kids dearly, more than anything.  But so many times, their curtness, voice tone and attitude can drive me bat crazy.

3. Home organization containers. They should sell these on porn sites. I get more enjoyment out of going to The Container Store than most places I can think of.  Buying organization stuff is like crack for me, if I was an addict, or even really understood what crack was.  I think sometimes they just provide better ways to hide my disorganization.

4. Big SUVs.  I love how safe I feel in them, how much I can pack in them to go to the mountains and the ego rush I hate to admit that I get from being taller in traffic.  But the gas consumption kills me.

5. Decorative pillows on my bed and sectional.  They look awesome and I love buying them. Another addiction.  But man are they are a pain in the ass.

6. Vitamins and supplements.  I have all the best intentions of taking them when I buy them. But I despise taking them.  More waste.

7. Photographs.  Love, love, love pictures.  But I am in constant turmoil about how many photo albums I am behind on at any given moment.  Yes, I still love photo albums.  Are they passé along with hard copy everything else? Never for me.

8.  Blogging.  This new world is fascinating and insightful. And I’ve connected with bloggers who I know I’d love to do happy hour with on a weekly basis.  But how the heck do bloggers get anything else done?  This is the deepest rabbit hole I’ve ever come across.

9.  Marketing emails.  I write marketing copy for a living;  I should know better, and be immune by now.  But those damn 50% off until midnight emails still manage to suck me in, as well as way too much of my time and money.  (Although I just did finally turn off my new email notification pop-ups, after thinking about how much I needed to for the last few years.)  Another addiction. Better than crack, I tell my husband.  Is there a theme here?

10. Facebook.  Love it on some days, hate it on others.  Great way to stay in touch with old pals and learn about all things current and interesting.  But if I see any more negative, bashing emails about anything political, football or otherwise, I’m going to poke another eye out.  (If people think they’re doing their teams or candidates any favors, they’re sorely mistaken.) And people who post new glamour shots of themselves regularly on Facebook?  I really don’t get it, but clearly I have a different purpose in mind for Facebook. Although my niece has always told me its the perfect venue for egotists.  Yet I take offense to that since I often enjoy Facebook for the voyeuristic benefits (Yikes, did I just say that?  Didn’t mean it as creepy as it sounds).

Whew, I feel better. Thanks for playing. I’m sure there are more of these relationships that I could think of if I let this rabbit hole take me down any deeper.

What do you have love/hate relationships with?

All hail to snail mail. Gratitude Experiment: Day 61

Today I am thankful for those who still embrace the concept of snail mail once in a while.  Though twitter and email and other electronic methods are of course uber-efficient and help us stay more connected than ever before, it’s hard to argue against the power of tangible words on a page.  And the occasional letter or card by mail, in my opinion, is the greatest expression of thoughtfulness, creativity and gratitude.

Handwritten letters and thank you notes are something my mother ingrained in me early on.  And I recently found boxes in her basement where it would seem that she saved almost every letter I ever wrote her.

I have always been thankful that my mother taught me the value of the written word.  My kids probably aren’t so thrilled about it at this point, as my son has a list of thank you notes to complete. But they will be later.

The transfer of hand written documents by an intermediary dates almost as far back as the invention of writing itself.  The development of formal postal systems occurred much later, with the first organized service for transferring written documents in Egypt, where Pharaohs used couriers to disperse their decrees in the territory of the State in 2400 BC.

Now as the internet transforms the way people communicate, mail volumes worldwide are on the decline.

Yet even as email is often used for thanking potential employers after job interviews, discussions with top executives have shown that those who use handwritten notes are more noticed by potential employers compared to the hundreds of emails received and quickly read and deleted.  And those skills transfer over to success in many careers where the handwritten word has been proven to help executives lead others and form deeper relationships with customers and prospects.

I will be using snail mail as a complementary method for communication for as long as I am lucky enough to have a dependable postal service at my disposal.  And I treasure each handwritten note I receive, knowing the thought and effort required by the sender.

Today, though I terribly miss my Mother’s regular letters which I received for the last twenty-five years, I am grateful that she taught me the power of the hand written word.  And thankful to receive as much personal snail mail as I do.

Do you remember how excited you were to receive mail as a child? And do you still get a little excited when you receive a package? I’m guessing so, if you’re anything like me. When was the last time you sent or received a handwritten note?

Living with MacGyver. Gratitude Experiment: Day 60

My husband is known by my family and friends to be rather resourceful.  And this is an understatement. He can deconstruct, construct or fix just about anything. And he’s always prepared.

He could hang a 200 pound mirror on your living room wall using a toothpick, some hairspray and a shoe. He could wire your house for sound using spare stereo wire from his first car in 1985 (that he saved just in case), with one of my cosmetic mirrors, some pipe cleaners and a belt to string the wire through the walls.  And if your ceiling fans didn’t come with remote controls, he would figure out how to make some out of spare buttons, a wire coat hanger and a Barbie arm. Clearly I’m exaggerating for effect here, but you get the idea.

He  loves to drive in crazy, snowy weather and becomes almost giddy when we find people stuck in the mountains in their two-wheel drive cars needing a tow.  That way he can use all the gadgets, cables, gloves and flares that he keeps in the trunk. He might even fix them a hot toddy while they wait for the tow, using the full bar he has set up in a box in the back of the car for our trip, heating it with the cigarette lighter and a piece of tin foil.

When my first car’s engine actually caught fire after we were first married years ago, he had a fire extinguisher at the ready in the hatch back (who has this in their car?).  Then he and his dad took apart the entire engine, taking Polaroid pictures of  the parts on the driveway as they disassembled them so that they could put it back together with a new head gasket.   There may have been some hairpins and dental floss holding things together under the smoke-tinged hood, but it still ran like a champ after that.

And if you’re ever stranded in the wilderness, have no fear. He could make you a tent using aspen leaves along with the spare chopsticks, clothespins and bicycle parts that he might happen to have in his backpack.  And don’t worry about first aid supplies, water or food to get you by for a week, he’s got that in his backpack too, plus an inflatable raft, a spare tire, a mini air compressor and a ham radio.

I often give him major grief about being so prepared and then nine times out of ten I’m thrilled when he pulls whatever I need out of that damn backpack.  Rain gear for all of us, bottles of water, sunscreen, bug repellent  and probably ingredients for a Western omelet in case we come across a place where he can start a fire using the flint and steel fire starting kit he keeps at the ready.  Otherwise he would use concentrated sunlight and his watch crystal (that he would remove with his Swiss army knife) to start the fire. He’s like our own SurvivorMan or Bear Grylls , but we don’t think we can get him to drink his own urine.

And much to his chagrin, he is also my 24/7  computer technology support.  When I’m frustrated with my computer for its inability to read my mind, or sync all my calendars, or keep up with the 63 windows I have open at the same time, he can fix that too — blindfolded even.  Okay, I’m exaggerating again for effect, but hopefully you get the idea. And no, nothing kinky is going on while he is fixing my computer blindfolded.

As an added bonus, he is also the kindest, smartest, funniest and handsomest (is that even a word?) guy you want to have around next time you are stuck in an elevator without power, stranded in the wilderness without shelter or trapped at a social function where the bartender doesn’t know how to make a dry gin martini.

Today I am ever so grateful that I live with MacGyver.  And that McGyver has a lot of patience with his sidekick.

It’s all relative. Gratitude Experiment: Day 59

This is another one of my all time favorite quotes. And it is so very true.

This quote, by Ralph Waldo Emerson, shows up in random places around my house depending on who needs it within their line of sight the most on any given day.

Emerson was an American essayist, lecturer, and poet, who was a leader in the Transcendentalist movement in the  mid-19th century. At its core, transcendentalism was about the inherent good in man and in nature.

The key tenets of Transcendentalism are that everything is a reflection of God and that people are basically good.  Also that contemplating nature can allow you to transcend the real world and go to a higher, spiritual level. That individualism and self-reliance are better than following others or depending on tradition. And that a person’s true feelings and intuition are more valuable than book knowledge.

Other key figures in the movement were Walt Whitman, Henry David Thoreau (also said to have possibly written this quote), Margaret Fuller (the first woman to earn a living at full-time journalism) and John Muir (I just learned this about John Muir and it makes perfect sense since Muir Woods is my favorite place in the world.)  Oh how I would love to have dinner with this group.  Wow.

I am grateful to have had a wonderful discussion with my sons about the Transcendental movement earlier today– and frankly floored by their knowledge of it and beaming with pride because of their depth and compassion as human beings.

Also grateful to have these lovely words to remind me of the importance of perspective in this universe. Thanks for reading.

16 pros and cons on your kid turning 16. Gratitude Experiment: Day 57

Good news: My oldest son is about to turn sixteen.

Bad news: This makes me feel a little old.

Good news: I will now be a car shuttle service for him much less often.

Bad news: The thought of paying for gas for another vehicle makes my stomach a little weak.

Good news: I am very lucky that my son is a great driver.

Bad news: Teenage boys are WAY more expensive to insure as young drivers than girls.  That seems a little sexist to me.

Good news: If we help him get a car we will have a huge carrot to work with behaviorally speaking.

Bad news: Whoever said girls were easier than girls as teenagers did not know my son.

Good news: My dad’s theory about teenagers having cars with the smallest back seats possible and the least room for passengers now sounds like a genius idea.

Bad news: Shopping for a car that will be reliable but won’t indulge your child is a tough balancing act.

Good news:  Craigslist rocks.

Bad news: It’s hard to know what to believe when it come to buying cars.  Suddenly CarFax isn’t so factual.

Good news: There are still a few people who sell their cars privately and who are very honest.

Bad news: Once he is driving I will have a new list of things to worry about.

Good news: My insurance agent said that the Dodge Caravan minivan is the cheapest car for us to insure him to drive.

Bad news: I’m afraid my son might endure bodily harm if he drove a Dodge Caravan minivan to school.

For all this perspective, I am grateful.

Desiderata. Gratitude Experiment: Day 56

Today I am grateful to a fellow blogger for posting and reminding me of Desiderata, which I had affixed to every wall where I lived during my college years.

Thanks for reading. This says it all.

Desiderata

Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible without surrender
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons,
they are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain and bitter;
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs;
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals;
and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself.
Especially, do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love;
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment
it is as perennial as the grass.
Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.

© Max Ehrmann 1927

Reaching for Gratitude. Gratitude Experiment: Day 55

So it’s been a long day. My oldest son is seriously making me crazy beyond comprehension, I was a shuttle service for my kids today far more than usual despite the paid work I needed to get done, and I found the TV remote control that I’ve been missing for two days in my purse this afternoon.

It’s been that kind of week. And yes, I have a big ass purse.

So this is going to be short. I am grateful that I found that damn remote control. Embarrassed to admit where I found it, but glad I found it. Must have fallen off the bed on Sunday and into my purse on the floor next to my bed. Again, not proud of the fact that I just realized this today, but thankful.

Now it won’t be necessary for me to have a flashback to my grandma’s house watching her TV with huge rabbit ears and actually getting up to adjust the volume (the horror!) every time I want to turn down the bickering on my ever so critical Real Housewives of New Jersey episodes.

I’m also grateful that one of my besties (from my panty hose and purple pant suits days: https://lifeonwry.com/?s=panty#) is coming to visit tomorrow. I am lucky to have such wonderful friends who accept me despite all of my idiosyncrasies and all of the remote controls in my purse.

I promise I’m not nuts. But if I wasn’t a little, you probably wouldn’t find this near as interesting. Which is why I am ever so grateful for you, my readers. Thank you!

P.S.: Also thankful for the beautiful sunrise that I saw this morning and slowed down carpool traffic in order to snap a few pictures of. Life is short, we better enjoy it.

Return of the Dinner Knife. Gratitude Experiment: Day 54

The other day I watched my Mom for an hour or so while my stepdad went to the doctor.  This is our usual thing, about once a week.  She has Alzheimer’s, but you probably wouldn’t know it if you saw her across the room. She can fake it pretty well socially with nods and smiles, so you might not figure it out right away.  She hardly speaks and she is only 71.  It’s hard to believe how much of a person you can lose to this disease in just two years.

And yes, it scares the hell out of me that I might end up this way. But I try not to think about it and to do everything I can do be healthy and active.

At any rate, Mom is generally happy to be with me and likes to look at magazines and stack papers. She is also very consumed with picking stray dirt and leaves up off my floor that my dogs have brought in.  It’s enough to give me a complex, because overall I like to think that my house is pretty clean.  But my crazy dogs love to dig and bring in leaves on a daily basis. So it saves me some sweeping when she comes over since she always has a handful of stray leaves while she walks around my house.  This makes me smile because a) it makes her happy and b) it makes my floors cleaner.

I used to always say that my mom kept her house so spotless that you could eat off of her floors.  So it must be so ingrained in her that it drives her crazy to see anything on the floor that doesn’t belong there.

When my stepdad arrived to pick her up, I saw him getting out of his car.  I saw that he had something in his hand.  He held it up for me to see down the sidewalk and I could see that he had a grin on his face. When I asked him what it was, he explained that it was one of my dinner knives.

Apparently a week or so ago when we had them over for dinner to celebrate my mom’s birthday, she put one of my dinner knives in her birthday present sack and my stepdad later found it. Kind of makes me wonder what else might be missing that I haven’t realized. It made us laugh.

So today, I am grateful for the chuckle this gave us and for the fact that my silverware set is complete again.

Thanks for reading!  What are you grateful for today?

Weekly Photo Challange: Happy. Gratitude Experiment: Day 53

This week’s photo challenge is Happy.

Below are some things that make me happy: my pups at my feet, the mountains, the beach with a Corona, Muir Woods and chilled martini glasses.

Also my turquoise and gold Ainsley teacup collection, my curios from friends in my little mediation corner and 1984 911 headlights.

Of course family also makes me happy, and my friends, and the smell, sight and feel of anything horse, as well as nostalgia,  kitsch, painting and cool mountain air in the fall.  So many others but these are some good ones.
What makes you happy?

Weekly Photo Challenge: Mine. Gratitude Experiment: Day 52

The theme of last week’s WordPress weekly photo challenge was Mine — where you post a picture of something that is uniquely yours.

I’m a day late, but I selected this old GE photo cube that I got from my grandmother’s house after she passed away.  When I was little I was fascinated by this cube that she always had out.  It has photos on each side and a speaker on the top, with an AM/FM radio that doesn’t work anymore.  I thought the radio part was so very cool and I loved to play with it (hmmm…possibly why it doesn’t work anymore).  This was back in the days before Shutterfly and all of the sites that let you make photo gifts.  It was far ahead of its time.

The cube has a picture of a house I lived in during my early years one side, a photo of my grandmother, her sister and two of her friends on another side, a photo of me when I was probably four years old with my cat Rascal on one side, and my favorite side has a photo of my Dad carving a pumpkin with my sister and I.

This photo cube reminds me of my grandmother in all of her leopard print and gold lamay glory.  She made flashy work like no one else could ever pull off because she had a larger-than-life attitude that influenced her every moment. She could play the piano more beautifully than I’ve ever heard anyone play.  And she had a whistle that was so magnificent and strong I can hear it now.  My dad got her whistle and I love to hear it.  She was also a complete bridge-playing bad-ass and could remember numbers like nobody’s business.  I wish I had asked her to teach me bridge.

She also had a beautiful voice unlike any other. I loved the way she said my name and the way she talked. She called my Gypsy during the summers of my college years when I changed residences often.  She loved it when her Gypsy would pull up in her driveway to say hello.  She’d always offer me “Cokie Cola” and cookies and we would sit at her ice cream table and visit while the koo koo clock on her kitchen wall tick-tocked loudly behind us.  Then at certain intervals her antique clocks in the living room would chime in a series, making their own little familiar symphony.  I can hear those chimes and smell her house now.  The aroma of little scented soaps filled the house because it seemed like she had them everywhere in sweet little china dishes.

The picture of my dad and sister and I all together is my favorite side of the cube because it has us all together in it, which I love the thought of.  Also because I love carving pumpkins and Halloween is my favorite holiday.  And as you know, I have a special relationship with pumpkins as mentioned in a previous post (https://lifeonwry.com/2012/10/04/watch-out-for-flying-pumpkins-gratitude-experiment-day-50/).  And the yellow appliances, our outfits, our haircuts and the looks on all of our faces remind me of the innocence of my youth.

This photo cube is uniquely mine and I cherish it.  It sits not far from my computer where I write this blog each day, on a shelf with other things uniquely mine and sentimental.  For all this, I am grateful.  Thanks for reading!

Mike Foxtrotter, this has to stop! Gratitude Experiment: Day 51

This morning I was running late for a meeting and getting ready far too late to comfortably make it in time.  And that’s usually when it starts.  Words that would make most people blush begin to fly out of my mouth as I fumble for my mascara and search for my iphone that invisible elves continue to misplace every morning when I need to leave the house.

This is all much to my husband’s amusement.  He often laughs quietly (for fear of his life), sometimes muttering that he thinks he would hear less cursing if he were suiting up in marine barracks each morning.

Today after my explosive rant while hurriedly applying makeup with one eye on the clock, searching for my phone  and changing clothes at the same time, he suggested that I might think about substituting my litany of four-letter words with military alphabet terminology:  “Foxtrot!  Where’s my mike foxtrotting phone?  Delta it.”

Yesterday after I broke a glass in the dishwasher and exclaimed a few niceties, he asked,”Is that how Honey Boo Boo would say it?”   This is getting serious.  I know I need to clean up my act.

At least I’m becoming more aware and I think I have some semblance of control.  I actually do know when to limit my Sierras, Foxtrots and Deltas in certain circumstances when it would be totally out of line.  So why am I unable to harness that kind of self control more often?  Maybe I need to be checked in somewhere.

This afternoon I asked my almost sixteen year old son if I cursed too much.  When he told me “Well, yes Mom, you do, but it’s sort of but it’s funny.”  I threw out a curse word before asking he was serious.  “Sierra… am I that bad?”  I didn’t even realize the irony.

In a fellow blogger’s recent post, Cursing: An Editorial Style Guide (http://imissyouwheniblink.com/2012/04/26/cursing-an-editorial-style-guide/), his guidelines for optimum profanity usage are explained.

Below is rule number one:

***

1. Show some ingenuity.

Contrary to what you may have heard, using profanity isn’t necessarily a lazy way of speaking or writing. Using the wrong profanity is lazy. Choose all words with equal care, I say. My mother, who by the way is one of the classiest dames you’ll ever meet, has been known to brandish curse words in entirely unique ways, inventing whole new parts of speech. She always has the right expression for a situation. For example, walking into an unkempt room: “Holy shitstorm, it looks like the ass end of destruction in a typhoid whorehouse around here.” [Exit with flourish.] What does it even mean? I don’t know. But somehow I can picture it. She is a genius. Always be creative and specific.

***

I can only hope that one day my boys will refer to the ingenuity of my profanity with the admiration that this blogger has for his mother’s.  I know my college roommates have that kind of admiration for me to this day. I had some doozies my freshman year. They still quote me on a couple of key phrases that broke records for profanity ingenuity.

Today I am grateful that at times I am self-aware enough to know when I need to work on improving my less than ideal habits.  And for my family’s patience while I do so.  Thanks for reading!

Watch out for flying pumpkins. Gratitude Experiment: Day 50

by Scenic Reflections

Warning: The following post is a work of NONfiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are NOT products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely real. (This actually happened to me and I am not making it up.)

October has arrived and I am starting to see Halloween decorations in all the stores. Each October for the last 30 years (except for the last two), my Mother has sent me a Halloween card that says “Watch out for flying pumpkins!” She probably bought the cards, as well as some little Halloween gifts, at least eight months in advance and had everything wrapped, stamped and ready to go each year on September 1st.

Halloween is my favorite holiday when the semi-suppressed kid in me goes hog-wild decorating with creepy stuff that scares really little kids. But I must admit the lack of that tradition of a card for this last couple of years has been bittersweet since the Alzheimer’s grim reaper came to visit.  At any rate, I  tell this story at least once a year explaining why my Mom always sent me a card that said “Watch out for flying pumpkins” each year.

As I was growing up, one of my closest friends was almost as big of a freak as I was.  Actually a few were but I’m going to focus on one of them for now. I had a way of attracting them.

In sixth grade, we didn’t want to admit that we still had closets full of Barbie condos, cars and outfits, so we began disrobing them and being creepier than we already were.  We would prop them up on mailboxes and trees naked on the path between our houses ( she lived up the hill a good ten or so houses away).  We always attached notes with disturbing sentiments to amuse each other. That way whichever of us was walking would have to see them and collect them for reuse at another date. (We brought Barbie arms to each other’s weddings for photo opps of Barbie’s arm in our wedding cakes.)

We even put one in the middle of the road one time with ketchup on it like it had been run over.  Cranky Mrs. Clapp from across the street (our version Mrs. Kravitz) found me less than amusing and came and told my mother about it. What a buzz kill.  Fortunately my mother already knew I was warped.  It was in the genes.

At any rate, one year my friend and I wanted to go trick-or-treating even though we were in the 9th grade.  We wanted to be those creepy way-too-old kids that come to the door for candy and make people want to lock the door early.  Clearly we thought we were hilarious.

I wore a super realistic (or I thought so at the time) ‘old man’ mask and a man’s sports coat, and used a golf club as my cane.  I cant’ remember what my friend’s get-up was, but I’m thinking she was equally disguised so no one would realize what freak geeks we were trick-or-treating in high school.

As we strolled up and down the streets on our neighborhood Halloween haunt, suddenly a speeding car came racing by us. It kept turning around at the end of the street and racing by us again.   It was a navy blue Honda Prelude (I can’t believe I remember but I can see it now). It was a 1980s version before they came out with the new body style which I thought was super cool.  (The new body style had a “moon roof” and I used to tape magazine ads of it up around my dad’s office and house to give subtle hints of my auto preferences.)

Anyway, about the third or fourth time the Honda Prelude zoomed by us, I decided ( in keeping with my character) to wave my cane in the direction of the car and yell “Slow down you meddling kids!” full-on Hanna Barbera style.

The next thing I knew I woke up on a couch at my neighbor’s house.  The house that now had splattered pumpkin all over the driveway.  Luckily they called my Mom and when I came to, she was staring down at me as I lay on the couch.  My friend had probably crapped her pants by now thinking I might be dead, I can’t remember.  But I’m thinking she’ll remember when she reads this post.

I had a gash on my nose from where the stem of the pumpkin made its impact and it knocked me out cold. Those meddling kids had been throwing pumpkins out of their speeding car that night (super smart, almost as smart as I was yelling at a car and waving my fake cane).  My mom and her boyfriend (now my stepdad) drove me to the Emergency Room in his super cool white Firebird. As we walked in , I kid you not, my mom said to the nurses at the front desk “My daughter’s been hit by a flying pumpkin.”

The nurses at the station did everything in their power not to break out into hysterical laughter at my expense. I was sort of out of it, but that part I will never forget. Complete teenage mortification was in process and it was only getting started.

I got to miss school that next day.  The ER doc told them I had a concussion.  I sort of remember my Mom waking me up in the middle of the night to make sure I was breathing.

Word got around school about what had happened to me.  Nice, my nerd cover was WAY blown.  Turns out the person who threw the pumpkin was an upperclassman named Doug that I sort of had a crush on (I promise I am not making this up).  What are the odds? Word got around that my dad was a lawyer, so he got scared and called me at my house to apologize.  That was a super fun conversation to have with an upper classman.  I was mortified.

It all ended well and makes a great story to tell that explains the “Watch out for flying pumpkins” cards.  I am grateful that I survived the Pumpkin Incident (sounds like a Charlie Brown holiday special)  even though I miss receiving that card every year. I’m also celebrating my 50th post – half way through my 100-day gratitude challenge!   What are you grateful for today? Thanks so very much for reading!

A shout-out to the blogosphere. Gratitude Experiment: Day 49


I’m sort of speechless.  Steaming mad at my teenage son right now (different story), but still speechless and very grateful for the blogging universe.

My “Register to Vote” post, which was Freshly Pressed, has opened the doors to hundreds of new readers and followers and the wonderful blogs that belong to many of them.  I love visiting these blogs. I can’t believe I got an ounce of my real work done this past few days because I have been so obsessed with checking my blog and visiting others who visited mine.  So many great comments and likes, I just wanted to eat it all up at once.  My head almost got bigger. I am officially off the Freshly Pressed page now, so things are starting to get back to a new normal of sorts.

I so appreciate all of my new followers and readers who found me through Freshly Pressed.  Also my loyal followers who knew me before my three days of fame. I invite you to continue following and reading, as I promise to entertain you on some days and make you think on others.

More gratitude (I’m sounding like a broken record here) – I have also been honored with two awards from fellow bloggers whose blogs I truly enjoy and whose feedback is always positive and fun.  One award is the Addictive Blog award given to me by http://fortyteencandles.com and the other is the So Sweet award, given to me by http://thefurfiles.wordpress.com.  You should check them out. This blog award thing is new to me so I’m not exactly sure if there is something specific I am supposed to do or reveal, so someone let me know if this is the case. For now, I am simply expressing my gratitude for these awards, for my readers, my followers and the great blogs I get to visit each day, and paying it forward.

I close by giving a shout out and the award of their choice – either Addictive Blog or So Sweet Blog – to a few of  blogs I am loving.  Here are just a few (please accept either award):

http://janetsnotebook.com -Who found lifeonwry through my Freshly Pressed post.  While visiting this UK blogger’s site, I learned how to make the cool ‘word cloud’ graphic above.

http://j-bo.net/ – Looking for love in a litter box post was freaking hilarious.  So many awesome visuals.  Laughing is good.

http://imissyouwheniblink.com – ‘Four Ways To Stop Mean People by Creeping Them Out’ made me spit out my coffee laughing.  Again, laughter is the bomb.  I’m going to start randomly hugging people when they piss me off.

and http://transformedbythejourney.com/ – who has encouraged me from early on and whose thoughtful posts make me think.  Thinking is worth every minute of the time you spend doing it.

There are so many others but I will share more later.  In the meantime, I am grateful for all of this, and, frankly, for you reading my post this very moment.  I am one grateful gal.  Now, if only my oldest son could follow suit a little more often (although I did just get an apology from him, so there is hope).