A Year of Blogging: May 29, 2011

According to the newspaper article I've been using for this project, May 29 was 'End of the Middle Ages' Day. I don't know what this means, and can't find anything about it either. The website I've been using to find alternate days, www.holidayinsights.com, doesn't even list May 29. I guess May 29 doesn't exist for the people at Holiday Insights. So I turned to my third backup- History.com . What happened on this day in history? In 1953, Edmund Hillary and his Sherpa guide, Tenzing Norgay reached the summit of Mount Everest- the highest point on earth. It took several days for the news to break around the world- most people did not hear of it until June 2. It is hard to imagine news taking days to report! Today, it probably would have been instant because no doubt, someone on that expedition would have been tweeting or posting a status update on Facebook! Two interesting birthdays to note on May 29: Bob Hope was born in 1903, and John F. Kennedy was born in 1917. Two men who in very different ways, became legends.

A Year of Blogging: May 28, 2011

May 28 was National Hamburger Day. I didn't blog about it on the 28th, because we had Erich's parents over for dinner. They requested that we have a tossed salad for the meal, and fruit salad for dessert. I didn't want to blog about hamburgers, one of my favorite foods, because I knew it would make me very hungry. I have always loved hamburgers. If we had a cookout, I went for hamburgers and my sister for hot dogs. Hamburgers remain one of my favorite foods. I could go to any restaurant, and as long as there is a hamburger on the menu, I will be happy. That is not to say I eat hamburgers every time I go out. No, I eat a lot of chicken and pasta dishes. But sometimes, you just want a good hamburger. (Ok, I'm sure my vegetarian friends never feel that way. But the carnivores- we do!) For me, a good hamburger has to be cooked properly. That means well done. I know what I like, and I am not afraid to send food back if it is not cooked properly. For my sister's baby shower, she wanted a picnic. Her birthday is in November, so she never had an outdoor party. Mom and Dad hosted the shower at their house. Dad was in charge of cooking the hamburgers and hot dogs. When I bit into the hamburger, it was about medium. I went up to Dad at the grill, who was still cooking. One of my brother-in-law's friends was helping Dad, and he tried to help. Dad took one look at me and said 'I know what she wants... throw it back on'. Dad said there was another plate of more well done, but I had been busy and he hadn't had a chance to tell me which was which. My favorite burger is probably one that is covered in cheese (Swiss or cheddar) and topped with bacon. Then I add mustard and sometimes relish. I don't need to get exotic with different types of cheese or toppings. Sometimes I will use thousand island dressing instead of mustard. That gives my burgers a nice 'Big Mac' flavor. ("Special Sauce", indeed!) I also recently discovered burgers taste good on an English muffin. I used this one night when we were out of hamburger buns and out of bread. And it was delicious! It's fitting that National Hamburger Day fell during Memorial Day weekend. Everyone seems to grill at some point during the weekend. Of course, we had hot dogs, not hamburgers. And just as I knew it would, thinking about hamburgers has made me hungry. So we'll be having hamburgers for dinner tomorrow night. For now, I'll grab some fruit.

A Year of Blogging: May 27, 2011

Today is Sunscreen Protection Day. I know as a kid, I ran around in the yard without giving thought to sunscreen. In fact, I have pictures of me as a child and my skin is very tan. I don't know how on earth I got that tan, because I am very pale. Mom put sunscreen on us when we went to the beach, but she didn't put it on us when we were just playing in the yard. No, she wasn't a bad mother. People just didn't use sunscreen as much. We weren't as aware of the dangers of the sun. Sunshine was good. You went out and played in it and 'blew the stink off' of you. I know Mom used sunscreen on us more than Grandma used on her. I don't think my Grandmother ever used sunscreen. When I was a teenager, I would grab a good book, stretch out the chaise lounge in the middle of the yard, and sunbathe. Since I'm so pale, I always wanted some color to look 'healthy'. (How our vision of 'healthy' has changed!) As I got older, I wasn't able to attain that bronze color I had as a child. I started using sunscreen when I went to the races with Dad. Dad would end up so red, and Grandma's remedy was to pour vinegar over the burn. I didn't want to meet that same fate, so I used sunscreen. When I did get a slight burn, I soothed it with aloe vera. My view of sunscreen, and habits using it, changed when I was 17. The summer before my Senior Year of High School I attended a special program at the University of Pennsylvania. It was a Communication program. I lived in a dorm for three weeks in West Philadelphia (a pretty scary place for a country kid!). I attended classes taught by college professors, in college buildings. It was my first taste of college. It was also what made me decide to major in Communication. On weekends, we had field trips. The first one was to the Jersey Shore. We got there around 11am. I walked on a boardwalk for the first time. I let the sand squirm between my toes. Then I stretched out my beach towel, covered myself with sunblock, and fell asleep. I was asleep on the beach for several hours- during the peak hours of sunlight. Worse- I fell asleep with my ankles crossed, so the very painful sunburn I had was also in an odd pattern- part of one leg was almost purple, and then from mid-calf down, it was white. With this odd curve separating the two colors where my other leg had crossed over it. I can honestly say, that was the worst sunburn of my life! There were three other girls in my dorm room, and one of them was burned worse than I was. She too had fallen asleep, but she hadn't put any sunscreen on, and she ended up getting sun poisoning. The next day, she couldn't move. It hurt her to wear clothes. She was naseous and sick, and missed several days of classes. I was a little better- but it hurt. Even a week later, I was still bright red. The second week, our field trip was to New York City. We were on our own to go wherever we wanted- I chose 5th Avenue. (Really? I went shopping?- Shocker!) I went into Saks 5th Avenue, and quickly clued in that I could not afford anything in that store. But I wanted to buy something. So I went to the Estee Lauder counter to buy a tube of lipstick so I could say I bought something at Saks 5th Avenue. The clerk at the counter saw my sunburn, and told me she had just the thing for it. She introduced me to Estee Lauder's After Sun Care. It is this creamy lotion that soothes the skin. It cools, and heals, and has a nice light airy smell. I still use it, although now I use it every time I've been out in the sun. After that sunburn, I learned my lesson. I started using sun block more and more. As I entered my 20's, we started hearing about the dangers of the sun. We started taking it more seriously. And I saw people in their 50s who had been sun worshippers, who had leathery unattractive skin. So now I take sunscreen seriously, although I admit I don't wear it every day. I know they say you should. I don't. But I do wear it if I know I'm going to be in the sun for more than a few minutes. Somewhere along the way, I decided the paleness wasn't so bad. So I wear SPF 100, and I still have to reapply a couple of times. Then I come back inside and use my Estee Lauder lotion. Sure, there are times I forget my sunscreen. I'm only human. I usually forget it in the spring- that first nice day I've been outside after being cooped up all winter. That one little burn is enough to remind me to use it the next time I go out.

A Year of Blogging: May 26, 2011

May 26 was Sally Ride Day. Sally Ride was the first American woman to go into space. She made her first trip on June 18, 1983. She was born on May 26, so Sally Ride day is held on her birthday. I would love to say Sally Ride was one of my heroes, and that she inspired me. She is very inspiring, and a good role model for girls, but she wasn't one of my heroes. I never had a desire to be an astronaut. Maybe because I don't like flying, and I couldn't imagine flying in space. My lack of anything to say should not be construed as trivializing her achievement. There always has to be a 'first' woman. They blaze the path for the rest of us. And each time we have another 'first' woman, women everywhere take another giant step forward. Right now, we don't know where the space program is headed, but wouldn't it be wonderful to someday have an all female crew on a space shuttle, or whatever replaces the shuttle? It will be wonderful when there are no more 'firsts' for women to conquer-when there are no more 'man's worlds'!

A Year of Blogging: May 25, 2011

May 25 is National Missing Children's Day. It's a sad day, and an even sadder thing that we have to have such a day. It would be wonderful if we lived in a world where children didn't disappear. But we don't. The National Center for Missing and Exploited Children says an estimated 800,000 children are reported missing each year. That is 2,000 children a day. It is hard to comprehend that number. Great strides have been made since I was a child. Notably, we now have the Amber Alert system which can relay information electronically in a very quick manner. But if 2,000 children are reported missing each day; there is still so much that needs to be done. I remember as a child, if a suspicious vehicle was spotted in town, a report was sent to school. Growing up in a small town, you knew who should be there and who shouldn't. So if someone spotted a vehicle that shouldn't be there, everyone was alerted. I remember in fourth grade, there had been a string of child abductions in Massachusetts. When I was a kid, child abductors always drove big vans and tried to lure you with candy or puppies. A large van with Massachusetts plates was spotted in our town, and we were told at school that when we got off the bus, we were not to get off the bus unless one of our moms were there. We were also told that everyone was to go home with that mom. We looked out for each other. I was ten when we started staying home after school alone. We got home from school around 4pm, and Mom got home at 4:30. We were told to go home, lock the door, and not to answer the phone or the door. Mom and Dad had a code they used when they called the house. The phone would ring a certain number of times, they would hang up, and call right back. If we didn't hear the code, we weren't to answer the phone. Our neighbors knew we were there. Our Uncle Sid and Aunt Hazel lived next door, and they watched for us to come home. Several of the neighbors did. And we knew, if there were problems, whose houses to go to. If we saw anything suspicious, we were to go to Uncle Sid's house, and call mom to tell her where we were. When we were older and walked to the post office every day, we had certain houses on our route that were our 'safe houses'. My parents made sure we were aware of the situations, but didn't scare us. Grandma tried to scare us. She watched Oprah (back in the day when Oprah went for a lot of sensationalism). She read horrific stories about children being abducted and decapitated, and cut the articles out of the paper for my mom. I often wonder what she would think in today's society- when predators are hiding behind computer screens posing as friends. It is truly frightening. One of my younger cousins (she's a first cousin once removed, her mom is my cousin) is always putting messages on Facebook that shes home alone, and putting her cell phone number on her facebook status. She's a teenager, but teenagers can get snatched or worse just as quickly as a child can. Her mother has friended her on Facebook, so presumably her mother sees what she is saying. Maybe they think it won't happen to them. Bad things always happen to other people. I hope they are right. When my sister was in college, one of her friends went missing. My sister went to one school her freshman year, and then transferred to one closer to home for her second year. One of the girls she was friends with her freshman year also transferred her second year, although she transferred to Albany. She went missing one night in 1998. The state troopers talked to all her friends, including my sister. She's never been found. I think of her when I think of missing people. I think of her family, of all the families. It has to be incredibly hard to pick up and keep going. My heart goes out to all of them.

A Year of Blogging: May 24, 2011

May 24 is National Escargot Day. Eww. I have never tried escargot. I know I never will. I can't get past the thought that they were slimy snails. I don't know why people started eating escargot. According to Wikipedia, snails have been eaten since prehistoric times. It was a dish of the elite in Roman times. It still is, to an extent. You don't find it on every restaurant's menu- at least not here in the US. I am very grateful for that! There are no 'alternate' celebrations today. So, I took a look at events that happened in history, courtesy of the History Channel (history.com) . In 1883, the Brooklyn Bridge opened. The bridge was designed by John Roebling, who also designed the Roebling suspension bridge in Cincinnati. I had the opportunity to see it in person this year. It is beautiful. I don't think I've ever seen the Brooklyn Bridge though. Interestingly, Roebling was the first person to die during the construction of the bridge. His toes were smashed by a boat as he took measurements, and he died a few weeks later of tetanus. 27 people died during the construction of this bridge. The bridge has carried horses, trolleys, elevated trains, cars, and always people. In times of emergencies, such as 9/11, people walk across the bridge in an almost mass exodus. When you think about what it must have taken to build this now vital link, without the modern conveniences of today's engineers, it is hard not to be impressed. Today, the bridge remains an iconic part of New York. Good job, Mr. Roebling!

A Year of Blogging: May 23, 2011

May 23 was Lucky Penny Day. Lucky Pennies are the pennies you find on the ground. I prefer to think of those as Pennies from Heaven. I'm a spiritual person, and I find comfort in the idea that a loved one is looking out for me. Sydney has a great knack for picking up money on the street. I think she's picked it up from my Dad. Dad will stop whether it's a penny, a quarter, or sometimes, even a dollar. Since Sydney is closer to the ground than the adults, she spots the money before my dad, and scoops it up. We were at the outlet mall, and she spotted a shiny penny on the ground. We had just been in the same area a few minutes before, and she didn't see it there on our way through the first time. She reached down and picked up the penny, so excited to find it. I told her about Pennies from Heaven. She listened, and then her face lit up. She said 'GG sent it!' and clutched the penny to her chest. She told Mom to put the penny in a very safe place, because her GG sent it to her. Now when she finds a penny, she will know one of her angels is right there too. Pennies from Heaven I found a penny today Just laying on the ground But it’s not just a penny This little coin I’ve found

Found pennies come from heaven That’s what my Grandpa told me He said Angels toss them down Oh how I loved that story

He said when an angel misses you They toss a penny down Sometimes just to cheer you up To make a smile out of a frown

So don’t pass by that penny When you’re feeling blue It may be a Penny from Heaven That an Angel’s tossed to you

Copyright © 1998 C Mashburn

A Year of Blogging: May 22, 2011

May 22 was 'Buy a Musical Instrument Day'. I know what instrument I would buy if I were planning to buy one. I would buy an upright piano. I have always wanted a piano. When I was younger, I had grand visions of having a white baby grand piano. Now that I'm older, and paying the bills, I've decided an upright piano would be just fine. When I first told Erich I wanted a piano, his reaction was 'can you play?' I answered 'kind of'. He wondered how you can kind of play. Well, I can read music, and I know the keys- as long as I know where C is. I never took piano lessons. Mom had planned to have our church organist give me lessons, and then she died suddenly. I took up the flute in sixth grade, and we decided that was enough. I don't know why I took flute- except several of my friends also took flute. It seemed the girl thing to do. I enjoyed the flute, but was only ever second flute. Ironically, all the first flute people were also people who took piano lessons. I always thought the music teacher was biased towards those who took piano lessons. But it's ok, I never wanted to be a world-renowned flutist. Two of my aunts had organs, and I played them all the time. They had the guide which told me which key was which, and I could play beautifully with that guide. So yes, if I had a piano, and I had a guide, I could play. I came incredibly close to realizing this dream a couple of weeks ago. A friend was getting rid of a piano, 'free to a good home'. A free piano! I thought and thought about it for two days. The problem was, I don't really have the room for a piano, even an upright piano. The only place it would fit in the downstairs is in the corner that of the living room that the dog toys are in. While I could find other homes for the dog toys, that is also the corner I put my Christmas tree in. There is no other place in the house to put my tree, so the question became: if I get the piano, where do I put it when I put my tree up? Erich wasn't thrilled with the idea of a piano, but he was more than willing to sacrifice the Christmas tree for the piano. He actually dared to suggest I buy a smaller tree! (My tree is 7 1/2 feet tall, and at the widest part, probably about 4 feet around.) In the end, my love of Christmas outweighed the desire to own a piano, and I told my friend no. It broke my heart to do that, but I had to be realistic. I will have to wait until we have a house with more room, and then I will buy myself a piano. And if I hit the lottery, or become a best-selling author, the piano will be a white baby grand!

A Year of Blogging: May 21, 2011

The third Saturday in May is set aside as Armed Forces Day. In 2011, the third Saturday of May was the 21st. While Memorial Day was established to honor the fallen soldiers, Armed Forces Day recognizes those who are currently serving. The men and women protecting our country near and abroad. I am incredibly grateful for all of our soldiers. They do a job not everyone could do. Whether or not you agree with the politics and the wars we are currently fighting, I think everyone can agree our soldiers deserve our support. Their service helps keep the rest of us free. Freedom isn't free, it comes on the backs of the men and women of the US Armed Forces. Several people in my family have served our country at various points. My great-great-grandfather was in the Civil War. One of the battles his unit took part in was Gettysburg. My great-grandfather Primeau immigrated to the US from Canada in 1916, and joined the US Army to fight in WWI in 1918. My grandfather Primeau fought for both Canada and the US in WWII. He lied about his age to join the Canadian army, because Canada was in the war before the US was. Once the US joined, he was able to leave the Canadian army and came and joined the US Navy. (Grandpa was a US Citizen, but his father was born a Canadian citizen, but naturalized as a US Citizen after WWI. The family moved back and forth from the US to Canada several times as Grandpa was growing up). A great-uncle on Mom's side fought in WWII as well, getting injured in the Battle of the Bulge. My uncle served several years in the Navy, and his son also served many years in the Navy, including a tour in the Persian Gulf immediately following 9/11 and a tour in Afghanistan. Now, this cousin's wife is about to deploy to Afghanistan. I am sure I can go back farther and find military people in my family for all parts of the United States' history. I am honored to have so many people serve in our family. I could not, but I am thankful for those who do. The next time you see a serviceman or servicewoman, take a moment to say "thank you".

A Year of Blogging: May 20, 2011

May 20 was Pick Strawberries Day. I have always loved strawberries. I remember going as a child with Mom, Aunt Arlene, and Grandma and picking strawberries. My Aunt says I would eat them as fast as the adults could pick them. I do remember sitting in the field munching on fresh strawberries with Mom, Aunt Arlene, and Grandma close by. When we went home, we had strawberry shortcake for dinner. Mom made strawberry jam too. I haven't been berry picking since I was a girl. Now my 'picking' is selecting the quart at the farm stand or, when they aren't in season, at the produce counter. Erich keeps trying to grow strawberries in our garden. I think this is our third year trying to grow them. Each year we fail, so he plants more. This year we have enough plants that we might get a quart, but it hasn't been very good weather for strawberries. We've had so much rain, the garden is waterlogged. We also have a problem that as soon as the strawberries start coming on, Cobalt starts eating them. He loves strawberries, and likes eating them right off the plant- the fresher the better! I know he has enjoyed our small yield in past years. I am hoping we get enough berries to make jam. I have been making raspberry jam for the past few years, and this year I want to branch out and make strawberry. I may have to go to a farm stand and buy some to make jam. I won't go as far as to pick them myself, but hopefully I can find some nice ones before long. Then again, everyone is probably in the same boat that we are- it's been too wet. Now I really want to fix some strawberry shortcake!

A Year of Blogging: May 19, 2011

May 19 is Circus Day. It was on this day in 1884 that Ringling Brother's Circus first opened. I remember the first time I went to the circus. Mom and Dad took me for my sixth birthday. I didn't ask to go again. I'm sure I've been to a circus since then, although maybe I haven't. For me, the circus wasn't as much fun as it was proclaimed to be. I felt bad for the animals. Elephants and tigers need room. They are not supposed to be in small cages, or performing tricks. As I got older and learned of the abuse circus animals endure, I liked the whole thing even less. I won't go near a circus any more. Today is also Boys and Girls Club Day. I really don't know much about those organizations, which is why I thought the circus would be a better option. The circus just depresses me. On this date in 1749, King George II granted a charter to the Ohio Company. The charter was for several hundred thousand acres around the forks of the Ohio River. The French previously held claim to this area. The charter of the Ohio Company opened up settlement west from Virginia, and led to the French and Indian War of 1754. When France was defeated, the Ohio River and Great Lakes area became part of Canada. Interesting. I did not know that! Of course, my Ohio history is lacking quite a bit. I need to make up for that. The settlers in Ohio protested and joined the patriots in the revolt against Britain. So if things had turned out differently, I could be living in Canada right now! Also on this date in history in 1943, FDR and Churchill plotted D-Day. So says history.com. Come back in a couple of weeks to find out when D-Day is. If you don't already know! And then you'll see why I picked the tidbit about them plotting it. Well, that and I liked the mental image I had of FDR and Churchill plotting. And was it really just today that they plotted it? Did it take just a couple of hours? Picture it: FDR's To Do List: May 19, 1943. Breakfast, meet with Churchill, plot largest amphibious invasion in world history, lunch. How do we know they plotted this on May 19? Did they keep journals? Churchill's journal entry for that night : Met with FDR. Something big is going down! Ok, that's a little silly, but certainly a better image than what I started with!

A Year of Blogging: May 18, 2011

May 18 was International Museum Day. I have been to all kinds of museums, all over the world. As a child, we often went to the NY State Museum in Albany on field trips. There was also the Berkshire Museum in Pittsfield, home of Amy the Armadillo. I always thought it was funny that the Armadillo and I shared a name. I am not a person to go to Modern Art museums. I prefer more traditional art. I also don't often go back to the same museum, unless they have rotating exhibits. While I can appreciate a nice painting, I do not look at it and dissect it. Once I've seen it, it's time to move on. We went to several museums on our trip to Spain and France, but the only one I remember is the Louvre. I am sure the museums in Madrid were lovely. I just remember visiting the Louvre. I also remember seeing perhaps the most famous painting in the world- The Mona Lisa. For my sister, this was the highlight of her trip. She had been looking forward to it since we planned the trip. I appreciated it, because it is something not everyone gets to see. Sure, we've all seen the painting. But not everyone gets to stand face to face with it. There are a couple of very nice museums close to me in Cincinnati or Dayton. They have some great exhibits, and I like to go see those. I went to Cincinnati to see an exhibit of papal artifacts. I dragged Erich along. I found it fascinating; he wasn't so amused. Five years ago, the Dayton Art Institute hosted the Princess Diana exhibit. My mom was here while the exhibit ran, so she and I went one day. We were able to see many of her gowns and tiaras, a lot of photos, and of course- the wedding dress. It was breathtaking to see all of it. My favorite museum would have to be The Bennington Museum in Bennington, Vermont. It was only about half an hour from my house. We went there often with Mom and our Aunt Vera. It has a lot of local history, not just Vermont artifacts. The area played an important role in the Revolutionary War. The museum has a nice colonial feel to it. It's not as colonial as say, Williamsburg, but it is a good mix. The outside of the museum is just as much of a gem as the collections housed inside. It is a massive stone structure with large white columns. It sits on top of a hill as you drive into downtown Bennington. The woods kind of wrap around it, providing a beautiful backdrop in the fall. My favorite part of the Bennington Museum is the Grandma Moses collection. Anna Mary Robertson Moses, aka Grandma Moses, started painting very late in her life. Her paintings have a primitive look to them, and depict scenes of rural life. Grandma Moses lived in Rensselaer County, NY- where I grew up. In fact, she lived most of her life less than an hour up the road from my hometown. There is a farm stand on her old farm that sells fresh produce. It is still referred to as 'Grandma Moses' ' When I was growing up, they had the best melons. The melons were huge, juicy, and flavorful. We went to the farm stand several times a summer. Her paintings have always spoken to me in a special way. I look at her paintings and I see what life was like for my grandparents when they were kids, or for my great-grandparents. They are familiar and comforting. I would love to own a painting of hers, or even a reproduction to hang in my living room. The Bennington Museum hosts the largest Grandma Moses collection. I never tire of seeing it. The museum has an additional 'primitive' style exhibit starting June 30. My first thought was that I would miss it. Then I remembered I'll be going home briefly for a weekend in August, and I'm going to take an extra day to visit the museum. Maybe I'll take Sydney. She already loves the NY State Museum. Maybe she'll love the Bennington Museum too!

A Year of Blogging: May 17, 2011

May 17 is 'Pack Rat' Day. Ahhh.. a day created specifically for Erich. Yes, I live with a pack rat. It's a real challenge for me. I like things neat and orderly. He leaves things where he drops them, and lets stuff just pile up. It's frustrating! Erich's Mom is a pack rat. They both seem to keep all kinds of things- but the thing they keep the most of is books. His mom was a librarian at the city library for many years, retiring last year. Whenever the library took books out of circulation, she brought home boxes full. If people had books they didn't want any more, either Joan or Erich took them. When she had a knee replacement last year, the family (Erich, his sister, her 10 year old son, and Erich's dad) spent a week trying to clean out the converted garage so there was enough room to get all of the equipment in for Joan's recovery. They boxed things up and put them in the garage. She still doesn't know what is in all the boxes. I can really sympathize with Erich's dad, who is a neat freak. When Joan goes away on a trip, he throws out some of her stuff. Then she comes home and gets mad. It doesn't stop him- he does it every time she's gone for more than a couple of days. It's a hilarious ritual that gets repeated a couple of times a year. I don't throw out Erich's stuff. Sometimes, I just take the pile that covers half the coffee table, and pile it all into a neat stack. I do that when I'm cleaning the living room. I have learned to give him notice. For example, I might tell him on Thursday 'I'm thinking of cleaning this weekend'. That's his cue to pick it up if he wants to know where it is. He gets upset when I arrange everything in a nice neat pile. I do throw some things out- envelopes he's opened and just left sitting on the table, old grocery lists, things like that. Things that a normal person would throw out when they were done with it. He claims he can't find things when they are in order. Really??? He's misplaced at least two passports. The few bills he doesn't pay online he is always frantically looking for. He misplaces his books. His clothes. He misplaces quite a lot of stuff for someone who claims he knows where everything is in the mess! Our rule is 'keep the mess upstairs'. I do not get upset if he keeps it confined to his two rooms. I even give him a little break and let it spill into the hallway between his two rooms when we don't have company. When we have company, he knows the mess has to be contained in his two rooms, and the doors have to be able to shut. I do get upset when his disregard spills over into the downstairs, and I'm tripping over three pairs of sneakers (all the exact same), a book bag full of nursing books, computer parts, etc. I have a little revenge on him tonight. Our dishwasher went on the fritz a couple of months ago. While it was running one night, it smelled like it was on fire. We think some of the stuck on food got onto the element and burned. But we haven't used the dishwasher since then. Erich doesn't think we should. I have so many problems with my hands that washing the dishes is not easy for me. So it's his chore. He seems to think dishes should only be washed once a day (which again, irritates me. I don't think you need to wash them every time you use one, but if the dishpan starts filling up, wash them. Don't just pile the dirty dishes in the other part of the sink or on the counter). He washed last night's dishes this afternoon. After dinner, I had a spurt of energy. I cleaned out a couple of things in the frig, cut up things for a tossed salad, hard boiled some eggs, and made a macaroni salad. And then my energy ran out. So I've left a pile of dishes in the sink for the resident pack rat. Maybe he'll find out it's not so pleasant to have things pile up, and change his ways. Yeah, right. After nearly 11 years, I know better than that. But I do get the slightest bit of satisfaction knowing I created a mess and left it for him!

A Year of Blogging: May 16, 2011

May 16 was 'Love a Tree' Day. I don't consider myself a tree-hugger, but I do like trees. I'm actually quite fond of them. My favorite flowering tree is a Magnolia. There are many types of Magnolia trees. My favorites are the ones with mostly pink flowers. Here's a picture I took last year of a Magnolia tree nearby. We don't have Magnolia trees in NY. I always thought of Magnolias as being in the deep south- Mississippi and Louisiana. Yet, the trees are in Ohio, so I must have been wrong because I do not live in the South! The Magnolia trees are one of the treasures of spring. There is not much time from when the buds appear until when the flowers are in full bloom, like in the photo. Once the flowers come on, they are only here for a couple of days. If you have a spring in which Mother Nature is unkind- such as a lot of wind or rain, the beauty disappears even quicker. This year the trees started to bud, and then it turned colder, and the trees seemed to be stunted. There are a few areas in the city where I live that the streets are lined with Magnolias. The trees are big, taller than the two story houses, and take up much of the front yard. It is beautiful to drive down these streets when they trees are in full bloom- it just takes your breath away. Not surprisingly, one of these streets is named Magnolia Street. As pretty as the Magnolia trees are, my absolute favorite tree is a Sugar Maple. They are tall, strong, and can last a long time. Sugar Maples are the trees of my childhood, they are the trees that make me long for NY. Growing up, there were two very tall maple trees on one side of our house. The tops of the trees stretched above the roof of our house. Grandpa said he knew the trees were older than he was, and he wouldn't be surprised if they were as old as the town. The trees stood, one on each corner of the house. Between the maple trees were two pine trees which were large in their own right. The result left this side of the house covered in shade all summer long, from morning to night. It was a delicious cool retreat from the scorch of summer. The maple trees served as bases when we played baseball, the safe spot when we played tag, the starting point for countless hide and seek games. We sat against the massive trunks talking to our friends. We set up tables and spread out huge feasts under the shady canopy. The breezes from the branches cooled the house in the summer. When we outgrew a swing set but still enjoyed swinging, dad fixed a wood and rope swing from the lowest branch of one of the trees. Sometimes I would sit under the trees and wish they could talk. The history they could tell us- how the town had changed through the years, and the stories of the children who had played under and around the tree, just as we did. They were constant, solid, and beautiful. One of the trees had to be cut down about 15 years ago. My parents know it is only a matter of time for the remaining maple. The house won't look the same without those two guardians. There's a part of me that hopes Mom and Dad will have the house sold before we see that last tree fall.

A Year of Blogging: May 15, 2011

May 15 is National Chocolate Chip Day. What an absolutely yummy day! I wanted to whip up a double batch of chocolate chip cookies, but I'm too exhausted to do that today. I wondered where chocolate chips came from. We know that Ruth Graves Wakefield at the Toll House Inn in Whitman, MA 'invented' chocolate chip cookies in 1937 by accident. She added cut up chunks of chocolate to a cookie recipe, and baked up a huge hit! I did not know that in 1939, she made a deal with Nestle to put her recipe on the back of Nestle chocolate bars in exchange for a lifetime supply of chocolate. That's a great deal! A lifetime supply of chocolate. That would erase any ounce of willpower I possessed. In 1941, Nestle started producing the chocolate as morsels or chips. The rest is a delicious history! Chocolate chips are excellent in cookies. Naturally. There are so many other options. One of my favorites is chocolate chip muffins. It is my favorite kind of muffin. They are sweet and moist. Kind of like dessert for breakfast. Another favorite is a banana chocolate chip muffin. When I first heard it, I thought 'ew'. I don't like bananas. But if you have an overripe banana and are making banana bread, throw in some chocolate chips. It's good as a bread or a muffin. Chocolate chips are good in cakes, pies, and even brownies. If the brownie mix doesn't have enough chocolate for you, toss in chocolate chips. They are also good as a garnish. Decorate your cakes with them, or a dish of pudding and cool whip. They also work well as a condiment for ice cream! Chocolate chips also are a great way to satisfy the chocolate cravings we all have. We always have chocolate chips in the house. My mom did too. There have been plenty of times I've wanted some chocolate, and couldn't find anything other than chocolate chips, so I'll grab a handful of chocolate chips. Mom used to get annoyed because when she went to make cookies, there were far fewer chocolate chips than she thought. You can also put chocolate chips in pancakes or waffles. I've never tried that, because I like to smother my pancakes and waffles in pure maple syrup, and I don't think the chocolate chips and the maple would go well together. There's so many ways to enjoy these little sweet morsels. Cook up your favorite today!

A Year of Blogging: May 14, 2011

May 14 is 'Dance Like a Chicken Day'. So today is the day to do the chicken dance. May I just say 'UGH!' I despise the chicken dance. I can't count the number of weddings I've been to where they've done the chicken dance. To me, it ranks right up there with the electric slide and the hokey pokey. When it was my turn to be the bride, the dj was forbidden from playing any of these songs. I wrote it into the contract. My guests tried, but they were denied. It was refreshing not seeing a bunch of adults flapping their arms like wings. Sadly, Erich thinks the chicken dance is great. He sometimes spontaneously bursts into the chicken dance. He would love to go to Oktoberfest Zinzinnati to drink beer, eat brats, and dance with thousands of other people in the chicken dance. They even created special hats for the chicken dance- big stuffed chickens which sit on top of your head. The 'hat' part is the chicken's body. He doesn't go though, because he hates crowds. So he dances along in the living room while the news plays footage. Lucky me. My guess is not many people know today is Dance Like a Chicken day, or there would be giant chicken dance parties all over the place. I'm thankful there aren't!

A Year of Blogging: May 13, 2011

May 13 is one of the 'special' days in my family. I'm not sure special is the right word. Sad? May 13 is my sister's birthday. My older sister. My parents had a daughter 13 months before I was born. Mom was very sick during the pregnancy with toxemia. When Mom went to the hospital, the doctor came out of the delivery room and told my dad they were going to lose the baby, and he might lose my mom. Men didn't go into the delivery room in 1975 like they do now. My parents had only been married a few months. My dad was 21 years old. Dad says he 'almost socked' the doctor. Which is Dad talk for punching him out. The way the story has been told, the doctor came out, delivered this heart-breaking news coldly, and then disappeared back into the delivery room. Mom and Dad said he had no bedside manner. Dad was left in the hallway, facing the possibility that he was going to lose his child and his wife. I cannot imagine how hard that had to have been for him. When my sister Laura was born in 1978, the same doctor was on call when Mom arrived at the hospital after midnight. (There were several doctors in the practice Mom went to). When Dad found out it was the same doctor, Dad told Mom that he didn't care what she had to do, she could not deliver the baby until this doctor went off shift. He went off at 7am, Laura was born shortly after. My older sister was stillborn. She was not baptized, at least I don't think so. They didn't name her. Her headstone says 'Stillborn daughter of Mark & Kathy'. We once asked my parents what they would have named her, and Mom said Jennifer. So they would have had all three daughters with some of the most popular names of the decade. Mom said the doctors told her the baby had a severe form of Down Syndrome, and would have had to been institutionalized her whole life. They said she probably wouldn't have lived to adulthood. Mom and Dad accepted this loss as God's way. Yes, they grieved. They still grieve. But Mom once told us that God must have thought having a child who couldn't live with them, and would need so much care, would have been too much for Mom & Dad; and that's why God took her back to Heaven. Dad's parents already had a cemetery plot, for Dad's two sisters who died as infants. They offered the plot to my parents, and my sister was buried next to her two aunts. Mom said they searched for months for a headstone, and finally, while in Vermont they found it. It is white marble, with a carved lamb on the top of the stone. It is unique, and has gotten a lot of compliments over the years. I know that sounds weird. The cemetery association once told my folks they could never move that stone, because it has become one of the focal points of the cemetery. I have always known about my older sister. It was never a secret. We went to her grave in May to put an arrangement on her stone for her birthday, and we went in December to put one on for Christmas. For years, at Christmas, the florist made an evergreen blanket and we put that over the grave. My parents have always considered that they had three daughters. I know, on May 13, they are back in that hospital, the terrified newlyweds. When someone asks 'which child are you?' I never know how to answer. My sister, Laura, is the baby. That doesn't change. But I'm either the oldest child or the middle child. Technically, I'm the middle child, as I am the second of three. But I'm the oldest living child. If I answer 'I'm the oldest', I always feel that I have to put a disclaimer with it 'well, the oldest living child'. My standard response is usually 'I'm older than Laura'. It's the truth, and seems to answer people's question. Last month, Mom told Sydney about her Mommy's other sister. Grandma is buried in the same plot that the three babies are in, and Mom knew it would come up. Mom said last week, when they had the graveside service for Grandma, Sydney took a couple of flowers and put them on her mommy's sister's grave. It will be years before she completely understands what happened to Mommy's other sister, but we did tell Sydney that she has an aunt who is an angel in heaven. May 13 isn't a day we commemorate with a party. We don't circle it on the calendar or write anything on that day. We mark it quietly, in our hearts.

A Year of Blogging: May 12, 2011

May 12 was Fibromyalgia Awareness Day. And in the truest irony, my Fibro almost knocked me down yesterday. Almost. It didn't completely win. I was diagnosed with Fibromyalgia five years ago. The diagnosis was a mixed blessing. On one hand, I finally knew what was causing all this pain, all the problems. I had been seeing various doctors for two or three years, trying to figure out why I felt so lousy. They couldn't find anything, and I found myself sitting in countless exam rooms getting looks from Doctors who knew so much. They treated me like I was a hypochondriac, or crazy. I looked fine. The tests were normal. That may be, but I knew I was too young to feel so lousy. In one last attempt, I switched neurologists, and after a couple of appointments I took in an article about Fibromyalgia that a friend had sent me. She had been telling me for at least a year that she was certain I had it. I highlighted the parts of the article that applied to me, and showed it to the doctor. Most of the article was highlighted. When he issued the diagnosis, I cried tears of relief. Later in the day it hit me. I had just been diagnosed with a chronic condition. A condition that there is no 'cure' for. I was two months away from my 30th birthday. That was positively depressing. To know I'd live with this for the rest of my life. So I started learning all I could about it, and started modifying my lifestyle. It has taken me a couple of years, but I have learned to listen to my body. I have a limited amount of energy on any given day. I need to acknowledge that and plan things accordingly. Before the fibro, I might have planned to do the Cincinnati Zoo and the Newport Aquarium in the same day- after all, they are only a few minutes apart. But now I know it's one or the other. And even then, I have to sit down to rest a little. People have asked me what it feels like. It is hard to describe. The best thing I can think of is to tell you to think how you feel when you have the flu- achy all over, and every part of your body hurts. The fibro pain is sort of like that, only amplified and it occurs every day. It's not like arthritis where it's always your back or your knee that hurts. The fibro pain moves. Some days my shoulders hurt so much I can't move them. Other days it is my legs. Still other days the pain shoots through my arms. It feels like cold steel knives stabbing me at various places throughout my body. I always have pain. When I wake up, when I go to bed. The pain is 24/7. It's just in varying degrees. Some days, I don't really notice it. There might be a pang here or there, but I'm not aware of the pain most of the day. Other days it is just the opposite- and I'm aware of every inch of my body that is in pain for every minute of the day. Some days it hurts to wear clothes, which is quite a challenge because I do not live or work in a nudist colony. In the summer, it is easy to deal with those days, because I have a couple of sun dresses that just lightly skim the body. In the winter, I pick the softest clothes I can wear and take it one hour at a time. It is important to keep moving with Fibro- just as it is with arthritis. Some days, movement isn't possible. There is a commercial for an arthritis medication with a man on the beach with his dog. The voice in the commercial says you know you that moving helps with the pain, but some days it hurts to move. Or something like that. It's the same with Fibro. I always try my best to move, one foot in front of the other. I might be slower than usual, but I try. There are days that my energy is gone, and I can't fight it. On those days, I crawl back into bed and rest. Rest is the best thing for Fibro. People with Fibro have less energy than someone without it. I am always tired. I could sleep for 12 hours and wake up feeling like I didn't sleep a wink. I do not often get quality restorative sleep. It's hard to fall asleep too, the pain keeps me up a lot. If you think of my energy level as a gas tank, on my best days I'm at maybe 3/4 of the way full. On those days, I can clean the whole house, or tackle many projects on my list. Those are rare days, but they are wonderful. Most of the time, I think I operate around half- full. I can go to work, or run errands, make dinner, blog, and do the day to day things. I take a cat nap at lunch, and sometimes fall asleep on the couch after dinner for an hour or so. And then, there are the days that the tank is on E. Perhaps it's even on fumes. Sluggish would be a huge improvement from how I feel on those days. I feel like I can't get out of my own way. Walking the six feet from my bed to the upstairs bathroom feels like I'm trying to climb Mt. Everest. I have learned on those days, nothing is getting done. The pain and the energy levels are manageable. I have learned to live with them. The part I still haven't gotten used to is the Fibro Fog. Sometimes, your head gets so mixed up, you don't know which end is up. It really does feel like a dense fog is in your head. On those days, I end up second guessing every thing I do. I do something routine at work, and immediately after I complete it, I have to check it to see if I did it, because I don't remember doing it. I say something and don't know what words just came out of my mouth. I'm incapable of forming intelligent sentences. And I can't remember my name. Those days are the worst. I have always been very intelligent, and have a memory like an elephant. The Fibro Fog days leave me disoriented, frustrated, and sad. On those days, I have a better understanding for what my dear Grandpa felt as Parkinson's ravaged his body. These are also days that I know I'm a danger to myself and others- so I usually have Erich drive me to work (if I get there), and I am not allowed near the stove or knives. Thankfully, these days are not common. So this is what I live with, on a daily basis. I don't often talk about the pain, unless it is one of the bad days. No one wants to hear about your aches and pains on a daily basis. I wanted to share it now because it is Fibromyalgia Awareness day. I still get looks. I know I always will. If you look at me, you see a healthy 35 year old. If you could crawl into my skin for a day, you'd have such a different viewpoint. I can assure you, it isn't something I made up. I have never enjoyed being sick, and I don't enjoy being in tremendous pain all the time. My hope is that as more people share their stories, it will lose the stigma it has, and more people will realize Fibromyalgia is real.

A Year of Blogging: May 1, 2011

(This was originally published May 4, but Blogger had issues on May 12 and mysteriously moved it to one of my other blogs) Well my dear readers, we've made it to May. May 1 was May Day. May Day is supposedly celebrated around the world, yet I know very little about it. It is a day to celebrate spring. According to the newspaper, it is also a day to celebrate the workers. So it was fitting that it was on Sunday this year- what better way to celebrate the workers than by having a day off! Some of my friends have told me stories about May baskets- where they fill a basket with flowers and hang it on a neighbor's door. That really sounds nice. It must be very pleasant to walk outside and find a basket of flowers. We never did that. I think it is a nice thing to do though, a very nice way to celebrate spring. Sometimes, I wait a while before blogging. The day doesn't provide a lot of inspiration for the creative juices. And sometimes, when I wait, I have something else to blog about. That's what happened Sunday. I couldn't think of anything to say about May Day, and found the alternatives of Loyalty Day, Mother Goose Day, and Save the Rhino Day equally uninspiring. Then, Sunday night, I was unwinding from the weekend, preparing myself mentally for the week ahead. I had already shut down the computer, and was watching one of my favorite shows (Brothers & Sisters), when the network broke in with a 'special news alert'. I learned as a child that this is usually something big. Sunday night was no exception. We quickly learned the reason for the interruption. Osama bin Laden, possibly the man hated most by Americans, had been killed in a special operation. The news was incredible. And seemed unbelievable. We waited 45 minutes for the President to come on (I was incredibly annoyed at ABC- they could have waited 15 minutes and let us finish watching Brothers & Sisters before the talking heads came on). He came on and in a short speech confirmed what the talking heads had already told us. The man behind so many acts of violence against the US was dead. For some reason, I thought back a few years. The 1998 bombings on US Embassies occurred just before my wedding. I remember hearing it on the news the day before and day of my wedding. After the brief honeymoon, shortly after we were back in our apartment in Indiana, I had a nightmare about Osama bin Laden (the bombing of the embassies is the first I remember hearing about him, and about al-Qaeda). I don't remember the dream, but I remember it was horrible. I woke up frantic, and when I told my new husband about the dream, he laughed at me. He told me bin Laden was on the other side of the world, and couldn't possibly hurt me. I thought of that moment on 9/11 and I thought of it again the other night. I don't know if the dream was a premonition, but I wasn't crazy to fear him. Shortly after the announcement Sunday night, the news showed crowds of people at Ground Zero, in front of the White House, and all over the country celebrating. They were waving American flags, singing and chanting. This actually bothered me, because I know to our enemies, the celebrations were like waving a red flag in front of an angry bull. We are not in the clear yet, we may never be. No war has a clear-cut ending, certainly not the war on terror. Even after the bombs were dropped on Japan in WWII, or the papers were signed at Appomattox in the Civil War; the hard feelings remained for years. The losing sides struggled for sometimes generations. We must remain vigilant, and not get too cocky in our celebration. There will always be people wishing to do harm to Americans; those who so strongly oppose what America stands for that they will do anything to wipe us from the map. Really, this is not new. Remember, when America was founded, it was thought to be an 'experiment in democracy'. England watched the Civil War with satisfaction, certain that our experiment was self-destructing. We are, of course, a stronger nation now, but there always have been and always will be those who do not like us. Sunday night it felt good to be an American. I think every American was glowing red, white, and blue. We all felt ourselves echoing Toby Keith:

"Hey Uncle Sam put your name on the top of his list and the Statue of Liberty started shaking her fist. and the Eagle will fly, man, it's gonna be hell when you hear Mother Freedom start ringing her bell. And it'll feel like the whole wide world is rainin' down on you Brought to you courtesy of the Red, White, and Blue" -Courtesy of the Red, White, and Blue (Angry American) by Toby Keith

It was one more time that I found myself thankful for our armed forces. Thanks to them, we all slept more soundly Sunday night.

A Year of Blogging: May 2, 2011

(This was originally published May 4, but Blogger had some issues on May 12 and mysteriously moved it to one of my other blogs) May 2 was Baby Day. It is a day to celebrate babies. Ok, I have to confess. I'm not very fond of babies. They need so much- feeding, burping, holding their head just right. They kind of scare me. Babies are fragile, and since I am not around them that much, I worry that I'm going to break them. I know you are laughing. But it's true! In our family, it is not uncommon for babies to be passed around the room like hot potatoes. My sister didn't allow this with her children, but everyone else does. You go to a family party and could see anyone of 60 people carrying the same infant. Even people who the mom or dad of the baby doesn't get along with gets to hold the baby. I frequently found myself at Grandma's house, visiting with aunts and cousins, and having a baby plunked in my lap. The thing is, I'm good with babies, and they like me. Most of the time, they are quite content for me to hold them. I talk to them, make silly faces at them, feed them and burp them. I do draw the line at diaper changes (unless there is no one else there to do it). I have no reason to fear babies, but I do. I prefer the kids who are older. I like it when they can talk with you, and interact with you. I even prefer the constant questions to a baby. I like the kids I can reason with, argue with, and play with. It's harder to keep up with them, but I feel more comfortable with kids who can at least walk. If they are potty-trained, even better! I'm sure any friends reading this are thinking 'keep the baby away from her!' That actually is fine. The only babies I've ever wanted to hold are my niece and nephew. I am so glad the baby stage doesn't last long, I am really looking forward to Drew being old enough to play and snuggle and argue with me. I've already told him 'Aunt Amy isn't so good with the baby stage- but give me a year or two. I rock the Aunt thing!'

A Year of Blogging: May 11, 2011

May 11 is 'Eat What You Want' Day. It's a day to set aside your diet and enjoy something you might not otherwise eat. Note, it is not 'Eat EVERYTHING You Want Day'. Just something you might not otherwise enjoy. I'm not really big on diets. I don't have enough willpower. I try to eat better. I enjoy eating salads. I don't eat a lot of fried foods. But to actually say I'm on a diet- well, that's just not going to happen. Tonight we had a very yummy salad for dinner. It was actually what I wanted. The last time I made chicken and dumplings, I cut up the leftover chicken and had it on a salad for lunch the next day. It was a delicious accident. One of those things that you wonder why you don't make it on a regular basis. So tonight, I replicated that. I cooked the chicken slowly, in chicken broth, just like I do for chicken and dumplings. When the chicken was done, instead of making dumplings, I made a salad. I made a big salad- lettuce, cucumbers, chicken, diced hard boiled egg, cheese, and my favorite dressing. Now I know, I eliminated any of the healthy benefits of the salad by covering it in 1000 Island dressing. But it tasted so good! It was tasty and satisfying. I think, it was the perfect thing to eat on 'Eat What You Want Day'.

A Year of Blogging: May 10, 2011

May 10 was 'Clean Up Your Room Day'. The inner child in me screams "NO!" when I hear that phrase. And yes, I heard it a lot as a child. My mother may keep everything very neat and tidy, but she gave birth to two children who have slightly lower standards. I like things very organized- everything in their place. But I often don't take the time to put everything back in its' place. Once I slip, then it's an easy slide into total disregard. For example, I have a huge walk-in closet. It is over the garage, just like my bedroom. It is also on a corner of the house, so there are two outside walls. These walls are not insulated. Which means, in the winter, my closet is like a meat-locker. And in the summer, it's a sauna. The previous owners did me a huge favor by installing one of those closet systems. When we moved in, Erich gave me the master bedroom. He felt I needed the closet space since I'm female. Ok, I know, it's a very sexist thing, but he was so right! I walked in and found a closet that you could actually put a twin bed in, and still have plenty of room. Even better, it was all designed. Along one wall is a bar hung high enough to hold my dresses and pantsuits without dragging them on the ground. Along the back wall, which is the biggest, are double hung bars- one on the top and one on the bottom. Plenty of room to hang shirts on the top, and jeans/shorts/ and capris (folded in half and hung neatly) from the bottom. On the wall next to the door is a shoe rack! It doesn't hold all my shoes, but it holds I think 20 pair (I know this seems like a lot. I'm actually not a typical woman, I don't have a shoe thing. Most of those pairs are rather dull shoes. If I find one I like, I buy it in other colors. So I have two pair of navy dress shoes, two of black, one brown, several pairs of the same sandal in various colors, way more Nikes than I can wear, and four pairs of Crocs. Not exactly 'Sex in the City' material!). There are also parts of the closet that don't have anything, and there's some shelving above the dress bar. And my favorite part- in the middle of the biggest wall is a floor to ceiling divider. It has three compartments. Perfect for storing sweaters! We painted the closet a black raspberry ice cream color, and it is my dream closet. Of course, my dream closet is stuffed to the gills. When I cleaned it earlier this spring, I took six bags of clothes out for goodwill, and you can't tell the difference. The problem is, while this is my dream closet, most of the year, it is too unpleasant to be in there for more than a few seconds. Either you sweat bullets or icicles form on your extremities. So I pick my clothes, and dash out. When I put away the clothes, the sweaters get piled on the floor. I don't want to take the time to stack them neatly back into the organizer. By the end of winter (and the end of summer) all of that seasons' sweaters are on the closet floor. Several times a year I have to get in and sort through everything, put everything back where it belongs, and reclaim the floor space in my closet. There are different ways to clean your room. You can take a swiffer duster, run it over all the bookcases, your desk, and your dresser, and vacuum the carpet. You can move all the Gone with the Wind figurines off your bookcase, use a real dust cloth and polish, and clean the book case thoroughly. This also includes moving and dusting books. If you're doing this, you move everything off the dresser and desk too. You still have to vacuum, but after rearranging all the knick-knacks and hair accessories, vacuuming seems like a breeze. And then you can clean your closet while you're cleaning your room. Since I was little, whenever I clean my closet, I haul everything out. The clothes all get piled on the bed. I start with a clean slate, and then put everything back where it should go. I carefully hang everything on the hangers, and organize the clothes by type and by color. My mom always wondered why it took me so long. Then she'd come upstairs and find me surrounded by piles- trash, donate, and keep. I still do it. The downside to this is that I can't go to bed until I have finished cleaning my closet. This is also the plus side- it motivates me to finish it so that I can go to bed! When I'm done, everything is nice and organized- at least for a couple of weeks. I do need to dust my room again. It may have to wait a while, I've been in a lot of pain lately and cleaning isn't really high on my priority list. Since I'm a bit stubborn, I wouldn't have cleaned my room today anyway. I don't like being told what to do!

A Year of Blogging: May 9, 2011

May 9 was Lost Sock Memorial Day. It was a day to remember the socks that get eaten by the big washing machine monster or the hot dryer devil. This seems to be one of the big mysteries of the universe- what happens to the socks? I've looked inside my washing machine, the barrel is full of tiny holes. How on earth do socks get sucked through those? Or in the dryer- you'd think they'd find their way to the lint trap. I have to say, I don't have a problem losing socks. I did in college, but I always chalked it up to using shared laundry facilities. Sometimes, if you didn't get there in time, the next person in line would take your clothes out of the washer, put them in your basket, and put their own load in. I do NOT miss college laundry! I don't miss going to the bank for rolls of quarters, or carrying the laundry basket up and down from the third floor to the basement. I actually still have my laundry basket from college. I bought a big one so that I could put all my laundry in one basket and make one trip. It's Rubbermaid- very sturdy. But also usually too heavy for me to carry so I have to ask Erich to carry it upstairs for me. If socks are missing in our house, it is not the laundry machines that are to blame. In our house, it's a fluffy black and white dog that is to blame. Onyx loves socks. If she gets a hold of one, it is possibly the last time you will see it. We laugh when we think that people who live here years after us will likely be digging up socks in the back yard. One of my friends has a battle with socks in her house. When I heard about Lost Sock Memorial Day, I thought of her. Of course, her socks are handmade, not the generic Haynes socks you buy at Target. I think I'd be a little upset if those went missing too. Then again, that is probably Murphy's Law. The cheap ones you can buy in a pack of six pairs for $7 you won't lose. The ones you worked on for a while, you'll lose. It's just like sunglasses. I once bought a very nice pair at Sunglass Hut. I spent a fortune, and lost them by the end of the summer. Now I buy cheap ones at Target or Kohls, and wear them until they break. I think I'm on my fifth year with my current pair. You can't lose them, even if you try!

A Year of Blogging: May 8, 2011

The second Sunday in May is Mother's Day. This year it fell on May 8. It was a little bittersweet for our family. We are in the 'Year of Firsts' since my Grandmother passed away on Valentine's Day. We've passed Easter, and now Mother's Day is behind us. It was a little more than just the first Mother's Day, because she was buried on Saturday- the day before Mother's Day. After the graveside service, the family was told to go to the house so the girls could pick which jewelry of hers they wanted. When I first heard this, I was upset, because I wasn't there. My sister told me not to worry, she had me covered. She picked out a couple of pieces she knew I would like. One was a pin that was a pink rose with a pearl in the middle. Pink roses are my favorite flower, and pearls are my birthstone. My sister said it seemed to be made just for me. She also picked a pearl cross, and I forget what else she said. I'm so glad she thought of me. Even though I have my own jewelry, it will be nice to have something from Grandma. I have a couple of pieces from Grandma Wager, so now I have from both Grandmas. When I was shopping for Mother's Day cards this year, I felt like I was forgetting something. I bought a card for Mom. I normally had a little stack of cards for Mother's Day. Then I remembered, I had no Grandma cards to buy this year. I had just gotten used to buying only one Grandma card, and now I have none. But I still have the worlds' best Mom. This isn't just something I found on a coffee mug. Although it's possible at some point, she did get such a mug. And I know everyone thinks their Mom is incredible. Perhaps that's part of the wonder of being a Mom. They are wonderful. I am also convinced mine is part super-hero. When my sister went to Kindergarten, Mom went back to work. She had been a bank teller when she met Dad, and stopped working outside the home when I was born. Seven years later, she went back to banking. She worked full time at the bank, then came home and worked double time. She woke up early in the morning and packed lunches. Not just for my sister and I, but for Dad too. If Dad had to leave at 3am, Mom was up at 2 to get him ready for work. Then she'd fall asleep on the couch until it was time to get us up and off to school. She went to work, then came home and made dinner. She helped with homework, gave us baths, and made that batch of cupcakes we needed for the class party tomorrow- which we told her about as we went to bed at 8pm. The next morning, there were 30 cupcakes: frosted and decorated prettily. And if Dad didn't get home til 11pm, Mom was sitting up waiting for him. Mom's house was always spotless. She kept up with the laundry, if the hamper was 2/3 full she considered herself 'behind'. The dishes were washed before Mom left the house in the morning, and before she went to bed at night. She made wonderful meals for every dinner. One night a week was leftover night. There may have been the occasional hot dogs and french fries for dinner, but most of the time it was a three course meal: meat, potatoes, and a vegetable. She was the one called when we were sick at school, or when we were in trouble. She made it to countless concerts, programs, and sports events. She did the grocery shopping. She drove us to doctors visits and to play dates. And she took the car for oil changes or new tires. On top of her 'Mom' duties, she taught Catheticism classes at our church and helped our elderly neighbors run errands. In the more than 10 years she was at the bank, she worked her way up to Branch Manager. As a child, I took for granted all that she did. As a woman, I am amazed. I have a job and a house and two dogs. I can't keep up with my Mom, even now. I have no idea how on earth she did all that she did. I find myself in awe of her so often. My mother was the nurturer, and the disciplinarian. We weren't told 'wait until your Dad gets home'. No, we got in trouble with Mom, then Dad came home and we got it all over again. My sister and I rewarded Mom's love and constant presence by both saying 'Daddy' as our first words. Yet if we were sick, it was 'Mommy' that was called in the middle of the night. It was often Dad who got up with us when we were sick, but it was Mom we called for. Mom and I had a rocky relationship for years. We are just alike. As a child and a teenager, I did not want to be like my mom. We fought a lot. Dad and my sister were the peacemakers between us. When I went to college, our relationship improved. Mom sent me long encouraging letters. When something went wrong, I called home and talked to Mom. My Mom was incredible even when I was in college. She sent me a care package every week my Freshman year. She baked on the weekend, and on Monday morning sent a package priority mail to me. The package usually arrived on Thursday. Mom sent brownies, cookies, banana bread, all kinds of great things. She sent books that she thought I would like. She sent little things that made me think of home. And always, a card. I was the envy of all the girls on my floor. I know Mom spent a fortune sending packages, and I appreciated each one. Mom and I are now best of friends. She's the first person I want to tell if something good happens. She's the shoulder I lean on when something bad happens. We can talk every day for an hour, and not run out of things to say. We are shopping buddies. She is still my biggest cheerleader. And there are times that she's the first one to kick me in the rear-end if I need it. She's my friend, but my Mom. I am so blessed to have her. It's easy to forget that our Moms were once little girls with dreams of their own. I once asked her what she wanted to be when she was a little girl. She said 'A Mom'. She is a tremendous success! Mom said someone once recently saw her with Sydney, and said 'don't you wish we could have skipped the children and gone right to the grandchildren?' Mom said "No. I would have missed the incredible women my daughters have become. They are beautiful, strong, independent women and I can't believe I had something to do with it." Believe it, Mom. We were raised by the best!

A Year of Blogging: May 7, 2011

It's the first Saturday in May. That can only mean one thing: The Kentucky Derby. The Kentucky Derby is a horse race that is run the first Saturday in May. It is billed as the 'fastest two minutes in sports'. Watching it is a tradition in our family. We aren't really big horse people. I grew up an hour south of Saratoga Springs, NY, which is another horse city. The horses run at Saratoga in the summer, and we usually went at least once a year to watch them. The animal lover in me is opposed to horse racing. But the horse lover in me is drawn to those big brown eyes, that long nose. I have always loved horses. I wanted one as a kid. Sydney wants one too, and she told me my mom is going to get it for her. I told her not to hold her breath. Watching the Kentucky Derby is something our family has always done. Sometimes, we bet on the horses too. We each picked our horse the morning of the Derby, and Dad went to OTB to place our bets. Mom picked by color- if there was a gray horse, she bet on it. My sister looked at color too, picking the prettiest. Sometimes she picked by name. I picked my lucky number: 6. Dad was the only one who really handicapped it, picking a mudder if it was a rainy day or a sloppy track, or one that was fast if it was a dry track. He studied and studied. And more often than not, one of the three girls had the winning horse. We gathered in front of the TV in the late afternoon, watching this magical place called Kentucky where women wore big hats and everyone knew the words to some old song we'd never heard of. Then we watched the parade of horses, and waited as they put the horses in the gate. And then...they're off! If there are too many horses, I can never tell which one is which. Before you know it, one horse is wearing the blanket of roses in the winner's circle. I went to college about an hour from Louisville. One year when Mom & Dad brought me out, we took a mini vacation into Louisville. We went to the Louisville Slugger factory, and to Churchill Downs. My sister was thrilled to visit Churchill Downs. We still watch the Derby. All of us. I had it on tonight, and my sister called to talk. I ended up watching the Derby while on the phone with Sydney. That was kind of neat. When I talked to my parents later, they had watched it too. It was fun watching it with Sydney, introducing the next generation to this tradition. She kept asking me if I saw this horse or that one. It felt like we were closer together. When it was over, she said the one that won was her horse. Of course it was!

A Year of Blogging: May 6, 2011

Some days the holiday leaves me wondering what to write about. Other days I find myself having to choose between multiple days. Today is one of those. May 6 has 7 celebrations. 7! That's enough for a whole week, crammed into one little Friday. I think this should be shared a little more evenly. Maybe each day should have no more than 2 holidays. We could eliminate the duplicates. Such as 'National Earth Day' and 'International Earth Day'. Combine the two, make it 'Earth Day' and clear up some of this jam. Then maybe those of us trying to write about the special days would have fewer days that leave us scratching our heads. May 6 is always Beverage Day. It can be alcoholic or nonalcoholic, hot or cold. Whatever you prefer. It's a day to grab your favorite, sit back and enjoy it. I'm currently kicking back with a cold glass of raspberry iced tea. A few years ago, I had never tried raspberry iced tea. Once I did, I was hooked. It is the thing I drink the most, after water. I feel lost if I've gone a whole day without my raspberry iced tea. To avoid this feeling, I try to make sure we never run out. It is perpetually on the grocery list, much to Erich's irritation. He drinks it too, just not as frequently as I do. For me, it just hits the spot whether it's warm or cold outside. May 6 is National Nurses Day. Not to be confused with International Nurses Day, which we (or maybe everyone except the US) will celebrate on May 12- the birthday of Florence Nightingale. I'm not sure why today is also Nurses Day. Here's another duplication we could eliminate. Although, nurses surely do deserve our appreciation more than one day. I had an appointment with my neurologist today, and the nursing student was so sweet. She asked what my weight was, and I told her what I thought it was. She asked if I wanted to get on the scale, and I said 'Do I have to?' She said no, and just typed in my 'estimate' as the actual. She also was really concerned about my BP, and I kept telling her it has been higher, today was pretty good. I appreciate nurses, especially living with one. Even though he's not working in a hospital yet, it's nice to have my own personal RN. He can help me monitor my blood pressure. He can explain tests or medications to me. And he was a great help when my Grandma was sick, or when Drew has been sick, because he explains things to me. If I know what to expect, I can handle things better. I have never liked the unexpected. I guess I'm a control freak! May 6 is always National Tourist Appreciation Day. As someone who travels frequently, I could appreciate this day! I think tourists should be appreciated. For example, what would Orlando be without the tourists? But at the same time, if you are a tourist behaving badly, then you deserve to be treated badly. If you can't behave, stay home. But if you have traveled to another area to enjoy the sites, the food, the tourist traps, and perhaps the weather, you deserve to be treated with respect. Sadly, it's something I don't find that often. Certainly not in the airports. The airlines don't treat you with respect. You feel more like cattle being herded. Stand in long lines, nickel and dimed until your wallet bleeds, and then you are stuffed into minuscule seats that were not meant to hold humans. Flying is such an unpleasant experience, yet it is the easiest way to get places- such as home to NY. So I swallow an extra dose of patience before I leave the house, wear comfy shoes, and try to think of the reward at the end of the torture. Hotels are usually pretty good about welcoming you. The best place I have ever stayed was the Fairmont Royal York hotel in Toronto. They were wonderful! I did not meet a single person in this hotel that did not make me feel like a queen. It was a super luxurious hotel, and I was there on business. It is a place I couldn't afford to stay in if I were paying for it. Every time I ordered room service, my food was delivered with a little bouquet of flowers. A girl could get used to that kind of treatment! Turns out, when Queen Elizabeth visits Toronto, that is the hotel she stays in. No wonder they knew how to pamper a lady. May 6 is also always 'No Diet Day'. Hey! Another day I can throw my support behind. I have never been big on diets. I know I should be more concerned with my body. But I'm not. I have curves. God gave me these curves. I am not meant to be a stick. My body also has a mind of it's own. When I try to lose weight, I end up going the opposite way. When I shrug my shoulders and give up on it, the weight starts to drop. I seem to be in a drop cycle now. I honestly can't keep my jeans up! I am going to have to give in and buy a belt. I look like a hillbilly, hitchin up my drawers all the time. The first Friday in May is International Tuba Day. So this year, it also falls on May 6. Tuba's are essential to marching bands. They are part of that brass sound that I really enjoy. Brass music just puts me in a festive mood. The tuba was patented in Germany in 1835. They are not all the same size- they could be 12 to 50 pounds. Wow! It was hard enough for me to play the flute while marching in band- tuba players must be a whole different breed. The first Friday in May is also Space Day. Or International Space Day. I guess we all agree to celebrate it on the same day. It's a day to get students interested in Math and Science. With the US Shuttle program coming to an end, how are we going to get into space? Do kids even want to be astronauts any more? One year for Christmas I wanted 'Astronaut Barbie'. I did get her. That's the closest I ever came to wanting to be an astronaut. That and the freeze-dried ice cream. That was a special treat! Last, but certainly not least, if none of the previous six celebrations sparked your interest, perhaps this one will. The Friday before Mother's Day is always Military Spouses Day. These men and women deserve a big salute. Marriage is hard enough when both spouses are living in the same house, in the same country. I cannot imagine what the spouses of our military personnel go through: the worry, the fear, the loneliness. I have a great deal of respect and appreciation for the spouses of our Military Personnel. They have perhaps the toughest job of all. To them, I offer a round of applause and my heartfelt thanks.

A Year of Blogging: May 5, 2011

Today is May 5. Cinco de Mayo. The area I grew up in is not the most culturally diverse area. We have a lot of German and Irish ancestors. St. Patrick's Day is huge! There is a big parade in Albany. Troy celebrates. Everyone is Irish. We didn't celebrate Cinco de Mayo. In Ohio, it's a little bigger. In Cincinnati tonight there was salsa dancing on Fountain Square, Latin music, and the Reds offered discounts on Mexican fare at the ballpark. It seems more people celebrate it here than they did in NY. Some of my friends were planning to have Mexican food for dinner. The only Mexican food I make is tacos, but I wasn't in the mood for tacos tonight. May 5 is also National Hoagie Day. You may be more familiar with the terms 'sub' or 'hero'. Or perhaps 'submarine sandwich'. If you still don't know what a hoagie is, it's a large sandwich. It is usually on a roll shaped like a torpedo. It could be six inches or eight or twelve, or even bigger. I've heard they are an American specialty- I could believe that. We like big food! Subs/hoagies/heroes can be eaten any time of day. They make a filling lunch. There are many nights we just order subs and have them for dinner. It's an easy dinner with minimal cleanup. If you pile a lot of veggies on the sub, you can even call it healthy! I like subs. My favorite cold sub is plain old turkey. Turkey, cheese, lettuce and a little mayo. Maybe some cucumbers and always bacon if possible. I also like tuna salad, but only for lunch. I don't like to go to a sub shop and order tuna for dinner after it has sat out all day. Sub shops. They are on every third corner here in the US. There are two near my work- one is across the street one is a block away. Are sub shops as prominent in other parts of the country? Hoagies can also be hot. My favorites are a steak hoagie (also known as a cheesesteak sandwich), or a meatball hoagie. Wow, now I'm getting hungry. It's 10:30pm. Too late to get a hoagy. Even though I've heard that some people eat them for a midnight snack. That's too much to eat this late at night. I'll just wait and have one over the weekend. Probably a meatball hoagie. The local pizza chain, which has the best meatball hoagies, has been putting some pretty tempting posts on facebook lately. I've been craving one lately, and National Hoagie day just sealed the deal!

A Year of Blogging: May 4, 2011

May 4 was Renewal Day. Apparently it's a day to renew things: relationships, social issues, hair styles, your figure, magazines subscriptions, or your driver's license. Renewing relationships doesn't have to be just marriage vows. It could be reconnecting with an old friend from high school or college. Facebook has allowed me to reconnect with friends from all stages of my life- there are friends I went to preschool with, friends I received my Bachelor's with, and friends I shopped for bears with. I guess Facebook has made every day Renewal Day! I do have a magazine subscription I need to renew. I really should take care of that. It is one of my favorite magazines, and I don't want to let it lapse. I also have to renew my car registration- which of course means my birthday is around the corner! Thankfully, I don't have to renew my license until next year- that's always fun! Standing in line for a very long time. When you get there, you are in a good mood. But after you wait and wait, standing the whole time, you quickly lose the positive attitude. I think it would work much better if we could just take a number, and then sit peacefully and read. I always have a book with me, but it's difficult to read as you slowly move forward in line, surrounded by all kinds of people. Noisy people with sticky dirty children running all over the place. And then you get to the counter, and they ask you if your weight or hair color has changed. I usually bump up the weight by a couple pounds (I'm never lucky enough to be there when I'm on the skinnier side of this see-saw). (And even then, my weight isn't really correct. I don't know my true weight. For some women, it's a closely guarded secret. I guard it so well, I don't even know it!) The last time the clerk asked 'has your eye color changed?' I found this question so bizarre and ridiculous, that I am sure I came back with some smart remark. THEN they took my picture. Yeah. It's lovely. I have told Erich if anything ever happens to me and they have to put a picture of me on the news, it is not to be my driver's license picture. Find a nice one of me playing with Sydney or Drew or the dogs. Something where I look remotely human.

This year it is just the license plate. Nearly $60 for a little sticker, about the size of a postage stamp, which goes on my license plate. You can't see it unless you are extremely close. But that little sticker makes my car legal in Ohio for another year. I can renew it online. I better go do it though- I have just a month left! When better to do it, than on Renewal Day?

A Year of Blogging: May 3, 2011

May 3 was National Teacher's Day. Although it could have been May 4. My newspaper print out says it's the fourth, but holidayinsights.com says it's the Tuesday in the first full week in May, which would mean it fell on the 3rd this year. There may have been a brief point in time that I wanted to be a teacher. What little girl didn't? Girls my age grew up watching 'Little House on the Prairie'. We watched Laura change from the tomboy with braids flying to the sophisticated teacher with her hair in the neat bun. I honestly don't know if that's why I wanted to be a teacher, but I suspect it was. My favorite part of Little House on the Prairie are the episodes that Laura is older and teaching. People have often suggested that I should be a teacher. No. I know that's the wrong career path for me. When people ask why I know teaching isn't for me, I say 'because I'd slap the little brats'. I know, yesterday I said I like it when kids argue with me. And I do... to a point. And once you cross that point, my patience is non-existent. Ask me in another 10 years if I like arguing with Sydney! I have a terrific respect for teachers. There are teachers who had a big impact on me. I still know their names, years after I was in their class. I've already talked about Mrs. Hogue, my kindergarten teacher. My second grade teacher encouraged my love of reading. Mrs. Bentley seemed old when I was in her class, in the early 1980s. The first day of school, she read the attendance list and then started calling for Kathy. There were no Kathy's in the class. When she said Kathy Wager, I knew she meant me. Kathy is my mom. That confirmed Mrs. Bentley was old- she had taught my mom! For the entire school year, Mrs. Bentley called me Kathy. She held a contest in the class- the student who read the most books by the end of the year would win a special prize. From the first day, I was certain I could win this contest. I loved to read! At the beginning of the year, there were many of us in the running. As the year went on, other students fell out. In the last month, I was in the lead, another girl was close behind. So just to make sure, I read more books and then a few extra. I did win. Mrs. Bentley gave me a pretty emerald necklace (I'm sure it wasn't a real emerald). She thought my birthday was in May. When she realized it was in June, she told me to keep the necklace, and she got me something with my own birthstone. She was very sweet, kind, and a wonderful teacher. She was jubilant, and I don't think I ever saw her without a smile. I loved every minute of second grade. Mrs. Bentley continued to live just down the road from my parents until her death in August, 2009. I was home when her obituary appeared in the paper, but the services had already been held. I was surprised to find she was only 83. She had always seemed so much older. Mom said she always asked about me. I was also blessed in fourth and fifth grades with wonderful teachers. Ms. Koepp was my fourth grade teacher. She seemed so old too. I think she's still alive, and she's probably only in her 80s. Ms. Koepp was tall and very thin. She was kind of earthy- her family had a large farm nearby. For years we went there in the summer to get fresh produce. She taught us cursive writing. I can still see the cursive alphabet stretching around the room, above the chalk board. Fifth grade was a new experience- we had Mr. Lewin. It was the first time I had a male teacher. Mr. Lewin was the Principal of the school, and it was rumored that he had a paddle in his drawer. I was terrified of him. Until I had him as a teacher. He remains one of my favorites. The class he had the year ahead of me was a problem class. He told them on graduation day that he had never had a class that had been such a disappointment. But the way he told it was something like "I've never, in all my years of teaching, had a class that..." and the students were feeling pretty good about themselves. Then he finished his sentence. In sixth grade, we started having different teachers for different subjects; just as we would for the rest of our school career. Many of the teachers after sixth grade who had made such an impression on me are those who taught the subjects I enjoyed, and continue to enjoy. In 7th Grade it was Mr. Miller, our English teacher. He also taught my mom- although when he taught mom's class he was a new teacher and it was his first year teaching. His children were around our ages. Mr. Miller taught us how to write letters. I use those skills every day at work. Every time someone compliments me on my letter-writing ability, I tell them I owe it to my 7th grade English teacher. The year my sister had Mr. Miller, he started a special project to get through to the students with the letter-writing unit. So he had the students send letters to famous people asking for an autograph. It continued until he retired two years ago. The famous people responded, and the autographed photos were framed and hung around the room. I forget how many he had at the time of retirement, but several stories have been written about it. Here's a link to one of them: http://nysut.org/newyorkteacher/2005-2006/051208autographs.html The project became famous on it's own in our school district. And students wanted to write letters! My 8th grade English teacher, Mr. Webster, pushed my creative writing buttons. When others in the class groaned when he made us work on our creative writing, I begged for more minutes. I wrote in study hall, at home, sometimes in other classes. We had him for 9th grade English as well, and I loved it. By this time, I knew I was headed into an English related field as a career. The creative writing didn't surface again in class until 11th grade English with Mrs. Kavanaugh. Then I had English, plus a creative writing course, and Journalism. All with the same wonderful teacher. She loved to write, and encouraged us. I didn't care for the English teachers who were all about Shakespeare and Chaucer (my apologies to my friend, Patricia!). I connected with the English teachers who were also authors and poets. They understood me and nurtured the writer within. There were some non-English teachers in high school that were not only incredible teachers and mentors, but friends. I dropped Chemistry to take Creative Writing and Journalism. When I told the Chemistry teacher I didn't see myself ever using Chemistry, but I planned to go into an English based field, he was very kind. He thanked me for being honest, signed the add/drop form, and wished me well. There were certain requirements I had to meet in order to graduate with a Regents Diploma (which was the 'college-track'). Since I dropped Chemistry, I had to take extra business courses. That turned out to be a blessing. Mrs. Klein, the business teacher, was wonderful. We learned keyboarding on old computers (the screens were black with a yellowish green type. There were no font styles or colors.). You had to type 40 or 45 wpm (it's was nearly 20 years ago, I forget the exact requirement) by the end of the year to pass. I struggled to get to that point, and just barely made it. I think she'd be so proud to know I'm up in the 75+ wpm now! The business classes have also come in handy in my day to day work over the years. The two Global Studies teachers, (Global Studies is also known as Social Studies), Mr. Recore and Mr. Fisher were both incredible teachers. You learned a lot from them. Mr. Recore looked like Victor on the Young and the Restless. He was an avid college basketball fan, and a huge Indiana University and Bobby Knight fan. Every year, he revealed his final four picks in class (with similarly as much fanfare as President Obama reveals his). IU was always in the Final Four, and nine times out of ten was his pick to win it all. When I told him I was going to college in Indiana, he was the only person who didn't look at me like Indiana was in outer space. When I went home for break, he asked me if I ever got up to see the big school. Hanover had recently hosted some sort of sports banquet, and Bobby Knight was there. I told Mr. Recore I hadn't been to see the big school, but when Bobby Knight wanted to see a real school he came to mine! Mr. Fisher was an incredibly tough teacher. He expected a lot. He challenged me, and I like to be challenged. We had debates in his class on Fridays. His classes always left the emotions on fire, but I learned so much. Many people didn't like him because he was so tough, but that made me enjoy his classes so much more. Every one of us has teachers that made a difference to us. So to all the teachers- current or retired, thank you!