Spinning

The first time I ever heard of “spinning” I thought how crazy it was that anyone would want to go to a class and spin around – I’d puke!!

Later, in touring a gym I realized that spinning was something you did on a stationary bike, in the dark to loud music. Again this did not appeal to me because any stationary bikes I had been on I didn’t like.

I then worked with a girl who was a regular spinner and she raved about it. After I asked her many questions, she asked me to go with her. So I agreed to join her and try this phenomenon that is spinning.

While on that bike that evening, I thought I may die or pass out or attempt to try and walk out. I was blown away.

I tried a class a few more times and I realized I didn’t mind it too much. But it wasn’t until last year that I started attending regularly and realized just how much I truly enjoyed it.

But then that stopped.

I started again last night. And I am paying the price for it this morning.

This is what is difficult about spinning – besides spinning itself. Your upper inner thighs by your butt really hurt from the seat on the bike. I know I will get use to this but when starting it hurts. The other thing that hurts is your shoulders. They hurt from bending over and trying to keep your elbows relaxed.

And you thought I was going to say my legs hurt.

Here is what I discovered and what I like. There is a posture to spinning and while it doesn’t work the majority of your upper body you still need to maintain a core hold and therefore your shoulders and back do strengthen and this is good for someone who sits as much as I do. There are hand positions during the ride that help this along.

A spinning bike isn’t like a regular stationary bike. It is specially made for the class. You adjust the handlebars, the seat height and seat position in relation to your arm length. Yes you peddle as you would on a bike but there is a knob where you add and release the tension of the bike thus stimulating an endurance you have to put forth. No resistance represents a flat surface, more resistance represents a hill. During the class you sit and peddle and other times you stand to peddle. You can even do jumps (which are a few rotations of sitting then standing then sitting then standing). Lastly, included in your ride is a quick warm up and a little longer cool down. The ride or class is normally 45 to 50 minutes and with the right instructor and the right music you can go on quite an incredible ride and the time flies by.

You make the ride your own by listening to the instructor knowing when to add and release the tension and it is up to you to do as much as your body can handle. Everyone in the class can work at different levels without affecting one another. Therefore a beginner need not feel intimidated by the spinner that is in full cyclist gear.

It took me a little while to find my grove in the class. But what I eventually found in my ride was the same type of zone that many discuss when they are running. I like the fact the room is dimly lit. I can close my eyes and move my legs and my upper body to the beat of the music and this becomes very hypnotic. I have actually found this to be meditative and have been able to nearly clear my mind and just let go. Other times my eyes are open and I focus on one spot. Something frustrating comes to mind that I need to work out and I am able to find I can do just that by peddling it away. Spinning becomes very cathartic.

The drawback – there isn’t one. Which makes me so frustrated at myself for making it such a chore to get to the class. When I went regularly I worked next door to the gym so for lunch or after work I just walked there – no excuse. Now when I have to plan this into my day and actually drive to the gym – this for whatever reason seems to be a hindrance for me. I do better when I am accountable to someone and unfortunately I don’t have a spinning buddy to hold me accountable.

So what I know is it’s up to me . . . it’s up to me to haul myself to the gym and take the ride. It is always worth it at the end. It makes for a very relaxing evening and a great night sleep – obtaining both a mental cleansing and exhaustion both mind and body crave.

What I don’t know is to how to keep myself motivated to go but I am trying and will continue to try.

Audie Boo

In some people’s lives food is not important. I am amazed at people who go through life without appreciating the pleasure and love derived from food. I wrote yesterday how my son likes to show his love for the women in his life through food gestures – Audrey is no different.

Last night Audrey took me to dinner at the restaurant where she works as a hostess and as a server assistant, Next Door. It is the sister restaurant to Red Drum and is literally located, next door. Audrey has been working there for a little over a month but has yet to enjoy any of the food. She often comes home talking about how wonderful certain menu items look. She anxiously waited for a night she could try this food and she wanted to treat me to the experience with her.

I cringe at the thought of my children spending their money on me. I also cringe at the thought of my children spending money on food as there is usually always something at the house for them to eat. But this was different. This was Audrey wanting to treat me to a special dining experience. It was her wanting to show her independence and to create a memory whether she realized it or not.

I loved how she studied the menu after we were seated. She discussed the items with me and balanced out what are dishes would be so they would flow together and be just enough so there would be room for dessert. After she ordered for us, the chef sent out two cups of soup for us to try. I was thrilled as it was an item on the menu I wanted to taste but we had not chosen. I told Audrey that was a very special gesture to receive a sampling from the chef. I was worried she wouldn’t try the soup. As impressed as I am at her wanting to have this dinner experience with me, her pallet can be somewhat limited. In addition, Audrey has a habit of eating her food without savoring what she is eating. But as I was saying this to her and tasting mine I looked over and not only had she tried the soup, she had a pleasant smile on her face. “This is so good!!!” I asked her what she tasted as I knew she probably didn’t look over that item on the menu as I had. “Lime, I taste lime and a strong spice.” The soup Chef sent to us was Thai Coconut with Kaffir Lime. It was sublime. Just as we were finishing the wonderful soup, Chef came out and spoke to Audrey. It made a mother proud. He graciously introduced himself and told me what a wonderful daughter I had. Audrey thinks the world of him and as I told her upon his departure, he obviously thinks very highly of you.

Our starters arrived next and the one item Audrey could not wait to try was the Raviolo. Raviolo is a large ravioli pasta filled with poached egg, ham, house made ricotta and brown butter. This was served to her and the other item we ordered, Fettucini “Clams Tobias” with White Wine, Cream, Bacon and Herbs. As we halved each and placed the orders on side plates, Audrey was able to try the Raviolo first. “Oh mom this is so good – there is cinnamon dusted over it!” She wouldn’t even look up – as she dove in to another bite she remarked, “this reminds me of Aunt Tracey.”

For our entrée we shared swordfish with artichokes and a syrah fig reduction. It was fabulous. The fish was cooked to perfection and the flavors superb. Audrey limited herself to the entrée as she anxiously anticipated dessert. There was a triple chocolate dessert she couldn’t wait to dive in to. As the dessert menu was brought to us, we were informed the chocolate dish was unavailable (shhh, don’t tell, it all melted). While disappointed this just meant she would move on to choice number two, the cheesecake.

This wasn’t just any cheesecake though – it was goat cheese with a pistachio crust. Can I just say – Oh.My.God! This is by far the best tart I have ever eaten in my life – Audrey didn’t even speak – but sweetly let me share. This is definitely a recipe I am in need of.

The evening was exquisite. My baby girl and I had a wonderful time together. I was able to meet the people she works with and hear all the wonderful things they have to say about her – I couldn’t have been more proud. Audrey treated me to an incredible meal and a fabulous memory. I am so grateful to her for wanting to show her love through the pleasure of food. What an amazing young lady – I am so fortunate she is my daughter.

I love you Audrey Frances Bowman – thank you for being you!

Xan THE Man

My son just may, just may be the sweetest 18 year-old male there is. Now mind you I am about to gush over this boy so be prepared. He was just gone this weekend and while away called me regularly to tell me he loves me and he misses me. He even sent me a text thanking me for always being there for him. Note: he was with his father for the weekend – no telling what took place to warrant that text. Even so, I will take it because regardless I know he means it.

We are in his final year of high school and I can actually say high school has been a breeze. Not that we haven’t had out moments about grades but that’s it – he has not caused me an ounce of worry otherwise. He’s been responsible and for the most part (sometimes he needs reminding) respectful. I have many a friend who is anxious to see their son leave for college. Tense times. I can’t say this.

I am very anxious for Xan (and Audrey too) to go and experience college. It is such an important, vital time in their lives. And I am anxious for what that means for me – I have a whole new world opening up for me. But even as I type this, even with the excitement I have, I get choked up. It will be hard to see him (and her) leave. I am a fortunate mother – my children actually like me and I consider them two of my best friends.

This morning I woke up and came out to start the coffee and there was a box of doughnuts sitting on the counter. Xan was sitting at the computer and I just looked at him and smiled. He got himself up early, went to Dunkin Donuts and had Audrey’s favorites for her and 2 special doughnuts for me. He loves the women in his life and likes to show it – preferably through food gestures. I ask you, is this not so sweet of him?

I can go on and on – how there are always hugs, and kisses. How he is always saying I love you and you are beautiful. And not just to me but to Audrey too. He really may be the sweetest 18 year-old male there is.

Now if only he could pick his towel up off the floor . . . . . . . . .

I love you Alexander Faherty Bowman! Thank you for being such a wonderful son!

Birth-Father

About 2 months ago I contacted my birth-father for the first time. For whatever reason I was ready. I was ready to take the leap – and trust me, starting the process is a huge leap.

Twenty years ago I contacted my birth-mother. This all came about rather suddenly and truthfully I didn’t really even have time to think about what was happening. I was also 24 years old and very naive. I had obtained all my “non-identifying” information from Dade County’s (FL) Children’s Home Society. This was a fascinating piece of reading material. Imagine being 24 and hearing about your birth for the first time. The only story I knew was of the one when my adoptive family came to pick me up . . . and I was 6 months old. I knew nothing of my “birth”.

The social worker assigned to help me was an abandoned child and she had a mission to reconnect adoptees with their adoptive parents because this was something she was unable to ever do. So for $250 she gave someone in the “adoption underground” my birth-mothers information and within 24 she was on the phone to her. Two days later I received the call I had waited for as long as I can remember. Within a week we met, spent a weekend together and I have not seen her since. We exchanged letters for a few years but a relationship never developed. Personally I feel she was incapable of fitting me in her life.

As for me, I had hoped for a friendship. However, the feelings that came over me from trying to know her were unpleasant. I had always been told that I was a blessing, that I was welcomed and wanted. For the first time in my life I felt anguish over the fact that my conception had occurred. My coming in to being had brought much pain and shame to this individual. All her promises to me were not coming to fruition. Her efforts were less and less. I realized I had to cut her off. So I did. And not a year goes by that I don’t think of her and wonder . . . . .

She would not tell me who my birth-father was. I asked twice and she refused. While my non-identifying information wasn’t much – there were clues and I was able to put together the following from the report and from things my birth-mother had mentioned:

· The year I was born, 1967, she was a senior and he was a junior

· They attended Ft Lauderal high School

· He was tall, blonde, blue eyed, wore glasses for nearsightedness and his ears stuck out

· He played football and swam on the swim team

· He had an older sister, his father was in construction and his mother was deceased

· He wanted to be a dentist

· I looked liked him

Therefore, all I had to do was to get my hands on a Ft Lauderdale High School yearbook from 1967, pick out names of boys who matched on the swim and football team and then eliminate all who aren’t Juniors. The next step would be finding out from public records whose mother was deceased at the time. It really wasn’t too complicated. But complicated enough if you don’t live in Ft. Lauderdale. And even more complicated to think of actually going through the process to only be rejected – again.

Years go by and a wonderful tool called the internet gains popularity. Amazingly an adoptee who is interested in doing a search now has the world at her fingertips – more importantly she has handy search angles who are willing to do all the leg work for her. Thankfully I had 3 women in the Ft. Lauderdale area who were not only able to get their hands on a yearbook they were able to determine through death records and an unnamed source that indeed my birth-father was alive, well and his dream of becoming a dentist did indeed occur.

I was introduced, via his senior year picture, to “bio-dad” in April of this year. It’s not the clearest photo but I have studied every inch of it. I have compared it to my photos. We do look alike minus the hair color and the eyes – the eyes and hair belong to my birth-mother but we have the same facial structure. So now what?

Once bitten, twice shy. There was no rush. It was time to let this simmer and so I did. I thought it best to have someone else contact him on my behalf. Have someone let him know of my existence. But then, given more thought I decided to write him a letter. I would tell him my story. Tell him about me, about my children and then I would ask him, after giving the facts I knew, if maybe he would like to discuss. Maybe he could help my story unfold? Maybe he could provide medical information to me? And of course, secretly, maybe I would be accepted? Maybe, I wouldn’t get rejected.

I don’t know what the protocol is when you’re informed you have a 44 year old daughter that was given up for adoption and has now found you even though you have lived those 44 years building a profession and life that has nothing to do with this person. I don’t feel rejected. I wrote him a letter and I sent pictures. Yes contact was made, but contact has yet to be made. I need a conversation to take place. There needs to be the go-between. And then if there is nothing, there is nothing. And that will be it.

I will continue my daily anticipation-filled walk to the mailbox. I will welcome strange email addresses and I will accept unidentified phone calls. I will continue to be hopeful. I had to have received my sensitivity from someone . . . . someone has to care.

Baptiste

I have three pets, did have four but one of my cats, Bobber, died earlier this year. It was very sad. I knew he was gone the day he didn’t come in to eat. It took days to get confirmation and I guess I held out a little hope he was just on a walk-about, but the worst came to light. He was only 4 years old so it wasn’t his time.

I have always had pets at various stages of my life – sometimes more than other times. I love a pet. I think they are an important part of a family. And I think there is nothing more rewarding than to feel the true unconditional love a pet can bring to your life.

One day I will write of my Buoy. Buoy is my soul mate. Buoy is my brown, boy Boykin Spaniel and I cannot imagine life without Buoy. Buoy has been through some tough times with me and it was his companionship that helped get me through. But this isn’t about Buoy.

And it isn’t about Tibby, Thibideaux, the fat cat, either. Tibby, while I love, is just annoying. Tibby is fat and loud and kneads and claws on you until you bleed. For the life of me I can’t understand why Tibby has stuck with us. We give that cat such a hard time.

No this is about Baptist, Teeny, my brown girl Boykin Spaniel. Teeny is a unique girl. I have no idea how old she is but suffice it to say she is old. She is gray , her nose is cracked, she can’t hear, she has cataracts, she walks crooked due to painful hips. She will trot to food if you mix wet with the dry but other than that she doesn’t move much – other than when she is digging. She digs and digs on the carpet like she is digging to China. It’s the funniest thing to watch as her ears flap up and down but it is pretty annoying when you are trying to sleep.

Teeny came to me via Spartanburg, SC. She had been abandoned, for the 2^nd time. Her name was Niki – I couldn’t handle the name so I changed it immediately. She didn’t seem to care as she didn’t respond to Niki. She was brought to me through Boykin Spaniel Rescue. I was a member and active in fostering dogs. She was to be my new foster. The minute we got her she took to Audrey and Audrey immediately took to her. As our time together grew so did our concern for her. Audrey wanted to keep her and given she had been given up twice I was reluctant to allow her to be adopted again given there must be something to prevent this dog from being wanted.

Given I had no records on her all I could go on was she was typical high energy – she loved to play ball. And she was my first dog that had a huge fear of storms. She would begin pacing and panting the minute the barometer would dip. I didn’t need a weatherman – I had Teeny. She would actually go in the yard, and dig under the fence and run away during a storm. Made no sense whatsoever. The dog was petrified of the storm but would run right out into it. Became nearly impossible to contain her and it came that I would have to kennel her if I thought there was a storm coming or once one was occurring. Poor thing. After much pleading from Audrey I decided to flunk a foster and keep her for my own. I already had a male, Boudreaux, and thought they would be nice playmates for one another.

That was 8 years ago this April that she came through my doors. Since then we have lost Boudreaux and Teeny no longer plays ball. We have had Bobber and lost Bobber. I have married and divorced and Buoy has been added to the mix. There has been a look of comings and goings and ups and downs but our Teeny girl has remained constant. She’s not the most personable dog but she is there, she is always there.

Today she is at the vet. She is not well I fear. Given I was told she could possibly be 7 when I got her (there was no way) that could make her 15 years old. Old age has defiantly set in. We often hold our breath when we don’t see her move immediately or she doesn’t wake up when we come barreling in the door. Her hips don’t always work very well these days and recently she has been wetting in the house (the animals have their own door to the outside). Maybe she just has an UTI and it will not be serious. I hope it is not serious.

What I know is I understand our pets age and I am fine with that. I am not fine with the decisions that have to be made for aging pets and I am not ready to make any regarding Teeny.

PIE!

I made a pie!! Not just any pie, I've made pies before - I made a lattice pie!! Can I tell you, and I will, this made me fee invincible!! It was so pretty before I baked it I almost didn't bake it. And then it was so awesome after I baked it I almost wouldn't cut into it!

The pie, while in this case not important is a black cherry pie and it was mighty tasty (yes it got cut in to). The crust was flaky perfection - to a tee - perfection, I say!

While I love to cook, I am not much of a baker - I don't get it. I don't understand why you want to spend your time measuring out all kinds of ingredients to not make something that really isn't good for you that you will over indulge in and then feel badly. Not to mention the clean-up is a nightmare. It's the science of it - I personally prefer the art of cooking.

But something happened to me last night. I got into a zone and I enjoyed it. I like my creation and I like the reaction I received from my creation. And this is what I enjoy from cooking and now I found it from baking.

It made me very anxious for TA's Birthday - more importantly Pie Day. I plan to attend this year and it will be my first (I'm saving my miles just to attend). I know it will be crazy at her house (she has had over 40 pies for one pie day party) trying to get the pies made. I am making Tomato Pie. But if I can I want to make maybe another pie that involves more. It makes me happy to know I will participate this year. It makes me happy that I can share her love of pies with her.

For those of you who are unaware, there is a National Pie Day. And for those of you who haven't celebrated, I encourage you to take part: Mark your calendars - bake a pie!!! http://www.chiff.com/a/american-pie-day.htm

Who Knew!!!!

Love Hate Relationship

I am beyond furious with facebook right now as the new format has me totally befuddled. I try not to let little things like a format change of a social networking site get me upset, but this has.

On another note; however, I love facebook. I love when you connect with someone who was important in your life and for whatever reason you loose touch but never forget their importance only to do a search on facebook and there they are. I love that that can happen.

Still doesn’t take away from the fact I am very pissed at it for the format change.

Once a Catholic ALWAYS a Catholic

I attended mass this weekend. This is not a common practice of mine. As a matter of fact the last mass I attended was a funeral mass earlier this year and prior to that it was a mass for my son’s Junior Ring ceremony. To just go to mass for mass’s sake has happened in my life, I just can’t remember when.

I am a catholic. I am happy and proud to say I am a catholic. I was born into Catholicism. And as one who is born into this religion, I am of the belief once in, you are never out. And while I am “in” from my birthright (and through the sacraments of baptism, penance, communion, confirmation and marriage) I am also “out” as I am a “cafeteria” catholic as Pope JPII coined. I take and choose my beliefs which are not necessarily the church’s (church meaning catholic) beliefs.

For example, I am not a believer in having to log pew time in order to be in the presence of God. In my opinion God is present everywhere, meaning I can pray to and worship God no matter where I am, should I so choose. Church (meaning community) serves a purpose for many people. Community is vital but I do not feel community is important in my spiritual well-being, at least not now. But it is important for others so I am glad it is available to those who need it.

I do not believe the pope or priests are any holier than anyone else (GASP). I believe there are individuals who live a holier life than others, but in God’s eyes, if you believe the stories that are passed along, God is loving and loves all. How is one man (and by man I mean human) holier than yet another man – who is it that makes that assumption . . .it is man, through a vote. Is Benedict holier than say was Mother Teresa? Not for me to say. I think we (individuals both catholic and non) think of religious people (meaning ministers, preachers, priests, nuns) as being better than us, but they are not. They are HUMANS – full of all the mistakes and faults that all humans have.

And what is church (meaning community) made up of and who leads – HUMANS. Yes, these people have chosen a profession in religion, but they fail and therefore church (meaning a religion) can fail as well. It is my opinion if you grasp the idea that church (meaning community and religion) and its governing body are not perfect it serves one better. It is awesome to strive to be better, to do better but to know failure is a part of this means maybe, just maybe one will not give up as they take their own journey which is bound to have setbacks.

I believe in a woman’s right to chose. I had a discussion with my son about this yesterday (he strongly disagrees with me). This is a topic that brings so much passion it is not one I like to debate because no purpose is served in the outcome, which is usually a fight. I understand the church’s (meaning catholic) stance. I for one believe however, it is no ones business what one does with their body. And on the same note I believe in the separation of church and state. Keep your beliefs, practice your beliefs but do not bring it in to what is government.

My favorite (former) priest gave a homily (catholic term for sermon) regarding the sanctity of life and the churches stance against abortion. He had to carefully word the point he was making but he basically said if we are going to tell these woman they have to have their child, what are we then doing to help them with the raising of a child? We are there during the pregnancy, but then what? When you are in the thick of parenting, how are we there to support these mothers? It’s a legitimate question. And one I hope is addressed by those who are most passionate for the right to life.

I believe women can be priest or more prominent members of the hierarchy of the church (meaning catholic). It was, after all, women who were the keeper of the Torah in the Jewish faith prior to the birth of Christ.

I believe priest should marry. I understand the thought that priests and nuns are married to Christ and therefore the time that is given to a relationship is given to their relationship with Christ. But I do not think it is natural. I think we need companionship. And I understand that their abstinence is part of prayer and a sacrifice and this (meaning sacrifice) is something Jesus asks, but given we are humans and we do fail it is my belief it is doomed. There were married popes. Marriage, while itself a sacrament and a difficult sacrifice as well, should be offered to priests. There should be a choice. This would open up the priesthood and offer better understanding and happier men and women who serve Christ.

I believe in same sex love. I believe if one is fortunate to find love, it is not the churches (meaning catholic) place to judge from which gender love comes.

But even with these differences in beliefs, I find comfort in the faith. For me, mass is one of the comforting parts of Catholicism. It’s the rituals, it’s the ju-ju, if you will. I like the statues, I like the stained glass. As a child these gave me something to stare at while I sat in that pew for what seemed a life time. In a catholic church there is always something to stare at and to imagine. I find as an adult this hasn’t changed. I look at the saints and think of what they represent and wonder who I can pray to just in case who might be able to help me along the way. I stare at the statue of Mary, and let it be known, I love Mary. I have always loved Mary. As a child, I would read everything I could about Mary. I am fascinated with Fatima, and Medugorje and Lourdes. I love the thought of Mary appearing. I love the thought that there is a woman in the church who is a mother, who has suffered as a mother, as a wife as a woman. I love the thought there is someone I can talk (pray) to about the life that I lead, because she knows. She gets it. So I love to go to a “Marian” church and look at the statues and the stories in the stained glass and send love to Mary. To thank Mary and to say, pray for me please.

If you are unaware, mass starts with a greeting, moves to reflection, to a lesson to profession to intercessions then to a sacred meal more reflection and then to a final blessing. If you let yourself move along with the order it is very comforting, very relaxing. In essence you are in God’s house sharing time and a meal and thoughts and love and even anger if that is what you are truly feeling. And that is what is awesome about a friend’s home - you go and express yourself. A friend knows, a friend knows if you’re honest. In the same sense God knows. And there is something very comforting of going and allowing yourself to feel and then to let go. For me that is what God’s house is about and why it is nice to go and why I should probably go more often.

I am grateful to have my Catholicism for all it’s issues and faults. I’ve had it my whole life and no matter where I am in my life, no matter what age, no matter what mood, it is there and it is constant. I can leave and return and I am welcome and it is the same. This is not to say I will return again anytime soon. This is to say I am glad I went. I am glad I have faith and I have a relationship with God beyond my church (meaning catholic). I like to know, at least in my world, I am welcome and it is okay – regardless it is okay.

First Dates

There are certain things one is never comfortable doing regardless of how many times it is done or at what age or how long it’s been. One of those things is dating. I am 44 years old and I never expected or wanted to be in a dating situation at this age. But I am and it is time I made the best of it.

I had a first date last night – a blind date other than we have emailed, texted and talked on the phone. And as comfortable as that may have become and actual meeting takes it to a whole other level. And that level is awkwardness . . . . . it is so awkward, regardless, it’s awkward.

I found myself with time to spare prior to the date (I was ready 2 hours early - how pathetic am I) so I Googled “First Dates”. Think about that – you can go on the internet and find out how to handle a first date. I did this and the one thing I came away with is try to just enjoy the moment. Don’t work too hard, just relax (relax?) and enjoy. So that is what I decided to do.

We met at a quaint Mexican restaurant. I let him “pick me up” at the bar. In other words, I arrived early, got a margarita and waited. He arrived before I expected he would and met me at the bar. He ordered the same drink and we moved to a table.

The initial greeting was difficult – how do you greet someone who you have shared conversation with but haven’t yet met? Then again, maybe it isn’t difficult and I just opt to pick - every - minute - a - part.

Once we were seated we ordered and we talked. We talked nonstop. Can I tell you what we talked about – not really. Because while we were talking I was talking in my head to myself the whole time (so much for relaxing). I was worried about my facial expressions, how I was sitting, the way I drank, the way I ate. I mean really, what the hell was I doing there?

But he was so nice, and kind and positive. He was chatty and I think a bit of that had to do with nerves as well. We both are attractive people who I am sure could pick apart flaws with ourselves and about each other. But we didn’t seem to do that then and there. We just talked.

We closed the place down and moved to the parking lot. We stood there and talked a little longer. There was a gap between us, we didn’t stand too close. And I am still trying to figure out my read on that one. Was the body language that of one that wasn’t interested . . .was it respectful? I am confused by that but at our good bye we hugged and kissed on the check. That means something, right? That wasn’t just to be kind – was it?

I texted him when I got home and thanked and told him I had a wonderful time . . . should I have used wonderful? Is that too much? Well too much too late as it was sent. He responded with “It was nice. I had a good time”. He didn’t say wonderful . . .is he just being nice? Am I going nuts?

I decided if nothing else I hope I made a new friend. If nothing else I jumped through a hoop and went on a date. That’s a big deal at my age, at this time in my life. I put myself out there and I attempted to make a connection. So I will focus on that and pat myself on the back.

As for what’s to come I guess we will just wait and see. . . .

Adventure

My most recent adventure was traveling to Alexandria, VA to watch TA & Neil’s little people (ages 7,6 and 3) while they got to spend time in the beautiful California wine country. When I say this to people I always get the response of, “you are such a good friend” or “you’re crazy”. I don’t look at it in either of those ways. I take it as an adventure. First off, it’s TA, I’d do anything for her without question and the fact that she and Neil are trusting me with her children is an honor. As for the nuts part . . . how hard can it be? I did this before, I can do it again. But see that is the beauty of the mind . . . like childbirth, your mind conveniently forgets the toll little ones put on your psyche.

First stumbling block: Abbra’s pizza party is canceled. This was my plan for Friday’s dinner so this was disappointing, but still doable. I’d cook sausage pasta – an easy dish . . . or so I thought (more to come)

Second stumbling block: My flight was delayed. This was not good. I had to pick all 3 kids up by 6 and they were in different locations. My flight was to arrive in time for me to get to TA’s, get her car and do this very function – a delay is not in the cards. While anxious the whole time, luckily I got all 3 kids with 5 minutes to spare, but I digress . . . .I had these visions of the kids seeing me and there are yells of excitement and hugs and thrills to see Auntie dawn. (One likes to think they are they great in the minds of children to welcome such a greeting or maybe since I don’t get pomp and circumstance from my own offspring I am craving it from another – who knows. ) Instead I get, “whats for dinner”? Really? That’s it – that’s what I get at home. Is that what one is diminished to when they become a parent – no matter whose child you are parenting for the time being, “what’s for dinner”?

Third stumbling block: The can opener . . . . . . I am making a most fabulous, but simple dish of pasta mixed with a sauce made of onion, ground sausage milk and tomato paste. Everything is going smoothly until it’s time to open the can of tomato paste. I can’t figure out the freakin’ can opener. No matter how I try to set this can opener on the can it will not work. Can’t be a simple hand crank can opener – no, it’s a pampered chef can opener. Now what am I going to do – my dinner is done, I just have to mix in the paste!!! I have kids for god’s sake who didn’t care a thing about me but wanted their dinner!! I asked Ava, I called Tracey during her conference no less as I was this panicked!!!! Open the freakin can!!! Of course I told Tracey I figured it out – NOT! What did I do, I did what any panicked mother would do I jabbed holes in the things and pulled the lid back myself. I would not be beaten – I would conquer the opener!!

Three ½ stumbling block: Wine and the can opener. After I put the kids to bed and downing a half bottle of wine because I got so stressed out over the can opener I sat with the can opener, a can and the bottle of wine to figure out this damn thing. I tried – I really tried and I think I got it to attach but would wait until I was completely ready before opening the can . . . . .

Fourth stumbling block: Jackson is 6. I don’t know what it is with boys (although regardless of age they just tend to be in lala land) and turning six but a power struggle starts. Jackson is one of the sweetest boys you will ever come in contact with but he’s now six and six seems to be the age where listening turns off, plius there is that boy thing. “Jackson, Jackson, Jackson, J-A-C-K-S-O-N!” “huh?” “Bedtime.” “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.” Oh dear lord help me now.

Fifth stumbling block: I left my liquids back in Charleston. Go.Figure.

Sixth stumbling block: Ballet class. Saturday morning went stunningly well. I knew there was ballet class and I had everyone ready and the kitchen cleaned with time to spare. That’s the problem with spare time . . . leaves time for something to go wrong. In a karma like occurrence, Rubes runs into the cul-de-sac (which she is not allowed to do as I had stated driveway only) and down she went. Right on her knees in her tights no less. While I took off running toward her to scoop her up hoping to make a joke, the crocodile tears start and sure enough, there are little holes in her tights. I set her on the chair, kiss and rub her knees and try my best to comfort her. I also grab another pair of tights and once I get her calm rush everyone in the car. We’re still good – leaving basically when I wanted but not with the cushion I had planned since I had no clue where I was headed.

Sixth ½ stumbling block: Traffic and ballet class. So I am on my way and Ava asks me where I am going. And I do, in general just not specifically. “Yes!” I say this with enough confidence to convince us both, hopefully, I am good. It’s just there seems to be an awful lot of traffic on King Street. And it’s Saturday but early Saturday and it is Alexandria, but it’s Saturday . . . . . did I miss my turn?? Don’t look at the clock, you’ll panic – you know where you’re going. And I did, I had this, but the traffic. Don’t look at the clock. Phew – my turn, I see it. But why isn’t anyone turning . . . . TURN PEOPLE!!! Oh, a street festival – not good. Wait, can I make it, yes . . I made it! More traffic – don’t look at the clock. I go, I go and bam, pink doors here we are. I look at the clock. Fifteen minutes late. It took me nearly 40 minutes to get all of 10 miles. Shoot me know, the doors are locked and we missed the first ballet class!!!!

Seventh stumbling block: internet access. I brought my laptop, guess who couldn’t remember the password to the modem? Did I mention there is no cable? UGH

Eighth stumbling block: Sunday. Once again, got a little too comfortable with how smooth my morning was going and then there was a knock at the door. The babysitter!!! She wasn’t suppose to come until noon – what time was it? OMG noon . . . I had to fix lunch and get the kids to ice skating. But see I didn’t want ice skating to get the best of me like ballet did. Not to mention, ice skating is Ava’s thing and Jackson’s first time. It was easy for Ruby to miss class but these guys cannot miss class. I got this. Picnic lunch in the car so there is plenty of time to find the ice skating rink and deal with traffic. So sandwiches, car lets go.

Ninth stumbling block: When Ava’s mind is set – it’s set. Off we go. “Auntie Dawn do you know where you are going?” “Yes Ava, I know”. Again, have been to the rink but getting there is a different story so I’m afraid my confidence level was not very high. It wasn’t long before I heard “This is not the way mommy goes!” “Trust me Ava, I will get you there.” Oh dear lord, please let me get her there. Panic sets in, “AUNTIE DAWN, YOU DON”T TURN HERE!” Oh lord, the directions say I do but she’s panicked – does she know something I don’t? JMJ, I am screwed if I miss this. In my most confident voice I explain I have the directions and I know what I am doing. I feel badly as I know that feeling she is feeling as truthfully I am feeling the same thing!! But what happens – BAM. We make it and make it in time and even are able to go through 3 skate changes and get inside the rink with 5 minutes to spare!!!!

Tenth stumbling block: Teenagers. So after ice skating my brother and family drive up to Tracey’s for a visit a swim and dinner. I was excited for them to come. I wanted to show them TA & Neil’s beautiful home and have a relaxing day by the pool. See, that was the problem, I kept thinking I would eventually relax. My 16 year old nephew also joined the group. Evidently he didn’t realize where he was going and he was none too thrilled about the trip . Once I picked up on this I got stressed about making sure dinner got ready and they got out of there. But when you are responsible for 3 little ones, there is a pool and you are trying to fix food, it becomes extremely difficult.

Eleventh stumbling block: Freaking can opener, AGAIN: I was making honey lime enchilada’s. Holy crap the green sauce. I had to use the freakin’ can opener again. This time I wanted to see if my ever handy brother could accommodate the contraption. I showed him how it was suppose to go and he turned it and we got nothing. I made my point – is this not the most difficult can opener known to man? And then we applied some sort of pressure and a little of the sauce came out. Wait a minute – did I actually figure this thing out after all – YES! Turns out it removes the lid from the outside of the can and not the inside so you have to finagle it differently to get the lid off! I DID IT!! Or WE DID IT!! And then dinner was prepared. Although I overdid the rice in the microwave so it turned out to be a little crunchy but still edible nonetheless.

Twelfth stumbling block: Phone service. See there’s this guy . . . . . . I have emailed and texted him but hadn’t yet spoke to him on the phone. I received a text on Monday (day to myself while kids are in school) if it was a good time for a phone call. Well, I am about as nervous as one can get but I text back sure. I am on the 3^rd floor and he hears me fine but our call gets dropped – twice. I explain I don’t have great service in the house and was going outside to talk on the phone so I wouldn’t have that problem. Now anytime you are first talking to someone it is a tad awkward . . . try having your calls be dropped 13 times – that was a difficult conversation. All worked out ok though – we have a date tonight! J

Thirteenth stumbling block: Too little. It was Tuesday morning and I got to see TA & Neil for all of maybe 30 minutes. Made me sad – would have liked to had time with them. Love my babies, love them too.

Fourteenth stumbling block: Plane delayed in DC. Go.figure.

Fifteenth stumbling block: I love my adult children. I missed my kids and couldn’t wait to see them once I returned home. Nothing like a visit away to make you appreciate what you have. First thing I get is from Xan – I’m staying at dad’s tonight. Second thing I am hit with from Audrey – can I have some money I need to go buy some things. So there I am standing at the house, alone, with the dog – who actually stayed on the sofa looking out the front window waiting for my return. Ah unconditional love . . . .

Sixteenth stumbling block: I’m old. Three flights of stairs (I live in a ranch) a 3 year old on your hip and constant commotion, Auntie dawn is whipped!!

On an ending note, I would do it again in a heartbeat. Last time I watched the kids I couldn’t find the coffee. Found the coffee this time and learned to work the can opener. Can’t wait for what is in store next time.

And for those of you who already made the comment . . .yes there is a you tube video to show you how to use the freaking pampered chef can opener:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AfLB10D7s3U