Finding Blanche
Nothing stays the same.What a difference a day makes.
The sun is shining.
The coffee tastes great.
I know what needs to get done today – and it seems possible.
I have great friends and a wonderful family.
I am grateful for all these things. And more.
Do you ever?
I’m decisive.
I know what I like. What I want.
But there are times when what I decide I want, I want because it’s what I need to want. Know what I mean? I mean, if what I really want is just not going to happen, not reasonable, not possible… I can get to that place where I want what is reasonable and rational to want.
Every once in a while, that paradigm gets tossed on its butt.
And then, for just a little while, just a little bit, I want what it’s not reasonable to want.
Crazy things happen.
Sometimes.
Rest in peace.
I had a friend in college who was, by many accounts, one of the nicest guys in the world. He was smart, had a wicked sense of humor and a way about him that put everyone at ease. Sure, he was a little quirky. Weren’t we all. And in him, it was endearing.
I probably would never have had contact with him again had it not been for Facebook. We had no falling out. We just didn’t cross paths and, for some reason, didn’t keep in touch. There was no event. It just happened. As it often does.
But he found me on Facebook a while back.
And we’d chat and comment on each others’ statuses. He was still a funny guy. A funny guy who loved his wife and daughters.
And then, suddenly and tragically, he died on August 25.
But there was still Facebook. The comments and outpouring of love and memories were astounding. Like a voyeur, I read what the people who were still close to him had to say and felt their sadness and loss. I wasn’t surprised that so many people loved him.
On his birthday, September 25, I got the birthday reminder on my page. He’d been gone a month already. I popped over to his page and saw all the messages to him. Part of me felt joy that his friends and family had this great outlet and, frankly, part of me felt a little skeeved out. I mean, people were still writing to him as if he could read it. It felt a little odd to me. But still, mostly good. And I know all the intent was good. I imagine that it’s comforting to his family to continue to see so many people think of him on a daily basis.
But I got this yesterday. Help make Facebook better for him.
And then today, I got the message that I hadn’t talked to him lately.
So I clicked on over to see his page and it seems that lots of people got that message. And many decided to write something on his wall.
And I’m really starting to wonder… maybe there is Facebook up there.
And maybe he really does see that his friends have held him close. And that they think about him all the time.
Rain.
Water drops by Sue Taylor
Sometimes, I hate the rain. I don’t like that soggy feeling. Don’t like getting my shoes wet. And it makes me sad.
But there are other times, like today, that the sound of the rain is sweet and comforting as I sip on a cup of green tea and sit at my desk with a fire in the fireplace.
It’s peaceful.
The Rebbetzin Rocks.
Several years ago, I started reading a blog called Reflections of a Rabbi’s Wife. It was eerie how often I agreed with her, despite our day to day differences. And I loved her sense of humor, her practical ways, and more. She’d read this blog and comment. I’d read hers. We became…friends.
We even (drumroll, please) started emailing each other.
And then, she decided to stop being anonymous and she told the world who she was.
Leah.
Now, she writes (among others) The Rebbetzin Rocks.
And while I have felt we were friends for some time now, we’d never met.
But today, we did.
What a day!
The kids played outside. We made pizza on the grill. We laughed and took pix (these were good. the others? not so much!). It was like we just met and like we’ve always known each other.
In other words, a perfect day.
Schlameel, Schlamazell, Hofenpepper Incorporated.
Does Andrew make a great Laverne, or what?
We had a blast at the party last night even though we lost The Newlywed Game big time. Well, I guess that’s no surprise. I didn’t even know my beloved liked to cross-dress so what the heck do I know?
I did learn that Four Roses bourbon is really smooth.
And I learned that everyone likes pigs-in-blankets.
And I learned (okay, I was reminded) that a night out with good friends sure can turn the week around.
And I was also reminded that I prefer my hub with facial hair. (He had to shave to make the costume work.)
On his list today? Grow it back.
It’s that time of year again.
Basketball.
Here we go again! It’s the first week of practice and, I have to say, I’m kind of excited about it.
I love the echo of the bouncing balls at practice. I love seeing my guys play and improve.
But today, what is most exciting is looking at this group of boys and seeing that Reed is the tallest kid.
His odds were iffy. My dad is not tall. I’m average. But Andrew and his dad are 6′ and 6′2″ respectively. And my grandfather was also over 6′.
There are good basketball players who aren’t tall, but it doesn’t hurt.
As I sit here and watch, I see these boys – at their first practice, with new kids – working their butts off. They are sweaty and their faces are red.
I can only imagine the smell that will linger as we drive home after they finish playing.
But it’s worth it.
Some days are better than others.
I have three happy boys.
Well, most of the time, that is.
Each manages his school work, schedule, and responsibilities. Of course, we’re here to help, but we rarely get asked. In fact, just yesterday a friend asked me what my eldest was doing in math class and I sheepishly answered, “I don’t know.” (He is finishing the quarter with an A, though.) At any rate,
I am not a micro-manager.
I think my job is to teach my guys to handle their workload, manage their time, have fun, be part of the community, and to be a vital, integral part of the family. And by all accounts, I was doing quite well.
Until.
Two nights ago, one son cried himself to sleep after procrastinating on a long-term project. He finished it, but couldn’t get to his English homework. I hugged him and loved him and let him cry. The next morning, he woke himself up an hour early and finished his English homework. And he left for school singing.
It wasn’t easy, but I knew I’d done right by him.
Fast forward to right this minute.
A different son is sitting at the computer crying. Crying might be an exaggeration. Whimpering might be a better word. Yeah, that’s it. Whimpering.
He had 30 profiles to do for science. He was given the assignment weeks ago. He rushed home the day it was assigned and did five. Or ten. Not sure. But still lots more to do.
Every nice afternoon, he make the conscious decision to put it off. I (kindly) suggested that he do several a day because those things can pile up and bite you in the… (I did NOT say that. But thought it for sure.)
So today. He had his snack. Did his math homework. And then realized that the 22 profiles that were not complete are due on Monday. And tonight is the last school night in that equation. (There’s no school on Friday due to the end of the marking period.) So if it’s not finished tonight, he has to do it on a “weekend” night.
Well, that just plain sucks.
But you know what? That’s how it is. And though I want to hug him up and tell him that I’ll help him, I won’t.
He got himself into this *knowingly* and he’ll get out of it.
But I’m not saying it’s easy. It’s not.
I just hope that this truly is a learning opportunity for him. I sure don’t want to do this again.
Night sky.
Moody evening sky by witten
Night sky coming in
Cold and sad and very dark
Blends in with my mood
