A Mother's Musings

AND He is Humble Too

2012-01-31T10:50:00.000-08:00

Oh, I forgot to add this tidbit.

The other day, when ordering coffee at a local favorite shop, Joseph was asked how he was today. His response? "Gorgeous!" The barista smiled and nodded, started to talk, stopped and said, "Did you say gorgeous?" He smiled and said, "Yeah . . . sorry . . Usually I reserve that comment for the mirror."

*Rolling eyes*

Oh. That. Man. I. Love.Him So.

Oh That Man . . . I Love Him So

2012-01-31T09:12:00.001-08:00

Lyrics from a great song and sometimes my personal mantra.

Joseph is an amazing, gorgeous, kind, funny husband . . . he loves me completely and never lets me forget it. I am lucky to have him. Really. I am.

That said . . . .

A couple of months ago our automatic garage door stopped working. Since it was older than our children, fixing it was more expensive than getting a new one. Joseph diligently shopped around and found a used one that would fit our garage. We went over and got it for a good price and felt proud of ourselves.

Then it sat in the garage in pieces while Joseph researched online exactly how to put it together. Just as he was getting ready to start, however, he was inspired to additional creativity. "I think we should paint it first," he said. "I will go look at colors at Home Depot." (Tami shudders at the thought but tries to still her quailing heart.) He brings home those lovely cardboard swatches of color and amid the dark forest greens I had suggested were some very pink/purple hues I hadn't anticipated. I gave him my thoughts on the best choice, but really, I have run over almost everything in this house--what is on the walls, the furniture, etc., and the garage is HIS domain, so I let him choose.

Last nite at midnite he was out there painting the first of three panels and he called me out to take a look.

GOOD LORD.

QUITE the shade. I had hoped perhaps eggplant but this is more like . . . not eggplant. This morning he took the panels outside and put them next to the house to see how they blended with the stone and shingle siding.

Perhaps blended is too strong a word.

No, it's just the wrong word.

Clash? There, that's the right word.

IT clashes. Brilliantly. It looks like the swollen thumb on an otherwise handsome hand.

But . .. I love that man and if this is the color he likes, then I will grow to like (read: ignore) it as well.

Of course, he is rather dubious also, but I bet it stays. He says it stretches his boundaries.

Yea, right. Stretch. That's the right word, honey.

Godless

2012-01-29T10:58:00.000-08:00

I imagine there has been some form of discrimination and prejudice since time began. Perhaps even the earliest humans looked at the strange one with curly hair or the one whose skin was a different shade or who was taller, shorter, smaller, bigger, funnier, meaner than the rest and made assumptions about that person based on their observations and biases.

Discrimination or prejudice is one tradition/habit/trait/instinct that has apparently followed humans throughout their development from cave dwellers to city dwellers, from stone clubs to night clubs, from the thrill of the hunt to the exhaustion of the race. Anyone different or strange or just not LIKE us is still viewed with suspicion, often fueled by misconceptions, stereotypes, personal issues and yes, perhaps a nugget of truth. We try, as EVOLVED human beings, to get past it and judge each person based on merit, not on issues like skin color, gender, age, ethnicity, social class--or religious belief.

Unless, of course, that person stands up and says, "I'm an atheist."

Then, unlike with other biases, it is okay to kick that person out of your house, refuse to speak to them, ostracize them in public, terrify your children, spread false rumors about you and your family, end decades long friendships, and even threaten their safety.

I am sure that is what your God wants you to do to us evil non-believers, right?

My family moved out to Oregon ten years ago for a number of reasons and one of the most important was the freedom to choose our beliefs--or non-beliefs--in privacy and respect. Everything listed above isn't an exaggeration--they are things that happened to us in the name of "Christian" kindness.

To this day, my kids are hesitant to use the "A" word simply because of the cruelty they have been shown by many religious people. Out here, that fear is slowly dissipating, but I don't know that it will ever disappear completely, because of the assumptions and discrimination that go hand in hand with the atheist title. Suddenly, this nice, fun, pleasant, loving family that we were 60 seconds ago, transformed into immoral, deluded, hurry-away-because-they-might-invoke-evil, don't-get-too-close-because-they-might-be-contagious-and-threaten-our-personal-beliefs people. POOF. Must be magic. A minute ago we were friends--now we're not. You don't follow the same God I do, so I don't wanna play with you anymore . . . .

I do NOT get it. The Christian God is supposed to be a loving one. Did I miss somewhere in the Bible where it encourages all followers to be critical, condemning and even vicious to those who follow a different path? If you want people to share your beliefs, don't you think a role model of tolerance, kindness, and love is the better approach?

Shocking as it may be to hear, atheists can be moral, kind, compassionate, beautiful people--or not. So can Christians--or not. That's because we are all human beings with choices to make. I don't give you any flack about yours even if I think it is utterly incomprehensible to me. Please--can I have the same respect?

Travel Plans

2012-01-25T10:11:00.000-08:00

Just the other day I was talking about how I rarely got the chance to travel anymore and I sorta, kinda, sometimes missed it.

Apparently the universe was listening. (It seems to do that when I am not trying to get it to . . . . )

So, tomorrow Nicole and I head out for two days in Seattle. She has a job interview to go to that she is very excited about and I am tagging along just to relax and have fun. I love the hostel there. The rooms are pretty barren if you are used to hotels (simple beds, bathroom down the hall, no TV, etc.), but there is this great common room where you can hang out, watch TV, make food and meet people. Last time we were there I picked out a corner table, pulled out piles of stationery and pens and wrote letters. I plan to do the same this time, although will keep a few books close by for reading breaks. If my eyes hold up, we will be all set.

Then, as if that trip wasn't enough, I have been asked to travel for my job for the first time in years. I have been hired for a new job and am being flown to Texas for a three day training session. The pay is decent and I get to stay in a fancy-schmancy hotel for four nights. I will miss my family, of course, but I am excited to go where the sun shines and to hang out with other writers for a while.

So universe, if you are listening, I might have a few other requests like . . . help my daughter get the job, make the new doctor's visit go well for someone, make someone else have a clean bill of health biopsy results, and oh, unexpected chocolate works well too.

EEEK! Winter!

2012-01-17T22:22:00.001-08:00

For days, they have been predicting a mix of rain and snow. It spit a little here and there and then disappeared. Meh. After growing up in Indiana, this was nuthin'.

Then, tonight, while no one was even looking outside, it snowed. The ground was covered! One kid was heading to bed, one was in the middle of cleaning her room and the third was online and I yelled, "It snowed!" Suddenly, all were outside, throwing snowballs and laughing. Nicole was taking pics and Coryn was rushing over to hand me his iPod so I could keep it safe inside. I hear laughter outside and a snowman is in the works. By tomorrow night, it will most likely have already melted, but the memory of my kids playing and laughing--that one will hang around in my heart for a long time.

Hair or Nails?

2012-01-16T09:37:00.000-08:00

Okay, going out on a non-PC limb here . . . .one of my pet peeves in life (besides people spitting on sidewalks .....what is UP with that?!) is people who work in the public arena in this country but don't know the language. I am sure that it is a very, very difficult language to learn--heck, even those of us born here struggle with some of the funky grammar rules--and I know that moving here from another country must have enormous changes and demands and requirements--really, I do. But please, please, please, for the love of all that is clear . . . can you start by learning just a few basics? I promise you, I SWEAR to you, that if I move to your country, I will learn the language. I won't expect you to cater to me--I will listen to CDs and read books and talk to people until I have a handle on your language. Really. So . . . please do the same.

Why this rant? I recently took a friend to a salon to get a perm. I dropped her off and then came back 90 minutes later to pick her up. I walked in and didn't see her so I explained I was here to pick her up--was she ready?
The response?

"You want your hair done?"

No . . . . . I am here to pick up a friend.

"You want your nails done?"

Grrrrr. No . . . . I.Am.Here.To.Pick.Up.A.Friend.

"Hair or nails?"

At this point, the usually patient Tami shook her head and said a very exasperated OHFERGETIT! and walked out . . . and yes, I slammed the door a bit.

Went next door to see my friend just finishing up.

Any guesses what the women asked me when I walked in the door?

"You want your hair done?"

Sigh.

Introducing . . . .Great Lines

2012-01-13T16:10:00.001-08:00

Okay, when I read a really GREAT line in a book, I always want everyone to stop what they are doing (including total strangers in the near vicinity) and LISTEN to it. Then Oooooh and Ahhhhhh over its intricacy, its clever turn of phrase, its amazing tone or ability to engage the reader . . . . usually everyone tolerates me, except fellow writer Nicole, who truly does appreciate those lines as much as I do.

So, since I am sitting in front of the computer and just read one of those lines, I have decided to post them whenever I can under the heading of "Great Lines". Then you can read and ignore me too! :)

Today's great line comes from page 6 in a library book I picked up today (as if the 10,000 books i have in my bedroom aren't enough, I need to check out books . . . . ) called STARTING FROM HAPPY. It's quite amusing thus far and I loved this description line . . "Tall and thin, with jutting cheeks and fiery red hair, she looked like a kitchen match that stubbornly would not light." Oooh, now isn't that a GOOD description?

Oooh. Aahhhhh. Great line.

I return you to your regularly scheduled life.

Good News, Bad News

2012-01-10T16:14:00.001-08:00

Good news? Sure!

Coryn went to the dentist today, so the good news is that (1) the dentist is a lovely, gentle man who does not hurt my children; (2) after a 4 year absence, Coryn only had two very shallow cavities; (3) the two teeth that had to be pulled came out so easily and quickly that neither Coryn nor I even noticed until it was done and (4) the entire experience was over quickly and was not stressful.

Bad news? Well . . . yeah.

The cost for all of this? I was thinking $400.

I. Was. Wrong.

$900.

NINE HUNDRED DOLLARS.

OHMIGAWD.

I could get $90 off if I paid in full today, but heck that was still $810. So . . . no . . . .. instead, it will be three payments of $300 over three months, because man, I don't have an extra grand sitting around without purpose.

I'm trying really, really, really hard to focus on the good news part of the day.

Really.

New Year, New Plans

2012-01-07T10:24:00.000-08:00

So, do you set New Year's resolutions in your house? Even if I momentarily forgot, Nicole would remind me because stating those goals, one person at a time around the dinner table is very important to her and she goads us until we cooperate. :)

So far, the changes in this house have evidenced themselves in a variety of ways. Coryn is suddenly determined to learn lots of new stuff and is picking up the guitar again and asking me to teach him French. (I took 7 years of it in school but haven't done anything with it since!) Caspian, that unbelievably stubborn young man, started the P90X exercise program at the beginning of the year. Of course this meant replacing the trim around his doorway so he could put a chin up bar there and buying resistance bands and cleaning up the living room so he had room to work in front of the TV . . but you know, he has lost 7 plus pounds in a week and is up every morning filling our living room with the smell of determination and hard work. :) Nicole has been rearranging her room and her life priorities, including travel plans for the year. Joseph has been working on changing the garage and not screaming about the clutter all over the house.

Me? I've been searching for better, smarter jobs rather than MORE jobs . . . trying to arrange a little more time for relaxing . . . and yesterday I managed to wrangle my inner bitch into silence--I was pleased with me. We have been helping someone who needs it, but it has turned into more time and more complexity than I had planned on and when I wanted to just complain, I didn't. Swallowed, smiled, kept going. Although I must admit . . . . I was trying to talk to an Asian woman in a salon, asking her where my friend was and the ONLY English this woman knew was, "You want your hair done? You want your nails done? Hair or nails?" No matter what I said to her, that is how she responded. I finally went, "JUST FERGITIT!" and walked out. Yes, the inner bitch ALMOST got out, but I clamped her mouth shut just in time.

So changes are in the wind . . . . let's see where they get carried, shall we? Happy new year friends.

Best Books of 2012, Tami Style

2012-01-05T08:59:00.000-08:00

I love reading other people's book reviews, so decided to include a few of my personal recommendations from what I read in 2012. My taste is not your taste, obviously (although I am tasty!), so take what you want from this and discard the rest.

Draculas (Kilborn, Crouch, Wilson and Strand). DEFINITELY not for the squeamish or sensitive reader . . . but if you like perverse, dark humor, don't mind gory and want an all new take on vamps, read this one. It whipped through my family like wildfire. We all ended up reading it and we always knew when someone got to a certain page from the "ewwwww" sounds they were making. This book also introduced me to Blake Crouch as a writer and since then, I have been reading more by him. I just finished Run. If you're an "impatient reader" like my daughter Nicole (i.e. you want them to stop talking and describing and get TO THE ACTION in the story and stay there), this is the one to read. It takes off on the FIRST page and never, ever slows down.

Sing You Home (Picoult). Well, in my eyes, this woman can write no wrong. She absolutely fascinates me and when a friend recently asked me which writer I would be if I could only choose one, I chose Jodi without a moment's hesitation. I have never, ever read an author who could make me think and reconsider issues and viewpoints as much as she does. I respect her immensely.

Heads, You Lose ( Lutzman and Hayward) Admittedly, I read this for the name Lisa Lutzman on the cover. Since she created the Spellman Files series--unquestionably one of my lifetime of reading favorites--I had to read this. I wasn't disappointed . . . although I have no doubt I was annoying to the people around me when I read it on the train. I kept laughing and giggling and reading parts out loud to Nicole. The authors are ex-boyfriend and girlfriend in real life and included bickering debates in between chapters. Perfect for those who like a lot of snarky humor added in to their mystery.

I am Not a Serial Killer/Mr. Monster/I Don't Want to Kill You trilogy (Wells). Really fun books . . . . think Dexter only a teenager. Smart young man doing what he can to make the world a safer, better place.

Unexpectedly fascinating reads? Left Neglected (Genova) was an intriguing exploration of what happens when the brain doesn't function correctly, followed by Before I Go to Sleep (Watson) about a major case of daily amnesia. I was less fascinated by the hyped You Don't Look Like Anyone I Know (Sellers) because I couldn't connect to the main character. I wanted to shake her instead of sympathize.

I read a number of autobiographies which were interesting, including Transformation (Bono), Seriously, Just Kidding (DeGeneres), Happy Accidents (Lynch), If You Asked Me (White) and Stolen Life (Dugard). I like learning about other people's lives and perspectives.

Any I DON'T recommend . .. i.e. started reading and either gave up mid-book or got to the end and said, "What a waste of time!" . . . . I try to limit those because life is short and I have a LOT of books, but the ones I did encounter were Illumination by Brocknauer, As Husbands Go by Issacs, One Bloody Thing after Another by Comeau and Inside the Mind of Casey Anthony by Keith Ablow. Definitely didn't impress me.

How many books did you read in 2011? I managed 28 . . . . which seems pretty puny to my younger days but work just eats up most of my time. Maybe I will read more in 2012! I hope so. What did you read that you loved or hated? Post and tell me!

Happy 2012

2012-01-01T01:35:00.001-08:00

Happy New Year to . . . . my handsome husband who reminds me daily why I fell in love with him 30 years ago . . . my four children, one whom I carry in my heart until I can touch her in person, and the three who fill my life with laughter and joy and confusion and expense and happiness on an hourly basis . . . to my lifetime friends--Ami, Bev, Delaine, to my correspondents who fill my mailbox with kindness and friendship, to the people who have touched my life in one way or another, to the world that it be a gentler place. Not sure it's possible? Just go to an airport and watch people say hello and goodbye. It renews my faith in the planet. Happy 2012, readers.

"Coffee Run!"

2011-12-27T15:45:00.000-08:00

In our house, the words "coffee run" mean many things.

It may mean that Joseph and I, and usually Nicole, simply want a morning cup of coffee. Sure, we could have our own coffee maker at home so we wouldn't have to go out for that java, but . . . . then we wouldn't have "coffee runs".

So, when we go out for coffee, the least we do is get a cup of coffee. We also stop by the bank, go to the library, run by the post office, and other mundane errands. Not terribly exciting, I know, but I enjoy it. (Keep in mind--if I am home, I am working . . . if I am not home, I am not working. Make more sense now?) What else do we do? It usually depends on how much time I have that day to call my own, but those "coffee runs" typically include any of the following:

(1) delightful trips to Goodwill

(2) explorations of new coffee shops

(3) meals at exotic restaurants

(4) people watching galore

(5) singing to the radio

(6) laughing and talking with the family

(7) not working.

So, when someone yells, "COFFEE RUN!" in our house, it is little surprise that Tami shoves her shoes on quickly and finds her purse and one, two, or all three of the kids head for the van. In the Orr culture, "coffee run" means F-U-N, mixed with a little caffeine.

Please Send Healthy Thoughts . . .

2011-12-26T08:38:00.000-08:00

Nicole was sick.
We put it down to some kind of food poisoning.

Until Joseph woke with it this morning. So please, please send healthy thoughts that no one else gets it. Coryn is supposed to go out of town this weekend for the holiday. Caspian works at the nursing home. Tami makes the family income. We really, really don't need this one. That has become my first official New Year's Resolution. The vomit stops here. :)

Odd, but Wonderful

2011-12-25T11:05:00.000-08:00

A recent saying in our house--the worst experiences make for some of the best stories. We are absolutely positive this Christmas will qualify.

We planned to celebrate Christmas on Christmas Eve because Nicole's new job required her to work all day on Christmas. The night before (Christmas Eve Eve), we got the presents put into the stockings and planned to put the others under the tree once people were in bed and not peeking.

We went to bed that night with great anticipation . . . I was looking forward to this Christmas more than I had in years.

The morning started with a touch on my shoulder and Caspian's voice saying, "Nicole needs you, Mom. She's sick."

Sick does not quite cover it. She was SICK. Throwing up uncontrollably sick.

The day was spent holding her hair back, bringing her water, emptying bowls, providing large amounts of sympathy, warming up heat packs, and hoping she felt better after each round. On the plus side, both of our sons were amazingly patient and kind about opening presents and waiting til she felt better. No pressure, no unhappiness--just sympathy.

We opened up some gifts about noon. Got about 1/3 through and then she needed a break to be sick. Then sleep. And sleep.

About 4 pm, we opened up some more. We finally finished and Nicole slept a bit more.

My favorite moment of the day? We were all done. Everyone had been pleased and surprised and we were heading out to our respective rooms when I said, Oh hey--Caspian you might want this, and handed him the P90X exercise program he had been wanting . . .he was so surprised. Then, I said, Oh Coryn, you might want this too and I tossed him the iPod Touch he has been lusting after for six or more months. He was SHOCKED. Almost speechless shocked. And I got the BIGGEST hug ever. Yea, best moments for sure.

And now it's Christmas Day. Nicole isn't going to work because heading to a kitchen to make baked goods for the elderly when you've been sick isn't wise. And presents got opened. And now the house seems quiet. I admit to really missing hanging out with family today. I wish we had a big family dinner to go to--wish I would spend part of today surrounded by people and chatting, but alas, no family out here to do so. I will, instead, most likely hang out in Powell's Bookstore, drinking coffee and looking across at my family and being infinitely grateful. A part of my heart is with those not here--always with them--but I send them love as well.

Hope your Christmas was wonderful or at least odd, but wonderful also.

Blindsided by Kindness

2011-12-15T18:45:00.000-08:00

You know how life can sometimes just jump up and kick ya when you're least expecting it? We've all been there. No fun.

But sometimes, it does the opposite. You find yourself suddenly given something wonderful . . . something completely unexpected and kind and so generous. That happened to me today. I was given a gift from a friend--an amazingly generous, exciting gift that left me in tears and speechless. I have no idea how to say thank you enough . . . . except to let you know that my faith in the kindness of people was restored once again. Thank you, Delaine. Thank you more than I can say.

The Light . . . . . .

2011-12-12T17:21:00.001-08:00

Look! See that???

That glimmer in the distance? S L O W L Y growing brighter?

That would be the light at the end of the proverbial tunnel.

Meaning . . . I might be, sometime soon, perhaps, just maybe getting closer to being caught up.

Of course, I am still behind four books, but it WAS EIGHT books, so a definite improvement. And I have several new companies that will kick in with work in January but right now that is forever away.

Of course, NO WORK for several days would be my number one Christmas wish anyway. I just want to sit back and relax and enjoy having my children here. I will deeply miss the people not sitting here, of course. Years later I miss the sound of my parents' voices on the phone. I always, always miss the sound of our oldest daughter's voice and hope she knows somewhere, somehow, in her heart or mind, or both, that she is loved and missed. I miss the slow southern drawl of my Texan friend who died a year ago. But, oh the golden sound of my kids laughing and talking, my husband's hand in mine, AND no work. Wowza.

WHAT Eclipse at the Orr's?

2011-12-10T10:33:00.000-08:00

We got up.

We put on warm PJs.

We went outside.

Yes, the moon was slowly disappearing.

Just wait, we said, just wait 'til it hits full totality and we see those amazing reds and oranges.

We waited.

Guess what?

NUTHIN'.

The moon simply disappeared, as if under a cloud.

No colors, no excitement, nuthin'.

We kept checking, really we did. In between I read, Joseph surfed the net, the kids chatted.

At 6:15 we all said "to hell with it" and went back to bed. Now it's 10:30 and I'm back up and my whole schedule is whacked, and the eclipse? Next time I'll stay in bed.

Eclipse at the Orr's

2011-12-10T05:23:00.000-08:00

The news and email kept letting us know that there would be a total lunar eclipse very early this morning. So, as we crawled into bed about 1 a.m, we set our alarms.

Blearily crawling back out four hours later, we donned warm PJs and came downstairs to find one boy already on the computer playing WOW, one son sound asleep, and one daughter walking around having not gone to bed at all. Oh, and a moon that is slowly disappearing.

So, here it is at 5:30 a.m. at our house and we walk out on the deck (brrrrr) every 15 minutes or so to watch the moon disappear. No pretty colors yet, but that is supposed to get here about 6, so trying to be patient. Once it is here, I plan to go "ooooh" and "ahhhhh" a lot . . . . yawn, take off the warm PJs and then crawl back in the bed with warm flannel sheets and a husband, and go back to sleep for a couple of hours. I have an entire book to write this weekend (what else is new lately?) so I need some rest.

How is the eclipse at your house?

The Thrill of the Hunt

2011-12-03T16:35:00.000-08:00

When I was growing up, my grandparents, who were actually quite wealthy, often behaved in ways that seemed poor . . . They wore worn, shabby clothes. They took all of the sugar packets and jam samples off of restaurant tables and took them home. They never spent money without agonizing over it. They even, my mother would tell me in hushed tones of embarrassment, went to (add a disdainful tone here) . .. GOODWILL. So, I was raised to think that going to Goodwill was a terrible thing. It was something only the poor people did if they couldn't afford to buy NEW things. When I lived in Indiana, I almost never, ever went to a Goodwill, even if I was broke. It was what the poor people did . . . right?

I have come a long way, baby. I now love Goodwills like no other store. I am in one of the six to eight stores in the Portland area every single week. I have found more treasures there than any of those silly pirates out on the ocean. I have found everything from electronics to purses, collectibles to furniture, clothing to books. And you know what? I am spoiled now. I walk into a retail store and my first reaction is LOOK AT THOSE PRICES!!!!! I cannot fathom putting out $30 for a pair of jeans, $25 for a sweater, $40 for a sweatshirt or $20 for a pair of shoes. No way.

About 90 percent of what I buy now comes from Goodwill . . .the only things that don't are items like underwear, toiletries, groceries, etc. And to this day, every time I walk into the store, I cannot wait to see what I will find. Unlike other stores, the merchandise here changes all the time. Even if I was just there two days ago, it will all be different. Almost everything I pick out will be less than $10 and often less than $5. I find beautiful paper, gorgeous wall hangings, lovely bedding, fashionable clothes, amazing purses, and comfy shoes. And I get everything I need for a tiny fraction of what it would have cost at a retail store.

Of course, my parents were horrified that I did so much shopping at Goodwill. I still have friends who don't go to thrift stores who tend to think I am either secretly poor or just eccentric for going there. They have no idea how exciting it is to walk in and paw through shelves to find that perfect item. They can keep their department stores and boutiques, their high end fashion shops and chains. I will happily go Good Will Hunting :) instead.

Overworked Woman in Gresham, Film at 11

2011-12-01T10:02:00.000-08:00

I know, know, know how many people there are out there right now struggling to find work. I have been there, done that, and no t-shirt. It just sucks.

But right now, I have more work than I can handle and I am being hired by new companies left and right. Which is wonderful. Really. It is. But there are signs that I am getting overworked . . . I have nightmares, wake in the night shaking, wake up feeling nauseous, and can't let go at night when I crawl into bed. These are not good.

Last night, when going into a semi meltdown over something due and a site not allowing me access so I could finish it, my sweet oldest son came out and asked me to close my eyes and hold out my hands. (I don't do that for just anyone, ya know.) I did and in them he placed a kaleidoscope that I had raved about in Seattle. I have always loved kaleidoscopes and this is a truly gorgeous and unique one. We had all looked through it and oooohed and aaaaahed. Unbeknownst to me, while Nicole and I strolled on down the road, he went back and bought it for me.

I now keep it tucked in my front desk drawer. When feeling too stressed, I pull it out and sit back and watch it for a few minutes. It rests my eyes and my brain and it fills my heart--all at the same time.

Imploding Brain Imminent

2011-11-30T17:06:00.000-08:00

Crazy, crazy day.

Did a huge project in one day . . . . about did me in too. I can feel parts of my brain wincing and whining from overuse. I hate to inform my cerebral cortex that I am not done for the day. It won't be pretty.

Job interview tomorrow. Seven pending jobs at the moment. NOT complaining, really. NOT.

Just . . . . weary.

My family is tiptoeing around me . . you know, the "Mom is stressed out, so don't talk to her" aura. That's not what I mean to project . . . . I just am struggling to keep on top of stuff and sometimes, I run out of steam.

Or chocolate.

Or coffee.

A hot mocha would cover all of this, wouldn't it?

Blush

2011-11-25T20:22:00.000-08:00

I would LIKE to say that we spent Thanksgiving dinner in a deep and profound discussion of all we are grateful for (and in all fairness, we did take turns stating at least three things that we appreciated), but actually, our discussions were all over the place, including the role of Hannibal Lector in scary movies.

When I mentioned that a scene included a fancy dinner secretly centered on the remains of an orchestra player, my youngest made us all proud by pausing to say, "Yeah, they ate him and decided he was a little bit stringy."

Best moment of the meal.

Thanksgiving, Part Deux

2011-11-25T09:48:00.000-08:00

On Wednesday, Coryn was one sick little pup. Throwing up and just miserable. Bad mother that I am, while bringing him water, a towel, and lots of sympathy, I was also desperately hoping it was a food poisoning and NOT the flu. The stomach flu right before Thanksgiving was just too mean. When, the next night, Joseph was not feeling very well, I was full out worried. Fortunately, Thursday morning dawned with everyone feeling fine. However, Joseph was not quite up to fixing a full Thanksgiving dinner, so we ended up going to the Portland Hostel and sharing their potluck dinner. Nicole has been spending lots of time there and making friends, so we brought food and joined in. It was loud and chaotic and noisy, but a nice change. All of the accents floating around the room just added to the experience. I enjoyed it, but my favorite part of the day was coming home to PJs, slippers, movie, couch and family.

Today we hope to make that special dinner. In a rare burst of lethargy, Tami took yesterday off AND today. I will work all weekend, but today is still mine. (Insert wicked laughter here.) I am NOT shopping. I am NOT cooking. (That's Joseph's department.) I am going to hang out at a coffee shop and read with Nicole and then come home and eat great food and be genuinely thankful for all of it. Hope this holiday has found gratitude in your lives as well.

Send Good Thoughts

2011-11-18T15:17:00.000-08:00

Not having one of my best weeks . . . .pretty stressed out on many different levels and trying so hard to stay serene and pleasant, when I really just wanna curl up and cry. It will all work out . . . it always does. Just one of those times where you feel sad the minute you open your eyes and spend the rest of the day trying to cheer up. So, if you have some extra humor, laughter, happiness, smiles, giggles, or chuckles hanging around that you don't need, please send it to Tami. Hugs also welcomed.

Ranting and Raving

2011-11-15T21:35:00.000-08:00

I am a pretty mild-mannered person. Honest, I am. It takes quite a bit to upset me.

I am upset.

It is one of my editor rants . . . where directions given--and followed by me--are now being changed and the result is a great deal of hard work and reduced pay. It upsets me because, you know, reputation is everything in the freelance business and anything that hurts mine is scary.

So, I am not going quietly into this dark night . . . or, in other words, I am battling this one a little and hoping that they stop and say, Well hey! You know what? This woman is RIGHT, although I suspect what they will say is, Well hey! You know what? Let's not hire this mouthy woman again.

Sigh.

Sure hope that rich relative I don't know hurries up and names me in the will so I can retire. Now that would NOT upset me.

Recovery

2011-11-15T08:45:00.000-08:00

The trip WAS amazing, but now we are all trying to recover.

Nicole and Coryn are scurrying to get their Nano word counts to where they are supposed to be.

Caspian is dealing with the discomfort in the aftermath of toe nail surgery.

Joseph is getting over his cold and still sneezing and coughing.

Tami is trying to catch up on deadlines (a never-ending battle) and yes, now she has the family cold. This means that while she is typing and researching, she really, really, really wants to be on the couch with a thick blanket, a pillow, slippers, a heat pack, a stupid movie to watch, and perhaps some cookies to nibble on along with her hot mocha.

Apparently Tami's recovery period includes detailed delusions.

Surprise in Seattle

2011-11-13T13:40:00.000-08:00

(This is long . . . . sorry. Don't read unless you have time. Bring a lunch.)

It took weeks of planning and constantly shushing the two brothers and a husband who kept forgetting the top secret designation it had been given. Despite the warnings (known as glares from mom and discreet shaking of her head), the fact that a hostel was involved was leaked (in the best of intentions) at the dinner table. Crisis was averted when I had someone else “accidentally” leak that we were doing something at the Portland Hostel, thus leading the Birthday Girl in the wrong direction of speculation entirely. Weeks of details like how to get to the train station, what to pack for her to wear, what to do with the pets while we were gone and how was I to get all of my work done before leaving were muddled over.

The day before the trip, the dog (Copper) was taken to a kennel. Of course, first, we had to take her to the vet for $80 worth of shorts, then to the kennel. What will we tell Nicole when she asks where the dog is, I wondered. No worries. The observant child never noticed Copper wasn’t home. J

Thursday morning multiple alarms went off at 6 a.m. In hushed tones, we loaded pre-packed duffel bags into the car. Tickets? Check. Money? Check. Litter box out for the cat? Check. Time to wake Nicole.

I went into her room and flipped on the light, stating loudly that, “Good morning! Good morning! You are the grand prize winner of the 21^st birthday sweepstakes. Get up and get dressed.” The rest of her instructions were written on a tablet telling her to give me her laptop and dress warmly. Before we walked out the door, she put on a blindfold.

We drove to the train station, stopping only for coffee along the way. When we got to the station, we had her take her blindfold off. She was utterly confused. Where was the Portland Hostel?

We unloaded baggage and Nicole just stared at it. Where had it come from? We walked in and I scanned our papers to get our tickets. Then, finally, we revealed the plan. Two nights and three days in Seattle, staying at a hostel. She was shaking, she was so excited.

Day One

The train ride there was smooth as ever. We were given the four facing seats which was awesome and then one just across the aisle. Everyone took turns napping and reading on the way there, while Coryn checked Facebook and worked on his Nanowrimo book. Once we arrived in Seattle, we walked about five blocks to our hostel, getting lost along the way, naturally.

The hostel was great. Neither Joseph nor I had ever stayed in one before, but of course, Nicole spent the last five months in them. The rooms are as plain as you can get—we got adjoining rooms. Two sets of bunk beds in one, and a bed with a double futon on the bottom and single up top in ours. The bathrooms are down the hall. It is a lot like a college dorm room. We were on the fourth floor and out of our window, we could see the colorful entrance to ChinaTown. We set down our stuff and then headed out to Seattle. The weather was picture perfect. Sunny, about 65 degrees and a bright blue sky. Unheard of for November in the Pacific Northwest.

Our first stop was Uwaijimaya, a Japanese super store. We ate at the food court, each of us trying something different. Then, Nicole and I went to the stationery part of the store. GREAT fun for us (the boys wandered through manga and counted minutes until we were done.) This store has the BEST journals and stationery sets for $10 and under. Our biggest problem is restricting how much we buy.

Next up, we took the underground bus through the tunnel to the Westlake Mall. We got off and bought tickets for the Monorail. This is a very short trip but so cool, because you are up above the traffic and see great sights of the city. It took us to the Space Needle. If you’ve never been, the Space Needle is pretty amazing but also very expensive. To get in the elevator and ride to the top is $18 per person. Yikes. So we explored the gift shop instead and then, in one of those moments you just know you will remember for years to come, we all sat on the outside steps and listened to a group of South American musicians who were playing tiny guitars, and pan pipes. (Yes, Tami bought the CD.) We soaked up the sunshine and just BEING there. It was a wonderful moment indeed.

Back to the Monorail, and back to the mall where Nicole and I had to check out Daiso, a dollar store type place with Asian products. Our goal? The paper aisle, where we got fountain pens and stationery sets for $1.50 each.

By now, it was long dark and it was cooling off quickly, although still a gorgeous night. We took a walk that turned into a WALK. Now, keep in mind that in the middle of all of this, Joseph has a rotten cold and Tami has a hip problem that ended her walking routine a month ago. Despite these factors, we forged on, step after step, block after block. We searched for a place for dinner and found ourselves in an area where dinner was almost impossible to find but guys lurking in dark doorways and making snide remarks were plentiful.

On the way, we found a fantastic toy store that was still open. We went in and explored it and I was laughing about how I still loved stuffed animals and wanted to take one home. Unbeknownst to me , Nicole slipped away and bought me an adorable, soft koala bear which she gave me later that night. Naturally, his name is Seattle. I also admired these amazing kaleidoscopes, designed entirely differently than anything I had ever seen. They were beautiful!

After the toy store, we finally found a restaurant open called Jimmy John’s—similar to a Subway. We gratefully sank down into chairs (some of us more than others) and ordered sandwiches. We had our picture taken there as well and then began the long, long trek back to the hostel. On the way, we encountered an older gentleman (“Be 70 in two weeks,” he proudly told us) wearing a purple velvet hat with leopard spots. He was a former radio/TV sports announcer, he explained (and his voice certainly sounded like one), and he would be happy to answer any questions we might have about the city. Before we could even think of one to ask, however, he began telling us about how popular his purple hat was. In fact, he said, a man had offered him a $50 bill for it just the other day but he had turned it down. Even more colorfully, a woman had offered him sexual favors of several kinds in return for the hat and yet, he had still turned her down because, he said, “I am a man of morals, you know.”

While he was talking to us about his hat, a person came down the apartment stairs next to us and walked by. This person was clearly male—full 5 o’clock shadow and six feet tall—but dressed as a hooker with little taste—short leather skirt, tank top and heels. I felt my eyes widen and turned to look over my shoulder at Caspian, whose eyes got bigger as well. He nudged Nicole, who nudged Coryn and we all just smiled and kept listening to our purple hatted storyteller.

After walking for what felt like close to forever, we returned to our hostel, gratefully slipping into pajamas. Then, grabbing books and postcards and pens, we all headed down to the Common Room in the hostel. One of the best parts of a hostel is the Common Room. People gather here to hang out, read, eat, talk, write, whatever. You meet people from all over the world. The ambiance is exciting and fun. We would spend many hours here before the weekend ended. When the clock struck midnight, Joseph stood up and asked everyone in the room to sing “Happy Birthday” to Nicole, which they did, and it was a wonderful moment.

Day Two

Friday morning we got up and decided to start the day off at Pike Street Market. We had been there before and it was such an exciting, exotic place. It is sensory overload . . . . the smells of lavender and fish, flowers and fruit . . . the sounds of multiple languages, offers to taste this apple or that grape, children laughing and the live music that is performed around every corner . . . splashes of color, from fruit markets to tie dyed clothing, from shaped glass to sparkling jewelry. Everything is expensive enough that we are selective, but we did buy two handmade, cloth bookmarks and some tie dye shirts that were on sale—one was free for Nicole’s birthday. We also bought some jam for Joseph’s mother—a tradition when we go there.

The fishmongers are the most popular spot in the market and there was a TV crew filming their antics this morning as the workers threw fish back and forth. One fish (very dead) hung over the side and when people went to touch it, it would flip up and startle them. You could see the guy pulling the string on the other end and he was laughing as much as everyone else.

We had planned to eat at the Crab Pot, a restaurant that we had gone to several times before and we walked many blocks to get there, only to discover a HUGE waiting line. Standing in line didn’t sound very appealing at this point, so we began walking the Puget Sound walkway in search of something else. After almost 20 blocks of additional walking, we settled on Red Robin, yes, a chain, but we were beat by now. You see, that lovely weather I mentioned from our first day was LONG gone. This day was cold, wet, and windy. Not slightly. I mean, POURING rain, harsh winds and temperatures that didn’t go above 45 degrees. Miserable weather to be walking outside in (especially when umbrellas were something you neglected to pack). So we were more than ready to come in out of the weather and sit down. Fortunately, Red Robin was a great choice. The food was good and Nicole was served her first legal drink—a strawberry margarita. Which she LOVED, I might add. She even got sung to by the crowd and a free chocolate sundae.

Lots of walking, a bus ride, more walking, stairs, more walking, escalator, more walking, and then back to the hostel, wet, cold and happy to be back. PJs, the common room, postcards once more. This time, the kids played several rounds of Foosball, Joseph read his VW manuals and talked to people and I wrote more postcards. We ordered sandwiches in from Jimmy John’s (they delivered by bike in LESS THAN 15 minutes) and then later, extra food left over from an earlier event was shared with everyone in the Common Room. Chicken satay, fried rice—all good but too spicy for this woman. Sleeping that night was challenging—Joseph kept coughing and my hip felt like someone took a sledgehammer to it thanks to all of those miles we walked.

Day Three

Admittedly tired this time, we had plans in place to head over to Vashon Island off the coast of Seattle to visit some friends. Coryn had stayed with them in the past and we were eager to meet the family. We got directions on how to get to the right ferry dock first. We had to walk about 10 blocks to pick up a bus. The walk was actually very pretty—not raining at the moment and in the middle of the city where the architecture was fascinating. We finally got on the bus, and rode it to the dock, about 30 minutes away. We got off, paid for tickets and got on the ferry. That was great—a big ship with lots of comfy seating and amazing views out of the window. The ride itself is only about 15 minutes or so. We got off, met our friends and climbed in the minivan they had borrowed to fit all of us.

Vashon was a lovely place and our friends’ home was amazingly beautiful. Many acres with a forest of riotous color and texture that made you keep looking out the window. We had a delicious meal and found out that this couple is a LOT like us—heck, they even look a little like us. I have a feeling we are going to be friends for years to come and this was the first of many visits. (I hope so!)

After eating and chatting, they dropped us in the small town of Vashon, and we grabbed some coffee. That was when chaos kicked in. Already a little concerned about time, we found out that the bus we thought we would step out and get, only came once every hour. The next one wouldn’t arrive for 45 minutes—and we would never make it. After all, to get to the train station from where we were meant a bus ride, ferry ride, another bus ride, a 10 block walk, a stop at the hostel for luggage and then two more blocks to the station. We had 90 minutes.

Here is what happened . . . . Nicole and Coryn had a friend who owned the bookstore in Vashon. We ran back to her, explained the situation. She called her boyfriend. While we were waiting for him to arrive, a man in a bandana scurried over thinking that our little cluster was a group of pot smoking peers and he hoped to join us. How disappointing to find a hectic set of parents and their kids waiting for a ride.

The boyfriend picked us up in a TINY car . . . Nicole, Joseph and I squeezed into the back and Coryn literally LAID across our laps. Cas got in front. We raced to the ferry dock, got on, rode 20 minutes . . . . got to the dock and caught the next bus. We asked directions to another bus so we wouldn’t have to walk those 10 blocks again. Got it, got off, found the bus stop, got on the bus and got dropped right in front of the station. At this point, I pulled out the tickets and discovered instead of boarding at 5, it boarded at 5:30. That HELPED.

So, Joseph and I headed to the train station (three more blocks), while the kids raced (and I mean RACED) back to the hostel to get the luggage we had stored there. Then, they raced (and again, I mean RACED) to the station. THEN, I get out the tickets and there are FOUR, not FIVE. Joseph’s ticket is missing. EEEEEK. We ask what to do at the information desk and are told that even though the computer system shows we have FIVE tickets, we have to HAVE five tickets, so we had to BUY ANOTHER ONE. Eeeeeeeeeek again.

BUT, we did it. We got on. We sat down. We finally started breathing again. The train started. The trip home was brightened by meeting a young woman dressed in medieval garb behind us. We commented on her lovely outfit, began chatting and soon bought her wonderful CD, which ALL of the kids like (a rarity indeed). Caspian spent most of the trip talking to a young man and woman across from him, plus a non-English speaking grandmother next to him had her granddaughter call and ask him to help her get off the train and meet her in the lobby.

Other than a 30-minute delay while the train repaired a broken air hose, the trip was smooth. We arrived in Portland at 9:30, got in our van and came home. As much fun as we had, it sure felt good to be back in our house again. It was a fabulous trip—with so many memories created, I know it will linger for a long time to come. For now, I will wait for my hip to heal and forgive me.

And for THIS week . . . .

2011-10-31T11:05:00.000-07:00

Continuing my theme of "Just what does Tami write anyway?" (What?! You didn't know there was such a theme? You're clearly not paying close enough attention.)

This week I have THREE different training sessions for three different projects. The first one was a meeting about how I should write the online and on ground lessons for a web design course for college students. The second one is about how to create in-class activities for Kindergartners. The third one is about writing items for employees who will be working in restaurants and with food.

In between these sessions, I am writing an American Lit course, researching electric trains, writing about heat waves, and preparing to write two poems with matching passages.

And the family wonders why, when they ask something innocent like, "What time do we have our class today?" or "Why are we out of toilet paper?", mother just falls over in a gelatinous puddle on the floor and whimpers.

Yes, you're welcome for that image.

29 Years . . . . Like 5 Minutes

2011-10-30T10:46:00.001-07:00

Today is Joseph and my 29th wedding anniversary. (Does "my" need an apostrophe to make it possessive if it is already a possessive pronoun? I don't know . . .. some writer I am, eh?)
Anyway, 29 years ago we said "I do" and today, 10,585 days later, I know I would still say it--and even to the same guy. Snicker.

We had discussed going away to celebrate . .. camping, hotel, something. But in the end, thanks to problems with the vehicles and my stupid workload, we ended up staying home. I slept in and woke to a beautiful love letter on my keyboard. For me to write a love letter, not difficult. For him? Agony. So even more deeply appreciated.

So we are home and I could be disappointed, but I'm not. I slept in (a rarity for me), came down to find a wonderful letter and in a few minutes, I'm going to coffee with the sexiest, handsomest, kindest man on the planet. . . oh and Joseph can come too. Okay. Sorry. It was there.

Anyway, Happy Anniversary to us. I am sure the next 29 will fly by as well. As Joseph delights in telling people: Our time together of 29 years has felt like five minutes . . . .. (wait for it) . . . . underwater.

Just in Case You Asked

2011-10-21T14:45:00.001-07:00

When people find out I am a full time writer, they typically react one of two ways:

(1) They ask me if I've written a novel . . . when I say no, they lose all interest.

(2) They immediately launch into a long and involved regaling of how they have ALWAYS wanted to be a writer . . . and here is their idea . . . . and this is what they have written of it so far . . . and could I connect them with an editor or publishing house please?

RARELY, ever so rarely, someone will respond with a, "Really? How interesting . . . tell me about it."

So, because I'm feeling self-centered today :), I am going to pretend you asked me this and I'm gonna tell you what I've done in the last 24 hours to give you an idea of what I do.

1. I am writing a book on heat waves . . and have found VERY LITTLE info out there to help me. Very few books, for sure, even at Powell's, Amazon and the library. So I have been downloading technical articles from the web and trying to understand what I am reading, and then taking notes.

2. I just finished filling out the Excel sheet columns for 2,212, yes, TWO THOUSAND TWO HUNDRED AND TWELVE, medical assessments. I had to click on the link, watch the video and then fill out info about it. It took forever and when I was done, I went out and celebrated.

3. I am writing assessment questions over a dinosaur unit. I am writing it at three different levels, so have to adjust my vocabulary and type of questions.

4. I am writing a college course on American Literature, so have been researching elements about Early American writers and finding articles to reference for the course.

5. I am getting ready to write a book about trains during the Civil War, so have been at the library gathering resource.

6. I am writing 23 passages and 78 items for grade 1. Sound simple? It's NOT. The vocabulary for first grade is so limited (less than 200 words or so) that it is very, very hard to come up with sentences and stories to write and stick to those words only.

That is THIS week's agenda. Just so ya know. In case you were gonna ask. And heck, even if you weren't.

Almost 29 and Still Going Strong

2011-10-19T00:08:00.000-07:00

What makes me smile today?

I said to Joseph that I was making a list of editors who were interested in offering me a writing job. There are actually enough of them that I have to make a list in order to keep them straight. I labeled the list, "People Who Currently Want Me". He saw it and said, "Make sure my name stays at the top of the list."

Later, he was checking my pulse and was trying to find my heart. I said, "Silly man," and touched his heart, "It's always right here."

We will celebrate 29 years in just a couple of weeks. The fact that we can still say things like this to each other and MEAN it is the key to why.

Side note . . . Nicole and I went to see the Blue Man Group tonight. I am still reeling from the experience. Amazing. Drums you could feel in your bones. Visual tricks you couldn't believe you were seeing. Truly incredible show. Wow.

Welcome to the Orr's Dinner Table

2011-10-17T14:27:00.000-07:00

Eating together at the table as a family is pretty important to all of us. It doesn't happen every single day thanks to work, friends, classes and other complications, but it happens the majority of the time.

Today at lunch, I was absolutely overwhelmed with the dynamics of the meal. All the kids are back home now, so we have five people sitting at the table. It's noisy. It's fun. It's probably a sociologist's nightmare . . .. :). So, in the hour we spent sitting there, we covered "Chucky" movies, vampire-staking toddlers, the size of King Kong's . . . . manly part, as they say, how much alcohol it takes to get drunk and how to recognize when you've gotten there (we don't drink, other than J's occasional beer or glass of wine, but J and I have memories), the origin of the idiom "the exception that proves the rule" (which then sparked Coryn, Nicole and I to sing lines from "You are the Only Exception" by Paramour) the whoooshing sound that a line in a play determined was the sound of angels overhead, and why there are so many spiders in the garden this year--oh, and even took a moment of quiet sadness in honor of a dear friend who lost their family dog today. In the midst of it all, I was attempting to establish the timeline for the afternoon of who needed to go where and when and what order we would do them in. Yeah, I gave up. Not in frustration or irritation. I gave up because I was laughing too hard.

I love, love, love being part of this family. Welcome to the Orr House.

Back to the Basics

2011-10-13T10:30:00.000-07:00

I am very lucky that my husband does not do the "I told you so" dance.

Actually, HE is very lucky. If he did, I would have to hurt him.

In January, we went on the paleo diet. In three plus months, I lost more than 30 lbs. Moreover, the blood pressure issue that has haunted me for the past few years was no longer a problem. It dropped from its usual 180/100 (on full meds) to 100/70 (some days even lower). It wasn't easy but I was pleased about the side effects. Then, as time passed, we slipped off the diet . . . a little here, a little there until finally, we were back to eating like we had. To be honest, Nicole and I were the most responsible diet wise. We ate a truckload of salads, avoided bread, didn't eat much fried foods and dessert was a rare treat. Despite that, I stopped losing weight (didn't gain it back though) and my BP crept up again. Sigh. I tried quitting coffee, walking five times a week--nothing made it drop.

So, today we are back to paleo. I don't want to worry about my BP. It becomes this ridiculous spiral of worrying makes me tense which makes it go up which makes me worry which makes me tense . . . and so on. Instead, I want to relax and know that I'm not going to have a health crisis when I least expect it. I have so much work on my "platter" right now, I need breaks wherever I can find them.

As of this morning, we are back on it. I had a paleo breakfast--which is NOTHING new. I often do. However, when I was done, I checked my BP. 147/90. WHY? It can't be in reaction to a diet that just started a few hours ago. Grrrrrr. Wish I knew the patterns to look for. In the meantime, I will just keep an eye out to make sure Joseph is NOT doing that dance.

I See the Signs

2011-10-12T11:03:00.000-07:00

These are my signs that Tami is working too hard:

1. When a company loses its funding and cancels the project, I am relieved instead of disappointed.

2. When I wake up in the morning, my very first thought is what I have to get done before I crawl back into bed that night.

3. When I slip on a step on the stairs my FIRST THOUGHT is oh, if I broke my wrist that would probably buy me some time.

4. When walking down the aisles of my beloved Goodwill thrift stores, more of my thought is on guilt over what I should be doing than pleasure at what I am doing.

What do you think? Time for Tami to go on vacation? Get a massage? Take a long afternoon nap?

Mulling It Over

2011-10-03T09:01:00.001-07:00

Have you ever noticed that as you get older, some of the things you enjoyed doing in the past aren't as much fun anymore? They take longer, more effort . . . more tiring. (Hey! Get your minds out of the gutter . . . I'm not referring to THAT. I like doing THAT just as much as I always have, thank you very much.) In this case, I am referring to writing books.

I have been writing books for about 15-18 years now. I think my first one came out in 1992 or 93 or somewhere in there. Since then, I have written over 300 of them. I commonly have 2-5 of them due each month. And I have always loved the process of researching and writing and then seeing it all flow together.

Until recently. I fell behind on assignments . . . not due to procrastination or laziness but simple lack of time. My assignments have really increased this summer and I find I cannot put in 14-16 hour days like I could ten years ago. I just . . . wear out. I get grumpy. I do things wrong. I don't feel good. It just takes more out of me than it did before. I find myself resentful because I'm not on the couch reading or curled up writing a letter. Instead, I am sitting at the computer trying to meet another deadline.

Lately, I have been waking in the morning with a panicked feeling. My first thought of the morning is what do I have to get done today. Instead of just mulling over possibilities, I go right into full-fledged panic that I won't get it all done. Not the best way to start my day.

So, I am giving some serious thought to trying to cut back . . . starting by not taking many book assignments. Just the most well paying ones, maybe, or the topics I like the best. I do have work I really, really enjoy and want to keep doing that. But maybe, just maybe, if we do some careful cutting back on expenses, I could say no to a few more jobs and find more time for relaxing. I know I'm not OLD (although there are days), but I also know that at 52, I simply can't keep up the schedule I did ten years ago.

What do you think? Good idea? Am I ready to not write a dozen plus books every year? . . . . I think I just might be. Still mulling.

Big Day at the Orr House

2011-09-27T09:25:00.000-07:00

Today is Tuesday. A hum drum day of the week as days go. Not the pressure of Monday or the excitement of Friday. Just a Tuesday.

But not just ANY Tuesday.

Because you know what happens today? My girl is coming home. After 162 days in Alaska, after horrible co-workers, hideously long hours, some grand adventures, too many of the wrong men, and tours that included touching a glacier, holding sled dog puppies and riding in a jeep into Alaskan wilderness, she is COMING HOME. Her plane arrives at 4:38 this afternoon. We will be there, dressed up and with open arms. This time, unlike when she left in April, I won't hide my tears because this time they will be ones of joy. I have so missed this girl. We have talked on the phone for hours, written pages of letters, exchanged enough cards to keep Hallmark in business for at least another six months, texted a billion times a day, but you know what? It wasn't enough. I need to hug her and see her smile and listen to her laugh in the same room.

She is older and wiser and more experienced and will be off on another adventure within a few months, but for right now, she is coming home. And I can hardly stand the wait.

Just Keep Juggling, Tami

2011-09-21T18:54:00.000-07:00

Lately, I feel like I do more juggling than anything else. I have multiple projects due at the same time and literally, I work on one for a few hours, then shift, work on another, shift, another, shift , another and then back to the first one and start all over again. It's like a constant juggle and unfortunately, lately I've had to deal with very tired arms. (I even wear a brace on the right one.) I typically have anywhere from 20 to 30 assignments in a given month and this month, as well as last and next, I have closer to 40 or even more. When combined with traveling children and pesky demands like sleeping and eating, I keep running out of time and energy long before I run out of work.

Don't misunderstand. I am unbelievably grateful. In a time where people are still struggling to find a way to get a job, I am extraordinarily lucky and I really do feel blessed, but I am also tired, overworked and wishing I had a break. So send me good thoughts and lots and lots of energy, cuz I could use some extra.

Joseph's Comment on "The One"

2011-09-19T09:39:00.001-07:00

I read my post to my bleary eyed hubby this morning. His response?

"No, it is because you're so damn sexy."

MEN. I had to edit that comment before posting, believe me.

"The One"

2011-09-19T09:00:00.000-07:00

I was recently watching a show about a young girl angsting over whether or not her current boyfriend was "the one" and I couldn't help but take a moment to be grateful that I am married. Happily married. I know I have found "the one". He wasn't necessarily "the one" when I married him, of course. Then he was just a really sexy guy I sort of knew and he seemed right for me. I was right. Whew. Now, almost 29 years later, he still a really sexy guy but I know him very, very well.

My son Caspian also recently remarked to me that our family says, "I love you" to each other more than the average family he has been around, but, he said, "I don't see you and Dad say it as often as you used to." This observation surprised me. I am guessing, on an average day, Joseph and I say, "I love you" to each other more than a half to a dozen times. It is never said out of habit or obligation--we mean it each time. We say it consciously.

Yesterday morning we ran some errands together, including a stop at our local and favorite Goodwill. On the way in, my left shoe came untied. Joseph stopped--in the rain--went down on one knee and tied it for me. Was I not capable of doing it? Of course not. He did it cuz he loves me. Ten minutes later, in the paper aisle, my right shoe came untied. I started laughing, he looked down and saw it, and with a smirk, he tied the other one. Later, when I was hit by hot flash #4903950-3 of the day, he stood behind me in the furniture section and blew cool air across the back of my neck. (Leading to many sexual innuendo comments in the process, of course.) Then, as we were leaving and it was pouring rain, he took all of the packages and told me to wait inside while we went and got the car, which he pulled up right in front.

How do I know he loves me? He proved it to me at least four times in Goodwill yesterday. Yup, no question about it. I found "the one".

Gratitude?

2011-09-13T11:47:00.001-07:00

Do you know people who struggle to say "Thank you"?

I do.

And I am always somewhat amazed by it. Why is showing gratitude difficult? Honestly,I don't get it . . .

I am a gift giver. I don't do it to show off . . . . I don't do it out of guilt or obligation. . . . I honestly LOVE finding gifts for people. It brings me pleasure. I don't want a gift back. I don't want gushing. But an honest, wow, thanks . . . that's appreciated. The best part is the smile on the person's face, but the thank you is nice too.

Every month, I send off between three and ten packages to people I care about. Some are family, some are correspondents, some are friends who have moved away. I love filling up the boxes over a period of weeks and then sending them off.

But recently I have run into a few people who simply do not know how to demonstrate gratitude. (Whether or not they FEEL it, I don't know.) One person's ingratitude ended our year long correspondence (he not only didn't say thanks, he yelled at me for sending anything and returned it unopened) and another hurt my feelings last night. I had found something when I was out of town that I knew he'd like and brought it to him. Handed it to him. He looked at it, chuckled, put it in his pocket and never even LOOKED at me. No thank you. No acknowledgement whatsoever. In my book, that's just RUDE.

So you know what, I want to take this chance to say THANK YOU to all of the wonderful people in my life who have shared their love, time and life with me. That is the best gift of all and I thank you. Yes, I am exceedingly grateful--and not afraid to show it either.

A True Loss

2011-09-12T08:42:00.000-07:00

Yesterday afternoon I went into our neighborhood Border's . . . .the last trip into the store to see what they had at 90 percent off . . . and I put my head down and cried. There was nothing left other than empty bookshelves and bare walls. Men were taking furniture apart and carting out tables and display stands.

Crying over a store seems a little stupid, I know. In this economy, a closing store is certainly nothing new. Let me explain why this is so sad to me.

I love books. Don't like 'em . . .LOVE 'em. Probably a little addicted to them, in fact. My family teases me that if I live long enough to read all of the books I have in the house, I will break all longevity records. When I was a teenager, loving books meant begging Mom to go to the mall and hanging out in Walden's while she distracted herself at the fabric store next door. It meant smiling at my dad, my sweet dad, and asking him to put up another set of bookshelves for me. (He always did.) Years later, that same smile worked on my father in law and he hand made me some lovely bookcases I still have stuffed full today.

It's little surprise that I went into English. Less of a surprise that I grew up to be an author myself. When I say I love books, I mean it! I love reading them, but I also love lining them up on a shelf and just looking at them. In my dream house, I have a library where they are all together in alphabetical order and I have one of those rolling ladders from one section to the next. . . . Anyway . . .

When we lived in Indiana, we were more than a little lonely. Joseph and I and whatever kids we had would often travel about an hour east to the larger city of Ft. Wayne. They had good restaurants, a mall and . . . yes. . . . glory be . . . a Border's. I still remember the first time I walked in. I thought maybe heaven existed after all and I had finally found it (without dying first, how clever of me!). I became somewhat addicted to the place and we went there often. No one there asked us what church we went to. They didn't ostracize us for not attending one. That was a welcome relief, believe me.

Fast forward to 2001 and I am in Oregon, alone . .. kids and husband back home . . . and I am being shown nine houses for sale. I've never stepped foot in Oregon before so I don't know neighborhoods or anything at all about the city . . . overwhelmed? Yeah, a bit. What house should I choose? Where should we live? As I tried to take in everything the realtor was telling me about areas and prices and taxes, I looked out the window and I saw it ... Border's!! Wait, I said . . . .there is a Border's only seven minutes from the house you just showed me? I'll take that one. Yes, I really said that. Yes, we made an offer on that house and yes, we got it. Still live there today . . . but now the Border's isn't going to be seven minutes away.

Over the years, I cannot tell you how much time (or money!) we spent in that store. I met friends for coffee, conducted interviews and was interviewed and attended meetings in their coffee shop area. My entire family went there almost every Saturday night to listen to music. They read, I wrote letters and we soaked up the incredibly different musicians, from xylophone bands to brown jug bands and everything in between. When my mother visited from Indiana, we took her there to listen to music and meet our friends.

Friends? Yes, friends. Because over the years, we had met the people who worked at Border's and they had become friends. We went to their weddings. We meet their children. We went out for a drink. At one point, when my writing workload took a nosedive, I even worked at Border's. I knew the store forwards and backwards anyway, so thought I would give it a try. I worked the (shudder) holiday season and learned that retail is not the job path for me. People are just. .. . strange. But I learned even more about the store and the people who worked there. I had some amazing times and when I had to suddenly leave my job for a few days because my dad was in the hospital in Indiana and very sick, the single sympathy card I was sent when he died was from the staff at Border's.

Now, they are closing and yes, it breaks my heart. My kids grew up here. I can point to almost every corner and tell you a story about it. Nicole asked a guy out there. Caspian met a friend in that aisle. Coryn read a billion books in one sitting here. My mom was here. Nicole's ex was here. My friend who died a few years ago sat at this table with me.

So, thank you Border's for some of the favorite times of my life. You helped me feed my addiction, you gave me a social place to hang out, you introduced me to some fun people, you facilitated spending time with my family and you will be terribly, terribly missed.

Ten Years

2011-09-11T09:27:00.000-07:00

Like many, many people across the world today, I am pausing to take a moment to think about this anniversary. Like every one else, I too have one of those stories about where I was when it happened, how I responded and so on. I didn't know anyone killed in the tragedy, but wept along with them because I recognized this was one of those events where your life, perspectives, politics, and country would change. It was a before/after situation and forever changed the world. It changed my world in subtler ways.

9/11 changed our world in Indiana. Four airplane tickets in my hand suddenly become null and void and I would have never been able to put my kids on a plane with me at that time anyway. We were supposed to come out to Oregon via the plane just a handful of days after the disaster. Instead we came out on the train--a better choice in hindsight.

A writing assignment given to me in late August, to write a book about a terrorist group I had never even heard of, suddenly turned into a totally different project in September. Al Queda went from a foreign term to the number one phrase used in the world overnite and certainly make the writing job more complicated.

Writing assessment materials for a dozen different companies changed .. . when writing, we could not use the words airplane or skyscraper for two years. Might upset the test takers, you know.

9/11 changed the world in countless ways. More than anything, for me, it rattled my belief in safety and made me look at the world with a more jaded, cautious eye. Today, ten years later, my heart goes out to those who are not just mourning the way the event affected our country, but who lost someone they cared about in the tragedy. Find peace in whatever way you can and hold those lost souls close to your hearts.

2 a.m. Post

2011-09-11T02:04:00.000-07:00

In about 46 hours, our time alone as a couple will return to being time as a family. We are eager to start welcoming home our kids . . . one on Monday, one on Thursday and one on the 27th, but I admit to sadness that our time is coming to an end . . . for a while. I know years and years of that time is down the road waiting for us.

Today, we had a wonderful Portland day. We went to the Saturday Market and came home loaded down with melons and berries. We had coffee. We went to two Goodwills. During the afternoon, he worked on the bus and I worked on meeting another deadline and then, in the evening, we met on the couch and watched a surprisingly good movie. Just as I thought the day was coming to an end, he said, "Hey, let's go for a drive." So, we left at 12:30 a.m. and headed to VooDoo Donuts, a Portland all night spot. We each got a donut and ate it outside on a bench under the streetlights. Then, we came back home, a leisurely drive in the summer night air, under an almost full moon. It's 2 a.m. and I'm whipped, but I'm heading to bed smiling. I just am not sure it gets much better than this.

Second Honeymoon?

2011-09-04T22:04:00.000-07:00

So. . . . first, apologies for taking so very long to post. Life has been kicking my butt lately with keeping me busy, but still.

Right now, we have NO CHILDREN at home. NONE. One is in Indiana visiting family and friends. One is at Not Back to School Camp. One is still in Alaska. Joseph and I spent the first 48 hours or so really missing them and bemoaning the quiet house and then. . . . well then, . . . we got a little giddy with freedom. We began acting like we did 27 plus years ago when we were childless. A little slower perhaps . . but still . . . it has been rather wonderful. We leave when we want, go where we want and return when we want without worrying about hungry kids, places they need to go or get picked up and so on. It has been wonderful. We've hit multiple Goodwills, garage sales, coffee shops, bookstores and food carts. We have teased and flirted and laughed and talked and I have loved every moment. Children will start returning next week but until then, I love being just "us".

I also wanted to blog about . . . . wrong numbers. My friend Amimental says I seem to attract odd wrong numbers and this is true. I had one guy call a few years ago and we started chatting and he ended up asking me out. (Yes, I turned him down, but flattering nonetheless.) I had a woman from an Asian restaurant call and believe I was a woman named Doris who had ordered food and then never come to get it or pay for it. When I attempted to tell her she had the wrong number, she proclaimed me a "RYING BEECH" in very screechy tones. I finally hung up. To this day, someone in family will still stop and call me a "rying beech".

Yesterday, I got another one. At 11 pm, I got a phone call on my cell from a local number. I answered but no one was there. I hung up and then called the number back but no answer. I dismissed it.

At 5:20 that morning, my phone rang again. (I was sound asleep, naturally.) I answered it (with three kids out of state, you bet I answer any calls) and an irritated young woman said, "My boyfriend's cell was called by you last night and I want to know why you called him." I paused, trying to remember and thought, oh yeaaaa. So I said, "He called me and wasn't there when I answered, so I called him back but got no answer." She said, "You called him at 11 PM?" and I said, "Yes, since that is when he called me."

Pause.

"So you mean you don't know . . . . a . . Cuban guy?"

I sighed and said, "Honey, I'm 52, been married for 29 years and have four kids . . . I do not need or want a Cuban guy."

And she said, "OK, sorry for waking you then." And hung up.

And I wanted to say, "I do not need or want a Cuban guy . . . because I am on a second honeymoon with my husband and I'm very, very happy."

And I am. Children, I miss you every single day, but life with your dad is simply wonderful.

The UPS Man Cometh . . .

2011-07-17T20:02:00.001-07:00

I am always eager for the mail to arrive. I've been known to stand at the end of the driveway and attack the mail truck as it approaches. I have even been known to stand in the middle of the street and walk quickly towards the truck even when it is still a half block away. :) And really, that makes more sense that it might to some . . . I get every single one of my writing "paychecks" through the mail. I also get wonderful letters from many people scattered all over the world in the mail. So being eager for it to arrive is understandable.

This week, however, I will be more than eager. I will be anxious and excited and impatient. Why? Because two things are coming that are probably going to change my life . . . the first one is a new computer. Oh man, this is the DREAM computer too. I special ordered it, piece by piece, to be exactly what I've always wanted. Three monitors. A built in TV. Lots of memory for speed. In preparation, we've been cleaning desks and rearranging furniture. I am anticipating that this new computer will make going to "work" a lot more fun.

The other other thing I am waiting for? New bras. Yes, new bras. Not too exciting to most of you, I am sure. However, I am . . . . well . . . let's go with my boobs are definitely one of the first things you notice about me (after my brilliant smile and scintillating personality, of course.) A well fitting bra is truly a BIG DEAL. And one night, I got sucked in by a new infomercial showing the best and the latest in bra technology (did you know there was bra technology? News to me!) and I ordered those bras. Now, after I ordered them I was offered:

1. a second set of bras at a discount

2. a set of bras with built in lace

3. a hair care system

4. discounted magazine subscriptions AND

5. a Walmart gift card to go along with me (drumroll please) . . . .. FREE THREE DAY TWO NIGHT CRUISE TO THE BAHAMAS . . . travel agents standing by . . . .

I said no to all of those things . . .just stuck with the original order of bras.

Which are supposed to arrive Monday or Tuesday.

Do you think if I promised to model them for the mailman he would bring them faster?

Parting Really IS a Sweet Sorrow, Mr. Shakespeare.

2011-07-14T08:53:00.000-07:00

When old Willy wrote the line in "Romeo and Juliet" that "Parting is such sweet sorrow", he sure was right. He was referring to the pain of lovers saying goodbye until the next day, but this Mom is keenly aware of the feeling this summer. In April, I said goodbye to Nicole for six months. In May, I said goodbye to Caspian for 6 weeks. Today, I said goodbye to Coryn for a one to two weeks. Each parting was full of the joy and excitement and anticipation of a new adventure waiting around the corner. I was thrilled for the opportunities my children were being given, excited at who they might meet, what they might see and how they would interact and evolve from their experiences with the world.

But DAMN, I miss them. And saying goodbye is hard. I want to hug a long, long time. Until they are squirming and trying to get away, in fact.

Coryn held my hand in the train station today. Although I frequently take his hand, it has been a long time since he has reached out for mine and gripped it so tightly. It brought back many memories of holding little hands over the years and marveling that all of these hands today are larger and stronger than mine.

I know they will come back . . . but in the meantime, I miss them dearly and know they will return changed from their interactions and more independent and more apt to want to take another trip very soon. And really, I am glad for that. I know that that means Joseph and I did our jobs well . . . but,

DAMN, I miss them.

A Perfect Portland Moment

2011-07-08T16:34:00.000-07:00

I had a perfect Portland moment today and I wanted to share it with my half dozens of readers (snicker).

Joseph and I spent the morning running around doing typical errands, interspersed with some fun things like checking out a garage sale and buying a camping cook stove. After dropping off a check at one place, we decided to stop at a cartopia--for those who don't live in big cities, that means an open area (usually a former parking lot) that is filled with individual food carts. These are HUGELY popular in Portland and I am so glad. I love seeing small businesses thrive--run by husbands and wives, moms and dads . . . featuring every kind of food under the planet and then some. The one we stopped at today had a dozen different cards including Lebaneser Scrooge (Lebanese food), The Wrapture (salads and wraps) and many more . . Thai food, hot dogs, BBQ, smoothies and shakes . . . something for vegans and vegetarians and carnivores and everything in between. The biggest challenge was CHOOSING. I was in a hot dog kind of mood, so got a beef dog and garlic french fries (I haven't eaten fries in months, but GARLIC fries? Yes, I gave in.)

In the meantime, Joseph (who ALWAYS chooses the most exotic option he can find) chose food from a cart called Viking Soul Food (wife is Norwegian, husband is black. .. hence the name) and OHMIGAWD that food. The food is served in thin wraps a little like crepes . . . one had sweet and sour purple cabbage, with melted chevre cheese and porcini, button and morel mushrooms. The other one was meatballs, arugula, pine nuts and melted cheese. AMAZING!!!! Melt in your mouth, don't talk kind of delicious. So we HAD to get dessert . . . J got "drunken strawberries" . . . strawberries, cream cheese, toasted almonds and some magical sauce and I got lemon tart with spiced pecans. We sat out in the sunshine and ate these and just soaked up the perfect Portland moment of sunshine, summer, Friday afternoon, food carts and this city we love so very much.

I am going to be working hard all weekend to get caught up to deadlines. . . . I just got hired by the 5th new company in 2 months ( go me!) so I have a lot to do but you can bet I will carry that Portland moment with me all weekend. Sigh. I love my life--hope you feel the same way about yours.

Nature . . . and the World . . . are Noisy

2011-07-07T08:46:00.000-07:00

For the last several weeks, Joseph and I have been sleeping outside on our upper deck. It is completely private, roomy and beautiful there. We have an air mattress and lots of cozy blankets for the chilly nights. We snuggle down and listen to wind chimes, distant train whistles, the wind blowing through the tall pine trees in our yard, and the distant murmur of traffic on the busy street a few blocks away. For this very auditory woman, it is lovely.

Well .. . until morning comes. And then nature gets just too friggin noisy. The chirp of morning birds is fine--very nice even. The increase in traffic is also a welcome background sound. Here are the sounds that are not so welcome:

1. The Bickering Duo . . . . apparently we have a squawking bluebird and a chittering squirrel who do NOT get along. I don't know what they find to bicker about every single morning, but they do. Like clockwork, the bird squawks, the squirrel responds and they do this back and forth for over an hour. (I had NO IDEA squirrels could be so loud!) Do they want the same tree real estate? Vying for the same snack (worm? nuts? they have different diets . . . )? Just grumpy until they get their morning coffee? WHAT? I am about ready to hire a mediator to step in and negotiate a truce.

2. The Cat from Hell . . . now we have this neighborhood cat who sits on either our bottom deck or our stairs and YOWLS. I don't mean a gentle meow. I don't mean a little purring. I mean Y O W L I N G. Miserable unhappiness piercing the late night/early morning hours over and over. It moves fine so doesn't seem to be in any pain . . . doesn't act hungry. I am guessing it is in heat, which means it sure picked the wrong house since our cat is also female and fixed. I don't suppose if I tossed down a sex toy and told her to get lost and take care of the problem, it would help? I'm about to try anything to shut her up. I also spend way too much time wondering how awful it would be to have to announce to the world you're horny and just yell until some cat comes along to help you out. Hmmm. Guess it does sound like a few college friends I used to know . . .

3. Earth Swallowing Trucks . . . This morning, added to our mix, we had a truck of some kind. Not sure what it was since it isn't trash day. . . but it was amazingly loud and was doing something at each house . . .it sounded like it was sucking up the foundation and crunching it into compost, to be honest. It was 7:55. Seems a tad early for foundation sucking, but then, who knows, the truck driver might have made a deal with the cat, the squirrel and the bird. Maybe it's a conspiracy to get those Orrs off the deck and into the house?

Hmph. Not until summer is over. Until then, where are my ear plugs?

Knowing the Future? NO Thanks.

2011-07-03T08:51:00.000-07:00

Are you one of those people who wishes you knew what was going to happen tomorrow or in the future? Do you wish you could close your eyes, look into a crystal ball, cast rune stones--whatever--and know what was waiting around the corner? Although I think we all have moments like that, where we wish we knew the outcome of a certain situation or a common concern (will she fall in love? will he find the right job? will I eventually get grandchildren?), I have decided that knowing what is going to happen could be detrimental to my initiative.

Case in point (and you knew that there had to be one, right?), I just finished up the second most intense and demanding (and well paying) job of my 20 plus years of writing. It came out of the blue . . . a quick email from an editor I just finished working for saying hey, I have a new project--interested? In all honesty, it should have read, "I have an insane project that will require you to stop sleeping or doing any other work, that will involve miscommunications, confusing editors, missing documents, a huge amount of work and virtually no time to do it--are you interested?" Had I been able to glance into the next four days, I am pretty sure I would have had some serious doubts. But since I couldn't and the money was goooooooooooood, I said "Sure".

Cue . . . .five days of craziness. I mean, such intense craziness that several times, I pushed my chair back from the computer and went storming up the block on a walk trying to keep my cool. Rants. Crying sessions. Texts to editors at midnight. That kind of craziness.

Everything had to be turned in by July 1. I finished at 2 a.m. that morning. When I did, my amazing family--who brought me ice water, heatpacks, nightgowns, chocolate, coffee, made me take breaks and just breathe, gave me massages, endless hugs and multiple rally sessions--put me in the car (yes, at 2 in the morning) and took me for a drive so I could just R E L A X. Then they poured me into bed.

Friday morning I opened my eyes and my first thought was, Ok, what do I still have to get done.? Then that GLORIOUS, just-like-the -last-day-of-school feeling hit me--I was DONE. Not only was I done but,
(1) It was Friday of a holiday weekend.
(2) It was warm and sunny.
(3) I was paid, actually PAID, for another project and had enough money to not only take a deep breath but hit a couple of Goodwills without guilt.

That, my friends, made for a PERFECT weekend.

So, this weekend, what have I done? I sat out in the sun. I took a nap. I read a book. I wrote letters. I watched a movie. I am going to see fireworks. I am going to probably take another nap and finish my book. PERFECTION. And while that is a good weekend, what came before it, those intense days, made it a perfect weekend (ok, not perfect. Nicole isn't home. But close). And within 30 days, when that check arrives in my mailbox, we are going to sit down and just stare at it for awhile. Then it will get dispersed to things like taxes and bills but also a few fun things. (Of course, to me that means road trips, books and paper and to J that means anything VW related. The boys are just counting on new computers.)

If I could have glanced into the future and seen what this job entailed and what a mess it would be, how stressful it would be to me physically and emotionally, would I have taken it? I doubt it. But I"m glad that I wasn't psychic and I did say yes because when that check comes, you can bet I will be smiling.

Now excuse me, I have an almost perfect weekend to get back to. . . Oh, Happy 4th of July. May it be your own version of a perfect weekend as well.

A Desert Adventure--and Returning to Reality

2011-06-22T18:46:00.000-07:00

If you know me and the family, or have been reading this blog very long, you know that each year, in June, we head to the desert region of Oregon (yes, there IS a desert region of Oregon, complete with tumbleweeds and sage brush) to the annual Volkswagen Camper Bus gathering in Maupin. This was our fifth year to go and it was delightful. The weather cooperated (mostly), people were friendly, food was tasty, scenery was awesomely gorgeous (roaring river on one side, brown velvet mountain side on the other), and I didn't work a bit for almost four full days. We had the usual VW adventure . . i.e. broke down on the side of the road. Snicker.

Five minutes after Joseph caught karma's attention by remarking out loud how wonderfully the bus was running, it conked out. We spent almost two hours on the highway with two friends trying to pinpoint the problem (which they did) and fix it (which they did). On the way home, getting gas for the long trip, the bus . . . . can you guess? . . . conked out. Refused to start. Needed a new battery cable. Okay. Bought a new one. Halfway home? Strange smell. Ahhhhhhh, alternator belt chewed up. Why? Oooooops, that's where you left the wrench you were missing? Mystery solved. Finally home, tired, tan, happy.

The only real down side to the entire trip was that there was this enormous BLACK HOLE of emptiness that followed me around. It was always next to me when I sat down. Always there when I looked up. Hovering over me when I crawled into bed in the tent. What was it? It was the Nicole-isn't-here-black-hole. I missed her more at Maupin than any time since she left. A lovely man who had a cell phone with service (unlike ours) loaned me his so I could at least call her a couple of times to let her know how much she was missed.

Returned to work Sunday night . . . and I'm not sure I've slowed down yet. I'm thrilled to say that I'm being hired by new companies, people love my work, I'm getting referrals . . . . all SO GOOD, but man, keeping up may be the end of me. If one editor knew what I was doing for other editors, they'd never believe it. I am back to being in front of the computer screen 16-17 hours a day. Ugh. Eventually, of course, i will be rolling in money (which means paying back loans and catching up with bills) but right now, all I can see is deadlines and more deadlines.

So, here is what I wishing for . . . .

that stress burns calories . . . . that I am able to meet my deadlines . . . that coffee and chocolate are never in scarce quantities . . . . that my right arm doesn't fall off from too much time on the keyboard . . . that editors keep liking my work so I don't have to do any (shudder) revisions . . . . and that I get the chance to sit back, breathe, cuddle with kids and husband, and relax now and then. Wish with me, wouldya?

The Future Looks Bright

2011-06-15T13:03:00.000-07:00

It has been a long month . . . and yes, it's only half over. As I mentioned a couple of posts ago, this month, through various circumstances, we are basically not getting paid. Only one check is slated to come and that has been delayed a week because "it missed the cutoff by an hour". Sigh. So this has made for a long month. The stress of it has been mitigated by the kindness of those we love and who so clearly love us.

Caspian handed us the $40 we had given him to go to the organic farm. "Here," he said. "I am fed three times a day and don't need anything else, so use it."

Nicole called to say, "I'm sending you a $300 Safeway card. Eat for the rest of the month without worrying and don't even think about paying it back. We're family."

Coryn went online without being asked and cancelled his WOW account.

AmiMental took money that her family needs almost as much as mine and handed it to me, not even allowing me to open my mouth and object. I was only allowed to say "thank you" (which I did) and "I love you" (which I do).

All of these acts humble me. The compassion and love and kindness overwhelms me. It also has kept us going when things are at their lowest.

On a happier note, work has been cascading in at an exciting but intimidating rate . . . I've been hired by several new companies and an old familiar company asked me to do a rush job that may kill me to get done in time but will also pay me very well (in two months or so . . . ). It means that August and September will be great months . . if we survive until then. But if we had to live on love, it is clear that this family would feast like kings.

Too Close for Other's Comfort

2011-06-06T08:58:00.000-07:00

Lately I have been having the same conversation repeatedly with Joseph, my kids, Ami and mentally (and man, can I carry on a fantastic internal dialogue!). Why is it that our culture sees maintaining a close relationship with your parents as wrong? Why does it lessen you in their eyes? Why does turning to your parents for advice, encouragement, emotional support, or just a needed dose of love and affection, mean that you are weak? immature? incapable? That simply does not make any sense to me.

If you were at work and you ran into a problem or obstacle or issue, you wouldn't be laughed at for turning to co-workers or managers for help. If you were sitting in a classroom and were confused or frustrated, you wouldn't be ridiculed for asking the teacher for assistance. If you were having a terrible (or wonderful!) day, no one would think twice if you grabbed the phone to share the news with your best friend.

BUT substitute PARENT for any of those positions and suddenly, it's wrong.

When Nicole walked into her new kitchen with the new team, they had put up a sign welcoming her. Awesome, huh? We were all pleased with that. The new team has been wonderful and she is sooooo much happier. But, on break, when she reached for the phone to call and talk to me as she does each afternoon, she saw it. The head shaking. The couched question . . . Calling your folks again? The veiled looks.

When Caspian walks into the kitchen at the farm and the only piece of mail on the board is for him from me, he gets the same thing. When he picks up the phone and calls us to tell us about his day, people wonder why in the world he wants to talk to his (say it with disgust here) . . . . p a r e n t s.

Why??? Why is that wrong? These children are certainly not immature and overly dependent. Look where they ARE! Nicole is 2,500 miles away in Alaska, living on her own. Caspian is spending the summer in a tent doing extremely demanding work. How can examples like that be linked to immaturity because each one of them takes a minute to call us and tell us what is happening in their lives?

Society is messed up, especially when it comes to our children. We know that. A weekend spent at Life is Good unschooling conference helped me to re-connect with the loving, supportive, bonding kind of families that give me hope for the future. And just because our children are too close for other people's comfort, we couldn't imagine them being anywhere else.

Thank you for listening. Stepping off of the soap box for now.

Mostly Great . . . with a Little Challenge Thrown In

2011-06-04T19:27:00.000-07:00

Life is pretty good for us right now is many ways.
Nicole is MUCH MUCH happier with her new team. It isn't perfect . . . her new boss was told that she was a "meek, parent dominated, sheltered homeschooler" (grrrrrr) so she has that false reputation to overcome. I have no doubt she will do it in a matter of days seeing as she is NONE of those things.

Caspian is home for the weekend so the house seems fuller. He called to say he was "hug-deprived" and needed some family time and so he is here for a couple of days (and double his usual share of hugs).

Work is picking up . . . I have two new companies in the process of hiring me and a familiar company called to give me extra work because I had done so well for them in the past.

Even the weather is cooperating for the first time. The sun is out, the rain is gone and the temperature is hitting actually summer levels. I sat outside in the sun this afternoon and soaked up as much vitamin D as I could.

So, all of this adds up to happiness and harmony . . . except for one thing. In the month of June, I am not getting paid. Yea, you read that right. Through a confluence of bizarre circumstances, in June, I will virtually go without a single paycheck. And you know what? I don't know what to do about it. I've been brainstorming, of course.

Taking on more writing jobs is fine, but it won't help because the lag time in getting paid is always a month or more.

Taking a job outside the house is possible, but they are hard to find and frankly, I have enough writing assignments that I don't know if I could juggle it all.

I can sell some things . . and will. A trip to Powell's with books. Perhaps a VW for sale.

I can always depend on my darlin friend Ami to make sure I have groceries. :)

But otherwise, I simply am not sure what to do. We wrote a resume for Joseph tonight but it's a bizarre one. He did the same thing for 22 years . . . . so how do I turn that into a generic resume? Plus there just aren't that many jobs out there . . .

July will be a terrific month. One of my best in a year, in fact. But I have to survive June first and honestly, I am not sure how. No wealthy relatives to beg. Don't play the lottery. So, if you happen to win a million or find a treasure chest or win big at poker or have a savings account you'd forgotten about, keep your good friend Tami in mind, wouldya?And come onnnnnnnnnnn July.

Embarrassed: Zero. Grateful: One/Won.

2011-06-02T15:01:00.000-07:00

Occasionally the Mama Tiger cannot be silenced.

Nicole has had a terrible struggle with her job on the train. The hours are long, the work is hard--but she can handle that. No hothouse flower this one. She is TOUGH. What made the job nearly impossible to bear, however, was her co-worker. This . . . . think of a neutral word to use here, Tami. . . . person was overbearing, rude, unkind, selfish and downright cruel. She abused Nicole verbally and emotionally, and, I suspect if she thought she could have done it without getting her ass fired, it would have been physically as well. Each day she called me to report in, I heard more despair and frustration and desperation in her voice.

We gave her suggestions and advice, of course. We suggested she talk to her manager (she did) and do everything possible to work things out with her co-worker (she did) and nothing helped . . . in fact, it just got worse.

Finally, I had had it with the last phone call. This girl was ready to come home but wouldn't allow herself because she is not one to quit. When I got off the phone with her, I went to talk with Joseph. We were really waffling with whether or not to step in. On the one hand, we wanted to step back and allow Nicole to handle this alone and be totally independent. On the other, we wanted her to know that she was not alone and that no matter where she is or what is happening, we have got her back.

Option B won out. Neither Joseph nor I feel that our children reach a point where they are on their own, where we say "sink or swim." If our children reach out to us, we will hold out our arms. (This goes for the oldest one as well. She has needed help several times in the past and we did all we could from handing out money to carrying heavy items up very narrow stairs. I hope that she knows, somewhere, in the back of her mind, that we are still here with open arms if she needs us.) Ironically, it seems that their knowing that has made it such that they rarely need to reach out.

We called the man who hired Nicole in April and we talked to him. He called in his boss. Skipping over many details, the supervisors met with Nicole and she has been transferred to a new train and team. Her first day is tomorrow. Finally, she will be away from that . . . . remember, Tami . . . person who was making her life miserable.

Two important final notes on this story. First, her manager came to Nicole to ask how upper management found out about this situation. After pressing her relentlessly, the manager finally got Nicole to state that her parents had called. To this, the woman said, "My goodness! Aren't you embarrassed to have your parents get involved?" And our girl replied, "No, I'm grateful that I have people who love me that much."

Snicker.

And then? The last night when this . . . . person . . . was walking to her car, Nicole followed her. Did she call this coworker names? Yell at her? Finally tell her what a bit-----PERSON she was?! No. She thanked her for what she had learned from her in the kitchen and wished her the best. Shook her hand even. Didn't break out into hysterical laughter when the girl admitted that she was not really a very good teacher and co-worker.

Now that, ladies and gentlemen, is integrity.

An Anniversary . . . . . Angsting . . . . and An Event

2011-05-30T23:28:00.000-07:00

Today was the 29th anniversary of Joseph and I's first date. Periodically, throughout the day, we have reminisced about what we were doing 29 years ago . . . getting ready for the date, saying hello, going to a movie, kissing goodnight . . . for an hour. :) Those years have certainly flown by. I miss the 23-year-old me, but I much prefer who I am now.

The day was spent doing a number of things, including going to the Life is Good conference in Vancouver. It started on Thursday and ended today. It is always so refreshing to be immersed in hundreds of people with the same basic mind set about parenting and education as your own. I am continuously amazed at the unschooling community and the families in it. The love, the trust, the communication, the connections and the bonding are truly inspiring. The classes and workshops, even though I've been unschooling for 25 plus years, are still enlightening and empowering. I walk out feeling energized and loving my children even more than usual. This year was sobering, however, because instead of four kids with me, or three, or two . . . I had one. And that one was completely independent. He stayed in a hotel room with friends, checked in now and then for food and then was off again. He had an AMAZING time and I was thrilled for him, but will admit I cried more than a few times over the fact that I had no little ones to hold and chase and nurse and carry and play with and change. There were lots of them there and I considered wearing a sign that said, "Grandchild deprived. . . will hold your baby for free for as long as you need me to." I was afraid people might think I was a tad odd, though.

We got to see Caspian today, which was wonderful. We took up some items he needed (warm coat, more socks) and stuff he wanted (snacks, books) and visited for a little while. He already looks older and is tickled that he got the chance to use a chain saw already. (shudder) He is sick of rain and living in a tent already so I am hoping the weather gets better for his sake. He took us on a walk to see the outhouse and all I could think was, NO THANKS. Did I cry when I said goodbye to him this time? I bet you can guess.

Wonderful anniversary . . . . amazing conference . . . . and a daughter in Alaska who is struggling so much that she is never off of my mind. Her job is proving to be wayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy more difficult than we had imagined, in terms of rough co-workers and unbelievably demanding work (4 hours at a time of doing dishes . . . 14.5 hour days . . . ) I am listening and commiserating and doling out advice when asked and just hoping she can get it all figured out. I am also duct taping Tiger Mother's mouth so she stays out of it. Grrrrrrrrrr.

So a busy time indeed. Hard to believe June is almost here, especially since the weather has been cold and wet and very March-like. Helps me keep working instead of playing in the sun though.

Stay tuned. More life to follow soon, I'm sure. In the meantime, send my girl in Anchorage some good thoughts, ok?

I Left my Heart in San . . . No, in Anchorage and Rhododendron

2011-05-24T19:03:00.000-07:00

I have recently learned something about myself. I am not ready for my children to be adults. I know that I don't have any choice. I know that they are turning into fabulous human beings that I am proud of. I know that growing up is inevitable. I know that I LOVE these grown up people they have become. But since growing up also seems to mean GOING AWAY, I am voting against aging.

Today we took Caspian to Rhododendron, Oregon to a 55-acre farm that is having young people from all over the country come out to help them with building yurts, landscaping gardens, clearing forest and lots of other major outdoor projects. He took his tent, sleeping bag, suitcase, and iPod. We got there and got the tour and it is a beautiful place indeed. Huge mountains surround the area, covered in blankets of pine trees. The team will spend the summer turning rough country into a future resort/retreat and the work will be HARD and physical and exhausting--and I suspect he will absolutely love it. That will come. . . today he was just understandably overwhelmed at the barrage of information they were giving him.

I followed him on the tour, taking pictures, oohing and aahing over the scenery, nodding politely at the details of their projects and at the same time wondering just why the HELL these people expected my little boy to be able to do any of this stuff. Then I looked at this big 18 yr old man in front of me and realized that I was the only one seeing that little boy standing there. Everyone else saw this muscled young man and I saw this tiny, tow headed prankster.

When it came time to say goodbye, I found myself fighting the same tears I just went through with Nicole a month ago. How can you be SO happy and excited for someone and so heart broken at the same time?!? How can you want to admire their stepping out into the world, while you really want to super glue them to their rooms? I've never felt such ambivalence in my life as saying goodbye to my children.

I will cope. I will adjust. I will cry less. I will keep busy. I will buck up and be a . . . . mom. But I've already warned Coryn that if he even mentions going anywhere, I will have to hurt him. He does not look frightened. Sigh.

I am sure any day he will say, Hey mom . . . . can I go . . . . and I will say, of course and help him pay the bill, pack the bags, make the plans and walk out the door.

Then you can just stop by and see me curled up on the couch, crying and wondering just what the hell I am supposed to do with myself without these people in my house to pester me and remind me that they are hungry AGAIN.

Bring chocolate.

Mother's Angst, Update

2011-05-22T13:47:00.000-07:00

My mind kept wandering today as I knew Nicole was talking to her supervisor about her struggles and I wanted so badly to know how she was doing. When she called, I couldn't grab the phone fast enough. It turns out that at least three other people had noticed how unkind a co-worker was being to Nicole and had reported it. This was validating, of course. We tend to think we are being oversensitive or taking things too personally sometimes, and so it helped to know that Nicole's assessment of how she was being treated was accurate. The supervisor stated that the combination of these two was a dreadful one--very different personalities and work styles. She agrees that ultimately a transfer is the best idea and I am betting that will happen. In the meantime, the employee is being "talked to", which may help but I suspect will only make this co-worker more hostile.

In the meantime, Nicole is hanging in there, being stubborn and determined and very unlike the word her supervisor described her as ("meek"). So keep those prayers and good wishes and thoughts heading our way and I will keep you updated on the situation and the mama's angst.

Motherhood ain't for Sissies

2011-05-21T23:39:00.000-07:00

There is little in life as disturbing and unsettling to me than any of my children being in mental and/or physical discomfort. Right now I'm juggling a bit of that and it reminds me that being a mom ain't easy. Every gray hair is earned.

So, having Nicole 2,500 mile away is really, really hard but if she is horseback riding and making friends and getting flirted with, it's bearable. When she is going to work and being mistreated by co-workers and putting in 15 hour days, it's not so bearable. She is working in the kitchen with the head cook who happens to be a . . . . well, fill in your favorite word for unpleasant female. She is rude to Nicole, insults her, ignores her and generally makes her very long days much longer. Nicole has done everything she can think of to cope with it, but is running out of options. Tomorrow she meets with a superior to ask for some guidance and we are all hoping that that turns out to be the solution. I suspect a transfer to a different team will be the ultimate solution, but we will see. In the meantime, Mama is angsting like crazy for this girl so far away.

Caspian is doing well but is getting ready to leave for the summer and I am not ready to send him off. Coryn is doing well. . .counting the days until Memorial Day weekend because we are going to the Life is Good unschooling conference and he looks forward to it all year.

I am doing well although swamped with work. The last few days have been really lovely and so Joseph and I have been sleeping out on the back deck under the stars. We have an air mattress, lots of cozy warm blankets and it is so lovely . . . I think people think we are nuts but there are no bugs, no morning dew . . . the only thing there is is this DAMN BIRD who greets the dawn by making this incredibly unpleasant squawking noise about three feet from my head. I would sic the cat on it, but the cat is usually curled up next to me on the mattress sleeping thru it all.

So that's life. Oh, although the diet is not as strict as it was, I am sticking to it pretty closely. As of today, I have lost 33 lbs. It's painfully slow, but it keeps trickling down and that makes me happy. Until I think about Nicole . . . . and then Mama ain't happy for long. Keep your fingers crossed for her, say a prayer, throw the runes, whatever you do (assuming you weren't taken up in the rapture today, that is, snicker) and send her good thoughts, ok? Thanks.

Whazzup with the Orrs

2011-05-15T18:55:00.000-07:00

Life in the Orr house is coming along well, albeit a tad hectic. Latest news includes. . . .

Joseph finally found out why the VW Thing was not working properly. It was driving him nuts and he had replaced everything he could, read about it online, posted on forums and called friends. At last he has it figured out. We indirectly rejoiced for him.

Nicole's adventures in Alaska continue. She is finished with her training and then she got a week off. She has spent it in Palmer, staying at a horseback riding farm. She has been riding for hours every day and seeing amazing sites. She has also learned to do some cooking and baking, has fed chickens, entertained a persistent kitten, and learned coping skills for living with a couple that tends to fight quite a bit. She returns to Anchorage on Monday, and starts work on Tuesday. Then, she works three days, gets two off, works three, two off, and so on. As an assistant prep cook, she will prepare plates and foods for the servers to take out to passengers.

Caspian leaves on the 24th (only 9 days) for his summer at the organic farm. He is getting eager and already wanting to pick a suitcase and start packing. I admit I am loathe to see him pack bags as I shall miss him terribly, but I am also happy for his upcoming adventures.

Coryn is looking forward to camp in August but worrying, along with his parents, at how we are going to afford it. The balance must be paid by the first of June and since they combined sessions this year, the price is a WHOPPER. I've been trying to save it but it has not been successful as of yet. I keep hoping someone will pay me more or extra or early or something, but we will see.

As for me, I am doing fairly well. I recently was given FOUR new jobs and of course, they aren't due consecutively but simultaneously and it will be quite the challenge to keep up with all of them. I will do my best, but I am guessing the coming two or three weeks will be stuffed full of stress, chocolate, pressure, deadlines and coffee. If I can make it through, I will have earned a bundle and have learned quite a few new skills in the process. I just hope I won't go crazy at the same time.

That's all that is new at the Orr House. If you stop by, leave a message. I always enjoy checking who has come by to see me (except for those damn spammers, that is!)

Blessed Mom and Wife

2011-05-08T11:01:00.000-07:00

As you probably already know about me, I write a lot of letters. Some of the people that I write to are single men. NO, not that kind of letter writing! Sheeesh. These are just guys who actually like to put pen to paper and I appreciate that. I write to them and we talk about all kinds of things. One topic I've asked them about is marriage and family. As a person who cannot fathom going through life without either one, I am curious about those people who make the decision to not marry or have children.

I've been amazed at what I've heard from these people. It doesn't seem to be a case of they didn't find the right person or they almost married and something went terribly wrong. Instead, these men have deeply cynical viewpoints about what marriage is. One wrote, "I don't want to live a life of someone telling me what I can do and say. I don't want to get permission to make a decision." Another stated, "I hear about all the stress and anger that comes in marriage and trying to raise children, and I am grateful I never had to deal with that." Apparently their role models for marriage must have been pretty lousy.

Maybe it was parents, Maybe it was neighbors or friends, or more likely, some of the couples you see on television. Fortunately, both Joseph and I have had great role models for marriage. Both of our parents were married for more than 50 years. Perfect marriages? Hardly. No such animal, methinks. But strong ones with lots of love.

If I could do my life all over again, I would certainly make some changes. I'd spend more time with this person, less with this one. Study less and travel more. Worry less and celebrate more. But there are a couple things I wouldn't change at all. I wouldn't change who I married (although wish we had met earlier) and I wouldn't change having four children. I might have done everything I could to hold on to the oldest one, in hindsight, but I wouldn't give up the years I had with her for anything. And the other three? I cherish every day. They are all blessings. I feel sorry for those lonely guys that they don't know how it feels to have someone who loves them put their arms around them and reassure them that everything will work out fine. A child's hand in theirs. A close bond of years. A whispered "I love you" in the dark. A child's voice on the phone calling you "Mom" (or "Dad"). An internal knowing that part of you goes on forever.So, on Mother's Day, I will be grateful for my own mom (pictured here, and man, would she be upset that I put her picture online when her hair and makeup wasn't perfect. . . but this is how I remember her), my mother in law, my friends who are moms, my children and my husband. Live alone? Please--no. Never. I'm the blessed one.

Birthday Post, Part 2

2011-05-03T10:01:00.001-07:00

I came downstairs and found a post it note on my monitor telling me to look at my keyboard.

"Step One," it read. "Look at the back door."
It had another note, which read, "Step Two, Look at where dad keeps the plates"

Sure enough, note three which stated, "Step Three, Go to the restroom and look at the mirror"

(And yes, it could have then said something wicked about see the old woman's reflection there, but it didn't.)

Post it note #4 read, "Step Four, go to where we keep the tea".

Number 5 stated, "Go to Nic's room and look at the back of Nic's door"

Number 6 read, "The last one. Step Six, look in the crock pot"

Inside the crock pot was the last note saying, "Happy Birthday Mom" and a beautiful necklace I had admired week's ago in a store.

This gift was from my son, Caspian. The one who hates to write wrote out those notes and taped them around the house. He touches my heart.

They all touch my heart.

Oh, and Nicole's gift to me . . .she bought it before she even went to Alaska. How is that for planning ahead? It was one plaque that reads, "Danger Mother at Work!" and another that describes that once we were just mother and daughter, but now we are blessed enough to also be friends. Both go in my office where I can see them every day

What I Want for my Birthday

2011-05-03T09:07:00.000-07:00

Today is my birthday and I am 52. Already I've gotten several birthday cards (my favorite being the one next to my pillow this morning from my hubby with the world's sweetest note in it) and I was serenaded at 12:05 a.m. by two teenage boys, a husband and a daughter on speaker phone from Alaska. I received some most welcome chocolate from amimental (which I am rationing out to myself) and a wonderful box full of goodies in the mail from a friend in Texas.

Although I will work today, I will smile to myself, knowing it is a special day. And I will deeply appreciate every gesture, every note, every card I receive, knowing they were given to me with love. So, here is my brief indulgence in wishing . . . . The four things I wish I could have for my birthday this year are:

1. my mom and dad calling me to sing to me, usually off key but charming and heartfelt
2. Shayne sending me one of his amazing handmade, painted cards
3. Jasmine sitting at the kitchen table and sharing a piece of cake with us
4. Nicole hugging me when I come down the stairs this morning

For various reasons, I will not get these four things, but that's ok too. I had them once and I hold them all close in my heart, so they are still there.

Of course, a check in the mail so I can breathe a little easier would brighten the day as well :) but if not, we will deal with that too. And I will keep smiling because today is my special day.

18 and 15

2011-05-01T10:25:00.000-07:00

Somehow birthdays just have the ability to make you aware of the time passing, don't they? Remember those pics I posted a few days ago with my grown up sons? Well these pics remind me of how they looked . . just a few days ago .. .

April 22, my son Caspian turned 18. EIGHTEEN. That simply seems impossible. He has been looking forward to it for ages because so many more opportunities open up at that age. In three weeks, he will leave to go to Zig Zag, a small town up on Mt. Hood, where he will spend a great deal of the summer living in a tent and building yurts and fences and a stage out on an organic farm with a group of other people. Why is it that I can help him get ready for this but whenever I look at him, I still see the white-haired toddler who loved to hide between the refridgerator and the stove?

And today, Coryn, the "baby" turned 15. FIFTEEN. Just . . . when? He is this tall, handsome young man like his brother (the two used to be asked if they were twins . . . now that they are almost adults, they are being asked again. They still bristle at the idea.) Yesterday I watched both of them helping friends move and lifting and carrying boxes and furniture and being MEN instead of my boys.

And just to enforce the idea of time passing, I turn 52 on Tuesday. Eeek. I swear I only feel 35 (on most days). When did those 50s sneak in there?

Ah well, they say time flies when you're having fun and if my years are going by this fast, then it simply means I having one wonderful life. That's a nice gift indeed.

It's Love

2011-04-30T15:48:00.000-07:00

I realize that although I discuss the kids quite a bit here, I haven't talked much about the hubby lately. Today I've had extra reason to appreciate him. I was thinking how people can show that they love you in such quiet, subtle ways that mean everything.

Today we helped some friends of Nicole's move from one apartment to another. It was a lot of heavy lifting and going up and down stairs. Although I am wayyyyy better at that than I would have been six months ago before I lost weight (31 lbs so far) and lowered my BP, I'm still struggling a little thanks to a bum right wrist (Carpal tunnel) and some vertigo (nasty on stairs). My hubby kept passing me while he was in the midst of carrying couches and televisions and really heavy stuff and encouraging me to go rest and take it easy. When it came time to eat, he made his way through the crowd around the table and got me a chair. Brought me a glass of water without my asking. Gave me frequent kisses (and yeah, a few gropes). Asked repeatedly if I was doing all right.

All of that comes down to one thing . . . he loves me. I see that in his every gesture and I am so grateful for it. In his eyes, I truly am a beautiful, sexy, wonderful woman and it is a blessing to have someone see you that way. I have a good friend whose husband turns on the electric blanket when she is on the way home from work so the bed is toasty when she crawls in later. That is love. It is the love that lasts through the normal ups and downs of the relationship and the daily grind of life. It is the love that makes you look across the room and, just for a moment, forget about the fact that your back hurts, your bills exceed your income, the house needs a new roof and you aren't sure how to meet the needs of everyone else in the family, and smile at your partner because you know you're both very lucky people.

It's love. And wow, am I lucky to be one of those people.

Who Needs E-Harmony when you have Alaska?

2011-04-27T21:05:00.000-07:00

I'm long married and very, very happily so, but I have some advice for you if you're single and female. Get thee to Alaska, girlfriend. The men there are waiting for you!

Nicole has been in Anchorage for only a few days and is already a big hit with the men. She has been hit on more in four days than she was in Portland in four years. She keeps calling me to report in the latest compliment, pass, come on and offer. We had been told the ratio of men to women there was 50 to 1 and apparently that isn't an exaggeration. Between the fact that she is damn cute, her red hair and wild wardrobe have resulted in people stopping her on the street to tell her how great she looks. Snicker. What fun this summer is going to be for our girl.

As for me? I am managing to de-stress fairly well, thanks to IMing, texting, emailing, calling and writing. I can't reach out and hug her but we still laugh and make inside jokes and even watch the same TV episodes long distance and comment. And my, how her adventures are keeping us all entertained. She goes for training on Monday, if she isn't carried off by some Alaskan harem by then.

Other aspects of life are going fine. Work is worrying me a little because I haven't gotten many jobs for the rest of the spring and early summer, but I have hopes that it will pick up and in the meantime, I'm reading the want ads for just the right receptionist/front desk job.

Our spring is taking forever in Portland. We are making records left and right for the wettest, coldest months in years. Damn. I need sunshine. I need warmth. If you've got a little extra where you live, send it this way would you? I'd be happy to send you a thank you note in return. Or a wedding invitation if this girl gets any more popular in the Great North . . . .

Tami's De-Stress Techniques, Part 1

2011-04-23T15:57:00.001-07:00

Yes, part one because I suspect I will be searching for many of these coping techniques in the five months to come.

So, here are a half dozen of my so-far discovered stress reducers:

1. Sit out in the sunshine and soak it up.

2. Write a long, long, long letter to the person you miss because it is a little like talking to her.

3. Take a hard walk on the track and go an extra lap to burn off some of that tension.

4. Hang out with your two sons who are bending over backwards to fill in that gaping hole in mom's heart.

5. Eat half a cookie . . . enough to enjoy the taste of it and not enough to feel guilty about eating it. Give the other half to a constantly hungry teenage son.

6. Appreciate the friends who have reached out to you to let you know they love and care and know what you are going through right now.

And yes, before anyone mentions it, I know there are some other fun, sweat inducing, grab your favorite partner, doe-see-doe ways of reducing stress and they will certainly be on a future list. Right now, I'm just working on finding some inner peace and calm. The other stuff will come later. (Do what you want with that pun.)

Stressing

2011-04-23T00:21:00.000-07:00

Today was a tough, tough, tough day.

I didn't sleep well, knowing that Nicole was leaving. We got up and went to get the rental car we had reserved. When we got there, we realized that NO WAY would three young adults fit in the back seat. To move up to the mini-van would almost triple the cost.

We decided to take our van and hope for the best.

We left and the ride was long but relatively stress free. We got to Bellingham with 90 minutes to kill before she boarded. That was one L O N G 90 minutes. We said our goodbyes and I lasted until she was on the deck, at which point I began to sob. That kept going for the next hour. Or more. the hugs her brothers and father gave her were so tender. The love all three men gave me afterwards was also. Caspian had to share his 18th birthday with his day and did so absolutely selflessly.

The trip home was long, long, long. I cried multiple times. We forgot to get our gas money from Nicole and came home on fumes. The constant worry over the van, and money and missing Nicole made for a rough time of it.

While we were gone, I was called by a woman upset with me for not paying an invoice I had received just the night before at 10 pm. I had no idea it was due immediately. She wanted me to, literally, stop my trip to Washington, find an Internet connection, and pay it. I was completely shocked as this was never mentioned when I had the computer repair done the afternoon before. I came home and emailed an apology, saying I was sorry about the misunderstanding and let's just say, the apology wasn't accepted and only seemed to accelerate the problem. This kind of disagreement makes my unbearably uncomfortable, but when you add everything else that is going on in my life to it, I am a basket case. And guess what? My computer isn't working again. Sigh.

My sons received birthday money in the mail today. Without a word, they handed all of it over to me to help the money crunch. That made me cry again. Good kids, these boys of mine.

I am so worn out, I am not sure I can get from the computer to the bed. I'm going to try though. Please send good thoughts my way because this woman is stressed out.

Nite.

Down to the Wire and It's a SHARP One

2011-04-21T11:07:00.000-07:00

Apparently I've done something to piss off karma . . . . although what is is, I have no idea.

As if this week isn't hard enough with Nicole leaving tomorrow, we have had increasing vehicle issues such that this morning J said he doesn't trust EITHER the VW bus OR the van to make the 600 mile trip to Bellingham and back tomorrow. EEEEK. Money is very, very, very tight right now and I had no idea what to do. Made some quick calls and finally rented a vehicle for a decent price that will (barely) fit all of us. Normally we wouldn't all have to go, but hey, this is an important moment and we all need to be there.

Then, last night, I was informed that a computer virus had gotten through my anti virus software and infected the upstairs computer. As of now, 14 hours later, I still have no files up there and cannot figure out how to repair it. This is a disaster of pretty monumental proportions since almost every project I work on is saved to that hard drive. Coryn has been valiantly trying to figure it out but so far, no luck. Since finances are tight, we have no budget at all right now for calling our usual computer tech guy (and damn, Nicole isn't dating the guy who also helped us), so not sure sure what we will do there yet. Can't go without my computer as it is my livelihood.

All of this in the same week as taxes? Now, that just seems a tad unfair.

I humbly apologize karma. Please forgive me and make these next days a little easier. Not sure I can cope with many more complications.

As Requested . . . the Orrs

2011-04-17T17:54:00.000-07:00

Today my darlin friend AmiMental came over and took family pics of us. Why is it that she can get better shots of our family than anyone else on the planet? I suspect it is because most photographers do not love us, and she does. So, for your view pleasure, here are the Orrs. Haven't those children of mine gotten GORGEOUS? Oh, and that pic of the two women who look like they could be sisters? That would be me and the photographer, friends for life.

An Amazing Gift

2011-04-13T16:22:00.001-07:00

Recently someone asked me what one of the best gifts I've ever gotten was. I was stumped for a while. In the end, what came to mind was not THINGS, but moments . . . the gift of love, time, humor, kindness.

Yesterday I got one of those gifts. One that I will treasure for as long this brain works enough for me to remember it.

Our family has taken the Amtrak train from Portland to Seattle a half dozen times. We always have fun. The train trip is as much, if not more, of the fun than getting to the city. We read, talk, sleep, write letters, play games, look out the window and just enjoy being together. One year we even took my mom with us and that was wonderful, albeit a little exhausting as we also took a wheelchair with us and pushed her in it since every trip includes a great deal of walking.

Yesterday I rode the train to Seattle again, but this time only with Nicole. She had bought tickets for a trip six months ago for her and Jon and since they were no longer together, she had an extra. She asked me to go with her in early January and I finally said no, because frankly, I didn't believe I could do it physically. Too many health issues going on and not enough energy.

About three weeks ago, I said I had changed my mind. I wanted to go. I felt far better and 30 lbs. lighter. I had struggling with vertigo for two weeks, but it was improving, so I said let's go.

So, we did. And the world saw that this was an important moment for us and so (1) my vertigo virtually disappeared, (2) I got a check in the mail the day before for some spending money, and (3) it was SUNNY in Seattle (even more surprising than in Portland at this time of year). Nicole and I both know that she is leaving in just over a week and that that moment is going to be agonizingly difficult for both of us and this was a chance to spend the day together.

It was a letter perfect day. We went to some great places, riding the Monorail, checking out the Space Needle, hitting a stationery store . . . . but even better, we laughed and cried and talked and then did it all over again. We laughed so hard, it hurt. We cried talking about the changes approaching. We aired fears and worries and reassured each other. We even managed to get completely lost, on the wrong elevator, and found it hysterically funny.

Coming home was sobering. This trip to Seattle had been what we focused on, letting her departure date fade into the near future, and now the trip was over. And you know, it's not going to be any easier to say goodbye to this child. Hell, I cry even typing the words. But I am also resting safe in the knowledge that the bond she and I share can weather any changes, any distance, anything. It is stronger than steel and absolutely cannot be damaged. It can shift, it can mature, it can deepen, but no mere miles will make even the slightest dent. And what an AMAZING gift that is, eh?

Tea in the fridge, darlin girl.

Heading into Spring

2011-04-07T14:03:00.000-07:00

We are seeing signs that spring really does plan to return to Portland this year. After the second wettest March in state history, the sun is peeking out now and then and making the colors of the jonquils, tulips and cherry blossoms sparkle and shine. Once again Joseph and I remark about the similarity of Portland in spring to a Candyland game board.

Other news . . . . I have hit 30 pounds lost now. This makes me exceedingly happy. Even better is that eating this way is getting easier all the time. That makes me ecstatic.

Nicole's moving plans are starting to escalate. She is cleaning up her room so she leaves it in good shape and finds exactly what she wants to take and not take. I am focusing on her happiness and will let the other stuff come later. When I'm ready. Yeah. Right.

She and I are taking the day to go to Seattle next week on Amtrak. That will be wonderful and fun and bittersweet and poignant. It is the first time we haven't gone as a whole family so that will be odd, but it will also be nice to shop where we want to without keeping the menfolk a'waitin for us.

Vertigo is better--not gone--but better. Joseph is sad because he likes it that I had to keep reaching out and grabbing him for balance. Of course, he liked some grabs far better than others.

That's the picture at the Orr house . . and speaking of pictures, we have asked our all time favorite photographer to come to the house before Nicole leaves to take a few new family portraits. We have changed quite a bit since a year ago when she took them. There is 100 plus pounds less of us, to start with. Plus the boys are TALL, Nicole's hair is longer and RED, and Joseph and I are just a tad grayer. The happiness shines through though.

Stay tuned.

Out of Limbo . . . Stalled in Vertigo

2011-04-05T11:40:00.000-07:00

Well, limbo has FINALLY ended, which is good because damn, it's hard on your back, ya know? As of yesterday afternoon, our Miss Nicole has been hired to be prep cook in the kitchen on board the Alaska Railroad. She will begin the first of May, so has to leave on the ferry to get to Anchorage on April 22 (her brother's 18th birthday). We will be driving her the five hours to Bellingham, Washington to get on the ferry. I will not, not, not, not cry until she is out of sight, then all bets are off.

I remember saying goodbye to Jasmine years ago when we took her to the airport and she flew to New York to stay with a camp friend. I smiled and waved and then, as soon as she was out of sight, I put my head against the window and sobbed. It is hard to let these precious creatures go.

Having Nicole leave taps into feelings of another daughter I was close to once and who left. . . and who I miss every single day. I know that Nicole and I will call, IM, text, email and write letters all the time but damn, it ain't the same thing as sitting next to each other on the couch and giggling and watching "Supernatural" and writing letters. I won't be able to reach out and touch her. I will be surrounded by testosterone, all of whom love me, but none of whom understand girl codes like . . . talking with our eyes instead of words, splitting a cookie so all of the calories fall out first, and crying at the same commercials. It is really hard when your best friend and your daughter share the same body and decide to move to Alaska.

The job sounds so exciting and I really am thrilled for her. I just need to get my heart to match where my head is and all will be well. I will dive into work, spend more time with Joseph and the boys, read more often and keep the Alaska post office hopping to keep up with letters and packages. I will adjust . . but first, I will mourn and I think that's ok. I am giving myself permission.

Last night, a friend told us that the average ratio of men to women in Alaska is 50 to 1. If the girl was excited before, she is ecstatic now. We've already had the birth control/safe sex talk, so when I raised my eyebrows at her, she knew just what I meant.

So, the next few weeks will be interesting ones that go by tooooooo fast. I am on day five of having vertigo. I tried standing in place with eyes closed today to see what would happen and there is no doubt I would go down if a trustworthy husband wasn't standing there to stop me from falling. So, I guess I won't be operating any heavy machinery this week. Darn . . . so much for that forklift.

Vertigo, Limbo and Changes

2011-04-02T10:08:00.000-07:00

These are dizzying, frustrating, challenging times, my friends. Top issues going on these days . . .

First, I got hit with a vertigo attack three days ago. Not the crisis level attack where I am vomiting and shaking and crying, but the afraid to turn head, stand up, lie down, move kind. If you've never had vertigo, it really is quite the experience. A scary merging of being drunk, dizzy, free falling, and in outer space where there is no gravity. You turn your head and the entire planet moves in a different direction. Nausea. Eyes jumping left and right out of your control. You get afraid to move at all. Little wonder I haven't driven in over a year, eh? Cannot imagine what might happen if I had one of those while behind the wheel. Wait. Yes, I can imagine it which is why I don't do it.

Second, we are living in limbo. Nicole was interviewed Wednesday for the job on the Alaska train. It was the second interview. They loved her and said she would know about the job on Friday. We waited and waited and finally called. She was told that they were calling with job offers that afternoon . . . and she was "most likely" on the list. . . but if we didn't hear, they would call for sure on Monday. Yes, Monday. Makes for a long weekend not knowing if she is supposed to be packing for Alaska or not. It is such a huge life change, it would be nice to know if it is happening or not. Sigh. Monday.

And finally, the changes (as if those weren't enough . . . ) We just changed cell phone services and we're all trying to learn how to work these new fangled things. Two of us got touch screens . . . and I just keep yelling, CORYN, how do I work this thing . . . makes me think of George Jetson on the treadmill calling for Jane . . . and how old that memory makes me. These phones make me feel old too. Technology is moving a little too fast for my comfort these days.

Everything else is going okay. Work is continuing to tax me (and don't even get me started on the topic of taxes themselves) and I am currently writing more than 800 assessments that are making my eyes cross and my fingers fall off. . . I'm on 350 and counting.

Thanks for stopping by. Leave me a comment so I know it was YOU.

The Orr Family Update

2011-03-23T10:17:00.000-07:00

I have avoided posting because every time I think about doing it, I then think, but nothing new has happened. Won't that be boring to read?

Of course, I know how disappointed I am when I go to a friend's blog and they haven't posted anything new, and then guilt piles in that I might be letting others down by not posting on my own. Sheeesh.

So, while nothing monumental has changed around here, this is my update.

1. The diet continues. The family has lost about 110 pounds altogether and I am personally down 25 lbs. I wish it would SPEED up though. The sun actually peeked out yesterday creating an unexpectedly beautiful afternoon and Nicole, Caspian and I headed over to the track. I walked a mile and then ended the walk by dancing to Glee's rendition of "Bad Romance" with my kids . . . yes, in front of people. I love my family.

2. Nicole is being interviewed for two different jobs in Alaska this week. One is on the railway and that is the one she is hoping, hoping, hoping for. She will spend time in Anchorage and Fairbanks. The other one is working at a resort in Denali. To understand how I feel about all of this, look at my last post. Thrilled and excited yet dreading the idea of life without her in our house.

3. Caspian is putting plans in place for leaving in May to live on an organic farm and build yurts. He is . . . . if you know him at all, you will know what a SHOCK this is . . . .strongly considering cutting his hair. Caspian's hair is almost all the way down to his butt and has been his pride and joy for years. He recognizes, however, that working on a farm and taking care of it, especially with out a mom around to braid it, will be hard. I haven't told him that the minute he cuts it, he will probably look at least one to two years older. Or that I will cry when he does it. I think it is a wise decision and indicates that his self esteem is growing, which is a very good thing. Although he will only be about 90 minutes from home on this farm, we will most likely only see him once a month or so and yes, that same heart pain is here.

4. Work is still coming in at a somewhat steady rate but still nothing like it was back in 2008 or so. Of course, I don't want to work as hard as I did then either. If I didn't have to pay bills, we would be fine. :) Could someone please write an excuse to the IRS for me?

5. The older I get, the more I have in common with my mom and it sucks that I can't call her and talk to her about it. I finally "get" some of what she was going through and yet we can't talk on the phone and empathize with each other. I miss her.

6. We are trying to imagine this summer with only one child at home. Maupin in the summer with ONE child? Life is Good conference with one? It will feel very strange. Can anyone say "empty nest syndrome"?

So that's an update on life. Breakfast is on the table so I am off to have some. I take my meals where I can get them these days. Stay tuned.

Ambivalence, Your Name is Mother

2011-03-16T18:41:00.000-07:00

How is it possible, in even the most complex human brain and heart, to feel incredible excitement and happiness for something while also feeling like it might rip your heart out in the process?

I know that you guys know how close my daughter Nicole and I are. Next to my husband, she is the dearest friend I have. We get the same jokes. We communicate without saying a word. She is an amazingly wonderful person inside and out. For months now, we have focused on finding her a way to travel and see the world. We've gotten books, surfed the net, made phone calls and she has applied to dozens of jobs.

Last night one of them called her and said they wanted to interview her for a potential new job.

In Wasilla.

That would be Wasilla, ALASKA.

She had the first of two interviews today and did great.

They want her in seven to 10 DAYS.

Months? Fine.

Weeks? I can deal.

DAYS????? Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.

I'm simply not ready. It was fine when it was all dreaming and theory and some days, but now it has merged into a possible reality and I find myself vacillating between helping her looks things up and planning what she would pack and where she would live and how much she would earn with the stark and terrifying thought that she will be GONE. Not just for the afternoon, the day, the week or even the month. Just GONE. Far away.

And I will write her amazing letters and send her even better care packages. And we will text and IM and call.

And when I push past the stark pain of trying to imagine her not here, I am so excited for her, I can hardly stand it. To be 20 years old and standing at the edge of exploring the world before things like careers, marriage and children stand in the way, how could I not be excited?

But now? Next week? Really?

Sigh.

Anyone who thinks motherhood is easy has never had kids.

Bum Nuts and Nutty Bums

2011-03-08T18:20:00.001-08:00

Gosh, there's a title you just don't see every day, right?

So, the "bum nut" part of the title is referring to my youngest son, who, Sunday afternoon reported quietly to me that not everything "down there" felt right. It was sore, swollen and heavy feeling. I am sure I am not the only mother in the world whose first thought when children mention pain is to think dire thoughts. I asked a few questions and then asked Joseph to . . . . well . . . . check it out. He did and said yes, there was something odd there. (I almost said "amiss" but that just seemed like too cheap a pun). We asked our son to keep us up to date on what happened . . . hurt more or less? swelling change? urine changes? etc. In the meantime, I made an appointment at the doctor for him. Oh yeah. And we started calling him "Bum Nut".

Every chance we got.

And we got LOTS of chances, believe me.

Now, our son is almost 15 and the only one to have touched those balls of his are himself, me years ago when diapers were still being changed, a male doctor when our son was going in for hernia surgery almost eight years ago and of course, now his father. (Child Services paying attention here?!) I wasn't sure how he would handle a female doctor checking him out . . . .but you know, he was mature and calm and great about it. He didn't even blush and conducted himself like the young adult we all know and love. The doctor reported that the mass she felt was not in the testicle itself, which was good news. She ordered an ultrasound to be on the safe side but isn't too concerned. Affording an ultrasound will take a while for us, but we will keep it in mind as we also keep close tabs on how that Bum Nut is doing. The swelling is much less than it was and all pain is gone.

As for Nutty Bums . . . .I'd like to call them something else but was trying to be (1) clever and (2) politically correct. The people I am referring to were a family in Subway that just made me so sad. A mom. Three littles ones, about 12, 9 and 6. Everyone just being so MEAN to each other. Yelling, sniping, teasing, insulting, punishing. It made me feel sick. As I was waiting to be picked up and watching this family in horror, I was texting with one child who was on a bus to meet friends and chatting with another who just experimented with running at the track. The third one, you remember him--Bum Nut--was at home. :) And all I could think was that there was more anger and bitterness and tragedy in that family in ten minutes than our family has ever experienced.

Yes, even with the Bum Nut.

I felt grateful and blessed and took a moment to call the kids and tell them how much they were loved. They immediately asked, OK, what mother is being mean to her kids in front of you? How well they know me. I explained and they all commiserated with my sadness.

Even the kid with the Bum Nut.

Empowerment Strikes

2011-03-06T16:40:00.000-08:00

Last night I had an unusual experience that has really stayed with me.

During the day, I went to Sandy with Nicole and after lunch and she headed to her play, I walked around town a little. I don't spend much time alone so this was unusual . . . but really nice. And walking felt easy. That was a new feeling for me. I've had hip issues for months now and usually walking exhausts me. But the sun was out and I felt great. Then, later that night,

I went to a gathering of J's friends at the Lucky Lab, a brew pub. It was mostly guys and although I smiled and politely responded on the rare occasion one of them spoke to me, I primarily texted with Nicole and read a magazine. We have not eaten out much AT all since this diet started and being in a familiar restaurant where I often got sandwiches and pizza was not easy. I was worried I would really struggle and end up emotionally wrecked.

But . . .a strange thing happened. First, I ordered a pulled pork sandwich. I took off the bread and gave away the chips and just ate the meat. I checked. Feeling resentful? No. Feeling deprived? No. Feeling hungry still? Yes. (When you take off all of the other stuff, you're not left with much actual food.)

So I went back up and ordered a caesar salad. Took off all of the croutons. Ate it. Delicious! I drank my UNsweetened tea. Didn't mind it a bit.

As I walked to the bathroom and back . . . wearing a pair of jeans I have NEVER worn because they were too small from the day I first bought them . . . I felt. . . I know that this word is WAY overused in today's world but it fits best . . . . empowered! I felt strong and confident and happy. It was a really really good moment.

The moment stayed with me today as I ran around taking Nicole where she needed to go. When we stopped in a coffee shop and J shocked me by buying one of the all time favorite cookies on the planet, I had two bites. It tasted wonderful but I didn't want anymore. When we took pizza to the boys (who were sure they had died and gone to heaven), I had one bite because it was pushed into my face, but that was it. I'm thrilled not that I didn't have it but because I didn't WANT it.

So, today I decided to capitalize on that empowerment and I dusted off my sneakers (under two years worth of dust!), put on sweat pants, t-shirt and sweatshirt and earphones and borrowed my son's iPod and then I walked over to the nearby high school track. I walked a mile (four laps) while listening to "Glee" songs and mouthing the lyrics.

I know that doesn't sound like much but six months ago, walking up and down the stairs more than once or twice was difficult, so this really WAS a big deal. Poor J called me on the cell phone to check on me . . . .and had me check BP as soon as I got back (125/70 baby!). I jumped in the shower and although I am tired and I have a suspicion that I may moan and groan when crawling out of bed tomorrow, I really feel good about me.

I guess you could say, I feel . . .. empowered. Go, Tami.

Stalled in Gresham

2011-03-04T09:51:00.000-08:00

Hey everyone. Long time, no write, I know. Partly I've been busy doing other writing (the kind I get paid for) and catching up on letters (the kind I enjoy the most), but excuses, excuses. The honest truth is is not much is going on.

Nicole went on two job interviews this week. Both were lousy. She has a much more promising one today and yesterday, she went to a summer job fair that has her excited about finding a job in Alaska with a cruise line. If I've never known ambivalence before, I do now. Excited and thrilled at her potential opportunities and distraught and depressed about her being so far away.

The diet continues . . . almost two months now and I have totally stalled out on weight loss at 23 lbs. Grrrrrr. I need the feedback of stepping on the scale and being able to push that little knob to the left, even if it is only a few ounces. I have, however, gotten rid of more than half of my jeans because they are too big. :) I will hang in there, but am still using willpower on a daily, sometimes hourly, basis. My blood pressure continues to surprise me by staying normal despite very very little medication. A definite perk to this way of eating.

I am grateful that it is March and that spring is teasing us with possibilities here and there. I am so ready for the sun and warmth to return. Spring means my sons turn 18 and 15, which seems impossible. Caspian is on the edge of launching, looking into volunteering all summer at an organic farm up on Mt. Hood. Coryn is looking up college classes and lurking on web sites in hopes of connecting with some of the other teens in the area. I love how much freedom they have to explore their interests and discover who they are and what they want to do with life. I simply cannot imagine how they would be if they had to deal with grades and teachers and peer pressures all day, every day. Homeschooling was, unquestionably, the best decision we ever made as parents. Our amazing children are all the proof we need. They are happy, smart, curious, compassionate, loving and FUN.

Work is . . . . I don't know . . . work? It still is nowhere near being as strong as a few years ago. New projects do come in but far too slowly to make me comfortable. The truth is . . . I don't want to put in the long hours I have to when the projects do come tumbling in. I'm almost 52 and aware that my drive and ambition are just not what they were ten years ago.

Other news . . . hmm. . . .not much, hence the lack of posting. I have been watching some new TV series with the family (another perk . . . we all spend the evening together watching something and discussing it). Latest discoveries include "The United States of Tara" and "Supernatural". Oh and we are re-enjoying "Jericho". Great series that, like "Firefly", should never have been cancelled. We are "Glee" fans too . . . well, Nicole, Coryn and I are . . . . Joseph walks in and out and Caspian just runs the other way.

That's it from the Orr camp. Tune in again soon and I hope to not take so long to return. And that the STALL has ended.

Of Stones and Geese

2011-02-22T12:10:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was an odd day. It started out with Nicole and I being the only ones up--the boys were still sleeping and J was taking a nap. We decided to watch a musical and since she had never seen "The Sound of Music" (yes, I know, shocking . . . . what kind of homeschooler am I, really???!), we put it on. I noticed my back hurt. It hurt more. It kept hurting more. Now I was having trouble concentrating on the movie. I got up and moved around. Began to pace. Then, WHAM. I knew what was happening. It was a kidney stone! How could I have possibly forgotten the hideous pain from last October? It was just like that and honestly, I wasn't sure if I was up to handling that again. I wasn't about to go to the hospital either since they tested me, said yes, it's a kidney stone, gave me pain meds and sent me home . . . . all for a MERE $5,000!

So I paced and got really nauseous and talked to J and called a couple of doctors . . and then the pain shifted from my back/side to my urethra/ureter and WHOO, a hot poker sensation where one should never, ever, ever go. I said, I bet this means it is moving from the kidney to the bladder . . . . so hang on, Tami. Breathe, walk, breathe and it will end soon.

It did. It took about 90 minutes from start to finish. By the time the doctors called back, I was asleep on the couch (it is an exhausting experience, believe me). Now, I'm back to fine and I didn't incur another medical expense. Win-win. But . . I'm done now. No more of those, ok? Thanks.

So, this has WHAT to do with geese, you ask? Well . . . nothing. I just happened to go out to the mailbox to put my outgoing mail in it and stopped to watch some geese flying by. I was inspired to actually write about it, so here it is. Today's poetry assignment. Let me know what you think of it.

A gap of robin's blue forces through

Separating white and gray twins

An overdue promise of warmer days.

Like a black bracket against the clouds

The geese streak overhead

Chattering as if sharing directions and

Laughing at the barefooted woman below

Watching their flight with chilly toes

And longing for spring's return.

Okay, it isn't Dickinson or Browning, but ain't bad!

Dietary Discoveries

2011-02-17T17:30:00.000-08:00

So, the diet continues. It has been five weeks. Here are ten things I have discovered recently:

1. Getting weighed can be exciting, instead of depressing and embarassing.

2. My tastes are changing.

3. I have more willpower than I ever knew.

4. My BP is going so low that if I take my full meds, I damn near collapse. My BP went down to 90/40 and my pulse was 44 bpm. That was a little scary. I've been adjusting dosages ever since then to keep it between 110/70 and 130/90. Not easy.

5. Snacking moments are the hardest. I deal with meals okay but when I want a nap and all I can reach for is fruit or vegetables, I get bitchy.

6. I like getting rid of jeans because they are too large.

7. I cannot, cannot, cannot get warm. I am cold all the time and have taken to wearing sweaters and (gasp) socks.

8. I still can't let J in the bathroom with me when I get weighed. Why is the actual NUMBER that important? Not a clue . .. . but it is.

9. I still miss coffee runs as much as I did. Not for the coffee, although YEA I MISS COFFEE, but because of the fun we had on them. I miss finding quaint restaurants on the way home and stopping. I miss the unexpected stop at a neat store that usually involved grabbing a cookie or a hot mocha.

10. I am absolutely bull-headed, determined to keep on this diet because of all the good feelings, the dropping BP, the weight loss but I hope it keeps getting easier. I have willpower but I get tired of having to use it so often.

Oh, and in case you're back to sleepless nights because you want to know how much weight I've lost so far, in 32 days, I've dropped 21.5 pounds. Go me.

"Sunrise, Sunset" is my Background Theme

2011-02-09T12:17:00.000-08:00

My children are growing up.
Yea, I know. BIG surprise. Happens to the best of us. But sometimes, it seems like they do it all at once, you know?

This week Nicole stars in a new play at the Sandy Actor's Theatre . . . and then heads out of town for five days to stay with a friend in southern Oregon. She will be going to Indiana in May and then . . . well, we're not sure where next but it will be exciting. She also interviews for a neat new job this weekend (cross your fingers for her!).

This afternoon, Caspian is off to his first official interview. He is hoping to go WWOOFing this summer (working on an organic farm) and is meeting with the owners today to see if they think he is a good fit. If they choose him, he will be gone a good deal of the summer. He will only be about 90 minutes away, but still. . ... much further than just down the hall.

Tomorrow I am paying the deposit for Coryn to go to Not Back to School Camp this summer. He will be gone for two weeks this time. He is already counting the days.

I know that many parents yearn for a time when the kids are gone, but not me. My kids are my best friends (along with my hubby). I love their company. They make me laugh and all three give the most amazingly wonderful hugs in the world. I know that their ability to leave and experience and find adventure means Joseph and I did things right, but gosh, I will miss these creatures. They are such incredible people, so different from each other but still utterly charming. (Shhhhh. I know I'm prejudiced. It's a mother's right.)

So please put up with me as I sniffle to the lyrics of "Sunrise, Sunset" playing in the background. I know that I will love my time alone with my hubby, but gosh, it is gonna be QUIET. Let's hope eventually that will be filled up with grandchildren, eh?

Gosh, I'm so PURE (snicker)

2011-02-03T12:10:00.000-08:00

All righty gang. Let's hear it for Tami. For 23 days now, she has been sugar free, dairy free, wheat free, alcohol free and (shudder) coffee free. I'd love to tell you that makes me vice free, but alas, I still collect too many books and too much paper and still swear on a regular basis and don't even attempt to keep up on housework, so NOPE, no chance of being vice free.

Since I know you have been staying up nights frantically waiting for a report on how I am doing, here it is. My 23 day report.

The first week was AWFUL. Anger, resentment, bitterness, old feelings about dormant topics dredged up and brought back to light. Not a good time. Second week . . . resignation. Depression. Frustration. (I sound like the lyrics to an old Moody Blues song . . . . ) Now, third week. Surprising acceptance. Comfort. Even, dare I say it, appreciation? My BP is staying down and I am sleeping better with less pain. Best of all, every single day, my weight drops. 17 pounds in 23 days. Not too shabby. And my tastes are changing. I can actually drink tea without sweetening now and not shudder. My occasional burst of emotion because I can't eat a sandwich (the main thing I crave) is mitigated by digging down further in the jeans pile to the next size smaller (am I the only one out here who has four sizes of jeans in her closet?) and they actually fit--and I can still breathe. I feel . . . in control and while this ain't easy, I LOVE that feeling.

So, there you go. We've saved at least a billion dollars by not eating out and not going on daily coffee runs (which turned into coffee/donut/pastry/stop at a thrift store on the way home runs). We walked into Starbuck's today for the first time in 23 days and the staff stopped and said WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? (a sure sign you've been going there a lot). We got hot cups of tea, read our newspaper (mostly the comics) and came home. Go me.

Work is hanging in there. Money hasn't started to flow yet but it will. I'm in a better place than I was. On the other hand, I have two friends who could use your extra thoughts. One is facing her fourth surgery in about 18 months and she is way too nice a person to deserve this much pain. So send good thoughts her way. The other is a someone I don't know well but who recently confided in me that through a bizarre set of circumstances, she and her teenage daughter are homeless and desperate. My heart hurts for her as well and I am going to do what I can to help. I've already offered our couch and shower when needed.

So, give a little cheer for Tami's determination and now wish better luck for my friends. They deserve far better than what they are dealing with now.

A Touchy Topic

2011-01-28T10:52:00.000-08:00

Religion.

It's a touchy topic. I figure it is right up there with asking a woman's weight. (Don't even try it, buddy!) It is often one that is intensely personal and highly emotional. I know it is a very difficult topic for me . . . I'm an atheist and very comfortable there (I didn't come to the decision quickly or lightly). I still have a conscience, I still have morals and I'm even a darn GOOD person. For the most part, I have kept my personal decision relatively to myself, rarely discussing it out loud with anyone other than my family or a fellow atheist. Sadly, I've not been treated the same in return. My family and I left Indiana 10 years ago for MANY reasons, but one of them was religion. To name JUST a few stories . . . . my daughter and I were thrown out of a house we had been invited to for lunch because, when asked what church we attended, we said we did not currently attend one. We didn't say we ran naked in the woods, swinging chickens and chanting (sounds like fun though). We just politely said we didn't currently go to one. We were told to leave. We had to sit on the curb for 30 minutes waiting for our ride. My 5 year old daughter was taken to an Evangelical school and shown a crucifixion movie with no permission of any kind. She came home sobbing about the man with the blood running down him. That same daughter was locked in the bathroom of a friend's house for an hour while she was told she would eventually burn in hell because of how her parents were raising her.

I could go on, but I won't. Suffice to say, we were ostracized, criticized and ignored by people for a belief we never even spoke of out loud. We were generous, compassionate, friendly, polite and loving to our family and friends--but that wasn't enough. It meant nothing if we didn't accept a god for which we have seen no evidence of. Ever. At all.

There were exceptions, of course. I have a friend in Indiana that I have been friends with for 20 years. She is a Christian in the very best way. You want to see a good woman? She is one. I respect her deeply and am humbled by how she lives her life. We have had a friendship based on that mutual respect and love and put the issue of religious differences aside. I know that has not been easy for her either and for that, I respect her even more.

So, why bring this up? Knew you were wondering.

This week, I got a big package on my front doorstep. It was from an old friend from high school. We were friends from 12, when we met, all the way though adulthood. She was my maid of honor when I got married. In recent months, we had reconnected. A few weeks ago, we even had a 2 hour phone call which was great fun, full of memories and laughter. I don't understand her way of life--she choose to never get married, dedicating her life first to her father and, when he died, completely to god. I didn't get it, but it wasn't MY BUSINESS. It was HER life, not mine. She was the one who had to face coming home to an empty house every day, not me. I couldn't imagine it, but . . . .. again, HER life, not mine.

Inside the package were five DVDs, one book, a magazine and a catalog. Oh yea, and an eight page typed letter. Can you guess the topic? Have I accepted Christ into my life? The letter outlined all the terrible things that were coming and what would happen to me and my children if we were not "saved". I was in shock. Then I was stymied. How do I respond to this? Admittedly, my first reaction was anger. She refused to marry--should I have been free to send her movies and books on how important marriage and children are? I think not. That would have been rude.

But then, I stepped back and I reconsidered. I forced myself to look past the action to the intention. She did this because she seriously was concerned about my life. She wanted to share with me something that meant EVERYTHING to her. I tried to accept that. It didn't erase the anger, but it mitigated it. So, I sat down and wrote a letter back to her. I said, THANK YOU for caring about me. I recognize that you are reaching out in love. However, I am not interested and never will be. I am happy with my life as it is and do not plan to change my religious beliefs (or lack thereof) at this point.

Then, I offered to either mail the materials back or pass them on to someone else. And then I left her with this challenge. "I hope that we can continue to correspond and keep a long friendship going, but, if you are like many of the Christians I have known before, this will be the end of our conversations. While I can accept your religious choice, I am not so sure you can accept mine. If I'm wrong (and I hope I am!), drop me a note and I will send you a long letter . . . .However, if I'm right, and you'd prefer to stop communication now, drop me a note and let me know if you want the materials returned or passed on."

Any guesses what will happen? I'm certainly not sure.

I have only a few special, close friends in my life. After 51 years, I can count them on one hand. I have dozens and dozens of light friends, of course. But the friends that you can call in the middle of the night, the ones you run to when something really good or bad happens, the ones you know have got your back no matter what, I only have a couple of those (and you know who you are ladies). I cherish them. One is an atheist. One is a Christian. And guess what? WHO CARES? They're funny, kind, intelligent, incredible people who bless my life by being in it. What else would I need?

Back on the Rollercoaster

2011-01-26T09:18:00.000-08:00

Strap in everybody. It's a wild ride.

The car starts up the hill . . . . slowly speeding up. You're on a new diet . . . you hate it but it gets a little easier every day and you know it is better for you. You're optomistic.

Top of the first hill. Take a deep breath.

And downnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn you go. Rushing through the air and too scared to scream. Work is being difficult. You're not keeping up with deadlines. Your blood pressure medicine either doesn't do the job, but if you increase it, knocks you OUT. On the couch. Sound asleep. Or taking four breaks to climb the stairs. Worst of all, HALF, yes HALF of the money you were promised this month, DID NOT COME. This means all of those bills you paid so optomistically at the beginning of the month are coming due again and in the meantime, you are living on air, baby.

You survived. The car is back up again . . . .a couple of new assignments came through. You got a big one done and turned in. The sun is out for a change. You've lost a few pounds already. But . . uh oh. Bigger hill ahead.

And downnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn you go again. You miss your mom . . . you miss having money . . . . you miss not worrying all the time. You miss time off. You miss long sessions of reading on the back deck which you can't do because your eyes give out after 15 minutes. You can tell you're entering the most dangerous part of the ride, the Unending Black Spiral. DANGER AHEAD.

Will our heroine avoid the Spiral? Will she make it past this next part of the ride and emerge triumphant on the end without having to sell more books for cash? (Heck, they won't take her blood!) Stay tuned, folks. Stay tuned.

The Doldrums

2011-01-18T15:41:00.000-08:00

Hey gang. Having a rough day and what else to do other than post it for the whole world to see, right? :)

Nah, just a combination of things. This month has been a better one financially, but we were so far behind that it seems like everything that comes in is gone in a heartbeat. We just can't get ahead and the living check to check with a few scary times in between gets mighty old for me. Wears on me. I know a number of you know this song well. Probably can sing it in your sleep (which would look and sound rather odd, so I suggest not doing so.)

Add that to new medications that I am still tinkering with (they drop my BP so much I can't walk across the room without effort) to find the right balance . . . . impending deadlines . . . a new diet . . . and a perennially messy house that my husband is trying to clean up (and I can't keep my mouth shut and let him do it, no, not me. I have to get up and get involved.) . . . a lack of regular sleep, and you get a grumpy me.

Gave my son a haircut last night (no, not Caspian. Never Caspian). Cut it right where he indicated. Ended up way shorter than he wanted. Now I feel like I let him down. I know and he knows it will grow back but I feel bad.

Tired of being tired. Gee, ain't ya glad you stopped by to read my blog today?

Ignore it. I will improve. The doldrums are always temporary. They just don't feel like they are. Tune in a little later and I am sure life will be peachey again.

Menopause 300 Sleep 0

2011-01-15T06:14:00.000-08:00

You know how kids look forward to Christmas? That's how I feel about menopause. Bring it on, baby! I've had periods for 40 years. Plenty long enough, thanks. In recent years, those periods have gotten pretty awful. I will skip the gory details but just let you know that one year I did my Christmas shopping in a wheelchair because I was too woozy from blood loss to walk around the mall and do it. And when a period starts, I have learned to not leave the house, otherwise I will just humiliate myself somewhere.

So, yea, I'm ready for menopause. And it really is on its way . . . but you know, some of the side effects kind of suck. Like night sweats. I wake up in the middle of the night most nights and the room in 150 degrees. Under a pile of blankets, snuggled between dog and husband--which felt wonderful when I crawled into bed a few hours ago--is now torture. If I pull the covers off of me, it pulls them off of those two, both who protest. So, I end up getting up and coming downstairs, surfing the net, posting to my blog (duh?), writing letters and eventually crashing on the couch--just in time for someone else to wake up and come downstairs, of course.

Last night I tried taking my BP meds right before bed in the hopes they would make me sleep soundly. (I currently can't remember sleeping through the night in a few weeks.) Heck, they certainly make me sleepy enough during the DAY to nod off several times. Apparently my idea didn't work, because here I am. . . asleep at 1 and up at 4.

Oh well. If it means menopause is close, I'm willing to lose a little sleep in the deal. I just hope I'm awake to appreciate it.

All or Nothing Man

2011-01-14T11:36:00.001-08:00

I am married to an "all or nothing" man. No half ways for this guy. No attempts. Just do it.

As the new year has started he has taken this to . . . . heart. (Understatement)

The bedroom now has two pieces of exercise equipment in it.

He is cleaning out shelves and pantries and cupboards.

We are all on a new diet . . . paleo, without grains, sugars, processed foods, etc.

He is establishing set meal times and bed times are next.

Now, on principle, I agree with him. We eat healthier at home. We need exercise. We have too much stuff. We would all do better with a little more routine in our lives.

The problem is when he does it all at once and with five people in the family. We struggle a bit. We don't share his motivations, although I admire them. I am just afraid it will be too much and we will all burn out and hurt each other in the process. I am dealing with bunches of medication changes at the same time and they make me soooooooooooo sleepy, that all I really want to do is curl up on the couch and snooze (WITHOUT snoring).

Sigh. Why can't what is good for us be easy?

Snoring Beauty

2011-01-13T12:59:00.000-08:00

Do you remember watching the movie "Sleeping Beauty" and the lovely Aurora is cursed by the witch? She is told that when she is 16, she will prick her finger on a spinning needle and die. I always thought the same thing . . . .. so don't sew, you idiot. Just stay away from needles. Really, how hard is that? There are lots of other professions to go into . . . .

I've decided that the same witch has cursed me. Only she decided at 51, you shall start snoring. And, here's the kicker--since you are an auditory person, you will wake yourself up on a regular basis. So, sleep will be pretty much impossible for more than a few minutes at a time. It's karma coming back for all the times I complained and whined about my mother and father's snoring, I am sure. Drove me nuts. Now I am driving ME nuts. It used to only happen when I was on my back, but now it seems to be an issue on my sides as well. SIGH. An hour's nap today was interrupted nine times so I think that means I didn't rest a bit . . . .At least I don't feel like I did.

Any great snoring cures out there? Don't say ear plugs, cuz if you know me, I have tinnitus and listen to a sound machine every nite. Plugs in my ears would only make things worse and I'd have to start calling myself Snoring Ringing Beauty.

Early Morning Ramblings

2011-01-06T07:19:00.000-08:00

Hey there. It is just past 7 am and it is still dark outside. Although this is the typical time to get up for many, it's pretty early for me. I prefer closer to 9 since I commonly stay up until 12 or 1. So why have I been up an hour . . . . . I could blame it on a backache that made sleeping more difficult. I could blame it on too much on my mind. I could blame it on the occasional hot flash I get that makes me push all the covers off in the middle of winter.

The truth is, however, I could not sleep because of the DOG.

Copper is a great dog. She has slept on our bed since we got her four plus years ago. And I like the feel of her pushed up against me. On chilly nights, I even appreciate the extra warmth. But in the last few months, she has started to SNORE at night (which I can't make fun of because in the last three years, so have I, damn it) and it wakes me up. I sleep with a wonderful sound machine by my head but she drowns it out too. Plus, each snore makes her vibrate and since she is up against me, I feel it. I try nudging her (which turns into gentle kicks after awhile) so she will stop and she does . . . for about 60 seconds . . . long enough that I relax and start to fall asleep and then get jerked back up. I know the solution is to have her sleep elsewhere but that makes me sad and will make her utterly miserable.

So, this morning I just gave up trying to sleep and came downstairs. Sat in front of the computer for a while, posted (DUH) and then I will attempt to go sleep on the couch. Or stay up and work, who knows?

I mentioned before we had out of town company coming yesterday and I am so pleased to say it was a wonderful visit. I have met pen friends in the past and been disappointed or surprised to the point that our correspondence ended after the visit. Not true this time. My friends were delightful and fun and I think they enjoyed Portland, despite the rain. We hit major bookstores, a thrift store, a couple of restaurants and saw a little scenery. We are hoping they return in the spring/summer when the city is much prettier and we can outdoor things like the waterfalls.

Today Nicole's room will get finished painting and mural and hopefully, tomorrow we can start putting things back in it and get the house back under control. She will be going through all of her things and making some donations to Goodwill.

If the dog doesn't quit snoring, I think I will include her in the donation box.

Correspondence and Chaos

2011-01-05T08:48:00.000-08:00

Chaos reigns in the Orr household right now because we are repainting Nicole's room. This means everything in it (and believe me, if they had a young adult version of "Hoarders", she would qualify . . . but then she is her mother's daughter . . . ) has to be taken out and moved somewhere else in the house. Books are piled on the kitchen table. All of her clothes are stacked in her brothers' rooms (they roll their eyes at her and hope the paint dries quickly). Definitely chaotic. The room is shaping up nicely though and the new colors mean a new beginning. Tomorrow a friend is coming over to paint a wonderful dandelion mural on one wall. Can't wait to see how it turns out.

Of course, at the same time all this is happening, a pen friend is here from out of town and we are going to get together for the day. I wish I could bring her and her husband to my house but not when it looks like THIS. Instead, we will spend a rainy afternoon showing them what makes Portland unique . . . Powell's bookstore, maybe a drive by Multnomah Falls, a stop into VooDoo Doughnuts, a cool thrift store, etc. I love this city and hope to show it off as much as possible despite cold, wet weather.

Of course, throughout everything I do, my mind wanders to the loss of my friend. It's like reaching out the pulling on a wound each time. It hurts fresh without fail. Last nite I expected to dream of him, but instead dreamt of my oldest daughter--a common occurrence--and how she came over, spent the evening at some camp site with us and best of all, let me hug her for a moment without stiffening up but instead, hugged me back. Those dreams are tough. I wake up smiling and it quickly turns to tears.

Amidst the new year starting chaos going on, I took a moment to tally up my letter writing for 2010. Even I was a little astonished at the final numbers. I received a total of 585 letters and I sent out a total of 665. That's a bunch of fountain pen ink and paper, eh? I have met some really tremendous friends over the year through letters. I am so glad I rediscovered the joy of corresponding.

Okay, off to get ready to meet one of those correspondents. We will explore the city together and hopefully she will go home raving about Portland--albeit wet and cold, a fascinating place.

Next time!

Passages

2011-01-03T09:21:00.000-08:00

Hey everyone. Happy 2011. Still sounds futuristic to me.

Hope you had a good Christmas and New Year's. We did. They were quiet but full of family and love, so couldn't be any better.

As this year starts, my life is so full. I have a family I love and a job I enjoy. I have friends who make me laugh and who care about me. I have high hopes for 2011 in many ways, but I am also facing it, as of this morning, without someone who has been with me for half my life. And while I know life is full of passages, some of them sure can hurt.

I met Shayne through a letter writing magazine. He was in prison and I was a new mom and somehow, we "clicked". Our letters began flying fast and furious, long missives in which I learned of his past and he of mine. Truly, we couldn't have been more different. The redneck, football loving, abused boy who would spend the rest of his life behind bars and the city girl-turned wife-turned mother in a small Indiana town. Odd combination for sure. Yet, as the years passed and the letters written and responded to, we grew close. We sent Christmas packages. We talked on the phone. My whole family sent him photos and drawings and letters. He was a part of our family.

For a few years around 2003-2004, we lost touch. Unbeknownst to me, his only daughter had been killed in a house fire and he was so completely devastated that he cut off all contact with anyone. He had loved her dearly and her loss was almost more than he could bear.

I didn't hear from him for several years and I missed him terribly. Then, in January 2008, I got a letter again. He had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and given six months to live. At the time his letter arrived, I was in the process of losing my mother as well and it was awful. We took up right where we left off, writing long letters. As time passed and he was still here, the doctors were amazed at his endurance. He credited me . . . . I credited his stubborn nature. :)

Shayne was also a painter. I would get paintings from him every year or so. Stop by my house and you can see one framed on the wall. His handpainted cards and t-shirts were always such fun to get. Even the kids have some of them.

About six months ago, he sent me a cell phone. It took him months to earn the money for it. He sent it to me and arranged it so that he could call me straight from the prison. We spoke several times a week for a couple of months. Hearing that slow southern drawl (he was originally from Texas) always made me smile. We would only get 15 minutes to talk and were constantly interrupted by the recording that this was a call from a prison system (like either one of us had forgotten!), but these calls were sweet.

Two days after Christmas, I received a sweet letter from him. It was full of gratitude and affection and, in retrospect, I realize it was some what of a goodbye as well. Patrick Shayne Sesco, my friend, my correspondent, my family, a part of my life for 25 years, passed away in his sleep last nite. I was called by a friend of his and told this morning.

My heart hurts. I accept that with the passage of time, we lose people. I've survived the loss of my parents and even a few friends. And now, one of the dearest people in the world. I am grateful I've had him for 25 years. I'm grateful I got to meet him in person two years ago. I'm grateful he was part of my life. And I shall miss him more than he could ever know.

Shayne did not believe in god, but he did believe there was an afterlife. He was sure that when he died, he would be reunited with his daughter. He was also sure that he would find a way to come back and haunt me (usually he told me he'd mess with the toilet paper roll whenever I walked into the bathroom). I hope he's right. I hope he is sitting under a tree somewhere with his daughter. Then, I hope that later he wanders around and stops to say hello to my mom and dad. They can compare notes on what it was like to know me and then swap silly stories. I don't think for a moment that is possible, but I can hope.

Have a special friend who means the world to you? Take a minute and let them know today, ok? It will be our honor to a friend who is gone but never, ever forgotten.

The Spirit of Christmas

2010-12-24T19:21:00.000-08:00

It is still Christmas Eve but I have experienced several "spirit of Christmas" moments. Here they are:

(1) An unexpected gift

This morning I received a gift from an old friend. It was completely unexpected and very sweet and thoughtful. I am surprised and touched.

(2) A just right gift

I very much wanted to come up with just the right gift for a special friend of mine . . . she has meant so much to our family since we came to Oregon and I just felt like I wanted to share something special with her that showed how we appreciated her. I thought and thought and thought and thought. Then, I came up with it. I gave her a ring that I had bought for my mom 12 years ago. It was an important gift to my mom then and I have had it since she died 3 years ago. I took it over and gave it to my friend and I think that she liked it as much as I had hoped.

(3) An only gift

We are BIG thrift store fans (that is putting it mildly). One of the stores we go to the most (because it is close to where Nicole works so we go by multiple times a week) has a lovely woman working there. She always has a big smile for us, greets us by name and makes the experience even nicer. I wanted to give her a gift as I knew that she didn't have any family around. We took it to her and it made her cry. She then said, it was the only gift she would get this year. That made me cry. It really, really made me glad that I had thought of it and we stopped by.

Those three experiences have reminded me that Christmas, to me, is all about showing our love and appreciation of others. It's about saying "I love you, I care about you, you are important to me" in whatever way we can. I felt loved and loving today. Hope you did too.

A Day in the Life of a Freelancer

2010-12-23T13:59:00.000-08:00

After 25 plus years of doing what I do, if you asked any of my family members what I do for a living, they would probably say, "She writes" and that would be it. To be honest, even though they share this house with me daily and hear me rant loudly and frequently, they have little of idea of what I actually do. It is just too hard to explain.

For example, take yesterday. I spent about 10 or 11 hours working. I researched how lighthouses were built for a book I'm writing in a few days . . . wrote a bunch of college level questions for a course on educational technology planning . . . revised a book I recently wrote about Afghanistan . . . applied for three new jobs . . . and interviewed two people by email for a book I'm doing on ancestry. . . . filled out an instructional design document for a college course . . . . and that isn't even everything (I am guessing your eyes are glazing over by now so I will stop here.)

Most of the time, I love my job. It's hard and demanding but it's also diverse and I can do it at home in my pjs. Today is different. I was contacted by a company six weeks ago about a project. Was I available? Sure. Ok . . . assignment coming any day. . . . soon . . . . pretty soon . . . just hold on. It came through on Tuesday. I got a call saying we need you in on a conference call in 30 minutes . . I couldn't make that was I was in the middle of a store when they called. Ok, we will send you all the documents you need. They did . . . OODLES of stuff that was incredibly confusing to piece together. Then, here's the kicker. They gave me 48 hours to get it done. Yes, the week of Christmas, new project, no training and I was given 48 hours. I stayed up late last night and got up early this morning and worked on it. Skipped my morning coffee run with the hubby. Sent it. Now guess what? It came back. I did it all wrong. I rewrote it. Sent it. Guess what? Still wrong. Talk about frustration for everyone involved. So, after more than EIGHT hours of working on it, they gave the assignment to someone else. I don't get paid for a single word.

Today is NOT one of the days I love my job.

Look! There's a Light!

2010-12-19T20:18:00.000-08:00

I am infinitely happy to report that life in the Orr household seems to be on the mend. A few well timed checks have made it possible to breathe again. And best of all, although my girl still cries at least once a day, I have heard her beautiful laugh ring through the house again. I see light in her eyes. I see signs that although she is still deeply wounded, she isn't terminal. I had forgotten how much sunshine she brought to my life but when it was covered up, its loss was overwhelming.

So Christmas may just be a nice day here after all--I had my doubts, but it seems to all be coming together. I owe thanks to many places . . . my friend Susan who always, always, always comes through for me when I need her (and usually finds a way to make me laugh in the process), my kids who have been patient and sweet and compassionate, my husband who manages to look at this 51 year old, frumpy, stressed out woman and still think she is beautiful and correspondents who have sent me emails, letters and left comments to let me know they are thinking good thoughts for me. No one wants heartache in their lives, but sometimes I think it exists so that we can be reminded of the power and importance of the joy.

Enough of the philosophy. Time to go decorate our tree and sing Christmas carols in the process and do the inevitable walk down memory lane as we hang ornaments. Hope you're all finding the light appearing/reappearing in your lives as well.

Keep On Keeping On

2010-12-17T11:22:00.001-08:00

On the one hand, as I look into 2011, I am heartened. I am continuously getting new jobs now . . . they appear each week and I am oh, so glad. I suspect 2011 will be much, much better than 2010 . . if I can just survive the next few weeks.

The sadness in this house is palpable. My poor Nicole either sleeps, or wanders through the house putting on a fake smile or just sobs. And sobs. And sobs. For a child I hadn't seen cry more than a couple of tears in years, this is difficult for everyone. The boys look sad and hide in their rooms until it stops. Joseph wants to help and listens so sweetly but his way of responding is foreign to her and doesn't help much. So, I do my very best to listen, love, hug, give gentle advice and then repeat. I'm not feeling very competent right now though. I just want to FIX it. We are coming up with ideas but getting Nicole to do them may take some carefully placed dynamite and firm coercion. Mostly she wants to stare, ramble and cry. Broken hearts are just so hard to survive for a while.

Her sadness and our finances are making for a slightly less than cheerful Christmas, that's for sure. I am clinging to good spirits with all the duct tape and crazy glue I can muster, but there are days where I can feel my grip slipping anyway. I keep hearing my dad's voice in my head . . . "Tami, this too shall pass" and I know he was right. But, as I've said before, it sure does pass SLOWLY, digging painful furrows in hearts as it goes.

I'll hang in there. Keep on keeping on. All of those platitudes from the 70's. But is it okay if I say it isn't fun?

Individually and Collectively

2010-12-14T08:49:00.000-08:00

Individually taken, it makes complete sense.

This person misplaced my invoice so could I send another one and oh yea, that means it will take another month to process my check.

This company hired a new accountant who is working to get up to speed on writing checks but, in the meantime, checks will be delayed.

This editor got my assignment four weeks ago and hasn't had a moment to read it yet, so hasn't submitted the paperwork needed to instigate payment.

This company is waiting on the check from the client and until it comes in, even though the contract says writers will get paid at 60 days out (yes, SIXTY!), we won't get paid until they do.

This editor reassures me that payment will be sent just as soon as the other person on the project gets back from vacation and takes a moment to read through what I wrote.

However, when you put it all together, you know what it means?

It means Tami isn't getting paid. Not today. Not tomorrow. And not in time for Christmas.

Sure, January appears to be the best month in almost a year . . . but that doesn't help me today when I have no gifts under the tree and limited groceries in the fridge and multiple people calling me up asking for payment. Somehow my telling them that I'm sorry . . . my 17 checks due this month have all been delayed doesn't fly with them.

I'm guessing that is because individually, each one of us make total sense, but together, collectively, we cause them a problem.

Mail Me Some Wisdom. Please?

2010-12-12T01:09:00.000-08:00

After 26 years of being a parent to four children, I thought I'd learned wisdom. No magical solutions, of course, but at least good advice, helpful hints, strong guidance. But then a situation comes along with one of your kids and you find yourself stymied. It has happened with all four of my kids, of course, and every time I get remotely cocky or smug about being a good mother, something rears up and humbles me.

I mean, this week Caspian fell and broke a toe. I didn't panic. I put ice on it, had him keep it elevated. I wrapped it and gave him advice on what to do and not do until it healed. Several days later, he is almost all better.

This same week, however, my Nicole had her heart broken and man, is that harder than a toe. I just don't know how to help her heal. I listen and listen and listen and listen and hug and hug and hug and hug. Now and then, I make her laugh and for a moment, she forgets and then silence falls and brings such sorrow with it. Endless tears. And I offer her ice cream because she won't eat and I offer her time out in a coffee shop because she doesn't want to leave the house. And I listen. And hug. And love her with every fiber of my being. And the pain just doesn't get any better.

I'm the MOM. I used to be able to offer a hug, a band-aid and an ice cream cone and no matter what was wrong, it got better. I miss those days. I know she does too. We are trying to come up with answers and ideas and possibilities and her whole family is behind her with hugs and love but this is tough.

So, if you have some extra wisdom lying about in your parenting toolbox, send it to me. I promise to apply it carefully and with tenderness. Because you know, when her heart breaks, ours all break along with her. They don't seem to make any band-aids big enough for that.

Send good thoughts

2010-12-10T00:17:00.001-08:00

Tonight someone I love very much is hurting emotionally. Her heart is wounded and even though the wound will eventually heal, her pain is mine as well. I shed tears with her and hold her tight. Please send good thoughts out to the universe for her, will you? Thanks guys.

Domesticness and Discoveries

2010-12-07T01:13:00.000-08:00

Yea, I know that most likely is not a real word but it works for me.

The other day I had a moment where I felt like there had to be a camera somewhere recording me for use on "America's Funniest Home Videos". First, I was sliding a pizza into the over and the piece of cardboard underneath it collapsed just a slid it forward. The pizza fell to the oven door and since I had preheated the oven, it was too hot to just pick it up. With a tricky combination of forks and tongs and swearing, I got the pizza back onto the oven rack but NOT before several wheels of pepperoni went spiraling into the bottom of the oven and onto the heating coils. I managed to get all of them but one and it immediately caught on fire and sent smoke tumbling through the kitchen. Just as I stood there thinking what to do, my son came down the stairs quickly yelling that the toilet upstairs had overflowed and there was water anywhere. (Too bad I couldn't think of a way to use the water to put out the fire . . . ). Fortunately, Joseph walked back through the front door at that moment and he tackled the water issue while I handled the burning pepperoni. We met up a few minutes and bemoaned the craziness of domesticness. :)

Then tonight, I had a little discovery that made me pause and wonder. Just last week, I discovered that a character on many episodes of "How I Met Your Mother" was also a teenage actress from the old comedy "Roseanne". I was shocked to make that connection. Then, tonight, I was watching a holiday movie with Dixie Carter. I knew she had died recently, so I looked her up and it said that she had starred on the soap opera "The Edge of Night" way back in the mid-1970s. That was my favorite soap opera to watch with my mom. I wondered who she had played, so I looked it up on You Tube and she had played my favorite character--the one named Nicole that I liked so much I decided that if I ever had a daughter, I would name her Nicole. (And look, I did just that!) I had never, ever made that connection before and it was a neat moment.

So life is full of domestic emergences and unexpected discoveries. It is also full of a slowly increasing number of assignments, which I am grateful for. It will still be a very, very lean Christmas but at least I'm not looking at classified ads for part time jobs any more. That's a relief. I worked in retail a few years ago and decided that was NOT the direction for me. I have an all new appreciation for clerks now.

Okay . . . I've put in a 10 hour day today (and I'm still not caught up, darn it!) and it's time for bed. I got my holiday letter done finally--hours of writing and choosing photos, more hours of printing (and running out of ink twice) and then an hour of signing, collating, folding and putting into envelopes, but it will go out in tomorrow's mail. I'm really pleased with how it turned out, all 15 pages and 26 photos of it.

Okay, I really have to go. I am one tired woman. G'nite friends.

Catching Up

2010-11-19T08:49:00.000-08:00

Hello gang. Sorry for the disappearing act. I've been busy with work deadlines, applying for more work, and just being a mom/wife/friend. In other words, life has been keeping me occupied more than usual. Concerns over finances have made it harder for me to concentrate on the more fun aspects of life too--like posting to my blog.

Work is looking a little better but I keep applying left and right to anything that seems possible, so I imagine that early 2011 will be even stronger. The thing I notice is that my drive to find new jobs, apply for projects and learn new skills is not what it was five or even two years ago. I still chase after them but, somewhere in the back of my mind, I admit to thinking oh man . . . I don't wannnnnna do that. I wanna sit on the couch, read, nap, watch movies, go camping, write letters, and then repeat. I imagine there isn't a person on the planet who works who doesn't go through this. And I really do love my job but I guess I am just getting a little older and looking forward to "down time" more than I used to.

I've been giving thought to teaching again. I've been asked by various homeschoolers to teach a writing class to adults and I'm interested but I have to earn enough to make it worth my time (as I won't be writing during that time and so will lose money if I don't charge enough to make it at least somewhat comparable) and yet not cause stress/strain to the homeschoolers themselves. I keep mulling over different possibilities in my head.

If you didn't already know this about me, I am a big time letter writer. I love writing to people, picking out stationery, decorating it, sticking "bits-n-bobs" inside them, wrapping up little gifts, I just get a kick out of it. I have more stationery than any human I know (other than shop owners and I may have them tied) and little thrills me as much as a great paper find at the local Goodwill. (Are you rolling your eyes and thinking I need to get out more about now?) Now if only I could find a way to combine writing letters and getting paid. Can't you see it? "For a mere $25/month, I will write your Grandma Martha for you once a week!" or "Tired of responding to those pesky letters from relatives you don't remember? Let me take care of it for you." A letter writing service--gotta love it. Actually, I am hoping to write a book about letter writing for students in the coming months. I usually have my fishing line in so many writing jobs ponds, even I have trouble keeping track.

So, I'm still here and still kicking. Well, okay, not kicking perhaps, but moving around. Stay tuned--you know I'll be back.

A Mother's Musings

AND He is Humble Too

Oh That Man . . . I Love Him So

Godless

Travel Plans

EEEK! Winter!

Hair or Nails?

Introducing . . . .Great Lines

Good News, Bad News

New Year, New Plans

Best Books of 2012, Tami Style

Happy 2012

"Coffee Run!"

Please Send Healthy Thoughts . . .

Odd, but Wonderful

Blindsided by Kindness

The Light . . . . . .

WHAT Eclipse at the Orr's?

Eclipse at the Orr's

The Thrill of the Hunt

Overworked Woman in Gresham, Film at 11

Imploding Brain Imminent

*Blush*

Thanksgiving, Part Deux

Send Good Thoughts

Ranting and Raving

Recovery

Surprise in Seattle

And for THIS week . . . .

29 Years . . . . Like 5 Minutes

Just in Case You Asked

Almost 29 and Still Going Strong

Welcome to the Orr's Dinner Table

Back to the Basics

I See the Signs

Mulling It Over

Big Day at the Orr House

Just Keep Juggling, Tami

Joseph's Comment on "The One"

"The One"

Gratitude?

A True Loss

Ten Years

2 a.m. Post

Second Honeymoon?

The UPS Man Cometh . . .

Parting Really IS a Sweet Sorrow, Mr. Shakespeare.

A Perfect Portland Moment

Nature . . . and the World . . . are Noisy

Knowing the Future? NO Thanks.

A Desert Adventure--and Returning to Reality

The Future Looks Bright

Too Close for Other's Comfort

Mostly Great . . . with a Little Challenge Thrown In

Embarrassed: Zero. Grateful: One/Won.

An Anniversary . . . . . Angsting . . . . and An Event

I Left my Heart in San . . . No, in Anchorage and Rhododendron

Mother's Angst, Update

Motherhood ain't for Sissies

Whazzup with the Orrs

Blessed Mom and Wife

Birthday Post, Part 2

I came downstairs and found a post it note on my monitor telling me to look at my keyboard.

What I Want for my Birthday

18 and 15

It's Love

Who Needs E-Harmony when you have Alaska?

Tami's De-Stress Techniques, Part 1

Stressing

Down to the Wire and It's a SHARP One

As Requested . . . the Orrs

An Amazing Gift

Heading into Spring

Out of Limbo . . . Stalled in Vertigo

Vertigo, Limbo and Changes

The Orr Family Update

Ambivalence, Your Name is Mother

Bum Nuts and Nutty Bums

Empowerment Strikes

Stalled in Gresham

Blush