Sweet Christmas Memories

The Christmas holiday is almost upon us and I must admit that I am just going through the motions. I pulled off my first shop of the season last night and was quite proud that I actually stuck to the list that I had prepared on the fly. Part of my problems with any kind of shopping is that I always seem to deviate from the plan but I must say that last night was a success. One more time out and I should be finished.
I didn’t bake one cookie this year. But there is still time, and if anything I really need to bake a batch of snowball cookies. Now, that is tradition. But like everything else, traditions change. The kids get older, they tend to want to do their own thing and slowly but surely the traditions seem to fade away. I remember when the high point of Christmas Eve was when Tom pulled out the classic picture book of Twas The Night Before Christmas, and the kids would gather all around as we lit the snowball candle, dimmed the lights, and Tom read from the timeless story. We knew the story by heart but it was our special tradition. Tom passed the book off to Joe probably about three years ago and somehow it ended up back on our bookshelf. I was dusting the bookcase the other day and pulled it out to get a look at the notes that had been scribbled on the inside of the jacket. A scribbled note for each year. It actually brought me back in time. The memories of three little kids, now adults, sitting on the floor with wide eyes as Tom recited the precious story of Santa Claus while sharing the bright illustrations before turning each page. Where has the time gone?
Families need to have more traditions. Spending precious time together whether it is over dinner or while watching a football game. The commercial Nick At Nite has been airing for some time now regarding spending time at the family table is one that is close to my heart. When the kids were growing up I was adamant with everyone sitting down at the table and sharing dinner together. We sat down to dinner every night and we talked about everyone’s day while we ate. This was considered an important part of the day for me and I looked forward to hearing about everyone’s day. And it kept us abreast as to what was going on in each other’s lives.
This year will be a little bit different. It is the first time I am not hosting dinner at my home. My baby sister is doing the honors and quite honestly I don’t think I am going to miss rushing around with the many preparations. I am going to take it easy and enjoy the little ones.
There is something magical about getting up early in the morning with the kids wide eyed expression as they are taking in the decorated tree with all of the pretty wrapped packages beneath. Those are the days I miss and now I get to share them with my grandchildren. Nothing compares to seeing Christmas through a child’s eyes.

Time Waits for no one...

You might ask where all the time has gone. Like quite a few of my rants which begin with - give me back the moment…
I think this all goes back to memories. Time waits for none of us. It goes on and we either keep up with it or fall behind. Tom and I were talking last night, we’re in bed and he’s facing me, Chase is lying between us, which is not unusual as this pup thinks he is human and has as much of a right to my bed as I do. Tom says simply. “Your forties are going fast.”
I was insulted. My forties! As though he’s not in it with me. He’s smiling and I remind him that I do NOT like being reminded of my age, then again name one woman that does. Then I start doing the math, and I don’t like it, this aging thing. Since I have turned forty I have been saying that forty is the new twenty, but who am I kidding? I do NOT feel like I’m twenty, not even close. Then I come to realize, I don’t want to be twenty, so what is all the hype about? Vaguely I remember my mom saying there was nothing wrong with growing old gracefully. Here I am with the Avon ANEW vs. Oil of Olay. I find myself preaching to Jackie about different moisturizers and how she needs to start using these products NOW. And I find myself moisturizing morning, noon, and night. I have different creams for so many different things. When I say that I have at least fifteen different lotions, potions, and creams on my dresser I am not kidding. Not to mention all of those eye creams, eye serums and wrinkle creams. I refuse to grow old gracefully or any other way. In fact, I intend to fight it every step of the way.

Turning forty, kicking ass, and finding independence... Not necessarily in that order...

When have the years begun to blur together? I would have to say most likely after forty. I’ve always been one of those women who shot straight from the hip; at least I had always thought so. Then I turned forty and BANG! Overnight I turned into this bad ass that was through taking crap. And that is putting it nicely. There must have been a switch that was turned on and I became a woman who COULD and WOULD kick your ass should the situation arise.
I’ve always known that I had more balls than most women and even more so when it came to my kids. That is what is called the maternal instinct. Someone messes with your kid and it quickly becomes kick ass time. My motto, “The bigger they are the harder they fall.” I lived it and I sure as hell believed it. I went up against guys that were six feet plus if that meant protecting my kid(s). It’s a jungle out there.
I’ve always been a firm believer in standing up for what is right. It’s easier to go along with the crowd. That’s just the way it is but standing up and being heard is having the balls to stand up for what is right. It’s not always easy. Sometimes you have to admit defeat and that’s all right.
A couple of weeks ago my daughter came up to me and said. “I’m sick of this crap.”
I just looked at her. After all, she’s only twenty five, how much crap are we talking about? Then again I was kicking major ass at her age so I could relate. Then again I also had three kids when I was her age.
“You always had the balls in our family.” She stated simply. “Thank God I take after you.”
I did not disagree. I know for the most part Jackie and I are on the same wave length. She knows where I stand on certain issues and how I shoot straight from the hip. Just because you are my child does NOT automatically make you right in my eyes. I’ve made it crystal clear to ALL of my children just as my mother had made it crystal clear to me.
My mother, God rest her soul, was in her own way, a strong woman. I believe that she taught her children one very important thing and that was independence. I believe that is one of the greatest gifts you can give your child. Granted, it took some of us a little longer to get there but in the long run, getting there is one of the greatest things I have ever achieved. With age comes wisdom. I’ve often heard that youth is wasted on the young and isn’t that the truth…

Living in the Midst of Domestic Violence (1)

Living in the midst of Domestic Violence is like always walking on egg shells. You learn trigger words but those trigger words seem to change all the time. You learn how to read moods but those seem to change just as quickly. There is not one set of rules. For every situation there is another set of rules. This sounds like a dog chasing its tail and believe me it can be. What worked yesterday will not necessarily work today and so on. Talk about quick thinking and when the answer is wrong, guess what? Eruption.

I’ve spent the better part of my life trying to get some kind of handle on this epidemic. Domestic Violence does not discriminate. If it has touched you in some shape or form you can probably relate to this subject and if you haven’t you don’t know how lucky you are. What many people do not realize is that once it happens to you, you are unlikely to ever forget it. Domestic Violence will leave its mark.

So, your boyfriend has pushed, slapped, or smacked you. Did he also tell you that it was your fault that he did it? Did he tell you how you pushed for a beating? Or maybe he apologized and said how he’d never do it again. All forms of Domestic Violence. It usually starts small. It begins with a push or a shove. Maybe some name calling, (Verbal Abuse) added to the mix. It begins gradually which is how many women get caught in its clutches. You can try to rationalize every move you make but you will never make any sense out of it.

What to do? Get out while you still can. For Immediate Assistance:
National Domestic Violence Hotline:
1-800-733-SAFE (7233) or
1-800-787-3224 (TTY)
National Center for Victims of Crime:
1-800-394-2255

It only takes a moment...

It only takes a moment… A single heart stopping moment and tragedy can strike. I have always heard that, have always known that, and last night I lived that. But to think that it had all been avoidable makes it even harder to digest. The price of going on automatic pilot can quite literally cause tragedy to strike.
It began as an ordinary day. I got up, took care of the pups, showered and went to work. Another ordinary day at work. But there was a difference; around noon my blood sugar must have nosedived as I got the shakes big time. I ate lunch and grabbed some candy to stop the shakiness. I went home, took out the pups in the yard, and played a game of baby (ball) with Chase and Chelsea. I don’t know how Chase had injured his back paw but he had been limping a little but other than that I just thought he needed to walk it off. I go back to work, come home, and start dinner. Chelsea was underfoot but whenever there is food Chelsea is underfoot. I checked on Chase quickly and spotted him in his bed right under the computer. There was nothing unusual about that. I go about preparing dinner happy in the fact that Tom and I can have some alone time as the kids are working.
I have everything almost ready when Tom gets in. I freeze when I hear, “What is wrong with Chase, he can’t stand up.” He could not put his weight on his back foot. You know me with my hotline numbers. I know we will be going to the vet tonight. I get on the phone with the vet and we have an appointment in an hour. You know those are usually the longest hours of your life.
By this time we wolf down dinner and I carry Chase out to the car. Anyone who knows us knows how Chase dislikes the vet with a passion and almost always works himself into a tailspin when we go.
The doctor sees him and thank God it’s nothing serious. Chase will be put on an anti-inflammatory pill and needs to stay off the foot. I take care of the bill while Tom takes Chase outside and then we head for home.
Once at home and that’s where things go awry. By awry I mean a tragedy almost happened. Jackie had already prepared Chase’s meal and I wanted to get the pill into him ASAP. Rushing around I grab the pill bottle from my bag and head to the kitchen where I get a piece of bologna from the fridge and toss in the pill as well as Chase’s ¼ pill (Cosequin) which is glucosamine for dogs.
Chase has finished dinner and while I am getting ready to head out the door for my three mile walk I reach for my handbag. Usually I just toss it into my gym bag but instead I reach inside and pull out a bottle of pills. I look at the green bottle in a state of shock as I race for the kitchen where Chase’s meds are kept in a Mukasa candy dish on the table and my heart hit the floor. In with his meds is one of my bottles of pills. If you could understand for the briefest of seconds how my heart felt as though it had stopped. I had given Chase one of my Ibuprofen pills. To say I freaked out would be an understatement for the way I reacted. I got the vet’s office on the phone and was told by one of the girls that all the doctors were gone for the evening. Not what I wanted to hear. I knew what needed to be done. Chase needed to throw up that pill but I needed to know how to make him do that. The young girl gave me the number of the emergency vet which was a couple of towns away. I was afraid there wouldn’t be time. This woman who answered the phone was the sweetest woman I have spoken to in a long time. She knew how distraught I was. She knew the guilt I felt without me saying it aloud though I did, more than once. I didn’t have time to feel devastated by what I had done. I had to make it right.
Her name is Cathy, and she talked me through the whole ordeal. Jackie was running for the hydrogen peroxide, which I didn’t know if we had any. I was to give Chase ½ tablespoon and wait five minutes. If he didn’t vomit, I could repeat that process. My hands were shaking so bad that I spilled at least ¼ cup all over the kitchen table. Chase was fighting me tooth and nail. He didn’t want to take the peroxide, not that I blamed him. But this was life or death and I forced it down his throat. Cathy, bless her heart, was on the phone with us the entire time. She said it wasn’t going to be a pretty job but I had to look for that pill carefully when the contents of what was in his belly came up. This was my pup I would have no problem doing what needed to be done to save his life. And not even a minute later, which seemed an eternity, Chase gave up dinner all over the kitchen floor. Tom held him still, while Jackie stood by. I was on the floor and thank God on the bottom of the pile there was that blessed piece of bologna with both pills still wrapped tightly inside and completely intact.
A little while later I sat on the couch with Chase cradled in my arms the gym long forgotten. At that point in time the only thing that mattered to me was the fact that Chase would be all right.
I still couldn’t believe how careless I had been. I was angry with myself so no one had to tell me how I screwed up because I already knew it. All it takes is a split second. Your life can change in a split second because of stupidity. And this had to be stupidity at its finest. Chase has forgiven me; the problem is that I haven’t forgiven myself.
Thinking about it all in retrospect I cringe but what really stands out well beyond the fact that it was a careless thing to do is the fact that usually I toss my handbag into my gym bag and just head out to the gym. What made me reach into my handbag a second time? There wasn’t any reason for me to do so; there was nothing I needed at that moment. I know it was God leading me by the hand to find that bottle of pills otherwise I would have gotten a call from Tom that wouldn’t have been pretty because had we not caught this in time there was no doubt in my mind that Chase would not have made it. So why did I reach into my handbag a second time? Beyond the shadow of a doubt it was God showing me the horrible mistake I had made. Sometimes we have an intuition or a feeling or a vibe and we just shrug it off. Maybe we just need to be still for a moment and let God lead us.
This morning when I gave Chase his pills he wasn’t falling for the bologna bit. He knew there were pills in that bologna and he spit them out along with the bologna. When people say that dogs don’t remember they don’t know what they are talking about. Chase remembers the details clearly so now I think I might have to switch from bologna to chicken and quite honestly I know there won’t be a problem with that choice of meat as Chase loves chicken.

October is Domestic Violence Awareness

Domestic Violence in a nutshell…

Only turtles live in a shell. So do battered women. For years I’ve tried to understand how I had lived in one of those shells. I tried to remember exactly when it had happened, and I couldn’t. I can only say that it didn’t happen overnight. If it had I would have seen it coming.
Sometimes I find myself deep in thought, going back to another place in time. Many of these memories or flashbacks seem muddled, almost as though seeing them through a hazy fog. They can be surreal but I know that they happened. At first I would minimize the abuse. “Did it really happen that way?” I would question myself. “Did he really have his hands around my throat while squeezing the breath out of me?” The problem with many of these questions is simply this; I wouldn’t do this to someone I hated (strong word) never mind someone I claimed to love. To this day, almost twenty years later, I still have a hard time comprehending this. For the life of me, it eludes me. And that was the bottom line, in order to save my life, I had to leave. I had run out of choices because sooner or later this man was going to kill me.
If, as you are reading this, you cannot comprehend such a thing happening, I would consider you fortunate. The sad reality is that one out of four women can relate to some kind of relationship violence. This epidemic is soaring out of control and seems uncontainable. What happens in your home stays in your home. Not if it can kill you!
After the initial beating he seems genuinely sorry. He may even shed some tears and this is where many women weaken. If he agrees to get help and goes through on the promise to get that help your relationship may be salvageable. I won’t say that people cannot change but they have to want to change. Paying lip service to this change is not good enough. He needs to go through with it. We tend to leave it there until the next time the violence erupts. Next time it may be too late.I thought if people knew about my situation they would look at me differently. Some did and some knew that something was wrong though they didn’t know what it was at the time. And there were other people that knew damned well what was going on. These people can help you but initially you need to step up to the plate and accept that help. It won’t be easy but in order to save your life you’ll need to make the stand. To say once you walk out that door your problems will be history is a lie but the rock on your chest will be lifted. What you need to realize is that once you make the decision to free yourself from this disease you will thrive. You will realize that you are stronger than you ever thought possible. Every day is another step in the direction of becoming independent. One day you will be able to look back and say that although those were some pretty bleak times that you are a survivor and being a survivor and not a statistic has made you the person you are today. Tell your story, because in turn it may save someone’s life.

It's all in the family...

Getting older and you start thinking. This can be a very dangerous place to be. I am sticking with my resolution that 40 is the new 20. In fact, I’ve stopped counting at 39. As for what happens after that, well, it’s anyone’s guess.
I’ve always been a hopeless romantic. No wonder why I’d choose to write romance. I need ‘happily ever after.’ But am I the only one? I need a handsome hero willing to walk through the fire for his ladylove. I need that ahhh when he sweeps her into his arms for that earth shattering kiss. And if I’m not writing steamy romance I am sure in the hell reading it.
I remember when I first thought about writing a book. I was twenty-one years old. I had just had my third child, yes I’m a young mother, and I had that one heart stopping moment when I realized that I had a lot to say.
It didn’t take me 20 years to write a book, thank goodness. In fact, I had written five manuscripts prior to One Enchanted Evening. I had also written short stories, some poetry, and I kept a journal.
My very first story was heartfelt, and written, rewritten, probably a good five times. I remember when I began writing it I didn’t have a title. In fact, I didn’t have a title for that story until it had been completed and when it came to me I had been sleeping. That same story had been written longhand. I soon graduated to a typewriter but that entire story had been written in a notebook. I must admit that I’ve come a long way since then. Talk about writer’s cramp.
Writing was my sanity in a world that I believed to be mixed up. I took care of three children in the sticks (PA) and after I put them down at night I would sit with my notebook in hand and I would write well into the night.
This writing thing definitely runs in the family. My father is a song writer, what is a song, but a short story. My sisters, both write in some form, whether its short stories, poetry, or screen plays; my brothers, likewise. I am waiting for my children to get the bug. Joey has it in him to write, he just needs to dig deep inside and pull it out. Mark is the artist; He has been drawing since he was five when he placed a piece of paper onto the window to trace something. I had asked what he was doing and he said he was tracing a picture. I told him to put the paper back down on the table and draw it the way he seen it and he’s been drawing ever since. He actually did the cover art for One Enchanted Evening and Jackie, well, maybe Jackie was meant to be on the editing end because she is a great help to me with that. She seems to have an eye for words that do and do not go together. She has no problem telling me if my ideas are fantastic, mediocre, or are just plain out there. I respect her opinions as she is well within the age group in which I am writing, what better source is there than that?
I try to write something every day. Whether it’s a couple of words, a sentence, or a couple of pages it is important that I get something down. Lately one of my biggest problems is time. There is never enough time in the day. Today, I’ve made a new resolution. I’ve had to do the same where the gym and exercise was concerned. I need to work my brain just as importantly as I need to work my body. So, for the next hour I am going to complete both of my blogs while rocking to Bon Jovi. Not a bad deal, if I do say so myself.

Are you Green?

I've been steadily Going Green for some time now. Call it Going Green, Recycling, Environmentally Friendly, I think you get the picture. Lately I have been considering a Compost box but the only thing stopping me is the unwelcome visitors that might decide they want to move in. I'm always looking for greener ways and quite honestly if everyone did just a little bit to help the environment we can make a difference.
I recycle anything that can be recycled. Plastic bottles, cans, cardboard, magazines, paper... and so forth. We need to share ideas. Sometimes it can be something as simple as not running the water while you're brushing your teeth. Believe it or not, some people don't think about it but bring it to their attention and they will be more conscious of it the next time they are doing it.
I have watched people driving on the parkway and tossing their trash out the window as they go. Why can't they put it in a trash receptical when they reach their destination? There are some people that will throw anything out the window. From cigarrette butts to dirty diapers, I have seen it tossed out the window without any regard. I've seen signs posted against littering but I have never seen anyone actually get a fine for tossing their garbage.

Here are a couple of tips and hopefully you can add to the list.

1) If possible use cloth napkins instead of paper.
2) Use silverware instead of plastic throw-aways.
3) If you must use disposible plates, use paper and not styrophone.
4) Don't run the water while washing dishes.
5) Don't run the water while brushing teeth.
6) Reuse brown/plastic bags for shopping. You get a couple of cents when you do and you also save a tree. You can also buy the cloth bags that the supermarket offers. They are durable, and you get double what you'd get for a regular bag.
7) Use Green Friendly cleaners, they are so much safer all the way around.
8) Reuse packing material/boxes instead of throwing them away.
9) Junk mail can be recycled.

Welcome to my "Blog Bandwagon"

So, I wanted to jump on the "Blog Bandwagon"!! I've blogged on MySpace, Author's Den, even over at Sandra's Stuff. How many rants can one person have... In my case, many. So, I'm moving on and I'm moving up. Come and find me. It won't be difficult. I'm working on a new short story that I may put up in installments.
Writing is my passion. Whether it's blogging, poetry, short stories I put my heart in all of it. Please check out my contemp romance titled One Enchanted Evening available through Trafford. Don't be shy, let me know what you think!