Sanding and Reading

The cabin is sitting out there.  Waiting.  Maybe a little apprehensively.   It knows we’re coming out to strip it down.  That’s right.  Sand it, take off the rough edges inside.  I am ready to take this on.   I went out there a couple of times yesterday.  Sat there.  Alone.  In the peace.  And read.  In the big house I had made a rule a very long time ago that I can not read unless I am on my bike (sitting on a trainer, not riding the roads-just in case you wondered).   This little discipline kept me on the bike.  For years.  I love to read.  L-O-V-E  I-T.  I have pedaled through many a many miles and puddles of sweat.   A good book would keep me on there until I had to go to the bathroom or get ready for work.

Then came the internet.  And a special made desk to slide over my bike so I can check my emails and read the news before work.   Then I would read.  Then I found YouTube.   And I would check out music videos and pedal to a certain beat of the day.  What ever genre I was in the mood for.  I do love that I can pull up old Johnny Cash, Peter, Paul and Mary, Kingston Trio, The Clancy Brothers, The High Kings, The Irish Tenors, and so many more.    So the more I added to the search, the less reading I did on my bike.

I’m ashamed of myself.   Because then, I found Hulu, and other “On Demand” channels for the likes of Fox and ABC.   So now I peddle to the best form of TV ever, the sitcom.   Yes, it beats the reality stuff.

So my first love, reading, is making a come back.   In the cabin.  Well, yesterday it did, and when we are done sanding it and staining it and flooring it, it will again.  It was pretty nice to just sit in my adirondack chair in a little cabin.  To read.  I didn’t have to pedal.  I didn’t have to wipe the sweat out of my eyes before it dropped on the book (though I actually love that part).  I just let myself read.   It felt great.  Though I got really tired doing it and nearly fell asleep.  Which also felt great.

But today we start sanding.  Everything that David worked so hard at to get moved in to the cabin for Christmas will be moved back out so we can work our butts off.  But it will be fun.  I can’t wait to start.   Which means I have to get off of here.  The sooner I get sanding, staining and flooring the sooner I can sit down out there.  In the quiet.  Small cabin.  And read.

We Should Thank Our Mom’s On Our Birthdays

Happy Jesus’ Birthday everyone!

It will be a great day today.  Time to spend with family and friends.   We’ll have good food to eat.   Nessie made ham last night for her “first traditional” Christmas Eve dinner.  I hope she knows we’re using it today for sandwiches!  Not to mention my cookies are staying in the freezer and we’ll be eating her home made cookies.  Mine aren’t home made until I bake them.   Some little woman named Nestle did most of the work for me.   Nice lady.

We’re warming up the cabin so Grace O’Malley can go out and see if Santa showed up.  I know he stopped by their apartment down stairs.  But maybe he stopped out there too.  No hurry.   If we go by their schedule it will be awhile before we go out there.

We didn’t make solid plans today.  Well, kind of we did.  We made plans to do what we wanted.  Maybe we’ll go to a movie.  Maybe we will not.   Maybe we’ll go visit.  But we might have visitors here.  The most solid plan we made I guess was to just enjoy the day.

My personal and private plan today is to remember the reason I am sitting at home on a Friday morning with my family.

Christmas is a joyous occasion.  But am I the only one who celebrates with a little tug at my heart?  I mean, in a few short months we will be walking in to Easter.   Maybe it’s being a mom.  And knowing the whole story.   But I bet from Mary’s place in the world, the birth of her son Jesus, and the life they shared until the day she walked that tortured path with Him and watched Him die for us seemed as short as the time it takes us to go from this day today, until Good Friday.  I can hardly celebrate with out feeling the beginnings of a pain.  What this Man did for us then, so that we can celebrate eternity with Him, makes me look at the Baby in the manger differently than any other baby.   Maybe that’s obvious and a “duh” comment to make.  Besides the obvious, that this is Jesus Christ, He was still a baby.   Mary’s baby.  She gave birth.  She nurtured Him.  Fed him.  Changed His little diapered butt.    Loved Him.  Hugged Him.  Raised Him.  Disciplined Him.  Laughed with Him.   She rasied her Son to give Him up for us.  I can’t help but hurt a little extra on Christmas knowing what this mom went through.   Knowing the rewards of Jesus’ death for us, or His place in heaven, does not take away the pain I feel for Mother Mary on this day.   And looking at the Baby in the manger, knowing what we will do to Him.

Maybe that’s a little too deep for Christmas.   Or maybe it’s not deep enough, or pondered enough,  amidst all of the pretty lights and discarded wrappings.

Happy Birthday Jesus.  Thank you Mary.  You are a good Mom.

Home Sweet Cabin

The cabin was delivered.   Late in the day.   Too late to do anything since I had to get up today for work.  But it’s there.  And it will be set up for Santa today when I get home.  I’m very excited.  To look at it it is very small.  But when I am standing in it, it feels just right.  When I walked in I smiled.  When I look at it I smile.  When I think about it I smile.

Grace O’Malley got to watch them pull it in the yard.  She was wrapped in blankets on the deck of the ‘big house’.  But she had to go to a princess birthday party.   When she came home from the  party she kept going to the door and saying “house”.  I asked her if she wanted to go to Mamo’s house, she said “yesh”.   She already knows.   I can’t wait to take her out there today.  Though I bet Po will have her out there before I get home from work.  That’s okay.  She’s going to think it’s a play house.  Which is fine with me.

I would share a picture with you but I can’t right now.  I’ll have to do that later today.

I’m already envisioning the great life that cabin will be able to talk about.

Kam Sam Hap Ni Da Sabunim

When Brittany was 10 I took her to a martial arts class.  I was not happy with the way the public school system had handled a large group of young girls trying out for cheer leading.  It was a terribly demoralizing experience.  Not just for the children, but for me.  I could not believe that an institution centered on teaching children could not think their way through this process to see what they were doing to children.  Horrible.

I wanted to take Brittany somewhere that she could do her best and maybe get better.  Some place where she could get some exercise.   Meet some people.  Be active mentally and physically.   So we joined a local martial arts program.  I did not join.  For a month I took Brittany to lessons four times a week.  I tried to read while I was there.  That was not happening.   I couldn’t leave my ten year old with people I did not yet know.  So I sat.  Soon it was difficult to sit.  I found myself talking about Brittany’s class to everyone.  My heart would pump a little harder watching Brittany work out.

At the end of the first month my 200+ pound self joined.  Brittany and I spent the next few years training and working out together.  We met great people.  We had great experiences.  When I joined I never thought I would reach senior rank.  I did not for one minute delude myself in to thinking I could do the things I saw the senior belt students doing.  I did not even contemplate doing a three day fast or (gasp!) run for three miles in 24 minutes!  But I was having fun.  I was enjoying myself.  I was active.  Though I was still gaining weight, I was getting stronger and healthier.   These things, strength and health, and doing something with my child, were important to me.

After a couple of years our local class closed.  Brittany and I moved to the sister class within the same organization in the neighboring town.   This instructor had already stepped in and tried to assist with our class that was closing.  So it was an “easy” transition, they welcomed us, and they continued to teach us.  Brittany and I eventually tested for our black belts.  Nessie joined for a while.   With the lessons I learned in martial arts I learned about myself, what I could do better, what I might not do well but I’ll try anyway.  I lost weight, and I attribute that to lessons from my instructors.   I continued on to my current rank, under the same tutelage.

The point of all of this is, some things should never end.  The local martial arts dojang that we attended and became a long time supporter of, is closing.   The main classes are ending.  There will still be a program for younger children.   Which is good.  But the end of the program for older students is a shame.  This program has been in our little country county since 1991.  It has served many a student.  I would suspect that if asked, any of the students who walked through the doors and stayed for any length of time, could tell you benefits of their attending.

The lessons being taught in any good martial arts program are basic and life serving.   Respect, loyalty, perserverance, integrity,  self-discipline and dedication.   The lessons taught are about making the student a better person for their family, their community, their country, their employer, their school, their life.  It is a self defense:  taught and drilled.   It’s purpose is to teach students how to protect themselves, their loved ones.   It is a physical activity.   It’s a mental drill.  I am better at everything I do or attempt to do in my life because I am strong physically and push myself mentally.

I’m saddened that this program is coming to a close.  But am grateful that I found it when I did.  It made me make my life better.  It gave me the opportunity to grow in ways I never thought I could.  It connected me to people with goals and the drive to reach them.  In turn making me think…. “why can’t I”?   I can.   I did.

Thank you to all of the instructors and school owners out there who put themselves at the mercy of students and parents.   No one really understands what one goes through to run a martial arts class unless they have been there.  You do not do it for the money.  Not in our county.  You do it for the exhilaration of teaching, sharing, working out.  You do it to see the faces of others when they accomplish a goal.  Whether it is their first form completed, or their first rank achieved.   You do it for the student who comes to class diligently to learn and push themselves to be better.  You do it because it is something you can give to others.  So the other can do more for themselves.  Do more for the next person.  You do it so the student can learn, become the teacher, and continue to pass it on.   Because it is worth learning.

What a blessing that stupid cheer leading program was!

A Best Day

The best moment of my day today:   Grace O’Malley answering me in a restaurant when I asked her what she was doing.   Her reply:  ”I’m pooping”.    I did ask.

The second best moment was going to deliver more presents to the elderly today and one of the gift getters ushered JS and I in.  She knew me.  And she had joy of her own to share.  She was waiting for her ride to pick her up and take her to the airport.  Her children are flying her out to them, grandchildren and all, to spend Christmas.  With her family.  Her heart was aching from being so over full of happy.  It was great.

The third best moment of the day is right now.  Realizing I have too many great moments in one day to rank them and write them all out.   But they include having someone to have lunch with.   Having someone to talk to at the end of a long and tiring day.  Having someone ask what they can do to help.  Having baby arms wrap around you and say “I love you Mamo”.  Having baby words said that are cuter than when big people say them, even though they mean the same thing.  Though sometimes when the baby says them they don’t mean the same, or even mean any-thing.   Having your mom call to say she just put date bar cookies in the oven for you for Christmas because your brother snuck all the other ones before you could get to them.   Having someone call you and ask you a question while trying to get a surprise gift for someone else.   Yeah, go ahead and wonder who THAT was!   Having a great day and it all be in the interactions with people.

It wasn’t a day of best moments.  It was a best day.  And then she says “Mamo I got you” as I try to post.

Happy Work

I never mind working Christmas week where I currently work.   It’s usually fairly low key.  I work in protective services and though I’m glad people step up to the plate to care for their parents and grand parents at Christmas, it’s sad thinking it’s not done all year long.  But, I want to write about the good stuff at work this week.   The amazing stuff.   Happy stuff.

You hear a lot of talk these days about the rough economy.   The loss of jobs.   The struggles.   I know, the happy stuff is coming.   Hold on.  Well it really is rough out there for a lot of people.  But the great part about people is that when one person is having a rough time you can usually find another one who is willing to reach out and help.   The people in child protective services work like crazy to get gifts and food to any child they can find who Santa needs a hand with.   It’s amazing to see the people who beg others for toys for kids they don’t even know.  People who give money and toys for kids they don’t even know.  People who lend a hand to pick up, organize and deliver presents for kids who  they won’t get to watch open Santa’s gifts.

Churches take the names of elderly and gather up wish gifts for them.   Socks, shirts, books, robes, food,  CD’s, CD players, toys for their precious pets, money so they can pick out their own gifts.  People who deliver food baskets so they have a holiday meal, and extra to get them through some cold days.  It’s one of the fun parts of my “work”  this week.  I get to deliver gifts to people who may not have anyone visiting.  Or people who’s family will at the older person’s persistence spend any extra money on the children.   Think about it, which generation of this country has sacrificed more for our country than the oldest generations?  Well, most people may think “the war” is over.  But these people never stopped sacrificing.  It’s a life style for them.  And from the sacrificing I have seen, they do it well.  So being a part of giving them joy is as the saying goes “priceless”.

My boss and I pulled up to one home today.  And the 94 year old veteran would not let me step foot on his sidewalk until he used his plank of wood to scrape the ice off of his sidewalk.   I asked if he wanted me to do that for him.  He said no he got it, but he was using the wood because the shovel was around the back of the house.  I asked him if he wanted me to go get it for him.  He said “if you want to” in a tone that told me he didn’t really want me to.  Or more appropriately, he didn’t really want to need me to.   When he finished I carried his gift in to his house and handed it to him.  He told me we had a “nice organization over there”.    He knew me from previous meetings.   I smiled at him.   How do I tell him we do nothing compared to what he did.   And I suspect, even at his age, he would do again.

Some gifts we had to leave with others to give to  the gift getter.  Which was okay.   It wasn’t our joy that was important.  We weren’t the real Santa’s here anyway, but we got the chance today to play Santa and deliver the donated and specially bought gifts.   I can see why Santa does what he does.   What a great feeling to give things to others.  Especially when they were not expecting it.   The joy we got from delivering surprises to someone sitting in a life that they would rather not just be sitting through was more a gift to us.   It’s a pretty easy week at work when you go in, load up your car with presents and drive around in a Santa hat giving out “toys” to the kids sitting in those 80 and 90 year old bodies.

When we were asked to come up with some suggestions for gifts and suggestions for who to get things for it was difficult.  I called a few who I knew would be comfortable talking with me.   But even they had a difficult time telling me what they would love to have, or what they really needed.   I know many of them live on less than $700 a month.  I know they could use something or would like something or they really need something.  But they have a difficult time asking.  And when you hand it to them they know exactly what to say.   Thank you.  And as simple as they say it, it is said with the most sincere meaning.

It’s a good week to work where I work.  Sadly it will go back to the way it always is after Christmas.  But this week I fill up my heart with the love given from one stranger with a willingness and ability to help.  With money or with their time.  To the stranger who has a need to be touched by someone, anyone, who cares.   Person to person.   Me and the people I work with are lucky enough to sometimes be the go betweens.  The link.   In a field of work that is not always easy, this week gives some of us the chance to do happy work.     This week work is good.

Mush Stuffed

What do you get a man who gives you everything?

How do I thank a man who does everything?

David-from a Hebrew word meaning “beloved”.   There was a David who slay the giant, who became a king.  There was a David who became a patron saint.   There were David’s all through the centuries.   But none I am sure who gave definition to their name as well as my David.

Every day of my life he lives it with me.  My life that is.   We may be a part for times of a day.  But it’s not by choice and it’s not real.   He is with me always because that is where he wants to be.  He defines love and he defines husband.  He doesn’t try to be perfect but he tries to love me perfect.   He seems to spend his life trying to come up with ways to make my life easier.  Happier.   Incredible-er.   I know, not a word.  

David doesn’t let a day go by where he doesn’t ask me to marry him.  Again.  But means it always.  He works out to stay strong, he says, to keep up with me.   Though I think he fears he will be taking care of me in our old (but terribly far away) age because I seem to be the one who picks up all of the injuries along the way.   He doesn’t care if we eat PB&J at home every night if it means sitting with me at the table over Mafia Wars and Blogs.  He makes me oatmeal for breakfast.  And if I even think of something I want, he goes and gets it.  It doesn’t have anything to do with spoiling me as some have referenced.   It has to do with seeing happy on someone he loves.   And those things don’t make me the happiest.   What makes me the happiest is the communication.   The talking.  Even the fighting.  Because the fighting is really nothing more than working through a different way of seeing things.  He hears me.  I hear him.  And more often than not, it’s a laugh that ends our differences.   I don’t ever have to prepare myself to argue or fight.   I just have to tell him how I feel, and listen to how he feels.   It’s the comfort of being in the same place, not having to impress one another.   The joy of relaxing and watching a stupid show and getting joy out of the other’s laugh.  It’s sharing excitement and travel.   It’s touching the old world together and wondering over the way it was.  And laughing over the new when she comes running in to our lives every day bringing smiles to us both.

There is so much in life to do and have.  But with David it doesn’t really matter what I do, as long as it is with him.   And it doesn’t really matter what I have.  Because everything I have is shared with him and made better by that sharing.

It’s a time for exchanging gifts and fretting over what is the perfect gift.   With David I could buy him everything, or I could get nothing, and he would be content.   He doesn’t care what I can buy him with money.   As long as I give him my love it seems to be enough.  

Don’t worry!   I am not writing this to get out of buying him presents!        I am writing this because of the presents he gives me.   

There will be presents under the tree for him.   But I know I can’t buy him anything that matters more than loving him. 

YES this is mush stuffed.   I love him.   He’s great.   He makes me happy.  I’ll spend my life on him.   Giving him the best I have.   It’s the least I can do.

My House

There is a delightful feeling about a house in the country.  Sitting in the snowy covered tree bound darkness.  Warm air blowing.  Socks needed on the feet.  Lights are needed but not so bright that it takes away that feeling of comfort.   Food everywhere.  Sparkly lights for celebrating.   Colors that immediatly tell you what the season is.  Music in the air.  On the lips.  At the fingertips.  Laughing that adds a warmth that no fire can create.  Yells of delight at a joke, or a game played loudly.  Love and friendship spiking the feelings all ready for celebrating.  Faces that make pictures with or without a camera for my memories.   Happiness in the relaxing, the playing, the fun, the sharing.  Delightful feeling it was.

It’s A Family Tradition (feel free to sing that)

I did the most extensive shopping of the season, outside of my home and laptop, yesterday on the way to my mom’s.

There are a few reasons I don’t like shopping.  One, it cam be addictive.  I like spending money and giving money away.   I have to know when to say no so I can pay my bills and not rely on all of you and your kindness to keep me from being homeless.  Two, it just seems to take so much valuable time to pack up and head out of my house to go drive an hour to go and give my money away.   I am very easy when it comes to giving my money away.  Very stingy with my time.

Yesterday David and I headed to mom’s early so we could shovel her porch and driveway for her Christmas party.  On my way there I called her and she said my cousin’s son had already done it!  I love that boy for saving my time!!!!  So David and I stopped and purchased our Christmas trees.  Yes, plural, trees.  Thats right.  As I write this I have NO Christmas decorating or baking done.   But once I finish riding, and go eat my oatmeal, and do some TKD, I will begin the transformation of my house in to party central.  Back to where I started this paragraph though.   We got to mom’s early.  Her house is always beautiful and it was in high gear, and ready, for the big family party last night.  When I say big family it means my mom and her siblings, and their spouses, and their children, and their children, anyone related to, or dating anyone, of the ripe old age of 18 in our family.  It is a long standing family tradition. 

It rotates through the siblings every year.  Mom’s house this year.  I never knew her downstairs bar would hold that many people.   And it still amazes me that every time I go to a family party, on mom’s side, or dad’s side, how many people walk this earth who have DNA that is connected to me.  And by that definition alone I love these people.  That’s right, share your DNA with me and I love you for life.  The house was full of laughing, music and food of the highest quality!!!!   (Why I am riding my bike like mad on a Sunday morning before my next party today).

A sad, great, moment.   They passed around “Mary’s Cherry’s”.   Jello shots.  With cherry’s.  For Toots.  And a toast was made.  If you knew Toots, you loved her.  If you heard of Toots, you loved her.  If you caught a glimpse of everyone else loving her, you would be a bit jealous of the love that she gave an earned for a lifetime.  Merry Christmas Toots!

Then the presents.  If you want to partake of gift getting, you bring a Christmas themed gift, ornament, decoration.  There are certain family members who I will not name (Matt and Katie) who torment me every year by trying to get the “best” gift.  Last year it was a cookie plate and stand FULL of homemade cookies.  Yeah, they got it.  And reminded me of it this year.   I don’t care how cute they are, I will get the cookies next year!   I am not above stealing a cookie and it’s plate.  But this year I got a big snow globe with a silver tree and reindeer, and it is beautiful.   So there Katie and Matt!!!!  I was afraid to put it down, if I’m not above stealing a cookie and it’s plate, I needed to keep an eye on those two.  

So this house is packed full of beautiful people.  Nice, we all look alike.   And I might not see any of them for ten years.  Though I think I better see all of them in January for the 100th celebration of Henry’s birth.  My Grandpa.  Their dad.  Their Grandpa.  Their Great Grandpa, and great great Grandpa.  But other than that party it will likely be years between seeing many of them.  But whether I see them or not I feel a connection to all these points of family spread across the world.  I shouldn’t ever feel lonely if I stop and count the people I am connected to.   I think of my aunts and uncles and them growing up with my mom.  It’s through them that I can touch the time of our family’s history and “know” Grandma Maggie, or Tall Grandma, or Fat Grandma.  Hey, I didn’t name them, I just “know” them by our history.  It’s through them that I can reach out and touch cousins, second cousins, third cousins I have yet to meet.  Thanks to our “social networking” abilities I can celebrate cousins kids mile stones, graduations, birthdays, and happy events. 

It was a great party and I left feeling full and warm.   It wasn’t from the food because I did try to control myself (though I didn’t really).  And it wasn’t from the furnace because Mom and Margy were HOT even though it was 55 in the living room.  PPA had to cover up with a blanket and those without blankets had to overlap on the chairs to build up some heat.  I left full and warm and happy because the world is full of us.   And I am part of us.

Merry Christmas Family, God Bless Us, Every One!  (I read that somewhere)   

Speaking of Goals…

As I was yesterday:

Today I reached a goal I set on Jan. 1 of this year.  Every January 1st for about seven years or so now I start over.  I start my workout journal, my biking journal at ZERO.   For those of you who really know me you might understand how difficult it is for me to see a big fat ZERO where there were THOUSANDS just 24 hours earlier.

My goal is to ride as many miles as possible on my bike(s).  Whether it is road miles.  Or roller miles.  Or trainer in the bike room miles.  They all count.   And, now, every year I want to top 10,000.   Because I did it once.

Check.  Done.  Did it.

Did I celebrate with pizza?  No.  Ice cream?  No.   I didn’t even technically document it yet.  I will do that on Sunday morning when I total this week’s miles and add to the total for the year.   But I reached it this morning.  And I am happy.  Oh, I did have some applesauce.  And don’t think I am crazy and don’t enjoy food.  I do.  But today I already had fruit pizza, a Tim Horton’s bagel, and a Tim Horton’s tuna snack wrapper.   So maybe I did celebrate, I just didn’t recognize it.  OH!  And two cookies my sister in law, the best baker ever,  made.  Okay, I did celebrate!   Sweet.

And no, I don’t get to stop for the year.   Now I want to add more miles.  I have had years where I surpassed the 10,000.  On one of my injury free years I rode 11, 022.  On my broken hip year I rode 8007.  That was the first year I tracked by miles and not time on the bike.  On my broken back year I rode 10,500.  On my hysterectomy year I rode 10,399.   Part of me wants to say the number is not important.  But just a wee small part of me.  Most of me revels in the big numbers.   For many reasons.

ONE:   BECAUSE I CAN!   It is so rewarding to me to wake up every morning and BE ABLE to get up and go ride in the bike room.  I have read my way through thousands of miles.  I have emailed many a sleeping friend or family.  I have sung to many a YouTube tunes, once to the annoyance of Nessie who came in and told me to be quiet.  I have said the rosary.  I have put my head down and tried to sleep while I peddled.   No, that didn’t work out so well.  But I peddle regardless.

TWO:  Because I do not want to be a chunky butt again.  Yes, if you know me, you know I was large.  VERY large.   I have no problem what so ever facing that.  I don’t want to go back.  To everyone who loves me enough to say “you never looked like you weighed 235 (240) pounds”, well, yes I did!  The higher the number of miles the more likely I am to not go back to that heart stopping weight again.

THREE:  I love the goal!  I love the challenge.  I love the quiet moments every day.  I love the music I listen to, the books I read, the videos I watch.  I love the time I spend peddling and doing something positive for myself every day.

FOUR:  I feel good riding.  I feel good after I ride.  I feel good later in the day when it gets a little crazy and I think back, or ahead to the next morning, of that peaceful 45 to 60 minutes on the bike.  Soothing my soul with peace or music.  Working my muscles in a safe and sweaty way.  Taking time to make the best of what I have.  Regardless of injury or physical set backs, riding the bike has always given me a way and a reason to get up and go.  Keep myself moving.  Healing sometimes.  Happy all the time.

Did it!

Yay!