My Mother's Cookies

My mom was great at making "cut-out" cookies.  You know, the kind of sugar cookie where you roll out the dough, cut out shapes, bake them and then decorate them with frosting.  I think her mom made them before her.  She made them not just for Christmas but just because.

I don't know how many times as a child I opened my Polly Pal or Holly Hobbie lunch box, the metal kind with the matching thermos, and smiled at a cookie smiling back at me.  On a regular basis she made circular shaped cookies frosted white with pink dot eyes and a pink smile.  These are some labor-intensive cookies yet I was always surprised by them.  She worked full time - I don't know when she ever made cookies when I was in elementary school.

By middle school we were making them together.  She rolled the dough right out on the counter top, deftly using a rolling pin to make it an even thickness.  She cut the shapes and in the same movement scooped the shape up off the counter and onto the cookie sheet waiting nearby,  After they baked to a perfect color they popped right off the cookie sheet and onto the cooling rack.  Then we'd ice them together.

Her favorite was the Christmas Tree frosted either white or green and then she'd take a toothpick and dab on different primary colors to look like lights and remind me of the ceramic lighted Christmas trees that my grandparents and great aunt made and decorated their homes with.

Once in a while I get ambitious and try and replicate the cookies. Unless I drench them in flower they stick to my counter and I spend a lot of time cajoling them up with a butter knife only to have the shape destroyed by the time it flops onto the cookie sheet.  I reshape them with my fingers but they never look as good.  

I wish I had thought to ask my mom to make a bunch so I could freeze them in dozens.  She wouldn't have had to ice them.  But maybe just bake 200 dozen, or maybe 500 dozen.  To last the rest of my life.

Luckily my daughter seems to have learned the cookie-baking skill from her Grandma.  I wonder what foods my kids will miss when I'm not here to cook it for them.  It seems like every adult I know could name a food that nobody could make like their mother.  Sort of reminds me of an underlying theme of a book I recently read, Recipes for a Perfect Marriage by Morag Prunty / Kate Kerrigan.

This year I started a new cookie tradition - the Melting Snowman.  My fifth grader helped put the buttons on.  They are sort of like the cut-outs but you start with the drop-n-bake circle cookies.  If I'm here next year, then I will make them again, and every year after that.  My youngest will remember them as his childhood Christmas cookies - since he never really got to know my mom or her cookies.

Dreading the New Year

I work in a school with ESL students so I speak a lot of Spanish all day long.  Spanish is my third language.  Portuguese is my second.  Last Friday, when we were released for Christmas break, I decided to listen to Brasilian music on my way home - a good, healthy dose of Portuguese to make sure I wasn't forgetting the language.  One of my favorite songs came on, "Sutilmente" by Skank.  It's sort of a love song.  The singer says, when I'm sad - you hold me, when I'm crazy - you let me be, when I'm silly - you cover for me.  The bridge really got to me though.  

Mas quando eu estiver morto

Suplico que nao me mate, nao

Dentro de ti, dentro de ti

When I'm dead, I beg you not to kill me inside of you.

To me that says the singer doesn't want to be forgotten after they die.  It says they want their loved ones to keep their memory alive within their hearts.

And that's when it hit me - through my tears for the beautiful sentiment, My lack of Christmas spirit this year is not becuase after Christmas we will tell my youngest child the truth about Santa Claus.  (He's in 5th grade, I don't want him to go to middle school and not know the real story.)  I realized that I don't have the Christmas spirit this year because after Christmas comes the New Year.  The year 2017.  The year that I may die on July 12th.  I don't want the year to start because I don't want my life to end.  

My brain tells me I should make the most of these days and create beautiful memories for my children.  But my subconcious is reacting with fear - and the fear is winning.  My brain tells me to push the fear aside and focus on the positive, but apparently I haven't done enough Sudoku because my brain is weak.

My Last Meal (f.u. to Life Insurance)

For a couple of years now I've said that I hope to have a nice lunch with my older children on July 12, 2017.  Usually I envision that happening at La Madeline.  Sometimes I consider the possibility / irony that I'd have a fatal car accident on the way to lunch.

Why I think of La Madeline for this occasion I don't know.  I go there infrequently but I always enjoy its casual but quiet and comforting environment.  

The other day I was reading a restaurant guide for San Antonio describing the local newspaper's top picks.  One of them was the Brazilian Steakhouse - Chama Gaucha.  I've known this restaurant was in town for over a decade but I've never been there.  Much as I would love the Brazilian environment, I am just not the type to pay $50 per person for a meal.    

There are a couple of other similar restaurants in town.  Even before Chama Gaucha arrived there was a smaller, less-marketed restaurant.  One day when I was still a single parent my mom gave me an envelope on Mother's Day that had cash in it with a designation that I take myself and my kids to eat at that Brazilian Steakhouse.  (Oddly - recalling that now that my mother is 3 years gone brings more tears to my eyes than it did at the moment.)

Back to reading the guide book though - it was then I decided that my potential last meal will be at a Brazilian Steakhouse.  If I die before I receive the credit card bill for the meal - then my estate can pay it and it won't bother me one bit.  If I'm still alive when I receive the credit card bill - then I'll see it as one more opportunity to praise God for life.  And since I won't be paying life insurance premiums anymore (see post October 19) - I'll have a few spare extra dollars to pay the bill. 

Have You Seen My Christmas Spirit?

This may be my last Christmas on earth.  This may be my last chance to create wonderful Christmas memories with my children.  I thought I would be SO in the Christmas spirit.  I thought I would have that motivation magically energize me to be like that episode of "Two and a Half Men" (Santa's Village of the Damned) and look like Christmas threw up all over my living room.

Instead I feel more overladed and somewhat apathetic than other years even though I really don't have much going on.  My gate decorations were haphazardly done in four different sessions and it looks the worst it ever has.  My pre-lit tree is dying a slow death and every year for the last couple of years we've been adding extra lights to it.  Normally we do the tree on Black Friday but this year it went up over a week later.  I ran out of lights and didn't want to wait to get more.  I decided we could just live with less lights and a big dark gap on our tree.  Not because I was eager to get the tree up but because I was eager to get it over with. I loathed doing the lights and tinsel and then fussed at my 11 year old to do the ornaments.

I used to have Christmas music playing 24x7 in my house.  This year I barely even listen to the station in the car.  Instead I'm listening to an audio book - not even related to Christmas.  Years ago JCPenney gave out Christmas buttons and I got a lot.  I used to wear at least one every day in December.  I don't even know where they are this year.  And I have yet to wear an Ugly sweater.

On a positive note - I did make the BEST batch of eggnog I've ever made using the same recipe I've been using for years.

My plan is to spend time with the family - especially the youngest.  Over Thanksgiving break we cuddled every day on the sofa and watched a movie.  I think for Christmas break we will play a game every day.  Because that's really what I want for him - to plant memories.  If I over did the decorations this year then they might notice the absence next year.  However it goes, if I'm not here next Christmas, it's going to feel different for them.  So hopefully quality time is the best thing I can do for them.

Roadside Boxes

I often wonder about the boxes I see on the side of the road.  What's in them?  Could be trash.  Could be someone else's gross junk.  Could be something valuable.  I often wish I had more time or was more daring and actually stopped to check them out. 

I think it would be interesting to make a New Year's resolution to always leave early and take time to stop.  But if it was trash, then what would I do?  It would feel wrong to just leave it there.  Even though it wasn't mine to begin with, if I'm willing to claim something cool I think I would feel obligated to be responsible for the trash too.  This would be a good time for a pickup truck.

Of course, safety is a concern.  I should only stop on country roads, not highways.

If I'm going to do this, I'd better start soon.  If I start doing this, what will I do on 7/12/17?  If I'm going to have lunch with my kids on my potential last day on earth, and I pass a box, and I stop and die because somebody runs me over. . .  Or, what if I decide not to risk it THAT day, and unknowingly pass something REALLY valuable that could change my life.  But not stopping and saving my life would be a greater value than anything I could find.

One might say then why stop at all if it is a risk to my life.  I don't know if I will - but I sort of feel like a have somewhat of a free pass until 7/12/17.  I mean, within reason - I'm not going to go stand in front of a train or anything.

A New Song

Oddly, the day that I wrote the post about the song "How to Save a Life" I heard the song on the radio on the way home from work.  A few tear drops leaked out of my eyes but only two ran down my face.  The next day, on my way to work, I heard the song again and had absolutely no reaction.  I also heard "Seasons in the Sun", which I have previously posted about, and that one really got me crying.  Maybe it has replaced "How to Save a Life" as my emotional trigger.

It makes sense.  "How to Save a Life" was a trigger because of the suicide of my first husband in 2000.  So 16 years later I've made enough emotional progress beyond that event that I don't cry that easily.  Now I've moved on to a new emotional trigger - the thought of leaving my children behind when I die.

Pre-Diabetic

I went to the doctor the last month for a regularly scheduled medicine check.  Based on my lab work he said I'm pre-diabetic and should cut back on sugar and carbs.  On my way home I was running errands and was hungry so, pre-diabetes fully on my mind, I ate a bag of Cheetos.  Then I met my kids at Starbucks and went full-on Eggnog Latte Frappucino.  

Honestly I felt a little depressed that I'm going to HAVE to change my diet.  I've made lots of dietary changes because I wanted to, but never because I had to.  I mean, I don't HAVE to.  But I DON'T WANT to get into full-blown diabetes.  I've seen several people, including two in-laws, loose appendages and limbs to that horrible disease.

I've said before, I'm a wimp.  I definitely don't want to go through dialysis or even sticking my finger to check my blood sugar.  I did that when I was pregnant and had gestational diabetes and I reached my limit of finger pricking.

On the other hand, I don't want to die from complications of untreated diabetes.  I mean, hasn't that been a large part of this blog - me not wanting to die too soon.  So obviously if I can prolong my life by making some basic diet changes, I will do it.  I can do it.  I've been dabbling in nutrition for several years so I know I CAN do it.  But I don't WANT to do it.  Or, more rather, I don't WANT to HAVE to.

Socks

After my mother died I was responsible for disposing of all her things.  We had an estate sale for the larger stuff.  I donated a bunch of things.  But if it didn't sell at the estate sale and it seemed valuable or useful, I held on to it.  I have sold several items on eBay.  And I kept a few pieces of clothing and some socks.  

Sometimes my husband will ask me where I got this shirt or those pants.  I say, "I inherited them."  The other day I put on a pair of socks that had belonged to my mother and it occurred to me that if I die in less than a year, my daughter might inherit those same socks.  She probably wouldn't even know that they were her grandmother's.

Presidential Ponderings

The next time there is a presidential election my youngest son, now in fifth grade, will be in highschool. There is a "wow" factor in that.  Will I be alive?  There is an "oh" factor in that.

How to Save a Life

The Fray came out with their song "How to Save a Life" in 2005.  If you look at the lyrics it seems more like it is about a relationship ending than actually saving a life.  The two lines that stick with me in this song and that are often repeated throughout the song are:

And I would have stayed up with you all night
Had I known how to save a life

I actually can't hear this song without tears coming to my eyes.   It's funny because the person I did know that I did stay up with many nights trying to save his life, died in 2000 - well before this song came out.  So there are no shared memories that come flooding back when I hear this song.  I don't feel guilty about not saving his life on that final night.  (Not that I had a choice.)  The words just really touch me.

Actually, when the song first came out I would cry bunches when it came on the radio (usually while driving).  I would immediately change the station but I still knew the song was playing on the original station and so it was still on my mind and I would still cry. 

Now it feels like an automatic response - song comes on, I cry.  But I cry a lot less now.  The other day I actually listed to the song all the way through.  I think I only had about four tear drops leak out.

I don't really know what the point of this post is other than catharsis.  It doesn't directly relate to my future appointment on 7/12/17 although I suppose I could ponder what songs might make my loved ones cry after I'm gone.  But, who knows, the songs that make them cry may not even come out until 2022.

Bring Out the Heavy Equipment

This week it occurred to me how a funeral viewing can serve as the last visual someone has of a departed.  I know that in life I am not the most attractive person.  A birth defect left a facial scar.  My liver condition often results in blemishes and brown marks on my face.  My hair is genetically thin.  I mean, I'm not so bad as to scare small children but I'm not going to win any contests.  

Point being, I want people's last view of me to be spectacular.  

Attn: Future Mortician

Haul out the heavy equipment.   Bring your biggest air brush.  Get about 1,000 hair extensions.  

I want to look better in death than I ever did in life (but still recognizable).

Life Insurance

During a recent meeting with our financial advisor we were discussing the practicality of life insurance.  He said as long as we had enough other assets to cover funeral expenses that life insurance really wasn't the best investment strategy.

Without hesitation, I told him I'd get back to him in about 9 months but until then I wanted to keep my life insurance in effect.  

I'm not much of a gambler, but if I can leave my kids each with a nice amount of money for only a small monthly premium until then - I'll take that risk.

Time Will Tell What's to Come

We've had a couple of busy weekends lately - maybe not what some would consider busy but busy for us.  Off schedule and late to bed.  We've also had a couple of nights when our sleep was interrupted due to a child's 3 a.m. headache one time and a 1 a.m. power outage another time.  Getting back to sleep took over an hour.  So it seems reasonable that I would be more tired than usual once I work all day, get home, cook dinner, clean up, check the mail and finally sit down to relax.  

My house feels like chaos and I think of taking a day off just to straigten it all up.

Because of birthday celebrations and changes to our schedule I've eaten a lot more junk food lately than I normally would.  Several months ago I was in a good routine and following a diet that was good for my liver abnormality.  Lately, I just haven't invested the time in the required dietary preparation.  Lately my skin is horrible and my eyes are more yellow - signs that my liver is stressed.  

But even with these rational explanations, I can't escape the recurring thought that some big illness is headed my way and going to knock me flat.  Like a really bad pneumonia or flu.  And then I wonder if this is the beginning of the end.  I saw a story on the news last night about a 13 year old who died from West Nile contracted from a mosquito bite.  Made me think I ought to retrieve the non-toxic but effective lemon eucalyptus mosquito repellant I have in the cabinet and actually use it on myself (and my child) when we are outside twice a week in the evenings for 90 minute tennis sessions.  I probably will, but that doesn't lessen the internal dread of what's coming.

Sometimes I think it is just the weight of the world I am feeling and once we get through the elections, assuming my candidate wins, I'll feel better.  

Time will tell.

Confessing Fear

Before my birthday I was talking to an acquaintance and told her about my birthday plans but didn't elaborate on my inspiration for making specific and significant plans.  The next time I saw her, after my birthday, another lady joined our conversation.  The other lady, out of the blue, told us that her daughter has significant and unusual dreams, including one recently which told her the dates that many of her friends and loved ones would die.  She wrote them down and when they did the math they were reasonable dates.  So I confessed about my dream and corresponding birthday plans.  They did not seem to think me any stranger.

I thought about telling my kids why I was specifically making unique plans with them but in the end I didn't because I felt it might cast a shadow of obligation onto our time together.  You might think they could read about it in my blog but it seems they rarely read my blog unless I make a Facebook post about it and tag them in it.  I think they probably don't like to think about the subject.  I hope they will read it after I am gone though.

In my email signature I have a link to my website where I post book reviews and also a teaser question and link to my blog.  Quite often I delete the links before I send an email - not so much because of the book reviews but because of the blog.  I definitely take it off of any communication with hiring managers.  But sometimes I even take it off of communications with people from my church.  I have found that email systems think the signature is advertising and will sometimes target my outgoing mail as spam in somebody else's inbox.  But I have also found that sometimes I am uncertain how people would react to my blog and in fear I delete the link. In church last Sunday I saw 2 Timothy 1:6-8, 13-14 and felt chastised as I read "do not be ashamed of your testimony to our Lord".

Fear is an odd thing.  I fear death, but I don't fear being right about the date.   I do fear being wrong about the date and, as a result, looking foolish like those cults that pop up from time to time and say the world is going to end - and then it doesn't and everyone thinks they are just kooky.

The Languages of Heaven

Last night as I lay down before sleep and used the quiet time to talk to God I had three different languages running through my head.  Since I started a new job six weeks ago in which I speak and hear a lot more Spanish than I usually do I often hear the voice in my head that internally expresses my thoughts speaking to me in Spanish, in addition to the Portuguese and English that are always there.  Sometimes I worry that I will accidentally speak Spanish at home, where others don't speak it.  But I reflected last night in my quiet time that it doesn't matter to God because He understands it all, plus over 200 other languages and even the silent language that is not spoken but just wished and daydreamed and hoped.

I think it will be cool when I get to Heaven and can understand all the languages too.  I've read a book and seen a show that portray it as if somebody would speak to me in Heaven using, say, Swahili and I would hear it in English.  But I hope it's not.  I hope I hear the actual Swahili and understand it perfectly.  Or maybe there is one whole other language reserved only for Heaven.

Causing Emotional Pain to our Loved Ones

I'm currently listening to Still Life with Bread Crumbs by Anna Quindlen for my book club.  Surprisingly it is very different from another book of hers I listened to, Every Last One.  Instead it is more like something written by Fannie Flagg.  Anyway, in this book the main character is a 60 year old woman and one of the sub-plots is about her mother in a nursing home suffering from dementia.  The family members feel frustrated and hurt when they go to visit the old woman and she doesn't even recognize them.  I can totally relate to that since my own mother starved herself to death due to dementia only a few years ago.  When I heard the audio book I wasn't sad for what I lost, but sad for how I might hurt my own children one day (if I survive 7/12/17).

Another character in the book says his mother died when he was 18 and the main character wonders which is better - to lose them too soon or too late.  That is something I hope we debate in book club.

Obviously it would seem like too late is better because at least you can use the time in between to build memories.  Which reinforces for me my thoughts of last week about making this year's birthday more special and specifically seeking to create memories for my kids.

My Last Birthday

My birthday is at the end of September.  This could be the last birthday I ever have!  I suppose anyone could say that since tomorrow is never a guarantee.  Most people don't have prophetic dreams that lead them to believe they know when they will die.  But I did.  And so I consider the very real possibility . . .  how do I want to spend my birthday?

My son the musician is playing a show the night before.  He plays a lot of shows - I go to very few of them.  So I will go to this show.  And next year, if I'm not here, he'll remember me on my birthday and think how nice it was that I was at his show.  (With my attendance record it might be the last show I attend, as well.)

Recently I read that the Brazilian restaurant now offers Sunday brunch and it is a bit more economical than their dinner package.  My daughter and I have birthdays four days apart.  I hope we can have a mother/daughter brunch there this year.  Usually we get together near our birthday and do something or other but I hope a special brunch will make an extra special memory for her too.

And for my husband and youngest child still at home?  Well, we make special memories every day.  My husband is not much on celebratng birthdays so typically I just pick up my favorite pizza and a DVD.  This year my fifth grader wants to go to a kids event that falls on my birthday so maybe I can convince my husband to take me to  real movie.  A real movie will surely be nice but not so much about creating a special memory as just a convenience while the kid is at the event instead of the usual grocery shoppong that I do while I wait for the kid.  I suppose it might somehow be a nice memory for me when I'm on my death bed.  I'll definitely want to pick a light-hearted movie!

Ominous Dreams

After spending the last five years working in a small town east of my home, two years for one school district and three for another that I very much loved, I am now working for a different district in a small town to the west of my home.  I made the change in the hopes that it will lead to career advancement by expanding my network and opening the door to a teaching position that I've been seeking for the last 18 months, to no avail.

A couple weeks before school started I had a few dreams that indicated that I would have some sort of problem in my new district.  So much so that I joined a teacher's association, similar to a union, just for an extra layer of protection.  School started, dreams stopped, so far - so good.

Last night I dreamed that my special messenger abandoned me.  (See The History of My Dreams link at top right for reference.)  Surprisingly I'm not as upset by the dream as I would think I would be.  Because this messenger is not a part of my daily life, I've often wondered how I would know if death finds them before me.  I believe it is just something I will know, something I will feel internally, corporally.  Today I woke up at peace.  Unlike when my host-dad died in Brasil, I felt it coming for days.  For days I was dreading and worrying and knew that something wasn't right.  He died suddenly of a heart attack but from a continent away I seemed to have sensed it coming.  That was the first time I noticed a prophetic dream.

So last night's dream is concerning but not bothersome.  I almost feel a sense of relief, ALMOST.  I've known for almost three years that something is coming.  It's like hearing the weather forecast a storm and later you see the wind start to pick up and the sky grow dark.  It's confirmation of my expectations.

Too Late For a New Tradition?

One day I had two songs in my head jumbled together.  I texted my son, a musician, and told him how Seal's "Kiss from a Rose" and Shawn Mendes' "Stitches" kept playing a mash-up in my mind.  He commented that their chord progressions sound very similar.

Another day I had a lyric stuck in my head and I thought maybe he would enjoy a text-game of Complete the Lyric.  I frequently have snippets of songs in my head and thought maybe I'd start a new habit of texting him partial lyrics for him to complete.  Then I suddenly imagined 10 1/2 months from now if I'm not here anymore that would be one more thing for him to miss about me.  So maybe I shouldn't start doing it on a regular basis.

Fictional Logic

A few months ago I was in between book club books - finished and turned one in, hadn't made it by a different library to pick up the next one yet, so I picked up a book from my "Want to Read" shelf.  I've already got them organized in the basic order I want to read them and I was in a hurry on my way to work so I just grabbed "The Baron's Apprenctice".  I think I picked this book up at my church rummage sale after it was over and they were just begging people to carry stuff off so they didn't have to deal with it.  The back of the book made it sound like a genealogy mystery with maybe some history and romance mixed in.  Once I actually started reading the book there were a few pages up front that explained how the author had already done several books like this one that were retelling Scottish or Irish folk stories.  It also went on to talk about all the religious basis and how this is the third book in the series of a central character and demonstrated the religious growth of that character.  

Okay, well, I'm not anti-religion so I'll keep reading; it's all I have available at the moment anyway.

So the book was a little dry, the print was tiny, and the wording was antiquated.  But underneath it all the story was enjoyable.  

What was most intriguing to me is one character who is mad at God because her son, the one of her three children she loved the most, was taken from her.  She doesn't think there could be a God if cruel things like that happen and shows up at church every week to sit in her pew and read trashy French novels.  The priest visits her at home and points out that if there is no God then there is no Heaven so then her son must be where, in  Hell?  She was shocked that the priest would imply that her son was anywhere but in Heaven.  However, he points out, if she wants to believe that her son is in Heaven, then there must be a loving God who welcomed him there.

The author said it more eloquently than I but I believe I captured the concept.  While I can't say I personally have known anyone who feels this way, I know people who know people who do.  If I ever have an opportunity to speak to such a person I hope I remember this logic.

Generally Healthy

I think I take my health for granted.  Since I started working in schools five years ago, I can count on one hand the number of times I've been sick.  

I used to be sick more often.  Ten or fifteen years ago when I telecommuted I remember being often glad I worked from home so I could blow my nose and not have to worry about coughing on anyone.  I remember being sick on business trips.

I don't really know what was the catalyst for change.  Maybe less airplane travel?

There are ten women in my bookclub and it seems like any given month at least one of them are sick.  (I really don't think it is an excuse, I think it is a legitimate sickness.)

And just recently someone I thought was healthy had a heart problem, someone else who seemed like she would outrun anything that came her way got cancer for the second time - this time in the colon, and a couple other distant relatives were hospitalized for some reason or other.

Yet I walk around with nary a sniffle but a nagging feeling that I will die of some illness on 7/12/17.

Chinese Lettered Paper

Several months ago I listened to an audio book - Lisa See's "Dreams of Joy".

This is the second of her books I have listened to.  The other was "Peony in Love".  Honestly, I'm not a big fan of Asian culture.  I've never felt inclined to study it or to visit there.  However, I really enjoy these books.  They, seemingly, weave culture into the stories - I assume it is a true picture of the culture but have no frame of reference.  

I was really intrigued by their reverence for "lettered paper".  At first I thought the characters were referring to fancy stationary.  But, apparently, they meant paper that had been written on.  The ancient tradition had people working as paper collectors who would collect any paper with writing on it.  Those collections would then be burned with the belief that the words would be re-cycled through the eco-system to inspire other writers.  Obviously, to a foreigner, it sounds silly.  But, to me as an author it also sounds beautiful.

A Tough Day

About 18 months ago I decided I wanted to be a teacher.  I signed up for a certification program, passed all the requirements, and began looking for a job.  Summer is the biggest time to seek employment as a teacher.  I went through the first summer and applied for the jobs I was eligible for but only got one interview and not hired.

Over the next school year I attained an additional certification so I'd be more marketable.  I had a principal who wanted to hire me but the position required an additional certification - so I got it too.  But then I found out I was ineligible for the part-time position because as a first year teacher I would need to be employed full time.  

It was now a couple weeks into June so I started applying for jobs like crazy.  I have applied for close to 70 teaching jobs. 20 of those were "internal" in the current district I was working in but none of them called me for an interview, in spite of all the recommended politicking.  I have only recently been called for two interviews.  Interestingly they were both for the most recent certification I obtained (for the part time position).

Yesterday I found out that both of those positions chose someone else.  Later that day I went to turn in my iPad, badge and keys in the district I've worked in for three years.  I'm moving to a different district that offered me a higher salary for less working hours (in addition to being a little closer to home).  I genuinely LIKED that district and the town and ALL the people I worked with.  (I expect to like my new district just as much and it is my hope that they will value internal applicants more and thus make my transition to teaching a little easier - but right now that is all an unknown.) 

Point is, yesterday was a sad day for me.  It was a down day.  I don't have many of them.  I shed more than a few tears.  (A few are escaping right now as I recount the day.)  As I was driving around this little town that I love for what will likely be the last time in a long while, I wanted to call someone and share my sadness.  I called my daughter, but she was unavailable.  I do have some friends but none of them that I call on the phone and commiserate with.  And even so they were all at work.

I REALLY wanted to call my mother.  She died almost three years ago.  Even many months before she died I had experienced the loss of not being able to call her on the phone because dimentia made meaningful conversation difficult.  It was sort of a warm up for losing her completely so in some ways it made her death easier.  Until yesterday.

And in the midst of all that sadness and self-pity party of which no amount of plattitudes could pull me out, it occurred to me that in less than a year my daughter might be mssing talking to me on the phone.

Although lately I'm becoming more and more convinced that 7/12/17 is going to be the day I finally fet hired as a teacher!

Sometimes I Wonder

Sometimes I wonder if I earned the salary of a celebrity if that would be enough motivation to maintain my ideal weight.  With that salary, of course, I could also hire a personal trainer and chef so that would help too.  

Sometimes I wonder if an actor who has to wear a suit and tie every day for 9 months while they make a movie gets tired of it and wishes they had a role with comfortable clothing.

Sometimes I wonder if the guy on Leverage who's character has long hair gets tired of it being in his face all the time.  Maybe he's really a buzz cut kind of guy but he keeps the long hair because it pays the bills.

I'm certain I'll never know first hand (no wondering needed about that).

Counting Down

Last Tuesday I realized that it was exactly one year from THE date.  On Wednesday I woke up and thought "364 more days".  On Thursday I thought about having 363 days left.  I wondered if I would do a mental countdown all year long.  It hadn't been a conscious count but something that just popped into my head.  It occurred to me that at some point I would probably lose count.  Indeed by Friday the thought did not cross my mind and when it did a few days later it seemed like too much time to spend figuring out how many days remained.  Pleasantly ironic.

OMG

As I contemplated making my weekly post today I started to calculate how many posts I will make.  I realized a couple weeks ago that the year mark was coming up soon but it's 3p.m. and I just realized that TODAY IS the year mark.  One year from today IS 7/12/17.

What will happen a year from now?

Will I FINALLY get a teaching job?

Do I have some preliminary health symptom now that will flare up wihin the next few months and kill me within a year?  (I could easily become a hypochondriac!)  But my right thumb is really sore today, my left cheek sometimes feels a little tingly, somewhere inside my right hip has been bothering me lately (hopefully it is just a minor injury from climbing out of the pool before we put the steps in) and a spot on my right leg that gives me intermittent tingles is extra electric today.

Will I learn to enjoy life between now and then?  To savor every moment?  To stand up for what I believe in - even if it means standing up to people I believe in but who believe differently than me?

Last night I felt wary from feeling unsettled.  Today I feel rushed.  A year is an incredibly short amount of time!

Stirring Up My Thoughts

Yesterday I was making barbeque sauce from scratch.  I enjoy cooking and baking.  I think it is another creative outlet for me.  I'm not a total flower-child artist type but creating things through writing, knitting, sewing, cooking, or some similar format gives me a big sense of accomplishment.  I'm also trying to move ever closer to "clean" eating so making things from scratch is essential.  

But every now and then, when I am stirring something that just seems like it will never reach the boiling point, I wonder if it is all worth it.  Would I enjoy life more if I just stuck my head in the sand and ingested a steady diet of high fructose corn syrup?  To borrow a phrase I've heard but never directed at anyone, "fat, dumb and happy" - should I try life that way?  

I can't unknow what I know and I know that would lead to health problems and suffering and early death which I definitely don't want.  So I'll keep on stirring...

Miscommunication

For over a year now I've been working through the Alternative Certification process to become a teacher.  In May 2015 I got my first certification in Mathematics Grades 4-8.  I applied for many jobs last summer but remained employed as an iPad tech throughout this past school year.  This past April I added a certification in Core Subjects Ec-6 thinking this would make me more marketable.  I've been applying for anything and everything that could potentially lead to my ultimate goal of being a teacher at a campus close to my home.  Often I have felt like Frogger because there are so many ways I could get to my ultimate goal.  I pray a lot about it and have told God I will accept the first job that is offered to me and assume that is where He needs me.

I was trying hard not to invent signs that I thought were from God.  I went on an interview for a clerical position in my 2nd choice district and it went well.  But they drug their feet in making an offer to me.  In the meantime my current principal said she had a position she really wanted me to fill if I could get certified.  A few fays later she told me again how much she really wanted me for that course.  Then it dawned on me - she was offering me the job (contingent on certification).  

Once I realized that I started seeing signs right and left that indeed this was where I was supposed to be.  That night on Facebook a colleague posted a meeme that had a very manly man wearing a unicorn costume with a caption that said, "Sometimes you just gotta say, 'Screw it, I'm gonna be a unicorn'."  (Unicorns are actually our school mascot.)  This reminded me of years ago when I was agonizing over whether to remain at the local grocery store or take a job with AT&T and I went into the kitchen to open a jar and actually looked at the rubber circle used to open jars and it said "AT&T, the right choice."  I hadn't even realized it was an AT&T thingy.  

The next day when I was driving to work the road that has been under construction for 2 years was finally open.  So the road to my campus was paved.  I walked down the hallway and passed the room that would be mine and it was the only door in the whole hallway that was open, even though nobody was in it.

So I began studying for the test.  First I spent every spare minute reading about Textiles.  But at night i would dream about potential test subjects unrelated to what I'd been studying.  One night I dreamed that I was insisting that my last name was Light.  So the next day I studied residential and commercial lighting trends.  The next night I dreamed that I was in an unusual shower.  So then I studied about bathroom design standards.  I was curious to see if my dilligence in studying all these random things would reward me with being able to answer related questions on the test.

In fact there were no questions about lighting or bathrooms on the test.  But, I passed so no harm done.  Two days later I go to the interview (more of a formality) prepared to take it seriously and present my best self since I did have some actual competition for the job.  That's when my principal informed me that HR had informed her that in my first (probationary) year of teaching I could not have a part-time position as this one was.

WOW!

What is going on here?  Not only were the study topics suggested through my dreams not even on the test but now my whole assertion that I would take the first job offered is out the window.  I had even turned down the clerical position when they finally did call me for it explaining that I already had another position in the works.

So I'm back to square one - applying for anything and everything and ready to take the first offer.  But more significantly I'm feeling like the communication tower between my and God has been crashed.  The only bright side I can see is that maybe this means 7/12/17 is also a big misunderstanding.

Quoting Mark Twain

Yesterday as I was driving I heard on the radio a quote from Mark Twain.  I really liked it and thought I would write a blog about it.  I didn't try to memorize it because I figured I could just google Mark Twain quotes and find it with no problem.  Hours later I tried and found 60 pages of quotes on goodreads.com.  It would help if I could remember the basic subject of the quote but I couldn't.  So I started reading though them and realized I like a lot of Mark Twain quotes, which is odd because I really don't like his novels at all.  After reading even more quotes of his I suspect he'd have something to say about that juxtaposition.  Anyway, here are a few of my favorites:

“Reader, suppose you were an idiot. And suppose you were a member of Congress. But I repeat myself.” 

“A clear conscience is the sure sign of a bad memory.”

“Never argue with stupid people, they will drag you down to their level and then beat you with experience.” 

“If you don't read the newspaper, you're uninformed. If you read the newspaper, you're mis-informed.”

“Anger is an acid that can do more harm to the vessel in which it is stored than to anything on which it is poured.”

“God created war so that Americans would learn geography.”

Apparently he had some views on religion, education and politicians which he didn't hesitate to share.  It seems like his words would have created quite a scandal in his time, much like Donald Trump does today.  If I could shuffle the order of people I would put those two together on one stage and see what ensued.  As Twain said, "“When we remember we are all mad, the mysteries disappear and life stands explained.”

Podcasting

Summer comes and I'm off schedule!  Originally I posted every Wednesday but somehow that slipped around to Tuesday.  Every Tuesday on my lunch break I make a post.  Even though I work in education I am still required to work in June and my schedule has changed so much I keep missing my postings.

Anyway - so here I am.  And I was listening to a bunch of nutrition podcasts while I was working this week and on one of them I heard an interesting thought - alzheimer's is like diabetes for the brain.  With diabetes a body gets out of whack largely due to nutrition.  There is now a theory that alzheimer's comes about because improper nutrition robs the brain of elements it needs to function well.

Certainly one more motivation for me to follow a proper diet.  Realistically I have a way better chance of getting Alzheimer's or Dementia than cancer.  Emotionally I'm more afraid of cancer.  Today I really wanted some chocolate but didn't have any available and I was too cheap to go hit up the vending machine.  Also I want to lose six pounds by the end of the month so I was fighting the urge.  I did have a Dr. Pepper in the refrigerator and I contemplated whether that would satisfy my chocolate craving.  Then I thought about all the podcasts I had heard this week and told myself it's not Dr. Pepper - it's cancer in a can.  I made it through the afternoon sans chocolate and sans Dr. Pepper.  Finally after dinner I had Nutella on toast and that took care of the craving.  I was also happy that the Nutella label lists "health fats" and no added sugar.  Can't rationalize the bread though but Nutella on a spoon just didn't sound appealing.

Paper on the Seat

My mom told a story once about how when her mom would cook a roast she cut it in half and then put both halves in the pot.  My mom asked her mom why she did that and her mom said because that's how her mom (my mom's grandma) did it.  So my mom asked her Grandma why and the grandma said because her pot is too small to fit the roast uncut.  The moral of the story is that some times we pass down something for no good reason.  (I've since heard similar stories from other tellers and wonder now if my mom wasn't just personalizing an urban fable or if it indeed happened.)

A few years ago I noticed that in the restroom in my work building women would come in and out so fast.  I commented to my husband that it seems like all these women must not be putting paper on the seat.  He asked me why I put paper on the seat.  I explained that was how my mother had taught me so that I wouldn't catch anything.  Then he asked what diseases were communicable via a toilet seat. Well, none that I could think of.   Probably when my mom was a little girl in the 1940s when less was known about disease transmittal, that was a reasonable practice.  She passed it down to her children and didn't question it.  

I wonder how much of my life I wasted putting paper on toilet seats.  Every time I go to a public bathroom I feel so free now, almost a little bit rebellious.  Sometimes I still put paper or a liner down if the seat looks questionable but it is so nice not to have to worry about it, especially if I'm at the swimming pool or some other hot day when I'd have to worry about the paper sticking to my legs.  How much of my life have I now reclaimed!

A Funeral Playlist

I've mentioned before that I would like my older son to play Billy Joel's "Lullabye" at my funeral.  I've also written about "Seasons in the Sun" by Terry Jacks.  Now I'm thinking I should just start a playlist on some music site because I've come up with another song that might be fitting.  In truth, I can only hope it would be fitting.  Perhaps that is the mark of a good parent - always feeling like they could do more or be more.  I think I've taught my kids to be good people.  I've certainly made mistakes, but through that I hope they've seen that people do make mistakes and after that they can't just give up but they have to deal with the results of that mistake and find a way to move forward.

Two days ago was the best Mother's Day I've had in a long time.  I actually got to see all three of my children.  The older two and I went to a concert of Scott Stapp (former lead singer of Creed).  (Talk about making mistakes and moving on - he could be the poster boy.  I've blogged about him previously.)

Anyway, so I'm still on a Scott Stapp high and I'm cranking up the Creed music via iPot in my car (technology is so cool).  (Yes, I said Pot not Pod - it's a joke.)  Anyway anyway, this morning I was really focused on the lyrics of "Stand Here With Me" and I hope that one day when I am gone my kids will hear the song and think about me.

"Stand Here With Me"

You always reached out to me and helped me believe
All those memories we share
I will cherish every one of them
The truth of it is there's a right way to live
And you showed me
So now you live on in the words of a song
You're a melody

You stand here with me now

Just when fear blinded me you taught me to dream
I'll give you everything I am and still fall short of
What you've done for me
In this life that I live
I hope I can give love unselfishly
I've learned the world is bigger than me
You're my daily dose of reality

You stand here with me now

On and on we sing
On and on we sing this song

'Cause you stand here with me

Generous Children

My children currently range between the ages of 25 and 10.  One girl, two boys.  From time to time they, the boys especially, have come home with a toy and said some kid at school gave it to them.   It may be a Matchbox car, a Pokemon card or a McDonald's trinket, but the revelation always releases a flood of questions from me:

• Are you sure they meant for you to keep it?
• Are you supposed to bring it back tomorrow?
• What did you give them in return?

To which the answers are always:  yes, no, nothing.

I've always lived a middle class lifestyle.  We've always had enough.  Sometimes a little more than enough - but we always lived like it was just enough.  Frugality is a fun hobby for me.  On top of that, I'm a bit of the sentimental sort.  


So the idea that a child will just randomly give away their toys is so foreign to me.  I always wonder if their parent knows they gave it away and if they did know would they care.  What if that was the Matchbox car that used to belong to their grandfather?  What if the Pokemon card was actually pilfered from an older sibling?  What if the mom drove past five other McDonald's just to get to the McDonald's that was selling that particular Minion because she knew it was the one that would complete her child's set?

My children have always had more than enough toys.  Sometimes I'd wished and begged they would get rid of stuff.  But more than once they've wanted to get rid of something to which I said, "But that was your first...".  I even have a collection of the most sentimental stuff in the back closet hoping to pass it down one day to my grandchildren (if I live that long).  At the same time I am aware that they may not see the value in it that I do.  They may not have the memories of their first Little Tikes car like I can remember watching them play with it.

I am fully aware that there is no monetary value in sentimental value.  Sometimes you hit on something "classic" or "antique" but even then you have to find just the right buyer to get the financial value out of it.

The other side of this coin that I always contemplate is - what does it say about my children that they are willing to take somebody's hand-offs.  I mean, I've taught them never to turn down a free meal - but a free used toy is a completely different matter. 

What Causes Things

It seems like in the last couple of decades there has been a rise in cancer and autism - among other things.  I remember when my older kids were in elementary school in the early '90s I often said to myself, after seeing how early the girls were developing, that it must be something in the milk.  Years later several people (family and close friends) suggested that my youngest child showed early signs of autism.  I read Jenny McCarthy's book about her journey with her autistic son and how strongly she felt that changing his diet made a big difference to his condition.

So I took gluten and caesin out of my young one's diet.  It really wasn't as hard as it sounds thanks to modern online resources.  Eight years later he is a great student but still a little quirky.  I'll never know for sure if changing the diet made a difference since there was no control group.  But I believe it did.

I've also seen the documentary Food, Inc. which changed the way I buy food.  Turns out there really was something in the milk!  And the chickens, and lots of other food sources.  I'm not committed enough to go organic - although I'm getting there.  But for the last several years I have been buying only meat that is hormone and antibiotic free.  Right away we could taste a difference  And we're starting to prefer produce that is locally grown without pesticides.

While I've not yet heard of a direct link between cancer and the things in our food source - I have hope that my small actions and changes are helping my family decrease their chances of contracting that nasty disease.

Authorship

Righteous, My Deliverer, Good Shepherd, Jehovah, King - these are just a few of the over 900 names of God.    Lately I've come up with one of my own and I really like it.  Every night when I pray, in order to keep myself from just rattling off a laundry list of my wants, I remember the acronym ACTS and first Adore God, then Confess my sins, then give Thanks, then Supplication.  Sometimes I draw a blank on the Adoration part but one day I came up with God being the Author of the Universe.

Being a writer myself I really liked the idea.  Last night I even thought about how

• God erases our sins. 
• He knows all the grammar rules and edits to be made.
• He already knows the ending to our story.

If you are having inter-personal / relationship struggles, God can write your name on their heart.
If you are looking for a job, God can write your name on the employee roster.
Whatever blanks you have in your life - God can fill them in.

This idea goes along with something I heard on Joel Osteen radio yesterday - as our life plays out and we lose a loved one too soon (so we think).  God is not sitting up there going, "Whoops, I didn't mean for that person to die today." God is not surprised by anything that happens down here.  He already knows how its going to work out.  He already knows the ending to our story and it is exactly how he planned it.  Whether we take the right fork or the left fork - it all leads to the same place.

Getting the Last Word

I've heard of people who know they are dying that pre-write letters or make videos for significant moments in their child's life that they will miss.  I've been contemplating an expansion on that.

What if I left a letter for a family member that I'm estranged from?  Would it be fair if I left instructions for the letter to be delivered after/if I die on 7/12/17?  A one-sided attempt at making amends.  Although, in my heart I know if I didn't resolve it in life I probably wouldn't resolve it in a letter.  Such a letter might even cause more pain and unresolved issues.

Or what if I really admire someone but am too embarrassed to tell them.  I know a compliment shouldn't be embarrassing - but maybe I don't want it to get weird or awkward and definitely don't want to seem like I have a girl-crush or anything.  Would it be fair to leave a letter and then they don't get a chance to return a compliment?  Would they appreciate the post-humous admiration or regret that they didn't know while I was still around?

Whether I leave a letter or not, my life would be complete - physically at least.  As a Christian I believe I'd still obtain admission to Heaven.  But what if I'm sent to Purgatory until the issues are resolved?  There are other schools of thought out there.  What if they are right, what if there are spirits that don't cross over because of unresolved issues?  Or what if leaving a letter is like cheating and then the last thing I did on earth would be cheat - that's not good.

So I should probably just suck up the earthly courage and handle my business before I depart.  At least I've still got some time to work up to it.  But then there is that caveat that maybe I don't die on 7/12/17, maybe it is just some other life altering day.  So if I make that admission of admiration on 7/11 and then I'm still here on 7/13 - things might be weird.

I contemplated it for some days - and gave the compliment.  Things aren't weird.  Obviously, if it is a person that is that admirable they should be able to take a compliment.

On the other hand - there is still that unresolved issue with an estranged family member.  I'm not feeling that brave yet.  And I am fully aware that they may die first.  Leaving me behind to be unresolved.  I think I'm okay with that.  I'm not much for gambling, but I'm going to ride the odds out a little longer on this one.

I Hear You, Kids

Soon after I had the big dream I shared it with my older kids.  Already in their 20's and having lost their father in elementary school, as well as having discussed dreams with me on multiple occasions, I thought it would be wise to tell them in person before they found out via this blog.

A couple months ago, just after the New Year, I took them grocery shopping to encourage them in healthier eating choices and my older son randomly spouted that I was not going to die anytime soon.  It was clear to me that this was no time for discussion of the possibility because he was obviously and willfully in denial.

Just last week my daughter told me about the mother of her best friend in elementary school.  Apparently she had gotten divorced and then got really sick and her sister had to pay her medical bills.  I said I'd pray for the lady.  The next day my daughter told me the lady had died, within an hour of us having had that conversation.  She went on to say how sad it must be for her former friend to lose her mom at a time like this.  A time when life is just beginning for a young woman, not yet married, hasn't had a baby yet.  Those times when a young woman will want and need her mother.

Verbally I was agreeing and expressing sadness/empathy/regret - but internally I was screaming, "Don't you read my blog?!"  My own daughter might lose her mother in just 16 months.  And she's not fully settled into life yet either.

It seems like there is never a good time to die young.  And on the opposite side there are some older people that seem to hang on to life well beyond the time it is practical - well beyond the time it has stopped being enjoyable for them and they have long ago stopped making any contributions (that we can see anyway).

God's plan is bigger.

A Thought for my Son - the Artist

The book I read several months ago, "Dying to be Me" by Anita Moorjani (which I've already posted about twice) had a paragraph that enlightened me to my older son - a musician who sees life through the eyes of an artist which are not the eyes that his practical mother (that's me) and sister (my daughter) see things through.

Moorjani says, "The infinite self is our essence.  It's who we truly are... .  The intellect is just a tool for navigating through this life.  It figures out how to make enough money to put food on the table and make the rent, while the soul only wants to express itself." (p. 146)

Having just finished Spring Break I can sort of identify.  I wanted to figure out how to do just enough house cleaning to not endanger our health and safety but still enjoy the week and feel like my infinite self - enjoying life and time off of work, time with family and to pursue hobbies. 

I like the sentiment Moorjani expressed, but it fails to consider responsibilities.  There are responsibilities other than financial.  As a mom of a ten year-old, I have responsibilities to help him grow and achieve his full potential.  That includes, in my opinion, taking him to activities which enrich him.  I am not one of those over-scheduling moms.  But we do have a couple of activities which we consider an investment into his future-self.  As much as I would like to pursue my own interests a few nights a week, I have the responsibility to take him to his activities.

The artist (writer) in me still wants to spend more time writing a novel.  But, for now, I have found little ways, like through this blog or my website for book reviews that I can express enough of my soul and still meet my obligations.

Apple Cider Vinegar

If I were Oprah and she still made her list of the best Christmas gifts and then gave them all to her audience, I would include a super large bottle of Apple Cider Vinegar, raw, natural, unfiltered and "with the mother".  This is my new favorite product, right next to Simply Balanced from Target Organic Green Mint Tea.

A few months ago I noticed that any time I consumed a dairy product I would feel like my breath was bad, even after I brushed my teeth.  So I poked around on the internet and decided to try two teaspoons of apple cider vinegar in 16 ounces of water, daily.  It took some getting used to but now I find it very enjoyable and refreshing at the end of the day.  And, it improved my breath.

I also think it improved my skin.  I've always had bad skin, which I now know is because of the Gilbert syndrome which prevents my liver from processing toxins properly.  So I get a lot of "blemishes" on  my face.  Well, not as many as a teenager but when you are in your mid-40s even one is too many and highly embarrassing.  Since I started ACV though I have had much better skin.

I've also read that ACV works like a pro-biotic and I have some friends that also drink a daily dose for the health benefits.  They just do it like a shot of liquor because they don't like the taste.  My little boy was complaining about his pro-biotic tablet so I offered him the option of drinking ACV and started him on a VERY watered down dose but he decided the tablet was better.

Then I made maybe the greatest discovery of all for ACV.  I invented it on my own after I started having deodorant issues.  It seemed like my deodorant had suddenly stopped working.  Being a couponer I have several other sticks of deodorant in my stockpile but when I looked at them, all five brands had the same active ingredient as the one I had been using.   I really didn't relish the idea of going to the store and searching the aisle to find a different active ingredient so I went to the internet to see what other people recommended.  I thought maybe the problem stemmed from the new cholesterol medicine I'd recently switched to.  Not so.  I discovered that this problem is not uncommon - it is a problem of the deodorant reacting with the bacteria under my arm and causing the smell.  I grabbed onto the word "bacteria".  I thought maybe the problem began last time I got a new bar of soap (Ivory) because it is a brand known for being very mild.  I had a random bar of Dial soap so I started using that and noticed a slight improvement.  I would like to search out an anti-bacterial soap.  However, before I got to the store I heard a comedienne talking about how people were using ACV for EVERYTHING!!!  So, one evening as I was mixing ACV into my dinner water I thought - why not, I splashed some under my arms.  A few hours later I noted it was better!  I put more on at bed time and in the morning it was great.  My husband always turns up his nose when I open the bottle to mix my water for dinner, but he didn't even complain about the smell at bed time.

The first couple of days I showered with Dial, rubbed on ACV and then when it dried put on deodorant.  During the weekend I experimented and used only ACV.  I did have to re-apply after the pool but I would re-apply normal deodorant too after a swim.  On Monday I was so confident I used only ACV to go to work.  By Thursday I thought maybe the almost week-long break would be enough and I tried D.O. again - worse.  So for two weeks I used only ACV under my arms.
Admittedly it doesn't smell powder fresh but it also doesn't stink.  Obviously powder fresh would be the best choice but if that's not happening then I'll take neutral of stink.  After several weeks it started to be less effective so I switched back to deodorant but obviously the break and the ACV was helpful and I would do it again if the problem should re-occur in the future.

A Momentary Laugh

I was talking to someone a few days ago who happened to mention that there would be a new Harry Potter book coming out next year.  I asked when and she said Summer 2017 and that she wasn't sure of the exact date.  I chuckled and proclaimed it would be out on July 12, 2017.

"What a relief!" I thought to myself. 

Now, granted, I have followed the Harry Potter saga.  All the books are within my house.  I have fond memories of reading the first four or five books to my older children.  There was a lot of controversy when the books first came out that they might be of the devil so I read them out loud to my then-elementary-school children just in case there was anything we needed to discuss.  There wasn't; but, I enjoyed the family bonding so it became a tradition for each book.  Towards the end of the books, a couple of times, I'd tell the kids, "I don't care if it's a school night - you are staying up until we finish this book" because it was so suspenseful I wanted to find out what happened.  Just the same though - I wouldn't call myself a HUGE fan.  So, the idea that God would reveal this date especially to me is rather laughable.

NOTE TO SELF:  If my own novel is completed by then, do NOT release it during July 2017 because it would obviously be over-shadowed by the new Harry Potter book.

Today as I prepared to write this post I Googled and it seems I've been misinformed.  A new book is coming out July 31, 2016, the day after a play based on the book opens.  2017 will be the twentieth anniversary of the first book.  Also, according to Pottermore.com:  Next year will see the publication of four special editions of the first book in the UK, one for each of the four Hogwarts houses. There will also be a brand new edition ofFantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them in 2017, with new content by J.K. Rowling, as well as new formats and editions of the Hogwarts Library books – Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, Quidditch Through the Ages and The Tales of Beedle the Bard.

Oh well - for a couple of days I had a bit of a laugh.

Again I say - I'm a wimp

I've been sick the last couple of weeks - some sort of respiratory virus or infection.  It started on President's day with what felt like a little patch of humidity in my chest.  In hindsight, I probably shouldn't have gone for a walk in the moist evening air - but exercise is good, right?  That night I thought I would choke as I slept.  Some cold medicine kept me at work the next couple of days.  I slept on the reclining sofa so I wouldn't bother my husband.  Then I started a fever - the night before I was scheduled for a teacher certification test.  With these tests you pay your money ahead of time and there is no rescheduling.  So, feverish and coughing, only allowed two tissues and two unwrapped cough drops on my desk at a time, I took the test (and passed!) and then went straight to the doctor. 

He put me on some strong antibiotics.  I stayed home from work on Friday except when I took my husband to the doctor - he wound up with pneumonia.  By Saturday I was feeling on the road to recovery, finally fever free, and sat outside with my son at a tennis tournament.  But Sunday the side effects kicked in.  Stomach upset and extreme exhaustion.  I went to work Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday because I figured I wasn't contagious.  On Wednesday I actually laid down on my lunch break and took a nap.  That's when I learned not contagious and not sick are not the same thing.  I took the next two days off work and spent them plus the weekend just resting a lot and eating a little.

I did have to make a few pharmacy and juice runs and as I looked at the other people walking around carefree I tried to remember what it felt like to be healthy.  By Monday, a full two weeks after my symptoms began, I felt exactly like I had when it all started - that little patch of moisture in my chest.  Unfortunately now my doctor has taken a few days off so I can't see him for several more days.  It feels like my family will never be healthy again.  It feels like we've been sick forever. 

And then I think of the people I know who have been fighting cancer for more than a year.  I think of them and I'm embarrassed and ashamed that I'm tired of sickness.  My sickness is a drop in the bucket compared to the flood that has invaded their lives.  I see now why the most inspirational of them find joy in every moment and relish every day of life they are given.  It would be so easy to get sucked down the drain of sickness and misery.  I am even more inspired now to realize how much effort it must take to remain as positive as they do.

Stockpiling Blankets

I have a large walk-in closet and recently I noticed how many blankets I have stashed around in there.

     1.  a blue fuzzy one that my mom bought for me on a trip across the Mexican border back in the 80s.  There is some sort of flower design on it and the backside is the negative of the front.  It was my bedspread for a lot of years.

     2.  a multicolored crocheted afghan that my grandma made for me.  There were two things that she gave each grandchild: an afghan and an embroidered zodiac.  It was like a rite of passage.  I've long since disposed of the zodiac.

     3.  another afghan made by my grandmother that I selected from her home after she passed away and was in my daughter's room for a lot of years

     4.  a queen sized white loose-weave cotton blanket that reminds me of one my great-aunt used to have

     5.  a simple white quilt that was in my mom's guest room

If I had to get rid of one it would be a very hard decision.  When I look at them they spark an emotion of comfort.

These are in addition to my two favorite blankets that perch around the living room waiting to be used at any time - a brown fleece and also a brown angel w/ the same sort of negative pattern.  The fleece one I acquired from my mother's collection after she passed away - I like it because it is big and soft and brown is my favorite color.  I can't quite recall how I got the angel one - maybe my kids picked it out for me, or it was a gift exchange - for a time I was really into angels as decorations.  Sometimes it is a little too small but usually it is sufficient.  

If I ever get into a health crisis where I spend a lot of time laying around recovering - I'll definitely have plenty of blankets to be comforted by.

Maybe It's Not Me

All I really know is that 7/12/17 will be a significant day.  The dream that told me this was in December 2013.  When I woke from the dream I felt like it was the date of my death, but as my experience with prophetic dreams tells me, I get the gist but I don't always get all the details right.  So maybe it's not me that's going to die that day.  That gives me hope.  Maybe it's someone close to me that will die.  Still not something I'd wish for but I find this slightly preferable to my own death.  I've already been through the death of a husband and a mother; I know I'll be fine.  I'd rather stay behind and deal with the aftermath of someone else's death than think about inflicting that aftermath on someone I love.  Not that I think my loved ones are weak and incapable, I know they could handle it.  But it's not fun.  The mom in me wants to save them from the pain and frustration.  Of course, along those lines, whoever dies I'd like it to be quick and painless.  (As if I have any say in the matter!)

Lullabye - Billy Joel

This song came out when my middle son (now 22) was a baby.  I sang it to him EVERY night.  It was like a magical song.  One time through and he was asleep.  

I've been listening to the Billy Joel Channel on Sirius XM Radio for the last few weeks since it is a limited time channel.  I finally heard this song last week for the first time on that channel.  I cried.  I called my son and told him how this had actually been his lullaby.  I never sang to his older sister and I rarely sang to his younger brother.  Interestingly, that middle son is now a musician.  (@JacobAndrew - Search iTunes or Google Play for Jacob Andrew.  Also you can see the "Glad It's You" video on You Tube.)

"Lullabye (Goodnight, My Angel)" - by Billy Joel

Goodnight, my angel
Time to close your eyes
And save these questions for another day
I think I know what you've been asking me
I think you know what I've been trying to say
I promised I would never leave you
And you should always know
Wherever you may go
No matter where you are
I never will be far away

Goodnight, my angel
Now it's time to sleep
And still so many things I want to say
Remember all the songs you sang for me
When we went sailing on an emerald bay
And like a boat out on the ocean
I'm rocking you to sleep
The water's dark
And deep inside this ancient heart
You'll always be a part of me

Goodnight, my angel
Now it's time to dream
And dream how wonderful your life will be
Someday your child may cry
And if you sing this lullabye
Then in your heart
There will always be a part of me

Someday we'll all be gone
But lullabyes go on and on...
They never die
That's how you
And I
Will be

Last night I heard the song again on the Billy Joel channel.  This time Don Henley was the guest DJ.  He said every time he hears it he cries.   Last week when I heard it and last night too I listened to it a different way and I cried.  I imagined my son singing it at my funeral.  At my mom's funeral he sang "Amazing Grace".  Even though I asked him a few days ahead of time he didn't practice it and looked up the lyrics at the church.  Still he managed to do a nice job with it, but I hope he practices this one ahead of time.  I don't feel like I can ask him now to start preparing this song though, because  a couple of weeks ago we were in the grocery store and out of the blue he said, with conviction and a small amount of desperation, "You're not going to die any time soon, Mom."    

When he was little he was sick a lot - ear infections and such.  I always had this foreboding sense that he was going to die before I was ready.   I was so glad when he learned to give hugs and I cherished each one because I feared there might not be many more.  Maybe it was postpartum depression...but every now and then I recall and wonder.  

So whomever dies whenever, the one of us left behind will always have a piece of the other in their heart and this song to cry to.

Duh!

After I posted last week I was driving home and had a light bulb moment - although it wasn't a great scientific discovery, it was really more just clearing up my own stupidity.

Duh!  Where do the atheists get their gifts from...the devil.  The same one that was whispering in my ear.  Maybe it was more like shouting for a little bit because I couldn't even see the truly obvious as opposed to my temporary conclusion on what was obvious.

Lost and Found

Last week I was listening to a radio program interviewing someone who, from my view point, has found much success in their life.  The person mentioned they were an atheist. 

I think I actually lost my faith for a few hours.  Suddenly it just seemed so logical that if some people, like Bill Gates for example, can find such success and not believe in God, then certainly God didn't give them their success, so there must not be a God.

I started playing out scenarios - how would my family take the news?  Could I even tell them?  What if I caused them to lose their faith?  My argument against God seemed so cut and dry but yet I felt I shouldn't ruin things for anyone else.  If faith worked for them, and they hadn't seen the obviousness as I now had, I wasn't going to tell them - they needed to come to it on their own.

I wondered what I would do on Sundays now, and after death - then what?  I guess death would be like turning off a TV.  Nothing scary about that.

Later that evening I received a message from a special friend who I hadn't heard from in a number of months.  Throughout the last several decades God has used this particular friend in a variety of ways and at numerous times to give me special messages - reassurance, direction, etc.  Receiving a message that night was no coincidence.  A few simple words warmed my heart in such a way that I knew it was only the touch of God.

The next day at work, one of my favorite students came in to tell me he had finished all his coursework and was graduating early.  I have often thought over the two and a half years I have worked with this young man, that he was the reason I had been brought to this campus. 

Many times we go through struggles and we know God has a plan but we can't see it.  Several years ago there was a big shakeup where I was working.  Scandal caused the big managers to resign.  The interim manager and I had just never been best buds and he arranged a demotion for me.  I found myself doing work far below my college degree with people who maybe graduated high school.  Some of them were nice and I absolutely appreciated the hard work they did every day.  But some of them were back-stabbers and drama queens.  Furthermore, I was not of the same culture as them and, yes folks, even white people can be discriminated against.  I suffered through six months in that position and took the first job out of there.  That led me to where I am now.  Where I have been happily employed for 2 1/2 years.  Where I began working with the aforementioned favorite student young man.  I've often thought that he was the reason I went through all that - it was God's design to get our paths to cross so I could help him.  I've often thought that even though I have since passed my teaching certification I haven't gotten hired as a teacher because I still needed to be here - near enough to support that student.

So the day after I briefly lost my faith, it was no small coincidence that that young man came to tell me he was ready to move on.   When he was in 9th grade and not a strong reader I took him into the school library and read the English novels aloud to him.  When he was in 10th grade, and it wasn't even my job anymore to work with him, he sought me out after school for math tutoring - I didn't refuse.  I encouraged him to enroll at the self-paced / accelerated graduation campus and together we completed his application.  And he just blew through his last two years of high school in five months!  The boy who said he wasn't coming back after 9th grade is now a high school graduate.  And I had a hand in that!!  I'm not one to toot my own horn, and obviously he did all the work, but I really think without my support and encouragement he would not have stuck it out.  He is the first high school graduate in his family.  My heart was warmed again as only God's touch can. 

That same day I found out that my teaching certificate is not as limited as I was told it was.  I had been told I needed to stack some additional certifications to be able to teach anything other than 7th grade math.  Turns out that's not the case - I can teach any middle school math.  I felt like that was confirmation that indeed God had been holding me here to see that student through.  Now he's moved on and I can too.  Like God was saying, "Well done good and faithful servant - now here is your reward, you are released to the next phase I have planned for you."

I still have to be careful because that little atheist voice has not stopped trying to whisper in my ear.  But I'm getting good at turning the other cheek.