Like a Half-Eaten Donut, Better than Nothing!

I have been a bit of a mess lately. Literally and figuratively. Last week I went to a hair cut appointment and when the receptionist took my coat, I discovered I had fresh brownie mix dribbled down the front of it. And earlier that day I totally missed a conference call for work. The reminder popped up on my computer and I didn't recognize it so I dismissed it. Totally unlike me. I need a vacation. Somewhere that I can't get my hands on brownie mix or cookie dough.

Despite my above average ability to ramble, there are many occasions on which I start writing a blog post and only get a paragraph or two into it and realize I don't know what else to say. (See the example above.) Or I can't come up with a witty or fitting close. So today, because I slept like sh*t last night, I've decided that rather than try to write a complete post, I will pull together a few of the posts I've left unfinished for an eclectic look at the inner workings of my mind. Just what you were hoping for on this beautiful, spring-like day! So here goes it:

2/12/16: If you heard alarms going off on Friday night, it wasn't another car getting broken into. It was my hype meter. It's no coincidence that it was also the Night of Bruce.

My husband is an enormous Bruce Springsteen fan. Which is probably part of the problem. As I believe I've mentioned in an earlier post, familiarity breeds contempt. I have detested Neil Young for 20 years thanks to a coworker who played him 8-hours a day, 5-days a week. It's not really Neil's fault. Technically, as a singer-songwriter fan I should like him. But that's what overexposure can do to a person.

Every time I get in Rob's car, he's got the satellite radio tuned to the all-Bruce station. So, where before I generally enjoyed his music, I'm getting a little tired of it. But the music itself isn't as bad as the pre-concert buildup. I've been to one Bruce concert. He's an amazing performer, but I don't like waiting for the divas to appear on stage and I don't like big concert venues, so when it came time for this particular concert I took a pass. Not worth the big bucks and the finagling involved with securing the almighty ticket.

12/19/15: We know that fashion is cyclical. Every few decades, someone decides that bell bottoms, leg warmers, high waisted pants, tall boots, skinny jeans, shoulder pads, Bermuda shorts and pantsuits should be reintroduced to society. Even hairstyles come and go and then come back again. Except for perms. I'm still waiting for perms to make a comeback.

Toys tend to have more staying power than perms fashion. Elmo has been popular since he joined Sesame Street in the 80s. Barbie refuses to die. Matchbox cars still have their place. Every home has Jenga, Monopoly and Scrabble. And don't get me started on Legos. Did you know the company was started in 1932? [I have no idea where I was going with this post...]

12/13/15: PJs and Down Time
I know a few people who wring the life out of each and every day. I know several others who never want the fun to end when it comes to social occasions. Then there are people like me (at least I hope there are others) who look forward to pajamas and bed time as much as--if not more than--a night out on the town. This obviously can be problematic when ones spouse and friends fall into different categories.

What's important for "those people" to understand, is that my desire to be in bed versus spending more time with them is not personal. In fact, I'm pretty sure if Jesus himself showed up at my house I'd only be able to give him a few hours and then I'd need to retire to my room, slip under the covers, and curl up in the fetal position. This is fairly common characteristic of us introverts. We get our energy from alone time, versus feeding off the presence of others.

I suppose on some level I consider bed time my reward for having made it through the day. After work, there's nothing I want more than to come home, change into my p.j.s and settle in for the evening. If you want to put me in a bad mood, ask me to run an errand after I've mentally and emotionally called it a day. Ask my kids how well I handle that.

Think I could pull it off?

9/27/15: [Ironically, this could have been written last Friday.] I regained a touch of my youth on Friday. Thank God for hair color! Now if only it lasted longer than a few weeks. Part of me is considering adopting that platinum silver/purplish look that Pink and Kelly Osbourne are sporting these days. At least when the color fades I'd have the right color coming in.

Almost as bad as the skunk stripe I sport every six weeks or so, is the process required to fix it. Two freakin' hours at the hair salon is not my idea of fun. Sitting still that long is torture, and there's something about the environment that drives me nuts. In fact, I came up with a list of "10 Things about the Hair Salon."

1. The person with the loudest voice also is the one carrying on the most inane conversation. 
2. There's always one stylist who thinks she has to talk to you throughout your entire appointment, leaving you screaming inside.
3. And even if the stylist doesn't babble the entire time, you still have to at least start with small talk. I abhor small talk. 
4. Putting on a cape, slapping some thick paint on your head and leaving you to stare at yourself in the mirror for an hour-plus is cruel. You find wrinkles and lines you never knew you had. And inevitably I'm there with no makeup on. 
5. Speaking of thick paint, no matter how many times I remind them that my skin stains easily, I always leave the salon with a ring around my hair line. So I end up wearing a baseball cap for two days to hide my forehead. 
6. There's always some customer talking about her horse, or her vacation to Bora Bora, or the limo ride to see Bruce.

[Obviously I couldn't come up with 10 things...]

And finally: 

2/10/15: [This still applies one year later.]

Yesterday was Abby's 14th birthday and I couldn't be prouder of my not-so-little girl. I have to confess that it takes a good bit of self control to not brag about her ad nauseam. Finding that fine line between "how sweet" and "enough already" is definitely a major challenge in the age of social media. I figure if I only post photos of Abby's work it's not really bragging, it's more like show and tell. But how do I write a blog post about Abby for her birthday without going overboard? I don't have to. It's my blog and I can say whatever I want. Insert smiley emoticon here.

When my kids were elementary school age, I had one recurring wish for them, and it wasn't the standard "may they be happy and healthy." Instead I wished that they'd turn out like Richard, Ryder or Bridget, or Kevin or Laura Jean. These former babysitters and/or neighbors/friends, were the gauge by which I was going to measure my children. Why these five? Because their qualities were the same qualities that I hoped my kids would one day possess. Respectful, kind, hard working, intelligent, involved, friendly, happy, and NORMAL. Sometimes super kids have everything except that normal element. The one that allows them to make friends and fit in and get a job someday (if that's your thing).

Well, I'm happy to say that Abby (and Ian, too) have lived up to the example of those former youth, now young adults. I realize that parenting experts generally advise against comparing your kids to others, but I'd say it was less about using them as a measuring stick for my children, and more about providing a parenting goal for me. When all we hear about are wayward youth, I needed a beacon to follow that could show me it was possible to get it right.

That's all for now folks. I have at least a dozen others I'll share with you when I can't find the time or energy, or the right words, to write a complete post. Enjoy this beautiful day!

Give Me Something I Can Hold On To

I contemplated titling this post "What's Old is New Again." Despite our penchant for the next best thing and forward momentum in all facets of life, Americans (I can't speak for the rest of the world) are known to occasionally turn back time (Cher is usually involved). We see it most commonly with fashion when someone decides that bell bottoms, leg warmers, high waisted pants, shoulder pads, Bermuda shorts and pantsuits should be reintroduced to society. What's less common is taking a step back when it comes to technology and how we spend our time. This year I'm struck by the return of coloring, Polaroids, and old-fashioned printed books.

Though I've never considered myself a trendsetter, apparently I was on to something when in 1989, while in middle school college, I purchased a coloring book and crayons. You might assume this was because I had no social life and needed something to do, and that's true, but it was also a reflection of my need to disconnect (though I'm not sure what I was plugged into except my hot rollers) and allow my my mind to get the rest it needed. Coloring is also known to improve focus, relieve stress, and improve fine motor skills. When combined with wine, it also becomes an social activity. I can't say I've been invited to any coloring parties lately, but I suppose those Painting with a Twist places are the more upscale equivalent to getting together at the dining room table with your preschooler's crayons and colored pencils.

I acquired my first post-1989 coloring book just a few weeks when I found one at Five Below. The kids even treated me to a box of crayons to go with it. Having finished my first picture with crayons, I recommend using colored pencils instead. Just a bit of free coloring advice from me to you. Coloring is an excellent pre-bedtime activity. The blue light emitted from tech devices is said to affect sleep, whereas the blue pencil, crayon or marker has no known side effects. And if all of this doesn't convince you to pick up a coloring book, consider this: inexpensive artwork!

Now, on to pictures of a different sort. The 1977 Polaroid. When I think of the Polaroid, I think of my Aunt Faify who brought hers to every family gathering. The quality of those photos was never great, but there was something special about the instant results. Of course, with today's technology we're accustomed to immediacy, but what our smartphones are lacking is something to hold on to. Think of the billions of photos floating around in cyberspace, resting in the cloud and eating up valuable space on our devices. With the Polaroid, we can generate actual prints that we'll later stuff in shoe boxes, which eat up valuable space in closets and attics.

And finally, books. It appears that books--the kind made of paper that require you to physically turn the pages--are making a comeback. In the past year, news headlines have included:

"The Plot Twist: E-Book Sales Slip, and Print Is Far From Dead" --NY Times
"Paper is back: Why 'real' books are on the rebound" --GeekWire
"E-book sales plummet as print stages comeback" --Fortune

Of course there are a variety of theories as to why this is happening, but at Christmastime, I can say with relative certainty that few people are gifting e-books for the holidays. They're just too hard to wrap. It could also be related to that blue light e-reader issue, and our need for healthier sleep habits. I know I'm all for anything that helps me sleep. I love sleep the way other people love parties. But I digress.

When it comes to "kickin' it old school," I have a prediction for 2016. I would wager a bet that friends will start hanging out again. In the flesh. There's just something to be said for reading the expression on someone's face instead of responding to the emoticon. And real hugs are much nicer than virtual pokes (does anyone do that anymore?). And making actual memories that last a lifetime is so much sweeter than snappy exchanges that disappear in a moment.

Here's hoping your holidays are filled with something you can hold on to!

Liquid Courage and the Dancing Queens

I returned from Italy last Tuesday evening, super crabby following the maddening inefficiency of the airport immigration experience. The dreary, gray skies and the general ugliness of Jamaica, NY did nothing to improve my mood, and the scary bus ride home only added to my misery. Within 24 hours I could add to my bitch list a canine chocolate overdose and an overwhelming to do list at work My full upcoming weekend should have lifted my spirits, but instead it all seemed like an ill-timed inconvenience given how much else I had to do. Given this piss poor attitude, the absolute blast I had this weekend came as a complete surprise.

On Saturday Rob and I went with friends Dave and Karen to Atlantic City. Dave and Karen are "those" friends. The bad influence kind with whom you always have a good time. Since our friendship began I've gone to more concerts and drank more beer than at any other point in my life.

The purpose of our trip to AC was not gambling-related. We were in town to see Jerry Seinfeld. You'll appreciate this tidbit: Karen originally proposed this idea to Rob because she knew I'd say "Hell no!" when I saw the price. But it was worth the gouging expense. Not only were Jerry and his opening act hysterical, but I had an absolutely awesome time post show, which translates into post 10 p.m. at which point in the evening I generally bow out and hit the sack. Not only did I not hit the sack after Seinfeld, but I actually hit the dance floor! This is BIG. I do not often dance in public. If you've seen me dance you know why. But we were at the Gypsy Bar where they serve beers not in 16 ounce pints, but in 22 ounce glasses. This liquid courage explains the dancing. And a good band playing today's popular hits also helped spur us on.

The wall-to-wall crowd offered a good deal of visual stimulation to go with the musical vibrations. I saw a woman with Life Savers strategically attached to her t-shirt, allowing various men to sample her wares. I gawked noted another woman whose dress ended where her thigh-high stockings began. I was surprised at the range of ages co-mingling. I'd guess 21-60, though I'm notoriously bad at guessing age. I still think I'm younger than everyone I meet, when in fact that rarely holds true anymore, which is depressing as hell, but that's a blog post for another time. Anyway, I was feeling pretty good about myself out there. Had on my favorite dress. My ass wasn't hanging out. I wasn't stumbling about in 4" heels. Wasn't spilling my beer while I danced. It was all good. Until my dancing and jumping caused a small leak and I was rudely reminded that I am not young and that I still need to do kegel exercises. But I didn't let that stop me! In fact, it was not boring old Kim who called it a night, but rather her usually gung-ho husband. We made our way to the hotel room where we promptly crashed and slept soundly until the next morning. (Note: Moderation is important if a romantic night is on your agenda.)

Sunday was a continuation of the good times that began with our AC adventures. I played with my pup and played in the dirt, readying the gardens for spring flowers. My pup also played in the dirt--if you need a hole dug, she's your girl. The evening ended on a more age-appropriate, but equally awesome note: Indigo Girls with the Philadelphia Youth Orchestra. Loved, loved, loved it! Even my aching hip, the result of the previous night's dancing, couldn't diminish my enthusiasm.

I figure if I get 10-hours of sleep each night this week I'll be good to go again next weekend!

Who's in?

I Feel the Need, the Need to Please

You know how some people let everything roll off their back, never taking offense or worrying about what others think? Well, I'm at the other end of the spectrum—I take everything personally, at least as it relates to suggestions, recommendations or choices I make that affect others. This is especially evident when it comes to entertainment and leisure time options, which clearly makes this particular aspect of my neuroses of great importance (or at least of mild interest for a blog post). Some examples:

• I ask my husband or a friend to accompany me to a movie of my choosing. I then worry about whether they like it, thereby rendering myself unable to enjoy the film.
• I encourage a friend to read a book that I thought was terrific. They tell me later that they tried for months to get into it and finally gave up. I am now partner to the crime of spending too much time on a lousy read when there are gazillions of other books that that individual could have been spending time with.
• I laugh hysterically (a frequent occurrence) at the TV show I'm watching. I take occasional glances at Rob, seated on the couch next to me, to see whether he's even cracking a smile. I feel stupid if he's not equally amused. 
• I invite a friend to church (it could happen!) and the pastor's sermon is mediocre at best. I am annoyed with the pastor myself for choosing this particular Sunday to bring a guest, and decide I shall never again be party to Christian outreach or evangelism.
• I recommend a restaurant for dinner that I generally enjoy. The service is terrible and the food is mediocre at best. I'm embarrassed and feel badly and consider paying for my friend's meal (but then reject the idea because I'm cheap).

In one final, wacky example, I actually feel lousy if I introduce one friend to another friend and they don't exactly hit it off. Then I'm forced to decide which friend is most likely to blame and whether I need to dump the below average friend. Awkward.

The one thing these examples have in common is that the product or service (or person) being delivered has not been produced by me. I experience guilt and regret for recommendations that miss the mark, however, I am not actually responsible for the content. But when I am...

If I'm this loony about suggestions and recommendations, you can imagine my reaction when something I have personally created is not appreciated or enjoyed. Blog posts, for example. You know how it hurts my feelings when you don't "like" them. And do you have any idea how much a comment on the blog itself would mean to me? We've talked about this before. Let's go people. 

Technology has undoubtedly affected our sense of self. We determine our self worth by the number of likes, shares, favorites and comments we receive on any given day. Consider the selfies that teenage girls post on Instagram. Some experts see them as self-esteem boosters that help girls determine the identity they feel most comfortable with. It's all contingent, however, on the undeniable power of likes and retweets. An article in Time magazine reported:

"For a teenage girl, receiving likes on Instagram or Facebook can be seen as an endorsement that they are beautiful, from people who are within their social circle. Comments are there to compliment one’s appearance in a way that doesn't normally happen in a typical personal encounter."

Teen Vogue (of all places) notes that likes and comments that build self-esteem can crush it as well:

"After all, if two photos are posted—the first with nine likes and the second with two likes, some girls could perceive this as feeling less valued."  

But lest we get too serious, let's bring this back to me and my issues. Aside from my blog posts, I've become truly sensitive to the loss of "likes" and followers for the social media that I manage for my employer. The joy of adding 19 new fans can be completely overshadowed by losing one. My spirit is completely crushed when a reader opts out of receiving an e-newsletter that I produce. Every day is just another opportunity for virtual rejection.

What's rather interesting in this crazy self-absorbed analysis, is that, when it comes to me as a person, I'm increasingly less affected by others' opinions. With the exception of being perceived as unkind or just plain unlikable (you cut me deep, Shrek; you cut me very deep), I don't care so much what others think about me personally. As long as my Facebook likes don't dip below 500, I figure I'm okay. But seriously, if someone considers me outspoken (session members at church), obnoxious (other soccer moms), or a party pooper (anyone who's attended a party that I left early), I can shrug it off with a "who needs them anyway?" It just so happens that at this very moment, the issue of what others think is causing a disagreement between Rob and me. Since he loves when I bring him into my blog, allow me to explain:

Every October for the past several years, Rob and I have hosted a bonfire with friends. And since the beginning, invites to this shindig have included a "what to bring" list for guests. The deal has been that we provide the beer, chili, hot dogs and fire, and guests sign up to contribute food and drinks including soda, chips, soft pretzels, salads, finger food, desserts, water bottles, etc. This approach offers several benefits:

1. I don't need to cook. I don't like cooking and my cooking stinks, so everyone wins when I don't do it.
2. I don't have to spend hundreds of dollars on food and drink. Kegs are expensive enough.
3. I don't have to respond to dozens of "what should I bring" inquiries that leave me wondering what guests really will bring, thereby requiring me to cover all bases just to be safe.
4. No one feels guilty taking advantage of the generous donation of my yard debris to build an illegal fire.

The issue is that Rob, after having had this party for many years, now informs me that he thinks asking guests to bring something is tacky. And this/my tackiness is the reason why he always invites his coworkers personally rather than allowing me to include them on the Evite. I think Rob is a snob, as is any coworker or friend who is turned off by my request. Frankly, if that's your reaction, don't come. I can't imagine that any of my true friends, the people I most enjoy spending time with, think or feel that way.

I know my sister agrees with Rob. She would never have a party and ask people to bring something, but then my sister is a snob, too. What I want to know is how the rest of you feel. Do you think this is inappropriate, given the setting and casual nature of the event (we're not talking about a cocktail party, for which I would only request bottles of wine :-))? 

Since having learned how Rob feels about this, I am childishly refusing to have anything to do with the bonfire. If he thinks we shouldn't ask guests to chip in (literally!), then he can handle the whole megillah and I'll protest by going to the movies.  

I realize that it's ironic to ask who you think is right after trying to convince myself you that I don't care what others think of me personally. But alas, the future of this much-loved event rests on your response. No pressure.

Has Anyone Seen My Mind? It Seems to Be Missing.

Have you ever wondered if you're losing your mind? I certainly have, and on more than one occasion. Last night being one of them. As I seriously consider the possibilities that this is happening to me, I find myself wondering if people who lose their minds actually realize it, or, does the fact that I'm asking mean that I'm not. And what does it mean to lose ones mind anyway?

On one hand I have real concerns that I'm headed for early onset dementia. Sure, everyone forgets what they walked into a certain room for, and forgotten names of folks you don't see that often is normal, but it's worse than that for me. I will completely blank on the names of people I'm close to. I  can't recall the title of that book, movie, or TV show to save my life (there goes my trivia game show dream). I remember dates and times wrong. My "brain farts" happen so frequently that I'm getting used to the smell.

Then there's the "crazy" side of losing ones mind. While I feel like my depression symptoms are, for the most part, under control, lately I'm wondering if I'm bipolar or just ridiculously moody. It's like my teenage and young adult years all over again. Come to think of it, I should call my college roommates to apologize. Anyway, last night I went from having a grand ole time with friends to walking a mile home at 11 p.m. because I was angry for no particularly good reason. (Though you'd think by now that husbands would know not to ask their wives, "What's your problem?" in that tone of voice. At least when the kids ask why I'm in a bad mood it's an innocent, albeit foolish, mistake.)

So what is my problem exactly? Well, that's the thing. Looking at the big picture, I have no problems. I have a job, a home, my health, my parents' health, my kids' health, a good great husband, and food for the table (when I actually go grocery shopping). But close up, everything is a problem. I have moments (they last no more than an hour, tops) where I try to be adult and not complain about life to my friends (whom I will be lucky to still call "friends" after my increasingly bad behavior), but ultimately I succumb to all the sh*t that's dragging me down:

Missed deadlines
Divorce news
Diagnoses
Family obligations
To do lists
Job searches
Aging
Cancer treatments
Parenting

Some of that has nothing to do with me personally. But it's affecting people I care about and that affects me. I'm well aware that this is the same sh*t that's dragging down nearly everyone I know, but it's just that I feel everything so much more acutely. I recently asked Rob if he thinks everyone experiences the world like I do (albeit without talking/blogging about it), and his immediate answer was "No." No thoughtful consideration required before responding. Isn't he the lucky one to have married me!

You're probably (hopefully) thinking that I'm normal and that this is life. You might say that every mom of a teenager goes through this crap, but I think it'd be so much easier if I didn't jump on the roller coaster with them. I can literally go from happy to bitch in 3.5 seconds. One minute I'll be dreaming of the day when the kids are out of the house and Rob and I can downsize and move somewhere warm and live happily ever after. The next minute I'm seriously doubting that I can stand even one more day together, listening to him pass gas breathe. The poor guy never knows who he's coming home to and a spouse can only be patient for so long. Hence, my walk home last night.

I realize that this post is probably better suited for my personal journal (yes, can you believe there are things I actually keep personal!), but these worries kept me tossing and turning last night and I guess I'm hoping someone will say that they get it, that they've been there, too.

That I'm not losing my mind.

Freakin' Angel Friendship Finder [Beta version]

Last Monday, during my discovery of the "Fountain of Delight," my friend Kim announced that there was the possibility of someone new in her life. (Scandalous!) I don't recall the exact connections, but someone Kim knows suggested that she and so-and-so would really hit it off. Even though so-and-so lived in another city (D.C.?), she and Kim became Facebook acquaintances, and then, ironically enough, so-and-so just bought a house in our community. Kim is looking forward to the possibility of someone new joining our circle of friends. (So-and-so is a woman.) We're even considering waiving the membership fee and forgoing the initiation rites.

I don't know about you, but no matter how old I get, making new friends is still pretty exciting. Even more special than when we were little kids and could just walk up to someone and ask, "Do you want to be friends?" New friendships at our age have the advantage of being--for the most part--free of the drama we experienced as teens, and they don't hold the painful realities associated with college friends with whom we bond and then must part.

In the past six months or so, I have been blessed to add a few new friends to my list. And yes, I do keep a list in a little book in my nightstand. Just like my dad who regularly updates the list of people whom he likes enough to invite to his funeral. Or likes enough to give me permission to invite to his funeral, since he himself won't be able to do the asking.

In order to appear on my registry of friends, there are certain qualifications that one must possess. If you're wondering whether you're one of the chosen, this short quiz should give you a fairly good idea of where you stand:

Freakin' Angel Friendship Finder [Beta version]

1. Do you think snark or sarcasm is "the devil's language?"
2. Do you mind picking up the tab when your friends don't have cash on them?
3. Are you easily embarrassed by a friend's particularly loud laughter, whether at a restaurant or in a movie theater?
4. Is anything off limits in conversation with friends?
5. Do you have a problem with sobbing phone calls at 2 a.m.?
6. Can you easily sooth a friend's ego, assuring her, on an as-needed basis, that she's funny, smart, attractive and/or a good mom?
7. Will you gladly trade outfits with your friends at a clothing swap?
8. Are you okay with a friend who goes to bed before you've left their party? 
9. Do you find those who speak truth to power to be refreshing in a world of sissies? 
10. Would it be super cool to be written about in a friend's blog?

How to score your results:

• If you answered "no" to the first five questions and "yes" to questions 6-10, we are soul mates.
• If you answered "no" to at least three of the first five questions and "yes" to at least three of the last five questions, serious potential exists for a long-term relationship.
• If you answered "no" to only one or two of the first five questions, and "yes" to just one or two of the last five questions, we can probably hang out, but we'll both be most comfortable socializing within a group. 
• If you answered "yes" to questions 1-5 and "no" to questions 6-10, why are you even reading this blog? 

Don't let your quiz results deter you from trying to become my friend. Lots of attention and flattery can go a long way. I also find that it's easiest to become friends with women who have the same names as other women I'm friends with. I'm pleased to say that my newest friends -- Cathy, Aimee and Lisa -- have the exact same names as my college roommates! How great is that?

All kidding aside, this friendship stuff is serious business. Allow me to illustrate my point:

Rob and I have been talking about and looking forward to our 10-year plan, which involves some major life changes. In 10 years, the kids will be done with college (or I'll have cut them off financially), I'll no longer have to work at a university for tuition assistance, and Rob will have had enough of mediocre-at-best baseball seasons. Our 10-year plan has us moving south, somewhere close to the beach, where we'll simplify our lives with a refreshingly small piece of land that requires little to no maintenance since I'm the only one who does any yard work around here, dammit. Sounds great, right? The only possible glitch in our plans? My freakin' friends.

Frankly, I can't imagine life without them. And Facebook posts and the occasional text are not going to cut it. I need them close by so that when I have a free evening I can ask them to treat me to a margarita margaritas. I need to be able to count on their hugs, the sense of community I feel when I'm with them, and the clothing swaps. I wouldn't want to miss Karen's crab fest, New Year's Eve at the Mendell's, Cathie's Mardi Gras party, or Theresa's Labor Day get-together. And what would we do without the annual MacShimer bonfire? Just thinking about it makes me teary. But then again, my son would tell you that the sun coming up each day makes me teary. He's a smart ass.

As much as it pains me to think about moving on, for once in my life I'm going to try something new. I'm not going to move myself mentally or emotionally into the future. I'm going to enjoy every minute I spend with my wonderful friends, instead of wasting time worrying about what's next. I've missed out on a lot of good memories because my sights were always set on tomorrow.

Just one last thing. The Freakin' Angel Friendship Finder does not take into account ones material possessions. Please note that those individuals with a boat (who are willing to take me out on it) and/or a beach house (who are willing to invite me to it), are automatically added to the friend registry. With just the purchase of a boat or house, you too can ensure your place on the list!

Fountain of Delight Just $15.99. No Shipping or Handling!

I don't usually go for more than a week without blogging, but given the mood I was in recently, I did you a favor. I wasn't in my usual state of whining, but instead found myself afflicted with a rare case of "I want to start a fight." I felt like Pink in "So What, I'm Still a Rock Star." At least I didn't hit anyone. 

I'm not exactly sure what started my rebellion. There was some element of feeling unappreciated at work and a sense I was being critiqued by family members for my parenting skills. Then there was the inevitable post-invitation regret that results whenever I decide to have a party or host a holiday meal. I experienced a major mood swing when I thought I had sold our timeshare, only to have serious doubts that "Shengli from Canada" was/is going to come through with the check. And then there's the "home work" that cries out to you when spring rolls around and you venture into your yard. Not the least of these assignments is filling in the "gap" left by five "widow maker" trees that were removed between our yard and our neighbors. Even though we love them (our neighbors, not the widow makers), we don't want to have to "watch Pedro in his wife-beater working in the garage," as his wife so eloquently put it. So we'll just throw another couple thousand on top of the $6K (we split) to cut down the trees. And did I mention we need a new kitchen floor and counter tops and a dishwasher? Home ownership is awesome. First world problems, I know.

But I don't want to get into what caused my angry mood because ain't nobody got time for that. And Dad, that's not bad grammar on my part, it's from a video that most people are familiar with. Here's a link. (He called into question my job qualifications based on my use of that expression on Facebook.) 

The good news is that I have found a simple cure for what ails me, and likely what ails you as well. For only $15.99 and no shipping or handling fees, you too can rediscover a long lost sense of contentment, simple joy and satisfaction. And unlike wine, it won't affect your driving or decision making skills! If you order now, I'll throw in a sunny glow for your cheeks and a skip in your step! You may think that's the Easter chocolate talking, but in fact, my fountain of delight was in no way candy, wine or shopping related. Here's the key:

A day off from work for which you have nothing planned. No must-run errands. No appointment to get the car fixed. No power washing the house or planting grass seed. No doctor visits. Just a day off on which you ignore your to-do list. Oh, and this is important-- for maximum enjoyment, the kids should be in school.

One of the few benefits of working for a Christian organization is a holiday known as Easter Monday. Aside from the egg rolling race at the White House, this Monday after Easter (hence the name) doesn't translate into much in the United States, except in the state of North Dakota (?). But, according to timeanddate.com, "Many Christians around the world celebrate Easter Monday as a day of rest. It is a day for many to enjoy the time outdoors in countries such as Australia and Canada. It is known as Dyngus (great name), or Splash Monday, among many Polish communities where children often play water games." There's a Polish joke in there somewhere. 

When I read about this "day of rest," I thought, "What the hell. Let's go for it." So yesterday I slept in and then went out for breakfast with Rob. We happened upon a local spot where we were the only diners under the age of 70. There, we were amused by smart ass senior citizens, providing a glimpse at who we'll be in a very short number of years. The 90-year-old birthday boy, flirting with one of the 70-plus year old girls, told her that she was welcome in the restaurant "even though you're a Republican" (indeed a rarity in Swarthmore), to which she replied, "You can't discriminate against minorities." Birthday boy told us to come back some time when the dancing girls were performing. 

Breakfast was followed by a solid workout at the gym, which I effectively rendered useless with Chik Fil A nuggets and french fries for lunch (and coffee cake and Easter candy snacks later in the day). The best part of lunch was a last minute picnic in the park with Freakin Angels Kim and Cathie and their littlest ones Weston and Gemma. I gave thanks to God not only for the food and friendship, but for the fact that I don't have kids under the age of five anymore. Way too stressful having to actually watch them on the seesaw and the spinning thing and near the creek, etc. Dating, driving, academic pressures, social influences, etc. are a breeze compared to the monkey bars.

Glad I don't have to deal with this stuff anymore

While Easter Monday was indeed delightful, I have to admit that my transformation appropriately began on Good Friday. The church choir sang at the evening service which was a lovely blend of scripture and music and none of the theatrical nonsense we've been seeing lately that brought me to tears. Saturday was a fast-paced mix of three soccer games for Abby, a choir rehearsal for me, the finale of Scandal on the DVR (Olivia's dad is EVIL), and Easter brunch preparations, all followed by some time spent around the fire pit on a perfectly beautiful evening. On Easter Sunday, the choir sang at both the 8:15 and 11 a.m. services and had brunch in between, during which time I got to chat with our director, the wonderfully open, honest and real Lisa - just another in a long line of amazing MPC women who keep me coming to church during this difficult time of pastoral transition (which I have, with great difficulty, refrained from blogging about).

Easter brunch (#2) with my parents and Rob's family, was also very nice, and most importantly, I didn't run out of food. I enjoyed having my new friend Aimee (also from MPC) and her kids (ages 9 and 10) join us for the afternoon, and was so proud of my teenagers for playing tag and soccer and keeping them entertained. In fact, Ian and Abby just may be a major source of my emotional transformation over the past week. Simply put, they've been awesome. Willing to help (even Ian, to some degree), funny, kind, affectionate. I wonder what they want. 

I've gone on long enough, but if you remember anything from this rambling post, remember this: A day off from work, preferably one with sunshine and a to-do list that you ignore for a mere 8 hours, can do wonders for your mental health. And at only $15.99 (for breakfast and lunch), it's a deal that's just too good to pass up.

Not Reflected in the Score

It's not everyday that a lacrosse game makes you cry. Unless you're me, in which case you cry over everything from the sunrise and puppies to death and taxes. I can tell you that in the case of this game, however, I wasn't the only one emotionally affected.

On Tuesday evening, Villanova men's lacrosse played Princeton here at Villanova. For those of you who remember everything I say and write (which means you probably need to expand your social circle), you may recall that Chris Bates, husband of my friend, the late Dr. Ann Bates, is coach of the Princeton team. For the last two years, a small group of Freakin' Angels has road tripped to Princeton to see a game. When we learned of the match up here, Angel Kim G. suggested we make it a group outing and extended an invitation to our wider church community. In the end, we more than qualified for a ticket discount with a group of 44 "Ann's Fans" planning to attend.

Tuesday evening was cold, but can I be totally dorky and tell you that we were comfortable and warm in each others company? (Literally. The minute someone got up to hit the snack bar, their absence made you chilly.) There was something so incredibly moving about this group of 40-some people, from ages 5 to 55, all gathered together to celebrate our friend Ann and cheer on the man she loved. On a personal level, the gathering was a living reminder of our human need for community, the need to belong to something bigger than ourselves. I was awed by the blessing that these people are in my life. My Freakin' Angel friend Cathie, who does not cry, was also touched by the experience. The next day, she sent this email to the group:

I'm thankful:
> For you all and for your friendship.
> For the warmth that comes from having you all in my life & from sitting close under blankets.
> For our families and how they can all just blend together.
> For laughter.
> For a win for Princeton.
> For Theresa's on the spot medical assistance (damn those bleachers).
> For cocoa and pretzels generously delivered.
> For strong arms to carry Gemma when mine get tired.
> For Kim's organization in purchasing tickets for us all.
> For Nicholas' (Bates) never ending smile.
> For joy on a cold night.
> For Dickie's excellent photography work to capture the gems below.
> For Ann's friendship that continues to give to each of us.

Just a few of the girls in the group

When I asked Cathie's permission to use this in my blog, she said those were just the quick ones off the top of her head, there were plenty more things to be thankful for. Amen to that. 

Cathie wasn't the only one to share her feelings after the game. Kim S. (we have lots of Kims) noted, "A couple of times during the night I looked around and felt so lucky to be a part of such a great group." And Kim G. added, "It was so fun and such a blessing. I remember thinking that it's quite possible that a similar type of group someday soon will be gathering to watch some of our kids in their ventures. I truly consider you all family."

Someone who I never expect to share her feelings or express emotion is my daughter Abby. She'll tell you she loves you at least twice a day, but she doesn't put her feelings on display (I'm not sure we're actually related). For the first part of the game she voiced her displeasure at being there. "Cold and bored." After I further bundled the blankets around her and pulled her up close to me (and paid for hot chocolate), she seemed satisfied and even passed on the opportunity to go home early with a friend. When we arrived home after the game, Abby was almost giddy and unusually affectionate. In fact, when it was time for bed, she said something about snuggling with Rob and me, and when I agreed, she retrieved her favorite blanket and cuddled up between us, arms wrapped around me. If you think that's kinda weird, you've never watched your teenage daughter grow up too quickly and wished you could stop time and have her be a little girl again. The little one who wanted to sleep with you when she was scared, or not feeling well, or daddy was out of town. When they're little, those nights can be frustrating, but when they're 13, you know each time they cuddle with you could very well be the last (until you're 40, at which point you're happy to snuggle with your mom again).

I guess what I haven't said here is that I firmly believe Abby was moved by the friendship, love and affection our group of 40-some showed for one another. She knows how much my friends mean to me, but there was something incredibly powerful about seeing, and being part of, the sheer number of moms, dads, and kids gathered together for much laughter and joy. It's contagious. In fact, I hope that if you haven't yet been afflicted with this degree of love and friendship, that you catch it real quickly. This wonderful group of people is more than happy to spread it around.

Why God Allows Bad Things to Happen

Freakin' Angel readers, many of you are familiar with the story of Ann Bates, Ann's Love Builds, and a newly opened medical center in Ghana with her name on it. It's been an amazing journey from the pain of loss to a celebration of Ann's life in the form of a place of healing. So appropriate given that Ann was called to be a doctor during her time here on earth.

I know Ann had a few friends who would describe themselves as atheists or agnostics, yet I heard from one of them that Ann's victory over cancer at three different times in her life nearly had her believing in God. But Ann's death can easily take non-believers back to square one, asking the question that even the most faithful Christians ask: "If there is a God, why do bad things happen to good people?" I'm not going to try to tackle that one on my own, and thankfully I don't need to because my friend Kim Graham, felt called to put into words:

"My Thoughts on Why God Allows Bad Things to Happen"
by Kim Graham

This week was a week spent in the shadow of hearing first-hand from my friend Theresa about the hospital being built in Ghana in memory of my friend Ann. And while there was great joy in having Theresa (and the entire team) arrive safely back at home, it also meant being aware - again - that my beautiful, smart (she was an ER doctor at duPont Children's Hospital for crying out loud), wonderful friend Ann - whose son Nick is the same age as Hope, isn't here to watch his lacrosse games, sign his report cards, spend her afternoons getting frustrated with him in some way or another and then lean over his sleeping head at night and give his forehead a kiss. (That's Nicholas in the picture, holding the soccer ball...and his new Ghanian soccer team that formed when he delivered soccer balls to each classroom at a school in Berekum in memory of his mom.)

So with that already in my mind, a bunch of other news found its way to my prayer list this week. I went with my husband to his uncle's funeral on Monday - a man who had suffered greatly and whose family is still facing heartbreaking challenges. A dear friend's father has had his (and his family's) world turned upside down within the past ten days with the discovery of a significant cancerous tumor. Another friend asked for prayer for a friend of hers - a dad in his 30s - who collapsed from a stroke and died. I spent my hair appointment giving condolences to my hairdresser (and friend) whose mom passed away just before Christmas. Finally, we found out this week that a preschooler our family knows has been diagnosed leukemia and is in treatment at the Children's Hospital of Philadelphia.

So yes, it was time for me once again to deal with the most asked theological question in all of history: why does God - who claims to love us - let bad things happen?

I'm not a theologian by any stretch. There are also people on my Facebook friends list who have dealt with trials and struggles and sadness that I can only imagine - and those hurts are very, very real. In the worst moments - the moments when the rest of the world has stopped and you have to remember to breathe and the minutes seem like hours and you're not sure what "normal" will look like ever again - in those worst moments, these answers are not going to be quick fixes. But when the time is right, and the heart is ready, they might be worth some consideration. So here goes (in no particular order and, to be honest, they kind of overlap with each other):

1) Love. Bad things happen because we love. Generally speaking, we think something is bad if it causes us hurt. If we didn't love, we wouldn't care and if we didn't care, we wouldn't hurt...and then nothing would be "bad." But nothing would be joyful either. Or hopeful. Or tender. Or sweet. Here on earth, one has to exist in order for the other to exist as well. Maybe God doesn't allow for bad things to happen. Maybe He had to choose between making us cold, unfeeling robots that merely existed but protected from all hurts; or creatures capable of great love and connection but vulnerable to any number of hurts. Which choice shows the greater love?

2) This isn't the world we were created to be in. This is my go-to answer for any number of situations. If you believe what the Bible says, our souls literally were not designed to function in the world as it is today. They are designed to flourish in Heaven - a place best described, I think, as the removing of the bad part of #1 and just having the good part. Being able to love and love greatly with the promise of no kind of hurt - ever. Think about that for a moment. Think about what it would look like if we all loved without the fear of hurt. Without the obstacles of the walls we built up to protect ourselves. Without the worry of rejection. Without having to ever say good-bye. Without ever being lonely. It is, truly, almost unimaginable.

3) When bad things happen, we get a glimpse of #2. I'm not saying this is WHY bad things happen, but if we choose to see it, we can see glimpses of the loving community in #2 when they do. Sometimes a tragedy happens and someone is forced to ask, "If God loved us, why would He let this happen?" It's an understandable response. But the other question could be "Why would God let this happen and leave me to suffer all alone?" God sends us comfort, if we look for it. I have seen it many times. Friends of mine go through situations that make me think to myself I would just crawl in my bed and never leave...but they are the first to say how loved they felt, or how cared for they felt...how they got a glimpse of the community we are promised in eternity. And while they would never wish for the tragedy to happen again, they are grateful for the blessings that come after it. Thank God there are blessings after it...because otherwise, life would truly be miserable.

In this life, we are all broken. We are all going to be broken some more. It's not an if...it's a when. The question for me has become not "why does God let bad things happen" but "how am I going to choose to be broken?" We can be broken like a dropped dinner dish. Sharp and shattered with no usable purpose. We can be broken like a car tire with a slow leak...we can still function somewhat but we're too broken to be dependable and broken enough to always be looking for some kind of fix. Or, we can be broken like a child's neon glow stick. The kind that are a sort of milky grey at first and you can't even tell what color they are going to be. The kind that have no purpose UNTIL they are broken. And not only broken - but shaken. That's when the light shines, when the color is revealed, when the purpose comes through.

Most of the parents I know would do anything in their power to protect their child from hurt. It's not uncommon to hear parents say "if it was only me who was sick" or "I would take a bullet for my child." It struck me as I was thinking through this that that's exactly what God did for us. He took a bullet - in the shape of a cross - to take away hopelessness. To promise us what is to come. To show how things are meant to be.

I have no idea if anyone will be reading this...it was more of a cathartic exercise for myself than anything else. I realize that there may be people who read it who don't believe the same thing I do as far as the Bible...eternity...what God has done for us. And that's ok. For me, though, this is the only way it makes sense. My prayer for all the families heavy on my heart this week is that their suffering isn't hopeless...and that miracles they never would have wished for and can never explain find them at every corner of their journey.

And that, somehow...someway...in the midst of their hurt, Beauty can be found.

Just like in Berekum, Ghana.

"Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us." Romans 5:3-5

The Painful Realities of Socializing

'Tis the season ... for socializing, which is fine if I'm socializing with people I've socialized with before. But put me in a new setting with new people and it's like high school all over again. I'm awkward, self-conscious, anxiety-ridden and convinced my time would be better spent studying.

During the past couple years, my social life has seen relatively few new faces. My circles have stayed basically the same, and in some cases they've begun to overlap as friends from one circle get to know friends from another. There's comfort in those intersecting circles, unless things go too far and friends from those ven diagrams of my social life start getting together without me. Admit it. We all want our friends to like us more than they like any of the competition their other friends. Learning that a friend is going away for a weekend with college buddies or ditching me for someone I don't know can cause slight pangs of jealousy and concerns that I will be forgotten and left behind. It's creepy and controlling immature and silly, I know. If you're my friend I simply request that you don't put me through that. Then everything will be okay. But I've gotten off track here. We were discussing the great Dale Carnegie test of socializing with new people.

Two weekends ago, when Rob and I were in Charleston, SC, I was challenged with a scenario that I hadn't faced in years. We were spending time with Rob's fraternity brothers, two of whom threw their significant others into the mix even though I was relishing having them all to myself doing fine without them. These were women I'd never met before. I don't know about you, but it's been a very long time since I had to put on my game face and spend an evening with complete strangers. Do you know what's involved when a woman meets another woman for the first time? It's second only to prom night in terms of the stress level. All your feminist tendencies go out the window as you become ridiculously obsessed with your appearance. You want the competition her to be unattractive. Preferably with bad hair and a big butt. You want this "cheese" (fraternity-ese for "that girl is mine") to be shallow, vapid, clueless and completely without humor, wit or charm. You hope that she will be dressed inappropriately. That she didn't go to a more prestigious college than you. That whatever job she has involves no brain power whatsoever. You pray she's not one of those fitness freaks who makes you feel like a schlub. Rather than face the possibility that you won't measure up, you decide to suddenly develop chills and a fever, rendering you unable to leave your bed. Just like high school.

This coming weekend I am again faced with the opportunity to socialize with others whom I do not know well. Though I will most likely recognize many faces at this party, I will fail to remember the names of 95% of them. That's assuming we were ever introduced in the first place. While the presence of men means I won't be subject to a head-on, woman-to-woman competition, I will be even more likely to feel insecure. See, although women in the South are beautiful and have charming accents, they aren't nearly as smart and accomplished as women here in the Northeast. That's a fact. Women in my community are typically bright, cultured and excellent conversationalists. They usually dress well and have terrific figures given that 90% of them are freakin' triathletes. They make good money and/or are married to men who do quite well in their impressive careers. Most own another house somewhere in the mountains or at the beach. And should you naively believe you can hold your own with your intelligence, witty banter, basement renovations and Nordstrom Rack shoes, you'll soon learn that their kids are attending Ivy League schools on scholarship.

Besides setting women back 50 years with my gross generalizations and focus on physical appearance and income levels, what this post is really trying to say is that once you have a circle of good friends who don't cheat on you, you should show your appreciation and stop socializing.

Happy Thanksgiving to all my faithful friends!

If I Could, Would I?

Ever since I graduated from college, my dad has wanted me to go into business for myself. He's offered to help financially, and even offered his support if money is the obstacle to my writing a book (it's not; it's just laziness on my part). After 50+ years of "working for the man," my dad knows that true job satisfaction comes from pursuing your own dream, not someone else's. While I'm certainly blessed to have such supportive parents, unfortunately, I'm chicken shit scared to death at the prospect of going out on my own. The work I do for others stresses me out, and that's with a guaranteed paycheck and benefits. I can't imagine how insane I'd be if financial security and success rested almost completely on my shoulders. This fear of doing something so radical leaves me awed and inspired by those who go for it.

In the past few years, more than a couple friends have taken the leap to fulfill a dream. My college friend Tom and his girlfriend moved to Florida from PA and started a kayak tour business. Freakin' Angel Kathy decided to go solo with her law practice, and FA Andria is engaging her creative side in making unique pieces which she sells in local stores and at shows. MPC friend Bill opened a Sports Clips Haircut location. My former Judson Press colleague Linda ventured out on her own as a marketing consultant; and while I'm not exactly sure what she does, my old Lehigh Valley friend Cathy appears to be successful in whatever endeavors she's pursuing. Among my craziest most inspiring friends is Dave, who just a couple months ago fulfilled his dream of opening a restaurant (get thee to The Granary!). I'd be scared to death, but even if he's a tad nervous, he doesn't show it. Geez, imagine my blog posts if I was trying to succeed in business on my own. You think I bitch, whine and complain now!

An example of Lori's stunning photography

As impressive as these friends are, there is yet another who inspires me at an even deeper level. Imagine sacrificing your salary and the comforts of home to spend thousands of dollars in order to travel to a foreign country to help others in need. In two short weeks, my friend Lori Sheppard, a pediatric physical therapist, will leave for Morocco where she will train and provide support to people caring for children with special needs. This will be Lori's third visit to this country - her first two visits were for two weeks each, but on her last trip she felt called to return for nearly three months.

Lori's company is kind enough to hold a position for the duration of her trip, but she needed to resign from the management job she held and will return as a staff physical therapist. As you can imagine, this decrease in salary adds to the financial burden of this opportunity (home mortgage payments don't stop while she's away). Lori has made some lifestyle and budget changes over the past year and has started a small photography business (she's amazing!) to help bring in some funding. These changes alone are not enough, however, and this is where we come in to the story.

While many of us like to think we would do something like this if we could, realistically, most of us can't. Lori can and is, and her only reward will be the joy of helping others in need (a nice reward, albeit with no monetary value). The cost of Lori's trip is $12,000.00, including travel (airfare and in-country), living expenses, ministry expenses and financial obligations here at home that cannot wait. Would you be able to give a tax-deductable monetary donation to help out?  There are a couple ways to give:

Lori

• www.compassion-corps.com - On the donation page, select ‘short term trip-Morocco’.  On the payment info page, use the drop down box under ‘designation’ to select my name.
  
• Checks (payable to “Compassion Corps”) can be mailed to the address on the website – put Lori Sheppard's name in the memo line.

Lori would remind us that the finances are not the only important item to consider. If you are so inclined, would you please keep her endeavor in prayer?

Thanks for thinking of her and offering your support. Of course I also encourage you to eat at the Granary, buy Andria's cool gifts, get your haircut at Sports Clips, and seek legal counsel from Kathy. And if you're ever in Holmes Beach, FL, visit Sea Life Kayak Adventures.

As for me, I'm going to ask my dad if he'll support my desire to purchase a boat and take friends fishing. I'm sure that would pay the bills!

Top 10 Reasons You Should Join Us Next Year

I returned home three days early from my church mission trip to Banner Elk, NC last week. This change in plans did not result from an ailing child, a broken fingernail or a frightening encounter with a galloping horse (though the horse thing did happen). Unfortunately, I was called home by the death of my Aunt Glenna who had suffered from leukemia for the past six months. This is the second of my mom's sisters to pass away this year - my Aunt Faith died on April 30. This loss, my mom's grief, and the need to leave my church family at a time when I needed them most, made for a weepy couple days. My ridiculously bad hair and increasing facial blemishes didn't help either.

But this post is not meant to bring you down; I can point you to some others if that's what you're looking for. No, this post is intended to convince you to join me on next year's Media Presbyterian mission trip (church member or not!). Here are the top 10 reasons (in David Letterman fashion) to mark your calendar for 2014:

10. There is nothing worth watching on television during July and August.

9. Hot, humid, buggy weather in Pennsylvania is replaced by pleasant days and cool, sweatshirt-weather nights in the Blue Ridge Mountains of western North Carolina.

8. You will see teenagers taking on actual manual labor. You're also likely to meet a teenager who will talk to you. And perhaps hug you when you need to leave early. You'll feel much better about the next generation.

7. Evenings filled with games, devotions, carb loading in the dining hall, and rocking on the porch in the Lodge.

6. This trip provides a great opportunity to practice your southern twang and brush up on your knowledge of country music.

5. Taking vacation days to do work around your own home is sad and depressing. Taking vacation days to work on someone else's home is inspiring and rewarding.

4.  The chances are excellent that someone will actually express appreciation for your work.Try getting that at home!

3. If you're looking for friends, you will make them on this trip.

2. If MPC people are already your friends, there is no better way to spend a week together (a vacation to OBX would cost a great deal more and you wouldn't have that warm fuzzy feeling that comes from helping someone else).

1. In one week, your personal problems will be put in perspective and you'll be reminded that it isn't "all about you."

Need more convincing? Check out this video from our week:

Can we count you in next summer? 

Awakening to Goodness at a Time of Loss

It's been a rough couple of weeks. On the morning of Friday, April 19, my Aunt Faify (Faith) was admitted to the hospital in critical condition after suffering what doctors assumed was a heart attack. That same day, my Aunt Glenna, who is battling leukemia, was told that chemotherapy wasn't working and doctors recommended hospice care. And then, that evening, when coming to the hospital with us to visit his wife, my Uncle Richie took one step into the lobby and collapsed, code blue. A dozen medical workers pounded on his chest, shocked his heart, and miraculously brought him back. If he hadn't been in a hospital when this happened, he would have died.

Two weeks later, Uncle Richie has had a pacemaker put in and was moved to a rehabilitation facility. My Aunt Glenna is holding on as best she can. And my Aunt Faify has found a new home in heaven.

I haven't known what to blog about during this difficult time. A comedic post seemed inappropriate (though laughter is exactly what we need now). A detailed post about the range of emotions we experienced felt too heavy. On Sunday during church, however, I got an idea from Pastor Nikki's sermon when she remarked that "the pools of kindness are drying up." You'll be glad to know I didn't shout it out loud, but my immediate reaction was "Nah ah!"

There's been a whole lot of tragedy in the world and a great deal of loss that I've experienced personally in recent years. And though my "Why, God?" has gone unanswered, I have found Jesus' words in Matthew 5:4 to be true: “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted…" I can also relate to Psalms 94:19: "When the cares of my heart are many, your consolations cheer my soul." My comfort and consolation are coming from those pools of kindness, and I see them everywhere I look. I wish it didn't require grief and loss to awaken us to the goodness in the world.

In the past couple weeks I have seen love and kindness in action, some of it in direct response to my personal situation, some of it just there waiting to be noticed:

• The "newlywed" couple at church still holding hands after 50+ years of marriage.
• The simple gesture of a husband putting an arm around his wife's waist, symbolically saying "I'm always by your side."
• An adult son bringing his cancer stricken mother to church in a wheelchair and throughout the service rubbing her back, adjusting the scarf on her head and smiling because being there with her and for her was bringing him joy.
• The unexpected kindness of a Villanova student worker wrapping his arms around my shoulders and hugging me when I received the call that Aunt Faify had passed.
• The love of friends who bring food, offer prayers and provide support in times of need.
• A four-year-old walking into a room to give his PopPop a hug and a kiss -- just because -- and then walking out again to return to his toys. 
• The kindness and care of a neighbor whose love sustains my parents through good times and bad.
• The commitment and love that brings a daughter home from Denver, twice in two weeks, to be there to support her mom and to say goodbye to a beloved aunt.
• The constant presence of a husband who let go of old resentments and is providing the unwavering support his wife needs during one of the most difficult times of her life.

Freakin' Angels, indeed.

And then there's my Mom. For the past several months she's been a source of strength for my Aunt Glenna. Taking her for chemo and blood and platelets. Letting her cry. Talking and laughing. Reminiscing. Just sitting together. My Aunt Faith and Aunt Glenna have been my mom's best friends throughout her entire life. Out of five sisters, they were the inseparable three.To say this is a difficult time for my mom, would be a major understatement. She had to plan her sister's memorial service because Uncle Richie was in no condition to do so. She has had to care for him as well. And despite being emotionally and physically drained, she never lost sight of the needs of her sister Glenna. Through it all, my mom has displayed incredible strength, resilience and unwavering faith. She has mourned and will continue to mourn her loss, but the love she feels for her sisters keeps her going.

Having never known three women with bigger hearts who give (and gave) of themselves so selflessly, I'm certain that this awakening to the love and kindness all around us is exactly what my aunts, and my mom, would want. The perfect tribute to each of these wonderful women.

Kindness, Affirmation, and Joy (Seriously)

Lately I've been hypersensitive. But in a good way. Suddenly I'm more acutely aware of the special people and moments in my life. It's almost a little creepy; like maybe I'm not long for this world and God is saying "Wake up and pay attention to the joy and kindness in the world before it's too late, dammit!" Well, maybe He doesn't say "dammit."

In case you're wondering if you're reading someone else's blog, I assure that this is the Freakin' Angel talking. I know you're not used to happy thoughts coming from me, but let's go with it. I'm sure next week I'll be my irritable and/or withdrawn self.

I think my wake up call came two Fridays ago. The same week I wrote my whiny, "I need to be shown appreciation" post. In what can only be described as another example of God's delight in messing with us, on this particular Friday, a number of kindnesses came my way. And, believe it or not, I started it.

Early that morning I exchanged emails with a Villanova professor whom I've only met once. He had reworked something I'd written for him, and my smart-ass self responded with :

I have to confess, for some reason I didn't expect engineers to be good writers, but here at VU I'm consistently proven wrong. If this engineering thing doesn't work out for you :-), you could always go into marketing or communications.

His response:

You are too kind, but thank you.  I'm the type that needs a pat on the back once in a while, so you made my day.

How awesome is that! It made my day knowing I'd made his day, and it certainly helped to know that I'm not alone in my slightly pathetic need for regular attention and recognition.

After that nice start to my Friday, a number of kindnesses came my way, all before noon:

• Freakin' Angel Kim G., knowing Ian was home sick again, offered to pick up ginger ale and saltines for him and delivered them to our door.
• In checking the mail I found a handwritten note from a fellow church member (no one I'm particularly close to) who wanted me to know she was thinking of me after learning of my aunt's leukemia diagnosis. 
• The dental hygienist said I was her best patient of the week and rewarded me with stickers and a lollipop a free teeth whitening sample. And I didn't even read anything into the teeth whitening gift. But you'd tell me if you thought my teeth were yellow, right? 

Last week's high note was a word of recognition from the Dean. He told me he'd heard from a couple others that I was doing a great job and that they liked my energy. He confirmed that they made the right decision in hiring me. Man, I needed that! Giddy like a school girl I responded with:

And then I called Rob to share the good news. You'd have thought I had just been promoted, I was so darn happy.

Now, just a few words about joy. The joy stuff came this past weekend and, oddly enough, involved my children. On Saturday, Abby celebrated her 12th birthday with a handful of friends who spent the night. Their constant laughter actually made me smile, where in the past it made me want to slap someone.  They watched Pitch Perfect and though I had found it to be only mildly amusing when I saw it in the theater, watching the movie with them suddenly made it hysterical. The whole evening was just a lovely testament to girlfriends and laughter and joy.

Sunday I attended the last performance of Grease at the high school (which they toned down quite a bit after complaints from some parents. I can't believe someone complained. Some people are such prudes.). Ian was able to participate this weekend, and watching him onstage, giving 110% to his role as a book nerd, gave me great pleasure. He was so obviously thrilled to be there, in his element (theater, not nerd-dom). After the show he looked exhausted, but in a beaming sort of way. It's immensely gratifying to see your child in a place he or she clearly belongs.

Oh, one more comment on the topic of affirmation. Even though most people don't go around crying about it like I do, I can't imagine there's anyone who doesn't appreciate recognition. Take, for instance, this recent interaction with a woman who's been cleaning my house for about a month. Last week I had left her a long list of improvements that needed to be made after I was displeased with her previous visit. I'm sure she cursed me, booby trapped my junk drawer, and stole from the cookie jar, but she did a great job based on my requests. On Friday night I texted her to say thanks and let her know how pleased I was. She actually picked up the phone and called me right back to say how much she appreciated my telling her and said she was going to share my message with her daughter who works with her.

All of this is not to show how wonderfully thoughtful I am (though I do have my moments), but rather to share the power of a kind word. In what can be a dreary, cold world (especially this miserable winter), your note of affirmation, your gift of kindness, and opening yourself to joy can provide just enough light to get you, and someone else, through another day.

The Popularity Factor

Relationships are tricky terrain. Of course, it's also "Tricky to rock a rhyme, to rock a rhyme that's right on time." (A little something for you Run DMC fans.) There are many fine lines that exist to keep relationships in balance and when one of them is crossed, the results can range from discomfort to outright chaos. While the lines differ in each marriage, I believe most of us can agree on the importance of maintaining balance in the areas of:

• Love - seems obvious, but should one partner feel they love the other more than they are loved in return, things can go downhill very quickly
• Intelligence - while Rob likes to think he's smarter than me (and nearly everyone else), I know this is untrue and therefore equilibrium is maintained
• Need - this is a tough one. Depending on the state of your mental and emotional health, the level of neediness can swing wildly. While I find I appreciate Rob more when I'm needy, should my neediness last too long, I begin to feel pathetic and balance is affected in a negative way.
• Contributions - this is not financially-based for me, but rather pertains to what's being shared in the way of responsibilities on the home front. As evidenced by my recent post "A Love Story," an uptick on the husband's side can reap bountiful rewards. But, even here, should he start contributing too much, I feel guilt and discomfort. (With time, however, I believe I could adjust.)

I was originally going to include Attractiveness in this list, but if you look at some couples, you can see that the balance is way outta whack. Personally, I'm not sure whether I'd rather be married to the sad or scary looking dude, or the head turning hunk (and vice versa for you men). Once again, I prefer a reasonable balance. I think couples should be within 2 points of each other on the completely objective 1-10 attractiveness scale. But really, this could be the subject of its own post.

What I actually want to address today is the issue of Popularity. For the past fifteen years, Rob's connection to the Phillies has provided him with a ridiculous slight advantage where popularity is concerned. Recently, however, I have begun to think that perhaps his popularity is a result of his personality. The evidence lies in the number of social get-togethers Rob is invited to "with the boys," not all of whom can be Phils fans, right? There's the Pinocchio's Beer Garden Gang, Select Company Cool Kid Dads, Heatherwold Heathens (they are not all heathens, but I like the alliteration), Client Comrades, Home Base Buddies, and heck, he even has a Men's Bible Study Group at the church. I believe Rob could go out for a beer with any one (or more) of these groups any night of the week.

When I compare Rob's popularity to my own (and comparing oneself is always an excellent idea), I'm considerably bummed out slightly concerned. The honest truth is that I am not half as popular.  I have one primary group of girlfriends and the Freakin' Angels are freakin' difficult to engage socially. In fact, I'm usually the organizer of any social get-togethers. Perhaps they're getting together without me? I'm basically tethered to my other friends through Rob and rarely receive an invitation to socialize outside of the couple-context. In a divorce, I'm pretty sure they'd pick him.

My phone's not ringing, the texts aren't coming, and my inbox offers nothing but spam and prayer concerns. It's bleak, readers, bleak.

Since my school days, I have never been one of the popular girls and frankly it's never bothered me until now. I think it's because now my popularity, or lack thereof, affects not only me, but my husband and my kids. How many dinners, parties, BBQs, getaways, game nights, social events, etc. are we not being invited to because of my clearly lacking/irritating/self-absorbed/woe's me/snarky personality? And how much does my lack of fashion sense, including knowledge of the latest jewelry designs and stylish footware impact my popularity rating?

I figure I have three options here:

1. I can sit around and blog/obsess about it.
2. I can work on my personality and my wardrobe so the cool kids will like me.
3. I can forget those snotty bitches women who don't recognize how adorable, charming, witty, intelligent, and of course, humble I am, and stick with my hard-to-get-out-of-the-house Angels and other equally wonderful, though few in number, women friends.

I bet you know which way I'm leaning.

To end on a positive note (hey, it's a new year; I'm trying new things), I don't think Rob has any friends calling him who are 15+ years younger or 40+ years older. Today I had lunch with a certain seminarian who actually made it a point to get together with little old me before she returns to school this weekend. I'm feeling pretty damn special. And on the other end of the friend age spectrum, I may be the only person you know who has maintained a friendship with a woman I met when I was in my teens. She's now a lovely 88-year-old widow.

Yes, Monty Hall, I think I'll go with what's behind Door #3!

A Thanksgiving Ode to Facebook

Today, among other things, I'm giving thanks for Facebook. While there are those who express concern or outright disdain for the King of Social Media, I would like to propose that it's done a remarkable job of bringing people together, at least for me personally. And when I'm in touch with people I care about, I am thankful.

I'm thankful that through Facebook I'm closer than ever to a few of my relatives and my relatives-in-law. Take my Aunt Joan and my cousin Linda. I haven't actually seen them in years, but now we correspond (and play addictive online word games) on a regular basis. Rob's cousin Anthony and I have likewise bonded. And I connect often with Rob's aunt Jeanie who happens to be one of my favorite people. Facebook even allows me to know something about my sister's life. She doesn't personally post anything, but her husband does, and hey, it's better than nothing.

Facebook has also reconnected me with friends whom I would otherwise likely have never seen nor heard from again: prolific blogger Jim whom I barely knew in high school, my grad school friend Susanne, my former classmate Karen whose writing reflects the beauty of life, and my Freakin' Angel critic (in a nice way) Bryce. And there's Maureen, a college friend and fierce TV-Radio competitor (she won); and Jon, also from IUP Radio-TV who made it big (as in working for Oprah big); there's Tim, one of the many guys I liked in high school who never noticed; and Jen, our high school's most beautiful singing voice. My friends across the pond in Northern Ireland are also within reach compliments of Facebook.

Then there are my best friends from college, the women who knew me before medication and loved me anyway. Though they live too far away to visit even occasionally, I'm blessed to keep up with Kathie and Amy, and occasionally see an update from Lisa and Sue.

Saying goodbye to former coworkers has been made easier thanks to Facebook. I've been reunited with Shannon, Karen, Tony, and Eric from Adams Outdoor. I've reconnected with Diana, the woman who predicted I'd marry Rob the first day we met when I started working at Hot 99.9 radio. Because of Facebook, I know I can count on "seeing" my Judson/ABHMS friends Gale, Lisa, Jen, Aidsand, MaryAnn, Tammy, Joe, and Rebecca. Former coworkers like Michelle, Rick, Sandy, and Obed are also just a click away. I can even enjoy updates from my favorite Judson Press authors, including Alicia, Janet, Bill, Scott, Marvin, Kirk, Susan, Dale, and others.

And Facebook has been about so much more than the number of friends on my list or even the occasional "like" or status update. Facebook has actually enabled and encouraged expressions of love, concern, compassion, gratitude, celebration, and sympathy. While not everyone is comfortable sharing their pain or even their joy, there are others with whom we form an emotional bond in a time of need. My high school friend Beth has endured some of life's greatest challenges, including the very recent death of her five-year old daughter Emma whose life was cut short by Rett Syndrome. Beth provided regular updates throughout her life, and requested prayers when needed for Emma or her other daughter Molly. The prayers and well wishes from dozens of friends near and far provided Beth with some small measure of comfort. And Beth is just one of many who choose to share their pain and sorrow, allowing those who love them from a distance to "be there" during difficult times. Similarly, on Facebook we celebrate the happy things in our lives, marriages, births, healing, accomplishments, and more. And be honest, who doesn't absolutely love seeing dozens of birthday wishes on their special day? That alone is worth the price of Facebook, if Facebook had a price.

As for me, well you know my life's an open book, and Facebook has served as my primary means for sharing these all-revealing blog posts. Through my blog I've learned that I sometimes say what's on others' minds, and by sharing what is private and painful for many I'm able to reach someone who similarly struggles. The greatest gift I get from my writing is hearing from another who has the same doubts, insecurities, parenting dilemmas, faith issues, and visits from the Funkapotomus. It always helps to know we're not alone in this big, sometimes bad, world.

To my Facebook friends near and far, past and present, Happy Thanksgiving. I'm grateful for having you in my life!