Give Thanks for a Little and You Will Find A Lot

After two weeks away from work, I return to the office tomorrow. The first week was spent with family celebrating Thanksgiving, and the second week was to take care of some health issues. I'm glad to go back to work; I'm one of those who really loves her job. (dang lucky)

It's been quite a while since I've written, but today I'm inspired to share my happiness, because - well, you know how you always hear those nightmarish stories about families who come together once a year for a holiday and it's pure hell on everyone? Not this year; no walking on egg shells, no worrying about certain topics of conversation, no negativity. Our Thanksgiving, along with the days leading up to it and the days following it, were pure heaven.

My brother, who hails from Texas, arrived first, after a long and successful journey through Southern Illinois in search of ancestral information. Not only was he proud of his accomplishments, but so were my sister and I.

A few days later, my cousin and her husband and their granddaughter arrived from Colorado and Texas. The first thing we did upon their arrival was to take them to see our beautiful sunset and beaches.

The next day was Thanksgiving, and we all met at my sister's home in Titusville. What a grand day! We all talked about fun and funny things that had happened at past holiday celebrations - like the time Mother took the turkey out of the oven and set it on the oven door, which promptly broke, sending the turkey sliding across the kitchen floor! And the time I forgot to include sugar in my homemade pumpkin pie, and everyone tried to hide their slice of pie with oodles of whipped cream!

Since she doesn't cook, my sister was so nervous about hosting, but everything was great - the turkey was moist, the sides were delicious, the bread bar was divine, and the desserts were gobbled up. Everyone played a role in the food preparation. We all celebrated my brother's successful sojourn through the hills of Southern Illinois, we toasted to the love of family, and we talked about future gatherings.

A cousin photo bomb. lol

 This is a day I won't soon forget -- Simple family fun.

The next day was also a family celebration. After my son and his wife arrived, we held the 2nd Annual Gingerbread House Throw Down; a new tradition that we got turned on to last year.
Fun, fun, fun!

(Mine is F)

Many people don't know this, but I have a hot line direct to Santa. So, when he learned my son and his wife were joining us for the day, he came for a visit. It was so much fun to have our pictures taken and celebrate the start of the holiday season with Santa.

That evening, we all poured into our cars and paid a visit to our local botanical gardens that, for the first time, was lit up with Christmas lights.

The next day we spent the morning at the beach, then made the trek to Okeechobee where we enjoyed an airboat ride through the swamp in search of alligators. Unfortunately there weren't any to be seen at that late hour, so our tour guide made the best of it with a very fast ride.

All in all, it was a great way to spend the week - with much-loved family.

It has been proven that there are countless benefits associated with being grateful. Among them is that gratitude has been linked to increased levels of happiness and life satisfaction. Giving thanks is one of the most powerful ways there is to increase your well-being.

I'm so grateful to have had these days with my brother. As we age, we change and we learn new things about one another. He inspires me to always do and be my best. My brother and sister are as close to me as my hands and feet; I never want that to change.

"At times our own light goes out and is rekindled by a spark from another person. Each of us has cause to think with deep gratitude of those who have lighted the flame within us." 

Albert Schweitzer

I love and miss you Mom and Dad.

Nicomachean Ethics

Did you happen to watch last night's premier episode of a new television sitcom entitled "Life in Pieces?" James Brolin plays the father in a typically dysfunctional family (show me one that isn't), and in an effort to hear how his family and friends might speak of him at his funeral, he throws himself a funeral as a 70th birthday party. (It was actually a funny show that I hope makes it to more episodes.) He doesn't like some of the things being said about him, then argues with those he loves the most.

I had a similar experience today, but before I talk about that, I want to share a story with you that my boss often shares with others as he's trying to convince them to become donors and/or volunteers for the free clinic at which we both work.

In his best Aristotle stance, he tells a story of how people have two kinds of eulogies. One is the resume eulogy - the accomplishments you list in hopes of impressing a possible employer. The other is the funeral eulogy - the pieces of you that are left behind once you have departed this earth.

Naturally the resume eulogy is intended to be remarkable and extraordinary - something that will grab the eye of the beholder, in this case an employer, or a particular school, or classmates because the paragraph next to your photo in the school year book is longer than anyone else's on that page. That's what I did in high school. I joined every club and after school activity I could possibly fit into my schedule just so my paragraph could be long and impressive. I believed that was the road to victory over not being so popular.

The funeral eulogy is something you usually don't hear, but it touts your virtues, your goodness, the marks you left on others, the true meaning of your life. Most of us hope we've actually lived up to that funeral eulogy, because let's face it - no one ever speaks negatively about the dearly departed. We can only hope that what's going to be said, the outpouring of kind thoughts, is actually how people did feel about us, and not just what they think they have to say.
Following me?

So, why don't we all live our funeral eulogy - right now? Why don't we all bend a little, love a lot, see the good in others, help the unfortunate, live that very simple Golden Rule?

I joked at lunch today as so many powerful women in my community spoke of me as being a positive force in their lives, as understanding the needs of the underserved and advocating for change, as always being willing to help, as being a second mother, as being a good community servant. I joked that maybe they knew something I hadn't been told yet by my doctors; that I felt like I was attending my own funeral.

But, of course, it wasn't my funeral. And, although my first inclination was to shy away from the compliments, instead, I took this rare opportunity to hear the words "Mission Accomplished" playing in my head as I owned this very proud moment.
Is that wrong?
No!

The person they were describing is me! And I'm proud of it. Why wouldn't I be?
That's exactly who I am and I'm owning it.

Every woman there leads the same life. Every woman there leads by example. They are all giving-natured, working for the betterment of our community, each in her own way. I look up to each of them. I appreciate each of them and what they bring to the table.

A few months ago, I allowed a mean girl to get into my head and wreak havoc. I began doubting myself; my every move; my adult life's work.

Today was a wake up call - to me and to all you women out there who are working for the greater good of your own communities. Keep up the good work and own it! When someone compliments you for your courage, your kindness, your steadfastness, own it! Know that they are speaking your funeral eulogy right then and there on the spot, and you are lucky enough to be hearing it. Walk in pride and own it!

I do not, by a long shot, think I'm the best thing since sliced bread.
But I am owning who I am.

I am so grateful for today. I am grateful to have these powerful women in my life. I am grateful to be lifted by them each and every day of the week. I am grateful for the lessons of today.

And, something else happened. When it was mentioned that I might not feel as valued now that I'm no longer working at the newspaper, I had an immediate answer that I must share tonight:
"I am not, nor ever was, defined by my job at the newspaper. However, I learned a great deal while there and it is that education that has offered me the opportunity I have today to be a development director for a non-profit. I still am not defined by my job, but I am defined, in part and as I learned today, by who I became as a result of that job at the newspaper."

The bonus in today's luncheon is that it comes only four days from the third anniversary of my mother's passing. If ever I needed lifting, it was now. God works in mysterious ways.

(Click on the photo to see it larger)

You'd be so proud, Mom and Dad.
Miss you and love you.

How Nice!

I began my morning with a "How Nice" and ended it with a "How Nice."

This morning's was a southern girl's way of acknowledging something, but in a way that is nicer than what she'd really like to say - which is not so nice.
But this evening's was a southern girl's way of saying she's perfectly satisfied and happy.

I finished out my day crafting, gardening, cooking and just enjoying myself, completely confident that what had gotten my goat this morning was nothing more than a Mean Girl thing, and with the support of my girl friends, well, it would soon be behind me - and it was.

I saw a project on Pinterest, and a bunch of my friends sent it to me via Facebook, so it seemed it was meant for me to do this. Of course, I do have a 'thing' for pumpkins...

This is a photo of the potted plants next to my front door.

Cute enough with my flamingos, and typical Florida -- but not really very fall-ish. Okay, I know that many of you out there don't think we have fall in south Florida, but I can tell you it's on its way. The shadows are falling very differently now, so it's on its way! Trust me. We may have to turn to our crotons to see any color, but fall is coming!

And this is the new and improved potted plant.

I think it's really cute, but thank goodness I don't have a lot of money in this project, because, in full disclosure, I also think it might end up being a Pinterest Fail. As I filled each of the plastic pumpkins with dirt and the plant, the pumpkins began to smoosh down.

I made something similar using clay pots a few years ago and that's really what I recommend, but it surely wouldn't be as cute. It's much easier to keep the potting soil level in a clay pot. With this, I have a feeling I'm going to wake up in a few days, go out to get the newspaper, and find that the little mums have popped out of the flattened pumpkins. We'll see.

The small mums were $1 each at Home Depot, the pumpkins were $1.99 each at KMart and the potting soil was $10.97 at Home Depot.

Anyway, it's cute and put a smile on my face.
Here's my front porch.

Speaking of KMart, I never go there, but was looking for the pumpkins and found this cute door mat. I'll have to start checking them out more often.

Here are some other projects I worked on - wreaths for my office door. I'm ready for Halloween and Thanksgiving.

This is a black wreath you can pick up at any craft store. The witches hat is an old fascinator that I've had for years and years. I broke off the headband and glued the hat on to the wreath, glued on some glittery ornaments shaped like pumpkins and glued on some bows. Done!

Then, using silk leaves from garland that I've accumulated through the years and a wood frame, I made this.

I glued the leaves onto the frame, glued on some little berries and attached a glittery bow and done!

For whatever reason, this is the time of year I enjoy crafting most. And today, in particular, it was the perfect ending to a shaky start.

My friend teaches a writing class; her students journal. I would take that class if I could still write, but my inherited essential tremors force me to turn to my computer and type, rather than hand write my journal. Anyway you look at it, though, journaling is a freeing experience. I slow myself down to think about what’s truly happening around me, as well as my part in it. Journaling - my blog - has helped me build serenity.

No matter how your day begins, end it with creativity and journaling. You'll feel a difference.


Love and miss you, Mom. There are three out there right now, lined up and waiting. 

Design Update - Turns Out, It DID Matter!

My previous post was about my mother's hurricane maps, her love of hurricane season, and her respect for the force of Mother Nature. I also created a collage, of sorts, using her hurricane tracking maps and a few photos from the 2004 and 2005 hurricane season.

I mentioned that it was a little primitive looking, and I also said that I didn't care.
Turns out, I did.
A lot!

The collage looked like a child had created it, and I'm sure that if I had made it back in 1960, Mom would have loved it. But it's 2015, and I really didn't like it once the sun broke the next morning. Besides, the frame was so huge that I would have had to move Mom's barometer over to either the right or the left about 8-inches in order to make room for both on the same wall.

After another trip to AC Moore, I framed each of the maps individually, with no photos - nice and clean. I didn't cut the maps, just folded them so the main part of the maps are showing.

I really like this. It's a keeper. Sometimes we just have to find our way, right?

There is a storm out there in the Atlantic that we're keeping an eye on. Needless to say, Mom would be on needles and pins, but we're still making plans to go camping this weekend.
Like Scarlett said, "After all, tomorrow is another day."
We can prepare Monday, if need be.

Sharpen your pencil, Mom. There're tracks to mark.

Through the Eye of a Storm

In my continuing efforts to downsize, keeping the things that mean the absolute most to me, while also keeping it clean and organized, I recently went through my mom's hurricane maps (among other things) and divided them up between my siblings and me.

These are her hurricane tracking maps from 1980 through 2012.

Her earlier maps were put to good use when my niece used them

for a science project while in high school in Texas.

I thought it would be hard to let go of them, because each hurricane track of each year is written by her own hand - displaying the progression of her essential tremors. That's just the type of 'stuff' I usually have the most difficulty parting with. And, hurricane season is what sparked the most energy out of Mom. But I was good with it, and now everyone has a bit of her weather history to share with their families.

She'd never admit it, but, just like television's meteorologists, Mom lived for hurricane season. Hot off the presses, Mom had her annual tracking map ready, unfolded, placed on top of her coffee table, pencils sharpened and note paper sitting there for taking down storm coordinates. When the weather advisories came on, you didn't dare disturb her.

Here's Mom sitting in front of the battery-powered TV with my husband during hurricane Wilma in 2005, getting the latest information from the powers that know - even though we already knew. We were sitting in it for heaven's sake! Look at how astonished she appears to be. The power is off and other than the TV and the flash of my camera, we're sitting in the dark, the wind is thrashing, water is dripping through the ceiling and we can hear something banging up against the house, but can't see anything because of the shutters. Still, though, she's astonishingly amazed by the weather report she's watching. You just have to laugh.

I know I've shared in the past how she would buy new toys for us at the start of hurricane season in Miami and then when the power went out, she'd keep us entertained with those new toys. I still believe that's why I also look forward to a day off because of a tropical storm or a hurricane. There are far worse things than being locked-in with those you love, right?

After yelling at me, she'd faint if she knew I've told people it was her favorite time of year. The truth is, Mom respected the weather and all its force. I remember a small tornado hitting our street in Fort Pierce when I was a young child, maybe 4-years old. I remember her grabbing me and my baby sister and taking us into the closet of one of the bedrooms; sitting there on the floor until the noise turned to silence.

Most vividly, though, I remember one year - after Alzheimer's had basically rendered my father's helpfulness useless - my mother put up several of her shutters herself. She knew my husband and I were going to come to her house after work to do it, but she didn't want to "be a burden," and started putting them up herself.

It wasn't just our own weather that she kept an eye on, she followed the weather wherever family was living. She'd phone her brother in California if fires were burning, she'd phone her sisters in Illinois if the rivers were cresting, she'd phone my sister if it was unseasonably cold in Orlando, etc. She could name the types of clouds, and she could predict weather patterns based upon her barometric pressure gauge that still hangs in the hallway just outside what was her bedroom door.

All of this brings me to what I did tonight. I kept only three of her many hurricane maps; the three that meant the most to me: 2004, which was the busiest season for us here on the Treasure Coast, 2005, because the entire alphabet and then some was used for names, and 2012, because she passed away right in the middle of tracking a storm.

I know these maps won't mean a thing to anyone else, so I decided to make a sort of collage using the three maps, some newspaper headlines and a few photos from the 2004 and 2005 seasons. I also know it looks rather primitive, but I don't care. It will hang in the hall next to her barometer that we still rely upon today.

And every time I look at it, I'll be reminded of how I also need to learn to be respectful of the force of the weather.


Thanks for the good hurricane memories.

Happy Birthday Week, Day 7: The Wind Beneath my Wings

Today I'm grateful for my mother's love.
Nearly all I am today is because of her love, her steadiness, her patience, her advice, her willingness to bend and so much more.

I miss her as much today as I did yesterday.

Happy birthday, Mother. I hope you've had a special week.

 

“But behind all your stories is always your mother's story, because hers is where yours begins.” ― Mitch Albom, For One More Day

Happy Birthday Week, Day 6: For the Love of Family

On this sixth day of my mother's birthday week, I'm appreciative of her passing on her love of being with family.

We likely all have family gatherings for holidays, weddings and other special occasions. Mom enjoyed those times, because there was always so much life, so much excitement, so much fun, talking, screaming and nonsense - no matter what brought us together. I've learned since her passing that she was definitely the glue.

Growing up - between our own family, my sister and her children, my brother and his family, neighbors, and often times old friends of my parents', we'd have a houseful of laughter, a lot of food, practical jokes, eating a lot of food, stories of what's been happening since last we met, more eating, board games, playing outside, and dessert. They were great times that I wouldn't trade for the world.

As we got older and grew apart, I still looked forward, even became dependent upon, those short visits with family - and - as long as mother was there, didn't want the time to end.

One of the "funnest" times was a more recent holiday gathering: Thanksgiving 2004, which we combined with celebrating the end of the worst hurricane season on record. We had been hit with the center of back-to-back hurricanes, only two weeks apart, and the season went through the entire alphabet of hurricane names. It was a tough summer, so we celebrated. My husband's family also came. Everyone brought something that got them through the power outages, the wind, the hunkering down, and they each told the story as to why that particular thing was so important to them. My niece told of making sun-tea, but left it out too long and it fermenting, becoming Hurricane Hooch. It really was great, animated fun, but much better understood had you been there.

I'm so grateful for the Sunday drives we took in our old convertible when I was very young. Our little family of four, together, loving each other and being together. (By then, my older sister was married and my brother was in the Air Force.)

I'm so grateful for all the memories of family gatherings, whether it was for holidays or just Sunday meals. Our house was always full of the scents from Mom's cooking.

I'm so grateful to have been connected to my new-to-me cousins, whom we met this past April. It saddens me that Mother didn't get to see us all meet for the first time, because I know she would have been thrilled. I wish we were close enough (logistically) to get together more often, but thanks to today's technology, we do connect nearly every day.

I'm so grateful for the time I get to spend with my older sister and brother, and I wish my younger sister would come back into the fold. Mother was the glue that bound us and now that she's gone, well, things have changed.

I'm so grateful for my husband and my son and his wife. I love, love, love being with them. Since Mother passed away, my daughter-in-law has taken care to see that new traditions are being created between the four of us. I love her for that.

I'm so grateful Mother taught me to love from my heart.

Some family fun in 2006.

I love and miss you.

Happy Birthday Week, Day 5: Attitude of Appreciation

5 more reasons for me to be grateful to my mother:

1. She taught me how to read. My mother sat me down in front of her every single school night and made me read out loud to her during third- through fifth-grade. I hated it then, but appreciate it today. It wasn't that I couldn't read, it was that, just like today, I was easily distracted and then couldn't always remember what I had read. So, Mother taught me to focus so I could comprehend. I still don't enjoy reading -- funny thing to admit after spending the past 10-years as an editor, but it's true.

2. She never complained.  Her father died when she was only eight- or nine-years old, so her mother (my grandmother) was left to raise six children on her own. From what I've learned, my grandmother was about the hardest working woman in Southern Illinois, working all the time in order to provide for her children. Although my mother wasn't single, it's those lessons in frugality that Mother continued to teach us when we were growing up. When my parents began to struggle financially, Mom went to work in a T-shirt factory, standing on her feet in a sweat box all day in deplorable conditions. But she never complained, and I appreciate that she never made me feel like I was the burden that forced her to work in such conditions so I could go to the movies, buy new shoes, go to football games and all the other demands of one's senior year in high school. Later, when Dad was diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease and Mom locked herself in their house with him for nine-months before deciding that he needed to be placed in a nursing home, she never once complained.

3. She allowed me to be me. My high school years, especially my senior year, were rough. My parents absolutely hated my boyfriend, and while my father would try to ground me and keep me away from him, Mother patiently waited for me to get him out of my head. Unfortunately, Daddy was right on this one, but I appreciated that Mother wanted me to figure things out on my own. She also encouraged me to "be who you want to be. Don't worry about what others might think."

4. She served the Lord and others. Mom had a voice that others dreamed of, and until her Essential Tremors took that voice away, she sang in the church choir faithfully. She passed that gift on to  my older sister, who sings like a bird still today. Mother volunteered - at school events, as my Girl Scout leader, at church dinners and other gatherings, and later in life, she participated in local non-profit events such as walk-athons. She donated her time, talent and treasure to various causes that touched her heart, especially anything related to Alzheimer's disease (since that's what took Daddy away from us).

5. She taught me how to be a good mother and wife. I am a good mother and I am a good wife. How many women say that out loud? Many of us question our capabilities, time spent with family, etc. But I know I have been a good mother and wife, because I know I had the best example. Am I like her? Not always. Mother waited on my dad hand and foot - I do not do that. She laid out his clothes for him every morning. Do I do that? No. She had dinner waiting for him on the table when he got home from work. Do I do that? Well, in all honesty, I wish I could, and I would if I didn't also work outside the home. She always, always carved out time for us, whether it was to take us to the community pool, to teach us something new, to lay on the terrazzo floor with us for naps or read to us, to huddle with us during hurricanes - and I always loved that time.

On Day 5 of my mother's Birthday Week, these are the things that I'm thinking about and wishing everyone could feel about their mother as I do about mine.

Here's Mom participating in a fundraiser for a local Alzheimer's organization.

Thanks, Mom.

 

Happy Birthday Week Day 4: May Your Bobbin Always be Full

Today I celebrate being able to sew - clothes, home accessories, bed spreads, curtains, pillows, etc.

As I mentioned yesterday, Mom began teaching me when I was in fifth-grade, at the age of nine. On summer afternoons, we'd often set up tents in our carport, using bed sheets, towels, blankets, the card table and whatever else we could think of. We'd fill the inside with pillows and Mom would crawl in and read to us, play board games with us, serve us Kool-Aid and cookies, and teach us to sew. Sometimes, we'd build our tent in the house and she'd put on her gospel records and sing along. Her award-winning voice was so beautiful. I thought she was a opera singer.

 Looking back on those days, of course I realize now how special they were, but I think I realized it even then. I always asked for more; more time to learn to sew, more time to play games, more time to sing, more time with Mom.

The first thing she taught me about sewing was, of course, hand stitching. She gave me a tiny square of fabric and taught me how to make a 'dress' for my Barbie. Since I was going to a church Sadie Hawkins Day dance later that week (Yes, I said Sadie Hawkins Day. If you don't know what that is, Google it.), I decided to make my Barbie a costume for the dance. After sewing together what was basically a tube, I added tiny patches to it and made her a matching scarf to wear with it. She was all set for the dance. It's pictured below on the right.

The next time, Mother taught me how to sew on buttons. So, again, I made a basic tube, but this time it was a wrap-around skirt, held together with three buttons. Then I also made a smaller tube and sewed on two straps, making a top to go with the skirt. (Shown above on the left) Cute, huh? And so coordinated.

Then I graduated to shifts. Mom had me hand stitch bias tape around the neck and arms, and hand stitch the back seam and the hem. If you look closely at the photo above, you can see the stitching.

In keeping with my theme this week of appreciating all the things my mother taught me, I thought I'd show you how to transform an ordinary table setting placemat into a holiday pillow.

What you'll need:
placemats and polyester filling (stuffing)
sewing machine
scissors and thread

I went out in search of some Halloween fabric and saw these Halloween placemats at A.C. Moore for a dollar each. I decided they'd work perfectly for pillows, so I bought four. I already had the stuffing, but it's about $4 for a bag.

I made mine so the ghosts are on one side and the pumpkins are on the other.
With wrong sides together, sew up three sides right along the edge of the placemats. The mats have a finished edge, so no need to sew them wrong side out and turn them. This is much easier.
Fill with stuffing, then sew the open end closed.

Viola' -- it's done!

I know, it's nothing spectacular, but it is simple.
I could show you my satin and lace wedding dress that I handmade with hundreds of tiny covered buttons going down the back, a three-piece suit I made for my husband many moons ago, all the matching outfits I made for our little family when our son was young, business suits from my banking days, a bedspread and matching curtains -- and remember Leisure Suits? I made them, too.

Learning how to sew was the catalyst for all of my creativity. I'm so grateful to my mother for her time. A few months after she passed away, I made a quilt using her everyday clothes and her favorite lap blanket.

Happy birthday, Mom.  I love and miss you. I always will.

Happy Birthday Week D Day: Unconditional Love

Today is my mother's birthday. She would have been 97.

When Hospice came in to care for her about 10 days before she passed away, she looked up at me and said, "I thought I was going to live to be 100." That was and remains the saddest thing I've ever heard, because she was so disappointed. I was accustomed to always being able to take away her disappointments, but this time, I had no control. Only weeks earlier she had been to a County Commission meeting with me where they had recognized a woman who had reached her centennial celebration, and Mother thought it was so special for Commissioners to do that. She spoke about how she looked forward to that one day. And I believed it would happen, too.

Tonight, my husband and I honor Mom with Publix fried chicken (only Publix, no other), mac and cheese and key lime pie -- all things she enjoyed. I know she's smiling.

I have so many memories of celebrating my mom's birthday, but all of them are as an adult. I don't have any childhood memories of birthday parties or even birthday cake for her. So, I went to my sister for the scoop. She assures me there were celebrations, most often at the restaurant my parents owned in Mounds, Illinois. My dad wasn't good at taking it upon himself to buy Mom birthday, anniversary or Christmas gifts. He usually had someone do it for him. So, my sister tells me that my aunt always took care of making sure Mom's birthday was celebrated in a big way.

This is a pic of my mom and a friend working at the little diner

my parents owned in Mounds, Illinois.

Once we moved to Miami, I have no idea how Mom's birthday was recognized. I just don't have any memories of that, but I do have great memories of how Mom saw to every detail of holiday meals. She went all out, long before Martha Stewart came along. We always had a houseful of guests and friends, and Mom made it all. No pot-luck at our house.

Here's Thanksgiving 1976. How beautiful is this table?

Mother spent so much time with us. She taught me to sew when I was just nine-years old. We began by making Barbie doll clothes. We would "build tents" in our carport using bed sheets and card tables, and Mother would crawl in with us and sit there for hours as she showed me how to hand-stitch. She thought the 'real' Barbie clothes were too expensive, so she made all of the clothes for our Barbies. Just look at this evening gown, shawl and suit she knitted for my Barbie.

I wished as a child these clothes could be mine.

Actually, I wouldn't mind it today. Look how pretty that suit is!

We held a huge surprise party for her 89th birthday, not for any reason other than I wanted her to see how loved she was. My brother flew in for the day from San Antonio, my cousins came in from West Palm Beach; everyone was there.

A couple of years later, we took her on a cruise to Mexico to celebrate her birthday. What a blast!

Mom boards the ship in Miami.

Fun in Cozumel.

While I miss her just as much today as I did when she first left this earth, I also know how blessed I am to have had such a loving, caring, attentive and special mother.

I don't care that I'm 61 and still missing your smile, your advice, your love.

Every day I wake up, I always have you to thank. I have your guidance, your warmth,

your love, and your heart: someone who loved me unconditionally, right or wrong.

You will always be my Mom.

It's time to come home.

Happy Birthday Week, Day 2: What Do You See in the Couds?

Tonight I celebrate my mother by appreciating how she taught me to see in things what isn't always obvious.

I'll start off by telling how she and I would look into the clouds; she'd look in one direction and I in the other. Then we'd tell each other what we saw. When I was very young, she'd spread a bed sheet out onto my dad's perfectly groomed yard and we'd lay there watching the clouds form animals, faces and more. Two days before she passed away, we sat in the family room, facing out towards the backyard and gazed at the clouds. When I asked her what she saw, she said, "I see myself feeling better." (I hadn't thought about that until now.)

As you know, Mother was my Girl Scout leader for many years, so she also had the ability to take ordinary, everyday items and turn them into useful or decorative items. For instance (and I sure wish I had a photo of it), in the late 1950s early 1960s, she made a beautiful Christmas tree centerpiece using only Styrofoam balls, toothpicks and spray snow. She poked hundreds (more likely thousands) of toothpicks into I don't even know how many Styrofoam balls, sprayed them with snow, stacked them on top of each other like a pyramid, hung tiny little glass ornaments on it, and put it in the center of our dining room table. I remember it being so stunning. After Christmas she'd wrap the spiny balls in plastic and box it up for the next year.

My husband and I took our baby girl Ginger to the doggie beach yesterday, where she romped and played and I wished I had her energy. It's so much fun to watch the dogs all running, playing and getting along. Oh how I wish everyone could live by that example, don't you? Anyway, the shells were scattered here and there along the beach, so I thought I'd gather some and use them to frame a photo my husband had taken of our baby girl. (In know, I know, it's been done before. But I first did it back in the days of yore when I was a Brownie. Back then, we had to use Elmer's glue and hold things in place until the glue almost dried.)

There usually aren't many shells at this location, but the tide was way, way out

and that uncovered a bunch of shells. I was picky, wanting only certain kinds to go with the crab claws.

I just hot-glued some sea shells, crab claws and raffia around some corners of an old frame. Yeppers, I said crab claws. They were all over the beach, so I grabbed a few. See, what I'm saying? Mother taught me that. Mother taught me to use what I could pick up off the ground.

Here's the finished frame. My honey's going to love a pic of his baby girl. (It'll probably replace one of me, since space in his shop is so limited. ha ha)

Why a photo of our dog?  Mom always loved my Sheltie Prince Sam, but he became ill the day she passed away and we soon lost him. She would have enjoyed Ginger, but she's much more energetic than Sam ever was.

Mother taught me to see the beauty and usefulness in all things. I guess that's why I have such a hard time throwing things out.

“Everything has beauty, but not everyone sees it.”
― Confucius

 

 

 

Thank you, Mom, for all of my gifts. Happy birthday week!

Happy Birthday Week, Day 1: Merry, Merry Take a Cherry

In recognition of what would be Mother's 97th birthday, I'm going to celebrate this entire week by honoring the gifts and talents she passed on to me.

She began teaching me how to cook when I was in her Brownie Troop 612. So, tonight I'm baking a batch of chocolate chip cookies -- but this isn't entirely her recipe. I've tweaked it just a tad to make the cookies a little thicker than hers used to come out. And - have you seen the new Nestle Toll House Delightfulls chips? I accidentally came upon them, not at the grocery store, but at one of my favorite bargain stores - Big Lots. They had four flavors, and the one I'm using tonight is their dark chocolate morsels with cherry filling.

Mom loved chocolate covered cherries, and Santa put a box of them in her stocking every year that I can remember. But here's what set my mom apart from all other moms: I like chocolate covered cherries, too, but not the cherry. I'd let the chocolate melt in my mouth, then I'd suck away the cherry syrup, then -- I'd spit out the cherry. But it wouldn't go to waste. In fact, nothing ever went to waste in our home. What would become of that cherry? Mother would eat it. She would take it right from my fingers and into her mouth. She did that my whole life. Would your mother do that?

Chocolate Chip Cookies
What you'll need:

2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour          3/4 cup sugar          12-oz. of chocolate chips
1 tsp. baking soda                         3/4 cup light brown sugar, packed
1 tsp. salt                                       1 tsp. vanilla extract
1 cup softened butter                     2 eggs
1/2 cup 1-minute oat meal flakes

Set your oven to 350-degrees and grease a cookie sheet.
This recipe makes about three dozen 4-inch round cookies.

Combine the dry ingredients - flour, baking soda, salt and oat meal - in a small bowl. (Notice, there is a 1/4 cup more flour in my recipe than in others, and note the addition of oat meal. These two ingredients help make the cookies just a little thicker, but you don't taste the oat meal in the finished cookies.)
Beat the butter, both sugars and vanilla in a large mixer bowl until creamy. Then add the eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition.
Gradually beat in the flour mixture.

Okay, can I just say that we could stop right here and I'd be happy. This bowl of cookie dough could be my dinner. Is that wrong?

When combined, add the chocolate chips. The new Delightfulls only come in 9-ounce bags, so that's what I used. (Truth be told: You may have noticed that the bag of chocolate chips was already open. I couldn't help myself. Mom never would have done that; she always exercised complete self-control. I get my sweet tooth from my dad, who always wanted to start dinner with desert.)

Of course, you can add 1 cup of chopped nuts, if you'd like. Mother couldn't eat them, so I never added them, and didn't tonight.

Mom always, always let us lick the mixing beaters.

Nothing's changed there. Yummy!

Using an ice cream scoop, put balls of cookie dough onto your prepared cookie sheet. My baking sheet is a 21-year old, well seasoned, Pampered Chef stone. I wouldn't trade it for the world.

Bake the cookies at 350-degrees for about 15-minutes. Keep and eye on them, because you want them to be light in color.

To begin our week of celebrating my mother, Julia Ethel (Steele) Jackson, we'll be having Cherry Chocolate Chip Cookies for desert (and maybe a scoop of ice cream, too.)

“When I sound the fairy call, gather here in silent meeting,
Chin to knee on the orchard wall, cooled with dew and cherries eating.
Merry, merry, take a cherry, mine are sounder, mine are rounder,
Mine are sweeter for the eater, when the dews fall, and you'll be fairies all.” ― Emily Dickinson

Happy birthday week, Ma!

Looking for Balance

I'm in one of those phases when my life feels enough out of control and order that I wish I could take a month off of work (paid, of course) and get everything tidied up with a sweet little pink bow keeping it all together; everything nice, neat and perfect.

Dream on, right?

I'm the first to admit that I "get like this" every so often, but usually it's because I've over-extended myself so much that I don't see any light at the end of the tunnel. When I was still the editor of a social magazine, I was constantly on the go, day, night and weekends, and rarely found time for myself. I don't have that excuse this time. Sure, I'm busy at work. Who isn't? And, yes, the pressure to raise hundreds of thousands of dollars can be distressing at times.

I "get like this" when I have too much on my plate and it becomes difficult to separate the items. I "get like this" when my head is telling me one thing and my heart is telling me another. I "get like this" when I'm overwhelmed with grief, brought on this time by a visit to my friend, whose mother bears the same name as mine - whose mother is unsteady on her feet as was mine, whose mother was wearing the same shirt that evening as my mother owned and often wore, whose mother lives with my friend just as my mother lived with me. (Need I go on?) I was there to help my friends make plans for their wedding, but I was so overcome with grief that I'm not too sure how helpful I was. I do know that my friends were so completely understanding as I wept off and on for three-hours.

That was the catalyst for this emotional turmoil; feeling out of balance. Weighing heavy on my heart and mind these days is the need to organize what's left of my parents' belongings and, frankly, the rest of my house. I know, I've written in the past that I had given my siblings photos and other items, but I still have things that need to be divided. (My fear of letting go of their things is overwhelming in and of itself. If I give those things to my siblings, will my parents "be gone?" Does keeping those things to  myself assure their presence, always and forever?) And I have closets that have things in them that haven't seen the light of day for years. So, in my mind, if I could just get all of that "in order," then everything else would fall into place; the skies would be blue, the birds would be chirping and I'd be singing in the shower.

The funny thing is, if I was granted that wish to have a month to myself, I'd most likely nap it away or start a project that has nothing at all to do with organizing my life. Just today I got home about an hour early and, instead of tackling the immediate need to clean off the shelves in what used to be my mother's living room, I literally napped on the sofa with my Baby Girl Ginger. When I awoke, I felt so good, since I didn't get any sleep last night. But it also felt so wrong, since projects are waiting. (I can't redecorate that room, put on a fresh coat of paint, bring in a twin day-bed, add the touches of a patchwork bedspread, etc. until everything in there now is removed.)

Clearly, many of us are looking for that elusive "balance" in our lives. I go to bed feeling guilty if I haven't been productive the majority of the day. As I've said many times, I'm like a dog seeing a squirrel - easily distracted. I know it's the choices I make; choices to walk away from the things that need to be done, that might take several days to complete, and replace them with things that are more fun and easily accomplished. And, yes, then I fret that I haven't been productive enough.

I know I'm not alone. Maybe we just can't win.

In any event, I do know that I'd much rather have too much going on in my life than too little ("The more things you do, the more you CAN do." - Lucille Ball), and if that means things are a little out of balance once in a while (or maybe even most of the time), then so be it. I guess I can live with that.

I did, finally, finish redecorating what used to be Mother's bedroom. I know she'd love it, but I'm the one who really enjoys going in there and looking at all the old photos hanging above the bed. I took the time to go through our box of old pics and framed shots of my husband's grandparents and parents and my grandparents and parents. Then I re-purposed a yellow jacket of my mother's, making it a throw-pillow for the bed (I knew I had been holding on to it for a reason.) Back in the corner, placed in the yellow chair, is a pillow made from one of my dad's shirts. This room comforts me, but it also excites me as my sister, brother, cousins and I take our journey into our ancestry. And, because of their commitment to research, I'm able to identify folks in these old family photos.