Hello August

Oh my.  Is it THAT time of year again?  Funny how the start of school doesn't have the significance it once had.  Oh sure, Patrick is starting at the end of this month.  his Sophomore year in High School - if that doesn't seem impossible enough.  But Casey works from home, Tim (we hope) and Cailin will be working, and I'm working... no house to myself.  No deep sigh for the sheer enjoyment of having the house to myself.  I guess this is just another tilt in my world.  Times they are a changin'. 

I'm in a funk.  I need a bit of a change.  I've been giving this some thought... but not a lot of thought.  Not enough to give me a headache or anything.   I need to promise myself a few things. 

I promise:  To take time for myself every week.  To work in my scrap room, to sew a quilt, to take some photos.  Just time doing what I love to do. 

I promise:  To get off my ass and get some blood flowing through these arteries.  I will sign up for a zumba class and FORCE myself to get my heart pumping at least four times a week. 

I promise: To be a better diabetic.  To watch more closely what I am eating, and to dose my insulin more accurately.  I promise not to put off the doctor and to take my lumps like a big girl when I get there. 

Now, lets see how well I hold to that.  I can be such a liar sometimes, especially to myself. 

I love them so

These four have been ruling my kingdom for nearly twenty three years.  Each of them has such wonderful traits, the best parts of Casey and I (and some of the worst too). 

TIM:  Bookish, quiet, insecure, secretly hilarious, angry.  ANNA:  Sweet, loving, giving, spiritual, soulful, soft.  CAILIN:  Funny, quick, difficult, quirky, unique, hip.  PATRICK:  Devilish, kind, charming, responsible, brave.

When Tim was a baby, I thought to myself that I could never love another as much as I loved him.  What I found out, after Annie came along, was that I could love just as shamelessly - just as fiercely - but it would be somehow different for each child.  And so it went with Cailin, and then Paddy.  To not have even one of them in my life would be to chop off an arm.  A leg.  My heart.   

Dear God, thank you for them.  Those kids who make me crazy.  Who make me cry.  Who make me laugh til I pee my pants.  Who I would run to the ends of the earth for (yes, I said "run").  Thank you.

We Are What We Drive

Today, as I was leaving work, I walked into the parking garage behind a stunning, well put- together young woman. Not a hair was out of place. Her scarf hung perfectly balanced around her neck. Her handbag matched her shoes. And the SHOES! She was clack-clack-clacking ahead of me in four inch stilettos. She didn't waver or wobble. She walked with purpose. Head up. I was in awe. Here I was, my coat half on/half off, hair doing god-knows-what on top of my head, and my feet, ungraciously fwop-fwop-fwopping in my sensible flats as I groped up to my elbow in my purse for my keys. (My purse and my shoes are of the same color group.) She did not notice me.

As I trailed behind her, I tried to guess which car was hers. I discovered I was right when she unlocked the door of a white, sparkling clean, two-door-something-I-couldn't-afford. It suited her. Beside her pretty ride sat my very dirty black jeep. Short, squat and in need of a bath. How appropriate, I thought to myself.