Saturday, April 30, 2011

A Year of Blogging: April 30, 2011

Today is Hairstyle Appreciation Day. It's a day to celebrate your hair. I try. But my hair makes it so difficult. For most of my life I have hated my hair. It has only been in the last five years or so that I have hated it less. That's when I realized it has a mind of its own, and it isn't worth the daily battle. My hair is thick. Incredibly thick. I once compared a strand of my hair with a strand of a friends, and mine was three times as thick. Growing up in Berlin, we went to the local hairstylist. There were usually elderly ladies there, and they would comment on my 'lovely' hair, and wish for such thickness. I told them they could have it. I was serious! The thick hair is ok when my hair is short. But sometimes, I decided it would be so nice to have it long. This always seems like a better idea than it really is. For example- when my hair is short, it is pretty much wash and go. I wash it, towel dry it, run a brush through it for a little style, and by the time I get to work it's dry. With long hair, I have to work at it a little more. It's harder to towel dry- the back of it sucks up water like a sponge. I either have to take the time to dry it and style it, or I need to pull it back. Even pulling it back takes more fuss than when it's short. On the plus side, when my hair is longer I can wear cute barrettes, pretty clips, and neat ponytail holders. Another negative is that my hair is heavy. This also translates to hot. Especially in the summer. So in the warmer weather, I usually wear it pulled up and off my neck. Which seems to defeat the purpose of having it long, yet we go back to the clips and barrettes argument. When I started growing my hair out a couple of years ago, I bought all kinds of hair ornaments. I have a whole basket full now, so it seems a waste to cut my hair. When my hair is down, it can be pretty. It's full, and I know people spend a lot of money looking for the volume I was blessed with. It is so thick, I lose my peripheral vision if I wear it down. I only wish I were kidding. I can't see through my hair! There was once a time that my family said I didn't leave the house without every hair in place. Hairspray was my best friend. I've gotten over that. Partly because I know that the time spent styling my hair is so much better spent grabbing a few extra minutes of sleep each day. It also seems silly to spend so much time doing my hair, when I don't wear makeup or jewelry most days. It seems just when I made peace with my hair and it's thickness, my hair decided to have the last laugh. For most of my life- over 33 years to be exact, my hair has been stick straight. My parents both had wavy hair. My sister's hair has always been incredibly curly. We were the two extremes. I got perms to get curls, and my sister got straightening perms to get rid of the curls. I always wanted her hair. Whenever she had to put her hair up for a special occasion, such as her wedding, she just pinned up the sides and away she went- with perfect springy Shirley Temple curls. I also had those curls for her wedding: I spent four hours at the salon getting my hair done. There was so much hairspray in my hair that it felt like concrete! And suddenly, about a year and a half ago, I started noticing this curl in my hair. Well, it started as a kink, and it has now become a full blown curl. My stylist and I are stumped. Every time he cuts a little length off my hair, it gets curlier. I'm half afraid to cut it short again, fearing that it will become a very tight curl. So I'm learning to adjust to the curl. I know I have to put some kind of product in my hair, or it frizzes. When my hair dries naturally, it is about 3 feet wide. I've been trying to figure this curl thing out. If I wear it down, I feel like it looks great for a couple hours, then the curl sags and frizzes. It's so frustrating. I was thinking about it this morning in the shower, and that I'd have to ask my stylist what to use. Although I hate to do this, he will recommend something at the salon that is super pricey. Then it hit me! My sister has dealt with this hair for years. Her hair always looks great. So I will ask my sister what she recommends. Hopefully, her tips will help me truly appreciate this mane!

Friday, April 29, 2011

A Year of Blogging: April 29, 2011

I would venture to guess all the world knows what today is. Not because it's Greenery Day or National Shrimp Scampi day. Today was the long anticipated Royal Wedding between Prince William and his sweetheart, Catherine. Catherine the Commoner as the news was calling her. That's just rude. I know things are different in England, and they still worry about class there. But here in the states, I thought calling her Catherine the Commoner was rude. I have to say, I wasn't interested in the Royal Wedding. I really think the 'news' (and I use this term loosely, because sending credible anchorwomen like Diane Sawyer to cover fluff stuff like a wedding is not news in my opinion) carried on about this too much. Every single night for the past week we've had an 'update' on the wedding. Tornadoes ripped apart much of the Southern US, and we're hearing about a wedding between two people we'll never meet. I couldn't help but wonder, if we were getting this much coverage in the US; what must it be like in the UK? I wasn't up at 4am this morning to watch it. I got to work and found I was about the only one who hadn't seen any of it. Even my male boss was carrying on about it. I just wanted to say 'bleah. Enough already!' So I wondered 'is there something fundamentally wrong with me?' Is there a key part of my femininity that is broken? When I came home tonight and scrolled through my FB posts, the majority of my friends had watched the wedding and commented on it. My sister had to go to Dallas on a business trip today, but she said she had taped it to watch when she gets home on Sunday. Some friends were over the moon excited about it. And I didn't give a damn. Really. I wasn't sitting here for weeks waiting to see what her dress would be like. I do think it's pretty (I have seen the endless reruns on the news tonight). I thought the dress was classic, simple, and elegant all at once. It is something I could see regular people wearing. But then again, she is a commoner so maybe that makes sense. I have a memory of sitting at Grandma and Grandpa Wager's house one summer watching another royal wedding. My sister and I crowded in front of the television, oohing and ahhing over this real life fairy tale. Thing is, I can't remember if it was Diana's or Fergie's wedding. Diana got married in 1981. I would have been 5. I don't know that my sister and I stayed at Grandma's for the summer when I was that young. Fergie got married in 1986. I would have been 10. It's possible it was her wedding. I think the last summer we went to Grandma & Grandpa's was the year I was 10. But whichever wedding it was, I remember being so excited about it. So what has happened in the 25-30 years since? I guess I grew up. I realized that's a fairy tale, and life is not about princesses and princes. And they are, underneath all the pomp and circumstance, just people. I wouldn't want their lives- the spotlights, the lack of privacy, the royal duties. They can have it. Their wedding has no impact on my life, and I think there has been much ado about nothing. People get married every single day. People have been getting married, without a third of the world watching, for centuries. You probably think I'm just a bitter divorcee. I don't think so, but maybe I am. I know lots of people who are happily married. For me, marriage wasn't pleasant, and I honestly have no desire to do it again. I don't see the point. My life is good the way it is. But I'm not against marriage. If it's what you want, then I'm happy for you. In fact, I'm going to my cousin's wedding in October. If I were against marriage, or hated weddings, I wouldn't make the 700 mile trip to be there. I could just as easily RSVP 'not attending' and everyone would understand- I live too far away. All this royal wedding coverage has just seemed so silly. I am all for putting some 'feel good' stories in the daily news to balance the crime and natural disasters- the things that get you down so quickly. The coverage of the wedding crossed the border into fluff. It wasn't necessary. And I for one, am thankful it's over. Of course, I may be the only female who feels that way. Although maybe not. I saw an online poll earlier this week that 73% of people didn't care about it at all. Yet there was this barrage of coverage from the networks. Maybe the networks need to listen to their viewers a little more carefully.

Thursday, April 28, 2011

A Year of Blogging: April 28, 2011

Today is Great Poetry Reading Day. So we aren't talking about reading the poems I wrote as a boy crazy teenager. We're talking about great poems. Of course, that is subjective. What I like you may not like. There is discussion about whether or not a great poem must rhyme. I don't think it needs to. My favorite collection of poems are the Spoon River Anthologies by Edgar Lee Masters. It is a series of short poems, written as epitaphs designed to tell the life of the citizens of Spoon River, a fictional town. We had to read a few of them for English class in high school (seems like it was 11th grade with Mrs. Kavanaugh), and I fell in love with them. The next time we were at the mall, I bought the collection. Reading them you feel like you are being let in on big secrets. It also reminded me of my hometown: everyone keeping secrets that aren't really that secret. I don't read as much poetry as I do fiction. There are two poets who remain my favorite: Emily Dickinson and Robert Frost. Of course, every one knows 'The Road Not Taken' .... 'and I, I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference.' While I like that poem, I prefer some of his other works. 'Nothing Golden Can Stay' remains a favorite. I feel a connection to him since he is from New England. He is in fact, buried not far from where I grew up. He's buried in Bennington, about half an hour away from my hometown. I have visited his grave many times. Now that I've spent time telling you about great poems, I have the desire to re-read my anthologies and enjoy the great poems again myself.

Wednesday, April 27, 2011

A Year of Blogging: April 27, 2011

When I looked at the possibilities for today's blog, it was crystal clear which day I would write about. April 27 is Babe Ruth Day. You can't be a Yankee fan without knowing about Babe Ruth, so of course, I must write about it. For those who may not know, Babe Ruth is one of the greatest baseball players ever. He started his baseball career as a pitcher, but he is known as a tremendous hitter. In 1919, while playing for Boston, he was moved to the outfield and hit 29 home runs that year, a Major League record. Boston won two World Series titles with the Babe. In 1920, he was sold to the Yankees for $125,000. That sum was more than double what any team had paid for any player prior to that. I guess it also started the Yankees' legacy of paying a lot for players. Whether or not this was a good decision depends on if you are a Red Sox fan or a Yankees fan. From 1903 to 1919, the Red Sox had won 5 World Series, while the Yankees hadn't even been in one. The Red Sox did not win their 6th World Series until 2004. The Yankees have won 27 championships since 1923. It was certainly a reversal of fortunes for both teams. In 1923, the original Yankee Stadium opened in the South Bronx. It was the first triple decker stadium in baseball. It quickly became known as 'The House That Ruth Built', because he hit a lot of home runs out of that ballpark. The stadium was actually built to accommodate Ruth, who hit left-handed. Balls went to the right with a left-handed hitter, so the stadium was built with a short porch: ie: the wall on the right side was a much shorter distance than it was in left field or center field. The idea was to reward Ruth, who drew the fans, and the fans, who came to see Ruth, with a lot of home runs from the Babe. April 27, 1947 was declared Babe Ruth day, and he was honored by all baseball organizations throughout the country. No doubt the biggest celebration was in the Bronx. It was one of the last times he was at Yankee Stadium. He was battling throat cancer and succumbed the following year. His fabled number 3 was retired on June 13, 1948- the Babe's last appearance at Yankee Stadium. I think the best way to celebrate this day is to sit back and watch a Yankees game. They face the Chicago White Sox at 7:05pm tonight.

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

A Year of Blogging: April 26, 2011

April 26 is another day that has a variety of celebrations. It is 'Hug an Australian Day'. A good way to promote international relations, but this would only work if you are in Australia, or if an Australian is in another country, say- close by you. It is kind of hard to hug someone half a world away. So I'll send cyber hugs to all Aussies! Hope you had a great day! Today is also Richter Scale day. April 26, 1900 was the birth date of Charles Richter, who created the Richter scale in 1935. The Richter Scale is what is used to determine the strength of an earthquake. Finally, April 26 is National Pretzel Day. Pretzels are thought to be the worlds oldest snack, dating back to 610 AD. Well, the act of making pretzels dates back that far. I doubt there are any pretzels left from that period. Monks in Europe shaped thin strips of dough to resemble a child's arms folded in prayer and baked them. It is thought the treats were given to children as a reward for learning their prayers. Pretzels can be salty or sweet. They can be crunchy, like a potato chip, or have a soft texture. The large, soft pretzels are favorites at sporting events throughout the US. Some airlines now give bags of pretzels instead of bags of peanuts, a nod to increasing peanut allergies among the passengers. I used to take the bags of peanuts and take them home to my sister. She always loved airline peanuts. I say 'no thank you' to the bags of pretzels. They just don't seem as exciting. If thinking of food has made you hungry, grab a bag of pretzels. While you're up, don't forget to hug your favorite Australian! If no Australians are available, maybe you could watch Crocodile Dundee while you munch your pretzels.

Monday, April 25, 2011

A Year of Blogging: April 25, 2011

April 25 is Dyngus Day. It can also be spelled Dingus Day. I have never heard of this day, and was intrigued. It is a Polish holiday. Well, that could be why I've never heard of it. My ancestry is very mixed, but so far, I've discovered no Poles. Dyngus Day is always the Monday after Easter, and the idea is to have some fun after Lent. On Dingus Days, the goal of guys is to get girls wet. Guys chase the girls with squirt guns or buckets, or any other vessel containing water. Apparently some use cologne too. It is also common to gently hit ladies on their legs with switches or pussy willows. I did a little more research on this, and the sprinkling of water is a spring rite of cleansing. I get that. During mass on one of the Sundays in Lent (either Palm Sunday or Easter, my memory is so bad), I remember the priest sprinkling the congregation with water. The sprinkling of water and pussy willows are also viewed as rites of fertility. This water throwing day is a way to get the opposite sex to notice you, and perhaps, to meet your Ms. Right (or Mr. Right). The women get their revenge on Tuesday, when they throw dishes and crockery at the men. That seems even worse than throwing water! It doesn't seem very amorous. But I guess if it's all done in fun, it could be. I was surprised to find the 'world's largest Dyngus Day' celebration is held in .... Buffalo, NY. One website I found listed Polish phrases you might need to know for Dyngus Day. Included are 'how are you?', 'good day', 'let's dance', 'you're beautiful', 'lets get married', and 'I have a headache'. All very useful if you are looking for your mate! It does seem to be a day steeped in tradition (dating back to 966). A tradition like that should definitely be preserved and celebrated. Now if you'll excuse me, I must find some dishes to throw tomorrow!

Sunday, April 24, 2011

A Year of Blogging: April 24, 2011

Today is Easter. It is the holiest day for Christians. It is the day we celebrate Jesus' resurrection. Easter was always a big deal in our family. We went to 8 o'clock mass, just like every Sunday. The Easter service was always packed, and lasted more than the usual half hour. I think the Easter Bunny came during the night, because I remember waking up to find baskets or stuffed bunnies outside our bedroom doors. We always got a new dress for Easter. When we were really little, there were gloves and white patent leather shoes, hats and little purses. As we grew older, the little accessories were replaced with corsages. We went out to dinner a few years, but Mom preferred to have dinner at home. A lot of restaurants, at least in NY, offer a limited menu on holidays. Mom preferred to make a meal and have everyone at her house. She doesn't think it's work. She actually thinks it is fun. (We've tried having her evaluated..... ) Easter was a special day, not only in our faith, but in our family. As an adult, Easter has lost its luster for me. I still know the importance of the day. But there is nothing special in our house. Erich is an atheist. Or maybe he's an agnostic. I forget which he considers himself. Religion is one of the things we disagree on. I am still firm in my Catholic faith, although I choose to practice that faith in my own way. I do not discuss my beliefs with him, and he respects me enough not to try to persuade me to his beliefs- most of the time. He isn't big on holidays. His family really isn't either. Holidays are always kind of a let down for me, unless I'm with my family. This Easter wasn't quite so bad, because my family was just here a couple of days ago. I asked him a couple of weeks ago about going out to dinner, and my suggestion was met with silence. So I bought a small ham, and cooked it with scalloped potatoes. I cooked it at our regular supper time. There was no big afternoon meal. I'm honestly not even sure Erich realizes that it is Easter. I did have a lot of fun earlier this week watching Syd with her Easter egg hunt, so I feel like I had some kind of Easter. I just didn't get the big family meal- but that's ok. Our meal was easy to fix and easy to clean up. Today was kind of just another day. I slept in, did laundry and relaxed. There was no pressure, and I didn't have to go anywhere. And I didn't cry from homesickness! So maybe it was a good holiday after all!

A Year of Blogging: April 23, 2011

April 23 was Home Run Day. As a baseball fan, this is a very exciting day- provided your team is the one hitting the home runs. The Yankees hit 5 home runs last night, so I think they got the memo! Each ball park has a different way to celebrate home runs. Some sound loud horns, some shoot off fireworks. Each announcer also has their own way of calling home runs. It's hard to follow the action at a baseball game. I'm so used to watching it at home, with the play by play color commentary. In a ballpark, it is quiet. Except when there's a home run. People stand up to watch the track of the ball, and then the stands erupt in cheers. It is exciting. Here in our house, I have my own way of calling a home run. I yell. A loud 'wooo!' Well, as long as it's the Yankees knocking it out of the park. The yell is followed by clapping. If it's the other team sending it over the wall, there is a lot of swearing in the house. I hope my fellow baseball fans were able to see their favorite teams hit at least one home run yesterday.

Saturday, April 23, 2011

A Year of Blogging: April 22, 2011

April 22 was National Jelly Bean day. A very yummy day, and this year it falls just before Easter! Although this year, if you have seen any previews for the movie HOP, it's hard to think of jelly beans in the same way. My great-aunt Vera used to take my sister and I to Manchester, Vermont during the summer. It was about 2 hours north of our house (it doesn't take as long now that they've put in a bypass), although Aunt Vera always made it in about half that time. After we rode the Alpine slide at Bromley Mountain (an alpine slide is a cement track that is put down on the ski trails, then you go down the track in a little plastic sled), we went into Manchester Center. There was a store called the Jelly Mill. It looked like an old barn, and had three or four floors. It was a mix of various little shops. One section had designer stationary. You could buy the prettiest writing paper there. It was always my first stop. There was a section with Vermont made goods: maple syrup, Cabot cheese, smoked hams. The best part was the candy store. They sold Jelly Belly jellybeans. The jelly beans were in dispensers that lined the walls, and you could fill your bag with any kinds of jelly beans. You could mix your favorite flavors. I always filled my bag with very cherry and cinnamon jelly beans. They are both red (although the cinnamon ones have little yellow specks on them). I mixed them well so that when you grabbed a handful, you got equal amounts of both. Dad always ate my jelly beans (my sister bought really weird flavors). He grabbed a handful of jelly beans and popped the whole handful into his mouth. Cinnamon Jelly Bellys are hot. Dad thought all the jelly beans were cherry, and he got quite a surprise! I admit, part of the reason I combine the two flavors is because I like surprising people. I also like the two flavors combined. Now you can buy bags of Jelly Belly jelly beans at most stores. The International grocery store nearby has them in the bulk dispensers, and I still mix the two flavors. I've spent this time talking about jelly beans, and now I really want some. I guess we'll have to make a trip to Jungle Jim's soon!

A Year of Blogging: April 21, 2011

April 21 was Kindergarten Day. I loved Kindergarten. I don't remember my first day, but I remember the year. Kindergarten was wonderful. Our teacher, Mrs. Hogue, was incredible. She was sweet, soft-spoken, and kind. Her children were much older than us, and she was easily in her 50s when she was my teacher. But she seemed so young. She was full of energy. She was what I have always thought a kindergarten teacher should be. A large tree was painted on the wall in the hallway outside the kindergarten door. I don't remember what the tree was for. I do remember it was so welcoming and friendly. The room was huge- there was an area at the front of the room with our little tables and chairs. The entire back of the room was a play area. The room had it's own bathroom, which was very handy for five year olds. Each work table had a basket of crayons. The room was lined with colorful book shelves. Throughout the year, we learned about the letter people. The vowels were female and the consonants were male. Once we had studied a letter person, the big inflatable letter person balloon went onto the shelf. By the end of the year, the room was surrounded by the letter people from Ms. A to Mr. Z . Our kindergarten was an all day event. We rode the bus in the morning, and came home in the afternoon- just like the big kids. So we had nap time in kindergarten. We had flat mesh green cots that we used each day for our naps. They stacked at the side of the room when we weren't using them. We each had a cubby, and we kept our coats and other things (probably blankies) in the cubbies. I got the chicken pox in kindergarten. My neighbor and best friend Drew had them first. I brought work home to him. Just as he was recovering, I came down with them. My parents were out to dinner and our babysitter, Chris, had to call mom and tell her to come home. By the time my parents got home, I was covered in spots. Just as I was getting better, Drew's sister Joylane came down with them, and just as she started to feel better, my sister caught them. It went back and forth between the two houses for more than a month until finally all four of us were done with the chicken pox. My favorite memory of Kindergarten came on our graduation day. My dad left for work that morning. Mom and the other moms came to help us get into our little gowns and paper hats. She told me she had a surprise in the gym for me (where graduation was to be held). I was certain it was a horse! Oh, the innocence of children. I never questioned how she would get a horse into the gym, or where we were going to keep it. I just knew I was getting one. When we walked into the gym I didn't see a horse. I saw something better- my dad! He was sitting in the audience with my sister. It was the best surprise. In September, another generation starts Kindergarten. I hope Sydney will find it as happy and wonderful as I did. Of course, it also means we are 12 years away from another big graduation. Hopefully the years will go slowly, we want to enjoy every moment.

A Year of Blogging: April 20, 2011

April 20 was Look Alike Day. Some people want to look like celebrities. I've never thought I look like any celebrities. My mom once told me Catherine Zeta Jones reminded her of me. When Grandma Wager saw my wedding pictures (due to hers and Grandpa's declining health, they weren't able to make the trip to NY for my wedding), she told me I looked like a young Elizabeth Taylor. I was flattered. Elizabeth Taylor was so glamorous in her youth, so beautiful. I could never aspire to that, but I was flattered that my Grandma thought so. Maybe I've never wanted to look like a celebrity because I already am a look alike. I look like my mom. I always have. It started to be noticeable when I was a teenager. Most of the time, my hair is short. Except for the couple of years here and there where I've decided to grow it out. My mother's hair is always short. As far back as her high school senior picture, her hair is short. I hated knowing that I looked just like my mom. When I was 16, I had to get reading glasses. For years, I had wanted glasses. My sister got glasses in first or second grade, and for so long, I wanted them too. When I stopped wanting them, the doctor said I needed them. With my hair short, and glasses, I'm a dead ringer for my mom. When you are 16, the last person you want to look like is your mom. I no longer mind that I look like my mom. Mom looks like her mom. I see generations of strong independent women when I look in the mirror. I also see great genes! My mom is 57. She'll be 58 in August. She doesn't look it. She really doesn't look old enough to be a Grandmother. When we were having our adventures this week, people asked her on more than one occasion 'is this your... granddaughter?' They were hesitant when they looked at Syd. She looks young enough that Syd could have been a late in life baby. You can tell, people didn't want to offend her. I actually have more gray hair than my mom does. My gray hair is thanks to Dad. I didn't get much from him, just my height (although Mom is 5'8"), my big feet, and the gray hair. My hope is that in 22 years, I will look as good as Mom does!

A Year of Blogging: April 19, 2011

April 19 was National Garlic Day. I don't cook with garlic at home, but I know it's in a lot of dishes when I go out to eat. I don't mind it. I just don't buy it with the groceries. Even though we eat a lot of Italian food, we aren't Italian. Mom never kept garlic at home, and I have followed her footsteps. Perhaps if we were Italian, garlic would have been a staple in our house. My Grandfather really dislikes garlic. So he doesn't like to go to Italian restaurants. Thing is, garlic is used in all kinds of dishes now. I think every chef on the Food Network uses it in almost every meal. They chop it, slice it, mince it. It seems like so much work. And you know me- my cooking is easy and simple. My mom was visiting earlier this week, and I commented that I felt badly she was doing so much work in the kitchen (I think she was fixing a spectacular breakfast of sausage and pancakes). She said 'it's not work if you're in the kitchen'. We disagree on that, Mom! My favorite garlic dish would have to be garlic mashed potatoes, especially if the potatoes also have cheese in them. I'm never able to replicate it at home. Perhaps because I buy the jar of minced garlic and try to use that. Maybe if I used fresh garlic it would be more successful. But then we are back to the chopping, slicing, and mincing. Work. So I just make cheesy mashed potatoes, which are just as yummy. Everyone is happy. The biggest problem with garlic is of course the bad breath. One of the reasons I always carry gum and mints in my purse. Then when I get home, I brush my teeth well. I have heard of people gargling with mustard, and then swallowing mustard to kill the smell. I love mustard, but that sounds a bit harsh for me. You can chew on a couple of sprigs of parsley or mint. Or drink a cup of mint tea. Chocolate supposedly even helps with garlic breath (this might explain why whenever I eat Italian food, I feel I need chocolate to cleanse my palate). Of course, if you want to avoid the garlic breath the answer is really simple. Avoid the garlic. Ancient Greek and Roman brides carried bouquets of garlic and other herbs instead of flowers. My cousin is getting married in October, I wonder if she's considered such a fragrant bouquet? Somehow I don't think it fits into her plans. It might be the first wedding that single women aren't climbing over each other to catch the bouquet!

A Year of Blogging: April 18, 2011

April 18 was International Juggler's Day. Not to be confused with World Juggler's Day, which is celebrated the Saturday closest to June 17. I have never tried juggling physical objects, such as balls or fruit or knives. I am not the most coordinated person. The other day Syd wanted to have egg races. She explained you took one of the plastic Easter eggs, put it on a spoon, and had to walk around with it. My mother broke out laughing and told Syd she didn't know what she was asking Aunt Amy to do! It is true. I'm a klutz. Grandpa Wager once told me when they were passing out gracefulness in Heaven, I was in another line. We haven't figured out what line I was in...... I am always walking into walls, tripping over things that have been in the same location for years, and bruising myself. Erich just shakes his head and laughs. Part of being a klutz is acknowledging that you are a klutz. And with that is realizing there are certain things that as a klutz, you should not try: skiing (truly- some days I can barely walk without hitting something, strapping narrow wooden planks to my feet do not increase my odds), ice skating (same reason as skiing, only with sharp metal blades), juggling. A klutz juggling? That's really a sideshow! But I do juggle. I juggle life. Work, home, dogs, health, hobbies. At work, I multitask all the time. Answering the phone while typing, stuffing mail while answering questions. I multitask at home. For instance, right now I'm watching tv, playing on FB and blogging. It seems I multitask all day, every day. So in that sense, I am a juggler. We all are. We juggle work, home, families- trying to keep everything going all the time. Sometimes we drop one of these 'balls'. It doesn't mean we are a failure. It means we are human. I think the best way to celebrate International Juggler's Day is to sit down and just do nothing. Take a deep breath, don't worry about the to do lists. Realize that dropping one of the balls is going to happen from time to time. Even the best jugglers stumble once in a while!

A Year of Blogging: April 17, 2011

April 17 was Pet Owners Independence Day. I was drawn to this day, because, as you know, I am a Pet Owner. But what does Pet Owner Independence Day mean? I did a quick google search, and found most sources say it is actually April 18, not April 17. I also found it is a day for you to stay home and your pet to go to work. Now that is just silly! I'd still have to get up to drive them to work, neither Onyx or Cobalt has their driver's license yet. When they get to work, they'd probably mistake my boss' small fluffy dog for a chew toy. Of course, I would get to stay home. After I drove them to work (and maybe Erich could do that), I could curl up in my bed and snuggle into the covers. When I decided to get up, I could stretch luxuriously and yawn and slowly walk across the house. I could go outside, sniff the air, patrol the patio, and sun myself. When I tired of the outside, I could come back into the house, and resume my perch on top of the couch, watching the world through the picture window. When the beagles came home for lunch, I would greet them at the door, happy to see them. We would play and snuggle, and then when they went back to work, I would nestle into the couch for a nap. That doesn't sound like such a bad day! Well, for me that is!

A Year of Blogging: April 16, 2011

April 16 was National Eggs Benedict day. For those who don't know, eggs benedict are poached eggs served over english muffins, with canadian bacon or ham, and hollandaise sauce. It is sometimes served with caviar on top of the hollandaise. Eggs Benedict is considered an 'upper-crust' dish in some circles. A dish for the elite. I've never seen it served with caviar. There have been many times we've gone to breakfast and mom has ordered it, so I've never considered it a dish for the elite. I've always just thought it was gross. I don't like eggs. I buy eggs primarily for baking purposes. If they get to the expiration date and I haven't used the full dozen, I cook them as hard boiled, and then I have hard boiled eggs to put on salads or to share with the dogs. I never make scrambled eggs, omelets, or fried eggs. Sometimes, when I am home visiting my parents, I will eat an egg. Mom and Dad eat eggs a lot. Mom will scramble or fry eggs for Dad's breakfast. I'll eat one, but I usually regret it and am left feeling a bit queasy the rest of the day. I used to eat eggs as a kid. We had eggs every Sunday morning. One Sunday we would have pancakes and bacon and eggs, and the next Sunday would be french toast and sausage and eggs. My mother alternated because I preferred pancakes and my sister preferred french toast. I preferred sausage and my sister preferred bacon. So Sunday breakfasts were a compromise- the bread product to satisfy one child, the meat product to satisfy the other. But there were always eggs. I don't know when I stopped liking eggs. Sometime after hitting adulthood. I don't know why I stopped liking them. I just don't like them any more. I'm also not big on sauces, so the hollandaise sauce is a big turn off too. I guess if it weren't for the eggs and hollandaise sauce, I'd like Eggs Benedict. Of course, without the eggs and sauce, it's basically a ham biscuit. Yummy!

A Year of Blogging: April 15, 2011

April 15 in the US is traditionally Tax Day. It's the deadline to file your taxes. Taxes must be filed by midnight on April 15. Employers have to give your W2 to you by January 31. Most of us have all the forms we need by the end of January or the first couple of days of February, yet there are so many people who wait until the very last minute to file their taxes. I don't understand this. I understand it if you have to pay, because you want to hold onto your money as long as you can. I usually get a refund, so I file my taxes as soon as possible because I want my money! I did slip a little this year and forget to file the city taxes at the same time I did the others. I can't do the city taxes through Turbo tax, and so I forgot about them. Thankfully, Erich reminded me and I got them out just in time. I never owe the city, or get a refund. The city actually pays people to do your returns for you. I tried doing my returns a couple of years, and the city people kept correcting it. I gave up, and now I just send my W2 and sign the form, and let them do it. They are getting paid for it. My tax dollars at work! Post Offices used to stay open longer on April 15. Post Offices in the big cities, such as Cincinnati, would keep a couple of branches open until midnight, with postal workers standing outside to take the envelopes from citizens. This year, none of the Cincinnati post offices were open that late. People are filing their taxes online, so the post office doesn't need to extend their hours. Of course, this year, Tax Day was extended to April 18. This year, Washington D.C. celebrated Emancipation Day on April 15, instead of on the 16th which was a Saturday. Since it was a public holiday in DC, the rest of the country got a break. And I'm sure there were plenty of people who needed those extra three days!

Friday, April 15, 2011

A Year of Blogging: April 14, 2011

April 14 was one of those days blessed with a plethora of celebrations. It is 'Ex-Spouse Day'. I'm sorry, I don't think those need to be celebrated. Unless you are celebrating the fact that you are free of them! That, for sure, is worth celebrating. I celebrate that many times a year: namely on August 8 (our wedding anniversary) and November 29 (the day the divorce was final). But I really don't think ex-spouses are worth all that much thought. After all, they are exes for a reason! April 14 was also 'Moment of Laughter' day. The goal is to encourage laughter. Laughter always makes you feel better. There is going to be a lot of laughter in my house this coming week now that Sydney is here. At dinner tonight, something made her giggle, and we laughed hearing her laugh. That caused her to laugh harder, and all of us just lost it. Yet I don't remember what we were laughing over! I hope everyone has had at least one moment of laughter today! April 14 was also Look Up at the Sky Day. It's a great thing to do on a clear night. I love to sit outside and watch the stars. I also like to watch the sky on sunny days, with the wispy clouds floating by. It's so peaceful, and makes you feel so small. It's a good way to put things in perspective- the problems that seem bigger than the world are really just little specks. There was also Pecan Day. Which I thought we had about a month or so ago. April 14 has plenty of celebrations to choose from; something for everyone.

A Year of Blogging: April 13, 2011

April 13 is 'Blame Someone Else Day'. This seems like a very sad day. It seems everyone is blaming someone else lately. The Democrats are blaming the Republicans. The Republicans are blaming the Democrats. Nothing is getting done, people are out of work, or struggling under health care costs, and it's just a big finger pointing day. I really don't think we need to celebrate this day. I think a much better day would be 'Own Up to Your Mistakes' day. Just admit you made a mistake, instead of looking for someone to push the blame onto. I was raised to be honest, and to admit when you were wrong. We need more of that in the world. April 13 was also Scrabble Day. Scrabble is one of my favorite board games. My sister never wanted to play it with me, because spelling has never been her strong point. I always enjoyed it because you had to think. I haven't played in a while though. I need to drag out the scrabble board and play again. Or maybe just play an electronic version, I've heard those are fun!

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

A Year of Blogging: April 12, 2011

April 12, 2011 marks the 150th anniversary of the start of the Civil War. Over the next few years there will be a lot of memorials and commemorations. As a history lover, I am looking forward to it. I have always loved history, but I didn't start getting interested in the Civil War until we went to Gettysburg. We took a family vacation to Pennsylvania seven years ago. We went to Hershey, Boyd's Bear Country, and The Gettysburg Battlefield. Before this trip, I had an interest in the Civil War, because it was part of history. But I hadn't studied it any more than what was covered in classes. Visiting the battlefield, and even the town of Gettysburg made such an impression on me. My Grandpa Wager had always been a big Civil War buff. Surrounded by all of this history, I felt a part of it. I could see the battles. I could almost smell the death in the air. It was powerful. Shortly after I returned from that vacation, I went to the bookstore and bought a ton of books on the Civil War. I've been reading and studying it ever since. Sometimes I catch myself thinking "I have to ask Grandpa about that". I have read about different generals (Union and Confederate), different battles, and even the side stories you don't often hear about. Every time I buy a bunch of books, there are still so many more I want to read. I don't know that I will ever achieve the status of 'buff', but I think 'enthusiast' is a good way to describe me. My goal is to make it to all the major battlefields. Including going back to Gettysburg. I think later this year I might get a start on that plan by visiting Fort Sumter. How appropriate- to go where it all started! My great-great grandfather served in the Civil War. He was in the ambulance corps. I have a letter he wrote to his mom the day after the Battle of Gettysburg. He describes the battlefield, and the fighting he saw. The family legend was that his hands were blown off when a cannon backfired as he was loading it. Supposedly, he had a hook on one hand and a claw on the other, and the myth was that they were buried in my parents' backyard. We never found them. Now that I have been working on the ancestry for many years, I think I know why they weren't found. Because this great story is simply a myth. I wondered why he was loading a cannon if he was in the ambulance corps. I found Civil War pension lists which indicate if the soldier was wounded in battle. He has no injuries listed. And, perhaps the most convincing evidence- the veterans in my hometown had G.A.R. reunions every few years. There is a picture of the veterans from 1890, and my great-great grandpa has hands. I know they weren't doing hand transplants that early. It was a neat story, but for me the better story is the letter we have from Gettysburg. That is real. That is something our family will hopefully cherish for generations.

Monday, April 11, 2011

A Year of Blogging: April 11, 2011

April 11 has many celebrations. It is 'Eight Track Tape Day'. I can't comment on that, because I don't remember eight tracks. I know, I'm showing my age (or lack thereof). I have maybe seen an eight track somewhere, but I've never listened to them. I don't know what an eight track player looks like. Not much point blogging about it. April 11 is also Barbershop Quartet Day and National Submarine Day. Neither really inspires me. Tomorrow, however, there are two wonderful things I wanted to blog about, so I'm going to borrow one of them for today. April 12 is National Grilled Cheese Day. Or as my family might call it "the day Amy will cook". My mother went back to working outside the home when my sister started school. When we were in high school, we had to help Mom with the cooking. She usually spent Sundays preparing meals for the coming week. Occasionally there were nights Mom didn't have covered, and then it fell to my sister and I to make dinner. On my sister's night, she would get out the cookbooks. She planned out her meal, bought what she needed when we went grocery shopping, and came home from school and started creating. She made wonderful meals. The family raved. When it was my night to make dinner, I made grilled cheese sandwiches. Sometimes I mixed it up and added ham to the sandwiches. I opened a can of soup, and voila! Dinner was served! The family groaned. My father once said I better either marry someone with a lot of money to hire a cook, or find someone who liked to cook. Mom amended it with 'or someone who likes grilled cheese'. The family was convinced that grilled cheese was the only thing I could cook. Just because I'd had some mishaps- like trying to do a baked potato in the microwave and setting the timer for four potatoes, even though I was only making one. My poor dad tried to eat that- he hates wasting food. He would have needed a chainsaw to cut through it. And then there were the meals mom had so carefully prepared. All I had to do was cook them. And I would burn them. Everyone just shook their heads. When it was time for my bridal shower, my sister had everyone bring a recipe. I also received a lot of cookbooks. Apparently word that I 'couldn't' cook had spread! I still have some of those cookbooks, and I haven't used them. See, the thing is, I can cook. I have never enjoyed it, but I can do it. As a teenager, I always had my nose in a book. I would put dinner in, and get caught up in my homework or my book, and forget to check it. I have never seen the point of putting a lot of effort into a meal. To me, the biggest waste are the holiday meals: Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter. You cook all day, and the meal is over in 10 minutes. And what do you have to show for it? A sink full of dishes, and you haven't enjoyed the day. My mother and sister love to do the holiday meals. But they love to cook. I cook because it's necessary. So the nights it was my night to cook as a teenager, grilled cheese and soup was fine. It was filling, it wasn't junk food, and it was easy. I still make grilled cheese a lot. It is not unusual for me to have a grilled cheese a couple times a week, either for lunch or dinner. It is my go-to when I don't know what to make, or can't decide what I want. Sometimes I go for the ham and cheese. If I want to really class it up, I do the grown up grilled cheese. It is sour-dough bread, swiss cheese (or Vermont white cheddar), turkey, bacon, and apple (fuji or gala works well). The apple should be should be sliced thinly. It gets hard to flip because it's very full. I have one of those spatulas with the prongs that slides around the sandwich. You probably could cook it as an open face, with the two pieces of bread both getting cooked at the same time, then just put it together at the end. There's something comforting about grilled cheese. The crunch of the bread, the cheese oozing out of the sandwich when you cut it. It tastes good when I feel lousy, and it tastes good when I feel fine. I've been perfecting my skills in the past couple of weeks. Sydney loves grilled cheese, and I just might have to make one for her. I know she would be very impressed with Aunt Amy's culinary skills! And in case you are wondering, Erich is fine eating Grilled Cheese as often as I do!

Sunday, April 10, 2011

A Year of Blogging: April 10, 2011

Today is 'Golfer's Day'. It is a day to celebrate golf, and the golfers. I don't follow golf, I actually find it kind of dull. But I know today was the last day of The 2011 Masters. That's really appropriate! To all my golfer friends, I hope you had a wonderful day! It was a beautiful day here to be out on the links, and I hope it was for you too! Today is also 'National Siblings Day'. I am fortunate to have one sister, and we are good friends. I blame this on my mom, who always told us 'this is the only sister you have'. She also told us boyfriends would come and go, but your sister is forever. Our relationship has gone through stages. I was super excited to have a baby sister. I asked Mommy and Daddy when she could play dolls with me. I tried to be a big sister, and to help my parents with her. When Drew and Joylane moved in next door, we had instant playmates. Drew was six months older than me, and Joylane was six months older than Laura. It worked out perfectly! Drew and I would create a game, drag our sisters into it, and then get bored and run off. I remember playing hospital one time. Drew and I were the doctors, and our sisters were the patients. We weren't very good doctors, and they died. So we told them to go to the morgue (which was under the bed). They both went obediently, and then Drew and I decided to go outside and play. Laura and Joylane stayed under the beds until my mom went looking for them. When I was in school, she was a pest. She tagged along behind me, wanting to do what I did. I think she was envious of the things I got to do. I was the trailblazer, and she desperately wanted to come along. I tried to trade her for a brother. I was tired of having a sister. She was annoying. I was certain a brother would be better. Mom assured me there were no brothers coming from the stork, so I tried to swap her with the little brother of one of my friends. It didn't work, and I got in trouble. I remember the day womanhood found me. My mother had told my grandparents, my dad, and to my absolute horror- my sister. We had been told the facts of life previously. I had actually told a friend, who hit this milestone before I did. She came to school terrified, and her mom had just handed her some products and told her to use them. She thought there was something terribly wrong with her, so I filled her in (and the other girls in my 5th grade class, whose mom's hadn't yet had the talk). When it was my turn, my sister came in and sat on my bed. I was brushing my hair, and I saw her face in the mirror. She was watching me, with this weird look on her face. Then she said 'What's it feel like?' and I yelled "MooooooooooooooooMMMMMMMMMMM!' When we were preteens and in our early teens, we fought. Physically. I don't know what boys that age fight like, but I can tell you what girls fight like. It was dirty and very aggressive. Looking back on that time, I don't know how my parents put up with us. My mother especially, since she was the one who had to deal with it more. This was the time we heard 'You only have one sister' probably at least once a week. We honestly hated each other, and couldn't envision a time that we would like each other. When I turned 16, our relationship took a drastic change. I think it was because I had wheels, and my mother expected me to run errands with my sister. It also gave my sister a little freedom. We became really close my last two years of high school. For my graduation present, Laura bought me an airplane ticket home for Thanksgiving. She wanted me home for Thanksgiving, and she used money she had saved working to buy it. She was 15 at the time. I've often wondered how many 15 year olds buy their sister a plane ticket. It was a gift that still makes me cry. We racked up huge phone bills while we were both in college. We talked almost every day. If we were in college now, we'd just email and facebook and text each other. So we'd have huge texting bills! We were Maid of Honor in each other's weddings. There was no question- we had known for years she would be mine and I would be hers. And if I were to remarry, she'd still be my Maid of Honor. Well, now she'd have to be my Matron of Honor since she's married. I am fortunate. I have a wonderful relationship with my sister. She gets me, in ways that others don't. And I get her. Sometimes, when we are talking, we find ourselves trying to explain what we mean. If she's doing it, I say 'it's ok, I understand'. And I do. I know what she means. She knows what I mean. No matter how far apart we live, when we are together, it only takes a glance. Maybe someone is carrying on and being obnoxious, or completely outrageous. Our look says 'OMG! Can you believe them?' We can be in a busy shopping mall, and both see the same thing that amuses us. Then our look is one of 'Did you SEE that?' Of course, this look even comes in at inappropriate times, such as at our grandmother's funeral. I made the mistake of looking at Laura when the minister started singing, and we both cracked up laughing. The bond I share with her is unlike anything else.

A Year of Blogging: April 9, 2011

April 9 was 'Name Yourself Day'. We've previously celebrated days like this, days to run away from your name. Maybe this is a big problem in the world? Are there a lot of people running around who dislike their name? If this were the biggest problem I had, I would consider myself very lucky. When we were kids, we used to ask our parents what they would have named us if we were boys. My mother always answered with Joseph Mark or Mark Joseph. My father gave us a different story, and made me grateful I was a girl. My father said they planned to name me Eimelheiser (pronounced ee mel hi ser) Doodledorf. I don't even know if I'm spelling that correctly. I have no idea where it came from. He said my sister was going to be Jerome Rickmeyer. I think it was just my Dad, being Dad. Whenever he would tell us this, my sister and I would share that look- the look that only we understand, and then erupt into giggles. Mom tells that when they were expecting me, they tried using a combination of our grandparents' names. They thought of Ruth Beatrice. Both Grandmothers said no. (Thank you, Grandmas!) . They also briefly considered Lewis Aubrey for the Grandfathers (in the event of a boy). Again, I have both Grandfathers to thank for the veto. Grandpa Wager (the Lewis in the combination) said that was a horrible thing to do to a baby! When you consider the names I could have had, I got very lucky with Amy. And hey, it's such an easy name that Sydney can already spell it. I think, I'll keep it. But feel free to change your name for the day! PS This is my 100th entry in this blog. I wasn't sure I'd make it this long. I had to stop looking at it as a chore, and know that it's ok to miss a day or two. I always catch up eventually! I'm kind of enjoying it now, even though some of the days are kind of lame.

Saturday, April 9, 2011

A Year of Blogging: April 8, 2011

April 8 was 'Draw a Picture of a Bird' day. I don't think I'd do very well at that. Drawing was never one of my strengths. My picture of a bird might be a circle with stick legs. I could color it blue for a blue jay, red for a cardinal, yellow for a goldfinch. I am pretty sure Sydney could draw a better picture. I could have taken a picture though. I frequently take pictures of the birds in our backyard. Cardinals, Blue Jays, Finches, and hawks. We now have two different types of hawks in our yard. I guess it's a good feeding spot for them since we put out food for the birds. Maybe when Syd comes next week she'll want to draw pictures of the birds. If any of my readers are artistic, perhaps you would like to draw your own pictures of birds.

Thursday, April 7, 2011

A Year of Blogging: April 7, 2011

Today is No Housework Day. This is a day I could celebrate over and over again during the year, and never tire of it! It came at an appropriate time. My family arrives in 8 days. Which means the whole house has to be cleaned. If I clean too early, then I'll just have to do it again before they come. But if I don't do it soon, I'm going to be rushing to cram it all in before they get here. My parents say they don't come to see the house. I know that. But I always feel guilty. My mother's house is spotless. She dusts and vacuums all the time. This winter, when Grandma was sick and they were spending a lot of time caring for her, mom was complaining that her house was a mess. She hadn't dusted in two weeks, and it had been five days since she cleaned the bathroom! It was upsetting for her. I laughed at her. Because that is the relationship we have. I was raised to keep a spotless house. It just doesn't happen. Now of course, Mom didn't have two dogs who shed and have toys all over the house, and she didn't live with a pack rat like I do. It is a struggle in my house, and I have to say, how I've managed not to strangle Erich in 10 years is a miracle. I work hard to clean the house, and it doesn't phase him. He just piles things up. So I have to get a little cranky with him, and he tries for a couple days, then it's back to his old ways. I don't want you to think my house is a pigsty. No. It's just 'lived in'. There are dog toys around, books that either Erich or I are reading on the tables, and there may be dust. The rooms that other people don't see (such as my bedroom) don't get cleaned as often. One of my favorite Boyds Bears is one that says 'I cleaned my house last week, sorry you missed it'. Or is it I cleaned yesterday? Anyway... the sentiment is you weren't here to see it. If people are coming to visit me to see my house, then they probably aren't people I want coming anyway. If you want to come to see me, you are always welcome. I came home from work, feeling like I should be doing something productive. All I really wanted to do was play on the computer. And then I saw 'No Housework Day'. I have used that as my justification for playing on ancestry.com tonight, and not getting anything done in preparation for my family's visit. There's always the weekend!

A Year of Blogging: April 6, 2011

April 6 was Plan Your Epitaph Day. I find this hilarious. Because I was actually discussing my headstone with my mom yesterday, on April 6. Let me explain. Although no doubt, it will all still seem incredibly morbid. When my father was a child, two of his sisters died as infants. His parents needed someplace to bury them, so my Grandpa bought a plot in one of the nearby cemeteries. I always wondered how they chose this cemetery. My Grandfather is Catholic, and the cemetery the family plot is in is not the Catholic one. Nor is the the cemetery to my Grandmother's church, which she attended from the day she was born. A couple of years ago, I sat down and talked to my grandparents about the family history. I spent a whole day with them, recording their stories on a tape recorder. The opportunity came up, so I asked them about the cemetery. Turns out, Grandma's parents had already purchased a plot in this cemetery when Grandma & Grandpa needed to buy one. This was even more puzzling, because Grandma's maternal Grandfather built the little mountain church her family attended. He was buried in the cemetery behind the church. Why didn't his daughter want to be buried there? Grandma said her mother didn't 'want to be buried on that damn mountain', so they chose a cemetery in the middle of town. Grandma and Grandpa bought their plot in this same cemetery. 13 months before my birth, my parents lost another little girl. Mom was very sick during the pregnancy, and even though she carried the baby to term, she was still-born. Mom and Dad were in the same situation Dad's parents had been in 20 years earlier. Grandma and Grandpa offered the family plot, and my sister was buried beside her two aunts. About 20 years ago, my grandparents decided it was time to put a headstone on the plot. The plot they have is large, it can accommodate 8 people I think. I believe the three babies are buried in one, I could be wrong. Grandma and Grandpa offered spots to my parents first, since their daughter was buried there. Grandpa's rule was your last name had to be Primeau to be buried there, as that is what is on the headstone. So Grandma & Grandpa, Mom & Dad, and one of Dad's brother's and his wife will be buried with the three babies. It didn't bother me the first time I saw Mom & Dad's name on the headstone. My sister was kind of creeped out, but I think she has adjusted to it. Each person has their name, as well as a little etching. Grandma has a cross or a Bible, Grandpa I think has the Navy logo. There are wedding rings connecting their two names. I forget what Mom has, but I know Dad has a racecar with the number 43 on it. While I interviewed Grandma and Grandpa about the family history, and we talked about the family plot, I asked if there was any room left. Grandma said there was. I asked if I could have it. I know, it's a little weird. I was 30 or 31 at the time. This is not the typical conversation you have with your grandparents. Grandpa said my last name had to stay Primeau. I told him even if I remarried, at this point, I would keep my name. I think my Dad was floored that I was asking about the cemetery! Grandma and Grandpa said I could have the spot. To me, it makes sense to go where the family is. We told Mom the plan, but nothing more has been said about it. After Grandma's funeral, I asked Dad to make sure my name got engraved on the stone while they were doing the engraving for Grandma. Might as well do it all at once. While Mom and I were emailing yesterday, she said Dad had been playing cards with Grandpa, and Dad told him I want my name put on the stone when they update Grandma's dates. Grandpa said that was fine, and he remembered my request to be buried there. Which leads me to the epitaph part. I told my mom I would like my full name to appear, but if there wasn't room for it, then I would at least like my first name and middle initial. She hasn't asked if I want an etching. And maybe I don't have to worry about that now. I can't decide anyway: what says 'Amy'? A beagle? A book? A teddy bear? A pen (I'm thinking the quill pen, just like I had on my class ring)? What identifies me, and when people see the stone in 100 years, they will know who I was, what was important to me? I'm thinking maybe just a question mark, because you can't define me in one little symbol. And that way, I'll leave them wondering....

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

A Year of Blogging: April 5, 2011

Today is Read a Road Map day. Another skill I think people have little use for. Or rather, they think they have little use for it. Who needs a road map when you have GPS systems, or mapquest? Well, because the GPS systems, or even mapquest, might sometimes be wrong. Of course, maps can be wrong too. I was once trying to find a store in a nearby town, so I used Mapquest for the directions. I was doing great. I had followed the directions all the way to the town, and it told me to take a left and the store would be right there. I was with my parents, and Dad was driving. So he took a left and we ended up smack in the middle of a cemetery! No store anywhere around! We had to do it the old fashioned way- stop and ask for directions. My Dad taught me to read a map as a very young child. Whenever we took a road trip, I was Dad's copilot. I have always been his copilot. Mom gets distracted, either by us, or by what she sees on the side of the road, or she falls asleep. My sister had a routine on a road trip: eat, sleep, wake up at the rest area; repeat. So I became Dad's copilot. Even back then, I was always a night owl. We used to leave in the evening and drive all night to Florida. That way we missed traffic all the way down the east coast: NYC, NJ, DC, Richmond. I could stay up talking to Dad long after everyone else had gone to sleep. Before we went on a trip, Dad and I would look at the atlas and plan a couple of routes. We liked to have a backup plan. The atlas came with us on the trip, and if we got on I95 and hit an accident or weather, it was my job to find a way around it. Dad couldn't read the map and drive, so it was my job. Some people look at a map and see nothing but colored lines and little type. I look at it and see the interstates, the rivers, the parks, the small roads. I'm happy to say I still use maps- in fact, I used one last week trying to figure out the directions for my dad to come down I71 instead of I75. Even if I'm with someone who is using a GPS, I like to check the map just to be sure. And not only can I read a map, I can fold it too!

A Year of Blogging: April 4, 2011

April 4 was, according to my calendar from the Dayton Daily News, World Pillow Fight day. Yet on Sunday, April 3, the news was reporting on pillow fights taking place in NYC because it was World Pillow Fight Day. I'm so confused! Was I supposed to have a pillow fight on Sunday or Monday? I guess it's a moot point, because I didn't do it either day. I fought with my pillows, trying to get comfortable as I slept. That's as much 'fighting' with pillows that ever occurs in my house. The first week of April is Library week. Very fitting, since we just had Children's Book Day. To continue our theme, April 4 was also School Librarian day. I went to two different elementary schools, and while I have vivid memories of one of the libraries, I don't remember the other. I am sure I visited both frequently, after all, they were libraries! I remember our librarian in Stephentown Elementary. It is possible though that I remember her because she was also family- she was my Grandpa Wager's first cousin. I think the role of librarian has changed quite a bit since I was a child. Our librarian helped us pick books, she showed us how to use the card catalog, and how to use research materials. I know most libraries have done away with card catalogs now (my college was phasing them out at the end of my four years), everything is computerized. Children probably do not know the Dewey Decimal system, nor do they have reason to. They can research materials using Google. And they can download books onto their e-readers. I would like to think the librarians are still important. That they are still holding open that door to other worlds for children, showing them how wonderful reading can be.

Sunday, April 3, 2011

A Year of Blogging: April 3, 2011

Today is Tweed Day. I love tweed. It is so neat, so classic looking. A nice tweed suit for a woman never goes out of style. Nor does a pair of tweed slacks. They are like the little black dress- every woman should have some tweed in her closet. Unless you are like me, and allergic to wool. A tweed suit doesn't do you much good in that case. So I love the look of it, but don't wear it unless it is lined- so that no part of the tweed touches my skin. I guess tweed is probably only popular in cooler climates. I don't imagine many people in Florida or Arizona like to wear tweed. It's a very warm fabric, perfect on cooler fall or winter days. If you wore it in a warm climate, you'd melt. Today is also find a rainbow day. Grandpa Wager taught my sister and I how to find rainbows at the end of the rain shower. He taught us about the colors, and how to remember the order by saying Roy G Biv (red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet). Whenever I see a rainbow, I know Grandpa is smiling down. It was a beautiful sunny day today, so there was no chance for a rainbow today. I'm always looking after rain showers, though, and sometimes I find one. Not always. But that's what makes rainbows so special. Sometimes when you least expect them, you find one.

A Year of Blogging: April 2, 2011

April 2 was Children's Book Day. It's a day that encourages reading, and encouraging children to love reading. A day after my own heart! I have always been a book worm. I was an early bloomer, reading at age 3. My parents read to us, and perhaps my grandparents read to us too. My Grandpa Wager was a bookworm, and I remember seeing all of his lovely books. It seemed he was always reading. My parents encouraged this with us. We lived in a town with a small library. As a child, it didn't seem so small. There were rooms full of books, shelves from floor to ceiling in each room. Mom took us to the library weekly. We walked to the library. Mom would put us in our red wagon, and pull us downtown. (Downtown sounds so urban, I grew up in a quiet country village). On the way home, I had to walk because I would have filled my side of the wagon full of books. The children's room of the library was on the back side of the library. It had big windows that the sun always seemed to stream in. There was a table, and child sized chairs. Sometimes I would pull a book off the shelf, and sit down at the table to browse through it. I wanted to make sure I was selecting a good one! I progressed from the picture books, to the first readers, to the big tomes like 'Gulliver's Travels'. I wondered what I would do when I reached the end of the room. The answer, of course, was to move on to the next room! I would like to say I read every book in the children's room at the Berlin Library. But I know I didn't. Books geared towards boys, such as Hardy Boys, I didn't even touch. Nor did I read books about science, bugs, or similar undesirable (to me) topics. I also loved when it was time for the annual Book Fair at school! We would get the list of books a couple of days in advance, and I spent a great deal of time pondering this list. There were always so many books I wanted to buy. Mom and Dad always gave us a dollar limit, and for me, it was difficult to stay in that limit. While some kids ran in and out of the book fair in a matter of minutes, I took every second I was allowed, and often had to be gently prodded by the teacher or librarian to 'hurry up'. Books have always brought me such joy. They've opened new worlds to me. I think it is my duty to share this gift with the next generation. I have bought Sydney books since she was born. I'm a little behind with Drew, but I'm going to catch up. I went to Barnes & Noble yesterday (on Children's Book Day, no less!) and spent $123 on books- all for Sydney or Drew. I exhibited an amazing amount of self control by not even venturing into the sections I enjoy. I went straight to the children's section, filled my basket, and straight to the cash register. They will both get a stack of books for Easter. Sydney is getting 'learn to read' books, and Drew is getting picture books and touch and feel books. Sydney already loves books, and is very eager to learn to read. I hope Drew will love them as well. Of course, that then means if they both come to visit, I'll surely max out a credit card at the book store!

Friday, April 1, 2011

A Year of Blogging: April 1, 2011

Another month full of holidays to explore. April is National Humor Month and International Guitar Month. It is also Keep America Beautiful month. For my non-American readers, maybe it could be keep Austria or France or (insert your country here) Beautiful. I remember an advertising campaign that aired when I was a child. It was an owl who told us to 'Give a Hoot! Don't Pollute!' While today we think of pollution as fumes from our cars and factories, I know as kids we thought if we threw paper on the ground, we were polluting. I think the advertising worked, at least for me. I don't litter. If there isn't a trash can available, I keep it in my car or pocket or purse until I find one. April is also Lawn and Garden Month, National Pecan Month (because one day in March is NOT enough to celebrate the Pecan!), Stress Awareness Month (I am very aware of my stress, thank you!), Poetry Month (a friend is doing 30 days of Poetry to celebrate. I wish her luck!), National Welding Month, Records and Information Management Month, and Sexual Assault Awareness Month. Today, April 1, is April Fool's Day. I've never been really big on practical jokes, so for me, it's just another day. Although, the Hundstol from IKEA would have been neat to own! :) I called my sister tonight, and Sydney apparently learned about April Fool's today. She didn't really get it. She kept telling me 'I have a joke for you' and then she would say something like "Drew has his bottle. April Fool!' She was really wound up, and her sing song voice was so cute. Then she would laugh- oh her laugh gets me every time! It's bubbly and pure and radiant. Everything is better when you hear her laugh. In just two short weeks, she'll be here for almost a whole week. And that's no April Fools!