It isn't always easy but I try

Depression. For me, it hits at the most inopportune time. As if there is a good time for it to appear? Ugh. Of course, not. For years, my mother stressed the family connection. Watch for it, she told us, and I worried that I would be caught in its swirling cycle, tugging me toward hiding under the covers of my bed. Or under the bed. I've had moments. Those down in the dumps, cry for no reason moments, but I've always been able to get out of bed.

I never know when it will hit me. It just does. There doesn't seem to be a trigger. If there is, I have yet to discover it. It just is suddenly there, and I either go with it, or I work to control it. Other times I let it grab me in its grip and succumb. It isn't ideal, and lately, harder to climb out of it. But thus far, I do.

I spend a lot of time in my head. Worrying. About this and that. Going over the whys and whats. Nights are the worse. Lying in bed, my head turns on and I toss and turn and sleep is elusive. A huge check mark for me. No sleep. It is how I started writing scenes in my head at an earlier age. To stave off the worrying so that I could sleep. Whatever works.

Lately, it's been avoiding the news. I use to read the paper in the morning with breakfast, but I realized it wasn't the best way to start out my day. Especially now. I sometimes read it during lunch after my mind has been active, but I don't anymore in the morning. Better to start off the day on the positive.

I've had therapy. Gone to talk my issues through with someone who specializes in helping others. I've learned to see some things from a different perspective that have helped me deal. I've been given fabulous coping mechanisms that I use. I'm not chronic. I just have these moments, and I recognize that. I've worked to manage it. 

Sometimes I don't even know that it has struck until it is too late. Late, meaning I've done things or said things that can't be taken back all because I'm lost and desperate to be found. It's like the lyrics of Jason Kadison song Invisible Man.

Woke up this morning with a funny feeling,

Wasn't really sure what it was all about.

But it felt like I was disappearing,

So I ran to the mirror to check it out.

I said, "Here I am, here I am, here I am

But why do I feel like I'm the invisible man?

Of course, then that behavior brings me further down. I feel sorry for myself. Then I go into my head and begin the reasoning of the whys and whats and suddenly the cycle begins turning faster, and I'm lost. Last week was a doozy. There was a blip, and I worried. From that worry, I went into the past and the worries I harbor there and it spiraled. I argued with others. I hated myself, and who I was, and all that I believed I was, and eventually, it broke me as it usually does. I sobbed. I cried. I reached out to those who love me, and I got through it.

Not everyone does. We recently heard news of a suicide, the second one in six months. Relatives of people we know and care about. I agonize for them. If you haven't lived it, or known someone who feels this despair, it is hard to understand. But for those of us who fight it whether daily or occasionally or those who know others who share our sadness, it is real and not always explainable. I hurt so much for those left behind. I hurt for those who feel this is the only way out. 

My new way of fighting my own demons is to surround myself with family and friends who respect me, who listen, who treat me the way that I hope I treat others. Love. Kindness. Peace. I'm working to get the sleep I need. I'm trying to put the past behind me even if I don't understand it. I'm willing to reach out if I need to, and I'm willing to help others. Whether it is easy or not.

Please know that if you are hurting, I am here to listen. To offer a hug or to help you find whatever else you may need. Together we can work to break through the invisibility, to be seen, to be heard, and to be helped. Hugs to all of you. 

Uh huh

Saturdays I don't cook. We usually eat out or get something to bring in and we have our standard meals and restaurants, but this week I had my heart set on something different. I wanted pizza from a place on the beach and since it is kind of far from our house we went there to eat it instead of carrying it out.

We used to frequent this establishment quite often. Tom and I dated at this restaurant years ago and then it became a Friday night staple. We haven't been in forever and I was craving the pizza much to Tom's dismay. But he went along with me and we headed over to the beach. The parking lot for the restaurant is small and weird. There are about ten spots that are easily accessible and then there are ten spots where you have to be some sort of parking expert to wiggle in and out. Tom dropped me off, knowing that I would make helpful comments on how to park so that I could put in our name because he was worried the place would be packed, and he WAS HUNGRY.

The place was not full. As soon as I entered, I knew the air conditioning was having some issues. I'm a menopausal fat girl. I need air, and I know when that air is not as cool as I need it. I'm an expert. See my post on my Mitsubishi split mini. (Best thing EVER). So, when the host arrived to ask me how many for dinner I commented on the air situation because I was also wearing a top with quarter length sleeves. I needed some coolness.

Me: "Air conditioning not working?"

He mumbled, led me to a booth far away from the majority of the diners and proceeded to tell me that this was the coolest place in the restaurant and that the A/C worked just fine.

Him: "But all of the doors to the outside opening and closing tend to bring in heat and make the air conditioning seem hot. But it is fine. This is a great spot to feel it."

Uh huh. Yeah, tell yourself that all you want buddy is what I did not say. Instead, I made some Cara joke about damn customers entering and exiting, and he snickered and left. Tom arrived and informed me that he had no trouble finding a parking spot. Uh huh. I didn't believe him any more than I believed the host and his air conditioning nonsense.

Tom: "Why are we way over here?"
Me: "Because the air conditioning is not working and this is the coolest place in the restaurant according to the guy who seated me and told me the A/C was just fine."
Tom: "Causing trouble already, huh?"
Me: "I know my A/C and this establishment's air conditioning is not working no matter what that guy wants us to believe."

One of the servers appeared and asked Tom if he was driving the car that had parked in the back. Upon hearing that yes he was, she told him that someone had just blocked him in and to let her know when we wanted to leave and she would see to it that he moved his car.

No issues parking? Uh huh.

We ordered. We talked. I fanned myself with the napkins, the menu, and anything I thought would cool me off. More people arrived. Our food came. We began to eat. And then, suddenly and without warning, the entire place went dark. BOOM. No electricity. Uh huh.

Me: "I told you. They have an air conditioning problem and now the damn thing has blown out the entire building."
Tom: "You don't know that."
Me: "I do know that."

One by one people left the restaurant. The server explained the entire beach was black, yet right across the street I could see lights on in the hotel and lights on in their garage. I remained quiet. We finished our meal in the dark. We had to pay using the old time credit card system of carbon paper and the waitress had to use a calculator to tally up the bill. She did not factor in her tip. We left.

Me: "You forgot to alert the server about us leaving."
Tom: "Whoever parked behind us will be gone by now. We closed down the restaurant."

Yet, when we got to our car a big, white van was parked behind us blocking us in. Guess what the big, white van said on the side? Air Conditioning Repair.

Uh huh.

I'm not making this up

I discovered and binged watched a new show on Netflix called The Letdown. It is hilarious. If you have ever had children, it is a must-see in my opinion. Tom and I laughed and cried through the series which was way too short. Because my "boss" at my volunteer job is six months in from having a baby, I told her to watch it.

Friday while we worked she told me she thought she was losing her marbles and then related a story that backed up that statement. She knows I have a terrible menopausal brain when it comes to remembering things and wanted, I think, to show some solidarity. I shook my head, referred to an episode of The Letdown, and told her she had baby brain, not to worry it would eventually grow and widen and she would be back in the saddle until menopause struck. Twenty minutes after we left work, she called to tell me she had left the baby walker I had carried out to her car sitting on the sidewalk. Forgot all about it. We laughed hilariously, and I truly did feel better knowing someone her age was losing her marbles even though hers is only mommy brain. I reiterated her watching The Letdown. She did. She loved it.

Now let me segue into what I really wanted to talk about. Somehow it all relates.

A few days later, she reciprocated with the information that Sears was having a going-out-of-business sale. Because she knew I wanted to shop for some clothes and hate doing so. I mean, I really hate shopping for clothes. I have always considered it a chore. I'm not a fashionista, have a vague notion of what is appropriate for certain events, and prefer to dress, well, like the main character, Audrey, in The Letdown. Perhaps it is because when I was the age of caring about that sort of stuff I was working at a pool and spent ninety percent of my time in a bathing suit and towel.

There was hardly anyone at the mall. It was like something out of the Twilight Zone and for one small moment, I wondered if I were in an altered reality. We have two malls and I live between both. North is the more hoity-toity mall and south is the lesser of the two. I live equal distance between both but tend to head south because they have more of a selection because of fewer shoppers. That being said, I happened to be north so hardly anyone at the mall was a surprise thus my concern.

I started at Sears. Unfortunately, I ran into someone I knew upon minutes of entering and was engaged in a conversation that lasted almost an hour with me standing. Standing is a problem for me with my slipped disc and having just been pumping iron and doing cardio, I was sore. By the 45 minute mark, I knew I had to move so I bid goodbye and went into the dressing room to try on the clothes I had grabbed. Ugh. All of them. I left Sears and headed toward Macy's where they carry the skorts that I live in.

At this mall, Sears and Macy's are always hot. Trying on clothes is, well, trying and I always leave there sweating profusely. Even Madison sweats after trying on clothes there, although she claims it is due to Macy's pricing which she finds over the top. While wandering among the racks of clothing I received a text in a group with Tom's family. Buzzing kept informing me of responses and without going into too much detail I was laughing. It started out with a chuckle, but due to my forgetfulness, I texted something that turned out to be, once I realized my mistake, a really bad senior moment and it just struck me as hilarious. One of those full blown can't stop laughing moments. With tears. I would wander, mutter to myself what I had texted, and start laughing. This went on and on until finally, I noticed that the few people in the store, including the sales ladies, were looking at me oddly. Oops. I'm sure I looked a sight with my hair all askew, sweat rolling down my face, muttering to myself, and then cackling like a crazy person.

It was time for me to exit and I did. Empty handed. By this time, my body was begging for a chair. I had overextended and just wanted to get to my car. Of course, I laughed all the way back to Sears over my forgetfulness, the text, and life in general. Back at Sears, I made the unfortunate decision to try on some shorts. By now, fans were blowing in the aisles and I wondered if maybe the entire mall was suffering some air conditioning issues. Didn't stop me, however, from trying on another pair of shorts. Which didn't fit and depressed me and so I called it quits. I pulled back on my the skort I had worn and started to leave. Something felt off. I looked in the mirror and when all seemed well I started out the door. Stopped. Went back to the mirror, adjusted the shorts under the skirt, shrugged and left. I put the shorts back on the rack and went toward the exit. At that point, I realized I was missing my sunglasses. Dang-nab-it. I'm always doing this in dressing rooms.

I thought I should check the dressing room where I first tried on clothes and headed back through the mall to find that room. As I walked, I thought something odd. I realized something was in my pants. This is nothing new for me. I keep a hair clip usually attached to my shirt and sometimes the damn thing ends up in my underwear. I felt around on the left side of my body for the object and realized it was my keys. What? My keys are always in the pocket on my right side. Then I realized I couldn't even feel a pocket and suddenly it hit me. I had put my skort on backward. And was currently walking around Sears with my pants on the wrong way.

It was too much for me. I mean, really. I started laughing again until I was crying. I made it into the dressing room, thought about how I was walking into the room with nothing in my hands to try on, and locked myself in a room so I could right my wrong, laughing hilariously the entire time. I couldn't stop. Finally, mopping my face I searched for the sunglasses to no avail. I left the dressing room and asked the saleslady at the counter if someone had turned in some dark sunglasses.

Her: "Can you describe them?"

I had to grit my teeth from laughing again. Because this is the part where someone else, anyone else in the world, would have described their sunglasses by telling the lady what was written on the frame; Coach, Ray Bans, Fossil. But this was me, remember? Not the fashionista.

Me: "They are black and say Absolute on the side frames."

As in Absolute Vodka.

I love the damn things. Darcy got them free at the Pride parade a year ago and I wear them daily. It makes my cousin Jaimee nuts, but I don't care. I have had salespeople ask me if those glasses were from the vodka maker, but I don't care. They were great sunglasses.

Her: "I don't see them. Let me call the Lost and Found department."

She got on her walky-talky and called. In this store that is going out of business. Where voices carry. Where everyone within a mile radius has a walky-talky. So her voice carried throughout the store where we could all hear it.

Her: "Could someone in Lost and Found respond, please? I'm looking for black sunglasses that say Absolute on the frames."

It was too much for me. I went into the purse aisle and broke down laughing. And realized I most likely lost them in Macy's. Which was too far to walk in my condition. So, I thanked the woman and left, got into my car, and laughed all the way home and then some.

I seriously should have my own television show. Or someone should write my life in a television show. Oh, wait. It's in the episode of The Letdown where the SAHM is not invited to speak at Career Day at her kids' preschool and so she comes back wearing a cape and proceeds to talk all about her career as a SAHM which she pronounces as a "Sa-Ham"

I'm going to contact those writers and let them know I have a ton more material for them. For when they are ready to tackle the empty nest side of these ladies. The menopausal side of life. Because people...my life...it is a sitcom. Or something. Wait until I tell my "boss" this story so she knows what to look forward to.

Mitsubishi mini split a hit

Several years ago, and I won't even attempt to guess how many, we had to redo the ductwork and air conditioning in our house. In my mind, it was also around the same time we had a broken water pipe and had to repipe throughout the house so that all of it, duct and pipes, were worked on overhead in our attic. A small space that is even smaller now with all of the stuff crammed into it. Once the new air conditioning was installed, a job that took three days, I noticed that the bedrooms seemed hotter than normal.

The A/C guys, we were buddies by this point, returned but found nothing to indicate a difference in temperature. We had them return three different times because I knew I wasn't crazy, but other than messing around in my overly cramped attic nothing was resolved. I was told my bedroom was the farthest from the handler and thus it took longer to reach it. Whatever. A bunch of bunk to me since I didn't have this problem prior to the new air conditioner. Just sayin'.

I've lived with it. My kids have lived with it. I tell people that Tom and I are Jack Spratt and his wife. He can eat no fat and I can eat no lean. His cold and I'm hot. That's our life. Well, that and he refuses to pay a high electric bill and in Florida, one has to keep the A/C at a minimum to avoid that so, you can guess where this is headed, right? Our air is kept at 77 at all times. If he can, he turns it to 78 but I tell him it is too hot for his hairy dog and BAM that does the trick. His dog is the most important person thing. At night, the dog sleeps in our bathroom because the tile is the coolest place in our room. If only that guy could talk, I'd probably get to lower my air.

When the hot flashes began, the bedroom became even hotter. It wasn't just my imagination because when I would get up in the night and come out into my living room I could feel the difference immediately. I thought I was going to have to start sleeping on our couches, but we got new ones and they aren't large enough for my long limbs. I started sleeping with an ice pack. When the A/C guy appeared this spring for our annual tune-up I told him that I thought we had an issue and he stuck a thermometer in my vent. Yep. The bedroom was hotter. By one degree.

I told him his thermometer sucked.

Then my friend told me about the Mitsubishi mini-split one zone air conditioner and I passed on the information to Spratt. We saw them at the Home Show and had a few companies come out to give us an estimate. I finally vetoed it because the only wall it could go on was above our bed and I didn't want the air shooting down at us. As much as I wanted a cooler bedroom for night sleeping, I didn't want it blowing directly on my head. But, the heat must've even been getting to Spratt because suddenly one of the companies was back at my house. The two men decided the unit could go under our window and around the side of the house and BAM, we had our mini split.

It took all day to install because the electric had to go from my window around the side of the house and along the house to the electric box that houses our pool electric. Had it gone on the wall above our bed it would have already been along that side of the house. When it was finished the housing for the wires was sort of an eyesore. I didn't get a picture of it until after my husband had painted it to match the house.

I'll admit it looks much better. He didn't wait for the inspector who comes today so hopefully, fingers crossed, painting that thing isn't a big deal. But, the main thing is that my bedroom is COLD. Like, freezing at night. It is set at 72 degrees and I need a blanket. When I wake up to use the bathroom, my nose is frozen. It is wonderful. I can't tell you what a difference it has made in my sleep. Well, I think it has. It could be my two days of exercising. I'll have to wear the Apple watch to test that theory, but who cares? In my mind it is great.

Tom: "Happy Mother's Day"

Me: "If I just had a television in this room, I wouldn't have to ever leave it except to get food."

The only downside is that it is in the spot where the dog used to sleep. He starts out under the window under the drapes and then moves to the bathroom later in the evening. He isn't so happy about losing his spot, but I think he likes the coolness too as he sleeps in the air's path. All the way around, it's a win, win. 

I'm already pushing for more units throughout the house.

Mother's Day 2018

I spent Mother's Day 2018 motherless and childless. But my husband took good care of me starting with pastries and coffee and ending with hamburgers on the grill. Apparently, feeding me is all it takes to please me.

Until she got miserably ill, my mom was the bomb. My best friend. My mentor. We had a wonderful, loving childhood and my mother was our champion, our cheerleader, and our go-to in times of trouble. I had a dream recently where I needed to get Madison packed and on a plane in Orlando to head back to school. She had forgotten all about it and we were scrambling around the house. I was freaking out, yelling, and frantic about getting her to Orlando and suddenly there was my mother who drove like Mario Andretti, pulling right up into the airport building to drop off the luggage and Maddy. Typical Connie. I thought it a fitting dream for Mother's Day. 

These two...these two are my life. The greatest thing I ever did in life was raise these girls. All I ever truly wanted to be was a mother. I believe that it was what I was meant to be and I think I've done a pretty decent job. My mother constantly told me that I was a better mother than she ever was or would be. I cherish that since I thought she did a damn fine job herself.

I suppose I'm now the mother of this guy. He's the only one left in the household for the most part and from 7:30 a.m. to 9:00 p.m., give or take a couple of hours, this guy belongs to me Monday through Friday and the occasional weekend. I'm not going to lie, that dog is another part of my life and I love him dearly. He didn't get me anything for Mother's Day though. I marked that down.

We spent the day before the holiday with my MIL. I have been blessed to have her in my life all of these years. She is loving, generous, and very funny. We had a wonderful day talking, sipping wine, and ended it with a lovely dinner out on the town. So thankful to have one mother around to spoil!

Happy Mother's Day to all those women out there who have mothered someone or something in life. Cheers to you!

A Mother's Day freebie you can keep

Darcy is our coupon kid. She's my child that worries about the cost of items, although that doesn't stop her from purchasing. She just finds a deal and a coupon. Years ago, she spent one summer finding coupons for our groceries, and by doing so, earned the money she saved. My MIL still tells the story of a dinner at Chilis where Darcy pulled out her points card and saved her money.

One Saturday night at our local BBQ hang-out where the four of us were eating, Darcy read that if we texted a number to our phones we would receive a discount off our bill. She had my husband do just that, and then each visit after she had another one of us text it so we that we eventually ended up with four discounts. But by doing this, we agreed to receive offers texted to us.

They come sporadically, usually around the holidays. hey offer family deals with BBQ pork, two sides, and garlic bread. They offer $5 off a carry-out. They offer holiday specials of ribs, or BBQ. All great deals to lure us to the restaurant.

This morning while enjoying my morning coffee, one such offer tinged first on Tom's phone and then on mine. Wondering who was tinging us both, I opened mine to read this:

**BBQ* HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY! 

FREE bottomless salad bar for MOM! 

Valid today thru Sunday.

I'll admit my first thought was a good one. While I don't find their salad bar to be top notch, I do enjoy a salad with my meal. This restaurant, however, charges too much for what they provide so I usually don't eat it. But if they are offering a freebie for me...

Immediately after that very thought, came the other one; a free salad bar? What? Because women should be eating leafy lettuce? What did you offer the fathers last year? Something tells me it wasn't a salad bar. I bet they were offered MEAT. BBQ. Nothing green in their coupon. 

Salad? Come on! It's not even a decent bar and frankly, should be free for the items they throw into those containers. The last time I had the salad bar there I asked the waiter to please ask that the lettuce bowl be exchanged for a fresh one. I don't usually do things like that, but darn it, I wanted a salad that night with my BBQ and the lettuce was browning. 

For the hell of it, I might just go to the restaurant and order the salad bar and a glass of water. And then when the nice woman who owns the franchise comes to my table to make sure all is well, I'm going to tell her that I think her kids have short-changed her and that she might just want to rethink their Christmas gifts this year. I mean, a free salad at a BBQ place? Please.

Mother's deserve more.

Roar!

To get out and pump up my heart rate, I washed and vacuumed my van. It's a job I enjoy only when I'm in the mood and the enjoyment lasts maybe an hour. Then I'm done and wonder why I didn't pay someone else to do it. Oh, yes, money. My husband would keel over to know that I spent $30 on a wash, vacuum, and wax. Which I do twice a year and keep mum.

So I vacuum first, accompanied as always by my dog's excessive, loud barking as if the vacuum an intruder out to destroy everything he holds dear. I'm prepared with my headphones listening to a Today's Hits station on my Amazon Music, every other song a thumping rap with lyrics that make me blush. Who listens to this crap to make it a hit? Yikes, I sound like my parents.

I move to the outside of the car. Rinsing, soaping, scrubbing, rinsing. Again, fighting the dog who now acts as if water is his favorite thing. He jumps, spins, catches it in his mouth. When I fill the bucket, his head is submerged in the spray biting, nipping. He is sopping wet and retires in the sun to dry and lick his wet paws like a cat.

I'm proud of myself for doing this mundane task. Today, I have gotten off of the couch and away from my laptop to do menial blue collar labor. The end is near, the last side soaped and scrubbed. Just waiting for a rinse. I lift the nozzle and push. It gives easily, clicking against its counterpart on the hose, but no water. It is broken, cracked on one side most likely by the sun, or as I drop it in disgust, from that. What now?

A text interrupts me. My daughter in our family group. I whine about my broken nozzle. Explain that no matter how hard I twist the damn thing refuses to budge. The husband informs me he has another nozzle on his workbench. I reiterate the nozzle not coming off part of the text. He suggests a pair of pliers. I say, yes, my father taught me well. Already tried that. He recommends a hammer.

An idea occurs. We have two other hoses, one on the side of the house and one by the pool. I'll exchange my broken nozzle hose with one of those. I trudge to the side of the hose and discover that the hose, nicely twisted on its rack, is attached to the house. With a clip and two screws. Bolted. To the side of the house. What? I utter some choice words when I discover the hose by the pool is also attached. I picture using the hammer alright, but it isn't on the nozzle.

I sit with the dog in the shade. I gripe aloud hoping the male neighbor across the street, who is also taking a break from working outside, will hear me and offer assistance. Then I'm annoyed for thinking that I can't solve this problem without a man. I'm not a pansy.

I twist again. Try the pliers. Damn it. I tell Elliot I am not a quitter and that perhaps the hammer will at least allow me to get out some aggression. I put the nozzle attached to the hose on the workbench and give it a tap, tap. Nothing. I hit it harder. Nothing. I growl in frustration. Drop the hose on the concrete. Step over it and whack it with the hammer. Once. Twice. The nozzle pops right off, falling to the side.

Well, that was easy. I finish the job and then wash the dog while I've got the hose out. He hates this. I tell him it's his own fault. He should have offered assistance with the broken nozzle. Man's best friend better learn who really controls things. I am woman hear me roar!

Yesterday's muses

There is something really soothing about watching laundry tumble in a washing machine at the laundromat. I have two washers going and the chair sits two feet away. I've watched the entire fourteen minutes. The water adds to the tranquility and makes the washing machine the one to watch. The swish and swirl of the soapy water against the door. The sloshing and the hum of the machine. Is the water seeking for release? To drip on to the floor? Cause chaos, but unable to do so? Round and round. Splish. Splash. Swish. Someone should market this sound and video into a sleep app.

My husband suddenly is Mr. Organic. Years ago, he exploded if I brought home something organic. It's too much money! There's no difference! Now, he drinks a daily organic tea made with colorful powders and seeds he keeps in jars in my cabinet. He started buying organic eggs, brown ones where the hens are only fed vegetarian meals or  I admit the yolk is much yellower and have convinced myself it tastes better, despite hearing my dad's voice calling utter bullshit.

But I have issues with these eggs. First, every time, and I'm not making this up at all, EVERY TIME I crack the egg a piece of shell ends up in my bowl, the pan, or in my mouth. Secondly, I can not remove the brown shell from a hard boiled egg without taking part of the egg with it. A Google search told me it has to do with the type of feed fed to the chickens. That brown eggs are harder to crack. Now I hear my Aunt Lorene in my ear. She didn't curse, but she's rolling her eyes.

Spring is so pretty. All of the colors. This year Florida's jacaranda trees are slow to bloom. Only one of the trees on my usual route is showing its purple colors. I tell myself that it means I'll have spring longer, but then I worry. What if they don't bloom? My friend Jim points me to his flowers when I pose this question. Look at the beauty that is here. A good lesson I suppose.

Tom has listened to me bemoan the fact that I can't listen to my records without speakers. He has purchased a contraption that will allow me to do so. It was a Christmas present and the one that he has every year, the one that he knows he bought for someone but can't remember where he put it. He found it. I'm trying to decide what albums to pull out. One favorite is Rupert Holmes' Partners In Crime. The first track is Escape. The song about the guy reading a personal ad asking for someone who likes pina coladas and a bunch of other stuff and so he answers the ad and they agree to meet. Low and behold, it turns out to be his woman who placed the ad and they laugh and realize they are...what? perfect for each other?

I'm concerned about these two. I want to know what happened after. Does he realize that she might have cheated if another guy had answered first? Does she realize he is as empty as she is? Do they agree this isn't working? I tend to hear songs and wonder. Maybe I should write the endings to these songs. I've thought about that as a hook to my romance career. Write books based on songs... Hmmmm...

First year under her belt

This time last year I was scrambling to put together a senior graduation party for Darcy and another for her entire class. While I was working on closing out Darcy's high school career, Tom was driving twelve hours to box up Madison's dorm and get her home for the summer. A stressful time indeed and one that, when I think back to it, gives me palpitations. Chaos was the word for May in 2017.

May 2018 it is Calm. 

Even before the month began, Madison had made the decision to stay planted. No boxing up belongings and moving. Darcy, as she has done all year, had mapped out the entire month. She scheduled her moving date, gave us the information, and when we arrived with the van to lock and load, she had most of her belongings ready and waiting. Having done this more than once with the first child, we knocked out cleaning, packing and loading in an hour and a half and had time to horse around before the RA signed off on the clean room.

And just like that, Darcy's first year of college was complete. As she says often at perplexing sentences, WHART? 

A look back at her year:

• First semester full of friends and game nights.
• Met a boy.
• Learned the campus, the bus route, and parking areas.
• Spent her down time at the amusement park across the street from campus.
• Learned her major quickly since her teacher allowed no communication via the mouth in her American Sign Language Class.
• Found a mentor in ASL in the lab where she studied weekly.
• Began a healthy regime of working out and eating foods she refused to eat at home.
• Visited quite a few of the medical staff for various ailments that thankfully were resolved.
• Pierced her ear cartilage and then later visited a doctor for an infection that closed up said cartilage. 
• Scored perfect grades first semester and decided she needed a job.
• Spent considerable time pushing through several guidance counselors until she got the correct one for her major and signed up for a theater minor.
• Took a lifeguarding class and so impressed the teachers they offered her a job that very day.
• Roommate disappeared before Christmas break without any word. Lived alone in the dorm with the roommate's belongings, but not the roommate, although learned she was just fine.
• Made a few visits home to get her nails and hair done and to check-in with her parents.
• Got locked out of her dorm one night after a visit home and spent several hours running hither and yon around campus fighting to get back in to her room. Made it in before midnight.
• Started lifeguarding at the pool right outside her dorm room.  

• Took 17 credit hours second semester and worked with her day starting some days before 6:00 a.m.
• Had drama with her friend group. Resolved it, but was disappointed to learn that that crap never stops as you age.
• Learned to use power tools in her Tech Theater class and helped build two stages for theater productions.
• Received several shout outs from her professors for scoring the highest total grade percentage in their classes. Earned the reputation of a goody-two shoes for not partying, arranging transportation for those who did, and for not skipping classes.
• Skipped a few classes to help with the reputation, but worried her mother would be disappointed.
• Contemplated a double major in ASL and Religion.
• Had some ups and a few downs and pushed through those with minimal tears and advice from the parents.
• Finished the year with another set of perfect grades.
• Signed up to live in the ASL dorm sophomore year.
• Agreed to continue working the month of May lifeguarding on campus before her summer job begins. Arranged a place to live.
• Named Employee of the Month for April.

Way to knock out that first year, kid. We couldn't be more proud. Love you to infinity and beyond!

Four month 2018 resolution check

Every two months I check in on my resolutions for the year and rate myself with numbers 1-10. Always working to have a total 60-60 by the end of the year. Has yet to happen but I'm optimistic. So, here goes:

1. Eat a fruit and vegetable and drink milk daily and exercise twenty minutes a day, whether walking or dancing, going to the gym or just getting up and marching in place. Just some movement, and to get back to the weight I was before the death of Connie. That will be thirty pounds, give or take a few bags. (That’s a spades reference) - Oops. Forgot all about this one since the end of my study that I failed. Bummer. Okay, ready to begin starting now... Score: 0
2. To finish my romance novel - The word finish makes this a difficult one to score each month. I work on it religiously, but starting with #1 I'm making office hours to make it a job. Because it now is my job. I am a finalist in another contest and I'm turning in a weekly word count to my chapter.  Score: 8
3. To finish scanning all of my photos into the computer - What the hell is up with the word "finish"? Yikes. I have worked on this project so I'm counting that. I've gotten through three boxes of photos and arranged them by year. I've scanned some. I did good. Score: 8
4. To begin exploring my maternal and paternal genealogy (So that I can do something with those photos I have inherited of people I don't know) - Yes! This month, in accordance with #3, I explored my dad's side of the family and updated my ancestry page.  Score: 10
5. To travel whether with or without other people - Yes! Another perfect score. I've traveled since the last check-in to New York City and North Carolina. I have a trip already planned for this month. Score: 10

Total: 36 out of 50 - Getting better each check-in. I'll take it. Four months in and I'm working hard!

Spring has sprung in NC

Raleigh Spring

Durham Spring

Chapel Hill Spring

NC campus visit #3

I've walked UNC many times in my moving Madison in and out of her dorms. Tom hasn't had the guided tour so Madison did the honors for him on Sunday. We all agree, and of course, we are biased, it is the best one of the three. I love the close-knit community, the brick walkways, the colors, and the different architecture. I love Franklin Street with its businesses and restaurants and hotels. I love the trees, the greenery, and the history. I also love my kid who attends and loves the university.

She took us to libraries, to the student union, to buildings where she's had classes, and she shared stories, history, and knowledge of the university. We toured the public museum and ate dinner on Franklin Street. We got to see things she has talked about during our weekly phone calls. We met her friends. We spent plenty of time with her just being with her.

It was a good visit, if not quick. I hope it rejuvenated her and gave her a jump start on the summer. It certainly made her parents feel better. Here's to a great summer for all of us. For all of you. Wherever you may be residing.