My Boy

My Boy. The precious bundle of blankets I cradled close to me, and gazed lovingly down on. Laughter and tears spilled openly as the emotion refused identification.Words become inadequate to express the love I feel. My comfort and joy on long nights alone. Midnights spent in the silence, rocking and singing, just you and me.

My boy, the little toddler gingerly taking his first steps one by one. Hands and arms raised, awaiting the joyous response from my eagerly waiting arms. Such pride I'd never felt. The beautiful smiling face brightens so many days. The sunshine breaking through even the darkest moment.

My boy, school days bring such excitement and a new love of learning. First in the class to read, my smile is uncontrollable as you share your accomplishment. The endless energy, excitement and exuberance you express set you apart. You have found the beat of your own drum even at such a young age and you proudly play the rhythm you have chosen.

My boy, baseball, pirates, Zorro, trains and cars are the toys of your imagination. New adventures await around every bend, and no dream is too big for such an ambitious young boy. You rise with the sun, eagerly awaiting the new day, excitement at what the world has to offer. The challenges of school are confidently tackled, math and science, reading and social studies provide fuel for the imagination.

My boy, I can't believe how much you've grown. My little man now. Protector and comforter. A loving example and gentle leader. My boy, here I am again, you are wrapped in blankets, but from your own bed, and I hold you once more gently in my arms. You smile even in sleep and I wonder at the images that play in your dreams. I have been  blessed by your love. I share your excitement at what lies ahead, but remain content to cherish each precious moment we share. My boy, God gave me such a special gift, he gave me you. My Boy, my son, my Miguel, all my love!

Saying good-bye to Summer

Thursday evening I couldn't get out of the office fast enough. With the promise of a day off on Friday, and plenty of fun activities scheduled for the last weekend before school started, I nearly ran to my car once the clock hit 5. I've learned to accept the statement, "if you want to make God laugh tell him your plans," even when it comes to the little things such as the weekend schedule. Flexibility and patience are all part of the parenting game. So, when it took nearly all morning to finish picking up and cleaning the apartment rather than the short hour I had anticipated only to find that the cost of the Pirate exhibit at the Science Center was twice what I had expected I quickly dug into the bag of available resources that St Louis has to offer for families searching for a fun activity. It didn't take long to remember we hadn't been to the Zoo in ages, or that most of the local schools were in session on that gorgeous afternoon leaving the kids and I crowd free! Score! So after a quick PB & J, chips and milk lunch we jumped in the car and headed down town. I knew with all of the St Louis Students back in School and summer vacation a distant memory for most, my drive home would be miserable unless I was well outside the city limits by 3:30, and I had to make a stop at the CH 9 Studio after 2:00 to pick up a flip cam. My tweet from my South entrance parking spot stated " Parking $11, drinks $5, an afternoon at the Zoo with my kids, Priceless!" I guess it was the $11 for parking that got me, but I'd pay it again when it meant making it into the Zoo with energy to spare compared to hiking a mile before the gates are even in sight. The timing couldn't have been more perfect. The afternoon was simply gorgeous after a week of cooler temperatures had finally blessed St Louis I was reveling in the warm sun and cool breeze, while being grateful that Mother Nature had decided to keep the humidity at bay for an extended period. And, I'd been right in assuming the crowds would be light as well, score two for mom! With a hand held in each of mine swinging excitedly we skipped from the parking lot through the south entrance and over to the first map available. Aware of the brief hour and a quarter left to enjoy our visit, I suggested we choose one section of the enormous layout that is the St Louis Zoo to visit that day. Not an easy decision when you want to see the lions and tigers and bears...(oh my) all in one day, and hopefully talk to a few elephants as well. Animals that do not share the same habitat or the same corner of the Zoo. The elephants won for this trip and as the "River's Edge" habitat was the closest to our location, and held several of their favorite friends, including Gloria the Hippo, (I'm sure Disney appreciates what it has done for the support of endangered species), we headed off in search of elephant tracks.

I have to say that I've been blessed. I don't know what I did to deserve it, and this is not me bragging, but I have two of the greatest kids I've ever known. Of course I'm tremendously biased, but the reminders from friends and family at how well behaved they are tells me I'm not imagining things. Their good behavior makes for many special moments in our lives. This afternoon was one of them. We followed one set of cemented footprints to the next. Stopping at each viewing station to see one after another African animal enjoying a lazy afternoon. Even the hyena was sprawled out in a cave snoozing. The kids tried to imitate his laugh to invoke a response, but to no avail. Lunchtime at the anteater pen found us in stitches as we watched the large gentle creatures search the young employee who had come out with the dish of food, eager to get to his meal. The long snout missed the dish entirely and seemed to believe his food could be found somewhere on the employee's face, in her pockets, or down her shirt.

We held hands, by choice, for most of our walk, swinging them back and forth as we'd hum through our Disney repertoire. Or they would run a few paces ahead of me as I stopped to snap a photo or two and muse over the odd behavior of an animal, but they never ran out of site and the slow jog always kept them well within my sight. Even our short detour through a small gift shop proved to be a fun experience. A few things were admired and remarked on,"oh mom, I think I need a set of binoculars!" Or "sssssssssssss oooohhh the snake is going to get you!" and even "oooh, ooooh, ooh, we NEED an umbrella Mom!" But my, gently put, "not today guys" and "maybe another time," were taken well and the desired items put down and forgotten. But such good behavior deserves a reward and my stomach appreciated the ice cream I did consent to buy for each of us. Two Frog Spit Push Pops, and a Chocolate Eclair bar. Guess which one I had. The ice cream arrived after we had finally made our way past the elephants, through the rivers edge, and back to our starting point.

Our stop to admire the 8 Asian Elephants included an informative chat with a helpful Zoo employee which fascinated me, but the kids were ready to finish up shortly after hearing me discuss the gestation period for a female elephant. It may have been the look of amazement and horror on my face when I learned that a female carries her baby for 22 months before giving birth and often longer, but they didn't want to hang around much after that. They were excited to learn that the Zoo will be expecting a new baby next spring though. We felt a piece of elephant hide and the kids noticed how thick it was, and were impressed that it had come from an elephant that once lived at the Zoo. Miguel carried on a detailed conversation with George, our Zoo Employee, about the size and shape of the elephant tooth George was carrying. Finally Anna reminded me we still had a few more animals to see before leaving and we headed on to watch the hyena snoozing and make a quick stop at the entrance gift shop that I had promised them. They even were happy to stay within our budget and picked a small animal carved from stone as a memento for our fun afternoon. Anna chose a frog that I gladly would carry in my pocket every day, and Miguel found a turtle that suited him well. Or, that could be my wanting to provide him with a reminder that slow and steady can be beneficial sometimes, rather than the energizer bunny state all day. A state I was enjoying the absence of that afternoon. In his defense though, I've been grateful to have a reminder that energy is a state of mind for both of us and he often rubs off on me when I need it most. Our gifts were purchased quickly and we were on our way to Ch 9 in perfect time, huge smiles painted on all of our faces. I'd never enjoyed the Zoo so much!

I was reminded once again how special they are when they sat quietly in the Presidents office waiting patiently for me to get the information and camera I needed. A fantastic day over all, and we even successfully avoided traffic going home! A fantastic way to end the summer.

A new year, a new state of mind?

Summer has come and gone, and with it any thoughts of vacation with my kids. Miguel's first day of second grade was today. I considered putting a leash on him to keep him in the car long enough to drive up to the front entrance for drop off. Echoes of "I'll get out here mom, really it's ok I can walk" began from the pre-school building where both he and his sister were shuffled into my car from my mom's, whom they drove in to school with, as I had to drive out to Weldon Spring at 6:45am for work only to turn around and drive back into Town and Country to drop Miguel off and take Anna to her open house. Yes, I could have let my mom take Miguel in, but there's something special about that first day of school, and my mom instinct wasn't going to let me miss out on it. And, although I intelligently managed to leave all of Anna's supplies that were supposed to be brought to open house at home this morning, in my rush to get PPA materials together and Miguels things in order and get out the door in time, we still had to stop by to check in with her teachers. Yes, I can honestly say the chaos of the school year has begun. I'm simply praying that I can establish some order to the chaos this year. I still managed to swing home on the way back to the office to stuff a few toys, books, and art supplies into a backpack, which nearly toppled her over when I put it on Anna's shoulders, to keep her entertained today.

It's a bit unnerving to realize that your day has to start at 4:30 am if you have any interest in accomplishing everything that needs to be done during the course of the day, let alone what you would like to fit in to the already crammed schedule. I'm a morning person, thank heavens, but when the day doesn't end until nearly 12 am every day waking up a mere 4 and a half hours later can seem tedious five days a week. I sadly acknowledged that TV will be sacrificed this year. A fact I'm not ready to fully grasp yet, but is being forced upon me this week. I wish I could say I was one of those people who never watch TV, I'm sure it's healthier, and I honestly don't watch as much as the next guy, but I'm a huge movie buff. And unfortunately I've gotten hooked on a few weekly programs as well. I am afraid I will not sacrifice PBS's Masterpiece Theater, it will have to be satisfied with becoming the back ground noise I have a bad habit of relying on to keep me company once the kids are out for the night.

I'd made a concentrated effort to limit my activities last year in an attempt to focus on the kids more, but volunteer activities, work with the PPA, my full time job, my goal to finally train my horse, and the need for a dance program for the Pre-Middle school levels at Prin has definitely made for a busier schedule this year. With each new activity I'm finding ways to include the kids and introduce them to the many possibilities available for them. Chores are a thrill already. Don't ask me why they beg to follow me around our riding arena flinging piles of horse manure out into the pasture, or why hours spent weeding the garden is equal to an afternoon at the playground. But when I get the pleasure of their company at volunteer events and repeatedly hear how well behaved and helpful they are I smile and figure I must be doing something right. They're familiar with the hectic schedule now and keep me smiling with the never ending supply of energy that seeps from their pores. 

I'm sorry to see summer gone now, knowing I missed spending more time with them while they were free of school, but I believe we'll all be more appreciative of the time we do spend together now since it's less frequent. The busier I am the more aware I become of the need to "stop and smell the roses," as the saying goes. Or in this case, stop to enjoy a good book while cuddled up with two precious kids.

Cooking

Saturday mornings growing up found the smells of home made oatmeal bread, a selection of scrumptious fruit pies, and a cake or two wafting their way from the kitchen through every nook and cranny of the rest of the house. My mother never ceased to amaze when it came to her baking talents. Dinner was always a treat as her creative and artistic talents seem to work just as well with a human pallet as a painters. Spices were blended in a perfect union with pasta, vegetables, and whatever meat was on the menu. It was always a masterpiece. And I couldn't complain of boredom when it came to dinner time.

Somewhere along the way I missed out on the creative gene, and cooking gene. It took marriage and a pregnancy, as well as the desire to resist starvation, to push me into begging my mother to pass along some of her well kept secrets. Including the oatmeal bread I had had for lunch every day from the time I was old enough fall in love with peanut butter and jelly, and a pastry crust that would melt in your mouth. The rest of her teaching left me to fend for myself. A tactic that left much to be desired, especially in my cooking. A pregnant, young woman who's never cooked anything besides macaroni and cheese is not the first nominated to feed the family. First of all my taste buds were on a different kick each day, making spice combinations entertaining. But apparently the statement, "the chicken's in the fridge, you know where the spices are, and check the garden for veggies," was all I needed to get the creative juices moving. I also learned that foodnetwork.com was a fantastic resource for some of the greatest recipes available. It wasn't the originality of my mom's cooking but it was edible, and that was more than I could say for any previous attempt in front of a stove. 

Single parenthood is probably one of the greatest motivators. I've found myself forced into cooking to spare a dime or two. Packaged dinners lose their appeal night after night and there's a limit to my beans and hot dog consumption. Long days in the office don't leave me with much desire to spend a great deal of time cooking by the time I get home and the minimal time allotment between arriving home and bedtime for the kids definitely limits the possibilities. Or so I thought. And then it finally hit me. 

Cooler temperatures definitely make cooking more appealing, at least in my mind. Lack of a/c in our apartment doesn't tempt anyone to set the oven to a scorching 400 degrees when the temperature inside is already near 100. But this last week has been a welcome relief and the evenings a blessing. So, there I was standing in front of the freezer staring into its abyss, praying for inspiration of some sort, the bags of frozen chicken, tilapia, salmon and assorted vegetables were hardly whispering their encouragement. But I was determined, and determination prevailed. I grabbed the salmon, and broccoli and opened the refrigerator and began grabbing an assortment of ingredients that I prayed would blend well. And miracle of miracles they did! God was definitely on my side that night. And believe me the prayers didn't cease until the last forkful was eaten. 

Water set to boil, TJ's Garlic and basil linguine ready to go, broccoli in a microwave safe dish with butter, chopped pecans, butter, salt and pepper and set aside, and salmon set in a dish with lemon, salt, lemon pepper, sliced button mushrooms, and Gorgonzola cheese crumbled on top and stuck in the oven for about 10 minutes at 375. Lord be praised it worked! I couldn't have been happier. The pasta was perfect with a light touch of olive oil and some salt and pepper while I'd managed to steam the broccoli to the appropriate tenderness and the fish had absorbed all of the subtle flavors of the cheese and mushrooms.I was so thrilled I shared my success with my parents later and they were impressed. 

 I guess the crash course in cooking finally payed off. Faith in my ability to keep my children well fed has been restored, or rather initiated. I'm anticipating many delightful evenings during the cooler months spent in the kitchen experimenting with a few old favorites and creating some new ones as well. Check back to find out how it all goes.  

Thoughts from an Early Morning

Early this spring a morning unfolded around me that took me to a different time and place. A bit of a hopeless romantic, the mystical and magical have always fascinated me. But it wasn't solely the storybook atmosphere that rolled in with the deep fog hovering patiently over our farm, but a faint reminder of the home I grew up in and memories of summers spent on the coast of Maine. True, I would not have been surprised had a leprechaun popped his mischievous little head out from behind the hazy pink redbud tree in our pasture, or found a fairy flitting from one delicate wild flower to the next. But as I stood in the arena leaning precariously against the pitchfork, only half way done with my work, gazing over the freshly green pasture blurred by the drifting fog I seem to be ushered half way across the country to a rocky coast in Maine, where that same fog covered the incoming tide, while waves lapped invitingly at my feet. The crisp breeze sliding over the landscape guiding the stubborn fog across the water ran its long cool fingers through my hair that morning while I stood in the arena, reinforcing my departure from a farm in the Midwest into the recesses of my memory. The salty aroma of the ocean invaded my nose while I listened to the cry of seagulls searching for a tasty morsel. A fog horn from a nearby lighthouse bellowed its cautionary call. I was lost for the moment, remembering a simpler time, a childhood where treasures were found after a roaring storm had finally receded, and summertime was spent with family. A childhood replaced by worries of adulthood; job security, finance, and finishing the lengthy to do list. But for a brief moment as I watched the fog play across the hilly pasture, I was a child again, stepping gingerly across the barnacle strewn tide pools searching for treasure as a cool breeze beat at my open sweatshirt and pushed the morning fog out of sight while the lobster boats floated out into the newly brilliant morning. 

A nudge from a soft nuzzle brings me home again and I stare into warm brown eyes wondering where I've been. "I'm here, boy" I reassure my loving horse. He seems to get the message but follows closely behind as I finish my chores. 

Wedding Weekend Take 2

If I didn't know any better I may be convinced that I'd been thrown into the first scene of 27 Dresses, with a few small adjustments. No, I didn't have two weddings on the same night, and I was only involved in one by association, and even more unfortunate is the lack of any James Marsden character in my whirlwind weekend. No dashing, events columnist to despise while he sweeps me off my feet. But, there was plenty of dashing and running about; Chesterfield to Weldon Spring, Weldon Spring to Chesterfield for the marathon errand runs, Chesterfield to St Louis, St Louis to Webster Groves , a minor detour down 44 East on the way to Webster Groves; which, if you are at all familiar with St Louis County, you would know is the wrong direction to be going if you wish to be in Webster Groves from St Louis. Especially if you happen to be traveling southbound down Kings Highway from Lindell towards 44, (first of all you can't turn right onto 44 E from that direction in the first place, and secondly you need to get on 44 West to get to Webster Groves from St Louis anyways.) It's amazing what one small typo in the directions can do to your travel time. You can't expect the brides family to get everything right, there's far too many other things to be concerned about. In all honesty I can't complain, it gave me a chance to learn my way around the city more. Then from Webster Groves, finally home only to be up and at it again the next day. After a noble attempt to clean up the disaster, resembling the aftermath of a tornado's direct hit, that I happen to call my apartment; the sad result of single parenthood and a tragically chaotic schedule, I inevitably lost track of time and end up racing through a frigid shower, a habit I've become far too acquainted with during this heat, as my apartment is still minus any air conditioning, run the usual indecisive battle with my pitiful excuse for a wardrobe, slap on a bit of makeup, order my exhausted and starving children into the car and rush off to Creve Coeur for the second ceremony of the weekend.

Missing a chunk of one of my closest friends wedding ceremony is not something I had planned on, but was unfortunately unavoidable. Nevertheless, what I did get to see was beautiful, as was the bride, both Friday and Saturday. The kids and I found a space at the back available and ducked in a slight 15 minutes late, during the ministers brief and appropriate speech on the duties of each spouse to the commitment of marriage. A few jokes even brought giggles from the over 100 guests. The bride was radiant, had she been any more brilliant, rays of sunlight would have shot from her finger tips and each elegantly placed strand of hair. Not to be outdone the groom appeared as if he would be capable of flight at any moment. Cloud 9 appeared much closer to earth in any case. The reception held at the charming Landings at Spirit of St Louis Golf Course was delightful. A bit short of extra space but it suited the happy couple perfectly. A conversation with a woman who serves as a teacher with my friend asked if the bride could look any happier, and noted that the smile which seemed at risk of splitting her face in two could be any bigger. I smiled and replied that she deserved every moment of happiness. Unfortunately I was not to share in the festivities of the rest of the evening. After a very full and active previous afternoon the kids were a bit antsy and found it hard to stay calm. My plan to drive them the short two minutes home and return to the party was crushed once I discovered that the road home was closed and the detour took me past a mile of traffic that I would have to sit in to return. Not how I had intended on spending my afternoon. Ditching the torture instruments, disguised as the shoes I had chosen to wear sealed the deal, and I remained home with the kids.

 The late arrival was only a challenge at Saturday's ceremony. As the mother of the flower girl and ring bearer at Friday's wedding, I had a bit of a responsibility to be at the church on time, and we barely made it. But, make it we did, and the elegant ceremony that unfolded before the many guests was a treat beyond measure for me. Watching my two gorgeous children dressed in their finest, behaving as a lady and gentleman ought to, couldn't have made me more proud. I never knew two children to be so still or quiet for so long. If you are at all familiar with my kids you know that as dear as they are, they are not ones to sit still long or stay quiet. Not rambunctious or out of control but their energy supply seems to slowly increase through the course of the day rather than diminish. A feat I wish I could chemically duplicate and bottle for sale.

Friday's wedding found me perched on a square of pew half the size of a hallmark card, because the ushers neglected to save my seat in the front row, while I watched my angels perform their wedding duties beautifully. Despite the poor seating arrangement, it was impossible not to enjoy the setting. The church, very tastefully chosen, was truly elegant. Complete with graceful stained glass windows and flying buttresses, it was Swiss chocolate for the eyes. The service paralleled the setting in grace, sophistication and elegance. But, I wouldn't have expected any less from my friend who has earned maturity beyond her years. My precarious perch was eagerly abandoned as soon as was politely possible to be replaced by a more adequate piece of seat for the hour following the service, while my children surprised me again by patiently waiting through one family portrait after another until their turn in front of the lens arrived. I even managed to squeeze into two pictures myself with the bride, groom and smaller members of the bridal party. The reception following was a taste of the traditional, with the brides personal touch. Sinatra, Buble, Martin and Crosby provided the appropriate atmosphere during a fine dinner, while the upbeat mix following our meal kept guests movin' and groovin' on the dance floor for several hours. The bride was glowing, and her new husband looked the picture of pride and joy. The family couldn't have been happier either.

Watching someone who has become more of a sister rather than a friend marry a man she adores and makes her happier with every passing day, is one of life's greatest joys. A man you know will do everything in his power to make her happy, and wants to see your friend and sister thrive as an individual. A man who will love her with every fiber of his being forever after. So can be said for both of my dear friends this weekend. I couldn't have chosen better men for either of them, upright, supportive, understanding, respectful, honest, and loving to no end.

Okay, so really there wasn't much about my weekend that resembled the movie, except for the running about, and that was done by me without any mad dress swaps en route. What I did get was the opportunity to watch two of my best friends start down the road on the exciting journey of marriage. I couldn't have been more pleased to be a part of this precious moment in their lives, mad dashing and all

Busy times

The last several weeks have been absorbed with moving into our new apartment. An all nighter and a couple of very long days were required to finish the work needed to get the house ready for inspectors and assessors. But it was more than worth it to see the finished product. Now I'm enjoying one of the first nights in my new place without too much distraction. "Big Daddy" in the background is not one of the most conducive  for writing, but I'm playing companion to one of my mom's students and wanted to make sure he was content. So Big Daddy it was. I hadn't watched it in years and find now as a parent it should have carried the subtitle; The many ways not to be a good parent.

I'm managing to keep up with my promised cooking five nights a week for the kids. So much so that I even prepared a meal at home; chicken nuggets, green beans, noodles and bread, and brought it into school one night last week for the kids and I so that I could help my mom with some of her costume work. I've also been able to volunteer with Channel 9 at least once a week so far, but I'm afraid that may need to take a back seat during the last few weeks of school as the activities already planned are beginning to make my poor Google Calendar resemble my homework planner from high school. Not a pretty sight. Its a disappointing thought to find myself away from volunteer activities as they have become such a central part of my schedule. Making my way down town to the studio or out around St Louis county to assist the amazing employees of KETC has been a highlight and fun distraction from my normal routine. Live broadcast nights, special events, snapping pictures, helping on the volunteer committee, and recruiting new volunteers has helped me learn a little more about a non for profit organization and the amount of work and effort that goes into this organization. I have such respect for the employees of Ch 9 and have been so grateful to have the opportunity to get to know them better while learning how wonderful it feels to give back to the community. As new events approach and I return to more regular volunteering I will be making an honest effort of reporting on the success, fun and play by play action of the event.  The first volunteer orientation is in the works and a report will follow.

Happy Spring to you all!

Trapped

It's one of those days. Those days that deserve to be treated as a glorious Saturday afternoon, with no school, and no work, and the "to do" list is graciously awaiting attention with the rest of the currently forgotten bills and paperwork that must, at some future point, be tackled. One of those days when my favorite spot on the front lawn, that spot I have claimed as my own from frequent use and now seems to bend to my body as I lay under the warmth of a glorious sun, is expertly calling my name and longing to visit with that lovingly used Mexican blanket and my current favorite work of fiction. One of those days when the smell of freshly mowed grass seeps its way through every nook and cranny and begs me to come play and experience its invigorating scent. It's one of those days where the sky is a brilliant periwinkle blue and I want to find myself following the path of each curiously shaped cloud. A fish, bunny, or giant ice cream cone tracing a nondescript path through the elegant blue. It's one of those days where the tinted window of our front door serves as an unwanted barrier to the glorious day I should be experiencing, instead my computer hums quietly in front of me, trucks, cars and buses scream by and the paperwork steadily piling up in front of me draws my focus from the scents, smells and feels of the exquisite spring day I prefer to be running about in. A minute passes and the clock blinks the new time, 2:00pm. Four more hours. Yes, it's one of those days.

Pictures

Sorry, been promising to put these up for a while. Its a mix of pictures from a variety of stages of work. Enjoy!

Four days and counting.

Tuesday 02/16
Finish Painting and put a finished coat on entire ceiling
Install cabinets?
Start installing trim around all doors and windows??

Update 03/02...We finished all but the trim work throughout the entire addition in time for the inspector, and are now happily moved in to the new apartment.  What a blessing!

My 20 for 2010

Seems everyone has a blog these days. We're all living under the illusion that we will find ourselves to be the next Julie Powell. Come up with a topic or goal intriguing enough to capture the attention of the now thousands of amateur writers, and hopefully some rookie journalist out to make a big break, and suddenly you have it made. The front page story in the Entertainment section of the Times, most of us would even settle for a run in the local paper. Aren't we all just a bit overly optimistic? Or maybe, that is what this is for; the chance to strive for something better. A subtle way to improve upon our current situation, for in writing we give our life a new focus and at times, a new purpose. The illusive new years resolution that seems to recycle itself every year as we find one excuse after another for failing to meet the goal the previous year, no longer carries any wait. But, create a blog about your year long journey to lose weight, read 50 books, cook through an entire cookbook, or finish writing a book suddenly carries some significance to it. Suddenly there are those ever important readers and fellow bloggers we can disappoint, as well as the added reassurance of a new found support system awaiting the day when we can finally stand up and say "I did it!" That same resolution now holds a check mark next to it and avoids the recycle bin at last.

Regrettably, I admit to my own inability to accomplish my resolutions. So much so that I didn't even bother setting any this year, yet. It's only February, 16th and with 10 1/2 months to go I've decided to set a few realistically attainable goals. Yes, a few are recycled but hopefully this year I will see that change. Am I hoping to log in one morning and find a long list of comments either pointing out my insanity or acknowledging my accomplishments? While the idea is appealing I may honestly admit this is more for my own self gratification than anything else. If, during the course of the journey, I find that I have a few loving supporters I'd be tickled pink, but should I finish on my own I will be just as thrilled at the accomplishment. The blog served its purpose at that point, and the goal was reached. For once a written record has been made its much easier to track the progress, or lack of, while the deadline serves as a constant reminder of the tasks still left undone. I pray that my famous skills in procrastination can at last be undone.

I'm well known for becoming passionate about a great idea that I have and planning out a strategy, gathering the necessary tools, and running full throttle into the execution only to become thoroughly distracted by another aspect of my life and forget the whole thing. Its a terrible habit which has become frustrating to say the least. No more lost opportunities, or regrets at not living to the fullest of my ability. So here it is My TO DO LIST for 2010, and that's (two thousand ten, not twenty ten.)

The list is a mix of long term and short term goals. Some will have different deadlines, something I will stay focused on for a specific week, month or several months, while others simply must be done throughout the course of the year.
Deadline: December 31, 2010 11:59 pm.

1. Have apartment completely furnished and decorated by Feb 28, 5pm
2. Volunteer at least once a week at either PBS or the USO (starts March 1)
3. Volunteer with the Park service at Faust park at least twice a month (start March 1)
4. Completely train my horse using the book "Horse Follow Closely"
Deadline - April 31 
5. Go horseback riding at least 2-3 times a week for an hour minimum, after training is complete.
6. Make dinner from scratch for the kids and I five times a week.
7. Read at least 2 books a month. (a more thorough list to follow)
8. Take a jazz and ballet class
9. Learn to lindy hop
10. Participate in at least 3 Civil War reenactments
11. Learn to play guitar
12. Take the kids on the Katy Trail two times a week during summer vacation
13. Buy a bike
14. Take the kids camping
15. Take a trip to Elephant Rocks with the kids and friends
16. Take the kids on a train ride to a new town
17. Get a new lens for my Rebel EOS and practice photography
18. Finish writing the children's book.
19. Join the YMCA and swim once a week.
20. Be in a size 4 jeans by March 31. (Simply for the sheer advantage of being able to borrow from both my sisters and moms amazing wardrobes.)

There it is, My 20 for 2010. How horribly unoriginal. I should have put one in for improving my grammar as I've been recently made aware of an abuse of comma's, but I'm hoping that a regular writing regimen will naturally improve my rusty grammar. But feel free to alert me to any necessary corrections.

I've always had two quotes that I want to live by but haven't done as well as I'd like. The first, "Carpe Diem" is one everyone should live by. Living life to the fullest and best of your ability should be a life goal. You don't have to be a thrill seeker to accomplish that either, but rather grasp every opportunity to step outside your comfort box, and try something new, or simply to give more than your all within every activity you participate in. The second, and my favorite quote, "It's not what the world holds for you, its what you bring to it." Far too often we forget to look beyond ourselves to the thriving world around us. Rather than going about our day prepared to give selflessly, we become blinded by our own needs. A fault I'm not proud to say I'm guilty of. But within this list are my own reminders that I hope to share with you of chances to give even more of myself and share whatever I can with those around me, friends, family, or complete strangers. What will I bring to the world this year? Looking forward to finding out!!

the in's and out's of Construction

February 1, 2010

I'm sitting here resembling one of the characters out of a Dr Seuss story; hair pulled up, a pencil sticking through at some obscure angle, with the upper layers of hair curled up and out in a very Cindy Lou Who fashion, face unmade, donning baggy sweats and sheet-rock dust covered shirt. I haven't showered in two days and can't remember if I even brushed my teeth this morning. I'm honestly surprised that my arms even have the ability to rest on the keyboard to type at the moment as they have spent the last several hours installing drywall in the garage ceiling with my father. My intent had been to be at work by 8 am this morning, and get through the mountain of paperwork that has been covering my desk lately while making an endless number of phone calls to subdivision and condo trustees to earn bids for the company. But before I even made it into the bathroom to wash my face I learned that today was the last day with the dry wall lift and my dad planned on spending the day finishing the garage ceiling.  It doesn't take a genius to conclude that this is not a single person job in any way, shape, or form. Twelve foot pieces of sheetrock/drywall strategically balanced on a wobbly lift positioned another 6' overhead, while one person attempts to locate each stud and quickly install as many screws as possible before the greater portion of the upper body cramps up completely, is definitely a situation in which it would be best to have a companion present. So fate had stepped in, and now here I am covered in dust about as dirty as our garage floor (a floor which regardless of the continued efforts of both my parents to keep it swept up, has accumulated several layers of dirt, sawdust, sheetrock dust, and insulation dust over the last two weeks), and persisting in boosting my motivation to return to the scene and continue to install sheetrock screws despite the protestations of my aching arms. 
 
The job would not seem so daunting were it not for the activities of yesterday afternoon. A pleasant day and very rewarding as a friend and I managed to clean off around six very large sections of parquet floor within a few hours. Had the cleaning merely consisted of a mop and bucket the ceiling today would be much closer to completion, but yesterdays cleaning entailed hours of chiseling away at duct tape residue with a utility knife blade. Skin So Soft has many unknown uses, one of which is aiding in loosening and removing gum, tape, or glue residue of any kind. (My favorite shirt as a kid was a bright yellow and white plaid shirt in a cowboy style, a style I'm surprised to see popular once again, which I wore nearly every chance I could. On one occasion I had worn it out with my favorite pair of jeans to a work social held by my dad's office. With hundreds of kids running around we all had to wear name tags much to my dismay, and rightly justified, as the tag remained on my shirt later that afternoon when my mom shoved it in the laundry to hopefully remove the grass and sweat stains it had earned at the picnic. Unfortunately name tags and washing machines, or dryers for that matter, are not a great match and my poor shirt came out with name tag glue stuck all over the left front breast pocket. Enter the magic Skin So Soft, two years later. No more sticky name tag glue, and a perfectly restored shirt. As luck would have it I had grown enough since then to miss out on another two years of good wear-ability. Or maybe not so unfortunately.)

Skin So Soft worked then and it worked fabulously now on our beautiful parquet floor. Duct tape, residue and tar (from the underside of the pieces that were stacked together) were successfully removed with a great deal of elbow grease. Apparently my arms have escaped my daily workout and found that the scrubbing motions of many hours worth of work was enough to last for that week. I wasn't about to leave for work picturing my father balancing on our old, rickety wooden ladder with 100lbs of sheetrock positioned on one metal pole over his head pushing in as many screws as possible. One more day off of work wasn't going to hurt, especially if it meant finishing the garage ceiling by the end of the day. I must say that my dad deserves a standing ovation for the work he has done over the last month. Nothing like sticking in a bit of sentimentality here, but honestely, my folks are nothing shy of awe inspiring. They would never complain about the hours they keep or the work they have to do but I will boast about them. I doubt either one has had more than 4-5 hours a sleep a night over the last month and a half and my mom spends her days juggling three different full time jobs all under one job title, which includes dancing for nearly six hours strait in the afternoon to come home and work for another 4 hours on construction while my dad has spent a great deal of his time here trying to keep the momentum going by installing floors, building walls, putting up insulation or whatever job needs to be completed that day, while completing contracts for work and driving in and out of the city to meet with a variety of companies wanting to bid on any upcoming contracts he may be working on.

I have the greatest respect for my parents and I know we are all eager to see this project completed. For now I'm going to force my aching body, nowhere near what my parents have to deal with, out of my chair and back to the garage to hopefully see the ceiling covered by the end of the day. Once I figure out how to make my Powershot compatible with the darling operating system on my borrowed laptop, or I make it back into work, I'll be sure to add on a few pictures to give you a better idea of the extent of work currently underway. Until then my descriptive narratives will have to suffice. Keep your fingers crossed, one month down...two weeks to go. Here's a link to a few more photos to check out!
http://picasaweb.google.com/stephalioto/OurConstructionProject?feat=directlink 

A Celtic Evening

This post is long overdue and for that I am sending out many apologies. My return visit to the Fabulous Fox theater was just as enjoyable as the first. So on November 3, 2009 I donned my new handmade tartan gown and made my way excitedly to my first Celtic Thunder Concert. (yes I was just as ridiculously giddy as I sound. Even at a ripe 28 I have my starstruck 16 year old flashbacks)

Although I had not anticipated the thrill of watching Chris Botti from the orchestra pit back in September, I had been anxiously, anticipating the Celtic Thunder concert for several months.  Pledge drive arrived in June '09, and I was on the phone the first morning guaranteeing that I had my ticket for the November concert. That first conversation began my volunteering with PBS, and got me a ticket to see Celtic Thunder. Having loved Celtic music for years it wasn't hard to become a fan of five handsome men singing some of my favorite music, but the variety of talent these men have, and each a great in his own genre, only adds to the value, charisma, and character of the group. Paul Byrom, and his classic opera stylings send shivers of delight down any listeners spine. George Donaldson's upbeat, yet ofttimes sentimental, and inspiring folk tunes bring a smile to your face and a tear to your eye. Damian McGinty offers the audience sheer delight and thoughts of "yesteryear" with his classic oldies, Keith Harkin's genuine surfer style produces the ideal setting for both traditional Irish tune and original work, and Ryan Kelly's energetic pop hits make you once again remember why good girls fall for the bad boys. Watching individual performances could present initial misgivings at the ability of these five performers to blend as well for the group numbers, yet the perfect harmonization, and brilliant dynamics in their rousing performances of Caledonia, Irelands Call, Take Me Home and many others illustrate the phenomenal musicality of the group as a unit. The CT band is just as much fun to watch as listen to as they interact with one another and the singers. Entertainment value of the show is truly immeasurable as George, Paul, Ryan, Keith and Damian smoothly transition through each song with growing energy and exuberance. The stage and audience is alive with laughter, as the performers react to one another and the audience as well. Celtic Thunder has been significantly surprised at their own success, but to see a show you could hardly doubt that these men still have a great deal more coming to them. They remain ever gracious and appreciative of their fans and still as altruistic as they were before the fame.

The meet and greet while sadly brief and a bit cramped was enjoyable to survey and I managed to grab a few fun pictures for the books. George and Damian were complete gentlemen to the fortunate meet and greet guests, signing autographs and giving hugs to each and every star struck PBS member. I can't say I wasn't a bit star struck myself but the job at hand kept me on the sidelines. Looking forward to seeing what the future has in store for this dynamic and immensely talented group!   Hope you fellow PBS members enjoy the pictures! Look for me at future events and you'll be sure to find more fun memories captured on film and posted here!

Returning home

Eleven out of twelve months of the year my children and I enjoy the comforts of what is affectionately known as "the cottage." With its endless windows, enticing window seat, minimal electricity, charming kitchenette sans running water and a determined little wood stove, it's almost easy to forget it once served as a rickety old garage. Most winters pass with the dear wood stove performing it's best to keep us warm, but with recent temperatures dropping far below the average for Missouri, the kids and I have taken up temporary residence within my parents darling century old farmhouse. While my sister is away pursuing the advantages of a college education we have taken over, a bit regrettably, her room. This room has seen several loving tenants, first of which was me ten years ago when we first laid down roots on our eight acres. Moving back into my old room is a bit surreal as it no longer bears any memory of my long erased residence. But at the same time I find myself remembering late nights spent hunched over my algebra homework, photo shoots with my friends and my closet full of odd hats, jamming to music that echoed through every thin wall in the house and most of all the last two months of my senior year in high school. The cottage has become the setting for a whole new set of memories that could fill a book, but my room, regardless of its new modern decor, is home. Rather than the source of childhood memories it is comfort and solitude. Where I spent hours mooning over crushes, chatting with friends, and where I returned to when I found I wasn't as prepared for college as I had originally anticipated. I've been home with my kids for over three and a half years now and until I moved into my room, although temporary, there was a piece of home missing. I left so abruptly that there was a chapter that wasn't finished, as sentimental and funny as that may sound. Now my apartment is about to be finished and I have a whole new fresh start waiting for me with my kids on my own. While yes I'm simply over the garage and my folks are a mere staircase and hallway away, the luxury of having everything I need within one space offers, finally, a new sense of independence and responsibility. The cottage will regain its rightful position as playroom and the wood stove can return to temporary status during the winter for small parties, and snowy afternoon escapes. Each return visit within its chilly or green house like state, depending on the season, will send vivid pictures of late nights awake wondering at the scrapings over my head, game nights with friends and french bread pizza's, St Patty's day birthday parties and cool nights hovered by the fire drinking hot cocoa. Or even more appealing running into the house in the dead of night with a child clinging to my arms under below freezing temperatures praying that we can make it to the bathroom before a tiny bladder decides to give out; carrying trays laden with food and drinks freshly cooked and attempting, rather unsuccessfully not to trip over the many uprooted bricks that line the walkway from the house to the cottage door. My return home wasn't the easiest decision I've ever made, my pride and independent nature had a few things to say on the matter but I'll never regret the decision. And I can't wait to listen to the memories my kids relay to me when they have a chance to visit their childhood home.

innocent as babes

My son has long since recognized the tone adapted that foretells impending doom. His defensive tactics of late have been to promptly assume an angelic expression as well as vocal tone and promptly utter "I didn't do it" before any accusations have even been made. Reminding me all to well of my brothers response to most tense moments under our own mothers stare. But unlike my brother he has yet to realize the implications in defending himself in such a manner. My daughter on the other hand coolly observes her brother dig an early grave, analyzing each response both Miguel and I provide, and when the odds are tipped in her favor, produces an innocent response that will fully relieve her of any disapproval I may have initially bestowed on her. An apologetic but guilty confession, taking the blame off her brother, at this point means my anger has already been spent elsewhere and she receives a much lighter punishment, if any at all. Granted in many situations Miguel is the guilty party after having been pushed to his breaking point, by his loving sister who enjoys testing every line and limit. She has mastered the art of waiting until she is not under the watchful eye of any authoritative figure and initiating the silent movie version of Sherman's march to the sea. Somewhere along the line the talkie is introduced and Miguel is left holding the fire. Years from now I have no doubt they will enjoy hours of reminiscing over the trouble they gave each other and got in.

I've no explanation for the insane cycle that my mother refuses to break of placing out an endless supply of mouse traps only to fall victim to their adorable nature once one manages to spring the trap over a single appendage. We then spend hours contemplating the fate of the tortured rodent while watching it struggle to get free growing increasingly agitated over its condition but not compassionate enough to release it back into the house to wreak continued havoc among my mothers kitchen utensils, and clothing. Eventually my father is brought into the equation to dispose of the innocent animal in a form unknown to my mom and I. The regret at placing the traps out in the first place lasts all of two hours until holes torn from a favorite garment are discovered and the ruthless trapping ritual returns.