Skinned Knees

Thanks to a little bit of water on the kitchen floor, preoccupation, and momentum I have two skinned knees and a slightly bruised ego.  I wanted to cry. Not because I was hurt, but because I was surprised and embarrassed.  Luckily, I'm okay and even though this wasn't a life threatening situation afterwards I found myself analyzing my life and what/who is important to me.  So.....Today I am grateful for my skinned knees. I'm grateful to all of the people that I work with who were genuinely concerned about me (and helped me clean the yogurt from EVERYWHERE).  I'm grateful that the mishap made me think of other people, instead of myself. I even appreciate Kay's joke about racking up the frequent flyer miles.  I am, however, still a little buggered that after pitting those black cherries and mixing them into my yougurt they ended up in the trash.  Perhaps I will try again tomorrow.

If memory serves me correctly this was the night the kids and I went downtown (on the train) to see the Train concert.  It was Earth Day, which is a perfectly good reason to spend the evening outdoors and Malina had won two of the three tickets required to provide a night out on the town. The concert itself was a blast!  Despite the over-crowding we found a nice spot of to the left of the stage where we not only had a great view of Pat Monahan, none of us got crumpled or lost, and Hunter could actually see what was going on.  After the concert we were so happy to get a spot on the train none of us noticed that we had hopped on the University Line.  It took us an extra 40 minutes to get home and we were wiped, but it was one of the best concerts (vocally) that I've ever been to.  As fun as all of that was, it isnt the memory behind these photos which prompted this entry. 

When I came across these on Malina's Facebook page I couldn't help but admire and perhaps even slightly envy the relationship between these two amazing children who call each other brother and sister.  They antagonize each other, call each other names, hide in dark corners and scare the crap out of the other one (this usually evokes near misses in the wet pants dept. whether it be from being scared or laughing so hard), yell and get annoyed by the other, and they sometime say mean and hurtful things to each other :( .  They also help each other with homework, hang out, giggle and wrestle and play together, cry for the other one when something bad happens, hug each other, console and support each other and MOST importantly they love and (usually) respect each other.  Dare I say it?  I think these two actually LIKE each other.  Perhaps I did something right in their upbringing or maybe they (we) are lucky.  Either way, it's just another reason I'm blessed and I hope to hell I can remember that the next time they are on my last nerve. 

WTH is an Administrative Professional anyway?

April 21st...the day to celebrate Admin Profs.  Didn't this used to be called Secretary's Day?  How did "Secretary" get such a bad wrap?  Why does the glue only get credit one day out of the year?  What is an Administrative Professional anyway?  Is there a checklist or something, because I have a corner on my desk that would look much better with a boquet of flowers and I need a pedicure. 

Hands

Love comes in many shapes and sizes. There are different love languages and various ways to receive love that has been freely give to us. 

Since I can remember, I've always liked to look at peoples hands.  For one reason or another I felt like I could make certain assumptions from a person's hands.  Even my own hands are scrutinized by this judgement on a daily basis. 

The hands you see before you are the hands of a man who spent his entire life working hard. Many times these knuckles were bloodied from a hard day's work.  There was often dirt under the nails as a result of many hours in a marvelous garden.  A garden which was nurtured by generous hands and produced enough for his family, his neighbors and even his customers.  These are strong hands that could toss a horseshoe across the yard to make a perfect ringer and push a tire swing loaded with giggly girls. These are intricate hands that could tie a fly or bait a hook ever so perfectly. They are also the sympathetic hands that comforted me in times of doubt, the soft hands that cuddled my foot the first time I stepped on a bee, and the teaching hands that help to mold me into the (self-proclaimed) marvelous cook that I am. 

To the man who washed these hands they were old, worn out, and riddled with knots and arthristis.  But to me...to ME they are the perfect example of love and the many forms it takes.

Oh, how I love and deeply miss these hands.

Just a Little MORE Time....

This past weekend was not unlike any other - a marathon of sorts.  On this particular Saturday, however, we did something quite unique.  Hunter and I left the house early armed with coffee and a shovel because he and his teammates were going to be planting a tree outside of the new ball fields following opening ceremonies. 

Once the Mayor threw his opening pitch, big Cubbies and little Cubbies raced outside the field to claim "their" tree.  The boys were stoked and they had no idea that they were about to work their butts off.  Once the tree was in the hole the shoveling and raking began.  Many of the boys had never even handled a shovel.  It was fun to watch them try to figure it out.  There were times when I wanted to take the tools away from them and show em' how its done.  Instead I just got bossy with the coach and let him tell them what to do.  With a little sweat, a lot of teamwork, and thankfully NO blood the tree was planted properly. 

I had to take several brief moments to myself as I hid behind my phone/camera...thankfully my shades gave me proper protection from myself.  It occurred to me that my boy will have matured long before this tree.  Still, every year we will likely make a comparison of who has sprouted more (the tree may win in this dept.) and someday, maybe someday, I will be showing my grandkids which tree their daddy planted when he was their age.

Monday

I've come to the frightening conclusion that no matter what I do, say, or think Mondays will always either be here or just around the corner.  Psuedo Mondays also seem to push their way into the week without regard to my feelings of objection.  So...with my head just above water and a cup of Joe in my hand I trudge forward. Into the plethura of emails, phone calls, and requests and look forward to a sense of accomplishment.  Though, I must warn you...this will be delayed until Friday. 

It surprised me to see that it has been nearly a year since I added a post.  Looks like I'm as good at keeping a blog as I am at keeping a journal or cleaning dust bunnies or making phone calls or visiting people....
Oh how the list can go on and on and on.  Fortunately, I am also good at some things.  I'll have to work on that list later. 

Lists.  Oh how I love lists!  The last list I wrote was a list of things that were stressing me out.  If you've never written a list such as this-I highly recommend it.  Even if you take no further action, you will feel better that a piece of paper has been bloodied by your pen. 

I guess that's all I've got to say for now.  I need to work on this. 

One In a Million...

My first red rose opened this week! I have been waiting so patiently with hints of red and yellow teasing me. This rose has three hearts or centers in it, instead of the typical one. This picture does not do it's beauty justice. Breathtaking, simply breathtaking.

Muddy Knees

When you think of muddy knees, what comes to your mind? When I think of muddy knees, several things come to mind. While some of these are naughty and will be left to your own imagination, one thing in particular stands out: Digging in the dirt! Whether it be for veggies or flowers, this a painstaking process that reaps many rewards. It seems every year when I'm looking at flat after flat I get overwhelmed by excitement because I know how awesome it is going to look and be. After about 4 hours of bending over and muddy, rock-diveted knees I think *fargh*! WHAT was I thinking? And then I sit in the swing with a cold beer and a cig and smile. Surprisingly, there is only one thing worse than the labors...and that is the waiting. Waiting for the blooms and waiting for the veggies.