Reasons for blogging (and they are not what you might think)

And so I begin again. Why is writing so hard to make a habit? I wander off from here, then return. Weeks and days go by. Life continues. No one reads this, I tell myself, so why bother?

Here are some reasons for 'bothering' to blog:

1) For my son. Zach thinks there are many, many people who read this. And of course, I do not want to let him down. He actually thinks I blog, but that is another story. I cannot lie to him too much. It will damage his psyche or something.

So this happens yesterday: he bought blue racquetballs because they bounce super high. In the bouncing frenzy that followed, he mentioned that it would be cool if the president of the company who made the bouncy racquetballs, read my blog. And then if I posted pictures of him, and the president saw the photos, that would be so cool.

My son has a serious thing for celebrity...his own. And it is all available to him through my blog, facebook and twitter accounts.

2) To keep records. Reading Ali Edwards blog, changes me. Also, her spirit and her funny words and her art and her stories and photos and cooking. I know stories about these women, more sometimes than I recall about my own family.

Blogging helps me record *precious moments* such as (hunting story to follow--skip below if you do not like them!) when my husband shot his first doe with a bow in our very own backyard. And how my favorite words out of his mouth were this: "Since I shot it in the shoulder instead of further back, it didn't bleed as much and that is why she kept running. I couldn't see which direction she ran. Then I saw one hoof print and one drop of blood, then I knew. I tracked her down with just that." What a man. He was so excited. And I was happy for him. Truly.

Until tonight when I forgot about the uh, blood on the LAWN, and let Tyson out without a leash. I was not happy for him when Tyson came IN MY HOUSE with bloody feet from the rainy yard--the BLOOD from the night before. I was not happy for him when Tyson also left a small trail of an UNKNOWN SUBSTANCE from the bloody yard on my rug in the hall.

And now I have written it down and will remember it for all time. Isn't that precious?

3) To waste time. Yes, indeed. With Dan gone four days out of the week to the other side of the state, I can do this at night. Excellent. I get to stay up later than I need to, hone in on my writing skills, entertain myself, and well, use this to avoid whatever else that I was going to do every evening. I did that this summer and it worked so well! Gotta get back to doing it.

Wasting time. It's not just for college students anymore.

Welcome back. Oh, that was for me, but I welcome you back as well. Dan, if you are the only one reading this, I welcome you back--see I wrote about you! You are now as famous as Zach. And by Thursday night I will have forgiven you for the bloody mess on my carpet that was indirectly your fault. Although I could have used your help wrangling that dog all by myself as I tried to wash his paws off with a washcloth and soap. Remember how much he hates his feet touched?! Let's just pray for heavy rain tonight. And that Zach, your famous son, does not forget to take Tyson out on a leash. Love you!

All I know to do is keep on walkin'

There are times when the world spins so fast that you feel as if you tipped one way or another, you would fall off. The that slightest move or misstep would put you flat on your face. I was writing this post in my head yesterday as I spun around yet one more time. It's been busy this past summer: juggling work stuff, going on vacation, keeping the home fires burning while Dan works out of town during the week, getting Zach ready for middle school, my dad's surgery, my mom's two surgeries...I needed give myself a break last night.

Instead I came home to a post on Facebook that a friend's husband had been killed in a car accident earlier in the day. She and her husband have two kids, one in 4th and one in 9th.

You hear news like that and your own troubles disappear. You only want to hold those you love, to take away the pain for your friend. It makes me want to yell at God. This is the second time this year that a friend has lost a spouse and both have been very near my own age. Their children should have both parents. These couples should have been able to celebrate golden wedding anniversaries. I simply couldn't stop crying last night. Heartache and pain in so many people's lives this year--cancer in both adults and children, jobs lost, death.

Because of my love for music, songs often come to me during hard times that I need to hear. Thanks, God, for the instant messaging. :-) Take a listen to Somewhere Down the Road. It is truly one of my favorite Amy Grant songs and the lyrics are wonderful. Somewhere down the road we will know the answers. It's just so hard waiting for them in the meantime.

A red mower

When I was a high schooler, my dad decided that I could help mow the lawn every week. I was the prissiest girl on the street and I simply did not mow lawns. As a small girl, I had stepped on a large bee while barefoot and never had the desire to go outside again. Playing on the grass was full of the unknown, so whenever possible I protected myself. Shoes all the time. Blanket forts under the slide so that I wouldn't get dirty nor have to touch creepy bugs. No sweating. So, yeah, you can imagine the mowing idea didn't go over too well.

We had a red pushmower that looked ancient even then. My job was only to mow the front yard, but it was huge! Of course now, going back home I see that it would have taken me 15 minutes tops, but at the time you would have thought it was a field. I remember having serious issues starting that old contraption. You had to pull the chord back fast with some oomph or it wouldn't start. I would get so angry while trying to start it. It hated me, you see. And the darn thing was heavy! A skinny 10th grade girl was powerless to push it fast, so it took me forever to get it done. I grumbled and complained at every turn. Those were long, sticky, humid Indiana summers...

While Dan was out of town, I mowed my own lawn. The grass was threatening to overtake my house, so it had to be done. I've definitely mowed it before--the riding mower is such a treat compared to the red beast of my youth. But that night, I actually enjoyed it! (Dan is now reading this and thinking that he will concoct an evil plan to get me to mow every week, I'm sure). The temps were cooling down, there was a nice breeze and everything was so green. Our yard is surrounded by pine trees and they are getting so tall that it felt cavelike in the yard. I did see my share of creatures: two garter snakes (one I accidentally chopped up) and a big frog. And yes, I did scream when I ran over the garter snake.

It's interesting how years can make the same chore seem different. How age can sneak up on us and instead of hating something, we enjoy it. Instead of our parents taking care of us, we are taking care of them. Instead of mowing the lawn ourselves, we get our kids to do it. The circle of life is really here, isn't it?

My dad recently had surgery and found out he has colon cancer. I stayed at my old home during that time and walked around the yard with my dog. So many memories flooded back: the place where my sister's hamster was buried, the thin line of a garden that hasn't been planted in 30 years, the place where my swing set used to stand, the odd cinder block patio my dad built where the red charcoal grill used to stand, the sound of my sister laughing and running in the yard, the trees that I remember planting that are now taller than the house. It's all there. Where did time go? How can we stand in those places and feel as if it was only yesterday? How can we have the courage to move ahead into the unknown? I'm not sure, but I think it might be lurking just around the corner.

Chatterbox

He was only gone a week. Scenes from conversations with an 11.5 year old boy about his week with grandma. See why it was so quiet around the house?

1. Zach: Mom, I want MEAT. Nanny didn't feed me any and I miss it. Can we have it tonight? Me: No, Zach. We are on a road trip home and I do not have any thawed out to grill. Plus, it's late. We'll get subs on the way home. Zach: I need BBQ. Or STEAK. Or sooomethinnnggg with MEAT. I just can't figure out why they didn't feed me any. It's just not like them. They always feed me ribs. I wonder why they didn't this time. (Sigh)

2. If I heard it once, I heard it 20 times before bed last night: Mom, there was this commercial I saw and it was so funny...it went like this...(proceed to fall apart in giggles). Me: Did you watch a lot of TV at Nanny's? Zach: No. I mean yes. Maybe. Kind of. But they have the hunting channel. I like that one.

3. Zach: I have this memory of the sun shining down on me and Poppa and we are laying with our heads on McKenzie. It's like a picture in my head, Mom.

4. Zach: I was thinking about when we used to go in the hot tub at Nanny and Poppa's old house. OH! And I remember Poppa sitting in the hot tub and you could see his fat belly sticking out of the water and I was swimming around. Huh. I haven't thought of that before until just this minute. Did they move that hot tub to the cabin? Where is it? Me: You have been to the cabin three times now and you just stayed there for a week, did you see it? Zach: No, I thought I just hadn't found it yet. Me: It stayed at the old house. You can't move a hot tub. Zach: Oh. They... SOLD THAT HOUSE???? Me: Oh. My.

5. Zach: One time, when I was at Nanny's, I was playing with Max (the cat) and he really likes me. He spits sometimes, but then he will sit on my lap. And he likes that new toy I made him with the string. Sometimes, when I was reading while I was at Nanny's, in the loft--you know in that bed up there? Max would come up the stairs and sit there waiting for me to go play with him. Max will miss me so much. He never even scratched me when he was spitting. He doesn't have front claws.

Glad to have you home where you belong, big guy.

On redemption

Back home after a whirlwind trip to my in-laws cabin and to my sister's house. Zach needed to be picked up from a week spent with Nanny and Mike, so off I went with Tyson (he navigates from the backseat when he is not snoring).

The in-laws recently built a lovely cabin on some adjacent family property to the house where Dan grew up. There are stories on every corner of this land: from November deer hunts with Dan's dad, forts built by the 'crick' as it is called in these parts, a bear sighting by Dan and his brother, and numerous other exploits by boys too brave for their own good. Grandma & Grandpa's house was up the hill on another piece of land and Dan tells of days spent there away from his parents' prying eyes. His grandparents had plenty of farm animals and didn't miss an opportunity to feed their growing boys. What more could a boy want?

Dan's dad passed away several years ago and when his mom remarried, the dream was to build this cabin and sell the original house. As adult children, you wonder and worry and yell when a parent wants to remarry after the death of your father. Dan certainly did. Change is never easy especially when it involves emotional ties. But after this weekend, I will say that my worries about Mike, the step-dad, are subsiding. Okay, so yes, it's been years since they married, but the trust doesn't come easy when you loved your father (or father-in-law) so deeply. No one could take his place.

You see the other thing about Mike is that he has a past. Mike had screwed up his life before he met my mother-in-law. He'd divorced after several kids. He'd had an affair. He drank too much. He was in jail for something that I will probably never know. He does not have relationships with his adult kids. He had terrible anger issues. He smoked. He seemed to be a gold digger to a widow who didn't have any money. The trust would not come easy. It would need to be proven over time.

He immediately took to Zach when he married into the family. Zach was at an age where anyone was fun who would play with him and so they bonded. And of course, Zach does not know about Mike's past. As the years have gone by, their relationship has grown and developed. I asked Zach once if he felt Mike had taken the place of Poppa. He said no--his relationship with Mike was special. Just special, that's all. Last summer when Zach spent the week, the two of them camped in a tent out in the yard. Big fun. Last week, Mike called in sick to work so that he could spend an afternoon with Zach while he was staying with them for the week. He took Zach around to an enormous cattle ranch, a friend's farm and to McDonald's. Only the two of them. When I asked Mike why he had called into work, he said this..."Zach is growing up. He might not want to spend summers with us many more years from now. I wanted to hang out with him while I had the chance."

His words cut to my heart. Here is a man who does not have adult children visit him. Here is a man who tells his wife not to buy the other grandkids gifts for Christmas since he never sees them anyway. The grandkids don't know him and his children don't want them to have anything to do with him. Here is a man who has made huge mistakes in his life and who has one last shot at redemption. A boy who doesn't know Mike's past, accepts him for who is is now. Nothing more, nothing less.

Redemption is indeed a gift.

10 Things That Make Me Happy

10 things that make me happy on a Friday:

1. Sunshine on my shoulder
2. Biggby Coffee
3. A massage at the chiropractor and the promise that we'll work to "get that back better"
4. That Dan wasn't hurt when his driver in China wrecked their car. Don't know extent of damage or circumstance but I am sure there is a story or two about the police station.
5. Going to pick up my boy Zach today. I might not recognize him. He may have grown a foot and his hair will be long and shaggy. He needed a haircut before he left, so now it must be all crazy!
6. My leather ring with the leather pink flower on it
7. Daughtry's new music which begs me to question...if I downloaded it from itunes is it still considered a CD? Or does that happen only when it is burned to a CD or you purchase it as a CD? Ah, the world of music in 2009.
8. The potential for an ice cream snack as I drive to pick up Zach. It might not happen, but it could. Wouldn't you like to know?
9. New books to read this week from the library: The Help by Kathryn Stockett and The Guernsey Literary & Potato Peel Pie Society by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows.
10. My four nieces. I will get to see them on Sunday and hang out with them for 24 hours and embrace all their girlness. Love, love, love that.

Have a great weekend. Go get ice cream right now. You know you want to!

Our little Bubba

Since all week it has been pretty much me and the dog around here, I thought it high time he make an appearance on the blog. Tyson is a Boxer and he is almost 12 years old. Yes, he is old. Yes, he is grey. And yes, he still acts like a toddler.

Tyson is the son of McKenzie who was our first dog. She died two years ago and I miss her every day. She was our first--baby or dog--and we spoiled her rotten. We were determined that she be a good dog and enrolled her in obedience school. And she failed twice. In the end, she was a good girl and obedient to the core. Her son, well, that apple fell far from that tree.

Okay, my husband would disagree with me because Tyson listens to him. Very well actually. He will give Dan the evil eye sometimes and heave a big sigh when told to stop or to do something, but he will do it. With me, when Dan is out of the house--even to walk to the mailbox--Tyson needs to share everything with me. LOUDLY. Dan says it is because I am a pushover, but I have tried. People, I have tried to use the firm voice or the Dog Whisperer Rules or any other pull-me-up-by-the-straps firmness that I can muster. He still barks at me.

I should rephrase. His barking is not random. He really is telling me something when he speaks. Here is the common theme,"I see the treats on top of the fridge. I know that you gave me one as you always do when you come home. But it is an hour later and I have slept on the couch and I have decided that I would like another." And so on, until he has decided that he wants my dinner or he wants to walk or he needs to go outside or he wants to lay on the deck in the sun. Did I mention he does this LOUDLY?

Don't get my wrong. This boy is my dog. And of course that is why he barks. Yes, I am indeed a pushover. Frankly, when he was a pup I was too tired to argue. He was born six months before my son and during Tyson's terrible puppy stage, I was learning the schedules of a newborn. Tyson probably had to speak loud to me in order to get my attention as I fed Zach and slept on the couch between feedings. No wonder he's like this.

He doesn't bark all the time though. The other thing he does quite well these days is sleep. Poor guy, I guess getting old bites. When he was a puppy and I was still pregnant, I was told to lay on my left side to reduce the swelling that I was beginning to show all over my big self. Guess where Tyson decided was the prime seat in the house? In the curve of my leg by my knee. It's still his comfort place to this day.

Crazy creature that he is, we wouldn't trade him for anything. In fact, knowing that this is probably our last year or so with him pains me. I can't think about it or I will cry. I never had a dog growing up and now I cannot imagine my life without that furry bundle of joy no matter how much he drives me crazy. He's been comfort when I was sad, kept me warm on many a cold Michigan night, made me belly laugh at some of his antics, and kept me company when I was lonely. Our little Bubba is my honey dog and I don't know what I would have done without him all these years.

What's that? Oh, I'm sure he wants another treat. Sorry he's so loud.