A visit from My Second Son wouldn't be complete without harassing our cat. He had to share his milk with Andre ... but it just wasn't fun until the glass was almost empty. If only we knew what our pets were thinking:
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Friday, December 26, 2008
It's Been a Charmed Year
It used to terrify me when things in my life felt good. Felt tied up. Felt complete. I ran in circles for a good part of my younger life, expecting the worst (and you always get what you expect in life). Then when all good things came to me, I knew it couldn't last (so of course it didn't). And if the good feeling stayed, I felt that maybe my mission here on earth was complete and I was terrified that my life would be complete as well.
It has been a very long time since I was terrified of feeling happy. It was so long ago that I had forgotten how it felt. Until the last few days. It's been creeping up on me. And this morning ... I feel that fear again.
I look back on this year and I know for a fact that it has been the best year in my life. And things continue to get better! Every day is a small miracle. I live in a state of gratitude (and according to scientific studies, that means that I am going to live a long life) and I am in constant awe of all that is right and good and precious in my life.
I feel like a complete and whole person. I feel like I'm treating myself with respect and I feel like I'm giving a small piece of myself and this 'feeling' inside of me to those in my life. There is a perspective that I've never really truly felt before. Acceptance. This is me. This is my life. I have been blessed. I have truly been blessed.
As I have neatly tied up this year with my various Christmas presents, I feel like I've put myself out on a limb. I've told the world that this has been the best year of my life so far. I feel like the people who are important to me know that. And it's scary. Is my mission complete?
I have been asking myself that a lot these past few days. And the answer is always "no"! I've got grand plans for the days, months and years ahead. My family is healing and it gets better with every encounter. I have dreams! I have goals to achieve and a long term agenda. My job is far from done.
There is a sense of contentment in knowing that I am happy, whole and appreciative of every day of wonder that is my life. There is an old part of me that is waiting for the axe to fall. But the new part of me knows that there is too much to be done.
Is it crazy to be wary of happiness? Yes. Ignore the fear. Chase the dreams. Accomplish those goals. And keep enhancing all that is good in the world.
Savor the day!!
It has been a very long time since I was terrified of feeling happy. It was so long ago that I had forgotten how it felt. Until the last few days. It's been creeping up on me. And this morning ... I feel that fear again.
I look back on this year and I know for a fact that it has been the best year in my life. And things continue to get better! Every day is a small miracle. I live in a state of gratitude (and according to scientific studies, that means that I am going to live a long life) and I am in constant awe of all that is right and good and precious in my life.
I feel like a complete and whole person. I feel like I'm treating myself with respect and I feel like I'm giving a small piece of myself and this 'feeling' inside of me to those in my life. There is a perspective that I've never really truly felt before. Acceptance. This is me. This is my life. I have been blessed. I have truly been blessed.
As I have neatly tied up this year with my various Christmas presents, I feel like I've put myself out on a limb. I've told the world that this has been the best year of my life so far. I feel like the people who are important to me know that. And it's scary. Is my mission complete?
I have been asking myself that a lot these past few days. And the answer is always "no"! I've got grand plans for the days, months and years ahead. My family is healing and it gets better with every encounter. I have dreams! I have goals to achieve and a long term agenda. My job is far from done.
There is a sense of contentment in knowing that I am happy, whole and appreciative of every day of wonder that is my life. There is an old part of me that is waiting for the axe to fall. But the new part of me knows that there is too much to be done.
Is it crazy to be wary of happiness? Yes. Ignore the fear. Chase the dreams. Accomplish those goals. And keep enhancing all that is good in the world.
Savor the day!!
Thursday, December 25, 2008
The Most Wonderful Christmas of All
It was a day that was simple in its pleasures, rich in memories and gifts that money can't buy.
I really had no expectations of today and as each hour unfolded, I was pleasantly surprised with many quiet blessings. The greatest gift of all is the harmony within my family.
There have been some rough roads in our relationships with each other, but each time we get together it seems a little better. Our 'history' hasn't without some painful times, but it seems that bit by bit, things keep getting better.
My boys. They each reflect a different part of the person I am and the person I have been.
I was a shell of a person when Wes was young. I didn't think for myself, let guilt guide my choices and I took a few detours in my life that directly impacted Wes. I can still see a glimmer of that pain when I see my reflection in Wes' eyes.
It was during Dale's young years when I started to forgive myself and make better choices for my family. I was a stronger, more confident and happier person when I raised him. And I see those traits in Dale.
Kurt is still young and we have some road left to travel. But what I see in him is appreciation of his family, a sense of humor and brothers that he looks up to.
Today was a gift. Wes welcomed our family into his home and hosted a most special Christmas day together. Dale seasoned the festivities with a perfect blend of humor, generosity and the gifts he gives that have little to do with what is under the wrapping. Kurt seems to realize that he is a very fortunate little brother. He has witnessed just enough of our family's troubles to appreciate a happy occasion such as today.
Dale's gift to me included a quote from the bible that tells me that he sees the whole picture. Triumph over adversity ...
"My son, peace be unto thy soul, thine adversity and thine afflictions shall be but a small moment.
And then, if thou endure it well, God shall exalt thee on high; thou shalt triumph over all thy foes."
- Doctrine and Covenants 121
As said by 'Joseph Smith the prophet'
I really had no expectations of today and as each hour unfolded, I was pleasantly surprised with many quiet blessings. The greatest gift of all is the harmony within my family.
There have been some rough roads in our relationships with each other, but each time we get together it seems a little better. Our 'history' hasn't without some painful times, but it seems that bit by bit, things keep getting better.
My boys. They each reflect a different part of the person I am and the person I have been.
I was a shell of a person when Wes was young. I didn't think for myself, let guilt guide my choices and I took a few detours in my life that directly impacted Wes. I can still see a glimmer of that pain when I see my reflection in Wes' eyes.
It was during Dale's young years when I started to forgive myself and make better choices for my family. I was a stronger, more confident and happier person when I raised him. And I see those traits in Dale.
Kurt is still young and we have some road left to travel. But what I see in him is appreciation of his family, a sense of humor and brothers that he looks up to.
Today was a gift. Wes welcomed our family into his home and hosted a most special Christmas day together. Dale seasoned the festivities with a perfect blend of humor, generosity and the gifts he gives that have little to do with what is under the wrapping. Kurt seems to realize that he is a very fortunate little brother. He has witnessed just enough of our family's troubles to appreciate a happy occasion such as today.
Dale's gift to me included a quote from the bible that tells me that he sees the whole picture. Triumph over adversity ...
"My son, peace be unto thy soul, thine adversity and thine afflictions shall be but a small moment.
And then, if thou endure it well, God shall exalt thee on high; thou shalt triumph over all thy foes."
- Doctrine and Covenants 121
As said by 'Joseph Smith the prophet'
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
A Delightful Christmas Eve
As Christmas Day was fast approaching this week, I seemed to come down with a case of 'scrooge'. I love the spirit of the holiday season ... but I resent the expectations (commercial and otherwise) of the 'day' itself. I was getting down right cranky.
As this evening (Christmas Eve) was unfolding, I started doing normal, everyday things. I had some bookwork to work on and that took care of some time. I was starting to feel exhausted and I could have went to bed shortly after 7:00 ... but Dale and his girlfriend came over.
We had the most comfortable, easy visit. We shared stories, reminisced a bit, we laughed ... it was simply enjoyable. We all sat in the living room and conversation was light and easy.
We don't have many Christmas traditions or expectations in our little family. I've always downplayed the Christmas festivities - partially because of the high expectations/let down feeling that I had as a child (I thought if my kids learned not to expect much, they wouldn't be disappointed??). Partially because of my financial situation. Partially because we weren't the 'normal', 2 parent family unit. I've had many excuses over the years, but the theme has always been a very low key Christmas.
Dale and I even joked about it tonight. He blames me for the way he is (he threatened to make his girlfriend wait until New Years to open her gifts), but it was all in good fun. Dale has probably carried the spirit of Christmas within him more than any of us. He has managed to keep his expectations relatively low key for most of his life. I found the Christmas list he wrote for me from 1996 (he was 9 yrs old at the time):
As this evening (Christmas Eve) was unfolding, I started doing normal, everyday things. I had some bookwork to work on and that took care of some time. I was starting to feel exhausted and I could have went to bed shortly after 7:00 ... but Dale and his girlfriend came over.
We had the most comfortable, easy visit. We shared stories, reminisced a bit, we laughed ... it was simply enjoyable. We all sat in the living room and conversation was light and easy.
We don't have many Christmas traditions or expectations in our little family. I've always downplayed the Christmas festivities - partially because of the high expectations/let down feeling that I had as a child (I thought if my kids learned not to expect much, they wouldn't be disappointed??). Partially because of my financial situation. Partially because we weren't the 'normal', 2 parent family unit. I've had many excuses over the years, but the theme has always been a very low key Christmas.
Dale and I even joked about it tonight. He blames me for the way he is (he threatened to make his girlfriend wait until New Years to open her gifts), but it was all in good fun. Dale has probably carried the spirit of Christmas within him more than any of us. He has managed to keep his expectations relatively low key for most of his life. I found the Christmas list he wrote for me from 1996 (he was 9 yrs old at the time):
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
The Traditions of Christmas, Gone Awry
Be warned. This is not another holly-jolly-Christmas-is-a-most-wonderful-feeling kind of message. It contains details and descriptions which may taint your view on life, Christmas, baking and other things. You have been warned. You may wish to exit this blog site immediately and not look back.
Okay. Are you still reading? It's still not too late to turn back. Do it now!!
The Grinch is Back. He arrived at about 8:45 this morning when I decided I would face the dreaded task of making 'The Wreath Cookies'.
Okay, this part of the story is still very readable. It has a traditional Christmas feel about it and it goes back to my childhood and a family that made a huge impact on ours ... (you can keep reading).
When I was about 11 or 12 years old, I started the tradition of making iced and decorated sugar cookies. A neighboring family of ours had many warm and fuzzy Christmas traditions. The whole family was involved in the preparations of Christmas. The baking, advent candles that were lit, on the 4 Sundays that preceded Christmas. The crafts, the excitement and joy, the wholesome 'Walton Christmas' and many family traditions was something to behold. In our house, Christmas was more of a bother when it came to the whole holly jolliness of the festivities. Not that we lacked for anything that was related to Christmas - it's just that we knew that it all involved work.
They made beautiful Christmas cookies with their cookie press - a kitchen tool that I had no idea existed until we knew this family. Mom appeased my desire to make fancy cookies like our neighbors and bought a cookie press. And I baked. Mom helped me out in those early years. And the huge task of making the wreath cookies that some how became synonymous with my name and Christmas was a much easier task with the 2 of us. First, you make the cookie dough. Next, you load it into the cookie press and make your cookies. Then, you ice and decorate them. The green icing sugar icing was a must and we soon discovered that a red Tic Tac, severed in 2 had the right look of a bow on the wreath and the cinnamon flavor enhanced the 100% sugarness of these cookies. Mom helped me through the laborious task (probably to get the mess out of the kitchen faster), and so began the tradition of the wreath cookies.
Mom was probably relieved that I moved out before I was 18. No more wreath cookies in her kitchen! But the tradition continued. I have a picture of my oldest son helping me decorate cookies. In later years, I enlisted a friend and we doubled the batch so we could both keep a batch after our efforts and it didn't even feel like work when the 2 of us did it. Out of the 36 years between the age of 12 and present date, I can only recall one Christmas when I didn't make those cookies (I was in between houses at the time).
My oldest son had a lot of upheaval in his life. I was young and inexperienced as a mom, we endured a lot of change and stressful times during his young years. But one thing was a constant. The Christmas wreath cookies. And it is the one thing that he still asks of me at Christmas. The only thing he asks for.
Okay, now the story I had planned to tell when I started writing this feels pathetic and small. But this is the twist to the cookie-making story for Christmas, 2008.
I have followed my whims this Christmas and not pushed myself to do anything that I didn't feel like doing this year. Somehow, baking slipped to the bottom of the list. And then I decided to cross it off all together. I give 90% of my baking away, my family nibbles on .25% of the remainder and it is my duty to consume the remaining 9.75% myself. It's a tough job, but some one has got to do it. Thus, my decision not to bake this year.
Then came the inevitable request. A Christmas supper invitation over to my oldest son and girlfriend's house. I asked if I could do or bring anything. From the turkey itself, to any and all of the vegetables or a few salads. I was in. And what was I asked to bring? The Wreath Cookies.
I kept waiting. Surely if I waited long enough, turned on some Christmas tunes and got myself into the spirit, I could make these cookies without knocking some years off my life. Today is 2 days before C-day ... and it's not happening. No amount of lack of pressure was making it easier (in fact, it is probably just that, that made it so hard).
Today was the day. I could do it. One, half batch of these tedious Christmas cookies. I can do this. Yes I can.
#1 - The batter. For some reason, it was rock hard and unworkable. I added some extra egg and it seemed to pull the batter together, but it was still pretty hard to work with.
#2 - I decided to go ahead and load the cookie press with this hard, unworkable dough anyway. I'd make it work. I'd done it before, I'd do it again.
#3 - By cookie #7, I was ready to throw in the towel. It took every muscle and every kitchen devise that I had, to give me the traction to get some of this dough forced out of that tiny little hole and make the wreaths.
#4 - I discovered if I held the cookie press on the counter and used that as leverage, I could make my wreaths. It was a full body work out, but I had almost filled 2 cookie sheets. 29 cookies to be exact.
#5 - The cookie press broke. No possible way to make any more cookies. In fact, there were little silver shavings off of a piece of the cookie press, on the counter. I used the last of the dough I could force out, to pick up all the shavings I could see and threw everything out. The cookie press, the dough in the press (I couldn't even unscrew the ends to salvage the dough or cookie press attachment or anything) and the smidgen of dough that was left in the bowl. It all went into the garbage.
#6 - All I could do was bake and ice what I had. I couldn't afford to break or burn any. Thankfully, none burnt ... though I did break 2.
#7 - How much icing does one make for 29 wreath cookies? 1/4 of a batch? Sounded good.
#8 - I was icing my 3rd cookie when my 2 yr old of the day arrived. His grandma couldn't figure out why he smelled in the car and took home his snowsuit to wash, figuring that was it. I had other ideas as to why he smelled. As soon as she walked out (this is the part you want to turn away and never look back from), I checked his diaper. Not only was he dirty, but it had run up his back and I not only stuck my fingers in it, but got it under my fingernail. Oh! Gross beyond words.
#9 - I scrubbed like a surgeon before operating. I cleaned under my nails with hot, sudsy water. I rinsed, scrubbed and repeated the process. Finally, I was able to return to the cookies.
#10 - I ran out of icing. Drats! To make more icing for 5 cookies? Hardly worth it. But I couldn't afford not to. Light bulb moment!! I had store bought icing in my fridge. I could add green food coloring to that and call it good.
Well, short story long ... that is my tale. All the while, I was thinking "This is the end of a tradition". Each step of the way I was more convinced ''This is it!" "I'm never doing this again".
Then ... I started writing this story. It's a tradition. I may not enhance the glowing Christmas spirit of the family that set the bar for me, but it's coming. I find joy sprinkled among this season where you least expect it.
And next year, I'll turn on my Christmas music and sing my heart out as I attempt my baking once again. That is ... if I find a new cookie press before then.
Okay. Are you still reading? It's still not too late to turn back. Do it now!!
The Grinch is Back. He arrived at about 8:45 this morning when I decided I would face the dreaded task of making 'The Wreath Cookies'.
Okay, this part of the story is still very readable. It has a traditional Christmas feel about it and it goes back to my childhood and a family that made a huge impact on ours ... (you can keep reading).
When I was about 11 or 12 years old, I started the tradition of making iced and decorated sugar cookies. A neighboring family of ours had many warm and fuzzy Christmas traditions. The whole family was involved in the preparations of Christmas. The baking, advent candles that were lit, on the 4 Sundays that preceded Christmas. The crafts, the excitement and joy, the wholesome 'Walton Christmas' and many family traditions was something to behold. In our house, Christmas was more of a bother when it came to the whole holly jolliness of the festivities. Not that we lacked for anything that was related to Christmas - it's just that we knew that it all involved work.
They made beautiful Christmas cookies with their cookie press - a kitchen tool that I had no idea existed until we knew this family. Mom appeased my desire to make fancy cookies like our neighbors and bought a cookie press. And I baked. Mom helped me out in those early years. And the huge task of making the wreath cookies that some how became synonymous with my name and Christmas was a much easier task with the 2 of us. First, you make the cookie dough. Next, you load it into the cookie press and make your cookies. Then, you ice and decorate them. The green icing sugar icing was a must and we soon discovered that a red Tic Tac, severed in 2 had the right look of a bow on the wreath and the cinnamon flavor enhanced the 100% sugarness of these cookies. Mom helped me through the laborious task (probably to get the mess out of the kitchen faster), and so began the tradition of the wreath cookies.
Mom was probably relieved that I moved out before I was 18. No more wreath cookies in her kitchen! But the tradition continued. I have a picture of my oldest son helping me decorate cookies. In later years, I enlisted a friend and we doubled the batch so we could both keep a batch after our efforts and it didn't even feel like work when the 2 of us did it. Out of the 36 years between the age of 12 and present date, I can only recall one Christmas when I didn't make those cookies (I was in between houses at the time).
My oldest son had a lot of upheaval in his life. I was young and inexperienced as a mom, we endured a lot of change and stressful times during his young years. But one thing was a constant. The Christmas wreath cookies. And it is the one thing that he still asks of me at Christmas. The only thing he asks for.
Okay, now the story I had planned to tell when I started writing this feels pathetic and small. But this is the twist to the cookie-making story for Christmas, 2008.
I have followed my whims this Christmas and not pushed myself to do anything that I didn't feel like doing this year. Somehow, baking slipped to the bottom of the list. And then I decided to cross it off all together. I give 90% of my baking away, my family nibbles on .25% of the remainder and it is my duty to consume the remaining 9.75% myself. It's a tough job, but some one has got to do it. Thus, my decision not to bake this year.
Then came the inevitable request. A Christmas supper invitation over to my oldest son and girlfriend's house. I asked if I could do or bring anything. From the turkey itself, to any and all of the vegetables or a few salads. I was in. And what was I asked to bring? The Wreath Cookies.
I kept waiting. Surely if I waited long enough, turned on some Christmas tunes and got myself into the spirit, I could make these cookies without knocking some years off my life. Today is 2 days before C-day ... and it's not happening. No amount of lack of pressure was making it easier (in fact, it is probably just that, that made it so hard).
Today was the day. I could do it. One, half batch of these tedious Christmas cookies. I can do this. Yes I can.
#1 - The batter. For some reason, it was rock hard and unworkable. I added some extra egg and it seemed to pull the batter together, but it was still pretty hard to work with.
#2 - I decided to go ahead and load the cookie press with this hard, unworkable dough anyway. I'd make it work. I'd done it before, I'd do it again.
#3 - By cookie #7, I was ready to throw in the towel. It took every muscle and every kitchen devise that I had, to give me the traction to get some of this dough forced out of that tiny little hole and make the wreaths.
#4 - I discovered if I held the cookie press on the counter and used that as leverage, I could make my wreaths. It was a full body work out, but I had almost filled 2 cookie sheets. 29 cookies to be exact.
#5 - The cookie press broke. No possible way to make any more cookies. In fact, there were little silver shavings off of a piece of the cookie press, on the counter. I used the last of the dough I could force out, to pick up all the shavings I could see and threw everything out. The cookie press, the dough in the press (I couldn't even unscrew the ends to salvage the dough or cookie press attachment or anything) and the smidgen of dough that was left in the bowl. It all went into the garbage.
#6 - All I could do was bake and ice what I had. I couldn't afford to break or burn any. Thankfully, none burnt ... though I did break 2.
#7 - How much icing does one make for 29 wreath cookies? 1/4 of a batch? Sounded good.
#8 - I was icing my 3rd cookie when my 2 yr old of the day arrived. His grandma couldn't figure out why he smelled in the car and took home his snowsuit to wash, figuring that was it. I had other ideas as to why he smelled. As soon as she walked out (this is the part you want to turn away and never look back from), I checked his diaper. Not only was he dirty, but it had run up his back and I not only stuck my fingers in it, but got it under my fingernail. Oh! Gross beyond words.
#9 - I scrubbed like a surgeon before operating. I cleaned under my nails with hot, sudsy water. I rinsed, scrubbed and repeated the process. Finally, I was able to return to the cookies.
#10 - I ran out of icing. Drats! To make more icing for 5 cookies? Hardly worth it. But I couldn't afford not to. Light bulb moment!! I had store bought icing in my fridge. I could add green food coloring to that and call it good.
Well, short story long ... that is my tale. All the while, I was thinking "This is the end of a tradition". Each step of the way I was more convinced ''This is it!" "I'm never doing this again".
Then ... I started writing this story. It's a tradition. I may not enhance the glowing Christmas spirit of the family that set the bar for me, but it's coming. I find joy sprinkled among this season where you least expect it.
And next year, I'll turn on my Christmas music and sing my heart out as I attempt my baking once again. That is ... if I find a new cookie press before then.
Monday, December 22, 2008
An Inspirational Story
This is an email that was forwarded to me today. I read this and decided on the spot that I want to be like the 'Rose' in this story. The sentence that rang true to me is: "You've got to have a dream. When you lose your dreams, you die." I have found that to be true time and again in my life. When I stop dreaming, a part of me dies.
This is the story:
The first day of school our professor introduced himself and challenged us to get to know someone we didn't already know. I stood up to look around when a gentle hand touched my shoulder.
I turned around to find a wrinkled, little old lady beaming up at me with a smile that lit up her entire being.
She said, 'Hi handsome. My name is Rose. I'm eighty-seven years old. Can I give you a hug?'
I laughed and enthusiastically responded, 'Of course you may!' and she gave me a giant squeeze.
'Why are you in college at such a young, innocent age?' I asked.
She jokingly replied, 'I'm here to meet a rich husband, get married, and have a couple of kids...'
'No seriously,' I asked. I was curious what may have motivated her to be taking on this challenge at her age.
'I always dreamed of having a college education and now I'm getting one!' she told me.
After class we walked to the student union building and shared a chocolate milkshake.
We became instant friends. Every day for the next three months we would leave class together and talk nonstop. I was always mesmerized listening to this 'time machine' as she shared her wisdom and experience with me.
Over the course of the year, Rose became a campus icon and she easily made friends wherever she went. She loved to dress up and she reveled in the attention bestowed upon her from the other students. She was living it up.
At the end of the semester we invited Rose to speak at our football banquet. I'll never forget what she taught us. She was introduced and stepped up to the podium.. As she began to deliver her prepared speech, she dropped her three by five cards on the floor.
Frustrated and a little embarrassed she leaned into the microphone and simply said, 'I'm sorry I'm so jittery. I gave up beer for Lent and this whiskey is killing me! I'll never get my speech back in order so let me just tell you what I know.'
As we laughed she cleared her throat and began, ' We do not stop playing because we are old; we grow old because we stop playing.
There are only four secrets to staying young, being happy, and achieving success. You have to laugh and find humor every day. You've got to have a dream. When you lose your dreams, you die.
We have so many people walking around who are dead and don't even know it!
There is a huge difference between growing older and growing up.
If you are nineteen years old and lie in bed for one full year and don't do one productive thing, you will turn twenty years old. If I am eighty-seven years old and stay in bed for a year and never do anything I will turn eighty-eight.
Anybody can grow older. That doesn't take any talent or ability. The idea is to grow up by always finding opportunity in change. Have no regrets.
The elderly usually don't have regrets for what we did, but rather for things we did not do. The only people who fear death are those with regrets.'
She concluded her speech by courageously singing 'The Rose.'
She challenged each of us to study the lyrics and live them out in our daily lives. At the year's end Rose finished the college degree she had begun all those years ago.
One week after graduation Rose died peacefully in her sleep.
Over two thousand college students attended her funeral in tribute to the wonderful woman who taught by example that it's never too late to be all you can possibly be.
When you finish reading this, please send this peaceful word of advice to your friends and family, they'll really enjoy it!
These words have been passed along in loving memory of ROSE.
This is the story:
The first day of school our professor introduced himself and challenged us to get to know someone we didn't already know. I stood up to look around when a gentle hand touched my shoulder.
I turned around to find a wrinkled, little old lady beaming up at me with a smile that lit up her entire being.
She said, 'Hi handsome. My name is Rose. I'm eighty-seven years old. Can I give you a hug?'
I laughed and enthusiastically responded, 'Of course you may!' and she gave me a giant squeeze.
'Why are you in college at such a young, innocent age?' I asked.
She jokingly replied, 'I'm here to meet a rich husband, get married, and have a couple of kids...'
'No seriously,' I asked. I was curious what may have motivated her to be taking on this challenge at her age.
'I always dreamed of having a college education and now I'm getting one!' she told me.
After class we walked to the student union building and shared a chocolate milkshake.
We became instant friends. Every day for the next three months we would leave class together and talk nonstop. I was always mesmerized listening to this 'time machine' as she shared her wisdom and experience with me.
Over the course of the year, Rose became a campus icon and she easily made friends wherever she went. She loved to dress up and she reveled in the attention bestowed upon her from the other students. She was living it up.
At the end of the semester we invited Rose to speak at our football banquet. I'll never forget what she taught us. She was introduced and stepped up to the podium.. As she began to deliver her prepared speech, she dropped her three by five cards on the floor.
Frustrated and a little embarrassed she leaned into the microphone and simply said, 'I'm sorry I'm so jittery. I gave up beer for Lent and this whiskey is killing me! I'll never get my speech back in order so let me just tell you what I know.'
As we laughed she cleared her throat and began, ' We do not stop playing because we are old; we grow old because we stop playing.
There are only four secrets to staying young, being happy, and achieving success. You have to laugh and find humor every day. You've got to have a dream. When you lose your dreams, you die.
We have so many people walking around who are dead and don't even know it!
There is a huge difference between growing older and growing up.
If you are nineteen years old and lie in bed for one full year and don't do one productive thing, you will turn twenty years old. If I am eighty-seven years old and stay in bed for a year and never do anything I will turn eighty-eight.
Anybody can grow older. That doesn't take any talent or ability. The idea is to grow up by always finding opportunity in change. Have no regrets.
The elderly usually don't have regrets for what we did, but rather for things we did not do. The only people who fear death are those with regrets.'
She concluded her speech by courageously singing 'The Rose.'
She challenged each of us to study the lyrics and live them out in our daily lives. At the year's end Rose finished the college degree she had begun all those years ago.
One week after graduation Rose died peacefully in her sleep.
Over two thousand college students attended her funeral in tribute to the wonderful woman who taught by example that it's never too late to be all you can possibly be.
When you finish reading this, please send this peaceful word of advice to your friends and family, they'll really enjoy it!
These words have been passed along in loving memory of ROSE.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
A Deep Freeze
It is -37 this morning (feels like -49 with the wind). Brrrrr.
Thankfully we went out last night and ran all of our errands. The car got a chance to get good and warm in our 2 hour errand marathon.
So that means today, we should be able to hibernate like a few little bears. So much for our cold weather ending. When I looked at the long range forecast, it looks like there is no end in sight.
These are the days I am so grateful for a furnace that runs and a house stocked with everything we need and desire to get through this cold snap.
Thankfully we went out last night and ran all of our errands. The car got a chance to get good and warm in our 2 hour errand marathon.
So that means today, we should be able to hibernate like a few little bears. So much for our cold weather ending. When I looked at the long range forecast, it looks like there is no end in sight.
These are the days I am so grateful for a furnace that runs and a house stocked with everything we need and desire to get through this cold snap.
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