Warm the Heart by the Hearth

It's that time of year again.  The temperatures have dropped "way down thar" for the last few nights, and I've begrudgingly had to turn on the heat for the first time since early spring.  When the cooler evenings of autumn arrive, there is nothing like a big cozy fireplace in a fabulous setting to create ambiance, atmosphere, charm, warmth and calm.  It slows you down and mellows whether you want to or not.  It just does.  It's a visual tranquilizer for all the senses.

For me, it ignites a happiness deep within me,

a simple kind of joy

that comes from listening to the wood crackle and pop,

the flames dance,

the intoxicating scent of wood burning...

doesn't get much better than that.  

Worries seem to vanish for a while.

I was browsing recently and found this stockpile of treasures.  It's fun to pretend being at any one of these places, a glass of wine, perhaps some relaxing tunes, some good company, good food, laughter.  Each one of these outdoor fireplaces have a beauty uniquely their own.

Ahhh, yeah...lemme dream a little ... ready, set ... escape.

Moms Know Best

My youngest son is 14.  He attended his first homecoming dance for high school last Thursday night.  He didn't bother telling me he had planned to attend until Thursday morning.




We discussed what he should wear.  And then we discussed what he insisted on wearing.  And then I set about ironing his clothes.  He refuses to wear a tie.  A coat is also out of the question.  He agrees to a button-down and khakis.  Great.  This should be interesting.

He discovers that he needs a belt.  A dress belt.  He doesn't have one.  Why?  Because he doesn't like to 'LOOK' dressed up, and he chooses all of his own clothes.  His clothes have to pass his inspection.  Casual or jock.  And even those categories have subcategories that need to pass his inspection.  I've given up buying clothes for him unless he is with me.

So we search and finally find a belt in his brother's closet, which by putting it on the very last notch barely works.  (He's skinny as a weed.)  We then discuss shoes.  He suggests his Nikes.  Huh?  To a dance?  Nah.  We search and search for a pair of dress shoes but find none that will fit him.  I then remind him that I've tried repeatedly to buy him a pair of dress shoes and he has refused to shop for them and has insisted he would not wear them if I purchased him a pair.  He has three different pairs of high-dollar sport shoes, football cleats, track cleats, and sandals.  The end.  That is his shoe collection.  He decided on his black Nikes for the dance.  This should be interesting.

He was tight-lipped after the dance with his remarks and feedback.  In a nutshell, "he had fun."

Yesterday, four days after the dance, he mentions to me that, "oh, by the way, he'd like to expand his Christmas list to add a belt, a pair of dress shoes, a nice dress shirt, and uh, maybe some nice men's cologne."

Oh, my son.  The pains of growing up.  Learn to trust your mother, would you?

Mom's know best.

Tragedy Brings Perspective to Life

I've been away all week at an educational conference.  Upon arriving home yesterday evening, stopping long enough at the house to check messages, tie up loose ends, and grab a bite to eat before heading to my youngest son's football game at 6:00, I learned via text message from my middle son's girlfriend (I had not listened to the news nor read the paper all week) that one of Washington & Jefferson's senior students had been mugged and beaten to death on his walk back to campus the night before.  They found his body at 4:40 ish in the morning on the sidewalk.  He was their star running back, a friend and teammate of G's, and his young life had been snuffed out horribly and senselessly.

No. 5.  His football jersey flashes before my mind's eye ...

Upon learning of the news, I was saddened.  Horrified.  In shock.  My mind was refusing to process what I was hearing initially.  After a quick change of clothes, I hopped in my car to head to the game, and it began to slowly sink in, as did that sick feeling in my stomach.  Along with hurt, grief, confusion...fear.  Reactions of MY heart and mind, and all "from a distance."  I merely knew OF the young man.  I'd never had the privilege of speaking to him.  I was trying to imagine what was going through the minds and hearts of those who knew him best, serving only to intensify my sick feeling inside.  I thought of his parents... I thought of his teammates... I thought of his coaching staff ... all of his classmates and friends... I thought of his young life, ready to launch into a bright future upon graduation ... I thought of those moments of glory on the field that he and others were so proud of ... I tried to imagine his fear at the moment of this tragedy ... I wondered why his money was more important than his life to whomever did this senseless beating ... I realized it could have been MY son ...

And the more I thought, the more my mind wandered and my gut churned, my self-protection mode fighting to pull my thoughts away from it all, trying to focus on the evening ahead, the pending game, seeing my young son on that football field after not having seen him all week, playing along with his teammates in hopes of their next victory ... young, innocent, alive, well and safe.

And suddenly, my mind flashes over all the "setbacks" and complaints and worries and troubles and inconveniences that I had been confronted with over the course of the week...those things all crumbling apart and shrouded with the pain of reality.

Life is precious.  It can be gone in an instant.

Let go of the heartache and disappointments of life.

Focus on what matters.

Take nothing for granted.

Make a difference in someone's life every day that you live.

Do something kind for someone as often as you can, while you can.

Encourage others who need encouraged.

Show respect.

Tell people you love them as often as you can.

Hug them every day.

Let go of hurts.

Forgive.

Show goodness and mercy every day that you live.

Pray daily.

Give thanks.

Smile and laugh often.

Cherish life at all costs.

Eye Candy and The Big Screen

Have always loved Oliver Martinez.

Haven't been to the Big Screen in ages... since... I don't know when ...

I may have to make a trip there soon.
This eye candy is less damaging than butter-drenched popcorn and Junior Mints.

Adversity is like a strong wind.  

It tears away from us all but the things that cannot be torn,

so that we see ourselves as we really are. 

- Arthur Golden 

Football is a contact support.  You play football, you're likely to get injured at least once during the season.

My son G has played football since he was seven years old.  Plagued with a succession of injuries during his high school years at this sport, one significant enough to keep him out the entire year, he has learned to face adversity bravely, developing an internal toughness and unbreakable spirit.  He's a fighter.

Playing football at the college level ever since his freshman year, he has been blessed with good fortune.  He's had a relatively injury-free season for the past three years of playing Defensive Tackle.  But his luck ran out Saturday night in the second defensive play of their game.  He had just been triple-teamed for the second time, and as bodies were disengaging to return to the line of scrimmage for the next play, I noticed he was down and was struggling to get up.  I knew it was a bad injury.

My heart sank.  Not a good feeling, witnessing this event...oh, please, don't let this be serious...get up, son...c'mon, get up... the not knowing, repeating those words over and over, "Just get up."  And after what seemed like the longest 60 or so seconds in my life, he did.  And we all cheered.  And then there he was, standing on the sidelines with his team, now WATCHING instead of PLAYING, obviously frustrated and pissed off that he wasn't out there with them getting it done.  I think his anger exceeded any discomfort he might have been feeling.

As it turns out, we were told he may have torn his pec muscle to some degree, uncertain of the extent of his injury pending an MRI on the following Monday.  He's likely to be out for the next three weeks, regardless of how serious the injury.  But if it is bad, he could miss his entire season.  His senior year.  That stings.  Maybe my heart a little more than his, but hey, I'm a mom.  That's what moms do.

And that's football.  And injuries happen.  You can't dwell on it.  You just get up, try to heal, keep a positive spirit, and move forward.  You gotta love the game enough to accept and embrace the risks that go along with it.  And he does.  And he will.  He's tough.  His body may be injured, but his will remains unaffected.

He wears the Badge of Resilience.  The game must go on.  And he will either be right there on the sidelines, or on the field, fighting along with his team with that victorious spirit.

Update: 

THIS  BLOG ENTRY  WAS INITIALLY DRAFTED FOLLOWING MY SON’S INJURY, AND WE’VE SINCE LEARNEDTHAT IT WAS NOT A TEAR, BUT RATHER A BAD STRAIN OF SORTS!  YAY!  NO SURGERY!

AS A RESULT, HE WAS KEPT OUT OF LAST WEEK’S GAME, OF COURSE, AND I WAS HOPING THEY’D KEEP HIM OUT OF ONE MORE GAME TO ALLOW FOR COMPLETE HEALING ON AN OTHERWISE COMPROMISED MUSCLE…BUT  THE COACHES MAKE THAT CALL, NOT MOMS. 

WE ARE THREE DAYS AWAY FROM GAME DAY…EVERY DAY OF HEALING COUNTS…

HOPING FOR CONTINUED HEALING, STRENGTHENING, RECOVERY.

REJOICING FOR THE GIFT OF A VICTORIOUS SPIRIT.

BLESSINGS FROM ABOVE.

MARCHING ONWARD. ..

Busy Monday - Add More Caffeine

Take a few days off, a little change of pace, boost to the mood and mindset.


















But that return to reality, to life, to MONDAY --

To a VERY.BUSY.MONDAY. ---

Drink up, T..... Ya gotta get through it!

Rhythm is a Dancer

I am taking the day off from work, leaving town for the weekend.  

My plan was to sleep an extra hour or so, at least, to catch up on rest,

then get up, go through my morning routine, pack, and be on my way.

But my body had other plans.

Unless I am just totally wasted from lack of sleep,

my body wakes up every morning between 5 and 5:15 a.m.

Bam.  Awake.  Eyes open.  Brain churning.

Despite my best efforts to shut it back down,

it does not.  It has other plans.  It's telling me:

why are you still laying here??

get up

So I got up at my usual time, made coffee, and have begun planning my day.

It just goes to prove that our body does adjust to (entrained) 

whatever stimulus we present to it.

It likes routine.  

It FLOWS with routine.

It DANCES with routine.

So get up, T!

And dance like nobody's watching!

happy friday!