Antique. Rustic. Black. Iron.

Perfect.

I had visions of my pretty vintage jewelry draped over the black hooks.

Sort of like an old rake I saw online. (Pinterest, of course.)

And I’ve been slightly nauseated ever since.

Me: This is beautiful.

As I held it in my hands..

Nice Vendor Guy didn’t really say anything…

Me: How much?

Nice Vendor Guy: $3

Me: Will you take $2 for it?

Nice Vendor Guy: That’s at least 100 years old. And I know it, because of the estate where I got it. If that was at an antiques store, it would be selling for $70. It is not a reproduction.

(Because of its construction, I that  is was an antique before he said it was…)

Me: Okay.

I handed over the $3 and started to walk away, still holding it in my hands.

Nice Vendor Guy: Do you know what that is?

Me: No. I was going to use it to hang jewelry.

Nice Vendor Guy: Back in the day, they used to hang chickens on it after they cut off their heads–to let them bleed out….

Me: Oh.

Now he was talkative? I wanted to ask if I could have my $3 back? Didn’t want it anymore. (Fairly sure this is not the type  of operation to accept returns)

Nice Vendor Guy: You should really file down the tops of the hooks, because they’re sharp. You could rip up your hand taking things on and off that.

That thing hasn’t been in my house 24 hours, but it makes me sick. I look at it and see violence, blood and death. Really, I need to put it in the garage.

I’ll list it on eBay ASAP. Because I can’t stomach it. All I see now is chicken carcasses being slammed into the rusty, black metal.

How can I hang pearls and pretty baubles from what was an instrument of torture?

So much for what seemed like a good idea for a few minutes…

Darling Daughter was up early and decked out in red, white and blue. She is leading horses in the parade. Or at least I think that is what she said she was doing…

Not altogether sure. Just crossing my fingers the one of the horses doesn’t drop a ‘pile’ that she has to walk around. Darling Daughter is NOT good with ‘smells.’

As a child she spent an entire morning at the Farmpark using her fingers to plug her nose. Same when we took her to the Rainforest Café in Downtown Disney (Orlando) and even walking the streets of New York City.

Pray god she isn’t one of the ‘scoopers’ and they told her she was ‘leading’ to rope her into the job??

I digress…

We celebrate Memorial Day with parades.

But it isn’t about the parades and picnics. It is about remembering those who have fallen in service to our country. Remembering how lucky we are to have our freedom. And its price for some…

My mother impressed this upon me at a young age. Her brother served, though he returned home.

A hero is someone who has given his or her life to something bigger than oneself.  ~ Joseph Campbell

And so I will take a moment to thank all those men, women and families who have dedicated their lives so that my family and I have our freedom. And all of those who continue to enlist…

Getting a little bit personal: Jim, Tammy, Brett, Bailey, Kenny, Uncle Bob, Joe, Dave K, Tom S, Donald Hickok (my Grandfather). Thank you.

In the meantime, I am off to the parade. And I’ll be sure to take my camera.

Just in case Darling Daughter is actually walking BEHIND the horses with a scoop and shovel…

At least I didn’ t see any.  (And I looked!) BMW, Mercedes, Audi, Subaru, Toyota, Honda, Lexus, Volvo—these are the brands that clog the roads and highways in this neck of the woods.

Further, there is NO rust on cars. And really, there isn’t a recession down here.

My green van was an anomaly…(was being the operative word.)

Per the US Census of 2010, Loudoun County was ranked #1 in the USA for Highest Median Income.

My aunt lives in Leesburg, Virginia. And Leesburg is part of Loudoun County.

When I drove past a “Barn Sale” sign, I HAD to check it out. I know what I’ll find at a Barn Sale in Perry, Ohio. But a Loudoun County Barn Sale? I had to check it out.

THIS WAS THE BARN ….

It was a beautiful barn. On a gorgeous piece of property.

And I should have expected such a barn, after rolling down this long driveway. Then a quaint little, wood bridge.

If the Stunning property didn’t do it, surely one of the houses on the property (there were several…) should have been a clue.

Or the shiny, black BMW I passed on my way down the lane. Also, I parked by a scattering of very nice vehicles in a grassy field.

The Barn Sale?

Not much under $50. The furniture and antique items upwards of $500. I could understand if things were truly unique, but there wasn’t anything THAT special.

And there certainly weren’t any $1 items!!

Of course, I had just spent the previous day at the Luckett’s Spring Market that was nearby. Maybe that threw me off. Because the Spring Market was packed with stunning finds. It would be tough to compete with what I saw there.

Still…it seems that ’Barn Sales’ are just different down here.

I didn’t buy anything. But I had the BEST time checking out the sale. People watching. Checking out the cars. Taking in the scene. Listening to conversations…

MORE AMUSING ANECDOTES from the Never-Ending trip.

The trip that isn’t over yet. After nearly two weeks, I’m still in Virginia.

FLIP-FLOPS:

Aunt Kate accidentally slipped on my sparkly, black flip-flops. And I heard her mumbling about how awful and uncomfortable they were. Next thing I knew, she bellowed up the steps…

Aunt Kate: I’m throwing your black flip-flops out.

And she did.

THE DOGS:

There were three dogs in the townhouse the past couple of weeks. We tried hard to keep it clean. Kept vacuuming couches.

But the Bailey the Beige Dog constantly slept on the Red couch. Leaving cream color hair all over the dark red couch.

Wouldn’t be so bad to vacuum the red couch.

But the The Little Black  neurotic Dog was constantly on the creamy beige suede couch. Leaving black hair ALL over it.

Really?

They could have at least snoozed on the couches that matched their fur.

TALK OF BATHING SUITS:

Aunt Kate was thinking out loud while tapping away on her iPad. I was tapping away on my laptop. We were both distracted. (No surprise there…)

Aunt Kate: I’m going to need a new bathing suit.

Me: Hmmm… (I made as noise as I continued to type…)

Aunt Kate: That goes down to my knees…

Now she had my attention.

Aunt Kate: And down to my elbows.

We both chuckled. (She pointed to knees that aren’t quite what they used to be…)

Aunt Kate: You know like they used to wear in the old days…

Me: Actually, they might have had something there. With their modest bathing suits, long full length, sleeved cover-ups. Jaunty straw hats with the wide brims. Huge, dark sunglasses.

Like Audrey Hepburn…

Or this photo and the mood it sets…

Do we really need to see some of what we see at the beach??? It isn’t always as attractive as people think it is…
THE DOCTOR’S OFFICE:

I accompanied Aunt Kate to her doctor’s appointment today. They ushered us into a room, I sat down and this sign was on the wall. Couldn’t miss it.

I concede that there was a bad snow ‘incident’ down in Virginia a couple of years ago.

But how much’ inclement weather’  IS there? Yes. They close cities down when there is an inch of snow. But how often do they get an inch?

Further it is May 25th.

Probably, they NEVER needed this sign. And they certainly don’t the snowflake and snowman sign now. Swimming pools are already open down here.

THE GREEN DODGE GRAND CARAVAN:

I can report that there are still NO Dodge Grand Caravan’s driving around in Loudoun County, Virginia. My van was MIA soon after my arrival. It was only on the road once during my visit. Mixed in with all the ‘fancy’ cars, trucks, SUV’s and vans.

I did recoup a little bit of cash when it died, before it got towed away.

When I return home in a car that isn’t mine, I’ll be borrowing my Dad (and his wife’s) car. But only for a couple of weeks…

I’ll soon be on the hunt for another vehicle.

When I get home, that is.

A NOTE ABOUT MY LAST BLOG… Had technical difficulties when I posted it. Then had to take it down. Then put it back up. My apologies to those directed to a page NOT there. Feel free to scroll back and take a look if you like. It is there now.

Driving to the Market was wonderful. Even in heavy traffic. And even in my old green minivan. Because I LOVE driving in Virginia. It is so beautiful, blue skies, rolling hills, plantation houses set far back from the road…

As I parked in a grassy field, I noticed those headed for the entrance had either large shoulder bags or dragged rolling carts.

Luckily I always have a bag. I quickly dumped its contents to van’s floor. Then dropped my notebook, pen, camera, wallet, lip gloss and a water bottle inside the bag. (Only the essentials for me!) And I was off.

There was just so much to see. A ‘candy shop’ or ‘playground’ for somebody like me. Salvage windows, doors, Adirondacks chairs, antique fabrics, vintage signs and furniture. Furniture. and more FURNITURE.

One of my favorite, quirky items? An old, antique disco ball…

Hanging in an old barn. Lots of barns and potting sheds scattered about. Along with all the festival booths, the regular Luckett’s stores were open, as well.

There was A Journey From Junk and Divine Details who set up together under one tent. One of my favorite, hand painted signs was there.

Laughed out loud. (I took it in the ‘biblical’ sense) And I wasn’t the only one. Then when I passed by later, I realized it could be taken at face value. Why am I up???

One of the highlights for me?

I met Miss Mustard Seed, of Mustard Seed Interiors. She is an inspiration. A writer. Mom. Wife. Daughter. Business Owner. Designer. Blogger. And (hurrah!!) Author with a book due out this October…

She gave out these lovely gifts…

There were nearly 200 vendors at the Spring Market this year. Yet Miss Mustard Seed (AKA Marian Parsons) stood out from the pack. Of course, her merchandise was stunning–especially the furniture pieces painted with her new milk paint line. She sparkled. That’s the only way I can describe it. She was engaging, gracious, patient in answering questions, willing to pose for photos, slipped her readers a ‘free’ bag or bunch of lavender when she could. And watching her in action–it was clear why she has been so successful. She was surrounded by her family (who were also friendly and efficient). All wore matching “Mustard Seed Interiors” t-shirts and they were a well-oiled machine–there to support her. There was such warmth surrounding that space.

I’ve got to put in a photo of this chest of drawers…

The Big Question. What did I purchase?

Nothing big, because I have budgetary constraints…

A new lamp shade. Or at least to me, it looked like a Perfect lamp shade.

It is really a wood and metal bushel basket. Use your imagination and you might see it with a bright, funky color washed on the rustic wood.

I got a pretty, retro red snack tray with daisies on it. I have loved daisies since I was a little girl. It’s probably about 6″ x 10″ and will end up on a wall, in a plate rack, or by the front door to hold mail.

I couldn’t resist the tiny oil painting of pink roses signed ‘Merle Baker.’

Miss Mustard Seed gifted me with a lovely bag of lavender tied with a cream satin bow. Lovely!!

Lastly, notice the plant at right. It is a topiary plant. Very hardy. Difficult to screw it up. (We’ll see about that…)

They sold these plants wrapped around shapes–round, stars and suns. I chose to buy the plant and grow and prune it around a shape of my choosing. I might regret not getting the ‘ready made’ topiary. Time will tell.

All and all, it was a magical experience. But my trip has not been without its challenges. My van died. Still not sure what I will be driving home…

Dad: Are you taking the bus home?

Me: Only if I can stuff the dogs into suitcases.

As usual, the past two weeks were full of  disasters and debacles.

But…I found a new motto in one of the stores at the Market.

Didn’t buy it. (Damn budgetary constraints!!) But I am going with it for now.

At least until I am successful at SOMETHING.

Stick with me. More stories about my trip in the coming days….

Note of Apology: To anybody who read, tried to read this blog earlier today. Sorry that it was cut off. Had a few technical difficulties. Hopefully, it is fixed now.

With a few exceptions.

I do frequent grocery stores, bookstores and the pharmacy. And I am a hot, sweaty mess without my Premarin. I’m rarely cranky–so if I am, the kids ask if I took my pill. Referring to the HRT.

My family is tight-knit, funny, and sentimental.

When we are together, we share experiences. We have fun.

My memories?

The whole family going to see the movie Elf when it came out, because it was a big deal to my kids. Family dinners, game nights, baseball games at Three Rivers Stadium when my aunt lived in Cincinnati. Bowling outings. Meeting up at a golf course for a round of golf. Family vacations in Hilton Head, trips to Cedar Point and of course Washington, D.C.

What we have never done for fun? Gone shopping.

Not to say we don’t gift each other on occasion. My aunt bought me a lovely Tiffany Drop Heart Pendant for my birthday the year I was preparing to move from my home, with divorce imminent. She felt I needed something special.

Not too long ago, my father and his wife had a lovely old family clock restored for me.

Shopping absolutely bores me. If I need something, I get it. But I’m in and out. I have never shopped as a form of entertainment.

Just today, I needed a new pair of shorts. I went into Eddie Bauer and bought a pair. Took me about 15 minutes. Sure, there was an outlet full of stores. And I could have spent the day trying on shorts. But I got what I needed.

Then my aunt and I took the dogs to a lake nearby, where they spent an hour jumping off a dock and swimming for tennis balls. Far more entertaining to me than the outlet mall.

I also enjoy walking in the woods, or on the beach. Reading. Throwing a Frisbee to the incredibly athletic Little Black neurotic Dog. Going for a long bike ride. Rollerblading.Yard work, planting flowers. Auctions. Painting and refinishing the retro furniture that I find.

Spending time with family and friends.

Or what we call ‘Field Trips’ in my family. And Road Trips.

Road Trips are long trips. Vacations to Hilton Head, New York City, skiing at Peek ‘n Peek or going to my aunts in Leesburg, Virginia. As I did this week.

Field Trips are short adventures. Like the year the kids and I hopped in the car on a whim on Christmas morning, then showed up at a family brunch in Pennsylvania. Or heading to the West Side to see friends there. Or to Geneva-on-the-Lake.

What made me think of this? And my aversion to shopping?

Being in Virginia this week. Walking around my aunts home.

Let me explain with photos…

The pretty, antique mirror on the wall belonged to a relative. For my whole life, it hung above our living room fireplace. My mother inherited it. When she passed and my father sold that home, it went to her sister–my aunt. The black table is new from an upscale Virginia furniture store. The grandfather clock was purchased at Pierces in Mentor, Ohio. Maybe 25 years ago? It has been on a few moving trucks over the years.

The sectional and club chair are modern. But the library table in front of the bay window is late 1800s. It was inherited from relatives in my uncles family. It is in near Perfect condition.

Here’s a closer look at the table…

The series of pictures on the wall are Warren Kimble and depict the seasons; spring, summer, winter, fall. I have the same set in my house. A 30th birthday gift from my family–including Dad, brother, cousins, aunts, uncles. My set will probably be in one of my children’s homes some day. (Notice the dog? We all have dogs…)

The little pottery jug with lid to the left must have been bought by my aunt ages ago. I can remember her having it when I was a young child. And I am 41 now. It sits on her Corian countertop and holds dog treats. It has actually held dog treats for many years.

Which brings me to function. We USE everything. If there are books lying around, they’ve likely been read. Jars hold things. We use our dining tables and put our feet on the coffee table.

A prime example of this…

The Nordictrack. It is there because my aunt uses it when the weather is bad and she can’t get outside for a walk. And it is placed so that she can see the TV when she does so. She has had the machine for years. It isn’t the newest, latest or greatest. But it works great. (Function, again.) And it actually looks fine.

I’ve always known how my family decorated. We don’t so much ‘design’ rooms, we fill them with our favorite things. Or things we use. We make ourselves comfortable.

We don’t go store to store with paint and material swatches to match furniture, wall art and accessories. Nor do we stress over color and everything being perfectly matched. Or what is ‘in style’ at the moment. When we do buy furniture or big items, we buy what strikes us–what we love. Then work with it. Often for 25+ years. (Or more…)

Rooms come together as an extension of surrounding ourselves with what we love. Things that have meaning to us.

And in looking at my aunts examples of this in the photos, it works for her. Her home is a reflection of the people who live there. Always has been.

I guess I’m a product of my environment.

So it is the elder generation’s fault that I hate shopping. Because it feels like a waste of time. I already have everything I need. No need to go out looking for more things, when I could be doing something fun!

Tomorrow, I’ll be going to an event here in Leesburg. The 2012 Annual Luckett’s Spring Antique Market. People fly in from all over the country to attend. I cannot wait…

But not because I plan to spend the day buying things. Or wishing I could buy things. I’ll spend it meeting vendors, talking to people, snacking on festival foods, looking at artwork and being inspired by others creativity.

In other words, I’ll soak up the experience of being there.

And if I find a little trinket to remember the event by, I might just buy it.

But only because I happened upon it. Not because I was shopping for it.

Here’s a link for those wanting information on Luckett’s: http://luckettstore.com/events/50-spring-market

Most people are only too happy to let go of their old cars…

I have never been like most people.

Last Friday, I sold my Trusty Honda Accord. And it was difficult. Still is.

Once I agreed to the deal, I spent several hours wiping tears from my cheeks. Even took the old car for a final drive to the beach to walk my dogs, just before its new owner arrived to pick it up.

My car was old—yet solid. If I was mechanically inclined, I would NOT have let it go. Could have kept it running for quite a few more years. But I am not.

So it needed to go.  And still, it took me months to take action. I really, really loved that car. Which is crazy. It was a 1999 with over 220,000 miles on it.

What tipped my hand? Why last Friday?

I HAD to get to Virginia on Sunday. Monday at the latest.

(That’s a story for another day…)

And it seemed a bad idea to take my Trusty Honda. I needed space for hauling. And I was taking BOTH dogs. The jig was up. There simply wasn’t a choice.

Prior to Friday, I had several offers on my old car. And I would have gotten a better price had I sold to one of them. But they were as mechanically inclined as I am. (Not very!)

I was determined to sell the car to a mechanic or somebody who could keep it running. It was the only way I could feel okay selling such an old vehicle. That person turned up on the exact day that I was ready (forced?) to move on.

Thought I didn’t get as much as I could have for the Honda, I got enough to purchase the minivan I found at auction on Thursday. I agreed to buy it Friday night, sight unseen.

Really, I wasn’t in the deal to make money, just to make my trip to Virginia happen. And I wanted the situation to be win/win for everybody.

Ironically, my new van is a Dark Green Dodge Grand Caravan. Nearly the EXACT van I drove when my children were younger. Even the same color.

Full circle.

On Saturday morning, I rose early to pick up the van. I handed over the cash. Found a notary. Changed over my auto insurance (using my cell phone) while picking up flowers and running Daughter to her hair appointment—she had prom later in the day. Then slid into the title bureau for temporary tags—with about 7 minutes to spare before it closed. Saturday was chaotic.

My new green van has half the miles on it that my Trusty Honda had. And a new transmission. It doesn’t make the funky grinding noises that my old green van made, or catch when it switches gears. It is a smooth riding vehicle. Mechanically sound. I knew it would get me where I needed to go. Or at least I hoped so…

The downside?

My van isn’t ‘pretty.’ The former owner was a contractor. Meaning it was a utility vehicle, used to haul tools and such to job sites.

The exterior has rust spots. The inside isn’t clean.There is a small tear in the dashboard. A missing armrest. And it smells–like dirt, dust and the like…

Yet it was my BEST option. When it comes to vehicles, I will always choose mechanically sound over ‘pretty.’

I sang its praises to my father and the family—Again, I was getting where I was going. Nobody was stepping in my path.

And on Monday morning, I loaded the van.

I got an E-Check (required on Ohio), then had my new set of wheels titled into my name. I was NOT making the trip without a clear title coming along with me. I might find a van I like better while in Virginia.

Aunt Kate: Where are you?

Me: Just leaving.

Aunt Kate: Just be careful. It’s pouring rain down here…

Me: Oh…then I’m going to get wet.

I ran back into the house for my raincoat.

Aunt Kate: Huh?

Me: I’ll be driving with the windows open.

Aunt Kate: Doesn’t the van have air conditioning?

Me: Yeah. But it smells…And putting the AC on blows those smells directly into my face.

Aunt Kate: Oh…

As I pulled out of the driveway, I noticed that along with the exhaust running a tad loud, there was another funny little sound.

My solution?

Music. I cranked up the volume. And rode the six hours to Virginia singing all the way. Motown, country, easy listening, hip hop…

There was no need to keep the music low, to hear the directions from my GPS. Either my cord wasn’t working or the van outlet doesn’t work. Not sure which.

Anyways, I know the way to my aunt and uncles house in Virginia. I just like to drive on autopilot, “up ahead…get in the right lane.”  Or “take the exit left.” The GPS keeps me on track, in case I lose focus.

Early in the trip, I remember feeling lucky that I am so happy. That I’m blessed with the resilience necessary to roll along with life.  Even when it is not at all easy. That my crazy weekend and stinky, old van didn’t faze me…

The one living being on the trip not keen on the van? Flippity-Gidget.

That’s my nickname for the Little Black, neurotic Dog. She won’t walk on the floor of the van. She enters by hopping directly onto a seat. Once inside, she leaps from seat to seat—even up over the middle bench to get to the far back seat.

It’s odd. But then, she is odd.

The Red Dog? He’s always content. And the new van gave him a choice of two ‘couches’ (bench seats) to snooze on. He counted sugar plums all the way to Virginia…

Probably, there is a 50/50 chance I will be driving the van back home.

It’s possible I’ll sell it while I’m down in Virginia.

Because my aunt and uncle have lots of cars—three, actually. For two drivers.

Which gives me an opportunity that I don’t have at home. I can be without a vehicle and take the time to look for something I like. And I haven’t yet formed an attachment to this van…

The lines are often quite blurry when it is time to move on. From people. Jobs. Relationships. Our living situations. Our homes. Even cars, clothing and smaller possessions.

Letting go can be excruciating. It is always easier to hang onto the known, even when it no longer fits our needs. We cannot find our future if we hold onto our past. The only way to get to the future, or the ‘good’ stuff is to let go.

The Trusty Honda was ONLY a car. I know that.

It was time to move on. I know that, too. What we know in our head doesn’t always line up with what is in our hearts.

And so I’m amusing (consoling?) myself wondering what I’ll be driving when I eventually turn up in Cleveland. With me, you never know…

I was lounging outside, soaking up this gorgeous day, watching my dogs roll around in the grass and play with each other.

Then I decided to check my emails, my blog, my eBay store and Facebook. Just to make sure there wasn’t anything that needed my attention.

Which was when I came across your status:

As I look at the person staring back at me from my mirror, I wonder; for all the things that have been accomplished, for all the hardships that have been risen above, for all the joy and happiness brought to others, for all the good that has been done and for all the compassion and empathy shown to others, am I only as good as, and should my entire character be judged and defined by the WORST thing I have ever done?      ~Kym McVicker-Brewster

Hmmmm….

A little deep for a Saturday morning.

And just as I was going to drag a brush through my hair, apply lip gloss and run a few errands. Walk my dogs. Then maybe a have a little afternoon nap before meeting up with a friend later tonight.

NOW I am thinking.

Worse yet, I am thinking about the WORST of me. (Never pretty when any of us do that!) And whether the dumbest, WORST things I have done cancel out the many GOOD things I have done?

Certainly, I wish that I had not dropped the F-bomb outside of the church with ‘Father’ standing 10 feet behind me. Not a shining moment for me.

Here’s the link for those who want the full (humiliating) story:

http://playingwithperfect.com/2011/08/03/one-of-my-most-shameful-moments/

And by the way, Kym noted that this thought was not specifically related to anything in her life. Just a thought. Or a ‘rhetorical’ question. And it isn’t specifically related to anything in my life either.

But it did get my juices flowing. Got me thinking…

God help us all when I do that.

We are all unique. A mix of good, bad, quirky, stupid, brilliant, well-intentioned (if poorly executed) plans. We have our stellar qualities. And the qualities that we (and sometimes others) could do without. We all face challenges, succeed, fail miserably…and make plenty of mistakes.

Because nobody is Perfect, it is probably easier if we toss away the yardsticks. Both for measuring ourselves and others.

In that vein, I am off to get a donut and a Diet Coke. I’ll be skipping the errands for now, in favor of spending some time outdoors…(with my dogs, daughter, Diet Coke and donut)

Having gotten off track, why get ON TRACK now?

1.) My son has gotten very good at tossing ‘the dart.’

Either that or I make it far too easy?

I circle. Mentally and physically. Have been told it is like watching a dog chase its tail.

Me: The dogs are circling around me!

Son: They learned from the best. (Deadpan)

Okay. A few points to my Son.

2.) Better to skip the Psychic Fair.

For the curiosity factor, I wanted to go to a Psychic Fair at a local coffee shop this week.

But why take the chance? What if he/she did my reading, then gave me directions to the nearest bridge? And recommended a ‘Thelma and Louise?’

Like…find the nearest bridge or cliff—and hit the gas pedal.

3.) I’ve never had to wonder where I came from.

Aunt Kate went to the doctor recently. A foremost Specialist in the country, or a ‘Specialist’ aomong specialists.

She lives in Virginia, hikes her dog outside each day and ended up with Lyme disease. Then was on antibiotics for several months. Hence the doctor’s appointment. To make sure all was well.

Mr. Specialist took her temperature—used a regular, mercury thermometer. And her temperature was just fine.

Except she had gum in her mouth. When Mr. Specialist pulled the thermometer out, there was this long (getting longer) string of gum. She tried to pull it back to her mouth. And Mr. Specialist tried to untangle the gum from his thermometer. Disaster.

Uncle Joe sat nearby, mouth open…to stunned to speak.

End result of the appointment.

Mr. Specialist: You are fine. No need to come back.

Aunt Kate was thinking, “I bet he doesn’t want to see me back here.”

Because ‘these things’ still happen to her regularly, I’m not hopeful ‘these things’ will EVER stop happening to me.

Just yesterday, I picked up a pair of jeans at my cousin’s house. Then drove away. Darling Daughter’s phone rang two minutes later.

Cousin: Forget something?

Darling Daughter: Mom…forget something?

I went down the list out loud…

Me: Got my keys. (I was driving the car.) My phone is right there. (In the console.)

Darling Daughter: What about your purse?

Me: Sh$%!!!

We circled around the block and picked up my purse.

My daughter can run, but she cannot hide. I’m 41. Aunt Kate is 58.

Just this morning, Daughter filled out her summer soccer form—so she ‘didn’t forget.’

But when I pulled into the driveway after dropping both children off at school, the soccer form was STILL in the backseat. Perfectly filled out.

If a little mangled. The dogs trampled all over it on the ride home.

Daughter is 17 ½. Still young. And I’d LIKE to be hopeful, but I’m realistic. The best she can do is develop her sense of humor. And marry somebody very patient.

4.) Sheetz.

I’ve always been a people watcher. Picked up on nuances, things others miss. Not to be mean, or to poke fun. (I know my fellow people watchers get quite ‘the show’ in watching me…) It’s more about understanding others.

And so the Sheetz around the corner is a playground for me. We made a quick stop there for my son this morning.

As I waited in the car, a group of men shuffled in. Their jeans had these little ‘circles’ in them. I’d never seen this, before moving to this semi-rural city. Was nearly 40, before I realized that these meant a person ‘Chewed.’ The little ‘circles’ were small tins of Chewing Tobacco.

Which doesn’t make much sense to me. Why not just smoke a cigarette? Tobacco is tobacco, right? Does it really matter how it enters the bloodstream?

Although smoking has slowly become an ‘outside’ activity. And one can ‘Chew’ anywhere—even in church. Score ONE for Chew.

Depends on whether one values their lungs or their mouth, I suppose…

5.) We all have vices.

Which is why I’ll NEVER toss stones at others for using tobacco.

I happen to love sugar, in the form of cake, cookies and other desserts. I am also semi-addicted to Diet Coke. (I have quit many times, but always end up going back…)

I might value my lungs and mouth, but what about my blood sugar? My toes and feet?

Nope. You won’t find me out there casting the ‘first stone.’ Nor will I sit in judgment of others. But I will ‘people’ watch.

6.) Wealth. (Or lack thereof…)

If we are honest, the roller coaster of wealth has its ups and downs for all of us during the course of a lifetime. And it is often tied to how we choose to live our lives. Our priorities. My roller coaster hasn’t been up many hills lately. I pondered this while driving in the car with my children yesterday.

Me: It’s funny. But I don’t feel poor…

Darling Daughter: I feel a little poor sometimes. But I’m NOT unhappy. I’m actually very happy.

Me: Maybe that’s it. I’m happy.

Pause…

Me: Hmmm…maybe because I’ve always been lucky enough to have such a wonderful circle of friends, family, you children…Without that, I might feel poor.

Darling Daughter: Let’s NOT go getting all philosophical now…

And so I didn’t.

But it didn’t stop the topic from circling around in my head while we drove.

My thoughts reminded me of a favorite Oprah Winfrey quote:

“Everyone wants to ride with you in the limo, but what you need is someone who will take the bus with you when the limo breaks down.”

So, there is an upside to my current situation.

Anybody who is willing to ride in the Trusty Honda with me is a ‘keeper.’ That includes friends, family, children, and/or a Special Somebody.

Even though the Trusty Honda stops at Sheetz for Diet Coke and donuts. It often circles back to pick up things forgotten. It is full of dog hair and sand from the beach. And it may (or may not) break down.

Yet, I (mostly) enjoy the ride each day.

Probably because I developed MY sense of humor long ago…

Still half asleep, I plodded back to my room to get dressed. As I passed through the kitchen doorway, a stream of liquid hit me square in the face.

I tried to spit it out of my mouth…

Darling Daughter: It’s WATER mom.

Me: Huh?

(Still wiping my face, water dripping down the front of my shirt…)

Darling Daughter: From my squirt gun.

Me: Oh. Well it tastes gross…

Both children laughed at me. The dogs ran in circles around us.

Me: Did you have to get it in my mouth?

A few minutes later, we headed out the door.

Me: What are you doing?

Darling Daughter: Filling my squirt gun.

Dogs, the children and I loaded into the car. And it is a load; of dogs/dog hair, heavy backpacks, my ‘suitcase’ purse, bags stuffed with both kids after school workout gear…

My son rode shotgun next to me. Daughter and both dogs were in the Back of the Bus. (Family terminology for ‘backseat’)

And we were off to school…

Water whizzed past one dogs head.

I glanced back there…

Darling Daughter: What? I thought they liked water.

Me: Yeah, they really, REALLY like that.

Darling Daughter: Well, they drink it. And they like to swim!!

The Red Dog buried his head under my arm while I drove. He did NOT like the water.

Darling Daughter: Rocky, are you traumatized? Grace, you like the water, don’t you?

Gracie rode with her head out the window.

Me: She does NOT like it. And she’s very neurotic. Let’s hope she can’t get her whole body out of that window.

Darling Daughter: If they could open their mouths, maybe they would like it…

Where was my son in all of this?

Relaxed. Plugged into his music, both ear buds securely in place. Traveling in his own bubble. Happy…

Me: Do you have to torment the dogs?

That’s when the water flew past my head, landed on the dashboard and windshield.

I flipped my sunglasses down over my eyes.

The Red Dog turned his head toward my daughter. If he could speak, he might have said, “What are YOU doing?”

Darling Daughter to Rocky (AKA The Red Dog): It’s water. Wanna sip?

Me: Nobody wants a sip!!! None of us…

Where did she get the squirt gun?

Part of the spoils from yesterdays National Honor Society induction process.

There is a tradition at our high school. On the morning of NHS inductions, senior NHS members ‘kidnap’ the new inductees from their beds. New members have a minute to brush their teeth, then get dragged to school for the day in their pajamas.

How are the new inductees awakened?

With chaos. A dozen kids crammed into our house. Hurled balls at her. Turned on lights. There was yelling and screaming. Darling Daughter was pelted with water from squirt guns and silly string. (That is still stuck to her bedding) And in our house, the dogs barked like crazy. That is how my day started yesterday at 5:45 am.

Luckily, we still have the plastic balls, squirt guns and such.

The tradition is fun for the kids. And the seniors did an outstanding job in organizing the event, of speaking at the induction ceremony last evening and they made the ‘right of passage’ a wonderful memory for the new NHS members.

At the reception after the ceremony, I spoke to a teacher/coach whose third child (of four) will graduate this spring and head to college in the fall.

Coach: Yeah. My wife has been crying some lately. The kids are almost gone.

Me: I find myself thinking about that, though my daughter is a junior…

Coach: I keep telling her…in a couple of years, they’ll start coming BACK!!! And they will bring more people with them…

We both laughed…

Me: That’s so true. So, really we should look at these years as our ‘window.’ A little breather…

Coach: I keep telling her we can do some things together.

And he was right.

College isn’t the end of one phase. It is simply the beginning of another. 

There are few breaks in parenting and our job is never done. Once we have kids, we are parents forever. We send them off to college. And they come back. They get jobs. Get married. Have children. And if we are lucky, we have a wider circle of loved ones. The conversation shifts from high school sports and classes, to college majors, to the job hunt and careers, the first home and other life events.

When my children hit milestones and other mothers cried, I was always more excited for my kids than I was sad for me. Because my kids were excited. If they are happy, then I am happy for them. And so I try to enjoy each phase that parenting brings.

We aren’t guaranteed these moments. My mother couldn’t attend my NHS induction, though she would have loved to.(We videotaped it for her) She was too ill and was diagnosed with cancer several months later.

Maybe I appreciated every moment of last evenings NHS ceremony a little more because of that. It isn’t that I live in the past, more that my past injects an extra dose of gratitude into some things. Or has shown me not to take anything for granted.

I was grateful for the efforts of students, staff and parents in making last night special. Grateful that my father and his wife could share it with us.

Life does move forward. And we never know what is in store for us. Sometimes that is downright terrifying. But it is also part of the adventure…

And so I try to enjoy the ride. Even when ‘the ride’ includes water squirted inside the car, at 7am.

As for my daughter…what goes around, comes around.

She stays after school every day to work out. And I pick her up.

Today, I will pick her up with a loaded squirt gun. And when she gets in the car, I’ll be aiming for her mouth.

Surely, she’ll want a sip of water after her run?

NOTE: Please read the comments, to see how picking up my daughter unfolded…

Started when the Trusty Honda got ‘tired’ (i.e. stopped running) while I was driving  50mph on a busy road and I coasted (ironically) into a used car lot.

What could I do? I locked the car. And my neighbor Chapman came and got me.

After weighing my options, I had the car towed to a repair shop. Seeing my car on the tow truck had me downtrodden.

That evening, a friend picked me up for a meeting:

Friend: My car might not start later.

Me: Huh?

Friend: Yeah. My son moved it and left the lights on. We had to jump it the other day.

Me: I have jumper cables in my car.

Friend: Shoot!! I forgot mine at home.

Me: We are driving past my car. Maybe we should get my jumper cables? It isn’t like they are going to help me at this point…

Thankfully, we grabbed them from my trunk because she used them the next morning to jump-start her car…

Later in the week:

That same friend sent out a reminder that this Friday is Bunco night. (Yes, I live an exciting life…)

Me: I will be there. Somebody might need to stop over and pick me up, but I will be there!!

Friend: I hear you. My car is at shop now. By the way, thanks for the jumper cables. They came in handy this morning.

Me: Seriously? We might have to leave early and WALK to Bunco…

Friend: No. I’m picking it up now. New battery, so I’m good to go. (We hope!)

Me: You don’t like walking? I might like it A LOT. Depending on how much it costs to fix my car.

Friend: I do like walking….it is actually a lot better for me than riding. And my battery was not cheap, so good luck.

Another Friend: Yep. I will be there, too. I can walk with you guys. I got lost a couple of times while walking in Florida and ended up on 2 1/2 hour walks…

Happen to adore ‘Another Friend.’ Hilarious that she sort of skipped the part where the ‘walking’ was due to our car troubles.

I was looking outside at my empty driveway when she texted me (and others) a short time later…

Another Friend: Since you guys like to walk, want to do the Susan G. Koman walk with me? It requires raising a lot of money, though.

Me: Let me think about it. That is a big commitment.

Another Friend: I just found a 5 mile walk we can do in September for charity.

Me: Great!

Much easier to go with it…

(Though I’ll be sure to tease her about it this weekend when I see her .)

Anyways, my favorite mechanic put a ‘band aid’ on my car and it is running again. And I couldn’t be more grateful after four days with no car.

I (mostly) kept my chin up and tried not to feel like a complete loser.

Single parent. Two teenagers. Two dogs. Meager means. No ‘real’ job.

The cherry on top? No car.

When I am stressed or upset, I clean.

Others might get drunk, cry, or lash out in anger.

I paint and re-finish furniture. Rearrange rooms.  Clean behind kitchen appliances. Weed the yard.

And while I am cleaning, I am working out solutions. The upside is that when my low mood passes, my surroundings look fantastic and I am ready to move forward again.

But what really got me over the hump this week?                My 17-year-old daughter.

And her handling of a school assignment. Her teacher often assigns the class a question; the students post their responses to an online forum and have an online discussion with each other. The latest question…

What makes a hero today? Who is your personal hero? Why? How does this person fit the mold of a modern hero?

“A hero is someone who is strong and courageous. Not necessarily in the typical, life-threatening, fighting dragons kind of way but someone who can stand up for what they believe in and go against the grain. My mom is my personal hero. She has been through her mother’s death when she was young, a divorce, moving, getting a job, being unemployed, struggling to keep my brother and me happy and well-cared for, and getting along with my Dad. Rather than take the normal path and finding whatever cruddy job she could, she chose to do what she loves and make that a career. She is a writer and an eBay PowerSeller, not a chemist or a teacher or an accountant. She is doing what she loves even though she is always criticized and it is really difficult sometimes. No matter what life has thrown at her, my mom has always been clear-headed and happy. She has never given up hope or ignored her personal beliefs to please someone else; she has done what is best for my brother, herself and I. Her unselfishness and strength amazes me every day. My mom fits the mold of a modern hero because her love, spirit, happiness, and strength do not fit any kind of mold. She is one of a kind and anyone would be proud to be half as good of a person as she is and I am so lucky to be her daughter.”

And just like that, I was over it. I know my reasons for making many of the decisions I’ve made. For not straying from my core. And I have certainly made plenty of mistakes. (Too many to count…) But my family, friends and those close to me have always been my top priority.

And they always will be. My children know this. Not so much by my words, but in how I live each day. By my actions. The choices I make.

I cannot feel like a failure after reading that last night.

Even if I am walking, instead of driving a car…