Wordless Wednesday

Home Again

We're home from a 6 day, 5 night stay in the glorious 1000 Islands.  Our accommodations were luxurious (pop-up camper), our view was stupendous (the St. Lawrence River), and we were among fantastic company (many squirrel, chipmunk, and seagull friends).  I really do love it up there!  We go semi-annually (meaning almost every year with a few exceptions, like last year when I was 7 months pregnant with Alex) and it's a tradition I am thrilled to be starting with my boys.  I have a few tidbits to share from the trip and MANY photos I will be posting shortly but in the meantime I will leave you with this teaser of one of the many beautiful sunsets we witnessed.  And boy, am I happy to be home!

Wordless Wednesday

10 on 10 : July 2009

Since today is Flashback Friday but it happens to fall on the 10th of the month when I would normally do my 10 on 10, I decided to give this month's 10 on 10 a flashback theme.  Each hour I am to take one photo and my goal is to find nostalgic things that take me back and take photos of THOSE.  So, come with me down memory lane...

This is a photo board I have in my office at work.  It takes me back to when Nathaniel was little (which was just YESTERDAY, wasn't it?!?)  since I haven't updated any of the photos on this board since I started there and he was 6-months-old then!

After work I took the boys out to Geema and Geempa's to let out their dogs (since they were coming home late) and I let the kids (Nate anyway) run around for a while to burn some steam.  While I was there, I saw a lot that took me back.  Like this tree, for example.  I love this tree.  It stands in my parents' front yard and has provided hours of entertainment, solace, and education throughout the years.  It is here where my brother and I would swing from the branches pretending to be Indiana Jones swinging to safety over a pit of snakes.  My sister and I would spend hours perched on the tree's limbs, talking, laughing, and testing our limits as we climbed ever higher to see how close to the top we could get.  I remember finding the shells of cicadas stuck to the bark of the trunk after they had molted and left them behind.  What a lesson in nature that was!  Not too long ago the tree didn't seem to be doing well and my parents talked about having to cut it down.  I was devastated!  This old climbing tree holds a lot of special memories for me and for my whole family.  Miraculously, however, the tree has made a comeback (evidenced by these photos) and will thankfully live to see another day and a few more climbers from the next generation.   

Growing up we spent a lot of weekends in the back woods cutting firewood to heat the house with in the winters.  We each had our jobs.  My Dad cut down the trees and my mom would clean off the branches and make a brush pile of the unusable twigs and smaller branches.  My older brother got to yield an axe on occasion, or make a few well directed cuts with the chainsaw.  I got to mark off the fallen trees with a ruler and a piece of chalk so whoever was cutting would know where to cut so they were uniform in size (that made for easier stacking and helped them fit into the wood stove without a problem) and my sister mostly played out of the way of falling trees and flying wood chips.  We'd chop it up into manageable size pieces and then throw it in the back of my dad's old International and bring it up to the house.  There we would unload it, chop it up into smaller pieces and stack it to dry out before the winter came.  In the down time we'd make playgrounds out of grapevines that were shaped like swings or bounced really well.  Cutting wood was hard work but we all did it as a family and it taught me a lot about working together, spending quality time with those you love, and making the best out of what you have.  

Nathaniel was playing in what I call the "metal playground" (see photo below) when he said, "Oh, Mom!  BEES!"  Having been stung by one late last summer, he knows they are not to be messed around with. But at my Mom and Dad's house they are EVERYWHERE and hard to avoid!  I can't remember a summer growing up when I didn't get at least ONE bee sting.  They were in the ground when you'd mow over them and piss them off...they'd land on my neck or in my hair and I'd reactively pinch them by tilting my head down to my shoulder.  Finding this bee family swarming in a steel pipe in the "metal playground" did not surprise me and I'm just glad Nathaniel knew better than to try and pick up these "bugs" like he does all other "bugs" he finds!!

This is a barn at my parents' house which also houses a lot of flashback memories.  Going way back more than 20 years ago, I'd say, we built that barn (as a family) from the concrete slab to the roof.  My Aunt and Uncle came over to help with a couple of Dad's friends and we cranked that out in no time!  We even got to put our handprints in the cement floor after it was poured, leveled, and started to harden.  When it was new (and empty) we made it into our own personal roller rink.  We used to skate around the downstairs and dreamed about throwing fantastic Halloween parties in there.  As my dad settled in it had tools and old parts to things strewn about.  Then we put on the goat shed off the side where our goats and bunnies lived.  We spent many years trucking back and forth to that barn in the rain, snow, and freezing cold to feed our rabbits, change their water, and hold them.  The rabbits eventually all died and Dad sold the goats off to someone.  I hadn't been in there in quite a while.  Most recently I stop in to find my father when he's working "in the shop".  He added on to the back to make a blacksmith shop for his business.  It's pretty stinky when he's working but I love to watch him hammering out his steel, twisting it, turning it, heating it up again and banging on it until it turns into the beautiful candle holder or wine bottle display rack that he envisioned in his head.  There is also a treasure trove of memories stored on the second floor of that barn: Old dollhouses, kitchen sets that "Santa" brought me when I was 4 years old and ancient play sets that entertained us for hours.  With a weekend to explore up there I can only imagine the memories we'd uncover!

 

A walk down memory lane would not be complete without a glimpse at my childhood listening preferences.  Oh yeah!  NKOTB.  Need I say more?

While looking for something in my basement "junk/scrapbooking room" I found these.  Does anyone even still USE these old 3.5 disks (is that even what they're called?!?)  I don't even think computers have a slot for that size disk anymore!!  Now what good is all that info on those disks?!?

One stack of the thousands (no exaggeration!) of photos I have laying around in my "junk room".  Someday I'll get some of these scanned for future Flashback Friday fun!!

Wordless Wednesday

Dusting off the card catalog...

Today's Thinkbox Thursday question is :  What is your favorite book?

I have to be honest.  I haven't read an actual book in YEARS.  And when I say years, I literally would guess the last full book I read from start to finish was sometime in the mid 1990s.  And I couldn't even tell you what book that might have been.  Between working two jobs, going to college, then working two jobs while IN college, having a baby, having another baby, working two jobs (just kidding, I only work one right now), it's been difficult to find the time to read anything longer than a text message, a Facebook status update, or One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish.  So for me to tell you about my favorite book, believe me when I say, we're going WAY back.  

I read a lot of good books growing up (read:  back when I actually had time to).  Some that are forerunners include The Outsiders (S.E. Hinton).  In the Keep of Time (Margaret Jean Anderson), and Johnny Tremaine (by Esther Hoskins Forbes), among others.

However, the book that sticks with me the most...the tale that had a profound affect on me as an adolescent, and the story that I would read again in an instant (if, that is, I had time to actually READ books - see above) is Tuck Everlasting by Natalie Babbitt.  

It was a timeless story about young love, immortality, and tough choices.  Or at least I think it was, as best as I can remember.  I haven't read the story in decades, but I loved that book.  I loved the story, the characters, the writing, the whole feel.  Just thinking about it gives me a warm, nostalgic feeling.  In fact, it makes me want to go down in my basement and dig out the copy I purchased a few years ago, solely for sentimental value and salvage it from its dark hiding spot buried deep in a box somewhere and actually read the darn thing.  But wait, is that Alex I hear fussing in the next room?  Did Nathaniel just yell "Mommy!"?  Nevermind.  That walk down memory lane will have to wait for another day (or decade).

Wordless Wednesday

A Day In The Life...

As I was uploading some photos off my camera(s) the other night and showing some of them to my beloved husband, he kindly (?) asked me if there is ever a day when I DON'T take at least ONE photo. Since my iPhoto account groups my pictures into "events" (at least initially) by date, I scanned said "events", which read something like this: "June 14...June 15...June 16...June 17...June 18". I realized he was right. There is NOT a day (at least not in the recent past) when I have NOT taken at least ONE photo. So, what do I do with this new found knowledge?!?! Why, start a new blog, of course! :)

Inspired, in part, by this conversation and moreso by people with similar ideas and blogs such as those found here (Thanks, Pam!), here, and (my favorite) here (hey, if I can't get up here, I'll make my own!) I decided to follow suit. I will call it "A day in the life..." with a photo posted every day ('cause I have time for this, right?!?) :) We'll see how it goes. It's a good excuse for me to share even MORE photos with you than I already do!! Mwahaha!

So travel on over and check it out by clicking here.

Or take a look here.

Or, if you so choose, stop in HERE!

Just make sure you check it out - The fun begins now!

Tomorrow's Wordless Wednesday

Since tomorrow's post is supposed to be wordless, I am posting THIS today to explain my next few Wordless Wednesdays...I've decided to do a Christmas in July theme for July's WW posts.  I thought it would be fun to dig out some older shots and since SNOW (ick, I know!) was a common thread running between them, I decided to make it a theme.  Fun, fun!  So in case you're wondering why I'm not showing sunny shots and sandy beaches, that's why.  Enjoy and we'll get back to summer sunshine, sand, surf, and smiles in August!  

The Unlikely Messenger

Ok, so I'm falling into a cheesy trend of scheduling out my days of the week with fun little tasks to fulfill. The problem is that I frequent so many blogs and other people have such cute ideas that I feel compelled to participate!!! So here's my latest, with my own spin.

Introducing: Flashback Fridays.

I think it would be fun to post old pictures or tell old stories as a flashback to a different time. Some have called it Way Back Whensdays but I have Wednesdays taken, so Fridays it is.

However, since this will require me to plug in and "warm up" my scanner, I will start this week with a story of days gone by.

August, 1994

It was a hot, sticky summer. Mosquitos filled the humid air, just waiting to perch and feast upon their prey. The days stretched out ahead of me, one right after another...

Ha! Just kidding. Seriously though - August of 1994 was (obviously for those of you who were there) the summer after I graduated from high school. I was about to venture out on my own for the first time. My bags were packed and I had plans to move into my first apartment just in time to settle in before the Fall semester started at GCC. It was bittersweet. An odd cross between elation at my impending freedom and sheer terror at my approaching independence.

My sister, Sarah, was 13 at the time. We had shared a room together since the day she was born so it was going to be strange for her to have her own taste of freedom, too, I'm sure. No one to yell at her for being sloppy, no toe tapping or music playing to keep her up at night, and no one hogging 3/4 of the closet.

As I was getting ready for the big move out on my own, she brought me her beloved black bear, (creatively) named Blackie, and told me she wanted me to bring him with me when I left. She was afraid I'd be lonely and thought he could keep me company. How sweet is that?!? But wait. I knew how important Blackie was to her so I refused to accept him until she insisted that she'd be ok without him and that I needed him more than she did. This "simple", unselfish, and immensely sacrificial gesture was huge to me! I mean, Blackie was Sarah's lovey, her comfort item, her best friend! He had worn spots where she loved on him for years, matted fur where she had held him tight to ease her fears and calm her nerves. How could she bear (ha!) to part with him?!? I'm sure she must have sensed my trepidation and in that moment, rather than give in to her sadness and fear about my leaving, she stood up to give me strength. And through this unlikely, stuffed, 2-foot-tall, fuzzy messenger of love and support, she showed a selflessness and maturity well beyond her thirteen years.

What Sarah probably doesn't realize is that I spent many rough nights holding Blackie tight as he eased MY fears and calmed MY nerves. I pulled him close when my tiny little apartment seemed big and scary and I missed the familiar sounds of home and my family. I sat him nearby as stress got high because assignments were due or big tests were looming. I talked to him when no one else was around to hear how my day had been. Blackie was a Godsend in those first few months and years of college. He was like a little, black, furry guardian angel sent to watch over me!

Even 15 years later, Sarah's timely gift has continued to stick with me. I think because it demonstrates a prime example of unconditional love. It shows a degree of support and care and a level of understanding that you don't find very often. My sister was willing to give up the one thing that meant the world to her to give me comfort, strength and companionship in my huge new leap into the big, scary world. She recognized that and made the ultimate sacrifice (to a 13-year-old!) to show her love and support. For that I will always be grateful. And for always I will do my best to repay the favor in your time of need. I love you, "big" lil' sis!!

Wordless Wednesday

Father

As Father's Day approaches, I thought it would be nice to post a tribute (albeit brief) to the Father of the two most important people in my life.  My husband, Dave. 

When we got together, Dave already had two boys in their early teens and I think the idea of having more kids was WAY down on his list of priorities.  He kept saying that if that was what I needed to make me happy then he was game.  Whatever I wanted.  But it always felt like something I was pushing on him.  A burden he was willing to take on to give me what I had always dreamed of...a family!  

Why am I saying this now, at Father's Day?  Of course it doesn't sound the most endearing, but the truth is, when Nathaniel was born, I never once got this impression from him again.  He and Nathaniel were almost instant buddies.  From the very beginning they bonded and were inseparable.  It doesn't hurt that I went back to work when Nathaniel was 10 weeks old and Dave stayed home with him during the day.  When I got home from work he'd eat dinner with us and then hit the hay for a couple of hours of sleep before he went in at midnight to work a shift he had switched to (from his nice "comfy" day shift he'd worked almost 20 years to earn) just so Nathaniel wouldn't have to be raised by strangers.  He got very little sleep that first year or so until he switched to an equally difficult evening shift that allowed for more Zzzz's but took him away from us at night while still giving him the opportunity to be home with Nathaniel during the day.  I think the time they spent together all day long has been instrumental in their bonding and it's super sweet.  

Enter Alex. 

Taking on another child was not something Dave had wanted at first.  In fact, I had sold and donated all of our baby stuff after being told, in no uncertain terms, that we would NOT be adding on to our brood.  Obviously the idea of a new soft sweet face to nuzzle got the better of him and before we knew it our family of three had expanded to four.  And he wouldn't want it any other way.  It was a much more difficult task to take on but he has done so with minimal complaining on his part.  

Dave is a fantastic father.  He loves his boys so deeply and would give anything for them.  I love the way he lights up when he's rehashing one of Nate's funny stories or how he calls me at work to tell me something amazing that Alex just accomplished.  He's not afraid to praise a successful potty stop or fix a hopelessly broken train for the 15th time.  He teaches Nate how to fix a turkey and takes both boys for rides on the lawnmower.  

Dave cooks fantastic meals for our family, gives Nate his haircuts once every few months, he cleans spit up, poop, and spilled milk and kisses more than his share of boo boos in the course of a day.  I love that I don't have to fill him in on the kids' napping schedule or remind him of what they like to eat before I run out.  He doesn't have to call me to ask what Nate's trying to say or why Alex won't stop crying and what he should do about it.  He knows his kids, he knows what they like, what works, what they eat and don't eat.  I love that about him.    

Of course there are times when I want to poke his eyes out for teaching Nathaniel how to fart or fake box or when he drops an f-bomb like it's nothing and forgets their impressionable ears.  It drives me nuts that he lets them watch TV way more than I wish they did or that he doesn't see what's wrong with giving them pop tarts for breakfast every other morning.  But I wouldn't trade him for the world!  He is doing a fantastic job helping me raise our boys to be good people.  I couldn't do it without him!  We love you, Daddy!! 

Daddy's Hands

My (two or three) readers may (or may not) have noticed that I've missed my last couple Thinkbox Thursday posts. Oops! Truth be told I had a couple "post heavy" weeks where I either didn't want to inundate you (both) and scare you away by my incessant posting (which is both annoying and hard to keep up with!) or (as is probably most accurate), I was just plain sans inspiration.  I DID, however, pull a question from the thinkbox a couple weeks ago and since the question itself is so apropos to the upcoming celebration of our fathers this weekend, I felt compelled to finally follow through this week.

The question: What were your father's best traits?  His worst?  What traits do you share?

Oh, where do I start to describe the most fabulous man I know?  There's so much to say and so little time to express myself in so I will let Holly Dunn help me.  There's a song she sang on country radio called "Daddy's Hands".  This song has always had a special meaning to me.  I loved this song growing up.  I'd sing it (ok, YELL it) in the car on the way up North to my grandparents' house.  I even danced with my father to this song at my (first) wedding.  This is the perfect "story" of my father (at least to me).  The chorus reads (or is that "sings"?):

Daddy's hands, were soft and kind when I was cryin´.
Daddy´s hands, were hard as steel when I´d done wrong.
Daddy´s hands, weren´t always gentle 
But I´ve come to understand.
There was always love in Daddy´s hands.

My father is strong - Strong willed, strong tempered, strong minded, and strong armed.  He has strong opinions, strong convictions, strong values, and strong expectations.  It was this strength that taught me right from wrong, how to stand up for what I believe in (even if that's a battle I still fight), and how not to mess with him or my mother.  I learned respect, hard work, and pride from my father.

But as the song suggests, my father may have worked his butt off to give us the kind of life and childhood I wouldn't trade for the world but he was also soft and gentle when we needed him to be.  My father would whip out his belt when we talked back to our Mother and then turn around and give us a hug to say he was proud of us for a job well done.  He had a temper I would often cower from but was the first one I'd run to to share news of making the cheerleading squad.  I remember getting splinters from the old, worn wood floors in our house and sitting on his lap while he ever-so-gently pried the tiny sliver(s) of wood from my foot or hand with the beat-up, razor sharp jackknife he always carried in his pocket.  

My father is smart - highly intelligent, in fact.  I have always said my Dad is the smartest man on earth - a "walking encyclopedia".  When I was growing up and had an essay to write or a report to research for school, I'd ask him questions to clarify my assignment or ask him how to spell something and he'd always say, "Look it up".  He didn't want to make it easy for us so he encouraged us to find the answer rather than just provide it for us.  My father knows something about just about everything, though.  He's the kind of guy you'll find reading an atlas for fun.  Or studying a book on anatomy or candle-making or civil war strategy, just for the sake of learning something knew.

My father has an insanely sarcastic sense of humor.  I remember rolling my eyes at corny jokes he'd make.  I'd say, "Dad, can you make me a PB &J sandwich?".  To which he'd always respond, "Poof!  You're a PB & J sandwich!".  "Dad!", I'd groan.  Cheesy, I know, but I got that corny joke thing from him and have gone on to annoy plenty of my own friends with that sense of humor, I'm sure!  I find myself thinking in terms of corny comebacks and cheesy jokes and I DEFINITELY got the sarcastic thing from him!!!

Obviously my father's not 100% perfect by any means (just ask my Mother!  She's been married to him for 35 years and has earned the right to complain about one or two of his "quirks"!).  He can be somewhat aloof, sort of a modern day "absent-minded professor" but it's sweetly endearing.   He's a procrastinator (thanks, Dad!), he's a pack rat (yeah, thanks again, Dad!), and did I mention that temper thing (and again...thanks a heck of a lot for this one!)?  But he is still strong, smart, honest, fair, caring, understanding, funny, talented, charming, creative, ingenious, and hands down the best father I could ever have been blessed with!  

Thanks, Dad, for raising me up with good morals, strong values, and smart priorities.  Thank you for teaching me how to be stubborn, fight fair, and live honorably.  I am beyond lucky to have you in my life, completely honored to call you "Dad", and purely blessed to have you around to pass on your strength, knowledge, wisdom, and witty sarcasm to my children whom lovingly call you "Geempa".  I love you, Daddy! 

Wordless Wednesday