Saying Goodbye

No matter how the appellation "Jersey Girl" makes me cringe, over the past 7 1/2 years, I guess that's sort of what I've become -- right down to the ubiquitous tracksuit uniform one sees up here.

7 1/2 years -- that's almost 1/6 of my life to date. 7 1/2 years -- that blows away the old record of 4 years in one spot. Nearly 17% of my time, my energies, my experiences have been applied or have occurred right here in this small, rural area in northwestern Jersey.

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I remember when we moved here. My husband and I drove up late at night in separate cars, dividing the dogs and toddler between us. We traveled in pitch blackness. Not a streetlight, not a house light anywhere. It's probably a good thing we were driving separately, or we might have seriously considered turning around and going back to Philly. As it was, we both just sat in the car and wondered, "What the heck have we gotten ourselves into???" 


But the morning came, as it always does, and when I stepped outside of the hotel, the mountains and valleys and the crisp winter air took my breath away. 

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Now as I drive along these lovely backroads that circle my home, I feel a slight pang in knowing that I'll soon miss the sight of them -- the mountains and fields, grazing cows, posturing wild turkeys, the stars and fireflies. These familiar, comforting sights and sounds.

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Although I know that we're going to start something new and exciting in the new place, there is a part of me that wonders, "How will I leave this? What the heck am I thinking?"

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Celebrate Good Times

We're in the middle of moving to our new house, and my oldest child is turning 10. It seems like I was cradling him in my arms as a baby just yesterday. Where has the time gone?

Of course, I can't help but think of when I turned 10 myself. We had just moved from North Dakota to Guam (Wow! There's a stretch!) a couple of weeks before my birthday. We didn't really know anybody. We didn't even have a house yet, and were still living in a hotel. However, after church, my mom spontaneously invited everybody at the service to come over to the hotel (which had an outdoor pavilion) for a birthday party.

My mom and sister rushed off to get a cake before the guests arrived. My dad and I took off for McDonald's for the party grub. I will never forget the conversation that took place as we pulled up to the drive-through.

Attendant: May I take your order?
Dad: Yes, I'd like 50 hamburgers.
Attendant : 50 hamburgers? 
Dad: Hmmm, yeah, that might not be enough. Better make that 100 hamburgers.
Attendant (possibly looking for a hidden camera): You want 100 hamburgers?
Dad: Yes, please.
Attendant: 100 hamburgers?
Dad: That's right. I need 100 hamburgers.
Attendant: 100. Uh, yeah, that's going to take a while.
Dad: That's ok. (pause) Oh, and I need ketchup and mustard, too.

Decades later, this memory still makes me laugh outright. In fact, it's one of my kids' favorite stories, too.

I suppose if there is a lesson to be learned here, it's that it is always a good time to celebrate life, and other people -- even strangers -- are all too happy to cheer with you.

What's your favorite birthday memory? I'd love to hear it!

On Finding Fault

Everything was going fine at church yesterday until I switched seats to be nearer a friend. Then we sat down for the sermon, and the most foul stench assaulted my nose.

Surreptitiously, I looked around. No... I knew all these people. None of them could produce that odor. Then I looked around for a baby. After all, I was in the unofficial "baby section," so maybe there was a poopie diaper somewhere. But no. Not a one.

The smell, though -- it seemed so close. Eventually, I had a thought. Could it possibly be me?

Yep, it turned out that it was. A giant doggie-doo was mashed into the bottom of my shoe. Eeeeeeeewwww! Nasty!

Given the grossness and the humiliation of the situation, I didn't want to let this event go to waste. So after some reflection, I've come up with some life lessons:

1. Prior to church, always take the sidewalk. Never walk across the grass.
2. Before I decide other people are the problem and start slinging accusations, I should probably take a good look at myself.

Given the subject matter of today's post, I figured that we could probably forego an illustrative photo. However, for your listening pleasure, here is Eric Clapton, career legend, with today's theme song. Only imagine you could be singing this to me, instead of the other way around.