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October 21, 2008 By Leave a Comment



Good Hair Weather Arrives in Atlantic Beach!

October 23, 2008

It isn’t often that I can wear my hair down and feel good about it.  In the humid south, my already big hair swells and feels icky on the back of my neck.  So up it goes in a Sarah Palin-like pre-RNC makeover… a knot, with an edge.  (I do have a bit more style than her pre-stylist librarian bun.  And I do like Governor Palin just for the record, but I digress.  I gotta admit that her hair, though is looking awfully good since someone took over the blow dryer for her). I can’t take any more political talk as I fear that the liberals will be lurching through all branches of government, sadly, within a few weeks.  I’ve been driving myself crazy for the past several months and now that it’s down to just a few days, it’s not looking good for my ticket.  Big sigh.

So, let’s talk about my hair instead.

Good hair weather defined: it’s cooler, drier air that makes my hair feel lighter when worn down, is smoother altogether and keeps the style it had when I left the climate-controlled environment of my house.  Atlantic Beachlife is great but for my long hair, the inherent humidity just makes it go limp, puffy.  Good hair weather makes my hair feel strong, bouncy.

The last time I experienced good hair weather was in March 2008 during a trip to California.  It was blissful to wash and style my hair, wear it loose and feel it swinging on my back instead of growing wider and not moving much, on most days, here in my beloved Atlantic Beach.

There is something to be said for beach hair.  I can scrunch my long hair after washing it, let it dry all curly and IF I DON’T BRUSH IT, EVER it can even look kinda good.  But even then, I pull it up, knot it, but pull out curly tendrils for a look I can live with.  Some days.  Other days, not so much.*

So when the cooler and drier air finally creeps in around this time every year, it’s a good thing for hair.  For my hair.  But still and all, this is the south and while I love what the humidity means for my skin, I prefer the dry mountain or desert air for those good hair days.  I remember being in Beijing in 2005, on the Great Wall in fact.  It was terribly cold and dry in the early days of January but damn.  My hair looked great.  All swingy and healthy looking, just like a commercial for Pantene Pro-V!

So, hello Fall and Winter in Atlantic Beach.  I’m quite glad you’re finally here.  I don’t have to bundle up like those northern winters I remember, I can pull out my southen Fall fashions, and enjoy the absolute best that weather has to offer.  For the next several months.  And I can finally let my hair down.

*scroll down to the ‘Craft Impaired’ post to see a picture of my unfortunate humid air hair style.  There I’ll be, gaping with joy at my daughter’s ghost and wearing the aforementioned humidity hair.


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October 18, 2008 By 1 Comment

Making Room for More…

Soon I’ll be welcoming six more latte bowls from Mesa, Arizona.  I’m the proud winner of the Anthropologie latte bowls from the Blissfest Auction for the Nie Recovery Fund.  I’m so excited.  I first bid on them a few days ago thinking I’d give them a bump in price.  Today was the last day of the auction, and as the day progressed I found that someone else wanted them as much as I did…and I’d become attached to the idea of those bowls coming home to me.  I know it’s silly, getting emotionally attached to some bowls of all things, but it’s really Stephanie and her family that’s at the root of my attachment.  

Of course I’d read her post about her love for latte bowls and being a latte bowl lover myself, I was attracted to them.  I’ve had my own latte bowls since 1995 and actually did drink latte out of them (though now they’re used for soups, cereals and ice cream when I snapped them up at a coffee shop in Toronto.  I’ve loved them ever since and let me tell you, they are sturdy little bowls!  I was a childless girl longing for her children when these bowls came into my life.  Now my family is complete and bowls are used every day, much like Steph used hers.  I have no doubt that Steph will one day make that ceramic piece she’d envisioned from her own broken latte pieces.  Perhaps it will make a wonderful occupational therapy project for her when that time is right.  Who knows!?  With all the wonderful things that are happening for the Nielsons because of the people who know them in real life and people who’ve come to know them online, I feel privileged to be part of it all.  It sounds mawkish, I know, but having those latte bowls in my home will remind me to celebrate the everyday, as she did.

I hope that one day soon she will realize the magnitude of her impact on the people who now know her, and that it will somehow buoy her spirits for her long recovery ahead.


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October 14, 2008 By 2 Comments

Parting Ways with Publix


Dear Publix,

I’ve left you, just like I promised I’d would, if you didn’t attend to my issue.  I thought things might change after our last…conversation.  But they didn’t, and surprisingly, I don’t miss you!  I actually don’t even mind grocery shopping as much as I used to, probably because I’m not spending as much anymore.  It’s true.  Your prices are too high, and you have proven to me that you don’t deserve my business.  I told you three times exactly how much I spent on groceries in 2007.  (I know this appalling fact because of the credit card’s annual breakdown of expenditures.)  I told you that I’d take that $12k across the street and over the bridge, and now, Publix, I’ve done just that.

And it’s been several weeks, too.

The spending on groceries is down.  And we’ve got all kinds of good things to eat here.

So I’ll come in for the Boar’s Head meats occasionally.  And the the other butcher meats, occasionally.  But Terry’s Country Store is getting most of that business.  And I plan to clean up on the buy one/get one items.  I was in about a week ago and I stuck to the plan.  It wasn’t hard at all!  

I’m telling ya, Publix.  You blew it.

Sincerely,

Your former loyal customer in Atlantic Beach who is now Friends with Food Lion, Getting Winned Over by Winn-Dixie, and as always, Tickled by Target’s prices on foodstuffs.

See ya.





 
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October 13, 2008 By Leave a Comment

From Where I Sit

It’s a lovely Fall day in my little corner of the world.  Musing mostly on being grateful rather than wantful, though material yearnings poke me when I click on those clever and incredible design blogs or watch HGTV while folding laundry…but still.  I am completely content with my place in the world and although I know there are so many other lovely places to live, this place suits me.  It isn’t a place of spectacular beauty, rather, it’s the lure of the coastal life that does me in every time.  I grew up thinking it would be so magical to live close to a Great Lake or the ocean…and guess what?  I’ve done both.  If I’m quiet enough to consider my life,  I see how so many of my dreams have come true.

It’s the weather that I love and the autumn through spring times that are absolutely delish here in this part of the Florida coast.  People say we have no seasons here!  So not true.  It’s just that the changes are more subtle here.  The light changes, the sea changes, the wind changes, the air changes.

It’s too lovely for studying in the house so I set up my camp on the front porch here and with the joys of wireless technology I’m able to study and relish this day with its sea breeziness and autumn skies and 83 degree day.  Life on my front porch.  It’s something to be grateful for!
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October 11, 2008 By Leave a Comment
Craft-Impaired Gardening Girl Rescued by Daughter…
Spooky Ghost Lives on the Front Porch Chair.






While I am most certainly craft-impaired, I’ve been known to get overly excited about my abilities and wind up with a bagful of craft supplies and no idea about how to execute anything out of such various items as craft paints in Halloween colors (including funky glitter paints), cheesecloth and googly eyes, white paper plates and yes, some Murano-glass-like pumpkins, cool and edgy and ready for display.  My type of craft (the non craft) and frankly, what were these lovely glass pumpkins doing at JoAnn Fabrics in the first place?  No matter.  I bought the rest of them.  


Which left me with that bag full  of crafts…and no inspiration.  I do love craft paints, but what?  I paint terra cotta pots, but how many of those can one home use? 


Inspired by the cute ghost featured on the cheesecloth package, Jeannie tried to make one all by herself when the kids were at school.  My daughter, Lily, upon viewing the outcome says bluntly, “it didn’t turn out.”  And of course she was right.  It didn’t.  It looked stupid.  It missed the mark.  It could have been cute, should have been cute, but was not cute.  

I lose patience and interest very quickly and move on to things I really love doing.  I am a gardener.  I’m a photographer.  I read.  I go to the beach.  So tonight, I’m gardening.  It’s a lovely Fall evening, warm and mild, and I’m peacefully pulling weeds, sweeping the curb, transplanting some things, taking pictures. Being with the cats.

So Lily trotted out to hang with me and watched me messing around with the silly ghost I’d made, trying somehow to make it look right.  She patiently helped me fumble from one manipulation to the next when she finally suggested, “you take the head stuffing out and just drape it over the chair…” so we did.

And voila!  We had a ghost that looked right!  Lily rocks the house.

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October 8, 2008 By Leave a Comment

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October 8, 2008 By Leave a Comment


Getting to Know Nie Nie


While studying for the Florida Life, Health and Variable Annuity State Exam (punctuated by many naps and detours into the blogging world) I found the blog already made famous by the adorable Stephanie Nielson…and her family.  This young mom had been blogging about her marriage, kids, extended family, and all its nuances when one day back in August she and her adorable husband with whom she seemingly has an adorable marriage and family, went down in a private plane crash.  Their pilot/friend was killed.  Stephanie and Christian sustained very bad burns.  He was burned in about 30 percent of his body; she in over 80 % of hers.  I found her sister’s blog, in which she and her other sister, indeed, the whole, large, extended family are keeping the ball rolling.  Their kids are now living with two of Steph’s sisters and the blogging community has raised in excess of $100,000 for this couple’s recovery!  It is utterly amazing.

So in between studying, I’ve been getting to know Steph and her hubby; her sisters and the kids; and a bit about their great faith in Our Lord through their Latter Day Saints religion.

I cannot, literally cannot stop thinking about her.  Her darling freckled face with its impish smile that one of her daughters wears like she’s her little sister.  Of her marriage and all that she has seemingly put into it.  The kind of faith her family members have, and have proclaimed, some of them on blogs of their own.  I love this family.  I love their commitment.  To each other, to the Lord, to living life to its fullest.

I cannot stop thinking of her.  Of her, with her arms wrapped around her husband, adoringly.  Of her arms full of her children, or draped across her sisters’ shoulders, their own adorable faces clustered together for an impossibly cute photo.  And oh!  The photos!  Nie Nie’s blog is filled with photos like the crafty scrapbooker that she obviously is.  I love this young woman.  

I cannot stop thinking of her.  My eyes fill with tears knowing she will never look the same, wondering about what is really happening to her body, there in the Maricopa County Hospital’s Burn Unit.  Her hubby is progressing and her sister writes that he spoke to his little boy on the phone the other night!  These are people who are blessed with both physical beauty and inner beauty.  I know their beauty will endure.  But I do cringe, just cringe, knowing that someone who has been so extensively burned, will never look the same.  She’s been in a chemically induced coma for nearly two months now.  Will that affect her cognitively?  Will she recover and be able to have a normal existence?  Am I naive to hope that she will?

Oh Stephanie.  Oh Courtney, and Lucy and Page.  The four sisters.  And your brothers, whose names I haven’t yet memorized.  Oh Christian.  But I know, I know you will pull through one way or another.  Your collective faith is now a testimony to a wider world that desperately needs to see how family values can be intertwined through tragedy, and how life and smiles can go on amidst the tears.  How beautiful and stylish girls can save themselves for their handsome husbands and celebrate married sexuality in a way that God intends for us to!  Joyfully!  So much, Stephanie, have you shared with the world in your 27 years…and now your family is carrying on your tradition wonderfully and it is through them that I am getting to know you all.  

Love, Jeannie
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May 15, 2008 By 1 Comment

I love my children.  They are all unique and interesting individuals and they seem to love me, too.  That is a very happy thing for me as they are all my Dreams Come True.  They know what I mean when I say that.  I had to go halfway around the world to get them, but I knew in my heart since I was ten years old that that is how I would become a mother.  Somehow, God put it on my heart, that desire, that knowledge that my babies would come to me from somewhere else.  It never mattered to me that I didn’t become pregnant, and I hope it never matters to them that they didn’t “…grow under my heart, but in it.”

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May 11, 2008 By Leave a Comment

Bad Mother on Mother’s Day…

It’s Mother’s Day and I’m feeling crabby.
I want to go outside and play.  Or go somewhere and read.  Instead, we have a kindergarten science project due tomorrow (I mean really.  A kindergarten science project?  Thanks, teach.)  My middle school son has a baking project, due tomorrow.  A baking project. I’m not one who is naturally inclined toward the kitchen, unless you want to talk kitchen re-designs or renovation.  Then, I’m there.  But measuring and melting and testing-for-doneness?  Oh, just give me my novel, puh-leeze.
And I have a guest coming for dinner.  No worries, really.  He’s low maintenance and will gladly accept the frozen Stouffer’s lasagna and garlic bread I’m offering, but I can’t really bug off out of here today with all these little to-dos on my list.
I should thank my Dad who is out at the grocery store finding and paying for said dinner and baking projects, and my husband who is handling the kindergarten science fair.  Leaving me plenty of time to whine and complain here at the laptop.  Hmm. Bright side!
My birthday novel Lush Life is calling me.  Perhaps I’ll read it later.
Happy Mother’s Day in Heaven, Mom.
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May 10, 2008 By Leave a Comment

See, my mom died recently; well, it’s almost a year now.  She went to Heaven on May 17, 2007.  I really can’t believe it, even though I watched her through the dying process.  It’s like, other people’s moms die, not mine.  My mom and I talk about things like that, we don’t actually experience those losses.  Of course, I don’t honestly mean to imply that I am above losing a loved one to death.  In fact, I’d always, always worried about it.  But when it finally came to pass for me, when it became obvious that she was not going to get well but in fact, would die, I felt oddly…accepting about it all.  I did not anticipate that I would have endured her dying in the way that I did.  I wonder if it’s because I was no longer young; I turned 50 just a few days before she left us.  For sure, I did not think she would die at the tender age of 74, I really thought she had many years left in her.  Our relationship was still very much mother-daughter, complete with her telling me what-for if she felt like it and me feeling all offended by it.  It hadn’t yet shifted to my becoming concerned about her and gradually becoming a caregiving daughter as happens when one’s parents age.


So now I have my dear Daddy left.  And now I do worry about losing him.  I think, and even say out loud, “I don’t want you to die!”  A very good humored guy, he reassures me with such answers as, “I won’t, tonight.”  Or, “I’m ready to die.  But not until after the golf tournament.”

I know he really is ready for his own death.  Spiritually, he’s ready, he is a fervent believer in life everlasting, and has lived an outstanding Catholic life.  He and my mom did so, together. He’s getting older, his body is getting tired.  It’s all part of the natural process of aging.  Physically, emotionally, spiritually. He misses his wife deeply but accepts that her journey was completed with dignity.  And most importantly, that she really and truly is with the Lord.  

So now he’s living for the grandkids.  He lives his days fully and completely.  He spends time with each of his four children’s families and gives us all his attention and love when he is with us.  But I feel this undercurrent of worry:  when will he go?  will this be the last time I’ll see him?  how will I bear them both being dead?  Whenever he’s mentioned his own death (i.e. “I bought my funeral suit today.  I went to a friend’s funeral today and looked at him wearing a fifty-year-old suit and decided that I’ll just buy a new suit every five years…”  or, “I think this is the last pair of shoes I’ll ever buy…”) in either a serious, or trying-to-be-funny-you-know-there’s-a-grain-of-truth-in-it, I think, “I can’t bear it.”  I told him, “No Dad, I’m not ready to be an orphan.” Never mind that I’m fifty-one, I am not ready to be alone in the world without my mom and dad.  He says, “Well, I suppose one is never ready, but you will be okay.”

I’m choking up even thinking of it.  He is so vital, so sharp and intelligent and insightful and wise.  Yet his body is fading.  He’s visiting here now, and the oxygen machine he uses at night is humming away in our upstairs hallway.  I feel so secure when he is here with us, while simultaneously experiencing a sharp pang knowing he’s scheduled to go home next week. We live in Florida while he’s up in Michigan.

I know my mom would chide me about worrying into the future like this.  She certainly wasn’t one to borrow things in the future to feel anxious about.  I wish I would stop this but I keep coming back to the thought of him dying and how much I want to keep him here, on this Earth, with us…with me.  That’s selfish, though.  I know what his beliefs are.  He really understands what the Catholic faith teaches and he really does anticipate with joy being resurrected in eternal life.  It’s just that I will miss him so.  He and my mom will both be gone and I just think I won’t be able to bear it.  Of course, I will bear it.  I’m a mother too.  I suppose I sound like a child here.  I have three kids to whom I explain all this death/eternal life stuff to.  And it’s stuff I really do believe in myself.

I need to let go of this worry and enjoy my Dad as he is right now.  I guess that hardest part of losing my mother is looking at my Dad, without her.  Well, he has a family of adult children who love him, and grandkids who adore him.  He feels our love and admiration.  But his walk is his walk, his grief, his alone.  I grieve for my mom, I anticipate the sad day of his departure but I will be happy for him, I swear I will, because I know it will ultimately fulfill his deepest desire: to know the Lord Our God in the fullness of life.

I just don’t want my  Daddy to die.  I look at his sweet, aging face and it breaks my heart.  Selfish, immature, middle-aged woman who feels like a kid.  
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