Memory Monday-The Bowl

When our oldest daughter Kirsten was 3, she developed a irrational fear of throwing up.  It started when she was with a friend and  saw someone get car sick and throw up.  That was it.  When I arrived that night to pick her up, Kirsten greeted me at the door carrying a small orange tupperware bowl.  My friend explained to me that after witnessing the eruption of bodily fluid, Kirsten became completely paranoid and positioned herself near the toilet for the rest of the afternoon.  As a way to coax her away from the facilities, my friend gave her the orange bowl.  That night she slept with that bowl over her face.  The next day she would NOT separate from the bowl.  This continued for a couple of days.  Finally, we coaxed Kirsten into carrying a small plastic cup.  She carried that cup with her 24/7 for the entire summer.  One day she decided she didn't need it anymore and the phase was done.  We all still laugh when we think about that summer and look at the pictures.  She became quite proficient in balancing the cup in one hand and doing everything else with the other.  Good times, good times.

Today's Technology

How much technology is too much? A few days ago, I accidently left my cell phone at home. Panic came over me as I was halfway to work and realized I didn’t have my phone. It was too late to turn around and go back. The first thing I did when I got to work was borrow a co-worker’s phone so I could text my kids and let them know I had left my phone at home. I didn’t want them to be texting me with no response. I knew it could cause anxiety, especially in my youngest, if I didn’t respond to their texts. Later that day I had someone tell me that she didn’t even OWN a cell phone. I was shocked. How can you get by WITHOUT one?? Then I really started to think about it. What would it be like to be ‘unplugged’ like that?

I got home that night and I started looking around and thinking about the technology that invades our daily lives. In our family, ever member has a cell phone, all 5 of us. The justification for the phones is varied, but we all feel that they are a vital necessity of our lives. My kids and I text each other often thru-out the day. While I used to turn my phone off at night when I returned home...I find that over the last couple of years, I have abandoned that habit and my phone is on 24/7. I even put it next to my bed at night just in case. Never mind that I have a land line phone next to my bed as well--I am still worried about being away from my cell phone. On the weekends, its not unusual for me to wake during the night and check my phone in case one of the kids has sent me a text and I didn’t hear it.

Then there is of course computer technology. In our home, we have 4 computers. When our oldest is home from college, he brings with him 2 more computers. One desktop computer is designated as ‘Mom and Dad’s’. It sits on a desk in the corner of our room. Another desktop computer is designated as the ‘Kids’ and it sits upstairs in the bonus area so that the kids can do homework on it. Then the laptop resides on the kitchen counter. This one is designated as mine because I can access my work computer from this one. However, our youngest dominates this one as we like to have her only accessing the internet where we can plainly view what she is up to. Then the netbook is a relatively new addition. Its my favorite one, small, compact. Perfect for traveling and hauling to the sofa at night for when I want to sit and write, or surf the internet. We have more computers than people! At least one computer in the house runs 24/7. We get home at night, often the first thing we do is check our e-mail. I don’t think an evening goes by that we each don’t access a computer for something. We use computers to learn Spanish, look up recipes, do homework, handle bookkeeping tasks, socially network, organize finances, and correspond with a variety of people. In our house, having multiple computers has become, dare I say it?, a necessity.

So does having all this technology available make our lives easier or more difficult? When we travel, we take time to check our e-mail and stay in touch. Our phones are set so that no matter where we are at in the United States we can still call home for free. The days of leaving town and everything behind have gone out the window. I can’t decide if this is a good thing or not. A few weeks ago I was with my girlfriends for our annual weekend. Between the four of us, we had 3 cell phones, 1 smart phone, and 3 laptops. We all happily talked to each other as we checked e-mails, surfed for a restaurant to go to, looked up maps, and shared online photos. It was a completely normal thing to do...it would have been abnormal to NOT have a computer along. Honestly, I am beginning to be intimidated by the thought of traveling to places where I can’t have access–how pathetic is that? Recently our family took a cruise. We knew we would be without our phones and computer access. At first we were excited with the idea of disconnecting for 9 days. Then when we boarded, we broke down and bought computer access time. But, we still didn’t have cell phone access. Baby steps, baby steps.

I wonder, are we that far behind South Korea where internet addiction is a rampant problem? South Korea has the distinction of being the most wired country on the planet. Recently there was a story in the news, where a couple had let their 3 month old starve to death. Apparently they only fed the child once a day in between marathon sessions at their local internet café. When they were finally charged, the father said that he was ‘sorry his daughter had gotten sick’. I find this disturbing on so many levels. How can you become so addicted to being on the computer that you forget to feed your newborn?

For now, I vow to try to keep my computer and phone time in check. Incidentally, in the time I have written this, I have received 5 texts, 8 e-mails and engaged in an instant messaging conversation.

Daily Checklist

Sometimes, I make a checklist of my day's events and forward it to friends purely for their amusement.  They often go kind of like this:

1. Awakened by 6 lb chihuahua (aka Ball of Hate) as she launches herself onto my bed and burrows under the covers.

2. Drag myself out of bed, dog runs to the sofa and burrows under a blanket

3. Take shower, water turns cold JUST after shampoo is in, finish getting ready

4. Attempt to leave house, go back in house and retrieve blankets for afternoon softball game

5. Attempt to leave house a second time, go back in for sweatshirt to wear at afternoon softball game

6. Attempt to leave house a third time, forget keys, go back in

7. Leave home for drive to work, 5 minutes too late, get caught in high school traffic

8. Arrive at work 5 minutes late, still beat boss by at least an hour

9. Sort thru evening’s e-mails, print out a ream of paper that needs to be filed, wonder if assistant will remember that filing is part of her office duties, make wager with myself that she will NOT remember.

10. Dream of new assistant that actually would assist

11. Boss arrives, the light in the office seems to instantly go darker

12. Boss begins verbal assault under his breath, contemplate making a tally of how many times I hear ‘this is bullshit’ or ‘what the f**’ or ‘sonofa**’

13. Take phone call from client who feels the need to share with me details of his recovery from prostate cancer surgery, repeatedly ask myself why??

14. Check online job listings

15. Receive text from youngest ‘hey im in office donr feel gooe no its anxitey so im gonna stqy just yeh im ok is that ok’, decipher text and sigh

16. Attend weekly therapy appointment with husband and youngest, return to work

17. Eat lunch at desk, check personal e-mails

18. Second text from youngest ‘heyy outta of school yep ok day no homework...so yeh...luv u how was ur day? Also todays day 15 a& we ran the mile I gto 9:40!’

19. Wrap up work early and head to softball game

20. Block away from game, get phone call saying no game, continue home

21. Get home, let dog out, clean up crate, start laundry

22. Field questions about dinner. Told that what I had planned doesn’t sound good.

23. Leave house and go to my Mother’s, do ‘wound care’, return home.

24. Forage for new dinner idea, make dinner

25. Leave home and do carpool for youngest’s evening activity.

26. Realize I forgot nephew’s first birthday, make mental note to rectify situation

27. Stop at 2 stores trying to find requested item, return home unsuccessful.

28. Check e-mails, sort thru mail and stack of bills, mental note to transfer $$ to oldest.

29. More laundry

30. Listen to older daughter’s plea for kitty, includes kitty sound effects which make dog bark and run in circles

31. Catch up volunteer bookkeeping ‘gig’ tasks

32. Receive text from son at college telling me to get a kitty, yell NO at older daughter

33. Daughter’s friend walks in, dog barks and runs in circles, yell at dog.

34. Leave house for reverse carpool

35. Back home, get youngest settled down for bed

36. 10:00 pm, pour glass of wine and watch reality show where women are fighting

37. Go to bed, dream about women arguing

Loss

Someone recently asked me if I had ever taken time to acknowledge the loss in my life. I thought it was kind of an odd question. She went on to say that she thought I needed to think about really acknowledging the losses that I have experienced and to be prepared to ‘sit’ with the feelings.

I started thinking about what she was referring to. Whenever I have encountered a so-called loss, I have always been quick to counter-balance that loss with a statement to the effect that ‘everyone has something they deal with’ and then I try to bury the emotion. Acknowledgment of my loss is rarely part of my vernacular. Why? Is it because I feel it is a luxury? Is it because as a child my parents repeatedly told me I was tough and able to handle everything (they pretty much let me fend for myself), so much so that I felt it was a failure if I revealed that maybe I was affected by things? Or is it because if I do take the time to acknowledge the losses I have experienced I might be crushed by the weight of emotion? I’m not sure. But, I do think that I need to try to sort thru some of the loss and try to ‘sit’ with the resulting feelings.

First, I need to summarize the losses. There are the obvious ones: deaths of close family members–grandparents who I loved, and my father. There have been loss of friendships. Loss of ability to have close relationships with family members. Loss of selfish choice (bear with me on that one). Probably the biggest loss involves my youngest and her struggle with mental health issues. That seems to be the hardest one to acknowledge.

For now, I think I will concentrate on loss of friendships. This is never easy. Being someone who loves to love people and share openly, these losses have the potential to inflict deep wounds. As an adult, I have experienced loss of friendship more than once. Some have just been the kind of loss that is subtle–we used to spend a lot of time with so and so, but now they don’t seem to ever call. Others have been more pronounced, almost a kind of divorce. I have had this happen a few times. Each time it happened when I was in the midst of what I would refer to as a ‘dark period’. In the interest of full disclosure, as an adult I have gone thru a few episodes of severe depression, the kind where you hit a wall and it knocks you flat. The kind where you lose interest in everything. The kind where you feel overwhelmed by the simplest of tasks. It was during each of these black times that I suddenly found myself in the midst of an intersection with a close friend and confidant. While trying to keep from being run over, they tell me that they can no longer have contact with me. Reasons given varied, but for this written exercise, reasons given don’t matter. I can say that each time has been more difficult than the time before. Each time made me feel worthless and unlovable and worse yet, as someone that must be so damaged and completely unredeemable that to have contact with me is poison to them. I am left with a lot of ‘why?’ questions. I am left with no one to ask for explanation. I am left with a resolve that I’ve completely screwed up and am not worthy of friendship. I am left without the person who I thought I could be honest with, without the fear of judgment. During these times, while the logical part of me knows that there are others that still love me and consider me a valued friend, it’s the one that has been lost that seems to outweigh everything else. Sometimes that weight can be suffocating.

I think I will take another day to sit with the other losses. This one seems to be enough for me for today.

Memory Monday-potty training

I have a good friend who is potty training their first.  It made me start thinking about those days with our three.  I dug these pictures out.  Josh was such an adorable toddler.  Very inquisitive, always cheerful, always observant.  This shot still makes me laugh.  I'm sure he would die knowing I am posting this pic.  If memory serves me correctly, not wanting to miss out on anything, he hauled the potty chair from the bathroom to the middle of the living room floor.  Annika, well....snorkeling in the bathroom.  What can I say?  Annika has always been her own person.  Then there is Kirsten.  Kirsten was too modest even at that age to ever dare sit on the potty chair in full view.  I didn't want to leave her out, so I decided to post this picture of her which is taken at about the same age as the ones of Josh and Annika.  She loved to be outside, always.  She still does.  Dean would often put her to work washing cars, she thought it was great fun.  She will still wash her car without being asked....of course she doesn't like to wash OUR cars anymore! 

My work space

I think I spend more hours in a week sitting in my work office than probably anyplace else. My job is pretty much a sit on your butt kind of thing. I work in a professional office, yet today as I was sitting at my desk, I realized that my space is full of items that some may not consider so professional. My boss doesn’t seem to care, in fact he seems to be amused by some of the items that I surround myself with. Maybe because these items often reflect some of my quirky-ness, which also seems to amuse him. I recently heard of a local employer that does not allow its employees to have ANY personal items in their work space. Apparently, this even includes putting personal pictures as the background on their computer monitors. I am SO thankful that isn’t policy at my office. I would have a hard time in an environment where personal expression was not allowed.


I am lucky to work in a rather large space with big windows. Out those windows I can look at the surrounding green hills. I can even look out in the distance to Bellingham Bay. On the wall above my desk hangs an artist’s depiction of the Italian coastline. My boss gave it to me as a present a few years back. The painting draws me in with its bright colors and sense of the warm sun smiling down on your face. I look at that picture and I can imagine myself there, listening to the sea water lapping at the shoreline, and the fishing boats bobbing up and down. I can almost smell the salty air.

I also have a collection of family photos. One collage is of the kids and different places we have been. I just realized today almost every pic in the collage involves sand and sun. Hmmmm, my happy place?? The kids most recent school pictures are displayed as well as a favorite shot of Dean, happily standing on the beach in Zihuatanejo, backpack slung over one shoulder. Next to that is a magnet with a cartoon of a mom and kids with the mom saying ‘who are these kids and why are they calling me mom?’. Another gift from my boss. There is also a pin given to me by a loved co-worker that states ‘I’m only doing it your way so I can blame you later’. This pin DEFINITELY memorialized how she and I felt many times as we worked together.

Hanging on my wall are two signs. One states ‘Fine Wines–Daily Wine Tasting’. Again, a reminder of things I love–although it is probably not very office appropriate. Someone drew a little alien cartoon on a post-it and stuck it on the sign–I never took that off, it makes me smile. Right next to my phone is a small black sign with white lettering reminding me to ‘Be Cheerful’. I bought that one for myself, as a reminder to always be cordial when I am on the phone, even when the person on the other end of the line is making my head hurt!

I also have the normal things you would find on a desk. The ruler, scissors, letter opener, pens (including one with a pig in a tutu) and pencils. Of course what desk would be complete without a miniature Mr. Potato Head, especially one that our computer IT guy likes to re-arrange when he comes in. Mugs, binder clips, adding machine, iHome, post-its–lots and lots of post-its, and of course stacks and stacks of files and papers. But the thing that I love the most about my space, are the 2 client chairs that I have. I like those chairs probably the most, because it encourages people to come in and sit and talk. Not necessarily about work, but about a whole host of things. That is what I love the most about my space and being in it. Being able to share it with others.

Laughter is good for the soul.

Once a year I have a ‘girls’ weekend. I spend the weekend with 4 girls who knew me when and love me just the same! It is a weekend that we all consider sacred and look forward to for months. This year, only four of us could be there, but we still managed to have a fabulous time. Its hard for me to really relay why this weekend is so amazing for me. I think maybe its because it’s a time where there is no judgment, no pretense, no competition. It’s a time where you can wake up with horrible bed-hair and still hang around for two hours drinking coffee together before you even think about taking a shower. It’s a time where you can be brutally honest, bare the ‘girls’, overflow a hot tub while squealing with laughter, kick each other when we snore, jokingly call each other bitches, and giggle, snicker, laugh and cry. It’s a time where we have all the time in the world to listen to each other and encourage each other. It’s a time where you can, without apology, share those recurrent issues in your life that never seem to go away and that honestly have no solution. It’s a time that is good for my soul. Thank you, thank you, thank you for making it happen girls! I love you all.

In summary, I want to memorialize here a few quotes from this year’s time together. Most of these won’t mean a thing to anyone but us, but I just can’t resist....

I’m trying to embrace my inner beet-ness.

It’s really complicated to explain how to make the bed.

I’m sorry I asked.

My bulbs are popping.

You bitches let me sleep on the couch???

I’M AWAKE, I’M AWAKE, I’M AWAKE

hot tub? hot tub?? hot TUB??? HOT TUB????

Push flush lever extra hard.

Did cavemen eat this??
YOU were CRAZY.

No I can see NO future in that (in response to a request to take a picture).

We’ll call it ‘junk in the trunk in tulips’ (in response to TAKING the picture).

Cavemen ate pizza.

Really tall with bigger cups, that’s what I want in a tulip.

Really?? Where else would we go bitch? (speaking to ‘Zelda’ our GPS)

White people is watchin’ you.

Becky needs more gin.

shhhhhh, can you hear the frogs??

Esther needs bread.

Noooooooooooo, VARY, not VERY

That was my pre-medication days.

Zelda, you suck.

Her hair, her demeanor, her dark roots, she so reminds me of ***..

I could dive into that bowl of tartar and be quite happy.

I love you.

Memory Monday-Betania RPC

I love this picture.  I am pretty sure Kirsten took it.  It was our first trip to Mexico.  The five of us participated in IDEA Ministries' SBM (spring break mission) in April of 2007.  We spent the week working on the church which is pictured here.  We learned a lot about rebar and concrete that week!  The trip changed a lot of things for our family, all for the better.  We made lasting friendships. This picture was taken after the Easter morning service.  The following year, we went back and were excited to see that the church had been completed.  We hope to be there again this July.

TV, you've been good to me...

They say admitting you have a problem is the first step to dealing with the problem. Well I am seriously enamored with TV. There I said it. I find my day is not complete until I sit down with a remote in my hand and mindlessly scroll thru the channels. Pathetic to some I know, but it is a ritual that is deeply ingrained.

My addiction started as a child. Our family bonding time involved TV, not playing a board game, TV. My first real recollection of watching TV starts around my early elementary school years. At the time, we lived in a large house in Kirkland, Washington. This house had 5 bedrooms, 3 bathrooms, Dad’s office, 2 storage rooms (one of which was our play-house room), kitchen, living room, large rec room, and the hallowed TV room. The TV room’s furnishings centered around a large wood-encased console TV (and yes, we really did call it the TV room). We didn’t have money for real furniture, so the room contained a few really ratty chairs, covered in sheets, and a patio chaise lounge that was strictly for my Mom’s seating pleasure.

Each night at 8:00 we would go down to the TV room to catch whatever was on that night. I was allowed to view until 9:00 at which time I obediently headed back upstairs to brush my teeth and go to bed. To this day, I can still remember some of the schedule. Monday night was Little House on the Prairie. After Little House, M*A*S*H was on. When I got a little older, Mom let me stay up until 9:30 to watch this one–I think viewing that show helped form the start of my sarcastic-humor-coping mechanism! Tuesday nights was Happy Days and Laverne & Shirley (controversial for some, but our family loved it). Thursday nights was The Waltons. As I write this, I can remember the opening theme songs. Special weeks would involve a mini-series of some sort. I can still remember when Roots first aired. During that week, I was allowed to stay up every night until 11 to watch. Remember, this was a time which pre-dated the VCR and cable! Our family bonding time also included bedtime snack. I laugh when I think about that. Snack generally consisted of a bowl of popcorn and a glass of Coke. Yup. Amazingly my Mom let us have the caffeine infused drink every night RIGHT before bedtime. I still remember the bowls that the popcorn was served in...it was an old aluminum salad bowl set that Mom and Dad had received as a wedding gift. The large serving bowl (which doubled as our ‘barf bowl’ during flu season) was Mom’s and each of us 4 kids got one of the small salad bowls filled with the buttery popped kernels. A really special night involved Jiffy Pop! Some nights involved a bowl of ice cream with chocolate syrup, but a glass of Coke was always a staple. Ahhhhh memories!

Today, I must admit, I still enjoy this evening ritual, although it is generally by myself.. I find that at the end of the day, this time to completely mush out is needed. However, lately I find that I really miss those good old shows and that predictable schedule. I understand that now I have cable with a host of choices, as well as that really special feature ‘On Demand’, but its just not the same. I never know what is on when. Then, it seems that 99% of programming involves ‘Reality TV’. Seriously, I have enough reality in my week, do I really need to watch it during my relaxation time? And yet, I find myself strangely drawn to these reality shows. Is it because it helps me to feel that my life isn’t quite so messed up? Is it that escape from MY reality that is intoxicating??? I don’t know. What I do know is that my day doesn’t really feel complete without sitting down for a few minutes in front of my flat screen and scrolling thru the channels. Pathetic? Yes. Ritual? You bet. I enjoy the escape and I’m not afraid to admit it.

Memory Monday-Tulip Festival

Every year, Skagit County, Washington hosts a Tulip Festival.  People load into their cars, in tour buses, and they drive thru the rural roads of Skagit County past fields and fields of tulips and daffodils.  It really is a beautiful site.  You would think that living as close as we do, we would go more often.  I realized this week that in the almost 21 springs we have lived here, we have gone O-N-C-E, ten years ago this week!  I dug these pics out.  Josh, Kirsten and Annika, 10 years ago this week. 

The ride home....

Auntie Al

Alice C. Erickson - July 5, 1911 to April 2, 2010.

Tomorrow, we will be attending the funeral of my Great Auntie Alice Erickson (Auntie Al). She died last Friday, April 2 at the age of 98. Until this past December, Auntie Al had lived on her own in an apartment in Seattle’s Greenwood neighborhood. Upon hearing the news of Auntie Al’s passing, Dean said: wow, if Auntie Al can die, any of us can die. While we weren’t surprised by her death, we were surprised by it at the same time. I think a small part of me thought she would just keep going forever, even though I knew that wasn’t possible. I think she was tired and ready to move on.

Auntie Al was my Grandma Johnson’s sister. She had never married, which allowed her to be part of all of our lives in a much bigger way than if she had been married with her own children and family. Growing up, Auntie Al was always with us for holidays and family events. She and my Grandma were extremely close and their relationship was something that I admired and envied as a young adult, so comfortable with each other, so easy. They would get annoyed with each other, they were both stubborn (after all they were old Swedes!), but the connection between the two of them was strong and loving.

If I had to use one word to describe Auntie Al, it would have to be ‘regal’. Auntie Al was tall. Very tall. I’m not sure of her exact height, but I know she stood at least 6 feet tall. She always stood with her back straight. There was no slouching or rounded shoulders from her, not even at the end stages of her life. She used to tell me that she had reached 6 feet tall at a young age. Her father would constantly tell her to not slouch and stand up and be proud of her height. She said it wasn’t always easy because she was so much taller than anyone else her age, especially the boys! In the end, she said she was glad her father had been so strict about proper posture.

Auntie Al loved beautiful clothes. As a small child I was always impressed by her strong sense of fashion, something neither my Mom, nor my Grandma ever quite grasped (much to Auntie Al’s dismay at times!). She shopped at places like Frederick & Nelsons and Nordstrom. Her clothes and shoes and accessories were always impeccably coordinated. Her beautiful snowy white hair was always done to perfection. I remember her bringing hand-me-downs to Grandma and to my Mom, trying to spiff them up a bit. I think most of the items had been seldom worn. I was often disappointed when the items were too big for my Mom, I so wanted her to dress like Auntie Al. Auntie Al also bought only the best department store make-up. We were often on the receiving end of those special ‘gift with purchase’ items that as small girls were so much fun to have for our dress up box. As a child growing up in a house where you were very aware of the ‘we have no money for ** or ** ’ mantra, I was in awe of her beautiful things and her ability to purchase these things, yet her unselfish generosity too. Class, she had class.

Auntie Al was set in her ways and her ideas. Again, that strong-headed Swede thing (hmmmmm, maybe I do get it from that side of the family???). For instance, she didn’t particularly care for short men, a fact that my Uncle Howard has never gotten over! My poor brother-in-law Bill could also never quite measure up, no matter how nice he was to her. She was very proud of her Swedish heritage, thus making her slightly unimpressed with some other ethnicities. For example, my Dad was what we referred to as a ‘mut’–no distinct ethnic origin--a smattering of Polish, Welsh, English, mercenary and pioneer. However, when Dad came on the scene in Mom’s life (who incidentally was Auntie Al’s first born niece and thus a little favored) he was tall, athletic and good looking, so I’m guessing she was rather torn. Thus she seemed to tolerate my Father, but was never overly impressed either. I was lucky enough to marry a Dutchman, an approved ethnic background, plus Dean's height hits the six foot mark. Whew!

Auntie Al did a lot of special things for us four kids. Our family never seemed to have extra money, ever. Auntie Al would consistently slip my Mom money from time to time to use for small luxuries like Easter or Valentine candy, or a little extra present at our birthday or Christmas. She always gave gifts to all of us ‘Johnson’ family great nieces and nephews, but she seemed to divert a little extra for us four. Even those years that we lived in Indiana, away from the rest of the Johnson clan, Auntie Al would continue to send Mom a little extra at those special times. When our children were born, Auntie Al continued the traditions. Every birthday and Christmas there was always something from Auntie Al. As she aged and her finances got a little more thin, she still wanted to do something for the kids at Christmas. So, several years ago she and I came up with the idea that each year she would give me money to purchase calendars for each of our three kids. That way, there would be a reminder all year long that Auntie Al thought about them frequently and they in turn thought of her. Last Friday, when I told each of my kids that Auntie Al had died, they were all a little choked up. She had made an impression on their lives that I know they won’t forget.

Auntie Al, your grace and beauty will be missed. Thank you for being such a special Great (Great) Auntie to all of us. You will always be remembered with a smile.

Auntie Al on her 90th birthday with Annika and Kirsten

For the love of Coca-Cola.

I opened my refrigerator this morning, and there it was, that beautiful red can with white lettering, Coca Cola. While I was tempted to grab the can, I instead grabbed the jug of milk. However, I was VERY tempted to start my morning off with a little chrome cleaner. Hello, my name is Kim and I’m addicted to Coca Cola.

Right now as I think about it, I can honestly feel the taste of that sweet nectar in my mouth. I L-O-V-E the stuff. It's horrible for you, I know, but it is part of my heritage and I can’t seem to shake my need to have at least a little every day. Part of my heritage? Yup, a lot of my childhood memories include snapshots of this pleasurable delicacy. Coca Cola was introduced to our family years ago. One of my Father’s many jobs was working for Coca Cola. He used to drive the beautiful red truck and make deliveries in the Seattle’s University District. Part of his route was Greek Row. He liked to tell stories about entering the sorority houses and announcing his arrival by yelling ‘man on the floor!’. (I honestly think he probably waited a bit until he was a few steps onto the floor before he yelled those words.) My understanding is that at the end of the day, he would bring a little home, thus fueling an addiction for the entire family. My mom admits that as a toddler on occasion they would even put some in my baby bottle!! I can’t believe no one called CPS on them! And I wonder why my bad nutrition habits are so tough to break!

My Father was a connoisseur of Coke. I remember over the years him complaining when he would get a bottle that he felt was ‘stale’. He would them lament that the delivery guy wasn’t properly ‘rotating the stock’. He would actually refuse to drink any cola that he felt was past its prime. At restaurants he would be annoyed if they sold Pepsi products instead of Coke products convinced that he could tell the difference even if it was coming out of a soda fountain. As a young child, I was amazed by his discerning palate.

My Mom was also a connoisseur. Her favorite thing (besides a big bowl of buttered popcorn) was a tall glass of Coke with ice cubes. Many a day I would return from school to find her out working in the yard, covered in dirt. I would greet her and she would ask me to go in and get her a ‘tall glass of Coke with ice cubes’. Upon my return with the sugar infused drink, she would set her rake down and plop on the grass and drink the stuff down in a big gulp. To this day we tease her because whenever we walk into her home, one of her first questions is ‘do you want a Coke?’. In my early years, many, many times, she would invite delivery people in to have a coke with her. I wonder what those delivery people thought??? I think the UPS guy probably argued for the route that had Barb on it and scheduled her stop for his break time. Does anyone do that today? I doubt it, we are all way too busy to engage in that level of hospitality.

No matter what, we always seemed to have a ready supply of Coke, chilled and at the ready. I have 2 vivid memories of the great lengths we went to in order to ensure that we had a ready supply of coke. The first one is when I was quite young, my oldest brother Jeff was still in high school. Dad was out of town on business. He was gone every week, but this time it was the annual sales convention in some wonderfully sunny spot. It was the end of a pay period and we were out of grocery money AND out of food. Mom was scraping the bottom of the barrel to come up with food for us to eat. I remember taking celery sticks with peanut butter as my school lunch. We had tomato soup one night–something we NEVER ate unless it had been dumped into some horrid casserole–I am thankful it wasn’t the cream of mushroom. We thought we could make it until Dad’s paycheck came, then the worst happened. The company decided to give Dad his paycheck AT the convention. Mom became desperate as the last drop of Coke had been consumed and the checkbook was empty. We were all instructed to raid our piggy banks. Jeff even had to break open his special commemorative proof sets so that we had enough to head to the grocery store. Jeff and I were sent to the store..the 16 year old and his 8 year old sister and their bag of change. Mom was too embarrassed to go. We didn’t have enough change for milk and Coke, so we were instructed to get Coke. I thought it was a great idea, until the next morning when I had to have the stuff with my oatmeal. Coke and oatmeal do NOT mix.

My next memory was a few years later. We were living in Indianapolis. It was winter and Dad was out of town, this time I think he was in Hawaii (maybe the Bahamas?) for another sales convention. A blizzard was heading our way. My Mom checked her supplies and realized that she might run out of Coke. All four of us kids knew that it was way better for Mom’s mood to have her Coke than to not have her Coke, so we weren’t scared to go out, we accepted the challenge. Jeff and I were sent out in the blinding snow to the Plaid Pantry to get supplies (aka Coke). I still remember riding in his rear-wheel drive Cutlass in white-out conditions, cars sliding off the road in front and behind us. We made it to the store and picked up enough Coke to keep Mom stocked for the duration. Again, we ran out of milk, but we had Coke! We were snowed in for days.

So yes, my name is Kim and I’m addicted to Coke. I guess there are worse things I could be addicted to...and no, we are NOT going to discuss my love of chardonnay today.

What's with the panties?

This morning, I was thinking about another dark secret of aging women, granny panties. Again, my mind works in strange ways, I have warned you about this before. The reason this topic came up in my mind was that I was thinking about my Mom. For the last 5 ½ weeks I have stopped by my Mom’s each evening to change post-op surgical dressings. I know...ewwwwwww...to that all I can say is just be glad this task it isn’t on your daily ‘To Do’ list. During this time, I have again re-discovered one of my Mom’s dark secrets–granny panties. I first discovered this secret last year after she had emergency surgery and I had to go to the mall and purchase new undergarments for her. I think I was so traumatized by this event, that I had blocked it from my mind until recently.

My Mom is generally a VERY modest person...she takes great pains to keep most of her body covered. It’s true, my Mother wears ‘granny panties’. Now mind you, she is not a large woman, which begs the question why the need for extra-large undies? Why is it necessary to wear undergarments that require excessive folding on laundry day? One night I teased her, ‘Mom why the granny panties? Come on already’. Luckily my bold out loud voice was greeted with a chuckle from her and not tears. She simply told me that she just wasn’t comfortable wearing anything less. I thought back to when my Grandmothers were alive...I remembered seeing their granny panties on laundry day. Then came the horrified thought–is this my familial destiny?

Is that what it boils down to? As we age, we decide that our skimpy little bikini bottoms or thongs should give way to high waisted briefs in the interest of comfort? I simply can’t get my head around that thought–how can a skimpy elastic waistband (connected to excessive fabric) running around my middle ABOVE the naval be comfortable?? Especially when there are so many other adorable options that require less fabric yardage. I wonder, is this the real reason that older women start wearing ‘mom jeans’?? Do they become afraid that their granny panties will rise above fashionably cut denim? Or is it just a slippery slope, first the panties, then the jeans, then pretty soon most of your wardrobe consists of double-knit? Frightening.

As I continue to age, I honestly don’t know if I will be able to subscribe to this idea. But then again, I’m not sure I want to be the only gal in the rest home wearing skimpy bikini bottoms. I guess only time will tell.

Friday Flashbacks-Annika

I know someone who has a blog and she does 'Flashback Fridays'. I like the idea, so I am going to copy her...sorry Dee! Well I won't copy you completely, I will dub mine 'Friday Flashbacks'. Today, my flashback is of Annika, our youngest. Annika is now 13 and in the 7th grade. She has had her share of struggles. When she was little, she kept us laughing most of the time. She was the toddler that was hard to discipline because she cracked you up so much! Annika wasn't intimidated by much, she still isn't. She would do things with no concern about whether or not it might look silly or weird to someone else. The video clip that I have attached was taken by Kirsten 6 years ago. When Dean and I came home from work that night, we were greeted with Annika and Kirsten out on the sidewalk in front of our house....Annika thought she could make a little spare change by singing and playing her harmonica. Some of you have seen this...some of you haven't. Enjoy.

Anniversary

Dean and I recently celebrated our 22nd wedding anniversary. On that day, we usually do a running tabulation. In 22 years, we have owned 18 different vehicles, established ‘home’ at 7 different addresses, had 3 amazing, yet extremely different from each other children, owned 3 dogs, traveled numerous miles together, and spent WAY too many nights camping in the rain!! We have laughed and cried, but we have always tried to have more laughter in a day than tears.

This year, we were lucky enough to spend the day in San Francisco attending the wedding of a childhood friend of Dean’s. It was a special weekend spent with ‘old’ friends (not friends who are chronologically old, let’s be clear, but merely friends who were with us on our wedding day). It was a beautiful day. Before attending the evening wedding, we enjoyed a boat ride in the Bay, circling Alcatraz, seeing the city from the water, and of course stealing a quick kiss as we rode under the Golden Gate bridge. Later, we trekked up one of the steepest hills I think I have ever encountered. When we reached the top of that hill, we were greeted with a beautiful view of the Bay and City. We also had reached our sought after destination–the famous section of Lombard Street on Russian Hill. For one city block, Lombard Street twists and turns its way thru tight hairpin turns. On either side of the street are sidewalk steps. The story goes that in 1922 the then property owner suggested creating the series of twists and turns to reduce the hill’s natural severe grade. Most vehicles were unable to climb the steep grade. Today it is claimed to be the "the crookedest (most winding) street in the world". We all took many pictures as we made our way down the sidewalk steps and back down the hill to our hotel.

On our walk that day, I couldn’t help but compare the ups and downs and twists and turns to our 22 years of wedded life. We laughed repeatedly that weekend as we all looked at maps to plot out our course, only to be surprised by gigantic hills that somehow weren’t depicted on the maps. I think we each repeated more than once ‘hey this wasn’t on the map’. Isn’t that how life is? Isn’t that how marriage is? Sometimes, you think you have it all plotted out, but then you encounter a huge hill you didn't anticipate.

That uphill climb was tough, I was breathless by the time we reached the top. I could tell that the stress of the past few years has taken its toll on my body. At several points, Dean stopped and grabbed my hand encouraging me to keep coming with him. At those times, again, I couldn’t help but think about that walk in comparison to our 22 years of marriage. The walk was tough, but we laughed together and worked thru it together. When we reached the top of the grade, we were greeted with beautiful vistas that overwhelmed me a bit and made me smile. We viewed that section of road with its crazy series of switchbacks and watched cars slowly, carefully, maneuver downhill over the red brick road, taking great pains to not lose control and reach their destination in one piece.

I find that we have done that too. The last 22+ years together, we have encountered our fair share of unforeseen steep hills. When we stand at the bottom of those hills, we spend time in communication with God, and with each other. ‘Show us how to best forage on Lord’. Then, we don’t stop, we try to keep moving forward. Sometimes we might slip back, but we always regain our footing when we remember to spend time in communication with God. We then are able to reach that top and take a deep breath, and absorb the view and encounter something joyful. While we want to stay at that top, we push ourselves to keep moving, maybe thru a few more twists and turns, until we reach level ground. Then, we regroup and we chart a new path to a new destination. All the while, we grow together thru the journey that is marriage, and we grow together in our faith in God.

Thank you for an interesting 22 years Dean. Thank you for forging up the steep grade and thru the twists and turns. Thank you for holding my hand when I’m out of breath and don't think that I can take another step.